#i think i’m having a hard time making her look young and weathered at the same time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

f1byjessie · 4 months

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HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part two.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, williamsracing, and 17,349 others

tagged: logansargeant

yourusername from a little boy meeting his heroes to a young man racing alongside them, getting to see all you’ve accomplished throughout the years makes me the proudest sister in the world. 2024 better watch its back, because sargeants always come back swinging.

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logansargeant we pack a mean punch too 👊

↳ yourusername the meanest 👊

user wait no cuz this is actually so cute omg??? i want a sister to make cute posts about me

user definitely can’t wait to see more y/n at the races in 2024

williamsracing It was lovely having you in the paddock this season Y/N! We’re already looking forward to seeing what 2024 has in store!

↳ yourusername it was a genuine honor to be there! plus i look great in blue 😉💙

↳ user wait does this mean logan is re-signing??

alex_albon me and lily would love to have you both come round during the break if schedules align!

↳ yourusername awwww alex!! speaking on behalf of logan, we’d love to!!

user i’m living vicariously through the sibling bond that the sargeant twins have

INSTAGRAM.

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 426,972

tagged: oscarpiastri

mclaren Some of our favourite meme-worthy images of Oscar from 2023! Which is your fav?

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oscarpiastri guys…

user mclaren admin knows what the people want

↳ user mclaren admin feeding us well on this fine day

user these are actually so funny omg mans ain’t got no face filter

landonorris yea so this won’t be necessary for me pls and thx

↳ mclaren We already have the pictures ready! 👍

user i’ve made all of these faces at my tv this year

yourusername oh to be a rubber ducky in oscar piastri’s ice bath

↳ user OH? MY?? GOD???

↳ user UMMMM

↳ user real

INSTAGRAM.

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 835,781 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

landonorris papaya pals! looking forward to another season with you mate

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user going into cardiac arrest

user damn oscar looking caked up

↳ user i’m glad i wasn’t the only one thinking it

oscarpiastri of all the pictures

↳ landonorris i giveth thy people what they want

↳ yourusername and we thank you for it sir lando 🫡

user MANIFESTING MORE PODIUMS FOR 2024

mclaren Looking forward to another year, boys! 🧡

danielricciardo you’re only posting these to show off your ass

↳ landonorris and if i am?

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 11,263 others

yourusername i can still recall our last summer

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logansargeant it’s december 1st???

↳ yourusername it’s summer somewhere

user i wish i lived in florida

user MAMMA MIA REFERENCE

oscarpiastri ☀️

↳ yourusername 🌊

user i’m so delulu about what this could mean

↳ user it’s probably just an aesthetic caption?? y’all are fr crazy

↳ user no cuz it’s literally winter rn in the states so why would she post about summer?

↳ user bc she lives in florida?? where the weather is like summer all the time??

You lower your phone and look back to the dark waters crashing against the shore. Logan’s time in Formula 1 has meant you’ve been traveling around the world, getting to experience so much more than you’d ever imagined you would in your lifetime, but nothing compares to the familiarity and comfort of Florida— of home.

And your friends.

“So,” Sophia bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes alight with mischief when you turn to meet her expectant gaze. “Come on,” she teases, “tell me about him.”

You’ve been friends with her for a few years now, ever since moving back to the United States. She was born and partially raised in Belgium, so after spending so long in Europe, she’s the only one who understood the minor culture shock of moving back. You both clicked, and you’ve been stuck together ever since. You’ve learned, however, that if there’s one constant about her, it’s without a doubt her need to gossip about anything and everything— but specifically boys.

You huff out a laugh, “There’s no ‘he’ to tell you about.”

She hums into her glass of wine, eyeing you skeptically.

“There isn’t!” You laugh, shoving her lightly.

She gasps and feigns falling back onto the blanket spread out beneath you. She’s dramatic, too, and that’s another reason you matched so well. She feels like the sister you never had, which makes moments like this feel even more special.

“This back and forth with a certain OP-eighty-one suggests otherwise,” she sing-songs back at you as she sits up, making kissing faces and cackling when you shove at her again.

“I’m not sure how you even know about that,” you grumble. “You don’t even use Instagram.”

“Maybe not, babes,” she casts her gaze out across the ocean, “but I have my sources. So come on, between us girls and us girls only, tell me what’s going on.”

You heave a sigh, gulp down the last mouthful of wine in your glass, and then pour yourself another while she waits. You’re not getting out of this, and part of you does really want to talk about things. On top of being your brother and therefore way more protective than he needs to be, Logan is also Oscar’s best friend and you’re not sure what “bro code” is exactly, but you imagine not dating your friend’s sister is part of it— so he’s out of the question. You’d go to Dalton if you were sure he wouldn’t tell Logan, but they’re loyal to each other and have some sort of unspoken pact when it comes to your love life. You joked once that instead of your dad, it’d be them waiting at the door with a shotgun if you ever brought a guy home, but you’re not sure it was a joke at all with how they act sometimes.

“It started in Bahrain,” you begin, rolling your eyes when she wiggles excitedly and turns her undivided attention to you. “I’ve known him for a while because he and Logan have driven together since they were young, so I messaged him after the race to say that it sucked he had to retire so early into it.”

“And?”

You shoot her a look. “And, we kept talking. One thing led to another and we met up for drinks…” You fiddle with the rim of your glass, glancing back out to the water. You can’t tell if the heat on your face is because you’re embarrassed, or from spending so much of your day under the Floridian sun. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?” She asks incredulously.

“Well—” you purse your lips. “We kissed. Once. When he dropped me off at the hotel. But it was probably just the alcohol or something. I don’t think he wanted it to mean anything. I bet he just wanted to have fun but couldn’t because he had to leave early in the morning.”

She sends you a look. “He was sober enough to drive you back… but you think it was alcohol influencing his decisions? And he kissed you, even knowing he wouldn’t be able to ‘have fun?’ Right. Didn’t mean anything at all.”

You shake your head and huff. “He was upset because he’d had such high hopes for his first Grand Prix and it ended poorly, and I was there to comfort him, so maybe that’s why. He got caught up in the moment, or something.”

“Y/N, I love you. I do. You’re my best friend and you’re like a little sister to me,” she cups your face in her hands and turns you to look at her. “But you can be so dense sometimes, do you know that?”

“Then why hasn’t he brought it up?” You ask, your voice garbled slightly from the way her hands squish your cheeks together. “We saw each other again in Melbourne, to celebrate him getting his first points, and he didn’t say anything then. Or Miami, or England, or Japan.”

She gives you another look and lets your face go. “It’s a two-way street, babe. Why haven’t you brought it up?”

And… that’s a good point. You technically could’ve brought it up, too. You’d just been so afraid of how he would’ve reacted that you’d chosen to keep quiet, preferring uncertainty over rejection. It’s the same reason why you so rarely pursue the things you want. A fear of rejection stands in your way, and you realize suddenly that you could’ve ruined things with someone you genuinely like just because you were afraid.

“You know, like, Schrodinger’s cat," you start meekly. "If you don’t open the box, the cat is dead and alive, because you don’t know. So I never brought it up. Because not knowing is better than him telling me it was nothing.”

She reaches out and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side. When she speaks again, her voice is calmer, less accusatory, a murmur against the ambiance of the hissing tide— “But what if he tells you it’s something?”

You groan. “He probably thinks I’m not interested.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh God!” You pull away and bury your face into your hands. “I ruined it all!”

She pries your hands away and looks you in the eye. There’s a sparkle in her gaze, it’s the look she gets when she has a plan.

“You haven’t ruined it. We just have some work to do.”

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis

━━ a/n: i am overwhelmed by the amount of love on the first part of this! genuinely did not anticipate it at all, and i'm so thankful. so here's the second part! i hope it does justice to the first!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris

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circeyoru · 2 months

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Gone Too Young _ Part 4 = Collab

[Human & Demon!Alastor x Male BFF!Reader] - Platonic

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 (here)

My collaborator: @blubugg13

As the two of you got older, you had more jobs on your agenda and Alastor was busy with his internship at the local news stations so he could get a feel of being a news reporter, later a radio host, just as you suggested

You knew him well, turns out he does like the thought of being a radio host, he had the idea of you being his co-host or a guest from time to time, even an assistant! That way, your job is stable enough and he would be able to help you finanically whenever you needed without you complaining like you do now

His mother had the better idea. Adoption. While you were off the list, surely you’d make an exception when it was his mother was wanted to do it. He could see as clear day that you had a soft spot for his mother. Hard to reject motherly love, he’ll agree. It was your Christmas gift, you’ll have a family

You never showed up to the secret meet up you two arranged. Alastor waited under the freezing cold, the streets were a buzz, he watched families go up and down. Perhaps you were working a bit later, you did say you might not be able to make it and apologized beforehand. He waited a bit longer. You still didn’t show up. He had to return home

He didn’t know, the ambulance that he passedby carried your deceased body

Christmas day came by, you weren’t there. The orphanage cancelled the adoption plan his mother registered. Before they agreed! They said it would be the perfect surprise even! Everyone was in on it but you

Something in his gut told him, something’s wrong. He ran to the orphanage and asked for you, maybe you were sick and couldn’t tell him. Yeah. When he got there, he wasn’t allowed entry, the director came to the door personally to inform him you leave town for an internship, some wealthy businessman offered you that and you took it and left

“When will he be back?” Alastor recalled asking.

Yet there was no solid answer.

“A few days, I’m sure.” Your sister figure answered without looking at him. He caught her outside while shopping.

“I think like a month. Not sure.” Your coworker shrugged.

“He’s sleeping though.” One of the little ones you take care of spoke when he sneaked into the orphanage to see you.

“Maybe never, you never know.” One of your employer said.

“Stop asking for him! Mind your own business!” The director stopped him in his tracks.

But you were his business. He was your best friend and you were his. Why can’t he know where you went and when you’ll be back? Why does it feel like everyone but his mother and he know something about you?

Then he caught it while listening in on some workers chat while taking a break outside the last factory your worked at. The horrifying truth of your disappearance

“That kid Alastor’s back?”

“Yeah, he’s asking about him again.”

A sigh. “Can’t we just tell him what happened? It was an accident.”

“Are you crazy?! Who would want to know their friend ended up like that?!”

“Besides, the orphanage director already said to keep quiet about it.”

“I mean, it’s brutal.”

“I’ll say. Getting your arm rolled into the machine like a piece of meat, then die from blood loss.”

“I still get nightmares from that day.”

“Christmas day horror. It was even worse for that guy that accidentally bumped into him, right?”

“Yeah, Joe quit his job and just disappeared.”

“But I heard he was a roadkill somewhere.”

“Wow, that’s like karma.”

“Crazy sh*t happens everywhere…”

Alastor never ran that fast in his life. His smile fell and tears rained, the weather seemed to echo with the truth he learned, it rained, poured heavily. He ran into the forest and screamed till his voice gave out

No way… No way. NO WAY. NO WAY! NO WAY IN HELL!

He clenched as he fell to his knees. How could they keep such a secret to him? Everyone. Every one of them lied to him. Because he was some kid. Because you were just an orphan? Why? Why didn’t anyone tell him?

Unlike the others, he told his mother the truth he learned. Those adoption papers that sat on her desk in the study room were put away into a drawer, locked up. His mother soon fell ill from griefing and the shock, passing soon after then

Now when he walked the same roads and saw the people you helped, he saw red. That rage boil within him. Who knew and didn’t care? Who ignored your tragic death?

Without anything to ground him, he only had his job as the new radio host. A grand start!

“Welcome, everyone! I am Alastor, now your new radio host! You might have remembered me from other channels when I was still a young lad, haha! I’m here to stay! But regrettably, I have to start with recording some distrubing and tragic news. There seems to be a killer on the loose. So everyone be sure to lock your doors and windows at all times, you never know when the killer will strike.”

Note: A bit short but... That concludes the parts for the human Alastor and Reader~ Next up are the ones for the demon version and in Hell~

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mysterypotatoink

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Gone Too Young #male reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 11 months

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Girl on Fire

Synopsis: When Y/n listened to “This Girl is on Fire” on her way to the track, she didn’t think she’d actually become the girl in the song

young female driver reader x 2023 f1 grid plus daniel

You like hot weather. It gives you an excuse to go to the pool, eat ice cream, and spent some time outside. You like hot weather, until you’re going to drive in it for 57 laps. The weather forecast stated it was going to be 95F (35C) degrees for Sunday’s race in Qatar, and the track temperatures were going to be around 113F (45C) degrees.

Hot races always made you nervous. Your overheating body and the claustrophobic feeling from the cockpit was the worst combination, and you were dreading it already.

High temperatures on track also decreased the amount of grip you had going into corners, so braking and turning was also going to be difficult today.

It was a risky race, but that’s part of why you loved Formula 1.

You left your hotel and drove to the Lusail Circuit, quickly turning on the radio. Music always calmed you down and helped you focus on the race. “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys happened to come on just as you pulled into the parking lot.

You walked into the paddock, half-smiling and saying hello to everyone you knew as you walked into your garage. You changed into your race suit, attended the race briefing, and warmed up with your trainer before you walk into the garage. You confirm with one of your engineers that the temperature will stay consistent throughout the race, and try to utilize the fans as much as possible before you climb into your car.

You drive out for your formation lap with last calls of good luck from your team and merge with the other 19 cars in the track. You meet your grid position of P5 and try to relax yourself one last time before the five red lights come on and off.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Qatar!” The voice of Martin Brundle becomes audible as the 20 cars accelerate towards Turn 1. Carlos Sainz was behind you in P6, and you put your focus in defending for the first laps of the race.

In Lap 15, everything was going somewhat smoothly, until at Turn 3, when Carlos attempts another overtake on you. In his advancement, his front left tire becomes caught in your back right tire. The contact sends your car spinning across the track and towards the barriers. The force of his car and the speed you were driving at was fast enough to push your car onto side as it slid into the barriers.

“Oh! Big collision between Sainz and L/n! L/n’s car gets turned onto its side and heads into the barrier!” Martin Brundle commentates as he watches the race.

The friction of the car skimming the already-hot track was enough to start a spark of fire, and the right side of your car’s body alights. By the time you hit the barrier, the flames have progressed and the right side of your car was almost completely engulfed in flames

“L/n’s car has gone up in flames! Y/n L/n’s car has caught fire as it slides into the barriers! It’s a red flag and safety marshals are hurrying to turn 3!” Brundle looks down at the scene worriedly.

The other 19 cars were guided into the pits by the safety car, yet, everything was happening too quickly to know if they can exit their cars or not. The drivers had seen you spin across the track, but they hadn’t seen you catch fire, so questions of all kinds were being asked from the curious drivers.

“That was Y/n?”

“What happened?”

“Where is she?”

“Do we know if she’s okay?”

Meanwhile, you were completely disoriented, the speed you were going at and the heat making it hard to comprehend what was going on.

Okay, I got pushed off the track and now I’m in the barriers. Your head was spinning and it started to get harder to breathe in your cockpit. And it’s a million times hotter here than on track. Your car hitting the barrier had set your upright again, but the flames kept climbing around your car and towards the cockpit.

Once your vision was clear, you begin to notice the smoke surrounding you, and finally look up to discover an inferno of red and orange climbing towards you. My car is on fire! It took you a second for your brain to work, but once it did, you try to remember all the safety procedures. Your shaky hands unclipped your harness and tried to pull yourself up using the halo, but flinched away once your gloved hands made contact with it.

The flames surrounding you made everything burning hot, and you tried to think of another way to escape, but time was running out and the smoke around you was becoming thicker. Bracing yourself, you wrapped your arms around the halo, pulled your body up, and stood up in your seat.

Black spots danced in your vision as you jumped out of the burning car and onto safe ground. You clutched your hands close to you as you fell, watching your car be scorched only a few feet in front of you.

You were frozen to your spot on the ground, struck with fear and pain. You didn’t even notice the team of safety marshals piling out of an ambulance near by and towards you. You winced when two of them pulled you up by your arms but didn’t resist. They helped you walk towards the transport while men with fire extinguishers tried to tame the blaze set upon your car.

I almost just died. You finally snapped back from your shaken state. Holy shit. I almost just died.

Yes, you knew that this was what you signed up for and you knew the risk of getting into that machine every Sunday but this was like a wake up call. 2023 was only your second season in Formula One, and sure you had gone off track and bumped into the barriers before but you’ve never spun across track and been on fire before.

It was this realization that made tears fall from your eyes. You recognized you were sitting in the ambulance now, the doors closing and medics encircling you. You tried to pull off your helmet but recoiled once you felt the sting of the burns on your hands. One of the paramedics gently pulled it off and your balaclava for you, revealing your teary eyes and flushed face.

The medics worked around you, fetching water, gathering bandages, and looking for something that could soothe your burns. One of the medics tried to softly pull off your gloves, hesitating when you cried out in pain.

“We’re going to try to cut the gloves off your hands, okay? Can you find her some pain medicine?” One said to you and the other medic. You just nodded your head, trying to hold in a sob. You closed your eyes once they brought the scissors, not wanting to see beneath the cloth. You cried out in pain as they continued, letting tears fall down your face.

They quickly smeared a salve over your burned hands and covered it with a bandage. They took off your cooling vest and left you in your sports bra to further check for burns along your body. “Is anything else hurting you?” They asked as treated the burns they found on your forearms with the same supplies.

You shook your head and the team of medics gave you a container filled with pain tablets and instructions for them, along with a cup of water. You went over to the sink and mirror to wash the tears from your face as you refreshed your dry throat with the cold water. You looked terrible, with your messy hair, flaming cheeks, and teary eyes. You felt it too, your burns hurt, your body was sore, you still felt too hot, and you needed a hug. You wanted to go home, to your friends and family, not to the hospital or to your hotel.

On the track, the 19 drivers were now fully informed of the crash and were enveloped with worry about you. Everyone knew you had gotten out of your car within 15 seconds but they didn’t know if you were actually okay or not.

The pilots were allowed out of their cars until the race restarted, and filled the time by watching the replay of your crash. Your garage was filled with a nervous atmosphere. They had spoken with one of the medics, they knew you had gotten out and were in the ambulance, but didn’t know the full details of the crash.

Luckily, Daniel Ricciardo wasn’t driving, and nobody could stop him from seeing his friend. Daniel was like your uncle or older brother, the two of you got along really well and he cared about you. The Australian left the Red Bull garage and went to the medical center, where the ambulance had taken you after the crash.

Daniel nearly runs there and thankfully it only takes his ID card for the security guard to let him in. The medical centers are small so it doesn’t take long to find you and Daniel frowns when he does. You’re sat on the medical table, shoulders hunched over and head down, not even aware he’s entered the room.

