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yandere-daydreams · 5 months

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Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal. There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok imagines #record of ragnarok x reader #hades x reader #yandere hades #yaanderecore #yancore

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thefandomthings · 1 month

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5 fluff zuko

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

Fluff prompt #5: "I have to go but-one more kiss."

Pairing: Zuko x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, slight angst, Zuko being Zuko. ¡¡SPOILERS!!

Notes: Bluntest request I have ever gotten (It's from my sister 😶). Takes place in Book 3. Ep 14. @shellbell4

Prompt event

To say you aren't happy that Zuko and Katara decided to go on a 'Revenge mission', is an understatement. You aren't close with Katara, never have been. On two different ends of the spectrum. You both maintain a respectable relationship between each other, BUT that doesn't mean you like one another.

Zuko is completely aware of this. Having this conversation with him multiple times about how she looks at him, or what happened under Bai Sing Sei. But as you know, he isn't to great at reading people and how they are feeling. And it doesn't help that he is the one who suggested it, stings like alcohol on a open wound.

You are currently sitting against one of the dock posts, watching as Katara and Zuko get Appa ready to fly. The nasty look on your face is extremely noticable, Sokka and Aang are both looking at each then between the three of you.

Zuko finishes strapping a few things on Appas saddle and slides down the fluffy sky bison. He might not be the best at reading social cues but he can tell just by the way your eyes burn into his soul, you are pissed and hurt.

He cautiously approaches you and slides down the post next to you, his left arm resting on his knee, his right hand playing with the grass and dirt; picking and prodding.

You don't look at him, your eyebrows are furrowed in anger, you mouth set in scowl. Zuko carefully puts his arm around your shoulders. You don't push him away, but you don't lean into him like you usually do.

"Did you really have to suggest going with her?" You finally spoke, turning your head to look at him. Zuko has a frown on his face as he looks back at you, honey eyes soft and determined.

"She needs closure, Y/n. And Sokka and Aang won't go with her, so I have to." His right hand slides into your own, squeezing it softly. You know he is right, after all he's been through he just wants to make peace with the Gaang, especially Katara.

You sigh finally leaning into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Zukos' pale cheeks burn pink, his arm squeezing you closer. He leans down and kisses you softly, his dry lips molding with yours before he pulls away.

"Zuko, let's go." Katara hollers from her spot on Appas neck/head. Zuko sighs and stands up, looking down at you with a soft smile.

"We'll be back soon, okay?" He ruffles your hair gently and starts to walk away. You smile slightly, already missing him even if he isn't gone yet.

Zuko then pauses a few feet away and you watch him curiously. He turns on his heel and speed walks back to you. Zuko leans down holding your chin with his forefinger and thumb.

"I have to go but-one more kiss." He presses his lips to yours longer, taking the breath from your lungs. "For good luck."

#thefandomthings #zuko x reader #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar the last airbender #sokka x reader #katara x reader #aanga x reader #toph x reader #hades #prompt event #writing prompt #legend of korra

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triptuckers · 4 months

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the comfort of home - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hii, I just finished watching both episodes of PJO and I wept as I beheld Sally's maternal love unfold on the screen, knowing it before hand from the books. Thus, I was pondering if you might entertain a request—a tale where a daughter of Hades (angsty) forges a close bond with Percy, and Sally, in her gracious warmth bless her soul, adopts her into their lives because, after all, they're nearly kin, entwined by the delicate threads of almost-cousinhood." Pairing: percy jackson x hades!reader Summary: after a typical day for a demigod, you just need a safe space to go Warnings: mentions of fighting, injuries, blood, throwing up, swearing, angst Word count: 2k A/N: first of all anon are you a writer?????? bro those words..... pls write more !! thanks for your request, enjoy!

you're walking down the streets of new york city, feeling utterly miserable. you're soaked through because of the rain and you're hurt.

everyone knows that demigods don't exactly live a quiet life. especially kids from zeus, poseidon or hades. still, most of the times you're fighting for your life you're on a quest.

not simply on your way home.

but today was different. somehow you brought not one but all three of the furies down on you. you don't even know how, you weren't doing anything.

it was a tough fight, but you stood strong. you couldn't prevent the dozen little cuts that littered your body. you're bruised over and on top of that it started to rain, messing with your sight.

right now you're on your way to your foster home. but it's a slow journey. you're not sure you want to go there. and you're not sure how much the mist hides for them.

sometimes if you got home all bruised you told them you got in a fight. sometimes they didn't spare you a second glance.

you stop in the middle of the street. at this point you've been walking for so long you don't even notice the rain anymore.

you turn around, heading another way. there's one other place you could go. you're lost in thought, and most of the people don't pay you any attention. perks of living in new york, you guess. new yorkers just don't care.

when you get to the familiar building, you feel a sense of calm coming over you. somehow you always found yourself back here. as you walk up to the entrance, someone leaves just as you arrive, so you can slip in the door before it closes.

you walk the stairs slowly because of your injuries. every step hurts and takes tremendous effort.

when you finally get to the right floor and walk to the door, you just stand in front of it. you're fully aware you're dripping rainwater on the floor, but suddenly you can't bring yourself to knock.

why are you even here? you don't want to be a burden.

they've told you that you can always come over, no matter what. but it's late at night, it's raining outside, you're soaked.

you're standing there, debating wether or not to go in, when you hear a voice on the other side of the door.

the person is softly singing along to a song that's playing.

tears well up in your eyes as you recognise the song. you were the one to recommend it.

you raise your hand and knock on the door.

'coming!' says the voice.

moments later the door opens to reveal a woman.

her eyes briefly widen at the sight of you, scanning your body for injuries. then her eyes soften.

'oh, what happened to you, sweetheart?' says sally.

her gentle voice is what pushes you over the edge, breaking down in tears in front of her.

sally pulls you over the doorstep and closes the door. she pulls you into a hug, not caring that you're soaked.

you wrap your arms around her and cry. you let all of the anxiety rush out of you as sally rubs circles on your back and whispers soft words in your ear. you ignore your aching body and allow yourself to just be here in the moment.

after a while, sally pulls back and holds you at an arms length.

'I'm so sorry for dropping in like this, miss jackson.' you say softly.

'y/n, you know you're always welcome here. and I've told you to call me sally.' she says kindly.

you nod. 'is percy home?'

'he's out to the movies with grover. do you want me to ask him to come home?'

'no, he's out having fun. it's alright. could I just..'

'why don't you take a shower first, hm? I bet you're freezing.'

you sigh softly. that does sound good.

'yeah, alright.'

'you go take a shower, then I'll make tea and see if I can do something about that.'

she pointedly looks at the cut above your brow. you totally forgot that was there.

'I don't have any clothes.' you say softly.

'that's alright, just borrow some from percy. he won't mind.' says sally.

'thank you.'

you walk towards percy's room to get some clothes when sally calls your name, making you turn around again.

'you're not a burden, you know that right. we love having you over.' says sally.

you swallow back the new tears that threaten to fall. sometimes you forget she knows you so well.

'thanks.' you say, entering percy's room to get some clothes.

you pick a shirt, sweater and sweatpants form percy's closet before going into the bathroom.

you peel your soaked clothes from your body, hissing when you pull the fabric from your wounds.

turning on the water, you get in the shower, letting the water calm you down. you wash off all of the dried blood, dirt and sweat.

after drying off you put on percy's clothes, his scent surrounding you and comforting you.

you head back to the living room to find sally putting two steaming mugs on the table.

'we still got your favorite.' she says, sliding your mug towards you.

'thanks.'

'drink up, and tell me about today if you want. I'll see if we have some medical stuff left in the kitchen.'

you sigh, thinking back to today.

'I didn't even do anything.' you say. 'I was just walking down the road and I got this feeling I was being watched. I thought it wasn't a big deal but hey, demigod instinct, so I took a turn and went into an alley. sure enough, someone followed me.'

'someone or something?' says sally, returning with the first aid kit.

'someone at first. then the mist cleared and it was one of the furies.' you say. 'at that point I was just so done. I wasn't even on a quest so what the hell was she doing there?'

'how did you get away? you've fought a fury before, percy told me.' says sally, scooting her chair closer to you so she can clean the cut on your forehead.

'I have. it's okay if it's one. but then the other two showed up.' you sigh. 'at that point I was really annoyed. I think it was just annoyance that drove me at that point. they were clearly there because they were bored. they thought "hey smells like demigod, oh look it's the hades kid, let's mess with her."

'well, you're here now. you made it out.' says sally, finishing with the cut on your forehead.

'yeah. thanks again.' you say, sipping your tea.

'you don't have to keep thanking me.' says sally. 'you know you're always welcome here, you're practically family. I know you don't like your foster home. now, do you have any other wounds?'

you chuckle. 'only about two dozen little cuts and even more bruises. I've had worse, it's okay.' you say.

'it's never okay.' says sally. 'you and percy are way too young for this.'

you shrug. 'and yet we have to deal with it.' you say, rolling up your sleeves so sally can clean and bandage the cuts on your arms.

the next hour is spent by sally cleaning your wounds and bandaging you up as she tells you stories. you liked hearing her stories. ever since you first met her, it was one of your favorite things about her. she could tell stories in a way that felt like you were actually there, experiencing them.

just as she secures the last bandage in place, you briefly close your eyes, exhaustion getting to you.

'you can get some sleep, I'll tell percy when he gets home.' says sally.

'it's okay, I want to see him before I go to bed.' you say.

'alright, want to watch a movie of something?'

'movie sounds great.'

sally picks a movie while you sit down on the couch. it doesn't take long for you to doze off, even though you fight to stay awake. the fight with the furies was intense, so sally lets you sleep while she waits for percy to home home.

about halfway through the movie, the door to the apartment opens and percy enters.

'hey mom.' he says, taking off his shoes and jacket and dumping his bag near the door.

as he walks into the room, he notices a familiar sword leaning against the back of the couch. he frowns, he didn't know you were coming.

'is y/n here?' he says, walking over to his mom.

she nods, pointing to the couch.

percy looks over the back of the couch to find you fast asleep, wearing his clothes and your body littered in bandages and bruises.

'what happened?' says percy, walking around the couch.

'the three furies.' says sally. 'she didn't feel like going to her foster home.'

percy kneels before the couch, studying your face. he reaches out and traces one of the bruises on your cheek.

you stir awake from the movement, your eyes meeting percy's.

'hi.' you say softly.

'hey. you alright?' he says.

you nod. 'how was the movie?'

percy chuckles. 'it was good. you would have loved it. heard you got in a fight?'

'yeah. those damned furies.' you say. 'luckily your mom patched me up though.'

'you know my bed is more comfortable than the couch, right?' says percy.

you slowly sit up. 'I know. I wanted to stay awake til you got home.'

'and you did a great job at that.' says percy with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

you hit him on the shoulder. 'you would have fallen asleep as well!'

sally watches the exchange with a smile on her face. moments like these make her especially happy you met percy.

'come on.' says percy, standing up and holding out his hand for you to take.

you take it and allow percy to gently pull you to your feet.

'thanks again sally.' you say as percy beings leading you to his bedroom to sleep in an actual bed.

'no need to thank me y/n. it's always good to have you around, even if it's like this.'

you and percy both say goodnight to her before entering percy's room.

'so, did you sugarcoat the story for my mom?' he says as you sit down on this bed.

'not really, I just didn't tell her all of the details.' you say.

percy raises an eyebrow at you. 'details like?'

'like how one of them punched me in the gut and I nearly threw up because of it.' you say.

'ew.' says percy, face scrunching up in disgust.

'you would have thrown up as well.' you say.

'but you managed to fend off all three furies on your own?' he says.

you nod, laying down. 'I think I bruised a rib, though. the rest is all small cuts and bruises. no broken bones this time. they looked like they were really fucking annoyed they could be bested by just one kid.' you say.

percy smiles, walking over to kiss your cheek, careful not to touch the wounds on your face. 'that's my girl.' he says.

'you got anything to do tomorrow?' you say, stifling a yawn.

'nope. we can spend the day here.' he says, walking over to the bed an laying down next to you.

'good.' you say. 'I just need to wash my clothes and clean my sword, and I should probably-' 'y/n.'

you look at percy.

'let's just relax tomorrow, okay? come on, you need sleep.'

you nod, moving closer to him.

as you're laying next to percy, feeling sleep get to you once more, you can't help but to feel a deep sense of gratitude.

sally didn't question why you showed up at her doorstep, but pulled you in her arms and sat with you to bandage your wounds and listen to your story.

percy listened to you as well and provided you familiar comfort you needed, telling you to relax.

you just know if something ever goes wrong, you're always welcome at the jackson household.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

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areuwu · 4 months

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*me playing hades*

mmmmm…prince of the underworld….buzzword….orv….joongdok….

#art #fan art #my art #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #joongdok #yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja #kdj #hades #hades game #thanzag but like not really #yoo joonghyuk x kim dokja #slight orv spoilers

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lecsainz · 4 months

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Can u do any kind of luke imagine with maybe a daughter of hades:p

˒ ⌕ DID YOU EAT, TODAY?

parings: luke castellan x hades!reader

an: this was my first piece that my sister liked? I'm sooo happy because she's picky, and I usually have to beg her to read anything I write. yes, I know it's pathetic, but I usually don't think my writing is good, and I don't think you guys will like it. I have a bit of a validation-seeking complex (mirroball girl here 😭

summary: where, after 18 years of surviving alone, you finally arrive at camp half-blood, discovering you're a child of hades. adimist it all, a hermes' boy might find himself perhaps falling for you.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )

The camp was bustling with activity, but for you, the chaos of your newfound identity as a demigod and a daughter of Hades was still settling in. The moment you were claimed upon entering the camp, it felt like your entire world had shifted. As the campers dispersed for their activities, you sought solace by the lake, needing a moment to process the overwhelming revelations.

