#but oh boy not looking forward to saying no

[diaryofawhoretbh]

it's too late. | thanos (choi su-bong)

| in which a pregnant girl encounters her ex-boyfriend in a game of survival, for a shot to win some money to pay off their debts.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: none really... just a lot of angst!

NOT proof-read!!

"hey señorita... y/n!"

oh don't tell me that's who i think it is...

i turned around slowly, my heart hammering in my chest. it was like time had frozen for a moment. the moment i had feared, the moment i never expected. there he was.

choi su-bong.

my high-school sweetheart. the boy who once promised me everything. the boy who left when i needed him the most. the boy who broke my heart and disappeared without a trace.

i could hardly breathe as i met his eyes. those same eyes i had fallen in love with at sixteen. the purple hair that was styled but messier than i remembered. the tattoos that covered his hands and his fingers; each one a reminder of who he'd become. the coloured nails, the silver rings that flashed with every movement. that same damn smile; the one that made my heart race, now felt like a dagger lodged in my chest.

"su-bong..." i said, my voice barely above a whisper. the words so heavy with unspoken moments of pain and longing. my hand moved instinctively to rest on my stomach, the one thing that had grown in his absence. but i didn't expect him to notice. why would he? not after everything.

he froze for a moment, as if he didn't know what to do with me. his eyes flickered to my stomach, then quickly shifted away, the confusion creeping into his expression. he looked...lost. like he was seeing me, but not really understanding. i could see the change in him; the same boy i loved at sixteen, but somehow... different. colder.

"you look different," he said slowly, taking a step forward, his voice carrying a touch of hesitation. his eyes searched mine, like he was trying to find the girl he once knew in the woman standing before him. but he didn't get the chance.

"yeah," i replied flatly, trying to keep my composure, my voice colder than i intended. "a lot has changed su-bong."

i wanted him to know how much he had missed, how much he had left. i wanted him to feel the weight of his absence, the pain of being alone when i needed him the most. but i didn't want to show him any weakness. not now. not after everything.

he shifted uncomfortably, like my coldness was making him second-guess himself.

"look i know it's been a while, but we need to talk."

we need to talk? what the fuck. my mind screamed. we've already had this conversation, haven't we? but the words caught in my throat. i couldn't bring myself to say it. not yet. the truth, the pain, it was all so close to the surface, and if i let it out now, it would swallow me whole.

"what do you want, su-bong?" i asked, my voice tight, trying to keep the shaking at bay. "why are you even here?"

his face darkened, the usual cocky swagger replaced by something more... raw. something real. "debt," he said, the word coming out low, reluctant. "i invested everything into crypto. lost it all. i’m here because of my mistakes."

i nodded slowly, the reality of his words sinking in like ice water. "yeah, i know," i muttered bitterly. "i’ve been paying for it too, haven’t i?"

he looked away for a second, but i could see the shame in his eyes. the guilt. it didn’t matter, though. it never mattered before, so why should it matter now?

but then, as if the silence between us wasn’t enough, his eyes flicked down to my stomach. a quick glance, but it was enough. his face went pale, his breath catching in his throat. the shock was instant.

"wait…" he whispered, stepping closer. his voice cracked slightly. "are you-"

i didn’t let him finish. i couldn’t. i felt it welling up inside me—everything i had kept hidden for months. the hurt, the anger, the grief. i pressed my hand to my stomach again, my heart racing as i forced the words out.

"i’m pregnant," i said, my voice barely a whisper, but it felt like it echoed between us. "and it’s yours."

his face went blank. completely blank. like he couldn’t process it. like the words hadn’t even reached him yet. i saw his mouth open, but no sound came out.

i stepped back, keeping my distance, my chest tight. "you weren’t there, su-bong. not when i needed you. not when we needed you."

his expression crumpled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "i didn’t know," he said hoarsely. "i didn’t know, y/n. i swear."

"you should’ve known," i shot back, my voice cracking despite my efforts to stay composed. "you should’ve been here. but you weren’t. you walked away when i needed you the most."

he took a step closer, but i held up my hand to stop him. "no. don’t come near me."

"i messed up," he said, his voice rough, guilt and regret flooding his words. "i was stupid. i didn’t mean for any of this to happen. i thought… i thought i could fix it. i was trying to make something of myself, but i messed everything up. i messed us up."

"us?" i scoffed, shaking my head. "there was no 'us,' su-bong. there was only you and your damn dreams. your rap career. your crypto, your debts, your selfishness. there was never any 'us' when i needed you. i was alone, and now you think you can just walk back in like nothing happened?"

i felt my hands shaking, my breath coming faster as the anger bubbled up. i wanted to scream. i wanted to cry. but all i could do was stand there, staring at the boy who had left me. the boy who would never understand the weight of what he had done.

"i should’ve been there," he muttered, the words barely a whisper. "but i wasn’t. i’m sorry, y/n."

the words meant nothing anymore. they were hollow. meaningless. he was sorry, but sorry wouldn’t change anything.

"yeah," i said, my voice trembling now. "you should’ve. but you weren’t. and it’s too late."

i took a shaky breath, pushing the tears back. i couldn’t break down in front of him. not now. not after everything.

"you can’t fix this, su-bong," i whispered, the finality in my voice cutting through the space between us. "you can’t fix what’s already broken."

he stood there, staring at me like he didn’t know what to do with himself, with us. i turned away, my heart pounding in my chest. my body felt heavy with the truth i had finally told him.

"i’m done," i said softly, my voice breaking. "you should leave. just go."

without another word, i walked away, leaving him behind.

[nanenna]

Bruce didn’t like letting Danny just leave. The boy was so anxious, jumping at the least little shadow and clearly desperate to get what he needed and leave. Bruce had tried to convince him to let them help him instead, the Justice League had access to cutting edge technology that wouldn’t be released to the public for years, but Danny had insisted. Only this mysterious man he refused to talk more about could help Danny. It was frustrating. It was probably a trap.

The fact that Danny’s blood sample wasn’t degrading only confirmed this.

He was clearly a clone, and there was definitely something wrong with his DNA, but it wasn’t actively getting worse. Danny seemed stable. But he still needed Bruce’s DNA, insisted on it, was desperate for it.

Bruce suspected there was a clone that did need stabilizing, it just wasn’t Danny. Clones, after all, are rarely made as singles, usually they come in batches.

So Bruce had given in, unable to say no to Danny’s big, tearful eyes. And loaded the boy down with trackers of every kind. He knew the others had as well. Trackers on the backs of his shoes, in his hoodie’s hood, slipped into pockets and the inside of the bag he’d had with him, one was even on the underside of the stopper on the small vial of blood.

That’s when they got to see what Danny had been carrying in his bag: a small styrofoam box mostly filled with what looked like snow, though it was strangely greenish. He carefully placed the vial in the box and just as carefully replaced the box in the bag (which Bruce had seen three different trackers get tossed into while Danny was focusing on the vial).

Then Danny had insisted on being taken out into the city, that he could make it home from there. Bruce hadn’t liked it, two more trackers had been hidden on Danny as he got back in the batmobile. He’d also purposefully driven around a bit before taking Danny to the agreed on drop off point, Nightwing and Red Robin both on nearby rooves to see what Danny would do once the batmobile was out of sight.

He’d vanished into thin air.

There one moment, gone the next. The current theory was a meta of some kind. Not that he had the metagene, not possible with Bruce as his only genetic donor, but not all metahumans had the metagene.

The trackers were working though, so at least they had that. Until suddenly they didn’t. They’d all gone dark at the exact same instance and none of them knew how.

That left them with just the flash drive. Danny had left it behind for them, and after much digging Bruce finally found the boy again. He laced his fingers together and rested his mouth against them as he stared down at the screen, a very proud, very oily looking man beaming at the camera as Danny looked forward blankly and a younger, smaller version of Danny gave the camera a big grin.

Danielle Madeline Masters.

Likely the person who had actually needed stabilizing. Likely the reason Danny had agreed to go live with a man who he had very publicly hated up until whatever fallout had happened with the Doctors Fenton. Even Jasmine Fenton had left, emancipating herself and moving with Danny and Danielle to Wisconsin with Vlad Masters, though she wasn’t ever at any of his events.

Well, now Bruce had some arrangements to make. Afterall, what kind of father would he be if he didn’t fight for custody of his long missing son and daughter?

💚🦇👻🖤

Brucie chuckled lightly as the gala host told an old joke, one Bruce had heard every other gala for years, one Bruce himself had told to his own guests at his own gala. If he never heard that joke again…

“Ah, and here is my friend, Vlad!” The host said cheerfully. “Why Vlad wouldn’t ever let me hear the end of it if I didn’t introduce you.”

Bruce put on his best gala smile as he looked towards the shorter man, but it quickly fell as he made eye contact with Danny at Vlad’s elbow. “Danny?!”

Danny, who had looked bored half out of his mind, suddenly looked up at Bruce and went pale.

Time to put his acting skills to use. “Oh my god, you’re still alive!” Bruce pulled Danny into a hug and choked out a few sobs. Before anyone could say or do anything, Bruce pulled back and dropped to one knee, keeping his hands on Danny’s shoulders so he could look up at him. “And your sister? Is Daniella with you?”

“What?” Danny asked, clearly confused.

“You were so little when the two of you went missing, just a toddler and she was a baby. Please tell me you weren’t separated.”

“What?”

“Dick!” Bruce turned and beckoned for Dick to come join them. Dick, who was only too happy to help sell the story they’d been planting evidence and backdating fake paperwork for since finding Danny again, came running up. Bruce turned his attention back to a very confused Danny. “You remember your older brother, Dick, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Bruce, what is… Danny?! Oh god, Danny!” Dick, never one to turn down a hug, practically swallowed Danny with his arms. “Danny! Danny we found you! Oh my god!” Then, just like Bruce had, Dick pulled back and held Danny out at arm’s length. “And Daniella? No, shush, it’s alright. You’re enough, I can’t dare hope she’s alive and with you too.” Dick pulled Danny into another one of his all consuming hugs.

“What?” Came Danny’s muffled question.

Bruce glanced over at Vlad to find the man both confused and miffed. He locked eyes with Bruce, “Mr. Wayne,” he said dangerously.

Bruce ignored the man in favor of turning Dick and Danny’s hug into a group hug. He even managed to squeeze out a few tears to really sell the touching family reunion.

“Mr. Wayne!” Vlad said loudly, “I insist you take your hands off my son!” He grabbed Bruce by the shoulder and forcefully pulled him away. The man was surprisingly strong for having such a slim build.

“I think you’re confused, this is clearly my son who went missing as a small child.” Bruce swatted Vlad’s hand away.

“They do look remarkably alike,” the host said as he looked back and forth between Bruce and Danny. “And say, isn’t Danny adopted?” The host looked towards Vlad expectantly.

“Yes, but I know very well who his parents are.”

“Good,” Bruce said emphatically, “because I’d like to know the names of the kidnappers who took my children from me.”

“And maybe we can find out where Daniella is as well,” Dick said hopefully.

“What?” Danny asked again.

“Danielle cannot possibly be your daughter,” Vlad said dismissively.

“I’m quite willing to take a paternity test to prove it.” Bruce squared his shoulders as he looked down at Vlad.

Danielle came wandering up around then, sidling up to Vlad’s side as she looked back and forth between Bruce and Danny.

“Daniella?” Bruce breathed, staring down at the little girl.

“Uh… hi?” She looked up at him curiously.

Dick squeaked and pressed his hands over his mouth, eyes appropriately teary.

Bruce lowered himself down to one knee again and smiled at the girl, even younger than Damian. Their ages were definitely going to give the gossip rags plenty of fodder, but if he cared about his reputation he would’ve never become Brucie to begin with. “Hello, Daniella. I know you don’t know me, you were just a baby when you were taken, but I’m your father.”

“You, sir, are a stranger!” Vlad motioned for Danielle to move behind him.

Danielle glanced over at Dick, who was smiling brightly at her, then down to where he had an arm over Danny’s shoulder, then looked back over to Bruce. A wicked smile spread across her face. “Daddy!” She threw herself into Bruce’s arms. A bit surprised by her willingness to play along, but certainly not disappointed, Bruce quickly wrapped his arms around the girl and stood up, rocking her as if she were just a baby.

Bruce turned to look down at his new son, “Well, Danny?”

“Um…” Danny furrowed his brow as he glanced back and forth between Dick and Bruce, “You both do look really familiar.”

Bruce pressed his face to Danielle’s head to hide his growing smirk.

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[loveesiren]

𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 (𝖯𝗍. 1)

Thanos x american!reader | Forever Masterlist

synopsis: Y/n didn't want to like the asshole that was Choi Su-Bong, but his devilish charm pulled her in. She felt comfortable in his presence and she couldn't deny it. Besides, you could die at any moment, right?

warnings: language, mention of drugs and overdose, mention of suicide attempt, fast burn, death obvi

wc: 2.9k+

As you made your way to the arena, you couldn’t help but notice you were the only American there. Fuck, you thought. However, as the announcements came over the speakers, you were able to piece a few words together. The game was straightforward: Red Light, Green Light. A game you had played back in the courtyard in grade school. Easy.

But before the game started, a man began yelling frantically. You only caught a few words. You’d only been in Korea for a year, and the language was still so new. Despite your dad teaching it to you throughout your life. But you could tell whatever this man was saying couldn’t be good.

“He’s saying we’re all going to get shot if we move,” the purple-haired man beside you whispered. “Dude’s crazy.”

“You speak English?”

“Am I not speaking it right now?” he replied sarcastically. “Look, the game is simple. You—”

“I know how to play,” you snapped back.

The purple-haired boy shut his mouth with a cheeky grin. And with that, the game began.

“Green light!” the doll said as its face turned away. You began to move forward. The crazy man was still yelling aggressively, telling you to freeze and hold as still as possible.

You played the game correctly the next few rounds. You weren’t dead yet, right? You noticed a bee land on the girl in front of you.

“What’s that?” She asked nervously. 

“Don’t move…” You replied.

“You’ve got a bee on you,” the purple-haired boy said.

The girl in front of you began to scream and jump around, shaking the bee off of her. “Oh shit, I guess I just moved, didn’t I?” she laughed.

Before you could process anything, a bullet whizzed through the air, striking her right in the back of the head, killing her instantly. Blood splattered on you and the boy, and you held your breath, too afraid to move.

People began to run and scream as they noticed what happened, but you remained still and wide-eyed, a tear slipping down your cheek.

The announcer repeated the rules of the game after the massacre that had just happened behind you. The doll turned around once again and said, “Green light!”

You were still frozen with fear. “I’m Thanos,” the purple-haired boy said as he grabbed your hand.

“Y-Y/n,” you responded with shaky breaths.

“Y/n.” He repeated your name, pulling you out of view from the doll. “Stay behind me, alright?”

“Okay,” you managed, before the doll spun its head again, “Red light.” You clung to Thanos’ hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your fists as you tried to steady your breathing.

Before you knew what was happening, he had shoved the person in front of him, causing a domino effect of people to fall. He looked proud of himself, and you were appalled.

“Thanos, what the fuck?!” you gasped.

“Shhhh.”

“Green light!” the doll said, and Thanos pulled you forward with him. He seemed almost like he was having fun as he pulled you through each round, still guarding you with his body every time “Red light” was called.

Finally, the finish line was in sight. There were people who had already made it and people getting shot behind you. All of it was too overwhelming. When the doll finally announced “Green light,” you allowed Thanos to pull you across the finish line, falling on top of him as he did so.

“We’re safe! We’re good!” he said with a smile as he held you close to him. You hadn’t realized the way you had been clinging to him for protection. When you came to, you stood up.

“Why would you do that?! Why would you push those people?!”

“It’s a game, señorita,” he smiled.

He was right. It was a game. A game for your lives. But that still didn’t give him the right to dictate the outcome of others. You were overwhelmed with emotions and felt like you were going to vomit. You ran to the corner of the arena to be alone, covering your ears as gunshots rang out amongst the final few people trying to cling to survival.

And soon, the game had ended.

“Y/n,” Thanos’ deep voice rumbled softly behind you, an unusual gentleness in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“Leave me alone!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you bolted toward the exit. You didn’t look back, following the others streaming out of the arena, their faces pale and haunted.

Back at the dormitory, you retreated to your bed, pulling the thin blanket over you like a shield. Your chest heaved with suppressed sobs, but no tears came. The sterile air of the dorm felt suffocating, thick with despair. 

A while later, the pink guards entered, their commanding presence silencing the room. They made an announcement in their clipped, robotic voices. From what you could piece together, it was a choice: stay in the game or walk away.

