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sequinsmile-x · 9 months

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Allegiance - Chapter 3

It was nice to finally have someone who was on her side, someone who would always put her first.

A Young Hotchniss story with a twist.

Chapter 3 of 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

-x-

Hi friends,

3rd and final part of this fic for @sapphoe-sun <3

Thank you so so much for all the love for this version of them. It was originally only supposed to be one part and now it's over 13k words overall!!

I really hope you enjoy this final part and I can't wait to know what you all think!

-x-

Warnings: Pregnancy, mommy issues, complicated mother/daughter relationship

Words: 5.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

September 1995

He finds her in the nursery.

It wasn’t decorated yet, but they’d started to put furniture, a crib that needed building, a set of drawers and a large comfortable chair, in the room. There were piles of clothes everywhere since Emily seemed unable to walk past the baby section in a store without buying something. Tiny little outfits that neither of them could quite believe their baby would wear, so small that it seemed almost impossible.

She’s sitting in the chair, staring at nothing as she rocks the chair back and forth a little, her hand on her bump, absentmindedly rubbing circles up and down on it. She was six months along now, close to the point where she was often uncomfortable. The baby moved a lot, a feeling both Aaron and Emily never tired of, and he can tell from the way she smiles that the baby was currently shifting around inside of her,

“Hi, sweetheart.”

She turns to look at him, a soft smile spreading over her face as their eyes meet, “Hi, honey,” she says, reaching her hand out towards him, “I missed you.”

He walks over and kisses the top of her head before he settles on the arm of the chair, “I missed you too,” he says, placing his hand over hers on her belly, “And this little one.”

He’d recently joined the BAU, and the time he now spent away had been an adjustment for both of them. Emily was so proud of him, something she told him as often as she could but she missed him, so used to spending most of their time together.

She chuckles, leaning against him, her head in the crook of his arm, “She doesn’t feel so little when it’s your bladder she’s sitting on.”

A little girl.

They’d found out just before he’d gone away for the last few days on a case. They’d barely had time to discuss it, to celebrate, before he got called away.

She was happy about it, just as she would have been if they were having a boy, but he’d seen her delighted smile slowly slip away as they drove home from her doctor's appointment, her hand firmly pressed to the top of her bump as she looked out the window. It seemed typical that he immediately got called away on a case, pulling him from her side so she had to process this latest development alone.

They hadn’t heard from Elizabeth since the day after the party that changed everything, the final threads holding the mother and daughter relationship together snapping, the frayed edges giving way after one disappointment too many. It upset Emily more than she’d admit even to herself. She’d never had a conventional relationship with her mother, but the closer she got to having her own child, her own little girl, it made her ache for the relationship she’d always wanted.

The one she’d strive to make sure she had with her daughter.

“Are you ok, Em?” He asks, running his hand up and down her arm.

She sighs, curling into his embrace even further as she finally says what she’s been thinking ever since the nurse told them the baby was a girl. “What if I can’t be what she needs me to be?”

He hears what she hasn’t said. The thoughts he knows she’s been having ever since they found out they were having a daughter, no matter how much she claimed she was fine whenever he asked. It was inevitable that she would make the comparisons, that knowing they were having a daughter would make her think of her mother, of the relationship that had never been what she wanted it to be.

What she needed it to be.

He watches for a moment as she looks down at her bump, her eyes fixed on it as she tries to picture their little girl. It was something they discussed a lot - what their baby would look like. Whose nose she would have, both of them joking she was screwed either way, whose eyes. What she’d be like, wilful and loud like her, or more thoughtful and reserved like him. They’d laugh as they agreed she’d be stubborn as hell regardless.

She loved their daughter so much already, she’d sacrificed so much already, and she wasn’t even born yet. Aaron just wished she’d believe him, but he’d assure her for as long as she needed him to.

For as long as he lives.

“Sweetheart,” he says, kissing her temple, pulling her even closer, “you’re going to be so good at being her mom,” he assures her, his lips back against her skin, “you already are.”

She smiles sadly at him, her lower lip trembling, “I love her so much already,” she says, linking their hands on her stomach.

“I know you do,” he replies, kissing her forehead, “I love her too. Both of you.”

It was moments like this he itched to pull out the ring he’d bought her, the one he already had before they found out she was pregnant. He’d had to hide it again when they moved, even though he knows she knows about it. He was waiting for the right moment, and as much as he wanted to call her his fiance, and then his wife, he knew this wasn’t it.

“Do you want me to get started on dinner?” He asks, moving to pull away, but she holds his hand tighter and shakes her head.

“Not yet,” she says, looking up at him, “Can we stay here just a few more minutes?”

He nods and kisses her forehead, “Of course, sweetheart.”

___

She’d never liked this house.

When she was young, it symbolised everything she wanted. A home, a permanent place to belong, but she was only ever there for weeks at a time once several months. Her room always seemed to have a fine layer of dust over everything despite the fact her mother carried on paying for staff when they were gone. It was as if the house knew it was empty, abandoned, and rejected any attempt to make it feel liveable.

As she got older, a teenager and then an adult, she resented it even more. It didn’t feel like home, it didn’t feel familiar, and she couldn’t relate to college friends who’d talk excitedly about visiting home.

The only redeeming factor this place had was that it was where she’d met Aaron. A strange of fate from the universe, a dose of irony that she would gratefully accept, that the place that had never quite felt like home had brought her the man that would.

“Right back where it all started.”

She turns to look at her husband and smiles, grabbing his hand as he reaches her side, both of them standing next to their car in her mother’s driveway, “Who would have guessed we’d end up with everything we have now.”

Aaron winks at her, “I would have.”

She narrows her eyes at him, fighting a smile as she looks at him, “Really? You would have guessed that a summer of secret, mind-blowing sex would have turned into us getting married and having three kids?”

He nods, “Yes.”

She chuckles and squeezes his hand, leaning in to stamp a kiss against his lips, “Liar,” she says, kissing him once more and smiling at him, silently thanking him for making her smile today of all days, of briefly making her nerves disappear, feeling nothing other than this love.

He presses a kiss to her cheek and then stands back, gently tugging her towards the front door, “Come on sweetheart.”

The house looks the same on the inside and it makes Emily feel like she’s stepped back in time. It makes her feel unsteady, as if she was in her early 20s again, or even a teenager, wondering what she had to do to have her mother’s attention. They barely have time to settle onto the couch. They sit so close to each other that Emily is almost in his lap and her mother walks into the room. It makes them both stand up, and Aaron puts his arm around his wife, giving her the support she needs but would never ask for.

“Emily,” Elizabeth says, her face tight, unreadable, “I’m glad you came,” She looks at Aaron, “Aaron, it’s been a while.”

He nods at his mother-in-law, “Ambassador Prentiss.”

