#lol this is a call back to last year or the year before where she played beach ball with the sea serpent
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Sebastian x Reader: come one, come all (One Shot)
Plot: Five years after graduating, two kindred spirits are finally getting married and their friends reminisce on their brilliant histories.
or, Lucas Brattleby interviews their friends on their memories and opinions of the future Mr. and Mrs. Sallow as a little gift for the couple.
Tags: None, fluff, overuse of the name Merlin, mentions of slight torture (hexes), lowkey bullying, lowkey codependency if you squint, obsessive behavior (but it's okay cause theyre in love), cursing, Lucas lowkey has a crush on Sebastian lol
[A/N: A line from this story is not made by me, "I would follow him to hell but I wish he wouldn't go there" so to whoever wrote that first just know your quote is the inspiration for this story!!]
“What is this again?”
The brat, Lucas Brattleby, had grown obscenely taller the last time Imelda had seen him, which was about 3 years ago when he was a rookie reporter covering her latest game. She heard he is now a publisher in his own right but didn’t seem to brush off that annoying lint in his voice back when he was still a Gryffindor matching illegal unsanctioned duels in the Clock Tower.
“A small gift of mine for the couple,” he grinned (still as irritating, she’s seen that grin enough times before she got her ass handed to her so forgive her for not being enamored), pushing the pen (recorder?) to her that she reflexively pushed him by his face. “Sorry.”
“And why should I do this?”
“Oh come on, Imelda. It’s just harmless questions to take us back down memory lane. It’ll be played at the reception and I promise I’ll send you everything before I finalize it just so you can make sure –”
“Alright!” She stopped walking, rolling her eyes when Lucas quickly assembled his camera, even quickly conjuring a chair and putting it at the center of the frame. Clearly, he knew she could change her mind at any moment.
“My lady,” he bowed dramatically, pointing a palm to the seat.
“Don’t call me that. You have 10 minutes before warm-ups start.” Lucas raised both of his hands in the air before quickly running behind the camera and clicking the button to start recording.
“I’ll be out of here in 5.” Lucas flipped a paper in front of him. “Let’s start with your name, a little something about yourself and where did you meet them.”
She took a deep breath, putting on the poker face she usually plasters on her face when talking to the media before her many games instinctively. “Imelda Reyes, Vice-Captain of Puddlemere United, and I had the misfortune of being in the same boat as Sebastian Sallow during our first year. She, however, was a little late to the party and wreaked havoc on my life when I was a fifth year.”
Lucas was meticulously writing notes in his fancy notebook.
“What’s the fondest memory you have of the couple?”
She scoffed, not even needing to think about it. “Sebastian? Definitely when he caught a bludger … with his face.” The memory of the cry he emitted pulled a real smile on Imelda’s face. “We almost lost and I would’ve killed him for it but oh was it glorious.”
He remembers this game.
“Didn’t he fall off his broom midair?”
Imelda waved a nonchalant hand in front of her face. “That girlfriend of his caught him with an Arresto Momentum so no harm done – well, except the crooked nose he sported for a week.”
Lucas chuckled with her, “And for the future Mrs. Sallow?”
“Nothing much, most conversation we’ve had was her beating me – beating me in a race, beating me in a duel, Merlin, she even beat me with the class ranking on her first year in Hogwarts. I had a five-year head start how was that possible?!”
Lucas smiled, reading that as bitter her words were she truly held no grudge over it. He was caught off guard, however, when Imelda suddenly had a small, serene smile on her face, her voice when she spoke softer. “She was … it was like I was always chasing after her. We all were, Sebastian always first in the race but … it was fun. I had fun. She made Hogwarts fun. A true competition, yknow? Didn’t have much at that point in my life.”
“Competition?”
“A friend.”
Lucas couldn’t help but be surprised – not everyone can be considered as Imelda Reyes’ friend as picky as she is, though he quickly fixed his face when she shot him a look that told him not to probe. “Did you ever think they would both get married?”
Imelda scoffed out a laugh, crossing her arms. “I knew the only way they wouldn’t get married is if Sallow got assassinated by one of her many admirers and even then I wouldn’t put it past him to somehow turn into an Inferi just so he can still be the one to marry her. I’m honestly surprised he held on for this long, pretty sure he would’ve popped the question the moment we graduated.”
“Technically, he did. They just decided to get married this year.”
That one made her laugh out loud, shaking her head at her old friend’s antics. Of course, she knew those two would get married, basically tied to the hip, always getting in and out of trouble with each other and for each other. Bloody hell, they’d been married since fifth-year and just didn’t know it.
“Typical Sallow,” she caught herself. “Well, Sallows now, Merlin help us all.”
Lucas rechecked everything on his notes, making sure to mark any and all important details of the words his enchanted pen has written for him as he spoke with his former Senior, Garreth Weasley, who was once a thorn on the side of Professor Sharp but was now a renowned Potions Master actively getting scouted by Hogwarts, his blends sought upon by the most respectable wizards and witches all over the world.
“Did I think they would get married? Mate, Sebastian almost bit my head off when I tried to ask her if she would like to be partners for one potion class. One! And we were sitting next to each other! I’m sorry if I thought I was being friendly?!”
Lucas has heard and has unfortunately been a victim of Sebastian’s … tendencies. You, despite being the top duelist in Hogwarts was always, more often than not, partnered with Sebastian in every duel. The one time Lucas had agreed in a quiet solo duel without letting Sebastian know his senior had caught him on his way to his potion's class and nailed him to the wall by his cloak while threatening him to never let it happen again or he will turn him into a pretty outline in the walls of Hogwarts with Bombarda.
He thinks that was the closest thing he had been to peeing his pants.
“Yeah, Sebastian doesn’t have the best track record with friendly males around his girlfriend.”
“They weren’t even courting by then how would I bloody know that –”
“Ready, Poppy?”
Surprisingly, the sweet woman in front of him has been the most difficult to track down. Amongst their mutual friends she was the one he had no idea where to start, especially after his only lead, her grandmother, had no other information to give him aside that the last she heard Sweet Poppy was down South Clagmar Coast ‘doing Merlin knows what’.
Thankfully, the citizens of Cragcroft were a bit more helpful and he was able to send her an owl about his little project.
“Where should we start?”
Lucas made sure she was framed perfectly in the shot before nodding to himself. “Nothing complicated Poppy, just first impressions or any memory you have of the young couple.”
She pursed her lips in thought, nodding to herself, “The two of them have always been terrifyingly intimidating, especially for someone like me. Seemed to just attract attention and trouble on their own – I mean, killing a troll in Hogsmeade on the first day – just a bunch of troublemakers they were. Brilliant troublemakers – which only made them scarier in my eyes.”
Lucas nodded in total agreement but he couldn’t help but squint at her.
“You aren’t exactly innocent, Ms. Hid-a-Hippogriff.”
Her eyes widened, blushing at the accusation. “In my defense, future Mrs. Sallow helped me take care of Highwing.”
Poppy recounted the memories with a smile on her face. Her dainty smile grew bigger as she recapped happy memories she had with her classmates.
“But they’ve always been lovely. Lovely people and an even lovelier couple. Sebastian has always been bright and charming and surprisingly kind for a Slytherin and she … she’s always been unapologetic of who she was. It also meant she never judged anybody for who they are either.”
The woman paused, the smile on her face remained frozen as if she was in deep reflection.
“A true friend – one of the truest I had.”
Lucas was never in their circle, hell, aside from each other and maybe Ominis nobody was truly ever in their innermost circle despite their popularity. At every explosive trouble the two were always caught in he couldn’t help but wonder just what they get up to when they weren’t caught. Even back then he knew he would’ve risked his life and followed them no question asked if it meant his young self got to go to one of their death-defying adventures with them.
But being two years younger was a barrier he could never overcome.
It is refreshing to hear of stories from their friend’s perspective and not in passing in the Central Hall in Hogwarts where it’s all half-true, fabricated, or painfully hyperbolic. Maybe that’s why he had thought to do this, a reporter’s disease of needing to know the truth, the dark side of the coin they hid with their secrets and anonymities passed only in hushed whispers and clandestine meetings with each other.
“Are you excited about the wedding?”
Poppy nodded eagerly. “Oh, I’m extremely happy for my friends! It’s not every day two souls find each other and just not let go. I’m glad they didn’t. After all they’ve been through, they deserve to have each other.”
He couldn’t have agreed more.
“That they do.”
Mr. Lucas Brattleby,
I have received your owl, unfortunately, I will not be able to go back there till the night before the wedding as I still have a business to wrap up here in America. For the questions you sent, I shall send this Howler and you may record it.
I have nothing good to say about Mr. Sebastian Sallow, that boy had done nothing but torment me in my youth. It’s a bloody miracle he had managed to snag the Hero of Hogwarts as his girlfriend – terrible lack of judgment on her part I must say, we all have our flaws – much less agree to be his wife. If there’s one good thing he did do, it was willingly become a lowly servant to such a lovely witch. Least he could do, really.
However, despite their blatant differences and unfortunate similarities I, for one, knew immediately that not even Death could sever such a connection – not if Sebastian Sallow had anything to say about it, and trust me I speak from experience. They’ve fought through detentions, goblins, dark wizards, and a damned troll – I’m sure marriage will be a breeze in a park.
Well, if I’m wrong, then let the future Mrs. Sallow know I would be more than willing to offer a comforting shoulder.
Leander Prewitt
Department of International Magical Cooperation
PS. To my darling wife Leonora, light of my life, the last part was a joke and If I somehow disappear it was Sebastian Sallow who did it.
“They give Sebastian too much credit when my dear friend was equally as obsessed about him. Do you remember Allia?”
Lucas snapped his fingers when he finally put a face to the name he hadn’t heard in a while but made sure to look around lest one of the younger students managed to hear such … delicate matters in the DADA classroom. “Didn’t she transfer during your 6th year? Something about personal … complications?”
Natty laughed out loud, doubling over with tears in her eyes. “Oh, that excuse was all thanks to Ominis swinging around his name. Our dear witch hexed poor Allia while she was asleep for trying to poison Sebastian with Amortentia! Sneaked straight into the Ravenclaw tower and cursed her to grow the features of a rat every time she even thought about Sebastian! The only way Ominis could convince our friend to take back the curse and avoid expulsion was at the condition of her transferring and never letting the couple see even her shadow again.”
He never even noticed that his jaw was hanging off his face.
“Oh, if everyone only knew that fights I had prevented if a Junior so much as fluttered their lashes at Sebastian,” she shook her head, still laughing to herself.
Now all the pieces he hadn’t realized were part of the same puzzle clicked on his head. The flat smile on her face that never quite reached her eyes every time they were surrounded by strangers, the grip she always held on Sebastian’s arms no matter where they were going, the ‘promise ring’ Sebastian also wore when traditionally it was just the girl who had it, and the absolute absence of Sebastian’s name when girls talked about boys they fancied in the common room when he was undoubtedly better looking than most students in Hogwarts.
“A jealous witch she was, thinks she’s good at hiding it,” Natty chuckled.
Lucas realized in horror that she had scared off the entire female student body.
“But by the gods was she better at hexes.”
When Lucas had heard that Ominis Gaunt had been working closely with the Minister for Magic and was undoubtedly being groomed to be his successor, he wasn’t exactly surprised. Everyone knew he would be someone important someday so Lucas had damn near lost all hope as he sent an owl to the man.
When he received a reply in a fortnight brought by a regal-looking owl, Lucas thought he must have some soft spot for his fellow alumni. But it would seem the man just had a lot to let out of his chest.
“Oh, the stories I could tell! If I had a knut for every time I had to rescue one of those idiots out of a horrific situation they found themselves in I would be richer than the Blacks!”
He’d never seen his hair this undone in the 7 years they had been on the same campus. Maybe Lucas was just that good of a journalist or maybe it was the half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey that was the reason for his loose lips.
“I mean, Sebastian was bad enough, but once he found someone who would willingly dive with him to whatever dangerous expeditions he found interest in and I was outnumbered it was a bloody nightmare.”
For the first time in his life, he felt pity for the man. It was never really a secret why Sebastian didn’t serve half the detention he deserved nor why neither of them had ever been expelled when a trail of evidence led to the both of them red-handed and always at the scene of the crime. But he has to give it to Ominis … a lesser man would’ve cracked at their mischiefs.
“And Sebastian … everybody knows he would’ve willing let himself be target practice for all sorts of curses if she had asked.”
Lucas can’t even defend his childhood hero. Especially, of the things he had learned from his previous subjects. It would seem even the mightiest of men would always buckle in the face of their true love.
“I-I’m sure they’ve done the same for you,” Lucas winced.
“Oh, they better, with the flaming hoops I had to jump through to make sure we graduated alive,” Ominis waved him off indifferently. “They are my best friends. I would follow them to hell but I just wish they would stop going there for one damn semester.”
Lucas snickered, unfortunately unable to hold it in with just how stressed the memory of the mischiefs his favorite couple got up to has brought Ominis. He was sure the older man would choke him but he just sighed out a laugh until the two of them were laughing to each other.
“I guess they have always been the perfect person for each other.”
Ominis nodded, leaning his head on his fist. “Yeah …”
He threw Lucas a look.
“Do you think they won’t make me their children’s godfather if I begged?”
Lucas bit his lips. “My money is on the eldest getting named after you so …”
Ominis groaned.
Lucas refilled his glass.
#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow fanfiction#hogwarts legacy sebastian#sebastian x mc
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Each year she is visited by the Mizuchi, who has never truly known the art of being subtle when breaching the surface regardless of who is there to witness their magnificent approach. Waves rolled unto the beach as the monstrous figure rose from the depths slowly. The beachgoers fled immediately, wanting no part of this, but the lilac-haired woman only smiled with her arms outstretched in welcome whilst Hancock beckoned for her to run away.
Though it would easily strike fear in the hearts of most who has encountered it, as Hancock witnessed firsthand, Kikyo shares a bond with the creature. It was just a few years past when it kept her company when she was alone at the beach and was afraid to get into the water.
Hancock was not necessarily expecting any otherworldly encounters since leaving the East and their adventure behind, but this startling, and terrifying water serpent, knocked him off his feet. Initially, he was terrified and worried for Kikyo, though seeing how easily it was calmed by her touch offered him some relief.
Only a touch, but he could not help but feel nervous as the eyes of the leviathan were fixated on him.
Just what exactly was he getting himself into..
#ffxiv#ffxiv screenshot#ff14 screenshot#hancock fitzgerald#kikyo takahashi#lol this is a call back to last year or the year before where she played beach ball with the sea serpent#it kept her company while she was lonely and afraid to get into the water#so it pays her a visit now each time she goes to the beach in the summer time#ffxiv writing
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THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)
read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)
pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)
word count: 8.5k
summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.
warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!
author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡
♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo
(i. you have a sharp tongue)
fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.
"you'll get used to it."
luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.
you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.
“the shitty mattress?”
“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”
your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.
“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”
“yeah, i know. i’m —”
“y/n!”
you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.
“someone stole my candy.”
“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.
maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”
“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”
some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.
“what? n-no!”
“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”
chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.
“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”
a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.
so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.
it just didn't seem fair.
there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.
“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”
you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.
“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.
every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.
you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.
“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”
“so, who’s your godly parent?”
you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.
luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.
"nemesis. goddess of revenge."
"that's....hardcore."
you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”
“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”
“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.
“guess i was just lucky, then.”
luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.
“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”
“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”
“yeah. exactly.”
you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:
“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.
chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.
“she deserved more.”
luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.
“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”
we all do.
neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.
(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)
“slow down, tiger.”
your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.
“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”
luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.
his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.
“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”
luke bristled at your nickname for him.
sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.
everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.
case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.
as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.
“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.
the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.
“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”
luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”
“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."
fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.
the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.
"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”
“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.
“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”
when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.
“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”
“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.
“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.
later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.
when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?
luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.
"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."
whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.
(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)
“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”
“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”
luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.
annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.
before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.
a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.
luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.
he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.
his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.
you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.
luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.
“your nose.”
luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.
you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.
“you don’t have to —”
“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.
it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.
it was pathetic how much power you had over him.
“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”
he couldn’t argue with that.
a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.
“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”
luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.
he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.
he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.
“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”
a pause.
“is that a bad thing?”
“not usually, no.”
you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.
“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”
you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.
“you won’t.”
you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.
“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”
luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.
he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.
it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.
he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.
luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.
it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.
how many heroes could claim that?
when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.
you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.
“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.
“anything.”
“come back alive.”
luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.
“i promise.”
(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)
the nightmares were getting worse.
luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.
“luke.”
your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.
he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).
“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.
like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.
your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.
luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.
what a fucking joke.
every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.
again: a fucking joke.
nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.
every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.
of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.
most of all, you cared about luke.
“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.
“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.
“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”
your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.
for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.
since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.
luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.
but, at what cost?
(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)
luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.
you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.
“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.
“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”
luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.
“what happened?”
you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.
“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”
“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”
you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”
luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.
in fact, luke loved that about you.
no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.
percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.
“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”
you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.
“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”
“about percy?”
luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.
“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”
you finally turned to luke and glared at him.
“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”
luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”
“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”
you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.
satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.
the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.
“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”
“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”
you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.
“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.
“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”
luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.
to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.
and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.
by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.
you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.
“hey. are we okay?”
luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.
he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.
“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.
“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”
“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”
“yeah, i know, it’s just —”
“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”
“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.
what in the name of hades were you talking about?
“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.
“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.
sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.
“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”
“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.
(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)
your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.
he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.
everything was falling into place.
all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.
unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.
you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.
you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.
luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.
and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.
meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.
luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.
the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.
katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.
a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.
“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.
“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”
“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”
“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”
you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”
“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.
“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”
luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.
nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.
“no. i’m good.”
biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.
“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”
you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.
“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”
“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”
“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”
you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.
in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.
not yet.
“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”
luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.
luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.
“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.
“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”
“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”
luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.
“why…why would you agree to do that?”
you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.
“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”
“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.
“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”
a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.
“what hypothesis?”
you hesitated.
“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.
“what hypothesis?” he asked again.
nothing but rushed footsteps.
“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.
third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.
“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.
this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.
“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”
your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.
did you know?
“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”
luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!
would you hate him, if you knew?
you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.
"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.
a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.
“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”
as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.
“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.
“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”
“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”
the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.
luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.
in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.
so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.
no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.
the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.
maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.
and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.
“wait.”
it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.
“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”
luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.
(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)
luke had just left percy jackson to die.
he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.
the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.
“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”
for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.
“i don’t have much time.”
you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.
luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.
percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.
you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.
“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”
five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.
“i….i should have told you sooner.”
“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”
“it’s not delusional—”
“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”
luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.
“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”
“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”
“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.
luke just needed to convince you.
“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”
“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”
something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.
“you don’t mean that.”
“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”
you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.
“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.
in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.
luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.
“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.
a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.
you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.
a turquoise trident.
“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”
luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.
and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.
there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.
#this is my baby fr#really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core#will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson#pjo fanfic#pjo series#luke castellan#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x reader#pjo x reader#luke castellan angst#luke castellan imagine#percy jackson and the olympians#luke castellan smut#saf writes#Spotify
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it's got to be time travel | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x fem footballer!reader
face claim: jessie fleming (i'm a chelsea fan and i'm sad she left :()
they've got all the time in the world for each other, don't ask them where they got that time from though
note: we're also gonna pretend that the women's football and f1 seasons line up here lol
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS
charles_leclerc
liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,203,784 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: last sunday lunch before we both have to go back to work :(
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user1: ffs why do their ACTUAL jobs have to get in the way of my regularly scheduled charles x y/n content???
user2: i personally think that the fia should just give charles the championship and y/n the WSL title so they can just chill together :)
maxverstappen1: not on my watch
charles_leclerc: you don't even follow me? get out of my comments
maxverstappen1: you can't just get given the championship because you have attachment issues WE ALL HAVE ATTACHMENT ISSUES
charles_leclerc: me i get, but y/n doesn't deserve to win?
maxverstappen1: i never said that. y/n is girlboss slay queen
yourusername: too right i am
charles_leclerc: why are you peace and love with her and not me?
maxverstappen1: she's cool, you aren't
yourusername: can't disagree with that babe soz
user3: i have a feeling that these spats might get worse the longer charles is separated from y/n
user4: waa waa we're all sad their being separated but all i'm thinking is UP THE CHELS
user5: i need the treble right fucking now, a charles championship would be a bonus i guess
lewishamilton: will i get a formal introduction to y/n before we're teammates?
yourusername: YES, YES YOU WILL
charles_leclerc: i guess that answers that
lewishamilton: don't hate the player, hate the game
yourusername: i better see your ass at kingsmeadow at some point, it's fun, even if others think they're too good for it
lewishamilton: i'll be there 🫡
user7: can 2025 come quick.... PLEASE
user8: lol does this mean that charles has offered to take carlos to a game but he didn't go?
user9: ugh what a bore
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,402,667 others
tagged: chelseafcw
yourusername: excited for the new season back with the girlypops :))))))
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user10: treble or nothing I BEG
user11: it's their year for the champions league i've seen the script
alexalbon: no seatbelt ? way to set dangerous examples to your young audience
yourusername: if you're not careful i'm gonna teach my audience how to put their foot up the ass of those annoying her
alexalbon: ugh i hope you lose :P
yourusername: i don't have to hope, i know your ass ain't gonna be in q3
alexalbon: that's TOO far @charles_leclerc does our years of friendship mean nothing?
charles_leclerc: sorry buddy, i am y/n stan first, human being second
yourusername: as he should.
user12: so like... will we see charles in a y/n jersey again in the paddock?
user13: @ferrari stop being so annoying and let him wear what he wants
user14: i think i tasted paradise when they actually let him wear a y/n canada jersey in montreal
charles_leclerc: never seen someone make blue look so good
maxverstappen1: i'm right here?
sebastianvettel: did the homoeroticism of our challenge videos mean nothing?
danielricciardo: do not lie to yourself
yourusername: sorry sluts, you wish you looked this good
charles_leclerc: they'll never be you 🫶🏻
user15: i know the cfcw admin and pr department have a heart attack every time y/n posts
user16: the way she's out here calling three f1 drivers sluts with no repercussions
yourusername: can't be told off for telling the TRUTH
f1
liked by lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,205,489 others
tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername
f1: couple goals! charles leclerc takes pole in bahrain while his girlfriend, y/n y/ln, scored the winner for chelsea women!
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user19: okay but i've never been in a relationship and am currently rotting on my couch... so who is the real winner here x
yourusername: my handsome boy is so talented :3
charles_leclerc: not as talented as you, pretty girl
yourusername: nuh uh at least my team is competent
charles_leclerc: errrrr
samkerr20: i think you broke him lol
yourusername: sometimes i think he's more loyal to ferrari than me
charles_leclerc: no!
scuderiaferrari: huh?
charles_leclerc: wait...
yourusername: i see :(
charles_leclerc: i'm LOGGING OUT
user20: charles is so lover boy stuck in his tortured poets department (ferrari formula one team)
user21: the way he's probably yelling down the phone to y/n about how much he loves her right now
samkerr20: he is and it's so loud the whole locker room can hear it
yourusername: but he's so sweet isn't he
niamhcharles17: i guess?
alexalbon: we heard it from his side... barf
yourusername: @lilymunhe are you being starved of romance?
lilymunhe: compared to you and charles YES
alexalbon: ummmm get out of my business y/ln
yourusername: you're ALWAYS in my business buster 🤨
alexalbon: NO! i am just passing down the ancient skill of communication?
yourusername: you're such a gossip girl alex
user21: i know they bicker like siblings, but i know deep down that there have been double dates
charles_leclerc: yes, but y/n and i are much better (no offence lily)
yourusername: did you log back in to restart the argument with alex
charles_leclerc: yes!
alexalbon: boo you whore
yourusername: don't talk to him like that 🤨
samkerr20
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 303,445 others
tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc
samkerr20: forced to hang out with the straights... they're actually kind of cute
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user22: you know the couple has to be real cute when even the gays think they're cute
user23: no one can resist the charms of y/n and charles
yourusername: these photos make me think that we are cuter
samkerr20: we are but i didn't want to hurt charles' feelings
charles_leclerc: consider them hurt
samkerr20: boo hoo
yourusername: noooooo i love you xxx
charles_leclerc: hehehehehehehe i love you too xxx
yourusername: i miss you, hurry up and win and come home to me
charles_leclerc: i'm doing my best :(
yourusername: you are the bestest boy
samkerr20: STOP THAT MAKES HIM SOUND LIKE A DOG
oscarpiastri: when will australians stop being victims of this relationship
danielricciardo: this is your first season dealing with them properly, buckle up
oscarpiastri: i'm in a relationship but they make me feel so lonely
maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while
yourusername: we're right here
landonorris: let us commiserate in peace
charles_leclerc: ??? do you or do you not get free football tickets out of it?
landonorris: yeha but when we go we just have to watch you cry when y/n inevitably wins another trophy
charles_leclerc: I'M PROUD OF HER AND YOU WON'T SHAME ME FOR THAT
user24: chelsea women players must be so confused when these grown men start arguments in the comments of THEIR posts
yourusername
liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,529,556 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: weekend off... you know what that means
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user25: i know there's over 1.5 million likes but how can i gatekeep y/n?
user26: for real
charles_leclerc: the best weekends are with you here
yourusername: i may have a love/hate relationship with this team, but the catering is banging (i may have to move to italy)
chelseafcw: NO MENTIONS OF LEAVING CHELSEA, NOT EVEN A JOKE - NOTHING!
yourusername: okay, sorry guys (the pasta was so good though)
charles_leclerc: not even for me?
chelseafcw: DEFINITELY NOT FOR YOU, WATCH OUT OR WE'LL BLACKLIST YOU FROM KINGSMEADOW
yourusername: okay, let's pedal this back. i'm not leaving london and we all still love charles, right admin?
chelseafcw: .... yes
user27: when you're in a who has attachment issues with y/n y/ln and your competition is the chelseafcw admin and charles leclerc
user28: no point even showing up
maxverstappen1: i for one am glad when y/n is in the paddock because it means i can sneak in without the cameras seeing me
yourusername: i am a woman of the people
charles_leclerc: she's such a star, everyone wants to see her
maxverstappen1: yeah i'll give you that
yourusername: we're also hot
charles_leclerc: don't you dare respond to that one max
maxverstappen1: 🫡🫡🫡
user29: patiently waiting for the hq photos of them 😚
user30: gonna print them out and put them in my heart locket
charles_leclerc
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,398,452 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: babe is top of the league (and top scorer)
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user33: get yourself a guy who flexes your achievements as much as charles does
user34: setting the example tbf
yourusername: my lucky charm, that hat-trick was for you xx
charles_leclerc: would mean more if you didn't score them every week 😭
yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning
charles_leclerc: wanna share some wins with me?
yourusername: you're doing great this season babe, not your fault that nasa decided to rebrand to red bull racing
redbullracing: adrian says thanks 😊
charles_leclerc: DON'T SAY IT Y/N
yourusername: you don't even know what i was going to say
charles_leclerc: ....
yourusername: @redbullracing you got a seat???
charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!!!!!!!!
yourusername: whoops
user35: y/n really out here trying to get charles that damn seat
yourusername: i'll stop when the horse team makes a championship worthy car that they don't break halfway through the season...
user36: add ferrari to the group of people who shudder in fear when y/n posts
chelseafcw: fine... we hope you enjoyed (no more italy jokes)
charles_leclerc: i had a great time, i always do when i watch y/n do what she loves (slay)
yourusername: awwwwwwwwww i love you charlie
chelseafcw: okay no need to make admin feel that lonely, damn
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,782,309 others
yourusername: finishing my best ever season with a big trophy haul :) now time to support my trophy husband in his day job
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user41: she really be out here doing it all
user42: i need her to win the Ballon d'Or Féminin PLEASE IT IS TIME
user43: with charles in attendance, first couples red carpet appearance YES, YES RUN IT TO ME PLEASE
charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you, mon amour, constantly inspired by you
yourusername: i love you so much, thank you for being there to support me through it all
charles_leclerc: it's the biggest pleasure in the world
yourusername: i'm all out of winning this season, your turn next weekend?
charles_leclerc: for you, i'll do anything
user44: PLEASE I NEED HIM TO WIN GOOD PLEASE
alexalbon: congrats i guess, you're pretty good
yourusername: thanks, since my boyf is so supportive, it's only natural that you have to try and humble me at every turn
alexalbon: you're more famous than us now, we need to keep you grounded
lilymunhe: don't worry y/n he cried nearly just as much as charles when you won the WSL
yourusername: I KNEW IT
charles_leclerc: i still cried more
alexalbon: it's not a competition bro, we all know you're both helplessly in love
yourusername: that we are
charles_leclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,309,855 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: happiest when i'm with you (and whoever has decided to tag along), oh and winning a race helps as well i guess
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user45: CHARLES WIN I REPEAT A CHARLES WIN WE WON?
user46: the way y/n went just as mental as us, her and zecira jumping around the garage (and starting the champagne shower after the podium)
user47: really proving that y/n and charles really are each other's biggest fans
user48: thank the lord the WSL season finished when it did so y/n could be there for this win
user49: y/n would've ran to austria to be there i'm sure
yourusername: you know it 🫡
maxverstappen1: had to let you win so you could look cool in front of your infinitely cooler girlfriend
charles_leclerc: not even gonna bite, i'm too happy to care
yourusername: i'll bite - HIS TALENTED BEHIND SCHOOLED YOUR ASS
maxverstappen1: but i called you cool?
yourusername: i'll accept the compliment now, i had to defend charles' honour first
charles_leclerc: heheheehe i'm blushing
maxverstappen1: gross
user50: i need y/n to permanently be in the ferrari garage, they were on it today (i think out of fear)
landonorris: damn i thought i thirdwheeling lestappen was bad, but y/n and charles is a different beast
yourusername: we're both athletes, need to savour the time we have together when we can
charles_leclerc: sorry not sorry you'll get it when you're in love
landonorris: .... i guess i'll die then
fin.
note: i hope you enjoyed !!!! one last WIP to go and good lord the writers block is kicking my ass. but f1 being back should help!!! + f1 academy, much enjoyed it so far.
