#I've been taking way too long I'm so sorry!

[the1980sgamerguy]

Dark deku I have to ask you something. Do feel bad for class 1a finding you because there worried about you

here's a star for you ⭐️

T-thanks!

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I THINK HE KNOWS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict reader’s appearance!)

SUMMARY: daniel craig introduces his daughter to his co-star drew starkey at the after party for the ‘golden globes,��� and they do more than just hit it off.🫣

based on this ask !! i got a little carried away with this one and i could genuinely write a WHOLE fic with drew x daniel craig’s daughter😫 i have so many ideas for this pairing, so lmk if you wanna see more !! i hope you enjoy this @drewstarrrkey <3

WARNINGS: fluff & smut (18+, MDNI!), cursing, alcohol consumption, flirty!reader, cursing, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it😣), switch!drew (mostly dom), like one (?) use of ‘good girl,’ body worship, LOTS of foreplay😝. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 5.2k (i got REALLY carried away😭)

THIRD PERSON +

The energy of the Golden Globes after-party was electric. The clinking of glasses, low hum of laughter, and faint music filled the space. Celebrities mingled under the soft glow of chandeliers, conversations buzzing with excitement about the evening's wins.

Drew Starkey sat at the bar nursing a glass of champagne, still slightly stunned from his earlier win. He'd barely had time to process the moment—his first major nomination and now his first big award.

The crowd was overwhelming, but his co-star, Daniel Craig, had insisted he celebrate properly. Drew watched as Daniel cut through the party with his unmistakable presence, shaking hands, embracing friends, and flashing that rare smile that could light up a room. Behind him, someone followed, and Drew's attention lingered just a little too long.

"Starkey!" Daniel's voice carried above the noise. Drew straightened instinctively, placing his glass back down as Daniel approached.

"Hey!" Drew smiled. "Congrats again. Well deserved, man."

"Thank you. Same to you." Daniel clapped him on the shoulder before stepping to the side. "I want you to meet someone."

Stepping forward with a confident stride was a young woman, poised but relaxed in a way that suggested she belonged in a room like this. Daniel turned to her with an almost affectionate roll of his eyes.

"This is my daughter, Y/N."

Y/N smiled and offered her hand to Drew. "Hi. I've heard so much about you."

Drew shook her hand, his mind scrambling for composure. "You too. I mean—I haven't heard about you in that sense, but your dad's mentioned you. Not in a bad way—uh, I mean—" He stopped, exhaling with a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I'm a bit flustered. It's nice to meet you."

Y/N grinned. "Quite the introduction, Drew."

Daniel raised a brow at them both, clearly amused. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. I see a few friends I need to go bother." He glanced at Drew. "Behave yourself."

Drew let out an awkward laugh. "Of course. Always."

Daniel walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Y/N turned back to Drew, tilting her head slightly as she observed him. "He's very fond of you, you know."

"Is he?" Drew replied, trying to play it cool. "He's great. Working with him was... surreal, honestly."

"I'd imagine. I've seen the movie, of course. You were phenomenal." Her tone was warm, genuine, and Drew found himself smiling at her praise.

"Thank you. That means a lot."

She leaned against the bar, signaling to the bartender for a drink. "You look surprised."

"I guess I just... still don't know how to take compliments," Drew admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's all been a bit overwhelming."

"You shouldn't be so modest. Your performance was stunning. And you've got the trophy to prove it." She shot him a teasing smile. "Don't let it go to your head, though."

Drew laughed, finally feeling himself relax. "I'll try my best. And you—your dad said you're an actress as well? And a model?"

"Here and there. I've done some niche indie films—ones that play in small theatres no one ever goes to." Her voice was light, self-deprecating but playful.

"Niche or not, that's impressive." Drew met her gaze. "What kind of roles?"

Y/N paused as the bartender slid a glass of wine her way. "I guess you could say I play a lot of brooding, lost souls. The ones who always seem to sit by windows and stare out dramatically."

"Ah, very serious. Lots of silent contemplation?"

"Exactly." Y/N laughed softly. "But enough about me. Tell me about Queer. It must've been... intense to film."

"It was." Drew nodded, leaning his elbow on the bar as he turned toward her. "Luca Gaudagnino has this way of making you feel completely vulnerable. It was a challenge, but I trusted him. There's this scene—I'm sure you remember it—where my character completely unravels."

"How could I forget?" Y/N said softly, her eyes locked on his. "You were so raw in that moment. It was almost uncomfortable to watch because it felt so real."

Drew blinked, feeling his ears heat. "That's what Luca wanted. He kept pushing me to 'stop acting,' as he put it. He'd say, 'Feel it. Don't pretend to feel it.' I'd never worked like that before."

"Well, it paid off. Watching you was like watching someone break open right in front of me. Vulnerable, stripped back..." She paused, taking a sip of her wine. "And now here you are, Golden Globe in hand."

Drew looked away, smiling sheepishly. "I'm still processing it."

"You deserve it," Y/N replied firmly. "And no one here is going to let you forget it."

Drew looked at her again, unable to ignore the spark in her gaze. She was bold—not just in what she said, but how she carried herself. It was disarming. "You've got a way with words."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Y/N smiled mischievously. "So tell me, Drew Starkey... how's the fame treating you?"

He groaned playfully, shaking his head. "You're going to make me sound insufferable."

"On the contrary, I think you're handling yourself rather well."

"You say that now," Drew teased. "Talk to me in six months when I've gone completely Hollywood."

"Mm, I don't think that's in your nature." Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully. "You seem far too grounded for that."

"You don't know me yet," Drew countered.

"Well, I'm a very good judge of character. Comes with the territory of being Daniel Craig's daughter—lots of egos to sift through."

Drew raised his brows, amused. "Is that right?"

"Absolutely. I'm rarely wrong." She gave him a sly look. "And my read on you so far is: humble, charming, and maybe a little too hard on yourself."

Drew chuckled, caught off guard. "You're bold."

"Life's too short not to be."

Drew shook his head with a small smile. "And what's your read on yourself?"

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to feel conspiratorial. "That would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?"

Drew swallowed, the teasing lilt in her voice setting him slightly off balance. There was a beat of silence between them, the kind that crackled with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, reaching for his champagne. "You're a mystery, Y/N."

"And you're still a little flustered," she teased, her grin widening. "Do I make you nervous, Drew?"

"Maybe." Drew gave her a crooked smile, holding her gaze. "But I think you like that."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and rich. "I do. I'm not afraid to admit it."

Drew shook his head in disbelief. "You're something else."

"So I've been told." She took another sip of wine, her expression softening just a touch. "But really—what's next for you? After all this?"

Drew shrugged, glancing around the room as if the answer might be hidden somewhere among the guests. "I don't know. This feels like such a huge moment, you know? I almost don't want to think about what's next. I just want to enjoy this."

"As you should." Y/N nodded approvingly. "Don't let anyone rush you."

"I won't." Drew paused, meeting her eyes again. "But... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared of what comes after. What if I can't live up to it?"

"You will," Y/N said softly, her tone sincere. "You've got the talent, Drew. The rest will follow."

Drew studied her for a moment, his chest feeling strangely warm. "You're very good at this."

"At what?"

"Making people feel seen."

Y/N smiled, her expression unreadable. "Maybe you just needed someone to see you tonight."

Drew felt his heart skip, the weight of her words settling between them. Before he could respond, Y/N placed her empty glass on the bar.

"Come on," she said, standing. "You're far too interesting to spend the whole night glued to this bar stool."

"Where are we going?" Drew asked, standing to follow her.

Y/N looked over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "You'll just have to follow me."

And he did. Without hesitation. A “Yes, ma’am,” slipping from his lips.

Drew followed Y/N as she led him away from the bar, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. She moved with a sort of practiced ease, as if she'd spent her whole life in rooms like this—grand, glittering, and full of famous faces. Drew, still buzzing from the champagne and the residual adrenaline of the evening, was mesmerized.

"I'm dying of curiosity here, where exactly are we going?" Drew asked, his voice tinged with amusement as they turned down a quieter hallway leading away from the main party.

"Somewhere a little less chaotic," Y/N replied, glancing back at him. "Unless you'd rather keep bumping elbows with half of Hollywood."

"No complaints here," Drew said, matching her steps. "I think I've shaken enough hands tonight to last me the rest of the year."

Y/N pushed open a door at the end of the hall, revealing a small terrace overlooking the city. The night air was cool, crisp against their skin as they stepped outside. The noise of the party dulled behind them, replaced by the distant hum of Los Angeles and the quiet rustling of trees in the breeze.

"Better?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

Drew exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he looked out over the skyline. "Much better. Thanks."

Y/N leaned against the railing, watching him with an unreadable expression. "You looked like you needed an escape."

"I guess I did." Drew joined her, leaning beside her, their arms nearly brushing. "It's a lot, you know? I'm grateful—don't get me wrong—but... I don't think I'm cut out for the whole schmoozing thing."

"Most people aren't. They just pretend they are." Y/N's lips curled into a small smile. "Besides, you've already done the hard part tonight. The rest is noise."

Drew glanced at her, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. "You're good at this—reading people."

She shrugged lightly, her tone playful but laced with truth. "It's my party trick."

"Anything else I should know about you?" Drew teased. "Other hidden talents?"

"Plenty," she replied with a grin and a cheeky wink. "But I'm not about to give them all away at once. That would ruin the mystery."

Drew shook his head with a laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You're impossible."

"I get that a lot," she said, unfazed. "But you haven't run off yet, have you?"

"No," Drew admitted, his smile softening. "I haven't."

Y/N's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she looked back out at the city. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you ever think you'd end up here?" She gestured vaguely to the world around them. "Holding a Golden Globe, being the name on everyone's lips?"

Drew was quiet for a beat, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think it ever felt real enough to imagine. I wanted it, of course—I worked for it—but this? This feels like someone else's life."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," he echoed, looking at her. "What about you? You've grown up in all of this. Does it ever lose its shine?"

Y/N's expression faltered, just for a moment, as if the question touched on something deeper. "Sometimes," she admitted. "It's easy to feel like you're just a part of the machinery—another face in a sea of them. But then you meet someone who reminds you why you love it, why it's worth it."

Drew tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Is that why you act? Because you love it?"

"Because I can't not do it," Y/N said simply. "Even when it's thankless, even when no one's watching... I need it."

Drew understood that. It resonated deep within him—the need to create, to express, to push boundaries for reasons that weren't always tangible.

"I get that," he murmured. "The best moments are the ones no one else sees. The ones you do for yourself."

Y/N turned to face him fully, her eyes sharp and intent. "Exactly. And that's what makes what you did in Queer so powerful. It didn't feel performative. It felt real, like you gave a part of yourself away for it."

Drew swallowed, her words hitting him harder than he expected. "I'm honoured. That's... the best compliment I've ever gotten."

"It's true," she said softly. "And for what it's worth, I think you're just getting started."

Drew looked at her, something shifting between them in the quiet. He felt seen—more than that, he felt understood. Y/N Craig, with her razor-sharp wit and unwavering confidence, had peeled back his layers in a way no one else had managed all night.

"You really don't hold back, do you?" Drew said, his voice low.

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. "Why should I? Life's too short for subtlety."

Drew's breath hitched as the space between them narrowed. She was close enough now that he could catch the faintest trace of her perfume—something heady and elegant that suited her perfectly.

"You're dangerous," Drew said, his voice a little unsteady.

Y/N arched a brow, clearly amused. "Am I?"

"Yeah." Drew's lips curved into a small smile. "The kind of person who makes you forget to play it safe."

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes locking with his. "And do you always play it safe, Drew Starkey?"

Drew hesitated for just a second before answering. "Not tonight."

Y/N's smile widened, a knowing glint in her eyes. She reached up, her fingers brushing the lapel of his suit jacket. "Good."

The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken possibilities. Drew could feel his pulse quicken, every sense heightened as Y/N held his gaze. She was testing him, waiting to see what he'd do.

And for once, Drew didn't think—he just acted.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Y/N's smile was slow and deliberate. "I thought you'd never ask."

Drew grinned, a mix of nerves and excitement flickering across his face as Y/N tugged him by the hand, leading him back through the terrace door. The pair slipped back into the hallway unnoticed, the music and chatter of the afterparty drowning out their hasty footsteps.

"Are we seriously sneaking our way out right now?" Drew whispered, though the grin he wore betrayed any hesitation.

"Unless you'd rather stay and talk to George Clooney about his favorite vineyards," Y/N teased, looking back at him with a mischievous smile. "Then we need to make haste!"

Drew huffed a quiet laugh. "Okay, fair point. Let's go."

They moved quickly, dodging small clusters of guests and waitstaff like a pair of teenagers sneaking out of school. Every time their eyes met, a fit of laughter threatened to spill out of them.

"Act natural," Y/N mock-coached as they passed one of the party coordinators.

"Yeah, because that's going well," Drew shot back, trying to suppress his smirk.

Finally, they pushed through a side exit and found themselves in the cool night air, away from the golden haze of the afterparty. The parking area was quiet, save for a valet who barely looked up as Y/N called for a car.

"God, I feel like we just got away with murder," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood beside her.

Y/N grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed. "Feels kind of good, doesn't it?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah... yeah, it really does."

The car pulled up, and Y/N wasted no time climbing into the backseat. Drew followed, sliding in beside her and shutting the door. The silence in the car was loaded, broken only by the faint hum of the radio and the distant sounds of the city.

"Your hotel, I assume?" Y/N asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah." Drew cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of what they were doing hit him. He glanced at her and added softly, "If that's okay."

Y/N gave him a teasing look. "Wouldn't be here if it wasn't, would I?"

Drew felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he covered it with a laugh. "Right. Fair point."

The ride to the hotel felt like a blur, the two of them making light conversation as they both tried to ignore the electric undercurrent running between them. When the car finally pulled up to Drew's hotel, he shot Y/N a nervous glance.

"You sure about this?" he asked quietly.

Y/N's lips twitched into a smirk as she leaned closer, her voice low and teasing. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"Definitely not," Drew said quickly, earning another quiet laugh from her.

They hurried through the lobby—heads down, hands brushing but never fully touching. Drew felt like his heart was pounding in his ears as they reached the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut, Y/N let out a giggle, biting her lower lip.

"We look so suspicious right now," she whispered.

"You look suspicious," Drew shot back with a grin. "I look like someone trying not to have a heart attack."

She rolled her eyes playfully, stepping closer to him. "Relax, Golden Globe winner. No one's paying attention to us."

"That's the problem," Drew muttered under his breath, earning another soft laugh from her.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped onto Drew's floor. He fumbled briefly with the keycard as Y/N watched, clearly entertained by how flustered he'd become.

"Need help?" she teased.

"I've got it," Drew replied quickly, finally getting the door open. He held it for her as she stepped inside, and he followed, shutting it behind them.

The hotel room was simple and sleek, the lights dim as Drew tossed his keycard onto the desk. He turned to find Y/N standing near the window, looking out at the glittering cityscape. She turned to face him, her expression softer now, though still full of that familiar mischief.

But it was like something had switched in the air. Drew leaning back against the door as he studied her.

"So," he began, his voice quiet but laced with an edge that made her stomach twist, "I bet you think you're calling the shots tonight?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, I guess we'll see who's running this show, won't we?"

Drew pushed off the door, taking a slow step toward her. His movements were deliberate, almost predatory, and Y/N found herself instinctively taking a small step back. But she wasn't about to let him see her falter. She leaned forward slightly, her lips quirking into a smirk.

"You walk like you own the place," she said, her tone teasing. "But I bet you're all talk."

Drew stopped just inches away from her, his breath warm against her skin. He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed so intent on dominating the situation.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You might be surprised at what I'm capable of."

His fingers trailed down her neck, and she shivered despite herself. What is this? she wondered, her earlier confidence beginning to waver. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in despite her best efforts to maintain control.

"Or maybe," she countered, tilting her chin up defiantly, "you're just trying to scare me."

Drew's lips twitched into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "But why don't we find out?"

Before she could respond, his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together. Y/N gasped softly, her pulse quickening as his proximity overwhelmed her senses. His lips were so close to hers, his breath mingling with hers, and she couldn't help but tilt her face upward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his voice rough and intimate. "And I'm not one for playing games."

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how much taller and stronger he was than her. But she wasn't about to back down. "Good," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Because I like a challenge."

Drew's eyes darkened, and without warning, he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was commanding, urgent, and left no room for doubt about who was in charge. Y/N's hands flew to his shoulders, gripping tightly as she tried to steady herself against the wave of desire that washed over her.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry, and she parted them instinctively, allowing him access. The kiss deepened, grew more intense, and Y/N felt her knees weaken. Drew held her firmly, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her face, angling her head to deepen the connection.

When he finally pulled away, Y/N was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her chest rising and falling rapidly. She blinked up at him, dazed and disoriented, and realized with a jolt that she'd completely underestimated him.

"As wonderful as that was," Drew said, his voice husky and raw. "I think I need to go slower. Test your limits."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she stared up at him, realisation dawning. He's not bluffing, she thought, her earlier confidence faltering. Drew was lethal, charming, and utterly in control, and she had walked right into his trap.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Drew's lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Everything."

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pressing her closer against him. The heat between them was electric, a palpable tension that threatened to ignite at any moment.

Y/N's breath came in short bursts as she tilted her head up, her lips parted in anticipation. He's not going to kiss me, she thought, not yet. But the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed against her skin, told her she was wrong. He was going to do exactly what he wanted, and she was going to let him.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Tell me how much you like this."

She hesitated for a split second, but only a split second. Her boldness was ingrained, a survival mechanism honed by years of attention and expectation. "I like it," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I like that you're taking control."

Drew's smile was slow, predatory. "Good girl," he said, the words soft but laced with authority. He kissed her then, a deep, bruising kiss that left no room for doubt. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding, exploring, claiming. Y/N melted into him, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance as the world around her dissolved into sensation.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. Drew stared down at her, his blue eyes gleaming with something that made her stomach twist. "You're not in control here, sweetheart," he said, his tone conversational but firm. "Not anymore."

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier confidence faltering. He's right, she realised. I walked into this thinking I could handle him, but he's handling me. And God, it was intoxicating.

Drew didn't wait for her response. Instead, he turned her gently, positioning her with her back to him. Her heart raced as she felt his body press against hers, his chest warm and solid against her spine. His hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She gasped, arching into his touch.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice rumbling against her ear.

She nodded quickly, too caught up in the sensations to form words.

"Good," he said, his grip tightening momentarily before he released her. Y/N blinked, confused, as Drew stepped back. He moved to the bed, sitting down and leaning back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze was intense, predatory, as he watched her.

"Take off your dress," he said simply.

The command hit her like a bolt of lightning. Y/N hesitated, her hands moving instinctively to the zipper at the back of her gown. She glanced at Drew, expecting... something. A smile, maybe, or a reassuring word. But his expression remained unchanged, a mask of calm dominance.

He's serious, she thought, her pulse quickening. He wants me to do this for him.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to unzip her dress. The fabric slid down her shoulders, pooling at her hips. She shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Beneath it, she wore only a lace bra and matching panties, the delicate garments doing little to conceal her arousal.

Drew's eyes roamed over her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the slight tremble in her thighs. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "But not enough."

Y/N's brow furrowed. "What—"

"Shh," he interrupted, raising a hand to silence her. "Don't talk. Just listen."

Her breath caught in her throat as Drew leaned forward, his movements fluid and precise. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the strap of her bra. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it sliding down her arm. Her nipples tightened immediately, peaking under his scrutiny.

"Perfect," he said, his voice a low purr. He cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing gently. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a moan, her legs trembling beneath her.

Drew's free hand reached for the waistband of her panties, tugging them downward until they clung to her hips. He paused there, his fingers tracing the edge of the fabric before hooking his thumbs into the sides and pulling them down her legs.