Elizabeth sits in the armchair near the couch and Emily and Aaron sit down too, their thighs pressed together. Emily reaches for Aaron’s hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. Elizabeth smiles as she looks at their linked hands, the two rings on Emily’s shining in the light in the room.

“You should probably call me Elizabeth, Aaron,” she says, “Seeing as you are seemingly married to my daughter,” she clears her throat, the awkward, stilted nature of their conversation making her words catch there, “How long have you been married?”

Aaron briefly looks at Emily to see if she’s going to answer, but she’s simply sat next to him, her hand tight around him as she stares at her mother. He looks back at Elizabeth and places his spare hand on his wife’s knee, squeezing it to remind her that he is there, that he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Coming up on 10 years now,” he answers, “Our anniversary is in May.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth replies, “That’s-”

“What do you want, Mother?” Emily asks, finally finding her voice, her eyes meeting Elizabeth’s.

She sighs, “Emily-”

“It’s been over 12 years,” she says, cutting her mother off again, “I haven’t seen or heard from you in 12 years and four days ago you just…showed up in my office. What do you want?”

Elizabeth swallows thickly and leans back in her chair, her hands tight in her lap, “If I remember correctly, you asked me to give you space. And you never called either.”

Emily scoffs, “I’m your kid, I would never…” She drifts off and shakes her head, “Just tell me what you want.”

They fall into silence, and Emily sees an expression cross her mother’s face that she doesn’t recognise, something she can’t quite place with an edge of shame that chases it.

“I…” Elizabeth clears her throat, sitting up so straight Emily thinks her back might snap, “I need to apologise.”

Whatever Emily had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. She feels the fight drain out of her, causing her to sag into Aaron’s side slightly. “What?”

“I need to apologise, about what happened the last time we saw each other,” Elizabeth says, looking down at her hands, “About our conversation regarding Robert Collins.”

It takes a moment for the pieces to fall into place, and a humourless laugh escapes Emily and she shakes her head, “Oh my god…something’s happened hasn’t it.”

Elizabeth clenches her jaw and nods, “There is a…scandal that is about to break, it will be in the press in the next few days. It has come to light that he has a habit of…hitting on young interns in his office. A series of young women who have worked from him over the last few years have come forward with allegations,” she shakes her head, “It is quite the DC scandal.”

The room falls into silence, thick and heavy and cloying as it lays over them all, and Emily is the first to break it as a strangled noise escapes her.

“This is damage control,” she says, shaking her head, “You knew I’d see it and you wanted to get ahead of it.”

“Emily, I really do want to apologise.”

“For what?” She asks incredulously, her voice loud, sharp and full of pain, “For not believing me then, or for walking away and never looking back?” She asks, carrying on before Elizabeth can have a chance to respond, “You even said ‘Robert is a tactile man,’ you knew even then that there was something. You made a choice that day,” she says, swallowing thickly, “You chose to believe him over me, to pick your career and your prospects over me. I would never do that to my…”

She drifts off, stopping herself a second too late, and she watches as Elizabeth picks up on it.

“Your what?”

Emily looks at Aaron who nods at her, a silent confirmation he was happy with whatever she wanted, “My kids, Mom. I’d never do that to my kids.”

“You have…children?” Elizabeth asks, her eyes wide, sadness reflecting in the dark pool of them.

“Yes,” Emily replies, “We have three. Two girls and a boy.”

“How old are they?”

Emily squeezes Aaron’s hand, and he squeezes back before he answers, well aware it was what his wife wanted him to do, “Oliver is 2, he’s our youngest. Then we have Rosie who is 6, and Ivy who just turned 12.”

They both watch as Elizabeth’s eyebrows raise, a look of understanding washing over her face, “You have a 12-year-old? You were pregnant the last time I saw you”

Emily scoffs, closing her eyes as she shakes her head, the lack of surprise in her mother’s tone like a slap in the face, “Yes I was,” she says, and she looks back up at her, “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Not for certain,” she admits, “You were sick, you didn’t have wine, and we both know you’ve always needed it to get through an evening with me. I suspected you might be but…I was never a good mother to you Emily, I recognise that. If I went back I’d do some things differently, and I am sorry that you didn’t feel as if you could tell me you were having a baby.”

Emily stares at her, and she knows she couldn’t describe how she felt if she wanted to. Emotions raging a war in her belly, making it turn in a way she hadn’t felt in years, feelings only her mother could bring out in her making a vicious return.

“I…I don’t know if I can forgive you for that,” she says, her voice shaking, “If any of my children came to me and told me what I told you about Robert Collins I’d be in jail,” she shakes her head, “I love them so much that I’d tear the world apart if someone hurt them. Fuck, Aaron once had to talk me down from going down to the school when Ivy was being bullied in the 3rd grade.”

“Emily-”

“I need time, and there might not be enough of it,” Emily says, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek, “But I am willing to try.”

Her words shock her just as much as they shock Aaron and her mother, but it feels like a weight has lifted off of her shoulders, something she hadn’t realised she’d been carrying around for years.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Emily replies, squeezing Aaron’s hand again, “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

Elizabeth nods, pressing her lips together to suppress a relieved smile, “Can I meet your children?”

“No,” Emily says quickly, the word escaping her so fast she almost trips over it, “No. I’m not going to be comfortable with that for a long time. If ever.”

Elizabeth looks like she wants to argue with that, but she stops herself, “Ok,” she says, I can live with that.”

It’s not a resolution, it’s not an answer. If anything, Emily feels like she has more questions than she did when she arrived here.

It’s not a resolution, but it’s something. And for now, that would have to do.

___

When they get home it’s chaos. The kids running around and driving their sitter a little crazy, something Aaron slips her another $20 for as he shows her out.

He finds his wife on the couch, curled up in the corner with a cushion pressed into her chest, her eyes fixed on the wall of photos they had. A gallery of their life together, of their family. A museum of memories they were forever adding to.

He checks on the kids. He’s grateful that they are all distracted. Oliver and Rosie were in the den, Rosie keeping an eye on her little brother as they played together, and Ivy was upstairs doing some homework. He takes the opportunity to sit next to his wife, his hand on her knee as they sit in silence, his patience for her unending, just like his love.

“She didn’t know we were married. Or that we definitely had kids. She never even looked me up, Aaron,” she says eventually, shrugging sadly, “We both know if she wanted to she has the resources too,” she sighs, a steady breath escaping her as she looks at her husband, “It’s almost as if I gave her the out she’d been looking for when I asked her to give me some space that day.”

“She does love you, Em.”

“I know, I know she does,” she says, resting her head on the back of the couch, “And that’s the worst part. It would almost be easier if she didn’t,” she sighs, “If…i this whole thing with Robert hadn’t come out she would never have got in touch.”

They fall into silence and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her into his side, “You don’t have to make a decision about anything now, you know that right?”

