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The God of Fire

The air was electrifying,

Up here in Mount Olympus,

Hera had supposedly birthed a boy,

And it was a time for celebration!

Dionysus brought his fine wine,

Apollo strummed his lyre,

Thalia sang a song so contagiously upbeat,

That even Ares couldn’t help the tapping of his feet.

It was a joyous occasion indeed!

For whom the party was for,

Had yet to be seen.

Where was Zeus, Hera,

And their newest offspring?

Off in the distance,

One could hear a newborn’s crying.

Hera and Zeus agreed that the child was imperfect.

That in regards to their other children,

He was by far the ugliest,

Borderline grotesque.

His parents,

Hera and Zeus,

Casted him out.

Had thrown him down,

The very steps of Olympus.

But immortals cannot perish.

Where he lay,

Sprawled upon the steps,

He could see the flaming sun.

He stretched the tips of his fingertips,

And soon a chunk of it became his own.

He placed it upon the marble staircase,

Hands unscorched,

He molded it into a blanket,

One to keep him safe and warm.

The newest son of Olympus,

Was by no means a piece of art,

But he himself was an exceptional sculptor.

Of decor,

Of masonry,

Of temples,

Of whatever one’s heart could desire.

This child would soon be renowned as Hephaestus,

The one and only,

God of Fire.

@ethereal-athalia BROOOOO, YOUR MEMES ARE SENDINGGGGG ME!!! I THANK YOU FOR YOUR ROSES, LET ME RETURN THE FAVOR!!!

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Truce Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Pairing(s): Ikaris x Persephone!Reader, Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader Word Count: 4.1k Prompt/Summary: Part 3 of Truce Miniseries! Warning: SMUTTY TOPICS (Ikaris is a horndog), Neurodivergent reader is neurodivergent, Hecate!Reader bestie is her own warning, Ikaris was kind of a douche (but he gets better), Phastos needs a raise and some aspirin Note: I cannot believe that I managed to update this miniseries so quickly, but my longer fics that forever to write out smh. ANYWAY, once again, thank you to the most wonderful beta reader a new fanfic writer can ask for in the history of everything, @valeskafics ! She is an incredibly kind and patient human and one of the best and most incredible fanfic writers for HOTD, GOT, and the Ewanverse on Tumblr! If you love any of Ewan Mitchell's works or are a fan of GOT/HOTD, I highly recommend checking her blog out! You will not regret it! Also, the BIGGEST thank you and shout of love to @ethereal-athalia , my good man in the storm, I have never clicked so well with someone on this platform when it came to crazy ideas, and thanks to her, I can write out my ideas and share them on this site! If you want to read more from this AU, please click on this masterlist!

“Ikaris,” you breathily purred out, “come with me to my room.”

The second your lips touched the outer rim of his ear, and breathily whispered out your near silent command, Ikaris thought that he must have died and reached paradise. The idea of coming into your bedroom, alone with you, and with no risk of interruptions. He fucked his hand more times than he was willing to admit at the idea. But in every fantasy that entered his mind, that took hold of his body every time you so much as smiled his way, it was you who initiated the coupling. The first thing he registered was the intense wave of your fragrance that overwhelmed his senses, followed by the thought of how the sight of your bed was begging him to throw you on top of the covers, and ravage you until the only word you could remember was his name.

In every reverie that his mind could possibly conjure, you would slowly strip yourself bare before shyly crawling to your bed and draping your figure with coverings. And after he would remove his own armor, he would remove the covers in order to witness you in all of your bare glory, before crawling on top of you. He would be patient with you, only holding you in his arms so that you could feel the rapid beating of his heart. No matter what, Ikaris wanted you to understand that while out of the two of you- he may have been the fighter, but it was you who held the power.

He would treat you with only the utmost tenderness and care that was necessary for an ethereal being such as yourself. He’d kiss you- softly, sweetly- taking in the memory of your lips pressed against his, before he would slowly make his way in devouring you. He often wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelled. After taking his fill with your lips, he would lay kisses across your jaw, and down your neck until he would pause to take in the view of your perfect breasts.

Oh, to be able to hold your chest in his hands would be a dream come true. To mark your supple skin with his kisses would be his greatest dream. The idea of hearing you moan out his name was enough to get him hard. The only part of you that could rival the glory of your chest was the marvel of your perfect ass. Under no circumstances was there to be any space on your skin unblemished by his design, all leading that moment when he will find your clit, with hopes to find you soaked. And if you needed more stimulation, he would be more than happy to help you climax in any way; tongue, fingers, cock, his body was yours. He would not stop kissing, marking, and breathing in you until there was not a single part of your body that wasn’t completely and thoroughly loved by him.

Granted, when you told Ikaris to walk with you to your private quarters at the Domo, he probably should have known it was too good to be true that you would ever intend to be… “physical” with him.

But never in his wildest imagination would he have thought that the room conjoining your bed quarters would house such an impressive field hosting dozens of different kinds of fruits and vegetation, each having an impressive number of subspecies. Nor would he have expected to be in the position of harvesting said crops with you as you begin to talk his ear off about you design the crop, and what qualifications need to be met before you can properly introduce and integrate them to humanity’s budding culture. Ikaris tried his best to follow along, but the moment you uttered the words “sustainable agriculture” he was completely lost. But all hope in maintaining his composure was lost when you reached your grove of root vegetables. Due to some more deeply rooted than others, you had to crouch on your knees in order to gain a steady enough foundation to grip the crop by its stalk to pull it out, forcing Ikaris to test his willpower as he tried his best to not stare too long at the sight of your glorious backside.

And when the two of you moved on, he swore that he wasn’t imagining how tightly you’d grip his cock as he furiously took you from behind, or to have you crouch in front of him as you took his cock in your mouth, or to-

“Ikaris,” your voice brought him back to reality and away from his shameful imagination, “would you mind tasting these Morbus nigra for me? I can’t decide if I should make them sweeter.” You were standing in front him holding the dark fruit to his lips, its dark pigment staining your skin with its juices.

Ikaris’ Adam’s apple bobbed as he silently nodded in order to not voice his impulse to pin you down and ravish you with only the fruits of your labor and research as the witnesses to him worshipping you. Stiffly leaning down to eat the fruit, Ikaris’ tongue brushed against the tips of your purple-stained fingers. An explosion of tart and sweetness burst within his mouth, and Ikaris held his gaze to you as he gave his answer.

“…It’s perfect,” he replied, “once again you’ve outdone yourself, Sephia.”

Ikaris would have fought a thousand deviants alone if you could keep smiling the way you did now.

About 2 hours must have passed of you and Ikaris inspecting, harvesting, and taste-testing in your little paradise. It wasn’t until you were satisfied with the yield resulting from your and Ikaris’ efforts that you rushed Ikaris away to wash off the dirt in your private showers, and was instructed to meet you in the kitchen area of the Domo. And as Ikaris stood in your bathroom, stripping himself of his azure and gold armor, he couldn’t help but to take in all the details of the room’s interior. Each bedroom of the Domo was identical in both layout and furnishing, but as time passed, each Eternal started to leave subtle hints that hallmarked their individuality.

Assuming that your room would be neat and systemic, he was amazed to see the cartography of beautiful disorder and chaos from vines creeping up your walls, bundles of flowers hung to dry, tins of stones and pebbles covering the surface of your desk, and several heaps of bound paper filled to the brim with notes from past observations and hopes for future experiments scattered on the floor. To see the inside of your lodgings allowed him to look into your mind, to see a part of you that was so carefully tucked away from everyone else, and it was driving him mad.

Realizing that he was standing in the middle of your room naked, Ikaris retreated back to the bathroom to turn on the water and quickly washed off any evidence of dirt and sweat from his skin before he met up with you. He made sure to close his eyes to center himself. If he thought too long of how he was in your shower, and would use your soaps and oils to result in him smelling like you for the rest of the day, then he would be forced to rush his pleasure and your image deserved to be savored.

Redressing himself, Ikaris quickly walked over to your arranged location, and when he saw you standing behind the island counter, washing the vegetables, he could only stand in awe. While there wasn’t a time he hadn’t thought you weren’t beautiful. Ikaris was utterly enchanted at the sight of you now. Your body was slightly swaying to a tune you once heard at one of the many gatherings held in their honor. Unaware that you were humming, you were so focused on preparing your harvest that you hadn’t heard Ikaris enter the room. It seems that you also washed yourself, as evidenced by the messy bun with a few stubborn damp tendrils escaping and clinging to your brow. Your face was beautifully flushed, as he was sure as was the rest of you, despite being hidden by your Eternal’s uniform. You were the image of serenity and beauty.

Clearing his throat to gain your attention, you quickly turned around and flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh Ikaris,” you exclaimed, “I’m sorry, were you standing there for long?”

“No, I just got here,” he replied, “I’m sorry for taking so long, and you should have just let me use my own shower if you wanted to take one yourself.”

Waving your hand to dismiss him as you chuckled, “No, no, no! Don’t worry about that! I just showered in Kaety’s room! Besides it’s only fair considered how many times she’s used mine.”