Y/N stood before him completely exposed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal. Drew's gaze was relentless, unapologetic, as he took in every inch of her.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She obeyed, her movements stiff with nervousness. When she faced away from him, Drew's hands returned to her body, one stroking down her spine while the other traced the curve of her ass.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, his lips lingering as his hands explored her body with increasing boldness.

Y/N's knees nearly buckled beneath her. This is happening, she thought, her brain struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. He's really doing this.

Without warning, Drew spun her around and pushed her backward onto the bed. Y/N landed with a soft thud, her heart pounding as she looked up at him. Drew loomed over her, his expression dark and commanding.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice sharp and clipped.

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. Is this what I want? The question flashed through her mind, but the answer was already there, buried beneath the haze of desire clouding her judgment.

She spread her legs, her breathing shallow and uneven. Drew's eyes flicked down, noting her readiness with a smirk.

"Good girl," he said, the words dripping with approval. He knelt between her thighs, his fingers skimming the inside of her knee before moving upward. Y/N's breath hitched as his touch neared her core, her body tensing in anticipation.

And then, quite suddenly, he stopped.

"Wait," he said, his voice firm.

Y/N blinked up at him, confusion and frustration warring within her. "What?" she managed to whisper.

Drew's smile was wicked, almost cruel. "I need to hear you say it."

"Say what?"

His fingers pressed against her inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm. "Tell me what you want," he demanded. "Tell me how much you need this."

Y/N's cheeks flushed crimson, her confidence faltering under his unrelenting gaze. "I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Drew's expression hardened, his hand withdrawing from her thigh. "Then we're done here."

"No!" she cried, desperation clawing at her throat. "Please, Drew, I—"

"Say it," he interrupted, his voice a low growl.

She hesitated, her pride warring with her need. But she needed this, more than she cared to admit. "Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I... I need you to fuck me."

At her admission, Drew's control snapped. His hands and lips were everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched, no moment unexplored.

And within a split-second, he pushed into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her body adjusting to his size, her muscles tightening around him. Drew began to move, his rhythm slow and steady, building the tension once more. He watched her face intently, reading every twitch and moan, adjusting his movements to maximise her pleasure. It was as if he could feel every sensation she was experiencing, as if they were connected in a way that went beyond the physical.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth in another bruising kiss. His hand found her clit, his thumb circling it in time with his thrusts.

The cacophony of sounds filled the room: slick skin connecting, Y/N's breathless whimpers and cries of pure pleasure, Drew's soft moans. But to them it sounded like a symphony; a truly bewitching one.

"Y/N," Drew said her name like a prayer, his voice ragged with volatile emotions. "Look at me."

She obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears of ecstasy blurred her vision. This was it, she realised. This was what she'd been missing. The raw, unfiltered connection, the trust, the surrender.

"Don't look away," he commanded, his voice fierce but tender. "Stay with me."

She nodded, her breathing shallow as she clung to him, her body tense with anticipation. And then, as if on cue, her climax hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing with pleasure as she screamed his name.

Drew followed soon after, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he poured himself into her, his body shuddering with release. For a moment, they lay there in silence, their hearts pounding in sync.

"So," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "Not a bad way to celebrate your first Golden Globe win, is it?"

Drew let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Not bad at all."

Y/N grinned, lifting her head to look at him. "Good. Because I plan on reminding you about this night for years."

Drew rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Drew shook his head, pulling her closer. "You're the worst."

"And yet, here we are," Y/N teased, settling back against him.

Drew couldn't argue with that. As he lay there, listening to her quiet breathing and staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think that this was, without a doubt, the best night of his life.

(dividers by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i had SO much fun writing this request and i REALLY got carried away XD i hope this wasn’t too long, and was exactly what you wanted my lovely :) request are going to be open for the next 24 hours so get some in if you have anymore everyone !! <3

thinking of starting a tag list if anybody’s interested? as always, hearts and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[midnight-mourning]

Not Soon Enough

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 6❄️❄️

sorry for being so late you guys, finished up the semester and then went into caffeine withdrawl lmaoooo (i've been sooo tired my gosh) but! i'm not going to let a bit of sleepiness keep me from doing what i love. having said that, please enjoy!

Prompt: Sharing gifts on christmas eve because someone( could be reader or sun/moon) is too excited to wait until morning to give their gift. (I feel like I spent a while crafting a request lol)

Word Count: 1838

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"Well, that was fun." You stretch, doing your best to suppress a yawn and turn to your left, "Ready to go to bed? Or well, recharge?"

Sun looks over to you, eyes wide and tone slightly panicked. "Already? But we just got started!"

"Sun, buddy, this is the third movie we've watched. It's getting late. Don't you want to be able to get up on time?"

Tomorrow was Christmas, and after the—slightly—eventful day you've had, you're more than ready to crash. Especially because now it seems the attendant may have forgotten—

"But we still haven't opened a present!"

You stand corrected, he has not forgotten in the slightest. Which you're assuming meant Moon hadn't either.

This had been going on all day long. For some reason, they'd both been hellbent on getting to open at least one present today. Why this started all of the sudden, you had no clue. Up until today they'd just been excited to spend the holiday with you, enjoying all the traditions and such.

Now though, you'd barely been given time to think outside of their questioning, and admittedly, questionable tactics into getting you to give in.

At first it was just asking nicely, moving into pleading, then when that didn't work, helping you with things around the house. Then, came the compliments. Well, veiled pleas disguised as compliments.

"You're sweater is so adorable today, Sunshine! Maybe I'll have one under the tree and we can match! We should find out." Sun would say, taking your hand and spinning you into a dip.

Hand to his chest, you pushed him back and stood upright. "We can find out, tomorrow."

At another point, Moon watching you from across the table, head in his hands, eyes nothing but uplifted crescents. "Your eyes are sparkling in this lighting. If only I had a way to capture this moment. Perhaps with a photographic device that may or may not be in the green box over there?"

"Maybe." You had said. "You'll know in the morning."

At one point, they both decided to make an appearance, towering above you in a partly dim hallway. One hand on the wall beside you, the other under your chin. "You know, Starlight, we think that someone as cute as you would be sweeter than this, maybe you should consider being just a bit kinder tonight? "

"Kinder how?" Your trying to joke but your face feels incredibly warm at the moment.

Their faceplate spins. "We think you know."

It was, a lot to say the least. And admittedly, bruised your feelings just a little with them using flirting against you. While you didn't think either was aware of the crush you'd fostered, it still, hurt, in a way.

But, you swallow those feelings of self-pity down for the meantime. This was their first Christmas outside the Plex, being excited was understandable, as was using any tactic they could think of to get you to give in.

So far you've held strong, but with this latest beg from Sun, you'd begun to grow weary.

"Come on guys, can’t we give it a rest?"

Sun takes your exhausted tone as playful. "A rest? That's the exact opposite of what we need tonight!"

"Well, what I need is to sleep so I can get up at a decent time tomorrow." You let out another yawn. "And I know a certain someone who can't stand to see outward tiredness."

Sun's rays twitch at your words, faceplate on the fritz for a moment before relaxing. He grumbles under his breath. "Unfortunately, you may be correct."

You're about to say something but let out a chuckle instead. Without thinking, you reach a hand up and cup his faceplate. "It's only the night, surely you two can wait just a bit longer, yeah?"

Sun's hand reaches up for yours. "I, suppose so, but—" He shakes his head. "Just one present! I promise that'll be it."

You groan, falling back into the couch. "Sun... Please, no more."

"You won't regret it, I mean it. We mean it." It occurs to you then he's still holding your hand and he squeezes it once. "What if we played a game? Winner decides whether we go to bed,"—he shifts his grip, fingers dancing to intertwine with yours—"Or open a present. Deal?"

You stare at the connection between the two of you, doing your best to ignore the heat building on your cheeks. 

You sigh, reminding yourself that this is just part of the game for him. You take your hand back, and relent. "Fine. What's the game?"

Sun's rays click to one side, eyes narrowed cheekily. "Tag."

The rules were simple, 15 minutes, whoever was still 'it' when the time was up lost. You were first. Which, you think they might've been trying to give themselves the advantage with that one, but they were wrong. 

The attendant was fast, yes, but this was your house, you knew how to navigate every nook and cranny like the back of your hand. Additionally, they were also like eight or nine feet tall, and trying to outrun you in a space that wasn't catered to their height was their first mistake.

Their second, was imagining that just because you were tired that didn't mean you were going to put up any less of a fight. Not to mention, you've had your heart—unintentionally—toyed with more than enough today. Therefore, you were as determined as ever to win. 

You go back and forth being tagged a few times, neither you nor they keeping the lead for long. 

You manage to corner Sun in kitchen, doing his best to shield himself from you by tossing your Christmas-themed hand towels your direction. You snagged his elbow and immediately retreated, heading for anywhere else inside your house. 

As your feet pound up the stairs, you hear the light switch click, and a low chuckle from down below. 

"Think that's cheating!" You throw over your shoulder. You think you can fake him out by the bathroom. 

Another chuckle, this time closer. "We had no established rules if I recall correctly."

"Oh sweet, then this is okay then." You snatch up tinsel from the railing and toss it at him, successfully confusing him and causing his limbs to become tangled with the sparkly material. 

Moon growls in irritation and you snicker, running off to find a place to hide. 

You find a spot behind your shower curtain, struggling to contain your giggles when Moon opens the door, flicking on the lights after a moment. 

"Sunshine, times almost up... do you think hiding is going to help?"

You keep your mouth shut, barely able to stifle your laughter. Thankfully, Sun relents, bathroom door shutting with a click. 

You wait another minute or two, then creep over to the door. Peeking out, you see no sign of the Attendant. You cautiously take a step out, still looking around. 

Suddenly, your wrist is snatched up, and with a surprised shriek you're spun around and then pressed back against the wall. 

The two of them, 'Eclipse' as you've been calling the mode, leans over you. Your faces are mere inches apart, close enough to—

"You're it." Downstairs, the timer goes off. "And time's up."

You puff out your cheeks. Shaking your head once, not believing you fell for that again. 

You sigh, and slip out and around the bot, waving your hand for them follow you. "Alright, a deal's a deal. Come on then."

Had you not turned around, you would have seen them falter for a moment, before following. 

When you arrive to the living room, you scoop up one of their presents, presenting it to now just Sun. He doesn't take it.

"Go on, fair's fair. But I am going to sleep immediately after this, just so you know." You yawn again, for good measure. 

Sun's rays twitch, hands fidgeting. "Are you upset, Sunbeam? We're sorry if we took things too far."

"No, it's okay. Really, I'm just, tired." You let go of the feelings building inside you, guilt overtaking any hurt in that moment. 

Still, Sun doesn't take the gift. "Then... why did you leave?"

"Just now?" 

He nods. 

You can't stop the faint bitterness in your chuckle, try as you might. "Ah, that. Well, you and I both know you two have just been teasing me to get your way. Which worked, to be fair. Just thought I'd save us all the trouble and get to what you really wanted." You hear yourself, and cringe. "Wait, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry—"

"Not true." Both their hands rest on your shoulders, squeezing. "We meant it."

Before you can say anything, Sun's smile meets your lips, kissing you fervently. Your grip on the present falters, and it falls to the ground after a moment, thankfully not anything fragile from what you can remember. 

You're too flustered to fully register what's happening until he's kissing you again, and again and you finally have to push him back for a moment to breathe. 

Gasping, you wipe your mouth, eyes wide. "Excuse me?" Is what you manage to get out.

Sun's fingers press together, suddenly bashful. "When we said we'd wanted to open a gift, we, um,"—he shakes his head, rays spinning quickly—"We actually meant for you to open one of yours. From us, both of us."

He reaches around you and presents a small, neatly wrapped box in silver paper and an expertly crafted bow. 

"This is, for you. If you couldn't tell. Please open it. It, helps."

Surprised, and still shocked, you take the small box and with slightly shaky fingers, tear it open. Resting inside on a small pillow is a necklace with a golden sun and a silver moon charm. 

Sun's tone is soft. "We know it's a bit silly, since we see you all the time now. But we wanted you to have something that you remind you of us."

"Oh, guys, this is lovely." Your hand comes up to your mouth. "Thank you. Could you put it on for me?"

Sun nods, and you turn around. Once he's finished you face him again. 

"Well, how's it look?" You ask.

Both of them answer. "Pretty..." A shake of their head, Sun regaining full control. "The necklace, we mean."

You chuckle quietly, then bite your lip. "So, this mean what I think it does?"

"If what you think is that we adore you more than anything, then yes!" He nods rapidly, stepping closer again, arms wrapping around you. 

You break into a grin, hands entwining behind his neck as he bends down. "What took you so long?"

"What took you so long is the better question, Starshine." Sun moves in closer, looking very intent on kissing you again. 

"Hey now, I think that's a bit unfair—"

But your disagreement is cut short by a peck to your lips, and for now, you'll let it slide. 

It is Christmas Eve, after all.

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Thank you for the request @fishm0ther!! Sorry for being so late but i did have a lot of fun making it ^_^ had to add a touch of angst though for funsies :)

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Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

He Sees You

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You go away for the holidays but you can't escape all the worries you tried to leave at home..

Character: Walter Marshall

Day Seventeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let's go somewhere warm for the winter.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Let's go somewhere warm for the winter 

The sun beams amber over the dulcet ripples. Your room looks down onto the hotel pool in the setting evening, a calming hue soothing your nerves. You haven't felt this close to peaceful in month. No... has it already been a year? 

"So, honey, what do you think about trying the restaurant? I was just looking over the menu. I've never tried mussels," your mother's voice cuts through the din. Another comfort you've longed for. 

"Sure, whatever you want," you face her and sigh.  

It's more than getting away from work and your tiny apartment and the city. It's that foreign feeling. Something you almost forgot. You feel safe. 

"You alright?" She asks with concern. 

"I'm great, mom," you assure her. "Thanks for bringing me." 

"Didn't know what else to do with all that money. You wouldn't believe it, Sheila was so jealous that I won the jackpot at bingo. I would've asked her if she hadn't been such a crabby ass about it." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"Ah, she always was a pain," she shrugs. "Besides, I miss my baby girl. You're always so busy with work." 

"I know, mom, I'm sorry." 

You look down guiltily. You can't tell her that it's more an excuse these days than the truth. You are busy but not with your job. You're hiding. You don't have to here. It's nice and distant and warm. You can't remember a winter without snow. It's so strange to be hot in December. 

"I'll just change into something... not this," you look down at the sweats you wore on the plane. 

"Wonderful," you mom gives a small clap but concern lingers in the lines of her forehead, "we can wait until tomorrow if you're jetlagged." 

"I'm not. Promise. I want to," you assure her. 

You grab your bag and flip the lid open. You take out some capris and a flora shirt. You go into the bathroom as she searches her purse. You want to make the best of it. It's not often you have this luxury; not only the time off, but the all-inclusive resort. It's amazing.  

And it might be the only escape you get for a while. Or ever. 

You come out as your mom spritzes herself with body spray. She smiles and grabs her wallet, "dinner's on me." 

"Mom," you chide. 

"No, you don't even try. This is my present to you, honey. I want you to enjoy," she goes to the door and looks back at you. "What happened to my little girl and her smiles?" 

Her question pierces your heart. You know but it would break her heart to say it. You force a smile. 

"I'm just grown up and tired," you chuckle dryly. "Come on. I saw something about pineapple sangria." 

"That's my girl," she trills and holds the door for you. 

The restaurant is just as you expect. Tropical in the tourist sort of way. Fake palm trees, colourful glasses, twisty straws with fruit slid onto them. You order a sangria as your mother puts her glasses on and squints at the menu. 

The server brings your drinks and gives you time to peruse the selection. You settle on the carribean prawn cocktail as your mother stirs her spicy margarita. She sits back and looks around. It's good to see her happy too. 

"This is so nice," she preens. "You should come to bingo with me when we get back. If we both win, we could stay twice as long next time." 

She cackles and you laugh too. Genuinely, this time. That weight on your shoulder lessens bit by bit. You slurp down some sangria and let the alcohol sink in. You need this. You need to just forget. To let go. 

You're far from home. No one even knows you're here. Even work thinks you're just puttering around at your apartment, and your friends, the few who still talk to you, are too absorbed in their own holidays. 

You put in your orders and get another round. Your refills come with the food as your mother tells you about Maureen who steals her fliers. You laugh as you remember the rivalry she used to have with the other soccer moms. You were never very good at the sport though. 

"How's your food?" She asks as you pick away at the prawns. 

"Very good. I could eat a whole other platter but I won't." 

"It's a holiday, go on," she chirps. 

"No, no, really. My mind says yes but my stomach would say no way," you shake your head. 

"Hm, we'll need to get a dessert menu then," she grins and looks around for the server. 

He comes and clears your plates. Your mother requests the dessert list and he flits off to his task. He returns with more than the menu. He has another round of drinks in hand. 

"Oh, we didn't--" your mother begins. 

"The gentleman at the bar sent them over." The server puts down the drinks. 

You stiffen as you stare at the pineapple ring hooked over the brim. Your mother cranes to see whoever it is and you shrink down. You're paranoid. Not here. He couldn't be. 

"And the desserts," the server taps the menu before he hands it over. "I recommend the key lime cheesecake or the coconut cream trifle." 

"Oh, thank you." Your mother fawns, "honey, cheers." 

Your mother raises her glass in a gesture towards the bar. You hold your breath and lift your glass, mirroring her. You glance at the bar and nearly drop the drink. You quickly lower your hand and turn to her. She doesn't see your panic. 

"Um, you know what," you set the glass down gingerly as the waiter retreats. "I'm going to find the bathroom." 

You get up and keep your eyes ahead of you. You resist the urge to peek at the bar again. You don’t need another look. You know it’s him, you just can’t fathom how he found you. 

You enter the bathroom and quicky hide in a stall. You sit without intent. You need to think. What do you do? What can you do? You didn’t tell a soul. You wouldn’t even text your mom the details, just in case. Your stomach clenches until you think you might vomit. 

Then another thought brings you to your feet. Your mom. Shit. 

You get up and hurry back out. As you come into the dining room, your eyes move instinctively to the bar. He’s not there. With dread, you look to the table. Your mom’s alone. Thank god. Yet, you know better than to believe he’s gone. 

You join her and reach for the sangria without a thought. You nearly choke on the mouthful as you recall where it came from. You force it down and place the drink on the table. 

“That stranger sure was kind, treating us to a round,” she smiles. “Been a long time since a handsome man bought me a drink.” 

You try to smile but you’re so tense, you can hardly breathe. “So, uh,” you swallow to restrain the tremble in your voice. “What do you want for dessert? The banana pudding sounds good.” 

You look down at the menu, hoping she can’t see the truth. She’s always been smart. She always catches you out. Maybe the drinks are enough to save you. At least, enough to protect her. Ignorance is bliss and you don’t want to ruin the first vacation she’s had in years. 

🌴

Your mother snores in the other bed. You lay awake. Your phone rests on your stomach. You wait for the inevitable buzz. 

You feel weak, so fraught that your bones are heavy. Weary. That’s the word. You’re so tired of running, especially when it only feels like you’re standing still. 

Brrrrr. 

The vibration makes you jolt. You grab at the phone clumsily and raise it to read the message. It’s him. It’s not a surprise. No one hs your number but the woman in the room with you. Or so you thought. 

‘You looked really nice tonight.’ 

You stare. You can’t answer that. You doubt he expects one. No, he’s taunting you. 

‘How’s your mom?’ 

You sit up and hiss. No. No. That’s off-limits. 

‘Leave her alone,’ your thumbs skitter over the keys quickly. 

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then pop up again. 

‘I don’t like talking like this.’ 

You grit your teeth. Fuck off. You want so badly to type it in. Your mother snorts and rolls over. The next message shakes your hands. 

‘Room 3054.’ 