She nods against him, “I know. Part of me thinks I should try and fix it, the other part thinks it’s not my place to,” she tilts her head to look up at him, “I…I’m not even that sure I really missed her,” she says, and she shakes her head, “And I know that’s awful-”

“It isn’t awful, baby,” he says, running his fingers through her hair, “it’s understandable. She was never to you what you are for our kids.”

She smiles at him, the compliment on her parenting making her feel warm from the inside out, “I just…don’t think I need anything other than our family.”

He opens his mouth to say something, to assure her if that’s what she wanted, that’s what she would have, but he’s cut off.

“Daddy! Ollie took my toy.”

They both chuckle at the sound of Rosie yelling and Aaron leans in to press a kiss to Emily’s lips, “Duty calls.”

She nods and watches him go, content to be alone for a little while, knowing he’d get dragged into whatever game they were playing. Her solitude doesn’t last for long, it hadn’t ever since she’d Ivy, who as a baby had always been all about Emily.

“Mom?”

She looks up and sees Ivy standing in the entryway to the living room, her arms crossed over her chest, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

“Hi honey, are you okay?”

Ivy nods, “Can I join you?”

“Of course,” Emily says, patting the couch next to her, “You can always join me.”

Ivy smiles and joins her on the couch, her eyes fixed on her mother, “Is everything ok?”

Emily sighs, “Ivy-”

“What are you and Dad being so secretive about?” Ivy asks, not giving her the chance to deny it, “He just gave me the ‘be nice to your mother’ speech and the last time I got that you were pregnant. Oh god you’re not pregnant are you?”

She chuckles and shakes her head, “No, honey. I’m not pregnant.”

“Then what’s wrong? I get hiding it from Rosie and Ollie,” Ivy says, leaning back on the couch as she looks at Emily, “But I’m not a little kid. You can tell me.”

Emily smiles, and she thinks about it, looking her daughter up and down and she nods, knowing she could give her the truth. Or at least, a watered-down version of it.

“You know you’ve never met my mom?”

It was something that had first come up only a couple of years ago. Ivy had innocently asked why she had never met any of her grandparents as she put together a family tree for a school project. Emily knew it would come up eventually. That, whilst there was no absence of love in her children’s lives, there were gaps in their family when it was compared to a more traditional one. In a macabre way, it had been easier to explain that both of Aaron’s parents had passed away, and that her father was gone too. Elizabeth had been the difficult one, the tricky missing piece of the puzzle that Emily had struggled to reveal to her daughter.

“You said that your mom hurt your feelings a lot, and that you needed to protect yourself, and us, from her.”

Emily nods. Hearing her own, simplified, explanation of the situation repeated back at her makes her heart skip a beat, the mixture of innocence and confusion in Ivy’s tone making it seem impossibly sadder.

“That’s right,” Emily says, “Well, she came to my office a few days ago. It was the first time I saw her since before I had you, and your dad and I went to see her today.”

“Oh,” Ivy says, tilting her head, “Was it…weird?”

Emily laughs, Ivy’s simple choice of words making something ease in her chest, and she nods, “Yeah, honey. It was…really weird.”

There’s a moment of silence and Ivy slides slightly closer to her, leaning her head on Emily’s shoulder, craining her neck so she’s looking up at her. “Will ever I meet her?”

Emily sighs, the mere thought of it making her chest tight, “Well, you aren’t a little kid anymore,” she says, tucking some of Ivy’s dark hair behind her ear, “But you are my kid, and it’s not something I’m comfortable with for now, it’s something I might never be comfortable with. But if I decide I’m happy for her to meet you and your brother and sister, I’ll leave it up to you.”

Ivy nods, her eyebrows knitting together, “If you decide I can…do I have to?”

“Of course not, sweet girl.”

“She made you sad,” Ivy says, “I don’t think I want to meet someone who makes you sad.” Emily pulls her daughter into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her, hiding her face in her hair in a vain attempt to stop her from seeing she’s crying. “I’m glad I have you as a Mom.”

Emily sniffs and pulls back a little to look at Ivy, no longer caring about the tears shining in her eyes, “Yeah? Why is that baby?”

Ivy smiles at her and wipes a tear from Emily’s cheek, “Because I know no matter what, I’d never not want to speak to you.”

Emily chokes on a sob and pulls Ivy in, grateful when her little girl hugs her just as tightly as she hugs her, “I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you too, Momma.”

___

January 1996

Emily hears crying from the bassinet next to her bed, and she instinctively shifts in the bed to pick up her daughter. She winces as the movement makes pain flash through her, and she makes a mental note to ask the nurse to bring her fresh ice packs when she next comes along to check on them.

“You a did a real number on me, sweet girl,” she says as she settles back down comfortably in her hospital bed, Ivy secure in her arms, “You’re worth it though,” she looks over at Aaron and smiles at the sight of him fast asleep on the couch in the corner of the room and she looks back at Ivy, “Daddy was so worried about us, he loves us both so much.”

She watches as her daughter nurses, staring at her face, memorising everything about her, and she can’t help but think about those early hours of her own life. Unable to stop herself from wondering what her mother said and did, what promises she made that she ultimately didn’t keep.

“I’ll always be on your side, Ivy” Emily says quietly, well aware it was something she would stand by, a promise she would keep for the rest of her life. “No matter what happens, you’ll always have me on your side.”

She hears movement on the couch and she looks up to see Aaron sitting up, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep. He’d been her rock all day, nothing short of perfect as he supported her in any way she needed, holding her hand and letting her squeeze his so hard she was surprised it didn’t break. Despite his strength, and his unrelenting love for her and their daughter, she could tell he struggled to see her in pain, a slight desperation in his eyes that he couldn’t hide from her.

“How are my girls doing?” He asks as he stands up and sits on the edge of her bed and kisses the top of her head before he looks down at Ivy.

“We’re trying to get the hang of nursing again,” she says, grimacing at the sensation, “It hurts, but I think she’s actually getting something this time.”

Ivy pulls away, already full, and Emily smiles as she rests her against her shoulder, gently patting her back.

“I can’t get over how much she looks like you,” Aaron says, tilting his head to look at Ivy’s face, transfixed by her. He’d known the very first second he saw her that she’d hold the same power over him that her mother did, that he was already wrapped around her tiny little finger.

Emily smiles as Ivy burps and looks at Aaron, “We made a damn cute baby, huh?”

“No cursing in front of her,” Aaron jokingly chastises, and Emily rolls her eyes at him.

“She’s two hours old, honey. I think it’s going to take a while for her to pick up on what we’re saying,” she sniffs and turns her nose up, looking at Ivy, “I think we have our first dirty diaper.”

“Come over here, princess,” Aaron says, lifting Ivy into his arms, the baby impossibly small in comparison to him, and he kisses the top of her head before he walks over towards the set-up the nurses had left them to change her, “Daddy will change your diaper.”