The man who had been frantically screaming earlier—warning everyone they’d die—was the first to vote. His trembling hand pointed to the X. He didn’t want to play anymore and he urged others to vote the same.

When your turn came, your heart pounded in your chest. The memories of the arena—of the screams, the blood, the chaos—rushed back, threatening to drown you. You didn’t hesitate. You voted X. The guard handed you a red patch with an X on it, the fabric feeling heavier than it should as you pinned it to your hoodie. Silently, you joined the others who had chosen to leave.

As you moved to the right side of the room, your eyes met Thanos’. He stood at the front, his broad shoulders tense. He voted O. Of course, he did. Your chest tightened as he glanced at you, a fleeting look of remorse flashing across his face before he joined those who had chosen to stay. You bit your lip, fingers instinctively reaching for the small dolphin pendant around your neck. Your father had given it to you when you were ten, during a trip to SeaWorld. It was one of your happiest memories. Now, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever see him—or that simple, joyful life—again.

Later that night, unable to sleep, you wandered to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. To your surprise, a few books in English were tucked among the volumes. You chose a romance novel, something light to distract you from the heaviness pressing on your chest.

“Señorita, excuse me?” A familiar voice broke the silence.

You froze, closing your eyes briefly before turning. “What do you want, Thanos?”

He hesitated, his towering frame oddly hesitant. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” you repeated, your voice cold. “Thanos, people died because of you. How can you even begin to apologize for that?”

His jaw clenched, his hands fidgeting with the silver cross around his neck. “I-I wasn’t thinking, okay?”

Your gaze dropped to the cross he kept fiddling with, the sight sparking recognition. “You’re hiding drugs in there, aren’t you? You weren’t thinking because you’re high.”

His head snapped up, his brows furrowing. “What? How did you—?”

“My brother had the same kind of cross,” you said, your voice flat. “He used it to stash his pills.”

Thanos’ lips twitched into a humorless smile. “Smart guy.”

“He’s dead now,” you replied sharply, cutting off his attempt at levity. “Overdose.”

His face fell, guilt painting his features. He rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “I just keep screwing everything up, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing past him. “You really do.”

“Y/n, wait.”

You stopped mid-step, your body betraying you. But you didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer this time. “For everything. For what I did in the game, for the drugs… for being a complete idiot. I mean it.”

Silence stretched between you. Then, he added with a faint chuckle, “I swear I’m not normally this bad at talking to pretty girls.”

A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. You shook your head, a small laugh escaping before you walked away. You didn’t look back, but Thanos stayed rooted in place, watching you go, a lopsided smile on his face. For the first time in a long while, you felt the faintest flicker of hope—fragile but alive.

-

Over the next few days, you tried to focus on reading, but it was futile. Thanos’ constant glances from across the room unsettled you, and the looming fear of when the next game would start made your stomach churn. Every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, the guards came to collect you on the third day. The air turned heavy as you followed them silently through the endless halls and staircases to the arena. The game was announced, but your mind struggled to process the words. All you caught was the time limit: 10 minutes to form a team of five.

Panic set in as you scanned the room. Most players barely spoke English, and the few who did were already huddled in groups, or, with Thanos. The crowd of 365 players felt suffocating. You reminded yourself there was still time. You would find a team—somehow. Someone would need you eventually.

From across the room, Thanos’ gaze locked onto yours. You sighed, swallowing your pride as you approached him. His soft smile as you drew near made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Thanos?”

“Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted, his voice dripping with that infuriating charm.

“T, just tell me what the game is. Please…” you said, your tone sharp.

His smile widened at the simple nickname, but he obliged, explaining the rules clearly. You thanked him, turning to continue your search, but before you could take a step, his warm hand closed around yours.

“You’re playing with me,” he said firmly. “You’ll be safe with me.”

His confidence left you momentarily speechless. Something about the way he said it—the way his hand lingered on yours—stirred a strange feeling in your stomach. Unable to argue, you nodded and sat beside him.

His friends, however, were less welcoming, especially Nam-gyu, who didn’t bother hiding his disdain. “Why do we need her?” he grumbled. “She’ll just slow us down.”

“English, Nam-gyu,” Thanos snapped, his tone sharp. “She’s on our team. Deal with it.”

“I can pull my weight,” you said, lifting your chin. “I’m good at ddakji. My dad taught me.”

“Your dad?” Thanos asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Do they play ddakji in America?”

“He’s from Korea,” you explained, a small smile playing on your lips.

Thanos nodded, his gaze softening. “Then you play ddakji.” he said with a warm smile.

When it was your turn, your nerves were palpable. You took a deep breath and threw the paper square. It hit the target but didn’t flip. You tried again, but this time, you missed entirely.

“Why’d you let this American broad join us?” Nam-gyu hissed, his voice dripping with contempt.

“Shut up!” Thanos barked, slapping the back of his head. Turning to you, his voice softened. “Y/n, you’ve got this. Deep breaths, yeah?”

His calm demeanor grounded you. Nodding, you steadied your hands, exhaled deeply, and threw again. This time, the paper flipped perfectly. Relief washed over you as your teammates cheered, Thanos’ grin wide and proud.

The rest of the team took their turns, with a mix of successes and fumbles. Nam-gyu’s performance, predictably flawless, earned him his smugness. But it was Thanos’ round—Jegichagi—that held everyone’s breath. He nailed it with a shaky but triumphant five kicks, securing your victory just as the timer ran out.

Cheers erupted as the guards untied your feet. “We did it!” you said, unable to contain your excitement. Without thinking, you jumped into Thanos’ arms. He caught you effortlessly, spinning you around with a laugh. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly pulled back, your cheeks burning. Thanos’ sad smile lingered as you retreated, but his eyes sparkled.

The rest of Thanos’ crew surrounded him, shaking him excitedly and shouting in celebration, but his eyes remained locked on you. Even in the chaos of victory, his focus didn’t waver, leaving a warm, welcoming sensation in your chest. You shouldn’t like him. You didn’t want to like him. But the tingling in your body betrayed you.

When the guards opened the doors, you and the others were ushered back to the dormitory. Thanos’ posse broke off toward their makeshift corner, their laughter trailing behind them. Before they could disappear entirely, Thanos turned and called over his shoulder, “Come with us.”

You hesitated, glancing toward Nam-gyu, whose glare could burn through steel. “I don’t think your friend likes me very much,” you said, gesturing subtly in his direction.

“Nam-gyu’s a dick,” Thanos replied bluntly, a crooked grin softening the harshness of his words. “I want you on our team.”

His casual confidence was infectious, and despite yourself, you smiled. “Okay,” you said, allowing him to take your hand and guide you toward the steps. You sat down, Thanos settling a step below you. He leaned back against your leg, his arm draped protectively around your knee, a silent claim that said she’s with me.

“So,” Se-mi asked, her tone light, “where in America are you from?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada.” you replied. “I grew up there but moved to Korea about a year ago.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place!” She cooed. “Sin City.”

“Yeah, it lives up to its name.” You chuckle.

“You said your dad is Korean?” Nam-gyu interjected skeptically. “You don’t look Korean.”

You bit back a sigh, already tired of his attitude. “My dad’s technically American. He was adopted by a Korean couple—my grandparents. He grew up here before he went to college.”

“Is that where he met your mom?” Thanos asked, his thumb lazily brushing the skin of your ankle in a gesture that felt far too intimate for someone you barely knew. But you welcomed it.

“Yeah,” you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips as you thought of your mother. “He wanted to reconnect with his culture, so he studied abroad and met her. They fell in love, got married, and had me and my brother.” Your voice faltered at the mention of your brother, but you forced the smile to stay.

“Is your whole family here now?” Min-su asked gently.

You shook your head. “No. My parents divorced when I was thirteen…”

“What about your brother?” Se-mi prompted.

“He… he, uh…” Your throat tightened as the words caught.

“Stop it,” Thanos cut in sharply, his voice brooking no argument. “Let the girl breathe.” He stood and extended a hand to you. “I need to talk to Y/n. Alone.”

Relieved, you took his hand, letting him pull you toward the quiet corner near the bookshelf. You sat beside him, and he took your hand again, the warmth of his touch making your breath hitch.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “About your parents. Your brother.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, though you both knew it wasn’t.

He studied your face for a moment before asking, “Why are you here, Y/n?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t something you liked talking about. “My dad is sick. He needs treatment, and I… I don’t have another way to pay for it. My grandmother is struggling with money and I…” You looked away, embarrassed by the raw vulnerability in your words. “What about you?”

Thanos let out a heavy sigh, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ve done a lot of bad things. I used to be a rapper, I had a lot of fans, but everything I’ve ever done has been a disappointment to my family.” He paused, his eyes darkening. “Before this, I was on a bridge, ready to jump. Ready to end it. Then this guy gave me a card and said I could turn things around. So I came here.” His gaze softened as he looked at you. “And I’m glad I did. Because I met you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you found yourself smiling despite the weight of the conversation. “I’m glad I met you too, T. And I’m glad you didn’t kill anyone today!” you teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

Thanos chuckled, shaking his head. “I won’t. Not unless I have to—to protect you.”

The conviction in his voice sent a strange flutter through your chest. “T… I think I need to stay for one more game. My dad needs me to finish this.”

He gave you a long look before pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’ll be safe with me,” he murmured.

As the remaining players trickled back into the dorm, you and Thanos talked. For the first time, you shared the pieces of yourself you usually kept hidden: your cheating mother, the messy divorce, your father’s illness, and your brother’s death. In return, Thanos opened up about his abusive father, his dreams of making his mother proud, and the way he’d been struggling with drugs and depression for years. By the time the dorm was full again, you no longer saw him as just a cocky survivor. He was someone who had been to the edge of despair and chosen to fight his way back.

When it was time to vote, Thanos’ arm draped lazily over your shoulder as your fingers traced the tattoos on his hand. His presence steadied you as the guard called your number. Before you stood, Thanos leaned close, his lips brushing against your temple. “Remember, I’ll always take care of you,” he whispered.

His words echoed in your mind as you cast your vote: O. The guard handed you a new patch, and for the first time, you felt confident.

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Making Me Crazy

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, the tiniest amount of fluff, just pure, raw smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, overstimulation, thigh riding)

Title from Cola by Lana Del Ray.

Summary/Warnings: Request from @little-wicked10! Ben overhears you doubting his generosity in bed, and immediately sets out to prove you wrong.

Author's Note: Top ten horniest things I've ever written. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.5k

Supes should be required to announce their presence whenever they walk within earshot of other people. If they were, you wouldn’t have snapped at Butcher that, for the last time, you were not sleeping with Ben. You wouldn’t have scowled and hissed that maybe you made come fuck me raw eyes at him, and maybe you liked him as more than a semi-reformed—you’ll call it about 70%, which was a passing grade—supe teammate, but you weren’t going to fuck him, because he was probably selfish in bed, and your lack of self-worth did not extend to falling to your knees only to get nothing in return.

But Ben hadn’t shouted a warning that he could hear you, and now you were gaping at him—standing at the foot of your bed with a cocky smirk—and trying to find a way out of this. Figure out whatever lie you could tell him that would make him just shrug off what he’d heard and walk away.

You weren’t really confident you’d find one. 

“We’ve, ah, we’ve been over this, Ben. I’m not having sex with you-“

“Not now.” He waves you off with firm words that shouldn’t be settling that deep in your core. “But you will.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re awfully confident given I just said no-“

“But you’re going to say yes,” Ben drawls your name, lowering himself down to hold your gaze. “Because I am not a fucking pussy who can’t get a woman off. And I’m going to get you off, over and over until you’re fucking screaming for more, until you’re so fucking cockdrunk you only know my name.”

“Ben-“

He smirks. “Good, you’re already starting-“

“Shut up.” You snap, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m not fucking you just because you say you’ll get me off, or so you can proved some sort of point-“

“I don’t have fucking shit to prove.” He shrugs. “And I would get you off, baby. Christ, I’m doing you a damn favor-“

That makes you laugh. “It is not a favor to have sex with me. I could go downstairs, flash my tits at Butcher, and even his ass would jump on me-“

“Butcher couldn’t handle you.” Ben snaps, and you’re suddenly very away of how he’s towering over you, how he’s broad and muscular, how big his hands are, how soft his hair looks, how there’s a bulge in his pants that has to be padded to look bigger-

You swallow, forcing your eyes to his focused, darkened, almost dizzyingly lustful ones. “Ben-“

“I could handle you.” He smirks at you, leaning down until his nose bumps yours, and you can smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath and something heavier that’s musky and heady and might just be him. “I could fucking ruin you, doll. Make you never want another cock again.”

“Oh.” He must have slipped you something earlier, or there must be a gas leak, because there’s no other explanation for why you nod, lean forward a little further, a little cautiously, and whisper an agreement against his lips. “Okay.”

Then Ben crashes into you, tangling broad fingers in your hair and kissing you with a bruising force that makes your head spin, and you know exactly why you agreed. For this. For Ben, and a chance to taste if he was really that good.

And goddamn him, he was. He was better than good. He was a demanding tongue down your throat and firm hands pulling and rubbing at this skin of your hips and waist. He was a massive, warm body lowering over yours and forcing you to crawl backwards on the mattress. 

He was a fucking sex god, and you feel like you’d just committed the worst sin of all. You’d doubted him. And—as his knee shoves between your thighs and you start to see spots when his kiss only deepens—you know you’re about to repent. 

And when Ben rips off your shirt and bra in one brutal movement, kisses a sloppy line over your jaw, down your neck, and right to your breasts—kneading with one hand as he pulls your nipple into his mouth—you decide that whatever he demands, you’ll offer. This is already mind-numbing pleasure, and if the only relief he’s offered you is grinding against him and his mouth swallowing every whining moan, you’ll take it.

Then he moves his leg away, chuckles at your needy sound from the loss, and you know he’s onto you. That he’s got you bent to his will. 

“Don’t lose your mind yet,” he mutters against your skin, nipping at your breast. “We’ve got a damn long way to go before you can afford that.”

“I’m not, fuck-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as Ben tears off your pants, teases two fingers over the wet spot on your panties, and shoves them aside to expose your bare pussy to the air. 

“You’re fucking wet, doll.” He rises back to your face, kissing and sucking all over your face but your lips, where you’re gaping and gasping his name. “All of this for me?”

“It’s- Ben-“

Your voice turns to a squeak as he spanks your cunt once, running three fingers over your folds as the sting fades to pleasure.

“And don’t fucking think about lying.” He hisses in your ear. “I’ll know.”

You swallow, your voice soft and hoarse. “It’s for you.”

“You think I’m fucking hot?” Ben shoves one finger into your pussy, grunting as you squeeze around him. “Fuck, baby, you want me to make you feel good? Want me to prove to you how fucking wrong you were?”

“God, yes.” You squeeze your eyes shut, arching your back as Ben adds a second finger and begins to pump. “Ben, fuck me, please-“

“Tell me what you want, doll.” He picks up his pace, scissoring and crooking his fingers deep inside you until you’re writhing below him. “Say it, say you want my cock-“

Ben rubs right against that spongey place inside you, dangling over the edge of what you need—what you might die without—and you moan. “Fuck, I want your cock, Ben, I want it so bad-“

“Good girl.” He mutters against your skin, his teeth grazing right at a sensitive spot behind your ear. “But you’re still going to need to fucking earn it.”

You have a brief moment of lucidity where you realize what he’s said, and your eyes fly open. “What the fuck do you mean, I have to- Ben!”

He starts to fingerfuck you at a rapid, almost frantic speed that’s made of lewd sounds, desperate, breathy pleas escaping your lips, and a quickly growing bomb of fire in your gut that’s set to burst so soon-

“Cum of my fingers, doll, fucking soak my hand-“

You scream as the bomb goes off, and you’re overwhelmed with your orgasm. It floods your body and launches you into space, higher, higher, and when you fall easily back down to earth you realize Ben hasn’t stopped. His pace has increased to furious, and you’re already on the edge again. You’d be embarrassed by how quickly you came apart for him—how wrong you were—if Ben was slowing down.

But he’s not. He’s dragging you closer and closer to vaulting back into blinding release, and it’s right on the edge of pain and pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough, and God, you just want him to fuck you-

“Ben,” you gasp, grabbing pointlessly at his wrist. “Fuck, I need you, need you so bad-“

He pulls your lower lip between his teeth, his fingers bending and pressing right against that spongy spot inside of you, and this orgasm is only more powerful. You can barely hear his low, growled promise right in your ear.

