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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

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Competing With Gods

Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader, Apollo x uninterested!Reader

Request: Hi could you write luke castellan x reader, where Luke gets jealous of a guy who tries with y/n? How would he react if y/n is at the game? Thank you

Summary: When Apollo is sent to camp as a punishment, he sets his sights on Luke's girlfriend.

Warning: Fighting, jealousy, making out, the slightest allusions to/implied smut, Apollo being a dick

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

A/N So instead of another camper or whatever, I’m making the other guy Apollo.

Apollo crashed into the ground of Camp Half-Blood. Right in the middle of all the cabins. Great. He briefly cursed Zeus for this. He was being punished for flirting with a nymph the big guy was interested in. And when Apollo had told his father to maybe focus on his wife, Zeus banished him to Camp Half-Blood for a few weeks as a “warning.”

The Half-Bloods began to peek out of their cabins but one girl was already rushing over. Her hair fell over her shoulder so nicely as she kneeled over him. Okay, maybe camp wouldn’t be so bad. She gave him a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

“Now that you’re here,” he immediately started flirting. He enjoyed the way she immediately became flustered and jumped to his feet. She looked up at him in bewilderment. She saw him fall. She wasn’t a daughter of Apollo but he should have been suffering from at least a few broken bones. “I’m Apollo,” he clarified with a proud smirk. By now all the other campers within the vicinity were near enough to hear and kneeled. The girl did too, kneeling with a lowered head. He reached out a hand to her. She took it hesitantly, standing up. “Who are you, gorgeous?”

She became further embarrassed. How do I bring up Luke? She briefly wondered. “Y/N. Daughter of Aphrodite.”

“I should have known,” the god flirted. “What with those mesmerizing eyes.”

“Lord Apollo,” a voice interrupted him. He turned, finding Chiron trotting over. “My apologies, I was just notified of your arrival.”

“No worries,” the god smiled. The nice thing about not being around gods is that you get called things like Lord.

“Please,” Chiron began, gesturing over to a big house, “let me show you around. Your father has a few requests for you whilst here.”

“Of course he does,” he rolled his eyes. He turned back to the girl. “I’ll see you around, gorgeous,” he winked.

As he left all the campers were left in shock. Especially Y/N. And even more so, her boyfriend. Luke went up to her, finding her still in astonishment. “Sooo… that was weird,” he began, trying to not show his jealousy.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Was Apollo just flirting with me?”

“Yes!” Silena gushed as she ran up to her best friend/half-sister. “Oh my gods, a god is interested in you!” She then seemed to notice Luke and remember their relationship. “Oh- uh. Sorry, Luke.”

He just gave her a tight lipped smile.

“Oh my gods, what am I gonna do?” Y/N asked, clearly stressed out.

Luke shrugged, again trying not to show his jealousy. “Not much you can do. It’s not like you can tell him to leave you alone.”

“If you really don’t want him then you can tell him you have a boyfriend. And a sister,” Silena suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Her sister laughed. “I was trying to think of a way to mention Luke. And Silena, you’re 16.”

“He looks 18!” she insisted.

“Even if he was actually 18 I’d say he’s too old for you. Come on, the bathroom still needs to be cleaned after Drew decided she wanted to dye her hair black.”

“Yeah well, she’s crying now because she wants to be blonde again,” Silena explained as the sisters walked back to their cabin.

Feeling mildly ignored, Luke yelled after them. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

Remembering her boyfriend, Y/N ran back to him, pressing a peck on her lips. “Sorry. I’ll see you later.” He watched her go, trying to not think about it too much. She never forgot to kiss him goodbye but he tried to chalk it up to the fact that she was shocked by Apollo’s appearance.

That evening at dinner everyone had noticed the “new camper” sitting at the Apollo table looking very unhappy. Chiron stood up and called everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we have a very honored guest staying with us for a while. Lord Zeus had requested that we treat him as we would any other camper.” As he finished he gave us all a long, hard look as if to say, “Don’t get yourself killed when his immortality is restored.”

Once dinner finished, everyone was at the bonfire. Luke sat on the ground, his back resting up against a log. His girlfriend was leaning up against his shoulder, her legs over his lap. His free arm would occasionally swipe the mosquitos away from her with his other arm supporting her weight. They were talking to a few other campers when Luke let his gaze fall onto Apollo. Some campers, mostly girls from Aphrodite, sat around the god, looking at him with cartoon hearts in their eyes. He knew for a fact Y/N had told them to stay away as a. they were all minors and b. he was a god and she didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts.

When Apollo’s gaze fell on the girl in his lap, Luke tightened his grip protectively. He knew it was ridiculous. Y/N would never cheat on him and he knew she’d slap any guy who tried anything, immortal deity or not. But he couldn’t help but be worried. Hell, he had nearly punched an Ares camper last year and that kid wasn’t a god. And Apollo was known for his womanizing ways.

He tried to shake it off and go back to his conversation but his brain was still stuck on Apollo. “Hey,” he whispered so softly that only the girl in his lap could hear. She turned and he immediately kissed her. She kissed him back briefly but pulled away, not a huge fan of PDA especially in front of the entire camp. But Luke persisted, gently holding her cheek and kissing her deeply.

When she finally pulled away for breath she looked at him quizzically. “What was that for?”

He smiled and shrugged. “What? I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” She just smiled, pushing his head away jokingly before going back to her conversation. But he was looking at Apollo again, hoping the god saw that kiss. If he did, he was playing it off.

Later that night, when the fire was extinguished and he had kissed the Aphrodite counselor goodnight several times, Luke was trying to sleep. Keyword: trying. Normally the several snores or creeks of the Hermes cabin didn’t bother him, but he was so on edge thinking about Apollo’s flirting, that every noise jolted him awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Apollo had immediately begun to flirt with Y/N and how she had seemed to forget him for a moment.

Frustrated, Luke crept out of bed. As he opened the cabin door, he checked for harpies keeping watch but found none. So he went to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking on the window right above Y/N’s bed. It took a few tries but eventually, she poked her head up, gesturing to shut up and that she’d be out in a minute.

So Luke waited until she came around the side. “What?” she asked, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. But her hair was already falling back to the way its usual flawless look, courtesy of being Aphrodite’s daughter.

“I just wanted to see you,” Luke smiled sheepishly. And make sure Apollo isn’t sniffing around. He realized he didn’t have a reason to be out here that didn’t stem from insane jealousy. She looked mildly annoyed at that so he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her. If he couldn’t get rid of Apollo, he could completely occupy her mind. So he did the only thing he could think of. He was pushing her up against the side of the cabin, one hand on her jaw, the other around her waist.

She had no clue where this came from but she gave in nonetheless. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

After a few minutes of making out, she finally managed to push him away enough to get a deep breath in. “What was that for?” she asked, both of them still gasping for air.

Luke smiled, grabbing her by the hips to pull her closer. “‘Cause I love you.” He pressed the lightest kiss to her nose before stepping away abruptly. “Night, see you in the morning.” And with that, he walked away the happiest demigod in all of camp.

The daughter of Aphrodite still just stood there, completely taken off guard. The only thing that snapped her out of her daze was the faint caw of a harpy, making her quickly scramble inside. Luke ended up getting his wish as that night, the only thing on her mind was that kiss.

The next day was Capture the Flag day. When Chiron announced it at dinner that night, everyone lost their minds. It was Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and Poseidon vs. Ares, Apollo, Demeter, and Dionysus.

As the couple was walking over to their cabins to get their armor, Apollo caught up with them. “See you out there, Y/N,” he said as he passed with a wink.

“S-see yah?” she called back hesitantly.

Luke was frustrated but at least she didn’t seem flattered by his flirtations. Now she was just confused.

Once they grabbed their chest plates, then went back to the creek where they’d be starting the games. As Luke put his on, she was struggling to get hers tightened. “Hold on, I’ll help you in a sec,” he said, finishing strapping his onto his body.

“I got it,” a voice interrupted. Apollo seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was standing in front of Y/N, tightening the strap.

“Hey!” Luke yelled without thinking.

Apollo held up one hand in surrender, the other still on her shoulder. “Chill man, I’m just helping.” Luke didn’t say anything else as Apollo walked away with a slight smirk.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, stepping closer to him. “What was that about?”

Luke gritted his teeth. “Nothing. C’mon, I need to assign everyone and talk strategy.” He took her hand gently, reminding himself to not let his anger get the better of him. He headed over, gathering the team. “Alright, Cabins 6, 3, and 11 will be offense. Cabins 9, 10, and 12 will be defense. Except for Y/N, you’re with me. Beckendorf, you’ll also be offense.” He pointed out a few Athena and Hermes campers, directing them to defense as well.

After a few minutes, the conch blew and everyone was in their places. The couple quickly jumped over the creek, slipping through the Apollo cabin’s defenses. They had done this so many times, their routine was well practiced. They ran through the woods, searching for any opposing defense.

The other teams had learned that Y/N and Luke always worked as a pair so they started also pairing defensive players. That is when Hermes and Aphrodite were on the same side. If they weren’t, Capture the Flag could go on for hours since they knew all of each others’ tricks.

They continued on, occasionally making quick work of disarming opposing campers until they reached the flag. It was only guarded by one person. Apollo. Clarisse must have figured that everyone else would be too afraid to offend a god. But Luke was honestly looking for this opportunity.

So while Y/N fell back, hesitating, Luke was jumping at the god. Apollo blocked him with a sword but he was clearly not very good with it. Archery had been banned since before Luke got to camp. Even though the arrows were enchanted not to kill, someone had been blinded so Chiron banned them forever. He didn’t even make an exception for the god of archery.

While Luke fought Apollo, Y/N was grabbing the flag. “Luke!” she yelled, waving the flag. She then took off, heading for their territory. Because of Apollo’s inexperience with the sword, Luke was easily beating him. After a few slashes on the god’s arms, legs, and even face—nothing major, they were honestly just cuts a band aid could fix—Luke was disarming him. He didn’t have to be as brutal as he was or knock him over but he did, throwing the god’s sword far away before following after Y/N.

Luke was still a few feet behind her when she hopped over the creek into safety. He watched proudly as she ripped the helmet off her head and held the flag up triumphantly. The members of their team around her cheered triumphantly as the conch blew and their team was announced the winners.

Luke was still in enemy territory, watching her have her moment when Apollo showed up. “She’s really something,” the god announced, his smile focused on her.

“Yeah, my girlfriend really is incredible,” Luke said pointedly.

The god was still smiling. “I know she’s your girlfriend. I saw you making out with her last night.”

“What were you doing out at two a.m.?”

The god looked even more smug, his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t have to answer to you. But if you must know, I had the same idea as you but you got there first.” Luke finally looked at him, rage once again filling his body. So he wasn’t paranoid. “How long have you been together?”

Luke was confused but answered nonetheless. “Uh three years,” he answered suspiciously.

“Aw, three years down the drain. I’m sorry in advance,” the god said in exaggerated regret.

Luke tried not to let his fury show. This is why he hated gods. They thought they could do whatever they wanted without regard for mortals. “Well, she loves me. At night she swears we were made for each other,” he said, recalling sweaty nights during the school year when every other Aphrodite kid was home. And how they’d make breathless promises of eternity.

Apollo gave him an almost pitiful look. “I’m sorry about your relationship but you can’t actually believe she’ll pick you when she could have a literal god?” he gestured to himself arrogantly.

Now it was Luke’s turn to gloat. He just shrugged, “I’m the one she calls for. She doesn’t call for the gods like most others would. She only ever says my name.”

Apollo was a little taken aback by the kid’s boldness. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being a god. I can make anyone mine.” And with that Apollo headed over to the capture the flag winner of the night. It took everything in him not to race up to her but he kept his composure. She’d have to reject him on her own, he couldn’t keep running defense.

He watched in surprised satisfaction as Apollo reached her. He congratulated her before pulling her into a hug. His arms were around her waist and creeping kind of low but Luke once again kept his resolve. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she pulled away quickly, pointing over at him. What was she saying? Was she praising him for fighting the god? Or telling him that she had a boyfriend?

Apollo tried to hug her again but she ducked under his arm, running over to him. He immediately broke out into a smile. Her arms were opened to hug him but he just grabbed her face to kiss her instead. He turned her towards the tree he had been leaning on, pressing her up against it again. He only pulled away slightly to whisper a congratulations but then their lips were connected again. When he finally pulled away, he threw an arm around her shoulder, shooting a look to the god before heading off to their celebration.

That night as they were celebrating, Luke was glued to Y/N’s side. It wasn’t until some of the other Hermes boys needed help getting their illegal video game working again that Luke left her side. “I’ll be back,” he promised her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

As soon as Luke was gone, Apollo was swooping in. “Congratulations again,” he said, handing her a drink.

“Thanks,” she smiled nervously, taking the drink. “How are the cuts?”

Apollo shrugged. “They sting more than I would’ve thought but they’re fine. Your boyfriend’s a hell of a fighter.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, relieved that he was acknowledging she had a boyfriend.

“I mean, he’s good for a mortal. He’s certainly no god,” Apollo flirted.

“Well, none of us are. Present company excluded,” she laughed nervously, gesturing to him.

Apollo casually threw an arm around her shoulder. “There’s other things we’re better at,” he said, letting the implication hang in the air. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Have you ever been with a god, Y/N?”

She was immediately pulling out of his grasp. “I- uh… um no. I’m flattered but…” She had no clue what to say. She couldn’t just say no to Apollo. If this were any other man she’d throw her drink in his face but this was a god.

She didn’t have to say anything because Luke had seen the whole thing. As he came back he saw Apollo throw his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder and subsequently watched her back away quickly. “I told you she loves me,” he smirked before tugging her away. She gratefully pressed herself into his body.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, careful that Apollo couldn’t hear.

“Hey, you don’t have to thank me. This is kind of my job as your boyfriend.”

“Still, you basically told him to back off. Kind of bold to deny a god.”

“Yeah, well,” he began, brushing a hair back from her face, “if he smites me we’ll just have to make up for the lost time in Elysium.” She giggled, hugging him closer as they headed off to bed.

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #the lighting thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #apollo #apollo x reader

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specialagentartemis · 1 year

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in middle school during my Intense Greek Mythology Phase, Artemis was, as you can likely guess, my best girl. Iphigenia was my OTHER best girl. Yes at the same time.

The story of Iphigenia always gets to me when it's not presented as a story of Artemis being capricious and having arbitrary rules about where you can and can't hunt, but instead, making a point about war.

Artemis was, among other things--patron of hunting, wild places, the moon, singlehood--the protector of young girls. That's a really important aspect she was worshipped as: she protected girls and young women. But she was the one who demanded Agamemnon sacrifice his daughter in order for his fleet to be able to sail on for Troy.

There's no contradiction, though, when it's framed as, Artemis making Agamemnon face what he’s doing to the women and children of Troy. His children are not in danger. His son will not be thrown off the ramparts, his daughters will not be taken captive as sex slaves and dragged off to foreign lands, his wife will not have to watch her husband and brothers and children killed. Yet this is what he’s sailing off to Troy to inevitably do. That’s what happens in war. He’s going to go kill other people’s daughters; can he stand to do that to his own? As long as the answer is no—he can kill other people’s children, but not his own—he can’t sail off to war.

