#'you cowards and your wrathful god will see what power means'

[lifea16]

Mastermind live thoughts [Spoilers below cut]

The animation is amazing like oh my god! 💕

Ah, gonna be the Stolas trial I see

Andre stop flirting with your sister

✨Unpaid interns✨

Fuck.. double trial I see

RUN

Be fucking faster

Why do they sound like the cherubs

What is this….?

“Face the music” is honestly a bit too funny

Trailer scene time!

FUCK

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Blitz you don’t deserve to be deadnamed :/

???

Andre what did I just say, stop flirting with her, at some point comphet is cursed

Oh thank Satan (?) that Blitz actually defended himself against the possibility he forced himself onto Stolas

Candle head in Wrath?

Vassago bilingual? And he here!

Don’t you wanna take Stolas down first??

Yep.. they are claiming Blitz S/A’d Stolas in the trial. Fuck. At least hopefully the Blitz antis will realise they’re wrong in the episode

Bestie (/s) I think you got Blitz and your sister’s names confused. Put Stella on trial coward

Grimour, Stricker

You tell them Blitz!

Poor Mox :(

Go off Bea!! /pos

Yep you too Ozz! Tell ‘em

Mammon aren’t you Ace?? Don’t you want not to be fucked??

Satan looks a lot more like a Candlehead than I would’ve thought

How is this not the finale?? AAAA

Well shit….

Yay! Classism!

Poor Fizz, seeing your best friend (?) almost get executed live on TV! TF

Blitz sacrifices himself (tries to) <//3

(My hc) “Bitches (Blitz) say “I wanna die” like a broken record, but when you almost get executed on live tv, you shit yourself

Stolas save your future boyfriend now!!!

Go off Blitz! Tell ‘em off on their classism

As much as I understand not liking racial coding, .. Blitz and imps in general especially in this episode are very POC coded, with a lot of he’ll just being racist

</3

No Blitz don’t accept your fate 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Stolas ex machena please please please please

😭😭😭😭😭😭

Why Blitz must you care so fucking much about your family and if I could cry I’m pretty sure I would be by now

The screencap I paused on is so pretty.. To bad it’s Blitz getting executed (And almost made me wanna cry) or I’d make it my banner

Aaaaa

Fuck yes Stolas!!

Blitz is saved !! ✨⭐️💕

Boyfriends protecting eachother 💕

Yay! Songs! <3

XD “half a brain”

“Some kind of Mastermind-“ roll credits

Stolas I know you’re dealing with rascists but please don’t act like that with Blitz rn ur doing a regression and I hope it’s an act

Nevermind lol kinda

Yep. This is a clear racial allegory. No hiding it now

Fancy ahh reveal Stolas

Also we just shifted the “I’ll sacrifice for my loved ones” horse to Stolas instead of Blitz

Stolas ur an idiot too

Fuck yes! Romantic ish Stolitz duet part!

No Blitz you fucking deserve to live <333

And I’m back too “if only tears could fall” again.. Please Blitz take his sacrifice and save him after that till the system breaks and you two will be free

Either death or.. whatever happened last two episodes

Shit

Where is Lucifer? Just because Luci’s in his depression era doesn’t mean you are the ruler of hell Satan

Oh nevermind

The sins have existed before Luci fell. Interesting

Blitz is so defensive over Stolas and his life ahh 💕😭

Step 1: *Panic* , Step 2: “Wow this is a sturdy door”

Blitz is being silly but not swearing so he must be concealing his emotions again

<33 Group hug <33

Are we starting some weird chain now (Octavia was now alerted and running for Stolas)

Or not..

Poor Via </3

Loophole! Also more racism allegory!

Banishing him is actually a decent idea (for once)

Ohhh Andrealphus just wants power. Honestly I should have figured sooner lol

If this is Mastermind then what the actual fuck will Sinmas be (unless it’s another Queen Bee situation)

100 years.. So have a relationship with Blitz and once that’s done go back to royalty! Sounds great!

..wait are we getting imp Stolas

Nevermind lol. Just hatless

He will enjoy very much

Ooh!~ Our theories were right! (Stolas must also learn classism the hard way for a bit)

So the white pupils are permanent now

<3

OMG Blitz hero! Yay!!! <3

<3333

Blitz is at an all time high and Stolas is at an all time low.. interesting

<33333

So.. are they immediately dating now?

THIS WAS ALL SO AMAZING!! Favourite episode now!

[atherix]

New story? 👀👀

-🍂

mm 👀 So spoilers under the cut for the album, but the album that has given me these brainworms is a rock opera concept album called Broken Bride, consisting of 5 songs that tell a story. Each song is in a different style. **A bit of a warning, the album does contain religious imagery (the endtimes, not redemption or salvation or damnation) as well as descriptions of mild gore and suicide.**

Broken Bride from Ludo shares a similar story to The Time Machine film, where the plot is driven by the death of the protagonist's partner (thus the Broken Bride).

I want you to know I started rambling IN DETAIL about each individual song holy shit I stopped myself and started over because I was getting. Way too into it.

So the story is the protagonist is driven by obsession for fifteen years to try and save his wife who died in a car accident, by going back in time and keeping her from getting out of the bed that morning. It turns out time machines are hard to control and he ends up propelled back to the age of the dinosaurs, where he's driven into a cave by pterodactyls. It cuts to the far distant future at the endtimes, with a conversation between a young boy and the mayor of a city. The mayor states there's nothing he can do about the families suffering outside, denounces god (real smart move at the endtimes huh) and praises their king before shooting himself in front of this kid. The boy has seen some shit by now so just steps up and rallies the people not to just pray for saving, but to fight. Back to the past, the protagonist reminisces on the days he and his wife spent together, and how after she died no one could help him or convince him to move on, and he reaffirms that he will save her. He makes a run through the swarm of pterodactyls and gets to the machine, only for the machine to malfunction and send him- you guessed it- to the endtimes. He witnesses firsthand what is happening here, learns about the king who is fighting against god. The dragon of the endtimes rises and the protagonist is watching so many people die, and in that moment he realizes he can't change what has already happened but he can change what could happen. He sacrifices his time machine, saying "I've got dragons of my own," indicating he brings the fucking swarm of pterodactyls to the future to fight the dragon, the machine blows up and kills him but the endtimes are stopped with the fall of the dragon. He is confronted by god or angels, not sure which, who praise his sacrifice but notice despite saving them, he's still suffering. He requests one more day with his late wife, just long enough to say goodbye as he's realized he can't save her. They grant this and he goes back to his home the morning she died. Instead of trying to keep her home, knowing he can't change what happened, he gets in the car with her. The accident still happens, only this time he's with her. (I assume for paradoxical purposes that this had no bearing on reality and he was only there in spirit, since he was already dead? Idk lol)

So. The story in my head that this album has shoved there- obviously we’re replacing all the religious stuff with Minecraft stuff, I’ll probably use my Pantheons stuff and the Ender Dragon. So yeah.

Just a warning- this contains Major Character Death as well as canon characters in antagonistic roles.

So obviously Mumbo would be the inventor. He and Grian, an Avian ofc because I’m me, have known each other for a long time, and been together from nearly the beginning- think “as soon as they were old enough to date.” Like highschool sweethearts, maybe even middle school sweethearts. They were the It Couple, deeply loyal to one another. It was not necessarily a healthy relationship, the depths of their devotion to each other, but they were happy and they took care of each other.

One day there’s a tragic accident in which Grian unfortunately does not survive, which naturally drives Mumbo to the brink of madness. He dedicates himself to building a time machine to try and stop the accident, and he successfully builds one after years and years of trying only to end up stranded throughout time- he meets new and interesting people in different time periods he gets thrown into, and maybe has a little run in with a Wither and maybe even a Warden along the way. Ancient Cities in flesh and blood, long-dead kings and queens- he sees it all. 

Until one of the time periods he gets thrown into is the far future, where the Ender Dragon is destroying everything and the world is under siege of the undead. Everything has gone wrong- think Blood Moon in RLCraft, only all the time. He meets Scar, an Elf who works for the King (Ren) to try and fight the Ender Dragon and save their world. Mumbo is separated from his time machine by Ren, who is going a bit mad now and is slipping, and Mumbo’s trapped for months in this apocalypse under Scar’s watch. The two of them bond over this time, and Mumbo learns more about what happened; the end of the world started when Scar was a child, he’s lived his entire life under siege of the dead and the dragon. He became involved with the king’s court when he was barely a teen, when he stopped asking for help and started helping others instead, fighting off the hordes of undead and trying to save as many people as possible. He is now one of the most respected warriors, though he wants nothing more than to be able to put down his bow and just create. 

Of course, there’s undertones of Redscape during this time but Mumbo is still deeply devoted to the long-dead Grian and can’t bring himself to move on. Scar, after Ren goes off the deep end and starts supporting the End, breaks Mumbo out of the castle and gets him back to where the time machine is hidden away, telling him to go back home and live his life in peace, thousands and thousands of years before the End Dragon breaches the unprepared Overworld.

Mumbo has started to realize by now that he can’t rewrite the past, as it’s what makes up his present- who, what and where he is now. These are all things that are going to happen, no matter what he does; it’s already witnessed and already written. What isn’t set in stone is how this war ends, as it has not been witnessed or written yet. So, knowing now that he can neither save Grian nor live happily without him... he makes a choice.

And that’s all I’m going to say :) I won’t say it’ll have a sad ending but it is a very bittersweet one. It’s not a 1:1 with the song but I don’t want to say what it would be hjghjjk

[mmmthornton]

I love corny-ass concept album music that goes so hard in the campy direction it comes back around to absolutely face-melting shredding.

[thatboreddrake]

Ruthlessness is Mercy

Alright, so now that I've got my incoherent ravings and memes about Epic: the Musical, the Vengeance Saga out of the way, I have some THOUGHTS about the musical symbolism in this new album! Speaking specifically about Get in the Water.

Because really, this song is a reflection of Ruthlessness, the song in the Ocean Saga where Odysseus faces off against Poseidon for the first time.

These parallels can be seen even from the opening lines of each song. Think about Poseidon's opening in Ruthlessness:

"Odysseus of Ithaca Do you know who I am?"

(Okay, so this is technically the end of Keep Your Friends Closer, but still, it's Poseidon's introduction). But recall Poseidon's behavior and attitude here: he's loud, he's proud, he's bombastic, he's in-your-face. He addresses Odysseus by his name as an intentional callback to when he taunted Polyphemus. Contrast this against the opening line of Get in the Water:

"There you are, coward."

There's a familiarity here that isn't present in Ruthlessness. Of course there is, Odysseus has narrowly evaded Poseidon's wrath once before (twice if you count Storm), and he's had 10 years to stew on that failure. Both of them know what this is about, it's just about putting an end to unfinished business. Poseidon is not proud, he is not overly aggressive. He's much calmer here than he was in Ruthlessness.

This is even reflected in the music. Ruthlessness features a piano playing in triplet and trumpets to accompany Poseidon. The god of waves has come to bring retribution on the one who dared to harm his son. On the other hand, Get in the Water, features a much more synthetic sound, oscillating back and forth. This motif is used a lot in Epic to denote the presence or usage of godly powers (think Calypso's reveal of her nature in Love in Paradise). Furthermore, the piano is much slower, more menacing, more methodical. Poseidon is not acting in a heat of rage. As I said before, he's had a long time to think about this.

Poseidon's choice of words punctuates this point as well. He has a point to make in Ruthlessness. He's not just here to kill Ody and his crew, he's here to explain exactly what it is that they've done and why they deserve to die for it.

"I've gotta make you bleed, I need to see you drown But before you go, I need to make you learn how Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves"

It's not just about the fact that Odysseus got into a fight with Polyphemus. It almost seems that Poseidon couldn't care less about that. After all:

"I mean, you totally could have avoided all this had you just killed my son"

Poseidon's problem is not that Ody hurt his son, those things happen in the world of mythology. No, his issue is that Ody refused to finish the job. Instead of granting Polyphemus a quick death, he instead elects to "spare" him, leaving him to suffer a lifetime of agony to live with his blindness. Poseidon goes on and on about this (it is the main theme of the song after all).

But in Get in the Water? It's all about salvaging Poseidon's reputation and finishing what he started.

"I've got a reputation I've got a name to uphold So I can't go letting you walk or else the world forgets I'm cold"

By this point, Poseidon has killed hundreds of Odysseus's men and subjected him to horrible torment. By any normal metric, the debt has been repaid. Ody didn't kill Polyphemus, so strictly speaking there's no need to kill him necessarily. The lines listed above almost seem to be a callback to this line from Monster:

"Or does he keep us in check So we must respect him And now no one dares to piss him off?"

Anyway, by the time of Get in the Water it's no longer about avenging his son for Poseidon. In fact, Poseidon makes no mention of his son throughout the entire song! Granted, Poseidon threatens Telemachus with the same fate that Odysseus gave to Polyphemus, but this strikes me more as incentive for Odysseus than anything else. This is all about finishing his business with Odysseus, and Poseidon's command to Odysseus reflects this:

"Now get in the water"

Poseidon says this so nonchalantly. He almost sounds as tired of this feud as Odysseus is. In fact, it's not until the second half of the song that Poseidon regains a portion of the fury that he exudes throughout the entirety of Ruthlessness. And this culminates in the same command in both songs:

"Die"

And here's where the parallels get particularly interesting to me. Because both outbursts follow an attempt by Odysseus to assuage Poseidon's wrath. In Ruthlessness, he appeals to his men's relative innocence in the matter:

"Poseidon, we meant no harm We only hurt him to disarm him We took no pleasure in his pain We only wanted to escape"

Here, Poseidon's reaction is a realization that Odysseus has completely misunderstood the very nature of the interaction. He realizes that Odysseus is arguing out of ignorance, and so the reply does nothing to enrage him. He's not having fun with it like he was before, this is just something he has to do. And so:

"Ruthlessness is mercy Die"

Compare this with the same interaction in Get in the Water. Odysseus once again tries to encourage Poseidon to put the past behind them and move on. To forgive and forget.

"We're both hurting from losses So why not leave this here and just go home?"

Here again, Poseidon does not get angry from Odysseus's suggestion. He merely offers a defeated:

"I can't"

Misunderstanding Poseidon's quietude for passivity, Odysseus attempts to press his advantage, insinuating that, even if it seems impossible to Poseidon, it is still possible for him to learn how to forgive Odysseus.

"Maybe you could learn to forgive?"

And here's where Poseidon really snaps. Because for ten years, he's been waiting to kill the man who blinded his son and had the audacity to escape his retribution. Odysseus broke into his son's home, killed his sheep, and stabbed him in the eye. And now he thinks he can get away without getting his due consequences?

"No Ruthlessness is... Mercy upon... Ourselves Die"

In Ruthlessness, "Die" is a statement of fact. It's a sure thing that Odysseus will die, so Poseidon puts very little emotion behind it. It's a command, surely to be obeyed. In Get in the Water, however, "Die" is an exclamation of fury. Poseidon screams it out because, in that moment, he wants nothing more to kill Odysseus.

In Ruthlessness, Poseidon begins in a state of almost glee but ends in a state of resignation. He isn't enjoying it, but still it has to be done. In Get in the Water, however, Poseidon begins with a sense of quiet fury. There's no rage, no wild temper, he's just finally getting to do what he's waited to do for ten years. And yet, he ends with a greater feeling of anger and hatred towards Odysseus than is shown even in Ruthlessness. Because Ody was supposed to have learned his lesson. He was supposed to know better now. And yet he still wants to offer mercy, and expects his foe to do the same.

So yeah.

[4ster-bl4ster]

Aster, need my words well…

I am Meta Vitch, leader of Team Novae. I have taken over my alternate’s blog to spread my crusade across this multi-universal platform.

You have been chosen as someone who can help me in my crusade to save existence.

Your life is being wasted, trying to fit in amongst those who are below you. Their work is meaningless to the span of the cosmos. They will die, and all who remember them will die. Down your sorrowful path, you will mean nothing in due time…

But it doesn’t have to be this way. With the power stolen from the Solar God, I have broken past the chains that bound humanity to the plane that we are stuck to. We have already begun to make our mark, and we crave more.

Existence is tearing at the seams, and the Gods have failed us. It is time to stand up and fight for the continued cycle of the Ether.

With you by our side, you too can share in our revelry, and be remembered and exist forever in the cosmic expanse. The pain of life will be nothing but a nightmare in the face of a reality beyond simple consciousness.

If you accept my offer, then we will fully provide for you. Food, shelter, accommodations, whatever you need. And we will also provide these boons to your close friends and family as well, protecting them when your universe dims.

If you refuse… then you will experience the wrath of the new Solar God as he wipes away the light from your reality, and leave your meaningless existence in the dark.

You have 48 hours to make your choice. I hope you choose the right one…

Meta Vitch, the new Solar God

@metaoflocasol

Didn't you also send this exact ask to Harte as well? +10 points for being original I guess.

First off, I don't appreciate ya tellin' me that I'm wasting my life. I'm chasin' my dreams in the way I see fit regardless of what others say. Fittin' in isn't my forte, I hope ya know. Maybe if ya did a bit of research into who you're tryin to recruit you'd be able to make a more compelling arguement than that.

Second, the concept of bein' eternal and revered as a god for all time is stupid. I've seen what happens to people who try to play god using legendary pokémon. Considering what I've seen— (you killin' your world's Necrozma if I remember correctly) you're just like 'em, n' I hope ya know it'll lead to nothin' but pain and regret.

Though, considering you want to make life as bland as a saltine cracker I can see you prolly want to avoid that. (Unfortunately knowin' how the universe works you're walkin right into what you wanna avoid.)

Anyways, as I was sayin'—

I've faced multiple legendary pokémon, I wouldn't mind addin' one more to the list of gods I've thrown hands with and won against.

You sound a bit too full of yourself anyways, maybe a proper thrashin' oughta do ya some good. Knock that ego down a peg, yea? Whatcha say, maybe you'll impress EVO enough that they'll grace you with their presence in battle.

Or maybe you're jus' a coward who's all bark n' no bite— 'cause you never did anythin' to the others who rejected you.

So what'll it be, "friend"?

[mosstafavie]

I can hear your voice like a siren call

as you step in my domain

where lambs feast and wolves brawl

we all expected your fall

yet you held your ground , mighty and tall

I'm impressed, evethough none of it matters

in the face of temptations every faith flatters

I see how your effort scatters

we all need something from the world

whether it's known to others or untold

every man has his price then let me be bold

I can pay you anything with ease

what is a mere therone when empires are waiting to be seized

make a deal and for you I'll rise the deceased

you know how they are all infested with disease

so turn to me , I'm so eager to please

every man who bargains with me and frees

thier ambition and sins like spring breeze

go on , bring me Jerusalem's tablets, I'll tell you what it means

or if you want I'll show you hell's fiery scenes

stop futilely resisting, in the end I shall cleanse

false virtues , I make you bow and congratulate me on my wins

look how they're all mine , from cathedrals above to rundown inns

accept the bargain, we both know to who's will this wheel spins

you think your spirit stands under righteous light?

what a joke , you think you have chance against me in a fight?

you boast your not infected by greed

then why is it an invisible God's favor you need?

all it takes to make you go stray is doubt's seed

you think your different? all you are is a coward his desires buried

every time you remind me of who you are

or claime : "I won't trade my purpose for a star"

it just fuels my fier to cover you with scar

you think you're deeds are divine?

how absurd , a blind man strung in a veiled design

you think your devotion will eventually shine?

that you can struggle out of my ever growing vine?

that they will accept you in their holy shrine?

now I see why heaven sent you here , your stupidity pours like wine

it'll intrigue me to shatter your faith like the others , hear you whine

I want to see your face as my hounds dine

on a faith and body you thought was pure and fine

you think you won't yeaild? have you ever seen the legendary power of mine?

I respected you, I was going easy , yet with such pride

you just taunt me to free my monsters and let them glide

is your hilarious faith worth their life?

will you stay by God's side when he disappears and you hold the knife?

will you still talk of faith when you kill them just like I?

and when your loved ones starve and die?

was it me ? or your own stubbornness? all the while

as I slider in your court and corrupt it with my guil

your have the nerve to talk of a new start?

as they die , Adam kisses my feet and complete is my art?

you think of God as some unseen guide

it's so naive , there is nobody left on your side

your people are dead , your loved ones are trying to hide

you're body's tortured, troubled is your dream

all cause of someone who doesn't care if you scream

your faith shakes me to my core

that's what I saied as I tended to your scars more

I weawed stories of why I went stray

as I sang your court of Heaven's way

you only saw regrets and hopes as I gave you my castle and slept on hey

as I revived your dead and worked at your bay

as I worked and bowed like your peasant night and day

as I teached your people how to pray

you thought I stood on redemption's path

as my devotion and faith bloomed , washing away my wrath

as I gave up my gold and carried brass

until you believed my word and gave me a chance

you never noticed my mischievous glance

as you were busy with celebration and didn't see how snakes dance

you gazed at me in a trace

never seeing my greater plans

not seeing my temptations thrown at you like a lance

as I worked and did labour

as you favored me inside your chamber

did you think of faith when your wips made me tamer?

tell me , when you made me yours like a sinful sailor

did you think of kingly manner or were you just a claimer?

and all your wars and devotion never mattered

as eventually in the face my my temptations, you finally flattered

[rrasado]

Are you comfortable with uh- doing the obey me demon bros reacting to an MC who has DID having the bros as an introject alter? You dont have to if ur not comfy tho ofc

Which You Are You

I’m telling you all now I am no way experienced in writing about themes like this, nor do I experience this myself/know someone who does, I'm only relying on what I have from research so if you happen to find any offenses, mistakes and or misconceptions please don’t be afraid to tell me so I can fix it! Thank you dears. ���🌒💙

Mentions of: Mental Illness

When you have Dissociative Identity Disorder: (under the cut)

Lucifer

Whether it was listed in your document in preparation for the exchange program or not. The first born will also be the first one to actually catch on to your condition.

But the How part is a bit...slow even for him. At first it might've started when he'd hear small talk from Mammon his brothers concerning the exchange student. Given your blank nature during first impressions he was not expecting to hear words of comparison between you and him.

Initially he was at least delighted, another responsible figure in the House of Lamentation instead of another person to look after? His wishes have been granted- that is...until he realizes he rarely sees these so called similarities between you two when he himself is with you.

After nitpicking whether he's being pranked by his brothers or you. He'll come to decide that observing you himself will be the best course of action. And in his observations did he find out what's truly at play.

"You humans tend to succumb to all sorts of hindrances... we must tend to this efficiently"

He'll ultimately end up being your personal tracker in some sense, especially with you having alters akkined to his brothers, he's the best at dealing with every single you. He may not voice it as much but he's come to grow a soft spot for you, after all... you make him remember what it's like to deal with his brothers when they aren't busy talking behind his back. A bittersweet mutual benefit noh?

Mammon

If Lucifer wasn't the fastest to catch on, Mammon would've been the next contender. The guy spends the most time with you, so expect him to actually vocally point out the eerily different behaviors you display in different times. Especially when your certain Lucifer alter comes out to scold him.

Only when he ranted to the poor avatar of wrath did he consider that this little quirk of yours might actually be more than just, well...a quirk.

Tries making it a game on which alter is currently out, he's correct 50% of the time. But hey at least he's trying-

Will not hesitate to put any lower level demons at school back in their place for making fun of you.

"OI! Ya'll are just cowards hiding behind the damned walls! Well newsflash you bastards wall can talk!-"

Believe it or not, he'd be the first one to actually get used to your condition. And whe that fact comes to light god- he won't shut up about it. Who else would understand the human most? None other than the great mammon of course!

Leviathan

Levi...surprisingly thought of the possibility the fastest- but he's one of the last ones to actually let it sink in. He probably thought of the possibility because he saw it in an anime once, the main character used their multiple personalities with different powers and- wait he's ranting.

on a more serious note, the only reason he doesn't get the hang of you the fastest is because he kept comparing your alters with character he know, which would sound helpful but- he misses his shot when interacting with you a lot, easily slipping and thinking you're the character and not- you.

But once he does, it's as easy to him as completing a cunning minigame puzzle in a video game. As long as he executes the right keys he'll be fine, right?

Ah levi...that's only if you know which one you're talking to. But when he hears of one alter that oddly acts like him? He'll finally learn how to slowly deal with, himself..?

"Eh? This is like dealing with a mimikyu...hm? ah-"

Overall he's on the "finds your condition dope" side of the spectrum, but that doesn't mean he dismisses the struggles that come with it, he may not be the first person you'd go to when seeking help but when you do...he'll at least open his door for you.

Satan

In his case the only reason he wasn't the first to pin point what's really at play is because he doesn't spend as much time with you as the others. His only basis for making a conclusion are your short morning greetings and when you see each other at the RAD halls.

And since he only has little basis, the realization only strikes him when he hears talk from his brothers how you acted in class with them. Cue to the fourth getting confused because hey you just said good morning to him and you didn't act that way- wait a damn minute..

"I hope this doesn't come too sudden but, would you like to hang out more?"

His hypothesis gets confirmed the more he spends time with you, and unlike the first born, he smartly deals with you via logical reasoning, especially when your more childish alters come out? He'll squint to see any patterns he can concoct counters for in any given situation.

In short, the man is a living breathing clip board of your situation. The others know they can't ask lucifer for advice despite knowing he's the one who absentmindedly deals with you the best, so they turn to the avatar of wrath much to his dismay for insight on you.

Asmodeus

The Avatar of lust is the last to adjust to you, most likely because he doesn't really pay attention to your behavior and mannerisms unless it's posture and if it affects your overall projection.

Deals with it the... least effectively, no asmo you don't- give special clothes and makeovers per alter- though the sentiment is very much appreciated.

Asmo is asmo he'll deal with it in his own style, which again isn't the best way to deal with it but- He's trying, trust me he really is. It shows when he finally gets the tick to ask satan.

And as such expect slow subtle changes with how he treats you, he doesn't wanna make his favorite human uncomfortable! But I think he's the best at relaxing you after a draining experience with one of your more energetic alters.

"Dear you should sit down for a bit- Here let me take care of you"

Depending on where you manifested your disorder from, he'll try to take it slow and easy for you, besides, he knows that there's more to you to unpack, but he's determined to fully accommodate you! no matter which you.

Beelzebub

The way Beel finds out is so odd and yet so unsurprising...and how you may ask? Food.

I meant- with him associating 90 percent of everything with food, he might find out when he takes note of what and how much you eat. He'll have a variety of snacks at the ready, depending how or even if you approach him for some, he'd be initially confused, except for when your alter similar to him comes out. He doesn't question your enthusiasm.

The thing that puts the final nail in the coffin is actually when Belphie points it out to him. He was prepping well trying to not eat food for you when belphie asks him what he's making, he says your favorite food and belphie would grumble how you have so many favorites.

Beel initially dismisses it because hey he has so many favorites to but here he was. But the more he thinks about it the more it connects- which led him to seek none other than the avatar of wrath himself.

"Hey...what are you craving for right now?"

That question doubles as his test for figuring which you is out, depending how and what you answer, his choice of treating you narrows down. Suffice it to say despite being the weirdest method- he's the third one that deals with you the best.

Belphegor

H...he actually accepts it the fastest- despite not being the first to figure it out, he comes into terms with it in the shortest timespan compared to all his brothers.

And just like his twin, he finds out how to deal with you with the most uncanny test- your sleep schedule.

There may be times where you sleep like a log, other nights you stay up longer than the first born. No matter what he'll deal with you to best he can in the moment...assuming he's awake.

He only concerns himself even more when his pillow ended up with you, your alter similar to him opted for that black and white pillow which ultimately ended up with you two napping and sharing said pillow.

"Hng...you're..awake..? How did you sleep..?"

Yes, there may be times he wishes to talk back to mammon's claims of dealing with you the best. but as long as he can interact with whichever you without hitch, he's content.

As I’ve said at the top, please don’t be afraid to tell me any mistakes. I wish to provide without offending nor demeaning anyone. And I won’t mind taking this down if it’s called for, thank you again dears. 💙🌒💙

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

(Accidental 150 Follower Special) IOTA’s Top 10 Best (and By That, I Mean Personal Favorite) Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug

Alright, I already covered what I considered to be the worst Miraculous Ladybug episodes in two parts, and now it’s time to talk about the what I consider to be the best Miraculous Ladybug episodes before I talk about... him...

I’m only putting one rule in place for this list. I'm going to try and list episodes with good qualities other than “cool-looking Akuma and awesome fight scenes”, and focus on other details like character moments and story.

Other than that, let’s get started.

These are the Top 10 Best Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (in my personal opinion because your opinion is also valid)

#10: Mr. Pigeon

While Marinette works on sketching a design for a hat for a fashion contest where the winning design will be worn by Adrien (a rare example where the “Marinette does a thing to impress Adrien” plot actually works), a birdwatcher who loves feeding pigeons in the park is told off by the only police officer in Paris, causing him to get akumatized into the titular Mr. Pigeon, who has control over all of the pigeons in the city.

And by God, does this episode have fun with the concept.

In addition to constantly mimicking pigeon cries, Mr. Pigeon's movements are just so entertaining to watch, only aided by the creative ways he controls the flocks of pigeons.

I'm not kidding when at one point, Mr. Pigeon traps Ladybug and Cat Noir in a cage, and threatens to have his pigeons crap on them unless they hand over their Miraculous. Yeah.

This is one of the episodes that really set the standards for how outlandish the Akumas in Miraculous Ladybug could get. It kind of reminds me of an episode of the original Ultraman, where the SSSP has to find a way to move an incredibly heavy monster using increasingly abnormal strategies, like inflating it with air so it'll float like a balloon. It's clear it isn't taking itself too seriously, so the audience shouldn't either.