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc social media au
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Better Than Revenge
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader
—-
sypnosis: more jealous clarisse and this time she gets to be insane about it (I Can See You coded tbh)
a/n: soft clarisse MOVE OVER insane clarisse hiiiiiii ….anyways i hope you all enjoy!!
Better Then Revenge - Taylor Swift
warnings: possessive clarisse pleek i want you i need you, violence, swearing, punching lol, men, allusions to sex and this is just pretty suggestive, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
The anniversary of Mr. D being sentenced to a life at Camp Half Blood has become his birthday over the years.
Of course, his children use that as an excuse to throw a rowdy party disguised as a simple bonfire.
Chiron turns a blind eye, as long as everyone swears to not give him any alcohol, and there’s still a modicum of responsibility among the camp population.
It’s one of the highlights of the summer, the heat from the fire, the dark night lit only by Selene, where it feels like you can do anything and get away with it.
It’s your first with Clarisse, and by the way she’s looking at you right now, you’re probably not gonna last more than an hour before you get dragged somewhere to make out. Which is not what you want.
You’re already in your outfit, the jean shorts you know she likes, the low-cut top you know she likes, leaning over in front of the mirror as you do your lipstick.
“Do you have something you want to say?”
Clarisse usually sits with you as you get ready for something, since you shamelessly take longer than her. She always calls you her prettiest girl, then expects you not to live up to it?
She doesn’t rush you. She’s never impatient. She just likes watching you, and it’s fun to put on a show.
She always looks at you, but something about the look in her eyes tonight is especially… feral.
“What’d you mean?” she says, smirking and leaning back on her elbows.
The Aphrodite cabin is a particular swirl of activity, but your little corner is just you and her. She refused to wear anything but her camp t-shirt and a pair of jeans, of course, but she looks good in anything.
“You’re looking at me like you want to pounce.”
“Took you this long to pick up on that?”
You laugh, bending over to grab a jewelry box that lives at the foot of your floor length mirror.
“Baby, let’s just stay back,” she groans.
“This is our first time going together, though. I want to go.”
“And I want to kiss you until we both pass out.”
“Oh, how romantic,” you whisper, holding earrings up to your ear. The dangly pearls look best. Some sort of dangerous thought slithers into your mind, and you turn around to face her with a slow smile.
“Oh, Gods. What?”
“If you can go an entire hour without kissing me…”
She looks up at you like you’ve just called her the worst warrior at camp.
“Then we’ll leave as soon as the hours up, and do whatever you want. But if you can’t, then we get to stay until I say so.”
She smirks. The only thing she loves more than you is competition, a challenge. You watch her eyes light up.
“I can do an hour.”
“Oh, really?”
“I have amazing self-control, actually.”
“Oh, really?” you repeat, drawing out the word.
“Really,” she says, rolling her eyes and mocking you.
She’s sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on her palms now, watching you as you step forward.
“Really,” she says again.
But her smile fades as you place your hands on her shoulders, her hands coming to your waist as you place yourself right down on her lap. She lies down and let’s you straddle her, tracing her lips with your pointer finger.
It’s so startlingly silent and tense, she can hear your breath, you can hear hers.
You squeeze her face in your hands. “Well, time to go!” you announce, climbing off of her.
“You’re a demon,” she hisses. “A witch.”
“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite,” you roll your eyes. “I prefer to be called a seductress.”
—-
The party is already buzzing when you get there, night just falling and the fire blazing high.
You wave to a few of your friends, dragging Clarisse by the hand as you lead her to the best group of chairs and benches, not too close and not too far from the fire. All of the camp counselors and the people around your age are there, drinking punch and talking amongst themselves.
You greet your half sister and head counselor of the Aphrodite cabin, Phoebe, with a kiss and a hug.
“You look so pretty, Y/N,” she smiles. “I love the pearls.”
“Thank you,” you gush. You look up to Phoebe more than you would like to admit. One day you hope to take her position, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a good impression now. “You look gorgeous.”
Clarisse’s hand falls from yours and she pushes you forward to the empty seat next to Phoebe.
You look behind you. She gives you a look that says “Are you dumb? Talk to her.”
You’re always so close to Clarisse, but she goes and sits nexts to a few of her siblings on top of a picnic table 5 feet away.
You hum and start talking to Phoebe about a few of the new arrivals about camp- you both agree one of the new boys is a son of Aphrodite, before Phoebe looks past you and cringes.
“One of the other new kids is staring at you.”
You risk a small glance.
There’s nothing special about him. Pale skin, brown hair and brown eyes. He’s not your type, to say the least, especially when you steal a look at Clarisse and find she’s already looking at you-
You stomach flips.
She taps her wrist as if there was a watch there.
“Almost halfway,” she mouths, smiling brightly.
You look pointedly back at Phoebe.
“He’s eh,” you shrug.
“If he doesn’t stop staring at us I’m gonna go insane.”
“Is he really staring?” you ask.
“Yeah. I think he thinks he’s flirting, or something? I don’t know.”
You shrug. He probably knows you’re dating Clarisse, and if he doesn’t, he probably will soon.
She bumps your shoulder.
“Any updates with Clarisse?”
You smile, playing with your fingers.
“No, not really. We’re still happy. Actually, we’re having a contest right now. If she can resist kiss me for an hour, then we’ll leave. But if she can’t, then we get to stay at the party all night.”
“Ooh, that’s evil,” she teases.
“I know, I’m having so much fun.”
You both laugh, and Phoebe opens her mouth just to close it. She fakes dropping something to lean closer to you.
“He’s coming over here.”
“Oh, Gods,” you mutter.
“Hey, ladies,” he says. His voice is deep and scratchy, like he just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “How y’all doin’ tonight? Enjoying the party?”
You have to stifle a laugh. Phoebe was one of the cabin leaders who helped organize the party.
“Havin’ fun,” you smile awkwardly. He stares so intensely into your eyes you have to breathe out not to laugh.
“Good, good. Either of you know where the punch station is?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, it’s right by the Apollo cabin,” Phoebe points.
He follows her finger. “Great, thanks.”
He looks at you and winks. “See you around.”
Both you and Phoebe dissolve into a fit of giggles.
—-
You make your way over to Clarisse after a second, sitting down next to her on the table. You hug your knees to your chest from where they sit on the actual bench.
“‘M cold,” you moan, rubbing your knees.
Her siblings, Carrie and Nelson are now distracted by Phoebe’s animated talking, leaving the two of you.
She wraps her arm around your shoulder, letting you lean against her.
“You wore those shorts,” she says.
“For you.”
“Oh, you’re so mean.”
“Before the challenge. And I think you mean ‘thanks for trying to make me happy, Y/N.’”
Clarisse laughs.
“Okay, pretty thing,” she mutters. “That’s what I meant.”
“Right,” you mutter, pushing yourself further against her. It’s better here, closer to the fire, but there’s still this chill in your bones.
“Stop being so close to me,” Clar mutters.
You turn to her.
“What did you just say to me?”
“It’s almost irresistible to kiss you,” she whispers. “I’m not allowed to kiss your forehead, am I?”
You put your face into her warm neck.
“Is that kissing me?” you whisper, your lips brushing her skin.
“Shut up,” she mumbles, pushing you away from her. “You’re not distracting me. I’m not losing this. One hour, then we’re going back to my cabin and staying there for a long time.”
You smile, lifting your face up from her neck to stare in her eyes. She smiles softly back at you.
“Did you see me turn around and bend over to fix my shoes?”
Her eyes blaze.
“Should have guessed that was on purpose. What’d you call yourself? A seductress? I agree.”
You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself, deciding you’ll be nice and give her a few minutes reprieve. Ares kids are always so warm, and even just being pressed slightly against her is nice.
Someone places a jacket over your shoulders. You smile, turning to Clarisse, not remembering if she had a jacket on. Did she bring one for you?
“Clar, I-”
She’s not looking at you at all. She’s staring off towards the fire, holding your hand, and you know she didn’t just give you this jacket.
Harry walks around the table, smiling.
“Looks better on you then it did me,” he says, awkwardly. “You looked cold, so…” he laughs.
Clarisse finally realizes that he’s talking to the two of you, or well, you.
“Huh?” she says, giving him a bored look. Immediately slipping back into her mean girl persona, even though she was just blushing with your face in her neck five seconds ago.
She looks at you at the corner of her eye.
You’re sitting there, frozen with his jacket over your shoulders.
“Uh…” you say, stupidly, because your mind is literally empty. What are you even supposed to do in this situation?
Clarisse grabs at the black jacket.
“She looked cold,” he says.
She finally realizes what happened.
“So, you’re hitting on my girlfriend? Right next to me?”
His smile falls. “Y-your friend, yeah-”
She rips the jacket off of you and throws it at him.
“Girlfriend,” she hisses.
“It’s not my fault,” he says, scrambling to catch his jacket, getting defensive now. He knows he fucked up, his pride is hurt. “You weren’t even touching, and she was, like, shivering-”
She stands up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
“Hey, hey, Clarisse,” her sister Carrie says. “What’s going on?”
Clarisse glares at him. He starts sputtering incoherently.
Carrie raises an eyebrow towards you.
“He gave me his jacket,” you mumble, still feeling a little dazed. “Clar, c’mon, let him go.”
Carrie takes a step back. “Oh, ‘kay. I don’t care if she beats him up then,” she laughs.
“It looked like they were friends!” Harry shouts, pushing Clarisse back.
She punches him in the face.
“Clarisse!” you yell, jumping down from the table. “Don’t you dare!” you grab her arm, she’s fuming, rearing to punch him again.
A crowd has formed around you.
Harry groans and holds his bleeding nose.
“You fucking bitch,” he mutters.
“Clarisse. Clarisse, please, let’s go. Let’s just go.”
“You weren’t even that hot anyway,” he hisses.
“Don’t fucking talk about her!” she yells, jumping forward to punch him again-
“Clarisse!” you shout, not wanting her to get in trouble but you’re a second too late. Her fist flies into his cheek, but he’s prepared this time, so he takes it and counters with his own punch.
Your heart squeezes, but she blocks it, and both of their respective siblings finally jump in to hold them back.
“Oh, Gods,” you mumble, staring at his blood on the ground. At least it’s not hers. “Carrie!” you shout, giving her a pleasing look, and she nods.
“C’mon, Clarisse,” she says. “You’re very strong and tough, stop beating up the twig whose got no chance.”
It takes three of her siblings to corner her against the picnic bench.
“Giving her your fucking jacket, I should kill you!” she shouts, thrashing against her siblings hold. “She’s mine, dumbass, we’re always around each other, did you not notice?!”
“Clarisse- stop!” Carrie grunts, putting everything she has into holding her back.
“Go fuck yourself,” he groans, finally having enough common sense to cup his nose and walk away, the groups of people parting for him.
You stand there, shocked. Phoebe comes next to you.
“Oh, I love this night,” she sighs. You shoot her an unimpressed look.
After he’s gone, her siblings let a fighting Clarisse out of their holds, and she scans the crowd, but Harry really has disappeared. Her eyes find yours immediately.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, marching towards you and immediately pressing her lips against yours.
Pride is her fatal flaw. And when her ego is wounded, especially when it comes to you, she feels an inherent need to try and get it back.
She can’t beat up Harry, but showing everyone you’re hers is what you guessed she would do next.
She grabs you by the neck, the other arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you two closer together. You’re touching everywhere, kissing her is like touching her electric spear, and she finally pulls away slowly.
She can’t say that she loves you, so she just kisses your temple instead, wrapping her arm back around your shoulder.
As much as you hate violence, that was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
—-
Clarisse drags you off to her cabin.
“Oh, fuck,” she mumbles, opening the door.
“What?” you whisper, squeezing her hand.
“The contest. We should have stayed-”
You snort. “Who gives a fuck about the contest? I’ve been swayed. Let’s go make out.”
She seems a little shocked, extremely excited, and starts ushering you towards the ladder of the loft.
“Well, who am I to deny you,” she says, holding your ass as you ascend.
“Also, stop punching people.”
“That’s where I deny you.”
You make it to the top, her hands on your waist as she follows you. She’s always touching you, like she’s addicted to you. You pretend, but you’re so in love with her you genuinely think you’re gonna fall over just thinking about her sometimes.
“Clarisse, seriously. You’re gonna get in trouble one day, and-”
She spins you around and throws you back on your bed. You yelp as she climbs on top of you.
“No. Kiss now, lecture later.”
You protest, but she shuts you up by smashing her lips into yours. It’s rough, you did tease her all night, all teeth and the sounds of your roaring heartbeats.
She starts kissing down your neck, your dig your hands into your curls.
“‘She’s mine’?” you say after a second, referencing her anger-haze of a rant.
“Yes,” she says. Softly, but not sheepishly. She says it confident and proud. “You are.”
“I am,” you mutter back, having a feeling she’s gonna leave hickey’s all over you.
You do your best to flip her over, but she’s all muscle and it’s hard, so she ends up grabbing your hips and helping you.
“What?” she gasps, confused at the change of position. Not that she’s complaining, though.
“You did lose the challenge,” you tease.
She doesn’t like to admit she lost.
You hover your lips right above hers.
“Say it.”
Her fingers dig into your hips.
“I lost,” she grits. “You won.”
“I did,” you mumble, lips grazing yours, but you’re getting bored and you want to kiss her just as bad.
And you do, your hands on her face, her fingers starting to slip under your shirt. She mumbles against your lips.
“Fuck, this is so much better than revenge.”
—-
(i’m actually the funniest person alive if you couldn’t tell)
—-
clarisse: oh, so you think i cant take care of my girlfriend? because we’re not close enough? because you think she’s cold? well guess what. now i’m never letting her out of my sight again, fuckfaces
y/n: FUCK YES i mean noooooooo noooooo that’s horrible omggg
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme
@jazhandzzz @urbisexualfriend
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#pjo tv show#pjo x reader
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august 𐐪𐑂
steven conklin x fem!fisher!reader
WARNINGS: fighting, cursing, underage drinking, shayla isn’t in this soz, angsty teens lol, mentions from scenes in the books!, reader doesn’t like taylor, book taylor personality ( show taylor >>>> )
SUMMARY: it wasn’t belly that found out about taylor and steven, it was his best friends little sister
m’s blah blah blahhhhh: we need some more steven appreciation on here… GIVE MY SWEET BOY SOME RECOGNITION!!!
take a peak ;)
this is kind of long… i kinda got carried away LOLZ SORRT NOT SORRY
* .・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．
“twenty bucks she calls you jeremy again.” belly chuckles.
you, belly, and your older brother stood at the curb waiting for bellys best friend taylor at the bus stop. today was bellys 16th birthday which meant hurricane taylor visiting for the day.
you weren’t exactly fond of her ever since the summer she came to visit when you guys were 14. yes, you had to play nice with her for belly but stringing along your older brother jeremiah wasn’t exactly a good start to a friendship.
you chuckled beside the newly 16 year old as jere teasingly pushed her into you from his place beside her.
“i don’t.. i think she learned from last time.” he argued. “you think?” you teased, making a mental note that jere will infact be handing over that $20 before the end of the night.
“that’s how she flirts with you” belly mocked facing you as you both made smooching noises.
the bus pulled up infront of you guys, the brakes making a loud hissing noise.
“here she comes.” you say rolling your eyes as the short girl barely fits through the bus doors with the pile of balloons tied to her wrists.
the long time best friends squeal and hug reuniting for the first time since summer began causing you to roll your eyes even more.
jere turns toward you mouthing be nice
“belly you tart! you finally took my advice this outfit is snatched,” taylor spun the brunette in a circle admiring her dress. “isn’t belly looking like a snack?” she asked jeremiah a hint of something mischievous in her eyes.
“always.” the curly headed blonde smiled. he reached for taylor’s bag being the kind boy your mother raised him to be. taylor smirks batting her eyelashes up at the tall boy.
“thank you. you’re such a gentleman, jeremy.” she giggles.
you stood off to the side watching the interaction laughing to yourself knowing your brothers going to be $20 short when we get home.
“hey taylor long time no see.” you smiled offering the girl a polite side hug.
“omg y/n i didn’t even see you there, when did you get hot?” she questioned looking you up and down.
gosh this was going to be a long day.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
you sat beside taylor, jeremiah and belly across from you. a banana float melting in the middle of the table as belly opened her gift from her best friend. a pink bikini. jeremiah teased her about but you knew deep down he can’t wait to see her in it.
taylor takes a bite of the frozen treat as she said, “okay, so, whats the plan for tonight? where’s the party?”
“well, susannah always plans a big lobster dinner.” belly smiles as she puts the bathing suit back in the bag.
you and jere smiling towards each-other, being big fans of the birthday dinner tradition.
“boring. no.” taylor whines causing the three of you to look towards her with furrowed brows. “it’s your 16th birthday. we have to go out” the red head continued.
“no, no, no. these dinners are really, really fun.” belly tried to reason with her stubborn friend.
“yeah, and my mom had the idea to make it midsommar themed, so she got flower crowns especially made for us and everything.” you added taylor quickly glances at you then turns back towards her best friend.
“don’t you think you should be spending your birthday with people your own age?” taylor says taking another spoonful into her mouth.
“i am. you’re here.” belly said clearly annoyed by her bossyness.
“hello? am i invisible?” jeremiah cuts in trying to defuse the tension. he was really good at that. “and i guess steven.” taylor smirks. you shift uncomfortably hoping no one notcied. your brother obviously did scoffing at taylor’s remark.
you look towards belly, her already looking back. everyone in the house knows about your crush on steven the same way they knew about belly with conrad. ever since you were younger the boy was your prince charming. always being there in to cheer you up or piss you off but hey, that’s steven.
“and cams coming, too.” belly quickly changes the subject. you sigh silently thanking her.
“yay, i’m so excited to meet the guy who finally got you to take your eyes off of you-know-who.” taylor jokes.
as quickly as belly was to change the subject she quickly regretted it.
“taylor.” belly warned glancing towards jeremiah.
you coughed.
way to go taylor.
queen of making people feel uncomfortable..
“i have an idea. we can go to nicole’s big blowout at her place tonight. maybe go after dinner?” jere once again defusing the tension
you watched as taylor started at belly
“um yes!” taylor squealed in a matter of fact voice.
“woah, only if bells wants to go? it’s her birthday after all. we gotta do what whatever she wants. boring dinner or not.” you tell taylor not missing the look she gave you. you felt jeremiah lightly kick your leg under the table. you looked towards him. giving him a ‘what?’ expression.
you know how taylor can make belly feel like a side character most of the time and you’ll be dammed if you let taylor do that on her birthday.
belly smiles toward you silently thanking you for having her back.
“who’s nicole?” taylor asked jeremiah turning her harsh glance away from you.
belly smiles excited to fill in her best friend with the plans she’s made over here in cousins.
“she’s my big sister for the deb ball. she’s super nice and just really cool and fun and-
“ugh, i’m, like melting right now. can we go back to the house? i want to change into my bikini and jump in the pool.” taylor interupts belly looking at jere as she finished her sentence.
you roll your eyes standing up from the table as jeremiah says sure
taylor skips toward the car
jeremiah walking next to her as she called shot gun.
“come on bells.” you say putting your arm around her shoulders offering her a sympathetic smile.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
back at the house you, belly, jeremiah, steven, and taylor were in the pool. belly and taylor on one side jeremiah and steven on the other side.
you swam towards the two boys who were hanging off the edge of the pool deck.
“oh hey y/n/n you spying on us?” jeremiah teased. you rolled you eyes splashing him with the cold water. you hated when he called you that. stupid nickname that only reminded you of being a kid.
“stop calling me that i’m not five anymore.” you stuck your tongue out at him, he playfully did it back.
“yeah man cmon y/n’s all grown now. she’s not my little y/n/n anymore.” steven jokingly puts his hand over his heart in agony.
you dunk his head under the water in return, trying to hide your blush from him. it was moments like these where you had hope for something more. where you didn’t just feel like his best friends little sister anymore.
steven quickly comes up from the water his dark wet hair covering his eyes.
“oh yeah?” he challenged lifting you up and dunking you under the water.
you resurface hearing jeremiah and him share a laugh and a high five.
“oh screw you steve-o” you yelled splashing the boy who had your heart.
“any time any place.” he smirked.
gosh that smirk
jeremiah fake gags as your cheeks stained a pretty pink. steven always knew how to give you butterflies.
“we know you’re gossiping about us over there.” you hear taylor say causing stevens glance to change towards her.
as quickly as he gave you butterflies they were fast to be replaced with a pit in your stomach. you shift your gaze down as the two go back in forth with playful banter.
“let’s play chicken! i call steven!” taylor yelled.
you quickly moved towards the pool stairs to hide your frown from the others.
“i’m gonna go see if mom needs any help with dinner.” your voice barely above a whisper. the cool breeze causing you to shiver as you climb out of the pool
“you sure y/n/n?” jeremiah asks you, clearly noticing your mood change.
“yeah it’s fine there was an uneven amount anyways.” you grab your towel and head for the house not turning back
jeremiah turns towards belly, both teens sharing a knowing look.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
you sat on the couch of your second home sulking in your wet towel. mentally cursing at yourself for letting her get to you. you should be out there having fun. it’s bellys birthday for crying out loud.
your thoughts were soon cut short as connie, your oldest brother walks into the living room.
“hey dimples,” he says standing behind your seat on the couch, “why aren’t you out there with the others?” he asks ruffling his calloused hand through your wet hair.
you softly smile at the nickname. connie called you that ever since you guys were younger. oh how you missed your sweet brother
“taylors here.” you mutter pushing his hand away. he chuckles plopping himself down on the couch next to you. “aw, you mean your best friend?” he teases. “yeah fuck you” you shove him lightly chuckling.
“you can’t let her get to you kid. that’s just how she is” he sighs.
“yeah the same girl that hates you because you didn’t like her that summer she was like 14? that’s just how she is.” you roll your eyes doing finger quotes at the last part. connie laughs.
“why don’t you just tell steven how you feel already so you can stop sulking around all summer?” he asks.
you quickly sit up turning towards him with wide eyes. “you’re one to talk mr dark and mysterious. i don’t see you confessing your undying love for belly!” you challenge him reaching over smacking him with a throw pillow.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about… shut up.” he whispers.
you laugh shifting closer to your brother you lay your head on his shoulder. “besides he only see me as a kid anyways. i’ll always be just conrad and jeremiah’s little sister to him.” you sigh closing your eyes.
you stay like that for a while. just enjoying eachothers company. ever since april conrad’s been distant towards everyone so you miss having moments like these with your brother.
“aw my sweet angels.” you hear your mom squeal as she walked into the kitchen.
“hi mom hi laur.” you smile getting up from the couch and greeting your favorite women with a hug.
“do you need help with those?” conrad points to the brown bag full of corn on the counter.
“yes actually, we were supposed to keep dinner light but you know your mom.” laurel playfully side eyes her best friend.
“what?! it’s bellys 16th birthday.” she smiles. “and she’ll love it mom.” you smile back.
“wanna shuck these for us since your not busy?” susannah asked you and conrad pointing towards the corn.
“omg do you hear that? yeah i think bellys calling me. i gotta go hang with taylor and the birthday girl sorry love you bye!” you quickly run back outside.
“i’ll do it mom.” conrad rolls his eyes grabbing the bag.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
once outside you see steven sitting on the porch and jere climbing out of the pool. taylor and belly were probably off walking along the shore down by the beach.
jeremiah notices you and takes his leave inside claiming his need for a shower leaving you and steven outside.
“are you alright?” steven asks straining his neck to look at you standing behind him. "you kind of left in a hurry before."
you walk over sitting next to him on the porch steps.
“i’m fine conklin.” you laugh shifting your arms around your stomach. you tried so hard not to seem nervous around him but he could read you like a book.
steven chuckled looking away from you back towards the ocean. “okay.” he laughs. “but you could talk to me about anything. i’m serious i’ll always be here for you y/n/n.” he says more seriously this time.
you turn to him to see he was already looking at you. you search for something to say, anything, but you couldn't so you settle for a comforting smile. your breathe starts to quicken as you realize how close you guys were. steven noticed it too. his chest moving up and down at a fast pace.
“i just sometimes wish things were different.” you whispered half hoping he didn’t hear you but you knew he did.
“how so?” he whispered back. his gaze locked on your eyes intense.
for a moment you could’ve sworn his eyes flicked to your lips then back up to your eyes but theres no way.. right?
steven wouldn’t kiss you.. would he? no.
he just sees you as his best friends little sister. nothing more…
you're internally screaming as he slowly leans in
your eyes flutter shut waiting to feel his soft lips against yours
this is it.
finally
this is what you’ve wanted your whole life.
“oh hey y/n” you hear taylor yell as her and belly walk back up to the house.
steven quickly jumps up not saying a word as he rushed into the house.
you wanted to die.
just shrivel up and die.
you blink rappidly getting rid of the tears forming in your eyes and smile up towards the two girls.
“i’m starving! let’s go wash up before dinner.” belly smiles pulling you up from the steps and walking into the house.
it’s just one day it’s just one day it’s just one day
you kept reminding yourself as you trailed behind the hurricane pouring on your love life
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
the table was littered with plates filled with delicious food. there was vases of flowers in the middle that matched with the flower crowns on belly, taylor, and your heads. the dinning room was filled with chatter and giggles from everyone getting along.
susannah and laurel sat on opposite ends of the table refilling the hungry teenagers plates. taylor, belly, you, and cam on one side and jere, conrad, and steven on the other.
“thank you so much for having me susannah! my moms says hi.” cam, bellys boyfriend smiled holding his fork up to show his thanks for the food.
you laugh along with the others as the moms interrogate bellys first boyfriend. cam cameron was the nickname everyone called him. you liked him. it’s like he fit right in with the rest of you guys. you were so happy for belly.
“why don’t you eat meat, cam cameron?” jeremiah asked the shy boy. he tries his best to seem intimidating but ultimately cracks his signature smile. classic jere.
“i like animals.” he answered simply. not bothered by all the questions thrown his way.
you adjust the flower crown on your head accidentally making eye contact with steven. you guys haven’t spoke since almost kissing on the stairs. you intend to keep it that way not wanting to have that talk.. the 'you're my best friends little sister we can't do this' talk.
you quickly look away feeling the pit in your stomach return.
“just don’t come for my leather jacket.” taylor chuckles from the other side of the table. you genuinely laughed. she was kinda funny sometimes.
your laugh quickly disappeared once you heard steven teasing her. he just always had an answer when it came to taylor didn’t he.
you finish the rest of your lobster with a sigh patting your well fed stomach.
“that was really good mom.” you said. causing sighs in agreement around the table.
“i agree! thank you too y/n. kinda glad you went inside to help cook after all.” steven said looking at you. the first thing he said to you since what happened on the porch. you look at him with a blank expression.
jeremiah changes the subject going right back to interrogating cam cameron about eating meat which ended in him quickly pecking bellys lips.
you laugh but quickly glance towards conrad who was already looking back down at his plate.
steven and jeremiah both pretend to retch. “i’m sorry i just don’t understand why anybody would want to kiss somebody who once fully shat in the bathtub.” classic steven says embarrassing his little sister.
“i was like two years old!” belly argues
“two? more like six!” jeremiah and steven yelled at the same time. the two immature boys erupt in laughter.
you playfully roll you eyes at the two while belly yells at her brother to shut up.
“i remember when i visited last summer, and you and you dared him to pee in the fireplace, and you stink up the entire house for days. do you remember that?” taylor points towards your brothers and steven. you all laughed reliving all the memories this house held.