“I might need Daddy’s help to change mine later,” Emily says sarcastically as she shifts in the bed, her entire lower half burning as she moves, “I don’t think I can bend down.”

Aaron briefly looks over his shoulder at her and smiles before he has all of his focus back on Ivy, “Mommy can have help with whatever she wants forever,” he says, his voice low and quiet, the same tone he only ever used on Emily previously, but she doesn’t mind sharing with her little girl, “She can have whatever she wants forever because she gave me you.”

He half pays attention to Emily’s response, as he changes Ivy’s diaper and takes the chance to put the tiny onesie, which was somehow still slightly too big, that he’d bought and hidden from Emily weeks ago onto her. He smiles down at her, his heart in his throat as nerves take over.

“What’s taking so long?” Emily asks, “I want my baby.”

“Coming sweetheart,” he says, straightening up as he holds Ivy delicately, as if she was made of glass, “Let’s get you back to Mommy.”

Emily gratefully takes her daughter back into her arms, unable to understand how she’d missed her when it had only been a couple of minutes and she’d never left her sight. She frowns in confusion as she realises Aaron has changed her out of the lion-covered onesie she’d been in before to a white one with printed, flowing script on the front.

‘Mommy will you marry Daddy?’

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she reads it again before she looks up at Aaron, who was now sitting on the edge of her bed, an open ring box in his hand, a gorgeous ring shining at her.

“This is the moment you’ve been waiting for? Your perfect moment?” She asks, her voice thick with the same emotion that had been lingering in the air all day.

He chuckles, the sound catching in his chest as he shrugs, “Can you think of a better one?”

There’s a beat of silence as she looks back and forth between him and Ivy, who is now fast asleep in her arms, and the answer is obvious. “Yes.”

“Yes you can think of a better moment-”

“No, you idiot,” she says, cutting him off as tears slip past her lash line, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Aaron leans in and kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle against hers as the hand not holding the ring box tangles in her hair. She’s sure she should care that her hair is greasy, that it was messy and unclean from the hours she’d been in labour, thrown up in a loose bun on top of her head, but she doesn’t. All she can think about is him. Their daughter. The life they were going to have together.

He pulls back and looks at her, and he smiles, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, kissing him again before he sits back just far enough to slip the ring onto her left hand as she offers it out to him. Ivy makes a noise, as if she was grumbling that she was no longer the centre of their attention even though she was mostly asleep, “Did you hear that, sweet girl, Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

Aaron wraps his arms around them both and helps Emily shift over just enough for him to properly get onto the bed next to her, “And, you’ll get to be there,” Aaron says, trailing his knuckle down the baby’s soft cheek, “Something you can hold over your younger siblings one day.”

Emily scoffs and tilts her head to look at him, “Can you at least wait for me to regain the ability to walk properly before you think about getting me pregnant again?”

He laughs and nods, kissing her, “Of course, sweetheart. Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” She says, as she relaxes against him, content to stare down at her daughter, “I’m really happy,” she says, her voice shaking a little, “I’ve never been this happy.”

She didn’t know it would be possible to be this happy, to feel so content. She knew there would be hard days ahead, that life would never be simple, but if she had her family, the one she’d built herself, she’d be okay.

She had everything she needed.

-x-

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henrywintersdearestgirl · 8 months

Text

Eat Me

Here is the first Camilla writing!

I did not proofread it, so excuse me if it has mistakes.

And happy school season! Your dearest girl also already packed a 100% latin exam in her pocket:)) (Henry be proud of me!!!)

warnings: mainly fluff, a teeny tiny bit of smut, this fluff is also dripping with average greek class activities and homosexuality:)

summary: you and Camilla make sunday night dinner in your shared apartment and get distracted.

word count: 1k

Camilla’s point of view:

It was a warm Sunday night.

I was splayed across our couch in the apartment, reading a book. My lips instantly tilted upwards when I heard the door open, I knew who was coming.

Seconds later, she appeared in the doorway, looking like the gorgeous sweetheart she was, holding a brown bag that was filled to the brim. I instantly rushed to her help, which she thanked with a loud relieved sigh and it was music to my ears, even though I nearly snapped my arm in half because of the heavy bag.

I carried it to the kitchen and she followed after me. I put it down the counter and when I turned her way, she pushed me against the counter and gave me a heated kiss. I, with zero hesitation, kissed her back.

We pulled away breathlessly and she rested her forehead against mine.

“I missed you, Milly.” She whispered and it made me smile. My sweet girl.

“I missed you too.” I caressed her blushed cheeks. “Was your study session successful?” Whenever she needed to study or write properly, she went to the library. The reason for that is because she knew if she was studying at our shared apartment, I would be a big big distraction for her.

A month ago, she had to analyse and translate a few poems. The rain was pouring like crazy and she decided to study here at our place, but she made me promise to not be a distraction. I obviously couldn’t help myself, I crawled under the desk and tasted my darling. She gave in to me and let me pleasure her, after she had her blinding orgasm, she abandoned her papers and punished me for distracting her. She teased and edged me ‘till dawn until I was crying, begging for her to do something.

Given that it was a Sunday night, dinner for our class had to be made. We decided on spaghetti.

“I also bought a few things for the fridge, and some chocolate.” She smirked at me as we began packing the stuff away.

“Thank you, you know me too well, y/n.” I was on my period and my already sweet tooth became even sweeter.

We started on the sauce and the meatballs. We needed very few words to understand each other and we finished rather quickly. We just had for the water to boil.

For the time being, we went back to the living room and took my previous spot on the couch, except now I had my darling’s delicate body on mine. She reached for the book I was reading and read the cover, it was a collection of Sappho’s poems. “Ironic.”

“Sure is.” We just grinned at each other and suddenly connected our lips together.

“We have like 20 minutes until the pasta is proper, sooo… We could do a lot of fun stuff in 20 minutes.”

With that she straddled me and I sat up with my legs bent so we could be closer. She grabbed the back of my neck and I gripped on her hair.

It started out slow and sensual. As the minutes got by, the more heated we became in our making out session. I had to get more of her, I basically ripped her blouse off of her and I let out a moan when I saw her full tender breasts caged in a lacy bra. I caressed her soft skin.

She returned the favour and helped me take my sweater off, she was pleased to find that I had no bra underneath.

She pulled her skirt upwards and changed her position, so now our clothed centers were rubbing against each other. I kissed around her nipples and she kissed me again by gripping my hair and guiding my lips to hers. We pressed our chests tightly together while we grinded desperately with loud moans and pants.

In the heat of the moment, we didn’t even hear the door opening and the footsteps coming closer. We carried on undisturbed, until…

“Having fun without me?” A sly voice said.