‘Where?’ You text back as seeing your suite number makes you ill. 

‘Bar. Got a cocktail waiting for you.’ 

Checkmate. You’re no good at his game and you’re terrified of him flipping the board. You slide out of bed quietly and wade through the dark. You pull a hoodie on over your camisole, careless of the flowy fabric of your shorts. You step into your sneakers, bending the backs, and shove the room key into your sweater pocket. 

He’s waiting, just like he said. With a beer for himself and another bright yellow drink for you. You near as he tugs at one of his dark curls, combing his fingers through the knot at the base of his skull. He grunts as he looses it and brings his hand back to the bottle. 

You climb up next to him. You ignore the drink. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“I should ask you the same.” 

“It’s none--” you begin and think better of it. “I’m spending time with my mother. Shouldn’t you be with your family?” 

He grits his teeth and swallows. Walter is a big man. Burly is an understatement. Before, when he was just customer, you compared him to a teddy bear. Now he’s grizzly stalking you through the trees. 

“We were supposed to be together. It’s the holiday. You couldn’t even let me know?” He turns to stare you down with his icy blue eyes. 

Your cheek ticks and your eyes flick to the wall. He scares you. More than anything. 

“I’ve been asking to meet your mom, haven’t I?” 

“Please, why... why do you have to do this?” 

“Why do you have to do this?” He shoots back. “I’m the only reason you’re safe.” 

You shudder and rub your arm. No, he’s the reason you’re scared. He's the reason you can’t sleep. You never asked for any of this. 

You gnaw on your cheeks and shake your head. Your mouth is dry and your chest is empty. The futility keeps you quiet. 

“Your mom seems nice--” 

“No,” you look at him again. “No. She’s my mom. She’s all I have so you don’t-- don’t.” You beg. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it, but you don’t get near her. You--” 

“You act like I want to hurt her. Why would I do that? She gave me you?” He arches a brow. 

You inhale and lean your elbow on the bar, “Walter.” 

His lashes flick up and his tongue pokes out to trace his lips, “have your drink. We’ll have enough time to go back to my room before she’s up.” 

You stare at him. He turns to the bar and lifts the beer bottle. He drinks casually as you watch. You lower your head as your hands shake over your lap. You reach to turn yourself on the tall stool.  

The mirror behind the bar reflects your fear. His eyes meet yours and you wince. You knew this was too good to be true. You knew that even here wasn’t far enough. 

[aster-daydream404]

WAIT OMG I HOPE YOU DONT MIND ME JOINING IN AND ALSO REACTING TO SOME OF YOUR POINTS

"the anatomy model guy with okarun's golden ball. (i had an out of body experience just typing this. dandadan is not a show, it's an acid trip dhdbsbs)" HELP I WASNT SURE HOW EXACTLY TO DESCRIBE WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO EXPERIENCE DANDADAN UNTIL I READ THIS. YOU'RE SO RIGHT FOR THIS AND AUWGHSHWH I LOVE SILLY STORIES LIKE THESE THAT JUST. AGH!!!!

"i don't think he has no feelings as he described it the first time momo helped him transform, it's like, his emotions actually take over but this guy is so lonely and clinically anxious that what he's been feeling for so long bubbles up to the surface. and that something is Depression. lol. depression and apathy." OMG THIS FR!!!! and also may i also point out how despite the depression being the most prominent emotion, he still goes out of his way to protect and be there for Momo DESPITE the state and form he currently in! multiple times I'm p sure throughout the episodes! OH ALSO BESTIE IS QUITE DEFINITELY NEURODIVERGENT FOR SURE!!!

"because also he gets blunter when he transforms and he doesn't seem to remember he literally calls momo "babe" when mans cannot even bear to have girlie on a first name basis??" OMG THIS FR!!! I think its partially an effect mayhaps of the transformation? like the filters are less prominent GHSWKHWJSHHW SCREAMS!! AUGH I LOVE THESE TWO IDIOTS TO BITS!

"but also BUT ALSO the way they had me kicking and screaming at okarun already half in yokai form when he was running after momo and jiji because didn't he say that he transforms when he is feeling angry? and the way he was already transformed, which means his anger was already getting the best of him, already making him blunter by actually admitting out loud he didn't like that jiji kept hugging momo fjdbshsushsbsjssb" HELKP ME IFKR?!?!?!?? WILL NEVER NOT EXPLODE OVER THIS.

"but also I didn't get why he didn't just run the first time when he transformed? he had to do the thing two times until he put his shoes away? was he waiting for his coat thing or was he just being ocd and couldn't run until he put his shoes away?" PFFT i meann-- it mayhaps partially be also bc his shoes get destroyed every time he transforms and GRANNY ALREADY HAD TO BUY THEM UNIFORMS SO MANY TIMES ALREADY BAHAHAHHAHAA (I'm pretty sure this was also after they begged her to buy them new uniforms so if you think abt it, checks out HAHAHAHAHAHA)

"okarun reacting by working out to bottle up his emotions and get ripped instead of dealing with them is so terminally Man of him it's the only time I've ever rolled my eyes at him fhdbsbsbs" NO DONT STOP BECAUSE ME TOO HELPEPEPEPEPP NO BC THE GUYS IN MY FAMILY DOES THIS (i am especially dissing my younger brother rn.) AND ITS HSDKAWHKSHAHSWJHAHWHW.

ALSO MOMO GIRLIE IM SO SORRY BUT I CANNOT. I CANNOT WITH THE "I'm just an awkward guy" LINE LIKE. OKAY YOU CAN SWOON OR WHATEVER BUT MY GODS DOES THE LINE PERSONALLY LOW KEY GRATE ON MY EARS AND and make me have the TINIEST urge to chuck whomever just said that line into oblivion. Okarun you are blorbo but no. (low key the only other line that would give me an equal reaction this line would be an unironic grating "I'm just a cute girl uwu 🥺" BC AURGH!!! I'm just a lil guy is fine tho its cute but IDK ANYWAYS-)

elpshwshkwjhwwwhw augh i still love this silly ass show so much

things that made me feral and rabid and a concern for animal control in dandadan ep 11

jealous okarun is actually "so anxious i am about to vomit" okarun and i love that for him

jiji being Like That the second he enters momo's class and immediately announcing that not only they live together, they're lovers 💀 jiji💀

but you know what, in jiji's defense i see the Vision. like those 0.5 seconds where he actually got real with momo were >>>> this boy is best boy.

okarun reacting by working out to bottle up his emotions and get ripped instead of dealing with them is so terminally Man of him it's the only time I've ever rolled my eyes at him fhdbsbsbs

MOMO AYASE WHAT DO YOU MEAN "I'LL FEED YOU"

iconic behavior queen, iconic.

girl was flirting with okarun so mf hard and the way this boy was about to have a fucking aneurysm dndbsbsb stop

the anatomy model guy with okarun's golden ball. (i had an out of body experience just typing this. dandadan is not a show, it's an acid trip dhdbsbs)

i need to read the manga to catch up with the lore because I have so many questions about okarun's transformation. Does he rememeber what he says in yokarun form? but also it's such a nifty little pressure valve for his personality like

i don't think he has no feelings as he described it the first time momo helped him transform, it's like, his emotions actually take over but this guy is so lonely and clinically anxious that what he's been feeling for so long bubbles up to the surface. and that something is Depression. lol. depression and apathy.

because also he gets blunter when he transforms and he doesn't seem to remember he literally calls momo "babe" when mans cannot even bear to have girlie on a first name basis??

but also BUT ALSO the way they had me kicking and screaming at okarun already half in yokai form when he was running after momo and jiji because didn't he say that he transforms when he is feeling angry? and the way he was already transformed, which means his anger was already getting the best of him, already making him blunter by actually admitting out loud he didn't like that jiji kept hugging momo fjdbshsushsbsjssb

chat I'm unwell

i know it's such a dumb little thing but it meant SO much

having me howling and clawing against the walls

but also I didn't get why he didn't just run the first time when he transformed? he had to do the thing two times until he put his shoes away? was he waiting for his coat thing or was he just being ocd and couldn't run until he put his shoes away?

ALSO

THE WAY HE IMMEDIATELY FIXED HIS POSTURE WHEN REALIZATION DAWNED ON HIM THAT HE LOVES MOMO AFTER SEEING THE FRIGGIN ANATOMY DOLLS FIGHTING FOR THEIR LOVE (dhsbaba acid trip acid trip acid triiiiiip) SUCH A SMALL DETAIL SUCH A DEFINITE AND ELEGANT WAY TO SHOW HIS CHANGE OF MIND, HIS CHARACTER GROWTH, AND HIS RESOLUTION ALL IN LESS THAN A SECOND. DANDADAN THE SHOW THAT YOU ARE.

[district4loading]

Thoughts on how Sana would deal with reader when they’re feeling jealous / possessive

Sana knows you well enough to notice when something's wrong.

It's the subtle changes in your demeanor, certain shifts in your tone and more importantly the silence that usually gives it away. "Baby" Sana calls you softly with concern laced in her voice. She's been noticing it for the entire duration of the movie, your clenched jaw, the coldness in your eyes and especially the lack of words you've spoken so far.

She's got her feet up on the couch hugging her knees to her chest as she watches you with her eyebrows furrowed. You only hum in response without looking at her and that's when she's completely sure something's off. "What's wrong? You've barely spoken to me this whole time"

You start to think for a bit--wondering if you're just overreacting or if you're being too possesive.

The thing is, an hour before the two of you sat to watch this movie, something threw you off. It was a video, a maybe 30 second clip of Sana and some random guy at one of the music shows she attends for work. They were talking, she was smiling, he was smiling, it looked like they were flirting.

Even if you couldn't hear what they were saying, it still left a bad taste in your mouth.

You sigh, then you pull out your phone and searched for the video. The comments weren't helping either. All the comments already beginning to start rumors among other things. "Who's he?" Is all you ask as you show her your phone screen.

Sana has to scoot towards you and lean forward to see the video cause she doesn't have her glasses on. When the video stops playing, Sana gives you a look and you can tell she's trying not to smile. She always thought it was silly whenever you’d get jealous, no matter what the cause was. "He's one of my seniors Y/n, I was just being polite" You chew on your bottom lip as you avoid eye contact.

It's embarrassing, just jumping to conclusions like that when you know that Sana would never do that to you. "I'm sorry I just... I didn't like the way he was smiling at you" You shrug.

Sana makes a move to straddle your lap and she uses her finger to tilt your head upwards by your chin. Now you had to choice but to look into her eyes. You see that she's smiling just before she leans in to leave a small peck on your lips "Now, I can't control the way other people look at me, but I can tell you this" She kisses your lips again "I only have eyes for you babe"

A smile threatens to show on your lips and you put your hands on her waist "Really?"

"Of course I do" She kisses you again, this time it's longer and slower. You get a real feel for her lips and how soft they are as butterflies begin to erupt in your stomach. Sana pulls away and looks into your eyes with so much love that you feel dumb to ever think she'd flirt with someone else.

Sana brings her hands up and cups your cheeks in her hands, she puts a lot of pressure, making your skin squish together. For some reason she liked to squeeze your face like this "Now stop being grumpy so we can watch our movie, I missed like half of it while I was trying to figure out what was wrong with you"

"I'm sorry" You laugh at yourself as Sana slides herself off of your lap and sit's next to you, close enough so she can rest her head on your shoulder. “I love you” You plant a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too”

-

A/N: Apologies to anon for taking so long. Usually when I get one of these, I get super excited to start writing but I have a final tomorrow so I've been studying non stop.

Anyways, I think when her partner gets jealous, Sana automatically begins to reassure them and she gets extra touchy just to seal it in. In her mind, the best way to reassure them is to express how much she loves them in the only way she knows how. That being with a lot of kisses/hugs and affirming words.

But she really likes to let her actions do the talking.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

I've been seeing a couple of monster!Jason and reader, with reader still loving him no matter what.

Look, I'm not sure if this has been done before, but I'm offering this: Monster! reader and Jason Todd.

It's not really a request, I'm just sharing a little bit of a brainrot that I got somewhere while reading a couple of your fics. Sorry if this is too long, you don't have to read all of this.

So in the interval where Jason died - came back as Red Hood, reader was either a vigilante or a scientist working on a project that should have the security system updated or something. An accident happens and reader transforms into a mostly mindless beast that drives on instinct.

I'm saying mostly, because they can still recognize some faces or are aware of their situation to a certain extent but they can't really do anything to stop it.

So when Jason comes back as Red Hood and suddenly finds out his crush/ significant other got turned into a monster, the first thing he does is searching for you (if you aren't already confined in a prison or used as some kind of guard dog, this is Gotham, I can actually picture one of the rogues - mob bosses doing something like that). Jason takes off the helmet (after making sure no one is watching) hoping that reader could somehow recognize him and surprise, surprise, they do. Like, they are going full blown attack and suddenly freeze last second, recognizing the boy they always loved, changed, yet the same at the same time.

So monster!reader becomes tame at the presence of Jason, almost like a puppy or a very affectionate housecat while Jason takes care of reader while searching for a way to cure them and bring them back to their original form while also pampering them as best as they can.

I'm mostly picturing this out with werewolf!reader, but hell, I feel reader can be an eldritch horror abomination and still be all soft with Jason. I mean who wouldn't.

Anyways, sorry if this is too long, but if you read all of this then thank you so much. Your writings are really inspiring and I hope you are taking care of yourself. Stay safe.

Nonnie, pleassse, you never have to apologize for length or asks like this because I always adore seeing everyone's ideas. And this one is just fantastic!! Seriously, I love the idea of Jason seeing past the appearance of a 'monster', the same way you would for him!

Off the top of my head, @/sanguineterrain has something vaugley like this called Angel of Small Death, where the reader is a shadow monster! I literally want to sink my teeth into that fic every time I think about it. (If you're looking for a fic rec)

Now, I'm actually going crazy at the idea that maybe you got a little too involved in your lab project, and something goes wrong, and you're more or less in a ManBat situation. Being the equivalent of a werewolf is hard, and you're mostly focused on food, staying warm, and plain survival.

If you end up sinking your teeth into a few goons with less than pure intentions of getting you under their bosses control, you don't think anyone can blame you. You're not sure how long you've been like this now, really, could be days, could be years. You mostly stick to alleys, the docks, and the sewers if you have to, even if the smell hurts you sharpened senses.

But it's your heightened smell that shakes your usually cloudy and reactive mind. Not even your tendency to act more wolf than person can keep you from recognizing Jason, even under the new, shiny helmet. He takes it off any way, ever cautious, and offers you food, water. But he didn't need to do any of that to get you to follow him to his base.

Red Hood 'taming' the Wolf of Gotham is feat that sends shock waves through the cites underbelly. But Jason, for his part, could care less about what people think of it. His one priority when it comes to you is to help you get back to yourself. (And if he needs to hand scrub your fur, file your claws, and wash you down with a hose, he will, in fact, do that)

And it turns out you are a very good guard dog! You chase off Batman, snarl at and attack the assassins Black Mask hires and rehires. But you're an even better lap dog, especially when Red Hood scratches your ears just right. Being a wolf is still hard, but at least you have someone who really cares about you to see you through it.

(Jason does believe in letting pets/friends turned into werewolves sleep on the bed. Even if you'll be embarrassed about it once he finds a way to turn you human again)

[penumbra-mayhem]

Big Brother - Tank & David fic

"When he died...I lost myself. Lost myself to my new role as alpha. Lost myself to my grief...lost myself to trying to bury that grief...."

(I hc that Tank has a stutter; there's more on that here if you'd like. This fic takes place sometime after the Inversion and before Quinn gets caught. I hope you enjoy <3)

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

"Mind if I join you?"

Tank turned to peer up at David before nodding and looking back out into the moonwashed night. The porch steps creaked as David made his way down and sat next to Tank. They silently offered him their lit cigarette.

For a while the two smoked in silence, listening to the crickets' song and the pack's muffled chatter inside the house. Eventually, David used the brief nicotine hit to spur him into bravery:

"I uh...I want to talk..."

Tank's eyes flitted over to David, then down at the dying cigarette between their fingers. They took one final, steadying drag before putting it out. David swallowed. His voice was gentle—an uncommon tone for him to take with Tank,

"...I want to talk about Gabe."

Tank tensed. They could feel their walls already coming up. They could feel the urge to run. To do anything to avoid this conversation. They hadn't talked about Gabe with anyone, let alone David, since that night.

David could feel the shift in their aura. A moment passed—one long moment, enough so that Tank could leave if they really wanted. When they didn't move, David continued,

"When he died...I lost myself. Lost myself to my new role as alpha. Lost myself to my grief...lost myself to trying to bury that grief. I didn't want to acknowledge what had happened. How...how hurt I was...how lost. I became hard. Cold. Sometimes...sometimes even cruel—"

"—D-D-David—"

"—Please," David pleaded, his voice devoid of any edge or force.

Tank held David's gaze for as long as they could before looking away, blinking rapidly in frustration. They could never win against him, not even in this.

David took a few breaths before speaking again, "That night...that night I was cruel. That night, I was selfish. I was scared. I didn't want to acknowledge how much you were hurting...because that would've meant I had to accept how much I was hurting too...You came to me because you felt like I was the only other person in the world who knew what you were going through. And you weren't wrong. But I was."

David's words from years ago growled in Tank's mind: Why the fuck are you crying? He wasn't your dad, he was mine! Fucking hell, not everything is about you!

They bit their lip to keep it from quivering and stared up at the stars, willing their eyes to not water, unsuccessfully.

"I shouldn't have said what I said," David admitted, his heart sinking at the sight of Tank trying to hold themself together. "Gabe took you in. He was a father to you. Which means I was...am...your brother. You came to me grieving, and I dismissed your grief and shut you out...and I'm s-sorry."

Hearing the break in his voice, Tank finally looked back over at David. They watched a tear slide down his cheek. Then another. And another.

"I've been a shitty big brother. I haven't been there for you. But I want to be here for you, now, if you'll let me."

Tank stared at David silently. He tried to glean something, anything, from their intense gaze to no avail. Dread began to pool in his stomach. It was too late. He couldn't fix this. He didn't deserve to fix this. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away in defeat. He heard Tank sniffle. He heard the wooden step creak as they began to move. They were leaving, he knew it. He was right, he was too late.

Then he felt them lean into his side. Opening his eyes, David found Tank curled up against him, their head resting on his shoulder. He watched a tear slide down their cheek. Then another. And another.

He raised his arms, wrapping them tightly around Tank. He could still feel them holding back, knew that this was only one wall down, with many more to go. But this was more than he expected, and he was grateful.

"I m-m-m-m-miss him," Tank whispered.

David's chest ached at the admission. He pet their head and whispered back, "Me too."

And tears fell. Then another. And another.

[jess-the-vampire]

For any of your ocs, we're there any What Could Have Beens? Like some stuff that changed over time or an idea you had for them but you changed it because you didn't like it or something?

Sorry, I just like going Behind the Scenes with some things!

Oh there's a lot of that! When you have as many characters as I do and have worked on them for many years, there's bound to be changes and evolutions as you continue to develop them and work on your creation skills.

I guess a good starting point is romantic relationships? Sometimes when I make characters I do design them with the mindset that certain characters will get together with a planned romance arc, and other times I don't plan for it at all and two characters of mine just have such fun chemistry they just kinda....become love interests now??!!

There's a few examples of that, though a notable one is Ashton and Luna, who are kinda beloved by people who enjoy my sky au. When I made Ashton and Cole I didn't even know where to put them (They weren't made with a au in mind, they were put into this au), much less make them into love interests, but everyone loved their chemistry with luna (especially ash) so they have fanart???!! People love them??!!!

I also equally have examples of planned romances that I end up ditching entirely for something else, like another better couple or plotlines outside of romance. A good recent example is currently Dusk has evolved into a bit of a love interest for Archie, giving them a friends to lovers kinda vibe.