“Fucking earn it.”

When you regain your head, your pussy is clenching and fluttering against nothing and strong hands are gripping your waist, maneuvering you with no effort at all. And when your vision returns from a hazy blur, Ben’s below you. Holding you on his lap, your legs tight around his thigh.

You stare at him with wide eyes, and he chuckles, rolling your hips with a firm grip as he starts to bite and suck along your collarbone.

“Fuck yourself on my thigh, baby.” He growls, licking right up your throat like a fucking animal, drawing a high whimper from your lips. “Make yourself cum like the dirty little cockslut you are-“

You start to grind on him like he’s flipped a switch in your body. You’re overwhelmed with orgasms, and your cunt is sensitive and raw, but fuck that’s nothing compared to the sheer want for Ben in your body.

So you throw your all into it. Soaking his jeans with your needy cunt, grabbing at his shirt until he tears it off for you to scratch uselessly at his chest. Fuck, you even put on a show for him. Wiggling and rolling your body in his hold, watching him through lidded eyes, diving to kiss at his neck and drifting a hand down to touch that huge cock, straining in his pants-

“Fuck-“ Ben yanks your hand away, his voice stern and low, and you whine. “I’m not fucking done with you, doll, you need to fucking control yourself-“

You just moan, tugging at his hair in a silent please, and his face falls into one that might be—if you didn’t know better—awe.

“Christ,” he mutters your name, running a rough hand up your back to grip at your throat. “You need to my permission to cum, babydoll?”

Babydoll. That does things to you that you’re past trying to hide.

You’re past trying to hide most everything.

You nod, making a choked plea that’s meant to be Ben, but comes out high and feral, and Ben smirks, gripping your hips until you’re sure he’ll leave a mark.

But his words are low on your skin, and his dick is pressed right on your clit, and God, you hope he marks you. Maybe then you’ll feel like this forever.

“Cum,” Ben growls your name in your ear, and there it is. You scream as you reach another, higher state of euphoria, and you’re so close to just exploding when Ben hauls you up his chest and tosses you down onto your back, rising onto his knees and lowering his face between your thighs.

You don’t get warning when he shoves his face right into your cunt and starts to eat you out like he’s never eaten anything before. Like you’re the sweetest fruit or candy, or saltiest and most carefully crafted meal, or just straight fucking heroin into his bloodstream. He goes down on your with his whole fucking face, pulling your raw, swollen clit between his lips before flicking it with his tongue until you’re a whining frenzy, keeping your thighs split open with his hands and barely flinching as you start to buck and fly off the bed, the orgasms falling through you like rain. One hand even sneaks between your legs, and Ben focuses his sinful mouth on your over-attended clit as his fingers plunge back into your cunt, and you destroy yourself on his everything.

You must have squirted somewhere in there, because when Ben finally rises up his beard is shining with your arousal. 

But it might also just be that. This might just be so fucking good, Ben might be so good, that you could flood a desert with how much you need him inside you right now. Really, properly inside you-

Ben must read your mind, because he smirks at you, prowls over your loose and fucked-out body, and drags you into a long, slow, shockingly soft kiss that makes you sigh into his throat, his hand rubbing a comfortingly patten on your waist.

“You’re being such a good girl,” He says your name against your lips, and you think that alone sends another small, shuddering orgasm through your body. “Good girls deserve some cock.”

You make the most needy, lustful noise you’ve ever made in your life, gasp slightly as Ben rises over your body, and scream when his cock slams into your dripping, aching cunt without warning.

“God-“

“I’m not God, babydoll.” Ben’s words are spoken against your lips with a smug satisfaction, and you almost blackout as he rolls his hips. “I’m fucking better. Hold on.”

You obey blindly—spun out and faded on how he’s splitting you open, filling you up more than you’ve ever been filled—and wrap your arms around his neck as he starts to fuck you. 

This is heaven. God, you hate how right he was, but you might be ascending. You were already ruined from his hands and mouth, and this is being razed. Fucking decimated. This is Ben’s cock hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed, and his hands grabbing and pulling at your tits, his balls slapping against your skin and his mouth leaving little marks wherever he can reach skin, his fucking fingers rolling your nipples and his thumb rubbing on your raw clit until your mouth falls open, and you cum without sound.

He doesn’t stop. You’re drooling, making high, gasping moans of his name, and completely wrecked under him, but Ben doesn’t slow down. He’s grunting and groaning in your ear, chasing his own release deep into your pussy, and you want him to have it.

He’s really fucking earned it. Especially as his thrusts start to stutter and the bed starts to shake in a way that makes you think it might break, and the low, primal noises that leave him as he comes inside you drag one last, smaller orgasm from deep in your core.

He’s going to brag. When Ben pulls out, you’re sure he’s about to mock and taunt you about being right, but he just sets you down carefully between the sheets, walks into the bathroom, and returns with a damp, warm cloth to clean up the mess he left between your thighs. 

Then he looks up at you, and now he’s going to grow cruel. To keep dirty talking or fucking you until you’re in a daze you don’t know how to return from, when you just want to rest. Or maybe he’ll just leave you to deal with the soreness of your pussy and throbbing on your skin from all his biting and sucking, and you’ll never speak of this again.

But he doesn’t do either of those things. Ben’s eyes meet yours, still guarded but not hardened, where you can see deeper into him, and he’s a little more human in there. Like you’d worshipped and repented, and now you get your true reward.

And this is it. Green eyes meet yours, he blinks at you with a frown—like he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at—and then crawls back over you. Ben settles at your side, and your body against his own warm, solid, one. He doesn’t speak, but he touches you carefully, like you might break, and it’s louder.

And you might have had a few other things about him wrong as well.

Because Ben doesn’t move through the night, and you wake up still in his arms.

End Note: Found a way to make it emotional too. Am I even me if I don't?

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@ackles010378

[harrywavycurly]

Not in the Same Way Part 2: Like You Mean It

Part 1: Here

CW: None this is fluffy goodness because it’s what Harry deserves✨

Summary: You’re Harry’s plus one to a wedding for a couple he doesn’t even know and things take a turn that results in some feelings getting revealed✨

“Is it normal for guests to be showing more skin than the bride?” Harry doesn’t pay any attention to the teasing tone of your voice, he’s far too busy watching the way your eyes are slowly traveling down his exposed chest and he quirks an eyebrow when they pause right at where his butterfly tattoo starts. “Like really Harry it’s a wedding not a night out with the boys.” The corners of his mouth rise up in a smirk as you bring your hands up and button two of the buttons on his shirt making the top of the butterfly disappear under the light blue fabric.

“It’s an evening wedding.” You don’t even acknowledge his poor excuse for how he’s dressed as you allow yourself to finish your once over of his outfit. When he sees your eyes begin to lower towards his choice of belt he feels his cheeks get a bit hot as he runs a hand through his hair, all of a sudden feeling very aware of just how close you are to him and where exactly your eyes are on his body. It’s not like he hasn’t asked you for opinions on his outfits before but something about the way you’re looking at him now feels different but he’s not quite sure why.

“You’re so handsome it’s almost unfair.” You say with a sigh as you take a small step forward so you can smooth out the collar of his black suit jacket. “You trying to break some hearts tonight Styles?” You ask with a playful smile making Harry let out a scoff as he looks down at you with a certain glimmer in his bright eyes that has you raising a brow at him.

“I don’t think I’ll be the one breaking hearts tonight love.” You roll your eyes but Harry sees the way your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you shake your head and take a step away from him. “You look absolutely stunning like really that dress-”

“Oh stop with the dramatics I’ve worn this dress a hundred times before.” You cut him off with a laugh as you run a hand over your dress that’s a similar shade of blue as Harry’s dress shirt.

“And every single time I say the same thing don’t I?” Harry asks as he holds out his hand for you to take so he can lead the two of you inside the venue for the ceremony now that you’ve deemed his outfit appropriate after fixing a few buttons.

“Yes but that’s because you’re my bestfriend and don’t want to hurt my feelings and say I look hideous.”

“I don’t think you could look hideous even if you tried and that’s coming from someone who’s seen you sick and hungover.”

“Who are these people again? Am I supposed to know anyone here?” Harry smiles to himself at your not so subtle subject change as you lean into him a bit as the two of you make your way towards the sitting area for the ceremony.

“Honestly I’m not sure-”

“You brought us to a wedding of people you don’t know?”

“Jeff knows them and I met them a few times. I think their names are Jessica and Mark?”

“You think? Harry you don’t even know their names?” Your voice is just above a whisper as the two of you find a pair of seats towards the back. Harry is quick to place an arm on the back of your chair as you sit down so he can pull you a little closer allowing him to lean over and whisper in your ear.

“Think of it like being invited to a party of a friend of a friend.” He explains and you roll your eyes making him chuckle as you place a hand on his knee while he moves his arm from behind you so he can reach over to the empty seat next to him and grab what looks to be a program that lists the events of the evening on it.

You take the opportunity of him being distracted and jab your nails into his knee making Harry let out a painful sounding squeak as he jolts forward and places one of his ring clad hands on top of yours that’s on his knee and currently sending shockwaves of pain down his left leg. You quickly turn in your seat so you’re leaning towards him and remove your hand from his knee and bring it to rest on his back, giving it a few soothing rubs mostly for show as you look at the people sitting behind you who are staring at Harry with slight looks of concern on their faces due to his sudden outburst.

“Foot cramp.” You explain softly while still running your hand up and down Harry’s back. They just nod in understanding and give you a sympathetic smile before going back to talking amongst themselves. Harry leans back in his chair with a sigh as his hand remains on his knee, blocking you from any future attacks.

“I don’t think that was necessary.” He whispers as he turns his head towards you as your hand runs up his back until it lands on the back of his neck.

“I think it was because you know how I feel about showing up to things not knowing anyone.” Harry just nods as you begin to rub at the back of his neck. “Now let’s see who’s getting married.” Harry holds the wedding program up and you have to hold back your laugh as you read the names written in a big loopy font on front of the program.

“So I might’ve been wrong about their names being Jessica and Mark.”

“I’d say so because that says we are the wedding of two people named Keith and Gabby.” Harry laughs as your hand moves from the back of his neck over to his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel better I don’t think I’ve ever met them before.” He admits with a shrug making you roll your eyes as you turn to face the front of the room that’s slowly starting to fill up with other guests.

“Why would that make me feel better?” You ask as you bring your hands into your lap, Harry looks over at you and smiles as he reaches over and grabs one of your hands.

“Because now you’re not the only one who doesn’t know anyone here.” You look at him and can’t help but return his smile as he gives your hand a nice reassuring squeeze.

Harry has a grin on his face as he watches the extremely entertaining scene unfold just a few tables away from him. You have a very well practiced fake smile on your face as you rest your elbow on the table and place your chin in your palm while looking as if you’re actively listening to the woman a few seats away from you go on and on about something Harry can tell even from across the room that you have absolutely no interest in. He watches your eyebrows raise as the woman leans in closer and tries to whisper something to you that makes you sit up and place a hand on your chest in mock surprise as you giggle at whatever semi scandalous thing the woman just told you. But even though he knows you would much rather not be engaging in small talk with people you haven’t ever met before at a wedding reception for a couple you don’t know, he can tell by the slight brightness to your eyes that you’re enjoying yourself.

You look up when you feel someone staring and your shoulders instantly relax when you find Harry’s deep green eyes looking into yours from across the room at the bar. He gives you a playful wink before he turns his attention towards the bartender so he can order a drink for you and himself, you feel your cheeks get warm and have to brush it off at him being his usual flirty self. A few moments later you see a very familiar hand with a small cross tattoo between the thumb and index finger place a glass of wine down in front of you.

“Did you miss me?” Harry’s voice is low in your ear as he leans down and places a little kiss to your cheek before taking his seat next to you at the table.

“Oh did you leave? I didn’t notice.” You tease as you reach for your wine glass while Harry rolls his eyes and places an arm on the back of your chair as he looks around the reception space. He notices some people beginning to head to the dance floor that’s got twinkling lights and a few disco balls hanging above it making the floor light up in mixture of swirling shapes.

“What did you think of the ceremony?” Harry turns his attention back to you as you lean back into your chair and turn so you can face him.

“I thought it was really nice.” He answers with a smile as you take a sip of your wine before putting the glass back on the table.

“The vows nearly got me.” You admit with a soft sigh as you think back to the sweet words the couple exchanged to one another. Harry looks at you as he lifts his arm from the back of the chair so he can gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear that’s managed to slip out of your loose updo. “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” You question as you place a hand over Harry’s that’s resting on the table and begin to mess with the ring on his index finger.

“I do yeah.” What he wants to say is that he’s let himself imagine what it would be like to be married to you at least once or twice after a few too many drinks or while the two of you are cuddled up during a movie night, because ever since you kissed him almost a year ago on New Year’s Eve he hasn’t been able to see himself being with anyone else. But he doesn’t, he just lets you play with his rings and give him a smile at his more simple answer.

“What about me?” Your voice is lower than it was before and Harry knows exactly why you’re asking him this question. Your breakup with your cheating ex boyfriend Kyle even though it was months ago has left you feeling as if you’re not worth the effort to keep around long term, so the idea of finding someone who not only loves you but wants to marry you just seems highly unlikely. “Do you think someone will ever want to marry me?” Harry doesn’t let more than a few seconds go by before he’s nodding his head and smiling at you.

“Why would you ask such a silly question like that?” He turns the hand that you’re messing with so his palm is facing upward allowing him to interlock his fingers with yours. “Of course you’re going to get married one day.” You smile as you feel Harry give your hand a squeeze before he brings it up so he can place a kiss to the tops of your knuckles. “You’re going to marry someone that makes you happy and is so in love and obsessed with you and it’ll be the best day of your life.” He tries his best to not think about the possibility of you ending up with someone else but at the same time he knows he won’t have a choice if he doesn’t ever let you in on how he’s feeling.

“Obsessed with me? I don’t know-”

“May I say something really quick?” You and Harry both turn your heads to look at the woman who’s sitting a few seats away, the same one you were talking to earlier while Harry was in line for the bar. She gives you a warm smile as she leans over the table and you catch her glance over at Harry before looking back at you. “The two of you are such a beautiful couple.” You just give her a grin as you lean your shoulder into Harry’s.

“Thank you that’s so sweet of you to say.” Harry feels his cheeks get warm as you choose not to correct her and just let her think the two of you are more than a pair of bestfriends who are attending a wedding for a couple they’ve never met before.

“You’re welcome. Maybe one day I’ll snag me a man that looks at me the way he looks at you.” She says with a laugh while you quirk a brow as you tilt your head so you can look at Harry who is already staring at you and you watch Harry’s mouth open as if he’s going to say something but then he closes it and looks away as he clears his throat. “Seriously he is so in-”

“Harry? You actually came?” The two of you are taken out of your little bubble as soon as you hear Harry’s name being shouted from behind a few feet away. You let go of Harry’s hand as you turn your body in your seat so you can see who it is that’s noticed him and you feel your eyes go wide as the bride makes a straight line towards the table with a big grin on her face and her arms spread out as if she’s expecting a hug.

“Shit what’s her name again?”

“Gabby her name is Gabby.” You whisper to him before he makes a move to get up from his seat so he can greet the bride that apparently knows him. You watch in amusement as Harry turns so he’s facing her and gives her one of his signature dimpled grins just before she engulfs him in a hug.

“I can’t believe you came this is so sweet of you.” You hear her tell him as they pull away from each other. Harry lets out a nervous chuckle as he runs a hand through his long hair.

“Of course I was going to come it’s your wedding l uh-wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You rub your lips together to hold in your giggle as you reach for your wine glass and just as you’re about to take a sip you feel a hand tap the top of your shoulder. “This is my-”

“Oh my god shut up you brought your girlfriend? And you’re matching? That is so cute I love it.” Harry doesn’t know what to say as you stand up and turn to give the bride a smile which she returns before pulling you into a hug of your own. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” You thank your lucky stars your wine of choice is white as her quick embrace causes the liquid to slosh around in your glass almost making some spill down the sides.

“It’s so lovely to meet you as well the ceremony was just-so so beautiful it had Harry in tears.” You inform her making her smile somehow go even wider as she looks at Harry and brings both hands up to her chest.

“Oh you’ve always been such a sap.” Harry just shrugs because she’s not wrong, even if he doesn’t know who she is the fact remains the same that he has and probably always will be a sap when it comes to all things love. “Well I’ve got to go mingle and find my husband but it was so good seeing you Harry and it was wonderful to meet you! Enjoy yourselves and don’t forget there’s cake!” The two of you watch her turn and head off in the opposite direction making Harry instantly let out a massive sigh of relief that he survived the encounter without much damage done.