Which casts Artemis is a fascinating light, compared to the other gods of the Trojan War. The Trojan War is really a squabble of pride and insults within the Olympian family; Eris decided to cause problems on purpose, leaving Aphrodite smug and Hera and Athena snubbed, and all of this was kinda Zeus’s fault in the first place for not being able to keep it in his pants. And out of this fight mortal men were their game pieces and mortal cities their prizes in restoring their pride. And if hundreds of people die and hundred more lives are ruined, well, that’s what happens when gods fight. Mortals pay the price for gods’ whims and the gods move on in time and the mortals don’t and that’s how it is.

And women especially—Zeus wanted Leda, so he took her. Paris wanted Helen, so he took her. There’s a reason “the Trojan women” even since ancient times were the emblems of victims of a war they never wanted, never asked for, and never had a say in choosing, but was brought down on their heads anyway.

Artemis, in the way of gods, is still acting through human proxies. But it seems notable to me to cast her as the one god to look at the destruction the war is about to wreak on people, and challenge Agamemnon: are you ready to kill innocents? Kill children? Destroy families, leave grieving wives and mothers? Are you? Prove it.

It reminds me of that idea about nuclear codes, the concept of implanting the key in the heart of one of the Oval Office staffers who holds the briefcase, so the president would have to stab a man with a knife to get the key to launch the nukes. “That’s horrible!,” it’s said the response was. “If he had to do that, he might never press the button!” And it’s interesting to see Artemis offering Agamemnon the same choice. You want to burn Troy? Kill your own daughter first. Show me you understand what it means that you’re about to do.

#Electra was my other other best girl #I also stan Clytemnestra #love this murder family of women getting revenge in anguish for their loved ones they will never get back #tagamemnon #Greek Mythology #iphigenia #Trojan War #long post

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astrow1zar6 · 2 months

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Astro Observations (Beauty indicators)- 27

Degrees in the 5th degree: known as a big sex appeal placement. These people naturally draw attention to themselves effortlessly especially on the asc. They could be wearing a bag and will have ppl still staring and asking for their number. They can get famous for their beauty.

Neptune in the 1st house: they kinda look like their wearing a filter naturally.. like their appearance is abnormally smooth and glossy, they have a very otherworldly look to them that will make others turn back for a second look. They all look like angels. They can have very dreamy personalities as well they know how to mirror other’s desires back to them which can create an almost hypnotic effect on others. (Marilyn Monroe had this)

Venus in 1st house: they give that conventional insta baddie look usually. But no seriously these people can easily become famous for their beauty fast on social media. They have such friendly charming personalities and genuinely enjoy being around others which adds to the charm. They normally put a lot of effort into looking good.

Libra Rising: I think this one is pretty self explanatory lol. These people are really easy to spot they normally have amazing fashion sense, regardless of their aesthetic they pull of whatever they wear so nicely. They dress like story book characters. Just a main character placement

Lilith conjunct asc: these people are also so angelic to look at. I feel like many ppl expect these people to be covered in tattoos and piercings and dark makeup (however they definitely could) but I mostly see that they have such an innocent beautiful appearance normally, the edginess is more through the vibe they give off which causes a lot of people to become obsessed with them. They look so sweet & innocent yet you can sense how much power these people hold within themselves. This can make them very intimidating but insanely attractive!

Libra Venus: they never usually have a hard time finding a partner due to their refined nature. These are people truly in love with love, their willingness to find love in others can be really attractive to the opposite sex (or same sex) which will cause them to have a lot of suitors normally. Their appearance is always so put together and they have such a perfect face for makeup! They tend to have very beautiful smiles as well.

Capricorn rising: talk about face card, these people normally look like models. They have amazing bone structure and are very petite themselves. This can give more an edgy dark beauty. They remind me of a sculpted Greek statue very emotionless and still yet so beautiful to look at.

Venus in 2nd house: giving princess vibes. These people are the definition of pretty privilege. Men will just buy them things for looking cute. Usually has an amazing fashion sense. They have very wealthy personalities, even if they weren’t raised rich they talk like they came from a lot of uk what I mean. Their power is really in their voice they have the most seductive voices my lord, this is what can attract so much wealthy partners. Amazing sweet talkers.

Venus in Taurus: give such a natural beauty. These people give coconut girl aesthetic with the natural tanned faces, effortlessly messy beach wave hair. These people just radiate beauty. The most beautiful thing about these people is their feminine qualities and their ability to know what they want for themselves. This can make them ideal wife’s to many. They are usually into classical feminine activities such as clothes making, cooking/baking, knitting, making jewelry. They give perfect conventional wife vibes.

Aphrodite in the 1st and 7th house: I feel like the first house is pretty self explanatory but these natives are usually known for their beauty like Venus in the 1st house. Many famous models have this placement (Adriana Lima) they have the most symmetrical features, these were the kids that never had an ugly/awkward phase. The 7th house makes you attractive to others around you. You can be seen as extremely charming and likable in your social engagements with others you can become very popular fast. However this attracts a lot of enemies and jealousy from others because of how liked you are by others. People almost worship you like a goddess. When I think of Aphrodite in the 7th I think of “the birth of Venus” painting where she’s emerging out of the claim and everyone around her is in awe, that’s what this placement is like.

Venus in 7th house: usually have such beautiful personalities. Even if they aren’t physically attractive they have such charming personalities that they are still seen as very attractive. These people are also really funny and good at engaging the opposite sex (or the same whatever you’re into) they attract so much attention from others romantically even if they are the least attractive in the room. They can pull some pretty attractive partners as well! And if they do happen to be physically attractive then they probably steal all the men😂 lowkey a little jealous of this placement! You guys are just so cool.

Pisces moons: they get known for their beauty pretty often. I feel like everyone has a crush on them ESPECIALLY the men with this placement. The men with this placement tend to sweep women away like a fictional character, they’re usually amazing with sweet talk. They also tend to look otherworldly too and others can get really obsessed with them. (Bjorn Anderson was a Pisces moon).

Cancer moons: they are all so pretty and feminine 🥺 they usually have a very doll-like appearance and a very warm aura. They know how to make others feel at home which is really attractive. They usually have soft feminine features and have a natural glow to them like the moon! They have such a motherly energy to them you just want them to mother you. Also very emotionally intelligent. These are amazing people to go to when you just need to vent, they’re the best listeners and comforters. Their softness attracts so many people to them.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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percyluvr · 2 months

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percy jackson x aphrodite cabin counselor!reader summary: valentine's day at chb brings you and your best friend closer than ever wc: 1.4k

Today was your favorite day at Camp Half-Blood, Valentine's Day. Maybe it was cliché considering you were an Aphrodite kid, but there was just something about Valentine's Day that was addicting to you. Maybe it was the weeks leading up to it that you played matchmaker even more than you normally did as counselor of the Aphrodite cabin, or maybe it was the cute and overpriced chocolate that the Stoll brothers smuggled into camp for the annual Valentine's party.

However, one thing was for sure: it was not because you had a valentine or were in love. Well, you were in love but still had no valentine which came as a huge surprise to all of your siblings, but even more so your friends at camp.

Since you were 14 and made cabin counselor, you always had a date to your own Valentine's party. This year was different though, you'd realized your crush on your best friend at the Christmas party and knew then that you couldn't break another person's heart by taking them as your date to the Valentine's party and then dumping them the next day. After you completed the 'rite of passage' as an Aphrodite kid, you decided that you didn't have it in you to break anyone else's heart, so whoever you dated next had to be it for you.

Today you'd woken up nearly on cloud nine. You'd gone about your routine as normal and then got to work assigning tasks for your siblings to set up the party. While everyone at Camp Half-Blood was invited to the party, you still liked to make invites, because really, why have a party if you can't make cute pink invites for everyone?

Usually, parties like this for 'minor' holidays wouldn't be allowed at Camp Half-Blood, but Mr. D and Chiron, mostly Chiron, made an exception because of how much it meant to the Aphrodite cabin. Mr. D only let you host it because you somehow convinced the Olympians to let his wife come down to accompany him to the party.

Now, after assigning your siblings to their task, handing out invites, and making sure the party was ready, you were sitting at your vanity, redoing your makeup and hair, while your best friend, Percy, laid on your bed and juggled your stuffed animals, which you usually would have found weird or annoying, but now you couldn't help but notice just how beautiful he was. His black hair always sat messily atop his head, nearly never fully dry because he couldn't keep himself from jumping into the water whenever he felt like it. Before last year, you would've fixed his hair and chastised him for jumping into the lake because it made his hair all weird, but you just admired it now.

Not wanting to get caught staring, you turned back to your mirror, not noticing the way Percy stared at you with hearts in his eyes in the back.

"You look so cute," he said mindlessly, his brain immediately yelling at his mouth for always saying things he meant to keep to himself.

"What'd you say?" You ask, mad at yourself for not hearing him and hanging onto his every word.

Percy had never felt relief like that in his life.

"Nothing, I just said you look like a fruit," he said, mentally facepalming. "You look like a fruit," what the hell is my problem?

"That doesn't even make sense, but okay," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Sure it does, if your mind is as awesome as mine."

If your eyes could roll to the back of your head and stay there, yours might as well have already because of how many times you roll your eyes around this boy, but never out of real annoyance. How can someone who would typically be so annoying with his stupid jokes be so cute.

"No," you say to yourself. If I keep thinking like this, I'm just going to mess up our friendship.

Little did you know, the boy you were thinking about was thinking about you in the exact same way.

"Hey, when are you going to be done? The party is in like 10 minutes."

"Yes, Percy, I know, it's not like I'm hosting the party or anything," you say, feigning annoyance. "You can go on your own if I'm taking up too much of your 'precious time', y'know," you say, hoping but deep down knowing that he wouldn't go without you.

"Oh come on, you know damn well I would never go to a party without you, especially a party you're hosting, we're best friends," he says, immediately regretting the last words he said as soon as he heard himself say them.

Friends. That's all you are to him.

"Right, what am I thinking?" He hears you 'laugh', and if Percy Jackson knows anything about anything, he knows that is not a real laugh, but he doesn't know what to say to make it better.

"Well, I'm done now, I just need to put on my dress, just stay here," you state, sauntering off into the walk in closet. You choose your cutest red dress to pair with your darling white cowboy boots, but can't manage to tie the straps into bows yourself, so you decide to ask Percy for help.

"Hey, can you come in here? I need your help tying this!"

Percy blushes, but walks in nonetheless, and is immediately astonished at the amount of clothes in just your closet alone.

The sight of your bare shoulder and small manicured hands holding up your dress was enough for him to combust on the spot, but he held himself together.

The sight of the dark red tint on his cheeks brought a cheeky smile to your face, knowing that your plan was set in motion.

His fingers shakily grabbed the ribbons on the dress and tied a bow on each shoulder, but not without him accidentally touching your shoulders with the pads of his fingers.

His touch could've lit you on fire, even though he was a son of Poseidon, not Hephaestus. Even the tiniest touch was absolutely intoxicating.

You turned around and grabbed Percy's hand. If touching your shoulders was just the first step of becoming addicted to you, he was fully ready to do anything for you now.

It's not like you two never touched each other, but it was never quite like this. Not when you both had a sneaky feeling that the other felt the same way that you did.

Even when you got to the party, you stayed near each other. When you went up to the front of the party and went over your yearly Valentine’s spiel, he was at your side. When you went to get some of the definitely not spiked punch, he was at your side.

When the slow dance songs came on, he gently grabbed and moved your hand from his to his shoulder.

The way you looked into each other's eyes could in itself be a public display of affection. The pure love in your eyes for each other shut all of your admirers down without you even having to say anything. Your faces slowly got closer to each other, still staring into each other's eyes.

"Are we about to kiss right now?" he asked, mostly as a joke, but a small part of him still had hope.

What he didn't expect was for you to softly, with your honey-like voice, "I don't know about you, but I definitely hope so."

With your consent, he felt like his lifelong wish was coming true, and he immediately pushed his slightly chapped lips onto yours.

The feeling of finally getting to kiss each other was like the best thing in the world but 500x better. He tasted vaguely like a weird but good combination of saltwater and cookies.

The longer you kissed, the more passionate it got, and this was definitely pda now. His sharp teeth gently bit down on your bottom lip, causing your mouth to open, allowing his tongue in. You'd never felt something so perfect in your life.

When the two of you finally split, it felt like when you were a little kid and your parents took away your toys.

"Not sure about you, sugar, but that was singlehandedly the best kiss I've had in my life," he said with a smile.

a/n: book!percy my beloved also happy valentine's day to everyone reading this! <3

#pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #pjo x you #percy jackson fic #book percy jackson #percy jackson x you

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harmoonix · 6 months

Text

Moving my body like a

nympho

⚸°Lilith Astrology Observations°⚸

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*This post includes more types of Lilith's energy in your natal chart. These are

Lilith (h12) Mean Lilith ⚸ (this is the most common Lilith we find in our charts astro.seek or astro com)

Lilith (h13) True Lilith ⚸

Lilith asteroid (1181) ⚸

Lilith's DARK Moon (h58) ⚸

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(Some observations can be 18+)

⚸-> Lilith (h12) harshly aspecting Jupiter are crazy in bed, these can be the type of people who often go for more rounds. Just because they cannot hold it themselves

⚸-> Lilith (h12) or (h13) in Water/Earth signs indicate dark feminine energy, which is not bad at all because often this energy is send to the native by their ancestors/ or by their higher self

(And yes Lilith can also indicate things you gained from ancestors or being protected by ancestors)

⚸-> Lilith (h12) or (h13) in Fire/Air signs indicate the light feminine, which can be easier felt because of their personality. Natives with these placements can often have a big ego and likeable personality

⚸-> Lilith (h12) - in 6th/11th house love to praised for their work, these people have a big influence in their workplace

⚸-> Lilith (58) - in Scorpio/8th house > My Lord, these people are dark, they can be very revengeful/evil if someone does them dirty, also their sexual energy, Lorddddd >>>>>

⚸-> Lilith (58) aspecting the Sun > They embody the dark nature of their higher self easier, these people are full of intensity and power, these people can often attract powerful people in their lives

⚸-> Lilith (h12) - conjunct/square/opposite Moon > one of the most powerful aspects to have in your chart, they have an specific magnetic 🧲 field around, something that makes people to wonder about them.