But during the process of figuring out these new characters, I first had considered Dusk and Grady to be romantic interests actually. This changed because boy did it not take long before people became endeared with dusk and archie's relationship. (Although really you could still ship them anyway)

Now I also have design evolutions, where I'm not satisfied with a design and they get a nearly complete makeover (edith, melaine) or i add new details to their design over time (once tom was revealed to have a tail in star vs, a lot of his fan kids got them added/ angel was originally created without the spider legs, they were added later)

Though story stuff happens too, like chloe (main character of my original project), was originally a character i made for my video game class in college, and in that game she fought these little slime creatures I called ghouls.

This has.....very little relevance to her story in the project and while I had it in there originally I've basically ditched it because it conflicts with new info I added later. I did kinda evolve it into her fighting escaping creatures on earth before she is returned to the underground tho.

There's also like, stefan, whose plot lines around finding out he's a prince and going to his kingdom to reclaim his crown after his mom kept him traveling with her his entire life and never telling him about his dad. Like he's supposed to just show up and suddenly take a bunch of responsibilities he's not prepared for because he only reclaimed the crown to live a more lavished life. With the royal family having no idea he existed.

And that's all interesting in itself, but I had the concept of him coming home to find out his dad had ANOTHER kid, and stefan showing up means he basically took her place as next in line.

Obviously I've never made any art of this concept, so yeah.

There's a lot of others I could get into but let's get into archie, because his story was ENTIRELY redone rather then partially like those examples.

So all my earlier archie art and content was VERY different and anyone who was there knows it. Originally, hunter created him due to some unfortunate still lingering attachment to belos, seeing archie as a way to almost "give him a second chance at life" kinda way. Hunter was also a single dad still pining over willow, and had a very different job.

However, this is mostly because this early stuff was made during s2, so you kinda had no timeskip ending to build upon.

Archie also wasn't cursed and in fact he had almost an admiration for the golden guards, kinda wanting to be a fighter like them, a symbol of good.

Obviously this is pretty much all gone when I rebooted him after the show ended, archie is now the product of cultists looking to revive belos and was taken in by Hunter, he has both willow and hunter as parents, he's dealing with the effects of his ortets curse, and all stuff relating to hunter's past is...conflicting to say the least.

Though archie is a bit unhealthily obsessed with researching the brothers, obsessed with knowing about them to separate himself. He doesn't want to be compared to belos and yet can't stop looking into them.

There was interesting aspects of his original concept, but i do think this new draft is a lot more interesting for multiple reasons so I'm happy with the change.

So those are just some of the changes and developments of some of my characters! There's certainly more i could discuss but we'd be here awhile, so I hope you enjoyed this insight!

[silver-cyn]

Hualian Kiss-Mas @here4hualian Read it on A03 here.

Day 8: A Kiss on the (body part of choice)

"Hello Hua Cheng, I'm Xie Lian. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Xie Lian said. He smiled at Hua Cheng and held out his hand.

"Xie Lian...can I call you gege?" The way he took Xie Lian's hand, and slowly raised it to his lips, stopping just at the last minute made it obvious to Xie Lian that wasn't the only permission he was seeking.

Nodding with a charmed smile, Xie Lian felt the blood rush to his cheeks, his neck, gods, even his ears when Hua Cheng leaned down to brush his lips softly against Xie Lian's hand.

He didn't know, and honestly didn't care, if he was actually older than Hua Cheng. Not with the soft affection in his singular dark eye. 

"Also," Hua Cheng gave his hand one last kiss before he straightened up.  "I much prefer gege to call me San Lang."

"San Lang?" Xie Lian whispered, and it was only because Hua Cheng was still holding his hand that Xie Lian felt the other's small shiver. This close he saw the slow bob of Hua Cheng's adam's apple as he swallowed. Xie Lian was captivated by the sight.

Hua Cheng nodded, and Xie Lian couldn't help it.

"San Lang."

And there it was again. The slight shiver, the slow swallow.

"Gege, I have a confession," he said without preamble, stepping a little closer.

Xie Lian's heartbeat had been in overdrive the moment he heard Hua Cheng's voice and it kicked up another notch when it took on a deeper velvety pitch.

"Of course. San Lang can tell me anything," he said a little breathlessly. He stepped closer as well, closing the gap between them without an ounce of hesitation.

Xie Lian found himself distracted by the ridiculously long lashes framing Hua Cheng 's eye. Taking everything in, Xie Lian could also see the tiny gold characters inscribed on the eye patch covering Hua Cheng's other eye. The words were a little unclear, like a reflection in a pond distorted by ripples across the surface. If he squinted, it looked like -

"I loved your voice from the moment I heard you. I listen to your music all the time," he said softly.

Xie Lian gasped, and for a brief moment Hua Cheng was terrified he'd overstepped until Xie Lian overlapped their hands with his other one.

"You too? It was the same for me when I first heard you. In fact, I..."

He stopped, suddenly embarrassed and looked away.

"Gege, don't be shy. I want to hear everything you have to tell me," Hua Cheng said. His words, so openly sincere, drew Xie Lian's gaze back to him.

"I've been listening to your songs throughout this entire trip. " At this rate, Xie Lian's face was going to remain permanently red. "Your voice is so lovely. I could listen to it all day." And it was clear by the tone of his voice that he probably did.

Then Xie Lian had the pleasure of seeing Hua Cheng’s cheeks flush with the faintest hint of red. 

Standing so close, gazing into each other's eyes, Xie Lian softly cleared his throat.

"San Lang, I know we just met, but would you like to go for lunch?"

"Gege, I would be honored," he said. Xie Lian beamed a smile his way in return and happily took Hua Cheng's offered arm.

They had barely taken two steps when they were stopped by the very loud protests behind them.

Both turned to see their respective acapella teammates staring back at them with varying expressions of bewilderment and exasperation.

"What are you doing, Xie Lian? We're about to sing our number now!" Mu Qing said pointedly. "Plus, did you forget --"

"---he's the competition?!" Feng Xin finished glaring at Hua Cheng who, honestly, was too into Xie Lian to notice.

"Oh, right, right. Sorry about that, " Xie Lian said laughing.

He turned his attention back to Hua Cheng.

"After the competition then? We can grab dinner instead."

Xie Lian was so excited by Hua Cheng's agreement that he completely missed his teammates' grumbling "not what we meant".

"All right, after then. Gege has to be sure to tell me his favorite dish too. It will be my treat for today's clear winner.

"San Lang, no! In that case I'll definitely be treating you."

Hua Cheng's teammates, He Xuan and Yin Yu, exchanged a look.

"Fuck, those lovesick idiots actually mean it," He Xuan muttered to Yin Yu.

"Let’s just be grateful Hua Cheng isn't one of the judges," Yin Yu whispered back, and both nodded their heads in agreement. They made brief eye contact with Xie Lian’s teammates and after giving them a pitying smile they put the matter out of their mind and turned away to exit the stage.

“Want to go grab some food?” He Xuan asked. Mu Qing and Feng Xin both heard the trailing end of Yin Yu and He Xuan’s conversation. They looked after them with mournful and jealous eyes as Hua Cheng finally left the stage and Xie Lian finally took his place.

If only Feng Xin and Mu Qing could be so lucky. Instead, it was all they could do to keep their appetite as they watched Xie Lian do his best to give Hua Cheng his own personal serenade.

[thevegandarkelf]

QOTU: A Little Friendly Competition Part 1

Summary: Going on dates wasn’t always a guaranteed good time. Vec has had her fair share of shitty dates, but the nerves she had for this particular one were for a different reason. She truly liked this one, and she wanted it to go well. Thankfully, Scud shared the same sentiment, and it made for one of the best nights of their lives.

Third installment is finally here! Apologies that this one took longer than I anticipated. We get to see Vec & Scud's first date. I've been so excited to post this one, it's kinda stupid. I hope this pleases the council ('the council' is what we have dubbed our QOTU readers).

PS the shirt he's wearing is the one from the movie where he's talking to Whistler about his scars, just FYI. He just looks so good in it I had to use it. And massive thank you to @dixons-sunshine for help with the summary 🖤

Era: Pre-apocalypse, a bit over a year before the outbreak

Word count: 8.1k (this is my longest one-shot to date and it's only part 1 lmao I'm so sorry)

CW for swearing, some suggestive commentary. You are responsible for your own consumption.

We're also cross-posting on AO3 if you prefer to read it there!

My AO3 Krys' AO3

Upon hearing the vibration against the wood, Vec took her phone off her dresser, a small smile gracing her lips when she realized it was a message from him. Running a hand through her hair and brushing her bangs from her eyes, she opened the message, blood flowing to her cheeks and turning them from their normal pale to baby pink.

Josh ☺️: I can’t wait to see you later. It’s been too long 😉

They’d been talking for weeks, texting on and off throughout each day and even having a few phone calls in the evenings. During one of those phone calls was the first time he called her “Vee,” which quickly became his special nickname for her. Immediately following that conversation, she ran to Georgie, standing in her bedroom doorway and blinking repeatedly before whispering “he has a nickname for me” in the most lovesick tone possible.

She’d hardly stopped talking about this ‘cutie with the bandana’ in recent weeks. Now, it was time to make their first date a reality.

“What kind of makeup are you thinking?” Georgie asked. She began rifling through a stack of eyeshadow palettes Vec kept on her dresser, opening each to examine the colors before setting them down. “I know you usually like to keep it lighter on first dates.”

“Nah, I’m wearing that full-coverage shit,” Vec commented, pulling a small glass bottle of foundation from the drawer, “I’m not about to be looking like a tomato all night long.”

She spent hours curling her hair, having to take a break halfway through and recruiting her best friend to help finish the job when her arms got tired.

“Gin, can you help me?” Vec practically begged as she stepped out into the living room, half of her head in curls while the other remained pin straight.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask,” Georgie chuckled, setting her stack of papers on the glass coffee table to join her in the bathroom. Every time Vec curled her hair, she insisted she could do it all herself, and every time, she requested Georgie’s help somewhere between halfway and three-quarters of the way done.

As a surgeon, she typically wasn’t allowed to have her nails painted. However, since she was off for a couple of weeks taking some much-needed and well-deserved PTO, she decided to treat herself, opting for some black acrylics. electing to keep them short as long nails could make date night plans more difficult.

She also recruited Georgie’s help in picking an outfit, the pile of different dresses, skirts, and more on her bed becoming too much to sort through on her own. Walking back into the living room, she simply grabbed Georgie’s hand without saying a word, taking her back into her room for her to get an eyeful of the mountain of clothes occupying her place of rest, and Georgie knew just what that meant. Vec hated to pull Georgie from her work, but she also knew if she didn’t, one, she would never hear the end of it, and two, she would never be able to garner up the courage to leave the house.

“You didn’t already have your outfit picked out?” Georgie teased, grabbing different tops off of hangers and adding them to the pile, “what, are you gonna go in your scrubs?”

Vec chuckled, the sweet sound of amusement rising from the depths of her chest sounding like music to Georgie’s ears. “I mean, he has already seen me in them, and he still seemed to be into—“ she paused and used her hands to gesture up and down her body “—all of this.”

The pair eventually settled on something simple, pairing a long-sleeved black sweater with a black skirt and a pair of fishnets. Taking extra precaution, she slipped a pair of shorts on under her skirt, the shorts long enough to just cover the tattoos on the back on her thighs.

Grabbing her favorite fragrance off her dresser, she gave her neck, décolletage, and wrists a few spritzes, rubbing her wrists together to ensure the scent settled. The little bottle of vanilla-scented spray was a gift from her mom for her high-school graduation, and it had been dubbed her “lucky perfume” after many an instance of it coming clutch. She only wore it for the most special of occasions—her white coat ceremony, Match Day, her birthday—and this, a first date with a man she was already falling head over heels for, was a very, very special occasion.

Taking one last deep breath and draping her hair over her shoulders, she gave herself one final look-over in her mirror and flattened her sweater. She did one small twirl, watching her skirt flow around her thighs and her curls bounce as they settled back into place.

Making her way back into the living room, she stood in front of her best friend, who’d been spending her evening grading papers when she wasn’t helping her prepare for her date. She anxiously cracked her fingers before repeatedly wiggling them in some pathetic attempt to rid herself of all the nervous energy cooped up inside her body. “What do you think?”

Looking up from her work, a massive smile spread across Georgie’s face as she took in the sight of her bestie before her, all dolled up and dressed to impress. “You look hot.” Giving her a slow up-down with her eyes, something caught her attention. “You’re not wearing the push-up this time?”

Vec was a smaller gal, some curves but nothing crazy, and her chest was by far her biggest insecurity. She always wore the only push-up bra she owned on dates, attempting to boost her confidence by making her small chest not look so small. This time was different. “No. I’m, uh, going for…authenticity this time.”

“Wow. You must really like this one,” Georgie commented, setting her red pen down on the table and rising to her feet. She could only think of one other occasion where her Dia hadn’t worn that illustrious push-up, and that was back in undergrad.

“Yeah,” Vec replied in a sickly, tooth-rotting tone, her cheeks becoming flushed under her full-coverage face. She twirled away from Georgie long enough to slip on and zip up her combat boots.

“Well, he’s a lucky man, getting to take you out.”

Pacing the living room of their shared apartment, she kept her eyes glued to the floor as she began gently scratching at the side of her left thumb with her index finger, the primary telltale sign of her anxiety. “Gin, I feel like I wanna throw up and die.”

“Throw up, sure, yeah. That makes sense. And I’ll certainly hold your hair back if you do,” Georgie assured, crossing over from the couch and standing off to the side of Vec as she continued to pace. She followed her with her eyes back and forth from the entryway to the TV stand and back again. “But die? That feels a bit overdramatic, even for you, Dia.”

“Not helping.” Her tone was unintentionally stern, and she was immediately kicking herself. “I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just so worked up, and not in the fun way.”

Georgie couldn’t help but snicker in response. Even when she was “worked up, and not in the fun way,” her best friend was still cracking jokes and being her overdramatic, unhinged self. “Just try to take a deep breath, okay? Think of this as a day out with one of your friends, just a casual get-together. Less pressure that way.”

“Right…just a hangout…” Vec whispered between deep breaths, “…until one of us is flirting every two fucking seconds.”

“And if anything goes wrong on this ‘hangout’, I’m only a phone call away, remember? I’ll drop everything and come to you if I need to.”

“I know. I’m just super worked up right now. I mean, what if he thinks I’m too bold?”

She snickered again, this time a little louder and with a hint of surprise in her tone. Never had Vec been concerned about being “too bold,” especially for a man. For her to be worrying about something like that meant this ‘cutie with the bandana’ must’ve been special. “It sounds like you were pretty bold back at the auto shop, and he seemed into it. I think if he thought you were “too bold” then you wouldn’t be here now,” Georgie assured, “and if he does decide you’re “too bold,” then it’s his loss.”

Slowing down before coming to a stop, Vec finally ceased her pacing, turning to Georgie as she adjusted her glasses on her nose. “You’re right. I’ve already been pretty bold. I’m just stuck in my own head.”

“Well, let’s get you out of there then.” Georgie stepped closer to her and began brushing hair out of her eyes, adjusting her curls, and looking her outfit over to ensure there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. “Tell me what the plan is again.”

“Umm, I’m meeting him at the bowling alley, and I’m not sure after that,” Vec explained, resting the urge to bite at her bottom lip as to not get lipstick on her teeth, “we might go get food or something, I don’t know. I feel too sick to eat right now.”

“Babe, can you take a deep breath for me?” Georgie asked. Vec nodded, and she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. Georgie placed her hands on her shoulders before meeting her gaze. “You’re going to be fine. I’m sure once you get there, all of your nerves will just melt away. You’re Lydia Rae Vector, the best way this man could be spending his Friday night.”

Vec would’ve been lying if she said the mini pep-talk from her Ginny didn’t do a number in terms of boosting her ego. “Well, I don’t know about the best way, but definitely a good one.” She took her phone out long enough to look at the time before sliding it back into her bag. “I should get going. I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes. And you know me, gotta get there early.”

“Don’t forget to—“

“I know, I know. Text you every time I change locations and call with the code phrase if things get sketchy.” Every time one of them was headed out on a date or a hookup, they always reminded the other of their golden rule, as if they hadn’t been doing it their entire friendship.

As she headed out the front door, Georgie called out to her one last time. “Stay safe, have fun, and use protection! Not necessarily in that order, but you know what I mean.”

Vec rolled her eyes and scoffed as she poked her head back in the doorframe just long enough to respond. “Thanks, Gin.”

The bowling alley was only about a 5 minute drive from her place, but given the Friday night Atlanta traffic, it took her almost the whole 20 minute window to get there. After speed-walking through the ever-growing-dark parking lot, she leaned against the first counter she came across, which happened to be empty. She sent a quick text to let him know she was there and where in the building to find her. She also send a message to Georgie, letting her know she’d made it safely.

Vec: Made it. Just waiting for him.

Vec: I still wanna throw up and ✨die✨

Ginny 🌻: You’re gonna be fine. And if you don’t feel fine, I’ll be there before you know it 💛

The next message that made its way through to her was from none other than her date, and given that it was their agreed meet-up time, she figured he had to be close.

Josh ☺️: What are you wearing?

Josh: ☺️: Y’know, so I can spot you 😉

Vec: You’ll see 😉

A few minutes later, she was greeted from behind by a pair of hands over her eyes, hovering just over her glasses. In a normal situation, she would’ve whipped around before the person had a chance to say a word and clocked them in the nose. This situation was out of the ordinary in the best way.

“Guess who?” the familiar voice behind her greeted, chuckling softly.

“Gee, I wonder.” Her tone was sarcastic, amused, and flirty all at the same time, a combination that sent the mechanic’s heart plummeting into his stomach and joining the butterflies already making a home there.

“I’d offer a hint, but that would give it away,” he teased. He hoped that, even though he didn’t give the hint, she’d still catch on to what it was going to be. And catch on she did.

The fucking bandana, she thought. She didn’t say anything, but the giggly scoff that met his ears told him everything he needed to know.

Finally removing his hands from her eyes, he tapped on her shoulder to get her to spin around. Her curls bounced on her shoulders as she turned, her skirt flowing around her thighs catching his attention. At the mere sight of her, his stomach was doing backflips, and when their eyes locked, he knew he was in for one of the best nights of his life.

“Hi!” she greeted. The tone of her voice had changed to one of sheer delight, and there was almost a sparkle to it. She roped him in for a hug, her arms sliding around his neck and his instinctively traveling to her waist. He was elated about her desire for physical contact. It was a short hug, but it was just long enough for him to get a whiff of the sweet vanilla perfume on her neck.

“Damn,” she laughed, bringing her head back up and gently brushing a few stray hairs from his eyes, “no bandana this time, huh?”

He kept his hands on her waist as she worked, moving strands from one side to the other of the natural parting on his scalp. It wasn’t intentional the way his hands stayed planted there and subconsciously pulled her closer. He was simply too enraptured with the sight before him to do anything about it. “Figured I’d let the hair down for a change. But look at you. You clean up good, doc.”

“Clean up good” was an understatement, he thought. She looked beautiful, damn near ethereal, the shimmer on her cheekbone catching the fluorescent light above them. Even curled, her long hair still reached down past her chest, and the shade of dark purple lipstick she’d picked out made her cerulean eyes pop. It took everything in him to not plant one on her right then and there.

After fixing his flyaways to her satisfaction, she folded her arms over her chest and took a moment to admire him. His jeans looked damn near brand new, if she had to guess, and hit button-up was open just enough to expose his collarbone. He was wearing the same choker she’d seen on him back at the auto shop, the same choker she fantasized about curling her finger around and pulling him in for a kiss by. He was a work of art as far as she was concerned. “So do you, mechanic man,” she replied. She was well aware of his hands still on her waist and too wrapped up in the moment to care. They could’ve stayed just like that, talking all night, and she would be happy.

