#please look at the insane amounts of glitter i put on this

[bea-the-cool-guy]

✨ Rosalina space dress painting! ✨

This one's been sitting in my files for far too long, so I decided to finally post it =) It started off as a little doodle, but then I ended up spending literal days on it lolll

I seem to be in a real spacey-blue themed mood these days...

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Dionysus

Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus

Lucifer

Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"

First impressions were not on their side here.

He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.

But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???

For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!

But then he found out their little secret…

Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...

He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!

Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.

When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…

But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…

Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...

When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...

MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂

He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…

Mammon

Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!

Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.

MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"

Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!

And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.

He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?

He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?

He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!

Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️

And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!

At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…

They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌

Leviathan

Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!

No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??

… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!

They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)

Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…

Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*

MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!

Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*

MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*

Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*

MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢

Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?

MC: 😱 Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*

Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*

Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…

Satan

A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?

But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!

Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.

When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.

Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…

But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.

He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.

And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…

They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….

Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣

He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...

Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus 

Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!

He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!

He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏

And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.

But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...

There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩

He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...

Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!

Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)

Beelzebub

He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂

To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.

By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.

And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤

When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!

… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔 

From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄

SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!

Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤

Belphegor 

So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…

He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!

Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long! 

Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).

But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron?? 

Or… maybe it was something else?

Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…

MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?

How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?

So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…

...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!

It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"

It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…

The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact. 

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication. 

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive. 

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.” 

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both." 

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours. 

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it. 

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night. 

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you. 

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood. 

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you. 

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey. 

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.” 

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble. 

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek. 

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face. 

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” 

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.” 

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much. 

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends." 

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks. 

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises. 

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

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[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! This is the previous Ch2 snippets I posted + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so I’ve decided to post it snippet-by-snippet, because that seems like the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, please kindly let me know!!)

Im really excited about this snippet!! Definitely one of my favorite parts of the chapter!!

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!! I appreciate your kind comments so much!!

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who’ve shown interest!! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia, @lynnie51 @what-the-fuckaroni @masquejj

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid lightly charred if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

“I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”

“I could have gathered that myself, thank you very much!” Hades was clearly trying not to shout. “What was she doing?! Where was she going?!”

Zeus rolled folded his arms. “Does it matter?”

“Sure it matters! Well at least it’d be good to know!”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! What do you mean you don’t know?! She’s your wife—!”

“I said I don’t know!” he kicked the vending machine.

The air shattered and reformed itself.

Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice softening. “I…I don’t know.”

Two sides of him warred. One wanted to shout at Hades. He expected him to know where she was at all times? Oh yeah, that would go over well with her. What kind of helicopter husband would he be then?

And yet, it felt wrong for him not to know. Like some sort of failure. She was his wife. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have asked? Shouldn’t he care?

Hades’ gaze softened.

“I upset her.” Zeus murmured. “We got into a fight.”

Hades leaned against the wall. He was probably resisting the urge to say he could have gathered that too.

Zeus leaned his head forward onto the glass of the vending machine, his hair falling to the side, his reflection vaguely eyeing him.

“We got into a fight and she…I hadn’t even realized she went for a drive.” He paused, observing the chocolate and chips sitting in neat rows in the machine. “Do you think she liked Twyx?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she liked Twyx?”

Hades pondered it a moment. “Probably. She tends to like things with caramel in them.”

Zeus smiled wryly. “See? I didn’t even know that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask her all your burning questions about her favorite candy flavors very soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Zeus whispered.

Zeus was feeling a little off-kilter.

He nearly fell into a three-thousand drachma vase.

Okay, make that a lot.

The sound of heels on the staircase. The white one they’d painted for that one event…what had they been celebrating again?

His hazy gaze made her glitter even more than usual.

“Have I ever told you that you’re like the sea on a summer’s day?” Zeus’ voice came out blurry. He put his hand in his hair, trying to look sexy, you know, like the kind of guy you’d wanna forgive.

This was met by her hair slapping him in the face as she walked by him. She paused a few steps below him, turning.

“Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

“I may have had one—“ He hiccuped, “or five, appletinis.”

“And this is what? An intelligent conversation you’re trying to have?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Actually,” he held up a finger. The action made him feel off-balance so he leaned against the railing, trying to land in a sexy pose. “There is something I wanted to say.”

“You’re barely coherent when you’re sober, at least spare me until then.”

He rolled his eyes—(and made himself feel even dizzier).

She turned to go back up the stairs.

“Wait!” He shouted.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow as a cat’s. “What?”

“I-hic!” He covered his mouth as if embarrassed. Clearly emotion was dangerous. “I wasn’t trying to get wasted! I just-hic!-needed more than three or four to say this.”

“Oh yeah? Spit it out Grape Sorbet.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m…” he held on to the railing for support. “I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You…You were right.” He took a step closer.

“About what?” Her breath bated.

“I just…I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t…” He looked away. “I couldn’t tell you sober.”

“About what?” The words had a rough edge to them, her chest heaving with breath.

Ah. She knew. She knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

“I…I did cheat on you.”

“Wh-What?” Her eyes tinted red…but there was so much hurt in the word.

Fear and shame rose in tandem like ocean waves, threatening to bowl him over, and he realized that the truth wasn’t going to help at all. But all he could do was let it pour out of him.

“You-hic-You asked if I was with-hic—”

“Stop.” She covered her mouth as if to keep the worst words from spilling out, tears welling in her eyes.

“But I—”

“I said stop!” Her voice rang through the room like something shattering.

Maybe something was.

Her heels against the stairs, fast and sharp, and away.

“Wait!”

Turn around please, let me apologize, let me explain, I won’t do it again.

He threw up in the vase.

“Daddy? What was that all about?” The small voice made his blood run cold. “What did you cheat at? Were you playing a game?”

Zeus turned, horrified, to see Ares, hiding behind a crack in the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” He breathed. “It was stupid, really.”

Hades put a dollar in the vending machine and punched in a number.

“People say all kinds of things when they’re angry. Doesn’t mean you’re bad, just means you’re people. Which…” Hades looked him up and down, adding under his breath, “I wonder about sometimes.”

“...You must think I’m a terrible husband.”

Hades grabbed two chocolate bars and handed one to his brother.

“I think you need something sweet, maybe a little hydration, and some rest.”

Zeus unwrapped the bar and took a bite, not really tasting anything.

After a moment Hades sighed.

“It’s not so simple as that.” Hades said between bites, “I don’t necessarily think there’s such a thing as a ‘terrible husband’ or ‘the best husband.’ I…I don’t even think there’s such a thing as good and bad people. There’s just…people. There’s just husbands. But there are rules that come with being a person, and/or being a husband and…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, “you don’t always follow those rules.”

Zeus fell back against the wall, looking at the floor, denials dying in his throat.

It was raining.

No, actually it was pouring. And thundering. The lightning was like cracks in a collapsing sky, and Zeus’s gut was twisting like the snakes on the head of a gorgon.

“What? You-you think you can just undo this?!” Hera’s words were biting. “It’s done!” Her laugh was wry and sardonic, like an ache in her throat, red tainting the blue of her eyes. “You can’t just fix something like that! Once someone cheats at the game no one else just keeps playing!”

“It was a mistake! One stupid night!”

“One stupid night, huh?! Then how do you explain this?!” She held up his phone. The pictures. The…Oh Gaia.

The snakes in his gut bit down, and he bit his lip looking away. He hadn’t known she knew about that.

“You’ve got it all wrong! That was just—!”

“I thought you were different!” She bit off his excuse, the anger cracked, and the pain was bleeding through, and he wasn’t the only one making it rain: A tear fell down her face, then another, her mascara running black along her cheeks. “You made me smile, you made me laugh! You saved your brothers from your father. And I thought we could make a kingdom—a world—together!” She shook her head, grimacing, trying and failing to keep more tears from falling. “I thought we could be something!”

“We are! We have! I just made a mistake! I—!”

“No, Zeus.” There was a finality to her tone.

Tears streamed down her face now. He hated it when she cried. She didn’t do it often, and whenever she did he was ready to smite whoever hurt her but…he’d hurt her worst of all.

“I thought you were different. But you’re—“ the words were like an antique vase, riddled with cracks. “You’re just another bad guy.” She punched him in the arm, and the vase broke, the defiance into pain. She punched him in the arm…but it was weak and far too soft, and that’s how he knew she was really hurt; she could bring the sky down on him if she wanted.

She looked down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring with a finger.

“I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

Her wedding ring tinkled on the floor.

As she turned and walked away the word rang out like he was hoping his voice alone could rewrite his sins and bring her back:

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t make any indication she’d even heard him.

“Please…Please just wait.” These were soft.

He fell to his knees on the marble, scooping up her wedding ring and enclosing it in his fingers, holding it to his forehead, and trying not to bring the sky down upon himself.

He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her sad. But this? Seeing her break for him…was so much worse.

It reminded him too much of another time. Of a scar on her stomach. How she broke herself just to be his.

—(And he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it would have been better if he had been the one to break.)—

“There you are!” Said a voice. “You can come see her now,”—a cleared throat— “your Majesty.”

*

Notes: Aright, so this chapter had a few things I was unsure about I thought I’d ask about here!

1. Does anyone have any other clever play-on-words for candy brands? I feel like Zeus would know that she likes caramel in general, so it’d make more sense if Hades said “she likes [X similar candy] so she’d probably like Twyx.” But Twyx is all my brain came up with and I don’t even know that it’s all that good XD

2. I’m aware that the gods don’t call each other “people” they call each other “beings.” However, Hades’ lines don’t have as much impact with “beings.” Did the fact that I used “people” stick out too much? Should I change it to “beings”?

3. I know Ancient Greek wedding ceremonies are different from ours, and they might not even have wedding rings. But that image was so impactful for me I decided to use it. Should I remove it? Or did you find it impactful?

Please let me know if there’s anything you felt was inaccurate to their characters!!

Thanks so much for reading!! 💕💕

[greenninjagal-blog]

Let Me Hear You Scream pt2

Ready for more spooky vibes? If you missed the first part you can find it [here!]

Summary: Upon waking up in a forest he doesn't recognize, Roman vs a Bear Trap goes almost exactly how you would think it goes.

Words: 6374

TW: Bear traps, blood, violence,

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Roman has always had an unusually high pain tolerance. He had to, being twin brothers with Remus and all that. The sheer amount of danger the two of them got into as kids delegated that if he was anything less than completely indestructible, he’d be dead the next time Remus started a conversation with “I bet you won’t…”

He remembers that summer when Remus dared him to ride his bike down the concrete stairs, and he remembers how the wheels pitched him forward and his helmet cracked on the sidewalk, his knee skidded on the concrete, and his arm went snap with pain so white hot that Roman actually thought that the whole thing had popped right off his body entirely.

He remembers lying on the ground so shocked that he couldn’t even breathe, much less cry, and he remembers Remus laughing in the background, “I didn’t think you were going to actually do it! Oh shit, Ro? Roman! ROMAN!”

He remembers it so clearly.

“REMUS!” Roman shrieks into the forest, with tears rolling down his cheeks. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY, YOU FUCKER!”

His ankle burns. He can’t feel his toes, he can’t feel his ankle, he can’t feel anything, but there’s blood all over his hands and he can’t look down in case he faints.

His hands are trembling as they blindly work over whatever the fuck he stepped on. He can feel the slushie that he last ate, swirling in his stomach, boiling and bubbling until he feels it corroding his back molars. His fingers fumble around the… the metal teeth, oh god he’s going to vomit. His ankle screams in pain when his fingers prod too close to his actual limb. His ears echo with the painful awful SNAP of the jaw mechanism like its seared right into his soul.

“Remus,” He sobs, “I’m going to fucking kill you--”

Because there was a line here; Yeah, Remus dared him into a prank war with one of his stupid “I bet you wont, you prissy goody two shoes…” and Roman poured glitter into Remus’s laundry once, then Remus replaced Roman’s toothpaste with mayo, then Roman put white hair dye in Remus’s shampoo, and Remus swore he would get some type of revenge, even though he loved that look so much that he kept a stupid white streak in his hair. At least Roman thought he did-- He did, right?

Remus wasn’t the type to keep it to himself if he was upset. Neither of them were: Roman had perfected the art of loud sighs and dramatic monologues into a microphone and Remus had set things on fire to make people pay attention.

He didn’t-- wouldn’t--

He wouldn’t drag Roman into the middle of nowhere and make him walk into a bear trap for hair dye that would come out in another few weeks.

((Wouldn’t he?))

Everyone said Remus was insane, through whispered rumors and gossip that dissipated the moment that Roman walked into the room. Roman hadn’t ever seen the insanity himself; he grew up with Remus chasing squirrels in the park and diving into dumpsters for cool treasures and it was normal. Remus had always found humor in strange and weird things and as they had grown up those things had become less real and more abstract and Roman still didn’t think it meant that Remus would do this.