…What? Why would- why would Kaetlyn- huh?

Furrowing his slight displeasure at this new knowledge, Ikaris quickly asked you to clarify, “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” You seemed genuinely surprised at his question, but you shrugged it off, “Phastos had to design 2 extra rooms because Kaety ended up making a secret lab for her dissections and practices out of her original room. She transformed the bed into a surgical table, filling the room with weird jars- which is how I ended up helping her with the preserving solution since the bodies would degrade so quickly- and it got to the point where Phastos ended up FAINTING when he accidentally walked into the room because Cerbie left the door open. Can you hand me a few of those Allium praecox, they’re the ones that look like big white spheres?”

“…But why did she use your shower?” Maybe it was stupid for Ikaris to feel so jealous at an event that happened so long ago, but he hated your friend more than ever now.

“Well, she and I ended up sharing my room because she transformed her bed, so we slept in the same bed and everything! And I love Kaety, but she smelled HORRIBLE after dealing with Deviants, so I always made her shower before coming to bed. She would be soaked in that blood- and I know that our uniforms are made of energy that allow them to clean and mend themselves, but the smell still stuck to her skin, her hair- there was even blood under her fingernails!”

Your body shuddered at remembering it before continuing, “So I made it kind of a rule that whenever you enter my room, you have to shower. Otherwise, you were barred from entering my room. Can you please pass me the Allium praecox now- oh, and the Allium sativum? They look like the Allium praecox, but they’re smaller, and look kind of lumpy. Anyway, Kaety ended up getting her own room and a lab, and then I kind of wanted an area that I could have full control over what I could grow- so, I ended doing the same thing but instead of blood, it was dirt.”

Head still screaming questions, Ikaris only silently handed you the bulbous vegetables as you continue with your tasks. For the rest of the time being, he just handed you whatever ingredients you needed, and observed you as you prepared everything to cook them. Watching you calmed his temper immensely, as he made sure to make minimal comments and only asking questions whenever there was something he was truly confused by. Soon, there was no speaking necessary as the two of you worked in amicable silence.

When Ikaris was focusing on mashing the Cicer arietinum into a smooth paste with the mortar and pastel per your instructions, you couldn’t help but take in the man beside you. You couldn’t believe how much he’s changed since you first acquainted yourself with him.

You were always aware of Ikaris since the moment you stepped off the Domo to first meet humanity, one couldn’t help but always be aware of him. Ikaris always had such a commanding presence, an attitude that demanded all attention from everyone in the same room as him- even the way he walked and stood screamed for attention.

From the beginning, it was obvious to you that he only pretended to try to get along with you so that he could gain Sersi’s affections. That was the other thing that made Ikaris so unbearable to you initially, his hubris. He had an inane talent of holding himself to such a high degree of competency that it baffled you whenever you saw someone as sweet as Sersi smiling and laughing with him. Sersi may not have been as close to you as Kaety, but you and her grew very close as you worked together in aiding humanity with their crops and developing their agriculture. As such, you saw it as your duty to warn her of Ikaris’ intentions, not wanting her to fall victim to such a pathetic man- no matter how much Ajak trusted him. Furthermore, it enraged you to no end how he would have the temerity to instruct YOU of all people on how to properly plant and harvest the crops YOU designed! He would even go out of his way to critique your reluctance in interacting with humanity, constantly comparing you to the other team members, mostly Sersi and himself. It was unbearable, and every time he would finish his “lecture,” you would lock yourself in your room to try to stop the cruel voices in your head that doubted you. Every time you saw him, your detest grew and grew until a boiling point had been reached, and the limits of your patience had passed the point of no return.

That was the day Ikaris thought it would be a good idea to publicly critique your behavior in front of the team, and question whether or not you were trying to hold them back with your inattentiveness and lack of commitment.

And that was the comment that broke the metaphorical camel’s back.

Not even Makkari was quick enough to stop you as you launched yourself to Ikaris, and delivered a slap with the most satisfying crack as a result of all of your strength being poured into it. You were done. If Ikaris had ever thought you to be a meek little flower before, that was officially over as you began to scream your anger at his deplorable behavior and complete lack of respect. You told him exactly how you felt every time: he wasted your time intruding on your duties to flirt with your friend, made snide comments of your crop designs and purpose, and would only pretend to be cordial to you whenever Sersi was looking, only to revert back to his neanderthal ways the second she turned away.

By the time you were done, you could feel your body vibrating with the adrenaline from your outburst. Ikaris- along with everyone else on the team- stood still and slack jawed at the event they just witnessed. Not wanting to risk the embarrassment from your impulsivity taking over, you quickly left the Domo to find a quiet place for your own thoughts. It was late at night, and so you quickly managed to find a private area of the gardens. But it wasn’t long until Kaet ended up finding you- as she always does, thank Arishem for that. She didn’t say a word as she laid by your side before she gathered you in her arms, and letting your head rest in the crook of her neck.

You loved so many things about Kaety- her courage, her intellect, her kindness and overwhelming empathy- but if there was anything you were grateful for, it was that she had the ability to understand you without the need for words. You knew she was proud that you stood up for yourself- that you finally defended yourself against your oppressor- but that wasn’t what you needed then. At that moment, your senses were going into overdrive. Your heart was beating so fast, and you just wanted everything but Kaety to disappear. Your brain felt so wired, but your body was beyond exhausted. Conjuring up a blanket, she covered the two of you as you let yourself simply feel- crying yourself to sleep as your best friend’s arms protected you from the rest of the world.

The sun rose from the west, the world still stood, and everything from the night before remained. You dreaded the idea of seeing the team, but Kaety knew you and her needed to return.

“Don’t you dare lower your head,” she told you, “don’t you dare let him take this from you.”

And so, with the both of you returning the starship, you refused to let yourself acknowledge the stares of everyone at you. Kaety was your steady boulder, stopping anyone who approached the two of you with just a single stare. The two of you managed to make it back to your room before you felt all the air leave your body as you sunk to the ground. Knowing that you haven’t even washed yourself after working in the fields yesterday, Kaet ordered you to take a long shower. She hadn’t even left the room as you did so, going so far as to tuck you into bed, assuring you that she will inform Ajak that you would take no visitors or interruptions. She even left a little part of her shadow to guard your entrance from the hall, giving it strict instruction to inform her immediately if anyone so much as tried to knock on your door.

The next few weeks went by with your mind in a slight haze. Druig and Phastos congratulated you for standing up to Ikaris, along with promising protection should their leader’s second-in-command attempt to say anything about you behind your back. You and Phastos had always been very close to one another, as you always liked to ask questions about his inventions, and made sure to offer encouragements whenever Ajak had to reject them for being too advanced- but Druig was a surprise.

While you and the telepath were well-acquainted with one another due to the other’s relationship with Kaetlyn, you and him were never truly close. However, your outburst changed that, opening a doorway to a strange, but comforting friendship a bit similar to the one you shared with Phastos. 

You were worried about Sersi, as you enjoyed your time with her and didn’t want things to be awkward with the two of you. So, you were shocked when you saw her apologize to you for missing all the signs of Ikaris’ inappropriate behavior. You dismissed all of her worries, assuring her that she was not to blame for Ikaris being himself. Luckily, it was as if nothing had changed- a huge comfort to you to say the least.

All was peaceful within the team until Ikaris would approach you to “apologize.” An attempt that would always result in you ignoring him, refusing to give the neither the satisfaction nor the time of day. It wasn’t until he declared that you were acting like a child for not even seeing that he was doing his best to make amends. But you quickly shut him down, outright stating that he had done nothing to show his remorse, and that you had better things to do than to waste your time on someone who thought himself a leader, but couldn’t even admit his own mistakes. You pushed past him, thinking that was the final attempt, and Ikaris would forever remain the man with too much pride and not enough humility to gain your respect.

But despite all your doubts, Ikaris proved himself capable of admitting his own mistakes, and showed genuine remorse and actively changed his behavior. He would no longer approach you with such haughty behavior, and would genuinely ask for your help when he had trouble understanding something. He would no longer try to deflect whenever you pointed out a mistake, and would be patient in your explanation. And try as hard as you did, you couldn’t help but see Ikaris in a different light. You forgave him, and you were so glad to at this moment.

Still staring at him, you took in all his features with keen observation. While Kaet still insistently compared the flying Eternal’s physical features to a sight less pleasant than having a Deviant’s gonads shoved in your face, you could admit that the man before was an extremely handsome one. Despite all his bravado and apparent confidence, you could more than understand why so many female humans were enamored at the sight of him. Even you occasionally couldn’t help but admire Ikaris’ deep blue eyes, eyes that were staring back at you at this very moment.

“Something on my face?” He asked with a raised brow that only further highlighted his sharp features. You blinked for a bit.

“Sorry, I was just thinking that you are very handsome.” You revealed with a straight face.

Not bothering to hide the pleased expression on his face with a light tint of red on his cheeks, Ikaris turned his body to fully face you.