“you know i’m thinking.. maybe we should go to nicole’s party.” belly turns toward taylor and you smiling.
“yes!” you and taylor said at the same time.
boy did you need alcohol in your system after the day you had.
after a few more jokes and steven and bells bickering everyone decided to get ready for the party.
you were touching up your makeup in your bedroom when you heard a knock at your door.
“its open” you said not looking towards the door as you reapplied your mascara.
“hey little fisher” you heard steven say as he closed the door. you almost dropped the mascara wand. you turned around facing him uttering a small hey.
“i know we are about to leave for the party but do you think when we get back home we could talk about what happened on the porch?” you could tell he was nervous. he didn’t meet your gaze at all and he was fidgeting.
“but nothing happened on the porch” you felt a pang in your chest.
he sighed, “i know but that’s the thing..” he said stepping closer to you. “i wanted something to happen.” he finished.
you swallowed. “oh” was all you could say.
you guys stood there for a while. silence filled the room.
“i also wanted it to happen. so yes, we can talk about it when we get home” you smile. you can’t believe this is happening right now.
“okay.” he smiled
“okay.” you said as he turned around to leave your room looking back at you one last time.
once you were sure he walked away from the door you jumped up and down looking at yourself in the mirror.
“fuck yeah y/n fuck yeah.” you whispered to yourself smiling ear to ear.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
gotta give it to jere he always knew how to make a scene. you and belly sat on the couch hysterical watching cam cameron and jeremiah singing horrendously along to summer loving.
maybe coming to the party was a good idea after all. “i can’t stand to watch this any longer i’m gonna go find a bathroom.” you laughed getting up from the couch.
you squeezed through all the drunken bodies dancing together on the makeshift dance floor in the living room. you found nicole standing by the drink table.
“oh hey y/n” she greets you with a tight hug. “are you having fun?” she asks taking a sip from whatever was in her cup.
“actually i really am. you sure know how to throw a banger.” you said cringing at yourself. god why are you so awkward.
nicole just smiled
“hey um where’s the bathroom?” you asked actually needing to pee after all.
“the one downstairs has a line it hasn’t moved in ages so just go upstairs! it’s right to your left!” she said.
you thanked her as you made your way towards the stairs. jeremiah, belly, and cam standing near by.
“hey have you seen taylor?” belly asked you. you shook your head no. “i'll help you find her after i use the bathroom?” you ask. she thanked you.
the music faded as you walked up the stairs of nicole’s house. yeah the beach house was big but nothing compared to this. if you didn’t ask nicole where to go you definitely would’ve gotten lost.
you opened the door on the left but it was preoccupied by a couple hooking up. you quickly muttered sorry as you closed the door shaking your head to forget the sight.
you kept looking for an open room hoping to find one with a bathroom in it.
gosh how you hated horny drunk teenagers.
you opened the last door praying to all the gods it was free and had a bathroom. you were about to piss your pants.
you opened the door and all of a sudden the urge to pee was gone.
there in the room was taylor propped on the dresser making out with steven.
your steven.
he was standing between her legs. his hands on her waist as they made out.
your mouth was dry
you couldn’t process the scene in front of you.
you wanted to crumble to the ground and cry.
“conklin?” your voice cracked as steven whipped his head around to see you standing at the door.
taylor quickly hopped off the dresser pulling her dress down.
“oh, my god- shit” steven said as you turned around and made a beeline for the stairs.
“y/n wait!” he yelled as he ran after you.
you made it to the bottom of the stairs causing a few people to look at you running away from the brunette boy.
“y/n/n? what happened?” jeremiah was the first to notice you. you wiped the fallen tears from your cheeks as belly and cam also noticed you.
by then steven caught up to you. you went to run out of the house but was quickly stopped by him gradding your wrist.
“y/n just stop let me explain-
“explain what steven?” you yelled.
if no one noticed before they definitely noticed now.
the chattering around the house quickly stopped as you yelled at steven.
“y/n please. i’m sorry it just happened.” steven tried to plead with you. regret written all over his face.
you looked at him in disbelief.
“go to hell.” your yelled you voice broke as the tears kept spilling from your eyes.
you yanked your wrist from his grasp and looked at belly. mascara stained your cheeks. “i found taylor” you whispered before walking out the door. leaving steven there, carrying your broken heart along with his..
* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
AHHHH TYSM FOR READING THIS!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ( pls be nice this is my first actual fic i’ve written! )
#workinatdapryamid#x reader#drabbles#headcannons#the summer i turned pretty#steven conklin#steven conklin x reader#tsitp s2#tsitp steven#steven x y/n#🎫#tsitp conrad#conrad fisher#jeremiah fisher#belly conklin#conrad fisher x reader#jeremiah fisher x reader
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Hii!
Can I please ask for an angsty fic with Max, where the reader defends him from Jos after not finishing his race in Melbourne...idk if you remember when Max kept his helmet for four hours after a race because he was afraid of what Jos would have done to him after not winning...and the reader basically tells Jos to get lost even if she's like 5'4 and definitely not as intimidating as them both lol.
And then maybe after the win in Suzuka, they "reconcile" but she still reminds him to act right around her boyfriend, who's now a man and not a little boy he could pressure like he once did.
Sorry if it's too long!! Thanks for taking your time and reading my request!
Guard Dog
Pairing: Max x Reader
Summary: You are sick and tired of watching Max take Jos' shit
TW: verbal abuse
A/n: thank you soooo much for the rec, I love writing these out so much <3
requests open masterlist
----------------
"Maxie... are you okay?" you wait patiently by the door to his driver's room, careful not to barge in like Jos would, as you have for the past year since you first witnessed Jos' beratement of his son. He is sitting on the couch with his helmet between his hands. The fire causing an unpleasant start to the race, and you are just glad you got here first.
"I'm okay," his voice cracks and you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but feel like it was my fault," Max looks in your eyes, the fire brewing behind them. You were genuinely the sweetest girl he's ever met, and to get you mad took a lot. God help you if Jos shows up, you are tired of Max feeling bad even when he podiums.
"You're right, you didn't do anything wrong, the car failed you today," you stay calm, sitting beside him and cuddling into him. Max stays quiet, enjoying your warmth, and decompressing from the start. He can understand why the fans were so happy to see him lose, in fact, if he wasn't himself, he would join them. No, the fear of his father is what has him on edge. Rightfully so, because a few seconds later the door is slammed open again.
"Max, what the hell did you-" Jos starts and you launch yourself off the couch. Jos and Max were big guys, and you were average height for a woman, 5'6 or so, but you didn't seem like it in that moment.
"Shut the hell up and leave. You have nothing useful to say and you are going to shift blame to Max who had NO fault in the DNF," you snarl, setting yourself up as a barrier between the two, Jos still in the doorway and Max on the couch.
"Girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am Max's father, and I can-," You cut Jos off before he can continue.
"No, you aren't his father. A father doesn't talk to his son like that, you are simply a man who shares the same last name as Max. A father is someone like Carlos Sainz Sr or Lawrence Stroll. No, you are a man- sorry a boy in a man's body- who can't cope with the fact that he doesn't race anymore and wants the man who shares the same last name with him to be impossibly perfect and win every single race, even when the car breaks down." You sneer at the man. "You need to leave, before I call security and make them remove you," you don't back down, instead you step closer. Max watches in both awe and fear.
"I-"
"Leave, Jos, now. Don't make me repeat myself," you say, practically slamming the door behind him. You turn around and look at Max, seemingly calm and normal. He looks at you bewildered.
"That was the sexiest thing ever. Thank you, Schatje, you didn't have to do that," Max hugs you, a large weight off of his shoulders.
"Of course I did, who else will be your guard dog?" You smile at him, squeezing him tighter. "Now, get changed and get back to the garage," you tell Max, stepping out to the room. You let out a deep breath, surprised with how you treated Jos and stood up for Max. A couple minutes later, Max rejoins you, quickly stopping inside hospitality for a snack.
The two of you avoid Jos, going extremely low contact, not that he was trying to. Jos would never admit it, but he was embarrassed at how you spoke to him, and his retreat allowed him to ignore it. Instead, you and Max enjoyed your time together in Japan. The both of you were aware Jos was there, but chose to ignore it. After Max won, Jos warily approached the two of you.
"I wanted to congratulate you on winning. You drove well," Jos says stiffly, silently calling for a truce. You let Max take the lead on the conversation.
"Thank you," he says, feeling like a little boy again, but accepting the temporary truce.
"It was good seeing you Jos, but we need to go," you interject, sensing the still tense atmosphere. The older man, still a little scared of you despite your sweet demeanor, lets you go, not quite willing to cross you again.
"Love you, Maxie"
"Love you too, Schatje,"
#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 imagines#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen#i hate jos verstappen
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Lore Olympus just pulled off the biggest whiff in webtoon history.
I promised I would choose one of two headlines and of course, this is the one we wound up with. But should we really be surprised? Rachel herself seemed to be telling on herself down to the minutes leading up to the finale, fully confirming to us that yes, she's been writing this comic at the last minute, by the seat of her pants, for ages now.
(that second one was literally posted TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE THE COMIC UPDATED.)
Welp, let's get into it. Possibly the last essay I'll ever write about this dumpster fire of a comic (but probably not, let's be real LOL)
CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND FASTPASS SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE AHEAD!
Holy crap, where to even start with this. I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it was going to be rushed. I knew it wasn't ever going to live up to what I had hoped it would be years ago when I was still a diehard fan.
But I didn't think it was going to fall quite this hard. Despite bracing myself for the worst, Rachel has once again let my expectations down through a final display of explosive mediocrity and disappointment.
Yes, the episode is called "You're Welcome", and yes, that instant "ick" you're feeling is the exact same as what we're all feeling. This title plays into the dialogue later, but what a shitty, lowkey mean-spirited title for the series finale.
Now, before we get into the actual episode, the WT ads for this are just... so desperate and misleading.
They are trying SO HARD to hype up something that isn't there, and at the last minute to boot, because Rachel definitely hadn't written any of this ahead of time.
First off, the bit about the gods being in "eternal chaos" of course isn't a stake worth worrying over because Gaia literally does away with Ouranos in the first 5 panels.
Did you really think I was joking about that 5 panels thing?
That's it. That's the death of Ouranos. As mysteriously and quickly as he arrived, he was gone, after Gaia ripped out of him what appeared to be some purple sunny side up - but it's actually, in fact, Apollo.
And that's when we start to get some of the worst dialogue I've ever seen throughout LO. Remember when I said LO's dialogue was like Shenmue 3? Welp, the finale decided to continue that tradition and further fuel the suspicion that this entire thing was written by ChatGPT.
Oh, by the way, that "thank you, ma'am" was Artemis' first and last line of the episode. So once again, just like in Episode 248, we're completely robbed of her reaction to Apollo being a rapist piece of shit and the character development she could have had as a supporting character. The women in this "feminist retelling" really couldn't be more half-baked.
Gaia stumbles upon Persephone, and I'm not even gonna fucking bother showing the panels where Gaia says it's time to "make things right" because they literally don't matter. Why don't they matter? Because Rachel just had to get in one more pointless time skip.
We're shown a sequence of pointless images that I'm not gonna show as I don't want to waste my image limit on them, depicting Hades having a sad day because his small wife isn't with him and oh nooo what could have happened?? Did Persephone finally divorce him ??
Nah, we couldn't possibly have an actually happy ending in this comic. Instead we get a completely pointless phone conversation between Hades and Hecate-
Not only is the grammar particularly bad in this episode, but the actual script-writing is atrocious. We literally did not need this phone conversation to happen because-
-we're cutting BACK TO THE PRESENT THAT WE JUST CUT AWAY FROM FOR A 3 MONTH TIME SKIP. FOR NO REASON BESIDES SHOWING HADES BE SAD OVER SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY ISN'T THAT BIG A DEAL, AS YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE.
I- I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS. I HAVE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. ALL I CAN HEAR IN MY BRAIN IS THE LEGEND OF ZELDA ITEM GET MUSIC-
youtube
-BECAUSE THIS WHOLE THING SUDDENLY SOUNDS LIKE SOME CONTRIVED FETCH QUEST. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HADES AND PERSEPHONE HAVE PROVEN 'TRUE LOVE' IS REAL? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVEN'T USED 'LOVE' AS A FORCE FOR DESTRUCTION?? ARE WE FORGETTING THAT HADES MUTILATED A GUY IN THE NAME OF 'LOVE'? THAT PERSEPHONE LITERALLY INVADED THE HOME OF HADES' CANONICAL FIRST WIFE BECAUSE SHE FELT MILDLY THREATENED BY HER?
This whole concept of "true love" that Rachel is trying to convey feels so juvenile especially for a series that has sold itself as being mature and thought-provoking and progressive.
HAHAHA SO FUNNYYYYYYY why does Rachel write like this. this is, at best, the writing of a 13 year old on fanfiction.net, which I SHOULD KNOW, because I WAS ONE OF THEM. BUT I'M 28 NOW AND RACHEL HAS ANOTHER 10 YEARS ON ME.
Okay, this is the part where I'm CONVINCED Rachel either just mashed this into the episode in the MINUTES leading up to its release, or she used ChatGPT or something. Because NONE of this dialogue makes any sense. Beyond how stilted and lifeless it is (seriously, this dialogue reads like something from Empress Theresa) Gaia is clearly meant to 'replace' Erebus here which I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN EXPLAIN IS SO FUCKING DUMB, but ALSO what is even Persephone trying to communicate here? "That is true, but it was a deal I was willing to make and ties me to the Underworld. Please don't change me." What? Gaia hasn't even insinuated that she's going to do anything to Persephone, why is Persephone immediately jumping to this conclusion? What does 'changing' her mean? Is she asking Gaia not to force her to sacrifice something (which she never did)? Or is she asking Gaia not to strip her of her Underworld status? Because again, why is that even something Gaia would do?
Maybe this is harsh but I'm pretty sure even Empress Theresa is more coherent than this, what in the flying fuck is Gaia talking about?
"I can just see the potential for conflict! To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres." Like... okay, first of all, that second sentence isn't even a complete sentence, it's a dependent clause left hanging, but also what the fuck does this MEAN. Is she EXCITED for the conflict but then contradicting herself by saying she wants to relieve Persephone of that conflict? Or is she saying she can see the conflict it would cause for Persephone to have to perform duties in both realms and trying to insinuate that she's going to relieve her of those complications?
Here's what I think happened - I think that second 'sentence' wasn't supposed to be a sentence, but the start of the sentence to the next panel-
So with that theory in mind, the sentence becomes, "To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres, you are to spend three months in the Mortal Realm to do spring and the rest of the year in the Underworld. That seems fair to me."
It's still a very poorly written line of dialogue, but at least with that fix in mind it makes sense. But man, you can really fucking tell this episode was submitted at the last minute because that's a serious syntax error that should NOT have happened in this two-time-Eisner-winning comic.
Errors aside, it's clear that Rachel is following through on having Persephone spend only three months in the Mortal Realm, rather than the traditional six. There ARE other translations that have that number closer to four, but those four are the time she spends in the UNDERWORLD, meaning she's always spending either equal or MORE time in the Mortal Realm. Of course, Rachel doesn't want her self-insert small wife power fantasy to actually have to be separated from Hades despite this being a retelling of The Abduction of Persephone, so instead of her spending three months in the Underworld, she's now spending them in the Mortal Realm, literally doubling the MINIMUM amount of time (four months) she was originally meant to reside in the Underworld.
But oh no, apparently those three months are STILL NOT SHORT ENOUGH FOR PERSEPHONE-
Of course, Rachel "Retcon" Smythe had to have her cake and eat it too. I always worried something like this was a possibility, but I never thought she would actually prove me right - not only is Persephone only separated from Hades for three months out of the year, but actually he can visit her any time he wants to, so really, they're not separating at all.
I think Rachel needs to look up "reunion" in the dictionary, because if you can visit each other any time, then that means the 'reunions' are no longer special occasions. This completely removes any semblance of depth or meaning from all of the storytelling leading up to this, all of it with the expectation that this was a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone, because that's what Rachel said it was going to be. At this point it's safe to say that Rachel has zero business attempting to "retell" mythological stories, because she doesn't even seem to grasp the concept of why they were written the way they were to begin with. Either that, or she really just doesn't care, and the only reason for making LO a Greek myth comic at all was to propel her career.
This also brings me back to those promotional ads, the other one that posed the question, "Will sacrifice be enough to bring these two back together?"
This is stating the obvious, but I need to make it perfectly clear - Hades and Persephone have never sacrificed a single thing. The only thing they could POSSIBLY quantify as a "sacrifice" is "not being tied at the hip for a few hours", because even Persephone going on the equivalent of a work trip next door is apparently enough to make Hades sad as we saw in the 3 month time skip panels. Why is Hades so sad and lonely if he can visit her any time? Why is he acting like he hasn't seen her in years when he's actually on his way to reunite with her? Why is Hecate calling to ask him if he's "okay" as if he JUST got separated from her, but actually he's about to literally go to the Mortal Realm to reunite with her?
Hades hasn't 'sacrificed' a damn thing, neither has Persephone. They've both always gotten exactly what they wanted, even at the cost of breaking the story's own established rules. Their 'sacrifice' is equivalent to what billionaires think are 'sacrifices' when they can't buy another yacht or go on that third overseas vacation for the month.
And even outside of this episode, when have these two ever sacrificed anything?
I've tried so hard to think of what sacrifices have been made by the characters within LO, and I genuinely can only think of one - and that was when Artemis chose to go to the Mortal Realm with Persephone instead of staying with her family in Olympus. That was a genuine, selfless sacrifice, made by a character who has been shelved in favor of focusing on the self-centered pink and blue airheads.
Being forced to be apart for a couple days to do the equivalent of a day job and whining about it the whole time is not a 'sacrifice'. Neither of these characters have ever sacrificed anything, they just feel like sacrifices because they have the integrity and empathy of soggy cardboard.
sigh Anyways, we're back in the present and Hades and Persephone immediately decide they're gonna have sex because ofc, and then we get this gem of a panel-
MMMMMM
FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY JOKE
For some reason it's just a common thing for people to just be in Hades' home, and they can't seem to get any privacy as a result of this, but I digress. Turns out they still need to have that coronation for Persephone.
There is... so much wrong in these three panels.
First, to state the immediate issues - why the fuck are they mentioning Apollo at Persephone's coronation? Like first of all, no shit Apollo isn't gonna be there, but also, if this is supposed to be an event for and about Persephone becoming Queen of the Underworld, then why in the WORLD is Apollo even being mentioned? This is supposed to be a "feminist retelling" where the victims are empowered and heal from their trauma, but LO once again can't try to show any sort of positive growth for the victims without bringing up the assaulters and giving them screen time. It just goes to show that Rachel's idea of "healing" is purely rooted in the revenge, and not the growth. It's a very high schooler approach to this subject, hellbent on showcasing how all the meanies from the past are losers now and life just sucked for them forever, but inadvertently proving its own point that the victims haven't and can't move on because the narrative is spending so much time on caring what's going on with the abusers. It's the "I don't care! Look at how little I care! I'll prove it to you by putting in the effort of showing you how little I care!" approach, it doesn't really feel like moving on.
It's not about how Persephone and his other victims could have grown and healed, no, Rachel always needs to highlight just how much worse the bullies and haters and abusers are doing to make the victims seem like they've healed by comparison. Don't get me wrong, I can understand wanting to showcase the downfall of a character like Apollo, but this just... isn't the right context for that? Because it's once again taking attention away from the victim to focus on the abuser. It's once again spending screentime on the voices of the oppressors rather than the oppressed.
And speaking of, what the fuck is this punishment even? I knew Rachel wasn't gonna be able to resolve this plotline properly, she never had the capability to, but ... community service? Are you fucking for real? What is this even a punishment for even? Was this EXCLUSIVELY the SA, or does this ALSO include his attempts to overthrow Zeus by poisoning him, nearly killing Daphne, Eris, Eros and Psyche, trapping Eros and Psyche in an enchanted basement, and framing his father's 'death' on his half-sister? Because if so, how in the world is anyone content with community service? He hasn't even been turned into a mortal, HE'S STILL A GOD, so what's to stop him from going "WE'LL MEET AGAIN, SPIDERMAN" and trying something else? How is this a reasonable resolution in ANY context?
This is why I talked at length about what an issue it was to hide what Apollo really admitted to. Because now we really don't know what exactly he confessed to, and thus we can never really see the point of views of the victims outside of just Persephone - and we still don't even get Persephone's, because she just walks away from him and then he gets eaten by Ouranos and next we see of him is him doing community service! Once again, any emotional development that could be given to Persephone and the other victims is stripped away to make room for the point of views of the oppressive men. In this, the two-time-Eisner-winning "feminist comic" that is LO.
And that brings us to the "where are they now" segment. Yes, as we all feared, there's a "where are they now" segment, and it's as rushed and underwhelming as we ought to have expected it to be.
There is just... so much to unpack here, and yes, all of it is delivered in the dumbest way possible that only raises more questions than answers.
So Rhea and Metis are just back and we're not gonna talk about the implications of them being alive again?
Dionysus is a 3 month year old in the body of a teenager / young adult, and his mom is just alive now because Hades conveniently got his hands on more ambrosia and brought her back to life offscreen? But somehow Triptomelus and Hedone are still child-sized relative to their ages?
How did they 'heal Zeus'? And why is he so content with losing his power as King and Apollo being sentenced to community service after making an attempt on his life? How does he feel about the letter that Hera gave him? Did he even read it?
Where the fuck is Hebe in all of this? Is she okay? Do people still think it was her who put Zeus in a coma? Or did Apollo confess to that, too?
You're telling me Hera and Echo are just in a relationship now despite the fact that Hera is literally racist towards nymphs and there is ZERO reason for them to have a relationship in the comic beyond the fans making gratuitous headcanons out of it? How is Rachel, a bisexual woman, so bad at writing actual lesbian relationships and giving them the same amount of attention as the heterocis ones without shoving them into the background as props for insincere queer rep? And what about Hera herself? How did she overcome her role as the Goddess of Marriage to finally divorce Zeus?
"Ares is still a dog!" Haha! Ares is still a Persephone simp! Happy end!
Why is Eros just standing there smiling at the camera struggling to be seen past Hedone who's just floating right in front of him? You're telling me there wasn't a better place to put her out of that entire panel?
"Hades and Thanatos have been making more time for each other. Sometimes they even have a conversation." I'm sorry, is this supposed to be funny? The man abused Thanatos for years, treated him as just a lowly employee when he was literally his adopted son, and now you're trying to play it off as a joke that they're "making more time for each other"? What the fuck is this?
TGOEM disbanded? Why? What about the women who were genuinely a part of it?
Also, Artemis and Selene are just good friends now because reasons? Because they're both affiliated with the moon, I guess? Why is Selene even in this comic-
"They are still looking for Kassandra". Who? And why? This feels like such a last minute addition to acknowledge a character that the comic spent WEEKS foreshadowing only to have her finally appear as a pointless McGuffin, but it's so last minute that it does nothing. I'm assuming it's Eros and Psyche looking for her, but like... why can't they find her? They're gods, tracking down one mortal shouldn't be that difficult LOL ???
And also, where the fuck is Leto?? You're telling me she was an accessory - maybe manipulating Apollo, maybe not - but we don't see what happened to her? Is she just back to being a social outcast then? jesus christ this comic isn't finished-
Kassandra is where the "where are they now" sequence ends, and we're treated to one final horribly written dialogue scene between Hades and Persephone, where they tell each other how much they love each other in a desperate attempt to convince the audience that this is, in fact, a romance.
There's this thing in romances called chemistry, and if you're good at writing it, you shouldn't have to write dialogue like this. You should be able to see how much the characters love each other through their actions, through their small behaviors around each other. It's not always about what they say out loud, it's about what they don't have to say, because when two people really share that close of a bond based on love and trust and chemistry, words often aren't necessary.
Hades and Persephone do not have that chemistry. It has been apparent for years now, but this final exchange really is the nail in the coffin. There are no microexpressions or subtle emotions, no subtlety in their word choice, and nothing unique setting their voices apart. It's all just "wow thank you for being such a wonderful amazing partner, you are amazing and I love you" word salad that has to do all the heavy lifting for the completely non-existent chemistry that's been at its absolute worst throughout this entire season.
And worst of all, despite this story trying so hard to be focused around Persephone, around her story, her trauma and her healing, her voice... it's still all just about Hades. In the end, she's thanking Hades, and forcing him to say "you're welcome". All of it is trying so hard to convince us that Hades has been a positive addition to her life, that she 'owes' so much to him, but we've obviously seen plenty throughout the comic that begs to differ. And even if he were a better person than he is, it still doesn't change the fact that once again, the men are being held up above the women, with the women being grateful to the men who choose them. LO can try its hardest to convince people that it's feminist, but it is, at best, reinforcing the very same structures of the patriarchal system that it claims to despise and rebel against.
We do get one line from Hades acknowledging Persephone's part in the relationship-
-and it falls so fucking flat because it's still about him and what she does for him, and because nothing about their relationship was built on any sort of organic chemistry. There was a lot more chemistry back in S1, but it was still predicated on Hades lusting after a vulnerable 19 year old girl.
Yep, and that's it. That's the end.
Except it isn't because Rachel wanted to try and be smart by including an 'epilogue' that's really just stretching the episode out pointlessly for another few panels. And of course, we had to get another time skip, just a final dose of salt in the wound, this time to years ahead when we inevitably had to reconnect with Persephone and Hades in the future after Melinoe was born.
To recap, Melinoe doesn't remember... because Hades had Morpheus erase her memories.
This plotline has really started to give me the ick because it actually feels very familiar. Bear with me here, because I'm gonna go on a bit of a tangent about my own original work, but it's because I wrote a plotline exactly like this years ago.
There's this... turning point, in Time Gate: Reaper, when the main character Uzuki is kidnapped by a Reaper (see: undead) who wants to experiment on her in the hopes that he can somehow gain her abilities to bond her soul with others (which later allows her to literally possess people after she becomes a Reaper herself). Mitsuhiro, the male deuteragonist who kickstarts the plot by telling Uzuki she's got a limited amount of time left to live (which he knows thanks to his magical death timers that mark themselves on his skin), feels an immense amount of guilt after finding out she was kidnapped by the Reapers (at this point she's been gone for three months), as they were originally after him; he worries that she was made a target simply due to him associating himself with her, and vows to rescue her.
With the help of some other spunky teenagers and anime trope characters, Mitsuhiro does eventually rescue Uzuki - but for the three months she had been gone, she had been tortured, abused, and experimented on, causing her mind to split and for her to lose any sense of awareness of who Mitsuhiro or her other friends were. She was no longer herself after the hell she had been through.
Mitsuhiro's solution to this is to have Springlock - another Reaper with motivations that are not yet clear to the cast - erase her memory. This is not a light decision that comes without consequences - for the remaining duration of the story, Uzuki is plagued by night terrors and panic attacks, unable to really remember what happened to her aside from whatever brief flashbacks her brain recalls in its haze of memory loss. She is traumatized, both physically and mentally. She has lost three months of her life and memories, and doesn't know how to explain why she's covered in scars that are still healing, why she's missing organs, why she's now blind in one eye, and why the sound of scraping metal and ticking clocks gives her panic attacks. Mitsuhiro has convinced her friends that she's suffering from memory loss due to trauma, but only he knows the truth that he forcefully took her memories away from her, without her consent. This was not the right choice to make. It was not noble of him, it was not a grand gesture of love, he made a decision on her behalf without her consent that has now resulted in her becoming a nervous wreck. Sure, she still would have had PTSD if she remembered what happened, but at least she would know why and could then seek adequate help. Without those memories, she has nowhere to begin to heal. And so we see the consequences of this throughout [AFTERBIRTH] and even the upcoming Thread of Fate. It is a long-term problem that is not going to be solved overnight, especially not with Mitsuhiro withholding information from her.
Reading about Melinoe having dreams about her experiences trapped in Tartarus with Kronos ... it felt familiar enough that I had to talk about why the insinuations of this are so fucked up. I know there are people who are gonna handwave it away as "she's just a kid", "these are gods so what does it matter", etc. but ... it just feels like such an oversight to have Hades effectively erase her memory of her trauma and then hint at them still being present in her mind through her dreams. She did not ask for that. And the fact that she's now dreaming about it all does not bode well. But we're supposed to think Hades made the correct choice, regardless.
But none of this is effectively expanded on or explained, because we get one final scene of Melinoe and Demeter visiting Persephone, who has just given birth to... Makaria?
So it turns out Persephone and Hades are just able to have biological children now. Don't know why, but of course they both look exactly like Hades.
What I was really confused by though is the fact that it's Makaria and not Brimos. Do you remember Brimos? The child that was foreshadowed in Hades' original fantasy dream sequence about his future children about Persephone?