“Hey, kid” He half smiles. You look up at the sound of his voice. “Hi Daniel” Your voice is creaky and he can tell you’ve been crying. The man doesn’t waste anymore time and rushes over to hug you. You instantly wrap your bandage-covered arms around him and press your face into his shoulder. “It’s okay, you’re okay ” He whispers to you over and over, figuring the least he could do is comfort you a bit.

Daniel lets you pull away first but one of the medics interrupt before he can say anything else. “I’m sorry but it’s best if we can transport you to the hospital as quick as possible.” The woman says to you. “You are allowed to bring someone in the ambulance with you, though” She looks towards Daniel.

“Would you mind-“ Daniel cuts you off, knowing that no one else is here with you. “Of course I’ll come with you, let me just tell the team and I’ll be back quickly, alright?” The Australian plants a quick kiss to your head and runs off again.

Daniel comes back just as you are being taken to the ambulance again. The information he gave to the Red Bull garage spreads quickly, and everyone is glad to hear you are okay and on the way to the hospital for a check up. The race does restart but your crash is on the back of their minds through it all.

You’re glad your hospital trip is quick, only consisting of questions and a brief physical examination. They diagnose you with second degree burns and advise you to wait until they heal before racing again. You meet back up with Daniel in the hallway, happy that’s he brought some food for you to eat before he drives you to your hotel. As much as you want to go back to the track and make sure everyone knows you’re okay, you want to relax.

Daniel only asks about your injuries while he’s driving before leaving his car to walk you to your team’s hotel and to your room. The man wishes you goodbye and a fast recovery and gives you one last hug. “Let me know if you need anything, feel better, alright?” And leaves to head back to the track.

You don’t see anybody from work until the following Friday at the United States Grand Prix. You answered a lot of messages but mostly hung out at home with your friends and family.

Your hands and arms haven’t fully healed and your car isn’t completely repaired yet, so you’ll be waiting until next Sunday to race again.

Still, you are a welcomed sight in paddock Friday morning, bringing smiles and welcoming hugs. Carlos finds you first, wrapping his arms around your waist, careful not to hit your arms.

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I did not mean for that to happen at all. Are you okay? I am so sorry” He’s already told you all of this over text but you reassure him again.

“It’s okay Carlos, I’m fine, it wasn’t your fault. Plus, I’ve been feeling better, you have nothing to worry about” You pat the Spaniard’s back.

“But you are not racing this weekend-“ You cut him off.

“But I will race next weekend. Trust me, it’s okay”

He has to let you go to get ready for Free Practice 1, but still insists on making it up to you, and leaves after placing a kiss on your head. Charles finds you next, never too far from his teammate and brings you in for a hug. “I was worried about you, you are feeling better, yes?” He pulls away and puts his hands on your shoulder. “Better. Not the best, but I’ve been feeling better” You shrug. “Good, I will see you later, I can’t wait to see you on the track again!” The Monegasque shouts over his shoulder as he leaves.

You find George and Lewis walking together next. “Y/n! How are you feeling?” Lewis greets you first, hugging you. “Feeling better, I hope?” George says. “More or less, yeah.” You pulled away. “ We’re glad you’re back in the paddock. I’ll be here for you if you need anything, okay?” Lewis assures you and steps aside. “Me too, you get better quickly, alright?” George drawing you in for another hug before leaving.

Lando and Alex are the best pair you come across. “Hey love, how are you?” Lando embraces you first, wrapping his arms around your back. “Glad you’re okay, Y/n” Alex says as he hugs you next. It was safe to say you were good on hugs now, grateful for the much-needed support from your friends. “I’m better. I promise we’ll talk more later, yeah?” You didn’t want to spring all your emotions on them right now and they have practice soon. “Yes, definitely. Let us know if you need anything, Y/n, feel better” Lando waves goodbye as you walk away.

You pull out your phone as you walk back to your garage, and see the comments on your newest Instagram post. They were giving you a new nickname, “The Girl On Fire”. Only now did you remember that you were listening the song, “Girl on Fire” hours before your car actually caught on fire.

this isn’t good but I didn’t want it in my drafts anymore

#reader insert #formula 1 #formula 1 driver imagines #f1 grid x reader #platonic daniel ricciardo #driver reader #young driver reader

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soft-mafia · 7 months

Note

This has been in my head for a while. If you want Smut, how about where Buggy wished that he can be in the water (Beach) with his S/O for a "Hot Swim" but can't, because of his inability to swim. Until they hit an island with a secret natural hot-springs that Buggy and his S/O found; while the other crew mates were doing their business.

Since the hot river isn't salt water, Buggy can safely be in the water without going stiff and drown. Then things get... HOT.

Hot Swim [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, smut, skinny dipping, Buggy detaching his dick

a/n: OOOH this one is good teehee🤭 I feel like this was way too short😭

Buggy sighed as the Big Top passed by a beach, he looked at all of the young couples cuddling in the water. Damn, he grumbled to himself, what he wouldn’t give just to go swimming again.. just one more time.

He can’t even remember the last time he had a good swim, way back when he was a kid before Shanks made him eat that damn Devil Fruit. Buggy scowled and growled to himself.

Those damn kids.. they don’t know how good they have it, I couldn’t even set foot in water when I was their age!

“You ok, LoveBug?” Y/n came up next to Buggy, resting her hands and chin on his shoulder. The man sighed and hung his head low, “I’m fine.” He looked down at Y/n. “We’ll be at our stop in like.. 30 minutes?” She said, then looked up at him to meet his gaze, before looking back at the beach Buggy was looking at, seeing all of the people, “Wow are they throwing a party or something?”

“They’re some dumb kids being idiots, that’s what they’re doing!” Buggy snapped, grumbling with a bitter tone to his voice, “Look at them! Polluting these fine waters with their sweaty filthy bodies, blech!” He growled and detached an arm so he could throw an apple in the direction of the beach goers(obviously missing by a long shot, the apple made a loud *thunk* as it plopped into the water). He let out a gruff huff of air before turning and walking away, the coat he had draped on his shoulders swished dramatically as he turned.

Y/n tilted her head and gave Buggy a confused look, before slowly following after him. It wasn’t uncommon for Buggy to have his bitter outbursts, she couldn’t help but think it was kind of cute at times.

The Buggy Pirates were making another pit stop yet again, it made sense that they were always stocking up on food every few days considering Buggy could throw a celebration over a coin flip or something.. but that just meant more booze and food for the crew, and it’s Captain.

Buggy sighed as he stood and watched his crew, feeling extra grumpy as this island was unusually hot. He then felt tugging at his coat from behind. The man grunted and looked over his shoulder to see Y/n trying to be sneaky and steal his flashy jacket, “HEY!” He growled, holding the collars tightly to keep it on his shoulders, “Can you stop trying to steal my clothes for 5 seconds?! You don’t even need it!! It’s fucking scorching here!!”

“You don’t need it either!! You’re gonna get sweaty and smelly, I don’t wanna deal with that!” Y/n frowned at him, still tugging on his jacket, her knees buckling together as she worked against him.

Buggy detached his head and neck so he could face Y/n, looking down at her from high above(so he could have the allusion of towering over her, which was hard when he was just a head), “You just can’t handle a man’s natural scent huh?” He grunted, his eyes glanced over her form, and the way she was only dressed in a bikini top and tight fitting leggings; kind of appropriate for the hot weather, but as he looked over her some more he could feel the crotch of his pants getting tighter.

“Stop using your gender as an excuse to be gross!” Y/n continued to try and tug Buggy��s coat off.

Of course it was probably a million degrees in this place, but that just meant Buggy’s scent rubbed off on it more than usual; she was his girlfriend and she had rights to her boyfriend’s clothes; don’t judge.

Y/n lost her grip and screamed as she fell back, seemingly disappearing into the moss wall behind her.

Buggy let out a scream as well, watching the moss and vines basically swallow his girlfriend whole. His entire body detached, then reattached so that he was facing the right way before running in after her, “Y/N?!” He grunted when he ran into her back, he then paused, his hands on her shoulders from behind.

“What the hell is this place?” Buggy mumbled, squinting while looking past Y/n and at the scenery in front of him. It was just a small little pond.. with steam coming out of it, he furrowed his brows, grunting softly in confusion before he realized what he was looking at, “HOLY CRAP!! We found a hot spring!” He squeezed Y/n’s shoulders. “A hot spring? Eh.. too bad we’re devil fruit users.” Y/n shrugged, going to walk out until Buggy grabbed her again and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him.

“No! No! Hot springs aren’t sea water.. we’ll be perfectly fine!!” Buggy stated gleefully before slinging his coat to the side, already starting on stripping.

“You’re seriously gonna skinny dip? What if someone sees you?”

“We’re fine! This place is secluded enough, no one’s gonna find us out.. besides I don’t even remember the last time I had a dip in the water. If anything, I deserve this!” Buggy said, now completely nude, his fat cock hanging between his legs. Y/n tried her best not to look at it, but the sight of Buggy’s naked body right in front of her was making her blush, sure it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, but still, that fluffy happy trail was oh so inviting.

Buggy looked over at Y/n with a soft grunt, “You’re not gonna join me? Come on, when’s the last time you’ve swam before?”

“I dunno.. I never really liked swimming in the first place so.. never?” Y/n shrugged. “WHAT?! Who the hell doesn’t like swimming?!” Buggy growled, his hands floating over to grab at Y/n’s arms, “First you tell me you don’t like meat, and now you’re telling me you’ve never swam before?! C’mon you’re killing me!!” Buggy whined as he walked into his hands, attaching them back at the wrist, gripping Y/n tighter.

“There’s no one here but us, baby! Besides, don’t knock it until you try it!” He was already working on taking Y/n’s top off, making her squeak as he pulled it over her head. “Ugghh.. fine..” Y/n grumbled, “I don’t even know how to swim in the first place.. do you even remember?” Y/n said, looking back at Buggy after she took her bottoms off.

Buggy put a hand on his chin and looked at the springs, “Of course I remember!! Jeez I know you tease me about being old but I’m not senile!” He scoffed at her, then roughly ruffled her hair before turning back towards the hot spring, stepping into it, both feet dunked in the water. “Damn I forgot how good water feels.” Buggy sighed, then looked back at Y/n, “Get your ass in here already!”

Y/n rolled her eyes, pulling her leggings down before stepping over to Buggy, now in only in that bikini top. She was a bit nervous about entering the water.. sure, Buggy was also a devil fruit user and he was fine, but that’s not what she was worried about, “Do I just step in?” She was afraid of slipping.

Buggy held his hand out for her to hold onto, “Yeah, c’mon.” He urged with a small grin, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of water!!” He cackled.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not. I just don’t wanna slip.” Y/n huffed, holding onto Buggy’s hand as she cautiously stepped into the water, then instantly clung to Buggy’s side.

After the man basked in the feeling of dipping his feet in water for the first time in a long time, he sat down, Y/n quickly following him. “I can’t believe you don’t like swimming, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Buggy grunted, leaning back and resting his arms back, one of them wrapping around Y/n’s shoulders. “It’s just the idea of so many people seeing my body.. and then getting wet- and getting my hair wet!” Y/n snuggled into Buggy’s side, throwing her legs over his thigh under the water; she had to admit, the water felt nice; it wasn’t too hot or too cold.

“You and your hair, jeez.. but you shouldn’t feel so insecure about yourself y’know, you’re hot. I have no idea how you can’t see that.” Buggy snorted, his hand slowly made its way down her back, fingers walking down until he met the ties to her bikini top, then untied it, making Y/n squeak.

“C’mon baby..” Buggy chuckled, his voice low and deep, he tossed the top behind himself back onto the surface, “Like I said, it’s just us.” His other hand moved to hold the side of her thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth underneath the water, he leaned his face closer to hers, “I always wanted to fuck you like this.” He chuckled lowly.

Y/n batted her eyes softly for a moment, staring at Buggy’s lips before looking up into his eyes, his nose pressed against hers. Buggy licked his teeth and smirked, “Look at you, sweet little thing.” His voice was deep, gravelly and husky, she could smell the faint alcohol on his breath from his morning drink, it sent a chill through her body. Y/n moved to straddle his lap, the water swishing with her movements.

She threw her arms around his neck, tilting her head so she could press her lips against his in a passionate kiss. Buggy leaned his arms back, groaning softly as their lips molded against one another; his cock hardening between Y/n’s legs. Buggy laughed softly mid-kiss as he reached his hand down to guide his boner out from under the water, letting it stand proudly, resting it against Y/n’s pubis, tugging at the base a few times to earn a small drop of precum.

Y/n pulled away from the kiss and looked down, bringing one of her own hands down to gently circle her finger around the tip. Buggy let out a deep, guttural groan when she did that, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes as he let the sensations course through his body. Y/n giggled at his reaction, her other hand moving down to caress his chest, running her fingers through that thick, fluffy chest hair. “I hate it when you tease me.” Buggy grunted softly under his breath, tilting his head back forward to look at Y/n’s breasts, then look up at her through his brows.

“Aww, why not?” Y/n giggled, then leaned forward, moving her hips up a little so she could rub her pussy on his cock, “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” She whispered, her lips ghosted over his. Buggy growled under his breath, feeling arousal shoot through his abdomen and right up his cock, “Ghh..” he grunted.

He regained control over the situation, putting his hands on her hips and gripping firmly, holding her legs in place as he detached his penis, letting it float up into her pussy. Y/n’s back arched, gasping as she held onto Buggy’s shoulders. “I’m the captain here, remember that, princess.” Buggy grinned before thrusting his cock up and down into her.

Y/n moaned, softly bouncing on it as he thrusted, “B-Buggy..” she panted out, biting onto her knuckle to stifle her noises. Buggy moved one of his hands up to hold her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her skin, he let out a gravelly breath, “Ahhh that’s it, who’s your daddy?” He chuckled, licking his teeth before moving his hand back to spank her ass a few times, to which Buggy relished in Y/n’s squeaks and whimpers.

“Buggyy..” Y/n moaned softly, whimpering as she squeezed her eyes shut, Buggy rammed into her faster and deeper. He let out deep grunts and other man noises, his thigh muscles and abs tensed. Slapping noises could be heard from Buggy’s thrusting under the water, he closed his eyes shut when he felt his eyes roll back, he breathed out gruffly. Their moans and pants filled the area, the hot spring becoming more steamy as they got closer to their orgasm.

“M-More..” Y/n pleaded, looking up at Buggy with bedroom eyes, biting her bottom lip. She had her hands on his chest, leaning into him as his cock thrusted in and out at a rough and fast pace, almost sending mini shockwaves through her, “Mmmm..!!” She moaned, tilting her head back. Buggy gripped Y/n’s hips again and grunted as he picked up the speed, panting heavily, “Really making me work huh, cutie?” He laughed breathily through a groan, he clenched his jaw, growling deeply as his abdomen tightened.

They both moaned heavily as they came together, Buggy shooting his thick cum deep into Y/n’s pussy as it fluttered and clenched around his cock. “Ughh..” Buggy let out a pleasured groan, tilting his head back so far it accidentally fell off, he let out a short yell before quickly attaching it. He was absolutely winded, still panting heavily, “Damn..” he breathed out, then looked down at Y/n who was rested against his chest, still grinding her pussy on his cock as he reattached it.

“You’re still going aren’t you?” Buggy teased, cackling softly as he squeezed her sides, “Cute.” He moved his hand up her body to rub her back. Y/n giggled in response as she rode her orgasm out; but even after, the feeling of Buggy’s dick inside of her, stretching her out and filling her up, it was intoxicating; his cock was so fat. Buggy felt every clench and flutter of Y/n’s pussy, his shaft was sensitive enough as it was after cumming, he gripped her hips and slowly pulled her off, “Alright that’s enough! Shit.. humping me like a damn dog.” He muttered under his breath, watching as a small string of cum connected his tip to her pussy as he pulled her off.

Y/n pouted as Buggy leaned his arms back again, “Well, I’d say this was the best swim I’ve had in a long time!” He giggled, ruffling Y/n’s hair as she sat up. “The crew should be finished stocking up the ship.. you think we should start heading back?” Y/n said as she moved off of his lap, still sitting close beside of him. She looked down at the water, gently swirling the surface around with her finger.

Buggy gave Y/n a push, she squealed as she went chest first into the deep part of the hot spring, fortunately Buggy caught her as he followed in after, holding her upright, “They can wait! 'Didn’t just come in here to fuck you, I still wanna enjoy this for a bit.” He playfully splashed some water into Y/n’s face.

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #one piece smut #buggy headcanons #buggy imagines #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #fem reader

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 month

Text

On Air

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You're the news anchor for all things crime, and you often cover the cases your girlfriend's team works on. she is always watching you when you're on TV, so you take every opportunity to make sure she knows who she's going home to.

Square Filled: “it’s amazing how quickly things can go from bad to total shit storm.” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You use the small compact mirror you have at your desk to check your makeup before you go on air. You’ve done this a million and one times but you’re always so nervous because you don’t want to mess up. One of your coworkers got fired because he screwed up badly on air. You’re not saying you’re going to cuss out a news reporter but that doesn’t make you any less worried about it.

Your phone rings and you turn it over so you can see the screen. You will always have your phone with me because you never know if it’ll be an emergency. Your sister has young kids so you need it on you at all times just in case.

JJ: I know you’re on in a few minutes. Kill it!

You smile at the sweet message from your girlfriend. She always watches your news broadcast since you cover all things crime. You’re the person who usually releases things before the press gets a hold of the information if she doesn’t request a press conference herself.

“Alright! We’re on in ten!” the producer says.

You place your phone face down and fix your hair just as the director points to you to begin talking. One of the weather girls had just got done with her segment which means it’s now your turn.

“Thank you for that update, Lucy. Over the past two weeks, there have been a string of murders where the killer has removed the hearts of all his victims only to leave behind a toy heart in its place. We are unsure of where the real heats are located as they have never been found, so we urge the public to be cautious when leaving their house. The FBI has been called in to assist local police on this investigation, and they’re making headways into potential suspects. Their names haven’t been released to the public as of yet, but as soon as we know more, that information will be available to the public.”

You and your co-anchor talk more about the case but there is so little information to go off of. JJ and her team are working hard to try and put together a profile that can be released to the public, but nothing has come forth yet. Aside from this major news update, there isn’t much in the crime world that needs to be televised at this time. So, you’re back in front of your makeup mirror in no time to do some touch-ups before you go on air again.

Your phone rings and you smile when you see JJ’s picture pop up on screen. You took that picture when you two were on a friend’s boat for an afternoon on the sea, and the sun hit her eyes at the right moment. They are so blue but in the sunlight, they sparkle.

“It’s amazing how quickly things can go from bad to total shit storm around here,” you answer the phone.

“Why are you teasing me?”

Her voice is low which makes you think she’s in a room with her teammates.