“Handsome, am I?” He smugly asked, “Careful Sephia, you might risk filling my ego if continue those sweet words.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh, come off it,” you snarked as you rolled your eyes, “don’t bother to pretend you don’t know how the women always clamor to get your attention at every gathering since we first came here.”

“I assure you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do you scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel?” Ikaris mocked, “Do you really think this face belongs to that of a scoundrel?”

“Yes, it absolutely does” you replied- before pretending to be deep in thought, “Your face shows me that you are about...48% scoundrel- no wait, now it’s 67% because of that smirk.”

Eyebrows lifted and lips tucked in, Ikaris closed his eyes and gave a deep nod- if only to show that he took your 67% scoundrel assessment very seriously. Seeing him like that must have pleased you, as you began to smile.

“You know,” you began, “you should smile a lot more. It makes you look more approachable, and maybe Kaety wouldn’t give you such a hard time if she saw you like I’m seeing you now.”

Ikaris stood there, contemplating what you just said. It wasn’t that he was incapable of showing his vulnerable sides, you just had that natural ability to bring out the parts of himself that he hadn’t thought were there to begin with- maybe, it was a gift that only you possessed. But at the mention of your friend’s name, Ikaris suddenly remembered why he sought out your company in the first place.

“Sephia,” he began- lowering his voice a bit to steel himself, “about you and Kaetlyn- I just wanted-”

He couldn’t even finish his question at the sight of your full attention at him. Not wanting to ruin all the mood, he decided that he would just leave it for another time.

“I wanted to let you know that- I’m glad,” he ended up stating, “I’m glad that Kaetlyn is someone you can always rely on- even if she and I don’t get along, it makes me happy to know that you’ll always be safe with her around.”

Unable to hide how touched you were by his words- knowing fully well how little he and Kaet got along- you flung yourself to Ikaris, wrapping your arms around his neck, and gave him the biggest hug like you have only ever given to Kaety. And although he was a bit caught off-guard, Ikaris gladly reciprocated your embrace, burrowing his face in your shoulder, bliss filling his entire frame.

“Ikaris,” you whispered, “you have no idea how much that means to me.”

The two of you stood there for a few more minutes before you unwrapped yourself from him, and immediately resumed cooking. Although no words were exchanged, there was a lightness and warmth added to the atmosphere of the room that was not there before. Soon enough, the two of you finished and set the dishes on the counter before tucking into your well-deserved meal.

“…Did Phastos really faint after seeing Kaetlyn’s room?”

“YES! Oh, it was so funny- well, at least to Kaety, but I admit that she may have gone too far when she placed his body on top of her surgery table, and put on a deviant’s skull and stood over him when he woke up- he ended up fainting all over again!”

Please like, comment, reblog, and/or share this post with anyone who might enjoy it! Please be kind, and live an extraordinary life!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia , @valeskafics , @aphroditesmoon , @its-actually-minicika , @spacetalbot , @angelnyx , @vikingqueen28 , @redheadspark , @siempre-bucky , @beananacake , @asa-do-your-thing , @justmymindandstuff , @heliosphere8 , @bambiandbam, @sunphyre , @bryandechartisasmolbean, @getawaycardotmp3 , @americanprometheuss , @themeanestlittlewitch, @katiemaysworld, @atomwritez , @karimac

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@ethereal-athalia

I shit you not, writing about these two is literally the reason I can push through my midterms and biochem quizzes

🥲🥲🥲

AND YES I DID DO THAT

From the Beginning - A Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader Drabble

Pairings: Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader, ft. Sephia x Ikaris, and Kaetlyn x Druig Word Count: 1.1k Summary: A lil' drabble idea to show how it all started for our favorite thinker and fighter, and how they would soon change everything for everyone. Warning(s): none it's so fluffy Notes: Once again, thank you to the most wonderful beta reader a new fanfic writer can ask for in the history of everything, @valeskafics! She is an incredibly kind and patient human and one of the best and most incredible fanfic writers for HOTD, GOT, and the Ewanverse on Tumblr! If you love any of Ewan Mitchell's works or are a fan of GOT/HOTD, I highly recommend checking her blog out! You will not regret it! Also, the BIGGEST thank you and shout of love to @ethereal-athalia, my good man in the storm, I have never clicked so well with someone on this platform when it came to crazy ideas, and thanks to her, I can write out my ideas and share them on this site! If you want to read more from this AU, please click on this masterlist!

“It is time,” were the first words uttered that would mark the beginning of a mission that would change their lives forever. Long gone were their lives on their home planet, Olympia. Now, their only priority was their mission on the planet Earth.  

Twelve individuals stood from their seats and made their way to their positions that marked their roles in humanity’s growth. Six on one side, and six on the other.  

Six Eternals would serve as “fighters,” protecting humanity from the hideous creatures that threatened their feeble existence known as “Deviants.”  

The other six would take on their roles as “thinkers,” guiding humanity to evolve in their intelligence so that they would be able to create wonders without assistance.  

But regardless, “thinker” or “fighter,” each Eternal was blessed with abilities that would play an integral role for their mission. Each Eternal stood in their place, golden streams of celestial energy encompassed their bodies as they could now wear the armor that marked their Olympian origins and culture.  

With their bodies equipped, and minds ready, each Eternal made their way to gaze out from the many windows that their starship, the Domo, was built with in preparation for their travel.  

As each Eternal introduced themselves to one another, hoping to gain common ground with the team to settle rattled nerves, only two individuals had no need for introduction. 

As one Eternal gazed out the Domo - bereft at the sight of the planet where her new life would begin – she wondered if Earth would ever be home the way Olympia had been to her despite her having no true memory of it. She wondered if her abilities would prove useful, and she was worried that she would be incapable of making any friends. Luckily, that fear would be one that would pass very, very soon. 

“Sephia!” 

Her name was all she heard before arms encased by iridescently dark blue with pearly ivory entwining into celestial bodies that wrapped around her nimble but powerful form. A wide smile grew as she registered the familiarity of the voice.  

It was Kaetlyn, her very best friend.  

Instant relief filled her body as she shifted her body to return the hug. Sephia’s joy knew no bounds as she realized that she would at least be in the company of one of the greatest warriors Olympia had ever produced. But even without her arrows, Kaetlyn was the best person Sephia could think of for as long as she remembered. The fact that she left her home and was aboard with too many strangers no longer mattered to her. So long as her beloved Kaet was by her side, Sephia would get through anything that came her way. It was if their bond was testified and bound by the stars themselves. 

“Aren’t you so excited? Look at it! It’s so beautiful! I wonder what sites we’ll see!”  

As Kaetlyn’s curiosity grew, so did her excitement. Her voice could hardly contain the sheer ecstaticity that was flowing throughout her entire body. The next words that escape her would mark the shadow archer’s true intentions.  

“Think of all the adventures we’ll have,” she whispered out so that only Sephia would be able to hear her, “The stories we’ll be able to tell!”  

If Kaetlyn was known for anything besides her skills in combat, it was her insatiable curiosity. For as long as Sephia had known her, Kaetlyn was never ever satisfied with only knowing whatever she currently knew. She always wanted to know MORE. Sephia smiled at a memory of Kaet once explaining to her that it was her solemn oath that she would never EVER be satisfied with only what anyone gave her, and that she’d always find her way to learn more. That oath felt like it was from a lifetime ago. 

These words were from another lifetime, in more ways than one. But that will come to light at another time. 

But despite Kaetlyn’s contagious excitement, dread began to course through Sephia’s veins. As her nerves began to eat at her, Sephia couldn’t help but pick at her fingers. A horrible habit that would always result in inflamed tissue, bleeding, and ugly scars.  

“I’m scared,” she timidly replied, eyes turned away so that she wouldn’t let her friend see her cowardice. “What if the life forms on this planet are horrible? What if they are beyond help?” As Sephia continued to list her concerns, Kaetlyn understood that it wasn’t the fear of others that terrified Sephia, it was the idea that she would be of no use to Arishem’s grand design. 

“It will be alright Seph,” Kaet declared in a tone that filled herself with confidence and Sephia with reassurance, “After all, as long as we’re together, nothing will be too terrible.” 

“…I suppose that’s true,” Sephia let herself agree to her most trusted companion’s advice, but her heart was still heavy with anxiety. 

Very softly, she dared ask the most stupid question that ever left her mouth. 

“Will we always be together?” 

Kaetlyn looked at her most cherished friend with so much warmth in her eyes that it was as if all the most beautiful things in the universe were born into the very person in front of her.  

“Sephie,” she began with love in her voice and stars in her eyes as she leaned forward to press their foreheads together, “As if you even need to ask.” 

Unbeknownst to either of the girls, two men from opposite sides of the room gazed at the loving embrace with curious eyes.  

One came from Ikaris, a fighter gifted with the ability to fly and emit optic beams of celestial energy, as well as a commanding figure and attitude. His watch was fixed on the beautiful Eternal, with flowing blush fabric draped across her lovely figure as strategically placed brass armor hinted at the curves of her physique. He could not stop staring at her, despite the impossibly lovely Sersi that stood beside him at that very moment. 