We looked at each other heaving, smirking and we then turned towards the voice. She got off me and went to our guest, nearly naked, only her skirt covering her body.

“Bonsoir, François.” She said with her honey sweet voice in french, it always did something to me. She leaned up and gave him a kiss on the mouth.

I didn’t even bother to get up from the couch, I was laying there flushed and also bare chested. Francis came over to me and gave me a smooch too.

While y/n went to pour him a drink, he sat down on the couch and put my legs on his lap, caressing my calves. Me and y/n were partners, but we were very close to Francis too, we knew that our relationship will always remain unharmed by him. We made sure to include him in our activities from time to time when we both craved a man’s touch too.

“So this is how you make dinner, huh?” He winked at me and I gave him a playful kick. “Ouch!” He faked being hurt. “No need to abuse me for honesty, Milly!”

At the nickname he earned himself another kick. “Ca-mil-la is my name.”

“But y/n calls you Milly!” He cried.

“Y/n is special.” Just as I said that, she came into the room with a tray that had three big glasses of wine. She nuzzled herself on Francis’s lap while also being between my legs.

“Heard that, deary? I’m special!” She joked.

We talked and joked for a bit, slowly becoming more and more tipsy on the wine, waiting for our last guest for the night.

We even stayed in the same position when our mystery guest made his arrival. He froze in his steps at the sight of us, me and y/n nearly naked with Francis caressing us warmly. Henry then smirked and said before making himself comfortable on the armchair in front of us. “Doing it like the Greeks I see?”

#henrywinter #thesecrethistory #henry winter #francis abernathy #francisabernathy #camillamacauleysmut #camillamacaulay #camilla macaulay #the secret history #thesecrethistoryimagine

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mothprincess · 1 year

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do you have any tips for someone who wants to get into writing? i feel like i'm too stupid no thoughts head empty kind of person but i still want to attempt it because i want to create something i can be proud of (& i need a creative outlet bc my life is falling apart). i guess this is too broad of a question but maybe you can recommend some books on writing or just books you loved in general? <3

stupid people don't ask such good questions and seek out advice ♡ write without shame or embarrassment write without thinking about what a poem (or prose, but i will focus on what i have the most experience with) should look like write about what the wind sounds like (does it sing? does it warn you of something? is it cold and blistery?) or how you feel about someone in your life (is your heart warm? like it's about to burst? is it cold? cold like what? vanilla soft serve that runs down your knuckles?) write with honesty and introspection (conversely, make shit up whenever you want if it makes the story more interesting) allow your mind to be spontaneous. you don’t have to write about roses or depression. you can write about how it feels in bio lab, how your heart is like a test tube i like to tell people to make their brains as fluid as they can. if you’re at a lack for words, try reading something well-regarded that may expand your vocabulary and scope of knowledge my writing takes inspiration from the following authors and works: PROSE • sputnik sweetheart by haruki murakami • norwegian wood by haruki murakami • the wind-up bird chronicle by haruki murakami • deathless by catherynn m. valente • comfort me with apples by catherynn m. valente • the virgin suicides by jeffrey eugenides • the bell jar by sylvia plath • cat’s eye by margaret atwood • bunny by mona awad POETRY & OTHER • ariel by sylvia plath • the unabridged journals of sylvia plath • les fleurs du mal by charles baudelaire • the anatomy of being by shinji moon • dream work by mary oliver • the wild iris by louise glück • love, death, and the changing of the seasons by marilyn hacker • the letters of vincent van gogh • the letters of vita sackville west to virginia woolf ^ these are heavily magical realism and/or with psychological and introspective themes. if you want to feel inspired but aren’t sure where to begin, you may start with shakespeare, emily dickinson, or sappho. classics tend to be safe choices that are full of rich vocabulary

does anything excite you? use that as a compass. if nothing excites you, perhaps explore why. excitement need not be high energy. even an unexpected bouquet of flowers can bring about excitement and romanticism, at least for myself i did not learn to write poetry through formal education or classes. it is strangely intuitive and one may always write free verse poetry. anne sexton started writing poetry at the suggestion of her psychiatrist, for example. if you are interested in learning how to write, i really like skillshare for learning new things (this is my referral code, if you or anyone is interested: https://skl.sh/3Proh0p) otherwise, i own mary oliver’s a poetry handbook but am yet to have read it, myself. i haven’t read much on how to write but it would be wise to look at the syllabi of college poetry and writing courses, like this one and this, where you can find several suggestions anyway, best of luck to you, anon. please feel free to share what you have written with me when you do write something ♡

#asks #anon #on writing #prev bacchicmaiden

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sappho-favourite-pupil · 4 days

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My fingers should be inside of you, right now. Just saying-

[this post is about ✨lesbianism✨].

#lesbian #lesbian smut #wlw nsft #lesbian yearning #dykeposting #sappho would be proud of me

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sappho-favorite-pupil-poetry · 21 hours

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I'm not good at comforting

People around me.

I'm sorry

That i wasn't enough.

No one ever

Thought me to be of comfort:

I can't comfort anyone

Not even myself, i'm afraid.

- Ele 🪻

#wlw poetry #poets of tumblr #poetry community #lesbian #dykeposting #sappho would be proud of me #poetry #sapphic

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swayinginthewind · 10 days

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Next time I will await someone whose books I want to mingle on the shelf with mine. Right now our books are lined up, touching. They say, “you bring interest to me, I bring interest to you.” I am proud of my collection. It grows as I learn. More textbooks, literature, and mythology have been added since I started school again. I consider the books I bought you. You have never finished a single one. But I read all the books you let me borrow, ones you told me I could keep. I tried to understand you. I’d wonder which lines stuck out to you, or read a line I knew you resonated with. I’d flip through them intimately, tracing where you underlined with a red gel pen. I must have read ten books from you in that first year. I continued gifting my favorites to you for birthdays, holidays, et cetera. I didn’t know what else to give you. Words are the only things that ever made sense to me. I remember the first time I stayed at your apartment in Venice, you went to the bathroom and I thumbed through a stack next to your bed: Shakespeare, Hemingway, Bukowski… I almost jumped out of bed and left you that night. Something chilled me under the bedsheet I was wrapped in. I realized, we are very different. But I stayed. When we finally put our books together we arranged them by size. It is a mess of cynical prose next to my Mary Oliver, Sylvia Plath, Eve Babitz. You are a first generation immigrant from Greece, yet you don’t know the ancient mythology which I have studied since I was a kid. Anne Carson translates verses of Sappho that you could never understand. Recently a crack in the window where we have overflow books let water in. We didn’t realize as it drip- drip- dripped. Finally I pulled a book from the shelf and realized it was covered in mold. The mold grew, not just on the cover but through the pages and into the spine. A few were unsalvageable and had to be discarded. A couple of those were books I bought for you, completely untouched, unturned, and now rotten. I thought about replacing them- but why? So they could sit on the shelf unloved like the ones before? I considered what I would do with all the books I bought you when I leave. Shall I leave them to you? What will the fate be if I do? Do I gift them to someone new?