Admittedly, Cat Noir's feather allergy feels shoehorned in, and is only included to increase conflict, and you would think it would come up when Mayura, a bird-themed supervillain appears in the third season. But then again, that's just a minor nitpick.

It's just a really fun episode, and I wish we could see Ladybug and Cat Noir fight Mr. Pigeon again that isn't used for a cheap gag.

#9: The Puppeteer

After being told by her mom that she can't have a Ladybug doll made by Marinette, young Manon is Akumatized into the Puppeteer. But obviously, you can't have our heroes beating up a five-year-old, so instead, the Puppeteer has the power to exact control over past Akuma victims as long as she has the doll made by Marinette. So Ladybug and Cat Noir have to face off against Lady Wifi, the Evillustrator, and Rogercop, before the Puppeteer gets her hands on the dolls Marinette made of the two heroes and take control of them as well.

It's still kind of funny to think about the fact that of all the Akumas to become a huge threat to Ladybug and Cat Noir, it's a little girl throwing a temper tantrum. And like with “Mr. Pigeon”, the episode has a lot of fun with the concept, best reflected in the voice acting. You can tell that Carrie Keranen is having so much fun this episode with the stuff she says as Lady Wifi.

The fact that someone who was actually a major threat to the heroes with how she was able to easily outsmart them and also came really close to getting their Miraculous is now acting like a little kid using phrases like “super duper sorry” is even more hilarious.

I'm still a little confused as why of all the past villains, it's Evillustrator and Rogercop that get to come back, and I wish they had gotten more to say, but it's still a treat to see Ladybug and Cat Noir fighting four villains at once, especially since this was before “Heroes Day”.

#8: Sapotis

Hawkmoth akumatizes Alya's little sisters into Sapotis (supposedly based off a folktale, but I can't find anything about it online), who have the power to multiply and easily overwhelm Ladybug and Cat Noir, forcing Ladybug to recruit Alya to become a third hero, Rena Rouge.

I've been a little negative about Alya in the past, but this episode gives her some major character growth. One of the biggest problems I had with her character in Season 1 is how often she tried to figure out Ladybug's identity... despite claiming to be a huge superhero fan, who should know why superheroes keep their identities a secret. Thankfully, this episode mostly puts an end to this idea.

The episode opens with Marinette giving Alya some reasons why Ladybug would keep her identity a secret, and it actually plays into the episode.

Putting aside the stupid Rent-A-Miraculous system introduced in this episode, the idea of keeping secrets and how necessary they can be sometimes is reflected after the battle where Alya is hesitant at first to give up her Miraculous, but eventually concedes and keeps her identity a secret from Marinette (who ironically knows, but that's not important).

Even without that, this episode still has a lot of action with the three heroes fighting their way through an army of Sapotis, with plenty of banter during said action. Hell, at one point, Cat Noir says “gotta catch 'em all”. I don't have a joke here, that's just brilliant.

Out of all the introductory hero episodes, this one easily sticks out among most of them.

(Don’t worry, I’m going to talk about Rena Rouge’s character design in a later post.)

#7: Guitar Villain

I said before in an earlier post that Jagged Stone is one of my favorite characters in Miraculous Ladybug, so it's obvious that the episode where he gets akumatized would be on this list.

After a disagreement with his manager about trying to mimic the popular singer XY (who ironically lacks a Y chromosome), Jagged is akumatized into Guitar Villain, a rock star with a pet dragon who forces everyone to listen to his Awesome Solo (yes, he names his attacks too) to dance uncontrollably.

Honestly, there's not much I can really say about this episode. It's Ladybug and Cat Noir fighting a rock star who flies around on a goddamn dragon. That's one of the coolest things I've ever seen! Even the way they defeat him (which I won’t give away) is a fun jab at rock stars.

Admittedly, the episode does border on grouchy old man territory sometimes by complaining about how bad today's music is with the way they portray XY as a whiny and egotistical coward, but after watching ���Silencer”, you'll be glad everyone hates him.

Overall, it's a rockingly awesome episode.

#6: The Dark Owl

Mr. Damocles, the principal of Marinette and Adrien's school, is akumatized into the Dark Owl, a corrupted version of his favorite comic book superhero (who would later turn out to be real in the New York special, but I don't want to acknowledge that), who uses his high-tech gadgets to trap Ladybug and Cat Noir, putting them in one of their toughest binds yet.

I'm a huge fan of the Adam West Batman show, so you could probably guess why it's on this list. This episode really feels like an episode of that show with how goofy and over the top everything is. Obviously, this episode has a few Batman references thrown in (even an Incredibles reference at one point), and they're all hilarious.

I just love how complex Dark Owl's traps for Ladybug and Cat Noir are, and the fact that he actually manages to outsmart them at one point. Like seriously, have you ever heard of a death trap that involves drowning someone in whipped cream? That’s totally something you’d see the Joker setting up.

I don't really want to give away the ending (which is why this part is so short), because I think it's a really clever resolution that you should check out for yourself.

#5: Gorizilla

Hawkmoth akumatizes Adrien's bodyguard into Gorizilla, whose sole purpose is to protect Adrien. His motivation? To see if Adrien is actually Cat Noir or not. So Adrien has to avoid this gigantic gorilla's wrath with Marinette, all while trying to catch a movie his late mother was in.

See this? This is Adrienette done right. This is the kind of interaction I like when it comes to romance. Marinette and Adrien spend a few scenes with each other avoiding Adrien's crazy fanbase, and Marinette doesn't stammer half of her words. Even when she interacts with Adrien as Ladybug, she still remains confident, and Adrien trusts her judgment when it looks like he might fall. I don't just want Marinette and Adrien to cuddle with each other or declare their love for each other when they get their memories wiped. I want them to interact like human beings before they actually start a relationship, and this episode is a good example of it.

Adrien also gets some good focus with the way he views his relationship with his parents, as does Gabriel with his relationship with his son. Granted, he's taking a pretty huge gamble trying to kill Adrien to see if he's Cat Noir or not as opposed to just... taking off his ring while he sleeps. Can we at least admit he's trying?

I feel they could have done more with the King Kong homage (guess who I'm talking about?), but I can understand there wasn't enough time to focus on that. It's still an important episode to watch for plot and character growth that will barely be acknowledged in later episodes.

#4: Sandboy

tHe SaNdBoY hAs ChEcKeD iN. nOw NiGhTmArEs CaN bEgIn.

Now that we got that obvious joke out of the way, let's talk about one of the most creative episodes of the show.

Tikki and Plagg, Marinette and Adrien's Kwamis (the magical beings that power their Miraculous) take part in a ritual with the other Kwamis inside Master Fu's Miracle Box to contact Nooroo, Hawkmoth's Kwami, on his birthday and get an idea of where he is. Unfortunately, Hawkmoth chooses to akumatize someone during the ritual, leaving Marinette and Adrien helpless to fight back against Sandboy, an Akuma with the power to make their worst fears come true.

I said before in my worst list when talking about “Ladybug” that there was too much going on for one episode, what with Marinette's expulsion, the attempted Scarletmoth attack, and the fake Ladybug plotlines generally being rushed through. This episode is basically the opposite of that (ironically, they're both the penultimate episodes of their respective seasons).

The Kwami ritual and the Akuma attack are perfectly staged together so one affects the other. Not only do the Kwamis have to risk aborting their ritual to reach Nooroo in order to fight the Akuma, but Marinette and Adrien have to deal without fighting off Sandboy's nightmares on their own. Both plots balance each other out into a well-crafted story.

This is also one of the only episodes in the show where the Akuma of the week isn't the man focus. Here, we don't even see what happens to get the kid akumatized into Sandboy, and instead, Gabriel senses someone with negative emotions and akumatizes the kid offscreen. This works, because it doesn't distract from the main plot too much.

Even Marinette and Adrien's worst fears beautifully contrast each other, with both managing to be unsettling in different ways, even if they both have different tones. While Adrien's worst fear is being imprisoned in his own room (the fear only made worse with Plagg's absence), Marinette's worst fear is... the real star of the episode. Ladies and Gentlemen, I think you all know who I'm talking about.

You can tell the animators had a field day with animating Nightmare Adrien. Just look at the way he moves around and the faces he makes. It manages to be terrifying and hilarious at the same time. Bryce Papenbrook's performance only makes it better, cementing this as the highlight of the episode.

This episode also does a good job at foreshadowing the main plot for Season 3 with Hawkmoth finding out about the other Kwamis and by extension, more Miraculous.

It's got plot, comedy, good action, and Nightmare Adrien, so how can you turn this episode down?

And no, I'm not talking about Nightmare Ladybug, mainly because I'm tired of all the evil doppelgangers from the worst list.

#3: Startrain

Yes, believe it or not, I managed to find a Season 3 episode that wasn't complete garbage, and spoiler alert, this isn't the only one.

Marinette and Adrien's class goes on a field trip to London by taking the train, until the driver is akumatized into Startrain, who wants to escape to the one place that hasn't been corrupted by capitalism... SPACE! So Ladybug and Cat Noir have to defeat Startrain while also finding a way to bring everyone on the train back home.

I like how this episode plays with the usual Akuma of the week formula. Unlike every other Akuma they've fought, Cat Noir points out that if they beat Startrain, everyone will die, so they have to be more strategic in their approach. They don't even fight Startrain for most of the episode, as they have to make their way to the front of the train to confront the Akuma. The action in this episode is very creative and really takes advantage of zero gravity, only aided by the design of the futuristic train the episode takes place in.

The new hero introduced, Pegasus (AKA Max, another student in Marinette and Adrien's class), is also really cool, being very intelligent and helping out the heroes progress through the train even before he gets the Horse Miraculous. It makes sense that his intelligence would be used rather than just his powers in this situation.

There are even some good character moments too. For once, Master Fu does something smart and loans the Horse Miraculous (which has the power of teleportation) to Marinette so she can still go on the class trip, trusting her and actually letting her have a life. It was also nice to see Alya stick up for Marinette by keeping Lila from interrupting her nap with Adrien.

This episode is basically like a refreshing glass of water to enjoy during the garbage fire that was Season 3.

(I’m going to talk about Pegasus’ character design later on too, don’t worry)

#2: Silencer

Lukanette shippers, ASSEMBLE!

Music producer Bob Roth and his son XY hold a contest for young artists to show off their skills, and Kitty Section, a band composed of several recurring characters, decides to enter, with Marinette helping to design their costumes. But as soon as they submit their video, they find out that XY copied their style, naturally pissing the band off.

Marinette and the lead guitarist of Kitty Section, Luka, confront Bob Roth and XY, who threaten to ruin their careers by claiming that they ripped off XY. Seeing Marinette getting threatened is more than enough for Hawkmoth to akumatize Luka into Silencer, who naturally has the power to silence and mimic the voices of others.

I talked about Luka and his relationship with Marinette in an earlier post (specifically the one where Astruc claimed that the fandom growing to like Luka counted as character development), and I said that this was one of the few good episodes this season because of their interactions. This episode basically made me realize how much Luka cares for Marinette, and the episode gives plenty of time to show the two spending time together and growing closer. It's basically everything “Oni-Chan” should have been about, giving some depth to Luka and not portraying him as a crazy person like they did with Kagami in that episode.

Silencer is also one of the more creatively designed villains this season, and has a really creative approach to achieving his goals. While the ability to steal and imitate someone's voice seems mundane compared to control over the weather, or making nightmares come to life, it's used very effectively. Silencer basically tricks the police into arresting Bob Roth while imitating the mayor's voice, and he threatens to make his life a living hell by using the connections to the voices he's stolen. Even with the hand puppet gesture, it's still unsettling to have Silencer speak in all these voices, and it would make for a really interesting horror movie.

Even Ladybug and Cat Noir's interactions are back to their Season 1 levels of enjoyment. Even though Silencer took her voice, Ladybug just makes so many expressions that do a great job at describing her feelings, which naturally plays off Cat Noir's motormouth tendencies. Whenever Cat Noir jokes about Ladybug's condition, he is rightfully called out on it and is reprimanded in some way, my favorite being when Ladybug uses her yo-yo to hit Cat Noir on the head to shut him up. Even putting aside that, they still work well together this episode and really feel like equals. I also love their silent fist bump when Bob Roth is exposed.

Again, the episode still takes the time to go on about how unoriginal today's musicians are, and how they lack artistic creativity and all that crap. Look, given how ham-fisted the writing in this show can get, are you surprised the commentary isn't subtle?

Even putting aside how much this episode made me appreciate Lukanette, it still has a lot of great moments that aren't even related to the ship itself, which is a real testament to how this show can perfectly balance romance and story when it's done right. Now if only the show could try this much with Adrienette, then people wouldn't hate the main pairing of the show this much.

#1: The Collector

Taking place immediately after the Season 1 finale, Marinette meets Master Fu and discusses the book she found depicting past Miraculous users. Marinette theorizes that since the book was in the Agreste mansion, Gabriel could be Hawkmoth. And to the surprise of absolutely no one, she's right, and in order to draw off suspicion, Gabriel akumatizes himself into the Collector.

This episode has several good writing decisions for both sides, and the choices the characters make feel natural. Gabriel akumatizing himself is such a smart move, and so is what Marinette and Master Fu do with the book at the end. This episode does a great job setting up future plot threads and establishes Master Fu's character and the mystery associated with him.

The Collector is a visually stunning villain, and his powers are really creative, leading to a great fight with Ladybug and Cat Noir, who use a great strategy to outsmart him. I also love how over the top he is in order to make the heroes believe that he's working for Hawkmoth, all with a devious smile on his face.

This was also the episode that really got me into Miraculous Ladybug as a whole. I checked out the first season on a whim after it was mentioned in a Pan Pizza video, but it was during the hiatus between seasons, and I hadn't really started using Tumblr yet, so it mostly stayed off my radar. When Season 2 started however, I really got invested in the story, and the way this episode turned out was a big reason why. I wondered what it would be like when Adrien finds out his own father is Hawkmoth, and how the story would play out after the reveal.

Despite what it led up to, I still consider “The Collector” to be my favorite episode of Miraculous Ladybug.

Well, now that I talked about that, not it's time to talk about what I consider to be the worst episode of Miraculous Ladybug, “Felix”. God help me...

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: Character Headcanons prt2: The Boys ™️"

Heracles:

He is literally the 2nd strongest individual in all of Greece. The first is Atlas and the 3rd is Dionysus.

Every single thing that has happened to him is canon. The labors, the romantic nights of crossdressing when he was a slave, everything. He doesn't give a flying fuck about what you think he did. There is a likely chance he may have done it, whether he wanted to or not.

He's the tallest and most heavily built of Zeus children. It continues to baffle Hera and Zeus how Heracles is so large. When he started to grow olders, Zeus was worried if Heracles was the "prodigal usurper" that would over throw him, but solved this by having more children.

Heracles doesn't have any weaknesses nor fears. This effectively makes him the biggest threat to.... literally every other devine entity.

He doesn't hate Hera. Oddly enough he is fully aware of her frustrating marriage, so as penance, he tries everything to help her with whatever ever meaningless task she wants him to do. He basically is an unwanted adopted son to her. On Hera's side, she despises him, and she equally hates the fact that he's even alive, but it breaks her heart everytime Heracles does something nice for her.

After years of enduring cruelty, he still doesn't hold a lot of ill will. It's just a part of his strength.

Inspite of his polite and stern demeanor he actually does have a short fuse, he just chooses when it would be inappropriate time to lose his temper.

He has been married 1 1/2 times. His first marriage was rather normal until Hera ruined it, he was "pretend" married to Queen Omphales when they were doing their thing, and is currently married to Hebe.

He's actually a big softy, when he smiles it's considered as rare as a blue harvest moon, it's just that his face is so muscular that his default expression is "resting death face".

He actually enjoys hanging out with his more powerful siblings with the main exception of Ares and Aphrodite. He considers Ares to be "too immature to fight him" and he's too much of a legendary dude bro to fuck Aphrodite, he just wants love not fuck.

He can be bashful at times, mostly when he is told to either display himself or flaunt. He became bashful after his year of slavery with Omphales. It was more of a time of discovering he genuinely may have some deepseeded issues and Omphales helped him out figure out his insecurities.

Perseus:

He's considered Zeus's favorite demi-child. Mostly because Zeus considers him a "little earthly version of Apollo". Perseus however dispises this comparison.

He's currently in his mid 30s, yet he's still concerned the greatest hero in all of Greece. In some arguments he's always compared to Heracles, much like how one would compare Superman and Batman.

If he had a voice actor, it would be William Defoe. He's gives off this vibe of an old school kind of man with a side of chill.

He isn't too proud of his status as a demigod. It all started when he had to kill Medusa. The thing is that Medusa was the more prettier sister of the three legendary Gorgons however she was also considered the kindest out of the three. So when he kept being pressured by not just the fact that he had to save his mother from the marriage she did not want, save Andromeda from a sea monster that was being sent to kill her, and extra pressure from the gods too reclaim his honor as the son of Zeus... He had to basically do something he really did not want. Little did he know at the time, there were other means to be successful in his mission, years later when he discovered this he had become disillusioned with the glorious image of being a demigod. This ended up affecting him personally, affecting his marriage and ultimately a motivation to continue his quest to be a hero for the sake of helping those who need it most...not for glory.

He has this charming tooth gap that he's had since he was young. It's a distinguishing feature that basically separates him from being compared aesthetically to Apollo. He's also has a little stubble, riddled with small scars and abrasions from his many battles.

He with do a background check on you and your request, he has had plenty of experience with people trying to take advantage of him. Being a man who is willing to do the job correctly and as best as possible, people tend to hire him in order to give rid of whatever creature is just mildly inconveniencing them.. a good example would be if a farmer notices there's a griffin nearby but the Griffin isn't doing anything so he hires Perseus to kill the Griffin so it doesn't kill the goats, Perseus will find every way to either remove the Griffin from location or the farmer himself. He tries nearly everything to make sure he doesn't end up killing anything in the end, ironically this is what makes him an effective hero.

He's currently divorced with andromeda, due to his own personal and our struggles it's affected his love life to an extent where he is considered emotionally distant or just uninterested in being married. he doesn't have any infidelity issues or anything he just genuinely lost his motivation as a person but regained the motivation to be a better hero. Turns out Andromeda was the one who was cheating on him, he doesn't have any ill will against her surprisingly and he can't blame her either.

He has a 5 year old daughter who lives with lives with Andromeda. He always finds a way to secretly stop by to say hi and give her a gift.

The only person he tolerates from Olympus is Hermes, he still seems to see him more as a mentor and older brother than anything. He has a more professional relationship with Athena but after the conflicting information both her and Poseidon gave him when he had to kill Medusa, he tends to be very cold to both gods.

You actually never had ambrosia until Heracles introduced it to him, that was the day when he was deemed a full strength demigod. He's still angry at that because he wanted to die in peace of old age or in battle. It's the only thing Heracles is genuinely remorseful for.

He actually sees Pegasus less like a pet and more like a really oddly shaped brother. Turns out after he dug further into the situation, he found out that technically Pegasus is a half brother. so he just has full blown conversations with a creature that can't respond to him in human language, nobody really understood it at first until he explained it to Heracles and only Heracles.. because he loves being spiteful that way.

Theseus:

This is although equally as handsome as many of Zeus's sons, he's probably the least intelligent. It's even argued that he's actually less intelligent than Ares.

He's a complete himbo, outside of his lack of intelligence, he's also extremely vain. Both Perseus and Heracles theorize that if it wasn't for the promise of marrying minos's daughter, he probably wouldn't have helped in the first place.

In between heracles, perseus, and the rest of Zeus's sons, he's the second shortest. The shortest is Hermes. Hermes continues to be any perpetual cycle of distress and mild apathy because of this.

He's also the top person on Dionysus's hit list. For abandoning Ariadne, Dionysus cursed him to consistently get attacked by random animals.. specifically leopards and or animals of the felide family. Theseus still hasn't any idea that his lack of animal magnetism is actually a curse.

He genuinely does not know Ariadne is still alive, he's convinced himself that she abandoned him or just went back home for some bizarre reason. It's also never occurred to him that he may have accidentally left her on an island, it is not known rather or not he actually abandoned her on purpose or just because of unbridled ignorance.

He's surprisingly resourceful for somebody who couldn't figure out how to get through the labyrinths correctly the first time, he actually took one turn before he went directly back to the entrance and tried his best to go any deeper but still went back to the entrance. His resourcefulness may come from Poseidon's side of the gene pool.

Ironically, Zeus actually has no idea if this one is even his kid. There's an ongoing rumor amongst the Olympians that Poseidon and Zeus may have accidentally slept with the same woman, unfortunately it is not known rather or not Theseus it really is Zeus's or Poseidon's son. The two brothers rather not fight over this because it really doesn't matter in the end.

Due to Theseus's self-righteous arrogance, many of his ventures usually results in his god-given resourcefulness helping him out. Most of his success is attributed to either giving himself all the credits or simply assuming that he actually did something. this angers Perseus and Heracles quite a lot actually. And oddly enough unlike the two, Theseus never actually had to do anything above simply appearing and "solving the problem". His most iconic triumph right next to killing the Minotaur, was actually slaughtering a few Amazons. Ares is till this day trying to formulate the worst and most painful way to kill Theseus.

He's actually a bit of a coward.

He maybe currently king of Athens, but mostly because Athena directly influences him from time to time. Apparently he doesn't have the mental fortitude to resist Athena's control. Good for her because he isn't a really good ruler.

Achilles:

He's the sturdy brother. Prior to his injuries, he actually was similar to Ares but he was a little more clever. He was the best warrior in his army and he was the assisting tactician.

Post injuries, he has lost an eye, Perseus had to amputate his messed up leg thus he had a prosthetic foot made by Hephaestus, and he two more mental injuries. PTSD from his battle at Troy and the brain damage from an arrow that went through his eye.

Because of his brain damage, he can speak in incomplete sentences. He also has outbursts of wrath and acts out his battles. When he's speaking in full sentences, he's going through a thing where he genuinely believes he's back to his old life, going as far as referring to anyone around him as people he use to know, this actually maybe a side effect of his ptsd. Heracles and Perseus are aware of these quirks of his and does their best to make it less problematic for Achilles.

It's been century since the downfall of Troy, after somehow surviving the process of death through means that even he can't remember, Achilles seems to be immortal in both senses of the word. He neither aged since the downfall of Troy and it doesn't seem that he died from his wounds like he should have. Because of his prolonged existence in the underworld, he has also gained the ability to see ghosts, unfortunately the others think he's just simply talking with "the ghost of his past" and think nothing else of it.

Hades actually wasn't aware of Achilles's existence in the underworld until many of the residents started complaining of disappearances. After some thorough investigations, Hades found him basically living feral in the more isolated portion of the underworld where it seems he was surviving off the flesh of anything that would come across his path. At first Hades tried to help him pass on, but Achilles had other plans so he battled Hades instead and survived. Hades may have won but he has a large scar on the base of thigh from his encounter.

His invulnerability didn't actually come from his mother dipping him in the river Styx, or at least that wasn't fully the way he could have became invulnerable. One actually has to consume a little bit of the River to become fully invulnerable. When Achilles was a child, he was just merely dipped in it thus it gave him invulnerability until his skin was broken by the arrows, when he found himself in the underworld, he couldn't find any fresh water so he drank from the Styx instead. That is when he became fully invincible to the point of godhood. Now he's arguably even more indestructible than Ares.

Achilles actually seems to be have been completely hardwired differently after his experience. He isn't a genius, but he does seem to find solutions to things in unexplained ways.

He sees Perseus and Heracles as proxy soldiers and brothers-at-arms instead of biological half brothers. Never having any knowledge of them until they rescued him from the underworld.

He REALLY doesn't like Poseidon and Ares, the interesting part is that he doesn't understand why. It's as if he can't remember why he hated them so much, he has a passing apathy twords Apollo. He also doesn't understand why occasionally Apollo stares him down like an angry dog, infact Apollo never really elaborated on the fact that it was Achilles who desecrated his Temple back at Troy. Many of the gods actually don't fully understand what is going on with Achilles with the exceptions of Hermes, Ares and Dionysus. Since all three gods understand how mortals physically work, they can sympathize with him. However, every time when Ares interacts with Achilles, it always seems to look like someone put two male honey badgers in the same room with a shiv and a pocket knife tied to their heads when they're done fight.

He's likes horses, he actually tries to talk to them like as if it was his fellow soldiers. In reality, many horses he talks to are actually reincarnated warriors from various parts of Greece. some have no memories of their past lives, and some are fully aware that they've been reborn into a completely different life. In some bizarre senses Achilles accidentally may have coined the idea that horses are just reincarnated soldiers who died in battle. Strangely enough it's the only set of individuals he has fully constructed conversations with instead of just incomplete sentences perfectly summarizing his thoughts.

Achilles knows how to use almost every single weapon you can give him and for some reason he can learn how to use a new weapon that he's never seen before in just a matter of minutes. This is because he apparently has really good muscle memory and half of the time he just accomplishes so many interesting things because of it.

He genuinely enjoys watching Hephaestus and hangout with him in his workshop. He likes the dimly lit but warm workshop, he find it far more comfortable than the cold and damp cavern he'd stayed in after he "died".

No one is certain how he even survived to begin with. Some of the rumors that have stemmed from this situation say a Fury took him in out of pitty and nursed him back to moderate health, to Eris being responsible for his survival.

He's surprisingly stubborn for somebody who may have lost 10% of his brain function, memory, and who consistently goes through War flashbacks much like an old veteran would. At this point basically he has the physical strength and energy of somebody in his mid-twenties but the demeanor and temperament of somebody in their late eighties. The only way you can coax him to do anything is to simply trade with him. This could be either new weaponry for him to practice with, or just a snack.

[imagine-loki]

Fur and Dagger Trigger Warning - implied torture

TITLE: Fur and Dagger

AUTHOR: SolaraMoonset

CHAPTER: 3 of ?

IMAGINE: Imagine being imprisoned with Loki (Thor: The Dark World) and learning with him during those weeks, months. He slowly learns to accept your company and you learn he's not as bad as others say.

RATING: M (The rating went up in this chapter!!)

NOTES: TRIGGER WARNING IMPLIED TORTURE Also posted on Ao3

Growling woke Loki, and his first thought was his stomach, since he had given all of his food to the wolf. But as the growl turned into a snarl, Loki knew something was wrong.  After the guards last night, what now could possibly be annoying the wolf now? Turning his head towards her, Loki could see the wolf's body clearer than he had the previous night. The lights were now on in his cell, and Odin was staring down at the wolf. Unfortunately he was not inside with them, Loki had no doubt she would've attacked Odin had he entered. 

"Your suffering can end. You can be fed the finest foods, clothed in the most luxurious fabrics. Even returned to your world, all I want is the secrets of the wolves." Odin's voice was grandfatherly. If Loki hadn't been raised by the man, he would've thought Odin was being sincere. But Loki's first lessons in lies and deception were learned at Odin's knees. The wolf snarled and snapped in Odin's direction. 

"It appears she doesn't believe you, oh mighty All Father." Loki stretched out on the bed, smirking as Odin set a cool gaze in his direction.

"Do not interfere, Loki. I have no time for your mischief. And this does not concern you." Any softness Odin's voice had moments ago was gone.

"Clearly, being a brute must be so time consuming. Were we all so blessed. " Loki knew the instant the words left his mouth he'd be punished. Still he lay back, hands behind his head, looking relaxed and carefree. The wolf cocked her head to the side and watched their interaction. 

"Hear me wolf, I will get my answers, one way or another. Guards, sew Loki's mouth shut. Perhaps forced silence will remind him when to keep his tongue." Odin stormed away, as two guards slowly entered the cell. The wolf's hackles were up, her teeth barred, a viciously sounding snarl rumbled through the cell as she backed away from the guards.

"Easy mutt. We're not here for you, this time." Loki rose to his feet. Interesting. It seemed she had been on the receiving end of Odin's wrath before. Perhaps that was how he could get her loyalty, a common enemy. He followed the guards with his head held high. This was not the first time Odin had sown his lips shut. And as long as Odin lived, this would not be the last time.

Time held no meaning for Loki as his lips were sealed. He was satisfied he didn't scream this time, and held his head high as he was escorted back to his cell, blood still drippung from his lips.  He could hear the whispers from other prisoners during his walk. 'What kind of monster does that to his own son?' 'How do we stand a chance?' 'My god, Odin truly must be all powerful we must yeild to his laws.' 'Sending the prince in with the beast while he's still bleeding?!? Are they mad?'

Loki ignored them all. They were weak minded sheep, and he knew the guards were taking the long way back to his cell to show the others the price of disobedience. Fools. Could they not see the ploy for what it was? There were far too many prisoners for Odin to have them all tortured. Executed perhaps, but torture was too time consuming. Make a spectacle when one does get tortured and the rest will fall in line. Idiots. If Loki could he would have sneered at them.

As they finally approached his cell, the corridor was unusually dim. The guards held their weapons a little tighter. Superstitious simpletons.

"Let's push him in quick and get out of here, I don't like this." One whispered to the other. Loki rolled his eyes. After the bright lights, Odin was clearly using darkness to torture the wolf. There was probably a silencing spell placed in the cell as well. No sound, no light, then in a flash both, for hours on end. Whatever Frigga had done, or had tried to do had backfired. Odin was punishing them for it.

Loki glared at the guards after they roughly shoved him into the cell. They practically ran, though Loki knew it wasn't because of him. Cowards. Blindly Loki stumbled to the bed and lay down, if he was going to be put through sensory deprivation too, he might as well rest while he could.

He could hear the wolf sniffing in his direction. In the dark he had no way to sign he was fine. The wolf had shown too much intelligence to attack him now because of a little blood. She would just have to sit and wait for light. 