The other came from Druig, a thinker who was known across Olympia for his telepathic abilities, along with his quick wit and surly demeanor. But all somber thoughts came to a halt at the sight of the slim figure, who after donning her armor, disappeared into the shadows of the room. Only to reappear to embrace her friend with so much delight, it surprised him.  

Two very different individuals, but both somehow staring at the sight before them for so long, that it would set in motion the events that would be all four individuals’ joy, as well as their end. 

Please like, comment, reblog, and/or share this post with anyone who might enjoy it! Please be kind, and live an extraordinary life!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @its-actually-minicika, @spacetalbot, @angelnyx, @vikingqueen28, @redheadspark, @siempre-bucky, @beananacake, @asa-do-your-thing, @justmymindandstuff, @heliosphere8, @bambiandbam, @sunphyre, @bryandechartisasmolbean, @getawaycardotmp3, @americanprometheuss, @karimac

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future posts!

I thank you for your roses my love, and I send you a thousand kisses 😚😚😚

Worry not, there WILL be more Reader kicking Felix’s ass as the story continues!

Will they get together? Probably not But rest assured that our Reader from Queens and will fight this sleazy prat till the end!

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

We Stan Michael Gavey coming from a supportive household in this blog 🫡

Oliver is so fucking creepy, I swear- 😭

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006

“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”

Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.

“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”

He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.

But he made a mistake.

The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.

Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.

No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.

But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and

“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”

Fuck, he was getting soft.

Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.

That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.

His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.

He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.

Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.

Oh God, he was going to blow.

Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.

Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.

First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006

Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.

He had to know more.

Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.

All the better for him to keep observing you.

As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.

He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.

But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.

He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.

He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.

“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.

You were American. How adorable.

“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”

You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.

Must have been Farleigh’s idea.

Anyway, back to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.

Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.

Except that he was.

He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.

Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.

It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.

My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋

Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.

By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.

“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”

“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”

Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”

Felix just shrugged.

“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”

Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.

“Merry Christmas, indeed.”

A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.

“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”

“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”

“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”

Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.

Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.

Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.

Manchester, December 2006

You were having the time of your life.

Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”

But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.

Oxford Dining Hall December 2006

You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.

“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.

Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.

“What?” you croaked out.

“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”

“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”

“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”

You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.

You hated feeling small.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”

He rolled his eyes at your concern.

“Don’t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”

You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.  

His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.

When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.

“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”

“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”

Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.

“Look, are you coming or not?”

You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.

“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”

A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”

“Don’t push it.”

You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.

His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.

“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”

When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.

“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”

“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”

“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”

“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”

Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.

“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”

You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”

“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.

“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”

Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”

“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”

“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”

“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”

Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.

“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”

“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”

You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.

“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”

“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”

Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.

“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”

“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.

Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.

The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.

You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.

When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.

You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.

But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.

Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.

At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.

Well – everyone except one.

Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.

Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.

Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.

“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”

You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.

“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006

In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.

He had to get out of here.

In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.

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Dude Farleigh is about to come in clutch for the reader x Michael ship

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 4

Previous Chapter, Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. ...Well, maybe you also hated Annabel Williams as much - but you'd be damned before you let a drunk girl out in the hallway without helping her.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix doesn't make an appearance (but still mentioned), Reader is a girl's girl, Annabel has an epiphany, Michael hates everyone BUT Reader, Farleigh is Farleigh, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic. Also Oliver is barely in this chapter, but who cares about that asshat?

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the prolonged hiatus! It was not intentional! My classes have upped the ante in how much HW they gave me, and I got distracted by reading my old GOT fanfics and got ideas for it. BUT - thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

You were caught in a bit of a pickle – granted, it was a voluntary pickle, but a pickle nonetheless.

…Okay, so quick recap of the events that transpired this week:

Regularly-scheduled Annabel tormenting you

Got sexually-harassed by Catton

Had a self-pity session at Bowin

Got found by Mikey Gravy

Olly, the psychotic backstabber/bootlicker, tried to pimp you out to Felix Catton.

You almost committed aggravated homicide of said pimp before Michael dragged you away.

You went to the movies to drool over Johnny Depp.

 You and Michael decided you would crash in his dorm room for the night…leading to your current predicament.

Right now, you were dragging an unconscious Annabel, who was drunk off her ass, with one arm flung over your shoulder as you tried to make get any information of where her dorm was out of her. It was a sad picture – mascara running down her cheeks, vomit from her mouth, and lipstick messily smeared across her face. The smell of vomit mixed with cheap booze was almost enough to make you want to drop her on the ground and leave her there if you hadn’t pitied her so much.

When you realized that you weren’t going to get anything out of her that didn’t involve projectile vomiting, you just decided to bring her to rest up in your dorm.

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping her,” Michael grunted.

Oh, yeah…and Michael was helping you, too.

“Because girl code, Gavey–” you grunted, lifting Annabel’s arm higher when you felt her slipping “–no man left behind – or well, no woman left behind in this case.”

“That’s the Geneva Code.”

“Same difference,” you groaned out. Fuck, how was this girl so heavy?

Michael’s face was getting flushed from the sweat running down his forehead. “So, girl code dictates that you have to help the bitch who’s been making your term hell?”

“Girl Code,” you huffed, “wait, hang on - she’s slipping - okay, there we go. ‘Girl Code’ is more of an honor code expected to be followed by all sisters on their journey to womanhood. And one of the most sacred rules in that honor system is that – fuck, she’s heavy – that if you see a sister drunk and unconscious, you make sure she gets home safe.”

“Or your matchbox dorm room, in this circumstance,” your friend grumbled.

You tiredly nodded. “Exactly! Besides, regardless of how heinous she is, it’s the right thing to do.”

“(Y/N), you realize she won’t be getting hypothermia, right?” Michael frustratingly groaned. “It’s late spring.”

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who won’t take advantage of her in her current state. They’d say, ‘Oh, she was asking for it,’ or ‘she’s just imagining things, do you remember how hammered she was?’ And then it’ll be their word against hers.”

You went silent for a bit. “I don’t want that to happen to her. No one should have that happen to them – girl or guy, bully or friend.”

“Well, in any case,” Michael started as the two of you finally arrived at the beginning of your dormitory. “It’s lucky that your dorm is so close to mine. Are you sure you want her in there? There’s still the chance she’ll vomit all over your carpet if she misses the bucket or even your covers.”

You opened the door with your ID card. “I’ll just have to take that chance, I guess. Look, I’ll try to wake her up long enough to see if she remembers any of her friend’s numbers. If any of them pick up, I’ll tell them to pick her up.”

Michael looked at you with heavy doubt in his eyes. “And if they don’t? Pick up, I mean?”

“Then I guess we’ll be having a sleepover,” you sighed as you reached your room at the end of the hallway. “And then we’ll never have to see each other ever again when morning comes.”

Michael loudly snorted while you clumsily reached into your back pocket for your keys. “Don’t jinx yourself. With your bleeding heart, you’ll probably end up donating your liver to her if she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come one. Have a bit more faith in me – SHIT!” you exclaimed after you dropped your keys.

You quickly scrambled to the floor while Michael guffawed at your misfortune. You shot a quick glare at him to get him to shut up. The bespectacled bastard didn’t stop laughing until…like, three minutes passed. In response, you dropped Annabel’s arm from your shoulder to focus on finding your room key. You chuckled to yourself when you heard Michael curse to himself as he tried to balance the drunk girl’s weight without getting her too close to him. When you finally found it, you inserted it into the lock. You sighed in relief when the door opened. You were even more relieved that your roommate had decided to spend the night at her girlfriend’s dorm. You really didn’t want to have to explain to her why you were voluntarily helping the vile witch bitch who was actively trying to make your college years hell. Meanwhile, Michael grimaced and groaned as he held Annabel away from his body at arm’s length.

“Is sluttiness contagious through touch?” he asked.

“Unless pre-Sith Anakin suddenly pops into this hallway, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” you snorted as you opened the door to let Michael drag the unconscious girl into the room.

Michael scoffed at your choice of Star Wars beefcake. “Bitch, please. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi was far superior.”

He went to the center of the room and released Annabel from his grip to let her unceremoniously fall on the floor, and her body made a soft ‘thump.’ You wrinkled your nose and grimaced at the pathetic nature of tonight. She looked less like the glamorous Oxford party ‘IT’ girl and more like one of those sad groupies who OD’d in their favorite rockstar’s pool from a house party. You didn’t know what the hell her story of tonight was – but it still didn’t mean she deserved to be left alone, slumped against a wall in a dirty hallway with vomit all over her.

You turned to Michael. “Okay! Off you trot!”

Your favorite bespectacled blonde nerd gave you a look of complete bewilderment.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Not even a thank you? I literally dragged her body here from my dormitory and risked being the first victim of a new STD contracted through skin contact.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics – if he weren’t such a numbers genius, he would have been the perfect theater kid.

“Don’t be such an incel,” you admonished. “It’s not a good look on you. And I carried more of her body weight than you, dumbass. If I left it up to you, we’d never get anywhere with your twiggy arms.”