The forest is dense around him, stupid, dark; Roman isn’t sure he could recognize it even if he had a map in front of him, but then again Remus was always the more environmentally aware person of the two of them. He doesn’t know where Remus went the fuck off to either-- he’s brain is fuzzy at everything more than a few seconds ago when he blinked opened his eyes and took one step forward into a metal death trap, but he… he thought Remus had been right beside him, so close that… that…. His head is singing with pain and the backs of his eyes are melting.

“Hey!” A voice calls out and Roman flinches so hard that the metal spikes dig into his ankle and his scream strangles him.

Roman blinks back his tears just in time to see a figure stumble right out the thickets nearby, with the grace of a new born fucking dear. Roman swears in every language he knows and then some he doesn’t as the person scrambles back to their feet and zeroes in on him with an expression that Roman usually associates with the memory of his science teacher right before she demonstrated how to break a frog's ribcage for their dissection.

“No,” Roman says, “No, back off--”

He tries to scoot back and agony shoots up his leg so bright and violent that his vision whites out.

“Don’t move,” the person says, holding up their palms up suddenly to show they were unarmed or something. Roman isn’t sure what that’s supposed to do when he knows that Remus himself has never needed a weapon to be a lunatic. “I’m going to try to help.”

“Do not fucking come near me,” Roman snarls. “Who are you? One of Remus’s fucking little friends--”

“I assure you I don’t know a Remus, but you are in pain and believe I am qualified to help.”

“Fuck off!”

Roman swears that the pain is getting to his head, meddling with his thoughts like alcohol except not fun and Roman would not suggest anyone repeat this experience. The stranger-- Remus’s friend or whatever-- is staring at him with a patient impatience: like his mother waiting for him to finish his story before she runs off to answer a call on her work phone. They’re older than Roman, by a year or two, with sharp cheekbones and back framed glasses of a stereotypical nerd but a height that makes it hard to even imagine anyone looking down on them. Their eyes are colder than ice, and frost wafts off their breath. They’ve got a sweater vest on, with a tie, and converse dotted with glow in the dark paint in the shape of space nebulas.

Between his teary eye lashes Roman thinks that this guy looks incredibly tame for someone who associates with Remus and he fights the urge to vomit.

Is his leg supposed to be feeling cold?

Oh god, was he going to lose his foot? His breath swells up in his lungs, like a balloon pressing against his ribs. He wouldn’t be able to walk without a foot-- He wouldn’t be able to move or leave these woods or get help-- Remus and his psycho friends could easily cut up the rest of his body and let the wolves get him and then at school when someone would ask what happened to that dumbass who used to make dumb jokes on air during the football games, everyone will be like “Who?” and “didn’t Remus used to have an annoying twin? What happened to that guy?” and no one will ever find him because no one would car--

“Please,” The Doctor Who-ever says, in a faux calm tone as Roman nearly swallows his tongue. “I have medical knowledge, and you are clearly in distress.”

Agony races up his leg and Roman whimpers again. He swears he can hear the sound of metal grinding against his ankle bones, biting in deep and forcing the marrow to crack and shatter and explode until it's just a bunch of broken glass-like fragments under his skin. His head feels light and he frantically breathes deeply because he is not going to pass out, he is not going to make it that eas--

He’s cut off by a sudden crashing from behind behind himself: snapping of branches like a wild animal is tearing through them, the crunch of dead leaves steadily getting louder and heavy and deadlier, the swearing that are all tell-tale sounds of Remus crashing directly into someone and both of them eating the dirt as they barrel through the thickets and roll to a stop a few feet away.

Nerdicus jerks back like they were expecting anything less of Remus’s spectacular grand entrance.

Roman bites down on his tongue to stop himself from outright whimpering. Remus, his twin, his mirror image, rolls back to a sitting position like a possessed doll coming to life, untangling his limbs from another crumpled, groaning form that must be some other friend of his, and snapping them back in place because what are limbs to a maniac like him? The setting sun paints him in an eerie light and Roman’s skin itches with equal parts rage and terror at him, for dragging them out there, for putting out bear traps, for doing all this as pay back for a stupid little prank in a prank war he fucking started--

Remus’s laughter is obnoxious as always and Roman tries not to flinch at the sound of it alone, holding back a white wash of fear with just his force of will.

His other friend is another person that Roman hasn’t seen before-- not that he spends a lot of time getting to know the faces of the delinquents that his brother hangs out with. They’ve got on black jeans and a black T-shirt with one of those reversible sequin designs in the shape of a skull. Their blond hair dances in the last dregs of the evening, even as they pull a leaf from their bangs and yanks their dirty yellow beanie back over their head.

“Holy shit!” Remus says, spitting out dirt from his mouth. “Is that a bear trap?”

“Remus!��� Roman whimpers with a tight throat. “This isn’t funny!”

“Au contraire! I left you alone for like five seconds and now you’re in a bear trap!” There’s a glint in Remus’s eyes and Roman recognizes it from those times when Remus climbed too high in the trees back at home, when he stared at a growing flame of a match too long, when he reached across the console and yanked on the steering wheel, screaming Roman’s name--

Roman brain pulses to the point where he can feel it knock against his skull and that hurts almost as much as ankle and he swears he sees stars on the backs of his eyelids and he does not want those to be the last stars he ever sees.

Remus swoops towards him and Roman flinches back, nearly screaming when his leg jostles.

“Chill out, Prince Charmless,” his twin says, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna get it off. What’s your range of movement?”

“Do not come any closer to me, you asshole!”

“You can’t get that thing off yourself,” Remus says.

“And whose fault is that?” Roman snaps.

Remus freezes, tilting his head slightly to the side. His rat's nest of hair creates an unearthly silhouette as he looks down at Roman, something straight out his Halloween horror films, and Roman bares his teeth in warning. He’s not thinking about how Remus’s foot can stomp down on his injured, trapped leg, he’s not thinking about how there’s no one around for miles, he’s not thinking about how there’s nothing and no one to stop him from straight out fratricide--

“Why am I suddenly getting the feeling you think I know what the flying fuck is going on here?” Remus asks.

“Don’t you?”

“No!” Remus says, delightedly, happily, cheerfully and his voice makes some distant bird caw. “I thought you snapped and took me to the woods to kill me yourself! This is much more boring now that I know I haven’t managed to break your last shreds of sanity.”

“Why would I--”

“This is ridiculous,” Glasses McGee cuts in sharply, adjusting said glasses with their index finger. “We need to remove your foot from that trap now.” They look at Remus and the other person. “Are either of you knowledgeable about the mechanics of bear traps?”

Remus throws two thumbs up, and Roman remembers vaguely a rant from a year or two ago about unethical bear hunting and steel jaw traps and how animals would step in and then lay there for days suffering as their mangled limb held them captive regardless of them trying to chew it off for freedom and oh god he’s going to be sick--

“Roman,” Remus says somewhere beyond the screaming in his head. “Oh shit.” It sounds like he’s far away and distant, or maybe underwater and Roman is drowning. He can’t seem to breathe anymore, like the teeth biting into his ankles had wrapped around his chest and was slowly crushing him.

People are moving around him, faint voices talking and then suddenly burning blinding white hot pain that shoots all the way up to the back of his eyes.

He screams and bites down only to find there’s something in his mouth-- fibers and the unmistakable taste of wool and Roman nearly gags on it. He blinks back the foggy pain and finds that he’s leaning on Remus and Webster Dick-tionary is pressing a multicolored sweatshirt to his leg delicately with the bear trap fully closed a few feet away, tethered to the ground with a heavy metal chain coated in a red paint that makes Roman’s vision sway all over again. The slushie claws back up his throat and he gags.

There’s someone new standing just behind the nerd: a very pretty person in a pretty skirt and headphones with cat ears on them around his neck. The splash of freckles and the round glasses makes them look a bit younger than the rest of them, but that could also be Roman’s brain twisting things around the moment that they wince in sympathy as the nerd prods part of his ankle.

They’re magnificent, Roman decides with a dizzying certainty. They’re the sun in the middle of this dark and dreadful forest, the stars in the night sky, the lighthouse in the storm guiding Roman back from complete devastation with just those shiny eyes behind cracked lens.

The other person, the one in the black skull shirt, Sid from Toy Story come to life, is standing just behind him and Remus, looking on distastefully from a good distance away. It takes Roman a moment to realize he’s biting down on the guy’s beanie, and gross. He spits it out at the same time as the nerd presses too close to where the trap had caught him.

“Son of a Witch!” He hisses. “A dragon witch, a fucking---”

“Oh, boo,” Remus says. “He’s alive.”

“He was not in any immediate danger of dying,” Space Case says firmly. “And isn’t he your brother?”

“Looks like someone is an only child,” Remus says. The person in black reaches out and snatches back his beanie, his entire face curling into some disgusted expression as they hold the part with Roman’s saliva away from themself.

“Wonderful,” they say in deadpan and stuff the beanie in their back pocket.

Roman blinks, struggling to sit up by himself. He scrubs his face trying to get rid of his tears, and buries that boiling humiliation being the center of attention like this. Of course, he has to be grievously injured for anyone to care about him, for anyone to take a moment to look at him, for anything--

Remus lets him go, stretching up and yawning like nothing about this is weird or strange or scary to him.

Part of Roman is reassured by that. Like, of course Remus isn’t terrified out of his mind; what is there to be scared of when he’s the most terrifying thing in a 100 mile radius? When he handcuffed himself to the doors of the city history museum to protest its demolishment even though the wrecking ball was right there, when he wore a mini skirt to school to protest the dress code even though he’d been beat up for less before, when he marched into the Governor’s office when he was refused a meeting about the rescinding of the pollution standards in the the county and laughed in the face of the armed guards that told him to leave.

Remus had an endless supply of guts and determination and Roman had wished for so long that his reckless bravery could be contained, controlled and banished, but now it kinda felt like Remus slipping a familiar jacket over Roman’s shoulders and telling him to relax.

Google.com-- Roman is seriously running out of names for them-- leans in and tears the new holes in Roman’s jeans further-- Roman grimaces at the thought of having to buy another pair to make up for this, but the nerd expertly uses the excess fabric to tie up his wound with a professional precision.

“Alright, Doc Oct,” Remus says while they work. “What is the diagnosis? Amputation? Do I need a body bag?”

“I just said that he was not in danger of dying,” they say, finishing the knot which only causes Roman to grunt a little bit. “And my name is Logan, if you must know. I am not a full medical doctor by any means, but I believe that he will recover fully; the trap broke skin and there will likely be a nasty amount of bruising deep in the muscle tissue, but he will recover in a few weeks of rest. It will probably be best to keep weight off your foot as much as possible.”

“See, drama queen?” Remus says to Roman, shoving his shoulder. “You’re fine.”

Roman gives him double middle fingers for his trouble and tries not to shake too hard with relief. He stares down at his leg, forcing a steady breath through his lungs and out his nose, and wonders with a dizzying amazement how his leg was not only in one piece but recoverable, after all the pain. He isn’t sure that it’s not just the placebo effect of someone saying that everything’s going to be okay, but he wiggles his toes and swears that the pain only wracks his limb moderately this time.

Even closed, the bear trap looked menacingly at them: Roman’s blood on the jaws that were curled into a ghoulish grin, just waiting for someone to get close enough to open and bite down on. He’s not sure how Remus and the Doctor Doolittle-- Logan-- managed to get it off him.

Logan turns and offers the sweater to the person in the skirt. “Ah, sorry, I’m afraid the blood has…”

Roman sucks in another breath at the sight of it: the bright splotchy blobs of red that bled through the pastel tye dye design that would likely never come out and eternally remain a reminder of how Roman put his foot directly in a bear trap like an idiot-- What would he have done if there was no one around? Died? His own stupidity had ruined such a nice piece of clothing and--

“It’s okay!” The angel says with a somewhat cartoonish voice. Roman blinks in surprise at the sweetness of it, tasting sugar even as the words hold over the air. He swears he can envision their I’s dotted with hearts; a soft and kind tone despite the fact that Roman had ruined their sweater. “I’m much more relieved he’s going to be okay!”

“Let’s not get too excited,” Doctor Doom says, causing Roman to stiffen and Remus to glance back curiously towards them. They’re turned away from the rest of the mismatched, miscellaneous group, looking into the trees with a gaze that makes Roman’s stomach roll over and not in any way that is even remotely good.

“What?”

They glance back at them with an expression something that Roman can only call shifty. Like a snake before it strikes, they’re poised on the balls of their feet, coiled with the power to move at a seconds decision. Untrustable, Undependable, Unkind-- and Roman squares his shoulders just to prove to himself that there isn’t actually a dagger point about to plunge into his back.

The person’s voice is silky smooth, but Roman can’t find it in himself to be jealous when the meaning of the next words hit. “I don’t suppose any of you remember just exactly how we came to be here, do you?”

The woods echo with a strange emptiness, like the trees themselves are holding their breaths. The silence is eerie-- Roman’s never been a forest this quiet. He’s never been anywhere this quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck raise up.