Luke, having noticed your absence from the group, made his way to the lake with a small cupcake in hand. Blueberry, your favorite. He approached cautiously, recognizing the turmoil on your face. The daughter of Hades, a complex puzzle of emotions and powers.

"Hey there," Luke greeted, sitting down beside you. "Did you eat today?"

You looked up, your eyes still reflecting the confusion and vulnerability that came with the newfound knowledge of your divine parentage. The mere question, though simple, struck a chord within you, resonating with a sense of care that you hadn't expected.

"I... I didn't really feel like it." you admitted, your voice betraying the uncertainty.

Without another word, Luke handed you the cupcake, and the corners of his lips lifted into a reassuring smile. "Well, you should. It's blueberry – your favorite, right?"

Surprised, you glanced at the cupcake, realizing that somehow, amidst all the chaos, Luke had remembered your preference. A small, genuine smile formed on your face as you took the cupcake. "Thank you."

Taking the cupcake, you managed a small smile. The gesture was simple, yet it carried an unspoken understanding. You hesitated for a moment before taking a bite, savoring the sweetness that contrasted with the bitter reality you were grappling with.

Luke watched you quietly, and when you finally met his gaze, he reached over to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. It was a gentle touch, one that conveyed more comfort than words ever could.

"You know, being a demigod is tough, especially in the beginning," he began, his tone gentle. "But you're not alone in this. We're a family here, weird as it may be."

You chuckled, feeling a hint of warmth amidst the emotional storm. "Yeah, a family of demigods with divine parent issues."

Luke chuckled with you. "Exactly. And you've got powers from the Underworld, which is pretty cool if you ask me."

Your laughter echoed by the lake, and Luke couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading within him. He looked at you, your smile contagious, and a goofy grin formed on his face. In less than 48 hours, everything you did seemed to become his favorite thing.

"See? I knew blueberry cupcakes were the way to go," Luke teased, nudging you playfully.

As you enjoyed the cupcake, the night air became a canvas for the unspoken. Luke's gaze lingered on you, studying your features. The flicker of vulnerability in your eyes and the subtle playfulness of your smile sparked something in him. His mind wrestled with conflicting thoughts. The prophecy and his allegiance to Kronos felt like a weight on his shoulders, yet the simple act of being there for you seemed to defy the inevitable.

Luke couldn't help but think he was treading on dangerous ground. The more he got to know you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, there were things worth fighting for beyond the plans of gods and Titans.

Caught in his own internal struggle, he locked eyes with you. His expression shifted between uncertainty and an undeniable connection that was forming against all odds.

And then, as if a realization hit him, you blushed, looking away. The daughter of Hades, powerful and enchanting, now bashful under his gaze. A small smile played on Luke's lips, acknowledging the unexpected turn of emotions.

"Stop," you said, your voice a blend of amusement and a blush that colored your cheeks.

"I can't help it," Luke responded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He made no effort to hide his amusement, which only intensified your embarrassment.

A playful slap on his arm was your immediate response. "Seriously, cut it out."

Luke chuckled, the sound resonating in the tranquil night. "Alright, alright. I'll behave... for now."

"Hey, Castellan! We're heading out. You coming?" The moment was interrupted by a group of Hermes cabin members calling for Luke. As he got up to join them, he glanced back at you. "You coming?"

He extended his hand towards you, a gesture so simple yet filled with unspoken invitation. With a slight hesitance, you placed your hand in his, and together you walked away, fingers intertwined.

The children of Hermes exchanged smirks, whispering amongst themselves as they watched Luke and you leave the lakeside. One of them winked at Luke, teasingly remarking, "Looks like someone's got a soft spot."

Luke shot back with a grin, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He glanced at you, a sly smile playing on your lips radiating a warmth that ignited a turmoil within him. In that moment, a realization struck Luke like a lightning bolt – perhaps you were the unforeseen obstacle in Kronos' grand plan. As he stared at you, the idea that his growing feelings for you could complicate the titan's scheme loomed over him, and for the first time, Luke Castellan felt the weight of a dilemma he hadn't anticipated.

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coffeecubes · 11 months

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"𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬!"

𝗵𝗰𝘀 + 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼: 𝗱𝗼𝗱𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸? 𝗦𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗹𝘆… 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴… 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁?

✩ 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳 | 𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗻, 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝗱𝗵𝗮, 𝗾𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗵𝘂𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

✩ 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲

✩ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗻𝗼𝗻𝗲! 𝗘𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀! 𝗠𝘆 𝗤𝘂𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘃 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗳𝗳

𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒

Imagine his confusion when you dodge his kiss

A bit hurt but tries to kiss you again

You dodge him once again, making his face turn to horror as if Poseidon had said he was the worst older brother ever to his face

Hades, who had fallen in love with you, was always a gentleman. The first time he saw you, he knew that you were going to be his wife. He treated you as his equal, his woman, and his queen all at once. He was gentle, patient, loving, and so protective of you, making sure to respect you as who you are. He was one of the few gods who physically showed how much he loved and cherished you, which was rare in the divine.

He introduced things to you slowly, making sure to go at your pace since he didn’t want to hurt or scare you away. Showing affection and kisses in small moments was one thing that he adored, since it showed connection and strong desire for one another.

There was a trend going on lately where lovers would dodge each other’s kisses as a prank, and you thought it would be funny to try it on your husband, who was so heavenly in love with you. It was just a small teasing but your heart absolutely shattered when you saw his face fall.

“Love?” Hades tilted his head, his strong arms coming to grasp your waist once you dodged again.

Hades didn’t think this was funny at all as he pulled you onto his lap. He turned you over so you were facing him before he placed his head above your chest.

“Did I do something wrong?” he pouted, his handsome face turning sadder in each second and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“No! It was just a prank, that’s all!” you explained everything to him and suddenly it all made sense.

“Well… shall I try again?” Hades’ mood brightened up as he attempted to kiss you once more, and you happily obliged.

Now, he’s carrying you to his bedroom where he’s going to punish you for teasing him 😉

Poseidon later came to visit his brother and his sister-in-law until he heard the noise coming from the bedroom and he left

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑

He leans in to give you a kiss but you dodged, making him kiss nothing but air

He stills for a few moments before he opens his eyes with confusion and he whips around to see you resuming to your own routines

You felt extremely bad as you felt his eyes upon your figure, as the thunder god wonders if you are mad at him

The thunder god never showed any sort of affection or emotion to anyone, so imagine the shock of the entire heavens when rumours had it that he had fallen in love with you. He wasn’t social and didn’t have many friends despite how powerful he was but the moment you came into his life, it brought another side out of him. He wanted nothing but to spend his immortal life with you, enjoying the sweet comforts of your presence, listening to your stories, and relishing your touches, kisses and love.

Affection was something he never knew he lacked in his life until he met you, and your small kisses were one of the very things that always made his busy day better. He was extremely occupied these days with his duties so he didn’t get to spend much time with you, making him wonder if you were pissed at him.

You were already regretting your actions and you should never have listened to Loki’s stupid prank. Thor was good to you but that dumb trickster had decided it would be funny to see his cousin’s reaction to his wife not wanting to kiss him.

“My sweet…” Thor’s voice echoed down the corridors, as you scurried away from him.

His loud footsteps followed your smaller form, as guilt began to bottle you up. You can feel the hurt and sadness radiating off of his body and it got worse when he grabbed your arm gently to stop you.

“Are you mad at me?” the god asked as you refused to answer to keep Loki’s prank going.

You thought you could do it until he pulled you into a tight embrace, apologising to you.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

That’s it.

You whipped around and cupped his cheeks, explaining everything to him, telling him that Loki told you to do it because he wanted to see his reaction. Thor was obviously pissed at Loki and he was about to go beat him up when you grabbed his face once more and kissed him lovingly. You two made out in the halls for a little while until his bloodthirsty battle smirk came out.

He throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the private chambers, where you two will make up for all the lost time when you were apart 😍

Loki got a black eye after

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐍

You have a death wish if you have the audacity to dodge his kiss

He was mad, like really mad, as he grabs you by your chin and holds you in place to kiss you but you deny him by biting your lips in

He never felt anything ill towards you but for the first time, there was this bitter and hurt feeling that boiled up in his chest as his cold eyes glared into your own

It was an understatement that Poseidon was a terrifying god. Of all the divine, he had the most power, authority, and presence of all the gods and he was ruthless in his approach. He looked down on others and even deemed them as filth if they didn't reach his standards. He doesn’t talk to the lowly and his emotions seem non-existent.

Until he met you.

When you first transferred to his castle to work for him, he felt as if cupid’s arrow had cruelly decided to pierce him and for the first time, this god wanted someone. He wanted someone to stand by his side, someone to rule with, and someone to love.

Poseidon was cruel to everyone in his fortress but when it came to you, he tried to soften up and treat you less harshly. He was still critical and blunt, but you soon realised that he was giving you advice and helping you improve. Pretty soon, you two were together and now married. He would also show gentle gestures such as caressing your cheeks, holding your hand, and embracing you to show others who had their eyes on you that you belonged to him - and him ALONE.

When you two were alone, Poseidon showed a side to you that you didn’t think he had as he treated you and your body with such grace and gentleness. He was rough in bed as well but it felt as if he was telling you that you were his everything, his precious goddess who stole his heart.

And now, Poseidon was on thin ice with you as he slammed the door shut and placed his hand above your head, trapping you beneath his large body.

“What’s going on?” he sneered at you, “you don’t want me anymore?”

You were going to kill Aphrodite later for blackmailing you into this.

“Poseidon, no! I do want you!” you told him truthfully, “it’s just that Aphrodite…”

The moment you said that lustful goddess’ name made Poseidon’s face darken. He huffed angrily and brushed his blond hair, feeling his anger snap. You were a nervous wreck as you tried to walk past him until he took you by the chin and slammed his lips into yours. You kissed him back and sooner or later, he was on top of you in bed, making sure that you gave him the kisses he deserved.

You two had fun that night, Poseidon made sure you were sore the next day 😈

Aphrodite was banned from talking to you ever again

𝐁𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐇𝐀

Imagine the shock pikachu face as you dodge his kiss, his jaw dropping to the ground like a heavy stone

His lollipop fell from his mouth and you try not to snicker as you walked passed him

Not a single word was spoken out either, while the feeling of being heartbroken stabbed him like a blade

Buddha was a god that took no shits from anyone. He was true to himself, he was enlightened, and he was proud to guide others into a path where they could also achieve enlightenment. That’s why he became so fond of you.

He adored and fell in love with you because you gave no shits to anyone. You didn’t let the hardships and suffering of the things around you bring you down, instead you found new ways to conquer them and achieve happiness. Buddha adored and loved being by your side. He particularly loved cuddling with you on top of hills, munching on little snacks and tears, while being lovey dovey with each other.

Buddha was always a tease to you because he loved seeing how flustered and shy you get, your facial impressions were one of the top things he enjoyed. But recently, he seemed to be getting over your boundaries with his teasing. You’re usually fine with his teasing but this time, Buddha just won’t leave it alone. Usually he would drop it and apologise afterwards, even kissing and caressing your figure, but this time, he was persistent.

So of course, you decided to get back at the enlightened one, turning your head away and walking away from him. Buddha’s jaw dropped to the ground in shock as he whipped around, seeing your figure walk away.

He, of course, went after you.

“(Name)... my love?” he questioned, pouncing on you.

His legs were wrapped around your waist with his hands hugging your chest, as he cling to you like a koala. Because of his heavier weight, you tumbled to the ground, with him straddling on top of your waist. He tried to kiss you once more, but you dodged, making him quirk an eyebrow as he was getting more and more frustrated.

You were trying to keep on this facade until a lightbulb appeared in Buddha’s mind. You were beginning to crawl away from him when he grabbed you by the leg and pulled you back, proceeding to tickle you mercilessly.

You shrieked and wheezed, laughing your core out while Buddha teasingly leaned into your ear.

“Do you not love me anymore?!” Buddha cried out, biting your ear as you continued to laugh.

His figure was heavier so he practically had you in his grip, as you laughed and tried to fight his hands off.

“Buddha, no-!” you shrieked at his towering figure, “I was playing a small prank-! I love you!”

“If you love me then don’t dodge my kiss! You’re breaking this gentleman’s heart, you know?” he soon stopped and engulfed your breathless body, nuzzling against your hair in a loving way.

You two soon made up until you yelped when he spanked your ass.

He then carried you like a baby to an area that’s more private to have some sexy time together

Let’s just say you both gained more than enlightenment on that night

𝐐𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆

This handsome king would just keep on asking for kisses, but you would continuously deny him

No one would deny the emperor of China but you took your chances to prank him since he always had a sweet spot for you

The first time you did it, he felt as if you bitch slapped him as he stared at you in shock, before he followed you everywhere, asking for kisses again and again

Qin Shi Huang was the greatest emperor of China, a title that was on par with his strength. He was confident, bold, and never backed down against an enemy or someone that threatened his country and people.

He met you one night when he was ill with a cold. You were a healer from a small village but you were extremely talented and knowledgeable, so his advisors went to fetch you right away. When you arrived, the emperor was breathless when he saw your appearance, as you treated and tended him tenderly.