“So,” you turn so you’re fully facing Harry, a playful smirk on your face. “Who is this girlfriend Gabby’s heard so much about?” You try not to let the thought of Harry talking to someone about another girl get to you, so you do your best to try to play it off as a teasing sort of question instead of one with an undertone of jealousy.

“I have no clue since I swear I’ve never met that woman before in my life.” Harry answers as his eyes are still on the back of the bride as she says her hellos to a few people on her way to the table her husband is at. “Maybe she has me confused with another Harry?” He says in his defense as he finally turns so he’s looking at you, he can see the way you’re holding back a laugh as you purse your lips at him while slowly nodding your head.

“Right because you’re just so easy to mix up with someone else.”

“Harry is a very common name.”

“You’re Harry fucking Styles that’s not common at all and look at you!”

“What? I look like a normal-”

“Oh come on there’s nothing normal about those big dumb green eyes and that jawline oh and the hair? The tattoos?”

“What about my hair and tattoos?” You want to smack the silly smirk off Harry’s face as he runs a hand through his hair while your eyes narrow into a slight glare.

“There’s just no way she’s getting you mixed up with someone else.” Harry lets out a chuckle as he shrugs while you take a sip of your wine. “So just tell me Harry who’s the girl? I mean I’m your bestfriend so I’m a little upset I haven’t even heard-”

“It’s you.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and you feel your heart feel as if it’s about to beat out of your chest as Harry just looks at you and lets out a sigh. “It’s always been you.” He adds as he reaches out and gently takes the wine glass from your hand so he can place it on the table.

“What-what do you mean?” Your voice is shaky as you watch him take a small step towards you.

“I talk about you so much people think you’re more than just my bestfriend and I don’t-I don’t always correct them.” Harry searches your face for any signs of discomfort at his admission, but when all you do is give him a small smile he feels a wave of relief wash over him.

“Why don’t you correct them?”

“Because I like the idea of people thinking we’re together.”

“Are you-” Your words get stuck in your throat as someone walks up from behind Harry and places both of their hands on his shoulders giving him a playful shake.

“Harry man how are you?” Harry’s eyes go wide as the man’s voice hits his ears and a smile takes over his face as he turns so he’s facing the stranger.

“No fucking way.” You smile as Harry’s face is one of pure shock and surprise as he wraps his arms around the man who is quick to return the gesture. “Gavin what the hell are you doing here?” He asks as he pulls away while you turn and quietly slide back into your seat.

“You know me I can’t pass up free booze and shitty food.” Gavin jokes making Harry laugh as he tosses an arm over his shoulders. “I went to school with Keith but come on-let’s get a drink and you can fill me in on what it’s like to be a hot pop star.” He says with a playful wink making Harry roll his eyes before he turns his head to look at you and you just give him a smile and an encouraging nod, happy to let Harry go off and catch up with an old friend since you find yourself needing a moment alone to gather your thoughts.

“Well you know it’s actually harder than it looks-the hair alone is a full time job.” Gavin’s laugh is the last thing you hear before the two men are heading off towards the bar. You let out a long sigh as you reach for your glass and take a big sip hoping the wine will help calm your sudden nerves.

You find yourself smiling as you stand near the edge of the dance floor watching couples sway back and forth to the beat of the slow love song playing softly over the speakers. Your nerves from earlier forgotten about since Harry invited his friend Gavin to take an empty seat at your table leading to lots of laughs and stories of Harry from his younger days before you knew him shared over dinner and a few more drinks. You’re taken out of your daze of people watching when you feel a hand on your hip and suddenly a plate holding a piece of cake is held in front of you.

“Oh I could just kiss you this makes me so happy.” You say with a smile as you take the plate from Harry’s hand. You feel the hold on your hip tighten as Harry leans down so his lips are right next to your ear.

“You can if you want.” His voice is low and you can’t help but feel your cheeks get hot as he places a kiss to the top of your shoulder.

“Wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Your voice is soft as you speak just barely above a whisper almost as if you don’t want to risk ruining the moment by being too loud. Harry’s heartbeat quickens as he lifts his head so you can turn around and face him, with the plate still in your hands.

“The New Year’s Eve kiss doesn’t count because you didn’t meant it.”

“Excuse me? It so counts because when I kissed you that night I figured you’d get the hint about how I felt and say or do something but you-you never did and so if anyone didn’t mean it that night it was you and-”

“What are you talking about? You never told me how you felt?”

“Well not with words but Harry I grabbed your face and kissed you in a very unfriend like way so I thought that was enough but then you didn’t say anything so I had to play it off as just a good luck new years kiss to save myself from dying of embarrassment.” Harry feels like an idiot as you explain yourself but then it hits him exactly what you’re telling him and before you can say anything he’s taking the plate from your hands and putting it on the nearest table making your lips poke out into a pout.

“I didn’t even get to try it.” You whine making Harry playfully roll his eyes as he brings his hands up to cup the sides of your face. You look up at him while your hands rest on his chest as he moves in closer to you.

“I’ll get you another piece I just want to do something first.” You watch him lean down and you scrunch your nose a bit when you feel him place a kiss to the tip of it, you close your eyes when you feel his lips press against yours making your hands grip his dress shirt to pull him down closer to you to deepen the kiss.

“I love you.” Harry mumbles once the two of you pull away, he doesn’t open his eyes as he gently rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you too Harry.” He’s heard you say those exact words a thousand times before but something about how they sound in this very moment has his eyes opening as one of his hands slides from your cheek down to the side of your neck as he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes. “Now kiss me like you mean it or else I’m leaving to get more cake.”

“I’ll kiss you however you want if you just say it one more time?” You smile as your hands go from gripping Harry’s shirt to the back of his neck, allowing you to pull him down closer to you just a bit. “Please baby I just-”

“I love you Harry.” You say it again cutting him off before you press your lips against his in a kiss. One of your hands is in his hair while the other grips onto his dress shirt in an attempt to keep him exactly where you want him while Harry drops his hand from cupping your cheek down to your hip and slides it towards your lower back so he can bring your body closer to him. Harry is all smiles when you slowly pull away after a few moments so you can catch your breath.

“So now what?” He asks as his thumb rubs at the soft material of your dress on your lower back. You return his smile as you remove your hand from his hair and mess with one of the buttons you fixed for him earlier on his shirt, deciding that maybe it’s okay if he shows off a bit more chest now.

“Cake and maybe a spin on the dance floor?”

“Okay but I meant-” A few quick pecks to his lips makes his thoughts turn to mush as you just smile up at him while reaching up and placing a hand on the side of his face.

“You love me don’t you?” He just nods making you laugh as you gently give the side of his face a little pat. “Perfect so let’s go get some cake.”

“What is it with you and cake?”

“It’s a wedding Harry the cake is important and it’s got rainbow sprinkles in it.” You explain as Harry leans down and places a kiss to your forehead before his hand drops from the side of your neck so he can grab your hand.

“Rainbow sprinkles? That changes everything then.” His sarcastic tone earns him a playful smack to the chest as he leads you the table he grabbed your plate from, that sadly someone took while the two of you were preoccupied.

“Just for that I’m not sharing.” Harry laughs as you give him a stern look because you know how he is, he’s not going to want any in the moment but as soon as you sit down to eat it he’s suddenly going to want to try it and end up eating half of it.

“I love you.” Your lips curl into a smile as the words fall from his lips and you feel him give your hand that’s in his a nice squeeze.

“I love you too.” Harry has a grin on his face as you say the words back to him because he knows that from now on every time you say it, you mean it the exact same way he does.

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer chuckles if he knew turning Adam into a monster would have opened new sex possibilities, he would have done it so much sooner.

Lucifer: Alright, pet. Show me what you can do~.

That very moment, Adam made the decision to make Lucifer eat his words.

He wasn't sure what powers he had, if any. Alastor seemed pretty powerful, but it was still early days. There were a few sinful things he wanted to do to Lucifer with some tentacles, but for now, his hands will have to be enough.

Lucifer licked his lips as Adam slowly pulled his odd fitting shirt over his head, stretching his torso. His muscles rippled under his skin as he stretched, and his feathers twitched.

This was the first time Lucifer was Abel to appreciate the colour of Adam's feathers. Their base colour was either black or a dark grey, but in the light, they were iridescent. A mixture of blues and greens.

His eyes were striking, the iris was dark, blood red, rimmed with a bright gold. Lucifer wouldn't want to be stalked by a creature with eyes like that. He got shivers just thinking about it.

Lucifer was pulled out of his thoughts as Adam shifted on top of him, basically grinding his hips down onto Lucifer's. His eyes followed Adam's claws as they ran across his skin, leaving the softest red marks in their place.

He wasn't sure why he was getting so turned on by watching Adam touch himself and show off for him, but he didn't want it to end. In fact. He wanted to touch.

Adam: Uh ah, bad boy~. No touching till I say~.

Lucifer stared wide-eyed as another set of arms sprouted from Adam's torso. His wrists were grabbed and held down to the bed.

Lucifer: W-Where did those come from?!

Adam laughed: My secret weapon~. Don't worry, they scared the fuck out of me to.

Lucifer gulped as Adam leaned back, his top set of arms resting on his legs, rubbing his thighs.

Adam: Fuck, I want you so bad. I can feel you~.

Moaning, Lucifer thrusted up into Adam, suddenly wishing this was a night he didn't use a blanket.

Adam: Patience, baby~. You'll get to fuck me~. All of me~.

Leaning forward, Adam placed his hands above Lucifer's head. His mouth was so close to Adam's skin that it was driving the snake crazy. It didn't help that Adam's rocking motions were rubbing his dick so nicely.

Adam: Okay, you can touch~.

And touch Lucifer did. His fingers trailed down Adam's skin, brushing over his feathers. He felt every detail, very curve, every bump. Without further notice, he unbuttoned Adam's pants and pushed his hand inside.

That's when he stopped moving, catching Adam's attention.

When Adam looked down at his mate, he felt a shudder crawl over his skin. Lucifer was looking up at him like a predator, his hand still buried in his pants.

Adam could feel what had gotten Lucifer so predatory. It was something completely new to Adam, but he found it hot. And it seems Lucifer does to.

Lucifer growled: You've... got a cloaca.

Blushing, Adam gasped and tensed as Lucifer leant forward and started to kiss and such his lower abdomen.

Adam: T-Thought you'd like it~.

Lucifer: Oh pet, you have no idea~.

Monster under the bed au where Lucifer is a monster and "terrorizing" Adam?

And by terrorizing, I mean fucking. Grossly. Disgustingly.

Complete monster porn.

Oh no, are my kinks coming out again? Oh well 😉

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Don't tease me with a hot au lol

Oh, what if Adam bought a new house and that's when it starts?

[bloggerspam]

Bet On It

"Come on, Fentina." Dash's tone is snide, even as he hooks a large hand around Danny's shoulder, pulls him in close. "A bet's a bet, and I heard you can sing."

Danny rolls his eyes, slapping Dash's hand off him. He's been like this lately, a little touchy. They're 18 now, and about to head off to college.

The Phantom Trio has finally figured their shit out: A college that has all three of their major interests available, in a city far away from Amity Park. Ghosts. it turns out, can decree a place their Haunt, and wouldn't you know it? You're not actually forced to stay in your haunt, and it's rude to invade another ghost's haunt. So, no more Phantom.

At least, not in Amity Park.

"Oh, oh!" Paulina excitedly chitters, "Kwan has a guitar, you took lessons back in middle school didn't you?"

"Hell yeah!" Dash laughs uproariously, getting all up in Danny's face. "Tick Tock, Fenton!"

Dash hasn't been forceful about his approaches, not in a creepy way, but it's certainly misguided. These past two years the bullying has transformed to something more akin to pigtail pulling, and again—he's been touchy.

An arm around a shoulder, a hand to his lower back to guide him somewhere, ruffling Danny's hair. When Danny says stop, or moves the hands away, he stops, certainly, but Dash is delusional and persistent: He thinks that since he's not actively bullying Danny anymore, all is well.

Fat fuckin' chance.

Kwan, like the good boy he is, brings out the guitar as he is bid. He sang a sweet little number earlier in the night for Star, a cute serenade just for her.

To his credit, Kwan does look hesitant and apologetic. Danny doesn't blame him, Dash and Paulina are pushy, and it's Senior Night.

They're at one of the local bars, the smallest one that only the grumpy old men come to after work, reserved by the school exclusively so that no alcohol will be served. It funny that they think the kids wouldn't BYOB anyway, but Danny's not drinking so what does he care?

Music has been playing in the background, but you can hardly hear it over the din of Seniors milling about, laughing and generally being cheerful about their last night in Amity. (Nevermind that most of them won't actually move until the end of the Summer).

"Well?" Dash challenges, still well within Danny's personal bubble, "Get on up there Fenton."

Danny heaves a huge sigh. This is what happened when Sam and Tucker abandon him for five minutes.

He takes the guitar from Kwan's hands, slips the strap. over his shoulder and tunes it as best he can. He doesn't expect it to be out of tune, what with Kwan having used it not 20 minutes ago, but it's something for him to do as he drags his feet.

But then—then inspiration strikes, just as a string plays a discordant note.

"If this is what we're looking forward to," Dash laughs at Danny's 'mistake', "Then it's gonna be a night to remember."

Paulina giggles along with him, but Danny doesn't care. He's just thought of the best song to play.

Danny smirks, striding up to the stage as Paulina has Kwan and Star hush the crowd and turn off the music.

The microphone feedback is jarring, but not unsurprising. A chortle echoes out, Dash calling out a mean little real profesh, Fenton!

Danny chuckles as he settles himself into the provided stool. He's tempted to say so anyway, here's Wonderwall, but he's committed now.

Even more so when he starts to a jaunty strum, the kind happy little serenades begin with, and spots Sam looking at him in confusion nearby the bathroom. The line must have been long for her to only just now come out. Across the room, he can see Tuck turning from his little circle pals from coding club.

So here's the thing: Danny's a good singer.

He's got this raspy tone that Val once called dreamy, and yeah, he's definitely serenaded her with it when they were going out. His Mom and Jazz can't sing worth a damn, and Dad's Dad, of the firm opinion that anything sounds better when you make it louder.

The point is, if there's an occasion to sing, Danny's made to do it.

So sue him, he doesn't like feeling like an on demand tweety bird, even if singing is enjoyable.

In the most soulful, blue eye'd boy voice he can manage, he starts to sing.

"Three six ni~ne…" Danny drawls out, watching Dash and Paulina's faces as their jaws drop. "Damn you're fine…"

Danny grins with his entire teeth, "Suck it suck it suck it to me baby, one more time."

He scans the room as he continues to serenade the crowd to the lyrical genius of Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz.

Sam is fucking losing it at this point, Tucker having joined her at some point near to the stage.

Star is trying not to giggle and utterly failing, Val is even grinning at him from her side, hunched over like she's trying to catch her breath from laughing. Kwan looks a little confused, but gives him two enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Now can I play with your panty line?" Danny croons, winking at a nearby student who takes it as the jest it is and cackles. "Club owner said I need to calm down.."

The other students are starting to get into now, big smiles all around as they sway back and forth. Some are even singing along—you can never go wrong with crude lyrics and 2000s top hits.

"Drunker than a motherfucker." He stares down a beet red Dash in the eyes as he lowers his voice and sings, "Threaten me now." Alarmingly, Dash turns an even brighter red than before. Danny is kind of concerned for his health, but also doesn't want to touch that with a 39 and a quarter foot pole.

He leaves that mess for Paulina to deal with and searches for his friends instead, mission essentially accomplished.

"She getting crunk in the club, I mean she work it." His friends are having a blast, dancing their blackened little hearts out in support. "And then I like to see the females twerking!" Tucker is bouncing his ass, Sam faux slapping in a hilarious tableau of support.

Danny sings with his entire chest, truly til the sweat drops down his balls.

That is, if he had any.

Mostly, his packer gets a little steamy.

The whole bar is laughing and dancing, getting into a real party even as the song ends.

Danny does a cheeky little bow, thanking the crowd by blowing a kiss as he jumps off the stage. He gently hands over the guitar back to Kwan as he makes his way to his friends amongst the delighted and jovial crowd.

Hands pat him on the back and shoulder as he wades through. The DJ, who took a quick break during Danny's number, seamlessly starts to play a new playlist of 2000s top 100, volume a little higher as the crowd cheers.

"You killed it out there!" Tuck grins, high fiving Danny when he finally arrives.