“You smell nice.”

“Thank you. It’s my, uh, lucky perfume.”

“What makes it so lucky?” he inquired, the usage of the L word piquing his interest.

“I only wear it for…special occasions.” She was already starting to blush under all her makeup, but thankfully, her full-coverage foundation kept the blood rushing to her cheeks a secret from her date. “And usually, said occasions work out in my favor.”

“Honored to know I’m such a ‘special occasion.’” It was in that moment, when her gaze dropped to the floor for just a second and he was pulled from his trance, that he became overwhelmingly aware of his hands on her waist that had been very slowly creeping towards her hips.

“Shit, sorry.” He didn’t pull away abruptly, but rather let his hands naturally pull away, and now, it was his turn to get a little pink. “Guess I got distracted.”

Her mind echoed Georgie’s words from earlier in the evening. Think of this as a day out with one of your friends, just a casual get-together. Yeah, that’s certainly going well so far, she thought, a smile breaking out on her face from her thoughts and the compliment from him.

“You don’t need to apologize. Does it look like I was bothered at all?” she laughed, “believe me, if I’m bothered by something, you’ll know.”

Her laugh in response provided him some relief and gave him the confidence to take her hand, running his fingers over hers and looking at his reflection in the glossy black acrylics that adorned her nails. “These look cool. Bet you don’t get to do this too often, given your job.”

“Uh, no…no, I don’t, really.” She had to fight to keep herself from sliding her fingers in between his, resisting the pull she was feeling to lock their hands together.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve painted mine to match,” he smirked. Now, it was her turn to have the butterflies in her stomach working overtime.

Had he painted his nails before? Yes, on more than one occasion. Did he currently own a bottle of black nail polish for himself? Not at all. If she indeed had let him know what she was doing, would he have went out and bought one just to match her? Absolutely.

“I love a man who breaks gender norms,” she gushed. Her fingers trailed up to the base of his-rolled up sleeve, goosebumps forming on his skin as she worked upwards. She tugged on it gently, and her lashes fluttered as she brought her gaze from his bicep back to his eyes. “I like this shirt, by the way. It looks great on you.”

“This old thing? I don’t really pull this one out much. Glad you like it.”

“You should pull it out more often.”

That sentence in another context would go crazy, she thought, doing her best to stifle the laugh trying to creep its way out of her chest. But she was a woman who wore her thoughts all over her face, and the smile she was fighting to make smaller told him that her mind had taken the statement in a more nefarious direction.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her attempt to keep hers contained, an amused smirk crossing his lips as he did. “C’mon, I already got us set up. Just gotta get shoes.”

As she turned to round the corner, his hand trailed to her upper back, taking the end of some of her curls between his fingers, though he was careful not to dishevel them. “Guess I didn’t realize how much hair you really got. It’s still so long. How you get it all to fit in that cap you gotta wear?”

“A very tight braid and lots of practice,” she explained. His hand moved under her curls to rest on her back, migrating down to her waist. They’d only been in each other’s presence for maybe five minutes. Already, he was hardly able to keep his hands off her, and Vec was eating that shit up.

“What made you wanna grow it out?” he inquired as they approached the shoe counter.

“I like to go to renaissance festivals and dress up for them. The long hair makes for some cool styles.” An idea struck her, and she was already reaching for her bag before she could get her next sentence out. “I have some pictures. If you wanna see, I mean.”

“Hell yeah, of course I do.”

Opening to her photos, she selected the album titled ‘ren fest(ivies)’ and clicked on the first picture. “My best friend likes to sew, so she helps me make them.” She handed her phone over to him before turning to the shoe counter, their fingers lightly grazing each other as they did. Just like that fateful day back at the auto shop, the sparks that generated between them could’ve lit the entire city of Atlanta. “You can just scroll through to the end.”

As he scrolled through, he got to feast his eyes on different pictures of her posed in medieval skirts and corsets with weapons that would make any fantasy nerd proud. Like she’d said, the long hair did in fact make for some sick hairstyles, and as he continued, he found himself having to swallow a couple of times to keep himself from drooling. He could vaguely hear her comment her shoe size to the man behind the counter. Eight, maybe? He couldn’t be sure. All of his senses were focused on the pictures of the goddess in front of him.

“Wow.” It came out more matter-of-fact than he anticipated. He was enamored, and it was more than evident based on his boyish grin and the way his eyes closed ever so slightly, like he was high. “You look…” his voice momentarily trailed off before he found it again “…beautiful, badass, all of it. Your confidence is top-notch.”

She looked up from the spot she’d taken on a nearby chair as she finished tying the laces of her bowling shoes. The way he called her ‘beautiful’ had her stomach doing backflips. “Thank you. I’m already planning my outfit for the next one.”

After he put on his shoes, they headed off to their lane. His hand found her waist again as they walked, and he kept it there, like he was guiding her through a large crowd despite not a single person being in their way. She didn’t mind one bit. In fact, quite the opposite. She’d began making mental notes about what she could do to further encourage the behavior.

“I put our names in already,” he said, nodding in the general direction of the small kiosk at their lane. Peering over the frame of her glasses, she chuckled as she scanned over their names on the screen above them. Hers read ‘Vee,’ but that wasn’t the funny part.

“‘Scudster’? Really?” she laughed, that sweet giggle trailing off her tongue to meet his ears again. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard him refer to himself as that, but it was still entertaining nonetheless. “You’re so unserious, you know that?”

“I like to think my “unserious” vibes are part of the charm.” As the pins came down at the end of the lane, he took a bowling ball in his hand, gently spinning it around as to not drop it. This time, it was his turn to be struck by a positively brilliant idea. “Hey Vee, what do you say we turn this into…a little friendly competition?”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow at him, her curiosity quickly piquing, which was evident by the look in her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s say…if I win, I get a kiss.” Immediately fearing he’d been too forward, he waited with bated breath for her to respond or do anything that would indicate she was comfortable with the situation. When her contagious smile appeared again, her pearly whites on full display, his shoulders relaxed, and that little Machiavellian smirk of his crept onto his face.

“Aah, I see.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she racked her brain for what she could say in return. What did she want from him? Just about anything. What did she want to know about him? Everything. “Then if I win…you gotta tell me your deepest, darkest secret. And it better be a good one.”

“Lucky for me, I’m good at bowling.” Judging by his tone and resting smirk, he was feeling rather confident. “Prepare to get shredded.”

He’d put her name in first, so he kindly grabbed one of the balls and held it out to her. “Ladies first,” Scud said, giving her a friendly smile.

Vec wasn’t a complete rookie when it came to bowling. She’d been before, although it had been a while, and given the little skills she had back then, she was certain they’d since faded away. She was almost positive she was going to get “shredded,” but she didn’t dare let it show, lest he already start to think he had the upper hand.

Taking the blue bowling ball in her hands, she stepped up to the lane, rolling it back and forth in her hands and staring down the pins at the end. It’s my favorite color, she thought, that has to mean something, right?

“So how did you get into dressing up for ren fests?” His question rang in her ears as she took her first shot, his voice catching her by surprise and making her stumble. She missed her center shot, the balling rolling off to the side and into the gutter, not hitting a single pin as it traveled into the darkness at the end of the lane.

“Wow,” he teased as he approached her, “should we have put the guards up?”

“That’s not fair,” she jokingly whined, her smirk turning into a playful pout, “you distracted me.”

“Fear not m’lady, you got one more shot,” he assured, stepping away only long enough to bring the bowling ball back to her.

“So to answer your question, I’m big into fantasy shit.” She lined herself up again, taking a deep breath to help her focus. “You know Disney movies at all?”

This time, he waited until after she took her turn to respond. While the ball didn’t roll into the gutter this time, it was no strike, just barely knocking a couple of the pins over on one side. “Sure do. My favorite’s The Fox and the Hound.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Scud looked over his shoulder long enough to give her a cheeky grin before lining up his first shot. Though he was determined to win their little friendly competition, he was far more interested in listening to what she had to say. “My favorite growing up was Sleeping Beauty. It was my ‘gateway drug’ into the world of fantasy. Got me into the Lord of the Rings, going to ren fests, and eventually dressing up for them.”

He rolled nearly dead center, knocking every pin over with a single strike. He turned back to her, that same cheeky grin on his face. “Oh you’re just showing off now,” she groaned, that playful joking pout making a second appearance for him. And oh, how he was loving it.

As he’d told her during their initial meeting, he’d been on the market for a while. He needed someone that could joke around with him, be able to laugh at themselves, was unapologetically authentic and genuine to their core. So far, she was checking all of those boxes and then some.

“Told you I was good.” Stepping back to her, Scud brushed some stray hairs out of her eyes, tucking them over the side of her glasses. There was hardly any, not enough to have bothered her at all, but it was enough for him to do something about it. He was looking for damn near any excuse to touch her in any capacity. And the little smile that crept up every time he did? He’d do anything to see that.

“Anyway,” she commented in an attempt to bring the conversation back, “I used to watch it so much that I’d constantly be singing the song from it around the house when I was little. My brothers used to make fun of me for it. All in good fun, of course, but they’ll still sometimes bring it up just to get under my skin. Y’know, the way siblings do.”

“You close with ‘em?” He was already lining up for his second shot of that turn, her standing over his shoulder, but far enough back to not get hit by his arm when he swung.

“Oh yeah. I have a few, we’re all really close. They’re all older. Joined the military right out of high school. Became Navy SEALs. They’re some of my best friends.”

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone—hell, he was hardly able to admit it to himself—but the mention of multiple military big-brothers did put him a bit on edge. In his mind, all it would take was one wrong move for them to come knocking on his door. He didn’t know much about the different branches of the military, but one thing he did know is that Navy SEALs were not to be fucked with.

“Don’t got any myself.” He took his second shot, once again landing another strike. Vec was beginning to wonder if he’d chosen bowling for a first date on purpose as a way to show off a little. “Had a lot of cousins growin’ up. Having kids my own age around was nice. That’s dope that you’re so close with yours.”

“I definitely got lucky. I certainly never taken them for granted.”

They continued chatting as they took turns, Scud occasionally doing a tiny fist pump when he made a strike. It wasn’t perfect, he didn’t land every single one, but it was damn near close, and Vec knew she had no chance. Still, she did her best to maintain her confidence and give the illusion that she believed she could actually win.

Every chance he got, he was grabbing her bowling ball for her, ensuring their fingers touched each time he handed it over. Even though she wasn’t nearly as skilled as he was, he hyped her up any time she knocked over even one pin. He was a jokester, and their playful, teasing banter had the butterflies in his stomach working overtime, but he also wanted her to have fun and feel good about her abilities.

“Now the big-ticket question I’ve been wanting to ask—what made you wanna become a doctor?”

“It’s kind of a silly story,” she sighed as he returned the bowling ball to her. She’d become accustomed to receiving rather snide comments when answering that question, and her evening was going too well to have it ruined over her response to a classic first-date question.

He picked up on her hesitation, the regret settling in as he worried he possibly struck a nerve or unintentionally brought up a touchy subject. He hoped a sprinkle of humor would provide some encouragement. “This is the Scudster you’re dealin’ with. Silly is my middle name.”

‘Scudster’ made her giggle and eased her nerves, so she decided she’d tell her story, hoping to whatever might be out there that he wouldn’t think it was stupid. “When I was three, one of my brothers got into an accident, landed himself in the hospital. One of the surgeons was this beautiful woman with long auburn hair, and she was wearing a floral dress and a white coat. Me, being three, saw any woman with long hair and a pretty dress and thought she was a princess, as most little girls do.”

“So I asked her. Toddled right up to her as she was talking to my mom and asked her if she was a princess. And she crouched down to my level with the biggest, brightest smile on her face and said “of course I am!” Then I turned to my mom and said “Mommy, I wanna be a princess when I grow up!” Princess, in that moment, meaning someone who wears pretty dresses and a white coat and saves lives like the way the pretty lady in front of me was saving my brother’s. Of course, as I got older, I learned what a doctor was, but I never wavered from that decision. Not even once.”

She waited with bated breath for him to say something, anything. The first thing he did was laugh, but not in a mocking way or a ‘wow, that’s stupid’ kind of way. It was the laugh of someone who’d just heard a baby giggle or watched a puppy chase their own tail. “That’s probably the most adorable thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“You sure it’s not silly, not even a little bit? Most people think it is.” He gave her an empathetic sigh as his hand found her shoulder, and he subconsciously drew small circles with his fingers, hoping it would offer some solace. How could anyone find such a wholesome and precious story silly or stupid?

“You’re a smart woman, Vee. I’m sure you’ve gathered that I’m not “most people.” It’s super cute. I may be “unserious,” but I’m no liar.”

“Well thank you,” she replied, batting her lashes as she briefly dropped her gaze to the floor. They reveled in that pocket of time for a few moments, his hand still drawing small circles on her shoulder, and she brought her baby blues back to meet his. Blue was her favorite color, and the specific shade of his irises was quickly becoming her favorite one. “What about you, bandana boy? What got you into being an auto mechanic?”

“I used to work as an inventor. That’s just more of a hobby now.” He stepped away long enough to take the red bowling ball he’d been using for his next turn. “My dad taught me stuff about cars when I was younger, so that and the inventor skills carried over nicely into being a mechanic.”

Vec’s ears perked up at the mention of the word ‘inventor.’ Given how fascinating he already was, she didn’t think it was possible, but he’d just gotten a lot more interesting. “An inventor, huh? That’s so cool! What kind of stuff do you make?”

He took his turn before responding to her inquiry. “Used to make weapons for this guy. One might say he was kind of a sketchy character, but he was a nice guy. Never gave me any trouble unless he was up my ass about not getting something done fast enough.”

“You’re cute, funny, and you have cool hobbies? It’s like I won the jackpot or something.” She blinked a few times and shook her head gently, like she was shaking herself from a trance, before stifling a breathy chuckle and locking eyes with him. “I’m doing the thing again, aren’t I?”

She’d been bold from the moment they met—hell, even before that, given the initial bandana comment she’d made about him to his boss—but he found it cute that there were moments that she thought she was being ‘too much.’ He’d never once thought she was too much. There weren’t any words in the English language that captured how much he loved how forward, brazen, and shameless she was.

“Told you I liked how bold you are,” he assured, giving her a delicate pat on the small of her back, “I’ll be right back. Gotta hit up the little boy’s room. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

As he sauntered off, she took the opportunity to check in with her best friend. Leaning back against the kiosk, she took her phone from her bag and saw that she had a new message from Georgie.

Ginny 🌻: How’s it going? ☺️ Are you having fun? 💛

Vec: I don’t think it could be going any more perfectly. I can’t wait to tell you about it 💙

Vec: He’s kicking my ass though

Ginny 🌻: Can’t have that, now can we?

Vec: Well, it wouldn’t be so bad if he won ☺️

Ginny 🌻: Oh???

Vec: Maybe he’ll get a little 💋

Ginny 🌻: OH 👀

Chuckling softly to herself, she slipped her phone back into her bag, returning it to its home on the kiosk. She tapped her foot on the floor, taking a deep breath and focusing on the clicking of the bowling shoe on the wood. It was a small attempt, but she hoped it would be enough to rid herself of the anxious energy creeping through every inch of her body. When he was around, it was like all of nerves channeled themselves into her flirting, but the moment she was alone with her thoughts, she was spiraling.

“Didn’t have too much fun without me, did you?” His voice startled her, but not enough to make her jump.

“Of course not,” she replied, giving him a gentle nudge to the shoulder with hers, her voice laced with sarcasm. He scanned his baby blues over her face, stopping briefly on her lips before meeting hers again, and for a moment, she thought he might plant one on her.

He wanted to, though. He badly wanted to. But his own nerves, and the thought in the back of his mind of her military brothers kicking his ass if he made a wrong move, were getting in his way.

“The glitter looks cool,” he complimented, haphazardly gesturing to his own cheek.

Despite the gesturing, she cocked an eyebrow, confused. “What glitter?”

“Tilt your head up,” he instructed, but before she could do it on her own accord, he had his fingers under her chin, gently tipping her head back and adjusting the position until her cheekbone caught the light, “to the side, a little more, there you go.” He tapped gently on her cheekbone, careful not to ruin or smudge her hard work. “Right there.”

Vec was clenching her teeth to keep herself grounded in reality. If she didn’t, she was certain she would fold on the spot. Every time he touched her, she was ready to melt like putty in his hands, and she just hoped he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks from her blushing.

“Oh, that’s highlighter,” she explained, “it’s a shimmery powder you put on areas you want to…well, highlight, make stand out.” She shook her head softly to allow the highlight on her nose to catch the light. “Got it here too.”

Everything she said, he looked at her like it was the most damn interesting thing in the world, regardless of how ‘unimportant’ it seemed. Even something as simple as the shimmer on her cheekbones intrigued him, and it certainly didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“You’re gonna have to show to me how you do that. It looks great.”

“I’m not a professional by any means, but thank you.” She tore her eyes from his long enough to look up at the screen and see that it was their last turn for this round.

“I’d love to be able to make a strike, even just once,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I could help. Get you set up perfectly and all that,” he offered. He didn’t even bother trying to hold back how eager he was. “If you want, that is.”

“Yeah.” Her smile softened as she met his gaze again. “I’d like that.” The look in her eyes and the way she said “I’d like that” had his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage.

He grabbed the infamous blue bowling ball and met her at the lane, standing behind her after handing it over. “So you gotta line it up just right.” His hands found her hips, keeping his touch light as he coaxed her to shift to the center. “This good?”

“It’s great,” she replied, her voice cracking as she fought to control her anxiety. She’d hoped that the nosies of other families surrounding them would mask the crack in her voice, but his breath tickling her ear as he chuckled told her otherwise. Despite her boldness, Scud had noticed her getting flustered all evening, and to him, it was nothing short of adorable.

“You wanna aim just off of dead center to account for it curving.” Now, it was her turn to have her heart hammering against the inside of her ribcage as he adjusted her arms and straightened her shoulders, all while keeping his spot right behind her.

Taking a deep breath to calm down—both from the mounting pressure she was placing on herself to make a strike and having a handsome man who couldn’t keep his hands off her mere inches from her back—she followed his directions to a T, rolling just off of dead center and allowing the ball to curve as it traveled down the lane.

Boom. Strike.

“Oh my God, I did it!” Vec cried, twirling in circles a few times before launching into Scud’s arms. She threw her arms around his neck, practically squealing with delight, the excitement coursing through her body rapidly bubbling over. His chuckling in her ear was one of the sweetest sounds she’d ever heard. However, when his arms snaked around her waist, it occurred to her she might’ve gotten a little carried away. “Shit, sorry, I got excited.” She went to pull away, but he kept her in place, wrapping his arms around her further until her chest was flush with his. He wanted to stay in that little pocket of time forever.

“Don’t apologize.” He was reveling in the moment, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be feeling sorry for it. “You crushed it, Buttercup.”

She picked her head up to look at him, her curls tickling his cheek. Despite only a subtle cock of her eyebrows, the confusion on her face was obvious. “What did you call me?”

“Buttercup. Like the Powerpuff girl. Seems fitting for you.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“You should, ‘cause it was certainly meant to be one. She’s always been my favorite.” She looked beautiful with her face done, but he loved seeing her blush with every compliment he gave. He could only hope she was turning red under her makeup. And she certainly was.

“Hair got all messy,” he teased, looking over the strands that had fallen in her face and flipped around her part, “guess it’s my turn to fix yours.”

He did the same as she had before, taking different chunks and moving them back to their place so her part was nice and straight again. It didn’t take long, but during those few seconds, her knees went weak, and if she hadn’t been so focused on holding herself up with her arms around his neck, she would’ve collapsed. He thought about putting his hands in her hair to fluff it before calling it quits, but he opted against it, the thought of her military big-brothers creeping back to the front of his mind. They were going to be the death of him.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a round to win.” His mischievous joke elicited an eye roll and a giggly scoff from her.