Logan and the shining, shimmering, lovely vision share a look and the former shrugs, occupying their hands with tying their sweater around their waist.

“It’s fuzzy,” they admit, thoughtfully. “I was leaving my dorm...and then…” They grimace, which is downright awful to witness: Roman doesn't think anyone deserves to look so uncomfortable, and certainly not a beauty like them. “...then I was here.”

Logan makes a sour face like he managed to misplace a decimal twenty seven steps back in his math equations. “I was uncharacteristically late to class, but I seem to have some form of amnesia surrounding the hours since then as well; It was just past two.”

Dr. Facilier-turned-teenager turns to Roman, their eyes asking a question they already know the answer to. And part of Roman wants to snarl at them, tell them to knock it off with the creepy aura and better-than-you-expression, explain to them exactly how they ended up all here together because there’s a logical, causal explanation.

But Remus is already laughing. “Oh come on! We were…. What were we doing again?” Remus freezes for a moment, some of the smile leaving his face. “Ro? Where were we…?”

Remus is dressed in another one of his ripped T-shirts, the Save the Turtles one that he wore to that protest a few months ago and when he volunteered to clean up beaches for the weekend. His sleeves are ripped off to show off the endangered Tiger tattoo on his shoulder up to his neck, and his jeans are the recycled ones that he bought second hand and begged Roman to repair rather than buy a new pair and “give his money to the capitalists that are trying to kill us all”.

In comparison, Roman is wearing his letterman jacket, with his name engraved on it that he got for being the announcer for the football team three years in a row. He’s wearing his announcer uniform too-- his hair is styled and his colors are coordinated to the white and red of their school, but Remus never comes to the football games anymore.

Or well, he’s not allowed to come to the games anymore after he stole the tuba from the band players and charged into the field during the game back in their freshman year.

Still he-- remembers… he thinks he remembers... They were in the car together, Remus needed to go somewhere and Roman had to drop him off and then speed off to the game, right? Remus' feet were up on his dashboard, mud flaking off into his freshly cleaned car, his air fresheners weren’t working, they were fighting over the radio, Remus’s hand reached out, latching on to the wheel and a scream--

“Fuck,” Remus says, rubbing the side of his head like Roman had slapped him. “Did you crash our car out here?”

“Me?” Roman says, incredulously.

“Yeah!” Remus says. “Did you get brain damage in the crash too? Are your brains going to fall out? You were the one driving, dumbass.”

“You grabbed my steering wheel!”

Remus snorts. “What? No, I didn’t?”

“Yes you did!”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“I wouldn’t get anything out of--”

“Boys!” Skeletar says, clapping to get their attention. “Less arguing, more answering the question.”

Remus looks at Roman and Roman glares right back because he did not crash the car. Between the two of them Remus was more likely to crash a car-- proven from how he totaled their green Ford Fiesta nine months ago and now even around the pounding headache he can still remember the feeling of surprise as Remus’s sporadic movement jumbled through his own, the yank that caused him to lose control, the-- the--

He doesn’t remember what happened after that, but he knows that then Roman had opened his eyes out here, taken a step forward, and nearly lost his foot to a bear trap.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Logan says. “Even if perhaps you happened to have a car around here, that does not explain how the rest of us came to be here. And likely from the events that you are describing the car is not in functional condition-- although I’m unsure how your persons would have come out of such a thing without a few visible injuries…”

“I didn’t crash the car,” Roman says firmly.

“Oh, like you didn’t step into a bear trap?” Remus asks innocently antagonistically.

“Why are there bear traps out here anyway!” Roman hisses. “Isn’t bear hunting or whatever illeg--”

Roman almost doesn’t hear it: it starts so softly and then it raises in pitch and suddenly it's ringing in the air like cracks in the fragile glass silence. He feels his breath disappear right out of his chest, his body tensing and everyone jerks towards the direction the sound comes from, like they’re expecting to see something out there.

Roman remembers hearing people yell at Remus to get out of the way of the wrecking ball, remembers hearing the teachers snap at him to go change into his gym clothes, remembers the armed guard spitting on Remus’s face, his own shouts turning to something just above an animalistic growl when he told Remus to knock it off, you’re making me look bad.

And still he doesn’t remember hearing anything sound so horrified. So desperate. So despondent.

It is the noise that causes Roman to break out in goosebumps, electricity dancing along his skin causing all of his hairs to raise, and himself to find it suddenly very hard to swallow. Roman is scrambling back before he can remember that his foot should not be moving and he bumps into Logan as he does.

It cuts off short and disappears like someone took a pair of scissors to the sound itself, snipping the scream for help away before it reaches the end.

And Roman doesn’t think anyone is breathing anymore. His heart pounds in his chest, waiting for the rest of it.

The trees cast shadows so deep and dark that not even the moonlight will touch them. Somehow without Roman noticing, the temperature had dropped until the air feels like frostbite licking his exposed skin. Roman doesn’t dare move another inch-- doesn’t like the idea of what might happen if he reminds the rest of the world that time is still passing.

“I…” the person in the skull T-shirt says, in a very low, strangled tone. “I don’t think bears are what's being hunted.”

“No,” Roman says, “No.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna be sick,” the person in the skirt says.

“No!” Roman says, throwing out his arms before his thoughts can catch up. “This is not--”

“We need to leave,” Logan says, face pale. “Now.”

“I think I saw a gate,” Remus said, no hint of his unhinged grin. He thumbs the direction that he and Kaa came from. “I pulled the switch but it didn’t open. I thought about climbing but there are no holds and barbed wire around the top--”

“It’s likely lacking a power source then,” Logan says steadily calm and Roman feels like he’s losing his whole goddamned mind. “Let me take a look at--”

“We are not being hunted right now!” Roman blurts out.

The others stare at him for a solid, endless second and Roman’s stomach threatens to crawl up his throat. He waits for them to agree with him, waits for them to laugh and call it a joke, waits for Remus to tell him he’s so easy to scare, come on Ro, did you really think there was a murderer in these woods? This is grade school level effort!

Roman gets the feeling that he’s going to be waiting a very long time.

“Guys,” Roman says, slightly more wobbly than he means it to, slightly more softer than he means it to, slightly more terrified than he means it to. “We aren’t being hunted for sport, right?”

Because-- Because he’s seen horror movies. And he remembers once how Remus poured a bag of popcorn over his head and said that if they were ever in that situation, he’d leave Roman to rot, maybe even toss him to the killer himself, laugh as Roman screamed and begged and cried.

He doesn’t look at his foot. He doesn’t look at his foot and think about how he can’t run. He doesn't look at his foot and realize that they’re going to leave him behind and no one will ever know what happened to him and no one will care--

Remus is suddenly right in front of him, offering a hand right into Romans face. Roman blinks back the burning tears on his cheeks and looks at the limb with a trembling lip.

“Come on,” Remus says. “You’re a little bitch when you ruin your mascara, Ro.”

And Roman tries to articulate the billions of insults he has in his brain, but all that comes out is a whimper as Remus latches on to his wrist and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles the moment that he tries to put weight on his foot, flickers of pain echoing in his brain although it's not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Remus pulls Roman over his shoulder with his injured leg raised between them and all of his weight on Remus’s shoulders.

“I’m not leaving you behind, dumbass,” Remus says.

((Why wouldn’t he?))

“We need to help them,” the person in the skirt, the good and just and wonderful person in a skirt, says suddenly.

“I don’t think they need our help,” Hans Gruber-minus-the-German-accent says. “In fact, I don’t think they need anything, anymore.”

“How could you say that?!”

“Easily,” they respond, shortly.

The person in the skirt is shaking, Roman realizes. They’re shaking and hugging themself and they look slightly green in the face.

“I came from over there,” they say from behind trembling hands. “I-- I didn’t hear anyone else over there but they must have been there and I-- I can’t--”

“They’re dead,” Dr. Jerkyll says clinically, like a surgeon with a knife. “Us rushing towards that area is only going to get us attacked next. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die, thank you very much.”

“We can’t leave them!” The other argues.

The person in the skull shirt steps towards the other and grabs their upper arm to spin them back to the direction the scream came from. Then with a derisive and terrible sneer, they shove. The cutie in the skirt stumbles forward, nearly face planting on the uneven ground.

“Then you go help them,” they say, with streaks of faint and awful moonlight painting them in a pale halo. They wave back to Logan, Remus and Roman, and Roman feels very much like he doesn’t want to be included in this group all of a sudden. “Don’t drag the rest of us into it.”

“Hey, don’t be a dick!” Roman says, stepping forward and hissing when he places a slight weight on his foot. “What if it were you out there?”

They scoff. “Me? I would never let myself get caught by a psycho murderer in the woods. But if I did, the last thing I would want is my valiant savior to come charging to my rescue and then get slaughtered right beside me like an idiot!”

“I’ll keep that in mind, you slimy snake,” Roman says.

“I bet you will, Hiccup,” they shoot back. “The gate is this way. Try not to step in another bear trap, won’t you?”

“Damn!” Remus says, “You’re a bitch! What’s your opinion on plastic in the sea?”

Roman slaps Remus’s arm and gives him a glare because really? Right now? They’re in the woods, someone just screamed and probably got murdered, they don’t know how to get out, Roman’s injured, and Remus is doing one of his weird flirting attempts.

Great.

The person in the skull shirt at least looks slightly thrown by the question, narrowing their eyes and shaking their head as they turn away as if they can brush off the rest of the group. “The sea turtles are dying.” They say blandly, without a hint of actual emotion. “Oh no. Next time I see one I will give my condolences about it’s mother.”

Remus’s mouth pops open for a retort that Roman knows is going to be bad, but before he can get the words out, there’s a loud sound of cracking branches from behind them. Remus drags Roman back from the area, planting himself in front of Roman like some kind of human shield and Roman wobbles, without anything to put his injured leg on.

“Jesus Christ!” A new voice screams, as they trip over a thicket and fall into the clearing.

They move like a blur; barely more than a shadow with the ungodly amount of black they’re wearing. Roman can make out a pale face, dark bangs and terrified eyes, before the scramble back in the ground leaving… leaving smears of deep red on the ground in front of them. Their flashlight goes flying off to Logan’s feet, but they don’t seem to care as much about that as moving away from whatever is behind them.

The air tastes like metal, like copper, and Roman swears the world sways under him. His heartbeat blares in his ears almost louder than the newcomer’s hysterical sobs.

There’s a thud. And another.

And the trees themselves seem to shake and draw from the shadow that takes form. It peels away from the others, massive, hulking and distorted in all the wrong ways: at some point it must have been human, Roman thinks hysterically. It has two legs and two arms and a torso and a head, but it's elongated towering over even Logan at his ridiculous height. Its skin is covered in soot and dirt, layers upon layers to the point where Roman almost thought that it was wearing some kind of leather armor. It has rubber overalls on, strapped...strapped to its body with metal hooks that catch the thin moonlight peeking out of its bulging bare shoulders in a way that looks…looks self mutilated. The patchy ugly skin is healed around the metal, molded to it, absorbing it. In one hand is a cleaver, cobbled together from various metals with an unfinished touch and dripping scarlet all the way down the handle to its massive hands. Roman thinks that with one hand it could easily crush one of their skulls.

But worse than that, than the blood, than the stench coming from the thing, than the bloodlust that's echoing out of it: worse than all that is the mask welded to its face. A pale white skin that nearly glows in the darkness, framed with jagged sharp edges of bladed teeth in a terror inducing smile. Soulless orbs exist where eyes might have once been: now there are empty voids without a human behind them.

In a slow, almost robotic motion, it raises the cleaver in its hand. Blood rolls down the handle onto it’s hand and Roman watches the bulb of red drip down into the grass right between the newcomer’s sneakers.

Oh, Roman thinks suddenly very clearly without any room for a single doubt, This is what death looks like.

“NO!” The person in the skirt screams and suddenly they shove forward and throw themselves in front of the swing of the cleaver. Roman isn’t sure who screams louder at that: him, the person in the skirt, or the person on the ground bleeding out.

His brain is on fire, every atom in him is screaming so loud that he can’t hear his thoughts. His own breath flees his lungs with abandon that Roman’s brain somehow hadn’t gotten because instead of running away he’s running towards the monster. His blood boils in his veins and he pushes through Remus with the sort of reckless abandonment of sanity he never would have thought he’d ever make.

His vision locks onto the kid on the ground and his fingers latch on their left shoulder and he hauls them back.

The air next to his ear whistles as the cleaver misses them by centimeters and the person in the skirt screams as they fall to the side, and specks of something wet and warm and sticky flings through the air like its a water fountain; Roman feels it splatter across his face and his brain heart thuds in his chest.