You poked his arms in emphasis and snickered when he pouted. He crossed his arms and was about to leave when you pounced on him. A bit of Annabel’s “Britney Spears Fantasy” spray perfume soaked into his shirt, but other than that, he still smelled like himself. The scent of fresh laundry, freshly mowed grass, and spearmint toothpaste made you feel safe. His scent, combined with his body heat, enveloped you in comfort.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t have to help me, but you did anyway.”

Gavey wrapped his arms around you as he rested his chin on your head. He usually hated contact with anybody save his family, but you were always the exception. Michael should probably have warned you that the rotten and acidic odor from Annabel’s puke would ruin your shirt, but he just let himself replace her cheap perfume with your fragrance. The scent of your favorite honey and jasmine conditioner in your hair mostly covered the faint traces of turpentine and linseed oil on your skin.

“Of course I did,” he softly replied. “With your shit sense of direction, you would have ended up in the bottom of the ditch.”

You gasped and lightly pushed him away. “Uhhh, way to ruin the moment!”

Michael snickered at the way your jaw had dropped in shock and betrayal. You then resorted to mockingly punching him in the stomach as he did nothing to stop you. He couldn’t help but look at you in total and utter fondness as he continued to ‘beat him up.’

But in all honesty, Michael didn’t mind helping you. He loved it. He’d rather get Crucio-ed than say it, but you were his favorite person in the whole world. In a desert of fakes and masks of insincerity, you were like gentle rain with your genuine vibrance and rare honesty. He loved how endlessly kind and empathetic you were to others. He just hated it when you granted acts of kindness to the plebes unworthy of you. You’d give the benefit of the doubt to the worst of the worst on campus – Annabel being a case in point.

Remembering the drunk elephant in the room, Michael grabbed your fists and stared at you thoughtfully.

“Seriously, though,” he began, “why are you helping her? I know you told me about ‘girl code’ and all that. But is that seriously it?”

You thumped your head against his chest. “Look, I get it. Annabel is a horrible person, and with how awful she treated me – she doesn’t deserve my kindness, my help, or my pity. But that doesn’t change that it was the right thing to do. And if not us, who knows who would have picked her up? If another guy other than you ‘helped’ her…you do the math.”

A groggy voice broke the two of you apart. “Are you two going to shag? Because I can leave.”

You and Michael jumped apart as you watched Annabel lift herself from the floor and stagger to her feet. Her legs wobbled briefly before giving out, and then she fell to the floor. You turned to Michael and gave him one final hug before seeing him out. He looked disgusted at the girl sitting on the cheap carpet before turning to you, concerned. Mikey asked if you were confident you didn’t need him here to help you.

“I’ll take it from here,” you reassured him. You flexed your arm – 80s jock bully style. “I’m a tough girl. I carry my canvases and textbooks and everything, after all.”

“Okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “But if you end up putting her down, give me a call, and I’ll help you bury the body.”

“Um,” interjected Annabel, “you know I’m right here, you arse.”

 “Hey,” you admonished, “he did help carry you here. He could have left you in that hallway alone.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Probably did it so he could cop a feel, the slimy wanker.”

“Please,” Michael sneered, “as if I’d ever willingly touch someone with a higher body count than Dahmer and Bundy combined. I’m only here because I wanted to help (Y/N) – she’s the one who was worried about your sad self.”

Ugh, this was going to be a long night. You turned to Michael with apologetic eyes and reassured him that he wasn’t a wanker. You promised you’d make it up to him by buying all the Crunchie bars he wanted. Mikey’s eyes softened at your sincerity as he began to walk down the corridor to make the trek to his dorm.

You softly closed your door so as not to cause any further disturbance. When you turned around, you were startled by the dead stare Annabel was giving you. You looked down at your feet as you shifted uncomfortably in your spot. You cleared your throat to try and break the tension.

“Um, soooo…I’m glad you’re awake. You were sitting so still in that hall, I was worried you OD’d,” you nervously joked. But all she did was continue to stare at you. “So, do you have your phone with you? I figured it would be best if you called one of your friends. I’m sure they’re really worried about you. I know I’d be going out of my mind if one of my friends–”

“What kind of fucking game are you playing here?” she snarled. Her large, doe-brown eyes narrowed in anger as you stopped talking.

“Uhhh,” your mind was coming out blank. “Wait, I don’t – I don’t know what you mean?”

Annabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play stupid. Why’d you help me? Did you want to take pictures of me drunk and unconscious?”

Your jaw fucking dropped. “What?! NO! I just–”

“I’m sure that would’ve made some fucking good blackmail material,” ignoring you and continuing, “I can see it: ‘Annabel Williams drunk in the hall after trying to shag fucking sad Ollie.’ You’re so obvious.”

You tried to explain yourself. “Okay, look- I think there’s a big misunderstanding here–”

“Or maybe you want to show the pictures to Felix, not that he’d care or anything. You got him all wrapped up in your little Yankee finger, you know that? It’s so pathetic and sick – it makes me want to–”

“HEY!” you yelled – finally making her just shut UP. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. “Look, Michael and I were walking to his dorm when we saw you were sitting in the hallway. I tried to ask you if you had your phone on you and if you wanted me to call anyone, but you were out cold. And I couldn’t just leave you there, okay? That’s dangerous! And I didn’t know where you lived – you know, considering that you hate me–” you cut off your rambling with a deep breath “–so he and I dragged you to my dorm.”

The silence that followed was so stifling you wanted to open a window. Maybe if you let some fresh air in, it might calm the girl down. It would also help diffuse some of the puke odor stinking up your room.

“…Anyway, if you don’t have your phone on you right now, I can always call them myself. Do you remember their numbers? I know you and India are close. Do you think she’s available right now?”

More silence.

You began fidgeting. “I mean, you can stay over if no one is available? I don’t mind since my roommate is sleeping over–”

Annabel interrupted you again. “You’re so full of it. You just wanted to help me? For what? For the sake of being the goody-two-shoes kiss-ass, you’ve always been? Did you want me to bow and worship you?”

“Annabel,” you groaned, “it’s been a really long night, okay? And I don’t feel like arguing when you aren’t sober and in your right mind.”

“Oh yeah,” she bitterly laughed. “Be a pushover, and get everyone to love you. Tell everyone how much of a ‘heinous’ bitch I am. Play the victim – that’s all you’ll ever be. Just go back with your pathetic little nerd friend and be invisible and boring like the goody-goody who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”

The quiet in the room was surprisingly loud. Shock and disbelief morphed into fury as your fists clenched so hard that your nails left red welts on your skin. Your body trembled in anger as your tongue felt too heavy to express everything you wanted to say.

‘Pushover’ she called you? ‘Play the victim,’ she said?

Who the hell was she to have any right to judge you? Did she have any idea what you’ve sacrificed? How much have you suffered and left behind? Could she even have the slightest decency to understand what you’ve been through? Of what she put you through?

…You know what? …Fuck her. Fuck Annabel Williams and all of Oxford’s elite. They were proof that Michael was right – that doing the right thing meant nothing to them.

Your voice was cold, and your eyes were numb. “…I’m going to take a shower,” you grab a towel and your shower buddy. “I want you to get the hell out of my dorm by the time I get back. Call your friend or don’t? Do whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

You slammed the door on your way out.

“Finally,” Annabel thought with some relief, “she’s gone.”

When you left, the room felt ten degrees colder the way the door slammed, and Annabel felt goosebumps form on her arm. This was the worst night of her life. She had never felt so humiliated.

Her mummy told her she was just born blessed because God knew she was exceptional, and she always believed that to be true. For her entire life, she was the girl every boy wanted to bed and the girl every girl wanted to be. She never had to fight for anyone’s attention. Her parents gladly bought her the latest versions of top-of-the-line technology. Her closet here and at her parent’s townhouse in Kensington was filled with designer-brand exclusives and limited-editions. She had everything.

For people like her, life was supposed to be easy. She was born at the top, so she would be there till the day she died.

So why was she losing to you?

When she came to Oxford, she figured it would be as easy as most of her life. She’d spend her time partying and networking with the right people. If she had to blackmail a nerd to take her classes or blow a teacher to give her an “A”? Who would say otherwise?

But then she met Felix Catton and finally felt she had met her match. Finally, there was someone who checked all the boxes: rich, tall, handsome, and fun. That part made Felix the golden sheep who stood above the rest of the flock – he was fun. Not only did he know how to have a good time, he knew how to properly fuck a girl, too.

She was so drunk off the taste of his lips and the feel of him around her – so much so that she broke her golden rule.

“Never fall first.”

Annabel felt herself falling hard for Felix Catton. She thought they were exclusive. He was her boyfriend, and she was his girlfriend. But then…he became distant. He stopped calling he and ignored her when they returned to campus after the break. But then he and she left the bar at Kings’ Crossing, and she was so happy! She wanted to cry when he kissed her hard and ripped her 100 quid top in half.