“What do you mean?” you smile.

“The button on your shirt is open. I can practically see the pretty pink lace bra you’re wearing underneath it.”

You look down and see that she’s right. It must have come undone from the time you left the makeup chair in the morning to when you sat down at the news anchor desk.

“Oh, would you look at that. You’re right, it is undone.”

“When you do have to go on again?”

“Not for another hour.”

“Good. I’m coming over.”

“Why? Don’t you have to put together a strong profile to catch the bad guy?” you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“I’m not a profiler. I’m the liaison. That’s their job, not mine.”

“So, this visit you want to make isn’t a social call?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Someone comes into the makeup room and knocks on the door to get your attention.

“There’s been another murder. You’re on again.”

“Looks like you’re going to be busy,” you say into the phone while nodding to the man. “I gotta go but I’ll make sure to give you a good view. I love you. Bye-bye.”

You hang up the phone and unbutton one more button that makes the shirt look more open but still looking professional. After all, you have a job to do and you’re going to make sure JJ knows what she’s coming home to at the end of the day.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau fic #jennifer jareau fanfiction #jennifer jareau fanfic #jennifer jareau fluff #jennifer jareau fiction #jennifer jareau fan fiction #jennifer jareau fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff

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dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

Note

Marie would like a sweetheart who would warn her if and if he would be willing to defend her from a sexist neighbor after another neighbor yelled at Marie, when her own ex husband wouldn't care.

I’m sorry if the insults the sexist say are kinda cringe I don’t know how to be mean tbh

TW: Stalking, obsession, casual sexism and sexual harassment

Marie sighed as she looked out of the window, seeing the neighbour that lived across the road from her sitting on the porch outside his house.

“He’s there again,” Marie remarked.

“Hm?” Her husband grumbled, disinterested. Marie pretended she didn’t notice him ogling at the Page 3 Girl in his newspaper.

“He’s sat as well. He’s not going to move.”

“Who?” Her husband asked. Marie sighed.

“The bloke across from us. The one who says all those filthy things to me when he catches me outside.” Her husband briefly looked up from his newspaper, before going back to pretending to read.

“Just ignore him,” he said dismissively.

“No. I think I’ll wait until he’s gone,” Marie said, smoothing down her pinafore. Her husband rolled his eyes and tutted.

“Just go get the washing. Stop being so dramatic about it. Better yet, just use the tumble dryer next time. I paid good money for it,” he moaned, shaking his newspaper straight as he continued to fantasise about the naked young woman on the page. Marie pursed her lips and stormed out the living room, grabbing her wash basket and steeling herself ready to go out and face the outdoors. She opened the door and marched towards the washing line, beginning to take down the clothes. She’d barely been there more than a minute when she heard a whistle echo through the street. She glanced up, seeing the man on the porch grinning salaciously, practically drooling like a pig waiting for the hapless farmer to keel over in the sty. She tried to ignore him, her weathered hands shaking as she continued to work, but in the corner of her eye, she saw the man stand up from where he sat on the porch and padded across the road towards her front garden.

“Nice dress. It’d look better on my bedroom floor,” he said, leaning against the fence as he watched her take a dress off the washing line and fold it into her washing basket.

“You got anything a little more revealing in there?” He asked, gesturing to the basket. “Something a little more private?”

“Oh, just go away!” Marie finally snapped, throwing a peg at him. It bounced harmlessly off the fence, making him laugh at her.

“Now why would I do that, sugar?” He asked. “I wouldn’t be able to see -“ he was interrupted by a firm voice.

“I think you’d better leave,” you said, having come out of your house and approached them. The man glared at you.

“It’s none of your business, it’s between me and sugar here,” he growled. You stepped in front of Marie, maintaining a hard stare of your own.

“I said I think you better leave and take your attitude with you,” you repeated, stamping your foot firmly against the ground. The man took the hint and backed off, cursing as he slinked back to his own house.

“Thank you,” Marie said as you turned to look at her. Her hands still shook and her heart was racing. She put a hand to her face, pretending to adjust her lipstick, but in fact hiding the blush that was forming on her cheeks.

“You okay?” You ask her. She nods.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard him say before, dirty old man,” she says with a grumble. Why couldn’t her husband be… well, more like you?

“You’ll let me know if he causes you trouble again, right? I will come anytime you need.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” You offer each other polite, restrained smiles, and quickly say your goodbyes before you head back to your own house. Marie can only watch you leave, wishing that you’d stay a little longer.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

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ewanmitchelll · 4 months

Text

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (XVII): Anti-Hero.

Imagine Aemond is the King of Westers when you, a Greyjoy, rebel against his rule on behalf of a pretender to the throne.

Warnings: lots of drama, angst; smut, fluff ending like always.

***

•I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser. Midnights become my afternoons when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room.

Just as Aemond lands, rain begins to fall. Storms usually bring bad omens, but he takes his time in going back inside. He knows he’s expected and yet the prince has no need to rush inside.

His hair is soaked as well as his leather robes. Nevertheless, he acts as if he’s been barely touched by the foul weather. Iron doors are pushed so Aemond walks inside. The moment he does Ser Criston Cole greets him.

“I salute you, lord. It appears you bring me bad news.”

“Has my grave look delivered it?”

Aemond doesn’t show him any emotion.

“The king lays in his deathbed and has requested your presence.”

Tragedy has marked the few years since his older brother won his crown upon the longer period of time spent fighting Rhaenyra and her children. Madness followed when sweet Helaena went on her free will to the grave once the twins were bitterly deprived of their lives.

Because Lucerys had to be avenged for what Aemond caused. Their mother, some would whisper, did not last longer either. Victory came when most of the greens were buried and the blacks were dead and gone.

Now all that has remained is Aemond, recently a widower after his lady wife, the unpopular Alys Rivers, died in childbirth, preventing the greens to continue their lineage since their unborn child never breathed their first breath.

He tries not to dwell in the dark waters of the past if he does not wish to be drowned in the worst depression that could make any sane man sink into it.

But a path of blood has led him to this moment. One that he always desired. At what cost, though?

“I shall see him. No need to show me the way.”

Ser Criston doesn’t seem pleased with the cold remark of the prince who has been like a son to him, but the knight knows his place and lets him be.

Aemond soon takes the stairs and in this state, he walks to his oldest brother’s privy chambers. Once he gets in, unannounced, the silver haired prince is surprised by the bad smell that comes in.

It’s the smell of death.

“Brother”, the ghostly, pained voice reaches his ear in a most unpleasant way.

Aegon II is prostrated unhealthily in bed, the opposite of what his young self used to be. The weight of the crown costed much, but no price was high enough to restaure his sanity, health or, worse perhaps, his glorious past. In his eyes, there is nothing but the disgrace of another kinslayer, consumed by remorse.

A terrible sight to behold.

“My king”, he bows his head.

“Even in my darkest hour you are tied to formalities”, Aegon snarls in disdain. “It should have been you here, not me.”

“Time has always been a great thief, on that we agree, but do not think the shadow of death will not be casted upon me”, responds Aemond in a whisper.

“I should have been wiser”, says Aegon with eyes blurred by tears. “The older I grew, poorer were the decisions made.”

Aemond doesn’t know what to respond, opting for silence. In truth, he’s always been more of a soldier than a general. Always one to follow orders than give them. Or perhaps the civil war has led him to shape this perspective of himself.

“What good is there to think of what should or could have been done? The past is there for a reason.”

“How can you be so cold?!”

“I am being reasonable, logical even. Where is the need of being sentimental when pointing facts?”

“The woman whom you fought so hard has died! And here you are!”

Out of respect for the dying king, Aemond doesn’t pick this battle to fight. Not again. Not now.

“The crown is yours to use. But there is one thing you must be told before I’m gone…”

Aemond steps closer now, accustomed with the bad smell. The heat of the fireplace seems unwelcoming now that he’s friends with the cold.

“Yes?”

“Not every kin has perished in the war”, he murmurs.

“What the hell are you talking about?”, this is the first time in a while that Aemond has shown some emotion.

Aegon smirks at his brother, pleased to get him some reaction.

“Two of Rhaenyra’s sons are living”, but for some reason the dying king thinks it’s not his problem to give Aemond their whereabouts. Or perhaps this is remorse for all that he’s done.

Who knows? Who could tell what’s in his mind?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

“I am not”, and as if he is suddenly tired of living, Aegon coughs.

Aemond spots blood in his brother’s mouth, but by now his heart and mind are divided in between genuine concern over Aegon, his last remaining family, and the whereabouts of possible pretenders to his throne.

“Aegon…”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, brother.”

That being said, Aegon’s life has been turned into nothingness. The old king is dead. Long live the new king.

***

• I should not be left to my own devices. They come with prices and vices. I end up in crisis (tale as old as time). I wake up screaming from dreaming. One day I'll watch as you're leaving 'cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time)…

You stand in black leather robes by your father’s side the moment a messenger enters the great salon. Outside waves hit the shore violently, announcing a tempest that has been forming in the past twenty and four hours. Clouds have been obscuring the skies, but only by this twilight they’ve been producing electric sounds.

A lightening is heard.

“Well, lord. Under hospitality laws you are welcomed in this household”, says the chieftain of the House Greyjoy. “What news do you bring us?”

The messenger inspires some sympathy in you. He’s younger than your youngest brother and appears to have been made of summer. He knows naught of the perils that coming to Pyke might indulge him. But to his fortune Lord H/N Greyjoy is the head of the House at the moment, which means that he knows the aforementioned laws and would never harm a messenger.

“We have a new king”, by his accent you know he comes from a mid noble house of King’s Landing. “Aegon, second of his name, has died and transmitted the crown to his successor. His brother, lord Aemond Targaryen, is now the new king.”

“Ah”, says Lord H/N, playing with the knife. “A usurper following another usurper. Why does he care about us, often ignored by most Targaryens? Is he familiar that our laws somewhat differ even though we have been paying tribute and homage to them for a while?”

The poor messenger is sweating cold. You think wise to interfere when Lord H/N smiles benevolently.

“Young man, as bad reputed as my house is, we are honorable. At least I like to think my kin and I are. The laws of hospitality mean a great deal to us. But I appreciate the message you delivered us. I presume this means Lord Aemond is expecting that we submit to him as our overlord and king.”

The boy swallows again in relief. You see he’s considering correcting your father for the misuse of titles, but opts not to ruin his fortune.

“Aye, lord. The time to pay homage is soon.”

“Indeed it is”, your father strokes his chin. “These are the days I miss King Viserys. Many took him for a fool, but peacekeeping is the product of hard work. This is what made him a good king. And His Grace respected us, the houses that made his reign proper to rule.”

Then he stands, indicating the time to talk has come to an end.

“Tell lord Aemond that we recognize no king but the one who attends the name of Aegon III, son of the formidable Lord Daemon Targaryen and the queen who should have been, Rhaenyra.”

The warning is done. When the messenger leaves, you pity the poor lad’s fate. As you see the wind whirling against the sea, you say:

“The bad omen is sent by the God.”

It’s your elder brother, your father’s heir, who says:

“What do you understand of such things?”

You shoot him a gaze as if you are speaking with someone whose comprehension equals that of an ant.

“Great tempests like the one that’s been forming is hardly favorable. It is known.”

“A bad omen for the self pretentious new king”, you hear your father correct you. “This is our God preparing us for war.”

“War”, your brother repeats. “Was it necessary, father? We do not know whether the offspring of Queen Rhaenyra are alive.”

“They are”, lord H/N says in a tone that makes clear he knows many more things than he’s letting show. And here is how the schemes begin. “However, we must test the new king’s forces.”

Looking at you, his favored daughter, the head of Pyke says:

“Take with you a great number of men. You do well in tempests like this. The new king will assemble his army, but he’s not foreseeing our attack against his shores, assuming we are going to Lannisport again.”

You nod, unquestioning. Another brother, however, meddles:

“Is it prudent to underestimate the usurper, sire? He collects epithets that make quite a powerful sobriquet.”

“Words as those are meant to break fools by creating unreasonable fear of a man who is just that: a man.” And giving you a look, he says: “You may go.”

You hide away your fears, taking his orders. Unlike your brothers, you don’t question your father and you have no taste for blood. Though sensitive you may be—grieving the loss of your sister springs ago when she was forced to marry a green partisan only to die in childbirth and that of your mother by melancholy made you deal with your rage through violent seas—, you hide away your true self off the eyes of others.

Despite the beauty that brings admirers to your side, iron is set above it so though you never caused any death directly, you had enough power to bring it—which only means how fearful to some you can be, not to mention the protection and favor you have of the family.

Now here you are with the men under heavy rain. It’s time to scheme. Despite the bad feeling you bear with you—the fights you won previously during the civil war for the blacks usually occurred in calm sea, not amidst violent waves—, what else is there to do but to obey your father and overlord?

You turn at the ship and instruct your loyal men to follow you. But you do not enter in it before praising the God you serve and yelling after taking a long sip of wine:

“What is dead may never die!”

***

• It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me. At tea time, everybody agrees. I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Aemond’s coronation may have happened with no issues, but brought vices of temper that were not sufficiently tamed during his days of prince. One of which was the obsessive search for the lost sons of Rhaenyra.

Amidst this inconclusive search, the wolves of Winterfell are threatening to revolt at the same time the Krakens of Pyke delivered the message of subtle warning of war.

In spite of the circumstances, he is more than acutely aware of the fragile state of his kingship. This is the time to show his subjects he is not like Aegon.

Nay. He is better.

All the whilst the whereabouts of his nephews remain inconclusive and unknown, Aemond concentrates in issues that expect pragmatism of his part.

The North can still be dealt with the use of diplomacy and he sends his Hightower cousin to Winterfell with gold and an arrangement that works for his cause—presumably a match between a daughter of Lord Cregan and his envoy himself since Aemond has no desires in remarrying.

However, the Greyjoy assault assumes preoccupying colors. What could possibly lead an old house to open rebel against his rule?

“This is easy to resolve”, he shares his thoughts with Ser Criston Cole. “Their fleet will burn with fire and blood.”

Aemond does not fantom how the glory of his moment, albeit with a bloody path that brought him there, can be eclipsed by the refusal of a general acceptance of his rule.

Leaving personal vanities aside, cleaning his judgement of probable vices, the new king understands that the civil war of years ago has not yet been put to an end.

As he watches from the Red Keep the storm outdoors, calmly and steadfastly, a part of him comprehends that he may not be the best loved king time has witnessed and the pen of the maesters registered, but duty is what will always impel him to do what’s best.

If those will not see it through his good, may they see through his worse.

You cling onto optimism under the advantage that this is a surprise attack well coordinated, not a spontaneous sack in search for gold, nor an occasion fighting with random pirates.

This is not, however, a mere thirst for adventure being satisfied. The purpose, although ignored by you in great measure, is bigger than what your reason can conceive.

Perhaps you lack ambition to fight your wars, to be manipulated by your father like your brothers accuse him of doing—but what other choice do you have? He’s never treated you unkindly nor forced you upon an unwanted marriage, giving you liberty to do as it pleased you as long as you’d not forget your duties to your house.

You had your mother and your sister to tame your worse tendencies—whether to be slaved by the passions of the flesh or under the sins of pride—, some of which you’ve learned to repress. Now, however, you are where you belong. In the midst of chaos.

You do not like to fight it or to shed blood. To waste lives is a purpose you take no pride of. But leading others to it… or letting them choose to do what circumstances impel them to do so… this is what you are born to do. This is what makes most men fear you, comparing you to your father.

But they don’t see that, underneath this iron, there lies something pure and good. Sensitive. Aiming to be seen, aiming to be truly free of the duty that ties you to your family.

For however loved or useful you may be to your father, you are still under his command. Even here, even now.

However, it would have been prudent to question it, to have followed your instincts. For you have forgotten, or perhaps not have been told, that a storm never stopped King Aemond of flying his great legendary beast.

Waves clash against the ships, threatening to drown the men in them, or perhaps, as you hopefully attempt to see, leading you all to your destination.

But you miss a great shadow following above clouded skies. The night looks longer and deadlier, specially when it’s heard a roar right when a lightening bolt hits the ocean.

It doesn’t take long before you and your men pale as a shadow of the largest creature you’ve ever put your eyes on is casted upon the ship. You yell orders to separate the ships, with each carrying a beast to put it down.

The rain is too strong now and thus muffles your commands. To worse all, fire comes from above. Two of your ships are gone. You try not to succumb to your fear, soon leading the ship yourself. The desperation of your men is heard, but you try not to let the sound shake your core to join them in frustration.

Some of them opt to jump into the arms of the Drowned God and you cannot blame. But as you try to flee out of the dragon’s grasp, to your dismay you spot an outstanding number of fleet coming to your direction.

You flush violently.

“Fuck, we are ruined! This mission has been…”, your voice dies out. What is there to say? Has your father sent you to a trap?

“What should we do, lady Y/N?”, the second in command asks you.

“Never surrender”, your pride takes the iron shield back to surface. “If we must die, so be it.”

Aemond, however, has other plans. Despite burning and leading his own men to suffocate your rebellion before it reaches land, he wants to imprison the leader of it, which means you.

Soon, your ship is bombarded—and you watch as the king’s men slay all of yours, but you.

“Why are you sparing me?”

To no avail you seek death or protest. As if you are nothing, Lannister men hold you tight, removing you from the wrecked ship. By then you do not know whether you are weeping or the rain is washing your face. What difference is there?

You understand death is coming to you soon or later. Realizing that gives you strength, but paradoxically descend into melancholy.

***

• Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I'm a monster on the hill too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city, pierced through the heart, but never killed…Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

Aemond’s victory upon the two threats against his rising reign leaves him comfortable to deal with upcoming events. Whilst there is no indication that only the names of his nephews are alive in the memory of his enemies, with no bodies found he focus in the real threats and these have been placated.

But curious in meeting the leader of what he judges to be a piracy house, he expects to see you soon. Barely he knows, as well as you, what will result of this.

In the meantime, as comfortable as you are in new robes and in fancy quarters of the Red Keep, protected from the storm that is still daunting outdoors, you have your nightmares to deal with.

The sounds of the men screaming as they either embraced death willingly or were deprived of their lives with inutile resistance bend you to your tears. Never before you felt so weak for loving the sea, the wilderness in it.

What hurts more is the realization you were not born to be a soldier. A part of you always expected to be equal your brothers, but your failure shows precisely that you are not like them.

Lost in your contemplations, you are trying to think of a solution about leaving the place when you are surprised by the presence of no one but the king himself.

Aemond has no time to waste in delegating useless tasks that he can do it himself. Thus it is this anxious warlord comes to the chambers he located you.