Remus appears on his other side, grabbing Roman’s hostage by their other arm and they both pull them to their feet, ignoring the way they scream in pain. Their torso drips ruby into the dead grass at their feet and Roman-- Roman--

The hulking monster in front of them gives his cleaver a shake and drags it over its own arm to wipe away the blood, like it's nothing more than a hindrance. It turns its entire body towards the person in the skirt, the gorgeous selfless angel of a person that Roman hasn’t gotten the name of-- of someone he isn't going to get the same of because the abomination raises the cleaver again.

Roman screams because he does not want to watch someone die, please he doesn’t want to be in this nightmare anymore, wake up wake up wakeup--

There’s a brilliant white light that explodes at the last second. Roman himself jerks away from it, but that’s nothing compared to the inhuman howl that the creature makes as it stumbles back to the edge of the forest, covering its beady eyes with its massive hands.

Logan flicks the flashlight off and grabs the person in the skirt by their uninjured arm and looks back at them only briefly with an air of finality.

“RUN!” He says.

And Roman does.

[awkwardspontaneity]

I'm so excited to see another Zelda blog here!! Could I get a Botw matchup please?

🔮 18 yo Bisexual Demigirl (She/They Nonbinary)

🔮 Chronically Ill and Autistic, with a lot of chronic pain and fatigue. Naps are very common for me

🔮 I’m not that athletic, but I do enjoy working out with my punching bag and taking walks. I LOVE adventures, but I sometimes worry about going on them because of my health.

🔮 Very short, 4’ 11” tall, with an androgynous build and style. I’m not very curvy at all.

🔮 Messy mane of brown hair that I usually wear in a low bun, glasses and lots of moles

🔮 I practice Witchcraft and Folk magic, and am a Published Author

🔮 Also a big science nerd, especially for Biology

🔮 I suffer from anxiety and intrusive thoughts, so I can be isolated and pretty melancholic

🔮 I think very deeply about things, and am simultaneously very smart and incredibly stupid. High wisdom / Low intelligence, I suppose, since I’m “wise beyond my years” but can lack common sense

🔮 I’m very excitable, open, polite and friendly, if not a bit aloof, flustered and socially awkward

🔮 I just wanna have a good time and enjoy myself, and I fluctuate between a good amount of confidence and feeling insecure

🔮 My entire personality is that I’m the sweetest soul to everyone, but I will go for the throat when genuinely wronged. Do no harm, take no shit

🔮 My love language is Physical Touch, though I also love making and giving gifts to people

🔮 I love the Arts, from Dance to Craftsmanship

🔮 Interests include Dungeons & Dragons, Lord of the Rings, Moomins, Fantasy, Cottagecore, Mythology, Animation, Witchcraft, Nintendo games and Food

🔮 I love going outside, I can’t stand being cooped up inside for days, it absolutely drives me insane

Heyyy!! I'm super happy to join the Zelda blogdom, thank you for the welcome!! Thank you so much for the request I hope you like it!! You sound like a wonderful person!! Remember to eat, rest, and stay hydrated💕

I match you with Mipha 🐟

🔮Do I hear Witchy Cottagecore Waifus???

🔮You and Mipha would be a great pair because you both love the outdoors. I mean she lives in the water and she would know the best hiking spots near waterfalls and rivers.

🔮Mipha gets a little nervous when you go poking things that could be dangerous so she's always close by. She loves your curious nature, she doesn't love when you try to look at a fish or glowing coral and fall into the river

🔮 All you have to do is ask and she'll take you up a waterfall with her. Shes a little nervous because of your illness, but she's a magic healer so those worries go away pretty fast.

🔮 Any time your illness does happen to pick up or get particularly bothersome she'll be ready to spend a day in with you. She'll bring you food, hold you close, and use that healing to massage the magic into your aches and pains

🔮I headcannon Mipha to have skin like a shark, so a but rough but also smooth(idk how to explain it) so cuddling with her would actually be nice. She gives off a heat that keeps you warm in the cool Zora temperatures and she'll read to you as you lay on her chest.

🔮She's also not opposed to being the little spoon so you would get to hold her whenever you wanted. Sometimes after long days with the other Champions or having to heal many others she'll come to you and nuzzle against your side. It's like a puppy asking for attention, she's just too shy to use words.

🔮One of Miphas favorite things is walking around and finding you napping. It could be the most random spot and you would be curled up, glasses slipping off your face. She thinks it's adorable. She'll always pick you up carefully and bring you back to your bed.

🔮 Mipha loves to read your books and you can often find her rereading one or, if you allow it, glancing over pages you're working on. She loves your writing and supporting you any way she can. 20/10 supportive gf

🔮 Mipha would never say it, but she gets very nervous around you when you practice punching. She might die if anyone read in her diary that your strength and your dedication is very attractive. She gets this moony eyed look and once you grinned at her in between sets. She has never tripped over herself so much in her life

🔮She does worry you'll end up with split knuckles from punching and, no matter how much she loves how strong you are, she'll be right there with a light scolding and her magic touch.

🔮Speaking of magic, you both have so many conversations about magic. You could go on for hours comparing the styles of magic and what helps you get in touch with that part of you.

🔮You both learned how to make charms so you could pass them along to eachother, some even having secret meanings only the two of you understand.

🔮You both also have dates where you go out to collect ingredients for you magical mixtures

🔮Your love of mythology would be fed by the Zora Domain seeing as they're fish people and all. You could wander around the Domain hand in hand asking questions about the history and what kind of sea creatures live within the depths of the waters.

🔮Mipha loves to answer your questions and you always answer hers about your art, you taught her to dance once and now she'll drag you to glowing arches in the rain so you can dance as the lights glitter off each raindrop

🔮Your ability to stand your ground would be great for Mipha because she's not the type to snap at people. You like to come with her when she goes places because you get to adventure and if someone even thinks of being rude to her, you're right there to put them in their place.

🔮 Mipha can stand up to people when she has to. A member of the Yiga clan once attacked you both and the moment they got the tiniest scratch on you was the angriest you had ever seen Mipha. You were pretty sure the Yiga clan was actually scared of the Zora now after the beating they got.

🔮When you suffer from intrusive thoughts and anxiety Mipha will sit beside you as long as you need. She will hold you close and let you talk things through if you need to

🔮If your thoughts are scaring you she will hear them out and give you reasons that she would never let anything bad happen to you. She never tells you it's silly or that it's impossible, she'll simply help you find an answer to the thoughts that can dispell your worries

🔮 She's your biggest cheerleader and the two of you never run out of things to talk about it do together. Whether it's quiet time napping and cuddling, or going out on adventures, the two of you are always together having a good time

🔮overall 10/10 cute couple who makes you feel their love just by being around them

[otome-on-the-side]

What’s Your Deal, Solomon? 

Solomon & GN! reader 

fluff

word count: 1,364 

Ao3 version 

MC & Solomon talk over drinks they shouldn’t, technically, have                           ______________________________________________________________  

    Adjusting to your new living conditions took time.      You were more than a little disappointed when you learned that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the house of lamentation. “Wasn’t allowed,” meaning Lucifer immediately shot down the suggestion when you proposed it, threatening to provide something with an alcohol percentage high enough to dissolve your frail, human skin if you insisted. 

     You knew the brothers got drunk off of something, but they did it well away from the eldest’s supervision. You didn’t really want to ask them what they drank, or to hook you up- getting mocked or, worse, dragged to a bar and left alone in the devildom, wasn’t all that appealing to you.         With the implication that booze wasn’t smiled upon in the dorms, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you witnessed your fellow human exchange student discreetly sipping out of a flask. It was the end of the day, so couldn’t really judge him for imbibing.  

   Solomon caught you staring and smiled, putting a finger over his lips.     Panicking, you copy the gesture, trying to silently convey that you won’t snitch on him. At this, his smile deepens, and he opens his D.D.D.      Your pocket buzzes, and you pull out your own device to see that he’s texting you.  

‘I’m assuming you can keep a secret?’  

     And with that, you arrange to “study” at the purgatory hall with your “close friend” Solomon. Lucifer was less than pleased to hear this, and was reluctant to drop you off. You weren’t thrilled to take the equivalent of the demon fuzz to your ‘illegal’ hooch rendezvous either, but safety prevailed over a possibly disappointed and huffy Lucifer. It wasn’t your fault Mammon had work that evening. But you had planned for this meeting with that in mind.        Witnessing the awkward standoff between Simeon and the avatar of pride at the purgatory hall’s front door almost made it worth it.        There was something deeply amusing about an angel delighted with Lucifer’s presence, while the demon seemed like he couldn’t leave (politely, these exchanges were always frigidly polite) fast enough.      

    You try to tamp down the amused grin on your face as you slip past the two, Lucifer calling after you to inform you that Mammon will be picking you up after he’s done working. You don’t even turn to respond as you wave behind you, wordlessly signaling that you’ve heard him and ushering him to leave as you disappear from sight.     

    You’re overjoyed to easily find Solomon in the front hall, waiting for you.     “Any trouble getting here?” He asks politely, making small talk as he leads you further into the dorm.     You answer with no, that you had no trouble and you both continue with your polite chatter as you enter his room.      It’s pretty similar to your own, though the color scheme is wildly different, the lighting is dimmer, and with a sturdy desk over the table you have; clearly meant for a single person to study at.  Solomon opens a drawer from the desk and pulls out a bottle of Amber liquid, and glasses from within a cabinet.    “Whiskey?” You ask.  

   “Rum, actually. I do have some Whisky if you prefer, but…” He trails off, his smile, while still polite, is knowing. 

   “Rum’s good.” You affirm. “I don’t think I have the refined palette for casual Whiskey drinking, if I’m honest.”  

   “I only really use it when I need to trade favors, if I’m honest,” he speaks as he pours your glass.    When he hands you your glass, he remains standing. You politely remain standing as well, chatting with him as time passes, going through a couple glasses.      As he goes to pour you a third, he seems to notice you awkwardly shifting your  weight from foot to foot- you’ve begun to tire, your drunken state becoming obvious. He pulls one of his more cozy chairs towards the desk after he hands back your glass. You only sit after he does, placing your glass on the desk next to his own.             “So,” you settle down on the seat Solomon has offered. “What’s your, like, deal?” 

    He can’t help chuckling in response. “My, like, deal?” He asks, incredulous.       “Yeah!” You rock back, bringing your knees up and planting your heels into the seat cushion, promptly spreading your legs and wresting your elbows on your knees as you lean forward again.    “Are you, like, THE Solomon the wise, or just some yutz using the name?”  His eyes are glittering with amusement, but he doesn’t respond; his answer is a grin over the rim of his glass before he takes a sip of his “illegal” wares.  

    “Names have power, you know.” You warn.  

   He doesn’t stop smiling- if anything, he looks even more pleased. “I know.”  

   You give him a hard look, thoroughly sloshed. “So.”  

   “Mm?”  

   “Have you been body hopping then?”  

   He pauses mid-sip at that. He puts his glass down, eyes widening a fraction as you go on.  

   “ ‘Cuz like. You are waaaay too pale and snowy lookin’ to be from the Middle East as you are.”  

  “That’s all?”  

  “Well,” you pause to take a sip of hooch, throat dry from your drunken chatter. “You’re so cold, Solomon.”  

  He raises an eyebrow.  

  You don’t notice as you ramble on. “It’s not just from wonky blood circulation either, ‘cause your entire body radiates a lack of heat.”  

  “When did you notice this?”  

   “Crashing into you was like, walking into a fridge but like. Meaty, I guess?” You pause, trying to think of a better description, and your drunken mind knows there’s a better one, but gives up under the alcoholic haze. “An’ like. You’ve been drinking since before I got here.”  

  “I could just be very good at seeming sober.” He posits.  

  “Nah!” You chuck something small from your pocket- a single grimm- in his direction, with the intention for him to catch it.  

   That coin does not fly anywhere remotely near Solomon, and clatters against a wall. You point at him. “Pretend you caught that.”  

  He laughs again. “No, I don’t think I will. So, any more evidence for your accusation?”  

   “Mm!” You slap the desk table, getting your train of thought back on track. “You have like, over ninety demonic pacts, and. Both the demons who really care about my safety are wary of you.”  

  “It’s not just them,” he posits.  

  “You’ve gotta know some demon magic.”  

   “More than some.” For Solomon, he’s dropping an insane amount of details- but you’re too far gone to care. Solomon knows this, enjoying the wiggle room it’s giving him.  

  “And if I’m honest? I don’t like the idea of it simply bleaching you and sand blasting your possible wrinkles away. Seems too easy for magic. The themes of immortality AND using magic to solve your problems is too prevalent in any folklore or mythology for it to NOT have an obnoxious cost.”  

  “I’m shocked you would imply that the use of a corpse would merely be ‘obnoxious’,” he’s trying to seem incredulous, but he can’t hide how his voice hitches as he barely holds in another laugh.  

   You don’t notice, but you’re too sure of yourself to back down from your hypothesis. “It’s not like finding a body is hard when you’re a king. Or in possession of demon pacts. And it’s not like it’d be hard to find someone in a coma or suicidal enough to give up their body, these days.”  

  “Touché.” He sips at his drink again.  