It didn’t matter if she wasn’t wet when he entered her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t wait for her to adjust when he started to thrust. It didn’t matter when she tried to moan his name; he would cover her mouth with his giant hand to shut her up. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t close to finishing when he came inside her. It didn’t matter when her windpipes were almost crushed when he fell on top of her after finishing.

They were together. He chose her! Annabel and Felix – Mrs. Felix Catton, she could see it now. They’d have a wedding in his house at Saltburn. She would have to meet his parents, but she wasn’t worried – all her flings’ parents loved her! They would be together forever, and nothing would ever–

“(Y/N),” Felix whispered above her – and Annabel’s world completely fell apart.

She immediately shoved his body off hers and hurriedly dressed before getting the hell out of his room. Annabel didn’t bother putting on her shoes before running with tears down her face to her dorm. And when she returned to her single, she flung herself to her bed and cried to sleep. She didn’t bother attending class that week – not when her heart broke.

Felix had been thinking about you – you. He called out your name after finishing. Was he imagining your naked body when hers was under him? Had he been imagining you every time he fucked her?

Annabel smelled Felix’s aftershave and wanted to rip the skin off her body. God, she never felt more like a whore in her entire life.

“God,” she thought, “I was so pathetic! How could I be so stupid to fall for Felix Catton? Why did I trick myself into hoping that we would be together?”

Felix wanted a good girl—like you—the American scholarship student who wanted to paint pretty pictures and was at the top of her classes. The lovely New Yorker who hung around losers and still held your head up high despite every professor thinking you were in over your head to come here. Some pushover bitch who was so pathetic and actually–

The door slammed open again, and Annabel’s pretty sure she’d scream if she weren’t so fucking tired. You came storming in with your towel and shower caddy in your hands, and your eyes were a raging storm while your lips were pursed like you had sucked a lemon. Your nostrils are flaring as you angrily breathe through your nose. Annabel was about to open her mouth, but you menacingly pointed at her with your pointer finger. It felt like forever until you finally opened your mouth.

“Look! We don’t have to be friends and I don’t expect us to be friends – but you know what? YES, I WOULD LIKE A THANK YOU! I dragged your unconscious ass across campus, and you REEKED of vomit and bad perfume! And not to body shame, but you are WAY TOO SKINNY to be healthy to be as heavy as you were when I carried you!”

“Excuse me?!” Annabel sputtered. “Who the fuck–”

“Oh! I’m not done!” you shouted. “I don’t know if you being horrible and a bitch is supposed to be some power trip or some shit, but it’s so cliché! Are we in Mean Girls? Are you Regina George? No, am I Janice from Lebanon? NO! And on that – I have a few bones to pick with you…MISSY!

I–” You pointed to yourself “–am NOT a pushover, okay? I fucking beat your stupid manwhore boy toy like it was goddamn ‘Whack o’ Mole’ for ruining my painting! Pushovers don’t do that!  FURTHERMORE – me calling you a ‘horrible person’ or ‘heinous bitch’ isn’t me ‘playing the victim’! You HAVE been a HORRIBLE person to me, alright? And what’s worse – I don’t have the slightest idea why! Was it something I said to you last term? Or were you born a spoilt princess who never had to work for anything in her life because mommy and daddy will always give you everything you want so you could forget that they would probably instead work than deal with their brat? Seriously – what is it? Because you’re driving me CRAZY!”

When you were done, Annabel sat on the floor, completely silent, and stared at you unblinkingly. She hadn’t expected you to come back so quickly – let alone to scream at her. She stared at your huffing and shallow breathing in awe and slight amazement. Your hair looked frazzled from your outburst, and your (e/c) eyes were bright with wild impulse.

Annabel felt her bottom lip quiver and stared at an ugly stain on the carpet. She didn’t want to show any more of herself than she had already. But what the hell? You already saw more of her than most of her so-called ‘friends.’ What was a little more? If she had to show more of the ugliest parts of herself, why not show it to someone she already hated?

Before she could stop herself, Annabel felt her shoulders sag and shake as sobs tore through her petite frame. Tears and snot were running down her face as she furiously tried to wipe them away – if nothing but to try and save some shred of dignity. Annabel was crying so much that she didn’t see the surprised look on your face morph to slight guilt since you thought you may gone too far with your rant. You reached out to tap her shoulder when you heard her speak.

“Why doesn’t he want me?” she sobbed. “What do I have to do to get him to love me?”

If you were taken aback by her crying, you were completely caught off-guard by her questions. You walked over to your desk and grabbed a box of tissues before crouching on the ground. You handed her a few tissues from the box and waved to her face to present them. Annabel noticed how you tried hard not to see how much her hand trembled when she reached forward to grab the tissues from you.

“Who?” you softly asked her. “Are you talking about Felix?”

Annabel blew her nose into the tissue hard. “Who else?! I mean…look at me! Everyone wants me! Everyone – boys, girls, teachers! Do you know how many of my past flings gladly emptied their pockets so I might wank them? But he wants you! What do you have that I don’t?”

Concern and pity shifted to confusion before realization kicked in, and you were so done with this conversation already. Maybe you were a slightly horrible person for this, but you felt so disappointed when Annabel told you that her entire drama with you had been over Felix Catton.

“…That’s why you’ve been tormenting me this entire term so far?” you flatly asked. “Because of Felix Catton?”

“He called out your name–” she gasped a heavy sob “– while he was fucking me! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Okay, wow,” you thought, “that’s actually really shitty – fuck.”

“Do you know how humiliating that was for me? He was still inside me, for fucks’ sake! I felt him shrink!”

Okay – that was so much more information about Annabel’s and Felix’s sex life than you ever wanted to know.

You coughed into your hand as your face flushed red. “Oh, um–I’ve never really…done it before. So…I wouldn’t really don’t know how that feels.”

“Ugh, of course, you’re a virgin,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink either.”

When you remained silent, Annabel let out a bitter laugh. “Damn, you think you’re hot shit and everything. But you really are a goody-goody. What – you saving yourself for God or some shit?”

“HEY! Just because I like to keep my head down and not a party and get plastered every five minutes doesn’t make me a goody-two-shoes. I just don’t like the taste of alcohol, and increased chances of lung cancer doesn’t exactly spell out ‘fun’ for me.”

But Annabel ignores your outburst and continues to dismiss you. “Yeah, right. I bet you call your mommy and daddy every night. Do you tell them that you miss them and want to go home? Or do you wish to bake cookies with your mummy as daddy watches the telly?”

Annabel’s taunting is only responded to with silence as she grows confused by your melancholic expression.

“…I can’t call them at all,” you respond. “International calls are too expensive. The best I can do is email or Skype. And planned calls can hardly be reliable since my parents’ schedules are always all over the place with their jobs.”

“When–” Annabel’s voice cracked “– when’s the last time you saw them? In real life?”

“I was supposed to see them during Christmas Break,” you bitterly explained, “but then Felix crashed into me when I was on my way to deliver it. He ruined my painting, and I had to redo it completely, not to fail and completely flush my parents’ money down the drain.”

“I thought you were here on scholarship? Doesn’t that mean you don’t have to pay to come here?”

“I’m here on a partial scholarship,” you explained. “It covers a good part of my tuition, but not all of it – and definitely not for housing and meal plans. Travel expenses alone were so expensive, so I had to leave alone. Mom cried so much at the security checkpoint, and Dad almost didn’t want me to go. I didn’t even want to go. But they wanted me to experience more of the world while I still could.”

“…Do you miss them?” Annabel asked. She felt silly asking a question with such an obvious answer. But, hearing how you talked about your parents crying their goodbyes to you compared to the simple wave she got hers after they dropped her off campus made her feel a deep longing.

You let out a shaky sob. “More than anything. You never realize how much you miss your home and family until an entire ocean separates you.”

Annabel uncomfortably shifted in her spot as she noticed your eyes getting misty. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried over missing her parents and felt that you were being overdramatic. Annabel spent her entire break with her parents at their house, but she couldn’t remember the last time they ate at the same table unless it was for one of her dad’s dinner parties. What did it feel like – to miss and love someone so much after not seeing them for a year?

What did it feel like – to have an entire lifetime of that kind of love?

Does having that kind of love make you?

“…Why did you help me?” Annabel finally asked. She couldn’t bear the tension anymore. “You could have just left me there. Why help me and bring me here of all places?”

“…Because it was the right thing to do,” you explained and shrugged. “You were drunk and vulnerable. Maybe it was fear of being a potential bystander if someone tried to take advantage of you – but I was scared something was going to happen to you. Regardless of my feelings toward you and yours toward me, no one should ever find themselves in a position where if they’re telling the truth, it’s someone else’s word against theirs. I’ve seen it too happen many times already.”

“What do you say in response to that?” Annabel thought to herself – shocked by how genuinely you answered her question. Since you were honest with her, she figured she could at least be honest with you.

“If it were you,” she began, “I wouldn’t have done for you what you did for me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “you probably wouldn’t – but that’s neither here nor there. Because I’m me, and you’re you.”

“…Are you really not interested in Felix?” Annabel asked. She was surprised by your disgusted groan.