Whilst he stands there, you and him share a silent stare. The silver haired prince is significantly taller than you, possessing, as you first notice, a long sword in his right side and a dagger in his left. The idea that he came protected to meet you almost makes you smile.

“What reason is there to your lips twirl in a smirk? You have no reason to commemorate”, his husky voice assaults your troubled mind, forcing you to focus on him.

“You came alone to meet me, lord king. Armed. Do I pose you enough danger for that?”

Aemond takes a seat before you. His good, lilac eye studies you intently. Despite feeling crimson paint your cheeks, you do not look away.

“You think too high of yourself, lady Y/N Greyjoy. I suggest you to know your place.”

You fold your arm, mockery rising to your eyes.

“Please, lord. Enlighten me what place is this when you have no morals to speak in such terms.”

Aemond is patient. And unlike many of the men that crossed your path, not tempted to easily demonstrate or slip into his temperament.

“I wear the crown and impose a defeat on your feeble attempt to overthrow me, lady Y/N. It is unwise to dictate the rules of this game.” And then he adds. “A game that you perhaps have not been prepared to play. Has your good father not instructed you on it properly? By the sounds of your defeat, I guess not.”

You clench your jaw. Despite the broken pride and the heat in your throat that might vert in unwelcoming tears, you hold back the instinct of throwing your hands around this king’s neck and break it.

But you’ve never been one back to violence, have you?

“Has the cat eaten your tongue?”

You stand at last.

“Why coming to insult me so freely? Kill me if you must, lord king. One less enemy to humiliate!”

Aemond too stands, hands contrived in his back.

“Nay”, he speaks in almost a whisper. “The rules are not yours to dictate. Besides, with your supporters dead, I have a guess that your father will not come for you.”

With a side smirk, he leaves you. Victoriously so. And as he closes the door, there locking you in, the prince hears your screams.

But he wonders what to do with you. This is not a typical rebel, nor a natural leader who easily inspires dissent. A soldier. The word brings him back to his memories when, as the right hand of King Aegon, his brother, he did what you are doing now. Obeying orders.

Intrigued by this comparison, he goes back to your quarters after he finishes dinner. Unannounced, he surprises you combing your long y/c hair, wearing a white night gown. As you readily stand before the noise of opening door, he sees not only fear behind your eyes… but comes to notice the strong firm breasts the silk poorly disguises.

However, to his own sake he best not to look too much in you.

“What are you here for, lord king?”, you ask away, throwing robes over your shoulders. “I-It’s too late for a visit and I shall not be your whore.”

Your words, much to your dismay, make him chuckle. Aemond pulls a chair and there sits, holding your uncomfortable gaze still.

“Despite the inappropriate hour, I had to speak with my lady”, says he.

“What for?”, you retort, still at a corner like a frightened animal.

“I will do no harm to you, Y/N Greyjoy. I am not my brother”, he clenches his jaw, waving his hand dismissively. “All I want is talk. You have my word.”

You hesitate and Aemond sees distrust in your eyes. He doesn’t blame you for this behavior. Now wondering what he’d do if his sister’s forces had captured him many moons ago, he comes to think he’d behave similarly. If not more rudely.

Eventually you cede and take a distant seat of him.

“Well?”, you say, anxious. “Speak your terms.”

“I did not come to bargain”, Aemond smirks. “Why, as a victor, would I do so?”

“I am not your trophy, lord king”, you frown your eyebrows in clearly displeasure. “Either send me home or execute me. Other possibilities are out of consideration.”

Aemond is entertained by how your pride takes the reins of the situation. Ignoring what you just said, he proceeds rather cautiously.

“You are a soldier.”

On that you don’t see it coming. You tilt your head and had not it been for a few scars over your eyebrows and on your neck, besides the calloused hands, he’d take you as a princess.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Patiently, the king explains.

“You were following orders to bring your men here. When we captured you, I’ve already had some informations about you. You are the only daughter of Lord H/N of Pyke, but hardly as skillful as your brothers… at least where bloodshed is concerned. You have a tender heart and even when you sack or pile you tend to have mercy on your enemies.”

You look at him in between astonishment and embarrassment.

“You planted a spy at my father’s household.”

Aemond’s lips twitch in a smile.

“You are clever, my lady.”

You feel a strange urge to weep, but you blink a few times, refusing to cede to it.

“I will not ask why. You’ve been counting on that, haven’t you? But seeing I am useless to my father, why keeping me here at your mercy?”

“I do not think you are useless to him. On the contrary”, Aemond rests his hand over his knee. “I know how cherished you are for him.”

“You are using me to bring out my family and defeat it publicly. My House will stand, lord.”

“There are many ways a House can perish, lady. But this is not about it. Disregarding what you may have heard about me, I was a soldier like you. Obeying orders blindly without questioning. However, I was born to hold a sword. You, perhaps, to command.”

Silence hangs in between the two of you. Aemond sees the value you have for your family, but what surprises him is that you don’t share the perspective.

They see the beauty in you, not the iron that lies underneath.

A thought he doesn’t find convenient to share. He stands, having collected enough for his judgement.

You watch as he stops by the door. He knows you have the urge to beg him to spare your family. It is an instinct that many would have in your position. But because you know that he studied you well, you say nothing.

You turn your back on him, disappointing your captor for sparing him of temperamental exhibition.

***

As days turn in weeks, you have been forced to deal with eminent loss of the main purpose that has led you there. Serving your family has not only brought you disgraces or exposed your fragilities to your enemies, but comes to nothing when no news of your father or brothers searching to avenge you reach you.

“A soldier is replaceable, whether by blood or not”, says Aemond.

This evening you two are dining together at his privy royal chambers. You realize the king is a lonely man with unseen scars. Like you.

“You have offended my honor and disgraced my pride”, you speak softly as you take wine to your lips. It’s sweet and part of you wishes it to be poisonous. “Until when do you intend to break my spirit?”

When Aemond raises his eyes to meet yours, your soul is perturbed. You wish you could look away, but not even vengeance is a scheme tolerable by your mind now.

“Despite the circumstances, I wish you had not seen me as such”, he speaks behind the glass he takes to his lips. “I believe there’s much to gain in here.”

“What’s there to gain?”

“Liberty.”

“By what means?”

No answer comes. As you now start to study him, you come to see him as not the villain many folks had moulded him to, but not the hero either. Somewhere in between.

Aemond doesn’t say. Silence again hangs in between you, but this time it has not the same shades of awkwardness.

By the end of the dinner, he is leading you back to your quarters. He sees that you still shake when he takes your hand.

“Lady Y/N…”

You look at him, deprived of your pride.

“Y-Yes?”

“This would all be different had you not openly rebelled against me on behalf of phantoms. I sought about the whereabouts of the princes myself and didn’t find them. Why letting yourself be the pawn of others game?”

You lower your eyes so he doesn’t see the depth of melancholy that has hammered these questions long ago, but the king lifts your chin, there gently holding it.

“What other choice did I have? You, of all, should understand what is like to be tied to the family. Have you never sacrificed anything for them?”

Aemond contemplates you in silence, words that echo that fatidic night where his mother claimed Lucerys’s eye for the loss he suffered.

“I have”, he admits. “More than you will ever know.”

A ghostly smile is seen forming shyly on your lips.

“Then we are not different. Soldiers, like you said.”

And then you stop by the door. Looking back at him, you find the king staring at you. Why, this time, does his intent stare shake you? Why do the parallels between you two bring something more?

Worse is, why does your prison doesn’t feel like one anymore?

***

Aemond leaves the council, certain that no more rebellions will spread. There had been no more words from Pyke, though he’s more than aware that the remaining of your brothers might attempt something in not a near future for he’s been informed that they plan another sack at Lannisport.

In that order, he instructs his spy to pay enough gold to have the Greyjoys protecting the bays of Westeros if they occasionally let go of supporting names that are nothing but a memory of days long put to rest.

However, a question remains: what to do with you?

***

You are allowed to walk freely through the castle. At first this intrigues you. As you love the unknown, you occasionally lose your fear as you start to explore this new environment.

But when going to the gardens and there spotting the sea, your heart aches. As you contemplate those calm waters, you wonder why your father had sent you in such a suicidal mission. He knew you had won previously in placid seas. It was never prudent to combat in ugly storms.

Such are your thoughts that you do not see him coming. Aemond has realized that for a long while he hasn’t come to enjoy a feminine companion, gotten now used to you.

Like a hawk in guard, he sets his good eye to scrutiny over you. This time, your beauty captivates his sight. Your y/c hair, falling down to the mid of your back, is only partially tied according to the local fashion; he notices it’s cleaner and better brushed too. As the sun lights on it, it makes it shine in almost a different shade of y/c.

The gown you dress is silk made and it slips delicately in your body, shaping your curves. Aemond’s good eye notices your hips, how firm they are. He thinks you look good in red and black, the colors of his house. This perception makes him smirk unconsciously.

Feeling you have been under observation, you promptly turn in defense mood, admonishing yourself for letting your guards down, until you see it’s the king, your captor, who’s been the observer.

“Staring is rude”, you do not know how else to greet him and curtsying is not an option; this means that you are subduing to his authority, and as much as you are thankful for his clemency to you, you still have your pride.

Aemond notices it, which amuses. Nothing different that what would have he done, had he been in your shoes.

“Not greeting your king properly is as well”, he remarks. “I thought that even the Greyjoys had some manners.”

You scoff at him in defiance.

“Who do you take us for? Barbarians?”

“No”, Aemond wrings his hands behind his back in his usual composed posture. “Only a folk who is often on combat with their own kin when not assaulting other shores.”

“Please”, you snarl in response. “Says the one who came to power after murdering a few of his own kin.”

Any sign of humor dissipates of the king’s eyes. Darkness casts its shadow upon his face and your smirk is instantly wiped off yours. You instantly regret saying it so, even though you cannot understand why.

“Do not speak of matters that you don’t understand”, the king addresses you in a cold tone.

“Then you should not judge a life that you never lived.”

No one admits defeat. Pride takes victory, thus separating one from the other. For the moment.

***

But your remorse begins to hammer against your conscience. You know if you wanted to make your way, you would. Perhaps seducing the king to buy your ticket to liberty.

As days turn into months and these begin to slowly turn into another year, no signs of the Greyjoys in avenging you shows that there is no point in going back home.

Have you been tamed? You fear to find the answer. It’s when you come for him.

“I need to find His Grace”, you ask Ser Criston, his closest advisor.

The knight looks down upon you and you detest to feel small by this man’s gaze. I’m still a Kraken’s daughter. But you keep the thought to yourself.

“He’s occupied at the moment.”

Sounds come from the king’s bedchambers and you narrow your eyes at what you hear. Why are you flinching upon hearing these scandalous noises?

You do not answer the knight. Lifting your chin, you storm out, perhaps prompted to do something very impulsive.

Which is, for now, getting yourself drunk. Now familiarized with the kitchen and collecting a few friends amongst the servants, you get yourself some good bottles to yourself.

“I do not think wise that you should drink alone, my lady”, a maid responsible to look after you named Gisla tells you concerned.

“Who cares if wine takes my breath away, dear? I am forsaken by all, a prisoner whose life turned into dust.”

As you lock yourself in your bedchambers, you get to wonder why the possibility that the king has found lovers to warm his bed should affect you.

Trying to dissipate these uninviting thoughts, you begin to unlace the gown he gifted you, ready to toss it in fire. Pouring wine in the glass, you try to release your caged spirit in the best way you can.

Now wearing nothing more than undergarments, you open the window in search of fresh air. Moon rises high at sky and when looking at the reflection it casts down the sea, melancholy strikes again.

Having calmed your temper, you start to reason with yourself. Who are you now? A memory that remains, a survivor long forsaken? As you taste the sweet flavor of red wine—Dornish, you are sure—you don’t see the king getting to your chambers.

Aemond is dressed in his usual robes, but looking somehow less than a royal. He throws his cape at the seat, his good eye scrutinizing over your melancholy. Almost twelve months have passed and somehow one remains unreachable for the other.

Under moonlight, he spots a free spirit caged. A woman born to rule, his other half in another life if defeat was meant to him. He did to her what others would do to him. And he realizes how unjust he was.

To secure his throne, he did what he must. But growing used to you, he refuses to let you go. The mere thought of you abandoning him is… unacceptable.

Nevertheless, the king wishes to compensate you. Desire arises, sparked by perhaps his utmost selfishness in keeping you with him.

Or perhaps you are only a gift by the Gods to put an end to this misery. His head is heavy with the crown he wears, a burden that tests his limits and feeds his ambitions.

Yet, all is set aside when he looks at you. Slowly he comes behind you. Sensing an enigmatic presence behind you, you abruptly turn only to find him this close to you.

“Lord king! Your Grace!”, you exclaim out of short breath.

“I see we are welcomed properly now, my lady”, he never noticed until now how deep your y/c eyes are, as if sea is calling him. “I have missed you.”

You scoff, trying to find a way out of his arms, but Aemond doesn’t let you to.

“Will you please let me go?”

“Nay. I was prepared to do so, but I am a selfish man, Y/N. I care about you.”

You clench your jaw, frustrated. So many men have been pushed away, despised and looked down by you, but this king… When you look up, you are trapped.

“You care not!”, your voice betrays your spiritual state. “You have been whoring!”

Aemond’s eye twinkles with amusement. He is now holding your wrists as he pushes you against the wall, his knee gently parting your legs. You feel a strange ache burning your womanhood, rising to your chest.

“What makes you think I was?”

His long, slander pale fingers wrap around your fingers, eyeing your chest with lust, perceiving the hardened nipples under the white nightgown you dress. Then he raises his eyes only to meet your inexpressible face completely red.

“I… It doesn’t matter how I think when it’s a fact”, you try to protest, but it dies incomplete in your throat the moment Aemond gently rubs his knee against your entrance.

You should not enjoy this, but by the Kraken, here is no ordinary man.

“And if it was? Why would you care?”, he is pleased to find some reaction in your eyes at the moment he speaks with his husky voice, a positive effect of him over you.

“I don’t”, you squeak as he continues doing what he’s been doing with his knee.

“Deny me, then. Send me away the way you sent your suitors all before”, Aemond defies you, aroused as you begin to rub against his knee, willingly this time.

Eyes locked in one gaze, no one is ready to surrender. Yet.

“My king should know better whom you speak to.”

“One day you’ll wake up with regrets if I leave.”

You move closer to take hold of his long face, fingertips daringly touching his cheeks, up to his eye—but despite your staring you don’t touch the eye patch. Letting them slip to his silvery hair, wrapping your fingers around his locks, pulling him closer to you.

“Will you dare to leave me, Aemond Targaryen?”

His eyelashes barely open as his lips remain close to yours, his left hand holding your waist as his right one leaves your neck, slipping vaguely and purposely over your breasts before resting over your waist.

“Will you stay, Y/N Greyjoy?”

When you dare to remove his eye-patch, Aemond surprises you by not fighting away your curiosity. Knowing how this means he trusts in you, it’s enough to knock down every other barrier you’ve held up to him.

“Must be exhausting to repress your sentiments to this anti-hero”, he stares at you intently.

“It is”, you gasp, spreading your legs as his hand finally moves under the skirt of your nightgown. But he doesn’t make to your core, not yet, which makes you mewl.

Aemond side smirks at you, waiting to bend you to his will. You barely breathe, but this time you turn the tables by letting another hand finding the way to his pants.

“My lady!”

“You did not take me as a damsel, did you?”, you chuckle, even though he sees you are misleading in your eyes.

In truth, as you feign a confidence you don’t have, all you did was having a limited experience with men. So you did know some things as he can tell by the form your fingers skillfully unlace his pants and…

“Shit!”, Aemond curses.

You giggle quietly, appreciating the mix of shock and libidinous in his wide-eyed gaze. It feels good to have his length throbbing against your hand, how you manage to have him under your control.

It feels so good to deflect him to you, to have captured your captor.

“Gods…”, his moans are sensually low, the pleasure stamped in his features making you wet in your legs.

What is meant to be an instrument of domination is now domineering you. And oh you want more… But then, you stop.

“Y/N…” Aemond groans in between annoyance and disbelief.

“I cannot do this”, you say, detesting to break the spell, but then…

He gives you a quizzical look, perhaps thinking many possibilities of why you are doing this to him after he let himself be so crudely open to you.

Precisely why you are surprising him again when you tell him.

“I am not your whore, Aemond. You either make me your wife and queen, or my life ends right here, right now”, you indicate with your head in direction to the opened window. “I am a Kraken’s daughter. I am the sea, I cannot be caged for longer.”

Maybe it’s the wine, but you are scarcely afraid of holding back a character that hasn’t fitted you for long.

“I grew to love you and even though I am forsaken by my family, more painful would be if I were deserted out of your heart.”

Aemond’s features sooth before your words. Indeed he’s been taken by surprise, a deed few would have claimed to do.

“You could have said this earlier”, says he, shortening the distance between you two, cupping your face with his. “I meant not to dishonor you, my lady.”

“I was afraid you would not…”

“…love you?”, he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “I fucking do. Hence why I said I’m not prepared to let you escape. I cannot do so. And I am ready to make you my queen.”

One smile is enough to firm the peace between hearts in array.

***

• I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero…

Aemond admires the wild beauty that sleeps next to his side. His queen, at long last announced before the whole realm notwithstanding the disapproval of his council, his wife.

He begins to kiss your face, before burying his face against your hair. No more sorrow when your sea salt scent envolves him in a jolt of happiness never before experienced… not before Alys.

No more past to daunt his heart and torment his mind as his tongue slips to your ear, biting your earlobe and sliding to your neck, his hand pressing against your waist. His eyes remain glued at your peaceful, serene face, despite the shivers that begin on your skin and, as he discreetly pulls off the blankets, sees the exposed nipples hardening.

Aemond is careful not to wake you yet. Admiring your nude frame as his lips move to your neck, he keeps in mind the events of the day before. No protest came from Pyke as one of them is crowned their queen. But you are still resented to write them letters, despite the efforts of your brothers in renewing a direct alliance with the crown—to the Lannisters’ preoccupation.

The king is not here to please anybody, but you. He recollects how beautiful you were in a green, silk gown, appropriated for summer feasts. His mother’s tiara was placed above your head, and your hair down reinforced your sparkling beauty.

As his mouth leaves bruises against your skin, you move lightly, making incomprehensible noises. Aemond smirks, slowly turning over your body, always careful when doing so.

Contemplating your nudity under his gaze, he recollects the night before—and the nights beforehand where he took you as his wife, never able to leave your body, remembering how you mewled under his touch, how humbled you were when you begged.

“My lady likes to be commanded in bed”, he said in the occasion.

“Only you has possessed this right”, so you snapped in between short breaths.