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.” were the first things he told you.

“I’m a healer.” you told him simply, telling him the village you were from.

After that night, Qin realised that you were intelligent, beautiful, compassionate and he declared proudly that you were his official doctor. He recovered quickly and soon, the emperor was absolutely in love and enamoured with you.

As a husband, Qin was much more charismatic, playful, and teasing in a cute way, unlike his usual serious self when he was taking care of the country. He loved to kiss you, cherish you, and shower you with his attention and touches. Speaking of touches, this man absolutely cannot get his hands OFF you. He was obsessed with touching you, making sure that you were still here by his side since he had a terrible past. He didn’t want to lose you, holding you tight every night in his arms when you two slept, and making sure that the guards and bodyguards were keeping you safe when he was busy - though he tends to guard and protect you now.

You always responded to his touches and affectionate gestures but since he was always a tease, you wanted to have some payback.

“LOVE!!!” Qin exclaimed, following you and trying to kiss you constantly, “come back!”

“I caught you!” he sang and you squealed as he embraced you and lifted you up happily.

His hands rested on your waist and his lips pursed, leaning forwards to kiss you once more, when you dodged again, leaving him more perplexed than ever.

“Eh?” his eyebrows raised and he tried once more, but you dodged, “my queen, are you upset? Please don’t be… I just want to kiss and love you.”

He continues to pester and whine, placing butterfly kisses along your neck and arms until you give up and finally kiss him.

Since you denied this emperor, he was going to give you the spanking of your life in his bedroom

And you gave him some treatments too- 😏

Additional stories:

✩ Infatuation (yandere!gods x reader)

✩ Little Darling (yandere!thor x reader)

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kanroji-san · 4 months

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Poseidon: My brother and I are the rulers who deserve the most elegant women in the world. We are the strongest, we can never marry someone who is weaker than us.

Hades: Very true, my dear brother. Otherwise, it is unacceptable.

Later of the same day

*Hades holding Y/n who is hugging him like a koala*

Hades: Heaven.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #snv x reader #record of ragnarok hades #ror hades #snv hades #hades x reader #snv hades x reader #record of ragnarok x y/n #ror x y/n #snv x y/n #ror hades x reader #ror oneshots #ror headcanons

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rae-pss · 5 months

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masterlist

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . i was merely bored during class, so here you all have a silly romantic drabble with characters I believe match it.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . 178 words, fluff, lowercase intended.

delicacy. that was the word that best defined how he looked at you, touched you, loved you. he did everything with caution and subtlety, with an irrational fear of harming you with the slightest of a wrong move on his part.

his words, few or abundant, made evident the love that he alone possessed for you. almost as if an adoration of your name was given by every sentence that came from his lips.

his actions, slow and gentle or quick and fleeting, left a warm feeling, a desire for more loving touches between the two of you.

his love for you... infinite like numbers, like time, like the universe itself. the passion he felt was deep like no other. a clear devotion to your person that could only make you blush like nothing else could ever do.

he could be one of the most dangerous, most unpredictable beings and whatever one may say; but, for you, he was a mere lover lost in your undeniable beauty, one he was so determined to worship that he couldn't be deterred.

alucard (hellsing), lucifer, diavolo, barbatos, solomon (obey me), ares (hades), hades, poseidon, beelzebub (snv/ror), alt gabriel (mandela catalogue), malleus (twst), chrollo (hxh), childe, (genshin impact), akaza (kny), fyodor, dazai, mori, jouno (bsd), risotto (jbba), satoru, sukuna (jjk)

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peachesofteal · 3 months

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The Acheron

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 10.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Modern retelling - Greek mythology AU. Hades and Persephone. Two Kings of the Underworld. Abuse (by reader's mother). Bad BDSM etiquette. Dom Simon Riley. Switch John MacTavish. Impact play, spanking. Ichor (blood) play. Non-con voyeurism. Kidnapping. Submissive reader. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Alcohol. Praise kink. Biting. Anal play. Subspace. Dubious consent. First they're sour, then they're sweet, then... they're sour. Tags are for your health, not mine. .A meeting, a trick, a meal.

Hebe’s is humming.

You nod to her through the crowd, a gaggle of mortals waiting at the counter, the line of them moving swiftly as they order their pastry-coffee duo for this dreary, rain slogged morning.

Her perpetually young face lights with exuberance once she spots you, and you can’t help the smile that fights into place at the sight of her. Hebe is a cherub. Soft, curved for ages, like she had been sculpted by her father himself. Today, she’s dolled up in tones of pink; pink lipstick, fuchsia stained cheeks, magenta streaks in her otherwise dark, tightly coiled hair that sits at her shoulders.

For a while, before you were brazenly corrected, you wondered if maybe your mother wanted Hebe as a daughter, instead of you. A perfect picture of untouched purity and power, an eternal cupbearer, worshipped as the goddess of Mercy. She was sweet, like her famous Portokalopita, orange syrup cake that drew a group of wanting mortals at the door every morning. She’s a stunner. A mountain of sunshine, a ray of positivity.

Sometimes, you hate her for it, even if she is one of your best friends.

Something about her cheerful demeanor can dig at you, scrape along the sticky matter of your brain, gnaw at the soft bits that you’re still trying to protect, tender pieces that match your heart.

You follow the hall to the back room, where bookshelves taper off and large floor to ceiling windows flank the east and west sides to allow as much light in as possible. There are others here, a few mortals curled in overstuffed armchairs, books and cappuccinos in hand, light jazz soothing the atmosphere through a few hidden speakers. Healthy clematis blooms along the stair rail, purple blossoms disappearing into the second floor, where more reading rooms wait, books and plants boundless inside Hebe’s.

A place for everyone.

You feed the clematis a little spark of magic, enough that the vine stretches, shivering and sprouting more flowers. “Aren’t you stunning this morning?” The plant curls around your fingers eagerly, imbued with the essence of power, drinking up the magic drops you encourage into its cell structure. “So healthy and strong, you’ve recovered so well.”

“Good morning.” A wraith of a voice whispers, and you catch the iridescent flicker of a cloud, of Nephele. The clematis will need pruning soon, probably next week, or maybe you can make time in the next few days, you don’t really have too much going on, just your birthday, and that delivery to Hera-

Ghostly fingers stroke the inside of your elbow, and the cloud nymph regards you with an insightful expression. “Earth to Seph.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is meek, and she shrugs.

“I asked what you’re doing tonight?” Oh.

“Dinner… with my mom.” She nods, and says nothing, jaw clenching, apologetic grimace lining her lips.

“And Friday… Aselgeia?” The club. Your muscles tighten. It’s been over a year since you’ve been to Aselgeia, the club of many vices, the ones where mortals and creatures and gods all mix interchangeably, chasing their own pleasure. The memory of last time heats your spine: A private room. A black chair. A stranger swinging a paddle towards your bare-

Nephele coughs.

“Yeah, definitely.” You put the box down that you’re carrying, twelve small pots containing strings of pearls, all crossbred to produce different colors, emboldened by their proximity to you in the Greenhouse for these past few months. They’ll sell well, you have no doubt. “I’ve got a few more boxes to bring inside. Don’t supposed you could do something about this slag weather we’re having?” You gesture, and she snorts.

“Hebe says they’re fighting. Probably looking at weeks of storms.”

“They’re always fighting.” You whisper it, even though most know the truth. Zeus and Hera were explosive. Tumultuous. Which is fine, you suppose, for a private life. A public life, however, one that belongs to the Golden King and Queen, should probably be a bit more… restrained.

After all, why should you and everyone else have to suffer because Hebe’s mom and dad can’t get along?

“I’ve got a lot of cataloging to do, so I’ll catch you around. Text me after dinner tonight, if you need to talk.” She finishes quietly, kindly, but without encroaching, and you squeeze her hand with affection.

“Thanks, Nell.”

The final two boxes stack comfortably for your dash inside. You're eager to get all the plants settled so you can get back to the Greenhouse, slink away to your personal temple, your place of refuge, somewhere quiet to prepare for your dreaded birthday dinner in peace.

“Hello.” A male voice calls, accented so strangely it’s impossible to place. He waves, trying to flag you down.

“Hello?” You turn, nearly stumbling back at the sight of him.

Who is this?

He’s stunning. Brilliant blue eyes study you from a mountaintop, taller than you by more than a head or two. His hair is short on the sides, but long in the middle, a fashion of mohawk you’re unfamiliar with except for in Hoplites, warriors who sacrifice themselves for the sanctity of the state. He’s broad, built like there’s a Herculean amount of muscle underneath his immaculately tailored midnight black suit, and his cheekbones complement the razor edge of his jaw, framing a full set of dark, plush lips.

He looks like a dream you’ve never had. A fantasy that failed fruition.

Fairer than Adonis. Brighter than Apollo.

Butterflies kick up a fluttering frenzied in your belly.

“Sorry to bother ye, I’m looking for Hebe’s?” Ah. You smile.

“You’ve found it. This is just the backside. Front door is around the walk to the left.” He steps closer, and you’re about to introduce yourself when you hear the whinny of a screech owl’s tremolo, a tinned melody that whistles past your ears.

Olympus tilts. Axis trembles. And so do you.

The stranger is keen, and glances around.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I um… it’s just that owl, I swear I saw the same one a few days ago… I didn’t think they were too common around here.”

“Dinnae think they are.” His eyes twinkle, celestial light that has you drifting, floating through time and space into starlit irises. The air turns heavy, hot- fresh fired bricks weighing down your chest, and everything spins, day turning to night, night molting black, deep hues of purple and blues streaking past your vision, spinning like moon, twisting you up until your balance is faltering, and you sway. “Whoa, hey.” Fingers fold over your arm, surprisingly cool, chilled, and it pulls you back into your body, spine uncurling, brow smoothing.

“Sorry, I…”

“Ye alright?” He’s still holding your arm, directing you to a bench, relieving you of your box in a swift motion.

“Yeah, sorry… I… I skipped breakfast.” There’s no other explanation, right? The handsome stranger tsks.

“Can I get ye somethin’? Maybe from inside?”

“No!” You blurt, horrified. Hebe would have a cow if she thought you were feeling faint or had skipped a meal. She takes caring for her loved ones far too seriously. “No, I’m almost done, and then I’ll be on my way home. I’ll eat there.” He raises an eyebrow, completely skeptical. “I swear.”

“Alright then. Let me help ye with the rest at least?” He’s standing with a hand extended, and you track the veins on the inside of his wrist until they disappear beneath his t-shirt, golden, tawny skin just barely allowing them to be seen. You wonder if it’s mortal blood that catapults through his body, or the rich, golden ichor that also spills from yours.

“Sure.” He lifts the box, gesturing for you to grab the other.

“I’m John, by the way.” John. It simmers in the front of your mind, stitching itself into the fabric of your magic.

“Persephone. My friends call me Seph.” Bold. Too bold.

“Ye’re Demeter’s daughter.” He comments, and you blink, fresh wave of regret curdling the sourness of your stomach.

“Yes.” Fool. Give your name to a stranger, and this is what will come. “Do you know-“

“Only in passing, dinnae worry.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“Ye wear yer emotions plainly.” Your cheeks burn, embarrassed at the blatancy of his statement. “It’s refreshing. So many of us, we play too many games, hide our true selves.” Us. Golden ones. Gods.

“You’re Cloaking.” You intend it to be a statement, an observation, but with a tight jaw and frowning brow, it’s an accusation.

“Aye. Wouldnae want to scare ye away, would I?” What? Your steps slow, gait pausing in concern. “Sorry, ah. Bad joke.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” He carries the boxes to the door, setting them down carefully, and then rising back to his full height. You swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Well, John,” you say it with a hint of sarcasm, and it conveys your doubt. That’s not your real name, is it? “It was nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, expecting a shake, but he holds it with both of his, back bowing, lips softly pressing the skin of your knuckles, tender touch making your knees weak, your heart swooping and swooning.

“The pleasure was mine, Persephone.”

“Have you given anymore thought to your role in the coming year? Your presence at harvest, or planting, would do-”

“I haven’t.” The wine is too oaky, so earthy it takes like dirt, the opus of your mother’s existence, and you swallow it down in silence.

“Persephone.” She chides, like she has a million times before. “If you just tried, a little harder-“

“I am Spring, mother. Life. Rebirth. Fertility.” You ignore her wince. “But that doesn’t mean I’m well suited for crops, and grain, and harvests.”

“It means exactly that. Otherwise, the Greenhouse would not exist.” Her knife slices into a bloody piece of meat, red dripping down the sterling to her fingertips. “Why must you fight your destiny?” Your mind wanders to your visitors the other day, the sisters. The Moirai. Does she know? Is that why she’s saying this? Did she send them? “You spend so much time actively trying to deny me, holed up with your flowers and silly little house plants-“

“It is you who denied me.” Her eyes narrow. “You who didn’t want me to become a fertility goddess, who wanted me to be some weapon of green light, to be the spitting image of you. You raised me to be a threat!”

“Is it so wrong, that I did not wish for my daughter to become a common whore? That I had hoped to prevent her becoming such a failure? That I dreamed of her becoming so much more than… what sits before me now?” The words do not shock you anymore. You’ve grown to expect them.

That does not mean they do not sting.

“It is wrong that you kept me locked in this house, away from the world, until I was too strong for you to control.” You spit, fork clattering against your plate. Rage sears white at the edge of your vision, overflowing bouquet of flowers in the center of the table blooming into massive blossoms, edges of petals beginning to curl inward.