"Thought you hated singing in public?" Sam yells over the din. Danny shrugs.

"Yeah, because people would no doubt ask me to sing for them whenever they wanted." Danny makes a face, "It figures that Dash would still ask me to sing for him, even if he didn't know."

Sam and Tucker roll their eyes synchronously at that, both extremely tired of shielding Danny from Dash's probably-closeted-advances.

"We leave you alone for five minutes—" Sam starts crossing her arms, only to be waylaid by Tucker grabbing their arms to drag them out.

"Dash and Paulina were bee-lining towards us!" Tucker hisses in explanation, pulling them through easier as Sam and Danny's confusion clears for them to pick up the pace.

They're just reaching the entrance when Danny breathes out a cold breath that makes him shiver.

"Get low!" The trio duck, just as Johnny and Kitty crash through the bar doors, narrowly missing the tops of their heads.

A moment passes, before both Tuck and Sam groan at Danny's inadvertent pun.

"Heard ya'll were having karaoke night!" Kitty giggles, "Rude of you not to send an invite!"

Danny huffs, ducking outside to quickly go ghost and fly back in, slamming into the motorcycle and flipping them both on their butts.

"I'm gonna kick your butts," Phantom cracks his knuckles as he grins with all his teeth, "From the windows, to the walls."

[amazingmsme]

Like Salt in the Wound

AN: first fic of 2025, woohoo! Starting off strong with some angst/comfort & I honestly wouldn’t want it any other way! Odysseus really needs a hug, but I guess he’ll just have to get wrecked instead, lmao. Telemachus & Athena’s friendship means everything to me! I had an absolute blast with this one, & I hope you do too!

Odysseus had only been home just shy of a year, but even a few months spent with his beloved family repaired more of his soul than he ever imagined. There were nights where he slept peacefully; the nightmares fading away as his wife cradled him in her arms. He was less jumpy, more at ease. He no longer drew his sword when he heard a loud clatter or bang, instead merely gripping the hilt until he was sure there was no threat.

The past still haunted him, but he had learned to cope as best as he could.

He had changed, yes, but he was still Odysseus, and the man Penelope fell in love with all those years ago continued to shine through in little ways.

It was in the way he held her with such tenderness, the way he cupped her cheek and kissed her. How he laughed at his own terrible jokes. The way he blushed and shied away when she said something suggestive. How he hung on their son's every word, showering him with love and affection to make up for lost time.

He might've done terrible things to return to them, but he was not nearly the monster he saw himself as. There was still the smallest unspoken softness about him, but it slowly grew larger every day.

He shoved his insecurities down, only allowing Penelope to see him so weak. But there was one secret he kept from even her.

The first time he saw Telemachus, dawned with spear and helmet, wearing Athena's cloak, he felt a wave of panic wash over him. He couldn't let his mentor do to his son what she had done to him. He refused.

But then, Athena apologized. She actually admitted to leading him astray, and offered the chance to rebuild a better, more peaceful word. That this time, things would be different. She promised to train Telemachus with empathy, to not shut him out like she had done to Odysseus all those years before.

The idea terrified him. He saw so much of himself in Telemachus, and knew first hand how easy it would be to strip away his vibrancy and innocence. He had been hesitant to allow her to continue training him, but he caved the moment his son asked.

It felt... strange, watching the two of them interact. Watching his Telemachus spar with Athena stirred old memories that brought a bittersweet smile to his face. Oh, what could have been.

Telemachus had told him that Athena once called him her friend, on the day they first met. She didn't say his name, but he now knows she was referring to his father. Odysseus just wished she would've admitted that back then.

They both acted differently in each other's company; unlike they ever were with him.

Telemachus adored Athena. He looked forward to her visits, lighting up the moment she entered a room before running off for his next lesson. He was never so eager when Odysseus trained with him, questioning his methods and suggesting what Athena would do. He tried not to let it get under his skin, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting a little.

Athena might as well be a completely different person with Telemachus. She was patient and understanding, gently correcting him when he made a mistake. Odysseus seemed to remember her harsh tone and judging words when he was to screw up. It felt hypocritical, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He felt horrible for harboring such thoughts, and yet, he couldn't help it. He was jealous. Athena already knew Telemachus before he ever had the chance to truly meet him. She taught the boy how to fight; something he had been looking forward to doing himself. He still had much to learn, but he would rather listen to a Goddess than his own father.

Odysseus could never fault him for doing so. After all, he had been the same way at that age.

He remembered how great it felt to have her favor. To earn her praise after a battle well fought. She used compliments sparingly and went heavy handed on the criticism, so you would know when she really meant it. She would try to hold in her laughter when he would tell jokes, but he was able to catch her off guard on more than one occasion.

Even if the friendship had been one sided at the time, it had felt real to him.

So you can imagine how much it hurt to see Athena and Telemachus get along so well.

She didn't push him as hard as she did Odysseus, making sure to respect the young prince's boundaries. With the King of Ithaca, she sparred with him as her equal, as if he had the strength and speed of a God, and ridiculed him when she bested him in combat, pointing out everything he did wrong. But with Telemachus, she held herself back, only increasing the difficulty once she knew he could handle it. Her criticism was constructive and soft, and it made Odysseus roll his eyes. That wasn't the Athena he knew.

She didn't brush him off or keep him at arms length either; she welcomed the friendship with open arms. She called Telemachus her friend, to his face. And without a drop of condescension! She gave him plenty of breaks to go goof off, sometimes even joining in on the fun. Odysseus had only been allowed three breaks at most. 

It was fine. He was happy for them. Well, mostly for Telemachus. As long as he was happy, that's all that matters.

They were deep in the woods, close to where Odysseus killed the boar all those years ago. Oh how Telemachus loved that story. He loved all his stories, really. Odysseus feared that he would never quite live up to the legend Telemachus saw him as.

He was currently training him on his sword work,  blocking every strike Telemachus made. He swung down towards his father's shoulder with the blunt practice sword, only for Odysseus to parry the blade and spin around behind him. 

Telemachus whirled around just in time to block the sword with his shield, tucking and rolling across the ground. He popped back up, slashing across the back of his father's legs. Odysseus played along and fell to the ground, crawling as if he were severely wounded.

"Great job, you've disarmed your opponent and hold the advantage. But I could get up if I try, so I'm still a capable threat. What will you do?" Odysseus talked him through it, waiting for his son's next move.

"I..." Telemachus started, thinking of his options before committing, "I go straight for the heart," he said, raising his sword high above his head before stabbing down. He softened the blow just before poking Odysseus in the chest.

The King of Ithaca arched his back, screaming and writhing in mock pain. Telemachus couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes at the dramatics, but his amusement was obvious.

A slow clap sounded from behind, and Telemachus turned to see Athena watching from the trees. Her scar was healing well and she sported a proud smirk, "Well done, little wolf."

Telemachus smiled wide, running over to greet her. "Athena!" He threw his arms around her in a tight hug, one that she reciprocated.

"I see you're keeping him busy," she addressed Odysseus with a fond smile of her own.

"Are you kidding? He practically begged me until I agreed to spar with him," he teased. He stood up, brushing himself off, taking a step closer.

"Father!" Telemachus whined, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Athena chuckled and shook her head.

"Well then, how about I take him off your hands for a bit?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Be my guest," he invited, taking a seat on a fallen log.

"Alright Telemachus, let's give him a show."

"Alright!" he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. He snatched his discarded sword from the ground, taking a fighting stance.

Odysseus watched the training session with a gentle smile that felt more forced than he cared to admit. It was as though he were looking into his own past through rose tinted lenses.

They moved around each other with such practiced ease, as if it were a well rehearsed dance. Telemachus grinned from ear to ear, dimples on full display. He never smiled like that when it was Odysseus teaching him. Instead, he wore a tense, focused expression, broken only by the occasional smile before determination settled back once more. They bantered back and forth, goading and teasing each other as weapons clashed.

"Ha, is that the best you got?" Telemachus taunted as he parried another strike. Athena smirked, arching a brow before swiping her spear behind his legs and knocking him off his feet.

"Nope."

He sprung back up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Bring it on then!"

Athena charged at him, only for Telemachus to sidestep her at the last second. He spun around, kicking the back of her knees to buckle her legs. She yelped and stumbled forward, leaning against a tree for support.

She stood up, studying the tree thoughtfully. Odysseus watched on skeptically, unsure where she was going with this.

"Is this a dogwood tree?" she asked, running a hand up the trunk.

Odysseus scooted closer to the edge of the log. No, she wouldn't!

"Uh, I don't know. Why?"

"I'm pretty sure it is," she mused, barely holding back a smirk.

"Really? How can you tell?" Telemachus asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the tree.

Athena looked down at him, allowing her smile to make its presence known. "By its bark."

She fucking did!

It took Telemachus a moment to get the joke, but once he did, he threw his head back in laughter. "Oho man, that's a good one!"

"Hey, that was my joke!" Odysseus spoke up, because what the hell gives? He told that joke to Telemachus a month ago and all he got in return was a fake chuckle! And further more, he could barely remember Athena ever laughing at his jokes, but suddenly, they were funny enough to steal?

Telemachus looked at his dad and shrugged. "Sorry, I guess she's just funnier than you!" he teased.

Okay, ouch. Odysseus clenched his jaw, ducking his head to hide the twitch of a frown tugging at his lips.

"I suppose she is," he agreed, trying to play along. He looked back up, an empty smile back in place as they resumed sparring.

"Flattery won't get you very far," Athena rolled her eyes, but joined in on the playful taunting. "That goes for both of you," she cast a quick glance towards Odysseus, faltering when she could've sworn she saw a look of sadness on her old friend's face. But it was gone just as fast as it appeared. She decided to let it go for now, but made a note in the back of her mind to check in on him later.

"I don't know, it's gotten me pretty far in the past," Telemachus bragged, showing off with some sword twirling that Odysseus had taught him.

"Okay, take it down a notch," she teased, but her words only embolden him. He tossed the sword in the air, catching it with his other hand.

"Make me!" he taunted. Athena grabbed her spear and shoved the blunt end against his chest, effectively knocking him off balance. He fell on his back, playfully glaring up at her from the dirt. "That was mean."

"You were being cocky."

"Yeah, and?" he asked, arching a brow. Athena shot Odysseus a look when he barked out a laugh, but a smile played at the edge of her mouth.

"The last thing he needs is more encouragement."

Odysseus merely shrugged, sporting a smug grin that put her mind at ease.

Then again, he'd always been a great actor.

Odysseus couldn't help but to feel like a third wheel. They clearly enjoyed each other's company more than his own, so why not just... slip away?

He scooted off to the side, sitting on the edge of the log. Neither one seemed to notice, so he casually stood to his feet, giving his back a stretch. He silently slipped into the shadows of the trees as the continued training.

He didn't go too far, but far enough to feel alone. He leaned against a tree, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He was surprised when his palm came back wet. When had he started crying? He quickly wiped away his tears, sniffling softly. By the Gods, he needed to get ahold of himself.

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep, yet shaky breaths. He could still hear the faint echoes of their taunting jeers in the distance, and sighed. He supposed he'd better head back before they noticed he was gone. He took his time on the way back, staring at the ground and dragging his feet.

Meanwhile, Telemachus and Athena continued to spar, although she had noticed the moment he left. She had known something was off, but she didn't know it was that bad. She tried to keep Telemachus busy so he wouldn't notice his father's absence.

She was lost in thought when a foot suddenly connected with her face and she was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Whoa! Dad, did you see that?" Telemachus cheered and jumped in the air, turning around for his father's approval. "Dad?" He looked around, but saw no trace of him. Panic began to creep inside his chest. He ran into the woods, shouting, "Dad? Where are you?"

"Telemachus, wait!" Athena called after him, but the kid was fast and he was in a mission. She ran after him, calling out for Odysseus as well.

As soon as he heard them call out, he ran towards them, yelling, "Over here!"

He came into view, and Telemachus ran into him with a bone crushing hug.

"Where were you?" 

Odysseus wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, wrapping his arms around his son. "Can't a man take a leak in private?" he joked. Telemachus chuckled, shoving at his chest.

"Just tell us next time! I roundhouse kicked Athena in the face and you didn't even see it!"

"Really? That's amazing! I'm so sorry I missed it," he apologized, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You'll just have to catch her by surprise and do it again, eh?"

"I doubt that'll happen," Athena piped up, crossing her arms.

"I wouldn't underestimate him," Odysseus praised, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they walked back to the clearing.

"Yeah Athena, don't underestimate me!" Telemachus taunted, sticking his tongue out at her from behind his father's back. She scoffed, eyes widening in shock.

"That's it, you're in time out when we get back!" she scolded.

"WHAT? You can't do that!" he yelled, a blush quickly spreading across his face as his father's laughter filled the air.

"Shehehe put you in time out!" he giggled, patting his son's back comfortingly.

"Don't laugh," he whined, but the smile on his face told him he didn't really mind. After all, he had barely heard him laugh since he returned.

"On the contrary, laugh it up Odysseus," Athena said, but something about her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "When we get back, it's your turn."

"I don't know," he trailed off, hesitant to accept.

"You gotta! I never get to see you fight!" Telemachus begged, and he caved.

"Well if you insist. But go easy on me, I'm not as young and spry as I used to be," he said, and now it was Athena's turn to laugh. She threw her head back as she cackled, loud and hearty. She wiped a tear from her eye, glancing over to see matching quizzical expressions.

"Wait, you're serious? After what you did to Poseidon? Absolutely not," she deadpanned.

"You fought Poseidon?" Telemachus practically screamed in his ear, making him flinch away.

"You mean you haven't told him? If you ask me, that should've been the first story you shared," Athena mused.

"Come on, you gotta tell me what happened!" he hopped in place and shook his father by the shoulders until he relented with a chuckle.

"Well, it's kinda a long story. One you'll hear at dinner so your mother can enjoy it too," he deflected.

"Boooo!" Telemachus whined, giving him a thumbs down. "You can tell it twice!"

"He just wouldn't let me go home! So I stabbed him until he called off his storm," he huffed out, telling an abridged version to satisfy his son.

"With his own trident," she added. Telemachus stared at his father in awe.

"Whoa," he said breathlessly. Odysseus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"What can I say? I had limited options," he shrugged, ducking his head down.

"Why so bashful all of a sudden?" Athena asked, cocking her head as she looked down at him. Odysseus gawked, face turning red.

"What? I am not!"

"If you say so," she conceded. "Now, what's do you say you and I have a go, just like old times?" she asked, shooting Telemachus a wink out of the other's sight. He arched a brow quizzically, unsure of what plan she had brewing up. But whatever it was, he wanted in on it.

"You're on."

Athena lulled him into a false sense of security, sparring bantering back and forth before she struck. She dodged his attack, managing to disarm him as she spun around, locking one arm beneath his and held the back of his neck as she held his own sword to his throat with the other.

"Alright, you win," he held his hands up in, surrender, furrowing his brows when she didn't move. "Um... did I... do something wrong?" he questioned, not daring to move an inch.

"Not at all. I just noticed you seemed a little down today."

"Athena," he warned, tensing with a gasp as she squeezed the back of his neck. Telemachus watched on curiously.

"Do you remember my lessons on morale?" she asked, ignoring the threat.

Odysseus was squirming now, tugging at her arms, but she held firm.

"Come on 'Thena, not here," he whined, voice dropped to nearly a whisper. The nickname melted her heart, and made her feel only a little guilty for what she was about to do.

"You mean not in front of the kid?" she taunted, waiting until he opened his mouth to speak before scribbling at the nape of his neck.

Odysseus yelped and flailed around in her hold, scrunching his neck for protection.

"Hey stop! What are you doing to him?" Telemachus protested as he saw his father struggle in Athena's hold. From where he sat, it looked as though she was about to snap his neck. She flashed him a sly, knowing smile.

"Yeah Odysseus, what am I doing?" she asked in such a playful tone, even Telemachus hadn't heard.

"Huh?" he cocked his head, confusion knitting his brows together.

Odysseus clamped his mouth shut, but a wobbly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She tossed the practice weapon aside, scratching just behind his ears with both hands. He snorted and tossed his head around, grimacing as he tried to contain the giggles building up inside his chest.

"Come on, you're usually so talkative," Athena prompted, reaching around to flutter under his chin. He threw himself back to try and get away, but only succeeded in leaning against Athena's chest for support, feet frantically pushing against the ground as he fought to escape.

Telemachus watched on with a growing smile as he realized what was happening.

"Wait, father, are you ticklish?" he asked, not bothering to hide his excitement.