Either Rachel completely forgot about him, or she saw all the criticism over the fact that Brimos isn't a confirmed child of Hades and Persephone (rather, an epithet that can apply to basically any Underworld god including Persephone and Hades) and that her "research" was dependent on a book she read when she was 13 and decided to axe that. But she went to the effort of establishing that all the dreams Hades had were , in fact, canon visions of the future, so good job Rachel, you created yet another plothole on top of the hundreds of others.
And that's where the series ends, on a final nuclear-family-photo of Persephone, Hades, Melinoe, and Makaria. Of course, Dionysus and Thanatos aren't present in this shot because this is Lore Olympus and only biological children count /hj
Why Rachel couldn't move the "the end" portion to THIS part, I don't know, but I'm also expecting way too much of the person who finished this 20 minutes before it was due.
So that's it. Six years and that's what we get. I didn't expect much, but I was still incredibly disappointed, as were many others who walked away from this dazed and confused. Maybe it's all the "haters" deserve at this point. But what of the fans? While many of them are celebrating this ending at best and tolerating it at worst, I can't help but think of the fans of this comic who hung on for so long in the hopes it would "pay off", just for it to go out as gloriously as a wet fart.
As for me, I have such mixed feelings about Lore Olympus ending, but none of them pertain to the comic itself. Most of what I'll miss from this comic isn't the comic itself, but the people who have made reading it every week so fun, the artists and writers who have enriched the content with their own interpretations of what could have been, and the experiences of being part of such an amazing community made up of people who are as long-term-obsessed about this piece of media as I am.
I get people who ask me a lot if it's "worth it" to be so engrossed in the LO slander, who assume that I'm going to "regret" ever being a part of it all... but from where I'm standing right now, I couldn't ask for a better view.
Even if I didn't love every minute of it, everything I have here I owe to this comic. This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing, pile of shit comic.
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Neighborhood Dilf (Joel Miller x Reader)
Word count: 2.7K
Summary: joel finds out he has a nickname and he asks you what it means
Tags: pre-outbreak this is a happy fic guys!! I didn’t specify a year but let’s put it at 2000 for funsies so sarah is like 11 and joel is like 30ish. also fluff, humor, flirting, age gap, goofy plot (I don’t know what this is honestly), joel being the definition of a dilf and not knowing it, crushes, overall cuteness. also suburbia
A/N: I saw a tiktok where someone said they just knew joel was the neighborhood dilf and they were so real for that I had to write it. and no I don’t care that the word was popularized online we’re using it here. I’m here to provide a cute fluffy fanfic not a historically accurate one lol. also sorry if your name is bee, I tried to come up with a name for the friend that was a nickname so if it was someone’s actual name they could just imagine their full name (I overthink)
cross-posted to ao3 • tlou masterlist • main masterlist
The loud music coming from outside woke you up from your afternoon nap. After spending a semester at college struggling to find even an hour of sleep, you were taking as many of those as possible. You were a little grouchy at first as you threw your covers off and stormed to your window, but quickly calmed down when you realized it was the annual block party your neighborhood hosted during the summer.
You’d gotten an in-person invite from Bee, another girl home from college who you’d been friends with in high school before going your separate ways. You still kept in touch since she was nice enough, which is how you found out her family was hosting this year. She’d confided in you personally that she would quote “go crazy if it was all kids and old people.”
As you looked out into their front yard, which was diagonal to yours, you saw that’s pretty much all it was. Since you were such a good friend, you decided that you’d go.
You were getting dressed (at a leisurely pace) when your phone started to ring. You picked it up from your desk after you pulled your pink sundress on and flipped it open. The caller ID read Bee’s name and you answered, ready to tell her you were on your way.
“He’s here,” she said, sounding mistified, before you could even open your mouth.
“Who?” you wondered, furrowing your brows a little to yourself as you went to the window.
“The neighborhood dilf,” Bee replied under her breath.
The nickname made you laugh. It reminded you of high school. It had started as a joke, something you had started calling the new guy who’d moved into the neighborhood with his daughter a few years back. Later you found out his name was Joel Miller, but the nickname spread like wildfire to all the other girls in the neighborhood and it just stuck.
Everyone knew about it; the girls of course, their confused parents, jealous boys who thought Joel was stealing their attention—the only person who wasn't aware of the moniker (as far as you knew) was Joel. Well, you hoped his daughter didn’t know either. Thankfully, after time, everyone forgot that you had started it. It was a bit embarrassing.
You walked away from the window to your closet and slid on your flip flops—it was summer in Texas, after all.
“You need to get over here, Y/N—what?” the last word sounded distant from the phone. “Yeah, she’s supposed to be on her way,” Bee replied, but to someone else.
“Um, hello?” you asked, waiting.
Bee was quiet for a few seconds, then whisper shouted into the phone, “you’ll never guess what just happened!”
“Let me guess, Joel just walked up and professed his love for you,” you teased, laughing at your own joke. “What, were my parents asking for me or something?” you guessed for real that time, recalling the small bit you had heard her say.
“Unfortunately no, and also no,” she sounded a little too disappointed about the first part, which made you chuckle again. “He did just ask me about you though.”
“Who?”
“The dilf.”
“Just use his name,” you told her with a roll of your eyes, heading out of your room to the stairs. “Wait.” You stopped for a second. “Joel asked about me?”
“Yeah. I changed my mind, you’re not invited.” If it wasn’t for her obvious sarcasm you might’ve thought she was serious. “He heard me say your name and asked if you’d be here soon. I—hey!” she yelled, causing you to pull the phone from your ear for a second. You continued your descent down the stairs as she yelled something about ‘kids’ and ‘stay out of there’. “I gotta go,” she said suddenly, then hung up.
You just shook your head with a small, amused smile and left your phone on the counter. Stupid dress and no pockets.
You headed out the front door and walked across the street towards the party.
It was in full swing. Music, games, food table—it looked like something out of a magazine. The Grants had a huge front yard—it was one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood—and it seemed like everyone was there. There were kids running around, adults all mingling—some sitting at the fold out tables, others walking around, others chasing their kids—there was also a group of dads surrounding the grill. You glanced that way and didn’t see Joel. You wondered where he was and if you should find him, but Bee found you first.
“The kids aren’t supposed to go inside alone and two of those little jerks went into my room,” Bee complained right away, straightening out her white blouse over her jean shorts. Her pinned back brown hair was a little messy, though. You wondered what happened, which she quickly answered. “I saw them jumping on my bed through the window.”
“Sounds like fun,” you commented sarcastically. Bee looped her arm through yours.
“My dad set up ring toss and it’s all little kids, I don’t wanna be the only adult playing. Come on.” She dragged you along in that direction and you willingly went with.
You saw a few kids from the neighborhood playing, mostly the preteens who were too old for hopscotch but whose parents had told them they weren't old enough for the mini golf (one of the boys had overshared that little comment).
“Y/N!” a girl's voice called. You looked that way and saw Sarah Miller walking towards you. A few days out of the week when her dad was working late, you’d go over to their house and keep an eye on her (before you left for college). It was the easiest babysitting gig you ever had; she was polite, always did her school work, and hardly caused any problems. Her dad had raised her very well.
She looked older than you remembered her being, but you had been gone for both fall and spring semesters—well, you had been home for winter break briefly, but not enough to see anyone other than your parents.
“Sarah, hi!” you greeted, accepting the hug she offered when she got close. “How are you?”
“Good!” she said with a smile. “Are you guys gonna play with us?” she asked you and Bee. “I keep beating them and it’s not fun anymore.”
You and Bee both laughed at that. “Sure, why not.”
“It feels weird playing with her after talking about how hot her dad is,” Bee whispered in your ear when Sarah went first. “You think he’ll come over here?”
“And what would you do if he did?” you challenged while hiding a chuckle, raising your brows at her.
“Um, probably nothing,” she admitted, cheeks a little pink. “He’s fun to look at though.”
You hummed. “You’re not wrong.”
The two of you played a few rounds of ring toss, although Bee got very bored quickly. “Can we go get some drinks?” she asked after not that long of playing.
“Sure,” you decided. You waved bye to Sarah and the others as the two of you walked off towards the cooler.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some of the other girls in the neighborhood that hadn’t been in attendance before. For a couple that you knew, it didn’t seem like their scene.
“What are they doing here?” you asked Bee.
“I may or may not have also told them the neighborhood dilf was here. They, uh, wanted to… see him,” she answered, avoiding eye contact.
You raised your brows in slight disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“I wanted more people our age here,” Bee defended. “I wasn’t sure if you were even gonna show.”
You scoffed out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you told her.
You reached the cooler and knelt down. You handed Bee a water, but she didn’t accept it. You looked up at her.
“Keep an eye out for the dilf, I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll be right back,” Bee told you, taking off before you could say anything. You guessed the bathroom given her speed walking inside.
You laughed a little to yourself as you stood back up. You kept the water for yourself. You looked out amongst the crowd, realizing you were now on your own while everyone was in groups. You saw a couple people you were friends with and thought of maybe going up and joining them, but someone else spotted you first.
Joel Miller, the aforementioned neighborhood dilf, was walking towards you. Bee would be jealous, especially if she knew you and Joel were actually friends.
You had thought about telling Bee and some of the other girls that you were friends with Joel, given how much they just loved to gossip about him (how he was still single, how he looked really good in his pajamas getting the mail, that one time he took his shirt off while mowing the lawn—that was a big day) but then you thought better of it, not wanting to be run out of town by a jealous mob.
You were already getting glances by the time Joel stopped by your side so maybe your humbleness was pointless.
“Saw you all alone, thought I’d come keep you company,” Joel broke the ice with ease.
How long had he been watching you? The thought made your cheeks feel warm.
“Wow, what a gentleman,” you teased lightly, causing Joel to chuckle.
“I try,” he joked back, shooting you a small wink.
When you had first met Joel you were nervous around him. It was much easier to talk to him now that the two of you had become friends rather than acquaintances. He was an easy guy to get along with and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company rather than just gawking at him in his yard from your window (like you used to do in high school). Your crush hadn’t disappeared though, so you joked around with him as a way to keep things casual and avoid getting in your own head.
“Sarah told me you were finally here, she was happy to see you,” Joel mentioned with a light smile.
That made you smile back. “She’s a sweet kid,” you told him. “I was happy to see her too.”
You fiddled with the water bottle in your hand as you spoke, trying to unscrew the cap. The stupid thing was stuck and after a few seconds you gave up.
Joel gave you an amused look, glancing between your face and hands. “You want help with that?”
“Yes, please,” you handed it to him. “There you go again, proving chivalry isn’t dead. Thank you.”
Joel unscrewed the cap with ease and handed it back. “Happy to be at your service.”
“So, you guys been here a while?” you asked, sparking up conversation.
“Not too long, only an hour or so. It’s been fun though,” Joel explained. “More for Sarah than for me,” he admitted, glancing around to find his daughter. He spotted her and she waved, then continued playing with her friends.
“Why’s that?” you wondered, looking up at him just as he looked down at you.
“Just… I mean, everyone is nice and all,” he started. “But I just feel like I got nothin’ to talk about with them, y’know? Except you.”
“Really?” You tried to not sound too thrown off by that, but you didn’t know he felt like that. It was interesting to say the least.
“Is that such a surprise?” he wondered, raising an eyebrow curiously.
You shrugged. “Maybe a little. I get it though, I haven’t really talked to anyone other than Bee yet.”
“I don’t know if you’re friends with them, but I saw a bunch of girls your age walking around,” Joel said as a suggestion.
“Nah, I’d rather just talk to you,” you said casually, before you could even think about what you had said. The look on Joel’s face changed a little, like he was trying to bite back a bigger smile.
“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he said after a moment. Your eyes met his and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. You had to look away to be able to breathe, almost certain you were reading into things. You really, really did not want to be disappointed.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Joel said, making you realize you hadn’t spoken yet.
“Sure, yeah.”
“You know… young person lingo, don't you?”
You laughed at the awkward wording. If it had been any of the other adults here using the word “lingo” you would’ve cringed, but there was something cute about the way Joel said it. You tried to snap that thought out of your head.
“Mostly, yeah,” you replied with a little chuckle paired with a curious tone. “What’s up?”
“Do you know what a dilf is?” he asked bluntly. That alone told you he had no idea.
You were so stunned, all you could think to say was, “why?”
“Well, those girls I mentioned… I overhead some of them calling me that,” he explained, his eyebrows furrowing a little. “It’s not bad, is it?”
Was this karma coming back to you for starting the nickname? It wouldn’t have surprised you.
“It’s not bad, no,” you assured while also avoiding the main question.
“What is it then?” Joel’s interest was piqued now and while you couldn’t blame him, you also couldn’t think of a way to make this not weird.
“It’s an acronym,” you started. Joel watched you intently, waiting for an explanation. “It means dad I’d like to…” you trailed off, hinting at him the word to fill in the blank.
Joel just looked even more confused. “To what?”
Somehow he made cluelessness incredibly attractive.
Screw it, you thought. This was already weird. Rip the bandaid off, right? “Fuck,” you finished before you could think better of it.
“Oh,” he stated. You knew it took a second for realization to hit. “Oh. So that means they, um,”
“It’s basically like saying you’re hot,” you explained, filling in when he couldn’t. You hoped he wouldn’t find it insulting or anything like that.
Joel looked a little bashful but found amusement in the situation nonetheless. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” you suggested, then sipped your water. You looked out at the people milling about rather than meeting his gaze.
“Do you think I’m one?”
You nearly choked on your water. “What?”
“Sorry,” Joel apologized quickly, trying to laugh it off. “I shouldn't've asked that.”
“It’s alright,” you assured him. You paused for a minute, contemplating what you might say to that. You got a rush of bravery. “If you’re asking if I think you’re attractive… the answer is yes.”
Joel couldn’t hold back his smile. He tried, but it was a failed effort. It was like he was trying to contain his anticipation. “What about if I wanted to ask you out? What would your answer be then?”
“Yes.”
Joel grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted.
“Dad!” Sarah’s voice caused the two of you to look away from one another. You saw her running up to you guys and hoped she hadn’t heard a word of your conversation. “Can you come play with me? Mr. Grant just set up a bean bag toss!”
“Sure, kiddo,” he told her. She grabbed his hand and started to drag him away.
You smiled a little to yourself at the interaction—he was such a good dad.
Joel slowed her down a little bit to look back at you. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sounds good,” you replied, chuckling lightly.
The Millers disappeared into the roaming people. You tried to follow them with your gaze but your attention got torn away.
“Waiting in a line for the bathroom in my own house is messed up,” Bee said, popping out seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s got you so happy?” she wondered, eyeing the smile on your face that couldn’t be erased.
“You won’t believe what just happened,” you replied. A part of you still couldn’t believe it. “I’ve got a date with the neighborhood dilf.”
joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway @avengersfan25 @aheadfullofsteverogers @strangeh0rizons @spideysimpossiblegirl @shannonmariebee
if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message! <3
#quin-ns writing#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel x reader#the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you
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What is Broken III (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)
The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers
Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity.
Point of View: Limited third person omniscient
Author's Note: Definitely a good thing I split the last chapter into two, this baby is 13.3k lol
Taglist is done via reblogs
What is Broken
Aemond was still holding her when she woke, his arms wrapped around her chest and his face pressed into her neck. Though the bed was little more than creaky slats and the blankets rough and worn, it had been months since she had been so comfortable—longer still since she’d slept so well, even if it was for only half the night.
As furious as she was with Aemond, her body still craved him. So much so that she could not gather the strength to pull away from him, much less stand from the bed. It felt so right, even if they weren’t in their own bed. Even if they hadn’t shared a bed for more than half a year. And even if they were only in thisbed because they were traveling north to reach the very place where her husband had betrayed her.
When one of Aemond’s arms fell to cradle her belly, she tensed. Was this how he slept with Alys beside him? Did he hold her this tenderly? In his dreams, was he holding his wife or his mistress?
Warily, she looked at his hands. Like his face, the features she was once so familiar with had changed. There were new callouses, new scars, and new veins and tendons that had not been visible before. He’d always had the hands of a skilled swordsman, but now he bore the hands of a battle-hardened warrior and commander.
Curious, she tilted her head as she examined one scar, which started on his palm before passing through the space between his forefinger and thumb and cutting across the back of his hand like an angry slash of a whip. She was so focused on examining the wide red line that she did not notice when her movement stirred Aemond awake.
Not until he spoke with a rough, sleep-heavy voice, his breath fanning the side of her neck. “Did you sleep well, ābrazȳrītsos?”
She did not want to admit it, for doing so felt like conceding some kind of battle. But to argue would take more strength than she was willing to give to something so small. “Yes.”
“As did I,” he pulled her tighter against him as he had once done each morning. How well she had once loved waking up in his arms. She could sense his soft smile and braced herself for what she knew was likely coming next.
But Aemond did not press a lazy kiss to her neck as he once did. He lightly trailed his hand over the swell of her belly until he reached her chest. She tensed, thinking his aim was for her breasts, but his hand stilled atop her ribs.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked as he traced the length of the protruding bones. “That you were still sick – that you were suffering like this.”
She grabbed his hand, pulling it away from the evidence of her illness. While she waited to answer, she again studied that new scar, so bright against his pale skin. It wasn’t like his other scars, which were faintly pink and smooth. This one was red as blood and rough like worn stone.
Aemond let her study the scar without protest and without pressuring her for an answer. She knew he was nervous with anticipation – she could feel how his body stiffened – but she didn’t care.
“How did you get this?”
He made a soft sound of confusion. “Ābrazȳrītsos, please – ”
“Why do you not want to tell me?
“It is not a pleasant story, I…” An exasperated sigh. “I see.”
Holding his hand steadily in front of her, he began his answer. “It is new. I got it during my battle with Daemon.”
Gods, she had hardly thought about the battle. About what had happened to him and Vhagar. Did he have any other injuries? Did Vhagar?
“Caraxes was dying,” he explained, a hint of remorse in his voice. Not for Daemon’s death, she knew, but for his dragon’s. A mount should not perish for the crimes of its rider, especially when there were so few dragons left. “He was falling toward the lake. He’d tried to bite Vhagar’s throat, but she sensed him coming from behind the clouds and struck him instead.
“Daemon knew he had lost and would likely die. But he wasn’t going to just accept it. As Caraxes fell past us, he leapt from the saddle, Dark Sister drawn and… pointed at me. My eye. My good eye.”
Even with her anger, panic seized her heart as she realized how close Aemond had come to death.
“Vhagar angled herself, so instead of going through me, the sword embedded itself into her side. She’s fine,” he assured her after she tensed with worry for the old beast she loved so well. “Even a great sword like Dark Sister is hardly more than a pinprick to Vhagar.
“Daemon lost his grip on the sword but managed to grab my leg before he fell. His weight began dragging me down,” he said, turning his palm toward her. The rein bit into my hand. The maester said it was like a burn.”
Yes, she could see it clearly now. The size and position of the red mark looked precisely as though the rein was still in his grip. Not a scar, then, but something that would possibly become one. One of many.
Aemond did not continue his tale. But she knew what came next – Daemon realizing he was doomed and telling Aemond with his last words that he’d sent a letter exposing what he’d done.
He had still told the tale, knowing that it would again remind her of that damned letter, renewing her ire. After that, she knew he deserved an answer – for this at least. Her health was bound to that of his children, after all. They had been at risk, too.
“Mother and I wanted to tell you. She was distraught.” Her breath hitched as she remembered how her mother had wept and screamed, swearing that she would not lose another daughter. “But Grandsire forbade it.”
Aemond huffed, his body trembling with rage. But he held her no tighter.
“The Small Council agreed with him—that it would distract you too much, that you would return the moment you read the message no matter the cost to the war.” In truth, she understood the logic behind the decision, but her need to have her husband there to comfort her far outweighed her rational mind. “Mother and I tried to send a raven in secret, but Grandsire had anticipated that and had the Rookery watched. The raven carrying the message was shot down.”
After that, she fell silent. There was nothing more to say than that. Only a fortnight later, Daemon and Rhaenyra seized the city and executed Otto, among many others. Daemon had half-heartedly suggested killing her, too, to “send the kinslayer a message” he couldn’t ignore. But Rhaenyra refused without explanation. Perhaps she still extended the same forgiveness to her as when the conflict first began, or she did not wish for the sin of kinslaying to weigh on her, too.
Whatever the reason, she was grateful. For herself and her children. And for all those who would have suffered and died as a result of Aemond’s rage.
The rage was building in him now. “Were he not already dead, I would kill him myself,” he hissed. “And I would not be so merciful as our sister was to kill him quickly.”
“Does it really matter now?” She sighed, dropping his scarred hand.
He flinched as it hit the bed. The wound still hurt, then. “Of course it matters! If I’d known, I – ”
She was glad she couldn’t see his face as she shut her eyes and buried her face in her pillow, pulling out of his grasp. “No more ‘if,’ Aemond! It does not matter what you would have done, because you didn’t do it. The past is past, and you cannot change it. You cannot change what you’ve done, no matter what you say now.”
Silence fell, interrupted only by muffled noises from the awakening town beyond the window.
“I know I cannot change the past,” Aemond said, his voice cracking as if he were near tears. “But I don’t know… what can I do? What can I do to show you how much I love you? How much I have always and will always love you. How much I regret what I did, and how much I wish I could take it back? I don’t know what to do, ābrazȳrītsos. Please. Tell me what to do.”
She said nothing, and Aemond wrapped his arms around her again. “Please, raqiarzītsos, tell me what you want.”
What did she want?
She wanted to pretend nothing had happened. She wanted to be able to forgive him. She wanted their lives to go back to the way they were.
She wanted to scream at him until her voice failed her, then tear him to pieces with her bare hands. She wanted him to suffer for eternity for what he did to her.
She wanted every trace of his betrayal erased entirely. She wanted to have him burn what remained of Harrenhal to ashes with his mistress inside. Better yet, she wanted him to kill the whore himself and mount her head above their children’s cradles.
No, not that. Never that. Even the thought required a prayer to the Father for forgiveness. She did not want blood on her hands or more death. She just wanted to understand everything that happened so she could decide whether she could forgive Aemond – if she wanted to.
“I just want this journey to be over,” she whispered, “so we can go home.”
Aemond’s arms went slack, but he did not let her go. “I… yes, I want that too. I want to go home – with you. Everything will be better once we’re home.”
It was a lie, she knew. But it was nice to let herself believe the lie, if only for a moment.
It was easier, she decided, not to fight.
Easier to let Aemond help her dress, his fingers skimming lightly on her skin in a cruel imitation of past worshipful caresses. To let him serve her food and to eat it all to please him and avoid his pleading for the sake of her and the babes. To let him arrange the pillows and furs in the wheelhouse until they were just so before he sat beside her, holding her in his arms so she could find comfort and rest.
So much easier to not constantly be on guard, ready to snap at his every word. To not constantly fight over every little thing. To find some measure of peace, despite the circumstances.
It was a peace as fragile as spun sugar, but it was peace nonetheless.
At the very least, she could sleep again—without waking to be sick, without fumbling in the sheets to try to find comfort, without reaching across the bed only to find it cold and empty.
After again fussing over her at supper, Aemond would help her prepare for bed. While a bath was being drawn, he would help her disrobe and remove the braids in her hair, brushing out tangles with the singular focus of a holy man studying his texts. When he led her to whatever bathing room their accommodations provided, he did not touch her more than absolutely necessary – a hand to help her stand, a gentle grasp on her elbow as she walked, and his arms around her when she stepped into the bath. Then, he left her alone.
Before, he would never have done so. He would either join her in the bath, touching and teasing her so much that the water went cold by the time they actually washed themselves, or sit beside it while he read to her.
It was odd to bathe alone, with neither husband nor servants to attend her. The quiet made the room seem infinitely larger. And lonely, even with the babes in her belly. She made a point of bathing as quickly as possible so she did not have to endure it for too long.
When she called for Aemond, she would listen to each of his footsteps before he paused at the door, knocking softly. He would not enter unless she allowed it and affirmed it twice. When he helped her out of the bath and dried her, he hesitated before moving to certain parts of her body – her chest, her face, between her legs – and his touch grew even gentler, like he was afraid she would break if he pressed too hard. She was both grateful for it and incensed that it had become necessary.
He brushed and braided her hair once more and dressed her in her nightgown before tucking her tightly into bed and crawling in beside her. He took her in his arms and pulled her close, softly singing Valyrian lullabies into her ear until she fell asleep.
On the twelfth night after leaving King’s Landing, neither acknowledged aloud that their peace would irreparably shatter the next day – when they arrived at Harrenhal at last.
Night had long since fallen when the towers of Harrenhal appeared over the tops of the trees. Aemond brought his wife closer to his chest, careful not to wake her. He knew that with their arrival, the relative harmony – the precious near-normality – of the last few days would soon end, possibly forever.
He dreaded seeing her at Harrenhal. It was too broken, too dirty, too dark for her. She would stand out like the moon against the night sky. And when she looked at those ruined black walls… he would have to see the pain on her face as she looked at each room and alcove, wondering if it was one of the places he’d been with Alys.
That would be the worst – seeing her face Alys. Each time he tried to convince her not to meet the witch, she refused, saying she wanted ‘answers.’ It wounded him deeply to hear her say that, but he understood. He had betrayed her trust. Destroyed her trust in him as thoroughly as he had all those towns and villages during the war.
Still, he would not give up trying to change her mind. He would not push her, but he would say whatever he must to protect her.
As the walls of the fortress loomed taller and taller, Aemond knew he needed to wake her soon. But he wanted to savor their last moments of peace, for it very well could be the last they would ever share.
He leaned down to kiss her temple, lightly brushing his knuckles over her cheek. She stirred slightly but did not wake. “Avy jorrāelan, ābrazȳrītsos,” he whispered. “Mīvojughilās jāla dōrī. Ao mirro rȳbilun.” I love you, ābrazȳrītsos. Never forget it. Whatever you hear.
She did not wake until the wheelhouse rumbled over the uneven stones at Harrenhal’s gates. The moment they passed through the thick black walls, she pulled away from him as if his touch would burn her. He felt sick, and forced himself to look away from her.
The fortress appeared just as Aemond remembered, yet it had changed monumentally in the mere days since he had last been within its walls. The towering palisades of melted stone had once seemed strong and imposing but now struck him as decrepit and hubristic. And its inhabitants – now standing in a line to greet the closest thing they had to a lord and master – he had once seen as a mighty and determined army, people he was proud to lead. He saw them for what they truly were now – tired, hungry, and desperate.
As he scanned the crowd, looking for a face he knew would enrage him, he recognized the wide-eyed look he once thought was reverence as something far different. It was fear. These people were afraid of him. He couldn’t allow himself to think too hard on that, not when he still had not seen those sickly green eyes.
Part of him hoped she wasn’t here so his wife could sleep well for one more night. Part of him hoped she was so he could strike her down in front of this crowd of hundreds and prove that she meant nothing to him. Though the babe she carried…
Those eyes weren’t there. Alys wasn’t there. He gave a prayer of thanks for it despite his bloodlust. His ābrazȳrītsos wanted to meet her, yes, but it shouldn’t be here. Not in front of so many people, not when she was exhausted from a long day on the road. And displaying such violence before her, when he knew how she despised it, would break her forever.
He glanced at her and fondly remembered how she had clung to his hand throughout their wedding tourney. What they had done each night after the games to help her forget the violence she’d seen.
It seemed she felt his gaze on her and turned to him. His smile faded. Her eyes, which he had always thought to be full of light and warmth, like a burning hearth, were dull and cold, like the very stones of Harrenhal.
“Is she…” She swallowed thickly. “Is she here?”
She did not face any of those gathered, as if afraid to accidentally look at the witch. He stepped toward her, subtly blocking them all from her view. “No, raqiarzītsos.” He raised a hand to cup her cheek, as he had so many times in the last few days, but now, she moved out of his reach. “She’s not.”
“Can we go inside, then? I’m tired.”
“Of course,” he said as he took her arm – grateful that she still allowed that, at the very least. “But you should eat something before you retire for the night. You have not eaten since midday.”
She blinked, though her face showed no emotion. “I am not hungry.”
Aemond sighed as he guided her to the keep’s entrance. “That may be so, but the babes need you to eat for their sake if not yours.” She gave no reply, but before he could press for an answer, they came upon Ronnel Cratter, the slight, anxious man Aemond appointed to serve as Steward of Harrenhal after Simon Strong had met his fate alongside all others of their line… almost all.
“My prince, how wonderful it is to see you returned!” The poor man was already sweating. “And to at last meet your lovely lady wife. Your husband has always spoken very highly of you, princess.”
She lifted her head to examine Ronnel, her eyes sad yet appraising. Her lips parted slightly but closed again as she inclined her head. He understood the flicker of wariness that passed over her face. She wondered whether the man in front of her knew what her husband had done—if he was complicit in it.