Smiling at the retrospective moment, his lips now move delicate to mouth out your nipples, finally awaking you as his fingers move down to your womanhood.

“Oh Aemond!”, you cry out in pleasure, eyes open with despair, as your body reacts like a big wave sets to hit the shore violently.

“Yes, my lady?”, he takes his time in each nipple until your cries get louder, all the whilst his now two fingers make way deep inside you, already familiar with the walls that clench around it, the spot that is soon making you call his name.

And then…

“I need you!”, you whimper.

Your wishes are prompted complied. What a good way to start your tenure, you remember thinking. When looking at you, Aemond Targaryen knows he is not merely a king, but a man who finally found love in his lifetime.

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potionsprefect · 5 days

Text

Motivation

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 833

Summary: Victoria finds a new way of working out

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Fluff

“Whose idea was this again?” Ethan asked as they stood in their garden.

“Mine of course. Since the twins arrived, we’ve been slacking on the workout routines and we should take advantage of this big garden.” Victoria said.

“And what exactly do you propose?”

“We can easily jog round this garden no problem. As long as the other doesn’t push each other into the pool we’ll be fine.” Victoria laughed.

“Something tells me you already have a plan to do that.”

“Me? Never.”

“I was busy working on my research so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to doing that. But I won’t say no to watching you.” Ethan winked.

“You do that.” Victoria said.

Whilst Ethan didn’t disagree with what Victoria said, he wished she had picked a day that he wasn’t busy. He loved his work and everything that came with it and getting an opportunity to write a paper was considered a great honour.

He was already halfway through it and wanted to finish it today so that no more of his time could be taken up with that. Instead, he wanted to spend every moment possible with his wife and two kids.

Becoming a father was the greatest role Ethan could have and it was one that he was treasuring every second. He loved seeing the smiles on Luke and Lily’s faces whenever he woke them up in the morning. He couldn’t believe that this was his life now and he was eternally grateful for it.

Ethan sat down at the garden table and opened up his laptop, as well as switching on his phone and watching his two young children sleep through the camera they had installed by their cots. He propped his phone up by his bed and got to work on writing his paper, his eyes flickering between his word document, his phone and his wife who was putting her earphones in further on down the garden.

Victoria always said that she wanted to maintain a good lifestyle post pregnancy and eagerly counted down the days until she could start exercising again.

She didn’t want to spend a lot of time away from her twins so opted for home workouts. Sometimes, it made her more motivated, other times it didn’t. But she knew that if she committed herself to the workouts, she would start to feel good.

Victoria glanced behind her at Ethan who was typing fast on his laptop. She knew his eyes were flickering towards her every so often. She often caught him staring at her and it made her feeling very loved.

Deciding to give him something to look at, Victoria bent down to touch her toes. She tried to hold this for as long as possible, when she stood back up she saw Ethan looking at her, a grin on his face.

“Like what you see?” She said.

“Always.” He smiled.

For the next half an hour, Victoria followed the workout routine, it pushed her hard and there were times where it was difficult but when she was finally finished, she felt good.

As she headed over to Ethan who was still sat on his laptop, she had a spring in her step. Jenner jumped up at her as she reached Ethan.

“Did you miss me Jenner? Don’t worry. I’m here to give you an unlimited amount of affection.” Victoria laughed.

“I think we can rival each other on affection.” Ethan laughed as Victoria sat on his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Refreshed. I like this new way of working out. And now the better weather is coming, I’m going to make use of the time outside. How have Luke and Lily been?” Victoria gestured to Ethan’s phone.

“As quiet as a mouse. Which is good considering they kept us up most of the night.” Ethan chuckled. “I’m surprised you had enough energy for today.”

“Me too. But we should treasure every moment with have with them. They won’t stay small forever.” Victoria said.

“True. We should go wake them up, otherwise we’re not getting any more sleep tonight.” Ethan laughed.

Hand in hand, Ethan and Victoria head into Luke and Lily’s room where the twins were wriggling about in their cots. Ethan and Victoria picked them up and stood by the window.

“I hope you both are going to join in with Mommy when she does her workouts when you are older.” Victoria smiled down at Lily. “Daddy would’ve joined in but he was rather busy.”

“Daddy tries not to be busy because he wants to spend as much time with you as possible.” Ethan laughed.

“We can have a lot of fun trying our new activities. And Jenner won’t object if you throw him a ball every so often.”

“I’ll join in for your next workout. It’s about time, I started to get back in shape.” Ethan said.

“I shall look forward to it.” Victoria smiled.

Things were looking bright, and long may things stay that way.

Victoria always puts on a show for Ethan 😉

Tag list: @ohchoices @swiftiexstarwarssimp @queencarb @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @gryffindordaughterofathena @sophxwithers @romewritingshop @coffeeheartaddict2 @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @lsvdw-blog @kiara-36 @quixoticdreamer16 @headoverheelsforramsey @shanzay44 @itsjustamesshonestly @josiesopenheart @mysticalgalaxysstuff @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @kachrisberry @rookiemartin @jamespotterthefirst @a-crepusculo @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @wanderingamongthewildflowers @rosebudde @lucy-268 @liaromancewriter @bex-la-get @writer-ish @toadfrog26 @tessa-liam @peonierose @cariantha @kyra75 @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey x victoria clarke #ethan x victoria #playchoices #fanfic #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices: open heart #fluff #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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igglemouse · 3 months

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Flower Day, a day about new beginnings and blooming relationships. I think. It's a day about flowers and in the end that's what flowers are, right?

It's not quite Love day, for sure, but it's still a great day for a date.

I take a bite of my waffle, wondering if there will be a day where I tire of them. Possibly, but there are many different varieties of waffles, isn't there?

Last night is still on my mind, my conversation with Pascal didn't feel quite like a conversation at all, it felt more like a sparring session. I do understand where he's coming from, he has full confidence that he'll reach his goals, goals that are sure to make him a simmillionaire and so he's very protective about who he allows in his circle. Yet, why shouldn't I be the same way?

Today I'll see him again but this time the intentions between us will be clearer as it will be a date. I guess I'll see then if this relationship is meant to blossom or wither under the hot Oasis Springs sun

Flower Day might be about new beginnings but for my stand I'm hoping to just find a little more consistency. Yesterday was not the best of days to be sure but today? Today was a little better. Over a hundred simoleons which is always the goal and this is despite being a little distracted by the date I'll be going on later today.

There is a certain buzz to the air when it comes to Flower Day or perhaps it's wrong to call it a buzz? There's a taste to the air that makes you feel like flowers might bloom with your every step.

Ah, no, wait, that's just the Flower Bunny making her appearance. There's is certainly an aura she carries around that is hard to explain but seeing her in my backyard put a smile on my face since it's not every year I get to see her.

I guess it is kind of odd to have her just loitering around my property but since she had dropped a few flowers I guess I could forgive her.

"Don't forget to plant a flower today!" she insists, completely invading my personal space to remind me. "Planting a flower today will make tomorrow a little better!"

"Umm, yeah, I might get around to that!"

"Don't forget!"

Yeaaaa...any ways, I do have a date I should be getting to!

The park had more of a chill vibe to it today which made it the perfect location for our date. I thought that Pascal's idea would have been a little walk and talk outing, something simple, an activity that would allow us to know the other better under what had become beautiful day.

So it was slightly surprising to find him standing in the middle of checkered blanket, flanked by pillows and a basket that looked filled with a variety of fruits, bread, and cheese.

"I was beginning to worry!" His arms out in invitation.

Watcher, I think I might have been five or so minutes late! It was nice to know he was so eager to see me again.

I mentioned that the weather had helped in creating a beautiful day but just that one word fails to describe it. It was perfect. I am sure that the summers of Oasis Springs can get hot enough to peel skin but if today is representative of its Springs then maybe I can find more appreciation for Flower Day.

Despite the fruits and I assume fancy cheeses that he brought for our little picnic they mostly remained untouched as we both decided to nibble on conversation instead.

I asked him about why yesterday's conversation took on a bit more of a defensive tone. "I guess I can be a little guarded," he tells me, leaning back on his arms and his brow taking on a crease. This admittance seemed like a revelation to himself. "I blame young players seminar I went to, at the end of last year."

Now that piqued my curiosity. "What was that about?"

"Women," his head tilts back and he chuckles some. "Just that some are very predatory, gold diggers, you know? Just looking to tie themselves to a man and drain him dry."

"Uh huh," but I'm not really listening because for a moment a warm breeze blows my attention to how perfect the day is. It was the comforting kind of heat that made you appreciate the sun and life in general. Since I wasn't paying attention I ask the same question but worded in another way. "What was the advice?"

"Watch out for cougars."

"What?" I'm not sure I understand but I guess that's my fault for not being fully tuned in to our conversation. "Cougars?"

"Women that are much older and..." he stops mid-sentence, thinking better than to continue and instead opting to focus on the present. "I don't know, it's silly. I'll keep to my path, my practice, my goals."

"Probably a good idea."

The day unfolded lazily, the blue sky calm above us a testament to the indifferent heat that had added to the comfort of the moment. Our conversations dipping from one lighthearted conversation to another. From favorite movies, songs, to of course food. I learned he was a big fan of waffles, action movies, and hip hop.

Eventually our talk would drift into a more serious topic, thanks to me.

"What do you want from life?" I hated asking it the moment it fell from my lips. It seemed too much an interview question and the pause that came after made me regret it even more.

"Trophies." He answers eventually, determination oozing from that one word. "To be the best. What else could someone want?"

I lifted my shoulders in a quick shrug. "I don't know?" I start to answer, realizing that he had asked a rhetorical but there certainly was a better answer than what he provided. "Happiness? Seeing the world? The simple things in life?"

With a flick of his hand he waved those things away. "I don't doubt that but...nothing feels better than a victory well earned."

My scoff draws his attention and a smirk that seemed to challenge me. "You know what else I want?" His hand closes over mines as he demands eye contact. Creating a romantic tension that I wasn't ready for. "I want you."

I had the urge to bring my lips to his, to seal the deal, but something in me told me this was too fast. It would be just a kiss, I told myself, but when is a kiss just a kiss? So instead, I opt for a lighthearted response, a malicious grin forming on my lips as I challenge him again. "And why me?"

"That question again!" he groans playfully but before I can defend myself his hands are on me, tickling me, making me pay for asking it again. Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, I am very ticklish and soon he has me squirming under the skill of his fingers. Playfully I tell him to stop but truthfully I don't mind a few more tickles!

Once he was does tormenting me with tickles he had me on my back, our fingers interlocked and our gazes as well. There was a charge between us, undeniable, and while I'm sure he had something to say I think we both understood there was little else to say. Now was a time for action...

Episode List - Episode 2 ‘Sabor de Selva’

Picnic poses by @starrysimsie

#the sims #the sims 4 #sims legacy #iggleverse #sims 4 legacy #my sims #generation 1 #frida varela #pascal alcocer #The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #soot #sims of our time

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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Hi! I really love your writing! It brings me so much comfort and warmth, you truly have a skill with one shots/fanfictions!

If you're taking requests could you do a platonic Weems x Student!reader with social anxiety who came back to Nevermore from Jericho after being picked on by some of the Jericho High students. Thanks so much and I hope you well for the holidays (if you celebrate them) and the New Years!

Welcome to Your Nevermore Family

Larissa Weems x student!reader

“Good afternoon, y/n.” Principal Weems took a seat by you on the edge of the water foundation in the quad. Her long legs stretched out in front of her as she was a little too tall to be sitting there.

“Good afternoon, Principal Weems.” You force a smile and look up at her, setting your phone to the side.

“I see that you have yet to pick a extracurricular. Is everything okay?” Principal Weems folded her hands into her lap.

You didn’t know what to tell her. After your horrible experience in Jericho as a student, you weren’t sure where you would be accepted. At this point you weren’t sure if these Nevermore kids would be any different. You were nervous any time one of your peers looked at you, thinking they may replicate the same experience as Jericho students.

“I know that your experience in Jericho was…. less than adequate.” Ever the diplomat, Larissa chose her wording carefully, “Here at Nevermore, we live by a different philosophy. We aim to create an environment where everyone can feel accepted.”

“I just- I just don’t know what they are thinking. They probably all hate me and think I’m-”

“While I certainly don’t believe anyone hates you, I can understand what you mean when you worry what other people are thinking.” Principal Weems tone was gentle, but her tone told you that she telling the truth with every word, “I’m sorry your past experiences make you feel like an outcast here.”

“I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to join a club where a bunch of people already know each other. I’ll just be an outcast in a club of outcasts…” You shook your head. You were determined to protect yourself from your peers.

“How do you feel about bugs, Mx. L/n?”

“Alright, I suppose.”

———

You and Principal Weems began walking towards the woods that surrounds campus. You were nervous to see what club she was taking you to visit, “Prinicpal Weems, I’m not too sure about this.”

“Rest assured, Mx. L/n. This is the smallest club on campus, consisting of two and a half members.”

“A half?”

“One of the members brings a friend with her. He is a disembodied hand. It’s hard to explain, but we try to keep an open mind here at Nevermore.” Weems shared this fact like she was sharing the current weather forecast. You narrowed your eyebrows, thinking of how you had never heard of anything that cool at Jericho.

“The president himself is a bit of a… path blazer. He is very much himself and doesn’t seem to mind being different in a school of outcasts.” Principal Weems continued to explain. You nod and allow silence to fulfill the remainder of your journey.

Principal Weems knocked on the door of a small shed and moments later a young man wearing a beekeeping suit appeared at the door, “Mr. Ottinger, this is y/n. They are new to Nevermore and looking for a small club to join. I suggested to them the Nevermore Hummers.”

The boy’s face lit up and he held out a gloved hand to you, “Eugene Ottinger. President of the Hummers. Pleasure to meet you, y/n. Are you willing to feel the sting?”

You smile at Eugene, enjoying the glimpse of personality you have seen so far, then you glance back up to Principal Weems. She is already looking at you with a smile, “Welcome to your Nevermore family.”

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday netflix #larissa weems x reader #plantonic #student!reader #fanfic #oneshot

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metamorphosisff · 11 months

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|Chapter 16| I’m Trying

“Boy, what’s the matter with you?”

I looked up from my spot on the floor besides the armchair to see Granddad looking directly at me. It was late in the afternoon and instead of being entertained by the preseason football game he put on, he found I was more interesting. His eyes are sharp and focused under furrowed brows, letting me know he was completely lucid. That alone had me locking my phone to give him my attention.

“Nothing, I’m alright. Need anything?” I asked.

“Yeah, I need you to tell the truth and not that horse shit you just tried to give,” Granddad said, causing me to laugh despite the fact that I had been called out.

The last two weeks had been the hardest to get through due to the radio silence from Mila. She was hurt, beyond measure, and I had unintentionally let her down. It was driving me crazy not being able to talk to her but I had no choice. She made her boundaries clear the next day via text after she let my phone call go to voicemail: Space. Please. I just need space.

So I obliged, not wanting to overstep. We have always respected each other enough to listen to our individual needs. I did not get to trample over the trust we built with each other just because I missed her. That was the last thing she needed from me. It hurt to let her go for time being though and try as I might, I couldn’t cover up how sad the whole situation made me. I couldn’t even fool Granddad who was not even aware of who I truly was half of the time.

“I’m not in a good place with my girl right now and we’re not talking,” I said, deciding to go ahead and tell the truth. These lucid moments were hard to come by so I would milk this one for what it was worth.

“Well, what did you do?” Granddad asked, a skeptical look crossing his features. “I hope you didn’t step out on this young lady.”

“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “Nothing like that. I would never cheat, I was raised right.”

“You sure as hell were,” Granddad said, shaking his fist for emphasis. “I thought I was going to have straighten you out. You know I don’t fool with no foul behavior.”

“Yes Sir, I do know that,” I chuckled.

“Lovers quarrels happen, son. You and your lady aren’t always going to see eye to eye and that’s okay. It’s how you go about not seeing eye to eye that matters,” Granddad said.

I nodded my head in agreement. “True. This is our first serious disagreement and it’s a big one. I honestly don't know how we will come back from it.”

“Let me ask you a few questions,” Granddad said, growing serious.

“Okay,” I said.

“When you're with this girl, does she make your days easier or harder?”

“Easier.”

“When you’re away from her, do you spend your time counting down until you're near again?”

“Always.”

“Have your days been the same now that you two don’t speak?”

“Not at all.”

My days were a lot emptier now. No longer filled with sarcastic remarks or shy sly smiles. They were back to being a blur, buried under work so that I did not have to think about the color that was missing. I went to bed early and rose even earlier because my dreams created the reality I wished to be true. It was more painful to wake up and realize I was still in the current reality where Mila had gone back to treating me like a stranger.

“Then it sounds like you love this young woman and if you love her, you’ll weather this storm because love isn’t easy Xavier,” Granddad said, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Love is something we choose each and every day we decide to. It’s a powerful choice to love someone, to let them into your heart and your mind, to enter their heart and mind. There is no perfect way to love someone so there will be mistakes and mishaps along the way but you have to learn from them. You have to be open and willing to compromise, and not let ego rob you of that choice.”

“What if you fall short? What if love isn’t enough?” I replied.

“Oh love is never enough and there is no if, you will fall short sometimes. Falling is inevitable. Falling is a part of life. There is no one size fits all advice that I can nor anyone else can give for that. If you love this girl like you say, you’ll find a way to pick yourself up and make the puzzle pieces fit again. It might not happen today or tomorrow for that matter but as long as you work at it, it’ll happen,” Granddad said with one last pat to my shoulder.

I took a deep breath and released it while I mulled over his words. The space while tortuous was also a blessing. It gave me time to work on myself. To see how I could become a better partner and person. To see how to set realistic expectations for myself so that when I fell short, I didn’t beat myself up.

“Thanks Grandad, I needed to hear that,” I said.

“Oh I know it. Sitting here like someone ran off with your favorite toy,” Granddad chuckled, picking up the remote to aimlessly scroll through the guide. “Reminds me of the time your grandma broke my heart.”

“Vernon Taylor you better not be feeding that boy lies!” Gigi playfully commented from the kitchen.

“Woman, don’t get embarrassed now. You stood me up,” Grandad shouted back. “Left me outside of the movie theater on the 125th looking pitiful.”

Gigi popped her head outside of the kitchen, a smirk on her lips as she pointed a mixing spoon in our direction.

“You looking pitiful was no doing of mine.”

“Ah hell boy, move, she gon’ get us struck down by lightning,” Granddad said to me before bellowing out, “Now you know…”

I smiled as they both launched into the tale of their ill-fated first date. Though I had heard the story several times before it never stopped being funny or inspirational. My grandparents will make fifty years this fall and were still in love despite Granddad’s memory loss. Through the fog he always remembered her and her significance in his life. Their relationship gave me hope for my own because I could do fifty years with Mila easily. I could do eternity.