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D E V O U R

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⚸-> Any of these Lilith in the sign of Leo ♌🦁 > they have a big pride and they are very confident. Loyal and appreciated by others

⚸-> True Lilith (h13) - aspecting Mars > Literally demon/angel of sex vibes, thet dream about it, they seek it, they desire it...They just want to eat your soul at this point

⚸-> True Lilith (h13) in Taurus Degrees 2°. 14°, 26° > They embody so much feminine vibes. Their true nature is feminine/no matter in the gender, these people are feminine inside 💠

⚸-> Lilith Asteroid (1181) in the 5th house > These natives are looking for intensity in love at every corner, i tell you this placement makes people to wife you up

⚸-> If Lilith asteroid is aspecting the asteroid Aphrodite (1388) the native has a very dark beauty > meaning they're majestic wearing dark colors/dark makeup 💄, and omg they're so sassy

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's in the signs or Gemini ♊ or Virgo ♍. The native has an seductive voice And people often ignore that. But they forget these Lilith's are ruled by Mercury

⚸-> Lilith (h12) aspecting the ascendant is so intense that most people with these aspects attract so much envy and hate from others

⚸-> Lilith (h12) or True Lilith (h13) in the 7th house can attract toxic partners in their relationships, be aware of people who show toxic behaviors at the first meeting cus' it may be a big red flag

⚸-> Lilith Asteroid (1881) trine/sextile Moon > it may be easier for them to be in their feminine energy. Because the energy here is calm and in harmony with their aura/personality.

⚸-> Lilith (h12) conjunct Saturn might be so though, people with these placements are so rebel. They're very dominant and don't want to listen to anyone just them. They may often have scandals with older people than them or with authorities

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's in the sign of Sagittarius ♐ are very carefree and in searching for their own freedom, most people with these placements could've raised in strict families. So their freedom was banned pretty much

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S E X • P O I S O N

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⚸-> Lilith (58) in the 6th house/Virgo can often end up to use sex as a key to something they want, which is not 100% positive, either way they're very practical during the act and they're have an unique duality between their personality

⚸-> It may be hard for people with True Lilith (13) - Venus aspects to find a partner, because they can often met people who want only sex and one night stands

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's in the sign of Aries ♈🐏 can indicate a big rebellious nature. A true leader and someone very powerful in terms of stability. They're also very dominant in most aspects in their lives > Men with these aspects please marry me..🫶🏼

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's in the sign of Aquarius ♒🏺 are very humanitarian people and they cannot stand for people who do others wrong, or for people who hurts others. They hate conflicts and they hate the chaos that is upon earth

⚸-> True Lilith (h13) - Eros (433) aspects > Oh Lord, they're extremely sexual and beautiful, I always imagined this energy as an angel of sex/demon of breaking beds, kind of thing

⚸-> Lilith (h58) aspecting Pluto > Oh my, this aspect embody the Phoenix archetype, rising from the ashes when they're hurt and come back wayy stronger

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F E M M E • F A T A L E

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⚸-> Asteroid Lilith (1881) opposite/square Mercury can be great at lying though, they can lie people as a key to get what they want and to make others to believe their lies

⚸-> True Lilith (h13) in Cancer Degrees > 4°. 16°. 28° give an "innocent" vibes to others. Sometimes they can have that "holy" vibe and that can make attract more people

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's in the sign of Pisces ♓🐟 have to use intuition as a key to make themselves more aware of the people around them, they're so dreamy and hypnotic though. one touch and you dream about them all night

⚸-> Okay here it comes THE MOTHERRRRR, Any of these Lilith's in the sign of Cancer ♋ 🦀 (THEEEE MOTHERRRRRRR PURRR). Their nurture energy makes people to be into them instantly. no wonder why men with these Lilith signs have boobs kinks... People with these placements be like "come here let me hug you, 2 seconds later they're hard/wet"... (😭)

⚸-> Lilith (h12) or Lilith (h13) aspecting MC (Midheaven) or in the 10th house, can manifest an sexual energy the way people see them. They be like "Omg you saw that person? Omg yass they're so hot"

⚸-> Asteroid Sirene (1009) aspecting the True Lilith (h13) or Lilith (h12) > You're the mermaid who wants to f*CK with pirates. And then you drown them in the ocean, so cute 🥰 first you sing to them then you say "Sikeeeee" 😇

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's in the sign of Capricorn ♑🐐. Show a lot of respect and success, they're may have been raised in traditional ways with strict/though parents with hard lessons. And that's what made them who are they today. An powerful human being

⚸-> Lilith (h58) at 3°, 15°, 27° degrees can cuss a lot or talk dirty when they're mad, one thing is clear they can get so sassy and they have the words at them always

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's aspecting the Chiron indicate. A wounded feminine. Their energy is to heal their wounds and to be back again in their feminine aura, push away the people who throw you out of your feminine energy though

⚸-> Lilith asteroid (1181) opposite/square Venus. May be the type of person who's always hurt by lovers/relationship or hurt by fact that some of them may be single, on the other hand they have so much love to give

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V E N O M

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⚸-> Lilith (h12) and True Lilith (h13) in the 4th or 8th house can have an karmic family life, for example an generational curse that they may need to break

⚸-> Speaking of karmic life Lilith (58) in the 8th house has to break all the things that keeps them to suffer/to feel bad/hurt, it's not an easy placement but is powerful

⚸-> Any of these Lilith's signs in the 9th house may have suffered from religious traumas/for example people forcing them to believe in a certain religion,god etc.. they can often be attracted into cult

⚸-> Lilith (h12) or True Lilith (h13) in the 11th house may have been betrayed a lot. Or backstabbed by their friends/lovers/people they care about, yet they don't always show that because they don't like to show weakness

⚸-> Lilith (h12) in the 2nd house can be the type of person who's always hungry for something, they're hungry more times a day and need to fulfill that

⚸-> Lilith in Leo Degrees 5°. 17°. 29° > May have a kink for worshipping their partners of vice versa. They also loved to be praised in bed and in their everyday life together with their partners

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PROMISCUOUS

MOTIVE

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⚸-> Good day for everyone. Is a new week in the last days of October 🎃⚰️ the most spooky month flies away with us leaving just the memories behind ⚰️🎃

Anywayssss today the theme was kind of spooky/crazy I can say, I liked it to be honest, my fingers kinda hurt from so much editing and writing 🎃⚰️, it was wait the worth for the post tho💅🏼

I want for everyone who watches this post to have a very good start of the week. Full of blessings and good news around the corner, bless everyone ❤️❤️❤️, and prayers for those who are struggling with certain things in life ❤️❤️❤️

Yours truly, Harmoonix

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 4 days

Text

The honey to my moon 🌬

Husband!Leon S. Kennedy x wife!reader

《A/N》: I'm back babyyyyyyy. Sort of. I don't know, we'll see. This is inspired by 'Alrighty Aphrodite' by Peach Pit so take a listen if you feel like it!! FYI this can be read for ANY Leon (like most of my Leon fics) I just use RE4R Leon in the banner bc of favoritism <3

~Fi 🐝

(Pssst, my requests are open!)

《Content》: NSFW content. proceed with caution. PiV, cockwarming, creampie (don't do that) consensual groping. Very, very sweet, of course! Lotsa domestic moments with Leon, basically a collection of cute moments I think would happen on your Honeymoon <3

Reader is implied to be chubby/ has stretch marks and tummy fat bc who doesn't???? (I still love you if you don't)

《Word count》: 3.4k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The, not quite shrill, yet still very annoying sound of your alarm ripped you out of your pleasant dreams. With a soft groan you stirred in the arms of your husband, which you were comfortably pressed against.

After a quick rub of your eyes, a smile formed on your lips as you remembered what day it was.

You turned to face Leon, admiring his peaceful expression for just a moment before you couldn't resist the twitching urge in your fingertips anymore and you gently ran them down the bridge of his nose and over his cheek.

His brows furrowed slightly, and his nose scrunched up at the tickling sensation on his skin.

"Happy one week of being married, baby." You whispered softly, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.

A dopey grin tugged at his lips, and he pulled you even closer to him with a soft hum. His lips found yours in a clumsy attempt at a good morning kiss.

"My beautiful, beautiful wife..." he mumbled against your lips, making you giggle and melt into his embrace at the same time.

"Can you believe it's been a week already?" You were cut off by yawn that decided to rudely interrupt your sentence.

"No... feels like I just fell in love with you yesterday." He let out a soft breath as his eyes fluttered shut, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, letting his touch linger as he slipped into a moment of comfort and love.

You sighed against his skin, feeling sleep still deep in your bones, but both knew you'd have to leave your shared cocoon of affection sooner than you wanted to.

"We have to get up... we'll miss our flight.." You slurred, fighting the heavy drooping of your eyelids from the warmth that Leon enveloped you in.

He grumbled softly under his breath, something about 'ungodly early flights', which made you crack a grin.

"Alright, up we go.." he groaned, heaving his body into an upright position, with you still securely in his arms, rubbing a hand over his face to get rid of the tiredness that remained in his muscles. With a peck to your nose, Leon stood from the bed, stretching his arms and neck with a yawn.

You crawled up onto your knees, your arms comfortably fitting around the curve of his neck and shoulders as you let your lips find his again in a tender kiss.

"Good morning, my handsome, handsome husband.." You purred, making Leon chuckle.

"Are you copying me, sweetheart?" He asked with a smirk as his hands migrated down to your waist.

"It's the highest form of flattery, don't you know?" You replied with a wicked grin, feeling his fingers dig just a little tighter into the flesh of your waist.

"Yeah, yeah.." he playfully rolled his eyes as you giggled, getting out of bed.

"Come on, we're on a time crunch." You let your hand slip from the embrace of his as you made your way to the bathroom.

He quietly followed you, landing a gentle slap on your ass. You yelped at the impact, jumping forward before turning around with angrily scrunched brows.

"Hey!" You pouted, rubbing the faint red mark on your skin.

"Just crunching time, babe." He shrugged with a cokcy smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes and huffed some words under your breath, making him snicker.

"Actually, let me help you in there." He declared, reaching you in a few strides and pushing you into the bathroom.

"What- I don't need help brushing my teeth!" You argued, trying to push back against him.

"Who said anything about brushing teeth, huh, honey?" He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up.

"Leon-"

"Whaddaya say we get this Honeymoon started early?" He said against the skin of your neck, trailing soft kisses along the column of your throat.

"No, no, no, we have a flight to catch!" You said sternly, clinging onto the doorframe.

"Oh, come on, baby.. you know how fast I can make you fall apart.." he breathed into your ear, slipping his hands underneath your shirt.

Leon tugged at your middle, firmly enough to make you struggle but leaving enough room if you wanted to back out. With the feeling of his hands on your skin and his breath ghosting deliciously over your neck, you relented, letting your grip on the doorframe loosen.

You gently slipped past the door with him and let out a soft sigh as his lips met your neck once again as the door of the bathroom fell shut.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

With packed bags, an excited attitude about going on your Honeymoon and a couple of new love bites just below the collar of your shirt, you were off to the airport.

You yawned as you watched the few city lights pass by, the streets empty. No surprise, really.

No person would willingly be up and about at this hours, except a few joggers (who were clearly insane) and the poor souls who'd just finished the night shift.

Leon's hand envolped yours tightly, keeping hold of it while the other one was loosely wrapped around the steering wheel, as you sped down the highway.

"Don't rip my head off, but.." he broke the silence, making you turn attention away from the lights flashing past the window, "you've got all the papers 'n documents and whatever we need, right?" Leon asked, slightly chewing on his lip.

You would never let him live it down if you forget your tickets and other papers just because of the desperate morning romp that had occurred because of his neediness. You would curse him to the sun if you'd had to cancel your Honeymoon purely because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

You chuckled and whipped out a clear folder with a plethora of printed e-mails, copies over copies of important information, and so on.

"Being overly prepared runs in the family." You chirped, waving around the, surprisingly thick, folder. Leon visibly relaxed, a dopey smile gracing his face.

"So that's why the printer ran out of ink." He mused, glancing your way. You shrugged with a mischievous glint in your eyes and Leon chuckled, pulling you into his side to press a kiss to your cheek before going back to driving down the seemingly endless roads to the airport.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"Airport coffee is truly something... special." Leon forced out, clearing his throat and disapprovingly eyeing the dark liquid in his paper cup.

"That's why you get the good stuff." You sipped your hot chocolate smugly, watching as Leon cracked a grin and pulled you into his side.

"Can I have a sip?" He asked sweetly, nosing your hair. You wordlessly handed him the cup as your head went to rest on his shoulder.

"I'll always share with you." A small smile sat on your lips as you quietly told him.

Leon raised a brow at you with the faintest hint of a smirk.

"I know for a fact, that's not true."

"Oh piss off." You grumbled, breaking into a smile.

"Tell that to the cookies you didn't share. Or the leftover Pizza. And the-"

"Okay, okay! Point is, I'm sharing now." You huffed, making Leon grin.

"Thank you, angel." He hummed, placing a kiss to your hairline.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You let yourself fall onto the bed with a thump, sighing in relief at the soft mattress beneath you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a nap." You said, a little mumbled. The bed shook as Leon dropped down next to you, immediately reaching for your hand.

"A nap sounds nice." He sighed, eyes falling shut. You laid in silence and soft breaths for a moment, already starting to doze off. "We could nap by the pool." He suggested, turning on his side to face you. You rolled over in a similar fashion.

"That's just your excuse to see me in a bathing suit and lather me in suncreen." You snorted, poking his chest. He cracked a smug grin.

"Would that be such a crime? A husband wanting to see his gorgeous wife in a bathing suit?" He defended with a smirk, cupping the back of your neck and gently stroking his thumb along your jaw.

"We could get lunch and maybe some drinks..." You thought out loud, weighing your options. You'd either get a good nap and be hungry when you wake up, or you could get a descent snooze plus some lunch, maybe a cocktail and a shirtless Leon.

"Alright, the pool it is." You declared, watching as Leon almost jumped off the bed with excitment.

You both packed a little bag with the essentials; sunscreen, sunglasses, a book, and whatever else you thought you'd need.

Leon was in the bathroom, making a suspicious amount of clattering noises, when he peaked his head out the door.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you wear the blue one? Please?" He asked bashfully, a pinkish tint on his cheeks.

Your expression softened, and your heart melted.

It amazed you how he could straight up ask you to fuck you before your flight, but asking you to wear his favorite bathing suit of yours was flustering him.

"Of course, honey."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"... Lee."

"Hm?"

"My ass does not need any more sunscreen."

"Just don't want you to get burned." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder while shamelessly massaging sunscreen into the fat of your rear.

"Leon Kennedy, get your hands off my behind before I beat yours!" You scolded, swatting his hands away.

He grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender.

"You can feel me up all you want in private, baby, but not in public."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just doing my husbandly duties and making sure you weren't gonna like a tomato."

"... you're lucky I love you." You narrowed your eyes at him, huffing when he blew you a kiss.

"I love you, angel." He said softly, retreating to his own sun chair.

"I love you too, you cute idiot."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your wine glasses clinged together as you sat on the cold stone of your balcony, huddle together with blankets and pillows.

It was a clear night, and a few stars decided to show themselves. It wasn't necessarily cold, but the breeze that passed by did make it a little chilly.

There was the crunching of snacks and the chatter and laughter between bites as you watched the stars and the moon illuminate the vast property of the Hotel.

Other couples might've chosen to fancy up and go out for dinner but Leon and you had chosen to do what you did best; not fit in the box.

Instead of eating way too small portions for an outrageous price while pretending that you felt comfortable in such a posh setting and simultaneously being defeated by the ridiculous amounts of forks beside your plate, you had a cozy evening with the love of your life.