As Loki stretched out on the bed, fur brushed his hand, the wolf was up. Odd, she didn't normally wonder. If she felt safe enough to move in the dark, he could let her have this small freedom. He paid her no mind, until he felt her breath on his face. Perhaps he had been wrong about the smell of blood. She sniffed his lips, but did not touch them. Slowly the wolf sat on top of him. She was not attacking, but Loki had no idea what she was doing. One paw came to rest on his check.

"Keep quiet and don't move. A healing for a healing, after this we're even." The voice, barely more than breath on his face confused Loki. Who was talking to him? Wolves lacked speech, but who else would be in the cell? 

One of the wolf's paws came to rest on Loki's cheek. The toes seemed to elongate until something that felt more like a furry hand rested where the paw had been. Had Loki not felt it, he never would have believed. Somehow the wolf could change, and it was no illusion. The hand moved off his cheek. 

"This will hurt." The voice came again. Then he felt fingers at his lips. A single claws slashed threw the string sealing his lips. Gentle tugging pulled the string from his flesh. Loki did not utter a sound, though he couldn't stop a few tears from leaking.

"I don't know your medicine, you will have to make due with mine." A second later Loki felt a swipe of a tongue on his bleeding lips. At frist, there was more pain, then a numbness. After several swipes with her tongue, the wolf rose off Loki.

"Wait, your name?" Loki called through numb and abused lips.

"Call me monster, for that is all I will ever be to your people."

[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Eight

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

We’re nearing the completion of this @cssns​ tale, and despite the challenges this story has posed, I’m a little bit sad that it is nearly finished. 

This chapter has a lot of action as we pick up right where we left off with Regina’s nefarious plan to “test” Killian’s worthiness. Our poor lieutenant has no idea what the devious siren has in mind and it isn’t going to be pleasant.

Thank you, @kmomof4​ for all of your beta assistance, especially with your suggestions for this chapter! And thanks again to @courtorderedcake​ for her beautiful artwork!

Catch up from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net  Tumblr chapters:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven 

“Retribution”

No amount of naval training could have prepared him for this, Killian thought as he inexplicably found himself standing barefoot on the shore. One moment he'd been crouching inside the cavern awaiting Emma's return and the next, he was facing down the tempestuous ocean, thoroughly exposed. His knuckles had gone white clutching desperately to the cutlass, but as he stared out at the sea, he knew in his heart that the weapon was no match for this unnatural battle.

Above the whitecaps in the distance, he could just make out the crest of Emma's head and that of another person with darker hair coiffed beneath some sort of massive, glistening crown. Was this the mysterious sister that Emma had spoken of? He couldn't make out anything they were saying over the roar of waves crashing against the rock. But it was the dichotomy of their expressions that sent a shiver down his spine. He didn't even dare hypothesize the meaning behind the look of abject horror that spread across Emma's delicate features.

Shivers washed over him and his gut filled with apprehension when his gaze was drawn to movement on the horizon. Could this be signalling the arrival of the siren council that had Emma so concerned? The surface of the water seemed to rise, bubbling and foaming in the most unearthly manner. It was like nothing he had ever seen in all his years at sea and in a mere moment, he was about to wish it could be unseen.

As a mariner, he'd often heard tales of encounters with the legendary kraken and he'd shrugged them off as nothing but fantasy. Perhaps he'd been too quick to judge legend from truth, he found himself thinking as he marveled at the sheer size of the tentacle that emerged from the depths. It was simply beyond belief. From his experience with squid and octopi snared in fishing nets, Killian suspected that this creature would have to be supernaturally large, and that thought was confirmed as it reared its humongous head above the bay.

Even if he hadn't been practically paralyzed with shock and trepidation, he never would have had a chance to outrun the beast's speed or reach as another of its incredibly strong tentacles snatched him off of the beach. The slimy appendage constricted around his upper body, lifting him into the air and pinning his arms to his sides as it threatened to crush him.

First pirates, then sirens, and now he was eye to eye with a bloody kraken… All of them apparently competing to see who would kill him first…

Grimacing in pain, he struggled against its grasp and cried out to Emma for help. He may have been at the mercy of these mythical beings, but his own survival instincts remained fully intact. He wiggled his right arm free enough to draw the cutlass from its sheath. He didn't exactly have full range to properly wield his weapon, but he managed to secure an angle that allowed him to thrust the blade into one of the circular suckers on the underside of the tentacle encircling him. The monster howled and retaliated by lashing Killian into the waves, stunning the sailor as it increased the pressure on his body and dislodging the sword. The blade dropped into the ocean below while a barely conscious Killian could both feel and hear his ribs cracking under the assault.

Emma could only watch in a panic as the kraken scooped Killian off the shore with its tentacles wound tightly around him. She tried in vain to repel the monstrosity with her magic, but her barrage of light energy blasts had little to no effect on the creature.

"Your magic isn't strong enough to deter a kraken," an amused Regina insisted.

"Call it off, Regina!" Emma shouted angrily as the monster's tentacle squeezed ever tighter around Killian's very mortal body. She could hardly bear to see the agony expressed by his features. "This isn't the way! The beast is going to kill him!"

"He was on borrowed time already, sister," Regina reminded her sternly. "But if this pitiful human is as worthy as you claim he is, he certainly should be capable of defeating a kraken - shouldn't he?" She chuckled giddily as Emma's gaze focused on her weak little human, completely aghast by the impending carnage.

"I do not know what you and lord Triton conspired upon, but this is a repulsive abuse of power!" Emma admonished her sister while whipping around in the water to confront the rest of the council when they surfaced to take in the spectacle. "Why can none of you understand that he survived because he did not hear the song? Are you all complicit in this? Serving him up as hapless prey to a kraken is hardly the task our kind was given! Do you think this is what the great Poseidon intended? We were created to sing and only to sing! Any further judgement belongs to the gods, not to the sirens!"

There were a few nods and murmurs from the council but despite Emma's fervent pleas, none of the members seemed to be willing to challenge Regina.

"Cowards…," Emma hissed as she returned her attention to her sister. "I don't know what power you wield over the council, Regina, but I believe that even they know this is wrong. If you want to challenge him, do it with your voice, not with Triton's oversized toy…"

"But this way is so much more fun," Regina smirked and that was what finally pushed Emma over the edge. With a flip of her muscular tail, Emma lunged at Regina, shoving her tentacled sibling beneath the surface and yanking the coral and shell studded crown from atop Regina's head. "Why you insolent little bitch!" Regina cried out as Emma flung the headdress aside. "You've always been a poor excuse for a siren and now you're proving that by all of this fervor to save your human pet!"

Regina flicked two of her tentacles toward Emma who defensively batted them away with her arms and tail fin. The skirmish sent many members of the council scrambling to get out of the way.

"Why are you doing this?" Emma demanded with a brisk swish of her tail that lifted her out of Regina's reach for the moment. "This has never been our way… Please - call off that kraken!"

"You have been away too long. You've gone soft," Regina scolded. "You're practically fawning over a human. How deranged can you possibly be? Have you forgotten what it is to be a siren or are those powers wasted on you?"

"The only deranged one here is you! I know I did the right thing no matter what you believe. Maybe I did go soft but if his life was spared from the siren call, he deserves to live…" Emma couldn't stop her voice from cracking as she continued to plead for Killian's survival. How had this man managed to affect her so greatly in such a short amount of time? Why did she care so much? Compassion wasn't an emotion that sirens were supposed to have…

"No human is worthy to pass through this realm. That was the edict of Poseidon himself," Regina sneered, raising her right arm above the water's surface as she prepared to unleash her magic on the helpless human who'd gone limp in the kraken's grip.

"PERHAPS I SHOULD BE THE JUDGE OF THAT," a booming voice sounded above the bay, silencing all, including the roaring sea beast.

A glistening trident with tines that blazed as brilliantly as lightning bolts broke through the waves. Emma immediately bowed her head even before the god's visage appeared and her action was followed by the siren council members who'd remained. Even Regina demurely lowered her head at the sight of Poseidon's face, but no amount of posturing would spare her from his ire. With a scant raise of his trident, the seas instantly grew calm and the kraken, still clinging to its human prey, was now frozen in time.

"Enough distractions," Poseidon said as his attention fell to the combative sirens. "The creatures living in this bay alerted me to all of this… whatever this is. What in the name of Olympus is going on here?"

"Mighty Poseidon," Regina began as she slowly lifted her chin to gaze upon the god of the sea. Her eyes darted back to the sea at the sight of his deep-set scowl. "We were just trying to complete some unfinished business, but there has been some disagreement over doing what needs to be done."

Poseidon shook his head in disdain as he glowered at the brunette siren. "This is a disagreement?" he queried as he nonchalantly pushed his glimmering three pointed crown back into position atop his pure white hair, echoing Regina's earlier behavior. "I think this is a ruckus and I would like to know how a council of sirens got themselves into such a bizarre situation. I don't recall krakens being a part of the siren song."

Regina's cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. How dare Emma and her human put her in this position? "My apologies. Had Erimetha not abandoned our code and rescued a human, we wouldn't be here. The kraken was merely a suggestion from your brother, Triton, as a means to expedite the process."

"Was it now?" Poseidon quipped sarcastically before his scrutiny passed to Emma who, to this point, had remained reverent, silently treading water as she awaited the inevitable wrath of the god. "I'll need to have a stern conversation with my brother about his suggestion, but Erimetha - pardon me, I forgot that you prefer to be called Emma - is what Regina says true? Did you rescue a human from a doomed ship?"

Emma managed a weak smile over the fact that Poseidon had remembered her preferred name and even corrected himself. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't being viewed as the villain here.

"Regina's words are partially true. The man had already survived the siren song. He never heard them sing. All I did was prevent him from rolling off of his makeshift raft," Emma replied as she dared raise her head to face Poseidon.

"What possessed you to do such a thing?" Poseidon asked with a raised brow, intently listening for her response.

Emma had to pause for a moment, trying to best form her words, but the best she could come up with was: "My instincts told me I should."

"I see…" The god of the seas scratched idly at his beard as he contemplated Emma's answer - one that Regina clearly didn't believe to be good enough.

"She admits she helped the human," Regina rehashed her opinion, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly as she awaited the god's agreement.

Giving no audience to Regina, Poseidon continued his interrogation of Emma as only the outcast siren's first-hand account was going to answer the questions he wanted answered.

"You claim the human did not perish during the siren encounter because he didn't hear their song. What led you to that conclusion, Emma?"

"As he was recovering from his injuries sustained at the hand of the pirates who had abducted him and during his escape from the sinking ship, we conversed a few times. He believed the ship's crew had abandoned their vessel after striking the rocks and left him behind. It wasn't until after Regina came to my cove the first time in search of a survivor that he learned the truth about the siren attack, but he didn't recall hearing any music before the ship began to go down. It was my belief that he might possibly have been deaf to the song so I tested the theory by singing to him and he never heard me. He never fell victim to the trance. Does that not make him worthy to live?"

Poseidon pursed his lips and rubbed his whiskered chin as he pondered his next query but grew irritated by Regina's refusal to be silent when she interrupted his thoughts.

"This doesn't prove anything," Regina interjected, only to be immediately shushed by the god.

"Regina - my questions are for Emma at this time. It would be in your best interest to remain quiet until I address you," he warned sternly. "When I have a question for you, I shall ask. Do you understand?"

An embarrassed Regina nodded and gave a sheepish "Yes, your majesty." before floating further back from him.

"Emma, what do you know of the history of the sirens?" Poseidon inquired.

She was caught off-guard by the unusual question, but she did her best to surmise the history she knew. "Centuries ago, the gods lived in peace with humans, but a time came when the humans no longer showed reverence to the gods. As the human realm grew in size and they began to traverse the globe, you and Triton established this part of the mighty oceans as your sacred realm. We sirens were created to guard entrance into the realm as our song was supposed to determine whether a human was worthy to pass.

"Over many generations, only one human proved to be worthy - although the precise means of how his worth was determined remain unclear. Anyway, this human gained your favor and in time, was granted permission to marry your daughter, Ursula. Their civilization then flourished for many years, until the same insolence led to the destruction of that advanced civilization.

"Humans were once again regarded as evil, and while there are many tales of your descendants being spared, no one but you, your majesty, knows the veracity of that. All I know for certain is that even long before I isolated myself away from the sirens, no human ever traversed this realm successfully. All of them perished - until Killian came along. I do not know what criteria you intended us to use to judge men such as him, but he isn't evil. If he was able to make it off of that ship alive, does that not mean he was worthy of passage?"

Poseidon raised a brow at the thoroughness of her reply. He'd known for quite some time that Emma was unique amongst her kind, but he'd not expected to find such an underlying passion for life within a being who'd been created to kill.

"You are very much correct, Emma," he said at last, leaving a disgruntled Regina aghast.

"But Lord Poseidon, she defied the siren code by interfering!" Regina insisted and she was met with a harsh rebuttal.

"Regina, my instruction was for you to remain silent until you were addressed, but you seem to have difficulty following such a simple directive," he admonished the unruly siren. "You and the council are dismissed!" Lifting his trident, he aimed it at the frozen kraken, divesting it of its human prey. In a flash, an unconscious Killian Jones was removed from the creature's grasp to reappear safely upon the sandy shore. He waved off the layer of imposing clouds that shrouded the skies, allowing the sunlight to bathe the cove once again. The kraken reared to life as Poseidon's spell wore off, but the god quickly neutered its wrath. "And since you summoned it, you can return that blasted beast to my brother on your way home to your end of the island! Once I have completed cleaning up the mess you have made here, you will stand before me to answer for this abuse of your powers! Even with the most convincing apology, you may find yourself relieved of those powers."

Regina's lips parted to complain but wisely, not a single whimper escaped as she turned away from the intensity of his glare. Glancing around the bay, she could see that not a single council member had stayed behind to see her humiliation, so perhaps she could count that as a single victory. It was still her belief that she'd done no wrong, but for now, it was far better to lick her wounds and depart than further provoke the wrath of a god who had just publicly castigated her in front of her rival.

Visibly shaken, Regina gave one last little flutter of her wrist to vanquish the kraken, scowling eyes locked on Emma the entire time. Despite her fallen crown being forgotten and abandoned to the sea floor, she held her chin up audaciously before slipping beneath the waves with the knowledge that this may have been her last act as a siren.

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XVII.5: Inevitabilis, Inevitable

HOSTIS PLAYLIST: WONHO - LOSING YOU

Previous Chapter (XVII: Et Universum Parallel)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) 

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

Dana’s A/N: this is a special piece written by @vxstarlightxv​ who has been feeding me ideas to fuel this story. i did not write this chapter, i only merely proof-read it/gave her tips etc, but otherwise the beauty of this chapter will never be able to be my own original work.

P.S: if you’re emotional, please keep a box of tissues with you 

“there is no escape from you, not now, not ever. you are inevitable.”

The day the kids at school start calling you Ares is the day Hyunjae loses faith in humanity. You are a spineless, low-life coward, who hardly deserves to be bestowed with the same title as himself. Yet here you are, acting as though you were worth being on the same plane as him.

He hates you. Oh god, he truly does.

He remembers the way you fucked him over so well and thoroughly, and in front of the whole school that too. Granted, he may have screwed with your equipment, but maybe if you didn’t suck so bad you wouldn’t have failed.

Blaming him for your shortcomings. How typical.

But showing Minhee ​that picture of the accidental kiss (that meant ​nothing​) for the sole purpose of destroying his relationship? That was a bitch move right there. So he has no regrets when he posts a cleverly edited picture of your lab teacher with his girlfriend. None at all. In fact, the sight of your tears when that himbo Younghoon dumps you is something that brings him delight.

His heart definitely did not twist when he saw you cry, because he definitely does not care. You hurt him, and it’s only fair that you’re hurting too.

Nonetheless, he is pleasantly surprised at how fast you bounce back. His breakup with Minhee was a huge watery mess, and he cannot help his grudging admiration for your strength when you power through your own with Younghoon.

It is only admiration, for he definitely still hates you.

When the time comes to choose a medical school, he chooses the one that seems the furthest away from you. But fate hates him, so after 4 years of respite, he is dumped back on your doorstep as your fellow intern in the neurology department.

Of all the fucky coincidences.

~~~

Ares is a brutal god. He is the fire of war, wild and relentless.

Hyunjae is furious when he finds out you’ve stolen his report, but he’s not surprised. Not when he would’ve done the same thing. Then again, he was kind of hoping you would leave him alone. Naturally, you’ve done the opposite. He wonders if his emotional response is a little… disproportionate, given the situation, but he’s not going to let you fuck him over like this and escape unscathed. He isn’t a fucking pussy, your thoughts on the matter be damned.

Silly little kitten. Put your paws in the fire, and watch the heat bubble your skin.

He is simmering as he bangs on your door. He hears you screaming some nonsense about your mother, but he’s too pissed to process anything. You open the door, face falling as you see him. He cannot help but reach out a hand and grab you by your pretty throat.

He shoves you into the house, fuelled by the magnitude of his anger. You’ve hurt his pride, made a fool out of him in front of Dr Kim. He wants to shred you to pieces, get you on your knees and rip the apologies from your mouth.

Tonight you will understand why the other gods fear the wrath of Ares.

 ~~~

Hyunjae replays the encounter in his head as he drives home. He has never once considered you as anything but an enemy. But today, something of seismic proportion has shifted in your dynamic.

The flutter of your lips against his, like butterfly wings on a flower. The warmth of your chest against his in a tight alcove, hiding from Dr Shin. The way you felt when you took him in, the way you cried when he hit every single spot that made your toes curl. The way you purred when he called you kitten and mewled as you fell apart on his cock.

In retrospect, he hopes that he didn’t hurt you. He usually likes to stick around for aftercare, but he didn’t want to ruin your pride even more. You’d already been dealt with a devastating blow, and he didn’t want to make it worse, regardless of how big of a dick you think he is.

(Ring, ring)

The sharp blare of his ringtone shatters the silence of his ride home. He glances at the screen, smiling when he sees the caller id.

“What’s up, Juyeonie? Are you finally back?” Hyunjae is thrilled to hear his best friend’s voice. Juyeon is very busy these days, being a commercial pilot and all, so these rare moments they have with each other are more precious than gold.

“Hey, hyung! Yes I am! On that note, are you free next Friday? Let’s get drinks and catch up!” Juyeon sounds so eager and hopeful that Hyunjae can’t help but say yes, no matter how packed his schedule might be. The rest of the conversation proceeds pleasantly, and he is happy to forget the day’s drama.

It is only when he reaches home that he realises that the thought of you has never quite left his head.

~~~

“So what happened? The last I heard, she left you high and dry in JFK.” 

He watches as feline eyes crinkle with delight at his question. His friend launches into a happy tirade about his mystery girl, going on and on about fate and chance encounters and love lost and found. Hyunjae listens carefully, admiring the way Juyeon has changed. He wonders for a moment if he'll ever experience something as profound as Juyeon has, will ever wake up one day knowing that his heart sits in the palms of another person, and will not fear the idea.

The image of your eyes dancing with wicked laughter arises unbidden, and it punches the breath out of him.

He is jostled out of his thoughts when a hand lands on his thigh. It is so abrupt, so sudden that he all but jumps out of his skin.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Choi Minhee is standing in front of him, batting her mascara-painted eyelashes at him seductively. She is as pretty as ever, with her delicate collarbones and anime-girl eyes.

But she is not you.

The thought is so dreadful and unsettling that he cannot help but flirt with her the whole night in order to get it out of his head.

When have you become anything but an annoyance, anything but a pest that’s been shoved down his throat?

It is pleasant, talking to someone who he hasn’t met in a long time. He remembers her fondly, despite how miserable their parting was. Minhee is soft and kind, a gentle cherry-blossom compared to your ever-burning inferno. She complements him well (not perfectly, because only ​one​person does), and for a second he feels white-hot annoyance at you for fucking him over in this regard. Hyunjae cannot help but wonder if they would have been married by now had you not intervened with that photo. Would they be living the white-picket fence dream? What would their kids have looked like?

All he can see are children with your ash-brown hair and his almond eyes. The image causes his gut to clench so tightly that he wonders if something inside him might have cracked open.

“Have you and Y/N gotten together yet? I figured that after we broke up the two of you would end up going out. You were always kinda obsessed with each other.” The question jolts him out of his reverie. Juyeon, who has been listening politely so far, decides to insert himself into the conversation.

“Yeah, hyung. The two of you have always had something special, right? What was that stupid nickname we gave you? Paris and Helen?”

The irony is not lost to him. Enemies, being compared to the two greatest lovers of all time. A face that launched a thousand ships, a blaze of love that destroyed a nation. Only fools succumb to Aphrodite, the cruelest of the divine hosts.

“Ares and Ares. And for fuck’s sake, I will never be attracted to that hag. You won’t believe what she did at work last week-”

Hyunjae misses the knowing look Minhee and Juyeon exchange. He’s only seeing you.

~~~

If there is one thing that Hyunjae hates, it is surprises. So he really, really hates it when he sees you flirting with the intern as though ​he ​doesn’t exist.

The day had actually started off pretty well. He came into work feeling all pleased with himself. Not only did he break you down, but he also figured out a solid way to keep you in line. You were reacting beautifully to his taunts, and seeing you unable to walk made something vicious inside him preen.

And then, before he can breathe, you are making stupid cow-eyes at the snot-faced little intern as though he created entire galaxies in your honour.

How dare you, honestly? You’re wearing ​his ​hickeys on your neck, limping and ​sore because ​he​ripped you apart last night. How can you even ​think​of flirting with another man? Are you doing this on purpose, to get some semblance of power back?

This is not jealousy. It definitely is NOT jealousy because that would mean he would have to be attracted to your hideous hag face. No, it was an issue of pride. And no, he definitely was not deluding himself right now.

Nonetheless, watching Eric help you into his car after work makes him want to vomit.

~~~

It is the party incident that truly knocks it into his head. He spends the entire night seething over your flirtations with Eric, with even ​Sangyeon. He glares at you, but you pretend to not see, and it shoves him off the edge.

Why won’t you look at him? A room full of people, but you are the only one he sees. So why aren’t you seeing him too?

He reminds you that night, who is the only one who knows how to pick you apart, snap you in half. He reminds you who is the only one who can make your body thrum and vibrate, who is the only one who can coax tears from your eyes and pleasured sobs from your throat. But he is also tender with you after, because under that diamond-hard exterior is a heart wrapped in silks and satin. Hurting you is the last thing he wants to do.

It is only when he wakes up alone in the morning that he realises that maybe, just maybe, he wishes he could see you in his bed again, hair spilled across the sheets as your breathing slowly evens out into slumber. He wants to coo over your keening wails, drink the moans from your mouth.

A thought, fleeting and profound, surfaces.

He wants you to be his.

~~~

He goes to work on Sunday with iron resolve. He has spent the entirety of Saturday thinking hard about you, and the relationship you shared with him. The line between obsession and infatuation is a thin one, one that the two of you have been dancing on for 10 whole years. When did his foot slip? When did the late nights plotting revenge mutate into candied dreams of your lips, of your body, singing for him?

But of course, who else could it be? You have always been, will always be, his forever other half.

Ares and Ares, locked in their death dance. But when did Ares become Aphrodite? War has become Love, and Love has become War.

Somewhere along the way, something has gone wrong. At some point or the other, he has forgotten the hatred that sizzled through him like blazing poison. He has forgotten that you are annoying, that you are competitive, and that you get revenge in the sleaziest ways possible. He has forgotten everything, because all that remains is the way your smile looks like a flashing ray of sunlight, like a tendril of shimmering starlight. All that remains is the sound of your wind chime laughter, the softness of your small hands on his heated skin. All that remains is the memory of how good you are for him, how addictive the juxtaposition between your submissive sweetness in bed and your fiery heat outside of it is.

So he decides that he is going to make you his. Granted, the order of things was completely wrong, but he would fix it. He would cook you dinner, press kisses onto your cherry mouth, and then love you till morning comes. And then he would repeat it every day, till the day the two of you are cradled in the eternal embrace of death.

Surely, surely you reciprocate his feelings? How can you not, when your body weeps for him the way it does?

He likes to think you do, when he admires the way your eyes flutter closed when he steals kisses in the pantry. He likes to think you do, when you stay four hours past your shift and order takeaway for him. He likes to think you do, when you dangle Eric in front of him in order to get him to fuck you ​hard,​just the way you like it.

You are his, now.

~~~

Hyunjae’s love for you grows like tender flowers. It starts off small, but grows into something lovely and heartbreaking. You have carved your way into him, nestling against the walls of his heart and beseeching him to let you in with your stupid almond eyes.

He loves your stupid almond eyes.

He is on a cloud these days, brimming with affection that lights up his every step. He never considered himself to be one of those annoying, lovey-dovey honeymooners, but he can definitely see where they get their joy from.

Lovers alone wear sunlight.

You become his greatest delight. When you are around, even dust seems to sparkle like a thousand tiny diamonds. He loves waking up with you, your eyes half lidded and neck covered in his marks. He loves to see you in his clothes, smelling of his body wash, smelling of ​him.

(He has an extra special fondness for the days in which you are soft and pliant, allowing him to dress you like a doll. It makes his internal organs feel like they are tumbling over each other, and it makes him a little giddy. He loves taking care of you.)

But if he really had to pick a moment, he supposes he loves you most when you are with your patients, hands calm and steady and strong. It reminds him of everything beautiful there is about his profession, and he cannot get enough.

You are beautiful, in all the ways there are to be beautiful. You race through him like lightning, and he is sucked further into your orbit everyday. You carry his heart with you (inside yours), and you are never without it.

So he is overflowing with love when he picks you up and tastes your peach-covered mouth. He is overflowing with love when you smile at him with a sort of lightness that he's never quite seen directed at him before. He is overflowing with love as he goes to your favourite cafe one day to pick up the chowder you never stop talking about. Tonight, he will ask you to be his girlfriend, make this tentative little dance official.

Perhaps that is why the pain is so exquisite when he sees you with Younghoon, and hears you talking about Eric with such tenderness in your eyes.

“​He’s super enthusiastic and there’s just something about him that’s so... comforting. I see him and I think about nothing but sunshine and warmth and laughter. He’s just... so cheerful, compared to whatever i’ve been used to.​​” Something inside him shatters into a million jagged pieces when he hears the words, and every breath becomes as a blood-drenched ordeal.

Sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine and warmth and laughter. The words ring like alarm bells.

Fool. Naive, hopeless fool. You were never really his, were you? You might be the light by which his spirit is born, you might be his sun, moon and stars, but he? He is your nothing. He is the shadow that is birthed of your radiance, forever connected and forever forgotten.

Is this is why storms are named after people? You have destroyed him in the sweetest of ways. Is this taste of heartbreak? Rust coats his tastebuds. Is this how tears are born? The agony is magnificent and all-encompassing. There is nothing left for him here. He has never been enough, never will be.

He leaves quietly, chowder forgotten.

~~~

It is truly repulsive, the fact that he can see what you adore about Eric. The intern is strong and sweet, kind in all the ways Hyunjae is not. He is soft and mellow, and will cool your scalding tantrums with gentle words. He will not stir up the embers of your fury the way Hyunjae does, hoping for a reaction. He will be tender with you, gently laying you out and coaxing your body to sing. He will not be harsh and hard and possessive like Hyunjae, claiming you with bites and bruises and writing his possession into your blood.

He has been measured, and he has been found lacking. Eric is the perfect Hephaesthus, a sweet spring dandelion, and it is no surprise that Zeus will give you to him.

Aphrodite never belonged to Ares, after all.

“Hey, Eric! Do you have a moment?” By some miracle, his voice doesn’t crack.

“Hey, hyung! What can I do for you?” Eric is as mirthful as ever, and Hyunjae wishes they weren’t fighting over the same girl because he might actually ​like the​ intern otherwise.

“Have you gotten Y/N’s number yet?” He pauses to watch the bashful amusement dance across the intern’s face, and waits for the head shake he knows is coming. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but she’s very into you. So here’s her number, and make sure you call her, alright?” The teasing lilt he’s going for comes off more as a hoarse croak, and he realises belatedly that he really needs to be less of a shit actor.

“Thank you so much, hyung! But hey, don’t you hate Y/N? Why are you helping her out?” The intern offers him a cheeky grin, and all Hyunjae wants to do is knock his teeth out. But he’s a ​professional,​so he offers Eric a tight smile (read: grimace) and says “Well, maybe I’m hoping you’ll distract her from work so that I’ll get the promotion first.” He tosses a wink in for good measure, before reaching out to ruffle Eric’s hair with a certain sadistic pleasure.

That’s thirty minutes in the bathroom gone down the drain. But that’s what he gets for stealing Hyunjae’s girl.

Of course, because Eric is quite literally an angel who can apparently do no wrong, he gives Hyunjae a sweet smile and rolls away happily in his chair, high off his excitement at finally getting the girl he’s been after for ​ages.

And then Hyunjae is left alone to drown in self-loathing.

Hyunjae is clearly a masochist who likes to hurt himself, so that’s why he decides to tell you to meet him at the carpark after work. One last time, he’ll be the one to drive you home, the one who kisses you goodnight.