All I know is when I pack up and move my books out, alone, my Sylvia will touch my Mary, will touch Virginia, Anne, Joan. The records I bought for you all of these years will spin. I will take the books you gifted me and cherish them alongside my others. I really tried to learn you, but you never attempted to turn a single page of me. You wouldn’t even read the poetry I wrote for you when I sent it. You were always “too busy” for a single chapter. The first edition of Valley of the Dolls that I got you when you turned 29 has hardly been looked at.

There are books of ours that are stuck together from the humid summers of ocean air. When the time comes, I will tear off the covers if I have to, leaving the table of contents exposed, so I am nothing but a name without a face, a book without a cover. When this time comes, the new reader will have to flip to understand. They won’t see my bound frame, the picture and title chosen to complete me. There will be no artifice in this next new love and they will understand more than you ever did. I will leave you with your Hemingway, Bukowski, cynicism, and I will go without saying a word.

#personal

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withlovefromolympus · 2 years

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Ok I must know... Do you have any Artemis x Athena HC's for me. This couple needs more representation.

If not though it's ok

LET’S GOOOO!!!! 🧡🤍💖

They braid each other’s hair while chatting all the time. It’s really relaxing to them and is a good form of bonding!

Artemis is away a lot because of the Hunt, but when she’s around, they’re inseparable

The rest of the family absolutely loves their relationship, especially Eros who insists he “saw it coming from miles away.” yeah right buddy

Apollo is very protective of his sister but knows Athena is good for her. (He’s said multiple times that he’d be less enthusiastic if Athena was anyone else, but would obviously respect his sister’s decision)

Athena is surprisingly the more openly affectionate one between the two of them. She gives Artemis cute little cheek kisses all the time, and it’s just the cutest thing anyone has seen

They both love horror movies but mostly the understood cuddling aspect that comes with watching scary things together

Sappho has written poems about them together :’)

Because of their competitive natures, both goddesses like to play games on opposite teams

The only really huge fight they’ve had is when Athena insulted Artemis by accident and was too proud to admit she was wrong, but they made up of course

They go to Pride every year. Aphrodite picks out their outfits so that the colors they wear are the lesbian flag colors

Their first kiss was in a Ferris wheel at the fair. It was a little unexpected for both of them but it was lovely!!

All Artemis’ huntresses love Athena. The archer goddess has told them to treat her gf with the same respect as they show her

They fall asleep/take naps together in the cutest positions

Neither are big on wearing jewelry, but when they need a piece, they borrow from each other since their tastes are similar

Here are a couple that I immediately thought of!! I’ll make sure to let you know if I think of any more which I most likely will ;)

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smallraindrops-blog · 1 year

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She Buried Me With the Sacred Texts

( And Called It Love.)

WMFTD!Y/N x Hypnos (both girls), onesided Y/N x Meg

Word count: 3.4

Summary: You wonder when you had become so pathetic for a cheerful, beautiful little creature.

Warnings: Gender switching, always-a-girl!Y/N and Hypnos, sexism, gender questioning, low self esteem!y/n, no beta

Notes:I have so much other stuff to write but this fic idea just wouldn’t leave me alone. I wrote this fic in like three hours. I give credit to that one anon who sent that lovely f/f fic all that time ago. <3

Beside the gender stuff, it pretty follows the WMFTD canon but I didn’t want to be a word for word repeat.

Please pay attention to the warnings.

The line is from Sappho’s Ode to Aphrodite.

Enjoy!

(Thirteen)

With tears stringing your eyes, you yanked out the careful updo that the maids had made, uncaring of the golden pins and precious jewels that scattered across your bedroom floor.

It only took moments to pull out the blade that Father had given you, its tip glinting in the warm light of the oil lamp.

This, you understood. You understood the desperation, the training and strength it took to take up a weapon and fight. Even as foolish old men tried to say otherwise.

Before tonight, you had walked both paths, learning the domestic arts of running a household along with your father’s training of warriorhood. A sewing needle felt just as right as a spear did in your hands.

Even if you were far from ideal beauty, you were strong and capable. Something that Greek men feared, their lips curled up in distaste as they realized you could easily beat them and their sons in battle.

Fisting a hand into your hair, you pressed the blade against it, breathing heavily. Just as you were about to cut though your hair, Father’s voice rang out, low and gentle.

“Stop. Put that down.”

Your teary eyes darted up, lingering on his solemn face even as shame burned your chest and to your cheeks. You gitted your teeth, wanting to disobey. Achilles shook his head, his blue eyes unwavering.

“Fine.” You snarled, dropping the blade down on the vanity. It looked out of place among your rarely touched cosmetics, rather fitting since you felt too sharp, too bulky, too hard, too much among the delicate beauty of other women.

You ignored your Father as he made his way over to you. He was the last person you wanted to look weak in front of. Achilles was the ideal of a hero, strong and golden. Ever since you were a little girl, you wanted to be like him.

When you had demanded to begin training as a warrior, Achilles didn’t mock you or send you away like any other father would have to their daughter. He simply tossed you a practice spear and said, ‘About time, lass.’

You felt a hand lifted your chin up, and you met his eyes in the mirror. His expression softened and a proud smile grew on his golden face.

“You did the right thing tonight.” Achilles told you, dropping his hand. He pointed to the small stool and with a huff, you sat down.

“She kept telling him no.” You murmured, “I just made sure he understood.”

Your fingers curled into your skirt, trying to push away the memories of ugly insults the partygoers had cried out, some of them staring in horror. You knew you weren’t normal already but to be stronger than a man in his prime was a step too far.

Achilles chuckled at that, unaware of your thoughts. He picked up a brush, eyeing your tangled mess of hair. “That you did. I don’t doubt that he will be limping for a while.”

Quiet settled in as Achilles took out the rest of the pins in your hair with gentle touches. It was when he was working out a painful tangle in your hair when he spoke up again.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I spent as a woman?” Achilles said lightly, like he was asking how you slept the night before. You stared at his reflection in shock, trying to imagine it.

“No.” You said with a frown, “How?”

“I was still growing. My mother wasn’t happy about me and Patroclus but that isn’t the point of the story. I had to completely give up my identity and exist as someone else. Oddly enough, there were some parts I didn’t mind. I even enjoyed it.”

Achilles worked out the last tangle, handling you the brush as his fingers combed through your hair. His eyes were hazy, as if lost in a memory. “I learned I was very lucky before, to be given opportunities that others were unfairly denied just for being a different gender.”