“Oh my god–” you put your face into your hands and loudly groaned “–I don’t understand why everyone has an obsession with this guy.”

Annabel raised her brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes! He’s so gross – I studied in an empty classroom last week. He sat next to me, basically propositioned me, and then put his hand on my thigh! Does that sound like someone I would want to date?”

“You know he’s just doing it to get your attention because he likes you, right?”

You scoffed at her input. “Pffft– and that makes it alright of him to invade my personal space via sexual harassment? I hate how everyone makes excuses for him – and why? Because he’s richer than God and has an ‘alright-looking’ face? So what?”

“Oh, believe me,” snickered Annabel, “he’s more than just ‘alright-looking’ and he fucks as good as he looks.”

You sagely shook your head. “A person like that has nothing to offer himself. He desperately clings to his family’s wealth and the benefits of his status so tightly – and he pretends not to enjoy it, but he’s the type of person to love leeching on someone’s misfortune to feel better about himself.”

You shuddered as you remembered Felix’s constant leering at you since the term began.

“He’s like a vampire – I’ve seen enough of them in high school to recognize them from miles away.”

Annabel was utterly silent at your analysis of Oxford’s Golden Boy. She never considered the possibility of someone out there who didn’t absolutely covet and revere him. She assumed that you were purposely playing ‘hard-to-get’ to get his attention, but maybe you were sincere in his disgust by him.

“Plus, he looks like the type to be absolutely shit at foreplay and only knows how to stick it in.”

Annabel was so caught off-guard by your statement that she immediately burst out laughing. You were surprised by her reaction and started to laugh, too. She was laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her stomach started to hurt.

“HE IS!” she agreed while nodding. “He does the bare minimum! I’ve been giving him constant blowjobs, and I can count the number of times he’s eaten me out with one hand! The only type of prep he knows how to do is finger me!”

“Oh my god! EW!” you guffawed. “Why did you put up with him for so long?!”

Annabel shrugged. “He’s the most popular guy on campus – even the upperclassmen adore him. I was always the popular girl throughout primary and secondary prep. It just made sense.”

“My parents told me college was all about discovering new things about yourself,” you said. “Maybe…you could do that for yourself.”

Annabel looked wistful before nodding. “Yeah…you know this doesn’t mean we’re friends, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, tonight’s the last night I’m willingly dealing with a demon like you. I’ll stick to forcing Michael to watch my favorite Johnny Depp movies—thank you very much.”

Annabel watched your eyes soften at the mention of your friend…Michael Gravy? Was he the guy who left the two of you together after snarking at her?

…Oh god, it all made sense now.

“Are you and Gravy fucking?” she bluntly asked. She huffed in amusement at how red your face became as you began to sputter.

“WHAT?! No-NO! We’re friends!” you exclaimed before getting all shy.

“You were awfully protective of him a bit ago to be ‘just friends,’” Annabel countered. “Spill it – what’s going on between you two?”

“He’s my best friend,” you explained to Annabel. “He let me stay with his family after I finished repainting my assignment – which was really amazing of him.”

She watched how you smiled when continuing to talk about him.

“I know he can seem a bit odd and rude at first,” you continued. “But Michael is one of the best people on campus. He can be really sweet when you get close to him – especially when he talks about his family. His little sister, Lily, is so adorable! He’s a total nerd but a complete sweetheart when you get to know him.”

Annabel bemusedly watched as you gushed about your ‘best friend.’ It was almost sweet how gone you were for the nerd. You didn’t even realize how gone you were for him. For a bit, Annabel could see why Felix was so enamored with you.

“Well,” she interrupted as she stood up, “I guess your obliviousness to your feelings isn’t any of my business or whatever. Thanks for…helping me – it was really nice of you.”

You warmly smiled at her. “Sure! Do you have to meet anyone tomorrow morning?”

“Uh, no?”

You walked to your closet and grabbed a towel, a worn T-shirt, and old sweats. You handed them to her as Annabel looked at you in confusion.

“Since you’re here,” you began, “and it’s already like…3 a.m. – you might as well shower and stay over since tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“…Why?”

“You still have puke all over you,” you explained, “and it’s getting really hard pretending it’s not extremely gross. Plus, I can’t imagine you’re comfortable right now.”

“What’s with the clothes?”

You shrugged. “Well, I can’t exactly have you sleep in your dress and ruin my sheets! You can shower and sleep on my bed while I sleep on my roommate’s. Now, are you going to take them?”

Annabel hesitated before she took the bundle from your hands. You then opened the door. While holding it, you looked at her as if expecting her to follow you. What confused her most was the way she did exactly that.

While in the shower, she didn’t even mind that you didn’t have any of her usual hair products. Your conditioner looked like it was bought at a cheap dollar store – you didn’t even have a loofah. But when she exited the shower stall before drying herself with your towel and changing into your baggy clothes, she felt calmer than she had these past few weeks. As she crawled under your sheets and comforter, you turned off the night and wished her good night.

Annabel stared at the ceiling for about an hour before she grabbed her phone. She managed to find it while digging through her dress pockets. She was going to wash it when she got back to her dorm. Opening it, she rolled down at the dozens of messages from India and their girlfriends. Her eyes slightly widened at the soft *ping* her phone let out when she got a new message to show it was from Felix.

To her surprise, she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t care he messaged her that he had forgotten their plans. Staring at her screen, she just felt…nothing. So she did the very thing she should have done weeks ago.

She deleted Felix Catton’s number from her contact list.

Annabel slept better that night than she had all term.

After that night with Annabel, life simply went on. She and you weren’t ‘friends’ per se, but she no longer went out of her way to torment you like she had done before. She even told off some of her friends when they talked about you behind your back.

You two weren’t friends, but you hoped that there was at least some fraction of mutual respect. If you couldn’t be friends, then at least you two didn’t have to be enemies – you were happy to settle for being a ‘frenemy.’

You found yourself sitting by yourself at one of the tables in the library. Michael had to meet with one of his teachers about an essay but promised to meet with you as soon as he finished. You were repeatedly listening to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” when you heard the chair next to you being pulled out.

Fully expecting it to be Felix, you were ready to tell him to fuck off and bother some other poor soul that needed saving, but you were surprised to find that the person sitting next to you was his cousin, Farleigh Start. He introduced himself by stating his name and giving you a firm handshake. There wasn’t much you could do but reciprocate.

“Quite the save you gave our Annabel,” Farleigh grinned. “Very magnanimous of you, especially considering how she treated you.”

“What do you want from me?” you blurted out. “I’m busy, and I would appreciate it if you just left so I can continue studying.”

You weren’t normally so rude, but this was Felix Catton’s cousin – and if this was a ploy to get you in his pants, you wanted no part of it. But your skepticism only seemed to please the boy sitting beside you more. His wry grin curled into a wide Cheshire Cat smile as he continued to stare at you with eager fascination.

Farleigh started to lean toward you, and you instinctively leaned away from him. You eyed him with extreme caution as if he were a mad scientist and you were a paralyzed specimen. And his eyes looked like he couldn’t wait to cut you open.

“I like you,” he stated. “Let’s be friends.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz

Reblog if you liked reading this chapter and want me to continue! Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

For those who want to read Annabeth's version of the first five PJO books I reccomend the series called Daughter Of Wisdom on AO3 for anyone who is curious. It's the books from Annabeth's perspective which instills the lessons of the original deeper and it's a canon divergence with its own plots and subplots. its a lot more serious than the sarcastic nature of RR's style but suits Annabeth and let's us understand her thinking process. It's a must read which will get you hooked to every single word and leave you wanting more.

The romance is more mature and more like a constant companion rather than the teenage-ish flutters we get from the series. My favourite was definitely Necklace of Harmonia which was the Annabeth's pov take on TTC which not only gave more insight to Annabeth's problems with her dad,(because the actual books made me hate him for a good period because there was no explanation or technicaltion except him saving her once and her running back to him. Mainly because it's from Percy's pov), so this series helped me understand Annabeth as a more rounded character which was amazing. But albeit not canon. It was well enough to be considered canon. The Final Sacrifice (TLO spin-off) made me feel so proud of Annabeth, so proud of myself, it was am aazing, gut-wrenching and filled with tears of joy, sadness, relief and emotions I can't even fathom to explain.

My favourite line: "Do you know what happens when a pawn reaches the other end of the board? I sent a pawn, but she became a queen. You are my secret weapon." -Athena to Annabeth at the end of The Final Sacrifice.