He promises he’ll let you go after this.

~~~

The car ride is as quiet as ever. You enjoy being left alone with your thoughts, and Hyunjae isn’t about to interrupt you when he’s being pummeled by his own.

The Japanese once made up a fictional disease to describe the horrors of unrequited love. They call it ​Hanahaki​, in which flowers grow in the lungs of the victims, causing them to cough up petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

He supposes that it is the exact feeling that he feels now. His love for you coils in his chest, choking leaves and thorns that crush his internal organs. It is rooted so deep that it might never leave, killing him softly but surely. The petals tickle his throat in an insidious kiss as he chokes on his desire for you, their softness a poisonous taunt of your lips against his, a feeling he might never know again.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a balm to his wounded heart.

Of course he’s not okay. He’s in love with you, but you’re not in love with him. He knows that he is nothing without you, and that knowledge is somehow everything.

All this time he wanted to make you his, but you have made him yours.

He cannot form words, so he looks at you, really, really looks at you. He memorises the contours of your face, the slender bone of your nose, the tilt of your eyes, the exact shade of red your lips are. He'll hold every little detail close, remember the last night you're his and his alone, because tomorrow Eric will ask you out and his Aphrodite will never be his again.

He wants to pretend like the sudden moisture in his eyes is surprising, but he can't lie to himself anymore.

Liar, liar. Ares is a liar.

Is this how Lucifer felt when he fell from heaven? You are life, you are life and light and everything bright. And he is cold, dark and alone. He has fallen from grace, and all that is left are the coiling tendrils of hubris keeping his spine straight and gluing the shattered pieces of his heart together. He is heartbroken, but he will clench his teeth and grit through it. Your joy is worth it. His ego won't let him fall apart. He's stronger than this. Isn't he?

Break my heart. Break it into a thousand pieces and then some. It was only ever yours to break anyways.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Anyways, we’re here now. Get out already.” Your scoff is musical. He is aching and he is broken, so he does not have the strength to resist the screaming in his head to steal one last kiss from you. He luxuriates in the feeling of your petal-soft lips against his, before pulling away reluctantly.

Everything is more beautiful because the two of you are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. You will never share this moment again.

“Goodbye, kitten.”

The words are far more permanent than he likes. You don’t hear them.

His tears run as he pulls out of your driveway. He allows himself one last look at you, confusion blossoming on the face he once swore was hideous but now haunts his every moment.

Love is fire. It burns as much as it warms, and he is the poor fool who allowed himself to get scarred.

~~~

Crossing the line from enemies to lovers was a wheeling drop of ecstasy and biting kisses. Crossing the line from lovers back to co-workers is a study in heartbreak, and Hyunjae doesn't know how much longer he can handle it.

How do I forget you? I've tasted your secrets on my lips and drank the whispers of your body. You are the weakness in my bones and the hollowness in my lungs. How do I cleave my soul from yours, when you are the drum that my heart beats to?

It is an awful sort of pain, feeling his chest cave in when he watches Eric roll over to you from his cubicle. You find him cute, it's obvious from the way your eyes crinkle like little stars when you regard him.

Look at me. Look only at me.

You look up, searching for his eyes like you’ve heard his prayer. You're expecting jealousy, disdain, fury. You're expecting him to drag you to the pantry, to call you ​kitten ​and kiss you till you bleed. But Hyunjae has no more poison to offer you. He is empty, and all he can do is give you a blank look. He hopes you will be happy, silently wishing you the best.

Hephaestus gets Aphrodite, and all Ares can do is watch. Bloody, brutal Ares is never the winner.

His lack of response throws you off. By now, you are used to his hissy fits, his seething rages. But who is he? What right does he have? You are not his to rage over, or his to claim. You might wear his marks on your neck, but you are definitely not ​his.

How he wishes you were. But wishes are like pixie dust, and this is no fairytale.

The rest of the day is agonising. His body is so keenly attuned to yours now, and he doesn’t know how to rewire himself. He keeps a cool distance from you, but every molecule in his being roars in fury at the forced detachment.

He misses you already.

You continue to press him, trying to push his buttons and rile him up. Hyunjae studiously ignores you, hoping his coldness will further fray the ropes holding up the fragile bridge of a relationship that the two of you have developed. You are looking at him with a strange mix of anger, disdain and annoyance. For a second, he thinks he might even see-

Is that? Could it be? Longing? Do you miss him like he misses you?

Wishful thinking. That’s what it is. But it hurts so bad that he decides that he’s just going to avoid you from now on, until he finds a more appropriate coping mechanism than simply crying like a toddler when he can’t get his way.

Maybe he should call Minhee, and try to rekindle-

He cuts the thought off before it dredges up more painful memories. All he can see when he thinks of Minhee are the one-thousand-and-one different ways you exceed her.

You’re fiercer, with more spine. You don’t give in as easily. You’re not afraid to fight with him. You have a kinder heart. You are so much smarter. Your lips are softer. Your hand fits into his so much more perfectly. You are lovely in all the ways she never was, never will be.

It is a numbing, novocaine relief when Dr Choi summons him for rounds. If Hyunjae is left for even a second longer with his thoughts, he might just spiral into a pit of depressed longing and self pity that he might never emerge from.

Mighty Ares, on his knees. Aphrodite’s laughter perfumes the air, irresistible and menacing.

~~~

He is on his final round when he meets Mrs Kang. The kind, old lady takes one look at him, eyes lighting up with knowledge that he wishes she wasn’t able to glean so easily.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Well he doesn’t, but the words explode out of his bleeding heart like ink spilling on ivory pages.

“I... I thought that it would be okay, that I could forget and let go and that it would all be fine and good but then… I saw her--” his voice cracks miserably as a lump etches itself into his throat. His heart is racing, and every inhale feels like swallowing glass shards.

“I saw her and something went terribly wrong because I couldn’t forget and my heart was remembering and I felt like I was dying but I couldn’t do anything because all I want is for her to be happy and I know that happiness isn’t with me and I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT.”

Mrs Kang is silent, regarding him with a look he can’t quite decipher. He takes it as an invitation to continue.

“I wish I was him. I wish I was the one who could make her smile, make her laugh. But I’m angry, I’m jealous and I’m immature. I’m overly competitive, and I don’t know how to lose graciously. When I’m pissed, I do stupid, radical things.”

Silence. Inside, outside. It is deafening.

“Why would she want me? I don’t deserve her, and knowing that I’ll have to live my life watching her in another man’s arms is ripping me apart.”

He’s breathing hard, like he just ran a marathon. It’s a terrifying prospect, facing his feelings head on. Until now, they were swirling around his head in an ugly tangle of emotion. Verbalising them, hearing them out loud, is painful and cathartic at once. But he’s already feeling like a pathetic little sap. He wonders if you would sneer at him if you heard. Is this what it feels like to lose? Is this how you felt, lifetimes ago, on your sofa? The two of you have always been push and pull, a forever impasse. But today, you’ve finally shoved him off balance.

Who is the stronger Ares now? Your kisses are his kryptonite.

A hand comes to rest over his.

“Love always finds a way. I know you’re feeling hopeless now, but know that if you are meant for each other, you will always find your way back,” Mrs Kang finishes with a gentle smile. The pretty words do not reassure him.

If only love was as perfect as love seems to be, if only his flaws and broken edges could be hidden away. But this is a dream that will never come to life, a flower that will never grow to bloom.

She does not know who it is that he is fighting with, who it is that is slipping away from him with every passing second. She thinks that it will be okay, but she does not know that Ares has no mercy. He expects none from you. Nonetheless, he gives her a watery grin in return before standing up to complete his rounds. He may have lost, but he has enough composure to know better than to break in public.

It is a monumental effort, holding it together.

Hyunjae makes it to the lift in peace, stepping in through the shiny doors and slamming the button for the fifth floor. When they slide open, the sight before him makes his heart drop like a wineglass.

You and Eric are standing across him, hand in hand. Eric’s foot is tapping impatiently, eager to drag you off to wherever he was taking you for dinner.

For a second, he loses control over his emotions. Agony crumples his face, and you, because you’re just that smart and just that perceptive, register it. He doesn’t have the heart to pretend anymore.

Hyunjae brushes past the two of you, ignoring your questioning look, ignoring Eric’s cheerful greeting, and most importantly ignoring the writhing in his chest. He goes straight for his briefcase and shoves his belongings in, flicking the lights off and rushing to the carpark. He does not want to see anyone. He does not want to process anything.

He is empty. So, so empty, and hollow. The void inside him threatens to consume him whole.

The moment he reaches home, he goes straight to his spirits. There’s a bottle of whiskey sitting in the top most shelf of his kitchen, a birthday gift from his father. He pulls it down, slamming the glass decanter onto the kitchen counter, and the pressure nearly cracks it open.

He remembers the sight of you pressed up against this very counter, squirming under his ministrations. He remembers your lips fall open in a sigh, and then to beg. He remembers standing between your thighs, feeding you and then licking cream off your lips. Memories swirl through his head, cutting through his ribcage and slicing his heart open.

He doesn’t bother to grab a glass, pouring the scorching liquid down his throat. It claws at him, and he welcomes the pain.

Love is cruel, love is cold. When it kills, it does it slow.

He knows the tears are coming. The pressure has been building in his head for the last twenty-four hours. They fall as he walks over to the living room, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

The mirror you clutched when you moaned wretchedly, promising him that HE was the only one who could ever ruin you this way.

He lifts the bottle, forcing himself to look his reflection in the eye as he drinks a toast to Eric. ​Here’s to you, buddy.

His reflection sneers back, bloodshot and desolate. A half of a whole, incomplete. This is what he is without you.

Hyunjae sinks to the ground, bottle thumping down on the carpet. It rolls once, twice, and rivulets of alcohol splash across the floor. Another memory lunges up.

There is nothing more striking than red on white. Blood on snow. Wine on cream skin, tracing paths his eager tongue follows. A hiss of anger that softens into a sigh.

The sofa smells like you. The study smells like you. You are everywhere, and it breaks him, tearing a wail of grief out of his chest.

One day, the smell of you will fade. You will slip between his fingers like the wisp of a dream, and all he will be left with is the recollection of the fleeting seconds you were his and his alone.

Too much. This is too much. He cannot think, he cannot see, he cannot ​breathe,​without being haunted by you. You are in every orifice, in every nook and cranny and cell. You are in the water of his blood and in the porous hollows of his bones. You are in the fibre between his atoms, you are in the electricity racing across his neurons. 

There is no escape from you, not now, not ever.

You are inevitable.

(Knock, knock)

It takes him a moment to realise that the pounding is not from the blood rushing in his head, but from someone impatiently banging on his door. He picks himself off the floor, not bothering to fix his appearance.

By now, you must be in Eric’s arms. He would kiss you softly, like summer rain. You would sigh into his lips, and he would look at you like you hung the moon. He would take you home, and press more kisses into your silk skin as he whispers his love. One day, he would get on one knee and present you with a diamond. You would say yes, because Eric is sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine. Warmth. Laughter.

This, this is what you deserve. Not him, not his twisted mess of anger and jealousy. He is a stinging scorpion, and you deserve more than his petty poisons. But his heart still lurches at the thought of you, nestled into Eric.

The gods have always feared Aphrodite more than Ares. He thinks he can finally understand why.

He swings the door open, and once again forgets how to breathe, forgets how to think, forgets that he kinda hates you but now kinda loves you because there you are, raindrops glistening in your eyelashes, and you eclipse every star in the sky. There is nothing but you and you alone, and his withered little heart is shooting to life because ​that’s just what you do to him. There’s so much he wants to say, so many thoughts tumbling through his head. But he’s a frightful, useless coward, so all that flies out of his mouth is:

“Why the fuck are you--”

And then your lips are cushioned against his, kissing the venom out of him. He cannot help the sigh he breathes into your mouth at the way your body slots so perfectly against his.

Home, home is in your arms. He has been running all his life, and you have always been his only destination.

Tears slip out, hot and fast, washing the festering wound inside him clean. The cracked pieces of his soul begin to lift up and fuse together.

The light of a thousand suns slices through the void in him, and the darkness melts like ice on a hot summer day.

He is shuddering, wrecked by the sheer ​force​ of the emotions in him. But you are holding him tight, so very tight. He hopes you will never let him go. ​Never ever, ever let him go.

He is yours, and you are his. Where he ends, you begin and where you end, he begins. There is nothing else, no one else, because there was never anyone for him but you. Love not at first sight, or even the second, but at last sight and at ever and ever sight.

When you finally pull away to murmur the words he would have never even dreamed of hearing from you, it’s like starlight is filling the dusty hollows of his chest, sewing the pieces that have fallen apart back into the tapestry that is you. He is surprised, he really is, but something inside him has always known, has always clung to the hope that you would choose him, despite everything.

All that matters, is that you’ve come back to him. You are the only truth he’s ever known.

~~~ 

Later in the evening, when the two of you are spent from your love-making and coiled so tightly that your breaths have become one, Hyunjae takes a moment to contemplate the situation. You have won this competition between the two of you. You have planted yourself as first in his life, and for once (​and of course, the only time ever, because he is still going to get that damn promotion before you)​, he is happy to cede to you. This is what love is, to break and to be broken, to be full and to be empty, to win and to lose. He would have it no other way. All that he is, and all that he will be, center around the axis that is you.

Do you feel like this too? Like your heart is bursting from the seams?

You sigh in your sleep, seemingly agreeing. He loves you so much, it hurts. But there is one final thing to do.

He lifts his head to the stars, who have been waiting for this collision of souls for a long, long time.

Thank you, he whispers.

And for once, Zeus smiles down on his Ares.

ENDING THOUGHTS:

First of all, a very big thank you to everyone who made it to the end!! This piece has been a wild, emotional ride from start to finish and I understand that the sudden change in style can be jarring for some. As such, I am very grateful to everyone who took the time to read it :)

Hyunjae has always been a very complicated character. We’ve seen him through Y/N’s eyes for the last 17 or so chapters, and she is definitely not the most reliable of narrators. Many of her thoughts regarding his actions and motivations are shadowed by her own negative emotions, and he has come off as a rather poisonous character, except for the rare moments of tenderness he seems to show. Hopefully this will help you get a glimpse into Hyunjae’s psyche, in a way that is untainted by Y/N. I’ve seen many of your asks about Hyunjae and his behaviour, and perhaps you will see this as a sort of redemption for him, in the sense that he is so much deeper and complex than the seething neanderthal Y/N sees him as.

Writing this was a challenge nonetheless, and I think we should all be very grateful to Dana for powering through Y/N and Hyunjae’s story, given how much of a hot mess this couple is! It’s very hard to write an enemies-to-lovers fic without it coming off as corny and shallow, and she had the double struggle of writing that dynamic in a medical setting. The fact that we’re all whipped for these two is testament to her brilliant writing, so let’s all say a big thank you for that :))

Before I end, I’d like to pay homage to some of the writers that have inspired this fic. Reading through, you will see quotes inspired by the likes of Nabokov, Cummings and Homer. If I’m not wrong, there’s a little bit of Sarah J Maas and Caitlyn Siehl in there as well. And of course, who can forget the little bits of mythology peeking out here and there? If you happened to notice these references, feel free to scream in Dana’s ask box! It’ll be fun to read your thoughts :)

Once again, a very big thank you for following Hostis so devotedly, and showering Dana with your love. I hope you’ll continue to give her all your love and support the rest of her works.

(P.S Did anyone notice Pilot! Juyeon? If you didn’t, you should 1000% check out his story too, here.)

Love Always,

V

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XVIII: Renuntiatio

[pastiel]

something that has always irked me is how NiGHTS, in the true path cutscene, calls Reala a ‘coward’.

Now thank god he rebutted that immediately. It was in his right to deflect it. And I’m really glad he did because while it might seem like he just brushed it off like it was no big deal, that was most likely the lowest blow NiGHTS could have given him.

See, while NiGHTS can hide in the dream gate, do fun things, and end up defeating Wizeman in the end, they can only do that by utilizing the ideya of visitors. Essentially, they hide behind the actual power, and attempt to justify their use of it as ‘I’m helping you get rid of your nightmares!’ when the truth of it is ‘I’m partially using you to get rid of Wizeman so I can continue to do fun things!’

Reala, on the other hand, has nothing to shield himself behind. He’s at the forefront of Wizeman’s wrath, he is subjected to watching his colleagues essentially die, he is the one who carries out Wizeman’s bidding when he is not present and is held to such a high standard that failure could mean death for him in the end. Not to mention his own sibling, someone he possibly could’ve trusted or cared about before the rebellion, practically ABANDONED him, leaving him to deal with Wizeman on his own and shoulder their responsibilities along with the ones already given to him.

And when you consider all that, he’s probably got the thickest skin alive because god forbid he show any sign of weakeness, complaint, or challenge against what he is expected to worship and obey.

So to be called a coward by someone who not only hides away themselves, but has absolutely no idea what he puts up with on the daily just so he can SURVIVE, that’s a blow straight at his dignity.

Kudos to Reala for smoothly reflecting that because uhhhh I’m pretty sure he would’ve wanted to lunge at NiGHTS for that and engage in a very personal and furious fight. Not like the one in game no... like a fist fight.

Anyways thanks for always reading my dumb rambles lmao- this just popped into my head and this is my hot take of the week... there’s more content coming for the holiday season!! Stay tuned for that :)

[gerardwritestuff]

May 7th 2018

I wonder what happened that day.

I wrote something in phases.

If you want a written entry on what happened I'll tell you.

But only you, I don't think I can trust anybody with this. Plus, no one wants to help me with it concerning my best interests so there's not much done with it.

Well for starters, you want the truth. Right?

You want the absolute truth but how am I warranted to give it to you? What can you do for me that's not euthanasia or some fucked up solution to helping me? What's your grand scheme that's supposedly shrouded in mystery that you can't tell me?

I don't know where to start.

"I think they can help. No, they can't."

It's a cycle.

This carousel of indecision had me so tied up in my own skin, I couldn't trust a soul. I felt like I was bound to perish and not a single person would help my cause.

You think you can help, but then you're faced with something much bigger than yourself and that's when you'll coward out because no one will ever want to take the stand for someone else.

Because that's love.

And no one's big enough to accept that. We shroud ourselves on the façade of help and care but people only care enough for you to stop being their problem after a while.

Pain is a real motivator; and I mean real, unfiltered, physical, raw pain. And the human body loves routine. So when you make pain a part of your routine your brain gives you an outlet.

And that's exactly what happened.

I lost my goddamn mind, at least I think I did. People love telling you things to shield you. No one wants to tell you the truth. It hurts. I thought I was doing the right thing all this time by telling people what they wanted to hear, but the truth is I only played the role of being this useless pawn in the game of life I've been living.

Now read between the lines.

Oh yeah, I remember, end of my second year of college.

Things were going all right, to say the least, I'd been having a blast and I'd thought I'd been doing alright but then I went to that damn counselor.

He gave me an alternative to religion. Told me that I could pour my heart and soul into this idea that everything around me was a message from God. That God was talking to me through the things around me. What the fuck.

My life changed completely.

People say schizophrenia isn't something that one could call an observable science. You can't make sense of it. Hell, it's been 2000 years and we still haven't made anything of it. Not like we're close to cracking the code to the human genome or anything of the sort.

I don't know what to tell you. I felt scared at the start. It was like the world was a chasm of wrath and evil and that everything around me screamed for an escape. But really, who was to blame? You can't expect one to live their lives normally after the truth comes out.

That's insanity. Isn't it?

There'd been a couple of things to contribute to this episode. I'd become shrouded in the fact that whatever I'd witnessed till now had been an amalgamation of my memories and that my perception wasn't driven by inference but by incredulity. The more I got lost in my thoughts, the farther away my sense of discernment drove me. Until then, I'd only ever seen life through the eyes of a fawn, and in this forest, there hadn't been a lot going on. Well, at least for me, that is.

I looked on with disbelief as everyone around me playing this game of pretense would never read between the lines. I fell to the ground thinking of how much I'd lived through basking in a bath of whim and false security. It suffocated me, pushing hard against my back as I sank face-first into the dirt. Nothing was ever the same, because nothing was ever as it seemed.

We try so hard to forget. It helps us, comforts us. We do it every day, as we see the crippled on the street and pay a deaf ear, to be guiltless about how destitute they seem; it makes us feel powerful, to know that if we never remember the pain we once went through, we'd be okay. We hope we will someday.

But that's not the point I'm ever going to try to make. I'm here to tell you that what happened to me, wasn't an option neither an accident. I'm certain things turned out the way they did because nothing would have given me a way out until I reached that point of utter desperation.

What if they can hear my thoughts?

What if they know exactly how much of a monster I really am?

Once I'd entertained that thought in my head, it fed on my psyche like a virus. I let it get a hold of me and very soon I wasn't acting like myself anymore. I didn't know what to do except paint a picture, a picture that made it seem like I knew what I was doing. Like I knew what I was talking about and had me acting like I knew what I was messing with.

Commence a feeling of awe and daring carefree. Something in me had cracked like a glass rod and my sense of self-preservation hadn’t left. It was more toward being swept under the carpet or shoved in the back of a car.

I was playing spectator now because someone else was at the wheel.

And God did it scare me. It made me a complete fanatic. Buzzing my hair and preaching about shit I had no clue about?! I was way in over my head, acting like a prophet no less, and even after I'd gotten over it, it never really left. I needed the world to know that I was losing it, and that it made me special, and that it drove me to believe things. Things that were driven by my convictions and not my real feelings. I drove my family and friends away, made them afraid of who I’d become, and now, I couldn’t be more sorry for acting so numb.

I really needed a change, I didn’t want this to be a one-off thing. I couldn’t believe anyone. When they told me that they were thinking up a solution that was the best for me, I saw it as a ruse. In my head, they were just pretending to care because they were scared that I’d keep acting crazy and wouldn’t let up until my head had cleared.

But there was some good out of it, I guess. I’m not really sure. I can never really tell with all the castles in the air. But I’m glad this shit has blown over, and I’m better now. I hope I never go back to that holier-than-thou shit. I had a few demons that I’ve fought with. Those monsters are in the past now, they’ll turn up more often than not. But that won’t keep me in a whirl, I won’t let them. The future’s in my hands, the past is how I’ll forget them.

Then and only then will I realize,

That the real monsters never existed under my bed, they never did.

The real monsters exist right inside my feeble mind.

Black and white, followed by a question at the end of the reel.

But they never stop.

Days bleed into each other and the one thing you’re left with is the only place you started from.

To draw a line between determination and desperation.

To be able to feel like you needed something else from the mind-numbing regret that just enveloped you and continues to coalesce your being.

Make it stop.

Please, just make it stop.

[obligatorynasty]

I’ll Be the Fight to Your Flight, Baby. (Part 2)

Part 1: Here | Sequel: Here  

Read on: AO3 | WC: 18k | Please excuse any typos. 

Main Tags: BadBoy!Tony, SoftBoy!Peter, Highschool AU, NFF, TW:Mentions of Blood, TW:Mentions of Abuse, TW:Bullying, TW:Underage Drinking and Smoking, TW:Mild Homophobia, [see all tags on AO3]

-

~*1*~

Peter didn’t know how to feel.

When Tony threw the cafeteria doors open, the chatter of the room went silent. Though the whispers remained; all gossip about why the school’s most fearsome student was resting his arm around the most fearful student’s shoulders. It was strange for Peter to be the center of attention for something other than ridicule. Along with the shocked expression on Ned’s face, cliques of curious eyes glanced back and forth between the slew of tables. All looks filled with confusion and intrigue and – for a certain pair of brotherly bullies – absolute terror.

All the younger boy had to do was point. And he did, with a shaky finger and wary eyes, directing his unhinged – boyfriend? – to not only the guilty brothers’ table, but to Clint, Natasha, Bucky, and Sam’s as well.

“Is that all of them, baby?” Tony whispered, his face close enough that Peter could feel his warm breath tickling his surely flushed ear. The sensation sent chills down Peter’s spine – but in a good way – like the airy feeling he got in his stomach when Ned and MJ dragged him on roller coasters with giant drops.

Peter gave a demure nod, “Y-Yes.”

Tony’s wild eyes were breathtaking, especially paired with that mischievous grin and the way he cracked his knuckles like warning signs to his prey. Or the way he pulled off that signature jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders like he was staking his claim. Or the way he so nonchalantly quipped about not wanting to ruin the leather with some degenerate’s blood, so hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back.

And Peter could do nothing but stand there – engulfed in the leather that smelled of cigarettes and pure, unfiltered Tony Stark – watching as the notorious bad boy reminded each and every student in the cafeteria of just how fearsome he could really be.

***

Tony’s rampage began with one stunned Clint Barton, ripped from his seat by a forceful grip on his collar. The irony of being thrown against the very spot he tripped Peter lost on him. Likely due to the wind being knocked out of his lungs as he careened towards the off-white linoleum tiles with a hefty thud and, subsequently, a symphony of startled gasps and excited chants of Fight! Fight! Fight!

Now, Clint wasn’t someone who would take a beating lying down. Peter had seen him fight before; win against people bigger than him and intimidate people smaller. So, when Tony dropped down and managed to get in three punches so quick and so forceful that Clint couldn’t react, Peter’s jaw dropped. Tony’s promise of not making it too bloody consumed by sight of Clint’s very bloody nose.

“What the fuck, Stark?!” It was Natasha – poor Natasha – trying to stand up for her partner in crime, not knowing she would be next on the rampage list. The second she stood from her seat, Tony released his hold on Clint’s collar, leaving it stretched out of place and watching Clint pitifully grasp his nose in pain. Then, Tony stood, facing Natasha head-on and flashing his smug, bad boy grin.

“What the fuck, Romanoff?” His words were laced with belittling humor and a wild brand of confidence that Peter couldn’t fathom.

“Don’t do that.” Natasha glared, her brows furrowing at Tony’s complete lack of fear towards her. “What the fuck did he do to piss you off?”

“He didn’t piss me off. Not directly at least.” Tony’s laughter was unnerving, “You see, your boy here managed to piss him off,” He pointedly said, as he gestured over to Peter, who was still standing by the doors with a bewildered look on his face. “And he belongs to me now. So, let’s say when he’s pissed, I’m just pissed by proxy.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” Natasha’s words were sharp, but Tony was sharper.

“Let’s ask then,” Tony leaned forward against the table, his palms down and his knuckles up like he was brandishing a bloodied sword, staring at Sam and Bucky with his intimidating glare. “Why don’t you two tell me, hm? Did Barton do something to Parker?” His question was brimming with venom, and thus, met with zero hesitation.

“Yes, he tripped him.” Sam stood, pulling Bucky to his feet as well and expressing so much fuck-this-shit-I’m-out energy that Peter had to stifle a laugh. “Me and Bucky are really sorry for our involvement in all of this, and we would very much like to keep all of our bones intact. Thank you.” Sam looked to Natasha, “Nat, you are on your own with this one.” With that, he was fleeing, towing Bucky behind him as they made their way out the cafeteria, muttering something along the lines of: People really out here fucking around with Tony Stark like he didn’t send just someone to the ER last year. What a bunch of idiots.

“Fucking cowards.” Natasha spat, rolling her eyes and giving an angry sigh when Tony smirked at her. “Fine!” She exclaimed, turning to Peter with forced sincerity. “Sorry,” She said flatly, and with a peeved grimace, before turning back to Tony with an expression that showed just how thoroughly done she was with the whole situation. “Happy now?”

But Tony didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned to Peter and smiled as he repeated Natasha’s sentiment. “Happy?”

Peter froze for a moment, his frazzled mind whirring into overdrive, trying to comprehend the weight of Tony’s question. It was like a wild animal asking the leader of its pack for permission to hunt. Like Peter’s answer was the only thing standing between Natasha and the full power of Tony’s wrath. So Peter nodded and mouthed a nervous, “Yes.”

“Wow, how lucky for you,” Tony said, giving Natasha a look so dark that it sent chills down Peter’s spine in the bad kind of way. “Don’t waste it, Red.”

Tony’s threat lingered in the way he carelessly stepped on Clint’s struggling frame as he made a beeline to his last targets: Thor and Loki.

“Don’t bring your violence over here, Stark.” Thor weakly warned, flinching up from his seat like a cornered animal, posturing in a final attempt to scare off its predator. His reaction was perplexing, especially since he was bigger than Tony. He seemed to have more muscles, more stature, more height, yet he still looked frightened. So, even though Peter’s natural response was worry, Thor’s fear and Tony’s unfazed smirk eased his concerns.

“I’ll bring my violence wherever I damn well please, Point Break.” Tony taunted, wasting no time in shoving both Thor and Loki’s lunch trays off the table, gaining him a resoundingly loud and drawn out Daammn! from the surrounding crowd of students.

Loki stood up next, posturing just like his brother, “You think we’re scared of you, Stark?”

“Oh, you will be.”

With that, Tony’s rampage continued. But this time, it was less controlled threats and more all-out brawl that summoned a flock of rowdy students, eager to watch the carnage.

Before the crowd grew, Peter managed to see Tony land two satisfying jabs to Loki’s face that left Thor scrambling to retaliate. It was all too surreal; the savage look in Tony’s eyes, the speed of his punches, the way he bobbed and weaved around his opponents’ hits like a trained boxer. All the people egging on the fight like spectators at the Colosseum; encircling them like Thor and Loki were the poor fools thrown into the lion’s den and Tony was head of the pride.

Soon, the fight was impossible to see. The students were so enthralled that they stood on tables to witness it. And Peter knew from the screaming and the general disregard for school policy that it would probably go down as one of those legendary Tony Stark fights. Peter’s body buzzed with curiosity. He wanted to watch too, but he found himself unable to move.

Remember, Peter didn’t know how to feel. His eyes traveled to Clint, struggling as Natasha helped him to his feet and clutching the spot on his abdomen that Tony used as a stepping stone. It was brutal, and Peter knew that. He knew he shouldn’t feel glad that Clint was hurt. He shouldn’t get excited about Sam and Bucky scurrying away like frightened mice. He shouldn’t enjoy the scared look in Thor and Loki’s eyes. He shouldn’t – he knew that – but he did.

Because Tony Stark was fighting for him, and that sort of thing just goes to a person’s head.

Peter was pulled from his thoughts by Ned, who was pushing through the crowd to reach his friend. “Dude! We need to go! Someone said Principal Fury was called.” He didn’t stop. He just grabbed Peter’s arm and dragged him through the cafeteria’s double doors.

