ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ʜᴏᴡ sᴘᴀʀᴋs ᴅᴀʀᴛ ᴏғғ ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀᴛɪᴘs ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀɪɢʜᴛɴᴇss ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ sᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴢᴇᴜs.
A scoff falls from parted lips and cheeks hint the vague color of embarrassment. “I’m really…” He swallows, mouth dry as sparks indeed dance across his skin (but not because he’s trying to be cool, just because Nathan has no clue how to control his God given powers (pun intended) when he’s flustered), “not that cool.”
… He’d like to believe that doesn’t make him any less of a good friend, however. That is, until you’re on his hitlist.
〈 ϟ 〉〈 ϟ 〉〈 ϟ 〉〈 ϟ 〉〈 ϟ 〉〈 ϟ 〉