He needed to turn her mind to something else, quickly. “Is everything prepared for the negotiations?”
“Oh, um… yes, they are,” Ronnel stammered.
“When will Stark arrive?” Aemond asked, thankful to have not seen the Northman or any of his forces among those that came to greet them. Their absence would give him time to sort out what to do with Alys before the negotiations demanded his full attention.
Ronnel winced, his rough cheeks turning bright red. The man had never been able to conceal a lie—it was the reason Aemond chose him as steward of Harrenhal. “Lord Stark arrived three days ago, my prince.” He shrunk into himself slightly, rightly anticipating his master’s anger at his words. “He claimed it was too late to greet you and the princess and asked that I tell you he looks forward to meeting you at the negotiations tomorrow morning.”
The sheer fucking disrespect. To be in what was his keep in all but name and refuse to greet him upon arrival? Somewhere in his mind, Aemond knew why Stark had done it, to establish his dominance like the pissing dog he was. But he could only truly think about the insult of it. His very bones sang with bloodlust, negotiations and peace be damned.
But then, a gentle hand on his arm. Warm, even through his thick leathers. Her hand. Her graceful, soft, beautiful hand. She looked at him, gaze never wavering.
“I’m tired, Aemond.”
Only she could have stayed his hand. He had grown so accustomed to bloodlust in the months he’d been here that any other solution seemed folly. But to kill or even maim Cregan Stark would likely reignite war and, worse, deprive him forever of his wife’s love. If he hadn’t lost that already.
So, Aemond turned to Ronnel and fought to control his breathing. “Take us directly to our rooms.”
As they followed the steward through the dark stone halls, his wife looked at him from the corner of her eye but swiftly looked away. Her eyes roved every hall, alcove, and doorway, fear and hurt in her eyes. Did she think she could somehow see where he had been with Alys? Could she see the lingering ghosts of his betrayal?
He was certain he could—he would. That is if he were to enter any part of the keep where he had been with Alys, and he certainly had no intention of doing so. He had sent a raven to Ronnel with specific instructions to prevent it, although his ābrazȳrītsos’ request to meet Alys might require it…
“Here we are, my prince,” Ronnel said as he opened the door to a well-appointed, if somewhat small suite in the guest’s wing. “And princess!” he added hastily. “Forgive me, princess. I have become quite used to only addressing your husband…”
She ignored him entirely, walking to the center of the sitting room as she surveyed the space. The rooms were less than half the size of those Aemond had occupied before. But he could not bring his wife to those rooms or that bed. Perhaps he would have them burnt.
He watched as she crossed the room, headed directly for the bed. She brushed a hand against the blankets before recoiling as if the bed would bite her. Slowly, she turned to face him with such a look of desperation that he came to her side immediately.
“What is it, my love?” He crossed the room and took her hands in his own, holding them close to his chest. “What’s wrong?”
Tears formed in her eyes as she looked from him to the bed and back again. “Is this…” She took a shaky breath. “Was she in here? With you?”
Ronnel’s eyes went wide before he made a hasty, silent exit.
“No!” Aemond answered nearly before she finished her question. He leaned forward, pressing their brows together. “Of course not, ābrazȳrītsos. I promise, I – never, in this room. I swear it on my life.”
There was still mistrust in her eyes, but she nodded. “I don’t like it here.”
Once, he did. Once, this was his domain, his kingdom. Now, it was a barren wasteland occupied only by regret and shame. “I do not like it, either.”
She looked at his chest, but he knew she was somewhere far away. “I want to sleep.”
“I know,” he pulled away, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Though it had only been thirteen days, he was sure he could see a new fullness to her cheeks, a new softness around her waist, and a renewed light beneath her skin. He would not allow that progress to falter. “But you must eat, remember?”
She sat at the foot of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I really am not hungry, Aemond.”
“You needn’t eat much,” he countered, sitting next to her and trying not to flinch when she angled herself away from him. “Some broth? Perhaps with a little bread? You must have something.”
He watched as her hand cradled her belly, stroking softly as if to soothe the babes with her touch. Resisting the urge to put his hand over hers was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he understood full well that to do so was a privilege he did not deserve.
“Very well,” she said at last. “But just a little.”
“Of course.” Aemond held his hand out for her to take, but she hardly glanced at it. “Is there anything else I can do, ābrazȳrītsos?”
She thought for a moment. “I would like to bathe before I retire.” Aemond immediately rose and positioned himself to help her stand, as he had for days now. “Can you summon servants to help me?”
A simple request shouldn’t have wounded him so deeply, yet it did. The bond they had begun to reform was gone, perhaps forever. Being denied this – the mere pleasure of helping his wife – felt like a mortal wound.
“Yes, I will fetch them now.” His voice was wavering. He could hear it as he could feel his composure teetering ever closer to breaking. He lingered a moment longer, hoping she would say something more, that she would change her mind and let him help her, or that she would say something to suggest that she still trusted him, still cared for him.
She said nothing.
Aemond almost wished she would scream and rage and roar at him as she did that first night in King’s Landing. It was better than this, the half-life she seemed to be living. The exhaustion and indifference. Let this be because of her pregnancy, he silently begged the gods. Let us finish this, go home, and be well again. Let her be well again.
“I love you,” he whispered before exiting the room.
He did not expect her to say it back, but the silence still stung.
The servants arrived before Aemond did. It caused no small amount of unease in his wife’s chest. As the servants he sent undressed her and prepared her bath, all she could think of was where he could have gone and why he’d left her for so long. Had he gone to fetch food himself?
It didn’t help that the servants were utterly silent. It wasn’t like the light quietness that sometimes settled over her own servants at the Red Keep. This was a heavy, cloying silence. None could hold her gaze for more than a moment before looking sheepishly away.
They know, she realized. They all know what Aemond did.
Her mind started to race. They probably even helped him. Alys is likely their friend. After all, she was a servant before. When they leave here, they’ll probably run straight to the witch to tell her how pathetic she is and how Alys is far more beautiful than her. They’d –
She could stand their presence no longer. As one of them brought a dampened cloth to wash her shoulder, she flinched away, splashing water over the edge of the copper tub. “Get out!” Her voice was foreign to her as she screamed, cruel and hoarse with desperation. “All of you, leave! Now! Get out, get out, get out, get out!”
She continued shouting, covering her ears with her hands and scrunching her eyes shut. The babes protested, kicking frantically against her stomach. But she could not stop screaming.
How could she do anything other than scream? And cry? And rage? She was trapped in the very place where the worst thing to ever happen to her had occurred.
This was hell. It had to be, for being in these walls was torture. What had she done to deserve such a thing? What grave sin had she unknowingly committed? Why was this happening? Why? Why? Why? Wh –
“Ābrazȳrītsos!” Aemond’s voice was accompanied by the feeling of his large hands wrapping around her wrists, gently prying her hands away from her ears. “Ābrazȳrītsos, look at me! Please, my love, you must calm down.”
His words did no such thing; she barely even registered that he was speaking to her or touching her. This was just another torture, to be constantly with the man she both loved and loathed.
“Lykirī, ābrazȳrītsos, kostilus.” The words, now spoken in their mother tongue, finally began to slip through the whirling thoughts in her mind. “Āmāzin. Tolvȳn sȳri issa. Ao ȳghāpa iksā, jemot kīvio ñuhe tepan. Yn ao lykemās bēvilās, iā jāla riñari ōdrikōt.” Calm down, ābrazȳrītsos, please. I am back. All is well. You are safe, I promise. But you must calm yourself, or it may harm the babes.
“Kostan daor,” she pled. I cannot.
Aemond tightened his grip on her. “Ao bēvilās, kostilus!” You must, please!
She shook her head as her entire body began to tremble, and a chill numbness crept into her fingertips. “Jeme gīmīt, Aemond. Jeme līr nyke istan gīmīt.” They know, Aemond. They know what you did.
“Gīmin, ābrazȳrītsos, drējī usōven.” He leaned closer to her, his elbows now resting in the bath, water creeping up his sleeves. “Drējī usōven.” I know, ābrazȳrītsos, I am so sorry. I am so sorry.
She curled in on herself as tightly as she could. “Ao ōdrittan yne. Ao qrimpāletan yne.” You hurt me. You betrayed me.
“Gīmin. Jāle hegnīr daor jaelan. Tolikta mirroso.” He was half in the bath with her now. I know. I regret it. More than anything.
“Istan aōha riñari nevīlen,” she cradled her belly protectively, “se vasīr toile ābroma ēdan ojenille hēnkirī.” I was pregnant, with your children, and you still fucked another woman.
“Gōntan.” I did.
“Ao yne pirtra ivestretan, avy hen yne hēdrȳ ruartan.” You lied to me, hid her from me.
“Gōntan.” I did.
“Ao īlē nevīlen aōha ilībōño gōntā. You let her carry your bastard.
He flinched then. Unlike before, seeing him hurt didn’t make her feel any better. “Gōntan.” I did.
“Lo Daemon ivestretaks yne gōntē daor, nyke dobotēdāvī iemnȳ glaesilun. Ao yne ivestrilū gaomilū daor.” If Daemon hadn’t told me, I would have lived forever in ignorance. You were never going to tell me.
“Istan.” I was.
“Skorȳso?” Her voice failed her, morphing into a wordless cry, and it became painful to speak in the language of their ancestors – yet another thing she and Aemond shared. Had it been tainted by Alys, too? “Why? Have I done something to displease you? Am I not enough for you? Do you not love me the way I love you? Do you hate me?”
“No! No, my dear, I – ” He swallowed a choking sob as he stammered. “I love you. I love you more than anyone has ever loved another. You are my very soul, ābrazȳrītsos.”
There was no hint of falsehood in him. But how could that be true? How could he love her so much and hurt her so deeply? She lifted her head to face him. She had never seen him so distraught, even the night his secret had been revealed. “Then why?”
“I…” He dropped his head, his brow coming to rest on the edge of the copper bath. “I don’t know. I cannot explain it. I was foolish. And weak. But know I will do anything to show you how sorry I am. I will be your eternal servant. I will go into exile if you ask it of me.”
He pulled away from her, drawing his dagger and positioning it before his heart, the tip biting ever so slightly into his leather surcoat. “I will end my own life if that is what it takes to make you happy.”
“No!” Her reaction was immediate, a tug on some unseen string that connected them soul to soul. What would she become if that line was cut? “I don’t want that. I just – I want to sleep.”
Aemond’s dagger clattered to the stone floor. She didn’t know if it was relief or regret that painted his face. She didn’t know which she would prefer.
“Let’s get you out of the bath and dry first,” he sighed as he stood to fetch a towel. It was somewhat irritating that he did not ask if she wanted his help. But even if she had, she would have said yes. She would much rather endure his presence than the servants who looked at her as if she were a freak in a mummers show.
With the towel slung over his shoulder, Aemond extended his hand to help her stand. His touch was again hesitant and respectful. His eye turned as far away from her as he could allow it while still being able to help her.
“Where did you go?” Her question caused him to freeze with his hands on her shoulders as he softly dried the lingering water from her back. “After you summoned the servants, where did you go?”
He sighed. “I was waiting in the hall, ābrazȳrītsos. I thought you would not want me to intrude while you were…” another sigh. “I was only in the hall, I promise.”
Begrudgingly, she believed him. He had arrived quickly after she started screaming. But knowing he had not sought out Alys made her feel little better. She did not know why.
A dark seed of mistrust had been planted in her heart, strangling it with thorns of anger and spite as it grew and grew. Would that it were only a plant, she would tear it out of her chest with her own hands with no thought to the blood and thorns that would shred through her. It would still be better than this.
That terrible, unnatural silence again fell upon them as if it were a specter haunting their every thought and movement—a shadow larger and more terrible than Vhagar herself that turned each glance into a piercing shard of ice and each touch into the grating pain of fingernails digging into stone. It vanished only when Aemond slid into the bed beside her and moved to embrace her.
“No!” she hissed as she pulled away. “Not… not tonight. Not while we are here.” She felt Aemond’s hand pulling back as if the limb were her own. Felt the shifting of the bed as if it were the earth quaking and rending beneath her.
“I understand, ābrazȳrītsos. Drējī usōven.”
She could see him in her mind’s eye, lying next to her like a corpse prepared by the Silent Sisters – his legs straight and arms folded over his ribs. She could see the pain on his face, the tears likely spilling over his temples and into his hair. She could see his fingers trembling as he fought his body and soul’s command to touch her, hold her, love her.
Cruel visions sent by the ghost Aemond had created the moment he took Alys to his bed.
They followed her into her dreams.
Aemond did not sleep.
Though he lay in bed, he found no rest. From the moment his wife closed her eyes, he was haunted by demons of his own making – memories and visions of his sins.
He saw the first night he fucked Alys. Saw how weak and small he looked as he sat before the fire in his chambers, staring at the black sky outside the window. Saw the fear and doubt on his face as he thought about leading men into battle when the sun rose. Saw himself as a pathetic little boy, not a prince or the rider of the largest dragon in the world, certainly not like a man who could win a war.
He watched as his attempts at resisting Alys became quickly feeble. That night, he was desperate for anything to tether him to himself, and his Ābrazȳrītsos was so far away… he was little better than an animal. He was an animal. The way he touched her, clawed at her, bit her was no less than beastly.
Everything that made him a man – made him worthy of his wife – vanished the moment he touched her. To gain it back would not be so easy.
It would begin with the peace negotiations. Putting an end to the war that had driven this wedge between them would be the first step, not only in saving his marriage but also in healing what would soon be his realm—their realm.
He turned his head to look at his Ābrazȳrītsos. His queen- his dārītsos. It was a pleasure he had not allowed himself since lying beside her.
She was so beautiful. She would always be beautiful. Even when she was so thin, and her brow was creased with sadness, she was beautiful. How had he ever thought that he deserved such a perfect wife?
Perhaps it would be best if he agreed to what Aegon had threatened. Exiling him and Vhagar would undoubtedly put many who supported Rhaenyra at ease. Then, she would marry Aegon and become the queen she deserved to be, at least for a while. None could protest the legitimacy of their babes’ claims to the throne if she were the crowned queen.
In his exile, Aemond could travel to the ruins of Old Valyria to let whatever horrors his ancestors left behind mete out the judgment for his sins.
But Aegon would die soon, leaving her a widow. A widowed queen could never remarry. She would become little more than a decoration, the poor dowager queen forever standing in the shadows. And she would not be allowed to serve as regent for their heir – nor would their mother, despite having governed the realm for years while their father was infirm.
Who would speak on behalf of their child? The Small Council was filled with vultures seeking their own advantage. Larys Strong and his ilk slithered like snakes into every and any ear they could to try and advance their positions. Traitors who had only sworn loyalty to Aegon when it became clear Rhaenyra’s claim was doomed.
The only people he trusted to guide the children would be Grand Maester Orwyle, newly freed from the Black Cells, or Tyland Lannister. But that wasn’t enough. Who would protect her from those who would seek to take advantage of her?
No, he could not leave her. Despite her feelings toward him, he was the only one capable of keeping her safe. He had to stay, for her sake, he told himself.
Though in his heart, he knew the decision was selfish.
Aemond stared at her until the first rays of sunlight shone through the eastern window, imagining her perfect features on their children. Her dark eyes, the curls in her hair, the soft innocence of her smile. He nearly wished that he would see nothing of himself in the babes.
Then, those dark eyes opened, looking blearily at him. He swore there was a flicker of unabashed joy and love in them before they again went cold. At least the rising sun still gilded them with gold. Yes, the babes should have those eyes.
She turned away from him and tried to stand.
“Don’t wake, my love.” He said gently, a hand hovering just above her shoulder to stop her from rising. “Stay and rest, please.”
“No, Aemond.” She frowned, that sweet mouth set in a hard line. “I do not want to sleep. I wish to go with you today.”
She had been so upset by his leaving the night before. Had she not believed him when he gave his answer? Did she want to monitor him to ensure he did not betray her again? He shook his head. “I promise I am not going to see – ”
“I know you aren’t.” She sat upright, facing away from him. He wanted to embrace her, to hold her against his chest, but she hadn’t wanted that last night. He had resisted touching her since then. He could remain strong. “I wish to accompany you to the negotiations with Lord Stark.”
That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. She had never shown an interest in such things before. “Whatever for?”
She pouted in response. “If I am to be your queen, I must be prepared. Mother ruled alongside Viserys. I intend to do the same.”
Their mother had not only advised Viserys but ruled in his stead when he was too ill to sit the throne himself. It made sense that she would want to follow the path Queen Alicent had made. She knew little of what it took to rule a kingdom, but she was smart, she would learn.
“Very well.” He nodded as he stood from the bed to help her stand. His heart almost burst when her hand touched his. “I must admit that to have you beside me will fortify my resolve.”
He expected that would make her smile – hoped it would.
She dropped his hand. “And after, you will take me to see Alys.”
Damn it. Damn it all, especially that witch.
“Ābrazȳrītsos…” she scoffed and turned away from him, ignoring his outstretched arms. He followed her into the dressing room. “Raqiarzītsos, please. I beg you, do not insist on this.”
“I need answers, Aemond.” She hid her face in the mass of dresses that now hung on racks, but he could still hear the wavering determination in her voice.
He understood well what she was too polite to say plainly. She needed answers from Alys because she did not trust that Aemond told the whole truth. Even the implication stung deep in his chest. On that, he knew he could not change her mind.
“I understand,” he said carefully, remaining in his place by the door. It was the truth. “But Ābrazȳrītsos… can it not wait until you are stronger? Until the babes are born and you have recovered from the hell they’ve put you through? Then I can fly you back here on Vhagar so you don’t have to stay here and wonder…”
Only once had she acknowledged her curiosity about where in the keep Aemond had been with Alys – when they first arrived in their rooms. But he had seen it from the moment they passed through the walls. That uncertainty made her seem even frailer than she already was.
Her hand tightened on the velvet of a green dress. “I don’t want to come back.” He took a step forward, but she faced him. The tears in her eyes halted him immediately. “I don’t ever want to come back to this place again, so it must be now. Today.”
Aemond’s heart had shattered days ago, but the pure agony in his ābrazȳrītsos’s beautiful eyes then trampled the remaining shards to dust.
“Today it will be, then.” He could not banish the worry from his face, but she smiled anyway. “Tomorrow, we will go home. If Stark still has anything to say, he can follow us back to King’s Landing.”
Cregan Stark was already in the great hall when they arrived, along with what seemed like the bulk of his forces. Of course he was. After his absence at their arrival last night, Aemond was a fool to think he’d do anything else.
The Lord of Winterfell was every bit a wolf.
He certainly smiled like one as Aemond walked through the doors, standing to bow only his head. He seemed to think his prideful displays of irreverence would somehow give him an advantage in the negotiations.
But a wolf was nothing to a dragon.
“My prince,” the lord’s voice was anything but respectful. Perhaps he still held a grudge for the death of Jacaerys. Not that anyone was to blame for that but the bastard himself. “You have joined us at last.”
Aemond adopted a similar arrogant countenance. His was far more deserved. “Alas, my wife’s comfort was of greater importance to me than your patience, Lord Stark.”
Stark’s eyes slid behind Aemond to his ābrazȳrītsos, the feral glint within them softening, then sharpening in something like concern. “Princess,” he said with a deep bow—far deeper than what he gave Aemond, his Prince Regent. “I was not expecting to meet you, but I am very glad of it. I hope you are well?”
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, quiet yet confident. “The journey was long, but I fared well.”
“That is good news.” Cregan arched a thick black brow as he thoroughly examined her, his eyes landing on her belly. “I hope your condition is not giving you too much trouble.”
“She is perfectly well,” Aemond snapped before she could even open her mouth. He did not like the way the wolf looked at her like she needed protection. She was his wife, his to protect. He would not endure the suggestion that he had failed in that duty. Despite what he’d done, she had remained safe.
Her eyes found him, then turned to Stark. She nodded primly, the barest remnants of a smile on her lips. Even as he recalled her old smiles, wide, bright, and perfect, seeing her lift her lips made his heart swell with affection. Perhaps one day, he would see her truly smile once more.
“Let us begin, then.” He led her to the table, seating her at his right hand before taking his place at the head of the table. Stark regarded him with barely disguised disdain but was silent as he continued. “You have been chosen to represent those who foolishly supported my half-sister. By my brother, King Aegon’s grace, you have been granted your lives despite your treason. But our concern now is not revenge, but peace.”
He glanced at his wife, his reason for peace. He would do anything he could to ensure she and their children never again faced war—even this. “What is it you and your allies require to ensure peace?
Stark again donned that wolfish smile, though it faltered slightly when he, too, looked to Aemond’s wife. “We thank you for your… generosity, my prince. But, before we begin any negotiations, I would ask for assurance that whatever terms we agree to will be upheld.”
The nerve to ask for such a thing as the defeated traitor was astounding. Aemond had half a mind to simply kill the man. It would send a message to those who had supported Rhaenyra. Scare them away from further rebellion.
Though perhaps it was not the message he wanted to send. Not the way he wanted to begin his reign.
Not something he wanted his wife – his queen – to witness.
So, he took a deep breath and summoned a matching cocky grin. “You have the assurance of the crown and throne, Lord Stark.”
“And how am I to trust that?” Cregan said, tipping his head so far it rested against the back of his chair. “With your brother… as he is, you are the crown and throne, Prince Aemond. I expect you will have them for yourself soon rather than borrowing them from Aegon. How am I to trust you?”
Cold suspicion crept up Aemond’s spine as Stark again looked at his wife, something like an apology on his face.
It disappeared when he again looked at Aemond. “How am I to trust that you will uphold your promises to me, when you cannot even be trusted to honor your vows to your wife?
He fucking knew. Somehow, he fucking knew.
Aemond would kill him.
He would sew that wolf’s smile shut so he could not scream. He would tear out his eyes and rip out his fingernails. He would use every method of torture he had ever learned of – through his books and his own practical experience – to kill Stark slowly. He may even invent some new techniques of his own.
He would find the person who told him – likely one of the servants in the keep he’d bribed while waiting for Aemond’s arrival – and do the same to them, as he would to anyone who ever spoke a word about it in his wife’s presence. He would –
The burning rage inside him cooled in an instant, as if smothered by a northern wind. But it was not a cold wind that brushed against his hand – it was the warm, smooth skin of his wife.
While he had become blinded by his anger, she had reached across the table to entwine her fingers with his. Her grip was stiff and too tight, and he could feel her shivering, but she had done it.
She had touched him.
Of her own free will.
Even with all he had done, all the ways he had wounded her, she was still there – still with him, offering her support.
He did not delude himself into thinking it was forgiveness or even a gesture of love. There was no hint of affection in her eyes. For all he knew, she may never touch him again.
But she still stood by his side as his wife. His future queen.
And that simple gesture was enough that the corners of Stark’s mouth turned down, and his swaggering lessened. Aemond beamed at his wife, letting her see all his gratitude and love. She nodded, and he decided that was enough, at least for now.
He turned back to the wolf at the end of the table. “State your terms.”
The negotiations were still a battle, though they never again came close to physical blows. An agreement was reached, with the crown conceding more than Aemond wanted but less than Stark wanted. No one was happy—a perfect compromise.
When it was over, and Stark rose to leave, Aemond turned to Ronnel, who sat at his left, to make preparations for their departure tomorrow. He wanted everything ready so they could depart at dawn and leave this wretched place behind. But a low voice began murmuring to his right.
Cregan godsdamned Stark was whispering in his wife’s ear.
She did not smile, but her cheeks were flushed. When Stark finally closed his bastard mouth, she whispered something back. The thirst for murder slowly crept back into Aemond’s heart. But then Cregan was walking away, and his wife held his gaze.
“He was only apologizing,” she whispered cautiously. “For what he said, and how it hurt me.”
Of course, Aemond received no such apology. He didn’t want one anyway. He would much rather have Stark’s head on a spike while his body was fed to Vhagar. Fulfilling that wish could wait, if it would ever be possible. Now, she was his only true concern.
“I’m sorry as well, ābrazȳrītsos. You should not have been put in that position.” He reached for her hand, but she stood—without aid, he noted.
She tried and failed to smile. “It wasn’t me he was insulting. Can we go now?”
Ronnel laughed slightly, a paltry attempt at ridding them of the tension. “I’m afraid the horses and wheelhouse won’t be ready until tomorrow, my princess. I can – ”
“That is not what I mean.” He could see her breath quicken as she looked directly at him. “Aemond, I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but ask, couldn’t let this one last opportunity pass him by. “You don’t have to, love.”
Her mouth tightened, and her brows set. “I know, but I want to.”
There was an open door at the end of the servants’ hall, a fire flickering within.
Alys was expecting them. Had she seen it in a vision, or had the servants from the night before told her?
It didn’t matter, she knew. This would be unpleasant either way. But the thought of Alys knowing how pathetic she’d been the night before still haunted her.
When they were mere paces away from the open door, Aemond said his first words since leaving the great hall: “You do not have to do this, ābrazȳrītsos. We can still turn around.”
She didn’t reply. She had already locked eyes with her husband’s whore as she stepped into the doorway.
Alys was beautiful. Of course she was beautiful. And so different from her.
There was not a single similarity she could find other than the swell of their breasts and bellies from carrying Aemond’s children. Where her hair was pale as the moon, Alys’ was as dark as the night surrounding it. Where her eyes were a warm, deep brown, Alys’ were the cool green of fresh grass. Where she was but a little girl of 17 pretending at womanhood, Alys’ was a woman, with wisdom in her gaze and elegant, dignified lines framing her face to prove it.
Most men would have slighted her in favor of Alys. She just wished Aemond had been stronger than most men.
“My prince,” Alys curtsied as well as she could with her in her state, then turned her eyes to her. “My princess, what a joy it is to meet you at last.”
“Alys,” Aemond growled, stepping between the two women. He began whispering to his mistress so softly that his wife could not understand. It angered her.
“I said –” her voice came out louder than she intended, and the distant noise of conversation from the other servants quieted. That, she had not intended, but at least Aemond and Alys now faced her. “I said I wanted to talk to her, Aemond. Not you.”
His mouth tightened, but he nodded, retreating to stand behind her, still close enough to defend her. Alys smiled at her—not a viper’s smile, leering and poisonous. It was open and kind, as if she were a dear friend rather than the woman who’d slept with her husband and destroyed their marriage.
“Please, come in, princess. I know you must be more comfortable sitting than standing in a hallway.” Though she hated that the woman would dare to make assumptions, it was accurate. Her legs and back were already aching from the walk from the great hall.
Alys opened the door further, ushering them inside. It was a quaint room. Unusually well-appointed with a hearth and seating area, but still obviously a servant’s quarters. Perhaps it had once housed the steward until Alys had become so important to Aemond.
Aemond led her to one of the two stuffed chairs by the hearth, extending a hand to help her sit. She recoiled, eyes flitting to the bed. Had they…?
“Not here,” he whispered, his mouth curling into a frown. “I never… she was always the one to come to me.”
He called her to him like any other servant. He had not sought Alys out himself. It made little difference—he had still summoned her. But it was enough that she accepted his hand and sat, pulling away from him the moment she no longer required his aid.
Alys sat in the chair opposite her, again with that same kind expression. “You have questions for me, yes?”
She nodded, unsure of how else to answer. Alys was not at all what she expected. This was Aemond’s mistress. She had expected a cruel, vain woman who would laugh at her, mock her, and boast that she’d stolen Aemond from her. That was the image she saw when she imagined asking her questions, not this.
“That is quite understandable, dear.” Alys reached out, placing her hand on the arm of the opposite chair, their fingers nearly touching. “I will answer your questions. And I swear, by my own life and that of my child’s, that I will answer truthfully.”
Aemond scoffed quietly, his hand wrapping protectively around the back of the chair. Rage radiated from him, hotter than the fire they faced. She ignored it, and him, entirely.
She believed, once, that she could always trust Aemond. The woman across from her proved otherwise. If the world made so little sense that she could not trust her brother, her husband, her soulmate, then why couldn’t she trust a whore and a witch when she swore on the life of her bastard?
All her questions, all the loose threads she plucked from the story Aemond had woven for her, raced in her mind. Her head began to pulse under the pressure of the storm of anger, devastation, and sadness that raged within her.
But one question returned, over and over again, until it at last reached her lips.
“Did you know about me?”
“I did, my dear. Everyone in the realm and beyond knows of you. The ‘Little Princess,’ they call you.”
“You knew I was – I am – Aemond’s wife?”
Behind her, Aemond stepped forward to stand at her side, a hand extended in question and offering. Offering his support, the strengthening knowledge that he was there for her. The same thing she had given him only hours ago when the peace of the realm teetered on the edge of war.
This time, she did not take his hand.