The hallway was also beginning to swarm with students – kids leaving their classes in droves, trying to witness the fight for themselves. “Okay, so since when are you and Tony Stark friends?”

“Since like a half-hour ago?” Peter shyly admitted as Ned stopped with him in the hall, standing to the side so they didn’t get trampled by the rush of students.

“What?!” Ned practically screamed. “He’s beating the shit out of Loki and Thor right now.” He stressed, “For you, dude! For you! And you’ve only been friends for a half-hour?!”

“Actually, ‘friends’ might not be right either.” Peter nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head and giving Ned a guilty look.

“Dude, what happened?” Ned’s eyes went wide. “And please don’t say you sucked his dick for protection.”

“Whose dick are we sucking for protection?” It was MJ, exiting the flow of students, throwing her arms over Peter and Ned’s shoulders, interjecting on their conversation with her classic witty smirk.

“Tony Stark’s,” Ned laughed.

MJ joined the laughter, “Is that why Peter’s wearing this?” She tugged on the leather jacket still draped over Peter’s shoulders. “Did you swallow?”

“Oh my god! MJ! I-I didn’t s-suck his dick!” Peter’s face flushed red in his embarrassment. “I just- I mean, I guess…um- I belong to him now.” His voice cracked because that felt weird to say. He belonged to Tony Stark – someone that he barely knew – yet, instead of his usual urge to flee, his body craved to stay.

“I see,” Ned nodded. “First, the brutish show of strength, then-”

“The dick sucking.” MJ joked.

Peter crossed his arms, “No! I- He just- He made me cry – well, not directly – but then he patted my hair and k-kissed my forehead and, suddenly, I was just his, okay?”

“I think it’s romantic,” Ned nodded.

“I think it’s problematic,” MJ deadpanned.

Peter just shrugged, inching away from MJ’s hold. “W-Well, I think it’s my decision.”

“I’m just looking out for you, Pete.” MJ became defensive. “We can joke about sucking dick, but Tony Stark is fucking dangerous. We all know it. May I remind you that he broke that Hammer kid’s bones last year, he constantly skips classes, and he smokes.” She punctuated each point with a count of her fingers and ended her rant with a firm, “Say it with me: pro-ble-ma-tic be-hav-iors.”

“Okay, scratch the romantic thing,” Ned shook his head and stepped closer to MJ, physically signaling his position on the matter. “MJ has a point, dude. I’m on her side.”

“There are no sides!” Peter furrowed his brow and let out a frustrated huff. “You guys just didn’t see what I saw in him.”

“Dude, do you even hear yourself?” MJ rolled her eyes, “We’re talking about Tony – probably stabbed a guy – Stark. What could you have possibly seen in him besides gratuitous violence and penchant for starting shit?”

“I saw how kind he really is!” Peter exclaimed, furiously shaking his head, dismissing MJ’s level-headed red flags. Sure, Tony was violent, but somehow, Peter knew he must have a good reason for it. “I saw it, MJ. How caring he is. How he isn’t this fearsome bad boy everyone makes him out to be.”

And Peter’s sentiment was sweet – naive, but sweet – but, unfortunately for him, it was immediately undermined by one student’s passing words: Did you hear? Stark broke Loki’s arm.

“Hey!” MJ called out to the student. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, there’s a video and everything.”

~*2*~

After the chaos died down and students were herded back into their classrooms, Peter was sent to the Principal’s office. He didn’t know why – well, that’s not true, he had a guess – but he didn’t want to overthink it. Everyone was already looking at him funny. Whispering fables under their breath: That’s the kid that Stark broke Loki’s arm for. Wonder what he had to do to put Stark on a leash. Bet a little slut boy like him would put out for anyone. Shush! He belongs to Stark now. Don’t talk to him. Don’t let him hear you. He’ll sick Stark on you. Rumors were spreading. Fast. Painfully fast.

And the jacket wasn’t helping either. For a fleeting moment, the leather was comforting, but now, it just felt heavy. Yet, even as he ripped it off his shoulders, he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind in the classroom. It was Tony’s after all. So, as Peter traveled down the hallway, he held the leather close to his chest.

The administrative office door was propped open, and the scene inside was shocking, to say the least. Sitting in a row of chairs, outside the Principal’s door, were a handful of Peter’s bullies; an annoyed Natasha, a bruised Clint, a bloodied Thor, and Loki, whose arm was tucked against his chest in a sling. Describing them as ‘pissed’ wouldn’t do their collective expressions justice, and – holy shit ��� did Peter want to run. But he couldn’t. So he stood by the door, clutching Tony’s jacket like a safety blanket. Awkwardly, and beneath the unsettling glares of his bullies.

As the minutes ticked by, Peter’s anxiety ran high. Principal Fury’s assistant was busy phoning a list of names – seemingly all parents arranging for their child’s pick-up. Peter wondered if he was on that list too? Did someone name him as the cause of the fight? Did Aunt May already know? God, he wanted to leave.

Then, Principal Fury’s door swung open and Tony stepped out beaming, despite the bruises on his cheek or the blood drying on his knuckles or the rip in his t-shirt. “Fury wants you next, Red,” Tony flashed the same unnerving smile as before. And, even though Natasha rolled her eyes, she still nodded to him before disappearing into the office.

Tony turned his attention to Peter next, “Hey, baby.”

Peter blushed at Tony’s nonchalant use of the pet name. He wasn’t used to it yet. In fact, he wasn’t used to Tony yet. In terms of confidence, Peter and Tony were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Tony knew what he wanted and expressed it, powerfully and without pause. Peter couldn’t even handle the pressure of wearing a jacket.

“Come out here for a sec,” Tony threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders and, despite Peter’s resistance or the protests of Fury’s assistant, he managed to lead him out of the office.

“T-Tony! Wait! S-She was upset. I should go back in.”

“She’ll get over it.” Tony shrugged and held out his hand expectantly.

“Um, right! Here you go.” Peter mumbled, glancing over the older boy’s battered hand before giving him the signature leather. “A-Are you okay? Your hands are-”

“I’m fine.” In one motion, Tony threw on the jacket. “I’m about to leave. Come with me.”

“I-I…um, but s-school isn’t- I was called-” Peter stammered, staring at Tony’s shoulders and the way they seemed broader in the leather. The jacket somehow perfected his strangely attractive – disheveled and slightly bloody – aesthetic, and Peter couldn’t look away.

“You were called? Oh – shit – I thought you were in there for something else.” Tony sighed, “Fury’s probably going to send you home too. I’m sorry.” Another rare Tony Stark apology.

“I-Is it because of the rumors?” Peter whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Rumors?” Tony’s brow raised as he placed a finger on Peter’s chin and tilted it upward to lock gazes. “What rumors?”

Peter gasped at the contact. Tony’s hand felt so warm – or maybe it was the heat flushing Peter’s face – he didn’t know, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he just let Tony touch him; let him idly drag his fingers across the length of Peter’s jaw; let him caress the underside of Peter’s chin; let him ghost his palm around the contours of Peter’s throat; anything. And judging by the satisfied grin that appeared on the older boy’s face, he was pleased with the pliant behavior.

“Don’t get distracted, baby,” Tony smirked, bringing his hand upwards to cup the side of Peter’s tinted face. “What rumors?”

Peter squeaked – yes, fucking squeaked – and who wouldn’t? Tony Stark was touching him and talking to him in that suggestive tone. And Peter didn’t think that simple touches like those could feel so good. Yet, here he was: feeling good. He took a shallow breath and answered, “P-People are saying that you- um… broke Loki’s arm for me.”

“What?” Tony’s grin fell, and so did his grip on Peter’s chin. “I did not break that bitch’s arm. He’d be in the fucking hospital by now if I did that shit.” Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I just dislocated it a little, then I put it back – sometimes I don’t even do that – but trust me, if I wanted it broken, it would be broken.” Then, he paused, his eyes gleaming with a chilling excitement and the corner of his lips mischievously turning upward. “Why?” He whispered, “You want me to break it?”

Peter didn’t know how to feel. The calm way Tony said that should have alarmed him, but instead, the younger boy found himself mirroring the older’s excitement. His mind wandering through the possibilities of playing gatekeeper for Tony Stark’s ferocity. His body buzzing from its inherent power because Peter was fucking tired of being bullied in the high school cesspool. So, of course, the thought of enacting that vicious power gave him a heady kind of rush, but still, it was scary.

So Peter resisted it, shaking his head, “No, I-I don’t think that would be okay.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Tony shrugged and shoved his hands into pockets. “But my offer stands.”

Peter gave a small nod and a hesitant, “T-Thanks.”

“Anything for you.”

Peter blushed at Tony’s casual and blind devotion. He couldn’t understand it. How this boy whom he never spoke a word to could risk himself so readily, especially if it landed him in Fury’s office.

“Wait, so if Principal Fury isn’t sending me home for the rumors, t-then why-?”

Tony let out a spiteful tsk, “Fury’s got this zero-tolerance policy for fighting. Everyone involved is going home on a day’s suspension except for you Stark. You get a week.” He dryly mocked Principal Fury’s voice.

“A week?!” Peter repeated with a gasp. “That’s terrible.”

Peter was right. It was terrible. Who would protect him from the scourge of retaliation? Sure, his bullies seemed to fall in line now – with Tony’s threatening presence ever-looming – but what happens when he leaves? Peter didn’t want to think about it.

“Y-You can’t leave for a week.” Peter’s eyes burned a little, the fear of being without Tony’s protection slowly seeping out of him and thoughts of taking Tony’s offer seeping in.

“It’s whatever. Even if I was here, I’d skip the classes.” Tony smiled, gently bumping his hand against Peter’s arm. “So, come with me. I promised to eat lunch with you after I cleaned up the trash in there.”

Peter dropped his gaze again, twiddling his thumbs as his nerves bubbled over. “I c-can’t. I w-was called and I don’t- I can’t-”

“Fine, fine, don’t make that face.” Tony brought his hand against Peter’s head, softly carding his fingers through the curls in that same soothing motion as before. “Here,” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and handed it to Peter. “Give me your number. If you get sent home, text me and I’ll come pick you up. Okay?”

“O-Okay.”

~*3*~

Just like Tony predicted, Principal Fury gave Peter a day’s suspension. Mostly because he refused to name the bad boy as the instigator of the fight, which was already a strange ask. As Peter recalled, everyone had a video of the brawl. Everyone. Even Ned and MJ sent him clips of it. Yet, according to Fury, whenever someone tried showing the school faculty the video, their device would be wiped clean by some virus called ‘JARVIS’. So, without any real evidence, Tony was safe from expulsion.

After the meeting, Fury’s assistant called Aunt May. She was upset – and rightly so – promising Peter a stern talking-to, a loss of privileges, and an early curfew for the remainder of the week. Unlike the other parents, she was too busy with work, so she told Peter to walk home and think about what you’ve done, young man. And he guiltily agreed, knowing that Tony would be driving him instead.

With a quick text, Tony was on his way; k baby, b there in 5mins.

Even the way Tony sent messages made Peter feel anxious, and that anxiety followed him down the halls, to his locker, and finally to the front of the school, where Tony was parked and waiting. His car was just like him; sleek and dressed in black with tinted windows so dark that Peter had to be inches away to see inside them. It was expensive too; low to ground, sporty with shiny chrome rims, and branded with a luxury logo Peter’s never seen before. And anybody who was anybody would know that this car was a perk of being Howard Stark’s son.

“Hey,” Tony smiled as he rolled down the passenger side window. “You getting in or what?”

Peter blinked himself out of his drifting thoughts, “Um, y-yes! Sorry,” He mumbled as he fumbled with the car door, threw his backpack into the foot space, and slid into the passenger seat with little to no grace. Noticing the warmth of the car first, the faint smell of cologne next, and Tony’s soft eyes on him last. “Your car is- um, i-it’s nice!” His voice cracked and his gaze flickered around the car, symptoms of the nerves that swarmed his body when his eyes would meet Tony’s.

“Thanks. Stole it from my dad’s garage.” Tony’s honest laughter cut through the nervous atmosphere Peter’s mind was fabricating. “So, where do you want to eat? Pick anything. Let me treat you.”

Peter blushed, his arms instinctively moving around his body in a self hug to soothe his stress. “You don’t have to do that.” He whispered, shaking his head. “You already did a lot for me today, and I- um, I want to treat y-you!”

“Wow, Parker,” Tony raised his brow but grinned, “You want to treat me?”

“Yes,” As Peter’s anxiety eased, his words became clearer. “Anything you want – well, maybe not anything – I guess anything under thirty dollars would work. What would you like?”

Tony let out a light huff of breath that ended in a sly grin that was nothing if not suggestive. “I can think of a lot of things that I’d want from you, baby.”

Tony’s confidence was showing and, just like that, Peter’s stutter was back and paired with tinted cheeks and bashful eyes. His brain processed the flirting but left him without a coherent output, so he settled for a frantic and embarrassing, “I-I-I…um- I- w-what?”

“I can show you exactly what later.” Tony ended it there, seemingly changing the subject for Peter’s sake, but his flirty smile remained. “Let’s just grab some pizza and head to yours. That okay?”

“Y-You want to come over to m-my place?” Peter’s grip tightened at his sides as he rambled. “You wouldn’t like it- I mean, my room isn’t- I’m sort of a nerd, so- No one really comes over, except for Ned and MJ, but they know- I just- I don’t know if you would-”

“Peter.” The smooth way Peter’s name fell from Tony’s lips was enough to silence his apprehensive chatter, but the eye contact was what did him in. “Is that okay?” Tony repeated.

Peter nodded, “O-Okay, yes, but y-you have to leave before seven.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony jokingly said as he revved the engine and pulled away from the school. “But why seven?”

“Oh, um…my Aunt May will be home by then.” Peter sighed. “And she’s pretty upset, so I shouldn’t have company.”

Tony audibly tsked, “Why is she upset? It’s not like you did anything.”

“I got suspended,” Peter stressed, crossing his arms and averting his eyes. “I’ve never been suspended before, especially not for being a part of a fight.”

“Oh, sorry,” Tony quietly said as he clutched at the wheel, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “You mad?”

“No, not really,” Peter shook his head. “Aunt May is mad – and I’m definitely going to get an ear full – but it was worth it. I think.” He explained, “Seeing you fight was- um, it was really cool, like watching a boxing match or something. You seem trained.”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, I kind of have to be.”

“For fights?” Peter questioned, his eyes drifting across the older boy’s scabbing knuckles.

“Yeah, my old man made me take up boxing when I was young.”

“He made you? Did you not want to?”

“It’s not that,” Tony shrugged, ending the conversation like Peter stepped on his toes.

Then, they drove in silence. An awkward and deafening kind of silence – filled with the hum of Tony’s engine and whoosh of the passing scenery – but deafening nonetheless. Tony seemed off, his lips pressed in a hard line and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The peeved energy radiating off the older boy made Peter feel tense like he was a sweater fraying at the seams. And, despite his best efforts, Peter couldn’t stop the way his body shook underneath that nerve-inducing pressure.

Until Tony clicked on the radio, that is.

Sounds of high tempo drumming, shredding guitars, and strong voices overtook the silence. It was rock ‘n’ roll, and it brought out a silly side of Tony that Peter didn’t expect. As they swerved through traffic, the older boy confidently belted out every lyric, passionately singing at the top of his lungs with a bright smile. Headbanging with each beat, turning to sing to Peter at every red light. One hand atop the steering wheel and the other emphasizing the emotion of the song through a mixture of air-guitar strums, fist pumps, and rhythmic taps on the center console. Needless to say, Peter was sent into a fit of laughter that melted his tension into nothing.

“What?” Tony laughed too. “You don’t like my music, baby?”

“I like it.” Peter blushed and shook his head,  “Led Zeppelin is amazing.”

“Okay, excuse you, we respect AC/DC in this car.” Tony grinned, “I hope your pizza tastes are better than your music knowledge.”

~*4*~

As Tony parked the car, Peter’s heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. He wasn’t nervous at the pizza place, where Tony’s arm was draped over his shoulders as they ordered, or during the ride here, where Tony’s hand found its way to Peter’s knee. Yet, something about being outside his apartment building forced Tony’s earlier words to the forefront of Peter’s frazzled mind.

I can show you exactly what later.

With something like that hanging in the space between them, Peter didn’t know what to expect.

The smell of Tony’s cologne intensifying snapped Peter from his thoughts. The older boy pulled his key from the ignition and leaned across Peter to grab a cigarette pack from the glove compartment  – and wow, he smells amazing, Peter thought as Tony hopped out of the car. The slam of the door prompting Peter to hastily scramble out of the car as well. He gripped his backpack against his chest with one arm and cradled the pizza box with the other, stepping out into the cool air.

“So, um, this is my apartment building.” Peter’s voice squeaked and he hated it.

“I see that,” Tony smirked, pulling a plastic lighter from his pocket to light a cigarette. “I’ll save my applause for the actual apartment.”

“R-Right.” Peter watched as Tony leaned against the brick of the building. He was handsome, even when inhaling death and sporting bloodied knuckles and torn shirt. “Um…T-Tony?”

“Yeah?” Tony asked as he exhaled a puff of smoke that quickly dissipated in the space around him.

“I- um, what do- are we- why did-” Peter mumbled, his mind cycling through mountains of questions he wanted to be answered but finally settling on, “Why me?”

“What?” Tony gave a perplexed smile as he took another drag and blew it from the corner of his mouth. “I told you already,” Tony took a final inhale of smoke, before flicking the cigarette against the concrete and exhaling a gray, “I like you.”

“B-But why?” Peter pushed.

“Does it matter?” Tony shrugged as he entered the building, stopping to hold the door for Peter, who frantically scurried inside.

“I-I think it does,” Peter added as he led Tony upstairs and down the hall, stopping by his apartment door to reach for his key, but he couldn’t quite reach it with a backpack and a pizza box to hold. “You said I’m yours but-”

Without warning, Tony dipped his hand into Peter’s pocket, slowly and with a gentle drag against Peter’s thigh. The younger flinched, the unexpected contact effectively interrupting all trains of thought, save for the one in charge of his blushing cheeks, and hitching breath, and tensing muscles. And those feelings only intensified as Tony hooked the keyring but left his hand lingering. Using a gentle touch to caress through the pocket’s thin inner fabric and stepping closer, pressing the warmth of his body against Peter’s back.

“You looked like you were having a tough time there, Parker.” Tony’s voice was close enough that his scent of smoke filled Peter’s senses. “Here, let me.” And, as Tony pulled the keyring out and unlocked the door, all Peter could do was grip his backpack a bit tighter and will himself back to a semblance of calm.

“Now,” Tony flashed a knowing grin. “What were you saying, sweetheart?”

And Peter simply shook his head because – fuck – being called sweetheart shouldn’t make his heart do that and it certainly shouldn’t make his dick do that. “N-Nothing, come in.” He whispered and practically dashed into the apartment, distancing himself from the captivating warmth of Tony’s chest.

The apartment was homey; perfectly sized for two with coffee table clutter, arrays of family photos adorning the walls, and faint aromatic remnants of Aunt May’s morning coffee and Peter’s accidentally burnt toast. To Peter, it was warm and familiar, but today, it lacked those relaxing effects because of one curious bad boy’s eyes surveying the space.

Peter placed the pizza box against the dining table, fetched two plates from the kitchen cabinet, and settled in a chair. “So…um- this is the apartment.”

“It’s nice,” Tony said as he gestured towards the photo wall. “My old man hates that kind of stuff.”

“Family photos? Same.” Peter smiled, a light laugh escaping his lips. “May refuses to take those down.”

Tony shrugged as he slid into a chair. “They’re not that bad. That one of you at the science fair is pretty cute.”

“Oh god, not the science fair one. ” Peter mumbled, tipping his face into his hands, hiding his embarrassment. “I looked so terrible that day. No one told me that my hair was sticking up like that.”

“The hair is the best part.” Tony laughed and flicked open the pizza box, grabbing a slice and slumping against the back of the chair.

“Okay, that’s enough about me,” Peter grabbed a slice as well, taking a tiny bite before continuing, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I d-don’t know.” Peter glanced at the photos again. “Have you ever done a science fair?”

Tony shook his head, “No, my old man says those are for kids that want to be placated by science, not challenged.”

“Ouch,” Peter jokingly remarked. “I’ve done the science fair every year since elementary.”

Tony laughed, “I’m unsurprised.”

“H-Hey!” Peter giggled. “At least I was doing something. What were you doing?”

“Nothing much,” Tony took a bite of his pizza and fixed his gaze on the floor. “My old man taught me lab stuff, I guess.”

“Lab stuff?”

“Yeah, like coding and shit.” Tony shrugged, “I don’t really talk about it.”

“Coding?” Suddenly, something clicked in Peter’s mind. “Did you code the JARVIS virus that Fury was talking about?”

“Virus?” Tony glanced up. “Is that what Fury called him?”

“Him?”

“Yes, him.” Tony rolled his eyes, but his expression beamed. “JARVIS is my AI.”

“That helps you not get expelled?” Peter smirked.

“He can do way more than that.”

And their conversation traveled from there. Over pizza slices, connecting on nerdy topics like programming JARVIS and the processing power of the Stark lab’s computer. And Peter, knowing the extent of Tony’s truant record, was pleasantly surprised by the bad boy’s brilliance. As their chat shifted to Tony’s delinquency, he talked fights, and scars, and riveting stories involving police stations. Then they tripped through favorite video games, books, TV shows, and movies. Peter explained why lego movies are worth the watch and Tony teased but promised to watch it with him but only if we’re eating popcorn and under a blanket, baby.

It ended once the clock hit five and the pizza box went empty and Peter’s homework could no longer wait.

“That’s fine.” Tony stood, grabbing the empty box and their two plates. “I’ve got this. Go start your homework.”

Peter nodded with a smile, “Thanks.” He grabbed his backpack and started toward his room, but panicked once he opened the door. The realization that Tony Stark would soon be in there hitting his peace of mind like a nuclear bomb. He threw his bag against his desk and tornado-ed around his room, cleaning up his embarrassment one neglected pair of floor boxers at a time. He didn’t need Tony seeing that picture of him at summer camp and he was sure his stuffed bear would forgive him for throwing it into the closet.

“Hey, I left the pizza box by the door, I’ll take it out when I leave so your aunt doesn’t suspect anything- what are you doing?” Tony paused in the doorway, shooting Peter a raised brow and an amused grin.

“H-Homework, obviously.” Peter nervously said as he shut his closet door and awkwardly crossed the room to sit at his desk.

“Is that right?” Tony repeated with crossed arms as he approached Peter, stopping just behind his chair. “Your desk looks awfully empty, baby.”

Peter shook his head, frantically grabbing notebooks from his backpack and placing them onto the desk. “I-It looks fine to me.”

“Sure, Parker.” Tony laughed and leaned forward to drape his arms over Peter’s shoulders, hugging him from behind. “Whatever you say.”

Peter flinched at the sudden closeness, his mind flashing back to his previous concerns about the speed of Tony’s affection. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“E-Earlier, I was saying that…um- you said that I’m yours, but what-”

“Peter, I like you.” Tony interrupted, gently tightening his embrace. “Simple as that. I fell for you today, and yes, it was fast – really fucking fast, I get it – but the point is that I fell.” He ended his sentiment with a swift kiss to Peter’s cheek. “Focus on that, baby.”

Peter cursed his body for its constant blushing and quickened heartbeats, but he smiled anyway. “O-Okay.”

After that, Peter did his homework in peace, while Tony resigned himself to the comfort of Peter’s bed, falling into a nap that lasted until the clock hit seven; lasted until Peter was whispering his name to ease him awake; lasted until they were hugging to say goodbye.

I had a great day today, Tony.

Me too, baby.

~*5*~

“I am so disappointed in you, Peter,” May shook her head as she stepped into her work shoes by the front door. This was her fourth parental lecture since yesterday night and it featured all the same points: Fighting? Really, Peter? Really? You’re lucky you got off with only one day of suspension. What were you thinking? You know better than this. No leaving this apartment, understand? I want you to do your chores and your homework and think about what you’ve done, young man.

“I know, May.” Peter nodded. “I messed up. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” May sighed, giving Peter a sympathetic smile as she pulled him into a tight hug. “Love you, and I’ll see you after work, okay?”

“Okay, love you too.”

With that, Peter was alone and turning around to head back into his room – resign himself to his punishments, do homework, think about what he’s done – but then, there was a knock. And, like any normal teenager, he squinted at the door as if it was his one true adversary, cautiously stalking towards it to peek through the peephole. Surprised to see, standing just beyond the threshold, a leather-clad Tony Stark.

Peter swung the door open, “W-What are you doing here?”

“Happy suspension day. This is a kidnapping.” Tony smirked, stepping forward to lean against the doorway. “Get your shoes, Parker.”

“My shoes?” Peter stared incredulously at the bad boy. “Tony, I have stuff to do- I can’t go anywhere- I-”

“Did you miss the part about the kidnapping?” Tony brought his hand up against Peter’s chin. “I’ll take you even if you don’t get the shoes, baby.”

Peter rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips or the feelings that tugged at his heartstrings. “O-Okay, hold on.” He ran into his room, donning shoes and a warm baggy sweatshirt. He didn’t know where they were going – with Tony, it could be anywhere – but that was part of his bad boy charm.

“I got shoes,” Peter announced as he sauntered out of his room and back towards the front door. “Now, where are we going?”

“Kidnapped people don’t get those kinds of privileges.” Tony smiled, watching as Peter locked the front door before throwing his arm around his shoulders. “Just follow me.”

Peter let Tony guide him out of the building and to a car he didn’t recognize. A gray sedan with chrome rims and, when the front windows rolled down, it revealed a car filled with people he didn’t recognize either.

They were all teens but not from Tony and Peter’s school. They seemed different; richer. The guy in the driver’s seat was burly with a letterman jacket and an innocent face. The girl in the passenger seat had a perfectly pony-tailed updo and air of class that matched her cashmere sweater. The taller boy in the back was a lot like Tony, sporting a leather jacket and an inherent coolness that made his smile seem sly. The shorter boy wore glasses and a plaid button-up that reminded Peter of himself.

“Took you long enough.”

“And I’ll take longer next time if you keep that up, Happy.” Tony laughed as he opened the backseat door and slid in, motioning for Peter to sit on his lap.

“Y-Your lap?” As per usual, Peter’s voice cracked under pressure.

“Hurry up, new kid, either you sit there or I do.” The glasses-wearing boy spoke with a seriousness that compelled Peter not to dwell.

Peter scooted onto Tony’s lap and he angled himself so that his legs sat between Tony’s and his back was slightly turned towards the door. He tried his best to position himself – modestly? – and prevent any accidental touches, but then Tony’s arms were around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Happy tends to drive a little crazy,” Tony whispered, his voice only inches from Peter’s ear. “So I’ve got you.”

“O-Okay,” Peter blushed as he leaned against Tony’s chest, easing against the warmth and slowly inhaling the fresh shampoo scent wafting from his hair.

“So, are you going to introduce us or should we fend for ourselves here?” The boy with the sly smile spoke.

Tony laughed, “Peter, this is Happy, Pepper, Rhodey, and Bruce.”

“Did he kidnap you all too?” Peter jokingly remarked.

“Basically,” Bruce joined the jest. “A suspension for one is a skip day for all.”

“A Tony Stark creed,” Rhodey said and Pepper readily agreed, saying, “Did you know the T in Tony is the same as the T in Truancy?”

Peter giggled, “Is that true, Tony?”

“No,” Tony smirked, giving Peter a light squeeze that made the younger boy giggle. “They just like me so much that they flock to me. Anything else they say is a lie.”

And as Happy drove, there was more laughter, and faces brimming with smiles, and lighthearted jokes thrown back and forth. It was easy for Peter to find comfort in this space, even while sitting in Tony’s lap. In fact, by the end of the drive, he was leaning against Tony like he belonged there; like sitting in his lap was second nature.

Peter peeked out the window as Happy parked the car. “The park?”

“Best place to loiter,” Tony said as he opened the door. “And smoke.”

“Oh god, remember when we smoked in your dad’s lab?” Bruce rolled his eyes as he hopped out of the car with the others following suit. “That did not go over well.”

Tony shrugged. “Better than how shit with him usually goes.”

Peter tugged on Tony’s sleeve and whispered, “You two were smoking in the lab?”

“Tony!” Pepper gasped, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Full disclosure, new kid,” Bruce smiled as he pulled a vape from his pocket.  “Me and Tony used to fuck – he’s got grade A dick, just so you know.”

Tony laughed and Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m not as eloquent as Bruce, but Tony and I also used to date.” She pushed at Tony’s arm, “Tony should have told you before dragging you out with us.”

And Peter tried to play it cool. All shrugs and nonchalant expressions of how fine with it he was. Yet, as they began walking the path through the park, he couldn’t stop his mind from playing the comparison game. Pepper was beautiful – beyond beautiful – with long legs, poise, and an immaculate style that made Peter feel self-conscious his baggy sweatshirt. When it came to Bruce, confidence was in endless supply. He was shameless and, after just one conversation, Peter also found out how insanely smart he was. So, needless to say, Peter was feeling pretty low in the self-esteem department.

But leave it to Tony to turn that low into a high. “Walk with me?” He asked, but wasted no time in gathering Peter’s hand in his own. “You seem quiet now. Are the trees not doing it for you?”

“It’s not that. The park’s nice,” Peter shook his head and gently squeezed Tony’s hand. “I’m just too nervous for my own good, I guess.”

“That’s part of your charm, baby.”

Peter smiled, “I-I’m sure you’re just saying that, but thanks.”