You nodded, fascinated by this other side of your father you never met before. With an ease that spoke of experience, he began to braid your hair. “I learned that while I was a man, I could embrace this side as well, and for a time I did. Eventually I had to come back as me but I didn’t mind, I had become something more.”

“Oh.” You said quietly as he grabbed a ribbon to tie off the braid. It was even and neatly made, and more importantly it kept your hair out of your face. You thought it suited you more than the updos that the servants tried on you.

“What I am trying to tell you is that you are more than what other people say you are, just like I was.” His voice was soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, smiling at your reflection. “Whatever you wish for, you will still be my child. But you need to make that call, not other people’s ugly fears.”

Your eyes darted down at your blade. Before you had wanted to reject this part of yourself, wishing you were something else just so others would accept you.

They won't. Not yet.

Until then you had to be strong and fearless . You wanted to make all the cowards look upon you and realize how small minded and weak they all were.

You were the daughter of Achilles and Patroclus, a mighty warrior just like they were. You will be damned before you let anyone take that away from you.

(House of Hades)

“I have heard about you, even all the way down here.” Her voice was light, sweet as morning bells.

You lifted a brow as you allowed yourself to acknowledge the beautiful goddess before you. Hypnos’ smile grew tenfold, lighting up her face.

Hypnos was the most beautiful creature you have ever seen, her shoulder length white curls loose around her high cheekbones and her full tempting mouth that was begging for someone to kiss until it was bruised and swollen. Her limbs were delicate, like a fragile lily petal that would wilt at the first brush of contact.

It was her perfect honey gold eyes, framed by dark lines and thick white lashes that made your heart fluttered.

Had she been a mortal, you would have thought Aphrodite created Hypnos to personally drive you to madness. However, you knew better than to allow yourself to admire Hypnos’ loveliness.

You knew women like her before, soft and pretty things that were morbidly fascinated by your bulky, scarred body. Like you were something like a freak show side that they will forget later after telling all their friends.

“And what of it, my lady?” You said as a way to dismiss her.

Hypnos lifted her chin, not backing down. Odd, most people dislike you from the first moment yet this little goddess didn’t back down. “I always wondered what kind of mortal could stop a god on a warpath.”

“Delay.” You corrected her, your mouth twisted bitterly.

For a long, painful moment all you saw were Ares’ mad eyes, ugly in his bloodlust. Screams echoed, blood warm against your skin as crying innocents blurred into monsters-

“Lady Y/N?” Hypnos asked, her lips parted slightly in concern. A slim hand reached to you, her fingers curled in hesitation. You shook your head, realizing you had been taken by the memories.

Before you could say anything else, Prince Zagreus appeared.

You didn’t look back at her, as you and Zagreus spoke. Her golden eyes watched you however. You tried not to think about what she saw from you. You told yourself that you didn’t care.

Slowly, like the dark green ivy climbing through pale cracks of a long forgotten building, Hypnos had filled in empty spaces that you didn’t even know existed until her.

Exhausted, overworked shades and angry - and hurt- gods haunted the House of Hades, misery and gloom filled the air, the weight of the emotions suffocating everything.

Then something would break it, just for a moment and it was always Hypnos’s soft words or pleased giggling. You found your ears perked when you heard the beautiful goddess, trying to hear more like a plant that was starved of sunlight.

Never once had you seen her smile break, even when Hades tore her paperwork apart - something that made you gritted your teeth so hard, you thought your jaw would crack- and happily being the butt of a joke if got a laugh from someone.

Often she came and visited you between her breaks, chatting about drama in the administration room or the new funny way that Zagreus had died. Just hovering out of reach, and you wondered if you dreamt her up.

You hated that you looked forward to her visits.

You had met Megaera by accident.

It was clear when you walked into the training room with Hypnos’ sweet voice chatting in your ear that you had walked in the middle of a frustrating argument.

There was a beat when Zagreus and the fury paused, surprised. Hypnos embraced the awkwardness, beaming her cheerful smile at everyone. You felt your chest squeezed in quiet fondness.

“Your highness and Megaera! I haven’t seen you in a while, Megaera.” Hypnos said, tapping her cheek. Hypnos seemed a little too pleased, and you reminded yourself to prod her for information later.

You caught Megaera’s eyes lingering on you for a beat too long. You returned the look. It was almost like the first time you saw an Amazon riding into battle and realizing you weren’t alone.

Zagreus cleared his throat, “Ah, could you give us a moment?”

“Don’t bother.” The fury snapped, looking back at Zagreus. “You already have your answer.”

“Meg-“ Zagreus snapped but she was already gone. His broad shoulders slumped, looking hurt. You winced in pity and even Hypnos seemed worried.

“You know how she is.” Hypnos spoke up quietly, floating over to Zagreus. The god frowned at her, looking like he wanted to disagree.

Hypnos saw this and shook her head. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. Megaera is the way she is for good reasons.”

There was something you were missing, but you weren’t sure what, your eyes moving between the guilty expression on Hypnos’ face to the hurt one on Zagreus.

Later, the lovely Megaera, the first of the fury, found you and invited you to join her at the lounge.

“I was friends with your father.” She told you with a friendly nod toward the area. After a moment of hesitation, you took her up on the offer.

As you walked with her, you caught the surprise look from Hypnos. You lifted a hand in greeting but she turned away, her mouth tight. You stared at her stiff back, confused at the hurt you saw.

“Ah. I can explain.” Meg said quietly. “Before you came, she had asked me if I was open for a courtship, and I might have been bit harsh in turning her down.”

It took a long moment for the words to sink in. The idea of someone rejecting someone clever and sweet as Hypnos seems impossible for you to imagine.

You wanted to call Meg a fool for rejecting someone like Hypnos. You held your tongue.

“I see.” You said, turning back to look at Hypnos but she was gone.

You tried to bring up the hurt you saw but she would sidestep the questions. Her cheerful smile fading enough that you gave up, unwilling to cause anymore pain.

It remained there, a heavy rock that neither you or her would acknowledge.

Once when you were caught somewhere between child and woman, you had realized the beauty of the womanly form. The way their hair spilled down their shoulder, the dip in the waist, gentle lines of their hips and the swell of their breasts was captivating to you.

Hypnos outshined evey single women out of them in everything, no matter how mundane.

Her cape was tossed carelessly on your bed, her quill floating around her head as she glared at frustrating paperwork, her lips shaped into a tempting pout.

Her legs tucked up, revealing the shapely curves of her calves, her feet small and ankles thin and delicate. Bared of any jewelry and for a moment, you pined for the ones who had won in the war.

The idea of Hypnos dressed in the finey you had won was a lulling idea.

Hypnos stretched with a loud yawn, and your eyes darted to the swell of her breasts, hidden by the thick fabric of her chiton. The willowy form of her body called to you, and you tore your eyes away.

Only almost immediately, you glanced back at her.