A storm ravished the city. I was standing in front of Dr. Mitchell’s window watching as the thousands of people below bustled clumsily with umbrellas and soaked hoods trying to avoid its wrath. I had made it to my appointment right before the rain started but going home, I would look just like them. Taking a deep breath helped me tune back into what was happening around me and realized that Dr. Mitchell was waiting for me to answer a question.

“My bad Dr. Mitch, what was that?” I asked, slightly turning away from the window to look at him. As always he was seated in his chair, with a legal pad on his lap and a fountain pen twirling on the tips of his fingers.

“It’s okay, I gather you have a lot on your mind at the moment. You’re normally more present during our sessions,” Dr. Mitchell said. “Forget my question. Would you like to talk about any of those thoughts?”

“Not thoughts, just one thought, over and over again. It’s kind of driving me crazy too,” I sighed, pressing my forehead against the glass.

“Walk me through it,” Dr. Mitchell said.

“I’m never enough for anyone. Not for my father, not for Grandad, not for Mila, not for Sabrina. I always end up failing the people I love most and I’m starting to think it’s intrinsic because it keeps happening. I give my all, time and time again, and it always seems to be fuck me. I don’t even like to think like this because it feels very ‘woe is me’ but lately? I can’t escape the thought that maybe as much as I want to do for others…maybe they are better off without me around or maybe I’m only supposed to help on a surface level. I don’t know,” I sighed.

“Sometimes we give all of ourselves without ever being asked to and sometimes, yes, that won’t be enough depending on the circumstance. We as people fail to realize that not every circumstance calls for us to expend ourselves to exhaustion,” Dr. Mitchell says.

“I don’t even do it purposely though. Like I see a problem and without a second thought I’m looking for a solution,” I said.

“But are you asked to do that? Or is that a mantle you pick up on your own?” Dr. Mitchell asked.

That was a good question. I had a habit of picking up responsibilities because in my mind if I don’t do it, then nobody else will.

“Sometimes but if I’m being honest, it’s mostly me doing it on my own,” I admitted.

“It’s easy to feel under appreciated in your position then because it’s like there should be a recognition aspect,” Dr. Mitchell said.

“Exactly, like I don’t need something long or drawn out or gifts but sometimes a ‘thank you’ would be nice,” I said.

“I get that, I do,” Dr. Mitchell said, as he scribbled something down. “I want to swing back to something you said in correlation with that. You listed out the people you feel you aren’t enough for, can you give an example for each person? You said you didn’t feel like enough for your father, Granddad, Mila, and Sabrina.”

“Uh yeah,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “With my father, I’m just not the son he envisioned and because I don’t fit that mold it feels like nothing I do will be good enough to make him proud of me.”

“Has he ever said those words to you? That he wasn’t proud of you?” Dr. Mitchell asked.

“No,” I replied. “But he told me he struggles to like me and if he doesn’t know if he likes me then him being proud of me feels far fetched.”

“I know that argument was a nasty one for you two but isn’t it possible he only meant in that moment and not in general?” Dr. Mitchell asked.

To that I shrugged. Ma had basically hinted at the same thing but I was too hurt to hear it then. “Possibly but I haven’t heard that from his mouth yet,” I shrugged.

“That’s real but assuming otherwise isn’t helpful to you. It’s hard to be open minded about others after they hurt you but with your father, try thinking of his lifetime of actions towards you and not just the argument. Maybe the relationship is salvageable, maybe it’s not, but it deserves to be judged on more than those ten or so minutes you two were angry,” Dr. Mitchell said.

I nodded my head, “I’ll try but I make no promises. I’m tired of being the bigger person in our situation.”

“I say this strictly for self reflective purposes, if you feel like he should be the first to reach out then stand by that. In the meantime, assess what you would like the relationship to look like if you decide that you want to continue to have one,” Dr. Mitchell said.

“Noted,” I said, as I took another deep breath. “Moving on, as for Granddad it comes in moments that I don’t know how to help him. It’s been happening less frequently now that we got help but I still have those instances when I think I can do more for him because I know there is more that can be done. I’m just not the person who can make those decisions on his behalf.”

“Do you think you have done everything within your power to help Granddad?” Dr. Mitchell asked.

“Yes,” I answer, without hesitation. I have gone through so many sleepless nights, insults and bruises from that man. All with the notion of trying to keep him safe and I would do it all over again.

“Then you have done enough. You have not failed him and you honor him by continuing to be involved in his health care. You show up for him and that counts,” Dr. Mitchell said.

To hear him say that when I’ve felt otherwise is weird but yet affirming. It feels like something I want to deny but the look he’s giving me lets me know that I need to receive what he is saying. I nod my head once more while taking in a shaky breath.

“With Mila…I let her down. She had been calling me and texting me locked in her bathroom thinking she was going to die like Sabrina,” I said, as tears fell onto my cheeks. “Sabrina called me three times and while I was at a fucking party, she was being choked out. She was dying on my fucking voicemail and I…”

I closed my eyes shut as my cousin’s fear filled voice rang in my ears clear as a bell.

“L-L-L-et me g-g-g-o.”

For three minutes, I heard what her last moments of life were like and that shit haunted me for years. After Mila’s encounter with Trevor, I have been having nightmares again but this time instead of listening to Sabrina die, I was listening to her. It was fucking me up bad inside because how many times would I have to live through this? Through not being able to save the women I cared about?

“And I was so sick because I had been too scared to say I loved her until that shit happened. Wasted time because he could have killed her and she would have…fuck,” I yelled, shaking my head as more tears rushed down my face. Angrily, I swiped them away.

“Xavier, listen to me when I say this,” Dr. Mitchell said firmly, causing me to look up. “Neither of those incidents were your fault. They were out of anyone’s control, especially what happened to your cousin. You were four states away. There is nothing you could have done. Nothing. With Mila, you got to her as soon as you were able. Taking time for yourself that night does not equate to neglecting her when like you said, there was no way to have known her ex would do what he did.”

“In my mind I know that, I swear I do, but it does not feel like that. Not when she looked at me the way she did,” I said.

That empty, broken stare, also haunted me. My body shook as I remembered staring at her bruised face and not being able to hold her.

“She had just gone through a traumatic ordeal, you know better than anyone how that affects people,” Dr. Mitchell said.

He was right. I saw clients with PTSD and taught students about crisis responses on a daily basis. The logical part of me knew that Mila’s response to me had nothing to do with me at all. Not really. Even so, knowing that did not ease the wound of being pushed away.

“I do but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt my feelings. A part of me was initially mad because it was so quick for her to throw those walls back up. It’s just really hard not to take it personal when considering my history with domestic violence. This triggered the fuck out of my anxiety and I can’t even check on her how I want to because she asked for space. I’m respecting that but you don't know how hard it is for me not to just sit outside her door,” I said, with a shake of my head.

“Oh trust me, I definitely do,” Dr. Mitchell said with a soft chuckle that hinted at his experience with not speaking to a partner, “Respecting her wishes is the best thing you can do and it will pay off in the long run.”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod of my head. “It’s easier said than done though. I really want to know how she’s doing, our relationship status aside, I need to know if she’s okay.”

At the end of the day, that’s what mattered above anything.

Tapping his pen against the pad, Dr. Mitchell said, “Since it’s almost been a month, it’d be okay for you to send her a text just to let her know you’re still here and that the doors of communication are still open on your end. Don’t press her for any details or anything, simply state that and wait. Until she is ready to reach out, keep working on yourself because that’s all you really can do.”

“I hear you,” I said, using my hands to wipe my face dry.

“We are reaching the end of our session but I have some homework for you,” Dr. Mitchell said.

“Now I know how my students feel when they hear that from me,” I joked, needing to lighten the mood for myself. Crying always made me feel so heavy.

Dr. Mitchell chuckled before saying, “I want you to go this whole week without helping anyone but yourself outside of work that is. Do your favorite things or do nothing at all. The point though is to be in tune with yourself. You’ll never feel like you are enough for anyone if you don’t feel like you are enough for yourself first.”

Wow, that last statement robbed me of my breath for a moment. I have spent so much time chasing after the ideal of who and what I should be through the lens of serving others. To the point that I was often left questioning what parts of me were good or worthy of being loved. I tried to go into each day positively but that had become harder over these last few months. Something I had to acknowledge so that I could turn things around and genuinely feel good about myself.

“Challenge accepted.”

#metamorphasisff #black romance #Black Fiction #slow burn romance

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angry-trashcan · 1 year

Text

Healing a Bond

Part seven of Hair Holds Memories

Warnings: Mentions of past self harm, reader referred to as they/them, let me know if I missed anything

1.7K WC

(First)

The door hit a bell, causing a jingle as the three of you walked into the small pub. The large room was empty of people other than yourselves and a young woman behind the bar.

“Oh! Welcome in, Link! Long time, no see!” She exclaimed, tying the rag she was holding to her belt. Four removed his cloak first, hanging it on a coat rack nearby.

“Same for you, Marigold. How’s your mother?” He asked, making his way to a small square table. The two of you followed his lead, removing cloaks and taking seats around the table.

“She’s well! She’s here in the back. I can fetch her for you if you’d like?” Marigold came around from behind the bar towards the table, coming to stand next to where Four was seated.

“Ah, no need for that. I’m sure she’s busy. I’ll make sure to see her before I head out.” He made a motion with his hand as if to brush her off.

“If you say so. I take it you folks are hungry? This weather is keeping everyone in today.” As if on que, a loud thunder rolled over the building, shaking the glass on the shelves.

You laughed a bit, “Yeah, I’d say so. What do you have cooking today?”

The woman’s eyes fell on you for the first time. “I don’t think we’ve met.” Her statement sounded more like a question as she raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Four. Never even giving Hyrule a second glance.

“I can’t say we have. I’m not from around here, it’s my first time in this town actually.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Uh-huh.” You seemed to realize what was happening.

“I’m Link’s-“

“Traveling partner.” Four finished for you. You looked over at him, a shocked look falling onto your face. “This is my cousin, Roolie, and his partner, Y/N.”

“Oh, well it’s great to meet you both. I’ll let my mother know that we have customers and to get food cooking right away. It shouldn’t be long.” Marigold turned and went back behind the bar then into the kitchen, a door closing behind her.

Silence fell over the table.

“Your traveling partner, huh?” You asked, eyes drifting to the wall.

“Y/N-“

“No. It’s okay. It’s a lot to explain to people. Most don’t understand or aren’t willing to. But the rule has usually been whoever’s era we are in is who I am public with. I guess you don’t want that. That’s fine.” You cut him off, eyes still on the wall.

He stayed quiet, looking down at the table.

“We should have discussed it before we left. It’s alright, Four.” Hyrule attempted. Four simply nodded.

The silence lingered a while longer. You noticed Four’s eyes drifting to your hands, currently interlocked on top of the table. Then over to Hyrule’s arm. Oh, shit.

“Is the food here good? You seem to know them well.” You started a conversation, trying to change his attention away from the very clear marks on the two of you.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s good. Marigold’s mother is a great cook. She does all the cooking here while Mari runs the bar.” Four answered, only looking away from Hyrule’s arm to answer your question.

“That’s good! I’m excited. I’m starving.” Hyrule stretched his arms upwards, leaning back in his chair slightly as he did so. This only let Four have a better view.

Goddess be damned. He’s going to say something.

“Hey, Hyrule? What is that-“ Four was cut off.

“Link! Could you please come here real fast!” Marigold called from the kitchen.

He sighed, standing from the table. Shouting that he’d be right there, “I’ll be right back.” He walked behind the bar and into the door. You watched as the door shut behind him.

You and Hyrule began talking rapidly at the same time, hunched over the table towards one another.

“He asked me about the mark on my hand and I didn’t know what to say but he thinks I’m cursed I’m pretty sure. He also has been looking at your marks this whole time and I don’t know what to do about that and-“

“I felt a hard tug in my chest like something bad was happening or like you were stressed or in trouble so I hurried to the forge. I barged in to find him asking about the mark. It’s okay if you told him but what did you tell him? I just need-“

You both calmed down after a moment, breathing rapidly from talking so fast.

“Okay, you first.” He invited.

“Four asked me about the mark. I didn’t know what to tell him.”

“I felt like something was wrong. It felt like a physical tug in my chest and it led me to you in the forge. I just somehow knew you were there. It’s okay if he knows, but we should explain it to him together. I think he’s under the impression I cursed you or something.” He let out a light laugh at the end.

You were quiet for a beat. “Can you do that?”

He looked back at you, “Yeah.” Was his only answer.

Four came back through the door right then, three plates of food balanced in his hands.

“Thank The Golden Three. I thought I was going to die of hunger.” You exclaimed, sitting up straight in your seat. He set the food down in front of each of you before taking his own seat.

“Well, dig in. Best food on this side of Hyrule right here!” He took his own fork in his hand, digging into the food.

The food was finished quickly, you three really were hungry. Marigold came and took your plates and Four gave her a bag of rupies for the trouble of cooking. Sitting at the table a while longer, the silence fell again. His eyes falling back onto your hand.

You sighed, “Lets just get this over with.”

Hyrule looked over at you, eyes wide. “Now?”

“Well yeah, he’s about as frightened as a deer in a dungeon right now. May as well give him some insight as to what is going on.” You put your hand out flat on the table and Hyrule rolled his sleeve up a bit.

“This is what happens when you promise a fairy.” Hyrule began, looking up to Four.

Four’s eyes were a mixture of fast changing colors, trying to find a way to process this information. “What was promised?” He whispered out.

You took a deep breath, “That I would never harm myself again.” You turned your other arm over slightly to show him the few scars that couldn’t be healed before.

Four took a shaky breath. “Okay.. Isn’t that some kind of soul contract?”

“It’s a soul bond, yes. We can sense each other’s presence to an extent.” Hyrule explained.

“And if the promise is broken?” Four looked back over at you.

“We won’t have to worry about that.” You withdrew your hands from the table, settling them into your lap.

He looked to Hyrule. “What happens, Roolie?” His voice was stern.

“I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard the fae will go on some kind of rampage.” He refixed his sleeve so it sat on his arm correctly.

Four’s face was unreadable.

“I’m not going to do anything that would get anyone hurt. That’s why I did this. Because before this only affected me, now it affects others as well.” You looked between the two men.

Four ran his hand through his hair. “Thank you for explaining. Does anyone else know?”

“No, and preferably it should stay that way. Some of the others don’t take so kindly to magic and such.” You stated.

He rested his elbows on the table, putting his head down in them, “Okay.”

“I think the rain has slowed some if we want to get back to the house.” Hyrule offered.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

The three of you gathered your cloaks before stepping into the rain. The wet hoods still didn’t do much against the downpour. Four grabbed Hyrule’s elbow as you walked ahead.

“What’s wrong?” Hyrule asked, keeping one eye on you.

“Why do you have two?” The shorter man’s gaze was a deep blue color.

“Two what?”

Four’s grip tightened on his elbow. “Two marks.”

Hyrule sighed, barley noticing the painful grip. “I made a deal with myself as well. To keep them safe.”

Both of their eyes trailed to you, still non the wiser that they had stopped following behind you.

“Thank you.” Four breathed out, his eyes shifting to green as he released his hold on him.

“Don’t thank me, we would all do it.”

Legend shot up from his bed roll, sweat dripping from his forehead. He breathed heavily as he looked around the room. Lightening cracked outside the window, causing him to wince. He probably wouldn’t be getting much more sleep tonight. The room was dimly light from the dying fireplace on the other side of the room. The floor was littered with sleeping heroes. His eyes finally found who he was looking for. You were tucked up between Sky and Warriors. Laying with your head on Sky’s chest while Wars had his back to yours. A blanket was thrown haphazardly over your midsection, only half covering your exposed stomach and back from your rising shirt. The sight calmed him down, bringing a light smile to his face. You were there, real, even snoring.

And suddenly, the lightening didn’t seem so bad.

The morning came too soon, you awoke with a groan and a weight on your legs. You looked down from Sky’s chest to see Legend laying there, still asleep. You smiled sleepily at this, running a hand through his blonde and pink hair before laying back down. If you were lucky, you could sleep for a bit longer. Just as you started to drift back off, the loud sound of the door opening brought you to reality.

“Rise and shine! We’ve got a portal at the edge of the porch!” Wild shouted, hands on his hips in the doorway.

A collective groan carried throughout the group of sleepy heroes.

(NEXT)

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willshipanything-blog · 2 years

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Rules of the Game- Chapter 1

My first fanfic, so be nice (but I will gratefully accept constructive criticism) <3

Full Chapter Index here.

If you want to read and comment on AO3, it's here (I'm darkbelle on there).

More detailed tags and warnings over there. For now: dead dove, kidnapping, violence, non-con, you get the picture.

Chapter 1: Misdirection

“You’re not leaving, are you, Y/N?”.

Ms. Rutherford, the librarian at Galesburg Community Library, looked up suspiciously, abandoning her book stamping duties to ask you this. She had always been very particular about the volunteers sticking to their scheduled hours. It was almost sinful you were leaving earlier than expected.

You turned from exiting the front entrance to face the help desk, piled high with books waiting to be stamped for return and shelved with their neighbors. You thought you might have sneaked out without a fuss. You suppressed a smirk as she pushed her glasses up her nose slightly. She was a walking stereotype of your typical librarian, old and stern, but you had to admit her book recommendations were superlative. Recently you’d been on a Brontë binge and you and Ms. Rutherford had had several (admittedly) heated discussions over the better sister; she was Camp Emily, you Team Charlotte.

“My ride let me down at lunch, so I need to set off home earlier today,” you replied “but I’ll be back right on time tomorrow!”

“What else can you expect from young men these days? Really, to let a young lady walk alone at night, and with that deviant on the loose, no less!”

You stifled a laugh and instead exhaled through your nose in amusement. “Ms. Rutherford, first of all, it's 4pm, and honestly, it’s no big deal, it’s not the first time I’ve had to walk home by myself, I’m a big girl! See you bright and early tomorrow!” You turned quickly to avoid a tirade of criticisms about the current generation of young men, which you were very well aware of. As you pushed open the double oak doors of the library, you couldn’t help ponder that Jonathon, your boyfriend of just over a year now, had pissed you off when he had told you last minute he had plans with friends to drink beer and watch football. How original.

These thoughts disappeared as you stepped outside. You weren’t going to let it bother you. Glass half full, Y/N, you thought to yourself: at least the weather was nice. Although lugging your bookbag in this heat wasn’t ideal, you weren’t going to complain about the weather being so pleasant this late into fall.