“I mean it,” Tony brushed their shoulders together. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “I-Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” Tony explained. “You made a similar face yesterday too. So what’s wrong?” He smirked, the same dark and mischievous smirk as before. “Do I need to put someone in their place?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Peter laughed and moved to walk closer to Tony. “But um…actually, now that you mention it, can you drop me off at school this week?”

“Sure, not like I’m doing anything. Why?”

“Safety?” Peter shrugged. “I think people might do something to me if you’re not there.”

“Oh fuck, right. I didn’t think about that. Hold up,” He stopped on the path, letting the others walk ahead as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders. “Here,” Tony smiled and cupped Peter’s face in his hands. “Wear this and no one will fuck with you and, if they do, I’ll kill ‘em.”

Peter smiled, but before he could say anything, Tony was leaning in – and holy shit, it was a kiss lean! He panicked and squeezed his eyes shut, his nerves erupting as Tony’s smell got closer and closer and – oh – he kissed his forehead.

The moment was sweet, but quickly soured a random passerby who felt the need to yell faggots!

“The fuck did you just say?!” Tony went from zero to beyond one hundred, snapping on the random man without a second thought.

“You heard me.” The man challenged, “What are you going to do about, huh?”

And things happened fast. Too fast for Peter to process. One moment, the man was standing and the next, he wasn’t and Tony’s fist was the culprit. Again, it was an outburst of violence that left Peter not knowing how to feel.

“Tony!” Peter gasped and reached his hand out, grabbing at the fabric of the bad boy’s shirt in a weak attempt at holding him back. “S-Stop it!” He shakily said, watching Tony carefully as the man scrambled to his feet, running off as Happy and Bruce jogged back over.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, his face full of concern.

“Tony hit him,” Peter whispered as he slowly let go of Tony’s shirt.

And, before anyone could get another word in, Tony was walking off, fuming like a smoking gun that failed to kill its target.

“Tony, man, wait up!” Happy ran after him.

“Don’t mind him. He’s always like that.” Bruce bumped his shoulder against Peter’s. “Either you get used to it or you end up like me and Pep.”

“I don’t want that,” Peter whispered, his eyes locked on Tony and his fingers fiddling with the hem of the leather jacket.

“Don’t want what?” Bruce raised his brow. “To deal with Tony’s anger issues? Same.”

“N-No! Not that.” Peter shot Bruce a stern glance. “I don’t want to be like you and Pepper.”

“Oh, wow! Okay.” Bruce laughed, harder than he has all day. “I can see why Tony likes you.”

“At least one of us does.” Peter trained his gaze on the floor. “I still don’t understand why Tony likes me.”

Bruce shook his head, “Tony is fucking unhinged. He’s a vicious fighter; a delinquent through and through, but he’s also sweet and uncomplicated. If you’ve given him the space to be anything other than, well, that,” He paused, gesturing over to Tony, who was slumped against a park bench with a cigarette perched between his lips. “Then he’ll like you. ”

“What do you mean?”

“All Tony cares about is being understood, and if you’ve given him that, he’ll protect you. Violently protect you..” Bruce placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “The question is whether or not you can handle that violence.”

“He’s not that violent.” Peter pulled his shoulder away, stepping back, his voice becoming taut. “He protected me. He stood up for me.”

“Look, Tony empathizes with people who can’t fight back.” Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “And sure, at first, you feel like he fights to protect you; to keep all the bad shit away; to stop bullies, but then he goes too far. He loses control and expects you to be his limiter. He wants you to be the one who tells him when to stop and when to go, when to hurt people and when to spare them. I couldn’t deal with that shit and, after everything that happened with Justin, Pepper couldn’t deal either.”

“Justin?”

“Yeah, Justin Hammer, the kid Tony put in the hospital.” Bruce sighed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the group were out of earshot before continuing. “Long story short: Justin used to hang out with us but, during some party, he touched Pepper while she was drunk. Pep cried about it and Tony lost it. The next day, he broke both of Justin’s arms, fractured a few ribs, and left blood and bruises everywhere else.”

Peter crossed his arms and spoke under his breath, “Sounds like Justin deserved it.”

Bruce audibly tsked and flashed a knowing look. “That’s why Tony likes you.”

And Peter didn’t know how to feel.

~*6*~

The school day was always the same for Peter – bus, class, lunch, class, bus – and peppered in there was always a good dash of bullying.

But not today.

No, today, he wore Tony’s jacket. It was big on him; the sleeves covered his hands completely, save for his fingertips that peeked out the bottom when his arms were at his sides. The black leather contrasted with his blue jeans and his plaid button-up, but today, he wore it confidently because it was Tony’s way of protecting him.

From the moment Peter got off the bus, the jacket was like a force field. Not only preventing the usual teasing and ridicule from the nameless students but also managing to stop repeat offenders like Flash, who glared at him like he was going to say something but turned the other way instead.

And, with the power of the jacket, came the slight ego boost. The unbothered gait into the school, the comfortable smile as he forged the crowded hallways, the lack of fear, even as he rounded the corner to find Sam and Bucky standing at his locker. They made eye contact and gestured for him to come over and, on a regular day, Peter would probably run and hide; try his best to avoid his locker until absolutely necessary.

But, again, not today.

Today, Peter strolled over to his locker without even an ounce of worry – well, his hands were trembling in his pockets and he was already biting the inside of his lip – but he liked to think he was projecting a calm demeanor. “Yes?” Peter spoke softly, trying to keep his voice steady.

“We wanted to…um-” Bucky looked to Sam.

“To say sorry for everything.” Sam finished Bucky’s sentiment. “And, if you’re interested-”

“Steve is having a party at his house on Friday night.” Bucky chimed in with a smile.

Sam nodded, “And you’re invited, Parker.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. He was invited to a Steve Rogers party? Him; a nerdy, skittish, bullied nobody, who could only ever dream of being cool enough to go to a fucking Steve – famously popular quarterback – Rogers party. Like what the fuck?

“Really? M-Me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, lightly chuckling at Peter’s reaction. “You can bring a friend too if you’d like.”

“You in?” Sam asked.

Peter nodded, his eyes still wide with disbelief but his mind chalking it up to the power of the jacket. “Yeah, I’ll… um- I’ll be there.”

“Great, see you later, Peter.” Bucky waved as he and Sam disappeared down the crowded hallway.

“Okay, but are you actually going?” It was MJ, leaning against the lockers with crossed arms and a doubtful stare.

“MJ!” Peter flinched at her sudden appearance. “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“Like this!” Ned screamed, making Peter flinch even harder. This time he dropped his textbook and clumsily spun on his heel to face the source of his terror, and it threw MJ into a fit of laughter.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed with a big smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” Ned grabbed the dropped book and glanced at MJ. “So, what are we scaring Peter for?”

“He got invited to a party full of assholes.” MJ pointedly said. “And he said he’s going.”

“A party?” Ned raised his brow, ignoring MJ’s concerns and shooting his best friend an excited look. “What party?”

“A Steve Rogers party.” Peter excitedly whispered.

“Dude!” Ned’s jaw dropped, “That jacket must be magic. Can I borrow it for the Calc test today?”

MJ rolled her eyes, “You guys are unbelievable.”

~*7*~

“Steve invited me to a party.” Peter rolled against the carpet, propping his head up against his arm and glancing up from his textbook. “It’s on Friday night.”

“Rogers did?” Tony asked, shifting against the sheets, peeking off the edge of the bed at Peter. “You going?”

“I think so,” Peter smiled up at Tony, idly fiddling with the pages of his notebook. “B-But I don’t want to go by myself.”

Tony smiled back, “Are you asking me out on a date, baby?”

“N-No,” Peter blushed. “Maybe.”

Tony smirked, “Well, I’ve got a thing on Friday night.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, my old man is holding this fucking investor event at our house. I’m not trying to piss him off,” Tony sighed. “So I can’t miss it, but I’ll show up at Rogers’ place after.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged, “We can just meet each other there.”

“Just don’t get too drunk without me.” Tony laughed and sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “Are you done with your work yet? We should play some video games or something before your aunt gets back.”

“You know I can’t.” Peter lifted his notebook. “I have to finish this.”

“Let me see.” Tony tapped the bed beside him.

“It’s this one.” Peter shifted up onto his knees and put his notebook on the bed. “I’ve checked it over and over and I can’t-”

“You rounded wrong here.” Tony pointed at the paper. “Take the ceiling, not the floor.”

“Oh?” Peter squinted, his eyes scanning across his work. “Oh! That’s it! How did I miss that?” He smiled, fixing his mistake and looking back up to Tony. “Wait, can you help with this one too?”

“I mean, that’s just all wrong. Give me that.” Tony grabbed the pencil and started making corrections. “You need to make sure you use the right function here and don’t forget the extra square on this one.”

Peter laughed, “I’ve been stuck on these for hours and you finished them in two minutes.”

“It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever. I really appreciate it.” Peter smiled, “I think smart Tony is the coolest Tony.”

“As opposed to what?”

“Naps-all-afternoon Tony?” Peter joked but gazed up at Tony with a look of concern. “Why are you always so sleepy?”

“I don’t sleep well at home.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony whispered as he brought his hand against Peter’s cheek. “I just sleep better here.” His hand moved to Peter’s chin, drawing a slow line from the spot just below Peter’s lip to the hollow of his collarbone. “Because the bed smells like you.”

“Tony,” Peter gasped, realizing too late what kind of position they were in. He was on his knees, and if he inched sideways, he would be between Tony’s legs. His face went hot and, judging by the smile that worked its way to Tony’s lips, his blush was apparent.

“Yes, baby?” Tony’s voice was full of tease as he brought his hand back up to gently tap his fingertip against Peter’s bottom lip. “You want something?”

“I- um…I-” Peter froze, watching with bewildered eyes as Tony leaned in – yet another kiss lean! So Peter instinctively tensed, his eyes flickering shut as his nerves took hold of his reactions once again.

And Tony stopped just before their lips touched.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Tony whispered, shifting upward to press a quick kiss on Peter’s forehead before pulling away. “Here,” Tony grabbed the pencil again. “I’ll help you with the rest of this and then we can play some games. Deal?”

“Deal.”

~*8*~

The next day was different.

Tony was quieter – angrier? – Peter couldn’t tell, but he knew it had to be caused by the small bruise darkening on Tony’s cheekbone. It was a rare sight; a mark on the face of the undefeated bad boy. And Peter wanted to ask about it, wanted to know if Tony was okay, but the silence was suffocating. In the car, the older boy didn’t say a word – no playful flirting, no rock ‘n’ roll jam session – just silence. So, Peter followed suit, letting his nerves go wild as they made their way to his apartment.

As usual, once Tony parked, he reached for his pack of cigarettes and got out of the car. Peter hastily made his own exit, keeping his eyes trained on Tony’s expression. The older boy wasn’t just quiet, he was outright irritable. That was made clear by the scowl twisting on his face. He was clumsier too, and frustrated with the smallest things, like accidentally dropping a cigarette into a sidewalk puddle or his cheap lighter refusing to spark. He was all huffs and grumbles and refused to say a word.

With a new cigarette perched between his lips, Tony furiously pulled at the spark-wheel. Once, twice, three times, but it just didn’t catch. Peter wanted to say that Tony could smoke in the apartment – Aunt May was bound to have a lighter sitting around somewhere – but the Tony’s furrowed brow and waning patience was just as suffocating as his silence.

So, again, Peter remained silent.

It was only after what seemed like the thousandth, or millionth, flick of the wheel that Tony finally spoke, or rather yelled. “Fuck it!” He exclaimed as he spiked the lighter against the sidewalk with enough force to shatter the plastic. The outburst made Peter’s shoulders jump and his gaze drop to the concrete.

“Let’s go,” Tony mumbled, paying Peter no mind and stuffing the cigarette back into the pack before stomping his way into the building.

This part was also very different. He didn’t hold the door for Peter. He didn’t pester Peter about having fun before studying. No video games, no TV, not even one of those intimate chats he loved so much. He just went right into Peter’s room, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed against the middle of the bed.

For a short while, Peter didn’t bother him. He sat at his desk, pulled out his notebooks, his laptop, and textbook, and started his homework. Yet, he couldn’t finish the first problem, or the second, or the third. His brain refused to focus because it was tethered to everything happening with Tony. All of the older boy’s sighs, the soft clicks of his tongue, the shuffle of his leather jacket against the covers as he tossed and turned. And, while Peter still couldn’t find the courage to speak, he couldn’t keep doing nothing either.

Tony needed him, so the homework could wait.

Peter slowly stood from his chair, careful to keep it from making noise as he approached the grumbling mess on his bed. His nerves were screaming, and his heart was beating so fast and so loud that he could hear it in his ears. And his hands were shaky, and his throat felt tight, and his mind taunted him with replays of Tony’s standoffish behavior; the silence, the irritability, the sudden outburst.

Yet, despite all that, Peter still scooted up onto the bed, sitting just below the pillows with the side of his thigh only an inch away from Tony’s hair. And wow – Tony’s hair – Peter has never touched it before, but he found himself instinctively carding his fingers through it. Gentle and soothing pats, just like Tony does to him.

And Peter watched with wary eyes as Tony flinched but immediately settled into the touch. That wordless way of relaxing was all the encouragement Peter needed. So, he continued, rhythmically dragging his fingers through the short locks and smiling as the older boy moved to rest the back of his head in Peter’s lap.

Peter kept his right hand in Tony’s hair, but placed his left against the older boy’s chest, idly drawing circles on his t-shirt. The moment was long, but Peter didn’t mind. He continued until Tony’s eyes were closed, and his brow wasn’t furrowed, and his scowl had gone away.

Then, Peter found his voice. “What happened?” He softly whispered, gently skimming his fingertips across Tony’s bruised cheekbone.

The question made Tony’s brow knit, but the soft caress of Peter’s hands relaxed it away. “My old man.” He paused, letting out another sigh, “He found out about the fucking suspension and the fight and he-” Again, Tony paused. “He just did what he always does.”

“What?” Peter’s eyes started to sting and his hands started to tremble, as did his breath, “Y-Your dad did this to you?” He could barely get the words out. His mind was bombarded with flashes of every moment where Tony avoided questions about his dad and his time at home. How could Peter miss those signs?

My old man made me take up boxing when I was young. My old man hates that kind of stuff. No, my old man says those are for kids that want to be placated by science, not challenged. Better than how shit with him usually goes. Yeah, my old man is holding this fucking investor event at our house. I’m not trying to piss him off. I don’t sleep well at home.

And it was too much, so Peter cried.

“Hey, don’t cry, baby.” Tony finally opened his eyes, staring into Peter’s teary ones and reaching up to castaway the wetness trickling down his cheeks.

“B-But he- To you, he-” Peter tried to hold back his sobs, biting the inside of his lip and training his eyes on the ceiling to prevent more waterworks. He was supposed to be comforting Tony, not the other way around. “It’s w-wrong. That he d-did this to you.”

“I know,” Tony hummed.

“He’s- He’s your dad. He should never do that.”

“I know.” Tony grabbed Peter’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

“He’s supposed to care about you! He’s-!”

“I know.” Tony lifted Peter’s hand and pressed a kiss against it. “But it’s okay. Don’t cry about it. I don’t even cry about it.”

“Tony, that’s-” Peter shook his head. “Then I’ll cry for you.”

“Peter-”

“It’s okay to be scared, Tony,” Peter whispered.

“I- yeah, I know.” Tony nodded, gently squeezing Peter’s hand. “Thank you, baby, but let’s not talk about that right now.” And, for the first time today, he grinned. His voice was less somber; less grumbly; less full of frustrated huffs. Instead, it was more Tony or, rather, more flirty. “I don’t want to kill this mood.”

“This mood?” Peter let out a small breathy laugh and sniffled, “I’m ugly crying, and you’ve been quiet and angry all day. There is no mood.”

“Yeah, I know, but-” Tony paused, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “It’s just- you’re touching me and you don’t usually do that, so-” Tony laughed too, and it was just as breathy as Peter’s. “I’m – fuck, I don’t know – I guess I’m just excited?”

“Excited?” Peter repeated, and Tony answered by gesturing to the front of his jeans, where a clear bulge had formed in the black denim, right beneath the zipper.

Peter’s face went hot, and he stopped his touches because, suddenly, he was attuned to the mood as well. Not only that, but his mind – the same one that secretly admired Tony’s eyes, and Tony’s lips, and Tony’s broad shoulders, and Tony’s smell, and Tony’s everything – yeah, that mind – it made Peter’s own excitement start to stiffen. After all, he was alone in his bedroom – on! his! bed! – with Tony Stark and, fuck, he couldn’t stop glancing at Tony’s zipper. “I- You- You’re-?” Peter stuttered.

“Yeah,” Tony’s voice was more hesitant than usual. “Is that- I mean, are you… okay with it?”

Peter nodded, his flushed face getting redder with each little dip of his chin, “Y-Yes.”

“You sure?” Tony asked again, and Peter nodded again. His big brown eyes darting to his desk, and to his dorky posters, and to his messy bookshelf, and to literally anything else because any spare glance at Tony made his nerves erupt beyond his control.

Tony smiled as he sat up, moving to sit beside Peter and leaning so their shoulders brushed against each other. “I know you get nervous around me.”

“What?” Peter’s voice squeaked. “N-No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. So I’m just going to ask this time.” Tony gave a slight laugh – a nervous laugh, really – as he ran a hand through his short hair and made a look Peter could only describe as cautiously eager. “Can I kiss you, Peter? On your lips this time.”

And, again, Peter nodded because his words never worked when he wanted them to. His body was a bashful, shaky mess, but he was also excited so he shifted against the bed, facing Tony before closing his eyes. And he gasped when Tony’s hand cupped his face and gently caressed the space beneath his ear. And he couldn’t see when Tony leaned in, but he could feel the heated closeness and the warm breath tickling his lips and soft bump of Tony’s nose against his own. He could feel the way Tony angled their heads, each slightly tilted to the right. He could feel the experimental brush of Tony’s lips against his own, so Peter pushed, pressing their lips together in a tender first kiss.

It was sweet, not too wet or too dry, and full of emotion that could make hearts hurt. Peter could tell that Tony had kissed before because, when Peter thought it was time to pull away, Tony deepened. Sucking on Peter’s bottom lip, coaxing his lips apart. This was wetter, Peter thought, but he didn’t hate it. No, in fact, that earlier excitement was now fully hardened and pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. And the way Tony kissed him – now confident and brimming with passion – it didn’t help.

Then, Tony licked into Peter’s mouth, and Peter had to catch a sound in his throat. He didn’t know what the sound was – a moan, a whine, or, oh god, was it a mewl? – whatever it was, he stopped it. There was no way he was going to make needy sounds in front of Tony. He would die of embarrassment, he was convinced, but – fuck – Tony’s other hand was against his thigh now.

So Peter had to stifle another sound – multiple sounds, actually – as Tony’s hand slowly trailed upward. Dragging his fingertips against Peter’s inner thigh and stopping just before Peter’s zipper.

That’s when Tony broke the kiss.

Peter’s head was reeling, and his breaths were heavy because breathing while kissing was oddly difficult. And his face was all but boiling under his endless nerves, and the intensity of Tony’s gaze, and the arousal that bubbled at his core.

“Can I touch you here, baby?” Tony whispered against Peter’s lips. His fingertips grazing Peter’s smooth cheek as he squeezed the inside of his thigh.

And the sultry way that pet name rolled off the bad boy’s tongue sent a wave of goosebumps across Peter’s skin. It was all too much for the younger boy to handle – the kisses, the whispers, the touches – so, he gave in to his urges. “Yes,” Peter whined, all needy and high-pitched as he gripped at the bottom of Tony’s jacket like a lifeline.

“Wow, are those sounds for me, baby?” Tony playfully grinned, and pressed his hand against Peter’s zipper, happily watching the younger boy squirm beneath the touch.

Peter gasped, his body instinctively tensing at the spark of pleasure that rushed his senses. Sure, there were two layers of clothes between Tony’s hand and Peter’s budding erection, but it still felt amazing. He nodded as a desperate Mhmm fell from his lips and he used all his willpower to keep his hips from grinding up against Tony’s hand. “Tony,” Peter moaned, his half-lidded gaze bouncing between Tony’s hand and Tony’s lips.

Then, they were kissing again. It was deeper; eager; hotter and somehow, Peter found himself being pushed down by the strength of Tony’s hold. His back fell against the sheets and Tony hovered above him. Their mouths unbreaking as Tony’s hand worked at Peter’s jean button, and then his zipper, and soon, Tony was tugging at the waist of the denim.

The sensation of Tony’s trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck was one thing, but thoughts of Tony’s hand stroking him bare were enough to reduce Peter to a breathy, whiny mess.

Tony paused to kiss the spot just above Peter’s collarbone, sucking hard enough that a dark red mark was left in his wake. He pulled away, then, admiring his work paired the aroused expression on Peter’s face. He grinned, his voice playful as he whispered, “You like that, baby?”

Did Peter like this? Yes. He unequivocally liked this. He fucking liked this. He didn’t think the word ‘like’ could even begin to convey how much. So he lifted his hand from the sheets, bringing his fingertips to Tony’s cheek, down his neck, over the collar of his t-shirt, across his chest, and beneath the loose fabric of the bottom hem. He kept his eyes locked on Tony the entire time, watching the small hitched breaths and the barely noticeable flinches as he skimmed his hand up Tony’s shirt.

And just as Tony hooked his finger in the elastic of Peter’s boxers, and Peter parted his lips to answer, the sound of the front door opening rippled through the apartment.

“Peter!” It was Aunt May’s voice. “I’m home early! Are you here?”

Fuck, May’s back. A collective expression shared by both boys that killed any and all arousal.

“Yes! Hold on, I’ll be right there!” Peter yelled back, frantically adjusting his clothes and hair and – oh god – he smells like Tony and his shirt didn’t quite cover the hickey on his neck and why the fuck is May home so early? “What do we do?” He whispered in a panic.

“Relax,” Tony smiled, letting out a small laugh. “I’ll just go say hi.” He calmly said as he adjusted himself in the mirror before starting towards the door.

“W-Wait, Tony-  I’m- I’m still grounded!” Peter whisper screamed, but that didn’t stop Tony from walking out into the living room, so Peter had no choice but to reluctantly trail behind the bad boy.

“Peter, who’s this?” May asked as she took off her jacket and shoes.

“I’m Tony, ma’am.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Tony Stark.”

May smiled and shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Tony.” She said, flashing Peter an all too familiar you-are-in-so-much-trouble look.

“May, I-” Peter stepped forward. “I can explain.”

“Yes you will, but it can wait until later.” May crossed her arms, “Now, young man, what on earth happened to your face? Sit down,” She guided Tony to a dining chair before disappearing into the kitchen and emerging with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. “Here, hold this against it.”

“It’s nothing.” Tony shrugged, taking the ice bag with a thankful smile.

May propped her hand against her waist and nodded, “Well, if nothing keeps happening, you come and tell me. Understood?”

“Um-” Tony looked taken aback but, despite his confusion, he nodded, “Okay, yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, and you’re staying for dinner.” May smiled as he turned to place a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I want to get to know my nephew’s boyfriend.”

Peter blushed, “May!”

~*9*~

“Dude, are you sure you’re allowed to be here?” MJ asked as she pulled the car against the curb in front of Steve Rogers’ house. “It doesn’t look like your kind of thing.”

MJ was right. The bass-heavy hitlist was loud enough to hear through the glass of the car window. The lawn was littered with red cups, silver cans, and cars parked carelessly on the grass. Partygoers loitered on the front porch puffing smoke that reddened the whites of their eyes. This party was a far cry from the small movie nights Peter shared with best friends.

“I was invited, MJ.” Peter rolled his eyes, shuffling begrudgingly in the passenger side seat. He knew what she was asking – will you be okay here, Peter? “Tony is coming too, so I’ll be fine.”

“Of course he is.” MJ sighed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “But he couldn’t spare some time to bring you here himself.”

“He had something to do with his dad.” Peter dropped his gaze into his lap.

“That doesn’t excuse him,” MJ’s voice was firm, unmoving. “And let’s be honest here. You wouldn’t have been invited if he hadn’t brutalized half of the people in there. Bullies don’t become friendly after being put in their place. They become vengeful. He should be in there with you now!”

“MJ, I’ll be fine!” Peter snapped because, even now, he didn’t know how to feel. Tony was violent – he understood that – but he couldn’t stand the constant reminders. “Stop talking about Tony like that!”

“Like what?” She challenged. “Like the guy he is. A violent, privileged asshole like the rest of them, who fights people for no reason, and who’s probably just using you fo-!”

“MJ, stop! You don’t get to talk about him like that! You don’t know him!”

“Oh?” MJ tilted her head and scowled. “And you do? After one fucking week? You think you know him?!”

“Yes! I do!” Peter nearly screamed. “And if you can’t trust me on this one, then just fucking leave!” He threw open the door, moving to get out.

MJ’s face softened and she reached to grab his arm. “Peter, wait! I didn’t mean-”

“No!” Peter put his hands up, silencing her completely. “You don’t get it, MJ!” He paused, biting the inside of his lip, holding back his anger. “You just don’t.”

“Fine, you’re right.” MJ sighed, squeezing the steering wheel and letting her head fall against the headrest. “I don’t get it! I don’t understand why my best friend, who was being tortured last week, would start hanging out with his torturers!” She sighed once more, her hands falling into her lap. “But I do trust you, dude, so I’m sorry. I’m just worried. Something about this whole thing seems off.”

Peter mirrored his friend’s sigh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just a party and, like I said, Tony will be here soon.”

“He better be.” MJ nodded. “Please be safe.”

“I will.” Peter stepped out of the car, flashing a bright smile. “And I’ll be sure to prepare a full report on the inner workings of a Steve Rogers party. Tell Ned.”

MJ laughed, “You tell him, dork.”

Peter joined the laughter, his anger nowhere to be found in the lighthearted exchange. “Thanks again, MJ, for the ride and the worry.”

“Anytime, dude. Call me if you need me.” With that, MJ rolled away, leaving Peter to fend for himself in the unfamiliar landscape of a high school party.

Peter ascended the porch stairs. The front door wasn’t locked or pulled shut and, even if he knocked, he knew no one would hear it over the music pumping from inside. So he took a deep breath and entered the fray. The house smelled of beer breath and fruity vapor laced with the pungent undertones of high-inducing grass. It was dark and foggy and significantly hotter than the brisk outside air. The main entrance was packed with people chatting in groups. Nobody familiar, but the litany of eyes sizing him up said that they knew exactly who he was.

Panic hit quicker than Peter thought it would as he politely excused himself through the crowded hallway. His unmistakable nerves rattling through his body with each careful step. Eventually, he made it to the kitchen, where the only light poured from the dim yellow bulb illuminating the stovetop. The beer smell was stronger here, so was the presence of variously sized glass bottles filled with brown and clear liquids.

“Parker!” It was Sam’s voice. “You made it!”

Peter spun on his heel. Emerging from the crowds was a very stumbly Sam Wilson, who reeked of beer. Behind him was Steve, whose hand was resting against Bucky’s waist.

“H-Hi!” Peter blurted out. “I… um- I just got here.”

“Are you the kid everyone’s talking about?” Steve asked, stepping forward and throwing his other arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Stark’s new owner?”

“I guess,” Peter nodded. “B-But I don’t-”

“Have you had a drink?” Steve asked. “You should have a drink.” He turned to Bucky, pressing his forehead into Bucky’s hair. “Can you get him a drink, babe?”

“Sure.”

And, within minutes, Peter was cradling a beer. The condensation left his palms wet and the taste left his expression in disgust. Beer was nasty, but Steve, Sam, and Bucky were compelling and their ability to attract an audience was even more so. They rallied cheers and chants of chug, chug, chug as Peter downed his first beer ever. The rush of being the center of attention outweighing both his clear mind and the terrible wheaty aftertaste of beers two and three.

It was when Bucky poured the shots that Peter finally asked for a break, but again, they were compelling. So just this one shot, Peter, and then we can go play some games with everyone. The vodka was lava down his throat, warming his body and adding to his haze. With Steve’s hand patting his shoulder and Sam’s impressed look because – damn, Parker can actually hold it down – Peter didn’t mind the teeth-numbing lightheadedness or the floaty instability.

After Sam grabbed a full bottle of vodka and Steve took a case of beer from the fridge, Peter was whisked away. Towed along by Bucky as the group pushed their way through the hall and into a room away from the crowds; Steve’s room.

But inside was a nightmare.

Sitting around the room – some on the bed, some on the floor – with drinks in their hands and smirks on their faces were Peter’s bullies; Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Loki.

“Hey boys,” Natasha greeted them with a smile.

“We have the re-up.” Sam joked as he took a spot on the floor, pouring vodka into Natasha and Clint’s cups as Steve handed beers to Thor and Loki.

Peter froze and yanked his hand out of Bucky grasp, his fight or flight instincts screaming at him to turn and leave. “I-I shouldn’t…um- I can’t be in here.”

“Wait a second, Peter.” Bucky placed a hand on Peter’s back, stopping him from leaving and guiding him to a spot on the bed beside Natasha. “They have something to say.”

“Yes, we apologize, Parker,” Thor said, tipping his head and raising his plastic red cup. “We were out of line that day.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “My brother and I regret our behavior.”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “Same here, Parker.”

“It’s the same for me, Peter.” Natasha placed her hand on Peter’s back. “I hope you can forgive us.”

Peter was baffled. Even in his tipsy haze, he could see how unexpected this was. His eyes wandered across the group; the gentleness in Natasha’s eyes, the seriousness in Clint’s, the lack of spite in Thor and Loki’s. They seemed genuine? It was strange. “Is t-this why you invited me?” He asked, glancing over to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugged. “These guys wanted a chance to apologize and we-” He gestured to Bucky, Sam, and himself. “-wanted to hang out with you.”