  “I know what you are.”  

  “Say it.” Even you can tell he’s barely holding in laughter.  

  “Yourra lich.” You slur out.  

   You’re both losing your collective shit, feeding off of each other’s laughter at the stupid joke when Simeon pokes his head into the common room, calling your name. “Mammon’s come to pick you up.” 

   You clap with joy and swing out of the chair; happy to see your first. You don’t really care if he sees you like this, and you doubt he could criticize you for cutting a little loose.  

   “Good luck.” Solomon says, as way of a farewell.    “You too!” You enthusiastically reply. “Have a good night!”   “You too.” His response is soft, spoken only after you've turned your back.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you’re so creepy | part ii | jhs ver

Every campus has one. You know - the resident campus creepy girl. This campus has seven. All from in the boys’ POV.

summary: Creepy film major girl scares the soul out of Hoseok’s body once again. But it turns out she has a super enthusiastic and bright personality (despite dressing like a spook). Featuring the mentioning of a certain iconic intro.

warnings: non-idol!BTS - university!BTS; 18+ for language, Hoseok’s POV; and Hoseok is a (low-key) YouTuber hehe

--

part i

-

“Hoseok.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped his head towards the door and saw… no one. Confused, he ran a hand through his hair, turning back to the mirrored wall of the dance studio.

Only to see a black shadow in the corner of the mirror, a black hood tilted at a forty-five-degree angle, eyes boring into him.

He screamed and fell to the floor.

The black shadow burst into laughter, rings clacking together as she clapped her hands.

“The look on your face,” she giggled, bringing a silver-clad hand to cover her mouth. “You’re so fucking funny! Sorry, sunshine boy, I had to do it.”

Jung Hoseok was sure his soul had left his body. How long had she been there? How had she come in without him hearing?

Her black sneakers squeaked as she strolled up to him and squatted down beside him, giving him a wild sense of déjà vu. He could smell the musky amber of her perfume. It wasn’t the worst scent. It even felt kind of familiar. There was a slit cut right down the center of the black hoodie that the silver tangle of necklaces peeked through, glistening in the studio lights. It made him want to correct them, but he didn’t dare to touch her. The holes of her shredded black jeans were filled in with black fishnets.

She used one ring-clad hand to push back the black hoodie, revealing her messy black hair. He saw the rings – a spider, a skull, an evil eye, a crow, and a silver bone, all surrounded with a variety of silver bands – and shivered. Her eye makeup was dark and smokey. Her lips were the same black lipstick, the one that reminded him of that...

She held a hand out, beckoning him.

“Come on now. I’m sorry I did that,” she said with a smile. “Okay, maybe a little bit not sorry, but you’re so funny that I can’t help it.”

Hoseok hesitated for a second before her took it, allowing her to help him up. Her hand was cold, the metal cutting into his skin a little.

“Well… I didn’t expect you to be there,” he replied testily.

“Ah, don’t be mad, please,” she chuckled, holding onto his hand a little too long before letting it go. She gave him a teasing, open-mouthed smirk, the kind that reminded him of a certain friend.

He pouted and rubbed his rear. “I’m not mad.”

She nudged him. “I’ve come with a proposition, sunshine boy.”

“Eh?”

She nodded as if he was following along. She held up a finger. “I’ve seen your YouTube, where you post dance covers and dance videos. It’s pretty good. I really like it.”

He felt himself getting embarrassed a little. “E-eh?”

She grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “I have a film project I have to do. It’s telling a story but it has to be done in less than three minutes. I thought, what better way than dance? And that’s when I thought of…” She pointed to him, making his eyes go wide. “You.”

“Me?” He pointed to himself, blinking.

She nodded excitedly. “Yup, you. The sunshine boy. I think you’re insanely talented,” she said, making his ears turn red. “And,” she continued, pacing excitedly as she explained. “I thought of a concept too. Being consumed by love, to an unhealthy amount, to the point where it become detrimental and you begin to realize It might be more evil than good. But you can’t stop… Maybe,” she paused, tapping her cheek. “Boy Meets Evil?”

“Boy… Meets Evil?”

She frowned and spun a ring around her finger as she thought. “The problem is, I can’t think of any choreography.” She shook her head, frowning. “I have a relatively simple beat, because the dance will be the focus, and I have some idea of what I want the spoken word poem to be like, but…”

“What if they were lyrics?” Hoseok said excitedly.

She blinked at him. “A song… do you think that would better?”

Hoseok rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I’m not a great singer or anything, but I think I can come up with a verse or two.”

“Oooh, that sounds cool!” She clapped her hands, making a sharp clink. “This may be for my film project, but of course I’ll give you the video too to put on your YouTube channel. I think it would be really cool to show your fans a different side of you.”

Hoseok laughed. “I don’t have fans.”

She took his hands and sandwiched them between hers. Her eyes glittered with excitement.

“You have me, and I’m a fan.”

He felt a weird flutter in his chest.

“I-I haven’t agreed yet…” he stuttered.

Her face fell and she let go of his hands. “So… does that mean you don’t want to, Hoseok?”

He thought she was quite frightening at first, but her pout made her look like a sad kitten. There was a sharp tug to his heartstrings when she said his name like that.

“I… I want to try. Let’s do it.”

--

masterpost

[harrysgloves]

Let Your Hair Down (chapter xxvi)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 2,983

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: Thea’s birthday party.

warnings: Language // violence // mentions of past sexual assault // attempted sexual assault... it’s a lot. It’s heavy so read with caution.

a/n: Please don’t murder me... you should have seen it coming. xx

>>><<<

It was finally Saturday. Your long crazy week of work and trying to plan a birthday party was finally over and you couldn't have been more thankful.

You had spent the whole week going absolutely insane over every small detail. All the thank you bags had to have handwritten glitter name cards on them, obviously. Which meant you sitting up in your kitchen at 2 am trying to figure out how to write faux calligraphy while Harry stood over top of you eating popcorn, telling you when you messed up.

Which resulted in you putting him on hot glue gun duty for all the little plastic jewels that had to be glued on one by one onto every tiara… for 25 kids' placemats.

Needless to say, he didn't criticize your handwriting again.

The only time he really started to throw a bitch fit was when you tried to figure out how to make macaroons at 3 in the morning. Both of you quickly decided to scrap that idea when you tasted your first batch.

"Pinterest fucking lied! These taste terrible!" You cried as you spit out the repulsive cookie that definitely should not have been considered a cookie.

"Fuckin' hell, love. I think ya tryin' t'poison me." Harry laughed at the glare you shot him but you had to admit that was the worst thing you'd ever tasted in your whole life.

He ended up buying the damn demon cookies from a local bakery and saved you a lot of tears.

They definitely tasted better which made you want to strangle Harry when he laughed at your face lighting up from the first bite you took.

"Told y'the recipe wasn't bad. Ya jus' can't bake." He smiled, placing a kiss on your cheek and jerking the box of treats away from you when you tried to go back for seconds.

All of that was over though and after this afternoon there would be no more meltdowns about placemats, place cards, or balloon arches. No more trying your weird baking at 4 am. Which you were sure Harry was very thankful for.

No, today was finally the day and as you dragged Harry to the hotel to set up one of the meeting rooms you'd gotten for the party you were glad it was almost over. You couldn't handle much more of this stress. She was turning 5 and you definitely went a bit overboard, you started to dread what party you'd have to plan for her sweet 16.

"The balloon arch is supposed to go over by the door." You said as you fanned out the pastel pink table cloth over the round 8 count table. Harry huffed and rolled his eyes but didn't say anything as he moved the arch for the 3rd time.

"Ya know they only care 'bout goin' to the pool." He mumbled out like he didn't want you to hear him.

"Keep it up and you're going to be sleeping on the couch tonight." You smiled when Harry turned around to look at you. The look on his face, priceless.

"Ya can't put me on the couch." He pouted big lip and all, making you bite your lip as you shrugged.

He was right, you wouldn't put him on the couch, especially not with a sleepover of 12 kindergarten girls that was going to be at your apartment tonight. But he didn't have to know that.

"Gotta go get tape from the desk for this banner." You sighed as you looked at the amount of work you still had left to do and not much time left to do it.

"Can you please go play bad guy and get Thea out of the pool? She needs to get her outfit on. I didn't wait 6 weeks for that princess dress to be shipped to us for her to not wear it when people get here." You asked as sweetly as possible when you walked pass him, stopping to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Why can't Sarah do it? Y'know I can't say no to her if she asks t'stay in longer." He followed you down the hallway stopping in front of the pool room door. His big puppy eyes staring you down as you walked away from him.

"This is exactly why you have to do it. Gotta get good at telling her no." You smiled when you heard him groan. Throwing the door to the pool room open as you made your way down the hallway and eventually to the front desk.

"Hey Ellie, can I have the tape, please?" You asked, leaning on the desk, nails tapping on the counter.

"Yeah, here you go." She smiled, her bright white teeth looking so great against the ruby red lipstick she wore all the time. Making you a bit jealous that someone could pull off that color so effortlessly.

"Oh, God." She groaned, eyes darting to the front door.

"Looks like we got a drunk stumbling in. I should go get Mack. He's better at dealing with this shit." She sighed, hands rubbing her forehead. Drunk guests were the worst, especially if they were drunk at 11 am.

You turned around to look at the damage, eyes widening the second you saw who it was.

The fucking bastard.

"Don't get Mack. I got this." Your voice laced with anger as you started right for him. You'd be damned if he ruined her party like this.

"Get the fuck outside." You growled, tugging on his arm. Nails digging into his flesh as you pulled him out the door and to the side of the building, doing to him what he'd done to you so many times before.

"What is wrong with you?" You yelled as you let go of him. He stumbled back against the brick exterior of the wall, his eyes immediately filling with rage but you could care less.

You were so sick and tired of being pushed around by him. Tired of being degraded and controlled but the one thing you absolutely wouldn’t put up with was him purposefully hurting Thea like this. She didn’t deserve a dad who would embarrass her in front of everyone by being blasted at her party, she deserved so much more than him.

And you were tired of letting him do this to the both of you.

"No, actually, don't answer that. Only a real piece of shit would show up to their daughter's birthday party completely hammered. I mean really, Ryan? This is a new low, even for you.” You stood your ground in front of him. Arms crossed tightly over your chest as you told him off. Told him exactly what you thought about him.

You were done holding back. This was the last straw.

“Oh, so now that you got your little bodyguard you think you can talk to me however you want?”

His inability to keep himself from stumbling around seemed to have totally disappeared as the visible anger ran through him. His jaw twitching from how hard he was clenching his teeth. Face flushed, eyebrows pulled together tightly when he gripped your arm so violently you whimpered in pain, trying your best to keep quiet, not wanting to show him any weakness.

You were so fucking done. You were done being pushed and pulled around by him. Done being controlled. Done with everything he’d ever put you through.

Your destroyed self-esteem.

Your inability to let people into your life.

Your constant fear of him lurking around every corner.

It was all his fault.

Your mind already made up that you weren’t going to take this lying down anymore. You weren’t going to wait for it to get better or for him to move on from him torturing you.

You were going to be your own goddamn hero.

Your hand connecting with his cheek with so much force behind it hurt your palm. His head snapping to the side from the impact, staying there momentarily before turning to face you. The deafening sound of your flesh slamming against his rung around you. The moment dripping with tension when he rubbed the side of his stubbled face. His jaw moving back and forth as his blue eyes darkened.

Any confidence you had seconds ago was quickly replaced with fear. The hand on your arm tightening like a boa constrictor. Pain shooting through your arm making you cry out. Your free hand desperately scratching at his, trying with everything in you to pry it off.

Your boots scuffing the ground trying to pull away from him, throwing all your body weight backward but it was pointless. He was twice your size and height. He was able to throw you so effortlessly against the brick wall.

You hit the exterior of the building face first. Your nose smashing against the brick so hard you heard a crunch. Yelling in pain as your eyes started watering. Blood pouring down your chin onto your white shirt.

You'd barely had time to register the fact your nose was broken when you felt Ryan's body pushed against your back, pinning you to the wall.

Panic, terror, regret- all running rampant through your brain as you screamed as loud as you could for help. Your hands hitting the wall you were pressed up against so hard you could feel your skin break open. Trying with everything in you to push hard enough to get him off you.

"You really don't know when to stop do you Y/N?" He sniggered from behind you. His hand brushing through your hair as he pressed his hips harder into you to stop your frantic attempt to escape him.

"Get the fuck off me!" You screamed as loud as you could. Your throat burning from how much you were yelling but it didn't seem to matter.

You really fucked up pulling him around the side of the building to tell him off and all you could think about was Harry was right.

You should have listened. You should have taken it more seriously, and now you're here with this fucking maniac and have no idea how to get away from him.

"Remember when you used to be such a good girl? Hmm?" He whispered behind you, lips touching your ear making you cringe away from him. Eyes closed, tears running down your face.