You did splurge on the bottle of wine, but it was your Honeymoon, after all.

The gentle gusts of wind coming up from the coast left goosebumps on your skin and a salty taste on your lips.

"Today was really nice.." You spoke quietly, enjoying the peace of the moment.

"Yeah, I think so, too. Can't wait to spend the next two weeks with you like this." Leon replied in a soft and loving tone that almost fell into a whisper. Your head rested on his shoulder, like it usually did, your hand reaching for his.

The cold metal of his ring sent a pleasant shiver up your spine as you entangled your fingers and curled closer into him.

Leon happily obliged your silent plea for closeness and wrapped you in his arms.

"I know that I won't be able to ever put into words how much I love you, so I want you to know that deeply cherish every moment with you." You looked up at him, and his features softened as he gently held your face.

"I know you do. I can... I can feel it. Is that weird? I just sort of feel the love radiating off of you all the time. I hope you feel that when you're with me as well."

You looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky himself, the same ones you were admiring, and everything in him just melted.

"I do feel it. Not only are you my husband, but you're my best friend too. Two-in- one." You smiled sweetly, scooching further up in his hold just to be that little bit closer.

"I'm so glad that I married you." He whispered, firmly pulling your lips against his in a passionate kiss.

You'd never get bored of the feeling when he kissed you, the love and tenderness pouring from it. But there was a slight ache in your heart that you'd never be able to kiss him enough to quench the raging flames inside your chest.

You pulled away for a breath, with puffy lips and shimmering eyes that showed Leon just how much you truly cared for him.

"That makes two."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The softness of the bedsheets on his fingertips made Leon brows furrow. He was expecting a different softness; you.

Laying majestically next to him, bathed in the morning sun that poured in, even through the curtains. He lifted his head off the pillow with a disgruntled sound, blinking away the sleep in his eyes to look for you.

There were trickles and splashes of water that gently broke through the comfortably silent atmosphere. There was a slight breeze coming from the open balcony door, making the curtains sway.

Leon made his way to the terrace and, good heavens, the sight before him was enough to make him lightheaded.

You were perched on the edge of the small stone pool that you were extremely excited about ever since you laid eyes on it, skin glistening from the water with your hair intricately stuck to your back.

That would've been enough to make all the blood from Leon's cheeks to rush down south, making his boxers feel tight, but that wasn't all. There were bubbles.

Soft, foamy suds that clung to your hips and the curve of your waist, truly making you look divine with the morning sun shining down on you. Your legs were swishing in the water, taking in the peaceful morning while everyone else was far off in their dreams.

Leon's mouth hung open slightly, and it took every ounce of power in him to stop himself from drooling, but he didn't waste any time sliding the door open further to get through.

The noise made you look back over your shoulder with a soft smile when you saw him striding towards you.

Strong and familiar arms wrapped themselves around you, trying to discreetly feel you up.

"Good morning, honey." You spoke gently, stroking over his forearms that were tightly situated around your middle.

"Absolutely great morning if you ask me." He chuckled lowly, though not failing to press a kiss to your lips with such affection it almost covered any seductive intent behind his words.

"Christ, baby, you look heavenly..." he breathed against your ear, sliding his hands towards your hips to knead at the plush flesh and feel the shimmering grooves of stretch marks beneath his fingertips.

"Thought I'd wake you up with a little surprise for being the best husband a girl could ask for." You replied sweetly, trying to play innocent as if his calloused hands on your wet skin didn't ignite an inferno deep in your gut.

He let out an amused chuckle, slyly moving one hand to the pudge of your belly and the other kneading one of your soft tits.

With a soft sigh, you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

"You look like Aphrodite emerging from the sea foam, do you know that?" He asked gently, making your head spin with the way he was so easily drowning your mind in both lust and affection.

You chuckled, turning on your knees to face him.

"Well, then... will you do me the honors and be my Ares?" You purred, trailing your hand down his chest all the way to his cock straining in his boxers, cupping the member and squeezing gently.

A groan ripped from his throat and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

"Whatever you wish, my love." He whispered, guiding you back into the natural stone pool, watching with a ravenous gaze.

His underwear was quickly discarded, and he joined you in the water, backing you up against one of the rounded walls.

One hand on your waist, the other carefully placed on the back of your neck to cushion the hard edge of the stone

. His lips found yours in a loving manner, quite the opposite to his lusting eyes that raked over your naked form, but as much as Leon wanted to devour you, he wanted love you.

He reveled in his love for you. All he needed was to be close to you, as close as reality would allow and if that entailed him buried to the hilt inside your delightful cunt he wasn't one to complain.

Your bodies were pressed together, your tits squished up against his chest, and his dick laying heavy between your thighs. Your lips and tongues danced together like they had done so many times before, eliciting the occasional soft groan or sigh from you and Leon.

The bubbles littered on the water surface stuck to his broad back as you ran your fingers down the length of his spine.

"Can I, sweetheart?" He asked breathlessly, staring at your blown out pupils and puffy lips.

"Mhm, yes, please... need to be closer.." You responded equally as breathless before fiercely capturing his addicting lips once again.

The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance and with a shuddering breath he pushed past your lips and slid snuggly inside of you.

"F-Fuck... my perfect girl... God, I love you so much.." he groaned as quietly as he could, feeling a shiver run through him at the warm embrace of your gummy walls.

He quickly muffled himself by gently biting down on your shoulder.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you held him tighter, suppressing any sounds you might've made. Leon slowly rocked his hips into yours.

They weren't full thrusts, but they didn't need to be. This wasn't about an earthshattering orgasm that would knock the wind from your lungs, it was about feeling close and loved and his lazy and sloppy movements into your pussy did just that, with an added bit of pleasure.

Leon continued to rock his hips, dragging his heavy cock against your insides just right.

His pelvis hit your clit perfectly with each sloppy thrust, his happy trail adding to the euphoric sensation.

You were seeing stars by now.

Both of you were still sleepy and sensitive from waking up recently so you were at the brink of your edge already.

"Le-Leon.." You managed to get out between quiet moans that you were trying your best at biting back.

The sloshing of the water and his heavy pants were the only things in your mind as you felt the tight coil in your belly snap.

"Love you, I love you..." he slurred as he, too, reached his end. He came inside of you, pulsing against your insides.

The squeal that you felt bubbling in your throat was quickly swallowed by a hungry kiss from Leon.

He supported himself against the stone, catching his breath before he maneuvered the two of you around so you were straddling him, still nice and full.

"I love you so much, Lee." You hummed, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't mind if everyday started like this." He smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple when you lazily slapped his arm.

"Mhm, wanna crawl inside your ribcage and live next to your heart.." you mumbled, tuckered out.

He chuckled and gently stroked your back.

"If anyone else said that to me I'd be concerned."

"You put a ring on it." You argued, pulling your hand from the water and holding it up to him.

"Hm, that I did." He hummed, gently taking your hand and kissing your ring.

"And I'd do it all over again."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you enjoyed <3

(Yes, I'm aware of the bad and weird things that happen between Aphro and Ares, [poor] Hepheastus, man.] Just let me have this okay)

More Leon works --> 💫

《Tag List》: @k-fallingstar @dmitriene @vampkennedy @agrerion

(Lmk if you want to be added to my Leon Tag list!)

#bumblebeesfromvenus #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy comfort #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil leon #husband!leon

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cordeliawhohung · 1 month

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Of Sea Foam and Iron [2]

general masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap

what great news to arrive home to.

wc: 4.4k

warnings: historical au with lots of inaccuracies, mythology!au, blood/gore/violence, arranged marriage, nudity, fear of sex, ancient expectations of women

The churning you felt in your stomach was different from the sensation that plagued you the first time you had seen a man disemboweled.

Fear still seized your diaphragm with an iron grip, yet something else lurked underneath it. Confusion. Our wife? As far as you had been made aware, the only man you had been married to was Simon, yet it seemed he had already found a lover well before you were given to him.

What perplexed you even further was the fact that John not only seemed to understand Simon's claim, he seemed ecstatic. His minor apprehension at your existence melted away into something friendly, adoring even. He no longer looked at you questioningly, which had felt almost like an insult in your own home, and rather he greeted you with a chuffed smile. Your arms crossed over your chest as your mind couldn’t make sense of the odd feeling that ignited along your skin, but when you looked to Simon for answers, you found none.

“What great news to arrive home to,” John said in complete awe.

He took a few steps closer to you, and despite your body urging you to back away, you had been completely frozen in place. Perhaps this is why he was such a good warrior. All it took was a simple look from him and you grew as still as stone; if he had that same effect on the enemy, they would be stuck with his sword before they even saw the glint of his blade. But John seemed to have no such ill intent, and instead of a dagger, he reached an empty and kind hand out to you where he cautiously pulled your arms away from your body.

You had no choice but to follow his lead as he took your hands into his. Much like Simon’s they were rough with work and calluses that would never soften, and his touch sent a tingle along your skin as his thumbs rubbed along your knuckles. Those ocean-blue eyes hadn’t left you for even a moment, and you found your gaze equally captivated by the intimidating presence in front of you being so soft and vulnerable. It was like watching a wolf extend a hand in friendship; certainly he attempted to trick you.

“What is your name, my love?” he asked, still unable to remove the smile from his lips.

Your answer flowed from your lips before you were able to stop it, and the syllables of your name felt odd on your tongue. It had been so long since you had spoken it that it was like you had given it away the day you were married to leave it behind with the parts of you that died that day. But when John repeated it back to you, he smiled as if it was the sweetest word he had ever tasted. He gave your hands a firm squeeze before prompting you back inside of the house, leading you by his own hands.

“Come,” he urged, “we have much to discuss.”

Dazed, you had no choice but to follow him into the dining room, and Simon tagged along hot on your heels. John’s eyes had caught sight of the food still set out from lunch earlier, and you could practically hear his stomach growl. It all felt oddly domestic watching a man as powerful and intimidating as John MacTavish sit at the dining table, and even more so after Simon took a seat next to him. They looked at you expectantly, and you realized you had no choice but to take your own seat. While your husband and John filled their plates, you found that you couldn’t even stomach the thought of eating at that moment, and instead you kept your hands firmly folded in your lap.

“So. How long have we found ourselves in this arrangement?” John questioned with his mouth half full.

“About a month,” Simon replied. You were not ignorant to the way his dark eyes flickered to you upon his answer. “I would have rather waited for your return, but her father was insistent.”

John chuckled something deep and hoarse. The three of you had sat at that table to eat for only a few minutes, and nearly all the food on his plate had been consumed. Gluttony wasn’t a good look on anyone, but your attention was captured by the rigid lines of the muscles in his arms and the deep circles underneath his eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t gluttony as much as starvation. You wondered how much food Ares’s favorite dog needed to eat in order to survive, and if he had ever gotten a good meal during his recent campaign.

“It’s for the best, anyway,” John said after swallowing his food. “A ceremony as sacred as matrimony would have been wasted on a soldier like me. Not that I would be permitted to be there, anyway. Hands bloody and rotten from fighting. Would have hated to soil our wife the moment we were bound to her.”

“We?”

It was the first word you managed to muster — slightly in frustration at the fact they spoke about you as if you had not sat right next to them — yet you wished you had not spoken at all. Having the undivided attention of Simon, with his dark gaze and rugged face, along with John made your throat feel tight. Yet they persisted, keeping their eyes on you as if coaxing you to explain your confusion further. Patient. As if they stared at a skittish animal instead of a grown woman.

“Why… do you keep talking as if I’m married to both of you?” you asked cautiously.

“Because you are, in a manner of speaking,” Simon answered. “It was the deal that was made with your father.”

A cotton-like dryness enveloped your throat, making it difficult to swallow the words he spoke. The deal. He almost made it sound like the marriage had not been a proper one at all with terminology like that, and yet it still sounded correct. There had been no celebration of your matrimony, no going to a temple to make an offering to the gods, no feast in which to honor the intertwining of your lives. There had only been the lifting of your veil, and the promise to keep you safe.

Still, he had to be joking. Polygamy was illegal, and you were certain that extended even to the great John MacTavish himself. Then again, perhaps there was some work around. You had only ever been officially married to Simon, not John, and if your husband wanted to share you with another, you weren’t quite sure if you could deny that demand.

“What deal?” you questioned.

There was a slight pause that settled over the table, either in hesitation or in thought, you couldn’t tell. You quickly glanced at John, who kept himself busy with the food on his plate. Though this was certainly his first time hearing this information, he didn’t appear nearly as confused as you felt. Perhaps it was the soldier in him. Perhaps it was because none of this truly affected him either way; not as a man.

“Your father would have never married you to me if I was the only man on the end of the bargain,” he finally answered. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and in the back of your mind you could hear your late mother gripe about how improper it was. “Johnny is the real reason you’re here. He wanted someone strong, and as I’m sure you know, he’s plenty strong.”

“Oh, don’t let him fool you,” John interrupted. He leaned towards you as he spoke as if he was telling a secret to a good friend, someone he had known his whole life. Maybe that was the charisma that made people not only respect him, but genuinely like him. “You’ve seen the way he works, haven’t you? How he shapes hunks of iron to turn it into something useful. I’ve found no stronger man than him.”

“No father wants to marry their daughter to a cripple,” he retorted with a sharp bite to his words. Simon must not have used that tone frequently, because even John appeared surprised. “But he would have been stupid to turn away the opportunity of marrying her to you, even if it meant being bound to me.”

An obvious question burned the tip of your tongue, but you did your best to hold it in. It was a vile thought, something that you were certain could slice through even the toughest of skin, and you weren’t exactly keen on angering your husband and… your other — supposed — husband. But Simon’s eyes bore right through you, and he appeared as if he would rip the words from your mouth if you didn’t gather the courage to say it yourself. So you swallowed the bile as best as you could while you carefully phrased your next question.

“Then why marry me to you at all? Why not wait for John to return home?” you asked.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.”

It was John who answered you, and his response came so quick you almost didn’t understand him at first. He spoke with such conviction, you knew it had to be the truth. Still, your brows drew together as you glanced back and forth between the two men before you. There was a type of tension between all of you that you hadn’t felt since your wedding night with Simon, and you didn’t like the taste of it.

“Why not?” you questioned.

His next answer didn’t come as quick as his previous one, but it wasn’t for the lack of words. He drank in the silence of the table as his attention returned to Simon. The two looked at one another for what felt like an eternity, yet the blink of an eye at the same time. John quickly wiped his palms off on his chition before he reached a hand for Simon’s, who cautiously returned the gesture. Though he kept his eyes on Simon, when he spoke it felt like he wasn’t the only one he talked to.

“Because what’s mine is yours.”

That certainly was not the homecoming you knew John deserved as a highly acclaimed warrior, but it was the one he was stuck with. A confused and morose wife who greeted him with nothing but infuriating questions. But didn’t you have the right to be angry? For the last month you had shared a bed with your husband, partook in meals with him, just to be under the impression he wanted nothing to do with you. Suddenly his lover returns home, and then you learn his intention had been to share you all along? That your father had been in on that ruse and you were none the wiser?