Peter let out a small laugh, feeling less resentment than he thought he would – maybe it was the buzz of alcohol – he nodded, “Okay, yeah, I’ll forgive you.”

“Fantastic,” Natasha smiled and clasped her hands together, “Now, let’s play some games.”

The first drinking game was simple. A word game that punished those who fumbled their answers and Peter was good at it. The unopened can of beer he held onto was proof of that.

The next game was more of the same. Never Have I Ever in a room of people who have done it all. Peter won by saying he never had a threesome, which took out Sam, Bucky, and Steve all at once. It was funny; in fact, it was hilarious. He found himself giggling with Natasha like she wasn’t the girl who would trip him in the halls. He was bantering with Clint like he was never hurt by him before. He was cracking jokes with Thor and Loki like they never teased him. He was comfortable in a room filled with people he thought he hated and he couldn’t help but laugh.

During the third game, Peter drank half his beer, but Steve and Bucky had it far worse.

“Guys, I have to tap out.” Steve groaned, falling back against the bed. “I’m drunk drunk.”

Bucky laughed, his voice slurring as he crawled to lay beside Steve, “If you’re drunk drunk, I’m drunk drunk drunk.”

Steve joined in on the hysterical laughter. “Well, if you’re drunk drunk drunk, then I’m dr-”

“Okay, you’re both pretty,” Sam interrupted with a smirk. “If they’re out, I’m out.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha shrugged, standing from the bed and gesturing for the rest of the group to follow. “Come on, guys, let’s go play some more in the other room.” She grabbed Peter’s hand, guiding him to his feet. “You too.”

And Peter followed them – Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Loki – to another room across the hall; a guest bedroom, perhaps.

“Hey, Parker,” Thor spoke, his voice a bit taut. “Is Stark coming?”

Peter nodded, still fiddling with his half-empty can. “Yes! He said he would meet me here.”

“I see,” Thor nodded as he bumped his elbow into Loki’s side. “Then maybe we shouldn’t play this game tonight.”

“Or maybe you should stop worrying, brother.” Loki snapped.

“What game?” Peter squinted, holding up his beer can. “Another drinking game?”

“Yeah, another drinking game.” Natasha placed her hands atop Peter’s shoulders. “Trust me. You’ll love this one.” She smiled, taking Peter’s can away and placing it against the dresser as she guided him to the closet door. “All you have to do is go in there.”

“What?” Peter scratched his head. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Again, Natasha smiled. “We’ll explain the rules once you’re in there.”

“O-Okay,” Peter mumbled as he took a step into the closet, letting Natasha close the door behind him. It was a walk-in closet that was dark and empty, save for the few boxes stacked on the top shelves. “Alright, what are the rules?” He yelled through the door, but no response. “Hello?” He yelled, but again, no response. He jiggled the doorknob; locked. “Hey, guys? Are you there?” He knocked on the door this time. Still, no response but he did hear whispering.

Stark is on his way. This is so stupid.

Suck it up, brother. Stark nearly broke my arm.

And he fucking stepped on me.

Sit out if you want, Thor, but we’re doing this.

“Guys, I don’t like this game,” Peter spoke through the door, trying to maintain his calm but his palms became clammy and his fingers started to tremble and dread crept its way up his spine. “Can you guys just let me out?” He bit the inside of his lip. “Please.”

Peter flinched when the door swung open. A glimmer of hope rippled through him but it was quickly overshadowed by the dark expressions on Loki and Clint’s faces. Chills ran through him next as his body screamed, Flight. Now. And he tried running between them, tried slipping through their bodies, tried escaping but he couldn’t. Clint grabbed his arm and yanked him into the closet, holding him still despite his frantic thrashing. Loki taunted him – Serves you right, Parker – the merciless laughter burning Peter’s ears. Natasha played lookout, her smile was replaced with a scowl and her words a spiteful: This is what you get for sicking your dog on us, Peter. It was when Loki punched him that his urge to run morphed into an urge to survive.

This wasn’t the first time Peter’s been beaten up. The first was in middle school when Flash punched him hard enough to break his nose. So, when the punches continued, Peter knew to turn his head with them and relax his jaw. The second time was during a spring break school trip when he was pushed onto the ground and kicked hard enough to fracture a rib. So, when Clint threw him against the carpet and the sting of kicks burned at his sides, he used his arms to shield himself.

Peter learned from these experiences to tuck his head, bring his knees to his stomach, endure. But it hurt; more to his pride than to his body. And the laughter was louder, especially when Peter opened his eyes to see their smug grins searing into him. How could he be so foolish? How could he trust them? How could he forgive them?

When it was over, Peter was crying and no amount of biting his lip could stop it. He clenched his teeth and scrambled to feet, and didn’t bother to look back as he sprinted out the door.

Even in the party-fueled frenzy of the hallway, Peter didn’t stop running. His body buzzed with an intense need to put as much distance between himself and his bullies as he could. His eyes were burning from all the tears. His heart hurt and his mind was filled with flashbacks of every single time he endured their torture.

So Peter ran, and the only thing with the power to stop him was the sturdy chest of Tony Stark.

“Peter?” Tony’s voice cracked, his hands cupping Peter’s tear-stained, bruised cheeks. In the soft glow of the porch light, his eyes were a blend of rage and concern. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

Peter sobbed, clutching his sides where his skin felt the most tender and dropping his head against Tony’s chest. As the tears waterfalled down his cheeks and his frame trembled, he cursed at himself. “I’m such an idiot, Tony. I-I shouldn’t have come. I’m-”

“It’s alright.” Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, surprised when he winced. “I’ll handle it. Just tell me who did this to you.” He brought a soothing hand to Peter’s hair, gently threading through the curls despite the anger quaking through his body. “Please. Just tell me.”

Peter could barely get the names out through the tears, but once he did – a shaky Clint and Loki did it – Tony’s whole body tensed and his expression was overcast by a bloodthirsty cloud. His wild eyes were just as breathtaking, but there was no mischievous grin. Instead, his lips were pressed into a hard line, scowling with the rest of his face as he cracked his knuckles like he was loading a gun. And the way he pulled off that signature jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders was more cautious, showing his control even as he walked through his fiery rage. There was no nonchalant quip, no fanfare, just a firm voice saying hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back.

This time, however, Peter didn’t just stand there. He followed Tony inside, leading him to the room where it all happened, wanting nothing more than to see that notorious violence turned on his cruel bullies.

The collective look of shock was satisfying, but the way Tony gripped Clint’s collar, yanking him to his feet and punching him in the jaw, was even more so. The punches continued; rapid hits to the face that happened within seconds of entering the room. Blood started dripping from Clint’s nose and mouth, and before anyone could say anything, Clint was falling limp against the carpet.

“What the fuck, Stark?!” Natasha screamed, moving to put herself between Clint and Tony, trying to stand up for her partner in crime.

Tony grabbed her by the shirt as well, “Did you hit him?”

“What?” Natasha snapped, struggling against the hold. “Let me go, you fucking psychopath.”

But Tony’s grip only tightened, his eyes conveying a murderous energy. “I said, did you hit him?”

Natasha froze like a deer in headlights, “No.”

“Then stay the fuck out of my way.” Tony spat, pushing Natasha aside and delivering a sharp kick to Clint’s torso before turning his attention to Thor and Loki.

“Don’t bring your violence over here, Stark.” Thor weakly warned, flinching just like before; just like a cornered animal.

“Don’t be afraid of him, brother.” Loki stepped forward between Thor and Tony. “If you touch us again, Stark, then we won’t be so nice to your plaything next time.”

“Next time?” Tony repeated with a balled fist and a menacing expression. “You should worry about your own fucking next time.” Then he continued, grabbing Loki by the collar and landing the same kind of rapid punches he used on Clint. These, however, were focused on Loki’s eyes that swelled and turned dark red as Tony unleashed hell through his fists.

Though, Loki didn’t just take it. Even in his arm sling, he threw his own punches and shoves. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t enough. Tony tackled him to the ground, his onslaught unceasing. That is, until Thor stepped forward to try and stop him.

Peter wouldn’t have guessed that Tony carried a knife. Yet, as Thor moved forward, Tony pulled the butterfly knife from his pocket, flipping it open and pointing it at Thor like a promise, not a threat. It was enough to make the whole room hold their breath.

Except for Peter.

No, Peter knew it was time to intervene. Time to tell Tony to stop. Time to be the limiter. Time to step forward, place his hand over Tony’s, and ease the knife away because it’s okay Tony, let go, give this to me, let me take this.

And the weight of the knife was easier to bear than he thought.

“See, Stark? That’s why you can’t have playthings. They hold you back.” Loki laughed despite the blood dripping from his nose, or the press of Tony’s knee on his torso, or the shocked expression on his brother’s face. “Honestly, what a fucking bitch you are.” Loki taunted.

Break it.

“What?” Tony asked, his eyes flashing to Peter, who didn’t realize he said that aloud.

“I said, break it.”

And the sound that followed was gruesome. A chilling snap from the leverage Tony gained in pushing Loki’s arm backwards across his knee. A clean break, paired with screaming, cursing, and a litany of uncharacteristic tears from a pair of brothers. Then, a coherent threat from a fed-up boy who stutters too frequently. “Touch me again and I’ll have him break the other one.” A promise dipped in venom and punctuated with the tip of the blade poised just inches away from Loki’s face.

This time, Peter knew how to feel.

His eyes traveled to Clint, struggling as Natasha helped him to his feet. It was brutal – Peter knew that – but he was glad. Glad to see that Clint was hurt and Natasha was scared. Excited by the blood and bruises created in payback. Enjoying the scared look in Thor’s eyes and the pain in Loki’s. It was wrong  – he knew that – but he didn’t care. He let himself feel it this time.

Tony took back the knife and pocketed it before taking Peter’s hand in his own. “Let’s get out of here.”

Peter let Tony lead him out of the house and into the car, where they sat in silence for as long as it took Tony to calm himself. It wasn’t awkward or deafening or suffocating, it was just peaceful silence and Peter found solace in it too. A moment to reflect on the dark part of himself that bubbled over amid the alcohol-fueled confidence and the vengeful pain of his assault. A moment to notice he wasn’t crying or trembling. A moment to realize that he threatened Loki; that he chose fight, and it worked.

It was a satisfying moment.

Tony, on the other hand, seemed to take on Peter’s nerves in full. His breath was heavy with sighs and his hands were shaky as he frantically wiped the blood that stained them into the black of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have- fuck, I did it again. The fucking knife. I- Are you mad? Please don’t be mad.” He dropped his head in his hands. “I couldn’t stop myself. I just- I was so mad seeing you crying and I-  fuck, Pep and Bruce were right about me. I’m-”

“I’m not mad, Tony,” Peter whispered as he reached his hand out to card through Tony’s hair.

“But I-?”

“You fought because I let you fight.”

“But that shouldn’t be your responsibility, Peter. Bruce hated me for that. I can’t-”

“I’m not Bruce.” Peter was firm. “I’m not Pepper either.”

“Peter-”

“Everyone keeps telling me about how violent you are. How you’re this dangerous bad boy that I need to steer clear of, but they’re wrong.” Peter grabbed Tony’s hand, interlocking their fingers. “When I look at you, I see a sweet misunderstood guy who drives me home from school, helps me with my homework and does the dishes after dinner. The guy that sings in his car and worries about his friends. The guy that chooses to use his strength to protect the people he cares about.”

“Peter, that’s nice, but-” Tony paused, inhaling a deep breath. “It doesn’t change the fact that I can never control myself.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m yours, but you’re mine too. I’ll control you.” Peter squeezed Tony’s hand. “And, yes, breaking someone’s arm is bad – really, really bad,” Peter giggled. “But I’m worse for asking you to do it. I’m worse for liking it.”

“You liked it?” Tony smirked, holding their interlocked hands up so he could press a kiss onto the back of Peter’s hand.

“Y-Yeah, it’s weird.” Peter blushed, averting his gaze. “I’m weird.”

“You’re not weird, baby,” Tony whispered against Peter’s hand. “I liked seeing you too. Seeing you threaten the trash like that,” He smiled, pressing kisses down Peter’s wrist. “Seeing that knife in your cute hands,” His final kiss was wetter. “And seeing that look in your eyes when you did it.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, “Um…we s-should- let’s go back to my place.”

“What about your aunt?”

“May is out on a date. She’ll be gone for most of the night.”

~*10*~

When Tony and Peter entered the apartment, the atmosphere between them became torrid. Each interaction heated by the thoughts of what they went there to do. Kicking off their shoes with flushed faces, stripping off their jackets with lingering eye contact, walking down the hall in a suggestive silence. Their already rapid heartbeats ramping into overdrive as they breached the threshold into Peter’s room. The only light pouring from a small lamp on the desk and illuminating their excitement for each other.

Peter was nervous, but Tony was brave. The bad boy sat against the edge of the bed with a tantalizing smile dancing on his lips as he looked Peter up and down like a meal; undressing the younger boy with his eyes like a man starved. He licked the length of his bottom lip and grabbed the hem of his black shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, letting the fabric pool against the floor. “Come here, baby.” He whispered, holding his hand out.

And Peter stepped towards him slowly, taking in the captivating shirtlessness and the unmistakable arousal it caused. He slid his hand into Tony’s, allowing the older boy to pull him closer, guide him to the space between his legs. It was there that Peter’s body buzzed with desire. All of the thoughts whirring through his mind painted over by his lust for Tony Stark.

Tony placed his hands against Peter’s thighs first, dragging upward over the dips of his waist and underneath the bottom of his shirt. Freely dragging his palms across the smooth skin, but stopping when Peter winced.

“S-Sorry,” Peter mumbled, his hands ghosting over his waist. “I’m just- the bruises are still tender, so-”

Tony shook his head, “Don’t apologize.” He whispered, keeping his eyes locked on Peter’s as he pushed the younger’s shirt up and pressed a kiss beneath his belly button. “I’ll be real gentle for you, baby.”

“Tony,” Peter nervously gasped, the simple kiss sending fiery tingles throughout his body.

Tony smiled, one hand caressing the back of Peter’s thigh, the other tugging gently on the fabric of Peter’s shirt. “Can you take this off for me?”

“Okay,” Peter whispered as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, jostling his brown curls as he dropped the shirt against the floor. His creamy skin was splotched in dark bruises that ran down his arms and sides. And with once glance at himself, he gave a quiet laugh, “It looks worse than it feels, I swear.”

Tony’s expression turned somber, “I’m sorry for not being there.” He said, pressing more gentle kisses against Peter’s navel, carefully outlining one of the bruises.

“It’s okay, Tony,” Peter placed his hands in Tony’s hair, dragging his fingertips to the nape of his neck and leaving them resting on his shoulders. “Don’t apologize.” He smiled, his face a rosy pink as he lifted his knee, swinging it across Tony’s lap and sliding downward. “Can we- um… kiss again?”

As Peter straddled him, Tony inhaled sharp because he could feel the brush of Peter’s zipper against his own. He wrapped his arms loosely around Peter’s waist, dipping one of his hands in the younger’s back pocket and positioning the other on the side of Peter’s thigh. “Yeah,” He breathed out as he eagerly leaned forward, pressing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

Peter moaned into it, dropping his weight until the space between their chests was nonexistent. His hands naturally threaded into Tony’s hair and his eyes fluttered closed as he succumbed to Tony’s practiced kissing. Letting the older boy’s tongue dip into his mouth; letting his teeth softly pull at his bottom lip. The moment felt electric, especially when Tony’s hand moved up his thigh, cautiously skimming across the tender bruises and stopping against his nipple, rolling it beneath his fingertips.

Goosebumps rushed across Peter’s skin at the touch. He inched back, breaking the kiss and staring down at Tony’s hand like it was magic. “That feels different when you do it.”

“When I do it, hm?” Tony flicked the soft nub, watching with a playful grin as Peter flinched. “You touch yourself here, baby?”

Peter nodded, his hands gripping at Tony’s shoulders as the pleasure pooled, causing his erection to stiffen painfully under the restrictive denim.

Tony scoffed as he pinched at the nipple hard enough to pull a surprised gasp from the younger boy. “Use your words, baby.”

“T-That’s not fair,” Peter dropped his head against Tony’s shoulder, hiding his surely red face. “You said you’d be gentle.”

“That was gentle, sweetheart.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s neck. “I could’ve been much rougher.”

“Rougher than that?”

“So much rougher than that,” Tony whispered against Peter’s ear.

Peter shivered and turned his head to whisper back, a low and fervid, “Can you show me?”

And without warning, Tony clutched the underside of Peter’s thighs and stood, lifting the younger boy, who gasped in surprise and reactively locked his legs around Tony’s waist. Then, Tony turned and slowly lowered Peter against the sheets, positioning himself between Peter’s spread legs. “Let’s start by getting rid of these.” He said as he popped open the button and zipper and tugged, pulling the jeans and boxers together.

“B-Both?” Peter’s eyes when wide and his hands shot down to cover his now freed erection.

“Yes, both.” Tony gave a soft laugh as he finished pulling the clothes off, tossing them aside. “Move your hands, baby. Let me look at you.” And Tony watched intently as Peter moved his hands away. He watched as Peter’s chest flushed just like his face does. Watched the cute way Peter’s erection twitched in the open air. It was a fucking mouth-watering sight.

As for Peter, his mind brimmed with want, and nerves, and Tony. This was his first time being completely bare in front of someone else; someone whose half-lidded eyes were intense with longing and whose fingers were making their way to his mouth.

“Open,” Tony commanded and Peter obliged, parting his lips and letting the older boy’s fingers slide into his mouth. “Good, now suck.”

And Peter did; closing his lips and sucking, massaging the pad of his tongue against the two digits. He tried to keep his eyes trained on Tony’s but sometimes they would wander downward, across the contour of the older boy’s muscles and – fuck – suddenly, Tony’s fingers pushed deeper, probing the back of his throat, making him cough.

Peter’s hands shot up, pulling Tony’s fingers from his mouth. “W-What are you doing?”

“Showing you how deep I want to shove my dick.” Tony grinned as he nudged his wet fingers against the head of Peter’s erection, mixing the saliva and pre-cum before smearing them down the shaft. “That okay, baby?”

Peter breathed a harsh, “Y-Yes.” A wave of pleasure rocking through his body at the touch. His hips jolting upward and his head lolling back against the pillow, moaning as Tony began his torturously slow strokes.

“You look so fucking hot, Peter,” Tony whispered, leaning down to lick Peter’s nipple; kiss it, roll it between his teeth. “Looking like you’re about to come when I’m barely touching you.”

Tony’s compliment went right to Peter’s head, adding to the pleasure tightening at his core. If he was honest, Tony was right. Alone, he usually got there fast but, with Tony, he was getting there at light-speed. Already teetering on his edge from the blend of sensations. He was one quick stroke away from spilling all over, so he moaned a shaky, “I am.”

And nothing prepared him for the abrupt lack of touch and the intense desire it left in its wake. Peter’s hips flinched upward, chasing Tony’s hand as it pulled away, leaving him in a needy haze. “What- why did- no, Tony, I was there- I-”

“I know, baby,” Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “But you don’t get to come until I say so.”

Peter whined, pouting up at the older boy, with distressed and horny eyes, “Can you say so now?”

“Fuck, you’re so cute,” Tony smiled and sat up, shifting his weight to his knees. “But not yet, sweetheart.” He whispered as he undid his jeans. His toned body flexing in the dim light as he pushed his jeans and boxers down slightly, freeing his hardened length and nudging it against Peter’s.

Peter had to actively prevent his jaw from dropping. Tony’s dick was big – actually, bigger – it made Peter’s length seem small. It even felt different; it was thicker, harder and, maybe his feelings and arousal created bias, but to Peter, Tony’s dick was fucking perfect. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of it in his mouth.

“Having fun?” Tony interrupted and Peter froze, blushing when he realized that he’d been grinding his hips up, desperately rubbing their dicks together from the moment they touched.

“I- um.. s-sorry, I-” Peter stammered, bringing his hands up to hide his embarrassed expression.

“You, what?” Tony laughed quietly, ghosting his hands across Peter’s thighs. “Speak up, baby.”

“I- I just- I wanted to touch it,” Peter muttered through his hands.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m going to let you touch it all you want.”

Then, Tony repositioned them. He stood and guided Peter to lay with his head tipped backward off the edge of the bed. The bed’s height was ideal for this, he thought, as he aligned the head of his erection with Peter’s lips. “Open,” Tony commanded but, this time, Peter hesitated.

“Tony, I’ve never- Just- go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony nodded, gently brushing his fingers against Peter’s cheek. “I’ve got you, baby.” He smiled when Peter parted his lips, “Good, now take a nice deep breath for me.”

And Peter did; inhaled deep as Tony pushed forward, pressing his dick into Peter’s mouth until it couldn’t go any deeper. Peter gripped at the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the pleasured groans that fell from Tony’s mouth. And even though Peter was struggling to hold his breath, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

Tony pulled out slow – a string of saliva connecting the head of his dick to Peter’s lips, dripping against Peter’s face. “Breathe,” He whispered and watched Peter’s chest expand before pushing forward again. This time, he went even deeper, pushing passed the back of Peter’s mouth, causing a small bulge to show through his neck.

Peter coughed, his drool spurting out around Tony’s dick as he reactively pushed Tony’s hips away. He gasped and coughed again, turning his head to let the excess saliva drop against the floor.

“You okay?” Tony asked, dragging his hands through Peter’s hair. “Was that too much?”

“No,” Peter turned his head back. “I want it harder.”

Tony’s breath hitched, “Yeah?” He squeezed his hand, grabbing a tight handful of Peter’s curls, making the younger boy whine. “You want it harder, baby?”

As Peter opened his mouth to answer, Tony was pushing forward again, quicker than before, plunging deep enough to see the shape of his dick in the contours of Peter’s neck. And he held himself there, indulging in the pleasure of the younger’s fluttering throat, before pulling out half-way and pushing back in. He repeated this in quick succession, occasionally pulling out fully so Peter could catch his breath.

“This hard enough for you, sweetheart?” Tony teased, keeping his dick plunged inside so all Peter could do was moan around it.

And Peter loved it. The feeling of being used and the sounds of Tony’s ecstasy. He thought it would be difficult – controlling his breath while having a dick shoved down his throat – but once he fell into a rhythm, it was easy. And, soon, Tony’s dick was at its thickest, pulsating and leaking pre-cum. His orgasm was close and the way he talked about it made Peter feel hornier than he has in his entire life.

“I’m going to come all over you, baby. You want that, hm? God, you’re so fucking perfect, Peter. Look at how well you’re taking me. You’re so good, baby boy. Fuck, keep your mouth open for me-”

Tony pulled out as he came, groaning deep and shooting lines of cum against Peter’s open mouth and chest. And Peter’s never tasted cum before but he swallowed it like it was nothing, his throbbing arousal completely overshadowing the gravity of the situation.

“Tony, me too. Please.”

“Of course, baby.” Tony smiled, shifting their positions so Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed and Tony was on his knees between Peter’s thighs.

Peter’s whole body shook when Tony started sucking. The pleasure hitting him like it was a tsunami and he was the beach. The way Tony dragged his tongue against the underside of the shaft made Peter’s nerve endings tingle with fiery sparks of euphoria. And when Tony bobbed his head low enough to take it all, Peter swore he fell into delirium. “Tony, I’ll come- I’ll- I’m-!”

Yet, just as Peter took a step towards orgasm, Tony stopped. He gripped at the base of Peter’s length, viciously yanking him back to the edge, preventing his climax for the second time that night. But before Peter had time to complain, Tony was pulling him down and pinning him against the side of the bed.

Tony stared into Peter’s eyes and started stroking again, “Go ahead, baby, you can come.”

Peter immediately averted his gaze, unable to handle the embarrassment of suddenly being so close. “But Tony, I-”

Tony scoffed and lifted his idle hand to the underside of Peter’s jaw, forcing the younger’s eyes back to his. “It wasn’t a question, baby.” He whispered, squeezing his fingers against the sides of Peter’s throat, “I told you to come.”

So Peter came; a breathless scream falling from his lips as a tremor shook his body and his cum oozed all over Tony’s hand. It was an overwhelming pleasure – nothing like anything he’s felt on his own. And as he floated down from his sweltering high, Tony released his throat and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah, that was amazing.

“Yeah.”

And for a while, they stayed there, bodies pressed together in a content embrace, sticky from their passion and audibly panting from their ardor, but content nonetheless. Basking in the feeling of their intimate moment; an exchange of sweet nothings, a soothing caress, a medley of soft giggles. A litany of playful kisses, a cascade of fingertips carded through messy hair, a breathtaking empathetic chemistry. All topped with promises of tomorrow and the days after, where they belonged to each other.

-

The relief I felt after finishing this is insurmountable. Apologies for being a flaky hoe, but I hope you all enjoyed the read. Leave me a comment or feel free to hop in my asks. Let me know how I did. 

Shout out to my muses: @ultimatelyshippingthegays @benhardysdrumstick ❤️

Thank you for the amazing ideas. A bitch did her best. Love you all!

EDIT: Read the sequel here.

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 12

Chapter Twelve: The last days of the Trojan War

(A/N: Tw: Graphic depiction of violence, infanticide, horrific rape, sacrilege and basically war and pillaging in all its terror.)

.

Soon after Hektor's funeral, the Amazons came from Thrace to the aid of the Trojans, led by their queen Penthesileia.

Penthesileia was a daughter of Ares and the Amazon queen Otrera and had accidentally killed her beloved sister Hippolyta. And she craved only one thing: a glorious death in battle.

The Amazons were feared for their battle prowess and the Achaeans soon found out the hard way, that it hadn't been empty tales they had heard. They were small in numbers, but quickly overran the Achaean forces, until Akhilleus turned the tables.

The two demigods fought viciously, showing no mercy. The warrior queen was such a dangerous opponent, that the goddess Athena had to magically paralyse her limbs, before Akhilleus could fatally wound her with his spear.

He triumphed, but only for a few seconds; until he removed her helmet and beheld the splendour and beauty of a goddess, the charisma and strength of a daughter of Ares, that not even death could take away from her.

She was so beautiful that even his comrades and the Trojans around them stopped fighting and just marvelled at the fairness of the defeated warrior queen.

Akhilleus could practically feel, how the golden arrow of Eros pierced his heart.

Struck him with remorse and repentant love.

Made him mourn, that such perfection had to die.

It was the same intense grief he had felt, when Patroklos had died, which was strange, considering he had only known this woman for a few minutes and was currently staring at a corpse.

Still, he wondered if maybe he could have made her his queen and take her back to Phthia, where he came from.

.

All this happened before her father's eyes.

Ares saw his beloved daughter fall and felt like the ground was breaking away below him.

He saw Akhilleus standing over her, frozen and – Ares could tell – entranced by her unearthly beauty. Reaching out hesitantly to touch this impossibly fair face.

In a moment's notice, Ares was behind the demigod, invisible, but not inaudible, letting him feel his presence – and his anger.

“Do not touch my daughter, Peleídes”, the god of terrible war snarled into his ear.

Akhilleus pulled his hand back instantly. But he stayed where he was, staring down at Penthesileia's body.

Suddenly another Achaean opened his mouth, a really ugly fuck (Thersites, if Ares wasn't mistaken): “So the great Akhilleus is defeated by the beauty of a woman, like some ordinary skirt-chaser? Made weak by a woman, who wrought nothing but death and destruction on the Achaean army? I bet you want to strip her naked right on the battlefield and-”

He didn't get any further, because Akhilleus whirled around and sucker-punched the disgusting blusterer, killing him instantly.

“Anyone else?”, the son of Thetis asked the audience nonchalantly.

They collectively shook their heads in response, although there were a few agitated murmurs at the murder of one of their own.

But then Diomedes lifted his hand to silence them.

His bright blue eyes (so similar to those of Athena) stared right into the blood-red ones of Ares in sombre recognition. And in no way haughty or even disrespectful, just because he had been able to wound the war god once.

The Argive spoke: “Thersites had it coming and no one is going to miss him. Still, Akhilleus, you must be purified for the murder, even though you did a favour to everyone, including her divine father. Now choose wisely what to do with the Amazon queen, for I see murderous Ares and he is enraged over his daughter's demise.”¹

Uncomfortable silence.

Then Menélaos and Agamemnon exchanged a glance and a nod of agreement.

It was red-haired Menélaos, who spoke, to one of the surviving Amazons: “Penthesileia was a great warrior and truly the child of Ares Miaiphonos². Even though she was our enemy, she should not be done the outrage of being denied a proper funeral. Take her body back to Troy and bury her like the queen she was.”

“Take your fallen comrades with you. And keep her armour”, Agamemnon added, “We don't wish to incur the wrath of the fearsome Teikhesiplêtês³ by plundering his daughter.”

This gesture of respect was odd coming from the Achaeans, especially from the Atreides.

The god of war wasn't sure, if it could be attributed to his daughter's beauty or if his own adversary Athena had finally shown an glimpse of pity towards him and filled those simple mortal minds with respect and reverence.

It was a minuscule comfort to Ares, that his daughter's body would be treated with due respect.

But a comfort nonetheless.

Penthesileia was buried with the honours of a queen.

Priamos had her and her fallen companions laid to rest beside the tombs of his proud father, king Laomedon and his glorious son Hektor.

It was the least he could do for the radiant daughter of Ares and her companions, who had fallen in their effort to protect the Trojans, whom they had hardly known.

.

As Ares lingered by the side of his daughter's shroud, he met an interesting person.

He knew who she was, Apollon had often spoken of her.

“Lord Ares”, she whispered and fell onto her knees, shaking. “Teikhesiplêtês, Andreiphontês, Khrysopêlêx, Theos Miaiphonos, Deinos, Sunarogos Themistos-”⁴

“Enough”, he said calmly. “I'm not here as a god, but as a father.”