“Control yourself.” She warns. “Or I will do it for you.” Your pulse thunders. The air in the dining room crackles.

You do not relent. Rationally, you know you should. You know this will only end one way, that this will sever another tie to your past, to your mother, one you won’t be able to repair… but you can’t stop. The magic itches under your skin, screaming.

The ivy that covers the outside brick shatters a windowpane above her head, springing through the opening like a virus seeking a host, sticking to the inside wall. Glass falls to the floor, rain pelts the roof.

“Persephone.” Shining silver spools, churning across the table, through the air until it takes form-

The Whip.

Your mother’s favorite.

It licks your skin, your fingertips, your knuckles. A different touch, from the reverent kiss you received only hours ago. It cracks through the air like the lightning.

“That’s enough.” She vows.

You will not cry. You won’t. You won’t let her get to you like this anymore. You’re a woman now. An adult. You’re not a child, you’re not, you’re not-

She sighs. Your fingers clench the stem of the wine glass so firmly you think it might shatter.

You finish your meal in stiff silence. Its heaviness droops all around you, blanketing the entire table, your fork, the distance between you and your own mother. It’s an eon. A millisecond. Never enough because you always crave more. More space. More time. More distance. Her eyes spark, anger burning hot behind them, but she says nothing.

When she’s finished, she rises from the table without another word, disappearing down the hall.

Happy Birthday, you guess.

In the middle of the night, the Greenhouse is quiet.

Even the plants slumber, most of the daylight seekers, pistils, stamens, all covered by their petals, lying in wait. In the back, you pad along the floor of moss, allowing the tiny tendrils of green to skim along your bare skin, pulling opulent, indulgent specks of power into themselves. Wisteria lines the walls, tiny blooms of purple and white falling like curtains of stars, only parting for the archway that leads to the spring, a small freshwater lagoon that spills from the crust of the earth as hot as tea, bubbling eternally, waiting for you.

Tonight, the water is ethereal. Steam rises from the pool, slicking its stone home, and you bask in it, muscle and bone turning languid, supple in the roiling spring. It’s nearly sublime, almost perfect.

Your mother’s voice still echoes. Even now, hours later, you can hear her.

A failure. A disappointment.

Your knuckles sting from the salt of the Whip, the silver crust that slices so effortlessly, just as it has since you were a child.

You cried a lot, then.

Now, it’s few and far between. You’ve grown, rebelled, retaliated. You’ve become a lost cause.

Ungovernable Persephone.

The pain still sits so heavily in the bottom of your soul, a wretched, tangible thing that sprouts blackened vine from the earth and a whole manner of other things.

You eye the marble encasement, the walls that harbor the spring. They too, are black. Born from your rage, your sorrow. Your uncontrollable, ungovernable power that grew from the depths of your despair and built you a temple.

The Greenhouse. Your home.

Everyone called it a wonder. A feat, proof of your power. Trees and vines and branches all twisted together, building a harbor, solidifying your presence, your Golden light.

You took your first offering in this place, the glass for the windows and the roof, the final piece of your shelter from the storm, the first stake of your life as a goddess, your life of freedom.

You left your mother’s house that day, only returning now on occasions. You never looked back.

Though, you can still feel the Whip, can still hear it whirl through the wind against your supine form. Can still feel the ridges of scar tissue that never fully healed.

You could have called Nell. Or Hebe. Or Melia. Anyone of them would be here for you. Would listen. Understand.

Outside the window, an owl hoots.

You sink beneath the water line, magma rushing over every inch of your body, washing you clean of her, of the Whip, of the wounds on your knuckles.

A trembling fawn. Still to this day.

A wicked daughter to have, they tell her. A vengeful soul. Rotted to the core.

Ungovernable Persephone.

Olympus is buzzing, even on its ninth day of rain. It’s a vibration that all manner of beings can feel, creatures, gods, even humans. The ground rattles like there’s a lightning bolt shoved into the center of the rail system, electrifying the wires and tracks, zinging from pole to pole between the buildings and above the streets where cars putter alongside those who walk to their destinations.

When you were a child, the name of the city was almost dirty. It made your mother’s nose turn skyward, disgust and disdain clear as the day on her delicate features. “The golden city is anything but.” She promised, on her knees before you, gentle hand at your back. “Those who live there are heathens, and naught else. They would seek to destroy you if they knew the truth.”

For many, many years, you never step foot here.

Not until University. Once you graduated, the rope around your neck, the bit in your mouth began to loosen, and you had already lost your taste for the expanse of metropolis, more interested in your own space outside city limits where you could feel your connection to the earth, where you could indulge your power in privacy.

“It’s not the city she fears.” Melia told you one night. “But Aphrodite. Demeter’s worried ‘Di will knock you right off the whole bloody planet.” She peered over your shoulder, catching the gleam of Apollo, his bright eyes tracking her from across a crowded bar. “Trust me. She’s a jealous bitch.”

Tonight, the city is waterlogged, soaked to the bone, raindrops splashing as you slide from the car to the black door tucked inside a black wall, a soft faced Harpy standing in front of the passage.

“Hebe. Persephone.” She greets, turning to your other companions. “Nephelle. Melia.” You pull your power through the earth that sits beneath cracked concrete and heavy asphalt, spinning your Cloak up and over your body, adjusting your appearance just so. Your mask slips into place, obscuring nearly all your face, both Nell and Melia pulling together something similar.

“Ocypete.” Hebe pauses. “Is there a riddle tonight?” The Harpy grins, flashing rows of too sharp teeth, fine points that can cut the flesh from bone in a clean bite.

“No riddle.” The door creaks wide, and she steps aside. “Enjoy your evening.”

You don’t notice the way her eyes linger after you’ve passed.

Aselegia is one of the safest places in the Olympus. Here, Golden ones must be Cloaked, mortals must be masked, and creatures must go to great lengths to hide their identity. All intermingle with one another, safe in the anonymity. Gods and Goddesses usually choose to mask as well, a practice, you believe, stemming from common occurrences of violent jealousy, an effort to prevent becoming the target of one’s wrath.

The club itself is big enough to get lost in. The first floor houses the lobby, and a set of elevators. The walls are covered in shiny waxed mahogany, red wine rich carpet covering the floor, and it smells different, sweet and smoky, cigars and finely spun sugar. Intoxicating.

The elevators will take you anywhere you have access, and most can visit three floors. There’s a dancefloor on the main level, with a giant bar, private rooms in the wings, bottle service, tables. Very standard. Other floors have gambling tables, quieter music, even a dimly lit pool and sauna.

It isn’t until you get above level three that things change. Endorsements or sponsors are required. Waivers need to be signed. Negotiations begin.

Pick your poison.

You start on the main level tonight. Melia insists, and you agree, grateful to the Oceanid for suggesting starting slow, the low rumble of nerves still present in your magic, your body. The music thumps, high to low song and symphony synthesized into something electronic, and it draws you into a sway, shoulders against shoulders, hips moving in time with the melody.

“Shots?” Hebe brightens, waving over a cocktail waitress, a pretty thing who eagerly does her bidding, enraptured with the way she moves in the skintight, cornflower blue dress. Her Cloak has disguised her well enough that no one would know who she is, but she does not ever manipulate her body. A cherished rule of her own, you’ve learned.

“You’re beautiful.” The girl coos, and Hebe nods, singing over the explosion of Nephelle’s laughter.

“I know, sweetheart.”

A slick sheen of sweat coats the space between Melia’s breasts. You’re both on the dancefloor, moving with the music, Melia perfectly in time, like she was born to it, and you pull her close, slinging an arm over her neck to whisper in her ear.

“He’s here.” A god’s dark eyes glint in the night, between the passages of writing bodies. He wears a white mask, stitched with the threads of glowing sun, but his obsessive gaze gives him away. He’s transfixed, focused solely on the Oceanid in the middle of the dance floor, and she giggles, turning so that her ass is pressed against your pelvis, her head tipped back on your shoulder.

Her hand extends, an invitation. A request.

He’s by her side within a second.

“Apollo.” You nod, and he barely spares you a glance, too busy cradling his Oceanid’s face.

“You have been ignoring my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” He tenses.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Of course, I am.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re here for Sephy’s birthday, not this.” He peeks towards you, sliver of regret flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry, Persephone.” You wave him off, not wanting to be in the middle of… this.

“It’s fine, we’re just… out. It’s not for anything special.” You look away from them, casually glancing around. You look, but you do not see. Not until…

There’s a male, wearing a pitch-black suit. A god? A mortal? He’s taller than anyone else in the room, broadest shoulders and proud posture, everything about him drawing you in, like blood in the water.

The room stands still. Silent. Empty, save for two.

Tempered water like glass, undisturbed. An undertow vicious beneath the surface, unknown to all.

“Hello.” The pitch of his voice is familiar, almost dreamlike, something that’s never been real, yet startling all the same.

“H-hi.” You stammer. His hand reaches, a magnetic force pulling yours from where it’s clawed against your thigh, and he grasps it like he’s cupping a dahlia bloom, a fragile collection of so many petals that make up an entire beautiful blossom, a universe unto itself.

Black leather caresses your skin. Clear, golden-brown eyes pin you in place, anthracite spiking around his pupils in a halo. You cannot see his face, or his skin, only what’s barely visible of his eyelids and dark spun lashes.

Still…

His beauty is terror. It’s the throat of a lamb, freshly cut. The mutilated carcass of a doe, feeding a forest. Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

It drags you out into a river, where your feet no longer touch the bottom. It sings to you from the depths.

You cannot tear yourself away.

He does not let go. Even when that same voice fills your mind.

“My darling. You shall rule all that lives and moves, you shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.” *

Warmth slips from your hand, sand flitting through your fingers, a fleeting touch of comfort and confusion fading into the night.

My darling.

My darling…

When the light comes back to you, the male is nowhere to be found. Only Apollo and Melia stand to your side, still in their own world.

“Will you let me take you upstairs then?” He croons, and your heart dances, nerves and anticipation all spiraling together like a sailor’s knot. You know what comes next.

“Only if the girls can come.”

You try to forget the strange encounter on the main level and focus on your needs instead; you’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it, and you say the same to Hebe, too, when she disappears with a male who seemed much too large to not be the son of a giant, leaving you alone on a small, velvet couch, Nell and Melia already long gone. Your second martini sits untouched, and you keep yourself from looking at any one being too closely, lest you get caught staring.

That’s when you see him.

Light blue eyes. Handsomely styled mohawk. Even with a Cloak and mask, he’s hard to forget.

John.

His mask is a red skull, covering nearly all his face, the sculpted brow severe, almost angry.

His eyes glow behind it, locked on yours.

Oh. Shit. You vibrate like a live wire, hanging onto yourself for dear life.

“Hello.” Your mouth doesn’t work. “I’m Soap.” He extends his hand, and you blink. Oh, right. The alias. Because what is the point in all this, if you give your real name?

“K-kore.” You manage to stammer, and the corner of his eyes crease.

“Why are ye here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are ye looking for, little goddess?” He still has not dropped your gaze, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, feel him in your mind, your body.

Myself.

Your teeth dig downward, pressing hard before you whisper the truth.

“Pain.” His eyes flash, and then he tugs.

John- Soap, takes you to a private room. You follow, numbly, shivering with a million emotions, stumbling through the chances, the possibilities of seeing him twice, when before he was a stranger.

A coincidence, you decide, putting it out of your mind. You’re dwelling on it too much, picking it apart, riling yourself up… over nothing. Over a handsome god, existing in the Golden city? Like you’ve never seen those before… like it’s so unbelievable.

“Are ye alright?” He murmurs, stepping up to your back. You can feel the heat of him, his warmth bleeding from beneath the suit to your exposed skin, the dress you chose wholly exposing your spine, your skin.

Your nipples tighten. Your heart races, and your thighs press together inadvertently.

“Yes.”

“Dinnae lie.” He’s gentle in the reminder, and you fill your lungs.

“I’m just… nervous.”

“Ye’ve done this before?” He’s assuming. You nod, quickly, and he motions to a very comfortable looking lounge chair, where you perch on the edge of the cushion. “What would make ye happy tonight?” Anxiety unsettles your posture, and you choke down the embarrassment that tries to claw its way up your throat.

“A… a spanking.” You whisper, pushing flimsy confidence forward. Far away, a piece of your mind, your magic, pleads. It cries, it begs for release. It urges you forward, and you lift your face to his, seeking approval. Comfort.

Reassurance.

The cold hand of doubt rears. It snickers at you. It laughs.

Reassurance from someone, anyone but yourself? Comfort?

No.

“Do ye-“

“My safe word is flower.” You spit, motioning to the stool that waits between you.

It’s an act. A song and a dance, something fake and forced. But he doesn’t know that.

He freezes. Thick tension runs the gamut, heavy and exhausting, and you smother yourself, your emotions, your reactions to this very moment.

Pain. The desire burns. It pushes you to the zenith, until you’re down on your knees, folding yourself forward.

Pain, to turn it off. Pain, to make it all stop.

Pain, to release you into yourself.

What matter of creature are you, that you can only feel whole, when parts of you are carved away?

“Up.” John commands, and you lean back, confused. “Ye’ll do this over my knee.” He bends you, with grace, back towards the soft cushion, laying comfortably, your palms flat.

A hand coasts over the swell of your ass.

“Ye’ll count.” His voice has shifted. Gone is the feather’s edge, now replaced by steel. His accent still rings true, but there’s a firmness to it, a finality. Dominance.

“Yes.”