"I actually got bored with you for a while. You just listened so well, but this? No, this is great. We can go through all our little lessons again. You remember those, baby?"

Your eyes instantly snapped open. Mind reeling with all the things he'd done to you when you were married. That you let him do to you because you were married, justifying it in your mind as your "wifely duties".

"Ryan, stop!" You screamed louder than you thought was possible. Hands bleeding from how hard you were hitting the side of the building, legs trying to bend any way possible to kick him.

"Don't fucking move." He pressed his hand into the middle of your back, hard. Your shoulders aching from the position you were in.

You were starting to realize there was no way out of this. Your mind filled with anxiety and dread.

"When are you going to figure out that I own you? Hmm? You're mine and I'll do whatever I want to you." His voice sounded so pleased with himself. Like he was so happy to finally have you back in his complete control.

You wanted to puke. Tears rolling down your face as you sobbed. You wanted to get him off you. Wanted to go back into the party and hug your baby girl. Forget Ryan ever existed.

When his hand snaked around to the front of your jeans you lost it. Not ever wanting to go through this again.

"Stop! Stop!" You sobbed, trying to push his hands off you. Trying to crouch down to get away from him.

"I said don't fucking move." He grunted hand laced through your hair as he slammed your face into the wall again.

Your eyebrow splitting open from the impact. Vision darken for a second before flashes of tiny white fluttered through your line of sight. You groaned the second you felt more blood run down your face. Your hand coming up to wipe it away. Not even registering what else was going on around you. Feeling in a fog, your brain not seeming to put together things that were happening.

Until you heard it.

Heard her.

"Momma?" Her sweet voice rang out from the other side of the alleyway. Your head whipping around to her. Hoping it was some sort of hallucination but when you saw her running towards you, you knew you weren't that lucky.

"Thea, no! Run!" You screamed trying to push away from him and the wall. Trying to get to her and get her away from this.

She didn't listen, her tiny hands clasping around Ryan's arm, pulling with everything in her to get him away from you. Her cries for him to leave you alone broke your heart but when you felt the pressure off your back lift you really started to panic.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion.

His hand lifting off you.

Her pulling on him.

Ryan's hand swinging around him to push her away.

The sound of your baby hitting the ground is what snapped you out of it. Her hand covering her face. As her crying shrieks of pain pierced your soul.

You never want to hear that sound again.

It was only a second later when someone pushed Ryan off you. You heard them both hit the ground but you didn't pay any attention to what the hell was going on. Scrambling to pick Thea up and get her the hell away from him.

You scooped her up in your arms as she continued to cry. Her head buried in your blood covered shirt. Your arms tightening around her as you turned to run. Only glancing back once to see Harry on top of Ryan.

You couldn't stop to think about that though. Not right now. Not with Thea hurt.

"Call the police!" You snapped at Ellie as you ran past the desk. Her eyes widening as she saw the state of your face. Frantically picking up the phone and dialing 911 as fast as she could.

You bolted down the hallway, towards the meeting room where the party was supposed to be at. Grabbing your keys and purse. Leaving the meeting room only to run straight into Mitch's chest.

"What the fuck happened?" His arms clasping onto your arms, stopping you from running but you jerked away from him. Your eyes filling with tears, not wanting to be touched.

"Ryan." You breathed out. "Harry. Go get Harry."

"Where is he?" Mitch asked eyebrows pulled together, looking at Thea who had still not calmed down.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked, walking down the hallway with Mack following shortly behind her.

"With Ryan. Fuck, go get Harry. Out the side door. The police are coming." You started down the hallway, moving past everyone who kept trying to touch you, to stop you from leaving. Cringing away from all of them.

"Wait, Y/N, where are you going?" Mack tried to stop you, reaching out to touch your arm softly, making you swing around in your tracks.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You yelled, running down the hallway away from them. You didn't have time for this shit. You needed to get Thea out of here.

"Wait!" Sarah shouted after you. Trying her best to catch up to you as you ran out the front doors.

"Y/N, wait!" Mitch called out to you when the police cars started to pull up to the hotel. Harry rounding the corner to see you running with Thea to your car.

It didn't take him long to catch up to all of you. Sarah and Mitch trailing behind as Harry stood in front of your car.

"Don't do this." He said as you threw open your door. Pushing Thea inside from the driver seat. You chose to ignore him as you climbed into your car. Shutting and locking your door.

You had to get out of here. You had to make sure she was okay.

Your tear-filled eyes meeting his before starting your car. Hoping that maybe one day he'd forgive you for doing this.

But running was in your nature.

"Stop!" He yelled, hands hitting your car hood as you backed out of your parking spot. Flooring it down the road.

Tears and blood blurred your vision. You could feel your left eye throbbing, trying to close shut but you pushed through it. You had to get to a hospital to have her checked out.

She hadn't calmed down the whole time. Her cries and gasps for air were the only things you could hear anymore. You were hardly paying any attention to the road, constantly turning to see if she was okay.

Your mind ran with possibilities of things that could be wrong with her. She could have a broken bone, a concussion, any number of things wrong with her.

And you knew it'd be your fault.

"Baby?" You asked softly, eyes glancing over to Thea who had her knees pulled up to her chest, head buried in her hands.

"Thea?" You tried to be patient but you needed her to answer you. You needed to know she was okay.

"Theadora Skye. You answer me right now." You slammed on your breaks in the middle of the road. Turning to look at her, chest heaving, fearing the worst.

"Why'd he hit me?" She sobbed into her hands. Your heart breaking as you listened to her cry uncontrollably.

"I don't know." You sighed, staring off at the road. "But he'll never do it again."

[florafey]

Malogranatum - 5

Falling Swift As Rain

Persephone gripped Nike’s hand tighter and tilted her head back to face the glittering sky, swaying gently to the music. She was not drunk but she was closest to it she had ever been. Nike, however, was certainly drunk after four hours of partying like it was her last night alive. Persephone had started to realize that all the deities partied like Nike- like they were running out of time. To her, it was a beautiful thing. Well, beautiful might not be an appropriate word, considering Dionysus had been serenading her and Nike for the past song or two as he stood on a statue base. Naked.

Persephone had been burning with embarrassment ever since Dio had started paying attention to her without his robes on but she couldn’t help admitting it was rather funny. And the attention wasn’t bad, she just wished Dio would put his clothes on. Nike was still laughing herself hoarse and beckoning Dio down, but Dio liked where he was. 

“Apollo, please, go tell him to get down before he kills Honey with embarrassment.” Nike managed to pull herself together long enough to grab ahold of Apollo as he was passing them. The god’s hands were full of food and drink he was taking to Athena and Aphrodite. He smirked at the two goddesses. 

“No can do, darlings. Get him down yourself.” He winked and disappeared. Persephone giggled and said, “Forget him, Nike. Where has Helios gone? I wanted to say hello.”

They had been at the party for close to four hours but Persephone still had not seen Helios. Nike had come once night had fallen to help Persephone sneak from her mother’s house and up to Zeus and Hera’s estate where the party was taking place, and Persephone was glad for her friend’s help. Between her racing heart and fear for waking her mother, Persephone probably would have been too nervous to actually sneak out if it weren’t for Nike’s cunning smile and soft steps showing her the way. 

Persephone was thankful she had come. The pale blue silk dress she wore was wet and grass stained, much like her pink one after her first party on Olympus, but she couldn’t have cared less. The wine was delicious, the food sublime, and the company of her friends irreplaceable. The goddesses had squealed and raced to her when she entered with Nike. Kisses and hugs were exchanged, Apollo and Dionysus being rather overeager with their kisses until Nike smacked them on the heads and Persephone fell away blushing. 

But for all the company she currently had, she still felt as though something was missing. Someone, more like. And he was. Persephone didn’t want to admit it because the night was everything she hadn’t dared to ask for, but she was slightly disappointed that Hades was not here. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t eventually come. Parties such as these often lasted days but Persephone did not have that kind of time. 

A warm hand slid around her neck, draping across her shoulders. “Who is it you’re searching for, sugar?”

It was Hermes. He had been just as surprised as the rest of them to see Persephone in attendance, and he had laughed in pride when Persephone told him she had snuck out of her mother’s house. 

“Nobody. I’m just looking. Have you seen Helios?” Her answers were too quick. Hermes raised a brow but didn’t press the question. 

“He arrived about half an hour ago. The last I saw him, he was wrestling Ares. Poseidon was taking bets. Care to place?”

Persephone laughed. “No, I’ll settle for watching, thank you. Walk with me?” 

The three of them set off, Nike swaying slightly with drink. Dionysus was still singing atop his perch but his voice wasn’t bad and Persephone blew him a kiss as she passed. Dio fanned himself and pretended to faint. 

Helios and Ares were on a stretch of lawn by the pool. They were naked as well, but they had better reason to be than Dionysus. They were grappling with each other, muscles straining and sweat gleaming in the torchlight. Persephone’s eyes grew wide as she watched them. Nike had also gone still, eyes fixed on the gods. Hermes looked from the goddesses to the gods and back again. 

“You’ve never looked at me like that,” he complained. 

“You’ve never looked like that,” Nike nodded at Helios, who had just pinned Ares and was struggling to hold him down. Persephone hummed in agreement. Hermes scoffed and didn’t respond. 

Poseidon indeed was taking bets as the match was occurring, calling out moves and who was currency favored. It resembled what Persephone had heard of an Olympic wrestling match, but both participants were more than a little tipsy and it was taking place in a yard. Women were also forbidden to watch Olympic games as all the men competed naked, but it was clear that the goddesses were the target audience for this particular match. They sat in groups and pairs around the makeshift ring, giggling and shouting encouragement. Persephone smiled, then gasped and began to cheer Helios on when Ares slipped out of his hold. 

Hermes was still peeved at the attention they were paying to wrestling match so he left them to their devices and disappeared towards the pool. Nike tugged Persephone over to where Athena and Aphrodite were seated in the grass sharing a plate of food.

“What do you think of the entertainment, Persephone?” Athena winked. Persephone blushed furiously and stuck her tongue out at her friend. 

The goddesses sat through the first match and then the second when Apollo stepped in and wanted a turn against Ares. After winning both fights in a row, Ares was bold enough to challenge Janus, and the two-faced god accepted. Helios had found the girls after pulling his clothes back on, and Ares and Janus’ fight was so violent that Athena spent half of it with her face pressed against Helios’ arm. Persephone cried out with Nike when Janus’ fist crashed into Ares’ mouth and blood went spraying across both gods. 

“Are they insane?” Persephone whispered to Helios. 

“A little,” was the reply. “They’ve never gotten along so I assume this fight was a long time coming. Just be glad it isn’t Nike and Nemesis in that ring.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Helios,” Nike chastised. “That whoring bitch couldn’t draw my blood if you offered her half of Zeus’ estate. In fact, I’d give you half of Zeus’ estate if you could get her legs closed long enough to stand her upright.”

“She’s standing right over there, my dear,” Helios nodded to a spot across the lawn. “It seems you owe someone else half of Zeus’ estate. Shame. There’s so much I could have done with the place, too.” 

Nike’s platinum hair glittered as she turned to glare at Nemesis. The goddess of revenge was indeed standing across the lawn, her sleek black hair cut into a severe bob and dark lines of kohl winging out from the corners of her eyes in sharp points. Even at a distance Persephone could practically taste the tension in Nemesis’ eyes. Persephone’s gaze slid to see who Nemesis was conferring with and almost flinched when sparks flew down her spine. Hades’ arms were bare tonight much like the other gods, and Persephone ate up the sight of his swirling black tattoos curving over muscle. Nemesis was clearly appreciating the sight as well. She kept dragging her eyes over Hades and clearly expected him to take the hint but the god of the Underworld settled himself against a curved patio pillar and drank deeply from his wine. In his hair glittered a single silver ring holding back the longest parts in a neat clasp. His profile was backlit by the soft light of the lanterns and Persephone took in his features as though she was trying to memorize them. He was beautiful. Frightening, perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless. And how frightening could someone really be if they took time to name their hound? 

From besides her, Nike whistled low. “Look at him,” she said appreciatively. “I wonder what brought brother eldest out tonight.” She was looking at Hades as well. Athena and Aphrodite twisted to see. 

“Perhaps Nemesis did,” Aphrodite said. “Although I can’t imagine- oh, nevermind.”

Hades had just pushed off the pillar and strode away, leaving Nemesis in mid-sentence. Her jaw twisted in irritation but she made no move to go after him.

“Oh, Hades. Always the diplomat,” Athena sighed. “It’s a shame, really. I’ve had a few conversations with him and he’s really very kind.”

“Kind? Did I just hear you describe Hades as kind?” It was Hermes, back from wherever he had gone to sulk. Persephone scooted over so he could plop down in between her and Nike. “My dear Athena, the amount of times Hades has almost sicced his hound on me should be enough to tell you that kindness is not one of his virtues.”

“Were you in his domain?” Athena asked.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Were you pestering him?” 