The moment he made his final strike, he did one last fist pump, turning back to her and playfully sticking his tongue like a child. “Told you you were gonna get shredded.”

She was blushing so hard this time, she was positive her cheeks were glowing & the heat radiating off her face would melt her foundation right off. She loved piercings, tattoos, any sort of body modification. Upon seeing his, her mind immediately went in the most nefarious direction imaginable.

“Whoa, you have a tongue piercing? That had to have hurt like a bitch,” she exclaimed, doing her best to mask how flustered she was despite the crack in her voice and the double take she did.

“It did, but it looks dope, so it was worth it. You like it?” She more than just liked it.

She’s definitely thinking what I think she is, he thought as a little smirk broke through, but he didn’t mind at all. He was flattered that her mind was going in that direction, and he would’ve been lying if he said his wasn’t doing the same.

“Yeah, it’s awesome. I love piercings. I’ve only got my ears done, but I don’t even get to wear earrings often because of my job. Can’t have a stud falling into somebody’s intestines or something.” She pretended to clear her throat to prevent her voice from breaking further. “Anyway, that was only round one. We’ve got two more. I still have a chance to beat you.”

Those next two rounds were much the same, consisting of them chatting and getting to know each other throughout their turns with plenty of flirtatious touching to accompany it. Despite some assistance from him, he crushed her in every single round. As it was a Friday night, it was rather noisy and busy in the bowling alley, but it was like they were the only two people in the room. They were in their own little bubble, as far as they were concerned, a bubble they could’ve stayed in eternally if they were allowed to.

“I’m a doctor, not an athlete.” she joked, balancing herself on the counter to finish putting her boots back on.

“You still did good,” he commended. When she finished with her boots, he propped his arm in her direction, indicating to her to take it if she wanted. “Guess we’ll just have to come back so I can teach you.”

Gracing him with her soft smile, she took his arm, delighted with the clear enthusiasm he had about what some might call ‘showing her off.’ It had been a long time since she’d been on a date with a man so comfortable with PDA, especially on a first date. It was refreshing, and it had her swooning big time. Scud wasn’t like any man she’d met before, and that was precisely the type of man she needed. “I guess we will.”

She clung to his arm as they stepped out into the parking lot. It was dark now, the automatic lamps in the lot having flipped on and the streets flooding with people heading out for their Friday night, end-of-the-work-week antics. She used her free hand to brush her hair out of her face, and she could feel his gorgeous ocean eyes on her, studying every microscopic move she made. Even the mundane act of her brushing some hair out of her eyes brought a smile to his face. He was falling hard, fast, and he knew it and had no problems with it.

“I don’t know about you Vee, but I’m not ready for this night to be over. You hungry at all?”

“I ate a little before I came, so I’m not ravenous, but I’m not ready to be done either.”

“There’s a nice bar up the street. What do you say I buy you a drink? I’d love to keep talking.” There was a teeny tiny sparkle in his eye at the declaration of wanting to continue their evening over drinks, and Vec couldn’t help but let her small smile warp into one that stretched from ear-to-ear.

“I’d like that.” She slipped her arm out from his, and she could’ve sworn the sparkle in his eye faded to sadness for a brief moment as she pulled away and reached for her bag, taking out her phone. “I just have to text my best friend first. It’s nothing personal, I promise. Part of girl code is keeping each other informed of our locations on dates.”

Vec: We’re walking to this nearby bar. I think it’s called Whistler’s? He didn’t say, but it’s the only one I can think of up the street.

“Nah, you got someone lookin’ out for you. That’s good,” he commented. Based on the inflection in his voice, he’d clearly taken no offense, but even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered to her. She was simply doing what she needed to keep herself safe.

She slipped her phone back into her bag and adjusted it on her arm. Looking past his shoulder down the street, she nodded in the general direction. “You thinking we walk?”

“I was hopin’ we would.” Grazing his fingers against the back of her hand, he kept his touch light as he trailed them around and slipped them between hers. Vec had never been more thankful for the dark, and for full-coverage foundation, than she was in that moment. As she locked eyes with him, her small smile contorted into a giant grin, her delight turning his smirk into a smile. “It’s dark. Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

Vec belongs to me

Georgie belongs to @dixons-sunshine

QOTU taglist: @ripleyswife @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @holdmytesseract

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie

Want to become a head of the council? Hit up either myself or Krys to be added to the taglist :)

Banner, divider, and © below were also made by Krys

[sufferingink]

the way that TMA has altered my brain chemistry is unreal so here's 911 characters and their fear alignments (without having watched past season four):

Buck: I don't think his would actually be The Lonely. while that's certainly part of it, I think too much of his fear comes from the idea that he's replaceable and filling too much space and needs to hide parts of himself to be loved and if that's not The Stranger, I'm not sure what is.

(I think you could probably make a case for all of them EXCEPT the corruption. when faced with a decomposing dead body he stabs it without gloves to manually drain fluids. when faced with a maggot that had crawled from somewhere I'd prefer not to think about, he goes "maggot :D!" he's kinda chill around killer bees apparently?? I've not gotten that far. but he's not afraid of bugs or sickness or anything so long as it doesn't keep him from his people. tldr: Buck loves bugs too much to be a corruption avatar)

Eddie: that's The Desolation babey. Is terrified of losing everything, so blows up his life before anyone else can. routinely loses things, relationships, people in a dramatic fashion, usually descending into guilt spirals that makes everything so much worse. has yet to end a relationship on even remotely good terms, I think it's fair to say they'd all be better to not have been with him at all

Bobby: I'm actually not too sure about this one but I'll go with The Eye. After the fire that killed his family he talks about how he should have known better, both in doing drugs and in the building's many safety violations. He's a fire captain that takes the injuries of his people very seriously because they happened under his watch and he should have kept a closer eye on them. he's got religious guilt. he even immediately gets sucked into spying on people "just in case" just like one Jonathan Sims circa Magnus Archives season 2

Maddie: The Hunt. do I need to explain this one? her abusive husband LITERALLY HUNTED HER through the woods. not to mention her relationship with her parents. The Hunt is also the fear that the people closest to you would turn on you, and I think trying to erase your brother from existence, leaving you (a ten year old) to raise your OTHER brother, then completely ABANDONING YOU when you get into previously mentioned abusive marriage qualifies as a betrayal, one that has broken her trust in others to help her (Buckley parents when I find you-)

Chim: The Lonely. his mother died when he was young, his father barely speaks to him, one of his brothers died BECAUSE OF HIM (in his mind anyway), he refuses to admit he thinks of his found family as more his family than his blood relatives till his late thirties, and I haven't got to where Tommy gets reintroduced, but Chim's origin episode I'm sorry but he's trying a LOT, TOO MUCH to become friends with someone that's been exclusively a jerk to him, he strikes me as a lonely guy

Athena: The Hunt as well, and I'm not just saying that because she's a cop! that's only part of it- but she's also a black woman working in a police department. she's aware of how easy it is for officers to get away with basically anything, even aware of exactly how unsafe her OWN family is, yet insists on staying and insists that there are more good cops than bad. you can't tell me she doesn't doubt that every single day, and what if they prove her wrong? (remember what I said about the fear of being turned on?)

Hen: I'm feeling The End, but less in a Death™ way and more of "there's nowhere to go from here." Hen prides herself on her ability to learn and grow so naturally that hard stop, you will be exactly as you are now forever, scares her. also people keep telling me she's the only one yet to get a major near death experience soooo

Ravi: Buck

[genderqueerdykes]

part of me wants to revive my old ace/aro positivity/advice sideblog and part of me still hurts and shies away from it because of the discourse and some of the shit i went through on that blog just for daring to say that aces and aros are queer.

how do you do it? how do you keep a blog like this going when there's just constant nasty bullshit coming in? i miss running it and i miss being the one who got to tell people who weren't sure who they were that they could be whatever they felt and that they were welcomed and loved. but i do not miss regularly getting told to kill myself or that i need therapy.

you know, that's a very good question, i haven't thought about that

it is very hard and i'm sorry people have treated you that way. i don't know why people are so determined to be as rude as possible about aspec people. like folks are just ruthless and it makes no sense because romance and sex are so normalized in our culture that people who step outside of what is considered "normal" for human attraction are very much queer. someone who refuses to partner because it doesn't interest them is very queer. someone who enjoys erotica but not sex is very queer.

it is hard, i will give you that. i do receive a fair amount of nasty messages, but i've noticed they've decreased recently because periodically i go into the terf and rad fem tags to block everyone who is participating in those communities. i'm very proactive with the block feature, i will use it if i feel unsafe, uncomfortable or like that person would be unproductive to interact with. i naturally have a sort of confidence to me that comes with my autism. i know i'm right about what i'm talking about (most of the time). if someone wants to challenge me, that's their business, but i'm generally very sure of myself and what i want to say

i am also heavily medicated, so keep that in mind. i do take several medications for anxiety, bipolar disorder, and so on. so a lot of the time my emotions are kept in check by my meds. i've been in therapy for a very long time and if things arise i can talk to my therapist or friends about it. generally online trolling doesn't bug me because i've spent most of my time online ever since i was a kid. i'm very used to the patterns that manifest when people want to bother someone else. i don't like giving rude people what they want

i remind myself that rude people are entitled. they expect the world to work the way they want it to, but that's just not how life goes. i also have DID, which means i have other people living in my head with me that can take over if i get too frustrated. generally i quickly journal out my feelings, delete the ask, and then move on. the greatest piece of advice i can give you is that you do *not* have to answer every single ask or message. if an ask pisses you off so bad that you can't formulate constructive thoughts on it, just delete it. you don't owe internet strangers anything

generally i'm very socially oriented. i really, really enjoy talking to people. because i've always had very progressive beliefs, i'm very much used to people trying to challenge me on what i know about the world and how things work. i lived with republicans and libertarians early on in my life and saw the fascist patterns in their behavior and wanted nothing more but to discuss how life really can be more gentle, welcoming and opening.

after i started this blog, i realized that there are people who are hellbent on misunderstanding you and that's something you just have to cope with. it's literally impossible to make people all think and feel the same way on a given subject, humanity is too diverse for that. there will always be someone who wants to misunderstand what you're saying in order to suit their own narrative. once i was reminded of the strawman fallacy, i began to realize that so many people literally just make up people to be offended on their behalf. people make up problems where they don't exist. some people literally wake up in the morning to do this and you can't change it- and that's alright. you can always block and ignore them. just because they got under your skin doesnt mean you owe them anything.

honestly, sometimes a person is cut out for it, and sometimes they're not- not saying you're not. it's *very* hard to do this, don't feel like you're a failure or anything. it's very exhausting at times. i take breaks and answer asks when i can for that reason. i don't want a schedule. i don't want to force myself to do this every single day. it's a job, but it's not. i like being an activist. i like helping. and i like changing people's minds. i don't mind having stressful conversations, because they're the ones people avoid the most. i've never been scared of having "tough" conversations. again, my autism helps me out in this regard

i think at the end of the day it's my love for other people that drives me. i've always been selfless and put others before myself. i really care about community and people uniting, it's literally my goal and passion in life. i've always wanted to become some type of figurehead in the community who is here to help. so for me, it's aligned with what i want to do in life. i'm aware that i have to take some blows in order to do it, so i do my best to take em on the chin

i hope that made sense or helped at all. i'm here to try to help spread awareness for folks like you who maybe can't due to mental health reasons. it's absolutely okay to not be able to keep up with it because of the amount of absolutely rude comments. i do what i do for people like you. maybe in time you'll be able to do so again. good luck out there! take care of yourself

[somepsychopomp]

Very quickly, I'm just gonna throw out the next chapter to this fic bc for the past few days I've barely been able to write. This is all stuff I had pre-written from a little while ago but i'm hoping that maybe if I post it here, I'll somehow get the motivation to continue this story. (Note-this takes place immediately after Part 1)

Odysseus parted ways with Penelope when his wife wanted his help in the gardens. A few of her flowerbeds needed to be moved so they could have some more southerly light, a tree with overgrown branches was causing too much shade for her poor roses, and so on. He didn’t mind the work, in fact, he was even grateful for it. It was good for his body to feel exertion and it gave his mind something to focus on. And he supposed she enjoyed watching him work. 

By evening, Calypso was calling him for dinner. She’d been able to keep an eye on him from the outdoor kitchen, he’d felt her eyes on his sweat-soaked back as he labored. 

“Ody!” she called, “Dinner is ready!” 

He wiped his brow and smiled, coming up the stone path to greet her. She kissed his cheek, the table already set and the food awaiting. Odysseus heard footsteps approaching from behind and was surprised to find Penelope arriving. 

Calypso leaned in close and whispered, “I invited her to dinner.”

Odysseus couldn’t help but smile, relieved that, at least for now, his wife was willing to be more of a kindly hostess. 

After such a long day in the sun, he was both parched and eager to eat. But first, he pulled back Calypso’s seat for her. She sat down, the airy layers of her gown flowing around her body. Odysseus filled their cups with water from the central pitcher and sat down to enjoy his meal. 

He must’ve been out in the sun for longer than he thought, because soon after he began to eat, he felt faint in the head. Odysseus took a long drink of water to soothe his tired body and tried not to fall asleep at the table. 

“Is everything alright?” Penelope asked, watching him. 

He noticed that while he and his wife ate, Penelope hadn’t touched much of the food on her plate, if any at all. Her cup was still full. 

He gave her a puzzled expression. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

She leaned forward, saying, “You look tired, Odysseus.”

The way she said his name, it was like they were old friends. He tried to put on a smile, “Ah, well, I’ve been at work all day. I’m glad to finally be able to rest my feet.”

Penelope slowly tilted her head to the side. 

“What work would one need to do in paradise?”

Calypso cleared her throat. She rested her head against her palm, staring across the table at Penelope. “Is my cooking not to your liking, Penelope? If there’s something else you’re hungry for, why don’t you say so?”

Odysseus felt his stomach go taut as a bowstring. He inhaled through his nose. He knew that tone in his wife’s voice, the telltale signs of her growing anger. Thinking fast, he took his wife’s hand in his own. 

“I’m sure our guest meant no offense, Calypso.” 

Penelope studied the two of them for a long moment before taking up her cup. She drank, paused, and narrowed her eyes at its contents. 

“It’s safe to drink,” Odysseus said, unable to recall if Penelope had mixed her water with wine when she ate earlier, “But if you’d prefer to have a little wine, please, let me-”

He moved and startled everyone at the table, himself included. Odysseus hadn’t meant to, but he knocked over his own cup. The water spilled and as he tried to catch the cup before it could roll off the table, but his fingers refused to respond in time. 

The sound of shattered ceramic followed soon after. His hands were trembling, why? 

“Odysseus!” Penelope said, voice colored with worry. 

“I’m fine,” he said. He’d said it so often over the years that it was instinct at this point, “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I think I just need to-”

To lie down. 

But as he tried to get up, the words perished in his throat. It felt like all the air was stolen from his lungs as the world pitched to the side. Colors and light blurred together and faded away all at once. 

+++

The tiles below their feet cracked open, vines rising up to catch her husband and cushion his head before he could hurt himself in his fall. 

Calypso took in the sight of his prone form, knowing she would have to act fast. Odysseus might not be able to die of natural causes, but poison may still be able to kill him if she didn’t intervene. She rose from the table at the same time as Penelope. The only difference was that Calypso stood tall while the pathetic mortal woman fell to her knees with a grunt. 

She crawled on hands and knees, reaching out to Odysseus and grabbing his hand. 

“Don’t you dare touch him!” 

Calypso kicked the bitch aside, ignoring her pained gasp as she bent down to brush the soft hair from her husband's face. Odysseus was breathing shallowly, his face pale. Her poor husband. 

Before dinner, she brewed what should be an effective antidote to the poison in her private chambers. 

“Why?” a voice asked from behind her. “Why would you do this?”

She ignored the dying woman as she gathered Odysseus up in her arms and carried him inside. He weighed hardly anything in her grasp. Calypso laid him down in their bed and summoned the antidote to her hand. She pulled the small cork stopper out with her teeth and slowly poured its contents down his throat. 

Calypso stayed with him for a while after that, sitting at his side to observe his health just in case anything went wrong. His body refused to warm up on its own so she covered him in blankets and lit their fireplace. At first, his condition neither improved or worsened. He simply slept. 

Within a few hours though, his breathing became deeper and more steady. He regained some of the color in his cheeks and Calypso smiled as she removed a few of the excess blankets, not wanting him to get too hot. She amused herself in those hours by stroking his hair and pressing kisses to his face. Cheek, temple, nose, eyes, his parted lips. He was so lovely like this. 

She was more than a little tempted to shed her clothes and climb on top of him. She loved the cut of his jaw and the angle of his nose. She loved his hair, the color of freshly tilled earth. It was stained with more than a few streaks of gray, but she thought they only made him more handsome. 

About an hour before dawn, Calypso decided it was time to deal with the pest. 

She was unsurprised to find Penelope where she’d been abandoned, curled on her side on the cold ground. Her half-lidded eyes stared at Calypso’s feet. 

Barely breaking her stride, Calypso grabbed the other woman by her ankle and dragged her down the path and deep into the gardens. Lanterns along the way lit themselves to give her enough light to see by. When she came to a suitable spot, Calypso waved a hand. The dirt sank in on itself, forming a narrow but very deep pit. 

Laughing softly to herself, Calypso grabbed Penelope by the throat and held her limp body above the hole. 

“Goodbye, Penelope. So sorry you came all this way just to die. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Odysseus.” 

She dropped the mortal into the pit and willed it to fill with dirt. Then, for good measure, snapped her fingers. A heavy marble slab rose from the ground, spotless. It began to carve itself into the shape of a slumbering leopard. Just another decoration to adorn her island. 

More importantly, Odysseus will never find the body. 

She turned her back and walked away, thinking that some warm porridge would be a boon to her husband’s tender stomach when he woke up. And as a good wife, she was more than willing to provide. 

+++

“Father above, that nymph is deranged!” Hermes said, fluttering over the newly formed stone leopard in the garden. 

He’d done his job of keeping out of sight so far, but he couldn’t resist coming out into the open for this. 

He whispered, “She’s gone, by the way.”

The dirt began to shift as a heat rose from the earth. Hermes gave her plenty of space as the ground heaved open and marble shattered. In a burst of golden light, Athena in her battle armor and long cape rose from the pit, brushing debris from her breastplate. 

She hovered above the earth, suspecting that if she touched any part of Calypso’s island in her true form, the minor goddess would detect her presence immediately.  

Her brother grasped her arm, “I can’t believe how far you let her take that. She buried you alive!” 

Bitterly, Athena said, “I had to keep up the act. I didn’t want to raise her suspicions, not yet. Not before we have what we need. But Odysseus–”

“Is being tended to by Calypso,” Hermes said, calming her fears, “She’s done a good enough job healing him.”

At least there was that. 

Athena gaze at the mountain upon Ogygia with disdain. This whole place stunk of rot. 

As Penelope, Athena could tell the food was laced with some kind of magic. Odysseus couldn’t detect it, but she certainly could. And all it took was one sip of water at the dinner table to know it was poisoned, and that Odysseus was in terrible danger. 

Athena held out her hand and her spear manifested in her grasp. She gripped it tight, disgusted and disturbed by what she’d seen.  

“He didn’t recognize me,” she said, “He didn’t even recognize his own wife! If he couldn’t recall Penelope’s face or voice, then how can he remember his–” she almost hesitated, “...his mentor.” 

Hermes gave her a knowing look. 

He’d come here with her, watching Odysseus while Athena disguised herself as Penelope, keeping an eye on his distant descendant. But for all appearances, Odysseus was nothing but a humble man living an easy and simple life. 

Up until Calypso broke his hand before their very eyes and made him swallow the pain, that was. 