“Ye’ll tell me yer name, and today’s date, when asked. If ye cannae answer, we’ll stop. Immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I need a yes.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll go to ten, then.” We.

“I can take more.”

“We’ll decide what ye can take, when we get there.” You acquiesce, fingers digging down into the cushion before forcibly relaxing. “Big breath.” He coaches, and then-

The first slap stuns you. Only with his hand, and yet still so much stronger than last time with a paddle. It punches air from your lungs, the noise that rockets out of your throat a mix between a scream and a moan.

“F-fuck.” You croak. “One.” He doesn’t hesitate and rains the next one down on your opposite cheek. Again, it robs you of oxygen. “Two.”

“Good girl.” The praise is very small flame at the bottom of the darkest well. It barely lights the path ahead, desperately trying to catch, to grow, but it’s too easily snuffed out. His palm rubs the base of your spine to the tops of your thighs.

Crack.

The sting sizzles outward from impact, and you gasp. “Three-“ Another, same cheek. “Four!” The whistle of the swing alerts you a second before the next, and when you shout “Five!” it sounds off kilter.

“What’s yer name?”

“Seph-Persephone.” Raw warmth simmers beneath your dress and underwear, and the fire at the bottom of the well starts to rage, growing larger, eating what it’s been given, hungry, seeking, trying to build momentum. He asks you the date, satisfied at the lack of delay, and swings so high, you can see the shine of his palm from the corner of his eye. Your toes curl.

Whack. Two, too quickly.

“Six!” A choked cry. “Seven.” Your face is wet, saltwater tracing the plush swell towards your mouth and chin. You sniffle.

“I know, I know. Ye poor thing.” He bunches the fabric of your dress, scratching it across your scorched cheeks. “Ye’re doin’ so well, almost there.” The words barely register, only the sentiment cuts through the haze. Your thighs are pressed so tightly together, slick dripping from your cunt, the aching throb of your clit rubbing against your panties. You’re desperate… to be touched, to be hurt, to be whole. You need it. Crave it more than anything else.

He delivers two more strong, healthy, swift blows. Eight. Nine. They enflame you completely, fire burning in the pit of your soul, encasing you in a coffin where no one can hear you, or see you. Safe and tucked away, floating into a dark cocoon of eternal night.

At the tenth, the room changes. The air grows colder, nearly frigid, shadows clinging to the walls, and you barely register being moved, held like a child, tucked into a chest. There’s talking, somewhere, in your mind or maybe behind you, two pitches at war, a dance of wills.

“Beautifully done, darling.” Somewhere far, far away, in the last sliver of your sane mind, you realize it’s a different voice, a voice echoed in gemstones, ruby and emerald and pearl, before that too, slips into space, and you drift deeper inside the luxurious praise. A warm bath. A sunlit meadow with thousands of Narcissus dotting the hill, soaking up every ray. A golden fawn, taking her first steps to freedom.

John’s face looms into your line of sight, maskless, no Cloak.

“We need a yes.” He murmurs, cupping your cheek. “Persephone.”

“Hmmm?”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.” The words don’t match. They don’t click, they catch, they bump against each other, trying to lock into place, failing over and over.

“Supposed to go… home with my friends but-“ Your tongue is heavy, weighted beneath a giant sequoia, and you shiver. The chest that your head bobbles on catches, an arm securing you in place. It’s warm, and firm, heavier than a tree. Who…

“Little goddess.” He prompts, and you sigh, already wistfully unaware.

“’kay, yeah. Yes.”

You’re already slipping away when the world goes dark.

Your eyes open to a strange place.

You don’t recognize any of it, from the massive four poster bed with lithe, gauzy curtains drawn closed on three sides, to a fireplace the size of a giant, roaring, sizzling flame burning endlessly in its hearth. You don’t recognize the room, the black marble floors, polished to a brilliant gleam, one that you can nearly see your reflection in, or the vanity, dark oak housing a hand carved mirror. You’ve never seen the ornate stained glass window before, stretching from floor to ceiling, the size of ten men. You don’t know the bed, sized for a king, emerald silk sheets and a matching duvet, with a million pillows that were just cradling your head. The robe you’re wearing matches, the green only a shade lighter, and you tuck it tight across your body, realizing you’re fully nude.

The fire pops. It pushes a gasp from you, caught off guard, and at the sound, another being in the room stirs from the plush rug just beneath the bed.

A three headed dog.

It, they, stare at you, tongues wagging, eyes wide. Jet black fur, darker than midnight, white teeth so sharp they could rip your throat free in an instant.

You’ve seen this dog before… in pictures. Schoolbooks. You know their name.

Cerberus.

Panic races through your veins, ratcheting your heart rate higher and higher, your body and mind separating, all synapses dizzy with fear.

Oh gods. Where… where are you? What happened? You were just… you were just having some fun, at Aselegia, with John… weren’t you? Where…

Are you dead?

You reach for your power, digging deep, trying to drag as much as you could to the surface-

Nothing.

You bleat, a scared lamb, in panic. It’s a cry. A scream. An awful sound. You need your rage now, but all you find is fear. You cannot reach your power. There is a blackened lock around it, a casing that holds it away from you, out of reach.

Cerberus whines. They hold their position, tail swishing back and forth, and you scramble towards the middle of the bed. Your ass protests, skin warm and tender against silk. Your knees tuck to your chest, and you force your eyes closed, trying to take long, measured breaths without success.

You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re-

The door clicks. John appears, two palms out, hesitant, and cautious. Your voice shakes, no matter how hard you try to reinforce it with iron will. “G-get away from me.”

“Ye’re alright, Persephone. We’d never hurt ye.” We?

“We need a yes.”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.”

Something flickers behind him. A figure, a shape of shadow, shifting.

Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

The male from the dance floor. He wears no mask now, but the feel of him, the threat of his power, is unmistakable… and familiar. You sputter on it, choking on him and John, the threat of their power combined looming, suffocating. “Oh gods.” You clutch the robe tighter. “Wh-where am I?”

“You know where you are, darling.” The other one says, and you moan.

“N-no. I… I can’t be. I can’t dead. I can’t be here… I-“

“You’re not dead, Persephone.” He cautions. “You’re very much alive.” And shaking, alive and trembling so vigorously you can hear your teeth chattering, chest heaving up and down, desperately trying to suck air inward. Cerberus whines again, and he rubs a thumb behind one of their ears. “Easy, Cerberus. She’s alright.”

“I ca-can’t be here. I have to… I have to go home.” The room seems wet, dollops of tears falling from your lashes, sticking to your skin and the sheets. Reality slams forward, rushing right up against your nonsensical mind.

It takes one gentle pulse of their power, to realize the truth.

Hades. They’re… Hades. They’re Hades and you’re… you’re in the Underworld.

Beg. Beg them for mercy. Whatever it is you’ve done, you must try.

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know what I did but I swear, I’m sorry, I-“ John tries to reach, seeking your hand, but you curl up into a tighter ball.

“Shhh. Ye hae nae done anythin’ wrong, sweet Persephone. Ye’re alright. Ye’re safe.” Safe? Safe in the Underworld? With them?

Oh gods. You let Hades spank you.

“You… you tricked me.” You whisper, raw betrayal and pain weeping profoundly in your heart. You trusted him and…

You are a fool.

“We did what was necessary.” The wolf-like one says solemnly, gaze heavy.

“Necessary?” You squeak. “What’s… necessary about this?”

“We will explain everything, after we’ve eaten. Or maybe had some more rest? It’s the middle of the night, for you.” What?

“No… I can’t… I can’t stay here. I have to-“

“Go home? So, you can hide away in your temple, kept company only by your plants and the occasional friend you let inside?” You blink, stunned, mouth dropping open.

“How do you... have you been watching me?” The stained-glass window on the far side of the room shifts, drawing your attention, morphing slowly from a tawny blur to a… screech owl.

“Oh, my gods. Oh…” The room shudders. “You can’t keep me here, I have to go…” Wolves circle, flanking where you sit, precarious and hopeless, a hand in front of your body like it will save you. “Please.”

“It’s alright, darling.” The dark one moves, blurred in shadow, magic blanketing you in a warm, comforting hold, heating your bones, encouraging your eyes to slowly shut.

The last thing you see is the ceiling, your body cradled in the embrace of a stranger.

Morning comes slow.

At first, you don’t open your eyes, even though you’ve been long awake.

If you open them, your fear will be real. It will be valid.

So, you keep them closed. Keep them shut long enough you drift in and out of twilight, until someone clears their throat.

Fuck.

“Are you going to open your eyes?” His voice is ruby and velvet. You shudder.

“Hades.”

“Technically. One half of a whole, but my loved ones call me Simon.” Your brow flexes at that, and there’s a soft chuckle in response. “Will you wake? It’s well past morning now.”

“Are you going to render me unconscious again?” you hiss, cracking an eyelid. He’s sitting in a posh armchair, oiled black leather beneath his black suit, eyes steady on yours. His face is a map of scars, but instead of seeming rough, or out of place, they naturally suit him, complementing his broad jaw, severe expression, perfectly sculpted bone structure. His nose is crooked, like it had been smashed and rearranged once or twice, but still sits as if it was meant to be, and you wonder how anyone could do anything of the like to Hades.

He's handsome, in a way you expect to die from.

“Only if you cannot behave.”

“Perhaps I could show you how I behave.” You smile with a full set of teeth, words ending in a snarl, and he huffs another gentle laugh.

“I have seen the victims of your wrath, Persephone. I have no doubt you’d strike me down if you could.” You swallow the nausea in your stomach. Your magic.

“I want my magic back.” You blurt the demand, not even pausing to consider a more tactful way.

“We did not take it, only… bound it, for the time being. It’s still within you, we would never separate you from your power.” He sighs, a golden pearl rocking in his palm, glinting in the fireplace’s gleam. “Contrary to popular belief, we are not a monster.”

“Then let me go home, if you’re not as they say you are.” His eyes harden, face twisting sour, and then… sad.

“I’ll give you some privacy. There are clothes in the closet. Johnny and I expect you for breakfast, and then a tour… if you’re good. Cerberus will show you the way when you’re ready.”

If you’re good.

Cerberus leads you through a maze of decadent marble and arches.

You follow behind them hesitantly, cautious, and they mind you, slowing when you’ve lagged too far behind.

You can’t help it. You’re mystified.

You expected the Underworld to be dark, and dingy. And while maybe it is on the dark side, with glossy, polished marble, giant onyx columns that blot of the sky, and black stone everywhere… when you peek out the windows, you’re gob smacked.

Beneath wherever you are, which you’re beginning to suspect is Hades’ palace, is lush greenery. A verdant, fertile field lays to the south and the east, wrapping around to the edge of a forest, where you can just barely make out a large variety of deciduous trees. To the North, a river winds, separating the palace from a large meadow and… a town? You shake your head, as if to clear your addled mind and cloudy vision. Is that truly… a town?

“Asphodel Meadows.” Someone says from behind you, nearly jumping you from your skin.

“Fuck.” You gasp, hand clutching your chest. It’s a man, not John, or Simon, but a stranger, clad in all black.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s… okay. I- what did you say?”

“The town. It’s Asphodel Meadows. A place for mortal’s souls.” He bows. “I’m Thanatos.”

“I’m… Persephone.” He smiles, just slightly.

“I know who you are, my lady.” My lady?

“What do you…” words nearly fail as you grapple. “What do you do here?”

“I am a child of Nyx. The god of Death.”

“I thought Hades…”

“They are the Kings of the Underworld. I am the personification, the embodiment of Death.” Oh.

“You reap.” You whisper. His jaw tightens, and then smooths.

“Your escort is impatient. I think he’s probably ready for his bacon.” He eyes Cerberus, who whines, tapdancing on slick marble.

“Bacon?”

“Yes. He’s very spoiled. Eats better than the Kings themselves.” He motions down the hall. “It’s just that way. Lovely to meet you, my lady.” He gives you another bow, and then turns down a corridor, one that had not been there before, leaving you and Cerberus alone in the empty hall.

“I- you too.”

The Kings, as Thanatos called them, are both seated when you push the incredibly heavy door open. At the sound, John rises, Simon behind him, and the three of you stare at one another for a minute, until Cerberus barks.

“Please, sit.” John motions to the only other place set, a third chair between them. You swallow.

“Uh…”

“We don’t bite.”

“Not unless ye want us to.” John smiles, sinfully handsome in the morning light. It streams into the surprisingly cozy dining room through a group of five windows, all facing east, capturing the light of… a sun?

“Is that a sun?”

“It’s a sun of sorts.” Simon offers. “We have a sky, weather. A sun, a moon. Clouds. Everything that exists in Olympus.”

“Are ye hungry?” You hesitantly lower yourself into the chair, surprised at the array of food displayed. “We ah, weren’t sure what ye liked so, got a bit of everything.” Meats, yogurts, sweets, cereal, fruit, anything you could want laid out in front of you, but it’s something so near to your heart that catches your eye. Portokalopita.

“They are Hebe’s.” Simon murmurs.

This is a trick. They kidnapped you. They’re holding you hostage. You have to convince them to let you go. The warning resounds, and your stomach thrashes.

“I want to go home.” You push the plate of orange cakes away, disappointment flickering across John’s face, exasperation on Simon’s. “Please. I… I appreciate your hospitality and you… you bringing me home for… aftercare,” you grit the word, shame rocketing up your spine. This is what happens when you trust. You let Hades spank you, for fucks sake. And then they abducted you. “but I need to go home. The plants, they need me. My friends-“

“Your friends are used to going days on end without contact from you.” Simon cuts you off, and the blood drains from your face. “Are they not?”