What were you to do for the rest of the day besides mope around the house? Not like you had done anything else since you had been given away. Like the caged bird you were, you sat at your perch near one of the windows on the second story as you watched the city bustle around below. Simon’s hammer could be heard pounding away at his forge accompanied by a quiet murmur. While you rotted away inside the house with your festering frustration, your husband — or husbands — caught up on lost time. Or perhaps they discussed what to do with such an unruly wife. Not even your beauty could excuse your sour behavior.

You were long past caring about any sort of punishment. As far as you were concerned, living in that prison of a home was punishment enough for the crime of simply existing. No matter what, it seemed as if you were destined to suffer. If you lived your life as an unmarried woman, you would have been chased after by countless men either to steal you away or ravage you. But as a married woman, you were forever locked away like a criminal. Both options were lives hardly worth living.

It would have been better to be sacrificed and return the god’s gifts back to them. Spilled blood was certainly more comforting than Simon had been, and John MacTavish intimidated you despite his apparent kind nature. You knew better than to trust a dog that still had flesh in its teeth.

When night came, a breeze accompanied it that smelled so much like the ocean you swore you could taste it on your lips. Torches ignited in sparkling waves across the city, and you watched as people took shelter in their homes to escape the darkness that swallowed buildings whole. You had never really been afraid of the dark. Not when it brought out the most dazzling creations in the sky with comforting stars and a moon so bright there was hardly a need for torches at all. It was all so consoling you swore you could have fallen asleep in that windowsill without a care in the world.

“My love?”

John’s voice and his hand on your back was such a surprise to you, you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your body twisted to see him, and you were met with an amused smirk. Your first instinct was to scold him for giving you such a fright, but you opted to give him what felt like a confused glare instead.

“You’re very flighty. Like a bird,” he commented.

Huffing, you attempted to regain what little of your composure you were able to as you stared up at him. He wasn’t quite as tall as Simon, though you were certain that would be a near impossible feat anyway, but his broad stature was certainly something to be reckoned with. You knew you shouldn’t say anything snarky, yet that entertained expression on his face made your shame boil painfully underneath your skin.

“You’re just like Simon,” you breathed. “Both of you are too quiet for your own good.”

“Maybe you’re just tired. Fatigue can wreak havoc on your senses,” he countered, though his look screamed that you were right. “Come, we’re settling in for bed.”

You wanted to deny his request, but you would have no true reason to. None that he would accept, anyway. Would you just continue to stare wistfully out the window like a poet or philosopher, only to crawl into bed later and disturb the two large men you would find underneath the covers? No, you didn’t want any more trouble than you had already caused. They already had reason enough to beat you, or worse, and you didn’t want to give them another.

By the time John led you to your shared chambers, Simon was already naked and standing next to his side of the bed. Strange that he had shamelessly bared his body to you for the last month while keeping the true nature of your marriage to him secret, and it would be a lie to say that you weren’t a bit peeved at that knowledge. Still, oddly enough you had gotten so used to the image of his bare body that you no longer felt embarrassed to look at him in such a state. His eyes studied you carefully, like they always did, but with slight apprehension. As if he prepared for you to chastise him; as if he thought he deserved it.

“Go on, little dove,” John urged.

You quickly glanced back at him, and then to the bed, and your stomach dropped when you realized how the sleeping arrangements were about to change. Whereas you and Simon would sleep on opposite sides of the bed, well away from one another, you were certain you wouldn’t be able to get as much space with John in the midst of it all. Even worse, he gestured to the center, as if he wanted to trap you between them. A sickening dread gripped your chest, and you tried to soothe yourself long enough in order to form the words that plagued your mind.

“I’d feel more comfortable sleeping on the edge,” you admitted.

John laughed as if you told him a joke, and you couldn’t help but feel a little patronized, even with his euphonious tone. “Sorry, love. This side is my spot, I’m afraid.”

He gestured to the area directly next to the bed, and you caught sight of the short sword he had worn earlier, the one you were certain he was going to gut Simon with when he first arrived. You could see the dents in the blade and the raw wood on the handle, discolored from his grip. That weapon was one that he used often, and kept close. Something he had clearly used to take the lives of countless men.

“This side is closer to the door, and the other side is Simon’s. He has a hard time getting around, I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he explained further.

Gods. His reasoning was sound, but you still didn’t like it. The thought of being stuck between two men who only felt contempt for you made the bile in your stomach boil. A roaring fear plagued your thoughts as you imagined crawling into that bed. Perhaps the only reason Simon had not taken you the night you were married was because he wanted to wait for John to return. Being trapped between them on the bed would make it impossible for you to fight against them, should they get the urge to have their way with you in the night. You had managed to convince yourself that you would be able to lay there and take it if it were just Simon, but with John? That was just dehumanizing.

Impatient, Simon crawled into his side of the bed where he covered himself with the plethora of blankets. He laid on his back, exhausted from his long day of work, and he looked at you with a heavy sigh. You prevented him from his rest, that much was obvious, and his silent frustration only poked you further.

Seeing as how you had no other option, you timidly scurried into bed next to Simon. There was a special shame that sizzled in your chest as you attempted to get comfortable, and it only got worse as John began to undress himself. Similar to Simon, his body bore countless scars and even some new minor wounds, and there was a heavy ruggedness to it from war. Sinewy muscles, tanned skin; he was the very paragon of vigor. Still, the very moment that his chiton began to fall past his hips, you turned away in favor of facing Simon instead.

At least he was familiar.

Once John extinguished the oil lamp and the room plunged into darkness, you felt the bed shake as he climbed in behind you. Every movement had your muscles constrict like you expected him to scoop you up into his arms, or worse. Though you were not allowed out of the house very often, even before your marriage, you knew the rumors of soldiers and their insatiable lust. So much time spent on the battlefield with adrenaline running high always had a way of turning men into ravenous beasts.

If he did have plans to take you or toy with you in the night, John kept those intentions hidden as he settled into the mattress with a heavy sigh. The bed was large enough that the three of you could lay side by side without touching one another, and you found yourself eternally grateful for it. Though, it suddenly made sense as to why it was so large in the first place; not because Simon was a beast of a man, but because two men shared the bed with one another.

And then there was you, their third.

Sleep did not come easy for you that night. A symphony of breaths filled the still air, and a blazing heat threatened to suffocate you underneath the blankets. You did not dare move as you were terrified to rouse the men from their sleep, and your body began to ache from staying on your side for too long. You felt as if you were a mouse in the den of a lion, forced to stay quiet and still lest you be devoured. But anxiety could not hold you forever, and eventually sleep curled its roots deep into your mind, silencing your rampant thoughts.

Even still, your trepidation followed you into your slumber. That night, you dreamt your feet were comfortably buried into the warm sand that lined the shore of your city. You could wiggle your toes and feel the grains mingle between them playfully. Innumerable boats gently bobbed along the shoreline as fishermen reeled in catches of life to be later sold in markets. Brackish wind pulled at your hair and clothes, urging you towards the singing waves in front of you that danced along the coast. With the sun high in the sky, its rays illuminated the water before you with dazzling, hypnotic beauty; giving you no other choice but to give into your desires.

Your feet began to move on their own accord, trudging through the sand towards the beckoning water. It felt like you were called home by your mother, like someone tried to coax you into a warm embrace. Salty mist cooled your face, yet the closer you got to the water, the further it seemed to recede. No matter how close your feet came to kissing the waves, or how strong the taste of the water grew, it was always just beyond your reach.

As the waves retreated, it revealed the horrors that lurked underneath their pristine beauty. Rotten fish, shattered bones, decaying iron; remnants of an old battlefield laid at your feet with bodies strewn carelessly, left to spoil where they fell. Its acrid scent assaulted your nose, and you found yourself coughing on the foul smell as you attempted to push further, to no avail.

Something sharp caught your foot, and you found yourself on your hands and knees in the sopping wet sand. Though you didn’t dare to turn and look at the wound, you could feel the warm blood seep out of the gash in your skin, and you cried pitifully at the pain. All you wanted was to return to the sea, to feel the grace of its waves welcome you into its grasp. Instead, your tears streamed into the blood stained sand in front of you where the salt of humans mixed with the salt of nature.

Among the chaos and the pain, something began to grow in front of you. Delicate green stems unfurled from the mud, and you watched as flowers began to bloom faster than any you had ever seen before. Buds began to form on the end of the stems, and they soon blossomed into a beautiful array of colors. Delicate petals fluttered in the breeze, and their floral scent gave you slight reprieve from the rot that surrounded you. Anemones. Their dark centers made their bright yellows, pinks, and blues pop brightly against the dull sand behind them, and yet even with all that beauty, you couldn’t stop crying. All you could do was lay there and bleed.

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the pale light of dawn that peeked through the shutters, illuminating the room with a dull glow. Birds quietly chirped in the distance as they woke from their slumber, and if you had been alone you would have stretched your arms out and basked in their melody.

But you were not alone.

Throughout the night, both John and Simon grew closer to you, so much so that their combined heat nearly cooked you from the inside out. As you became more aware of your predicament, you felt your heart almost cease its beating. Simon’s bare chest obscured most of your vision, and you felt his chin rest on the top of your head. His body was not quite pressed against your front, but he was still close enough that you had nowhere to move.

As for John, his body shamelessly pressed against your back. His legs fit snugly against the curve of your own, and his breath tickled the back of your neck with each exhale. To make matters worse, his hand rested on your waist as if it had known no other home, but it wasn’t just him. Simon’s fingers intertwined with John’s where they both held you close, keeping you secure, keeping you safe.

The thundering of your heart in your chest rattled so fiercely you feared it might wake them, yet they did not stir. If anything, they only moved closer, as if their incognizant minds could sense your apprehension and attempted to comfort you. By some miracle, it worked. It had been ages since you last felt the warmth of someone's touch, as not even your own father would offer you such solace. Your senses began to calm as the pounding in your chest subsided, and your body seemed to grow heavy with sleep once more.

Despite their nature, with their rough hands and scarred skin, they were so tender. They held you with care as if you would crumble otherwise, and something within you screamed that you didn’t deserve it. You had been nothing but cold and judgemental towards the both of them with the notion that you deserved better than what you were given, yet they still granted you patience.

Any other man would have put you in your place, or rather put you to work. If your tongue could not be stilled, then the least you could do was provide someone with an heir. There were many women who had been put on display in your city for insubordination. Some were paraded around like animals or freakish beasts to gawk at, while others were thrown to the icy depths of the ocean off the city’s highest cliff. You feared John and Simon would be like any other man, yet for some reason they weren’t.

But there was no time for you to dwell on such dejected thoughts. Not when you were so warmly wrapped in their embrace. For the first time in your life, you found your eyes drawing closed in the arms of another. You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever felt so loved, and you realized that maybe their intentions were more pure than you had feared. Maybe all they truly wanted was to cherish you, and you found yourself silently praying that you could stay like that forever, if not, just a bit longer.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #f!reader

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g1rld1ary · 2 months

Text

you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀#love #luke castellan #pjo series #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #percy jackson #percy series #percy pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson tv show

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tarotwithavi · 4 months

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Some nicknames your future spouse may call you by

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

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Pile 1

"Sweetheart" , "Sweety Pie" , "Lovely", "Honey" "Dazzle" "Charm" "Cupcake" "Blossom" "Starlight" "Queen bee" "Enchantress" "Darling" "Angel" "Princess" "Love" "Beautiful" "Sunshine" "Gorgeous" "Treasure" "Sparkle" "Adore", "pearl" ,"Serenity" "Gem" "my wife", "Butterfly" "Cuddlebug" "Precious", "Moonbeam", "Wonder" "Beloved"

These are some of the nicknames that I was able to pick up on. I also see that they won't be a particular nickname for you because we will call you by every nickname they can imagine. I am getting really romantic energy from your future spouse. They seem to be deeply in love with you. I also see that your relationship with them is going to be really stable and there won't be any room for second guessing and misunderstanding.

Pile 2

"goofball" , "mine" , "my tornado" , "ocean" , "Thunderstorm" , "Ride or die" , "the love of my life" , "daymaker" , "cuddlemaster" , "baby momma" , "sugar" , "luvbug" , "Not fast but always furious" , "my chatterbox" , "my destiny" , "Dinosour" , "Pikachu" , "Yoda" , "nugget", "mommy shark" , "Aphrodite" , "sleeping beauty" , "Elsa" ( because you may have cold hands?)

I see that the majority of you guys may be short? Or you'll be much shorter than them. I also see that your relationship maybe a bit more chaotic but in a funny way. I'm talking about the pranks and fun times you guys will have with your future spouse. You guys may like to pull each other's leg and be weird together. I'm also getting the message that they may be someone you never thought you would want to date? Like someone really unexpected. They may not be your ideal type but this relationship is really spontaneous and fun.

Pile 3

"Brainiac" , "babe" , "Smarty Pants", "Genius" , "8th Wonder of the world" , "Beauty", "Einsteinette" , "Cookie" , "Princess" "Savvy" , "star" , "Night Owl" , "Cutie patootie" , "Mensa Marvel", "Spark" , "Sweetcheeks" , "Belle", "Sage" , "IQ Angel" , "Bright Eyes" , "Darling" , "Astute Angel" , "Treasure" ,"Soulmate" , "my moon" , "my sanctuary" , "my universe", "loli" , "chiku?" , "bunny"

Your future spouse will respect you a lot and your relationship is really mature. I see them literally worshiping the ground you walk on. They will put you on a pedestal. "Respect" , "maturity" and "understanding" are the words that describe your relationship. I also see that you may already know who this person is going to be because I see that you're really intuitive yourself or you may have a dream or two about them. But whenever you meet them you're going to know that this is your future spouse.

#tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #free readings #free tarot #tarot #pick a pile #tarotblr #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card tarot #tarotwithavi #tarot witch #tarotcommunity #tarot blog #tarot wisdom #future spouse reading #future spouse #love reading

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 25 days

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1968 [Chapter 1: Ares, God Of War]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.7k

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Let’s begin with a definition.

Disaster is a noun derived from Ancient Greek: dus, a prefix meaning “bad,” and aster, or “star.” In the time when humans worshipped Zeus and Hera, Hephaestus and Aphrodite, it was believed that tragedies resulted from the inauspicious positioning of celestial bodies: a volcano erupts because of Jupiter, a returning comet brings with it a flood. There is a certain helplessness inherent in this mythology. There is predestined suffering that lies in wait until all the jewels of the sky have malignantly aligned.