Lust wasn’t an unfamiliar thing. You had felt it often but this was different, you craved just being near her.

Then as if to personally torture you, Hypnos pulled her curls into a bun, exposing the smooth lines of nape, fine baby hair brushing against her skin.

You bit back a groan, staring down at your own paperwork, wondering when you had become so pathetic for a cheerful, beautiful little creature.

When alone, you tried to recall as many of Sappo’s poems as you could. You had devoured her writing as a girl, your heart racing the understanding that you weren’t alone.

One line kept repeating in your head, along Hypnos’ soft, pleased smile when she had caught you looking.

Come to me now thus, Goddess and release me.

Megaera was quiet but the look of approval in her face was clear as day. She flicked her ponytail, “I suppose you are the one to blame for Zagreus’ improvement.”

You paused, watching as the dummy reformed in a single flash of light. Megaera’s training room was smaller than Zagreus, however you found that you liked it. It was more like the one you used to share with your Father.

“My Father gets most of the credit, really. I just helped him refocus.” You said with an easy shrug.

“Oh, so you are humble as well.” Megaera teased and you laughed quietly. With a grace that came from talent and years of fighting, Megaera moved in front of you. Her dark copper eyes narrowed in challenge.

“Let me see what you are made of.” She ordered, her hand on her whip. You nodded, “Alright.”

Megaera’s whip suited her, she was just as quick and sharp as it was. If one wasn’t careful, they would have painful welts to show for it. However, you held your own. Your steady built, precise and brutal aim and years of training under Achilles had served you well.

It was nice to have a friend in this fellow warrior. She wasn’t the only one, there was Zagreus who had more like a brother each passing day. But then there was the beautiful Hypnos that could make your chest go tight with a single glance.

With a grunt, you pinned her down onto her back, her whip far out of her reach and your hand on her throat. You smirked, victory flowing through your veins. Her eyes met your eyes, blown dark by the adrenaline and quite possibly something else.

Her tongue wet her pink, full lips but your eyes didn’t follow. The invitation was loud and clear. Admittedly, a small part of you wanted to take it. Megaera was beautiful and a fighter like you. She wouldn’t judge you for your marks.

It would be fun for a bit, easy.

Hypnos’ face flashed in your mind, her golden eyes bright with laughter and you felt the warm touch of her soft hand on your arm as if she was right there.

You knew then even if you joined Megaera’s bed, it wouldn’t make a dent in your emotions for Hypnos. It would be unfair to her and to you. Unfortunately for Megaera, you were spoken for. Even if Hypnos didn’t know it.

You let go of Meg’s throat, acting as if the moment didn’t happen. There was a few seconds of quiet as you sat down to get your breath back, and Meg sat up. Her expression was calm, watchful.

“Thank you for the challenge.” You told her with a genuine smile. “I’m glad for the honor, my friend.”

There was a flicker of disappointment in her dark eyes. Then she nodded. “The honor was all mine.”

“I don’t care.” Hypnos had told you one day after nearly all the shades had left, the workday drawing near. You had shot a cool glare at a group of shades that were getting a little too close, almost smirking at their mural looks of fear.

You blinked, not expecting her blunt words. Hypnos seemed to miss it, her disapproving eyes watching the shades fled from you.

When she looked back at you, Her golden eyes were wide and round like an owl. “You don’t scare me. I think it is good you are the way you are. I like you the way you are.”

Although maybe you should have, you have learned that Hypnos was incapable of hiding her real thoughts. It was something you had come to appreciate about her, along with how she cracked bad jokes until you got a response from you or the quiet, nonjudgmental way she brought you back from your memories.

Even though you didn’t plan for it, Hypnos have become very dear to you. A real friend. Which meant you couldn’t let your own foolish emotions ruin the friendship you had.

“Thank you, my lady.” You told her. She waved your words away, floating closer to you. You wanted to reach out, to find out if her body against yours would feel solid and warm or if she was more like a cloud, soft and unreachable.

Your hands curled into a tight fist around your spear, drawing on what little willpower you had left.

Then she paused, her face near yours. Like this you caught the faint smell of her perfume, soft and floral. You couldn't pick out what exactly, there was the faintest touch of lavender, thick honey and something else that made your mouth watered.

“You always call me ‘My Lady’.” Hypnos whispered, a stray curl falling in front of her eyes.

You swallowed, fighting a rush of warmth that clawed up your chest and nape. You prayed she didn’t notice. “That is your title isn’t it?”

“Yet you are the only one to use it, everyone else just calls by my name.” Her lips quirked up, a flicker of hurt in her beautiful eyes.

You stared, not sure where the hurt came from. Did she want you to call her by name? It's just… ‘My Lady’ came so easy to you, a quiet way of showing that she was worthy of respect, that you recognized she deserved to be waited on hand and foot.

At first, to you it was just a title just like you would any other gods but it was different with her.

It was foolish but it came from your heart, you thought someone who was warm and bright as she was in this pit of despair should be treated with far more respect than she was actually given.

“Does it upset you?” You asked just as quietly, heart thumping against your chest. Hypnos bit down on her bottom lip and you resisted the urge to kiss her.

“I don’t know.” She replied honestly. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” You told her, studying her expression. You could tell she wanted to believe you, sweet and foolish little thing that she was because if she knew you wanted more…

“Are we?” She challenged, her voice gentle.

Unable to bear the lingering doubt in her honey tone eyes, you took her hand. Hypnos’ hand was so much softer than yours, like touching warm silk, not a single callus on her delicate fingertips.

You lifted her hand up, your eyes never leaving hers. Her eyes had widened in surprise as her cheeks flushed. There was a quiver to her lips that wasn’t there before. You hoped you weren’t overstepping.

You pressed your lips against her knuckles, lingering. “I call you ‘My Lady’ because that is what you are.”

“Oh.” Hypnos said quietly. “I see.”

You doubted that very much. Then she did something to surprise you, her fingers interlaced with yours.

Your breath hitched, “Hypnos?”

“So you do know my name.” She teased. Her smile was impossibly warm and perfect. She licked her lips, and you knew you were staring at her mouth but unable to look away.

“Tell me, are you and Megaera…?” Hypnos tried to keep her voice calm but you heard nervousness in her sweet tone.

“No. I never looked at her like that.” You said quietly, heart racing. “And you?”

Hypnos’ shoulders relaxed, “Not since I met you. And it pales in comparison.”

You let out a breath, hope was a living, fluttering thing in your chest. Hypnos tugged at your hand, “Join me for a meal.”

You looked at her even with your moral eyes that felt unworthy to even look at the lovely daughter of Nyx, gentle and soft Hypnos, goddess of all mortals and their dreams, the one that held your heart in her delicate hands.

With a calm acceptance that you had met your true demise and it was beautiful, you pressed another kiss against her knuckles.

“Of course, my lady.”

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