“N-no. They’ll know I’m missing, they will.” Lie. He knows. You know they both know, just by the way the regard you. Half pity. Half amusement. It makes your blood boil. “Fuck you.” You hiss, shooting up in the chair.

“Seph-“ John tries to soothe you, calm you, using your nickname like he knows you, and it only makes you more irate.

“Don’t call me that.” You whirl on him. “I trusted you! I don’t even know you and I let you-“

“That is the nature of Aselegia, is it not?” He counters, cutting you off. You gape like a fish. “The anonymity. Dinnae turn it on me now.” His tone melts from ice to warmth, sympathy bleeding from his irises. “I assure ye, we are more than trustworthy. We would never, ever hurt ye. We would never let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye’ll see.”

“Then let me go home.” He shakes his head sadly but says nothing, and rage snaps in your heart like the drawback of a rubber band, stinging and sharp. “What do you want from me?” John opens his mouth, and then abruptly closing it, deferring to Simon.

“You are our guest. We’d like to get to know you. I promise, just as before, you will not be harmed in our care. We will never hurt you."

"How do I know that?" You’re incredulous. “You expect me to take you at your word?”

“Let us strike a deal then.” He declares, and John nods supportively.

Don’t, your good sense screams. Don’t be an idiot.

“What kind of deal?”

“You will stay here for two days, forty-eight hours exactly. We will show you this realm and get to know one another in that time, and at the end, we will reveal the doorway that leads back to Olympus.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Two days? And then I can go home?”

“Two days.” John echoes. Sapphire eyes gleam, and you carefully, quickly, try to pick apart every word in the proposal.

“My magic.” You demand, and they both answer immediately with a resounding,

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Your power is wild, Persephone.” Simon tells you, not unkindly. “We do not know how the Underworld will react to it, and we must think of our residents, all the souls we care for here. We cannot let something upset the balance that is so delicate.” Your mouth goes a little dry. You were expecting more of an answer about control, domineering you, your magic, keeping you contained. Not… care for souls.

“Yer mother raised ye to be her weapon.” John says softly, kneeling before the chair where you sit. His hand rests on the cushion, and you wonder if he means to touch you. “We dinnae regard ye as such, but until we understand ye better, we need to protect-“

“I understand.” You cut him off. You don’t need some forced sympathy, pity, thrust upon you by Hades, of all gods. They exchange a long glance, one that gives you a small peek into their lives, layers on layers of words and sentiment, communicated with a single glance.

Simon reaches for John, pulling him to his feet and into his body, chest to back.

“Do you agree?” Two days. Two days and you can leave. You can do two days of anything. You certainly cannot fight them, or your way out. What choice do you have?

“Sure.”

“We need a yes, darling.” Darling. The pet name makes your toes curl. You take a big breath.

“Yes.”

The valley outside of Asphodel Meadows is one of the most stunning places you’ve ever been. It’s lush and lively, covered in Narcissus and Asphodelus, like a meadow one could only dream of. You're not sure why it feels so familiar, like the cusp of another life, or a nightmare, but it takes root inside you. You lay in the field of flowers, letting them cover your body, wishing so desperately to touch your magic, so you could truly feel them, the grass and the dirt and the stems here, all things that seem like they’re so full of life, so opposite your expectations of the Underworld.

“Shall we continue?” Cerberus perks up at the sound of their master’s voice, head popping over the flowers to spot both Kings standing on the path, a good distance away. They peek at you, heads tilted, and you sigh. It seems you’ve been assigned a minder, in the form of a three headed dog.

You join them on the road before long, walking silently, sullenly, John sneaking glances at you nearly every chance he gets, and you can pinpoint the heat of his gaze every time, the throbbing intensity of his focused power nearly bowling you over.

“So, there are two of you?” What are you supposed to talk to the Kings of the Underworld about, anyway?

“Aye. It’s a little-known secret. One realm, two gods to rule.” You frown, perplexed.

“But… you haven’t always been that way?”

“No.” Simon answers. “We were once Golden brothers in battle, long before your time, before becoming this. When we fell in love, our souls split. They merged with our magic, tied us together eternally. Now, we rule as one.”

“So, you’re married.” You deduce.

“In the most permanent way you can think of.” They stop short of a bridge, one that crests high over a roaring river, and Simon gestures broadly. “Persephone, this is the Acheron.”

The Underworld is a place of rivers, you learn. Waterways that hold power, that possess the ability to cleanse you, free you, burn you, punish you. There is a river of fire, a river of weeping, a river to forget.

The Acheron is the river of woe.

Fitting, you think, standing on the bridge. Below, bright turquoise water rushes by, crashing into rock and boulder, each sound more akin to a scream than the thunder of a tributary. Mouths, long and full of despair, wail beneath the current, wraith like creatures with bone white skin and eyes skimming along the top.

You get lost in them. Lost in the irreversible cycle of woe, desolation creeping up inside your own self as you peer down into the depths. Are you not like them? Despondent. Bleak. Isolated. Is that not what you’ve made with your life, what was chosen for you? Hidden away, sharpened like an axe never to be used. Are you not alone, like them? Trapped, like them?

You don’t even realize you’re leaning forward until pressure rests at your back. “Easy. Dinnae want ye fallin’ in.” John murmurs, stepping away the edge, bringing you with him. Your limbs feel shaky, and you wonder if it’s because you just almost went over… or because you didn’t eat earlier.

“Sorry. I uh-“ you don’t know how to explain it, that feeling. The agony that bubbles up in the back of your throat.

“We know.” Simon regards you with empathy, understanding, and you shake the attention loose, pushing ahead of them, down the bridge and into town, into Asphodel Meadows itself, eager to leave the river and its woe behind.

In town, the Kings are well received. It surprises you, to watch them in the street, welcomed by the souls who live there. They take you on a tour, introducing you to residents, explaining the structure, the magic and the infrastructure that makes it all work. Souls take their preferred form in Asphodel Meadows, allowed to choose for themselves, whatever they feel most comfortable in, and you’re shocked that such benevolence would be bestowed upon anyone in the Underworld.

Why are they showing you this? Why go to such great lengths? What is the purpose?

“Hi.” A small voice breaks you from your confusion, and you find a small girl at your feet, bouquet of Narcissus clutched in her tiny hands. You crouch.

“Hello.”

“I’m Phoebe.” She giggles, cheeks round and rosy.

“I’m Persephone.” You incline your head. “Phoebe is a beautiful name.” Your heart pangs. She’s so small, so… fragile. How did she die? Where is her family? Is she here alone?

“Thank you, my lady.” She tries to bow, and you rush to stop her, stilling her with a hand.

“Are those for me?”

“They are. Johnny said they’re your favorites.” Johnny? You glance over to where they stand, both turned your way, something unreadable in their reflections.

“Well, thank you. They’re lovely.” She wishes you well, skipping off in another direction, and you meander across the street, unable to hide your quizzical expression.

“Johnny? Not Hades?”

“Ach. The kids they’re… they’re usually a wee bit scared, first thing. It’s better for them, if we’re friends.” He shrugs, but Simon watches him in reverence, pure love and light beaming from his gaze, adoration in every slow blink.

Your heart skips.

Fuck.

“Are you not hungry?” Simon muses, walking beside you and John in the castle. Your shoes tap along the way, echoing, and Cerberus barks. John glares at them.

“I… I am afraid to eat here.” They both stop short.

“Why?”

“I have always heard… a myth. That if you somehow find yourself here and you eat, you’ll become trapped, stuck here forever.” Simon chuckles, dry and warm.

“No, darling. Please, we do not wish for you to starve.”

“The legend isnae true. Only by eating whole pomegranate seeds that ye pluck from the flesh of the fruit yerself, can ye become bound to the land. And we dinnae serve those.” He winks, stepping a little closer. “Ye can eat, little goddess. Please. Join us for dinner, we insist.”

“Okay.”

Simon is not at dinner.

John makes no mention of it, and only when you’re halfway done does he offer an explanation, something important that needed to be tended to.

“Ye look stunning.” He hums, and you have half the decency to smile. You chose a dress from the never-ending closet, black to match their suits, for fun. Its back is open, and the front offers a generous view of your breasts, but not quite enough.

You felt like sin. Johnny has been staring like you are. And maybe, you didn’t want sex, but you did want to punish them for their treachery. If only a little bit.

For making you a fool.

“So, no Simon?” He swallows a mouthful of red wine.

“He apologizes. Somethin’ came up.”

“That’s alright.” You shift, legs crossing. The transition is unintentional, but it draws Johnny’s eyes to your knees, and up. You lift your glass, the largest goblet of red wine you’ve seen, and allow a small river of red to run from the corner of your mouth to your neck. It traces the valley between your breasts, and Johnny growls.

“Persephone.”

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Ye’re playing with fire.” He grits, the gleam in his eyes one of a predator.

“I’m not playing with anything,” you hiss, slamming the glass down. It shatters, it sloshes, it spills onto the table and into your lap. “You’re the ones playing with me. Kidnapping me, holding me hostage.” Your anger builds, overflowing inside your soul, clawing at the locked box of your magic. Cerberus whines, galloping across the floor and out the main door, but you hardly notice, too focused on spitting as much fire and venom at your captor as you can. “Touring me around the Underworld, making yourselves look like some benevolent, beloved rulers when really all you are… are gods of death and decay.” John stares at you, wild eyed. Your chair clatters to the ground as you stand, fury rocketing through every vein in your body, ichor pulsing beneath your skin. You’re so, so close to your power; you can taste it. Can feel the way it screams, how it howls to you, churning in the depths of your being, rattling the cage it’s trapped inside.

Trapped. You’re trapped. Like always.

Your vision blurs, and you take a step towards John. It all happens so fast, so lightning quick that it doesn’t even register until your hand is swinging through the air and across his face.

He does nothing. You feel the rumble of his power, pushing and pulling at the seams of your very being, waiting to tear your apart, but he holds himself at bay.

Only watches you with cold, wrathful eyes.

The air chills.

“That’s enough.” Simon stands between your bodies. Power, so potent, so strong, wraps tight, shoving your wrists together, Golden cuffs immobilizing you, holding you still. “You want to be a disobedient little brat, is that it?”

“YOU STOLE ME!” You scream it, raw and agonized. It tries to burst through your skin. Tries to explode your vessels. Your very heart. Your chest heaves, eyes wide, and John flanks you, coming closer and closer until you can feel his heat against your side.

He’s hard.

“What did ye think ye were doin, sweet Persephone? Did ye really think you could strike me?”

You don’t have an answer. Words die on your tongue. Guilt burns. Did you want to hurt him?

Did you?

The cuffs yank you forward. They singe your skin, dragging you to the table. “What’re you doing?” They drag you across the food until you're climbing on top, until your whole body is prone, feet dangling above the floor, bent at the waist.

“Is this what you wanted?” Simon mocks. Hands grip your hips, and your traitorous body clenches. “This what you need, little goddess? Need to be punished?” Your dress is shoved up around your waist, exposing your skin to the frigid air, and you force away a small moan. “You need your pain, darling?” Yes. Fingers pinch the back of your neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You snap, darting daggers with your eyes over your shoulder. His answer is a chuckle.

“Turn your head.” He hisses, hand on the back of your skull. When you do, you come face to face with Johnny’s hips, the length of his cock freed from his suit pants and bobbing right in front of your mouth.

Oh, gods.

He strokes it slowly, the pink- nearly red tip oozing pre-cum, long and thick in his fist, his size enough to make your thighs press together, cunt throbbing with delight. Traitor.

“Open, darling.” He smears it against your lips. You tuck them in tight, trying to keep them closed, and he looks over, to the god who stands at the curve of your ass.

Simon takes a handful each of your cheeks, spreading you wide. He kicks your feet too, knocking your legs into an A-frame, fully exposing your weeping cunt.

“She’s dripping.” He announces, a finger sliding through your folds, body jolting with his touch. He circles your clit, barely, not enough, and you whine indignantly. It’s enough to loosen your lips, enough for Johnny to grasp your jaw, shove the tip of his thumb between your teeth, and then pry you open.

Once he gets the tip of his cock against your tongue, it’s over. Salt and earth dab along your tastebuds, and you drool on the table, trying to breathe through his rhythm, trying to focus as Simon tucks a finger into your hole, slowly pumping in and out, occasionally pulling free to swirl it around your untouched rim.

One finger inside you is enough to burn, heat rising through your belly, walls clenching tight, and John groans, pressing into the back of your throat, cutting off your airway.

“So good, all day.” Simon grits, stroking your clit in tiny circles. “Sweet Persephone, and now,” he’s building you closer, so close to the precipice, to the top of the mountain where you’ll hope he’ll throw you off.

But it’s not enough.

“I know darling, don’t worry. I’ll give you your pain.” He croons. John thrusts hard, drives into you vigorously, head thrown back. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck, and you watch a slow rivulet dip beneath his collar. He’s so… they’re so…

A hand cracks across the tender skin of your ass, rippling out like a shockwave. You choke.

You clench. The tide rises.

“Fuck. There you go.” Light dances in front of your eyes, small pinpricks of stars, and you gurgle on the dick that shoves down your throat. Another strike, the same side, and you cry out, gasping for air. The tip of his finger gently pushes against your rim, and then it’s replaced with a mouth, a hot, intrepid tongue, swirling around as your hips buck and he plays with your clit.

You’re going to die. You’re going to explode. You need more.