Hopping down the stone steps of the library, you thought about another thing that Ms. Rutherford had said- that deviant. It still made you uneasy thinking about the recent spate of missing young boys, especially when you had known one of them. Only distantly, but it still made your stomach turn to think about. It was hard to try and forget though, between the near empty streets at night and the endless rows of MISSING posters that desperate families kept pasting to every fence, streetlight and store window in Galesburg.

At least at this time of day, most kids had gone straight home from school. Even with leaving the library early, you were able to avoid them. It seemed that all they could talk about these days was ‘the grabber’, as they’d so unashamedly nicknamed him. This moniker spread quickly throughout their friendship circles; it even started to be used by the police, newspapers and TV stations. The speculation about who ‘the grabber’ was gonna get next, the whispered dares to say his name three times in the mirror, as if he were some bogeyman, set your teeth on edge. He was real, not an urban legend to tell ghost stories about. Most kids seemed to forget that they were the ones at risk. Had it gotten colder or was it just these thoughts making you shiver?

You started to drift away from these ruminations, thinking instead about the large takeout pizza you were gonna order and have with a cold beer once you got home. Extra mushrooms too, which Jonathon hated, to ensure he wouldn’t eat your leftovers. That’ll teach him. Whilst practically drooling over this thought, you heard a sudden rush of steps behind you. Too late to turn around, an arm collided into your own.

A kid (barely a teenager judging by his size) had flown right into you. Knocking you slightly off balance, he turned but didn’t stop, holding out both hands in a ‘whoops, my bad’ sort of gesture. You noticed tape on the palms that he held up. Must have wrapped them up himself, probably he’d been fighting and had to bandage his knuckles. He did look like a scrappy little thing.

“Hey, sorry guapa!” he called, turning forward once more and racing on ahead once it was clear you weren’t hurt. You smiled and shook your head, shouting after him down the street.

“Be careful, kid!” He was already gone, turning the corner about 30 yards ahead of you.

As you turned right at the same corner half a minute later, a strange scene presented itself, making you stop in your tracks. Crouched on the sidewalk a few feet in front of you was a man with ashy brown-gray hair down to his shoulders, muttering to himself as he tried to collect what looked like a litany of spilled groceries. Looking past him, parked on the curb a little way back was a matte black van with faint green text etched on the side. Even further up the road, you could just make out the young boy still in a rush to get someplace. The crouched figure looked less than enthused and didn’t see that another person was standing just a few feet away from him.

You regained your senses. “Oh! Here, lemme help you,” you volunteered, beginning to grab a couple of oranges that had rolled near to where you were standing.

“No, it’s fine, I got it,” a gravelly voice answered, clearly annoyed at the situation. And why wouldn’t he be? You saw the spilled milk and broken eggs over the sidewalk, things that would have to be replaced.

“Are you sure? Sorry that kid knocked you over, but I don’t think everything’s ruined,” you said hopefully as you held up the oranges to inspect them.

“The kid didn’t knock–” the surly voice ceased speaking as he looked up at you.

A moment of silence followed as the man stood up slowly. You were taken aback by his appearance, his face covered in what seemed to be greasepaint, the top half of his visage hidden by a pair of dark, clunky sunglasses. He must have easily been six feet tall, wearing all black save for a blood-red turtleneck under his silk shirt. Your stomach shifted, suddenly feeling somewhat uneasy around this stranger standing mere feet from you.

His voice was different when he next spoke; a friendly, almost childish intonation. “Uh, what I meant to say was, I’m sure that boy didn’t mean to bump me like that. I’m normally such a klutz without anyone helping me along!” he smiled goofily, a row of slightly crooked white teeth now visible.

Your silence and continued look of worry was evident, and he spoke again apologetically:

“Oh, uh, sorry for all this,” - here he held both hands up, ringed fingers outstretched, pointing towards his face in an exaggerated gesture - “but my costume isn’t complete. Would you mind passing me my hat, dear?”

Here he gestured theatrically with an arm, guiding your line of sight to a black top hat sat amongst the broken eggs. Feeling only a little reassured by his friendly tone, you stooped to retrieve it. You passed it to him, both of you stretching an arm to cover the distance between you, and as he grabbed the rim he flipped it expertly and it landed on his head. He gave a bow, the vaudevillian look complete, and you huffed out a half-laugh, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in.

After explaining that he was a part time magician, hence the ridiculous outfit, and the van emblazoned with the line ABRACADABRA- ENTERTAINMENT AND SUPPLIES, you both started to pick up what was salvageable from the spilled mess on the sidewalk. He insisted you needn’t help, but you insisted even more that it was no bother. He put the rescued groceries into the back of his van and promptly slammed the door closed.

“Well, thank you again, you’ve been such a good girl helping me out here.”

You were about to reply for the twentieth time with ‘no problem’, but sensed a strange look come over the man’s face, a vacant, contemplative gaze that you couldn’t place. Before you could speak he interjected, cognizant again.

“Say, you’re not my usual audience, but would you like to see a magic trick, dove?”

Once more, you were taken aback, this time by the strange nickname the man had used, but you’d concluded he was what your mother might have called ‘an eccentric’. You had also unabashedly concluded that this man was charming and (under the facepaint and glasses) really quite handsome, despite the fact he was old enough to be your father. You played ball, nodding at his request.

He chuckled almost imperceptibly under his breath and took a couple of paces towards you. With an elaborate wave of his hand, he reached towards the right side of your face, grazing your cheek as he tucked some hair behind your ear. You hoped you weren’t blushing too much at this spectacle. A shiny quarter was retrieved, and you couldn’t help but smile widely.

The misdirection of this trick became apparent when you noticed too late the man’s other arm come swinging towards your face at full force, his fist making contact with your jaw with a thundering crack.

Your body hit the hard sidewalk below you. White hot pain seared through your face. Too shocked to even scream. You felt yourself sitting up, holding yourself on unsteady, wobbling arms. Your vision spun furiously and you recognized the click of a car door opening somewhere in your mind. Whilst you willed yourself to get up and escape the situation, an arm grabbed your chest from behind and in an instant an acrid taste entered your mouth, preemptively choking out any screams you might have attempted. The same spray misted your eyes and it stung like hell. If your body was slow to react to the first hit, it was molasses now. You felt a tight pressure under both of your arms. It was him. He was dragging you to his van. This wasn’t going to end well unless your body at least attempted to move.

You felt yourself hauled like a sack of flour onto the hard floor of the van. Last chance, both your feet still touched the outside ground, and your mind begged you to do something. Too late. You felt the man’s bulky frame straddling you as he climbed into the van himself, dragging you underneath him further into the vehicle. Your bare arms and legs were stippled with splinters as you were tugged roughly along the wooden flooring, but this pain hardly registered to you compared with the excruciating burning your face felt and the sting from the man’s initial blow. A thud of doors told you he’d now trapped you inside.

Only now did your sluggish body begin to react. You flailed your arms wildly, though your legs were now firmly trapped under the man’s weight, and your voice was a raspy whisper, clearly from whatever spray had hit you full in the face. As you fumbled blindly with your hands balled into fists, you felt your left hand hit something solid and heard a vicious growl. You’d managed to hit the figure mounted on top of you. A small victory for only a moment; hands suddenly gripped both of your wrists, and bundled them underneath him with your fettered legs.

As you felt another blow on the side of your face, followed by another, and another, you cursed yourself. Why didn’t you fight back sooner? Or run after that first blow? Why did you talk to a stranger at all? These questions and more exploded in your mind, but began to fade as you sank into unconsciousness.

Al thought it such a shame about that rude young boy. Running past without even offering to help him. Shame too; looked like he had some fight in him. He was going to chalk it up as a bad job, maybe even try another street elsewhere, then she came. This was unexpected. He had closed his van and was going to thank her for her help, when he had called her that- a good girl, he’d said. The idea struck him in seconds. Why not? If the game didn’t work out as planned, who would know? No one who would live to tell the tale. She’s older than the other boys by quite a margin, but he’s still bigger and stronger than her, maybe it could still serve his purposes for the game. And she was a woman- even if naughty boy didn’t work, there were other things that could be done before dispatching her in a shallow grave with the others. Al thought meditatively for a long time on the drive home, the sun just beginning to set on the warm Denver evening.

#the black phone #black phone #the grabber x reader #the grabber #albert shaw x reader #dead dove do not eat #minors dni

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justrandomfanfictionskh · 9 months

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Technically it's the 2nd Battle of New York

(Just a fun one shot, for all the Percy Jackson fans out there. This is going to be the first story, for a series I'm doing called the Percy Jackson Multiverse! Just a bunch of random crossover stories that I'm doing in prep for the show. Let me know if you want a specific crossover and I'll try to get around to it!)

Percy laughed as one of his subordinates, Mike slipped on the sea spray and landed hard on his but in the middle of the deck. Mike was their newest crew member, just barely a full fledged seaman, and so naturally every little mistake he made was met with never ending teasing and hazing from every other crew member on their little Recuse and Response Boat. But there was nothing cruel about it, just some light hearted joshing for a light heart day. As proven when the Chief Petty Officer stepped forward to help the young man up, with an amused smile and a kind word before ordering everyone back to the stations.

Following the order with a smile Percy turned back to checking the rescue lines, and watching the view. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of this. The glistening green waves of the bay. The sea salt breeze in his face. The music of a lively harbor. And the grandeur of the New York City skyline as seen from the sea. It was beautiful, and peaceful, and all Percy could have ever hoped for. Especially on days like today, when the weather was fair and there were no missions planned. They simply patrolled the harbor, laughing in the sun, and appreciating the view, until it was time to head in.

It was the perfect job for him! He got to spend all day on the water, where no monsters would dare touch him. He got to help people, and no one cared that he had barely finished high school. He was stationed in New York, which meant he was easily accessible for any of his friends that might need help. And, aside from the odd night shift, he got to go home to Annabeth every evening and wake up with her every morning.

Yep, life was pretty good for First Petty Officer Percy Jackson. And since he had finally extracted a promise from the gods to leave him alone! The Hero of Olympus was happy to say that he was blissfully retired from questing, and ready to live the rest of his life in peace. So naturally everything just had to go horribly wrong, because of course the fates hated him. And it happened as he was talking to his Chief as they looked over the harbor.

“Have you ever thought of rescue diving Jackson?” the Chief said simply. “It’s hard and dangerous for sure. But it’s better pay and more benefits. Plus you get to travel around, see the world. Seems like something you might enjoy. I mean, you’re like a shark in the water.”

Percy shrugged. He’d considered it of course, but that’s not what he wanted right now and he said as much. “All I want, Chief, is a steady paycheck and to go home to my girl at the end of the day. I’ve seen as much of the world as I care to, right now I just want some peace.”

The Chief barked a laugh, “Peace? Boy, you're Twenty years old! You can’t even drink yet! You’re too young to be thinking of ‘peace!’ Besides, this job isn’t exactly low stress, so maybe you should consider reexamining your priorities.”

Percy chuckled and shook his head. “I’m happy right where I am,” he said simply as he leaned against the ship's railing, the gentle sea spray brushing his face like a gift from his father. “If that changes, we can talk. But I’ve got a wedding to plan, and a fiancé keep happy. And right now, that means staying in the city for as long as possible without getting into any more trouble.”

The Chief chuckled and nodded, turning back to the bridge. “Fair enough, just remember, that at the rate you're being promoted you're likely to find yourself pigeon holed into a desk job before long. Unless you're trying to make Admiral before you're fifty?”

Percy smiled slyly and said, “Actually I was thinking forty, but who cares, I’m not in a rush.”

They both laughed, and would have continued their good natured discussion of Percy’s future, if at that moment, the world hadn’t changed forever. One minute the sky was as clear as it could be, and then a noise like thunder echoed over the city and across the bay. Every eye was drawn to the skyline, and the swirling patch of space that hung ominously above Stark Tower.

“Holy shit,” the Chief muttered in awe, and Percy spun to look at him. He and every other member of the crew were staring up at the portal in awe and terror. And Percy cursed in Greek. The mist wasn’t hiding this. Every single mortal that Percy could see was staring up at the sky in wonder, obviously seeing the portal (because what else could it be) for exactly what it was.

“So,” he thought bitterly, “ Either the gods have messed up big time, or this isn’t them.” But Percy wasn’t putting his money on this being anything, but a major godly screw up. That was until the giant space mosasaurus flew out of the portal with a reverberating cry, and began to descend on the city. From where their boat was idling, Percy could barely see the thousands of specks flying around the giant space, dinno shark like flies, and then he cursed again. He had just lost his bet with himself, because while Percy Jackson was not always the brightest tool in the shed, he knew his world. And this monster and its swarming army, was not of his world.

“Sir,” Percy said firmly, jolting his Chief out of his reverie. “We need to move, I believe we are being invaded.”

The Chief Petty Officer snapped to attention, nodded once to Percy in thanks and then immediately began barking orders. There was a battle in the city and thousands of civilian boats in the harbor and bay, and they would need to be escorted to safety or rescued from the debris. Their peaceful day had just become a lot more stressful, but they were the Coast Guard. This was their job, and they would do it.

Percy sent a quick prayer to Poseidon and Hestia, two of the few gods who actually liked him, that they would keep his family safe. He then sent a prayer to Athena, Nike, and (after grimacing) Ares to give humanity a chance at victory. He hesitated for only a second as he saw the bright red speck that he assumed was Iron Man, fly up to challenge the leviathan. But he shook his head and focused on his crew.

It looked like most of this battle would take place in the air, where he was less than useless. And unless the Fates themselves showed up and demanded that he take part, he was going to stay where he was most useful, and help as many people as he could. It grated against every protective and battle instinct he had. He wanted to run to his family, to Annabeth. He needed to know they were ok, and safe. He wanted to find the idiot responsible for this and punch them in the teeth. They had ruined a perfectly good day! And all of his training was demanding that he jump into the water, and take charge of the battle.

But he did none of those things. He had a job to do and he would do it. He had to trust Annabeth to protect his family. He had to trust Iron Man and whatever forces he had in stock, to deal with the aliens. He had to trust, and if he saw a chance to kick some alien butt along the way? Well, none of his crew would blame him.

Annabeth stuffed as many people into the boiler room beneath their apartment building as she could. She met Sally Jackson’s eyes as her husband Paul hugged little Estelle tightly to his chest. A soft determination came over Sally’s face and she nodded to Annabeth, silently telling her to go. The greatest mother the world had ever known, turned to the frightened, noisy, crowd and began to take command. Annabeth didn’t wait for Sally to get things under control. Instead she ran up the stairs, taking three at a time before returning to her and Percy’s apartment, and slamming open the door. She didn’t even hesitate as she ran for where her Drakon Bone Sword was on display in their living room before throwing on the spare breastplate, grieves, and helmet they kept in the closet.

She only briefly paused to consider taking her Yankees cap before caving, and stuffing it into her back pocket. She then threw herself down the fire escape, and rolled out into the chaos that was now midtown Manhattan. However, the panicked masses parted for her easily. They understood the significance of a person running the wrong way, and dared not to hinder a person going toward the danger. The only road block she might have faced were the panicked policemen struggling to put up a barrier in a desperate attempt to contain the chaos. But they were all too focused on the literal aliens, falling from the sky to notice the young college woman with a deadly weapon running past them and into the battle.

The aliens, however, had no such blindness. The beasts saw Annabeth easily, and charged her. The daughter of Athena gritted her teeth, and lifted her sword. She silently cursed herself, for running blindly into a fight without a plan and prepared to fight for her life. She didn’t even know if these creatures would be affected by Drakon bone! Or if they had special powers, or weaknesses. What if they were like hydras and could regenerate? It was such a Percy thing to do, that her scowl turned into a grin, and she bared her teeth like a wolf about to rip out their throats. She began to dance with her sword, something she had been training to do since she was seven.

Her grin turned manic, as the alien monsters attacked brainlessly and fell easily. The sword she had claimed from the depths of Tartarus cut through them like butter, and their armor was like match wood beneath her strikes. She quickly evaluated them as she fought, and realized a few things immediately. First of all, these “soldiers” only had the most basic level of combat, and relied completely on their superior weapons and numbers. Second, they were clearly some type of hive mind, since their insensible growls and screams had no semblance of language, but they were far too coordinated to not be communicating. And third, there were too many of them.

They fell before Annabeth like wheat before the scythe, but like the waves of the ocean, there was always another one to take its place. So while these creatures were nothing compared to the monsters she was used to fighting on a daily basis, she knew that eventually they would wear down her stamina and kill her without a second thought. And that was perhaps the most concerning fact. These creatures showed no fear. She cut them down without thought or hesitation by the dozens, without taking a single scratch, but none of them even hesitated to challenge her again, and again, and again. Even monsters had more sense than that, which only confirmed her brainless hive mind theory.

She needed a plan, but for it to work she needed to know who their allies were, where Percy was, and what government organizations were mobilizing to help clean up this mess. That morning, Percy said that he would be patrolling the bay until five, and she assumed that his crew would need him to help rescue civilians and get them off the island. So she decided to cut her way to the Empire State Building, and see what godly intervention she could scrounge up. And they couldn’t say no. They owed her.

Annabeth pulled up short as a great roar echoed through the streets causing some of the windows to shiver. That was not the sound of the alien’s living ships, so it was either a magic beast, or a third party. Annabeth picked up her pace, until she saw the great green form of the Hulk jumping from building to building and smashing every alien he could get his hands on. “ Well,” she thought grimly, “ That explains the roar. ”

Annabeth skidded to a halt and cursed right as she got to the overpass in front of Grand Central Station. A squad of fifty aliens, ten of which were on those strange speeders, had seen her and begun to charge. Needing the high ground, Annabeth scrambled up the bridge support faster than she’d ever climbed the wall at camp. Of course the fact that the bridge wasn’t shaking, or spewing lava definitely helped her speed. She vaulted the barrier, and fell into a battle stance as the aliens tried to follow her.

The good news, the squad of fifty was slowed and dispersed by the climb, and she dispatched the speeders, as easily as evil harpies. The bad news was that she was now on an exposed plan, and she could already see two more squads in the distance moving in to flank her. Annabeth scowled, and looked to where she could just barely see the Empire State building peeking out from behind the towers surrounding her. Then her mouth dropped open in shock, because there standing on the spire, was a figure in armor. It was barely distinguishable, but whoever it was, was clearly directing lightning at the portal, stemming the flow of the invaders and giving the forces on the ground a chance to regroup, and organize.

“Zeus?” She whispered in awe. Was the overstuffed drama queen actually helping? And was he actually being smart about it?!

“Thor actually. Watch your back!” A voice called behind her and Annabeth spun to see a woman with fiery red hair, and dressed in black leather, shoot an alien trying to sneak up on her. Annabeth cursed herself (she was doing a lot of that today it would seem) and put her back to the mortal warrior and cleared a space for them between two overturned cars, that they could use as cover.