“She’s been hurting him,” she said. She wished she could storm the palace and challenge Calypso to a duel then and there. That might’ve been Ares’s way, but it wasn’t hers. 

What she needed was to plead Odysseus’s case to Zeus. And it was going to have to be even more compelling than she already imagined. Asking Father to save a happy, married man from what he perceived as paradise would be a fool’s journey. 

“Calypso’s control over him runs deep. We need to see how far it goes, and how to break it.”

Hermes nodded in agreement. 

For as powerful as they were, and they were more powerful than Calypso, this was still her home and domain. To impose their will upon it, they would need permission from their father. 

A thousand different plans for how to save her old friend flowed through her mind, forming a tangled and twisted tapestry. 

“Athena, darling.”

Hermes’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. 

She glanced at him. “What is it?”

The wings on Hermes’s helm fluttered with restless energy. “You know, he didn’t catch sight of me, but he could tell I was watching him. He looked over his shoulder twice. Nearly spotted me both times.”

He leaned forward, despite knowing she disliked such closeness. 

Hermes said to her, “He might not have recognized his wife, he might not recognize you if you confront him now, but somewhere deep in his mind, I believe he’s still there. He still has that sharpness to him. And I imagine you once taught him to recognize when he’s being watched.”

She did. It was back when he was just a boy. Knowing when one was being followed was essential to any warrior or leader. 

“Go, Hermes.” Athena said, “Continue watching them. Gather whatever evidence you can.”

He hummed in intrigue. “What will you do, then?”

She pointed her spear at the broken earth and willed it to knit back together. “I will devise our next steps.” 

Hermes nodded and fluttered off, his body shifting until he took the form of a hawk and flew out of sight. 

Alone, Athena took a moment to master herself. In her mind, she saw how she came to this point, for the past was always an excellent advisor for the future. 

It started with Telemachus and how Athena found him alone and surrounded by lecherous suitors vying for his mother’s hand. Staring at Telemachus, it was like staring at a young Odysseus. The lad had his mother’s eyes and her slender physique, but he also had his father’s dark hair, his jaw, and his courage. 

The father and son were so alike in their mannerisms, but Telemachus was painfully lacking in experience and support. Meeting him and seeing how he had to endure life without his father, it finally convinced Athena to do what she’d been too afraid to do previously. 

With a heavy but determined heart, she flew to her sanctum on Olympus in search of her old friend. She studied his journey in the ten years since they last parted and saw the perils he had survived until Odysseus just… disappeared. 

It took hours of searching, of wondering where in the world he possibly could’ve gone. She knew that if Poseidon or any other threat in the sea had claimed his life, Hermes would’ve alerted her. Of all the psychopomps, he was the most eager to gossip about the souls escorted to the underworld. 

The sun had set, risen, and was about to fall below the horizon again by the time she found him. 

Seven years ago, he had washed up on Calypso’s shore. Shipwrecked, starved, dying of thirst, sick from infected wounds. He looked more like carrion than a man. Calypso nursed him back to health, but Athena could see that she was interested in more than being a host to her guest. She wanted him. 

She wanted Odysseus, who remained celibate throughout a gruelling ten-year war when countless other men and kings gladly took slaves or second wives from vanquished territory. 

Odysseus, who even refused the lovely goddess Circe. 

Odysseus, who tried to fend off Calypso’s stubborn advances to no avail. 

Athena felt her gut twist with apprehension. “Seven years, she’s kept you trapped out of your control.”

And time can take such a heavy toll. She tried to see more, but visions of Odysseus became fractured and muddled beyond that point. Whole years were untraceable, but of what she could see–

“Ody, get away from the ledge...”

It was dark, the new moon shedding no light. Even so, Athena saw her friend teetering at the very edge of a cliff high above the jagged waves of the ocean. One step forward, and he’d be no more. 

His hair was disheveled, his beard unkempt. It looked like he lost weight. A lot of weight. His clothes hung in loose heaps around his frame. He was even more of a starving waif than when he first arrived on Calypso’s island, a living skeleton. 

Athena watched, utterly helpless and unable to change the past, as Odysseus fell to his knees, begging the heavens to let him close his eyes. He teetered forward, forward, forward–

Calypso appeared behind him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. Vines sprouted from the earth and wrapped around Odysseus’s legs and arms. His eyes were full of tears and grief as he fought against their grasp. 

He was screaming in anguish. He looked like a wild animal. He had never looked more like a frightened, mortal man. 

Odysseus somehow wrenched an arm free and reached for the stars. 

“ATHENA!” 

The vision froze. 

Athena stared at the image of his outstretched hand. He had called out to her as his patron, his mentor, and his friend. And she had been deaf to his suffering. 

Her voice was small, even to herself, “He needs my help.”

From what little she could parse out, this vision had occurred roughly two years into Odysseus’s exile on Ogygia. Five more years had come and gone since then. What had become of her friend? Was he even still alive?

Athena raised her hands and fought against the island’s magical boundaries, desperate to see a glimpse of Odysseus as he was now. She grit her teeth from the sheer effort it took to pierce Ogygia’s veil.

What she saw next was enough to vex even her mind. The image of a beautiful beach sprawled out around her, a looming mountain in the distance. The sky was colored in hues of red and gold as the sun began to set. And Odysseus was ankle-deep in the crystalline waters, tan and healthy, laughing as he fled Calypso's advances.

“Oh, just try and catch me!” 

He wove in and out of her attempts to capture him in her arms as easily as Athena taught him to evade an enemy’s strikes. Odysseus looked younger than he had five years ago. He’d put on weight and muscle, his hair no longer a ragged mess hanging around his shoulders. He was well groomed and healthy, looking to all the world like a proper king.

“Come back here!” Calypso said, eyes shining. 

A wave that reached Odysseus’s waist knocked him off balance. She pulled him from the sand, narrowly rescuing Odysseus from being smacked in the face by the next wave. 

He pushed the hair from his face and leaned into Calypso’s embrace. He kissed her cheek and when she turned her head to meet his lips, he offered no protests. 

“Any requests for tonight?” Calypso asked, voice tender and light. 

Odysseus hummed. “Your garden never empties. I’ve no worries that you’ll make a wonderful dinner.”

Athena watched as his hands travelled lower, caressing the lesser goddess’s body. 

Calypso smirked at him. “Hungry, husband?” 

She took his hand and pulled him out of the water. Athena decided she had seen enough. 

Time did things to mortals. Mangled and warped them. Made them into different people. But Odysseus? 

Had he forgotten all about his family? His friends? 

Calypso called him husband. 

Athena wondered if, after hearing no response from her, Odysseus gave up on his past life and settled into paradise with the nymph. 

No, she said to herself at once. She knew him and she knew his mind. The man in the vision before her was not the real Odysseus. If she wanted answers, she’d have to find them for herself. 

But in order to find Ogygia and prove to Father that divine intervention was necessary, Athena had to recruit Hermes’s aid. He was the god of travellers and knew the location of even secret isles. She intended for hers to be a solo mission, but Hermes probed and prodded at her until she gave up the reason why she wanted to find Ogygia. To her surprise, he wanted to lend his aid to her cause without hesitation. She agreed, following him to Calypso’s domain. 

But after more than a day on the island… Athena still struggled to understand exactly what had happened here. Though Odysseus boasted a prolific mind and a swift silver tongue, she could tell that his not recognizing Penelope was genuine. 

And as Penelope, Athena saw the inside of the abandoned guest house on Ogygia. In the span of a single second, she had counted over seven-hundred marks. Odysseus had considered himself a captive and tried to keep track of his days for two entire years, only to forget why he’d ever done so in the first place. 

Seeing his current state and the guest house, as well as Calypso’s demeanor, confirmed Athena’s suspicions that something terrible happened to her friend. He did not choose this life for himself.

One of the most damning pieces of evidence was the faint scar across the side of Odysseus’s neck, thin and white. As a goddess of war and battle strategy, Athena could read a warrior’s scars as easily as she could read a papyrus scroll. And she knew that his scar was not inflicted by any enemy. He’d done it to himself sometime within the last seven years. 

There was still so much more for her to uncover. It was long past time for Athena to do her duty as a mentor and friend, and find Odysseus at last. 

King of Ogygia

So yeah this is my AU where Calypso successfully brainwashes Ody into being her pet man. I'm hoping to post the full fic to Ao3 at some point in the future but for now, here's the first 3 chapters condensed into 1 part. Also this is a rough draft so if u see any typos, no u don't.

+++

Summary: Every day for the past seven years, Odysseus had spent his time living in paradise with his beautiful wife. Calypso provides all that he asks and he gives his whole heart to her, as well.

Yes, she's a bit... demanding. But she is a goddess and he is only a man. It must be expected that, in exchange for such a wonderful life, there's some discomfort along the way.

Word Count: Approx. 5.8k

(WARNING FOR: on-screen SA, though brief, and some other depictions of domestic abuse.)

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Ogygia was a beautiful island, if not small. One could wake up at dawn, walk along the soft, white sand that met the sea, and return to the spot he started at by dusk. 

Which was what he was doing. He’d asked his kindly wife to let him wander the shores on his own for once, wasn’t he finally ready?

When asked why he felt compelled to do so, he merely said he’d like some time and silence to think and to enjoy all the sights their home had to offer. After all, while she had gardens to tend to and tapestries to weave, he had little in terms of industry to keep his hands occupied. Whenever their sprawling home was damaged, he did not have to take up nails or a hammer to mend it, for his wife could repair any damage from rain or wind with a deft flick of her wrist. Nothing in her paradise could ever be broken.

She let him go, on the condition that he return by nightfall and not a moment later. 

He understood her warning well, that there would be punishment if he disobeyed his dearest wife. So he packed a rucksack with enough food to serve as a midday meal and a waterskin, his sandals at the bottom of the bag, and set off at dawn. 

It only took about half a day to reach the far side of the island. Here, the sand was still soft and white, but it grew cold under the shadow of the island’s mountain. 

What Ogygia lacked in size, it made up for in splendid geography. Beyond the beaches, there was a ring of wooded land where all sorts of strange plants bloomed and where beautiful birds sang. And at the center of the island, a small mountain peak. The most magnificent thing about it was that the mountain was hollow; within its sprawling caverns hid a beautiful palace adorned with marble columns and balconies overlooking the sea from every angle. The mountain’s face was adorned with neat stone paths, creeks, fountains, gardens, gazebos and arches. Though it was a struggle to memorize all the routes, once he had them in his mind, he found it quite easy to go anywhere he wanted on the island. 

This side of Ogygia though… it held somewhat less of a splendid sight. 

A massive series of cliffs rose high over his head, nearly as tall as the mountain itself. The sheer rock, exposed to the wind and other elements, was a dull gray color. For the longest time, his wife had refused to bring him here, insisting there was nothing worth looking at. But he saw. 

He saw the nests the seabirds made on the cliff ledges, could occasionally hear their cries. He’d yet to find any fledglings, leaving him to wonder if they had their offspring somewhere far away. 

And there were tide pools in the shadows of the cliffs, who hosted an endless supply of little creatures to find. He had to be careful, though. At low tide, it was easy to walk out and find the secret entrances to underwater caves where more adventure awaited. Though they tempted him, his wife told him firmly to never venture there. She would not let him be caught by the high tide.

So he sat with his back to the sheer rock as he unwrapped and ate his salted fish, fresh bread, and honied dates, sipping his water as he watched the seabirds glide toward the horizon. Though he’d been walking for hours, he didn’t wait to pack away his belongings and continue on his way. If his wife found out he’d lingered on the far side of the island, she’d surely grow upset. 

After about an hour, his feet began to ache from walking barefoot all day. He stopped to pull a hefty branch from a wiry tree by the beach and used it as a walking stick. His discomfort wasn’t to the point where he would want to don his sandals, so he kept walking. In truth, he wasn’t sure he’d done much thinking on this little trek of his. Mostly he thought of nothing, observing the lapping waves and enjoyed the silence that came with isolation. 

After another hour or so, he shivered and came to a stop. He glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised and yet relieved to see no one there. 

What was this strange feeling that compelled him to stop? 

It almost felt like he was being watched, but he knew what it felt like to have his wife’s eyes on him. Beyond gardening, weaving, cooking, singing, dancing, and reciting poetry, his wife’s most favorite activity was to keep him within her sights. 

Maybe if he had more time, he’d investigate. The forest, while lacking much complexity in its design, had fewer pathways than the mountain and it was easy to feel lost among the trees and foliage. He would’ve liked to venture outward. Perhaps there was some curious little creature his wife had yet to mention to him…

Making his choice, he tapped his walking stick against the sand and kept walking along the beach. He knew his wife would have dinner ready by sunset and did not want to disappoint her. 

He kept rubbing the back of his neck as he walked, still bothered by the thought that something was watching him. Which was likely, all things considered. A number of animals also called the island their home. Some, like the rabbits and wild goats, he used to hunt freely. Ogygia was fully under his wife’s control, so the populations never seemed to dip as a result of his hunting. Though lately, he set traps and pursued prey less and less. There wasn’t much thrill in it, not like his occasional dream of a massive, wild boar charging at him. 

With the sun sinking beyond the horizon, the air much cooler than midday but not unbearably so, he came around the final bend and upon the pathway that’d take him up the mountain at a gentle slope. 

He stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his walking stick. “What?” 

And then he was running. 

He ran past the pathway that would take him home and dropped to his knees before the prone figure lying face down in the sand. Whoever they were, they didn’t respond as he touched their shoulder. Their face was obscured by long, brown hair and most of their body was covered by a ragged, wet chlamys. Fearing that, somehow, a corpse had washed up on their isle, he turned the body over with a grunt. 

His eyes widened. It was a woman. Even with her hair a tangled mess, her skin having taken on a sickly pale pallor, he could tell she was beautiful. She had the angular nose and jaw of a proud, stately woman, coupled with a kind of serene grace to her soft lips. 

He pressed his ear to her chest in the hopes she was alive. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he could hear anything. But faintly, very faintly, he made out a dull beat like a distant drum. He breathed a sigh of relief and fetched the water skin from his bag. Gently, he brushed the sand from the woman’s face and hefted her head and neck onto his knees. He was careful to let only a thin trickle of water into her mouth to avoid choking her. He stroked the length of her throat to coax her to swallow. 

At last, the stranger stirred. She coughed, then groaned. He could hear the rasp in her voice and said, “Please, drink more.”

Though she didn’t open her eyes, she slowly drank more water. 

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, unsure if she could hear him, “My wife is a healer, she’ll be able to mend you.”

He hurried to slip on his sandals before hefting the woman into his arms. Though he wasn’t a strong man, he found strength enough to hurry up the path toward home. He followed the sound of singing until he came upon the outdoor kitchen where they often dined in the evening. 

“You’re nearly late!” a voice called, “It’s almost dusk. You had me thinking I would have to go out and-”

His wife turned around. Her supple smile fell from her face as she took in the sight of her husband, breathing hard and brow beaded with sweat, as he set the strange woman down on their dining table. 

“Calypso!” he said, “Come-”

She was in front of him before he could blink, her hand wrapped around his wrist. She pulled him even closer, eyes narrowed and cold. 

“Please,” he said, voice lowering to a murmur. He felt the hand around his wrist tighten. He knew what it felt like when his bones were on the verge of breaking, she did too, and she was merciful enough to spare him the pain. 

“Who is she?” 

He answered truthfully, “I don’t know, I found her on the shore. Can you help her?”

Calypso narrowed her eyes. She was always wary of strangers. 

“Why would I do that?”

He stifled a flinch as he felt the pressure begin to build. He was losing sensation in his fingertips. He said, “I was once a haggard stranger on your shore. You spared me, won’t you extend the same kindness to another lost soul?”

Calypso dug her nails into his flesh. Thankfully, she kept them short so she could do her work more easily. 

She asked, “You promise you only found her just now?”

He nodded. “Please, my wife.”

At last, she sighed and let him go. Calypso waved her hand and the chairs flew from the table. She turned the woman’s head from side to side, frown deepening as he fetched her jars of herbs and ointments from the storeroom inside. Calypso, ever the healer she was, rubbed some sort of salve on the woman’s chest. 

It was so pungent, it made his eyes water. But he stayed, curious to see how his wife would tend to someone else. Once, maybe a long time ago, she nursed him back to health as well and saved him from the brink of death.  

Using some hot water from the pot over their fire and a handful of herbs, she crafted some kind of herbal tea. Calypso blew on the surface as she delivered it to the table. 

He tucked one hand under the woman’s head and raised it ever so slightly so she could drink more easily. Calypso drip fed the woman, her face laced with disinterest. 

“My dear husband, if this doesn’t work, then this poor woman should be considered a lost cause. You might as well get to work chopping some trees for her pyre in the morning.”

After a moment, Calypso added, “Or we could bury her in the garden, put her to good use.”

The stranger surprised them both by sitting up of her own accord to go into a coughing fit. Her coughing had a wet quality to it, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the sea water or the tea. He winced in sympathy for her. 

“Where-” she began. Tears laced her eyes from how fitful her coughing was. 

He quickly said, “It’s alright. You’re safe here.”

Calypso shot him a look that he knew very well as a silent warning. He urged the woman to lay back down. 

As she blinked her eyes, he could see that they were the loveliest shade of green. Verdant like a field in early summer. Of course, not quite as lovely as his wife’s golden, immortal eyes, but fair enough for a mortal. 

“Thank the gods you’re alive,” he said, glad to see the woman was not as close to death as he was when he first arrived at Ogygia. 

His wife cleared her throat. “There’s only one goddess here.”

“Of course,” he said, daring to hold out a hand. Calypso took it and squeezed, refusing to let him go. “My apologies.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at them. “Who are you?”

His wife pressed her other hand to her chest, “I am the divine Calypso, queen of Ogygia. And this is my dear husband, Odysseus.”

Since his wife, wise in ways beyond that of mortals, didn’t seem interested in speaking further, he asked, “Tell us, where have you come from? Who are you?”

The woman’s eyes shifted from Calypso to meet his own. She sat up slowly, unblinking. 

“My name is Penelope.”

A lovely name. 

“Well, Penelope!” he said, “We have plenty of food here. And rooms, too. If my wife and queen is willing to oblige.”

Isn’t that right, Calypso? 

But his question died on his tongue. Odysseus had seen his wife in all manner of moods. He’d seen her happy, calm, solemn, and furious. He thought he knew her well by now. 

But the sheer venom in his wife’s eyes as she glared at Penelope was unrivaled by anything he’d ever seen before. Her hand squeezed tight around his own and Odysseus didn’t even have a spare second to warn her, to plead, to calm her before–

Not a sound passed his lips as a clear crack sounded through the still air. 

Odysseus only turned his head away so that their guest could not see him grimace. A sharp, throbbing pain began to radiate from the side of his hand, running from his thumb to his wrist and quickly spreading.

Calypso blinked and schooled her expression, but she didn’t let go of him, seemingly content to ignore the fact she had broken his hand. Perhaps that was for the best. He knew she didn’t mean it and it would be preferable to not scare their guest. He was sure she had survived horrors of her own on the open sea and did not need to witness more. 

Odysseus cleared his throat and put on a smile. “Ah, so, who else is hungry?”

+++

(SA starts here)

This was his punishment. 

Nothing needed to be said. Nothing needed to be explained to him. For all the ways he was a fool, he knew what he’d done. 

He brought another woman into Calypso’s house, even carried her in his arms.

Odysseus went through dinner without complaint, ignoring his injured hand even as it throbbed and hot sparks seemed to shoot through his arm every time he flexed his fingers. They were silent throughout dinner, Calypso uninterested in entertaining, Penelope hungry and reserved, and Odysseus trying to not mind the pain. 

They gave their guest a room, one far from their own wedding bed. He was grateful for this. 