You try to tell him, try to choke it out around John’s shaft, but it’s like he knows, like he’s reading your mind, and he pulls away to dig his teeth into the plump swell of your ass, biting down so hard you think you’re bleeding.

No. You are.

You scream.

Rivers of ichor paint your skin. The next spank comes directly over the puncture wounds, and instead of screaming in pain, you moan in pleasure, head held in Johnny’s hands, your face a tool for him to fuck, your pussy squeezing down around the single finger stroking in and out of your body. He swings again, and again, fire lighting behind your eyes, explosions going off one by one, your orgasm cresting, rising in the swell of an enormous wave, and just as you’re about to come, Simon plunges a finger deep into your ass, shoving you off the mountain.

To where they catch you below.

The rest is a blur. John finishes down your throat, salt and sweat and tears all mixing in your mouth, and he moans your name as he gives you a belly full of seed.

You’re limp, floating, drifting higher and farther than you ever have before, not in your body, not even in your own mind. Hardly cognizant when you’re picked up, tucked away in the shelter of a chest and carried down the hall. You close your eyes.

You come back a little bit when you’re placed in shallow hot water, a steaming, rocky pool, your face settled in Johnny’s neck. Cloth and deft fingers rub your shoulders, your waist, anywhere you might feel sore, even the bottoms of your feet.

All the while, they talk.

It starts simply, sweet words that fills you up until you can’t take anymore. “Did so well, darling. So good for us.” John murmurs in hushed tones as Simon shifts you, turning you on your belly to run the cloth between your legs and over your ass. It stings, and you hiss, but you’re soothed with an apology, gentle kisses down your spine, each one pressed with praise.

It’s not long before you’re tucked into bed, turned over on your side, some sort of magic and salve being applied to the bite in your skin. You’re gone now, barely aware, barely awake, but with it enough to catch the little bits here and there.

“-talk about it tomorrow.”

“If they’re from Demeter, I’ll-“ No. Not this. Anything but this. Distress catches in your chest, and fingers stroke your cheek.

“Shhh, sweet one. Rest now.” There’s a little touch of magic, a barely there pulse of power, and you let it take you into the soft comfort of sleep, bedded down like a fawn, cradled between two Kings.

*Hymn 2 to Demeter, line 347

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x soap #soap x reader x ghost #AIV #ghost x reader #hades and persephone #AIV(OFK)#modern retelling

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swallowtailcherry · 1 year

Text

Lactation

Characters: Buddha, Hades and Qin Shi Huang

When they find out you can lactate

This just came to me randomly

Will be short 😞

Buddha

The god was lying down, watching you move your hips. His hands gripped your thighs, seeing you sink yourself on his cock. He moved one hand to your breast, gently squeezing it, which snapped you out of your trance.

"W-Wait, don't squeeze too much!" You exclaimed. Buddha only chuckled and squeezed your breast more. Not even a second later, some white liquid leaked out of your nipple. Both of you froze, his cock twitching inside you.

"Didn't know about that~"

He suddenly sat up, taking the nipple in his mouth. Your milk was really sweet, one of his favourite flavours. He moved his hips at a rapid pace, only releasing after a few thrusts.

Hades

Hades bounced you up and down on his cock, guiding your hips very slowly and gently. He leaned in, leaving small bites on your neck. His nails nearly dug into your hips, rubbing them so softly. After he pulled away from your neck, he eyed your bouncing breasts. He took a nipple to his mouth, suckling on it gently.

"H-Hades!" You moaned out, holding on to his shoulders. Hades suddenly tasted something sweet in his mouth, making him slowly pull away. A trail of milk leaked out of your nipple and dripped on his leg.

"Sorry... I-" You were stopped by Hades sucking your nipple again. His hips bucked upwards to bury his cock deeper inside. He stopped and flicked your bud with his tongue.

"Nothing to be ashamed, Darling~ I don't mind~"

Qin Shi Huang (Fuck I miss writing stuff for him-)

Qin hovered above you, his hands on both sides of your head, giving you an smirk.

"Good afternoon, My Empress~" He cooed, brushing his fingers against your cheek, which moved down to your chest and down to your clit.

"You were waiting for me, were you? Waiting for me to fill you up?" He teased, playing with your wet cunt. You resisted the urge to shut your legs from the feeling of his fingers. He stopped and used his other hand to play with one of your breasts. Qin continued to play with it, and some milk soon leaked out. He stopped groping your breast and brought his milk soaked fingers to his lips. He gave you another smirk, thrusting inside you.

"You taste just as sweet, My flower~"

#record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok smut #buddha x reader #hades x reader #qin shi huang x reader #why did i write this again???#what have i created???

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bones4thecats · 3 months

Note

Hello! Could I request Hades and Poseidon (separatly) fell in love with dummy nymph!reader, who just doesn't notice their feelings, please? (◕‿◕)♡

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Hades and Poseidon Name: {Character} with a Oblivious Nymph! Reader Requester: Anonymous

A/N: My first Record of Ragnarok piece in quite a while, and thankfully, this was quite funny to write. This is so full of fluff and crack that it makes broken attics look nice😂

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💀 Oh sweet mercy, this guy loves yet hates your obliviousness

💀 When he first met you, he would joke around about how you were so oblivious to things, but, when he tried to confess his feelings towards you for the first time and you just replied with something so platonic-sounding, he froze

💀 Your obliviousness was going to be a hint of a problem now

" My dear, have you ever thought about having a relationship with someone? " " I guess so, yeah. Why? " " How would you feel about courting with me by your side? " " Aw! You would help me with courting! You're so sweet, Hades! "

💀 Grabbing your hand when you were scared didn't get you to realize his feelings, even when he gave you the biggest hint while still hiding the straight-forward admission, you didn't get it

💀 Hades does understand that, because your a nymph, you haven't gotten that much experience when it comes to anything romantic, as many believe you only are attracted to things relationships non-romantically

💀 Zeus and Aphrodite have tried getting you guys to get together for centuries, from trying to have you guys go on a blind-date to having you literally go on a real-date with him, you always stayed blind to the real emotions hidden behind his gestures

💀 So, unsurprisingly, Hades eventually does have to straight-up admit his feelings, leaving you flustered and a hint embarrassed

" Y/N, I must admit that I am quite fond of you. So fond that I must ask, would you like to be in a courting relationship? " " You fond someone that wants to court me? Aw, Hades, how swe- " " Not someone else. Me, my dear. " " Oh... how long have you liked me like this?! " " About the past four centuries. " " Oh sweet seraphs... "

🔱 Poseidon is not amused at all.

🔱 He is not fond of people not understanding what he said, and it doesn't help with the fact that he's very blunt and honest when it comes to his words

🔱 When he first met you, you were speaking to your boss, Aphrodite, and when he arrived to speak with her about the waves causing damages to the nearby forests

🔱 That was when he noticed how oblivious you were to pretty much everything

🔱 Aphrodite eventually noticed how Poseidon seemed to soften with his actions whenever you were around, and she was the one who prompted him to finally begin trying to tell you about his feelings, unaware that you had no clue how to take a hint

" Y/N, would you like to accompany me to Zeus' reunion next week? As my date, of course. " " Oh, yeah! It'd be fun to spend some time with my best friend! "

🔱 Okay, ouch.

🔱 It took him only two tries before he began to lose his already strained patience, and he burst that bubble the third time you pushed his advances off as a friendly confrontation

" Would you like to accompany me to Hades' meeting tomorrow afternoon, Y/N? " " Of course! Spending time with my favorite friend is amazing- " " Not as a friend. As a future spouse. " " Huh? "

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praisethesuuun · 1 year

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AAAHHHH. ANOTHER ROR FAN! It's so hard to find people who like it 😭

Anyways, if you take requests at the moment, what about headcanons Hades, Buddha, Loki and Posideon being just complete simps for reader? (If that's too many, just loki or Buddah is fine!)

Just met the person and suddenly, guess I'm in love now, oops!

Anyways, thanks a lot, hope you have a great day!

you're too kind😭😭❤️❤️ It's always so nice to receive such sweet words! Anyway, there you go hun<3 hope you like it

RoR characters headcanons: them being total simps for you!

POSEIDON

🌊This guy is hilarious: he refuses to admit that he's simping over someone. "Gods are perfect. They don't bond to anyone" Yeah...that's a lie-

🌊Hades was the first to notice that something was wrong with his brother, but he decided to stay silent and wait for him to talk about it. Needless to say, he bursted out laughing when Poseidon told him everything: from what he felt when you were near him, to the way your presence brings a breeze of happiness to the midst of the seedy Valhalla.

🌊Poseidon will try to approach you starting from very sneaky things. For example, his favorite thing to do is sit next to you during gods' meetings, scaring anyone in his way. Once he nearly got into a fight with Shiva, because he practically pushed him out of the seat next to you, nearly knocking him off the entire stairway.

🌊During his fight, he will repeatedly make eye contact with you, boasting about his strength and hoping you can notice him... somehow. "Look at me, you fool"

🌊Tsundere mode: on. Poseidon will literally insult you everytime you'll try to talk to him. This dumbass will regret it later alone in his castle.

HADES

☠️Unlike his brother, Hades is more confident, courting you in front of all the gods and calling you "My queen" whenever he can.

☠️He's not sneaky at all and isn't afraid to hide his feelings for you. The only thing that could stop him it's the realization that he could ruin your reputation: it's not the best to hang out with the king of the Underworld, many despise him and he doesn't want you to be treated the same way.

☠️Expect to find your room flooded with various gifts and love letters, each accompanied by a black rose. You often feel sorry for Hermes and wonder how he can carry all that stuff. Yet, you get excited every time you see him arrive with a package, decorated with a delicate purple bow.

☠️Hades is jealous. He does not hesitate to scold and intimidate any deity who tries to approach you, even going against his own brothers (especially Zeus)

☠️When you're alone, Hades wastes no time in jumping on you and filling you with love. If, on the other hand, you are attending a dinner or a meeting, he will place his hand on your hips, refusing to remove it. Plus, he'll kiss you softly without anyone noticing.

LOKI

🐍He will be so annoying! Loki will stick to you like a tick, bothering you as a sign of affection (what a brat...)

🐍He will play jokes on you all the time, immediately bursting out laughing at your reaction. However, if you were to feel bad, telling him that he exaggerated, he will apologize instantly, hugging you and reassuring you. "I'm sorry, please look at me, bunny. I'm sorry... I promise"

🐍Loki is the type to put little flowers in your hair without you noticing, enjoying the view from afar and admiring your beauty. Daisies look so good on you! How could he not enjoy such a view?

🐍You'll likely get involved whenever he makes a mess, and don't be surprised when you're treated like some sort of human shield. Even so, you've never gotten into trouble. Deep down you like it when he suddenly enters your room to hide from Thor, who wouldn't dare to do the same.

🐍Loki loves to float around you, acting like the perfect watchdog. It makes him feel like a perfect partner: protecting you with dedication and love. But there are negative (or positive) sides, of course dirty jokes can't miss: "Look what a nice temper you have, it wasn't like this last night when I-" "SHUT UP"

BUDDHA

🍬He is the boldest lover that could ever happen to you. If he wants to do something, he won't hesitate to do it, everyone knows that. Yet, when it comes to you he becomes totally a servant, without hiding it from others. Do you need something? Well, give him just a second-

🍬Count yourself lucky, Buddha loves you so much that he shares his secret stash of sweets with you! The pocky challenge is a must, but he's favourite thing to do is kissing you indirectly making you suck on the lollipop that he already had in his mouth.

🍬Every once in a while, he lets you find a little love letter on your pillow with a chocolate next to it. He knows he looks like a detached person who thinks only of himself, so he does everything to make you feel his closeness.

🍬Buddha always calls you names. "Come here, sweetie!" "Aww honey, are you angry?" "Gimme one of your sugar kisses, would ya?" He loves the way you blush every time he does it, you're such a cutie!

🍬He trusts you blindly, in fact he doesn't hesitate to ask you for help when he needs it. You protect each other and for Buddha this is one of the most important things in your relationship. Please, tell him how much you love him and don't hesitate to talk about your feeling! You are too important to him, so feel free to tell him everything you want.

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7s3ven · 3 months

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HELL-FIRE. luke (pjo) - pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 (in progress)

IN WHICH… Y/N doesn’t want to admit it, but perhaps she and the mischievous son of Hermes have more in common than she originally thought.

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.”

Warnings : mentions of abuse

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

—

The cold water lapped at Y/N’s shoulders as she sank into the tub placed strategically in the corner of the empty cabin.

Life as a forbidden kid was hard. You had no siblings and everybody was expecting you to do grand things. A small sigh slipped past Y/N’s lips as the water heated up until it was at a temperature that almost scolded her skin. Perhaps it was because Hades, the king of the Underworld, was her father but Y/N always found herself fascinated by fire. She loved to watch the blue, orange, and yellow flames flicker in the dim darkness.

It wasn’t until her arrival at Camp Half-Blood did it all make sense. Y/N, the daughter of Hades, was able to control fire. Though, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. It all came in random bursts and every time she walked along the crisp green grass, a trail of brightly lit flames slithered after her.

The Demeter kids hated her for ruining the plush red roses that took them weeks to nurture. Y/N could understand their fury and she did her best to avoid their plants now, especially because her fire favoured the taste of Demeter’s flowers.

A quiet knock on the wooden door interrupted Y/N’s peace. She slowly rose from the water, droplets running down her finger tips. She slowly dried herself with a soft cotton towel before slipping her bright orange shirt over her head. She slid on a pair of loosely fitting pants before turning the knob, harshly pulling the door open.