Alys’ soft smile fell, and what looked to be genuine regret passed over her perfect face. “I did.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“After Aemond gave the order for every man, woman, and child carrying Strong blood was to be killed, my choices were to die with the family who had only ever done precious little for me,” Alys scoffed, as if the possibility was utterly ridiculous, “or to save myself by being whatever your husband wanted me to be. Can you truly fault me for wishing to save my own life?��
No, she couldn’t. If she had been in Alys’ position, she may well have done the same. Had considered it, even, when Rhaenyra and Daemon had taken King’s Landing. To save her children and mother, and to survive until Aemond could rescue them. Fortunately, her uncle had shown no interest in her. Still, she’d been willing to give up that part of her – if it meant keeping the people she loved safe.
“I understand your motivation to save your life,” she said slowly, wetting her lips with her tongue as she glanced up at Aemond, who looked at Alys like he was only barely holding himself back from strangling her. The hand he had not offered her was fisted at his side, knuckles white as bone.
Did hearing how he had been so easily manipulated humiliate him? Did it sting to know that Alys had only truly desired her freedom, not him? That she had used him as much as he had used her?
“I will assure you that I did resist. At least at first.”
In the story Aemond told, Alys was the one who pursued him. He said he spared her because of her visions, not her beauty or any lust for her. Alys was implying she only lain with him because he wanted it, that he was the one who began the affair.
Which was true? Was Alys lying, or Aemond?
Something in Alys’ keen eyes made her think the witch knew her thoughts. “Was he not satisfied with using your powers to aid him in winning the war?”
“My visions can provide guidance, but they are not infallible. And they are not always pleasant. I needed assurance that I would not be killed if the future was altered or if your husband was displeased with what I told him.”
“Surely you could have simply explained this to him,” she mumbled. Aemond was a reasonable man. He would not blame someone for something out of their control—or at least, he had been once.
Alys laughed, quiet and cackling and full of pity. “Oh, my poor dear, you have no idea what your husband became within these walls, do you?”
Aemond stepped forward, a hand on his sword. “Alys…”
She ignored him pointedly. “I know he didn’t tell you in his letters – I was there when he wrote many of them.” A small smile and a smug hum pointed at Aemond as she revealed a piece of what he’d hidden. “But I assumed since he’s now told you about me, he would have told you everything else.”
“Stop, Alys.” Aemond’s voice had grown lower and angrier than she’d ever heard—the voice of the man who had won the war nearly single-handedly, not of her beloved husband and brother. It frightened her. Even when he put a hand on her shoulder, she could not face him, fearing what she would see in that once familiar face.
There was a sickly glint in Alys’ eyes and a curling grin on her full lips. She looked only at Aemond as she spoke. “Did he tell you that he not only gave the order for the entire Strong bloodline be wiped from existence, but that he killed them all himself? Old men, women, and children all died by his sword. No matter how much they begged to be spared or how much they screamed and wept. He was wholly without mercy.” Her mouth hung open, ready to say more, but she glanced back at the princess and quieted, seeing the pain in her eyes.
No, she wanted to say as her stomach turned to burning cold lead. Aemond isn’t so cruel as that. He told her violence was only ever a necessity, not something to be enjoyed. At their wedding tourney –,
Aemond was silent. No rebuttals or denials. Not even an attempt at explanation. He slowly lowered his hand from his sword, as if ashamed to touch it.
That may have been the worst of it, for it meant what Alys was saying was the truth.
Pulling herself out of his grip, she ignored his small grunt of hurt and disbelief, blinked away tears, and fought to keep her voice steady. “Yet he spared you. Because you offered him your visions?”
“Yes, dear.”
She chafed under the seeming affection in Alys’ gaze. This was the woman who had seduced her husband, shared his bed for months, and carried his bastard. Why was she being so godsdamned kind?
“Was it true, then? Your vision about his first battle? That he would need to be fearless going into the battle.” She could feel her entire being trembling with fearful anticipation and guttural rage. “It was because of that vision that you convinced him to bed you, wasn’t it?”
Alys’ eyes flicked to Aemond for the first time since she’d sat down. He tensed behind her with a soft gasp, then a growl.
“It was,” Alys finally said.
“And all the times after?” She heard leather creaking behind her and knew Aemond had dropped his head. “Were there visions for those?”
“I wish I could say there were, if only to spare you from this pain,” Alys sighed, pity practically dripping from her, “but no. I still had visions and shared them with your husband, but none required continued intimacy.”
The stinging tears in her eyes began to fall, and Alys winced at the sight. “I am truly sorry, princess, for the hurt we have caused you. But I cannot regret what I’ve done, for I do believe it saved my life.”
Saved Aemond’s life, as well, if those visions had indeed kept him safe. She again felt that slight tug of gratitude in her chest, only for it to be swallowed by the raging deluge of anger and grief. It threatened to choke her. “And the babe?”
Alys sat back in her seat, absentmindedly stroking where that babe lay. “An unexpected, but not entirely unwanted consequence.”
“You did not drink moon tea?” It was a stupid question, she knew. The evidence that she didn’t was quite visible.
“Such things are luxuries when living in the heart of a war. Those herbs were better used for those who needed them to survive.” Alys’ gaze dropped to where Aemond’s other babes lay. “It took some time, after your wedding, for his seed to take, yes?
Aemond growled again, little better than a guard dog at this point.
Her cheeks flushed. It had taken nearly two years, so long that the maesters began to worry, and the court started whispering. She knew that their grandsire had brought it to the Small Council more than once, and was thankful she was not present – the gods only knew what solutions those men had devised.
“It takes longer for some women than others,” Alys said through a grimace. “It is no shame, merely the unknowable will of the gods.”
“It happened very quickly for you.” In the end, the bastard only proved that whatever had prevented her and Aemond from conceiving was her fault, not his. Perhaps the gods had seen the man he was to become, and those two years were their attempt to push them apart.
Alys thought for a minute, her gaze drifting to the fire between them, turning her eyes into something that did not seem quite human. She frowned, “A stroke of fortune. Good or ill, I cannot decide.”
The witch – for she was indeed a witch, those eyes proved it so – continued to stare into the flames. Aemond again set a hand on his wife’s shoulder, and she wondered whether he considered the bastard to be good fortune. He had not said anything to suggest he was glad of it, but there were memories that suggested he was.
He had learned things from Alys that he tried to use on her. How to hold her to relieve the weight of the babes, and how to cushion her belly when in the carriage. She was sure there was more, perhaps he had done them, and she just hadn’t noticed. But he had held Alys and taken care to protect her child.
It was intimate in a way that suggested they shared more than just sex.
“Does Aemond love you?” Even the crackling of the fire seemed to quiet as the words left her mouth unbidden. But this was the most important question. How deep did Aemond’s betrayal go?
Alys’ answer was just as sudden. “No. Nor I him.”
Her heart pounded to hear those words. Alys had taken so much. Half a year of their lives. Aemond’s touch. The trust between them. But she hadn’t taken Aemond’s heart. That belonged only to her.
Even if she wasn’t sure she wanted it.
She fell silent, considering all she had learned. Aemond fucked Alys, but he didn’t love her. He called her to his room, but her comfortable quarters suggested she didn’t stay with him. He spilled his seed inside her, but took no precautions against siring a bastard. He knew he was to have a child by Alys, but planned to return to his wife. He…
He kept her and the child secret. He had commanded that all those who knew of the affair remain silent, if Ser Willis’ words could be trusted.
Why would he go to such lengths to uphold the secret if he knew he was coming home rather than staying at Harrenhal?
A chill wind passed through her despite the heat of the fire, numbing her, body and soul.
“Did you know Daemon was going to tell me?”
“Ah,” Alys looked ashamed for the first time she had seen. “No. That escaped my vision. It was likely a decision he made just prior to departing for the God’s Eye after I had my initial vision of Aemond’s triumph. And oh, what changes that decision has made.”
That meant… “You believed I wouldn’t find out?”
“Until Aemond returned from the battle, yes.” A humorless laugh. “I was nearly as shocked as him.”
“Then you saw a future where you and your child remained hidden from me.” A statement, not a question, as the truth began to take shape in her mind.
“Yes.”
“Alys, stop.” Aemond had gone entirely still and silent since she asked if he loved Alys. Now, he was frantic and panicked.
She paid him no mind. The truth was in hand, and she would not let it go. “What would have happened? If Daemon hadn’t written that letter?”
“Many things, little one, be more specific.” Alys seemed amused by the turn the line of questioning had taken, almost like a parent helping their child with a logic puzzle.
“Would Aemond…” The words burned in her throat, not the hot burn of anger, but of deathly cold of impending heartbreak. “With you…” she was going to be sick. She could have asked anything else and been fine, but this? She would rather ask how well Aemond had fucked her. “Would it have continued?”
“Ābrazȳrītsos —” He was begging. The man who had slain dragons and burned entire villages was begging, but he did not beg for long.
“Your husband would have taken me back to King’s Landing and brought me into the Red Keep’s household as a wet nurse. I would have nursed your babes and mine, and Aemond would be able to know all his children.” There was no trace of pride or gloating in Alys’ voice, just the truth. The horrible, horrible truth.
Her tone turned reassuring. “Though, our physical intimacy would not have continued. "When he was finally by your side again, he’d have no use of me in that.” Alys paused, looking once at Aemond. “He does love you, princess. Very much. I’m sorry that I have made you doubt that.”
The bastard would have lived with them. Drank the same milk as her own children. Perhaps even played with them, learned with them. It might even look like them, if it took after its father.
For the first time, she was truly glad for what Daemon had done with his final breaths.
“It was just for the child,” Aemond whispered, his voice utterly broken. “I swear, I… I just wanted to know my child.”
She faced him, feeling nothing at the horror on his face as he fell to his knees beside her. “What about our children? What about me?”
“I thought…” he shook his head as if he did not believe his own words. “I thought that I – ”
“I don’t care, Aemond.” A lie. She cared so much. For him and the love they shared. For the family they were soon to have. For herself. She cared so deeply it felt like a star in her chest, burning with how much she cared.
That star blinked out.
“I don’t care,” she said once more. Then she stood and left the room.
“You lied.”
“Did I?” Alys’ veneer of benevolent politeness was gone the moment they were alone. She looked at Aemond with cold eyes, not a hint of the affection he once saw, feigned as it was. “Your little wife – ābrazȳrītsos, I believe is the term? – is such a charming little thing. I swore to her that I would tell her the truth. Why would I lie to such a sweet girl?”
This was insufferable. She was insufferable. “When you told her about the vision – your first vision. About Darry. I didn’t notice it when you told me then, but I know you better now.” Fear rose to match the anger in his veins as he stood. “That was a lie.”
Alys looked away. The bitch looked away from him to hide the twist of her lips as she looked into the fire. “You won the battle, didn’t you?”
It was a lie. A lie that had destroyed him. Destroyed his life. Destroyed his ābrazȳrītsos. And it was all a godsdamned lie.
He would never have pursued Alys himself. She pursued him, told him that he needed to be relaxed and without fear to win the battle and spare the bulk of his men. When he had not been able to calm himself, it was she who offered her aid.
He had not known what she meant by that, pushed her away when she first tried to kiss him. He’d wrapped a hand around her throat when she first reached out to touch him. He was going to choke her, kill her.
“It won’t mean anything, my prince,” she said when she snuck her hand between his legs. His body trembled at the touch—it had been so long since he had been touched this way. His ābrazȳrītsos had been too ill from the babe she carried, and he would never force her. He had to admit the pleasure cleared his mind. “I merely wish to help you.”
She only ever meant to help herself, not him or his men. And he had been the fool who fell for her act. Again and again.“How many of your ‘visions’ were lies?”
Alys didn’t even play at coyness. She outright grinned as she poked the fire. “Perhaps half. Perhaps more.”
“You vile whore,” he spat with all the venom he could summon.
“Careful what you say, Aemond,” her tone remained sickeningly sweet, her eyes fixed on the fire. “After all, you are the man who fucked this ‘vile whore.’ Over and over again, while that sweet thing,” she pointed her chin at the door, “was frightened and alone.”
Aemond’s breath left in a rush. “You knew she was sick?”
Alys scoffed. “She’s not sick, you stupid boy, just pregnant. It is more difficult for some women than for others. Although the stress of the war likely did not help.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” If he had only known… if, if, if, his entire life reduced to two letters. Damn the word.
“You would have left if you knew, leaving me to fend for myself.” She shrugged casually, but it did not belie the slight sagging of her shoulders. “Besides, I knew she would be well again.”
“A vision?
She smiled wistfully. Any other man would find it a beautiful sight. It made him want to kill her slowly. “Oh, what a lovely vision it was. You arrived home late in the night while she was brushing her hair. I’ve never seen such happiness as when she saw you in the mirror. Your presence alone restored her vitality. When I saw her again after she’d birthed your sons, she was strong and radiant. From Maiden to Mother.”
A crushing in his chest, pain and joy joined as one terrible whole. “‘Sons?’”
Alys looked at him then, no malice or disdain in her gaze. “Yes, she will deliver you two sons.”
Two babes. Two sons. Two heirs.
Their line would be secure with two trueborn princes. The people would take it as an omen that the gods had blessed them, and few would dispute their rule. There would be no need for further children unless something should happen to the boys. Aemond would never let anything happen to them.
There would be no need for his wife to remain in his bed.
It was his punishment, he supposed. He would have the throne and the family he always coveted at the cost of his wife’s love.
“Will they be healthy?” It was good, he told himself. He deserved this punishment, after all, and she deserved to be free of him, as much as a queen can be free of her king. So long as their sons – their bloodline – were strong.
“They were in my vision, but now that future is changed,” Alys looked back at the fire, poking at it as if searching for something. “I have not seen what will now be.”
“Try.” The babes had to be healthy after all they’d put their mother through. She must not suffer any more than she already had – at their hands or Aemond’s.
She could not bear the loss of a son. Neither could he.
“You know it doesn't work like that, Aemond. I swear, if I could see it, I would tell you.” Again, she scoured the wood and ash and flame. “But when I looked into the fire after you flew south, all I saw was smoke.”
“You lied then. You could be lying now.” He knew she wasn’t. He prayed she was.
“I give my word that this is the truth.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Aemond, this only means I cannot see what will happen. It doesn’t mean that they will not –”
“Do not speak to me!” He roared as he hadn’t since he was told Daemon and Rhaenyra had taken King’s Landing. It felt like fire was trying to burn its way out of his throat. “Do not speak to me ever again or show your face before me. If you do, I…”
Alys laid a hand on her belly, and he recoiled in shame. To banish her would also be to banish her child—his child.
He shouldn’t care for a bastard, he knew. It was a stain on his honor, a permanent reminder that he was not the man he hoped he would be, the man his ābrazȳrītsos deserved. But it was also his child—his blood.
His eye burned in such pain he could hardly feel his zaldrīzītsos squeezing his hand while she wept. But it was nothing to the gaping hole in his chest where he once hoped his father would lay.
The old man would not even look at him. He appeared as if his greatest concern wasn’t the damage to his son but that he longed for his bed. When Aemond’s mother begged for justice, his father looked on her as if she were mad.
“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.”
Aemond swore he would not be like his father. He knew what it was to be neglected by those he shared blood with and couldn’t stand the thought of doing it himself.
Yet he had also sworn to do anything for his ābrazȳrītsos’ happiness.
“I will send funds for the child’s care,” his voice was weak now that his inner fire had faded. “But I forbid you from naming me as the father to anyone on pain of death.”
“You would condemn your child to fatherlessness?”
The fire roared back to life, as large as the swaths of destruction he had laid across the Riverlands.
He approached Alys with his dagger in hand, unaware of when he had drawn it. “It is only because of the child that I do not slit your throat here and now. Be grateful for what I am giving you. It is well beyond what most whores receive for their bastards.”
Aemond stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He shut his eye and breathed heavily. In. Out. In. Out. Only when he had calmed – enough that he was no longer on the precipice of violence – did he look down the hall, only to find it empty. “Ābrazȳrītsos?”
There was no reply. Until –
“Aemond!” Her voice was strained, desperate, and, worst of all, followed by a long moan of pain.
He screamed her name as he ran toward her voice. Why was she in pain? Was she ill again? It had never happened before night fell, as far as he knew. Had someone hurt her? Alys? Stark? He’d kill them – slowly, painfully, without mercy. He’d –
She was slumped against the wall. Her sweet face was flushed and scrunched with pain, her mouth open as she moaned. But there was no hint of injury. She looked whole.
Then, Aemond saw it.
There was a steadily growing pool of liquid surrounding her. Not blood, thank the gods, but… Alys once said there was a release of fluid when a woman began her labors.
No. No. It was too early. The babes were not ready yet. If they were born now, they would not survive. They would be like Rhaenyra’s daughter Visenya – weak and deformed. They would have scales or horns or tails or talons, perhaps even malformed wings.
They couldn’t come now. They couldn’t. Not only for their sake, but if they had those horns or talons, they could kill their mother as they ripped their way out of her.
Aemond couldn’t let it happen. There had to be something he could do, some way he could –
She screamed.
It was the worst sound he’d ever heard. It tore at his chest like a storm ravaged a ship. He could not move, not until he saw her legs wobble as she braced herself against the wall. She was going to fall. He ran forward to catch her, screaming himself.
“Ābrazȳrītsos!”
#aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond imagine#aemond fluff#aemond one eye#aemond smut#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#hotd#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#hotd imagine#hotd x reader#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#ewan mitchell#what is broken
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Awkward Situation - Paul Lahote
Paul x reader!Fem!Swan
Warnings: none
Word count: 1,541
Requested: Twilight imagine the part in New Moon where Bella slaps Paul and her little sister is their w/her Paul imprints on the reader and jacob isn’t happy about it and stuff like that. - @cokecola4211
Authors Note: I enjoyed writing this I tried to make it different from what I’ve read before. Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took awhile to post my queue has been FULL lol
Masterlist
Twilight Masterlist
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“Bella, maybe Jake just wants to be alone- or maybe some guy time.” Y/n suggested it to her slightly older sister. Bella and Y/n were hardly even a year apart in age but that didn’t stop Y/n from occasionally getting treated like a baby compared to Bella.
Y/n knew Jake and Bella had been spending a lot of time together recently and it seemed to be good for her sister after the Cullens left. But Jake had become sick or at least that's what he and Billy had been telling Bella. Y/n wanted to just leave it, he’d come back on his own either way. But her sister, no Bella , needed answers now and she wasn't going to wait to get them on Jacobs time.
Bella shook her head with a tight expression on her face. “No, Y/n. Something's up. Somethings wrong I can feel it.”
“Bella, we’ve both known Jake practically our whole lives maybe he’s just-” Y/n shook her head lifting her hand in q wave motion before dropping it down to her lap. “I don’t know, going through puberty?”
“His dad keeps saying he has mono but it’s been almost 2 weeks and he won’t even answer texts. Let alone calls.” Bella explained further as she pulled into the Black’s driveway.
“Maybe he’s still sick.” Y/n tried one last time as Bella put the car in park.
“Well, we're going to find out.” Bella stated before she got out of the car.
Y/n unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car to chase her sister muttering to herself. “This isn’t gonna go well.”
Bella knocked on the door and shortly after Billy opened the door. Bella had told the man in the wheelchair that she needed to see Jake, but all she got was that he wasn’t there. Next thing Y/n knew her sister had welcomed herself into the home practically going right over Billy.
“Bella.” Billy called after her but it was too late and Bella wasn’t listening anyways.
“I’m sorry, Billy.” Y/n said apologizing for her sister's actions.
Billy let out a sigh and sent a tired smile to the younger Swan. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n.”
It wasn’t even a few minutes later that Bella stormed out of the house and Y/n followed yelling after her. “Bella!”
“Hey!” Bella shouted and shoved one of the shirtless males Y/n somewhat recognized. “What did you do to him?!”
That's all Y/n could really hear from so far back. So she shouted out to her sister again, hoping to defuse the situation if she couldn’t just get her to leave. “Bella!”
“Y/n wha-” Jake spoke out suddenly standing beside the Y/h/c-ed girl.
“She dragged me here with her.” That's all Y/n had to say for Jake to understand what was happening. Charlie got Y/n in the devoirce so Y/n and Jake grew up together their whole lives as siblings in Forks. They could understand what the other was saying with just a look.
Jake nodded before looking back at the scene and then pointed “And that?”
“She slapped that Paul guy.” Y/n told him and that changed his demeanor.
“Crap. Y/n, stay back.” Jake said as he noticed Paul shaking.
Y/n wondered why but then she made eye contact with the Paul guy her sister was taking her anger out on. It was as if time showed for a minute. All the members of the pack put it together, and that's when Jacob flipped and inevitably so did Paul.
Seeing them turn into giant wolves Y/n ran to her sister. “Bella, you okay?” Her attention was drawn back to the wolves fighting not far from everyone. “Woah. Now that's cool.”
“Really, Y/n?” Bella asked, turning her head to face her sister in disbelief at how her sister wasn’t scared.
“What?” Y/n shrugged. In her opinion that was cool. Way cooler than Vampire super speed, the eyes, and sparkling under the sunlight someone dumped a 1,000 pounds of glitter on you. The Paul guy and Jake turned into Wolves! And not just wolves, Giant wolves. That's impressive.
“What just happened?” Bella asked Sam Uley she believed his name was. All the while Y/n was confused as to the looks she was getting from the others, a few she had grown up with just like Jake.
“Paul imprinted.” Sam stated looking at Bella. Then Jacob came out of the woods still looking pissed off.
“On Y/n.” Jake grumbled, clearly pissed off at the new found fact.
“Take her back to Emily’s. Bella too.” Sam told Jacob which resulted in a very loud scoff from the younger male. “That's an order Jacob. Embry go with them.”
“Hey, Em.” Y/n nodded to Embry. They have been friends for years. It brought comfort to Y/n, knowing someone else. Someone that wasn’t pissed that would be in the car with her, her sister, and Jake.
“Hey, Y/n/n.” Embry smiled. He had missed seeing her around since he phased.
“Why is Jake so pissed?” Y/n asked Embry hoping he could fill her in on what's going on exactly.
Embry sighed before explaining. “Him and Paul don’t get along, and he’s protective of you. As he should be, you're like brother and sister.”
“Why would he be protective over me when it comes to Paul? I’ve never met Paul before.” Y/n squinted with a furrowed expression as she questioned Embry confused.
“Paul should be the one to explain it to you. It’s not my place, or anyone else's in the pack.” Embry felt bad for Y/n. She had no idea what was going on and it very much involved her. But like he said it wasn’t his place to explain any of this to her.
Y/n nodded in understanding, kind of. But maybe he could explain something else to her. “Can you explain the pack part to me then?”
Embry nodded with a smile stretching across his lips. “Yes, I can do that.”
It wasn’t a long drive but long enough for Embry to explain about the pack to Y/n.
“Who’s place is this again?” Y/n heard Bella ask and she listened for Jake’s answer.
“Emily and Sam’s.” Jake answered as he got out of the truck.
Jake and Embry helped Y/n off of the truck bed. With a quiet thank you from Y/n they all headed inside. The only ones that weren’t there was Sam and Paul. But it didn’t take long for them to join in on the group.
“Can I talk to you? Outside. Alone.” Paul asked nervously looking softly at Y/n, to let her know she could reject his request if she wanted to. Y/n nodded ‘yes’ getting up to follow him.
“Over my dead body.” Jake growled, glaring with his eyes set on burning holes into Paul.
“Jake.” Sam said his name firmly. Making Jake stand down. For now.
“Come on.” Paul nodded his head towards outside Y/n nodded as well and followed him outside the small nice home.
They walked into the woods for awhile, Y/n assumed long enough to be far away enough so the rest of the pack couldn’t hear their conversation. “So, I assume that they explained the whole pack thing to you?”
“Embry did, yeah. But not the imprint part?” Y/n spoke with a unsure tone, hoping she got the word right. Paul nodded with a twitch of his lips. “Not the imprint part. What is that by the way?”
“Guess I should explain that part then.” Paul smiled, hearing her just say the word of what she is to him. That made him feel warm on the inside, which was a new feeling for him. He did like it though.
“Embry said it was only your place to tell me what it is.” Y/n looked to the still shirtless male with curiosity. What did it mean? What did it have to do with her? And why did Paul have to be the one to explain it?
“I have a spot I’d like to take you, and I’ll explain on the way.” Paul suggested there was a place he wanted to show her that only he knew about. Great view that he never that he never showed anyone.
“Ok” Y/n knew she was being way trusting with this stranger. But he felt trustworthy. She didn’t know why but he does.
Paul stopped them for a second in their tracks. He really needed to know something and it was bothering him that he didn’t. “I do have a question before we get too far that I should know that I do not.”
Y/n let out an amused breath before asking. “And what's that?”
“Your name.” Paul smirked
Y/n nodded with a smile. “Y/n. Y/n Swan.”
“Well, Y/n Swan. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Paul’s smirk fell into a smile. He always teased the others who already had their imprints about how whipped they were, but now he was starting to understand.
Taglist:
@gruffle1 @padawancat97
#x reader#y/n#imagine#imagines#twilight#twilight wolves#twilight imagines#twilight imagine#paul lahote#paul lahote imagines#paul lahote x reader#bella swan#paul lahote x swan!reader#paul lahote x swan reader#swan reader#jacob black#embry call#sam uley#jared#emily#billy black
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a storm of swords dash simulator
🍋ladyjonquil Follow
i don't want to reveal too much but i had a really great day today hawking and riding and received some really exciting news (and maybe a potential marriage offer!) wow wow wow!!! haven't felt like this in so long 🥰
🤡florianthefool Follow
i'm so happy for you my jonquil
🐦littlefinger Follow
thanks for sharing my lady
🏹kissedbyfire Follow
PISSED OFF AT MY BF RN 🤬🤬🤬 NEVER TRUST A SOUTHERNER AND ESPECIALLY NEVER TRUST A CROW!!!!!!!
👸🏼daenerys-targaryen-tracker Follow
🐎raeqqo Follow
by the law of the dothraki she must return to vaes dothrak to take her place alongside the crones of the dosh khaleen. it is known.
🐉3heads Follow
shut up and go sack a defenseless city or something
🍁weirwoodzz Follow
hey do you guys remember when theon greyjoy took winterfell last year and killed the stark boys? has anyone heard anything else about that? feel like it kind of just disappeared from the news cycle, what happened to greyjoy?
🪓cerwynnation Follow
lord bolton's bastard killed him
🍁weirwoodzz Follow
oh really? wow. kind of extreme but deserved i guess
💗ramsays-sharpest-blade Follow
Ramsay isn't a bastard, King Joffrey legitimized him two months ago and Lord Roose is going to make him castellan of the Dreadfort soon. He loves his son and trusts his abilities. Plus, Ramsay is being awarded for his efforts in saving Winterfell and putting a stop to the ironborn raids in the North by being betrothed to Arya Stark—would a bastard be granted that honor? I don't think so.
Also, Theon isn't dead, Ramsay is (rightfully) flaying him for his crimes in the dungeons beneath the Dreadfort. Gods, I'd love to see Ramsay thrust the knife under his skin!!!!! 😜
#ramsay bolton #house bolton #our blades are sharp #theon greyjoy
🐐the-goat Follow
i'm boutta come into thome real money real thoon 😈 💎💎💎💎💯
🏰freygirl73 Follow
ughhhh my sister is getting married tmrw and my brothers keep going on about getting revenge on king robb while he's here for the feast... like i just wanted some food :/// iswtg that's the only good thing about my siblings weddings and now they're saying there won't even be any and i'm gonna have to go into hiding before the bedding ceremony or something. why can't my family just be NORMAL
🐟greenfork Follow
TW: Red Wedding, death, violence
A masterpost on what happened at the Twins and what it means for the Northern independence cause, the War of the Five Kings, and the realm in general.
Also a bunch of links on how you can help people affected in the Riverlands.
Keep Reading
🍵bowlobrown Follow
HELL YEAH BROTHER 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀
🔥heatofdorne Follow
i wanna ***** ********* on ellaria sand's **** and *** ****** then call in oberyn and ***** **** them both until **** *****
🤎pate7534 Follow
🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀
🌊onthesunsetsea Follow
why are there so many crabs on my dash rn
🐺direwolfing Follow
TYWIN LANNISTER IS DEAD 🦀🦀🦀🦀
💙cassssanna Follow
actually i think it's still for king joffrey
🦁lann1sporter Follow
lol i thought it was for robb stark
🥂arborgold Follow
maybe it's for the mountain?
⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow
DOLOROUS EDD LORD COMMANDER 300 AC
⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow
DOLOROUS EDD WILL LEAD US TO VICTORY AGAINST THE OTHERS
🕊️ just-a-humble-sparrow Follow
mother have mercy i was walking by the great sept of baelor (i wanted to pay my respects to our blessed king joffrey) but i was blocked by a knight of the kingsguard—i believe it was one of the kettleblacks, unfortunately i always forget which one has been elevated to the kingsguard—because the queen was keeping vigil over her son, so i prayed outside instead. yet only a few minutes passed when i swear i saw the kingslayer arrive (he seemed to be missing a hand!) and enter. then, and this is the most disturbing part, i swear to the father that i heard noises of fornication coming from inside! i know for a fact that the only other person inside was the queen mother. could the rumors be true? i feel dirty even writing this. i wonder if i should tell my septon.