Have you ever met someone who made you ache to change the stars?

~~~~~~~~~~

Gunshots explode through the lobby of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, Florida; you feel the wind of the bullets as they clip by, fragmented metallic rage. Aemond is on the marble floor, blood pouring down his face, blood all over the white shirt beneath his navy blue suit jacket when you rip it open, tearing a button loose. He’s reaching for you through the jostling and the screams, leaving crimson handprints on your mint green dress. And you think: He just won the Florida primary. He’s not supposed to die. He’s supposed to be the president.

“What happened?” Aemond murmurs, his right eye dazed and only half-open; the left has vanished beneath a cloudburst of gore. Perhaps ten yards away, people have caught the assailant and pinned him against one of the vast Venetian windows until the police arrive. They’re roaring at him in red-faced fury, their closed fists strike his ribs and his cheekbones, their knuckles paint him scarlet and indigo.

“You’re alright, you’re alright.” You brace both palms over the maroon stain spreading rapidly across Aemond’s chest and press down as hard as you can. Your fingers are drenched in seconds, warm fading life. He’s bleeding to death. You shriek through the turmoil: “Criston?!”

“Is he okay?” Aemond asks faintly. He means the baby; you’re six months pregnant with his first child, his greatest treasure, his Atlantis, his Holy Grail. Aemond has already decided that it’s a boy. Sometimes you fear what will happen if he’s wrong.

“Yes, honey, the baby’s fine, don’t worry. Criston!”

Aegon is here instead, sweating out rum and ruin like he always is, hair too long, veins full of pills, colliding with you and pawing at his dying brother with untrustworthy hands. “Aemond?!”

You shove Aegon away, splattering him with blood. “Get back, he needs air!”

“Where’s he shot?! Let me see—”

“I told you to get back!”

“Goddammit, you don’t own him! He’s mine too!”

Criston has fought his way through the maelstrom and is dragging Aegon away by the collar of his frayed olive green army jacket, stolen from Daeron when he visited home after basic training, a uniform of embittered revolution worn by a man who’s never fought for anything. “Aegon, make sure someone’s called for an ambulance, then meet the paramedics at the door and help them find us.”

“But—”

“Go!” Criston roars, and Aegon scrambles to his feet and is lost within the crowd. You can hear Otto bellowing at journalists and hotel employees to make space for the fallen senator; there are flashes of cameras and prayers shouted aloud. Above your head are crystal chandeliers and a vaulted ceiling hand-painted by 75 Italian artists in the 1920s; swimming in your skull are visions of Jackie Kennedy in the pink suit filthy with her husband’s brains. It’s just before midnight on Tuesday, May 28th. Upstairs in their oceanfront Imperial Suites, nannies will be shaking awake the absent adults of the Targaryen dynasty, who retired with the children before Aemond made his victory speech in the hotel ballroom: Alicent, Helaena, Fosco, Mimi.

Criston’s hands—larger, stronger—replace yours over the gushing wound in Aemond’s chest. What did the bullet hit? His lung, his heart? He’s not speaking anymore, his right eye is closed. His bloodied hands rest open and empty on the floor. “Criston, he’s dying,” you sob.

“No he’s not. We’re not going to let him.”

“What’s the closest hospital?”

“Good Samaritan is just across the bridge on the mainland.” It’s Criston’s job to know these things, though he had been thinking of you when he plotted his meticulous notes in his day planner: in case you eat a bad cheeseburger, or trip on the stairs, or catch the flu and start burning up with fever. Aemond worries about the baby. Aegon has five children, Helaena has three, and Aemond will feel that he has been robbed of something if he does not swiftly procure a family of his own. He needs you on the campaign trail, but still, he worries.

Across the lobby, the police have arrived to arrest the aspiring assassin. He puts up a fight when they try to handcuff him and earns a nightstick to the gut, an elbow to the nose. He is choking on his own blood. Perhaps he is drowning in it. Good, you think.

“Don’t kill him!” Otto booms at the officers. “I want him alive for trial! I want him to ride the lighting up in Raiford, you keep that son of a bitch alive!”

“Aemond?” You thread your fingers through his soaked hair. What happened to his left eye? Is it somewhere underneath all that carnage, or is it gone? “Please wake up. Please stay with me. We need you. The baby and I need you.”

“He’s going to live,” Criston promises, both hands still clamped over the bullet wound to slow the hemorrhaging.

“Aemond, please…” How can he be the president with only one eye?

An old woman in a yellow striped skirt suit is lumbering close with a homemade prayer rope clenched in her fist. “A komboskini for the senator!” For his last rites. For his soul.

“He doesn’t need it!” Criston says. “He’s not dying! No one is dying tonight!”

Still, you take the komboskini from the lady, each of the 100 knots a prayer unspoken. She is a devotee of Aemond, and you must show her gratitude. “Efcharistó, aderfí. O Theós na se evlogeí.” They are some of the few Greek words you’ve mastered; you’ve used them often since Aemond announced that he was running for president. Thank you, sister. God bless you.

The paramedics arrive, splitting the crowd like a laceration, white uniforms and a stretcher to ferry Aemond away. People are wailing, cursing, swearing vengeance. Aegon has returned and is peering down at Aemond with those large, glassy, muddled eyes, afraid to ask. “Is he…is he still…?”

“He has a pulse,” Criston replies. He helps the paramedics drag Aemond onto the stretcher and strap him to it. Your husband’s shirt is now drenched in red like garnet, like cinnabar, like the poppies that commemorate the boys butchered in World War I, like the wasted blood being spilled in Vietnam, men reduced to memory. “Good Samaritan?” Criston confirms with the paramedics.

“Yes sir,” the most senior one agrees. And then to you, with great deference, with compassion that transcends what somebody can harbor for strangers: “Ma’am, there’s a place for you if you want it.”

“I do,” you say, tear-streaked face, hands bathed in blood. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The ambulance is idling outside the main entranceway of the hotel. Criston grasps your hand to steady you as you step up into the back, and you take a seat on the red leather bench beside the stretcher. The paramedics are placing IVs, holding an oxygen mask to Aemond’s face, muttering urgently into their radio, abbreviations and code words you can’t understand, a secret language of organic calamities. High above the stars are crystalline and radiant in a clear sky. In your own chest—unshredded by metal, unpierced by rage—your intact heart is pounding.

The lead paramedic turns to you again and says: “We can fit one more person.”

It’s your decision. You are the senator’s wife; you were supposed to be the next first lady of the United States. You look through the ambulance’s open doors. Aegon stares back expectantly, his hair falling in his face, his arms thrown wide, petulant, combative, useless, drunk. “Criston.”

“Bitch!” Aegon hisses at you as Criston climbs into the vehicle. The doors slam shut, the engine rumbles, the siren squeals as the ambulance races westbound on Breakers Row towards County Road, which connects with Flagler Memorial Bridge and the mainland.

Through the rear window you watch Aegon as he stands in the white-gold hotel luminescence, becoming smaller and smaller until he vanishes, and all you can see are streetlights, and all you can smell is blood.

~~~~~~~~~~

Every story needs its cast of characters. Here are the major players in the summer of 1968.

President Lyndon Baines Johnson is in the White House watching the clocks tick towards November 5th, when his successor will be ordained. He has chosen not to seek reelection. Since his ascension upon Kennedy’s assassination in 1963, Johnson’s domestic focus has been unprecedented civil rights legislation and his War On Poverty, yet what has infected the media like blood poisoning is the war in Vietnam. On the television are napalm bombs incinerating Vietnamese peasants, caskets draped with American flags, riots being beaten down by police, college students torching draft cards and chanting “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?” Now the president is sick in body, in spirit, in heart, and this is not a metaphor: he suffered a near-fatal cardiac arrest in 1955 and another shortly after John F. Kennedy was murdered in Dallas, Texas. He will die almost exactly four years after leaving office. Had he sought another term, he would have been unlikely to survive it. The public eye is something like a snake bite; it sinks its fangs in and you hope the venom burns clean before it can curse you with clots or hemorrhages or paralysis, before it can drown you in the dark waters of infamy.

In the void left by President Johnson’s surrender, four factions have emerged within the Democratic Party. The old guard—the same labor unions, congressmen, and local political machines who have steered the platform since the days of Franklin D. Roosvelt’s New Deal—has flocked to current Vice President Hubert Humphrey. Humphrey is competent yet uninspiring, a mid-fifties Midwesterner who flinches at the unpolished fury of antiwar protests and sedately lectures Black Power activists on the dangers of “reverse racism.” He is not a threat. He is a sheep in sheep’s clothing, and this is the time for wolves.

Senator Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota is unapologetically opposed to the Vietnam War, a moral crusader, a reluctant warrior, a man who wears his lack of taste for the presidency like a badge of honor. He feels compelled to run, but he does not crave it. He thinks this makes him a saint; but Joan of Arc was burned at the stake and Saint Lawrence was roasted alive. Like Halloween candy plunked into a child’s neon orange plastic pumpkin, McCarthy has collected his own coalition, college students and posh urbanites who believe themselves to be the future of the Democratic Party. In 2016, people will conjure McCarthy’s ghost when drawing comparisons to a controversial left-wing senator from Vermont named Bernie Sanders.

If McCarthy is the future and Humphrey is the past, then former governor of Alabama George Wallace is downright archaic. He is the candidate of choice for Southern white supremacists, averse to Republicans since Lincoln and still reverent of Depression-era New Deal programs that kept them from starving to death. Wallace is best known for his promise of “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever,” and pledges to end the chaos that has besieged America through strict law and order. Provided he loses the Democratic primary, Wallace plans to run in the general election as an Independent, hoping to peel away enough support from the major party candidates to force the House of Representatives to declare the winner and then leverage his votes to negotiate an end to federal desegregation efforts in the South. His devoted wife Lurleen just died of uterine cancer, a diagnosis which Wallace kept hidden from her for years; doctors are in the habit of informing husbands of their wives’ ailments and giving them carte blanche control over the treatment plan, which unfortunately in Lurleen’s case was nothing. She was 41 years old.

In his short-lived castle of red corridors like the marrow rivers of bones, President Johnson hides from the hippies who jeer and spit; Humphrey frowns at them, McCarthy tries to appease them, Wallace says the only four-letter words they don’t know are “w-o-r-k” and “s-o-a-p.” But Aemond climbs down from podiums to meet them like old friends. He is young, only 36. He has a brother serving in the swamps of Vietnam. He is focused, determined, insatiable; he devours every scrap of news that is printed about him and writes his speeches by hand. As the self-admitted runt of the Targaryen family, Aemond knows what it is like to be underestimated. He wants a better America, and he wants to be the president, and he wants these things in equal, relentless measure, each fueling the other until these ambitions become inseparable. He has grown up hearing slurs against Greeks and consequently has no tolerance for discrimination, which he contends is antithetical to the American Dream. He attends civil rights marches in labyrinthian cities, antiwar protests on college campuses, union meetings in coal mining towns of West Virginia and Kentucky and Wyoming, music festivals crowded with long unwashed hair and braless women, fundraisers flush with the deep pockets of the Northeastern elite. Aemond’s coalition grows each day, bleeding away strength from his rivals like a Medieval surgeon. Their flesh turns cold and anemic, while Aemond’s heart pumps scalding torrents of blood.

If Aemond wins the Democratic primary at the convention in August, his opponent will almost certainly be the Republican frontrunner Richard Nixon of California. Nixon wants the White House just as badly, and he’s much smarter than he looks. He was Eisenhower’s vice president for eight years in the 1950s and lost to the ill-fated John F. Kennedy in 1960 by a whisker; some say he did not lose at all, but instead was cheated out of 100,000 votes by Kennedy’s mafia connections in Chicago. But with the Democrats divided and their incumbent president floundering, Nixon’s timing has never been better. He was once a poor boy with two dead brothers who earned a scholarship to Duke Law. Now he will become whoever he needs to be to win the presidency of the United States.