“Yes, but-

“Were you making demands to him on behalf of Zeus?”

Hermes was silent. Persephone laughed and had to duck Hermes’ swat in her direction.

“I’ve always found him to be one of the more sensible gods,” Helios added. “It gets exhausting watching them all run around desperately trying to right their wrongs and avoid the consequences of their own actions.”

“And Hades doesn’t?” Nike wanted to know.

“Hades doesn’t fuck other gods’ wives. That makes him more sensible than nearly everyone at this party.”

“Speaking of sensibility,” Hermes rose to his feet and plucked a grape out of Athena’s hand, “I must go speak to the god himself. Since dear Athena reminded me so kindly of my duties.”

“You cannot be serious,” Helios said. “Zeus does not have you working tonight. How can he? If it's business he wants to discuss with his brother, he can do it his damn self- he’s across the lawn from him.”

Nike whistled low. “Let me know when you decide to tell Zeus that. I want a front row seat to that shitshow.”

“As much as I appreciate the defense in my honor, dear Helios, I’m afraid I’m in no position to protest against my God King. So I shall embark on this odyssey of violence and treachery only to barely make it out alive thanks to the fact that a certain demon hound is absent.”

Hermes turned to leave. Aphrodite rolled her eyes and asked, “How much have you had to drink?”

“How much of what?” Was the answer. Aphrodite grimaced. “This isn’t going to go well.”

“What can Hermes possibly need with Hades right now?” Persephone asked as they watched Hermes pick his way across the grass. 

“I can’t imagine. But then again, Zeus has his own ways of dealing with business. I feel bad for Hermes. I’m inclined to think he and Hades would otherwise get along if it weren’t for Zeus forcing him to deal with Hades on his behalf.”

“But I’ve seen Zeus and Hades speak before. Surely there can’t be that much bad blood?”

“Oh, I don’t believe it’s bad blood, per se. It’s more like,” Aphrodite paused and looked at Helios for help. Helios tilted his head, considering, and said, “It’s more like Zeus tries to treat Hades’ domain as his own, and Hades doesn’t allow him to. Zeus doesn’t do very well if he’s told he can’t do something, but there isn’t technically anything he can do to make his brother submit to his wishes.”

“I see,” Persephone said. “And...you know all this...how?”

Helios winked. “I’m the god of the sun, my dear girl. I ride a chariot across the sky every morning and night, and I see everything the sun sees.”

“Does the sun shine in the Underworld?” Nike asked. 

Persephone caught herself before the answer slipped out, remembering just in time that she wasn’t supposed to know anything about the Underworld or its master. 

“It does, faintly. There was a long time where I wasn’t allowed to bring the sun to the Underworld but quite a long while ago Hades had a change of heart. I suppose everyone needs her now and again. She is a wonderful companion.”

Persephone wondered at Helios’ words as the conversation drifted elsewhere. They tried to keep track of Hermes but the god was quickly swallowed up among other revelers and distractions. They also looked up after nearly half an hour to find that Hades was not standing where he had been the last time they saw him. With no way to find their friend or the subject of his foolish mission, they decided to wait a while longer before starting a search. 

Another half hour drifted by before the food was gone. Aphrodite pouted to Helios that she was still hungry and became affronted when he suggested she get more herself. Persephone desired to stretch her legs and thus was more than happy to offer to fetch Aphrodite some food. A small rebellious piece of Persephone’s mind knew, however, that she was simply bored and wanted to risk running into some excitement. 

As she wound her way closer to the palace doors, Persephone found that she was extremely comfortable in the presence of the other deities. If this had been her first night on Olympus, she wouldn’t have dared leave Athena or Aphrodite, and she certainly wouldn’t have been wandering off looking for Hades. But here she was. 

She was only halfway to the palace when she spotted Hermes. He was indeed with Hades and, not at all to Persephone’s surprise, the conversation did not seem to be going well. Hades was frowning down at Hermes as he chattered away, gesturing with his hands about something clearly important. Hades appeared thoroughly unimpressed. Persephone watched as the god of the Underworld straddled the line between irritation and anger, and wondered if she had time to turn back and get Helios before things went truly south. But when Hades snapped something vicious at Hermes, his dark eyes flashing with violence, she decided there was no time. 

She backtracked from her path towards the palace, edging closer to her friend and cursing him the entire way. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage; Hades looked so angry, was it wise to interrupt them? But Persephone did not feel good leaving Hermes on his own, despite how he got himself into the situation just fine, so she continued on and told her foolish heart to be still. 

Her foolish heart was still fluttering when she approached the pair. Hades noticed her first over Hermes’ shoulder. His expression cleared ever so slightly but the anger didn’t fade, especially as Hermes said, “This isn’t coming from me, Hades, it’s coming from Zeus.”

Hades turned his attention back to the unfortunate Hermes and growled, “Then tell my brother to speak to me himself. I will not have his messenger scurrying back and forth between us like a frightened dog. If Zeus finds it beyond himself to look me in my eye, he must not need his business done.”

Persephone closed in on Hermes before he could reply, and she called out to him to prevent him from saying something foolish. He turned, his face lighting up when he saw her. He was still inebriated and it was clear Hades knew this as well. 

“Persephone! What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. What are you doing...here?” She tactfully smiled at Hades, whose eyes hadn’t left her form and was currently drinking deeply from his goblet of wine. “You said you would only be gone a moment.”

“I did?”

“Yes. An hour ago.” She gave him a meaningful look, hoping to convey to him how important it was for him to get out of range from Hades, without making it obvious to Hades what she was doing. She didn’t think she was succeeding. 

“I’m finishing up some business with Hades, I’ll- have you met him? Let me introduce you!” 

Before she could say anything, Hermes was giving Persephone’s hand to Hades and making formal introductions. Any sign of anger was now gone from Hades’ expression, much to Persephone’s relief. His hand was warm as his fingers closed over her own. He brought her hand up to brush his lips against her knuckles, bowing respectfully to her. Persephone could barely keep her balance as she dipped into a shallow curtsey. A flood of heat tingled down her limbs when she felt how soft Hades’ lips were against her hand. When he finally released her, the tips of her fingers were trembling and a visible blush had bloomed across her cheeks and nose. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, my lord,” Persephone managed. “I apologize if my friend has been inconveniencing you.”

“Do not assume yourself deserving of my anger, my lady. It is not who I wish to strangle.”

Hermes choked on his wine behind Persephone. She barely hid her smile as she said, “I understand Hermes has worn out his welcome.”

“Only slightly.” 

Hermes made a sound of protest. “Why do I feel like I’m being turned against? Persephone, you were supposed to swoop in and rescue me with your beautiful dress and shining hair, not blush at my foe.”

Persephone’s blush only worsened at Hermes’ drunk words, and she was even more appalled when Hades chuckled into his wine. She glared at her friend.

“I have half a mind to leave you here to get the beating you had coming to you.”

“I do have business to finish, thank you for reminding me. Hades-”

“No.” The irritation was back. 

“You haven’t-”

“No.”

Hermes sighed and regarded Hades like he was a stubborn child refusing to eat dinner. But Hades was not a child, he was one of the oldest and most powerful gods alive, and he was currently looking back at Hermes like he wanted nothing more than to drown him in the nearby pool. 

“This is a party, Hermes, surely anything you need to discuss can wait until later?”

“Listen to your pretty friend, Hermes. She has an endearing voice, does she not?”

Persephone needed to get away from Hades if she wanted to prevent swooning. She dared a glance over her shoulder at him and was met with his dark gaze. 

“I’m trying to help,” she whispered to him.

“You’re doing marvelous. Carry on.”

Hermes leaned around Persephone and said, “Hades, if you’d only consider-”

Hades rolled his eyes, clearly ready for Hermes to be gone. “I’ll give you my consideration if you give me a single thing.”

“Which is?”

Hades held out his hand, palm up. Hermes looked at it for a while before glancing down at his own hand holding Persephone’s. Slowly, hesitantly, Hermes placed Persephone’s hand in Hades waiting palm. Hades took it and said, “I’ll consider. Next time I hear this discussion will be from my brother himself or no one at all. Is that understood?”

Hermes nodded. “Perfectly, my lord.” He turned his attention to Persephone and asked, “Will you be alright, my love?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not Zeus’ messenger.”

Hermes feigned injury at her words but winked at her before he turned and left the two alone. Persephone became suddenly very aware of her hand enclosed within Hades’. He dropped it, however, to pass his cup of wine into her hand. He deftly picked another goblet up off the tray of a passing nymph who smiled flirtatiously on her way past. 

“I’m sorry about Hermes-”

“I told you not to apologize for him. He makes his own decisions.” The scolding was light and lacked edge. Persephone swirled her wine in an attempt to settle her nerves. 

“That was a skillful rescue, I must compliment you,” Hades said. Persephone frowned lightly. “What do you mean?”

“You hadn’t been looking for him.”

“I...he...had been gone for too long and we knew he wished to discuss business with you and so I came looking.”

Hades smiled slowly, like a cat. “No,” he whispered. “You didn’t.”

Persephone felt trapped but she didn’t want to back down. “I beg you to explain yourself, my lord. I fear you have confused me.”

“You would have me believe you left your friends to seek out Hermes alone.”

“Yes. I found him with you, not to any surprise. He did tell us he needed to speak with you.”

“You were going into the palace, not to Hermes.”

Persephone fell silent. How..? He had been watching her. That was the only answer. He had seen her leave Athena and Aphrodite; it had been clear she wasn’t searching for Hermes because she hadn’t been.

She recovered the best she could, but there was very little to save. She fixed Hades with a gentle glare. “Are you accusing me of something, my lord?”

“Only being more interesting than I initially gave you credit for.” “What does that mean?”

“Must you have everything explained?”

“Must you insist on talking in ambiguous circles?”

“Only as much as you continue to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Persephone breathed. The words were out of her mouth before she realized she had asked for an explanation yet again. But her heart was beating in her throat now, and she didn’t know how she had managed to remain upright thus far. She didn’t know where her boldness was coming from, how she was able to exchange banter with Hades and not stutter an apology for intruding upon his night, as her mother would have surely insisted she do if Demeter had been present. 

Hades tilted his head down, a few precious inches closer to Persephone. His gaze was as smooth as silk, at least for the time being. 

“Like you came here for something.”

Persephone’s instinct was to deny his statement, but she found herself guilty as charged. She had stood up with the intention of finding Hades, had she not? She had left her friends with the desire to run into trouble, had she not? But she couldn’t very well tell Hades that. And it seemed like he already knew, anyways. She twisted on the spot, not knowing how to respond appropriately. But Hades didn’t press her. He leaned away, taking with him the faint scent of cold air and night sky, and took a sip of his wine. 

“I’m surprised to see you without dear Demeter.”

Persephone smiled wryly. “You aren’t the first to tell me that tonight.”

“May I ask?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Do I look like I can’t?”

Persephone’s smile widened with genuinity. “Can you ever answer a question?”

He graced her with a rare smile, the likes of which she had received once before, many nights ago as she teased him from a distance. “Yes, goddess, I can keep a secret.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here. I came by myself because I wanted to come and enjoy the party without her hovering over my shoulder. So here I am.”

Hades looked mildly impressed. “A novel feat, I’m sure.”

“Yes. It is. I’m not sure why it took me so long.”

“I can think of a few reasons.”

Persephone blinked in surprise. “You can?”

Hades looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Love is always binding, even if it's poisoned.” 

Persephone was rendered speechless yet again. “Oh,” she whispered. “Yes, I...I suppose it is.”

After a stretch of pensive silence, Hades chuckled deeply. “How Demeter would rage if she found you here.”

It made Persephone smile a little. “Perhaps she would act rationally. I have been to Olymuos before, after all.”

“I meant here within an arm’s reach of me. But yes, perhaps.”

Persephone looked inquisitively up at the god of the Underworld and couldn’t help but ask, “Does my mother not like you?”

The question didn’t seem to offend. Hades’ mouth twitched at the corners, and that was response enough, but he said, “Demeter and I fail to see eye to eye on many things. She’s a headstrong goddess, for better or for worse.”

It was the politest way of insulting someone’s mother that Persephone had ever heard. She was becoming impressed by Hades’ inexhaustible couth. She took another sip of wine, savoring the warmth as it slipped down her throat. “For better or for worse.”

“May I ask?” 

“I suppose you can, my lord.”

“Hades.”

Persephone paused. “I’m sorry?”

A smile. “My name, precious. I prefer people use it.”

Persephone had only just recovered from Hades’ taunts about her motivation in interrupting him and Hermes, and now between the pet name and the permission to use his name, Persephone was right back to square one. Pounding heart and sweaty palms. 

“Right. As you wish, Hades. Ask away.” 

“Do you enjoy living in the mortal realm?”

“Oh, yes, I do. It’s beautiful and my mother takes very good care of what’s in her control; the mortals love her.”

“It sounds innocent.”

