Adopted by the gods and goddesses · Y/n story by @Roleplaylover

The salt air clung to Y/n's lungs, thick and sharp, as the little boat puttered through the harbor. She was four years old, small enough that the worn life jacket swallowed her whole, and the world was a blur of blue and white and the creak of the dock.

Y/n's Father

lifting her onto his hip, pointing See that, sweetheart? The big sign with the parrot? That's where we're going. Jolly Roger's.

The sign was a riot of color—a gaudy, grinning pirate with a red bandana and a parrot on his shoulder. The restaurant itself was a ramshackle affair of driftwood and fishing nets, strung with kelp and buoys that clinked together in the breeze.

Y/n's Father

They've got the best clam chowder on the coast, and a swing set right out back.

He set her down, her sandals slapping against the sun-warmed wood of the deck. They wound through the crowd of sunburned tourists and weathered fishermen, past a jukebox wailing something old and twangy, until they emerged on a patch of sand behind the restaurant.

Y/n's Father

sitting her in the swing, kneeling to her eye level You stay here and pump your legs, okay? I just saw an old buddy of mine from the fishing boat. I'll be right inside, watching you through the window.

He tapped the tip of her nose, then jogged back toward the restaurant, his shadow stretching long across the sand.