“Yes, Ánax⁵”, she answered.

“And you're Kassandra, daughter of Priamos”, he returned. “I have heard of you – the seeress, whom no one believes. Did you know, that you would meet me here?”

“Yes”, she whispered and added: “Though in my vision, you looked different. More terrifying than I can say.”

Ares smiled dryly. “So your vision showed you my true form, then. But gazing upon a god in reality would kill a mortal. When I walk the earth, I must use less frightening disguises.”

He had made himself look like an ordinary Trojan civilian, black-eyed and -haired, with dark skin. An innocuous-looking shape. One that no normal mortal would have pinned to be the war god in disguise.

“Now tell me, princess, what are you doing here?”

He hadn't meant to sound frightening, but still she trembled.

“I just came to pay my respects to your daughter Penthesileia. And to bring offerings. I didn't mean to disturb, I-”

“Sshhh. Easy, girl. I don't want to harm you.”

“The last god I encountered cursed me”, she whispered.

“I know”, Ares nodded, “But don't blame yourself. None of this shit is your fault. You didn't deserve to be cursed, just because you said no. He's a pretentious arsehole, most gods are. And on top of that, he can't get over his self-esteem issues.”

She snorted.

“Besides”, he continued, “It's not certain, if you could have saved yourself and others, if they listened to you. My father wanted this entire war to happen, then your jackass half-brother Paris was dumb enough to piss off my mother and half-sister and the entirety of Hellas and then he was too egotistical to put the well-being of an entire people over his own.”

Kassandra bit her lip and he saw a few stray tears run down her cheeks.

He sighed and crouched down in front of her. “Don't blame Helene, okay? She never asked for any of this shit either. She despises Paris more than anyone.”

“I know”, she choked. “Still it's not fair! What did we do to deserve this?!”

“You didn't do anything. Your ancestors screwed up and the Moirai and great Ananke are fucking bitches. I have never met either of them, but I would love to punch them in the face. Gods can't avoid their fates any more than humans can. Only the Primordials have the power to redirect the course of fate, but not even they can do it without consequence”, the war god explained.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand, that we Deathless Ones are no happier than you mortals are. We bargain, suffer and mourn. We just have all eternity to learn live with the pain. That doesn't make us happier.”

Ares sighed sadly and turned back to his daughter's shroud.

“It's a small comfort to me, that my dear daughter got the glorious battle death she wanted and the respect she deserved. Very few of my children get that luxury, ya know. They're like me, volatile and following their own laws.”

For a few moments neither of them spoke.

Then Kassandra finally approached the shroud to place down her offerings.

“She was a great woman”, she told the war god. “A true queen and warrior. You must be very proud of her.”

“I am. I really am.”

It was nothing more than a whisper.

He was Ares, god of the horrors of war, of the bloodshed, violence, murder, rage, the sacking of towns, rebellion, courage and fear.

He would not fall apart and cry in front of a mortal.

Soon he had composed himself and remarked: “You're a really unfortunate creature, even for a mortal. Ya know, Kassandra, with the shit you've gone through and that's still ahead of you, I'm surprised that you haven't killed yourself.”

“That would be the easy way out.”

“But still better than what you'll get put through once Troy is conquered”, Ares pointed out.

“I know, Lord Ares”, Kassandra replied, “But I will not run away. I'm not a coward.”

“Very brave. I'm impressed. And that's rare, believe me.”

“Thank you.”

“I can't save you from your doom – fate forbids me to.”

“I know.”

“But I pity you nonetheless and because I admire your courage, I want to give you something. Don't worry, I want nothing in return.”

“I …”

“Shhh. Open your mouth and hold still.”

He cupped her face and came as close as a few centimetres.

Then he breathed into her mouth, transferred some of his essence onto her and let go.

Kassandra blinked in confusion, but also seemed relieved, that he hadn't actually kissed her.

“How are you feeling?”, Ares asked.

“Better”, she marvelled, “Refreshed … stronger. What … what did you do to me?”

The war god smiled. “I've given you a better gift than your cursed precognition: the inner strength and courage to bear all the hardships ahead of you. I can't take your pain away, but I can take your weariness. Compassion isn't my strong suit, but you and your family have treated the remains of my beloved child and her companions with highest respect. Therefore, you're worthy of mine.”

“Thank you …”, the princess choked.

He didn't hug her, when she started to sob.

But he did hold her hand as comfort.

“I can't believe you got to kiss her!”, Apollon whined later, “When I asked her for a kiss, she outright told me to get lost!”

“I didn't kiss her, dumbass!”, Ares fumed, “I breathed courage and inner strength into her, so that she can bear her suffering and her terrible fate easier! I gave her a gift that is actually good for her, without asking for love or sex in return! Excuse me for not being a jerk for once in my life and pitying her more than you did! Get off my dick, Sunny Boy!”

“Why, you-!”

“He's right, you know”, Artemis threw in, “Sorry, brother, but I'm taking his side. He isn't into her and still was kinder to her than you. So leave him and her alone.”

Apollon huffed, but fell silent.

.

Shortly after, another deity wept for her son.

Êôs, Titanis of the dawn, was the mother of Memnon, an Ethiopian leader, who had been sent to help the Trojans. A wise and modest young man, yet a brave warrior; Êôs and Tithonos had raised him well.

He too fell against Akhilleus after a fierce duel, just like Hektor and Penthesileia before him.

The divine allies of the Achaeans cheered, especially Akhilleus' mother Thetis.

But Apollon, Artemis and Aphrodite mourned silently.

Êôs didn't care about silent.

She screamed, howled with rage, showered Thetis, Athena, Poseidon and even Zeus and Hera with profanities and curses.

She threatened to descend to the hidden depths of the netherworld and dwell with the dark Protogenoi, with holy Khaos and dark Nyx, Erebos and Tartaros and to never ascend to the skies to bring the light of day.

Zeus rose from his throne and it began to thunder outside, but Ares stepped in.

He placed his hand on her head and – Athena could see it – took away her rage, leaving only her motherly grief. Then he took everyone by surprise by embracing the dawn goddess and holding her tightly. He whispered something into her ear, she wailed loudly and cried into his shoulder.

Aphrodite looked really jealous at this display, but Apollon put a hand onto her shoulder and shook his head sombrely.

For a moment Athena was confused as to why Ares was being so tender. It was almost like he was showing sympathy …

Oh.

Stupid her.

It was sympathy.

He had lost two children and knew how she was feeling. And he sympathised particularly with Êôs' sadness, because she had once been his mistress. Because he knew that even with all her mortal affairs, she was still in love with him, albeit it was unrequited.

Athena had never felt compassion with the allies of Troy, but this got to her, almost like an epiphany.

She didn't show it, but she said nothing either.

There was nothing a virgin goddess could say to two heartbroken parents.

.

Apollon was the one to put Akhilleus down.

The demigod had caught a bad case of hubris and tried to break down the gates of Troy and take the city all by himself. And when Apollon had told him to cut it out, Akhilleus had given him the middle finger and told him to get out of his way.

For a god, who was lethal even from afar, this was one offence too many.

The Bringer of Plagues stepped behind Paris, who was standing on the city wall.

Whispered in his ear and guided his hand.

The arrow, dipped in the venomous wrath of the divine archer, flew and hit its mark: the only part of Akhilleus, that wasn't invulnerable.

Most people wouldn't think a shot to the heel as being really bad, but as mentioned before, the arrow had been poisoned. And it pierced a vital vein.

Akhilleus killed a few more Trojans, but he was dead in a matter of minutes.

Ajax Telamonides and Odysseus rescued the demigod's corpse from being plundered by the Trojans, but the Achaeans mourned his death for three weeks.

Apollon on the other hand was triumphant, as were the others, who shared his side. Especially Ares seemed to practically ooze with grim satisfaction at his half-brother's retribution. The war god didn't gloat or triumph aloud and in front of the other gods. He didn't have to; the twisted, grim smile on his face said it all.

Hera on the other hand was furious and showered Apollon with reproaches and insults.

The son of Leto bore it silently for a while and stubbornly stared at the floor.

But when she accused him of ingratitude, reminded him, that he had been at Thetis' wedding and claimed, that he had murdered Akhilleus out of envy, Apollon snapped.

“SHUT THE TARTAROS UP!!!”, he roared, “HE HAS OFFENDED ME MULTIPLE TIMES, MURDERED TWO OF MY SONS – ONE OF THEM IN FRONT OF MY ALTAR NO LESS, AND HE WAS STILL A CHILD! – KILLED A DAUGHTER OF YOUR SON ARES AND A SON OF ÊÔS AND TRIED TO TEAR DOWN TROY BY HIMSELF, SO THE ACHAEANS CAN COMMIT THE WORST WAR CRIMES!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT??? THAT I WOULD GIVE A FUCK, JUST BECAUSE I WAS AT HIS MOTHER'S WEDDING?! IT WAS AN HONOUR WE DID TO HER, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND! WE OWE HER NOTHING! AND WE CERTAINLY DON'T OWE RESPECT TO THAT SHITFACE OF A HERO, WHO DOESN'T DESERVE ANY OF IT! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO LOSE A CHILD!!! GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK, YOU – YOU …!!!”

“Shhh! Easy!”, Aphrodite hushed him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't stoop so low as to throw petty insults. Your father's anger isn't worth it. And neither is she.”

She threw a hateful glare at Hera.

Ares placed a hand on his other shoulder and turned to Zeus: “Father, with your permission we'll see ourselves out.”

His father consented: “That would be wise. And Apollon, even though you're right with what you say, you must show respect to my wife. Remember that for the future.”

Apollon bit his lip, but nodded.

Artemis took her brother's hand and together with Ares and Aphrodite they left the assembly.

.

“I'm sorry for lashing out at your mother like that”, Apollon apologised as soon as the four were alone in the garden.

“Don't mind that”, the war god muttered, “Normally I'd be pissed, but you were right with everything you said. She's been nothin' but a bitch in the last decades. I'm mad at her anyway, for all the times she sicced Daddy's Owl on me. My mother is faithful to my father, but the price for that is, that she doesn't know parental grief. You know her. One day she's the perfect mother and the next day she's the worst. An' yeah, sure, Thetis suffers, but we all suffer more and it's partly the fault of her son – the rest is the fault of the other Achaeans.”

“Can I ask you something?”, Artemis inquired.

Ares nodded. “Sure.”

“How much do you really know?”

He gawked at her in amazement.

Then he laughed, for the first time since Penthesileia's death. “Ya know, you're the first person ever to ask me that! Ever! And I'm, like, 38 000 years old!”

“… That's depressing.”

“Yeah, but I'm used to it.”

“That's even more depressing!”

Ares grinned. “An' that's why we're friends! Hey, guys, wanna get plastered?”

Artemis shrugged: “Sure, I'm game.”

Apollon smiled weakly: “Me too. I really need a drink.”

Aphrodite chuckled: “Absolutely! Let's get roaring drunk at Dionysos' bar and talk about the future and the good ol' days!”

They spent the rest of the day and night doing exactly that.

.

Meanwhile in the assembly hall, the other Olympians sat in silence at the scene that just had occurred.

Until Zeus turned to his wife and rebuked her: “Not Apollon's wrath brought Akhilleus low, but his own hubris. He brought this upon himself. As the god of law I can't and won't make exceptions, not even for Thetis. I value her more than anyone, but that doesn't change the fact, that her son was ill-bred. After all the offences he committed towards gods and mortals alike, it would have been extremely unjust to grant him a longer life span. Why would I spare him, when I couldn't spare the children of mine and of Poseidon, Ares, Apollon, or Êôs? There is nothing more to say, Hera. He was fated to die and that's that. Be quiet.”

Hera fumed and was about to make a retort, but Athena put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let's not fight pointlessly”, the goddess of wisdom said. “Instead, let us attend Akhilleus' funeral, for the sake of Thetis.”

“And that of your friends Odysseus and Diomedes?”, Poseidon teased.

Athena glared at him. “Shut up.”

.

Thetis was relentless in her grief for her fallen son.

Her sisters came to her son's funeral to wail with her.

Even the Mousai came to attend and sing for the Nereid's sake.

“Damn Zeus”, the sea goddess wailed, “Damn him, damn him, damn him! He forced me to marry a mortal man against my will and gave my son – the only comfort of my unwanted fate – a short life span, while at the same time promising me, that he would gain everlasting fame! What do I care about glory, now that I had to bury my son, while he was still young! To Tartaros with all of them! When the other gods bound him, it was me who saved him and in return I had to endure all of this?! What did I do to deserve this! I will go up to Olympos and remind him of all the things I have done for him and all the things I had to go through, because of his ingratitude, so that he might be ashamed-”

“Shut up.”

Everyone whirled around and in amazement stared at Kalliope, the Mousa of epic poetry.

She was frowning, but as she continued, her voice was gentle: “Don't be so foolish as to invoke the wrath of both gods and men. You're not the only one suffering. Kronion too had to see his dear sons suffer and die, without being able to save them. Herakles became a god, but only after endless torment. I had to endure many pains for the sake of my son Orpheus, only to see him die in a most cruel manner, torn apart by the Bakkhai. Several of the Dodekatheoi are mourning for their children, who fell in this cruel and pointless war – some of them were felled by your son. Be as tactful to them as you expect them to be with you. Troy will soon fall, just like your son, that is the decree of the incorruptible and unyielding Moirai. As for Akhilleus: as long as civilization exists, he will be remembered in song, poetry and stories – he will not be forgot by mankind. So great is his glory. That shall be your comfort.”

Then Helios descended from the sky and primordial Nyx brought darkness and the relief of her gentle son Hypnos.

.

During the funeral games for Akhilleus, Athena had interfered several times, to the favour of her dear favourite Odysseus.

In the end, he had even won the armour of the great hero, that Hephaistos had made for Akhilleus, before he had gone to slay Hektor.

The other contender had been Ajax the Greater, who had been so furious at his loss, that he had plotted Odysseus' demise.

Athena admitted, that he'd had a right to the armour just as much as Odysseus, but still she couldn't let him slay one of her favourite heroes, so she had struck him with madness.

When Ajax came to his senses and realised, that he had killed a whole flock of sheep in his attempt to kill those who had wronged him, he was filled with deep despair.

After a tearful goodbye to his concubine and son, he threw himself into his own sword.

Agamemnon and Menélaos had wanted to deny the almost-murderer a proper burial.

But Odysseus, ridden by conscience and fear of the gods, had reminded them, that Ajax had been a great hero and a great support to the Achaeans against the Trojans. And besides, disrespecting the dead meant disrespecting the gods.

The Atreides were surprised at Odysseus generosity, but wouldn't object to his reasoning.

“I hated him as long as it was appropriate”, the wily king of Ithaka explained, “But now that he's dead, I have no reason to hold grudges. Besides, it is my fault that he lost it.”

He turned towards Ajax' family: “I promise, that you will not be scorned or mistreated, because of his mistake. If you want, I can help you bury him too-”

“No thank you”, Teukros declined flatly, “My brother's spirit is likely still angry at you, so he wouldn't want it. I will do it alone – it's all I can do, because I can't return home without him. But we appreciate the support.”

.

Athena had revealed to Odysseus and the seer Kalkhas how they would gain the final victory over the Trojans.

So they had enlisted the help of Akhilleus' teenage son Pyrrhos (or Neoptolemos, as he was also called) and of Philoktetes, an archer, whom they had abandoned of an island before the war, because he had been incapacitated by a snake bite, which had given off an unbearable stench, as well as mortal agony. But he wasn't just any archer; he owned a very special bow – the very weapon that once had belonged to the great Herakles. The then mortal hero had gifted it to him, along with the poisoned arrows, as reward for lighting his funeral pyre to relieve his suffering.

Neoptolemos had been easy to persuade, but Philoktetes had only buried his righteous grudge after the now deified Herakles had appeared before his old friend to reveal his destiny and his role in the end of the war. Now he had calmed down and agreed to help, much to the delight of the Achaeans.

The unerring arrows of Herakles, dipped in the Hydra's venom, felled many Trojans, but they weren't too important.

The only one whose death mattered was Paris, who had caused this entire war and brought unending suffering over both sides.

He was wounded by two of the poisoned arrows and in desperation dragged himself to his ex-wife Oinone, an Oreade and great healer, to save him. But Oinone, still hurt that he had dumped her for Helene, told him to go and fuck himself.

And so Paris died a long, agonising but well-deserved death.

Overcome with remorse, Oinone built him a funeral pyre and jumped into the flames to die with him. She had been the only one to whole-heartedly mourn this ominous man.

The Trojans mourned him as a formality, but in truth no one was really sad as he had been hated by all.

.

Helene of Sparta wept, but not for him; she cried for things that had been out of her power and because she was now forced to marry Paris' brother Deiphobos, who was just as unpleasant.

She refused to share his bed; that man was no match for a daughter of Zeus.

Instead she sneaked out and wandered the streets, homesick and wishing she was dead or better yet, could turn back time and stop all this from happening.

She was wandering through a dark alley, when she came across two beggars.

“Mild alms, kind lady”, the shorter one rasped.

Pitying him, she took off the golden armlet she was wearing and gave it to him.

But then their eyes met and she recognised him, of course she did; she would have recognised those sly, knowing mossy green eyes anywhere.

“Odysseus!!!”

“Shhhh!”, he hissed. “Be quiet, Helene! Do you want to get us killed?!”

“Sorry”, she whispered. “Wait, Diomedes? You're here too?! How did you two get in? What are you doing here?”

“How we got in here doesn't matter”, Diomedes grumbled, “As for why we're here, how can we trust you not to rat us out? You abandoned your husband and daughter twenty years ago, not to mention-”

“I didn't abandon them!”, she lamented, “I was abducted by Aphrodite and Paris! And here in Troy I have been met with scorn and animosity from everyone except Priamos and Hektor, but he's dead! I hate being responsible for all of this! You have no idea how often I have wished, I … I … I just want to go home! I miss Sparta, I miss Menélaos and I miss Hermione! I … I never got to see her grow up!”

“Don't cry”, Odysseus told her in a gentler tone, “I miss my wife and son too. I too want to go home to Ithaka, spend the rest of my days at Penelope's side and see my son grow into a fine man. I know how you feel, trust me. And if you help me, we can finally end this damn war and get out of here.”

“How is Menélaos?”, Helene inquired.

“He's fine”, Diomedes said, “As brash and volatile as ever. I'll be honest with you, he's furious at you. But I'm sure he'll change his mind as soon as he sees you again.”

Helene smiled drily: “Then my cursed beauty would be useful for once in my life. But still, why are you here?”

In the end she assisted them in stealing the Palladion by showing them the way and helping them get out unseen.

As they said their goodbyes, Helene took off the locket she was wearing.

“Menélaos gave it to me”, she said gently. “Tell him, that I have kept it for all these years. It was the only thing I had left of him and my home.”

.

The giant wooden horse had been Odysseus' idea.

In retrospect, he couldn't believe it hadn't come to him sooner.

But that didn't matter now. They had a city to conquer.

It took several weeks to build the horse and a few days to select the warriors that were to hide inside the hollow structure.

But someone had to trick the Trojans into taking the horse into their city.

The man chosen for this task was Sinon, a cousin of Odysseus and equally sly dog. He had them whip him and then they dragged the horse in front of the city gate. There the poser claimed, that the horse was dedicated to Athena as penance for the theft of the Palladion and that they had tried to sacrifice him, but he had got away.

It worked.

The Trojans tore off a part of their impenetrable city wall, because the wooden horse was too big for the gates. After that they pulled it into their city, not suspecting that it was hiding a bunch of Achaean warriors.

Princess Kassandra and the priest Laokoon warned, that it was a ruse, but no one believed Kassandra and Laokoon was quickly silenced by Athena, who sent a pair of serpents to kill him and his sons.

Kassandra grabbed a torch and was about to set the horse on fire and kill the Achaeans inside, but was held back by the Trojans – much to the relief of the hidden warriors.

They waited until nightfall, until most Trojans were asleep.

Then Sinon gave the signal to the troops waiting outside, the contingent hidden inside the horse crept outside and the massacre began.

.

“Regretting your support yet?”, Apollon asked frostily. “Or are you actually proud of the Achaeans' poor conduct?”

“What do you mean?”, Hera frowned.

Now Ares stepped forward. He was holding a huge scroll, probably metres long.

“Glad you ask!”, he sneered. “Do ya know what I have here?”

Everyone but Zeus, Apollon and Thémis (she was here too) shook their heads.

The war god smiled coldly: “As Zeus' heir, one of the duties I have is looking through my father's mail. It's a real nightmare, but sometimes it does come in handy. This is a list of complaints and revenge prayers, mostly about certain members of the Achaeans. If I read ya the entire list, we'd be here all night. So I'll give you a summary. Starting with Agamemnon: blasphemy against several gods, sacrileges, attempted murder of his own daughter and human sacrifice towards Artemis, offence of a priest of Apollon, offence of a demigod, violation of the laws of hospitality, murder. Akhilleus: rape, violation of the laws of hospitality, blasphemy against several gods, murder of several other demigods, attacking of a god. Diomedes: physical harm of several gods, attacking of a god, attempted murder of a demigod. Odysseus: attempted perjury, judicial murder …”

How dare he talk shit about Diomedes and Odysseus!

Ares probably guessed what she was thinking, but didn't show it.

With a scoff he looked over his fellow gods. “You didn't expect that, did ya? That I keep track of everyone's bullshit? Y'all keep forgetting, that aside from terrible war, I'm also a god of civil disturbance, crime and order. But ya know what? Why waste the night by rattlin' down this huge ass scroll? Why don't we just look at what's goin' on right now and let that speak for itself? Father, may I?”

“You may”, Zeus consented.

Ares threw a red ball of light at the ceiling, opening a screen of what was happening in Troy.

Several of the gods gasped.

The war god had finally stopped smirking and was arching an eyebrow at the scene.

“They're really goin' at it, aren't they? Pretty poor sportsmanship, eh?”

“Silence!”, Zeus ordered.

His eyes were wide with appal, as he stared at one particular scene:

Hektor's widow Andromákhe was fleeing from Neoptolemos, son of Akhilleus, with her infant son Astyanax in her arms, but he quickly caught up to them. What the young man did then was terrible: he brutally ripped the child out of his mother's arms and pierced him with his sword. Andromákhe's anguished screams were so heart-wrenching, that even Poseidon averted his eyes.

Apollon furiously pointed at that scene: “Look at this! Aren't you so proud?! Some fine grandson Thetis got there! He's even worse than his father! He just brutally murdered an infant! A defenceless little child and tore him out of his mother's arms!”

“Shut y-”, Hera started, but then Zeus cried out: “Oh my me!”

Neoptolemos had entered one of Zeus' temples and found king Priamos, seeking shelter at the altar together with a few others. Priamos stepped in front of his wife and the others to at least try to protect them and scolded the young man for his impiety. But Neoptolemos, still holding the corpse of Astyanax, clubbed the old man to death with it in front of the horrified onlookers.⁶

Zeus looked like he wanted to puke.

Athena felt like puking too. This was just …

But before she could end that thought, Ares sneered: “Pretty inhuman, that boy. How old is he, fifteen? Most boys at that age go to school or learn a craft, play silly games and dream of silly things. And he's beating an old man to death with a child's corpse at father's altar! Good thing his grandmother isn't here – oh great, it gets worse!”

“Worse???”, Poseidon responded incredulously, “What could be a worse crime than-?”

A piercing scream cut him off.

The focus had shifted to a different scene.

They saw Ajax the Lesser enter a temple of Athena, where he found princess Kassandra clinging to a statue of the goddess.

Athena blanched and burst into tears at what happened next.

Even Ares squeezed his eyes shut, as the Lokrian committed the one crime he considered unforgivable (and it wasn't sacrilege).

“Abominable”, he snarled. “Some hero, that. Of all the war crimes he could have committed, it had to be the worst one, the one even I can't stand … and you call me barbaric.”

He turned to Athena and she loathed his pitying expression.

“Tell me, Daddy's Owl, is that how you define 'war for a just cause' or 'justice in war'? Where is the heroism, the virtue and sense of honour you always talk about? Does this correspond with your idealism, if the side you support rears its ugly head like that? Is this what you're willing to tolerate, as long as your side wins? I'll repeat Apollon's question from earlier: are you proud, Daddy's Owl? Are you?”

“Shut up!”, she howled and cried into her hands.

Poseidon gently touched her arm and tried to give his niece at least a modicum of comfort, but there was nothing that could console Athena now.

And to her distress Ares went on, this time addressing Hera: “And you, mother? Do you feel proud and triumphant? Do you condone all of this, just because that moron Paris didn't pick you to be the fairest? The extent of your pettiness and spite are truly pathetic. Rejoice all you want, but your victory is hollow.”

“That's enough”, Zeus finally told him. “No more of your taunting, Ares. No one is the victor in this war, just like you wanted. The Achaeans have won, but their divine allies haven't. As for you, this is your war now and the mortals are under your cruel sway, but you had to bear too great losses for this to be worth it, for this to satisfy you.”

“No”, Ares agreed. “We both have always known, that it wasn't worth it. Then again, father, this was your will, wasn't it? You pulled the strings through all of this, like the manipulator you are. And yet, even you lose, even you suffer. Not even you saw this coming, even you can't bear this and that is the price you pay for allowing this to happen. This is my definition of justice. Because I'm right and you all know it, that's one of the reasons why you hate me. How does it feel to finally have to face the fact, that you're all terrible people, just like me?”

Now he finally ended his sardonic speech and turned to leave. “Either way, I have no more business here. I'll pack my things and leave Olympos. My work won't be needed anytime soon, so I'll go back to Thrake and then maybe see the world. Enjoy the next centuries of relative peace and recovery for mankind.”

No one stopped him, as he grabbed his cloak and strode out of the hall with his head held high.

.

It seemed like an eternity, until the ensuing silence was broken.

Poseidon was the one who did: “Zeus, I don't think they deserve a full victory. Only those who are granted a triumphant return are truly victorious. And I don't think they have earned the right to come home in triumph or even at all.”⁷

Zeus agreed: “No, they really haven't. I hereby decree, that only those who have acted honourably and with piety will be granted a safe and triumphant homecoming and a good life for the rest of their days.”

“… Revenge.”

The King of the Skies blinked. “What was that, my daughter?”

Athena lowered her hands.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her cheeks flushed with shame and fury and her face was a hideous grimace of unbridled hatred.

“Revenge”, she snarled, “I want revenge!”

She stared at the scene on the screen, which was still on the ceiling.

The Achaeans were currently failing to punish Ajax for his sacrilege, despite Odysseus' fierce demand to have him stoned to death to appease the wrathful goddess.

“LET ME DESTROY THEM!”, Athena roared all of the sudden, terrifying everyone, “LET ME DESTROY AJAX, HIS BAND AND ALL THOSE WHO DIDN'T PUNISH HIM!!! I WON'T HAVE A MOMENT'S REST, BEFORE I HAVE SEEN THIS DISGUSTING BASTARD SUFFER AND PERISH AT MY OWN HANDS!!! LET ME HAVE RETRIBUTION, FATHER! GIVE ME JUSTICE!!!”

“You shall have it”, Zeus pacified her, “Take my lightning bolts, my armour and my sceptre. This once, the sky, the winds and storms shall obey your command. Unleash your wrath and avenge all offences to your heart's content.”

Poseidon stepped forward. “The sea shall assist you as well”, he spoke grimly, “For I too am angered and only seeing them drown after a helpless struggle can appease me now.”

He chuckled coldly: “Ares was right; we really are terrible people. But so were they and I don't see why we should let them get away with it.”

“We won't”, Zeus assured him. “I won't.”

.

It's said, that the sea is a cruel mistress.

And that she never releases, what she claims.

That was certainly true for the Lord of the Sea.

Even the greatest fleet of ships was nothing more than a bunch of tiny papyrus boats on Thalassa's⁸ seemingly endless surface, small and breakable.

The Lord of the Deep and the Bright-eyed Goddess easily tore them to shreds in their relentless wrath.

Many of their crew drowned, but most importantly the one who had desecrated the sacred ground of Athena with the vilest of crimes.

Some were favoured for good conduct and reached their homes quickly and safely.

Some came home only to find nasty surprises waiting there.

Then there were those, who only came home after years of troublesome journey, because one or the other god was wroth, but not enough to outright kill them.

One of the last ones was favoured by Athena and his name would be known by his insanely long journey home:

Odysseus.

.

---

.

1) According to one source, Diomedes throws a hissy fit, disrespects Penthesileia's corpse and is ready to throw hands with Akhilleus, because Thersites is a cousin of his. But this makes no sense for a lot of reasons (like Thersites being a common soldier, while Diomedes is one of the Argive leaders), so I ignored that version and decided to make him more sensible than that. I went with the version, which is most detailed, but doesn't mention anything of this. I also decided to let him keep the magical sight Athena gave him, so he always recognises a god, when he sees one. 2) Miaiphonos: "Blood-Stained One / Defiled with gore or murder" 3) Teikhesiplêtês: "Stormer of Cities / Stormer of Walls" 4) "Stormer of Cities, Destroyer of Men, Of The Golden Helmet, Blood-Stained God, Terrible One, Ally of Thémis" (Yes, this was my excuse to list as many epithets as decently possible.) 5) Ánax: "Lord, King" 6) I'm not making this up! There are a lot of depictions on ancient Greek pottery, showing Priamos' death like that, or as similarly brutal. 7) This is an actual concept: One important part of a war is the return home afterwards (Nostos). Only a triumphant return would make the victory truly complete. 8) Thalassa: The primordial personification of the sea's surface. A daughter of Aither (the bright, upper air) and Hemera (the day) and the spouse of Pontos, the primordial deep sea.