❤️🔥stannis-sweep Follow
stannis has literally been telling y'all and you didn't listen 🙄
🏳️ bannerless Follow
is it just me or is lady stoneheart kinda 👀
#ran out of the separators just imagine them#a storm of swords#asoiaf#valyrianscrolls#a song of ice and fire
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ANGEL SUPPORT SERVICES—
pairing; lucifer x fem!angel!reader (?), slight adam x fem!angel!reader (?) i don't know yet. still developing ideas atp
wc; 2.9k
note; yeah i really don't know where this story will go but it's been stuck in my head for a bit. hope you enjoy!! and let me know who the pairing should be bcs i can't decide lol !!
“Hello!” Charlie peeked around the door, eyes glancing side-to-side as she took in the decor. Various whites and golds fancily accentuated the interior of the Embassy. She walked in further, noting the long pathway, surrounded by empty seating, all leading up to a desk in the distance. “Hello?” Her soft voice echoed with the sound of her footsteps. “Helloo~o…? Cre~epy…” Her face scrunched, shoulders curling in as she got closer to the lone desk.
She approached, not knowing what else to do. This being her first time at the Heaven Embassy and all. A solid gold bell was centered on the white porcelain, embellished with fanciful design and begging someone to ring it. Charlie stared at it for a moment before her hand slapped the top of it. The emitted chime was soft and held out the delightful sound.
A bright flash of light emitted from behind the desk, swirls of golden flowers and sparkling light appearing and growing bigger before revealing a figure wrapped in a mass of feathers. They shuffled a bit and spread out widely to reveal the back of the owner.
“Oh!” You turned around, eyes widening upon seeing the guest. “Welcome to the Heaven Embassy!” You smiled brightly, arms held out to gesture to the place. “I'm with Angel Support Services, you can call me Y/N, how can I help you?”
“Oh, uh Hi! I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar.” The girl returned your energy, eyes attentive. “So nice to meet you! I’m here for a meeting with, uh, Heaven.” She explained.
“Right!” Your eyes scanned her quickly, “I heard they were sending someone… new.” You giggled.
“Yes! I’m here filling in for my father, of course, I’m sure you know that but I really wanted to present my new idea about rehabbing sinners and the–”
“Rehabbing sinners?” Your eyes widened, lips curling in. Hand covered your mouth.
“I know right! Just the best solution to our problem! It may sound a little crazy but I’ve compiled an entire speech–”
“That is… A great idea.” You interrupted her, swallowing down your laughter. Oh, he is gonna eat her alive. “I’m sure they would love to hear it.” Your hands flourished in the air and a pen appeared in one while a scroll in the other. The glow on them shined as you set the paper in front of the girl. “Please sign in here.”
“Oh, Okay!” She grabbed the pen, “I'm super happy to be here! It’s so nice to meet with such friendly people from Heaven considering the ex–Oh!” As soon as she finished signing, the items disappeared and shocked her.
“Of course, of course! We get that alot.” You continued your cheery tune as a door opened on your right. “Through there please.” You gestured in the said direction.
“Just, uh walk in then, huh?” Charlie asked.
You smirked with a nod, eyes sharpening though she seemed oblivious. “Good luck!” You waved with a twiddle of your fingers, watching her leave. “You’re gonna need it~” You spoke quietly, watching the doors shut behind her. You shook your head releasing a sigh.
Within the next hour you remained at the desk within the Embassy, awaiting the poor girl’s exit. No doubt going on and on about her silly little rehabilitation idea. Though her confidence was thick and made you admire that.
Once a year this happened, and it was the same every time. Answer the ring, pop on down, sign in whomever was visiting, and leave. Typically it had been Lucifer. But it seems that he’s sent his daughter to do it to avoid talking with you. Ever since, well… Last time, he just didn't want to see you. You huffed, sad that you wouldn’t get the chance to talk out the incident. Not that you would even know what to say.
The doors opened, a flash of red was twirled out of it and you saw Charlie land on the floor. Papers scattered around her as she tried to stand. The unnerving guitar of Heaven’s representative rifted throughout the building. The girl stood and walked towards the closing doors.
“Um–Wait, didn’t you–” The last thing she saw was the devious smile of Adam before she was left in darkness. The last sliver of light snuffed out. “Awh, shit!” She slammed her fist against the heavy gold.
You rested your cheek against your hand, smirk ever prominent as you watched the whole thing play out. The girl was breathing heavily, head now leaning against the cold material. “Sooo, how’d it go?” Your voice was ever cheerful, dripping with a knowing cynicality.
Charlie groaned out in response as she began picking up the drawings she originally presented earlier.
“Yeah, that’s what most people say after meeting Adam.” You snickered. “Heaven’s finest first man, an absolute angel.” You stood straight. “Don’t take it to heart, he’s like that to everyone~” You sang out the final word as Charlie stood, her papers neatly stacked in her arms before they disappeared. She looked up at you, seeing how your expression oozed with intent.
“You knew he would react like that?” Her tone raised, questioning your actions.
“Oh honey,” Your brows dipped as a slight pout appeared on your lips. “It’s Adam. Everyone knows. He literally calls himself the original–”
“–Dickmaster,” You finished together. “Yeah, yeah.” Charlie added.
“See! Look at you catching on so quickly.” Your hands clasped together as you brought them to your chest.
Charlie groaned, taking a few steps forward. “Why wouldn’t you warn me before going in there?” She didn’t seem angry as she spoke, more shocked, more frustrated than ever. “I could have prepared better, or shifted my presentation, I just–Ugh!”
“The real question is: Why wouldn’t your father? He’s met with Adam plenty of times before.” Your words made her inhale sharply, eyes widening. “Eeouh~ Daddy issues? It's okay, we all have ‘em.” Your wings opened, flapping a few times and raising you off the floor to sit on your desk. “As much as I would love to help, Sweetie, I got more important things to deal with on the up-side, so if you don’t mind.” Your arm swung out, hand presenting the exit that was in line of sight.
Charlie huffed before walking towards the exit, hand reaching out for the handle. You smiled as she opened the door and waved at her. “Come again!”
As the resounding slam of the door echoed throughout the chamber, that was your cue to take your own leave. With a flash of light, you appeared back into the holy grounds of Heaven. The large golden gates in your view and a familiar face standing atop of the podium.
“Y/N! Welcome back! How was the day down below?”
“Hi Saint Peter!” You greeted him, walking down the golden path to the entrance. “Same as always, super boring!” You waved a hand, sticking your tongue out. “Anyways, I’m off to pick up the notes from the meeting. Have you seen Ella?”
“Oooh, yeah. Sera asked her to cover the greeting party for new souls today and asked me, to tell you, that you’ll have to retrieve the notes from today.” His face seemed like he was in pain as he explained what happened to you.
Your form all but deflated at the news. “Wonderful.” You groaned out the word, watching the golden gate open. You trudged through, smiling at the post angel and waving, “Thanks, Peter!” You tried to remain cheerful, wings outspread and lifted you into the air. He returned your wave and as you left, closed the gates.
With Ella gone, her duties now shifted to you as requested by Sera. Which meant you had to go deal with the First Dick. You rolled your eyes as you flew above buildings, weaving through the other residents of Heaven until you reached Headquarters.
The area was a combination of large buildings, all placed neatly in a secure area for higher ranking angels. They were decorated with the overdone gold accents and white porcelain walls. Seriously, how did they not come up with anything a bit more original. You landed on the ground and walked into one of the higher bestowed skyscrapers, being greeted by others as you did. It didn’t take long to navigate towards the elevator and pressing the button to bring you to the right level.
You wondered why you felt the need to complete these tasks so quickly. Perhaps to feel the relief of the day being over; the chore having been finished. Just so you can enjoy the happy days of Heaven ahead. The days of the Holy and gifted, where nothing can go wrong and everything is perfect. Not a single thing misplaced or misused. Just… Perfect.
Once you arrived, your steps chorused down the long hallway. At the very end was a giant door leading to the one you were hoping to avoid. Just before it on the left was a smaller office that you stopped in front of. You knocked twice and waited for an answer. It swung open to reveal none other than–
“Lute.” You greeted rather blandly.
“Y/N.” Her eyes were widened but she quickly bowed her head, hand raising to her chest as she did so. “To what do I owe the honor?”
You strutted into her office, eyes looking around though uninterested in anything you saw, “Ella’s out and I need the meeting notes for my report.” You quickly turned to her. “That shouldn’t be an issue, I presume?”
She straightened, “Of course not.” She walked over to her desk, picking up the pile of papers before handing them to you. You scanned them, noting the diction used and how well they were written. Obviously not Adam’s doing. You sighed though you didn’t care if he wrote them or not. “Should I notify Adam of your arrival?”
“No! No, no.” You began walking towards the door, stepping through the threshold. “That will not be necessary. In fact, don’t even mention I stopped by, mmkay? Good. Bye-bye!” You smiled though it never fully made its way to your eyes. Your pace was fast down the hallway as you reached the elevator. Luckily no one had called it and it was still on the level.
The doors opened immediately and you entered, turning around to hit the button for the lobby. You released a heavy breath and waited for the elevator to react. As the doors began to shut, the large office at the end of the hallway began to open.
A familiar figure stepped out, “Hey! Danger Tits! when’s that dorky chick with the–” he saw you in the small gap that remained open. His body froze, mouth opened as his thoughts halted. He watched as the panels came closer together, his lips moving to utter the only thing he could process. “Y/N?”
The doors shut as you gulped. You exhaled heavily, feeling your body release any tension you had from seeing him. What a nightmare that would have been to deal with. You’ve avoided him as much as possible within the last year. Though with both of your positions, it was inevitable you run into each other from time-to-time. Quick exits and excuses were second nature to you now.
This moment for instance, you made your escape from the building and ventured over to the main one; having passed by other coworkers and fellow angels along the way. One of the final people on your list to see was Sera to hand over your report and the notes.
This wasn’t your ordinary day in Heaven but it was certainly the busiest out of the year. Heaven had a meeting with Hell once a year to discuss any necessary things and then it was left in the wind until the next one. It wasn’t your favorite thing to be in charge of, but then again you were rewarded nicely for it. Not to mention, it was recently adjusted that there will be meetings held twice a year now. Something about boosting morale with those below.
Considering how close the buildings were, it was fairly easy to make your way to Sera’s office. You knocked and heard a soft “Come in.” You opened the door and saw her having a cup of tea with Emily sitting next to her. The younger Seraphim grinned widely at the sight of you.
“Oh my goodness, Y/N!” She jumped from her seat and glided over to you. “How was your day? Did you have fun visiting Hell? Did you meet anyone? Please, tell me all about it!” Her joyous attitude reminded you of the new representative put forth for Hell. Charlie.
You gently laughed as she pulled you forward. “Alright, that’s enough, Emily.” Sera called out with a calming voice, pieced with a smile and causing the girl to release her grip.
She nervously chuckled, “Sorry~”
“Welcome, Y/N.” She glanced down at the papers in your hand. “I assume that is the report from today’s meeting?”
“As requested.” You held them up and they gently floated towards Sera before laying in her hands and disappearing into thin air.
“Your work today is appreciated.” She bowed her head towards you. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble visiting them. Please join us.” She gestured to an empty chair at the table.
“Not at all.” You sat, and Emily rejoined the two of you. “In fact, it was mildly entertaining this time around.”
“Oh! How exciting!” Em interjected, eyes awaiting for more information.
“As you know, Hell put forth a new representative this year.” You took a sip of the freshly poured cup of tea in front of you as you explained. “She was going on and on about rehabilitating sinners as a solution to the population problem they’re having.”
They both nearly spat out their drinks, each with an opposite expression. “That’s a great idea!” “That’s a horrible idea.” You chuckled at their different responses, spoken at once.
“But why not!” Em spoke up, “It could bring an end to the issue we’ve been dealing with for so long! Not to mention, it could bring us closer to those down in Hell–”
“Sinner Rehabilitation has no evidence of working.” Sera was quick to say, “If it were even possible, we would know about it. We must not question divine judgment.”
“But Sera–”
“That’s enough.” Her tone was stern, ending the conversation.
You took another sip of your drink, sighing into the tense air, “I guess it’s better than the extermination.” You hummed absentmindedly.
“What?” Sera was shocked at the mention of the word, her voice coming out sharply as she stared at you with wide eyes.
You turned to her. “You know,” Your hand twirled in the air as you explained. “The proposal that Adam gave forever ago but it was denied at the high council meeting.” You casually mentioned.
“I don’t remember that.” Em’s finger found her chin as she tilted her head.
You smiled. “Waay~ before your time. It was shot down before there could even be a discussion about it.” You answered. “Anyways, I’ve gotta fly. Meeting~” You explained bluntly and rose from your seat, turning to leave. “It was nice seeing you two!”
“Y/N.” Sera called out, causing you to stop and swivel your head. “Uh,” She glanced down at Emily. “A word, before you go.” She followed you out of her office, signaling the younger to stay behind. Once the door was shut, she cleared her throat.
“About the proposal,” She spoke quietly, calm eyes masking her shakiness. “That won’t be brought up to…” She eluded without saying.
You laughed, dismissing her worries with a flap of your hand. “Don’t worry. Rehabilitating sinners? Like they would be on board with that, am I right?”
Sera tried to join in, though she cleared her throat, “And… about the other one.”
“Other one?” You questioned before realizing. “Oh~ The extermination?” You scoffed. “Yeah, no. It was relayed a long time ago when it was initially discussed. No use in bringing up the past. It was declined for a reason.” You squinted at her. “Unless there’s something I should know about…”
“No! No, of course not.” She held a hand up, closing her eyes with a soft smile. “I just wanted to make sure all things are transparent between us and them.”
You instantly shifted, grinning at her answer. “Great! See you around.” You walked off though an uneasy feeling remained within your stomach.
Quickly, you made your way over to your own office, popping through the door and shutting it. Now, you waited. It was bound to happen soon, it always did after a meeting at the Embassy occurred.
You were chosen, hand picked as they admitted. And though the honor was bestowed upon you in all its glory, the burden you felt took its toll on you. As much as you felt gifted for being picked, there was no relief to the loneliness you felt in your position.
The gold necklace you wore began to glow, humming loudly as the light grew brighter by the second. It was starting. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. A flash of white encapsulated you and you appeared into a familiar office.
A desk was placed some feet in front of you, the luxurious chair turned away from you. All you could see were the crossed legs of a sat figure, long and dainty, angled just slightly to the right. Cladded in white dress pants, he stared out the giant window that silhouette him.
“Long time, no see…” He leaned forward, blonde hair peeking past the backrest of his chair. “Y/N.”
likes and reblogs appreciated ♡ ┆ part 2
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin lucifer x reader#hazbin adam x reader#hazbin hotel insert#hazbin hotel fanfiction#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel adam x reader#angel support services
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good luck, babe! | chapter 1
regina george x reader
summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.
a/n: if you couldn’t tell from the title, this fic is inspired by “good luck, babe!” by chappell roan. if you’ve never heard it, definitely check it out. updates will most likely be weekly. i don’t know how some of y’all have the time to update every day lol. as a general warning for the whole fic, it will contain homophobia, derogatory language, substance abuse, and unhealthy relationships. other than that thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this first chapter!!
—————————————————————
Entering your third year of high school, you assumed you knew everything there was to know about North Shore.
Well, at least, how to steer clear of infamy. More specifically, Regina George and her shadows that followed her around like a pair of lost dogs. You knew the trouble and attention they brought with them, a constant trail of destruction that was almost as potent as the stench of their perfume. The secret to avoiding it was as simple as straying from the limelight. You kept to your group, stayed quiet, kept your head down. Didn’t do anything wild enough to trigger Regina’s predatory instincts. You couldn’t say you were afraid of her and her group, but honestly, harassment is the last thing you need as North Shore’s token plug. It would be plain stupid to garner more attention to yourself than necessary.
But even with all of that in mind, here you are, sitting in the principal’s office with enough anger in your chest to probably strangle the man sitting in front of you. Because you didn’t even fucking do what you’re being penalized for. But guess who told Mr. Duvall that you were taking pictures of girls changing in gym? Regina George. She could make up whatever she wanted and even the authority figures at this school would treat it like it was the holy grail. You stare at him with venom in your eyes as he explains to you that you will have to be suspended. For something you didn’t even do.
Regina was in your gym class. You had heard around that she was spreading rumors about you being a lesbian, but that’s not new information to literally anyone, so you didn’t especially care. Then people started giving you disgusted looks in the hallways, calling you some really nasty names, and even some of your close female friends started to avoid you. You didn’t know why until about 10 minutes ago. Apparently, you were the last person to know about your supposed photo collection.
When Mr. Duvall finally lets you leave, you feel the rage boil up inside of you before you can stop it. You’re going to get in so much trouble at home, and for what? Because the world’s most spoiled brat decided your reputation was the one to ruin this week? Does she even realize how her rumors can affect people? Obviously not, because she does it all the fucking time.
You’re way late to lunch, but the moment you step into that cafeteria, it’s like a wild dog being released into the ring. You skip on the lunch line and head straight towards the table where you see Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners talking with wide eyes to the blonde head of hair with her back to you. Regina. You lock on like a target, not glancing at anything else surrounding you. Your hands are bunched into fists at your sides as the anger rises up in your throat like bile. How dare she? How dare she completely make up this bullshit about you, get you suspended because of it? And why hasn’t anyone actually done something about it?
You see her turn around. Two ice blue eyes look up at you. Disgusted, maybe even a little confused as she sees you approaching her table. Because no one ever dares enter her territory. She thinks she’s above that. She doesn’t look at you more than a second, though, before your hands are ripping her off the bench by the collar of her shirt.
“What the fuck is your problem?” you practically snarl, your arms already dragging her towards the wall as you slam her against it. Your hands still grip the collar of her shirt, your anger almost palpable. You hear what you think to be Gretchen scream. The cafeteria descends into chaos around you. You don’t care. The only thing you’re concerned about is what’s in front of you right now.
Regina doesn’t even look slightly bothered. In fact, she cocks an eyebrow. Her eyes seem to glow with that malice now. Your hands grip the fabric of her shirt even tighter.
“Oh, no, did I hit a nerve?” she laughs, her eyes looking you over with a newfound disgust. Like you’re simply a piece of trash a wild animal found out it could not digest and spit back up. Like you’re beneath her. You hate the woman, but it’s almost impressive how controlled she is in moments like these.
“You’re just proving me right, you know. Just admit you’re the weird freak that everyone knows you are. I can’t stand a closet lesbo.” she sneers, pushing her face close enough to yours that you can feel her breath on your face.
Something in you snaps when she says those words. Because it’s not even true, and you’re the only person who seems to believe that. The anger’s hot in your chest. Its flames seem to carry your arms as you ball your right hand into a fist.
And you punch the Queen Bee of North Shore directly in the eye.
-
Your suspension was extended. Obviously.
You spend the next 2 weeks cleaning the house until your fingers peel and keeping up with your school work on your computer. People are talking about your fight with Regina all over Instagram and Regina’s acting like a total victim about the whole thing. People sending her their condolences and all that bullshit. As if she was dying and didn’t only get one punch to the face before someone pulled you off of her. It was your health teacher from last year; he seemed a little too eager to grab you and pull you off of Regina.
When you return to school, it seems people still believe those rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing rooms, because your peers are giving you the same sort of looks as before. They clear away from you when you walk past, but not in the worshipful kind of way they do for Regina. More like they’re disgusted to be around you.
Some people are impressed you stood up to her, though. You’re the first of your time. Janis ‘Imi’ike from your AP Lit class gives you a high five in the morning and you give her a big grin in return.
You see Regina in your gym class after lunch, and she looks as good as new. You’re a little disappointed. You kind of wanted to see her with that bright purple bruise on her eye that you’d seen all over Instagram. But there she was, looking like the perfectly crafted Barbie doll that she always seemed to be. Not even a stand of flawless blonde hair out of place. It made you mad. It’s like you did it all for nothing.
To your surprise, though, Regina ignores you. She doesn’t whisper to her minions while giving you dirty looks from across the room, doesn’t send them after you with a raise of her finger. It’s like you’re invisible to her. Honestly, you prefer it that way. You’re tired enough of this whole situation as it is. It’s a godsend she’s not making it worse today.
Coach Carr takes you all outside since it’s one of the last warm days until fall. You stick your Airpods in and walk the track, still keeping an eye on Regina. It’s not like her to not torment someone who got suspended because of one of her rumors. You don’t trust it at all, but she seems content with pretending you don’t exist. Since Karen and Gretchen aren’t in this class with her, Regina resorts to talking to the girls who aren’t quite Plastic, but are still high enough on the social pyramid for Regina to tolerate. You roll your eyes as they mindlessly follow her lead like a pack of lion cubs.
After a couple of minutes, you get bored and sneak off to the woods surrounding the track. Your coach wasn’t the most attentive person in the world, so it was pretty easy. You needed to smoke or you were going to go insane. You take an Airpod out and grab the cart out of your bra. Have to keep it non-suspicious.
You only plan on taking a few hits since it’s so concentrated and you still have another class after this. You come out here so much that you don’t even think about it. Until you hear a voice behind you.
“Are you smoking weed?”
Your neck nearly snaps when you whip your head around. Your heart sinks back down to your chest from your throat when you see Regina George standing there instead of Coach Carr.
“Jesus, what the fuck?” you immediately respond, your voice wavering a bit as you hadn’t even considered someone had seen you slip out. The weed had just started to hit and you could feel it amplify the fear in your chest, even though Regina wasn’t technically immediate danger. Although, your heart begins to race faster as you realize she will definitely try to get you in deeper shit because of this.
Regina begins to open her mouth before you immediately cut her off. “Before you go and tell everyone on this side of the country, everyone already knows. It’s not gonna do anything to ruin my reputation.” Your voice shakes similarly to your legs out of the pure shock of her finding you. You hate feeling cornered, but after your little tussle with her, you know how badly Regina must want to destroy you. Her eyes stare at you unflinchingly, unaffected by what you said. She looks smug enough to make you nervous. You don’t know if it’s because of the weed or your pounding chest, but it seems like minutes pass before Regina says anything else.
“What about Mr. Duvall? Does he know?” Fuck. You’re not getting out of this, are you? Your mouth begins to dry, the spit thick on your tongue as you think of a response. Your dad was already mad enough at you. You didn’t need this.
“No. But I can’t imagine it’ll go well for you if you tell him. I sell to half the school, including Karen. Everyone will be pissed if I get caught.” you respond, already feeling defeated, but you keep your tone searing. You’re taller than her; hopefully it makes you intimidating enough for her to have mercy. Regina doesn’t respond right away. All she does is raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk on one side of her mouth as you watch her consider her options. She’s flawlessly gorgeous in a way that’s enviable. But you kind of need her to not take away your source of income.
“Look, I smoke behind the baseball field every day after school. I’ll give you some for free if you just keep your damn mouth shut for once.” Your voice is almost pleading now. You wish she wasn’t so dead-set on ruining your life.
Time only gets slower as Regina’s smirk begins to widen. It’s a win-win situation for her, and she knows it.
“Fine. But you better not try to kiss me or anything.” she says slowly, spitting out the words like they’re poisonous.
You feel the relief pool in your stomach as soon as you hear those words. It must be obvious by the look on your face, because Regina laughs at you. She has that angry, disgusted sort of look in her eyes that you can’t quite figure out the reason for. It’s a shame because she’s so beautiful. Your body takes multiple seconds to keep up with your thoughts until a question crosses your mind.
“Did you follow me?” you ask, your voice a little too loud as you see her head turn back around.
“Obviously. I knew you weren’t sneaking off to do anything good,” she shoots back, the repugnant expression back on her face. She curls her lip at you before stalking off back to the track field, blonde hair flowing behind her.
How the hell did she even see you leave? Maybe you weren’t the only one paying attention to what the other was doing after your fight with her. But, why? Did she seriously think you were going to try and swing at her on your first day back?
You guess you’ll find out at 3:00P.M. behind the baseball field.
#mean girls#mean girls 2024#regina george#regina george x reader#regina george 2024#mean girls x reader#fem reader
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trouble's coming for you
a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 3.7k
summary: (established relationship) suggestive banter lol The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. Also known as the three times Percy is completely oblivious about you two, plus the time he learns what L-O-V-E looks like for two teen demigods. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)
a/n: PERCY POV!!! maybe the real enemy was the blue balls Luke got from a clueless 12-year-old. you’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t overthrow the gods too? scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)
(posted 2/29/24, edited!!! i think!!! four hours of sleep later and a big kiss to @hotchfiles miss lari as always for inspo mwah)
—
What’s in a name?
One of the last defining memories Percy Jackson had with his mother before arriving at Camp Half-Blood was her reminder that names have power. He’s held fast to that belief, treading carefully with his words in this unfamiliar place that he’s supposed to call home so soon after losing his own.
Being the new kid for the hundredth time in his life means that he’s accustomed to change, much less introducing himself as Percy Jackson, whatever that means at this point—but then becoming known simply as the kid who causes trouble. What then, is he supposed to do, when his first friend at camp introduces him to a girl who embodies the name trouble?
To Luke, through Percy’s actions, it seems as if he’s trying to reclaim a crown that currently belongs to the beloved head counselor of Camp Half-Blood.
—
The dining pavilion is filled with mouth-watering scents and the sound of chattering campers to the point that it’s a bit overstimulating if he thinks too hard about it. Mr. Brunn—er, Chiron told him to take it easy after the events from yesterday, but he feels a bit tough on luck after making Luke run circles around camp trying to find what he’s good at.
“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” Percy says glumly, pushing the mac and cheese around on his plate. Luke sighs, letting the boy to his right speak.
“Oizys,” Chris mumbles through full cheeks before he cocks his head at the 12-year-old, “but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”
Luke looks to Chris with a half smile before looking back at the kid and saying, “We’re gonna find the thing you’re good at. I know it.” He looks like he’s going to say something else before something, or someone catches his attention and it’s almost like the older boy is transfixed, eyes shining with mischief or something deeper that Percy’s young brain couldn’t comprehend just yet.
“And here comes trouble…” Luke says with a smirk, eyes following your figure until your feet take you to their table. The sandy-haired boy twists around, expecting to see a goddess of some sort until he sees you, violet eyes and a lilt of something sinister—giving off the energy of someone who holds power but also likes to fuck with it. You cross your arms over your chest, gaze floating over the three boys and at the tip of your chin, Luke takes his plate off the table, prompting you to hop up and slide onto the smooth surface in front of him.
“You look like someone kicked your puppy, so you must be the new kid. Peter, right?”
A snort of laughter comes from behind your slouched form, Luke partially concealed but body obviously shaking with amusement as he looks at you.
“He might just turn out to be a puppy kicker one day,” the son of Hermes jokes, “Meet Percy Jackson.”
“That’s not…”
You sigh at Luke’s idea of a joke, face incredulous as you lean over and conjure strawberries onto Percy’s plate. He’d never seen anything like that before, someone so casual about their abilities, but he didn’t have much of a reference past yesterday. This camp keeps surprising him in ways he’s never imagined possible.
“Heard D gave you a hard time earlier, sorry about him—I’d blame it on withdrawals but he’s just an asshole,” you offer with a smile and a handshake as you introduce yourself, watching the boy’s eyes widen with wonder.
“It’s not your fault…I’m used to being the new kid.”
Eyebrows furrowing at his tone, you lean in closer, voice turning serious. You’re a lot like Mr. D in the sense that it’s easy for you to poke at the kids who come through here for a reaction to make sure they’re okay mentally. When they don’t react is usually the call for help.
“Well, new kid, if anyone gives you a problem here at camp, you let me know. Even if it’s these two hooligans, or if it’s my dad.”
“You’re talking to our lovely head counselor, Percy. She calls the shots around here,” Chris chimes in jest. But only one part of your sentence sticks in his mind as he whips his head up from munching on a berry.
“He’s your dad?”
“Yeah, unfortunately,” you giggle, “and though you’re sweet and I would love to have you as a sibling, he kind of has a rule on having too many kids at once, unlike other gods.”
“A rule he’s already broken,” Luke drones, hand fidgeting with the black bandana tied around your thigh, “but who knows? If Percy ends up to be one of you, well…may the gods have mercy on us all.”
A deadpan stare is directed at the scarred boy, and you swipe at his curls like a feral cat, making him wince and laugh all the same as he bats you away.
“Tough shit, 11. Do you know how many hellions inhibit your cabin? Your dad inflicts agony on me personally every time another one of your siblings walks past the boundaries.”