"No!" Odysseus choked out, yelping when Athena reached down to tweak his hip.

"Ignore him, he loves to lie. But you didn't think you got your sensitivity from your mother, did you?" she asked, somehow finding a way to tease both of them at once. Telemachus looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink.

"Well, yeah, kinda," he admitted, unable to take his eyes off the pair. Athena rolled her eyes fondly, easily evading the frantic hands slapping at her wrists.

"You share more similarities with your father than you might think," she said, shooting him another wink. Odysseus shoved at her arms as they wrapped around his waist, shrieking when she picked him up off the ground.

"No! Put me dohohown! Stohohop!" he broke down into deep chuckles that were quickly melting into hysterical giggles. Telemachus had only ever heard his father laugh like that when he told terrible jokes, but he had always kind of assumed he was playing it up for his behalf. He didn't know he actually giggled like that! It was a funny, infectious laugh that seemed adorably out of place.

"Careful what you ask for," Athena smirked before dropping him to the ground, quickly pinning his arms above his head. He desperately pulled at his arms, surprisingly strong despite being mortal. "You sure are struggling a lot. I think I might need some help," Athena raised her voice, making the hint as unsubtle as possible. Telemachus was by their side in a heartbeat, sporting a mischievous smirk.

Odysseus could only grin wider as he shook his head. "Son, wait! She's ticklish too, wouldn't you rather go after a God?" he tried to bargain by deflecting the attention onto Athena, who scoffed in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" She drilled her thumbs in the center of his exposed pits for even suggesting such a thing. Telemachus ignored his father's screams for mercy, tapping his chin as he considered the offer.

"Sounds tempting, but you're the one pinned down," he reasoned with a shrug, planting himself on his kicking legs. Athena held up a hand for an approving fist bump.

"Wise choice."

He grinned as he knocked their knuckles together, adding a few extra slaps and bumps. Athena's hand just hovered there awkwardly, not copying any of the steps he taught her. He shrugged, "Eh, still needs some work."

Telemachus wasted no more time and latched onto his knees, squeezing around the bone. Odysseus snorted and tried to kick his trapped legs, barely able to move them an inch. He couldn't help but laugh along at his reactions, noting, "Wow, mom was right! You do have a funny laugh!"

His words sparked a blush to spread across his cheeks as he cried out in protest, "Shehehe sahaid whahahat?" Logically, Odysseus knew Penelope talked about him while he was away, or at least, he hoped she would. But she really talked about him, not just the legends he left behind. She humanized him...

Maybe a little too much, but still.

"No no, she said it in a good way!" Telemachus assured, spidering over his knees with blunt nails. Odysseus wheezed, drumming his legs against the ground to cope with the ticklish jolts shooting through his nerves.

"I agree Odysseus, your laughter is quite endearing. It's such a shame we don't hear it more often," Athena chimed in. He whined through his giggles, unable to pull his arms down from where she had them pinned. She traced maddening circles against his exposed hollows, making him squeal and arch his back. But no matter how hard he tried, he remained trapped between his son and his friend.

Granted, he might not be trying all that hard. What? He hadn't laughed like this in years, so sue him. And Telemachus seemed to be having fun, so why stop him?

He shook his head in denial, blushing profusely at her words. "Nohoho ihihit's nohoHOHOHOT!"  Loud cackles abruptly gave way to a hysterical shriek as Athena began scratching the spot just behind his ears with long, sharp nails. A stream of giggles and snorts spilled past his lips, nose scrunching adorably.

"I don't know, you sound pretty cute right about now," she drawled, leaning over him to "inspect" his face. Odysseus giggled and tried to look away, failing to protect his now exposed ear with his shoulder.

"'Thehehenaha!" he whined, sounding all too giddy to actually mean anything by it.

"Yep, you look cute too-"

"Ohoho just shut up!"

Athena mock gasped, and Telemachus covered his mouth in shock.

"Uh oh," he teased in a sing song tone, poking all around his stomach. He twitched with each touch, pulling on his arms desperately each time he felt that nagging finger wiggle into the slight pudge of his belly.

"Oh you're gonna regret that," Athena growled playfully. She turned his head to the side, keeping him pinned with one hand. She took a loud, exaggerated breath just so he would know what was coming.

His eyes widened in giddy fear and his thrashing grew stronger once he connected the dots. Empty protests fell past his lips, "No, no wahahait! I'm sohorry, I'm sorryyyy! Plehease dooooon't!" He was already giggling, and his smile only grew wider.

Telemachus couldn't help but laugh along and tease, "She hasn't even touched you yet!"

"Bullshit! You both HAHAHAHAVE! Ohohokahay, oKAHAY! I GEHEHET IHIHIT!" he squealed as Athena leaned in to blow a loud, obnoxious raspberry on the side of his neck. She grabbed his hair and moved his head so she could get the other side.

Not wanting to be left out, Telemachus clawed at his father's stomach, encouraged by his hysterical laughter. Odysseus jolted in place, unable to curl in on himself for protection. The only thing he could do was kick frantically and laugh his heart out.

Which, unfortunately for him, caught his son's attention.

"Great idea, dad! Can't forget about the feet!" he taunted, wrestling his legs down to untie his sandals.

"Nohoho, plehehease! Ihi don't deserve thihihis!" he pleaded, hiding his face behind a pinned arm. Athena snorted in amusement and pulled away to stare down at her friend.

"Actually, if anyone deserves a good laugh, it would be you," she said, her tone softer, yet still teasing.

"Hehehey!" he whined at the remark, his blush now reaching the tips of his ears.

"Yeah, laughing at your own jokes doesn't really count," Telemachus added, raking blunt nails down his arches.

"HEHEHEY!" Odysseus shrieked indignantly at the comment. He tried to keep his feet planted on the ground, but all it took was a quick scribble against the backs of his knees to get him kicking again. "Ihihit counts!" he insisted through deep, rumbly chuckles.

Both Athena and Telemachus rolled their eyes. Telemachus decided to take it a step further and shrugged, unable to hide his smirk.

"Does it though?" he asked skeptically. Before Odysseus could answer, he scratched just beneath his toes. Odysseus cackled wildly, thrashing around as best he could, bucking hard enough to throw Telemachus off.

Athena took that as her cue to back off as well, releasing his arms from where they were pinned. He either didn't have the strength to pull them down, or he just didn't care at this point.

Odysseus let out a giggly groan, throwing his head back against the ground. "You two ahare thehehe worst!" he spoke through residual giggles, but didn't mean a word of what he said.

"Yeah, but I learned from the best!" Telemachus quipped, reaching out to pinch his side one last time. Odysseus jerked away, finally yanking his arms down as he barked out a laugh.

Odysseus scoffed in amusement, a wide smile still plastered on his face. He doubted it would be going anywhere for a long time.

He shook his head fondly, gently shoving at his son's shoulder. "You're a real piece of work. Both of you," he added, shooting Athena a playful glare.

Athena decided not to say anything... to him. She just smirked and addressed Telemachus, as if Odysseus wasn't even there. "Notice how he said just about everything except stop," she noted smugly, and Telemachus muffled his giggles behind his hands.

Odysseus gasped, his fading blush quickly returning. "Well- I- you two looked like you were having fun," he justified with a huff, crossing his arms as he looked away.

"Like you weren't!" Telemachus goaded, throwing his arms around him in a bear hug, rocking side to side.

He couldn't help but give in to the smile tugging at his lips. "It was coerced." Telemachus laughed and shoved him away.

"Oh whatever!"

"Regardless," Athena piped up, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's... refreshing, hearing you laugh again." Odysseus placed a hand atop her own, leaning into the touch.

"Yeah well, you better not make it a habit. There's easier ways to make me laugh, you know," he sassed.

"Ah, but this is the most entertaining," she shot back.

He turned to Telemachus, pointing with his thumb at Athena over his shoulder. "See what I mean? Piece of work."

"Careful, or I'll go for round two," she warned.

"Maybe tomorrow. After all, I believe I'm overdue for some revenge."

"Is that so?" she cocked her head, and Odysseus nodded smugly.

"Yup."

"Well then, you'll have to earn it," she teased, standing up and offering him a hand.

"And you better watch your back, because the tickle monster strikes when you least expect it," he threatened, pointing at Telemachus.

He giggled nervously and took a step back, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. "I'll uh, keep my guard up."

The response made Odysseus throw his head back with a hearty chuckle. He threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and ruffling his hair.

"Just relax. You won't even see it coming."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," he deadpanned.

"It wasn't meant to be," Odysseus quipped, and Athena had to stifle a snicker at the comment. "But I believe it's about time we head back for dinner."

Telemachus whined, even though he knew his father was right.

"We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow," she promised.

"Or you could join us," Odysseus invited after a moment's hesitation. The offer took her off guard, but she softened nonetheless.

"Really? I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"Come on, 'Thena! It'll be fun!" Telemachus encouraged, tugging on her arm.

"Yeah, and you'll get to hear the story about how I stabbed your uncle until he cried."

"In that case, how could I resist?"

The three walked back to the palace, chatting all the way. It may very well be true that Athena and Telemachus were closer than they had ever been, but that doesn't mean the friendship wasn't still there. And Telemachus thought the world of him, that much was made clear.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he had been so worried in the first place. He was home, he was loved, and that's all that matters.

[polysucks]

I was feeling a type of way about jeyne and sansa and letting them be teenage girls again. So I wrote a blurb to go along w my drawing. I’m not a writer so don’t come for me if it sucks.

The morning was crisp and unusually bright, the pale sun glinting off the freshly snow-dusted stones of Winterfell’s walls. A sharp wind cut through the yard, carrying with it the sound of wood clashing and boys shouting. Robb and Jon circled each other on the mud-packed snow of the training yard, their wooden swords striking with loud thwacks. Theon stood to the side, lounging against a fence post, smirking to himself with an air of smug self-satisfaction as he waited his turn.

High above, Sansa and Jeyne peered down from the gallery, bundled in woolen covers lined with rabbit fur and bright in color, their cheeks tinged pink from the cold.

“Jon’s quicker,” Jeyne declared wistfully, leaning over the railing to a better look at the boys, her breath fogging the air. “But Robb’s stronger. I’ll wager he wins this bout.”

“Jeyne, you shouldn’t wager on such things,” Sansa chided, though her voice was tinged with laughter. “Nor wager at all. It’s unbecoming.”

Jeyne turned to her, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, don’t be so pious, Sansa. You know you’re hoping Jon wins too. He’s so brooding—girls like that, don’t they?”

Sansa gasped, her freckled nose scrunching in mock outrage. “I most certainly do not! And neither should you. We’re meant to cheer for Robb; he’s the heir to Winterfell!”

Jeyne burst into giggles, clutching at Sansa’s arm. “You sound just like boring ol’ Septa Mordane. Shall I fetch my sewing and sit by the hearth instead?”

“Perhaps you should,” Sansa teased in a feigned scolding, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement at her friend’s candor.

The girls turned their attention back to the yard just as Robb lunged forward, his sword coming down in a heavy arc. Jon stepped aside at the last moment, snow crunching beneath his boots, and drove the flat of his blade into Robb’s ribs. Robb stumbled, laughing as he raised his hand in surrender.

“Jon wins again!” Jeyne crowed, clapping her gloved hands together. “Well done, Jon! I always knew you were the clever one!” Sansa tugged at Jeyne’s arm, loudly shushing the cheering girl with a grin that split her face ear to ear.

Their voices rang out across the yard, drawing Jon’s attention. He looked up, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and gave her a crooked smile.

“Careful, Jeyne,” Theon called from below, striding forward to take Jon’s place. “You’ll make me jealous with all this talk of Jon’s so-called cleverness.” He twirled his sword in a flashy display and pointed the tip up at the gallery. “You should do well to save some of your applause for me.”

Jeyne cupped her gloved hands around her mouth and shouted, “I will when you deserve them, Theon!”

Sansa clutched her sides, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. “Jeyne! You can’t say things like that!”

“Oh, why not?” Jeyne replied, her voice a mix of mischief and innocence, reclaiming her seat beside Sansa and playfully slapped at the maiden’s hands as they tugged on Jeyne’s sleeves. “They love it. Just look at them.”

Below, Theon puffed out his chest, preening under the girls’ attention. Robb rolled his eyes, muttering something to Jon that made him chuckle.

Sansa shook her head, still giggling. “If Septa Mordane heard you, she’d have you scrubbing the floors of the great hall from dawn till dusk.”

“Then I’d have plenty of time to think about Theon Greyjoy and his pretty smile,” Jeyne said, fluttering her lashes dramatically.

Sansa dissolved into laughter again, leaning into her friend for support. “You’re horrible,” she said between gasps. “Completely incorrigible.”

“So you say,” Jeyne said with a grin, her breath catching in the cold air. “But do you disagree?”

Sansa only responded with more laughter. The sound of wood against wood rang out again as Theon and Jon squared off, their movements swift and precise. The girls leaned in to one another, their blankets rustling, as they watched the spar with rapt attention. Jeyne’s cheerful banter filled the air, and Sansa’s laughter rang out like a bell, bright and unguarded, as if this moment could last forever.

[antinousletmehit]

HIIIIIII, could you write something about Telemachus and Reader being his fiancee? I'd love to see them being affectionate with each other and him trying to defend her if any of the suitors mock her 💥

୨୧┇Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇currently burning thru requests

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The halls of the palace were as suffocating as ever, the air thick with the jeers and mockery of the suitors who lounged in the palace. Telemachus stood tall despite the weight on his shoulders, his hand resting protectively on yours as he led you through the hall.

Your presence always drew their attention, something Telemachus both loathed and feared. As his betrothed, you were everything to him, a promise of hope and love amidst the chaos and disrespect these men brought into his home. And, of course, you were stunning,so much so that the suitors couldn’t resist their crude remarks.

Today was no different.

“Well, well, isn’t she a sight,” Antinous sneered, leaning back in his chair as his piercing gaze swept over you. “Telemachus, where did you find such a jewel? Or have you simply kept her hidden from us all this time?” Another suitor, Eurymachus, laughed, raising his cup. “She’s wasted on a boy. Why don’t you let a real man show her a good time, eh?”

Telemachus’s jaw tightened, his hand squeezing yours as he stopped in his tracks. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his body wound tight like a bowstring ready to snap. “Say that again,” Telemachus said, his voice low and dangerous. The suitors only laughed louder, their mockery echoing through the hall. “Oh, come now,” Antinous said, smirking. “We’re just admiring her beauty. Surely you can’t blame us for noticing what’s right in front of us.”

“You call that admiration?” Telemachus shot back, his voice sharp. “You’re nothing but cowards who prey on what you don’t deserve.” Your heart clenched as you tugged lightly at his hand. “Telemachus, let it go,” you whispered, not wanting him to escalate the situation.

But he shook his head, his gaze never leaving the suitors. “No,” he said firmly. “I won’t let them speak to you that way.” Antinous chuckled, standing as if to challenge him. “And what are you going to do about it, boy? Run to your mother?”

Telemachus let go of your hand and took a step forward, standing toe to toe with the larger man. Despite the difference in their size and experience, there was no fear in Telemachus’s eyes, only a burning determination.

“She may be in my home, but she’s not yours to look at, to speak to, or to mock,” Telemachus growled. “If you so much as glance at her again, I’ll make you regret it.” The room fell silent, the suitors momentarily stunned by his boldness. Antinous glared down at him, his smirk replaced by something colder. “Big words for a boy who still lives under his mother’s skirt,” he sneered.

Telemachus didn’t flinch. “And you? Big words for a man who eats from another’s table and can’t earn his own keep.” Antinous’s expression darkened, but before he could respond, you stepped forward, placing a hand on Telemachus’s arm. “Enough,” you said softly but firmly. “Let’s go.”

Telemachus hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he tried to rein in his anger. Finally, he nodded, taking your hand once more and guiding you toward the door. As you left the hall, the suitors’ laughter resumed, but Telemachus didn’t look back. He walked quickly, his grip on your hand tight but reassuring. Once you were out of earshot, he stopped and turned to you, his expression softening.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.” You smiled gently, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You didn’t. You stood up for me, and that means everything.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he promised, his voice steady. “Not with their words, not with anything. You’re mine to protect, and I’ll do it with everything I have.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest as his arms enveloped you. In that moment, the chaos of the palace faded away, leaving only the warmth of his love.