Almost as grateful as he was for the sight of his beautiful wife over him, the curve of her bare breasts and soft hips visible in the moonlight. She’d let her hair down, her delicate braids flowing over her shoulders. Calypso devoted so much time to her hair and it showed; her braids were dressed with beads of gold, pearls from the sea, and streaked with a rich, lavish violet dye that came from her own garden. 

He felt the weight of her golden stare upon him and attempted to reach out to her, to pull her into a kiss, but she would not be cajoled. Instead, desperate, he touched her waist. She let him, but didn’t do much else. 

His other hand, his injured hand, was pinned to the bed by his head. 

Calypso moved effortlessly, rocking herself on his cock as she pressed her thumb into the flesh of his palm. Not enough for it to hurt, but just enough that it was a constant reminder. 

He was never certain if it was a trait of the divine or just his wife, but she could do things to him. Make him do things, too. She could manipulate his body to her liking, just as she was doing now. Odysseus had no idea how long he laid under his loving wife, only that it was late into the night and he was tired.  

He craned his head back, taking labored breaths as he remained throbbing, leaking, wanting, even though he was exhausted and Calypso’s ministrations had begun to hurt.

He whispered, “Please…”

They’ve gone at it like animals until sunrise in the past, though that was mostly back when he was new to her island and still learning how to please his wife. She could be ravenous when she wanted to be. And while she could stir the lust within him with no effort at all, just a snap of her fingers, he was just a man. 

He caressed her hip. “Calypso...please…”

Finally, she spoke. “But doesn’t it feel good?”

Odysseus’ head swam. He wanted to rest. He wanted his wife to take pity on him. 

The thumb against his palm pressed ever so slightly harder, sending fire through his veins. He choked out, “Of course it does.”

“Don’t you love me?”

The pressure was unrelenting. Her hips had slowed to a ceaseless grinding. He gasped. “I do.”

At last, Calypso leaned down. He tried to meet her for a kiss. 

Her lips brushed against his ear. “Then act like it.”

She twisted her thumb into his palm. His hips bucked as his teeth clenched and his wife hummed in satisfaction. He felt so wet and hot, and tired. Despite the pain in his hand, a disorientating numbness had also settled deep under his skin. The air smelled of sweat and lust. 

It took a while longer until she was satisfied. When she was, Calypso settled against his side, her bare body against his own. He cradled her close. She traced her fingertip in circles across his chest before splaying her palm flat against his skin. He had so many scars and yet she still loved him, still called him handsome. 

Her fingers trailed up to his throat and caressed the side of her neck.

She closed her radiant eyes and sighed, “This is why I shouldn’t let you wander on your own. You always get into trouble.” 

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond. Odysseus exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, sinking into a fitful sleep as his hand and body continued to ache. 

+++

When morning came, he knew she had forgiven him. 

Odysseus woke up and was met with no pain and the ability to freely flex his fingers. The rest of his body was free of any discomfort as well. 

Such an amazing healer. He rolled over and kissed his wife awake. 

The sun was only just rising. Their gossamer curtains fluttered with the gentle breeze. Some days, they were both up early to tend to whatever needed tending. Other days, Calypso willed a soft rain to befall the island. The cool, sleepy weather would compel them to stay in bed all day long, lounging and feeding each other fruit and whispering sweet nothings. Such was life with a goddess. 

Calypso’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. 

He whispered, “Morning, sleepyhead.”

She yawned and stretched her legs. She suggested a bath together and he agreed, thinking he should clean himself up before facing their guest. 

There were multiple options when it came to bathing in Ogygia. There were a number of mountain springs where the water was always clear and clean of debris. Or they could venture deeper into the mountain, where a system of hot springs awaited them. There was also a plain old bath house a short walk from their chambers, it held a rather nice view of the island’s south side. 

Calypso took him to her favorite waterfall carved into the side of the mountain. As she stood under the spray, letting the water run over her face, Odysseus pressed his chest to her back and kissed the nape of her neck. They were nearly the same height. She stood a touch taller than himself, his gracious and buxom wife, and he only loved her more for it. 

He felt her hand reach back to caress his hair. He grinned softly. 

Without warning, she forced his head forward until he was under the fast-flowing water. Odysseus sputtered and murmured his protests against her shoulder. When she let go of him, she was laughing as he pushed the wet hair from his eyes. 

“Very funny,” he said. 

But the important thing was that she was laughing. Nothing mattered more to him than his wife’s happiness. 

When it was his turn under the waterfall, Odysseus had that strange sensation of being watched again. He glanced around but found no one else present, not even their guest. It was just him and Calypso, wasn’t it?

He soon waded out of the water as Calypso finished drying herself off. 

“So…” she said, donning a beautiful emerald peplos trimmed in white. “How are we going to get rid of our intruder?”

Odysseus froze as he rubbed a towel through his hair. He stared at her. 

“What do you mean?”

“Her,” Calypso said, as if even speaking Penelope’s name was beneath her, “We can’t have someone else on the island with us. You know that.”

Well, it was true that wherever Penelope had come from, she was never going back. 

Calypso fitted a golden band around her wrist and said, “Now, if you aren’t willing to kill her, then I’ll have it done by sunset. What do you say, Ody?”

He used the excuse of dressing himself to hesitate. Odysseus donned the iris colored chiton his wife worked so hard to weave and dye. Such a color was typically reserved for royalty only, but even the finest and rarest dyes could be made in abundance here. 

“Odysseus,” she said. 

He sighed. “It seems cruel to kill her while she’s helpless.”

Calypso approached him. He leaned forward without being told as she tied a silken strip around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. One by one, she slipped the leather bands over his wrists and laced them tight. 

“My tender-hearted husband, then what are we going to do with her?”

He wanted to ask why she was so against someone else staying with them on the island. Perhaps Penelope was god-sent to provide them with companionship. Why refuse her refuge when Odysseus was given endless kindness? 

But he knew the truth. Penelope was a woman, and Calypso as the resident goddess-queen had no interest in female company. 

“She might not recover from whatever she’s been through.”

Calypso gave him a skeptical look. “So you’d rather she have a long, slow death?”

“I’d rather see what the Fates have to say about her, before we do anything.”

She didn’t seem very happy with his response. If she wanted to kill the newcomer, Odysseus would have no way to stop her. 

Calypso sighed. “Either way, her life ends.”

“As you wish,” he said. It was getting to be mid-morning now. He should bring Penelope something to eat and drink, at the very least. Hunger was a terrible beast, and thirst just as wicked. 

Odysseus ventured down to the storerooms and filled a tray with bread and spiced olive oil, fresh figs, and ripe olives. He knew the water on the island was safe to drink without intervention, but thought it’d be more polite to offer their guest the opportunity to drink according to her homeland. He didn’t know much of the outside world, but was aware that the water was unclean and had to be mixed with wine to make it potable. He filled a larger pitcher with water and a smaller cup with wine. 

Penelope’s quarters consisted of a guest house at the foot of the mountains, shaded by the lush forest and complemented by a pond where a pair of white swans were known to frequent. He entered the front exterior, climbing the marble steps and venturing inside, where the far wall was hewn from the mountain’s very stone and dotted with uncut gemstones. 

“Penelope?” 

He set the tray down on the nearest table and ventured farther inward. He was surprised to find her on her feet, examining the tapestry upon the wall of her bedroom. Threads of sapphire and silver mimicked the crashing waves at midday. Her hair hung in loose tresses around her face, still stiff from saltwater. 

Penelope met his eyes and didn’t seem startled to find him in her quarters. 

“Good morning,” he said, “I’ve brought you something to eat.”

A little songbird had settled on the windowsill above the front entrance and was warbling out its pretty melody. Penelope followed Odysseus and took a seat at the table. He sat across from her at a respectable distance and pushed the tray closer to her. She stared at him. 

“Does your hand not hurt anymore?”

“Hm?” he looked down at his hand, “Oh, no, no! I’m fine. Please, eat.”

She didn’t eat. Her green eyes seemed cold despite the sunlight streaming through the windows. She pushed the tray until it sat in the middle of the table and said, “I feel it inappropriate to dine while my host does not.”

It was true that he didn’t have anything to eat yet. Most mornings, he fixed himself a meal. Sometimes, his wife joined him. But being a goddess, she didn’t have quite the same need for food as he did. She simply ate when she wanted to. 

Then it occurred to Odysseus that maybe Penelope was afraid. He offered a smile as he took a bit of bread, proving that nothing had been poisoned or tampered with. 

Penelope finally plucked a fig from the small bowl on the tray. She took a bite of its supple flesh and chewed slowly, brows furrowed in confusion. Odysseus chuckled softly. He knew the food here was perfect. As an island paradise, every bite of every meal was without flaw. It was something that took time to get used to. 

For a little while, the two of them sat and ate in silence. Odysseus was amazed that Penelope had recovered so quickly, when he had vague memories of being bedridden for days, or even longer, when Calypso first found him. He was weak, malnourished, and suffering from multiple infected wounds. 

Penelope was first to break the silence, “Tell me something, o’ King of Ogygia.” 

Odysseus cleared his throat in surprise. “King? Please, you misunderstand! It’s only myself and my wife here. And while she’s certainly queen, I’m only her husband.”

Penelope was silent for a moment. She studied him, her eyes narrowing before her entire expression smoothed over. She leaned forward and asked, “Where are we? I’ve never heard of any island by the name of Ogygia.”

He was beginning to realize that Penelope might very well make a full recovery. Which meant she may have to learn of Ogygia’s true nature, that no one can leave. But why torment her with knowledge she didn’t need to know yet?

And if she was going to die, she might rest more peacefully having never known the full truth. He pitied her silently, as he would never age or grow sick while he called this place his home.

Odysseus gestured to the paradise outside, “Well, it’s Calypso’s island. Her paradise. You cannot find Ogygia by searching for it. As far as I understand, it’s simply a matter of fate if the island finds you.” 

Penelope nodded in contemplation. She continued to study him. Of all the questions he expected her to ask, she found one that nearly made him shiver in the warm morning sun. 

“Then… if you are no god, where did you come from?”

His smile began tighter, more pinched, as he tried to answer honestly, “I don’t know. Whatever life I had before… I don’t remember. Calypso tells me I was very hurt when I arrived. I assume whatever injuries I had led me to forget.” 

He shrugged and added, “Or perhaps I was bewitched!”

Odysseus chuckled at such a silly suggestion and stood. He was going to take a walk through the gardens and thought the fresh air might do Penelope some good. She agreed to accompany him. He walked at a slower pace than usual to accommodate Penelope's gait. She walked slowly, as if fatigued already. It didn’t bother him, he spent the time pointing out the many beautiful fixtures the island had to offer. 

Past the series of stone arches draped in vines and flowers, the pathway split into two. One led farther up the mountain while the other led to another guest house. Odysseus walked right past it, ignoring the building with its overgrown ivy nearly concealing it from sight. 

“The bath house is up ahead, if you’d like to… Penelope?”

Odysseus suddenly realized he was alone. He looked around and spotted Penelope making way for the neglected guest house. He jogged after her, confused as to what could be so interesting about this place. 

By the time he caught up with her, she was standing in the open doorway, gazing inside. He came to a stop next to her, but found nothing of interest. The house was as it always was, dim inside since the vines and ivy overtook the windows. The air was a little stale and musty, and cold. 

Penelope spoke softly, “You say this island is a paradise, but this place stands neglected and derelict. Why?”

Odysseus didn’t have an answer. “I’m not sure. It’s my wife’s will.”

This was the house she kept him in while he was recovering, however many years ago that was. 

“What are all the markings on the walls?” Penelope asked. 

He looked closer. He’d nearly forgotten. 

“Oh, I did that,” he said, embarrassed, “I suppose I was overcome with a little bit of madness at the time.”

The walls of the modest house were covered in thin scratch marks. Not erratic like an animal, but in neat rows. 

“I think I carved a line for every day I was here. I can’t possibly fathom why, though.” Odysseus laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m grateful for Calypso’s patience. I doubt most women would forgive their husbands for vandalizing their house.”

It was probably why Calypso did her best to hide this building from sight. She didn’t need it and Odysseus wasn’t comfortable being reminded of his confusing, maddening past behavior. 

“Come, there’s more to see,” he said, eager to leave. 

+++

What a coincidence it had to be, for a woman named Penelope to arrive on her shores. Calypso was certain it was his Penelope defiling her island at this very moment. The two of them acted as if they had never met before, but what if it was a ruse on that wretched woman’s part? 

Penelope could simply be biding her time, waiting until she thought Calypso’s guard was down to steal her man away. 

But Calypso was no fool. Odysseus was her love, her husband, hers now. 

It had made her stomach twist to see Ody carrying another woman in her arms the night before. It made her furious when he left this morning to fetch that bitch something to eat, believing Penelope was nothing more than a wayward traveller.

But Calypso knew better and it was up to her to protect her husband from any pains his past might bring. 

In a moment when she was alone, Calypso closed her eyes and concentrated her divine power. She was no mere nymph; she was the daughter of Atlas, a goddess of beauty and magic. Calypso searched her island for a host and found it in a songbird nesting in one of her branches. 

Ogygia was hers to control. All its inhabitants made up her domain. 

She poured her mind into the little bird and took flight, following Odysseus as he wandered down the path to Penelope’s quarters, bearing a tray of food as if he were a mere servant. 

Calypso watched her husband sit with Penelope and even eat together. It disgusted her, made her want to flood the island up to the guest house’s level so that Penelope could drown. But alas, her poor, foolish husband would be in trouble, too. 

Odysseus caught her attention when he said, “...and while she’s certainly queen, I’m only her husband.”

At least he knew his place. At least he remembered who he had to be faithful to. 

Penelope was a clever one, probing Calypso’s unsuspecting husband for information. She seemed curious about him and where he had come from. 

It could’ve all been a coincidence. 

But Calypso was no stranger to fate. She was stranded herself on this isle with no company for a century. The only other times she saw another face was when the occasional god came to visit her with stories in exchange for the ripe fruit or luscious flowers from her garden. But that was only once a decade if she were lucky. 

Then her Odysseus came. Her handsome Odysseus, who needed her hands to heal his broken body and broken heart. But he was a married man when she found him, another cruel twist by the fates. 

Now that he was her spouse, she was never going to let him go. 

Especially not when faced with her greatest challenge yet, another woman. 

Calypso took flight and entered a window high in the mountain where she landed upon the floor of her private chambers. She pulled herself from the body of the poor little bird, now dead from the strain of carrying divinity within itself. 

Her husband knew better than to venture here, to the zenith of the island. Calypso’s most powerful potions and charms laid hidden here, accrued over the many lonely years should she ever need them. 

Stained glass windows in shades of emerald, sapphire, ruby, and gold threw colorful, shifting beams of light across the floor, where a mosaic of the heavens resided. Marble columns lined the circular room. The tables and shelves here were all cluttered with sealed boxes and bottles, some glowing and others humming faintly with power. 

Calypso waved a hand and a heavy, wooden chest popped open. She rifled through its contents until she pulled out a bottle that fit in her palm. It looked as if it were filled with plain water, but she knew better. This was the end result of much trial and error until she had a colorless, odorless, tasteless, and lethal poison. 

She closed her hand around the bottle. 

“You can’t learn,” she said to herself, “You can’t remember. I won’t let you.”

All she had to do was mix this poison with their pitcher of water at dinner tonight and Penelope will be dead by morning. 

Calypso herself might have a faint stomach ache, but it was a price worth paying. Though she wasn’t quite sure of how it would influence her husband, she was more than able to protect him from death here. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promised. Safe from the world, from his past, from himself. It was what any good wife would do. 

+++

Alright! That's all I'm posting for now!

FYI, it's made pretty clear throughout the fic that something's up with Penelope & it's really clear after this part that something else is going on with her. Sorry to spoil the fun, but it's actually Athena in disguise. She's doing some recon on Ogygia to try and figure out wtf happened to her bestie bc she really thought for sure that Ody would recognize her.

[haru-chi]

Now that Miharu's arc is done and I gathered my thoughts and my strength, I feel like talking now for a bit ...

-contain manga spoilers-

Firstly, what the anime has done wasn't so bad at all, in fact I think they did the best they can without changing much which's I'm kinda surprised with for this season overall, it has the least changes out of all seasons so far (?), even the production value is far better than the last two season which was something I worried about tbh yet was pleased in general despite few little things 👀

With that being said and out of the way .. what come next isn't "hate" at all, so don't mistake it so :)

I found the anime version just lacking something .... it just didn't feel the same for some reason ... maybe the perfect word I find to describe what I feel is "detachment" ?

I don't know, was it because they simplify things which made things lose its gravity? Was it because they omit certain lines which had moved me the most in the manga ? Or was it that their interpretation of certain scenes was different than the manga vibe I got ? or they put emphasize on not what I thought they should've been ?

It's like, I felt Seiji/Miharu's burden, longing, wishes didn't hit that heavily ? Even Natori's inner struggle and action ... It's like I'm detached in certain way from their emotions which I don't even know if that's the perfect word to use but can't find a better word for what I felt ...

Hmmmmm, it's like, in the anime you feel like an outsider watching those people's story and struggles while in the manga you're an insider seeing all of this firsthand because of those little details etc thus you'd feel/understand it all better >>> don't know if this is a perfect example ><

I wondered if this was because they didn't do an extended hand before it, but as a manga reader this doesn't matter much for me so that's not it ...

But then I realized that this actually an on-going anime issue I always noticed and felt ... I even experience it firsthand being an anime-only way back then in the distant past ....

I feel the anime treat Natsuyuu's stories as standalone more than they should .. like aside from big arcs (mostly exorcist) then it doesn't matter what order everything else goes to ..maybe most fans think so too .. they don't realize that there IS a seamless story-flow under it all .. not all story follows it yet most stories can rely on it for building up be it on-going issues or questions and answers around it be it indirectly or directly (take an extended hand and Miharu's stories for example)

I was under this same misconception too back then, which's why when I jumped to the manga I was shocked by its depth and way of storytelling that genteelly indirectly connect most of its stories, which's why it resulted in Natsume's growth ...

His growth wasn't because of that certain story you just noticed it in it but was a result of the small ones before it which you thought was unrelated yet in fact it was a build-up and added depth to his character (maybe I'll talk in depth about it in different post?)

What I'm trying to say is, most story's order is important than some people think, and Midorikawa pay close attention to that and it's part of her storytelling and style which I really admire and love ... how there is an unspoken rule or something that put into attention few details or add more depth to the world/characters without directly saying so and that easily to miss ....

Do you remember how Homura's arc was something she wanted to do from early on yet because Natsume wasn't ready so she withhold for a very long time ... or how she didn't reveal Seiji had a sister before revealing that Taki had a brother (Seiji's sister arc was the next vol from Taki's brother reveal if no one noticed btw which's something I love and always wanted to mention and talk about)

That's why I said the anime treat Natsuyuu's stories as standalone more than they should and alot of things can gets lost ....

Miharu's arc didn't happen until an extended hand story happened before it .... and those stories are too important to each other ...but since I talked about this in a different post, I won't go about why that is here...

But this anime mindset results in Miharu going first which even after watching it I still find it a weird decision since there was room to do an extend hand then finish the season with Miharu's arc ....

I'm here thinking how such a simple thing can change your perception of things greatly or how can omitting or putting emphases on certain thing can change your view of them... I find that interesting but in the end that's why because of this the anime can never reach that same depth, that same unspoken indirect beauty ....

I really wonder why ? I feel like they had an idea or certain view about Natsuyuu which isn't wrong per say but can be harmful or a hindrance in the long run ?

Miharu's arc in the anime had me just setting here thinking and trying to understand why I find it lacking or feel this detachment and absent of gravity or weight from it that I felt in the manga ....

I'll stop here, it just I don't get it and kinda feel disappointed ? Sad ? Tbh I really don't know what I should be feeling other than I wanted something more for one of my best arc, it wasn't the worst yet wasn't that great either :)

[liquidstar]

Oh fuck tomorrow I'm going to be a little birthday boy I keep almost forgetting