The petty squabble is interrupted by the chime of the bell over your heads, but you two are still in a world of your own. It reminds Percy of the time he watched two subway rats fight over a pizza slice on the 6—he didn’t really know who to root for then either. Chris sighs and gets up, nudging Luke to follow, which he does begrudgingly as he claps his large hand on your leg. You hiss.
“Our turn!” Luke says with a hint of sarcasm.
“Our turn for what?”
“Burnt offerings,” you explain as you chomp on a strawberry, “the gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.” You notice Percy stay in his seat, which makes a smile pull at your lips, “Think you’re off the hook for today though, bud. Or you can be just like me.”
“Don’t give him any ideas, trouble. I’ll throw in a few for Hestia.” Luke chews at his lip as he leans over you to grab a few berries off of Percy’s plate to toss into the fire for you.
“You don’t pray?”
“I’m not really the religious type. I’ve got what I need,” you concede, leaning back on your palms as you watch the son of Hermes stand for a few extra seconds at the hearth. “Besides, my godrent is right over there, and Luke worries enough for me. It’s more his thing,” you say with a lazy smile. The campers filing out of the dining hall wave at you and you enthusiastically greet everyone with dancing fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that…happy to be on the job, but things work differently around here, so he doesn’t think much of your upbeat attitude.
“Eat up. Some of that strength has to go to you. Gonna need it.” You say ruffling Percy’s hair, and when Luke comes back, he tugs at the shoelaces of your boots until you kick his hands away. You both share a smile like people do a secret, even here in the open air.
“Do they like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?” Percy says curiously, eating another spoonful of the meal. His head hurts at another thing to consider in this brand-new world he’s walked into.
“They like the smell of begging,” Luke grins, and you laugh like a firework going off, making Percy’s lips pull up into a smile.
“I’m not much of a beggar though, if you ask me.”
The son of Hermes hums at you like he wants to say otherwise, and you slap his chest as you suck air through your teeth. Beneath the wood top of the table and with Percy being none the wiser, your fingers intertwine with Luke’s like it’s second nature.
“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.”
Luke takes a breath after explaining how things work for the nth time to the kid, knowing Percy’s quite persistent about making his dad notice him. He remembers being jaded too—striving to be the best for a lick of his dad’s attention and all of his efforts were done in vain. Even though the kid’s arrival at camp was a bit unexpected, Luke doesn’t mind showing him around.
Hopefully, less work on your end means that he can spend more time with you once this is over with— but by the looks of how the day is going so far, he’s not so sure. He hopes his offerings reach the gods and they grant him extra patience for his good deeds. Watching you laugh at something Percy says as you all walk out of the dining pavilion, Luke wonders if you know that every offering he burns for the goddess of the hearth and home is so that she’ll protect you.
—-
“Lights out in 10 minutes, cabin 11! Everyone ready for bed?”
The sound of your voice jolts Percy awake from his post-dinner nap and he blinks slowly until he sees you walking towards him with extra blankets and pillows in your grasp. The other campers were kind of stand-offish, and after praying to his mom he was overwhelmed with the feeling of missing her, so much so that it drained the rest of his energy.
“Long day, huh bud?”
Drowsy with sleep, for a moment, Percy forgets where he is—the unfamiliar walls of the cabin making him shift with unease as he rubs at his eyes. The blurry version of you makes his chest go warm and for a second, it’s like—
“Mom?”
He blinks again, his pale face turning red when he realizes his slip-up. Percy’s shoulders drop when he hears giggles from somewhere in the big cabin and you reach out to smooth his hair away from his face with a gentle smile.
“Don’t worry about it. Everyone who first comes to 11 gets nightmares. For some of them, they don’t leave,” you mutter. Percy notices your eyes flicker over to Luke’s bed, where he’s zipping up his hoodie and chatting with one of his half-siblings. Cabin 11 is finally quieting down for the night—children scrambling into their bunks, doing nighttime routines, and having quiet conversations. It’s all so weird, this being everyone’s normal.
“You’re not alone though. Saw you earlier, outside. I still pray to my mom sometimes. She's quite the listener,” you say with a sad twinkle in your eye. The kid sniffs as you hand him the pillows and blankets, finally meeting your gaze.
“Did your mom…” Die too? The words feel like lead in his throat, feeling heavy as he swallows it down. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the pretty counselor, much less speak the truth, because if he says it out loud, it means his mom dying must have been real. Also since you’ve seen him sit in the dark of the forest burning blue jelly beans like a freak. What he didn’t know is that you pride yourself on being one. It takes one to know one, after all.
“Yeah. Makes for one hell of an origin story, but I found my place here, and people who care. I know you will too, when you’re rea—” Your words trail off when you see Luke walk past the both of you with a cool expression before he nods towards the door, and you squeeze Percy’s shoulder before getting up.
“Night guys! It’s getting late so we’ll have to do a story next time, okay?” You walk down the aisle patting heads and tucking in smaller campers, and he hears you whack the younger Stoll brother when he teasingly says, “It’s not fair that Luke gets a bedtime story and we don’t…”
“Connor, enough. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up and called me mom, so save it for tomorrow.” He must have been the one laughing earlier.
“Everyone say goodnight trouble!” Luke calls out with a coy expression, making you roll your eyes as you flick the light off to a symphony of jeers. It’s finally quiet as Percy is propped up against some pillows that smell like raspberries and soft cotton before he realizes he has to pee.
But Chris said harpies hunt kids after curfew… he thinks.
In a moment of sheer panic, Percy looks around in the darkness of the cabin before the sound of your cackling pierces through the dim light from the outside. He hops up from the makeshift cot and tugs his shoes back on, slowly creeping past the long row of bunks to not disturb other campers before he gets to the door. Your head turns quickly to the intrusion as you spring away from Luke, stubbing a cigarette underneath the wood panel out of sight when Percy steps through the doorway.
“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” he says sheepishly as Luke nods, scratching his neck and leaning a far distance away from you. Under the low burning lamps, Percy notices Luke’s cheeks redden and he wonders if he is interrupting something, but the urge to go increases as he steps between you two.
“Right. I’ll walk you to yours?” Luke blurts in one breath. With a wordless smile on your lips, you nod before Percy purposely interrupts this time.
“I can walk her, it’s on the way to the bathrooms, right?”
If only this poor kid knew he was being the cockblock of the century.
“Yeah, Percy’s got me. The harpies won’t like you missing curfew, Castellan,” you tease, stepping around him with a shit-eating grin. Your hair almost floats in the gentle breeze, and Luke rolls his eyes.
“Stay out of trouble. I mean it,’ he sighs, before shoving you off the porch, and you laugh at the irony of his words. Looking back at Luke, Percy noticed his eyes were on you like he wanted to live in your skin, which was equal parts disgusting and confusing to the 12-year-old. His steps double in pace as you both walk down the path and a brief side glance at your stifled smile quickly makes the kid wonder if you’d let him. Pushing the sleeves of Luke’s hoodie past your elbows, you wave at Percy’s rushing figure as he almost bolts to the bathroom and you lean against the doorway of your empty cabin. You turn the light on and look across the way to see your boyfriend still leaning against his door, so you flip him off. Of course, he takes that as his cue to saunter over.
But then the loud clanging sound of pipes bursting reaches both of your ears and toilet water floods the dirt near the back end of your cabin.
So close.
“I’m gonna go check on Annie to see if she’s still on duty. Tough luck, babe,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking in the direction that Percy went, sending the son of Hermes to drag his feet towards your cabin, alone (he didn’t expect to fall asleep propped over your covers waiting up for you, but a lot happened in that damn bathroom).
—
“Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?” Annabeth smirks at the son of Hermes. Next to them, Percy feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and all three of them turn to see you donning red.
“Didn’t you three hear the conch? Wouldn’t want you to fall behind,” you say with a grin as Luke steps up to you and whistles lowly.
“Didn’t know you were playing today. It’s a shame you look that good in red.”
Annabeth fake gags as she crosses her arms to say, “You’re also currently on enemy territory if you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, you wound me. I’m not a threat. Percy, I obviously don’t have the flag, right?”
He nods a bit dumbly, still worried about the mechanics of the game and the part he has to play for the blue team, but no one else seems to share his concerns.
“Anyways, sorry I’m not on your team, Perce. The Ares kids snatched me up as soon as my name was on the roster, so I came to wish you all luck.”
“This better not be a diversion tactic, trouble,” Luke simpers, playfully tugging at your staff, which you use for leverage to step up onto a rock to meet him at eye level.
“Nah. You know I like the competition, angelface,” you whisper, almost daring him to do something.
“Bite me, trouble.”
There’s a fire in his eyes you’d love to stoke, but now’s not the time or place. You can’t help but indulge though—the both of you enjoy the reactions you can pull from each other.
“You’d like it too much.”
“Alright now,” Annabeth groans, calling your name, rolling her eyes as she pulls at Luke’s arm, “Gotta remember he’s your enemy!”
“I’M TRYING!” You laugh, shaking your head and walking back towards your team as you shoot them a fake salute. It all happens too quickly as Percy’s unable to catch the spitfire words between the two of you, thinking further about how he might get maimed during this game (which in the grand scheme of things, he almost does. Thanks Clarisse).
“Those two are hopeless! Walk faster, sunshine—we lost too much time watching whatever that was.” Percy stumbles along the forest path as he follows Annabeth, the both of them leaving Luke smirking to himself as he follows the rest of their team.
Hours later, at Clarisse’s muddy feet and holding her broken spear, Percy hears cheering in the distance as he watches the blue team led by Luke waving the red flag in one hand and your legs supported by his other. You’re in a fireman’s hold across his shoulders and everyone watches as the son of Hermes spins you around like a Tilt-a-Whirl until the sound of your shrieks is audible from the shoreline. He sets you down gently, dominant hand still around your waist as he snickers, “Got my win and my girl. Must be time to celebrate.” You laugh at his absurdity, pulling his helmet off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with your bandana.
“You’re always going to be a loser in my eyes.”
Slapping the plush of your hip, the sound echoes in the air—suddenly quiet as you gasp. But you’re not looking at Luke anymore, but rather the gleaming trident above Percy’s head as it’s revealed he’s a forbidden child. His jaw tightens at the sight, and there are a lot of emotions running through him, remembering Thalia and knowing that his plans will have to be altered once more because of Percy Jackson. You squeeze his hand before walking away from him to follow your dad and Chiron to the Big House, shooting him a nervous glance.
Damn.
—
The boys have been sparring for hours, and just as you think Percy’s getting the hang of it, Luke thrusts forward with an energy no one should have towards a 12-year-old. Although a bit concerning, he does have a lot to catch up on how to fight like a demigod before his quest in a few days.
“Take a break or else you’ll be crawling away from camp by the end of the week,” you joke, handing Percy and Luke bottles of cold water. Your boyfriend takes big gulps before pouring the rest over his head, leaving you gaping and a little hot under his stare as he nudges your chin and winks.
“You’re doing that on purpose!”
Luke shrugs slyly, and the both of you watch Percy catch his breath. He leans over your shoulder, the tone of his voice sultry as it tickles your ear, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.”
You bite your lip, before bursting with laughter—which isn’t exactly the reaction he thought you’d have. Maybe he should’ve finished reading the sonnet before falling asleep, but you always take too long with your nighttime skincare routine.
“That doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re cute for trying,” you coo, leaning closer so that your cheek touches his. Luke’s whole face is warm from exertion and now embarrassment, but he smiles nonetheless at the proximity. He can’t believe he still misses you, even when you’re skin-to-skin like this.
“That stanza…Isn’t it about names being meaningless?” Percy says between gasps of air before he pours the rest of the water bottle over his head like Luke did. He’s looking up at the both of you as he leans against a tree, instantly feeling more rejuvenated.
You jerk up from your seated position on the large rocks, excited to talk about Shakespeare, and Luke almost pouts at the loss of your attention.
“Yeah! Good job, bud. I forget you went to a hoity-toity charter school,” you say tongue-in-cheek, before turning back to your boy.
“So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You’re gonna have to interpret that one yourself, angelface.”
“Trust I have no fucking clue but you sound really hot when you talk dirty to me,” Luke says with a shrug. Percy laughs at that, before finally bringing up the question that’s been on his mind since Luke introduced you to him.
“Why do you call her trouble? She seems okay to me.”
“Thanks,” you say dryly, but the older boy leans on his arm with a lovestruck expression as he gazes at you. Oh…Percy thinks, brain feeling freshly washed. How did he miss that?
“She used to get in trouble a lot,” he says, before you elbow him hard, “I mean, we used to get in trouble, she’d always drag me into it.”
“You always offered! Don’t twist the fucking story,” you shriek, and the boys laugh at your exasperation.
“Yeah anyways, she’d always find me. Still does, my partner in crime. Trouble always comes for me,” Luke murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and intertwining your fingers together. Your jaw drops and cheeks flush and Percy thinks he understands better now, but gets confused again with what you do next.
You almost slap the goddamn scar off that boy’s face.
—
It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. -Sylvia Plath
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#luke castellan x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo x reader#luke castellan fluff#trouble!verse#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x dionysus!reader#percy series#thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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Prompt suggestion <3 Rolan/Tav NSFW. Tav really likes it when Rolan speaks to her in infernal. She doesn’t understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it turns her on. He starts to notice her subtle reactions to when he curses or something in infernal. Which leads to bedroom shenanigans lol. My username is the same on A03 ^^
this has taken me a minute, mostly because i had to spend some time literally making up the infernal language for the purpose of this fic LMAO. if you're interested in my process it's in the end notes on ao3.
i changed the prompt a little though; rolan doesnt notice because he's very silly and keeps failing the perception check. lia notices immediently.
NSFW
read on ao3 here
~~~
The first time Tav hears Rolan speak infernal, she doesn't even register it as a word. It slips past his tongue and it's all consonants and noises that she's not sure she could emulate properly with her non-tiefling tongue.
"Zurgan." He mutters it under his breath as he drops a pile of books.
Her quill stops midair where she's busy writing up an inventory of magical items they've found. With everyone else busy or gone from the city, she offered to help Rolan with organising the tower. It's been a nightmare, frankly. The previous tower master (she wont do him the privilege of speaking his name, the bastard) had apparently spent the last who-knows-how-many years stuffing things into random shelves and boxes.
She frowns as she tries to repeat the word, "Zu- Zurgan? What's that mean?"
Rolan jumps, clearly having forgotten she's in the room, "not zurgan, zurgan. It means- well, I don't know if it translates literally to common. It's... an expletive, I suppose ."
She laughs, "so it means 'fuck'?"
He huffs, and rolls his eyes, "I suppose that's a close enough approximation, yes."
"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."
"Well," his brow is furrowed as he thinks, "I suppose I try not to, really. It's not becoming."
Tav snorts at that, "Gods, how old are you, 150? Besides, how is swearing in tiefling any different?"
"The language is called infernal, you uncultured swine. I'm a tiefling, I speak infernal."
"You speak something alright. Usually a crock of shi-"
"What did I say about it not being becoming, hm?"
She rolls her eyes at him, "so sorry, Master Rolan, please accept my humblest of apologies for disgracing your presence in such a regard."
He rolls his eyes at her, but she hears him snort and sees the quirk of his lip. "I suppose as far as apologies go, that one will suffice."
~~~
Several weeks later, Cal shouts through the door to the study where they're cataloguing evocation books, "Rolan! Lia and I are heading to the market, do you want us to pick up more of the wine you like?"
He laughs, which is rare enough in itself, and leans out the door to reply.
"Fazit drakon'ziz orum?!"
She hears Cal's responding cackle from down the hallway. "alright, alright, little drakon'ziz. I'll get 2 bottles, 'cos I love you."
When Rolan comes back in, chuckling to himself, Tav doesn't say anything. She wants to ask what it means, but she's... distracted.
Something about the way the words sound when he says them is... enticing. She's not sure if she could repeat them without butchering them, but even if she could she's sure they wouldn't sound as delicious as when they come from him. It's something about the rich tone to his voice, which she's always liked, coupled with the harsher edge it takes on when he speaks the foreign language.
Gods, she's been spending far too much time with him,
She clears her throat, "drakon'ziz?"
Rolan turns to her, still smiling, " drakon'ziz , but close. It means dragon."
His lopsided smile, aimed at her, coupled with the gruffness of the unknown word, is a little bit intoxicating.
"What about the rest of what you said? Fa- Fazit something?"
"'Fazit drakon'ziz orum?' It means 'does a dragon want gold?' It's a tiefling saying, basically means 'yes, obviously.' It just sounds better in infernal."
Tav agrees. It sounds rather lovely in infernal, in fact.
When Tav doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, "I could try and teach you some? Infernal, that is. If you'd be interested. Tell me something you want to be able to say, I'll try and teach you how to say it."
She thinks for a moment.
"What if I want to call someone a shit-head?"
He barks out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, "of course you'd just want to know how to insult people. I think the closest translation would be uzterku'zereb. That means 'shit-for-brains'."
Despite the small jolt her stomach gives as he utters the phrase, she starts cackling. "That's even better!"
~~~
It's been about a month and a half since they started cataloguing everything in the tower, and it's basically become a nightly occurrence that Tav stays for dinner with them. Rolan has finally sat down at the dining table, after bringing all the dishes and cutlery through, and right as he hits the chair there's a sheepish voice from beside him.
"... Rolan~" It's Lia, in a singsong voice, and he huffs.
"What do you want?" It's a question, but it sounds more like an admonishment.
"How could you?! Assuming I want something from you. My beloved big brother. I look up to you so much. Also I left my drink in the sitting room."
You and Callum both laugh, and he makes a very dramatic show of pushing his chair back out with a huge sigh.
"You're such a..." He flails for a moment, as if the word in common has escaped him, "an uztanatez. Next time, you're getting it yourself."
She laughs, "My dear brother, I would fall on my sword for you."
"Mhm." He grumbles, " gladiz zurzum kuluz ..."
Cal nearly falls out of his chair laughing as Rolan trudges from the room, and Lia has a grin on her face from successfully riling him up and getting what she wanted.
Tav is blushing.
"What did he say?" She feels hesitant to bring attention to herself when she knows she's bright red, but she's also too nosy for her own good.
Lia looks at her and opens her mouth to answer, but pauses as she takes in Tav's face. Cal, blissfully, doesn't notice.
"Well the first bit was him calling her a suck up," he laughs through his explanation, "and the second bit was him telling her exactly where she could shove her sword."
She laughs, and thanks him for telling her. Lia is still looking at her. Her face warms more.
"What?"
"Hm." Lia smiles in a way that looks slightly threatening; the way Tav imagines a shark would smile at a seal before taking a huge chunk out of it. "Nothing, really. Only, you weren't that flushed before Rolan spoke in infernal. Got a thing for the devil's tongue, have you Tav?"
Cal furrows his eyebrows in confusion, before his eyes widen and his mouth drops in an 'o' of understanding.
She's about to deny it but she can feel that she's even redder now, so instead she buries her face in her hands. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say anything!"
"Say anything about what?" Of course Rolan would walk back in now. He places Lia's cup in front of her and turns to Tav expectantly, but Lia speaks before she can.
"Tav is just embarrassed because she didn't understand what you said, she felt left out."
His face breaks into a look of confusion, "You shouldn't be embarrassed by that, Tav, you don't speak the language. Uztanatez-" Tav sucks in a breath, and Lia snorts, "means 'bootlicker'. Gladiz zurzum kuluz means... well... 'shove your sword up your rear'."
Cal and Lia are both sporting shit eating grins. Tav thinks now is a good time to pick a God and pray.
~~~
" Pulch'zer."
He says it as she walks through the door to the study one morning.
"Sorry, repeat that?"
His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep crimson colour. She's never seen him blush before, or at least she's never noticed because of his skin's natural shade.
"Sorry I was just..." He averts his gaze, looking back at the paperwork he's working on, "I was just thinking out loud..."
She chuckles lightly. "Ah, that text will be kicking your ass then. Pulch'zer. What does it mean?"
He looks up at her again. His eyes lock with hers.
"You're close, it's not pulch'zer, it's pulch'zer . You have to put more emphasis on the 'Z' sound."
Gods, she needs to stop asking. He always ends up correcting her, and she always ends up going bright pink. He pronounces the words more precisely when he's teaching her how to say them, it drives her insane.
"Pulch- Pulch? Pulch'zer."
He chuckles, stands and walks over to her. "You're close, but now you're putting too much emphasis on it." He's only an arms length away from her now. " Pulch'zer ."
She gulps. He needs to stop repeating it.
"P- Pulch'zer." She can't tear her eyes away from him, she stares right into his gaze as she repeats it. He sucks a small breath in, so small it's barely noticeable.
"Yes. Very good."
There's a pause.
"So. What does it mean?"
He's flushing again. "It... Well. It..."
She raises an eyebrow, "that bad huh?"
"... it means 'beautiful'."
Tav's face twists in confusion. "What about your book is beaut-"
Rolan surges forward and plants his lips on hers. She gasps into it, the rest of her words swallowed by her inhale and his tongue. She sinks into it. His hands fall onto her waist, and he uses them to drag her closer, pulling the whole length of his body against hers. When he pulls away it feels far too soon, but in his defence he's breathless. He only leans his chest away, his hips still against hers.
"I wasn't talking about the book."
The look in his eyes is vulnerable in a way she's never seen him before. As though he desperately wants her to understand, and yet is terrified that she will. Like he's scared to fracture whatever comfortable thing they've fallen into together.
"Well..." She takes a deep breath, rests a hand on his chest. "Then I'd like you to know that I think you're very pulch'zer."
He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a single disbelieving laugh. "That sounds ridiculously good when you say it, you know."
She snorts, dismissive, "please, it's far better when you say it. I love when you speak infernal."
He stares at her.
She feels her eyes bug out of her head as what she said hits her. "I mean! Not that- I don't mean that like-"
"You love it? What does that mean?"
She can feel the heat in her face. Suddenly everywhere he's touching her is too much, she needs to fall through the floor to a new realm and start her life over with a fake name.
"I don't- I didn't mean-"
As she fumbles over her words, Rolan's face starts to lift into an understanding smirk. "Oh. I see. You love it."
He leans forward towards her, and his lips brush her ear.
"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq ?"
She shudders, "Rolan, I have no idea what you're saying."
He chuckles lowly against the shell of her ear. " Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko ."
Gods, it's torturous. He's dropped his voice an octave, giving the already heavy words an even more gravelled tone. Her breath is coming out in pants and she whines. The way it's affecting her is ridiculous.
He doesn't stop, " morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi ."
"Rolan, please."
He grins against her, and she feels his length pressing against her body through his robes. " Quid plaket, dilekt'miz ?"
" Rolan , common tongue, please . I want to know what you're saying."
"I said 'please what?'"
Tav huffs in irritation, "I don't know."
He brings his lips up to brush hers, smiling against her as she tries to pull him closer.
"Do you want me to kiss you again?"
She swallows hard around the lump in her throat and nods.
"Mhm. Ask me nicely."
The noise she lets out is embarrassing, a high pitched whine that she couldn't stop if she tried, but she feels his breath against her lips as he exhales in excitement.
"Kiss me, Rolan. Please."
His smile is wide against her, "as you wish, pulch'zer."
When he kisses her, his lips are gentle against hers. Soft and pliant, eager but restrained. When he parts them slowly, she responds in kind and finds his tongue with hers, and he rewards her with a deep, sensual moan from low in his throat. His lips are warm and soft, his mouth tastes of spearmint, his breath flows through her. She feels her small-clothes growing damp.
As he deepens the kiss his movements grow more insistent, more intense, and he squeezes her hips as he grinds her into him. She moans in response and the noise flips a switch in him. All of a sudden his lips are frantic, the kiss turning messy and needy, and his hands are running up and down her body as thought they don't know where to settle.
He pulls back enough to speak, his breath dancing along her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. " Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne ."
Tav moans, long and slow as the words rush over her skin, "Gods, Rolan. I wish I knew what you were saying. Fuck ."
He chuckles quietly, "perhaps I'll teach you Comprehend Languages. Then again... Forzit adv'illi."
She groans. "Rolan, please ."
He grins, grinding his length against her, "please, what?"
The huff she lets out is impatient, "you know what."
His mouth traces the shell of her ear again and she shivers. "Perhaps. But tell me anyway."
She groans, "please fuck me, Rolan."
He needs no further invitation. Rolan undresses them both rapidly, swift and efficient just as he treats his work, and they're both bare before each-other in a few moments.
When he looks over her, sweeping his eyes across her form, he lets out a low noise of appreciation. "Hells, Tav, you're beautiful."
She feels nervous, all of a sudden, bare before him, but she smiles despite it. "So are you."
He's back on her, trailing his lips along her throat and collarbone, leaving teasing bites and grazes with his canines. She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him but she doesn't care. She can feel his length pressed against her stomach, can feel the grooves of the door on her back, and she's absolutely aching with need.
"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" His questions make her chest ache with a different kind of need to the one pulsing through her core.
"Yes, Rolan. Please, for the love of- fuck me against this door."
His moan in response to her words is loud and wanton. " Hells , Tav. Lift your leg for me."
She does, and he grabs under her knee, lifting it up so it wraps around his hip, the heel of her foot against the base of his tail while her other foot stays planted against the floor. His other hand comes between them, grips the base of his cock and rubs it against her folds. She throws her head back as she keens, and at the same time he lets out a groan closer to a growl.
"Fuck, you're so wet. Is- This is still okay? You want this?" His voice wavers with lust.
Hearing him curse is almost as incredible as hearing him speak infernal. "Yes , Gods if you don't-"
He's sliding himself into her before she can finish her threat, and the rest of her words fizzle out into a high pitched moan as she throws her head back. His length is ridged and she can feel every notch as it slides into her. He works his way into her slowly, thrusting only an inch at a time until his pelvis comes to rest against hers, and he folds over to rest his forehead against her shoulder.
His first half of his sentence is muttered, the second half directed at her, "Tam strikta , fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."
"I'm ready, please, fuck me."
He silences his own moan by clamping his mouth over the meat between her neck and shoulder, and begins thrusting shallowly. The slide of him inside her, the ridges on his shaft dragging against her walls, has her tightening her leg around his waist and dragging him closer. He grunts through his mouthful of her skin and starts to pick up his pace, until he's thrusting hard and fast into her.
She's a mess, and she knows it, but it doesn't matter. She's digging her heel into his ass and arching her hips away from the door to get closer to him, head thrown back and eyes wrenched shut. It's too much, but it's not enough. She grabs his hand that isn't holding her knee up and places it round the back of her other thigh. He's a quick study as always, taking a firm hold on the back of her leg and hoisting her other leg up around him, so she's held up against the door by just his weight against her and his bruising grip. It changes the angle, he drives deeper into her, and they both moan in tandem.
He's speaking again, infernal dialect spilling from him freely into her skin, " Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne ." He speaks the words with a reverence that that has her keening, clenching around him.
"Rolan, I'm so close, fuck don't stop."
He shakes his head, thrusts into her harder, "Hells, I won't, Tav. I won't, I won't, adv'illi, adv'illi -"
The utterance of more quiet infernal words against her tips her over the edge, and she finds her release around him. His movements become stuttered, desperate, " Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."
He follows her over the precipice and empties himself inside her. She tightens her hold on him with her legs and kisses his neck as his hips twitch through his release, and as he stills they both try to find breath against each-other's skin.
"Gods, Tav." His voice is hoarse, "you- that was- I-"
She chuckles, which makes her walls clench and his hips stutter as he gasps at the feeling. "That was amazing, Rolan. What... Um. What were you saying?"
She pulls away to look at him, and his face is incredibly red. His freckles are barely visible through the violent blush. "Oh, um. Nothing- Nothing, really. Nothing important. Just... babbling. You know."
She laughs, slowly lowering her legs to the ground, both shuddering as he pulls himself from her. He mutters a quick incantation and they're both clean.
"You're going to have to teach me Comprehend Languages, now. I'm far too nosy to leave it at that."
"Hm. We'll see."
~~~
Translations:
"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq?"
("You like when I speak to you in my native tongue?")
"Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko."
("But you don't care, do you? It's not about what I say.")
"Morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi."
("Moaning for me already? Aren't I lucky.")
Quid plaket, dilekt'miz?"
("Please what, my beloved?")(he lies and tells her it means "please what?")
"Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne."
("You have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you for so long.")
"Then again... Forzit adv'illi."
("Then again... Perhaps I won't.")
"Tam strikta, fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."
("So wet, fuck. So tight and wet. Tell me when you're ready, my beloved.")
"Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne."
("You have no idea. You have no idea how long I've wanted you. How long I've craved your body against mine. I have dreamt of having you like this. My soul burns for you.")
"adv'illi"
("I won't.")
"Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."
("I love you. I love you so much. You complete me. Please, please never leave my side. I would protect you to my dying breath.")
#bg3#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#bg3 smut#bg3 fanfic#baldur's gate 3#bg3 fanfic prompt#bg3 requests#bg3 tav#rolan x tav#rolan bg3#bg3 rolan#rolan#holy rolan empire#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate iii
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