Please check it out. The author deserves all the love and support for providing us with an amazing

Author : shiiki @AO3

@singofus asked: "Hmm I wonder where my dear Tali is?" Pan ponders in an exaggeratedly loud tone, ears pricked for any movement or sounds of giggles. (Pan playing hide and seek with his daughter)

thalia bites her lower lip to try to stifle her giggles , small hand on the base of the tree in which she's hiding behind . her father had moved past her , and she slowly moves to cross the desire path . she's a big girl now , having passed six summers — and while she knows she is much faster , stronger , and stealthier in the water , she wants to be just as good on the rest of the island she calls home .

she creeps out from behind the tree , heart pounding as she does so , looking up ( and up , and up ) at her father's back as she begins to try to cross the path ... only to step on crispy and dried plants , succumbing to a root illness .

she gasps , and reverses course , hiding back behind the tree , smile wide on her face as she listens for his response .

tali puts a hand over her mouth , stifling her giggle as her father gets incredibly closer . she follows his movement , step for step , in the opposite direction , so the tree is always between the two of them .

she knows she cannot outrun him , she's made that observation already , but she certainly can hide ! when her body is facing the path again , she steps CAREFULLY over the rotted and crispy plants , feet kicking up a bit of the dust as she darts across the path .

she slips into the undergrowth , sliding down the embankment before she makes it to mossy , muddy , squishy earth . this is the muck that lines the headwaters to her mother's river — she can feel the tug downstream , towards her mother and their home there .

but this is not a time to get distracted !!

she carefully picks her foot up , and is about to move , when she realizes something — she's leaving tracks , perfect little child tracks , for her father to find . so she changes tactics and instead shuffles her feet , one in front of the other , and slides in a meandering fashion , doing her best to mimic the path of a snake , until she gets to proper stone lined water , where she can stand . here she finds another tree to hide behind , the roots drinking from the source of the water , little hands splayed on the bark as she watches her father's horns for his approach .

Pan waits just a second before turning, a delay big enough that she would be able to hide herself again. Although she was growing well now, she was still young and still her instincts were blunt. So teaching her must be adapted, so she would be encouraged to continue. Her curiosity was already serving her well.

"What was that?" He said a loud, wanting to hear more stifled giggles. Then took a great dramatic sniff of the air, as if he could smell her. "Ah, I smell a little mischievous one. My Tali must be close." He hunches over, creeping along back the way he came towards the crunching noise. Then suddenly turns his head -

towards the opposite direction of where she was. "Is she over here? No? Hmm..." He walks around the entire tree, trying to keep his eldest daughter amused as ever before they retire for the evening. His green eyes move around to where he thought she might be.

"What about over here?" And he slowly creeps closer.

@singofus asked: "I am so proud of you." (Pan to Thalia, mortal verse maybe?)

thalia tears up as her father compliments her , her warm brown eyes wet with overwhelming happiness and gratitude . her sky blue robe with bold black stripes on the arms now hangs open , revealing her black and gold anarkali suit . she is elated at her family's presence all the way from athens , and the thrill of having been awarded the alfred s. forsyth prize for her work in and out of the classroom pertaining to environmental law .

though she's not yet officially graduated , she has currently little to no plans to attend the formal commencement . she completed her class day , got her name read , got her prize , and now she tilts her head back to try to prevent her tears from falling .

she wraps her arms around her father , hearing the general chaos of this much of her immediate family in one place , and every other graduate , and holds close . in her native greek she murmurs , ❛ i couldn't have done it without you , papa . i love you so much , thank you for coming . ❜

hey sorry i can't come out tonight i have a thing

there’s something about the sight of steps leading down into the water. it feels like the ocean telling me to come home

Every few years, I redraw Thalia Grace because shes so cool and also a good parameter to see my growth as an artist. Well, the 21st just passed, which is her birthday and also when I try to have the drawing done by, so here we are! My 2023 Thalia Grace interpretation, followed by my previous iterations from as early as 2007 :)

that scene in tlo where thalia tells percy he can't start feeling sorry for luke bc luke made his choices. and thalia reveals that the reason they couldn't make it to camp in time for all of them to make it to camp was bc luke kept picking fights. and annabeth never saw this as wrong bc luke was her hero. so thalia had to pick up the pieces. and percy thinking both that luke was put in a cruel position and that luke was putting others in a cruel position. and percy is the only character who understood both sides of luke bc annabeth sees only the best of him and thalia sees only the worst. and that's why percy is the prophecy kid and the one who gives luke the knife. bc annabeth had spent the entire series essentially giving luke the knife when he didn't deserve it. and thalia was never going to give luke the knife. but percy is the only one who can see exactly when luke deserves the knife.

that scene in tlo where thalia tells percy he can't start feeling sorry for luke bc luke made his choices. and thalia reveals that the reason they couldn't make it to camp in time for all of them to make it to camp was bc luke kept picking fights. and annabeth never saw this as wrong bc luke was her hero. so thalia had to pick up the pieces. and percy thinking both that luke was put in a cruel position and that luke was putting others in a cruel position. and percy is the only character who understood both sides of luke bc annabeth sees only the best of him and thalia sees only the worst. and that's why percy is the prophecy kid and the one who gives luke the knife. bc annabeth had spent the entire series essentially giving luke the knife when he didn't deserve it. and thalia was never going to give luke the knife. but percy is the only one who can see exactly when luke deserves the knife.

me, pointing my phone @ both: you’re doing amazing sweetie

Annabeth Chase - Character Growth at its Finest

I’m writing this because recently I have seen many people say that they really dislike or hate Annabeth and don’t know why people like her. I want to explain why people like Annabeth and why I personally find Annabeth a compelling character who I can relate to. 

 Annabeth starts out the series as a jaded young girl who has lead a rough life. She has been experiencing monster attacks since she was five or six. She ran away from home at the age of seven because of the emotional abuse her stepmother put her through due to the near constant monster attacks. She had terrible nightmares and her father neglected her. She would have died from either monsters or starvation if she wasn’t found by Thalia and Luke. They quickly became her new family. Annabeth loses this newfound family Thalia through sacrifice and Luke through betrayal. Due to these events she doesn’t trust others easily and avoids attachment because anyone she does get attached to leaves by either their own free will or force. Annabeth tries to solve her own problems and doesn’t trust others to solve her problems. This is partially due to her hubris, her fatal flaw, and her negative experiences with her father and step mother in her early life. All of these flaws come from an understandable place and they grow and change as the series goes on. 

 Annabeth’s inability to easily trust others and fear of being left by her loved ones is a large part of her character in the Percy Jackson series and even affects her in the heroes of olympus series. She initially treats Percy with indifference and even uses him as a distraction, so she can capture the opposing team’s flag. It’s only when she goes on a life threatening quest with him that he gains her trust fully. In the sea of monsters she is wary of Tyson because he is a cyclops one of the monsters that almost killed her and her makeshift family. She grows to realize that he isn’t like most cyclopes. Then later there is Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Annabeth feels that Rachel threatens her place in her new “family”. Rachel can see through the mist and likes Percy. This essentially makes Annabeth useless in her own eyes. Rachel can lead them through the labyrinth and all of Annabeth’s research was for naught. Rachel also has the guts to admit to Percy that she likes him, something that Annabeth herself hasn’t been able to do. She feels as though she is losing her place in the group as well as Percy. Annabeth later comes to terms with Rachel and they become good friends. Later Annabeth is put into a similar situation with Reyna. Reyna developed feelings for Percy and made a move on him. She doesn’t dote on that fact and has grown enough to where she knows that Percy won’t leave her like others in her life. She also comes around to trusting Reyna much quicker than Rachel. Annabeth trusts her enough to ask her to take the Athena Parthenos to camp half blood and solidify the bond between the greek and roman demigods. This is also why she desperately wants to prevent losing Percy in Tartarus. She has already lost her family twice and she doesn’t want it to happen a third time. Percy is the only person who hasn’t left her at any point and been with her through both her highest highs and lowest lows and vice versa. 

 Annabeth’s fatal flaw causes her a lot of problems throughout the Percy Jackson and heroes of olympus series, but in the Magnus Chase series she understands she can’t solve every problem by herself and sometimes she needs to let others sort out their own problems. In the Percy Jackson series her hubris causes her problems when it comes to Luke Castellan. She believes that Luke’s betrayal is her problem and that she should be the one to solve it. This backfires for her until the final book. In the last olympian she talks to Luke and tries to convince him to see the error of his ways, but she ultimately lets Percy and Luke make their own choices. In the mark of Athena she realizes there is a time and place to rely on others and do things herself. While it may not seem that significant, but this is a turning point where she realizes that just like how she needed to follow the mark of Athena on her own others have things they need to do on their own separate from her.  

 This is an overview of her growth as a character and her reasoning behind her actions. It is because of these changes and actions that she is one of my favorite characters throughout Rick Riordan’s mythological world.  

This so deep

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that scene in tlo where thalia tells percy he can't start feeling sorry for luke bc luke made his choices. and thalia reveals that the reason they couldn't make it to camp in time for all of them to make it to camp was bc luke kept picking fights. and annabeth never saw this as wrong bc luke was her hero. so thalia had to pick up the pieces. and percy thinking both that luke was put in a cruel position and that luke was putting others in a cruel position. and percy is the only character who understood both sides of luke bc annabeth sees only the best of him and thalia sees only the worst. and that's why percy is the prophecy kid and the one who gives luke the knife. bc annabeth had spent the entire series essentially giving luke the knife when he didn't deserve it. and thalia was never going to give luke the knife. but percy is the only one who can see exactly when luke deserves the knife.