This gave them a brief respite, where the two women turned to look at each other with an accepting suspicion. They didn’t know each other. They didn’t trust each other. They clearly had a lot of questions for the other. But at that moment, they were on the same disadvantaged side, and therefore needed each other. So Annabeth lowered her sword and held out her hand, “Annabeth Chase.”

“Natasha Romanof,” the woman said without emotion, but still taking Annabeth’s hand. She then gave Annabeth’s armor and weapon a quick once over and then silently groaned, “Don’t tell me the Greek gods are real too.”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth said slowly, careful not to confirm nor deny anything the woman said.

“Well,” Natasha said with a barely perceivable smirk, as she pointed to the figure summoning the lightning, “That is Thor, a Norse god straight out of mythology. So I assume all of the other ancient myths are based on some facts.”

Annabeth allowed her smirk to be easily readable, she had a feeling she was going to like this mortal. But all she said was, “A logical deduction, but hardly proof.��

“You’re trained, with abnormal strength and reflexes based on how easily you cut through the Chitauri. Also that,” Natasha pointed at Annabeth's sword, “Is hardly a common weapon, and you're dressed in ancient armor. In other words, you’re enhanced, with a connection to the ancient world, and assumed Thor was Zeus. So, yes or no, are the Greek gods real, and what is your connection to them?”

Annabeth grinned from ear to ear. She really liked this mortal. She had to be one of her mother’s favorites. Plus she could see through the mist. “Yes,” Annabeth said coolly, “They're real, and they live in the Empire State Building.”

There was only a brief widening of Natasha’s eyes at this revelation and a glance at the famous monument, but otherwise she remained stoic and sharp as Annabeth continued saying, “I am the daughter of Athena, Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. No, I’m not a god, my dad is a human mortal. Yes, technically Athena is a sworn virgin. No, I don’t want to explain how I was born. No, I don’t know if they're going to help us. Yes, I do have a plan to end this. Are you willing to listen to me?”

Natasha stood silently for a moment, before she spun to kill a chitauri trying to sneak up on them. She then gave Annabeth another searching look. She seemed satisfied with what she saw, because she nodded, raising her weapons to face down the coming aliens. “Let’s hear it.”

“First,” Annabeth said once more, putting her back to the woman. “Give me the rundown. Who are we fighting? Who are our allies? Do we have support?”

“These buggers,” Natasha yelled over the noise of her guns. “Are the Chitauri. They’re being led by Loki, the Norse god of mischief. He wants to rule the world. On our side we have Captain America, Thor, Hulk, and Iron Man, you know them?”

Annabeth choked as she sliced off a chitauri’s arm. “Captain America is alive!” She then stabbed the alien in the heart. Natasha nodded to her in confirmation, but her eyes brightened in approval at Annabeth’s viciousness. “Ok,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened in her life. “I know the rest, who else?”

“Clint Barton—”

“I know him.”

This time Natasha froze as an alien corpse collapsed in front of her. “How?” Her voice was cold and demanding.

Annabeth noted the woman’s change, and only hesitated to consider Clint’s situation before asking, “Are you in communication?”

Natasha handed Annabeth an earpiece, and showed her how to turn it on. Immediately, unseen strangers were shouting in her ear. But Annabeth ignored them all in favor of the one she hadn’t heard since she was ten years old, begging him not to leave her. “Clint?” she said softly.

Immediately the voices stopped. A voice full of a soldier’s command was the first to speak, “Who are you? How are you on this channel?”

“Clint Barton, Mr. Brunner sends his regards,” Annabeth said, ignoring the questions.

“Holy Hades,” Clint whispered, “Annie? Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said slowly, “I’m here with Natasha Romanof. We’re holding the overpass by Grand Central Station. She knows my truth, and she accepts it.”

“Oh,” Clint said, “Um ok…well…this…isn’t ideal. Do we have to do this now?”

“I have a plan to end this, and I need your team to trust me.”

“I’m sorry,” a voice filled with disbelief and condensation filled the earpiece. “Will someone please explain who this child is? And what Legolas is keeping from us? I thought we were past this, people!”

“Can it Tony,” Clint growled over the comms, and Annabeth heard an explosion in the background. “The only person I trust more than Annabeth is Nat. She has been through more wars than Cap, and she was a leader in all of them. If she has a plan, we shut up and do what she says. And don’t even pretend that you don’t have at least thirty skeletons in the closet that we don’t know about. Annie, I’ll tell Nat everything after this. Just tell us what to do. Also, please tell me your boyfriend’s here! We could use him.”

Annabeth blushed at the complements, but shook the embarrassment away before saying, “He’s with the Coast Guard. Unless one of you goes to get him, he’s going to focus on getting civilians away from the battle. But we don’t need him for this to work. Thor, how conniving is Loki?”

“He is one of the most cunning minds in all of Asgard,” a deep, accented, and formal voice declared. “But please, a moment, Sir. Barton has referred to you as Annabeth. You are not the famous Annabeth Chase by chance?”

Annabeth couldn’t help the swell of pride at being recognized by a deity from a completely different pantheon, and said. “The one and only.”

“I suggest that everyone listens to the Warrior Chase,” Thor declared immediately, “Her skill, and wisdom are legendary across the nine realms and further. And if it is true that the Perseus Jackson is nearby—”

“Wait!” Iron Man interrupted again, “Why is she Warrior Chase, while we’re all sirs and ladies? Who is she? And how old are you? You sound young. That’s not just me right? She sounds young?”

“Focus Tony,” Cap said again. And as he spoke, he joined her and Natasha on the overpass. He narrowed his eyes at her, and at first Annabeth was afraid that he would agree with Tony about insisting on her age. But she didn’t give him time to.

“Listen,” she said and she used the chitauri she was fighting as a shield against the blast of the others, before kicking him into his companions, knocking them down before she decapitated all three of them in one fell swoop. “The chitauri are a hive mind.”

“How do you know that?” Tony demanded.

“Not now Tony,” Natasha, Clint, and Thor all shouted at once.

“We need to separate them from their source,” Annabeth continued without missing a beat. “Loki’s smart, so he’ll keep the source as far from the main battle and his enemies as possible.”

“So, on the other side of the portal,” Clint groaned.

“We’ll never get to that,” Natasha agreed as she took a chitauri’s staff and began to use it against him.

“But Loki’s on this side of the portal, correct?”

“He just hoped on a speeder,” Clint said, the hatred in his voice as plain as clear as his hatred for the gods. “My arrow just blew him up, but I don’t think it did much.”

Annabeth nodded, more pieces of the puzzle fitting into place, as she bisected another alien. “Ok, whatever is keeping that portal open needs to be shut down as quickly as possible. The natural distance could cut off the connection, but if not then it will be easier to contain and beat the army. Then we need to capture Loki, and either kill or contain him.”

“I would rather you didn’t kill my brother.”

“Natasha, Clint,” Annabeth said ignoring the god, as was her want, “One of you needs to get to the gate's power source.” She could hear Iron Man begin to protest but she cut him off saying, “Mr. Stark, you, Captain Rogers, and whoever doesn’t go to that monstrosity of a building—”

“Hey!”

“Needs to continue supporting the police and National Guard in defending the city. Thor, you or Hulk need to deal with Loki. I don’t care if you do or don’t kill him. Just make sure he is no longer commanding his forces. I’m going to go see if I can’t call in some extra firepower to speed things along.”

“It’s a good plan, Tony,” Rogers said as he watched Annabeth leap off an exploding car, grab a speeder by the handle, and twist it is that it and its passengers went careening into the side of a building, before dropping down onto an alien twice her size, and plunging her sword into its chest.

“I just saw Loki, I’ll try to drive him back to the Tower, before heading to the tesseract. Steve, give me a boost.” Natasha said, before using the Captain’s shield as a springboard to take control of a speeder going overhead. Ok, Annabeth really liked this mortal.

“I would follow you to Loki,” Thor said with a grunt, “But I am currently facing three leviathans over the harbor.”

“HULK SMASH!” A voice bellowed over the comms, and that answered Annabeth’s question on whether or not the creature could understand human speech. She smiled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Captain America flinch at the deadly glee in her eyes.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she said.

When the leviathan crashed into the harbor and sent a giant wave crashing over, Percy’s boat, Percy willed the water to not harm the civilians, but allowed the current to sweep him away and into the sea. He felt slightly guilty leaving his crew to think he was drowning in battle, but that was offset by the looks of astonishment that they would surely have when he showed up perfectly fine at the base camp in Brooklyn that the first responders were setting up. Besides he had been with the Chief since he was an Apprentice, he knew that Percy was a “strong swimmer” and would be fine.

He had stayed with his crew for as long as he could, and they had almost completely cleared the water of all of the civilian and commercial craft. Now it was a matter of getting the civilians from one shore to the other. A process that he could expedite by talking to the River Lords to convince them to help the boats. With that done, he began searching for overboard civilians and silently shifting the currents to be in their favor. And if anyone began to drown, then he got a little more hands on with their rescue. By bringing them to an abandoned dock, not too far from the base camp, and pulling the water out of their lungs.

The fish helped as much as they could, but they were terrified of the unfamiliar monsters sinking beneath the waves. However, with the help they were able to give, and the blessing of the sea constantly rejuvenating him and giving him strength, more people were saved than lost. After delivering a boy who didn’t know how to swim to the Brooklyn shore, Percy paused and looked over at the battle. The portal was still open, and the aliens were still coming in droves. However, the National Guard, and Army had just arrived. Skiffs full of marines and seals, were pulling into the bay as fast as their fastest boats could go.

But Percy had an eye for war. He had led armies in two great wars before the age of eighteen. And he could tell that it was going poorly. Even with the reinforcements, the island was about to be overrun. Percy closed his eyes and prayed to every god and pantheon he knew for the people he loved and their safety. Yes, even to Hera and Zeus. He didn’t care. He just needed them safe.

A great roar echoed over the water, as two leviathans turned from between the towers and began to fly over the river straight towards the base camp. People began to scream, and Percy cursed. Enough was enough. He jumped into the river, and torpedoed to the bottom and summoned the Spirit of the East River.

“Help me!” he demanded. And where once the Spirit might have grumbled and complained, now he only bowed to the son of Poseidon, who had walked through Hell, and prepared his currents to whisk the mortals to safety, even as Percy began to summon his strength. And although the land was screaming with the chaos of the battle. Under the waves all was silent, as the River god, and the demigod prepared their power.

Then Percy screamed, and thrust his hands up and above his head. Mimicked by the spirit, the East River surged up and a wall of water formed between the two banks. The water grabbed the leviathans by their jaws and pulled them down and into the bay. The great waves formed by the creatures crashing into the rivers and being crushed by the angry guardians of the city, would have, should have, flooded the banks, destroyed the rescue boats, and drowned every individual in the water. But it didn’t. Every nymph and spirit of the waves and the sea, heard the call of their Prince, and their Lord, and surged to protect the innocents in their waters. When the river returned to normal, the piers of Brooklyn were as silent as the depths as the people stared in wonder at the absolute display of power that protected them. Still it didn’t take long for the Captains of the boats to rally and continue their rescue operations.

Percy smiled as he watched the beasts and all of the creatures within them sink into the harbor, before swimming to the center of the bay. The Spirits of the Hudson and the East joined him, and prepared to repeat the feat should any more monsters attempt to leave the island.

Thor choked on air as the river calmed as if nothing had ever stirred them. Had…had a mortal demigod, just done that? He knew that the young hero had power but that…that was the feat of a god!

“Ahem, Warrior Chase,” Thor coughed into his primitive com device.

“Yes, Thor,” the Daughter of Athena said casually.

“I believe, your beloved has joined the battle…he just drowned two leviathans with the help of the river.”

The sounds of astonishment echoing through the comms was enough to soothe Thor’s own ego, before flying off, but the Warrior Chase only chuckled softly and said, “That’s my Seaweed Brain. How are we doing on Loki and the portal?”

“Puny god,” Hulk’s gruff voice grumbled, drawing a laugh and chuckle from the rest of the team.

“Guys,” the Black Widow called, “I’m at the tesseract. I can close it.”

“Do it!” The Captain shouted.

“Hold up guys,” Tony called, “I got a nuclear warhead coming our way. And I know just where to put it.”

The Warrior Chase cursed so colorfully in Ancient Greek it made Thor blush, before she demanded in a tone that brokered no argument, “What idiot fires a nuke at their own city?!”

…

Annabeth watched the SHIELD Agents swarming Stark Tower and carting off every piece of alien tech and biology that they could get their hands on. Many times, the gruff looking men with guns and the shifty little men in lab coats tried to approach her, but she just gave them the Wolf Stare that Percy had taught her, and even the largest of them did a one-eighty to avoid her gaze.

“Hey.” Annabeth turned to see Barton watching her with a mix of pain and sympathy. She fixed him with the stare, but when he did no more than grimace, she sighed and turned away. Taking that as the vague acceptance that it was, Barton leaned against the wall beside her and watched the rest of the “Avengers" and Agents begin to transport Loki out of the Tower. “I’m sorry,” Barton finally whispered, “If I had known that the prophecy was coming—”

“How did you learn about them?” Annabeth interrupted, refusing to soften her voice. She was furious with him. Had been for years, and he was not getting out of this. Barton just sighed and said,

“Will showed up a few weeks after the Second Giant War,” he said softly. “He needed a place to grieve, and he didn’t think he could do that properly at camp, because—”

“Because at camp,” Annabeth finished finally softening with her own grief, “He is a leader, a healer, and needs to be strong for the others, so that they could heal.”

Barton nodded solemnly. “Gods,” he muttered, “I never wanted to see any of my siblings like that. Crumbling under the weight of two wars. That shouldn’t have happened, to any of you, you're just kids.”

“I haven’t been a kid since I was seven years old,” Annabeth said simply, without condemnation or bitterness, just a simple statement of fact that no one could deny.

Barton nodded gravely and said again, “I’m sorry. I never should have left. I just…I was just so angry with the gods, with Chiron. He did his best, but…it wasn’t enough. They weren’t enough. Their empty platitudes and false promises. I couldn’t take it any more. I had to leave before I snapped.”

Annabeth nodded, “I know. And…I understand…I didn’t then, but…I do now. And I’m sorry to, I should have searched you out a long time ago.”

Barton didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the young woman. They didn’t cry, or sob, or laugh. They just silently held each other in grim understanding of their world and their place in it. The play things of gods, of parents, who barely knew how to care much less love the mortals they had sired. Finally, Barton pulled away and said with a soft smile, “Hey, we’re all going to get shawarma. Care to join us? And Percy of course! I find I’m suddenly really nostalgic for camp, and I would love to hear how everyone is doing.”

Annabeth nodded and cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said, “That sounds great.”

“So, Barton is the son of the sun?” Tony said rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to ward off a headache, “The Sun’s Son if you will?”

Barton rolled his eyes lazily and said, “Yes, Stark I’m the Sun’s Son. Sorry I couldn’t tell you, but you wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Happy?”

“No,” Stark said weakly, and dropped his head into his hands.

A chuckle drew Natasha’s gaze back to the two other demigods and Thor chowing down on their shawarma as if they would never eat again. They were completely unfazed by the fact that they were surrounded by gods and legends, after having faced an army beyond their imaginations. But if half of what Clint, Thor, and these kids had said was true…then this was just another Tuesday for the young adults in front of them. Still, Natasha believed them. The weight of command surrounding the girl. The aura of power circling the boy. The hidden under currents of grief and horrors lurking behind their eyes. These were kids who had seen the worst of the world and had conquered it. And still, every time Natasha looked at them, Annabeth in her dirty armor, and Percy in his tattered Coast guard uniform, she couldn’t help but think, “ They’re too young for this life. ”

Steve seemed to think the same, because he leaned forward and said, “So how old were you during your first war?”

“Fifteen, actually turned sixteen during the final battle!” Percy said around his shawarma, “Unless you're asking about how old we were when we first started training. In which case, I came to camp at twelve, and Annabeth when she was seven.”

“But,” Annabeth said after whipping her mouth, “Percy faced his first monster at…three?”

“Snakes in the crib,” Percy agreed. “Freaked my mom out. Not that I can remember it of course.”

“Spiders in my sleep,” Annabeth shivered, “I was six.”

Barton shook his head in commiseration, “Yeah, I was lucky. Harpy when I was ten. That’s when I went to camp too.”

“Are…are you ok?” Banner asked softly looking between the three of them with utter pain in his eyes.

“Oh you know,” Percy said, finally swallowing his food, “Aside from the anxiety, paranoia, PTSD, and occasional death quest because the gods still won’t leave me alone! We’re just peachy!”

Everyone except Thor and Clint stared at them in horror, but Annabeth just waved their concern aside saying, “Look this is just the life of a half-blood. It sucks. But we deal with it. And believe it or not, it’s actually getting better.”

Percy nodded emphatically, and pointed at Clint with his fork saying, “You really need to come back to camp. So much has changed. No one’s unclaimed any more. There's cabins for the minor gods. Annabeth designed this awesome temple that’s going to represent literally every single known Greek god. It’s absolutely beautiful. They started building it last month, and it’s already looking incredible!”

“Percy!” Annabeth hissed as she tried to hide her blush, but her boyfriend just kept going.

“Oh! And we’ve expanded the border, and we’ve started building housing for adult demigods who want to live in safety. They commute to the city and other mortal towns in Long Island for school and work. It’s not perfect. But it’s the first step in building a place where demigods can actually live their lives in peace from birth to grave.”

The look of pure joy on Barton’s face was so bright it was almost blinding, and Natasha had no problem believing that he was a son of Apollo. “That’s wonderful! What started that?”

“Oh, the Roman demigods have had their own city for generations,” Annabeth said dismissively, “It sounded like a good idea. So we convinced the gods to expand the border and provide the materials for all of the building projects as a reward for defeating Gaia. They call theirs New Rome. So we were thinking of calling our city, New Athens, or New Sparta, or something like that.”

Clint laughed saying, “Let me guess, cabins five and six can’t agree on which one?”

“They won’t stop arguing!” Percy groaned as he drew his hand over his face. “Capture the Flag has become an all out war trying to decide!” Clint burst into laughter, as Natasha turned her questioning gaze to Annabeth.

“The children of Ares and Athena,” Annabeth explained with a slight smile.

“You all do realize there were more Ancient Greek cities than Athens and Sparta right?” Bruce said slowly.

“Wait!” Tony cried, waving his hand wildly, “Go back. Roman demigods?! Just how many pantheons are there?!”

Percy and Annabeth shared a look that sent a pit of dread into Natasha’s stomach, and Tony’s head thumped onto the table in defeat.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo hoo toa #percabeth #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #avengers #battle of new york #black widow #percy jackson x marvel

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