[misted-dream]

SWEET TOOTH ﹒⌗﹒🍨 ﹒ ౨ৎ˚₊‧ 마크 + gn!reader

in which . . . both you and mark can’t sleep so your solution is a guitar and some tiramisu.

contents | friends/roommates with tension, fluff idk is this what fluff is

word count | 1k

a/n | oh i’m so in love with mark. also came across a yt video abt guitar that inspired this whole thing

the cool winter breeze blows past you as you open the door to the fire escape. you step outside, careful to not drop the spoons on the plate you’re holding. mark’s back is turned towards you. a guitar in his hands, the low strums blend wistfully with the nonstop strains of the city, even well into the night. the sky, neither fully dark nor yet touched by dawn, drifts in a liminal hush.

he looks back at you, then at the plate in your hand. “what’s that?” he asks with an amused smile.

“tiramisu,” you set the plate down gently between you and mark before sitting next to him, overlooking the horizon.

“never known you for a midnight snacker,” he comments as he picks up one of the spoons.

you pick up the other, “guess you don’t know me well enough.” you dip the edge of your spoon into the tiramisu, cutting through the layers with barely any resistance.

mark does the same, and without a word, both of you bring the dessert to your mouths in unison.

the sweetness and the bitterness mingles together in a quiet, unspoken agreement.

you look up, and mark is staring back at you.

“what?” you pull your eyes away in favour of another scoop.

“nothing,” he breaks into a gentle chuckle. “it’s good, where’d you get it?”

“is it so hard to believe i can make something good for myself?” you put forward before taking another bite, leaning towards mark with your palm planted on the cold, metal platform.

“no, no,” he shakes his head, eyes widened slightly. “it’s just… it’s good, that’s all i’m saying.”

you can’t help but smile. “i lied—i got it from a bakery 2 blocks away,” you put the spoon in between your lips, freeing your hand so you can point in some obscure direction that mark can pretend to know.

mark tilts his head, “y’know, you have to stop doing that.” he sets down his spoon on the rim of the plate.

“doing what?”

“lying,” mark seemingly turns his attention back to the guitar rested on top of his lap, positioning his hands over the strings. “have you never heard of the story? the one with the boy and the wolves?”

the metal clinks against the ceramic when you put your spoon down. “the boy who cried wolf?” you ask, stifling your urge to laugh.

“yeah, that one,” he strums a soft chord following his words.

“nope, never heard of it.” you reposition yourself, crossing your legs and leaning back against the building.

mark shoots a glance at you over his shoulder, eyes squinting at you slightly.

he turns back around, head down focused on the movement of his fingertips. you feel the coldness of the bricks through your shirt against your shoulder blades, spreading through the entirety of your back. in the distance, stars flicker like the streetlights below you—some burning bright, others barely a whisper.

mark begins to play a familiar melody, the same one you’ve been hearing throughout your apartment the whole month. it opens with a gentle hesitation, as if the notes themselves are unsure of their place in the world. he’s been working on this very piece for a while but he’s never played it for you. you’ve asked and he’s critical of his work, but sometimes listening through the walls that separate the two of you at night was enough. you don’t suppose he knows exactly how thin the walls are.

the tune fills the air. you take in a deep breath, shoulders relaxing, and you can feel your heartbeat starting to synchronise itself with the rhythm of his music.

each strum feels deliberate, carrying with them the weight of his thoughts. there’s solace intertwined into the song. the low, resonant notes hum steadily, grounding the piece, while the higher strings weave a wandering tune above—a certain lightness pricking at your skin and reverberating in your bones.

there’s an unexpected pause that lingers for a few brief moments before mark picks the melody back up again right where he left off. you notice the subtle bobbing of his head along to the rhythm, a habit he has with anything music-related. there’s a rawness in the sound. a flourish that suggests an impromptu riff. the tune comes alive, shaped delicately by his bare and calloused hands.

the final note rings out, hanging in the air like a quiet exhale. it doesn’t demand applause or recognition; it simply exists.

and before long, it fades away into the skyline.

a heavy silence follows. one that mutes all the city noise under you. one that blankets the two of you under the void of the sky.

“so…” his voice teetering on a whisper, “…what do you think?”

you lean forwards coming off of the wall, pulling your knees together and wrapping your arms around them. mark meets your gaze with a sincerity so profound it renders you speechless for a moment. “i think it’s perfect.”

he rolls his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “don’t make me bring up the wolves again.” he drops his head, mindlessly strumming at a string.

“shut up with that,” you give him a gentle push that nudges him away from you. mark chuckles. “i’m not lying. i love it.”

when your eyes lock again, it’s like a flame has set you ablaze. a heaviness that weighs down on your chest with every second his eyes linger on yours.

he mutters, “thanks,” sheepish all of a sudden.

mark turns his head towards the horizon. “the sun’s gonna rise soon,” he comments, prompting you to look off into the same direction.

“yeah, we should get some rest,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your hands on your pajamas.

you’re about to head back inside when mark’s voice stops you.

“same time tomorrow?”

[regalastor]

Amor in ea Purissima Est (pt. II)

Lucius Verus Aurelius x fem!OC 

summary: Lucius sets out to find Anna, even though he has no idea what to do once he finds her. 

author's notes: Thank you all so much for the positive feedback and part 2 requests! Please leave comments and let me know what you think! Also, I am planning on continuing this series if it keeps garnering support! Lots of canon divergence is present in this fic!

warnings: discussions of violence (implied attempted SA but very vague), abuse, and loss of a spouse. rating: 18+ (eventually). 

part I - https://www.tumblr.com/regalastor/772223672271372288/amor-in-ea-purissima-est?source=share

As Lucius sat on the lonely balcony staring into the dimly lit city, and daydreaming about Anna, he could not help but wonder who she was, who her people were, and what had happened to Cato's father?

“You seem thoughtful,” Lucilla said, walking onto the balcony. Lucius took a sip of the wine in his glass.

“Do you know the familial name of Evander?” Lucilla thought for a moment, taking a seat in the chair next to her son. 

“I knew of a Decius Evander once, he was a prominent merchant in the city, his son took over his trade when he died, and then I think the son died too. But that is all I have heard of the name.” Lucius looked over at his mother at her words, and Lucilla noticed at Lucius’ intrigued expression. “May I ask what brought about this line of questioning?” Lucius stared at the cup in his hand for a moment. 

 “I met a woman today in the Capital market,” He explained, ignoring the way his mother sat up slightly, clearly excited by his words. “I found her son. He saw the guard and became distracted, and then he found himself separated from her and nearly run over by a carriage,” Lucius swirled his wine once before taking a sip. 

“And you helped him find her?” Lucilla asked and Lucius nodded. 

“She was,” He took a deep breath. “Absolutely beautiful,” He admitted. “And the boy, Cato, was clever and brave. He told me his father died when he was too young to hold a sword, and he could not have been older than six or so. His mother’s name is Anna Evander.” Lucilla couldn’t help but smile at his words. She had not seen him even remotely interested in any of the women he had meant since ascending the throne; she didn’t care if the girl was a servant or an outsider or a princess, she just wanted her son to be happy. 

“You do know you have the ability to find her at your fingertips, yes?” Lucius shook his head and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

“She was so frightened of me, and she did not even know who I was. Tracking her down would certainly not make her feel any more at peace,” Lucius explained and Lucilla nodded, her eyes softening. 

“If she is a widow, with a young son, and as beautiful as you say, I am sure she experienced her fair share of entitled men trying to stake a claim on her.” Lucius sucked in a sharp breath at the thought.

“Cato said she was a healer; that she makes medicines and sells them.” 

“Oh,” Lucilla thought for a moment before a light clicked in her eyes. “Yes, I think she is the daughter-in-law of Decius. His son, I forget his name, married a Gaul, I think, he met on one of his adventures and brought her back here,” Lucilla mused. “If she sells medicines, you should speak to Ravi, he may know her.” Since Lucius’ ascent to the throne, Ravi had become one of the healers within the palace. Lucius trusted him and knew he could be tasked with seeing to their house. Lucius knew his mother’s idea of finding Anna was probably wise, but he was still rather anxious about the whole encounter, and what the possibilities of pursuing Anna could mean. Would she even be interested in him? Or in getting married at all? Or worse, what if she felt pressured to accept his attention because she was scared of him, or because of his title? Lucilla noticed her son’s pensive expression and reached over to gently place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Just consider your options, I only want to see you happy,” She said gently before leaving him alone with his thoughts. Lucius stayed on the balcony a while longer before heading to bed. Once he fell asleep, he was greeted with Anna’s blue eyes in his dreams, and when he awoke, he knew he would have to figure out some way to see her again without scaring her off. When Lucius went to the Capital a few days later, he could not help but keep his eyes peeled for a glimpse of Anna’s golden hair, or Cato running loose once again. After failing in his mission, Lucius swallowed his nerves and traversed to the healer’s quarters. 

“Good evening, Caesar,” Ravi said with a curt bow when he saw Lucius walk in. Lucius rolled his eyes at the formality but accepted the gesture nonetheless.

“I have a favor to ask, I suppose,” Lucius said, walking over to one of the tables covered in herbs. He leaned onto the side of it as he watched his friend work.

“If it is in my power,” Ravi assured, eyeing Lucius’ odd behavior. It was odd to see the young man so unsure of himself; he almost seemed nervous. 

“There is a woman,” Ravi almost dropped the container in his hands. “I met her at the Capital market. She sells medicines and things, so I assume she is some type of healer,” Lucius crossed his arms over his chest. “Her name is Anna Evander, my mother thinks she is a foreigner who married a merchant, but he has since died. Do you know her?” Ravi set down the work in his hands and thought for a moment. 

“The young Saxon woman?” He asked, and Lucius blinked at him. “Many women who deal in medicines use false names to protect themselves. In case someone ever wants to accuse them of evil sorcery or incantations,” Ravi explained with a small smile tugging at his lips, as if he couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. “This woman, you call Anna, she is short, with a small nose, very light hair, and a young son, yes?” Lucius nodded at the description. “Yes, I know her as Andswaru. She is very talented, very smart.” 

“What else do you know about her?” Lucius asked, intrigued by what Ravi had said. 

“I do not seem to know too much more than you, Caesar. I know she is a Saxon, from southern Scandinavia, I believe, but you are right, her husband was a merchant and met her on a trading excursion. He stayed with her in the north for nearly a year, where they were married, but then they returned here, and soon after she had their son. Her husband died around two years ago, which is when she first appeared amongst the healers of the city. She is young and beautiful and kind, and has had to fight for her life ever since Cassian died,” Ravi sighed deeply, as if he was thinking of all of her hardships. Lucius ran a hand over his face and tried to absorb all of the information he had learned. 

“Where could I find her, if I wanted to?” 

“She lives close to Caelimontium Hill, I believe, and she sells at markets all across town, primarily the Forum market and the Serapis market, but also to individual houses.”

“Ours included?” Lucius asked, and Ravi shook his head no. 

“No, she does not often make such large orders. She works on her own,” Ravi thought for a moment. “But, she does supply women’s goods to some of the Senator’s wives.” Lucius nodded to himself.

“Thank you, Ravi, truly,” Lucius said, reaching out to clasp his friend’s hand.

“I hope you find what you are looking for,” Lucius sent him one more nod before leaving his workshop. The next day, Lucius found himself loitering near the Serapis market, looking much more like a Praetorian than an emperor. He wandered around for nearly an hour before running a hand through his hair in frustration. This was pointless; he should either grow up and find her properly, or move on, not linger around her places of work until he caught a glimpse of her. Lucius was about to leave the market when he felt someone beside him. He turned and looked down, his breath catching at the sight of a familiar little boy staring at his sword. Cato looked up at him with big brown eyes and smiled happily.

“Do you remember me, dominus Lucius?” Cato asked curiously, with a slight edge of caution to his voice, as his face tilted upwards so he could look at the taller man. 

“How could I ever forget?” Lucius assured before kneeling down to meet his eyes better. “Are you lost again?” Cato shook his head and pointed to his left, Lucius’ heart sped up as he could finally see Anna’s icy, yet somehow still slightly golden, blonde hair, neatly braided down her back. When Lucius looked back to Cato, he could tell something was bothering him, or at least commanding his attention, and he was looking at Lucius as if he was deciding whether or not to trust him. “Would you like to ask me something?” Cato stared at him for a moment before nodding. Lucius waited. 

“Can-can I have a sword?” Cato asked after a moment and Lucius schooled his features to remain neutral. 

“I do not think you could lift one on your own,” Lucius admitted and Cato huffed slightly. He looked over to his mother again. “What do you need with a sword?” Cato shrugged, but when Lucius reached out and placed a hand on his arm, the boy's lip immediately began to quiver. Something was very wrong indeed. “Cato, has something happened?” The little boy stared at the ground before nodding. 

“I”m not supposed to say,” He whispered, his eyes still fixed on the dirt. 

“I will not tell another soul, I promise.” The boy seemed to contemplate Lucius’ words for a moment before taking a deep breath, though he still did not look up. 

“Many people scare my mama,” He said quietly. “They follow her, and grab her, and don’t listen to her when she tells them to leave,” He whispered to the emperor. Lucius clenched his jaw tightly, his hands balling into fists.

“Do you know these people?” Cato shrugged.

“Some of them,” He looked around cautiously.

“Are they all men?” Lucius asked, and the boy nodded. “Are they dressed like me?” Cato shook his head no. He pointed to one of the Colosseum guards—a gladiator handler.

“A few dress like him.” Rage bubbled in Lucius’ stomach. “And them,” Cato pointed to some of the vendors—averagely dressed working Romans. 

“I see,” Lucius said quietly. He didn’t really know what to say in this scenario. All he wanted to do was to grab both Anna and Cato and carry them back to the palace with him, but he knew that would not go over well and was a very impractical decision. 

“But, then-” Cato started, but paused for a second, and then shook his head, as if he was unable to get the words out. 

“Cato?” Anna said cautiously as she approached the boy. Lucius stood up quickly and met Anna’s eyes. Her lips parted when she saw him; she recognized him, but was utterly confused as to how and why this guard was here, so far from the Capital. “Hello, sir,” She greeted, lowering her head slightly.

“Ave, domina,” Lucius greeted politely, inclining his head towards her. He flinched when he felt Cato grab onto his weapons belt, as if to remind him of his presence. Anna stared at him, clearly waiting for an explanation of what was happening. “I was passing through and ran into your son,” Lucius said before licking his lips. He wanted to confront her about what the boy had said, but he also did not want to betray the child’s trust. Then, an idea swept through his mind. “Well, I was not only passing through, I was looking for you,” He saw Anna tense. “The healer of the palace, Ravi, you may know him, needs a new assistant,” Anna relaxed a little at the mention of her acquaintance’s name. “I mentioned I met a young medicine maker and her son, he figured it was you, and thought that you may want the position,” Lucius explained. He knew it was a completely half-assed explanation, and completely untrue, but maybe, just maybe, she would be willing to consider it, and then at least she would be under his protection. Anna stared at him cautiously for a moment longer.

“Why did Ravi not come to me himself?”

“He was going to, but I had business out this way, and he said I could find you here,” Lucius lied. Anna looked to her son, who was still tightly holding on to Lucius’ belt. Something about this man was different, she could feel it, and even if he didn’t realize it, Cato could sense it too. 

“Tell Ravi I will consider it, but I would like to speak to him first. He knows where to find me,” She stated softly. 

“I will inform him,” Lucius promised. “May I escort you somewhere?” Anna blinked for a moment. Her brain was screaming at her to say no, but her heart, and her gut, assured her of the opposite.

“We are heading home to Caelimontium, if that is not too far,” Lucius shook his head no. 

“Not at all.”

“Now can Lucius stay for dinner?” Cato asked, running up to his mother. Anna breathed a laugh before looking at Lucius again. Her gaze was intentional and deep, like she was trying to see into his soul. 

“No, not this time,” She brushed some of Cato’s hair out of his face before nodding for Lucius to follow as she began to walk out of the marketplace. Once they had escaped the crowd, Cato began telling Lucius all about how he was responsible for helping his Nonna with her vegetable garden. Anna let the boy talk and had to bite back her smile at all of the questions Lucius asked and how intently he seemed to be listening. 