1968 is the year of wolves. The fangs are sharp, and the bellies ache with hunger.

~~~~~~~~~~

A local deli has opened early and sent sandwiches to Good Samaritan Medical Center for the family and friends of the senator from New Jersey: ham and Swiss, cucumber and cream cheese, tuna salad, egg salad, pimento cheese, BLTs, Cubans. The lobby is filling up with bouquets of flowers and handwritten notes. You pace and count the knots of the komboskini over and over again as you wait; Aemond has been in surgery for hours. The nurses periodically bring you Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, scalding watered-down sweetness to distract you from the fact that some surgeon is currently rooting around inside your husband’s ribcage.

Alicent—a convert to the Greek Orthodox faith just as you are, though far more zealous, far more sincere if you dared to admit it—is pleading for God to save her son as she clasps her own prayer rope. Helaena is seated beside her, eerily calm. Helaena’s husband Fosco is wandering around boredly and inflicting small talk upon the nurses, ogling out the third-story windows, playing with his red Duncan yo-yo. Otto is making a series of calls using one of the phones at the nurses’ station. Criston is there too, leaning over the countertop and speaking with Otto in low conspiratorial whispers.

Aegon is sitting alone and glaring at you. He takes a rattling bottle of pills—prescriptions that doctors are too afraid not to write for him when he asks—out of a pocket on the front of his green army jacket, spotted like a leopard with your bloody handprints. He opens the amber-colored, cylindrical container and pours two, no, three tiny white tablets into his palm. He tosses them into his mouth and washes them down with a swallow of his own mediocre hot chocolate, still glaring. You ignore him.

“How could this have happened?” Mimi says again from where she’s slumped in her chair. Aegon’s wife has a Snow White sort of beauty, but with a perpetual ruddiness in her nose and cheeks from the gin she sips constantly. You suppose it would make anyone a drunk, being married to a man like that. Her maiden name was Marina Marceline Leroux, but everyone has always called her Mimi, even the press on the rare occasions when she makes an appearance. Her children—Orion, Spiro, Violeta, Thaddeus, and little Cosmo, only five years old—are all back at the Breakers Hotel with the nannies, the same as Helaena’s. Mimi blubbers to nobody in particular: “How…? Who…? Who would want to hurt Aemond…?”

Someone needs to sober her up. You fetch a BLT off the platter of sandwiches and offer it to her. “Here. Eat.”

“I’m not hungry. Who on earth could be hungry at a time like this? I’m absolutely nauseated, I’ll never want food again—”

“Mimi, eat the sandwich.”

“Fine, fine,” she slurs morosely, then takes an unenthusiastic bite. She listens to you, all the women do. They listen to you, and you listen to Aemond, and the circle is closed and complete.

Criston is walking over now. You turn to him, needing good news, bad news, any news. “It was a Wallace supporter,” Criston says. From his seat, Aegon is watching Criston with his slow drugged gaze, listening intently. “Some bell pepper farmer from up by Jacksonville.”

“He’s been taken to the local jail for holding?” you ask, and then add: “Alive?”

“Yeah, and he already has a record. Assault and battery. His brother-in-law is apparently a Grand Dragon in the Klan.”

“What the hell is a Grand Dragon?”

“Well, it’s higher than a Goblin, but not as illustrious as an Imperial Wizard, does that answer your question?”

“Perfectly.” You smile at Criston, a pained, wry smile. He returns it and places a palm over your belly. You are still wearing the mint green dress Aemond picked out for you this morning, before he won the Florida primary, before he was shot twice by the disciple of a political adversary and laid at death’s doorstep. You are still covered in your husband’s blood.

“You’re feeling alright?” Then Criston smirks, knowing how ridiculous he must sound. “You know. All things considered.”

“We’re both fine. The baby’s moving around, I can feel it.”

“You can feel him, you mean,” Criston teases, knowing Aemond’s preoccupation with his unborn son; but you can’t bring yourself to appreciate the joke.

Aegon says to you suddenly: “How the fuck did you let this happen?”

“What?” you answer, stunned.

Aegon stands and approaches, lurching, raging. “You always have to be right beside him, in the photographs, in the headlines, in the soundbites, but you let some psychopath run up and shoot him? Twice?!”

“I thought he just wanted to shake Aemond’s hand, or maybe get a quote for an article—”

“You didn’t notice the gun?!”

“Aegon, sit down,” Criston orders.

“It happened in seconds,” you say. “You think you would have done better? You and your Valium, and your Librium, and your Percodan? You think your reaction time would have been so superior to mine?”

“Please,” Alicent moans, mopping tears from her pink cheeks with a handkerchief. “Please, don’t fight, not now…”

“We are all friends here,” Fosco adds in his thick Italian accent, yo-yoing by a window.

“You want to be the first lady so bad but you can’t handle it!” Aegon shouts, his voice echoing through the lobby. “You’re not some prodigy, you don’t have all the answers, you’re just a girl who stitched yourself to Aemond and then you let him get shot, he’s being operated on right now, maybe he’s even dying, and you still act like you’re so fucking perfect—”

“You’re mad because you know that everybody here is thinking the same thing,” you tell Aegon, cold and cruel. “That if someone had to get killed tonight it should have been you.”

Aegon’s mouth drops open; he stares at you with that slippery, opaque, stoned woundedness, pathetic, infuriating, illogically childish. Everyone else pretends they haven’t heard you. Alicent sniffles into her handkerchief. Fosco begins humming I Want To Hold Your Hand. Mimi chews sluggishly on her BLT. From the nurses’ station, Otto says, holding the phone to his chest: “It’s George Wallace. He’s calling for Aemond’s wife.” Then he waits to see if you’ll agree to take it.

Of course you will. You have to. You are acting in your husband’s stead. You go to the nurses’ station and grab the handset when Otto passes it to you. “This is Mrs. Targaryen.”

“Ma’am, I just wanted to offer you my sincerest condolences.” He has a pronounced drawl, born and raised in what he has praised as the Great Anglo-Saxon Southland. You animal, you think. You braindead bigot. “I do hope the senator makes a hasty recovery. I sure would like to beat him at the ballot box, but I have no stomach for anarchy. An act like this is repugnant to me, as it should be to any red-blooded American.”

“It was one of yours, do you know that?” you say, dripping venom. “One of your hateful ghouls.”

“I have no such knowledge. But if the shooter does turn out to be a supporter of my campaign, I disavow him utterly. He deserves a nice long sit in Old Sparky and then to meet his maker.”

“You inspire men to commit violence, and then you renounce them when they spill blood. I’m still wearing my husband’s. It’s on my hands, it’s on my dress, and I will not absolve you of blame. You are a gardener of discord. You grow it like roses or wheat. You tend to it until it blooms.” Otto is studying you, bushy eyebrows raised. “If you’d truly like to repent, perhaps dropping out of the Democratic primary would be a good start. And then you could find something useful to do, like drowning yourself.”

From whatever office he’s currently lounging comfortably in, his shoes kicked up on the desk, Wallace chuckles. “Aemond is very fortunate to have as ardent a defender as you, my dear.”

“Yes, a devoted wife is such a treasure. It’s a shame you killed yours.”

“Ma’am, once again, I just wanted to express how terribly sorry I am for your family’s hardship. I would never wish for an incident like this—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be emboldening white supremacists then!” You slam the phone as you hang up.

Otto looks at you. He says: “Did it go well?”

The heavy double doors leading to the operating theater swing open, and a surgeon steps through them, still drying his hands with a dark blue towel. He has changed his scrubs and washed his skin, but you notice a spot he missed: a fleck of half-dried blood up by his temple. That’s Aemond, you think. That’s a piece of him.

Everyone rushes to gather around the doctor, even Mimi; she lists like a ship taking on water as she walks, gnawing at all that remains of her BLT, just a sliver of white toast crust.

“The senator is alive,” the doctor says, and Alicent cries out in relief. Criston rests a palm on her shoulder. “But we could not save the eye.”

“He’s half-blind?” you ask. There’s never been a half-blind president. There’s never been a Greek one either. And the only reason this is stuck in your mind is because you know it will consume Aemond’s.

The doctor nods. “We had to remove it. The bullet that struck Senator Targaryen in the head, fortunately, was more of a graze. It ricocheted off his skull and didn’t cause any trauma to the brain, but his eye was…” He hesitates, trying to find a more polite word than shredded, macerated, pulverized. “Destroyed.”

“You stopped the bleeding?” Aegon says, astonished. “He’s okay? He’s really okay?”

“The second bullet pierced the thoracic cavity and was lodged less than an inch from his heart. He was very lucky. We repaired the damage to the best of our ability, and I am optimistic that the senator will make a full recovery. He’s resting comfortably now, but he should be awake soon.”

“Oh, thank God,” Alicent says, glistening dark eyes raised to heaven. The salient points gathered, Fosco wanders off again, his yo-yo dangling from its string.

Otto asks: “When can he resume campaigning?”

The doctor is caught off-guard; it takes him a moment to answer. “That will depend on the senator’s stamina as he regains his strength. If he chooses to stay in the race at all.”

Otto scoffs. “Of course he’ll stay in. This is what he lives for. You really can’t give me a ballpark figure?”

The doctor is determinately impassive. “I would estimate a month or two before he can withstand the rigors of the campaign trail again.”

“California is June 4th,” Otto recalls, counting off dates on his fingers. “Illinois is the 11th, New York is the 18th…”

“Look, there are people outside!” Fosco announces excitedly as he peers through one of the windows. “Hello! Hello everybody!”

“Fosco, you idiot, stop waving,” Otto snaps. “Go sit down.”

“But they are cheering.”

“Not for you.”

Fosco, somewhat deflated, grabs an egg salad sandwich off the platter and plops into a chair to eat it. He’s dressed in a green plaid sport coat and tight white trousers, very chic, very European. You’ve never been able to imagine Fosco and Helaena being passionately romantic with each other. They’re both a bit too doll-like for that, closer to Barbie and Ken than flesh and blood, blank stares and vague ambitions.

“Someone should talk to them,” Alicent says softly. She means the crowd that is forming in front of the hospital: journalists, cops, local politicians, mutilated veterans, college kids, farmers, fishermen, women and children, the future and the past. Everyone turns to look at you.

“I’ll do it,” you volunteer. You will, you must. Aemond could have chosen a hundred similarly suited women to be his wife, but he chose you, and when he did your vows became a blood oath.

Criston accompanies you downstairs to where the crowd has gathered just outside the front entrance of Good Samaritan Medical Center. The night air is warm and humid, the stars bright. You had thought of so many things to tell these people as you’d stood in the elevator as it descended, but now your mind is empty, fearful. There are photographers with blinding camera flashes and apostles waiting with famished eyes. From the depths of injustice and poverty and war, they have come to pay their respects to the man they believe is destined to save not just themselves but their world. What should I say? What would Aemond want me to say?

“I am very pleased to share with you all that Senator Targaryen is out of surgery and regaining his strength.”

There are cheers and applause and prayers; you are still clutching the komboskini that the old woman gave you in the lobby of the Breakers Hotel. You see more prayer ropes in this flock, and rosaries too, Bibles and dog tags, copies of The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Joanne Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem.

“We would like to thank you for your heartfelt support. Aemond and I are so very grateful, and he is looking forward to being back on the campaign trail soon.”

More clapping and whistling, and then the crowd waits. You aren’t sure what they want to hear as you stand in the glow of the hospital luminance; your hands are trembling wildly, so you clasp them together as you hold the komboskini. Criston glances over at you, concerned. You settle on the truth.

“The man who tried to kill my husband tonight is a supporter of former Alabama governor George Wallace and an avowed white supremacist. Any ideology that advocates for violence and prejudice is a threat to our bodies, our nation, and our souls. We will not surrender to it, not even when our lives are in jeopardy. We will not concede that hope for a better world is lost. We will press ever onward with the knowledge that God is on our side, and that the future of this country is worth fighting for.”

You are bathed in flashbulb lightning; your ears ring with the thunder of the applause. You are shaking hands now, nodding, beaming, Criston following you like a shadow as you move through the congregation. You stop to listen to a middle-aged woman in a floral dress who wants to give you marriage advice: never get bossy, don’t become selfish, remember that you are his safe harbor in the storms of life. It is your job to gift her your momentary veneration. You have beauty, but she has wisdom; or at least, that is the bargain that has been struck, that is the presumption everyone agrees upon. She must have some advantage over you, otherwise the decades she has spent in service of her parents and husband and children have been wasted, she has carved away pieces of herself to feed hungry mouths until she vanished like the doomed nymph Echo. In return, she tries not to envy you too much, not to dismiss you as foolish or frivolous or lustful. Sometimes you think that women are filled with such vicious, relentless self-loathing that it feels good to direct it at someone else for a while, to pick apart another body, to tally up the deficits of her spirit.

“Aemond is so lucky to have you,” the woman says. You can barely hear her over the roar of the crowd.

And you smile as you dutifully reply: “I think it’s the other way around.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There is a television mounted on the wall in Aemond’s room. The news coverage, the volume turned way down low, oscillates between his own near-assassination and the stalled peace talks in Paris. Representatives of the United States and North Vietnam cannot agree, and so each day more body bags are flown home to return the bones of the nation’s sons and fathers to Missouri, Alabama, Idaho, Maine, Wisconsin, Maryland, Arizona, California, New Jersey, everywhere else. Someone has to end it. Aemond will end it.

“I dreamed I won Florida,” your husband mumbles, and that’s how you know he’s awake, here in a hospital bed and wearing IVs like strings of Christmas lights around a pine tree.

“You did,” you tell him, gently smoothing back his hair from his forehead. His left eye—where his left eye used to be—is bandaged; his words are soft and labored. “Humphrey was second. Wallace got third. But you won. And you’re going to be okay.”

“McCarthy?”

“It seems you’re devouring his coalition.”

Aemond’s lips slowly curl into a grin, triumphant. “It is God’s will.” And this is what he always says. It is God’s will that he survives, it is God’s will that he wins the presidency, it is God’s will that you give him sons.

“Yes,” you agree, lifting his right hand to kiss his knuckles. Then you press the komboskini you’re still carrying into his weak grasp. It means more to Aemond than it does to you. “Yes it is.”

Aemond sinks into unconsciousness again, morphine and dreams that blur with reality. There will be pain soon, and plenty of it, but he is free from that impending truth for now. You rise from your chair to tell the rest of the family that Aemond is beginning to wake up. Alicent and Criston will want to speak with him.

When you open the door, Aegon is standing there: an eavesdropper, a trespasser. He glares at you with his large wet ocean-blue eyes, hazy with pills, glinting with resentment. Reluctantly, you step aside to let him in. Aegon wobbles as he passes you and has to grab onto the doorframe to steady himself, scrabbling like a trapped animal.

“You’re a disaster,” you say, caustic like acid, biting, repulsed.

Aegon whirls and jabs his index finger against your chest, bloodstained mint green wool bouclé by Chanel. “You’re a vessel. You’re a cow. And one day he’ll be done with you.”

You feel something hitting you like a bullet, cracking ribs, piercing lungs, tearing muscles and ligaments. Your lips have parted, but you can’t fathom words. Aegon has said many things to you—bitter things, belittling things, things in mixed company, things when you’re alone—but never this. For the first time since you met him two years ago, he has won one of your sparring matches. He has the upper hand. He has wounded you.

Aegon can see this, certainly. But he doesn’t seem pleased with himself. He looks a little shellshocked, like he can’t quite believe he said the words, like maybe if given the chance again he wouldn’t take it. But the moment is over now, and you can’t get time back, it is a thread that unspools until every inch is gone, spent, tangled in a thousand webs.

Aegon staggers into the hospital room. You flee from it. Out in the lobby the phone at the nurses’ station is ringing again. They’ll all be calling now to give their requisite sympathies. Humphrey counsels prudence, McCarthy prays for peace, LBJ offers the empathy of someone who has felt the cold gaze of Death in his own doorway, Nixon praises Aemond’s resilience and quotes the ancient philosopher Seneca: “There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader

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kitten4sannie · 1 year

Text

𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇

pairing: husband! san x fem! reader

genre: smut, fluff

summary: when san is forced to work overtime on your birthday, he wants to make up for it.

w.c: 4k

warnings: switch! san, pussydrunk san, switch! reader, praise, pet names, dirty talk, brief spit kink, begging, teasing, strength kink, oral (f receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, crying, creampie, breeding kink, brief cockwarming

a/n: this is a birthday present for my lovely best friend nora @cheollipop ilysmmm <3

song recs: get you by daniel caesar, yeah i said it by rihanna, aphrodite by rini

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

When San’s boss set a fresh stack of files on the desk inside his already cramped cubicle, San found himself opening his mouth to protest, “Sir, it’s already half past 8…Do you think I could possibly work on this tomorrow? It’s my wife’s birthday today, and I wanted to–”

“San, San, San,” his boss interrupted with an air of arrogance, setting his hands down on the salaryman’s tense shoulders. “We all have to make sacrifices in this company, you know? You’re not the only one. I’m sure your wife will understand when she sees the extra dollar signs in your paycheck at the end of the week.”

San sat still in his swivel chair, not letting the rage seep past his eyes, envisioning all the ways he could retaliate against the older man standing above him. His hand nudged his stapler. He glanced at his favorite coffee-stained mug that you gave him; it had various adorable cats painted on the porcelain. It’d probably feel immensely satisfying to smash it into the man’s head, but he would never give it up in such a way. Violence was never the answer, of course. Though he was extremely tempted to just rip his computer away from its cords and toss it at the man, he wouldn’t. He needed this job, and he needed to get this sudden influx of work done so that he could get home to you.