“Do you need something?” Y/N asked, frowning at the small kid in front of her. He trembled and took a nervous step back.

“Luke… he… he told me to give this to you.” The kid stretched out his hand, practically shaking as Y/N stared down at the dark red rose. A lousy gift in her opinion.

Luke was the son of Hermes and the head counsellor of his cabin. He was popular amongst the campers and girls constantly swooned over him. Y/N, on the other hand, had no interest in romance. It had always been that way ever since she was born.

Y/N was conceived into this cruel world with a cold and empty heart. Her mother thought of it as a personality disorder at first until she realized that it was just how Y/N was. No amount of love forced into her arms could change the deep anger boiling inside of her.

Y/N took the rose, peering at it and scowling. “You’ve done your job. Scram.” She shooed the young Hermes kid away, almost shoving him off her rickety wooden porch. She caught sight of Luke watching her through the clean window of his own cabin.

He had never shown much interest in her before until a year ago, where we witnessed her easily take down some of the best fighters in camp.

He grinned at her, a gesture that should have made her heart flutter. But it didn’t. Y/N silently stared at him, feeling the sudden heat rush to her fingers. She lit the rose alight and it didn’t take long until only a few crisp and blackened petals remained in her grasp.

She quickly dropped them, scattering the remains of the once beautiful flower everywhere. It acted as a constant reminder that no matter how hard Luke tried, she was simply immune to his charm.

It’s not like Y/N didn’t want to love, because she did. She saw the Aphrodite kids treating Valentine’s Day like it was some big festivals. And she noticed how many of the boys in the Apollo cabin always had their eyes glued to one of the Athena girls.

They looked at her like she was a pile of treasure; like a precious jewel. They stared at her with such admiration and adoration that Y/N felt a little jealous. How come she couldn’t love while others could?

It was probably because of the darkness lurking within her, feasting away at every small spark of happiness until it was gone, resting in the belly of the beast. Anger, jealousy, and hatred consumed her easily. And she was bitter because of it.

It was pitch black by the time Y/N collapsed on her soft mattress. She was clad in shorts and a black crop top to battle the humid weather during Summer. She was half asleep when a quiet tap and rattle woke her.

Y/N quietly groaned. She knew who was waiting by her window, wearing a spare camp t-shirt and dusty grey shorts that stopped above his knees. His tapping become quicker and sharper until Y/N had no choice but to fling the window open.

“What?” She hissed at Luke.

He always came at the same time every night. Twelve o’clock sharp in hopes of wooing her. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew he was after something else that wasn’t romance related but until she figured out what, she wasn’t comfortable being alone in his presence.

Luke simply smiled, resting his chin on the sill. “Walk with me?” He questioned, jabbing a thumb over his right shoulder.

“It’s past curfew.” Y/N sharply retorted, glowering at him. Beams of moonlight shone down on the pair, acting as if the world were a stage that needed to be lit. Y/N could clearly see Luke tilt his head to the side, gazing up at her through his lashes.

“It’ll be quick.” He was persistent as always.

“What part of not interested confuses you?” Y/N threw the covers back over her body, prepared to crash her head against her feathered pillow and let her eyes flutter shut.

"One walk and I'll stop annoying you for a week."

That made Y/N pause. She stared at Luke, narrowing her eyes. A week wasn't long but it was better than putting up with his presence constantly. "Okay." She slowly said, causing Luke to victoriously grin. He pumped his fist.

"If we get caught, you have to take the blame." Y/N warned Luke as she stepped out of her cabin, pointing sternly at him. He wrapped a lock of her H/C hair around his finger, standing too close to comfort.

"I'd take every blame for you." He whispered, playfully winking. Y/N rolled her eyes in reply.

"I'd let you rot in a ditch." She pushed him away, storming down the stairs of the small porch. He clicked his tongue, eyes glazing over her movements. He jogged to catch up with her, his hand brushing against her leg.

The slight breeze surrounded the two of them as Y/N glanced up at the shining stars, her eyes darting around to spot all the different constellations. Luke followed her gaze, arching an eyebrow.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, licking his chapped lips. Y/N's eyes darted to look at him before she rolled her eyes, not saying anything.

"Can't you take a hint to be quiet?" She muttered after a minute of painful silence.

"No, I can. It's a choice to annoy you." He slyly smiled, bumping Y/N with his hip. She scoffed, shoving her hand into his face.

The crickets chirped loudly as Y/N walked past them, Luke following close behind. The air was colder now and Y/N relished the feeling of it against her skin. She almost forgot the son of Hermes was with her before he cleared his throat.

"No fire following behind us?" He questioned. He was used to the flames that often licked at Y/N's ankles but never dared burn her.

"That would get us caught." Y/N retorted. She faltered for a second, "Me, I mean. It would get me caught."

Luke lowly chuckled. "Nah, too late, Blaze. You said us. So there is something between us. And here I thought you only saw me as an obnoxious idiot."

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue, glaring at him. "Don't call me Blaze. And yes, I do see you as one."

"What would you prefer then? Conflagration? Inferno? Oh, what about Holocaust?"

"I didn't even know you knew those words." Y/N uttered, blankly staring at Luke. But Blaze was surely better than being called Holocaust.

"Blaze it is." Luke slung an arm around Y/N's shoulder, carefully testing the waters. The smell of burning flesh wafted through the air and Y/N quickly shrugged Luke's arm off, panicking slightly.

"Don't touch me." She said. It was supposed to be a harsh command but it came out as more of a desperate warning. Y/N's eyes darted to Luke's burnt skin. She scowled, at both his persistence to hold her and her inability to control her angry flames. It's not like she was actively trying to hurt people. It just... happened.

"I think it's time for you to leave." She said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Get your arm checked."

"It's late, no Apollo kid will be awake." His sizzling flesh didn't phase him in the slightest. He had dealt with worse, far worse. Like Clarisse's spear. "Besides, I like walking with you."

"At least soak your arm in water. It'll bring down the stinging sensation as well as protect it from risk of infection." Y/N was hesitant to even get near Luke, afraid of what her ability might do lest she lost control. But Luke was fearless. He'd grip her wrist a million times, even if it meant getting burnt, just to feel her skin against his.

He was like Icarus, unrelenting in his pursuit for greatness. He adored Y/N like Icarus loved the sun; too fast and too close. In a way, Y/N was death reincarnated. Pupils so big that it was unsettling, a glare so intense it could swallow you up, and a dark grace that followed her every move. Icarus died with broken wings but a fulfilled soul, just as Luke would if it meant he could hold Y/N.

Y/N led Luke towards a small pond and dipped her hand into the cool water. It started bubbling and Y/N instantly recoiled. Luke watched her, curious.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, gaining Y/N's wavering attention.

"Do what?" She muttered, furrowing her brows in confusion. Luke lightly chuckled, staring down at the rippling water.

"The fire thing. And heating up water. Why?"

Y/N shrugged. "It's not like I do it on purpose. It's random. Heating up water is easy enough but the flames are weird. I've tried spotting a pattern but I just can't see it." Y/N held up a finger, heat rushing to the tip. A flame flickered but it wasn't like her usual orange or blue ones. It was pink.

A light pink hue reflected off Luke's face as he peered at the fire, his eyes darting to follow its wild movements. He slowly dipped his charred arm into the water, grinning at Y/N who found slight amusement in playing with the pink flame.

"You ever think your flames follow your emotions?" He piped up, tilting his head to the side.

"Excuse me?"

"Your emotions. Maybe they control your fire." He shrugged, "Your flames are usually orange but when you get angry, which happens a lot, they turn blue. And the pink... I don't know. Love?"

Y/N sneered. "Love? Who would I be in love with?" It was a ridiculous suggestion. Stupid, even. Love didn't exist in Y/N L/N's world. Luke raised his brows, silently gesturing to himself. "I'd rather kiss a dragon."

Luke reached out to touch the flame and Y/N pulled away in a panic. "Don't!" She exclaimed, but Luke's hand was already waving through the fire. It didn't hurt in the slightest and Luke smiled. Y/N's whole hand exploded into pink-toned flames and she jumped, waving her hand around until the fire went out.

"Blaze... Do your emotions... scare you?" Luke asked. Y/N lightly scoffed, glaring at Luke as she always did. A flicker of blue glazed over her E/C eyes and then it was replaced with orange which quickly shifted into pink. And it finally returned to blue before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Your eyes... they, uh..." Luke didn't know how to describe it. "Do they... somewhat flame up a lot?"

"Ignore that." She grumbled, shielding her face from Luke's hawk-like gaze.

"You intrigue me. Why do you act so bitter all the time, Y/N?" Luke questioned, clearing his throat. She paused, lightly biting down on her bottom lip. He didn't have room to judge because despite carrying around a kind and caring facade, Luke was just as mean as her underneath it all. Y/N just... didn't bother to hide it while Luke turned his head every time his eyes darkened or his lips curled into a disgusted sneer.

"I don't have a reason. Do you ever think that maybe I'm not acting and that I was born this way? Because I'm pretty sure I was."

"There's a reason for everything."

"Okay, you want to know why?!" Y/N exclaimed, fed up with all his questions and teasing. Luke calmly gestured her to continue.

"I hate them. I hate the deities above who call themselves our godly parents. They are just as fucked up as us, if not more. I mean, what were they thinking? Fucked up people give birth to fucked up kids. They underestimate us and abandon us and still think that we'll worship the ground they walk on. If I'm being honest, I don't think they love us. My father... Hades... he had an opportunity to save me from the abuse my mother was inflicting on me."

Luke's facial expression softened. His eyes locked with Y/N's angry ones and for a split second, he saw himself in her. A demigod desperate to prove themselves to their parent only to be disappointed.

"And you know what was worse? I saw him. I met him. He came to our house one day and I didn't know it was him in that moment but after I got here, it all made sense. The man who randomly showed up on the doorstep all those years ago and acted like he knew everything about me... was my father. The same man who dumped me in the horrible care of my mother. Hades, the supposedly only God who loved his half-blood child, actually abandoned her when he had the choice to take her with him."

"I get what you mean." Luke muttered, shifting closer to her. She didn't stop him. "I feel abandoned too. My dad, he did something similar. I agree with you when you say that the gods don't love us... because I don't think they do either. We're just... their pawns. You see this scar?"

Luke's finger trailed over the scar that adorned the side of his face. "My father... he gave me a quest that Hercules had already completed. I didn't want to do something someone else had already done but I thought, how hard could it be? And I failed it... I failed the quest. And some stupid dragon scratched me and gave me this scar."

"I don't get why they think we're expendable." Y/N's hands clenched into fists and she clicked her tongue. She turned to Luke, flinching at how close he was all of a sudden.

It all happened too quickly. One second Y/N's lips accidently brushed against Luke's and the next the whole field around the pond burst into a flood of pink flames. Y/N and Luke stood in front of Chiron, hands clasped behind them. Luke stared at the ground in shame while Y/N wasn't scared to look Chiron in the eye.

"You not only snuck out past curfew, which is breaking rules, but Miss Y/N, you also burned a fellow camper and set flames to the grass."

"Chiron, sneaking out past curfew was my idea." Luke, as promised, took responsibility for his actions. "And she can't control her fire and I provoked her so I deserved it anyway." Luke shrugged.

"That still doesn't excuse your behavior. I expect you to clean all the sword before the Ares kids mess them all up again."

Y/N scoffed under her breath. "This is all your fault. I can't believe I snuck out with you of all people." Y/N poked his shoulder and a small pink flame danced across his shirt before dissolving into thin air.

"Pink means love." Luke teased.

"I will burn you again." Y/N threatened, stomping on his foot.

"Hey, you wouldn't burn your ranting partner so soon, would you?" He grinned.

Y/N didn't want to admit it but she did share a lot of similarities with Luke. From their hatred for the gods to the feeling of being abandoned. "Talking with you wasn't entirely terrible." She muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, Blaze." He gently grasped her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckle. Y/N jumped and everything went up in flames again. Literally. "Y/N... Y/N, you're on fire. You are on fire!" But it didn't hurt. The flames wrapped around her like a comforting blanket as Luke stared at her in both awe and confusion. "It's kinda cool actually. It looks like you're glowing." Luke chuckled while she glared at him, wildly trying to pat the pink fire out.

"Come on, just admit you like me, Blaze. Even just a little bit. You find me pretty, don't you?"

"I do not!" Y/N exclaimed, the flames growing stronger. Luke teasingly raised his brows, staring at her with a knowing smirk. She scoffed, spinning around.

"See ya later, Blaze!" Luke called out as she stormed away. She turned around, deeply scowling at him.

"Shut up!" She shouted, a glowing trail of fire following after her and burning its way through the grass. Campers squealed at the sight, jumping out of the way.

Luke chuckled to himself, watching when Y/N sneered at a young Apollo boy. "She's so cute." He muttered to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

From the window, Chiron sighed at the familiar sight of Y/N's fire. "She's getting stronger." He said, frowning.

"So? At least her pink flames are harmless, unlike her blue ones. And don't get me started on that huge blowup she had last year. I didn't even know black flames existed until she blew up! More like exploded!" Mr D scoffed, shivering at the memory of Y/N's black flames. It was like a massive bomb went off.

Chiron was silent for a moment until he looked at Mr D. "She likes Luke." He quickly said.

Mr D instantly sat up, slamming his hand against the table in front of him. "Oh, yeah, definitely! I started shipping those two ever since they started bickering. Catch up, Chiron!"

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