After her husband died, Anna desperately had wanted to go home, but the guilt of leaving her mother-in-law, Leila, alone and helpless was too much to bear so she stayed in Rome. Leila had suggested that Anna remarry more times than she could count, and she knew it was the wise decision, but settling for someone who she did not care for felt like giving up, and she had not been that desperate yet. It quickly became apparent to Anna that a woman alone in Rome was just waiting to be hurt, and so she began to fight. She put up every wall she could, stayed with others constantly, and fought off every man and his advances. But recently, the harassment and attention of random men has been getting worse. She had nearly been attacked on her way home a few days ago; she had barely made it in her door before collapsing onto the floor in tears, fear and anxiety and anger racking her body as her child watched from the sitting room. Now, here was this man, this strong, attractive, and seemingly kind and honest man, placed before her by the gods, and she was still frozen in fear. She would love to work at the palace, to know that her workplace was secure and that she could safely bring Cato along, but something about the situation felt odd. Yes, she did know Ravi, but very little, and she was still confused as to why he didn’t just write to her, or ask her at the healer’s gallery last week. She knew she should be on high alert around this handsome stranger, but the way he had cared for her, and more importantly for Cato, had stunned her and made her let her guard down. Lucius’ deep and smooth voice brought her out of her thoughts. 

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked him, her cheeks heating up slightly when she realized he had been speaking to her.

“I didn't mean to startle you earlier, with my presence in the market,” Lucius said, falling back to walk in step with her. She shook her head. 

“No, no, it is not your fault,” She smiled softly. “How long have you been at the palace?” She asked after a moment of silence.

“Not long, less than a year,” Lucius admitted. “How long have you been making medicines?” 

“I do not remember a specific time when I started, I only remember copying my mother, until I learned to create what was needed on my own,” Anna sighed lightly at the memory. “I picked it up rather quickly, and took over most of her work by the time I was eleven.” 

“How old are you now?” Lucius asked, immediately regretting the question. It was too personal and too heavy with expectation. “Forgive me, I only meant-”

“Three and twenty,” She interrupted his apology. “And you?” She asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. Lucius’ lips pulled up slightly. 

“Eight and twenty,” He informed her, and she nodded with a small smile. 

“You seem perfectly Roman, are you?” Lucius kept his reaction minimal, only offering a slight laugh as a response.

“Yes, I am,” He told her. “But you are not.” 

“No, I am from Scandinavia. I moved here after I married my late husband, Cassian,” Anna looked forward towards Cato. 

“Cato told me that he died when he was young, I am sorry,” Anna’s eyes widened slightly. Cato never talked about his father, but then again, he had only been a little older than three when he died, so she was surprised to hear he had told this to a stranger. 

“Yes, me too,” Anna looked over at Lucius. He was so handsome, and clearly intelligent and capable, she couldn’t hold back her own curiosity at his marital status. “Are you married?” Lucius took a deep breath.

“I was, my wife was killed over a year and a half ago,” Anna’s jaw almost dropped. 

“I am so sorry,” She said softly. 

“Me too,” He repeated her earlier sentiment back to her. 

“Do you have any children?” She asked, and Lucius shook his head no in response. 

“Is Cato your only child?” Anna nodded. “He’s rather remarkable,” Lucius said with a soft smile. 

“I think so, but thank you for saying it.” They fell into a natural silence after that as they walked along the road. 

“Look, look!” Cato said, pointing to the horses coming down the road. Lucius reached out and pulled Cato into his side before carefully placing a hand on Anna’s upper back and guiding her out of the road. He didn’t notice the red that crawled up her cheeks at the gesture. Lucius tensed when he realized the riders were soldiers, but they were dressed in average working clothes. They quickly came to a halt upon seeing him, despite the look he was giving them to keep going. 

“Cae-” “Ave, riders, are you lost?” Lucius asked, interrupting them before they could address him. The soldiers shared a look before looking back at the emperor. “If you continue on this road you will be in the city center,” He explained, glaring daggers at them and all but gesturing for them to ignore him.

“Yes, Cae-” “Sir, thank you for the assistance, ave, dominus,” The other soldier interrupted, clearly understanding that Lucius wanted them to leave him be. The guards continued down the road. Cato went back to zigzagging around the road, but Anna was shaking, her hand pressed into her chest as she tried to slow her breathing. She was frozen to her spot. 

“Anna?” Lucius asked, and her eyes quickly snapped back to his.

“I-” She tried to speak, but paused to take a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry, I should not overreact. They meant no harm,” Lucius shook his head.

“Please do not apologize,” He assured. “Is there anything I can do?” He offered, and she shook her head no. They dropped the conversation until they reached her home. It was a nice home at the entrance of the Caelimontium region, with a gate and gardens in the front, blocking the view of the courtyard. 

 “Accept Ravi’s offer and work in the palace, please,” Lucius blurted once Cato was inside the house. Anna stared at him for a minute before nodding. 

“I will speak with him about it,” Anna assured him. 

“Good evening then, Anna.”

“Good evening, Lucius, thank you for the escort,” She smiled at him and he returned the expression before heading off down the road he came from. Anna watched him walk away for a few moments and allowed herself to imagine what dinner would have been like if he had stayed.

[heartsforjh]

Reader is at a beach party for her 21st birthday (at night), and her childhood bestie will Smith, the sj hockey player, not the actor. Will organizes her birthday party, inviting her friends and some hockey players.....one of them being THE connor bedard, sometime during the night Reader and connor chat, and she brings up how she still hasn't had a first kiss, so Connor, who is alrdy starting to rlly like her, gives her her first magical kiss....that's all thankyouuuuu

of course! 🫶 sorry for it taking forever!

“where are we, Will?” you ask, a mix of curiosity and nervousness in your voice. you sit in his car, eyes closed, trying to piece together where he’s taking you as you feel him park.

“y/n, calm down! i’m not going to kill you!” he says with a chuckle.

“maybe not purposely!” you shoot back crossing your arms. you hear his seat belt unbuckle and the car door open, then shut. even though this whole surprise thing has you uneasy, you trust him enough to keep your eyes closed. he’s been excited about this for weeks, so you play along, although you’re pretty sure it’s a surprise party.

a moment later, your door opens, and he takes your hand to help you out of the car. “come on.” he says, leading you forward.

“Will, if you let me fall, you’re not making it to this surprise alive.” you warn as you carefully follow him, feeling the ground under you shift.

“relax y/n.” he laughs, his grip steady on your hand. “i’ve got you.”

the ground turns soft beneath your feet, the air smells of salt water, and you can hear waves. a small smile creeps onto your face. “ohhh, we’re at the beach!”

“y/n! stop guessing!” Will protests, voice full of amusement. “you’re going to ruin it for yourself.”

you hear the crashing of waves and feel the warm air as he leads you closer. finally, he stops walking, and you hear him laugh softly.

“alright, y/n, open your eyes!”

you hesitate for a moment, feeling the anticipation build, before you finally open them.

“surprise!”

the word echoes around you, and you blink as your eyes adjust. a group of people stand in front of you, all smiling. there’s so many faces staring back at you— some you know, some you don’t. the sight of it all makes your eyes widen.

“happy birthday!” Will says proudly, pulling you into a hug. you laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

“do you like it? i planned you a party!” he says, pulling back to look at you, his face beaming with excitement.

you smile, still a little stunned. “i see that. i do like it, thank you!”

the beach is popping with activity— a large fire pit in the center of everyone, letting off a warm glow compared to the dark night sky. people mingle around the coolers and folding chairs set out. the laughter is a perfect mix with the beautiful beach scene.

after thanking Will again, you watch as he heads off to chat with macklin, one of your mutual friends. you take a moment to soak everything in before deciding to walk around and greet everyone.

that’s when you see him.

next to one of the coolers, there a blonde boy pouring himself a drink. he’s a good height, dressed nice, and there’s something about him that draws you in immediately. you're not 100% on what it is. however, you don’t think it’s just that you’ve never seen him before. you surprise yourself by wasting no time walking toward him. normally, you’d hesitate, but tonight, something about him makes you want to take the chance.

“hi!” you say with a smile.

he turns, and when his eyes meet yours, his smile grows. he sticks out his hand, a little awkwardly, but it’s endearing. “hi. nice to meet you. i’m connor.”

you shake his hand and return his smile. “nice to meet you too, connor. i’m y/n. thanks for coming.”

“oh, yeah. it’s no problem. my team’s playing the sharks soon so i’m in town right now ” he explains. then, as if remembering something, he adds, “happy birthday, by the way.”

“thank you,” you say, feeling your nerves ease as you both fall into a natural feeling conversation.

the minutes blur together as you talk, the energy of the party fading into the background. It’s just you and connor, your words flowing freely, until eventually, the alcohol in your systems begins to take hold, making you both a little bolder, a little closer.

“so ummm… do you—do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, his previous confidence faltering as the nerves start to creep back in.

“no! i haven’t ever even kissed a guy before!” you say, clearly not thinking about how embarrassed that would make you if it weren’t for the drinks in your system.

connor’s jaw drops instantly, eyes big and full of emotion. “you haven’t? how have you never kissed a guy before?”

you shake your head, shrugging like it’s not big deal. “i just haven’t.”

For a second, he stares at you, processing your answer. Then, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I can be your first kiss.”

truthfully, he knows he’ll probably look back on his boldness and cringe. regardless, he can’t help but label it as tomorrows problem and move on.

“really?!” you ask, your heart skipping a beat.

“uhhh yeah. i mean, i really like you so far. you’re great. it can be one of my birthday gifts to you.” he says, a bit more confidence in his tone now that he’s seen your giddiness about the idea.

your smile softens, whatever had you being crazy outgoing, immediately leaving as you turn shy. “okay. sure. i’d like that.”

connor smiles at your response, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. “are you sure y/n?”

you nod almost immediately, your heart pounding in your chest. this could actually be the moment—your first kiss. “i’m sure connor.”

he nods, stepping closer, the space between you disappearing. he reaches up, brushing a piece of hair from your face, before letting his hand rest on your cheek, gently stroking it. the small gesture combined with the closeness sends shivers down your spine.

“alright.” he says softly, his voice steady but warm as his eyes lock with yours. “just tell me if you want me to stop.”

you can only bring yourself to nod again, your gaze fixed on his, lips slightly parted in anticipation. slowly, he leans in, giving you every opportunity to pull away—but of course you don’t.

the very second your lips connect, you suddenly understand all the cheesy descriptions about first kisses that take people’s breath away. everything around you completely fades. the kiss is soft and careful, giving you butterflies at how gentle he’s being with you. it’s obvious he’s savoring the moment—as are you. the faint taste of his drink lingers, only adding to the rush of it all.

when he pulls back, his face hovers close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. he looks at you like he’s trying to analyze every bit of your expression. “wow… you’re really good at that for someone whose never done it before.”

your cheeks flush, and you laugh softly, looking down for a moment. “thank you.”

connor grins, his earlier nerves replaced by something more natural and comforting. “also, just so you know, i didn’t just say that because i didn’t get you a real present. i got you a gift card!”

you let out a small laugh at him trying to unnecessarily clarify the situation like a dork. “you didn’t have to get me anything but thank you, connor. if you don’t mind, though… can we try that first gift out one more time?”

for a moment he looks genuinely confused. “what—you wanna go use the starbucks gift card right now?”

your smile falters slightly, as your advance goes right over his head.

“i’m joking.” he says, with an amused look in his eyes and a teasing grin. “we can try that out as many times as you want birthday girl.”

before you can even respond he’s pulling you back in for another incredible kiss.

i hope you like it! i got a little carried away with this one and it’s kinda of sort of really really really long! 😭 thank you for the request! i love writing for the boys who don’t usually get a lot of attention here on tumblr! <3

[pipitwrites]

more not fic...

charles as a cupid-like figure who has always been diligent at his job, helping humans find their love matches. he is good at his job because he believes in love and the importance of cupids, but lately he feels like there's something missing... an aching emptiness inside of him…

and then one day he gets a new assignment. one pierre gasly from rouen, france.

charles watches him, as he does with all his subjects, to get to know him. this is how charles can figure out how to match pierre with his perfect person. being a good cupid is being able to understand the depths of a human’s heart, their very soul in order to find a match for them. but... after days to weeks of watching pierre, charles finds it increasingly difficult to find the perfect love match for pierre. no one he finds seems to be lively or vibrant enough.

charles keeps following pierre though, watching him, studying him, absolutely fascinated. until one day pierre looks straight at him in the cafe where he likes to get his morning coffee and a little pastry for breakfast. charles startles (humans aren’t supposed to be able to see him) but he immediately convinces himself that he must be imagining things.

so he settles back into his little corner table, cheek resting against his hand so he can look at pierre’s profile, his strong jaw and thick brows… until pierre looks up at him again. “you should take a picture,” pierre says, laughing, “it’ll last longer.”

charles looks around, but there’s no one but him in that corner and when he turns back forward again... pierre is still laughing (charles, of course, looks very beautiful with his big doe eyes going even wider with alarm).

“you are talking to me?” charles asks, shocked.

pierre raises his eyebrows. “what other pretty boys are staring at me so intensely in this cafe?”

charles’s cheeks heat up immediately, flustered at being caught… and at being called pretty. he finally smiles back at pierre, embarrassed, but pierre’s laughter is infectious. pierre gestures at charles to come over to his table and join him. charles can’t resist.

pierre offers to buy charles a drink which charles cautiously accepts, saying he’ll have what pierre is having (he doesn’t know what to pick bc he’s never had a human drink before). he takes a slow sip before coughing at the bitterness.

“not an espresso fan?” pierre asks and charles makes a face. he doesn’t want to be rude but… “of course let me get you something else.”

pierre comes back with a fresh cup and swaps the drinks so he has the rejected coffee and charles takes the new cup and—oh. he makes a little noise without meaning to, his whole body curling inward. it’s divine.

“so you like sweet things, just like you,” pierre teases and charles nearly upends his hot chocolate.

of course, charles knew pierre is something of a flirt, he’s been watching pierre for weeks now, studying him. but it’s different to be directly on the receiving end of that, all of pierre’s attention focused on him. on the flip side, pierre is also fascinated by how... sheltered charles seems to be, although charles occasionally says such funny things like an old character in an old book.

he asks charles if he’s from paris...? and charles hastily answers that he’s just visiting... “for work,” he adds after a long pause. pierre waits but charles doesn’t say anything more so he ends up filling in the silence with talk about his classes and his parttime job and his hometown—all things charles already knows about from studying pierre, but he listens closely anyway, attentive.

“i’ve been here a few years now,” pierre finally says, “if you want, i can show you around…”

“if you don’t mind,” charles says, all bright eyes and dimpled smiles, even though he’s seen paris since the days of haussmann.

so they have the most lovely day running around paris… and charles gets to try all the pastries he’s been curious about and walk down the bustling streets and smell the roses in the public gardens and go nto shops to touch all the different kinds of clothes and. it suddenly hits charles.

he wasn’t having trouble finding a match for pierre just because there was no one out there who would be compatible with pierre—there are plenty of perfectly nice, lovely people in paris.

it’s because he doesn’t want to give pierre up. he doesn’t want to be the one to turn pierre’s gaze with a secret, invisible touch towards some random human boy or girl. some stranger who isn’t charles.

“is there something wrong? are you cold?” pierre asks because he can feel charles tremble next to him. the sun has begun to set and it’s windy up high in this part of the city. he takes off his jacket and moves to put it around charles’s shoulders but charles grabs onto the front of his shirt.

“kiss me,” charles says out of the blue, but he sounds so desperate, and pierre can’t have that.

so pierre kisses charles, all wrapped up in pierre’s own jacket and clinging to pierre. it’s the kind of kiss that you see in the movies, slow and deep and perfect, and pierre can’t even stop to be surprised at how well they fit against each other. when they finally part, he can’t resist sneaking back in for one last soft little peck against charles’s swollen pink lips.

pierre laughs to himself a bit in surprise and charles looks at him curiously.

“it’s weird, i know we only just met, but i feel like i’ve known you for much longer that,” pierre explains, breathless. he’s still riding off the high of their kiss that it takes him a moment to realize that charles has gone stiff in his arms.

“what is it?” pierre asks, worried that he freaked out charles by being too forward, but charles shakes his head, pulling away.

“i’m sorry,” charles says, eyes wide and pained. “i should not have done that.”

“wait—” pierre tries to hold on but charles has already slipped out of pierre’s jacket, pushing it back into his arms.

“it was wrong of me,” charles says. “i should not have done that to you.”

pierre is so confused and he wants to protest that charles did nothing wrong, but charles just—disappears. one moment he’s there and the next he’s gone.

charles pops back into whatever magical realm he and the other minor deities and spirits exist on when he’s not amongst humans. he shouldn’t have kissed pierre. it goes against all the rules of being a cupid. he shouldn't have even been seen—how did pierre even see him in the first place???

(( the answer is the depth of emotion–human emotion–charles was experiencing for the first time allowed him to be seen by humans ))

(( love ))

[thedarklyblue]

he's so all or nothing jesus fuck

[mossterunderthebed]