Eventually, San blinked up at the man, replying like a robot that had just been rebooted, “On it, boss.”

“That’s lovely to hear. That’s why you’re my favorite employee, Sannie boy,” the man chimed, smacking San’s shoulder in an overly aggressive manner.

Once San gave his boss a tight-lipped smile and a double thumbs up that turned into middle fingers as soon as the man turned his back, he pulled his phone out to dial your number. “Baby?” he mumbled out in an extremely soft voice as soon as you picked up.

“Hey, hun,” you replied excitedly, sliding your phone into the space between your shoulder and your neck so that you could put your cake into the fridge, sticking a candle into it. “Are you on your way home? I picked up a red velvet cake for us to share. It’s got this really fancy buttercream and these little gold flakes sprinkled all over it. I asked the guy and it’s real 24k gold! Isn’t that cool?” Noticing the overwhelming silence in the receiver, you closed the fridge and pressed your back to it. “San, are you okay?”

Opening one of the files and staring down at the endless strings of text informing him of sales percentages and various investments from clientele, San sighed, “I have to work overtime, baby. That old bastard isn’t letting me leave until I get all this shit done. I’m…” Frustrated at his lack of control over the situation, he raked his fingers through his gelled-up hair, not even caring that some of the raven strands began to stick out. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m really, really sorry…”

“San, it’s okay. It’s okay, love,” you said with a warmth that would hopefully give him some reassurance, hearing him let out a small sigh into your ear. “It’ll still be my birthday when you get back, okay? So just take a deep breath, get the work done, and come home to me.”

San opened a new document up on his computer to get started, slowly drawing air into his lungs and letting it out, smoothing his hair out a bit. He smooshed his cheek against his phone, allowing you to tell he was pouting when he answered as gently as possible, “I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll be home as soon as I can to tell you in person.”

Feeling a smile tug at your lips, you idly rolled your wedding ring around on your finger, grateful to have such a sweet angel of a man as your life partner. “I love you too, darling. I’ll see you soon.” Pushing your lips together, you lowered your phone to your mouth to add, “Mwah.”

“Mwah,” San returned instantaneously, a similar smile forming on his face, much more relaxed than he was a few minutes ago. Once you exchanged goodbyes, he gave his knuckles a good crack and admired his silver wedding band for a few seconds before getting to work.

It was a little past 11 when San finally pushed past the front door and slid out of his work shoes, meeting your gaze from across your shared apartment, seeing you sitting at the kitchen table by yourself with the cake positioned in front of you and a small lighter laying on the table. “Baby,” he let out in a sigh of relief, dropping his suitcase onto the floor and walking in your direction to pull you up from the seat into one of his famous tight bearhugs, enveloping you in his warm, inviting scent. “Happy birthday. I love you.”

“Mm, thank you, love. I love you too.” Just as you were about to ask him about work, he clutched the back of your head and pressed his lips against yours to give you a kiss, one that was gentle at first, but grew more firm in the next passing seconds. Despite missing the taste of his lips when he pulled away, you caressed his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs over his sharp jaw, feeling the scruffiness of the facial hair that was growing in. “How was work? Shitty?”

“Shitty,” he echoed, just as he pressed his mouth to your own jaw, leaving kisses along it, as well as your cheeks, your nose, your neck, and basically anywhere he could feel your warm skin against him. “But I’m home now, so I couldn’t be happier.” San brought his mouth to your forehead to give it a long kiss, running his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to light the candle or should I, baby?”

“You do it for me,” you said, squeezing his shoulders a bit, before sitting back down in the chair, watching as San sat in the one adjacent to you.

When you handed him the lighter, San brought it to the candle sitting inside the personal sized cake and lit the wick, admiring the way the flame illuminated your pretty face. “You’re so beautiful…” he sighed out, leaning his head against the palm of his hand, continuing to admire you, feeling as though he might begin to melt like the candle below. “My beautiful baby.”

“Stoppp,” you whined softly, heat rising to your cheeks, still barely able to handle the way San looked at you after all these years — with such intensity visible inside his brown eyes that you wholeheartedly believed him when he said that he wanted to give you the entire world. You were his muse, after all. His angel from above. His everything.

“Never.” San gave you a gentle smile as he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss the top of your hand, singing a soft rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ in his silky smooth voice, bringing a shy smile to your own face. Once he was done, he pressed more kisses into your skin, running his thumb over your knuckles as you gazed back at him. “Make a wish, love.”

“Why make a wish when I have everything I want now?” you asked, watching as he played with the wedding ring on your finger, the candle below beginning to melt into the frosting.

San let out a sigh, pressing his warm cheek to your open palm, looking at you like he did years ago when you had first met, unbearably love-struck, lips parted and twinkling eyes full of devotion for his beloved. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he purred, guiding your hand downwards to press a kiss onto the pad of your thumb and following your intense gaze to his mouth. “But, right now, in this moment, isn’t there something you desire?”

A familiar feeling of warmth flooded your core, thoughts of San taking care of you in ways only he was capable of suddenly urged you to blow the candle out. You knew what you needed. Of course, San was a devoted husband in every sense of the word, but in the bedroom, he brought that to a staggering degree, always willing to please you in every way he could, loving when you used him for your own pleasure, just as much as he loved giving it to you without any restraints.

“What did you wish for, love?” San inquired, sticking one finger into the cake to scoop up some frosting and holding it up to your mouth, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You accepted his finger inside and sucked the sweet cream off of it, emitting a small ‘mmm.’ “I want you on your knees, Sannie. I want you to please me.”

“Anything for you, my love.” San lowered himself onto the ground before you and began to loosen his tie until he could take it off, feeling a pleasurable heaviness envelop his body now that he was on his knees for his one and only. There was no place he’d rather be. After taking in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat, San began to slide his hands up one of your legs, lifting it up to leave a trail of kisses up to your thigh, stopping now and then to admire your soft skin and the intense gaze you were giving him. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good, my love. I’ll give you everything I have…” he murmured in between kisses, slowly reaching up underneath your dress to hook his fingers into your panties.

“You promise?” you teased in a soft voice, lowering your other foot down to press into his crotch, the pad of it rubbing along his work pants, feeling the solid outline of his cock pressing against it.

“I promise, baby,” he replied, his lips forming his signature pout, unconsciously spreading his knees apart, about to pull your panties from your hips when you pushed your foot down a bit harder, earning a small gasp from him, his fingers resting against your waist instead of continuing his quest to strip you.

Biting into your lower lip, you relieved the pressure you had on him, slowly standing up out of the chair and just barely lifting up the front of your dress to give him an upskirt view. “Use your teeth.”

“Yes, angel. Whatever you want, I can do…” San swallowed down some of the saliva that persistently tried to overflow and drip down his chin, gingerly kneading his hands into your soft thighs, pressing his cheek to it, looking up at your clothed pussy, his cock already throbbing away inside his pants. He moved his head up underneath your dress and got the lip of your panties in between his teeth and slowly pulled it downwards, audibly groaning as he witnessed a string of arousal drip from your heat and down your inner thigh.

Watching him with bated breath, you resisted the urge to grab the back of his head and fuck his face, desperately wanting to hear him whine and beg for you to come inside his mouth. “You can lick it up, Sannie. Go ahead…”

Your husband’s eyes practically twinkled with gratitude, choosing to pull your panties down the rest of the way and off of you, releasing them from his teeth and holding them against his crotch, rubbing them against his cock as he dragged his tongue up your inner thigh, catching your arousal on his tongue. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good. Let me eat your pretty little pussy, angel. Please, I need it.”

“I think you can handle waiting a little longer, don’t you think, Sannie?” you mused teasingly, reaching down to press your pointer finger up into his chin, chuckling at the soft gasp that escaped his glistening lips. He was always like putty in your hands. Always ready to worship at your feet if you simply said the words. While that left you breathless, what you really relished was when you pushed him so far that he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore and gave you his all, even if that meant passing out from pure exhaustion afterwards.

“Yes, my love, I can wait. I can wait for you.” Your husband rested his hands down on his upper thighs, his teeth instantly digging into his lip as you took a step closer, your dripping pussy directly in front of his face.

Holding your dress up with one hand, you used the other to spread your pussy apart, your slick dripping down your inner thighs, making sure to push your fingers together and rub them in an up and down motion, making small wet sounds with your movements. “You want your wife’s pretty pussy in your mouth, don’t you, Sannie? You want to taste me on your tongue? Lap my cum up until you’re drowning in it? Is that what you want?”

San felt like he was going to lose his mind, gripping his work pants so tightly, he feared he might tear into them, unless his cock burst out of them first from how painfully hard he was. “Please, baby. I need you so fucking bad,” he choked out, tears stinging the corners of his coffee-colored eyes, resisting the urge to smash his face in between your legs when you grabbed him by the hair and angled his head back, whimpering softly at the grip you had on him. He wanted to be good for you. He had to be good, but he needed you on his tongue like he needed oxygen.

Once San uttered one last desperate ‘please’ in such a soft, tiny voice, you finally gave in, holding your dress up slightly with both hands and spreading your legs a bit more for him, feeling your core tighten and pulse at the sight of your husband’s teary eyes. If you were an angel, then he was heaven itself, and he probably saw you the exact same way. “You’ve been a good boy, Sannie, so come and get it.”

Like a puppy hearing the dinner bell, San was on you, pushing his head up underneath your dress, his mouth connected to your cunt, tongue lapping at your wet folds like it was his one and only mission, hands kneading into your thighs out of habit. “Thank you, my angel. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he moaned against your heat, slurping your arousal into his mouth and swallowing it down like you were an oasis and he was a weary traveler in search of a drink. He licked, and licked, and licked, not even thinking, before he reached behind you with his outstretched arms to pull the chair closer, guiding your hips downwards forcefully enough so that you had to sit down on the cushion below.

“S-Sannie,” you gasped, surprised by his sudden display of strength, your brain going a bit fuzzy as he shoved your thighs apart, then held them up and out of his way so that he could bury his face deeper in between them. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

San took a second to give you a dimpled smile, nuzzling your slippery inner thigh with his cheek, pressing a small, lingering kiss to your warm skin. “So bad, baby. You drive me fucking crazy.” His tongue was hot and wet against your cunt, practically melting against your folds, taking long, deliberate swipes up to your clit, before zoning in on it and sucking on it with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure through your lower half.

Unable to hold your voice back, you began emitting breathy, stunted moans, involuntarily bucking up into his mouth the more he licked and sucked at your clit, feeling your cheeks burn more and more the longer he gazed into your eyes. Though you swore you were used to the intense eye contact that San preferred to have with you, he still always managed to make you feel shy.

San took another quick breather to comment breathlessly, “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. So sweet for me. So perfect.” Taking in your pretty flushed face and glazed-over eyes, he squeezed your thighs in between his thick fingers. “Come here, baby.” He pushed your thighs farther apart and leaned upwards, taking your chin in his grasp and pulling you into a much-needed kiss. Once you let him into your mouth to explore it with his arousal-coated tongue, San lowered his hand from your chin the eagerly rub your pulsing clit around in quick, deliberate circles with his thumb, automatically bringing two digits from his other hand to your cunt, your greedy hole sucking them up to his knuckles, not hesitating to piston them in and out of you. Your muffled moans and whines were like an angelic hymn that made him want to build you a shrine and worship you day and night on his aching knees like he was doing now. Once your legs hooked around his small waist, he quickened the pace of his digits, your wetness now so palpable it was beginning to spill out of you and down his veiny forearm, emitting a knowing ‘mm-hmm’, breaking the kiss as soon as you began to tighten up around him. “Angel’s gonna come for Sannie, huh?”

“Uh-huh, gonna come, Sannie,” you breathed out, licking at your lips and tasting the remnants of yourself on your tongue, swearing you were about to come instantly at the visual of your husband quickly lowering himself back down to your cunt to slurp at it, licking near the outline of his thrusting fingers and back up to your puffy clit, eyeing it longingly, before pursing his lips and spitting your arousal back onto it, only to attach back on it like a magnet.

As soon as he curled his fingers up and rubbed at your g-spot, hitting it in a way that had you fighting the urge to let your eyes roll all the way back into your skull, San spoke up, “That’s it right there, huh, baby? Right there?” As soon as you cried out for him, your throat hurting from how dry it was, San finger-fucked you into a state of pure ecstasy, not stopping until your arousal began to spray out of you and into his open mouth, coating his tongue. “Oh my god, look at you, baby. You’re squirting for me. You’re such a good girl.” He lowered his mouth onto your twitching cunt, not able to prevent a bit of drool from dripping past his swollen lips, lapping up the rest of your squirt with a few slow, lingering licks.

Once you had enough time to gather your bearings and catch your breath, San sat up and leaned in close to you, asking huskily, “Is there anything else my princess desires?”

“Your cock, Sannie. Give me your cock,” you answered instantly, not even caring about how desperate you sounded. You were desperate, and you knew San was too, given that he hadn’t touched himself a single time.

Just as quickly as you had answered him, San was already lifting you up into his arms and laying you down onto the kitchen table, spreading your legs apart and fumbling with his leather belt to take it off. Once it hit the floor with a thud, San pulled his aching cock out and slapped it down onto your pussy, watching some slick leak out. "Are you ready? Is my princess going to take all of my cock in this pretty little pussy?"

You nodded as quickly as you could, ready to drool over the thought of finally being filled by him, knowing you’d probably come as soon as he did.

San slowly moved his hips forward and back, sliding his thick length across your needy cunt, the slick sounds of your arousal making him groan. "Let me hear you say it, pretty girl. Tell Sannie how bad you want it."

"I need it so bad, so, so bad.” Just as San’s cockhead began to stretch out your hole, your plush walls clenching around him, he pulled out, leaving you empty and ready to beg on your knees just like he had done earlier. “I need your cock, Sannie, please. I want to be full just for you. Please, please, let me have it. I’ll be such a good girl for you, I promise!”

"God, you’re so cute when you’re begging for me, princess," San sighed longingly, caressing and rubbing your thighs with his thumbs, burning the image of your teary-eyed gaze into his memory. “But, don’t worry, I’m here. I’m going to fill you up, okay?” Smiling at the sight of your furious nods, he pushed back inside of you, inch by inch, making you let out a long, almost relieved moan, not stopping until your lower halves were pressed together.

Now that he was being squeezed by your tightness, San felt something switch on inside his brain, no longer concerned with teasing you, but instead overwhelmed by the desperate need to fuck you until you were a crying, cum-filled mess for him, and him alone.

Loud, wet slapping sounds began to echo throughout the kitchen, along with the thud, thud, thud of the kitchen table being rocked back and forth into the tile flooring below. “You’re so good for me, baby, so good,” San praised into your ear, his warm body flush against yours, slamming his hips into yours, appreciating the way you had your legs hooked around his small waist, locking him in place.

“Sannie,” you cried out, unable to stop pulsing around your husband’s thick length, feeling like you would go crazy from the way it was pounding into you. You reached your hands out, smiling when he immediately laced his fingers with yours, holding your hands down against the cool surface of the table. “I’m gonna come. It’s spilling out.”

“I’m going to come too, my love. Let’s come together,” he encouraged, squeezing your fingers against his own, slowing his pace down and fucking you in a more deliberate way, his thrusts slow and deep, hitting your sweet spot every time. Just as you began to mewl and babble from the overwhelming pleasure, San pressed his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans just as you swallowed his choked ones. It felt so good, he didn’t even realize when he started to cry, his hot tears dripping down his cheeks and landing onto your heated face. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy, sweetheart. Make you so full of my love. So, so full for me.”

“Yes, please, Sannie, fill me up.” Just as your body shook and trembled, your cum pouring out of you and coating your joined flesh, San’s hot load came pouring into you, filling you up to the brim like always.

“Here it comes, angel. Just for you. I love you so much,” he choked out, his voice raw and throaty from how hard he was cumming, blinking a few more tears away to focus on your pretty face, slowly going soft, but staying inside you, keeping you full of his warmth and love.

“I love you too, Sannie. So much,” you replied wholeheartedly, wiping one of his tears away as you brought him into another kiss, this one as gentle and sweet as the love he always gave you.

Slowly breaking the kiss, he pressed one onto your forehead, bringing you into a long hug, not planning on letting you go. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

➽───────────────❥

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