Before she could think about what she was saying, Persephone said, “What do you know of innocence?”

She savored the brief look of surprise that crossed Hades’ face, but it was almost instantly chased away by amusement and the spark of an accepted challenge.

“Little indeed, flower. Tread softly over this ice.” His voice had changed. It was softer now, lined with something smooth that Persephone couldn’t quite place. But she was having trouble focusing much on anything except the god in front of her. 

Persephone twirled innocently on the spot. “As you wish, my lord.”

His fingers were warm when they took ahold of her chin. He tilted her face up in a firm yet gentle grasp to make her look him in the eye.

“Try that again,” he said softly.

“Try what again?” She liked the way his hand fit around her jaw and didn’t want him to let go. 

“Don’t play dumb, Persephone.”

It was the sound of her name that pushed her to compliance. Coming from him, it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard. She smiled shyly.

“As you wish, Hades.”

He had gotten what he wanted, but he was slow to let go of her. He tapped his thumb against her cheek before finally dropping his hand.

“Forgive my manners. I forgot to thank you for the daisy.”

It was surprising enough to startle a laugh out of Persephone. She was glad Cerberus had known to whom to go after her visit with him.

“You’re very welcome. Will you tell Cerberus hello for me?”

“I will. But you can always tell him yourself.”

Persephone laughed and felt the warmth of a blush spreading across her cheeks yet again. If she had known she was going to have this much enjoyment away from her mother, she would have dared to sneak away years ago.

[wastelandcrown]

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 6: don’t lose ur head (the terrifying tales of the grimm monarchy)

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a teenager who makes bad choices EXTREME edition, Remus being Remus, Intrusive Thoughts, Minor Bad Parenting, so much swearing it’s insane (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! I love this freaking chapter SO much but I’m really scared of how it’s going to be received. All feedback is extremely welcome!! 

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, One-Sided Logicality, Platonic DRLAMP

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @a-soul-among-the-stars @sweet-razz-tea @the-cactus-lord

Over the course of the next month Logan learns that despite their reputations, Roman and Remus are the opposite of what everyone thinks of them.

Logan is the smartest person he knows, there is no way in hell he’d ever miss Roman’s multiple attempts to sabotage his role as Hamilton. Smart, and yet so oblivious. Each time Roman had tried to mess with Logan after he began cultivating a friendship with Remus he was miraculously saved from the torment at the last second. Remus is a hundred percent certain that Logan has no idea that he’s fighting off his brother at each and every turn. He’s not certain of much, so it’s saying a lot. There is a beautiful dichotomy in Logan’s logs of the events and the stories Remus tells about his brother’s scourge against his brand new ‘enemy’. On a page labeled ‘Roman Incidents’ in Logan’s succinct handwriting documents every incident through the month when Roman attempted to sabotage him.

July 20th - Roman tripped near my things in the drama room while holding coffee. When I went to check on my things, someone had removed the contents of my bag and filled it with around six pounds of glitter. If this happens again, throw the bag away. Glitter makes anything unsalvageable. You will keep finding it everywhere. 

Remus knew Roman had been planning something. Of course he did. Though they didn’t share a room anymore, sneaking into it had never been exceptionally hard. Neither had eavesdropping, when it counted. It counted now more than ever because Remus had become unreasonably attached to Logan and when he heard Roman talking to himself and mentioning the name of his favourite little nerd badly he knew it was now or never. It took two excruciating hours of sitting still and listening to get the juicy stuff. He almost got caught by their mother twice. She’d only been home for three days and she’d checked on Roman twice in one night. If Remus told her about the amount of effort he was putting into something she might keel over dead from shock. 

What a funny sight that would be to him. His mother, dead from the shock of his hard work to do something good, thumping onto the floor. He laughs a little, quiet enough to keep Roman from hearing. His brain supplies the rational next step of Roman running out of his room and distraughtly cradling their mother’s head in his lap. Roman sobbing. Roman blaming him. Roman screaming about how it was his fault. And it would be, if she died like that. Remus doesn’t think it’s all that funny anymore, but once the train of thought starts it can’t be stopped. He decides that eavesdropping isn’t fun anymore and makes his way to the kitchen, trying to shake the idea of his brother cursing him out for killing their mother out of his mind. 

It doesn’t really work, but he tries anyway. The kitchen is full of distractions, good and bad. The knives in the block look so enticing to his self-proclaimed ‘shitty-dick-wad brain’, but the cookies he nabs from the cupboard are so easy to shove into his mouth that he figures it evens out. He sits at the kitchen island and doesn’t even bother to turn on the light. It takes six cookies in his mouth at once before he can direct his thoughts somewhere else momentarily. How in the hell is he going to combat Roman’s plan? He spits all the cookies onto the counter as his brother walks in, flicks on the light, and sighs deeply.

“You could at least do that onto a plate.”

Remus just shrugs, so Roman speaks again, “How’s your evening been?”

“Before like...five minutes ago I was really liking it.” Which was true, Roman slides into the seat next to him and picks a cookie from the box.

“What changed?”

“Shitty brain,” He replies, “Y’know how it gets.”

“I do indeed. Do you need anything?” His voice is surprisingly soft with him, to the point where Remus has to give him a confused look before deciding what to say next. He figures out how to fuck with Roman’s plan in that moment.

“I wanna go to Party City and terrorize the night staff.” 

Roman only chuckles, Remus watches his twin put away the cookies and grab his car keys from the bowl on the counter. 

“Come on then, we can buy some of those plastic babies you like so much.”

As Remus is falling asleep later that night, his chest feels warm. He attributes it to the upcoming scheme-ruining scheming. It’s easier than admitting that that was the first time Roman had willingly hung out with him alone since elementary school. He knows the next morning that Roman is most likely buttering up because he suspects Remus knows. Which is...fair. Even if it hurts a little. They get coffee on the way to the theatre and separate. They both have important things to do. The best part about their somewhat rocky-relationship is that they always know where the other is in order to avoid each other. Remus knows that Roman has gone to see Janus and probably make heart eyes and pine over him like a dumbass. Roman knows that Remus is off drooling over his arch nemesis. Today it is more imperative than ever. During practice Remus manages to steal Logan’s backpack while he’s busy. 

He swaps the contents out with the six pounds of glitter he bought the night before and shoves Logan’s things into his bag for safe keeping. Nobody would dare look into Remus’ bag for fear of gore or weird pornography, even if he only has one in his bag at the moment. He’s shoving a small notebook in when he catches a title. “Hamilton Performance Experiment”. It takes literally all of his self-control not to immediately snoop. He makes it through, eventually meeting up with Logan and even carrying his bag to ‘be nice’ so Logan doesn’t pick up on the bag glitter. When Roman walks by with his coffee and “trips”, spilling his coffee all over Logan’s bag, Remus smiles. 

“Oh! Logan I’m so sorry! What a terrible accident!” Roman cries, ever the actor. 

Logan looks downright frantic as he lunges for his bag and rips it open. Glitter goes everywhere. Logan’s hair, Roman’s shoes, the entire dressing room floor. The look of distress fades from Logan’s face momentarily, returning full force when he realizes his things are missing. 

Remus pulls them out of his bag in secret, walking to the corner of the room, walking back and exclaiming, “What a good prank Roman! You must be taking some tricks from my book!”

When he hands the things back to Logan, Logan smiles. He decides not to ask about the notebook. 

July 27th - One of the props from the prop room was moved in with my things. I suspect Roman because of the look on his face when Remus took the fall for me. 

Just because he didn’t ask about the notebook does not mean it left his memory. By the time he gets in the car alone with his brother he realizes that Roman is pissed off at him.

“Couldn’t you have left it alone? How did you even find out!?” 

“I have my ways. Now shut up about it before I tell mom about that time in 8th grade-”

“Okay! Okay! I’m shutting up!” 

And he did. However that included no longer voicing his plans out loud. Which meant Remus had to get creative. He was very very good at getting creative. 

Dinner with their mother was much more quiet that week. Both twins brooding and not speaking with each other, their mother only prompting Roman to talk. It was too familiar in the worst possible ways. Remus despised his mother, but he knew how much his brother loved her. She was...well she was beautiful, intelligent, a very influential fashion designer, extremely supportive. Roman would go on about how perfect she was for hours. Sure, Remus could concede that their mother was beautiful, intelligent, and a very influential fashion designer, but whenever Roman talks about her he never says she’s at all a good mother. Especially not to him. He watches her laugh breathily at one of Roman’s shitty anecdotes from practice and decides he’s had enough of family dinner. He gets up and dutifully cleans his plate and places it in the dishwasher. The chef gives him a smile, and he smiles back. 

“Remus, dear,” His mother begins in her shrill voice, “If you’re not going to eat with us, at least go and shower. Your smell is unbecoming.”

Then she turns back to her food like she didn’t just attempt to insult him. Jokes on her, it takes a lot more than that to hurt his feelings. He still ends up forcing himself into the shower for thirty-five minutes that night.

The rest of the week he’s more tired than usual, which the others notice. He makes an effort to not be, he really does. When his mom is in town, everything just sucks. He hangs out with Janus three times and Virgil once to get out of the house and away from his family. The other nights he spends sitting outside the convenience store with a monster or two. He ends up calling Logan one of those nights out of need for company. Logan chuckles when Remus makes up a silly reason for calling that he can’t even remember now, but he can remember Logan’s laugh. He listens to Logan talk about the book series he’s been reading and he feels a little lighter. He never ends up finding out what Roman has planned, but it’s so easy when it’s happening right in front of him. Despite his lethargy lately, he feels a fire lit in him when the missing prop is found with Logan’s bag. 

Virgil and Janus are the only two teenagers with keys to the prop room. If Logan stole the missing prop, he would have had to steal the key. No one but the twins even knew Janus had a key, and Virgil was dead set on not letting a soul into the prop room. The idea that Logan, precious little innocent fucking lamb Logan, committed theft not once but twice enrages Remus. When they find it with his things, Logan is utterly baffled. Then he realizes the implications and his face pales. Roman calls for Thomas, spouting off about how Logan stole the prop and he should face consequences, when Remus laughs as loudly as he can. 

“Hah! You guys are so funny! You think specs could ever!? Guess my prank worked out pretty damn good if you actually think Mr.Goody-Two-Shoes could commit such a heinous fucking crime!” 

Thomas sighs, tells Remus to just ask next time, and leaves. Roman stares at his brother for a solid minute with his mouth slightly ajar. Janus and Virgil are both looking at him like he’s insane because it’s so obvious to them that Roman did it. Patton is looking not at him, but at Logan, with so much concern. And Logan...Logan stares up at Remus with the look of a small and confused animal.

“Did you really do that?”

“Of course I did! I’m the resident rat bastard, I have to cause a little recreational chaos.”

He’s pretty sure Logan believes him until they’re leaving for the day and Logan whispers a ‘Thank you’ to him as he walks by. He would have melted into the floor if Janus hadn’t put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down to whisper to him.

“Why the hell did you let Roman get away with that?” Virgil is on his other side now with a scowl.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about JJ! I committed a very heinous crime!”

“Then why did Roman ask to borrow Janus’ key earlier?” Virgil asks, and Remus drops his smile to replace it with an annoyed look. 

“He just fucking asked for it!? I can’t even believe I’m related to that half-witted twit.”

“Yeah,” Virgil scoffs, “Not really the sharpest sword in the armoury, is he?”

“Please, we’ve known that for years. What I’d like to know is what are we going to do about it?” This quieted Remus, but made Virgil smirk a little. 

Janus continued, “After the backpack incident, and now the stealing incident, I’m half-convinced we have a brand new chaos demon in the group.”

“At least Remus’ chaos is fun sometimes,” Virgil mutters, “Roman’s just an ass.”

Remus gets away with being quiet as they talk until they get into Janus’ beat up old van. He doesn’t call shotgun, doesn’t slap the car's ‘ass’ as a joke, he just climbs into the back and sits there. He’s so quiet that Janus and Virgil are a little shell shocked. 

“Remus?” Virgil asks quietly and pensively, it sounds just like that soft tone Roman used with him last week. 

He’s quiet, Janus starts the car and clicks his tongue, “I’m going to shove Roman down a flight of stairs.”

“Don’t.” He manages, and the boys in the front seats go quiet. Virgil passes him the aux cord. 

He plays “Call Them Brothers” by Regina Spektor and Janus and Virgil know that tonight will be a very quiet outing. 

They’re sitting at IHOP drawing dicks on their pancakes in syrup when Remus’ phone rings. Janus and Virgil know who’s calling the second Remus sees the caller ID and smiles. 

“Evening Logie-Bear, why do I get the pleasure of hearing your devilishly sexy voice in this IHOP tonight?” Remus says and Janus groans loudly.

“You’re at IHOP?” Is the first thing Logan says, which makes Remus smile even brighter.

“Yes, sir! I’m with Virge and Janny too, you wanna say hi?” 

Logan sounds a bit contemplative when he mutters, “I was hoping you’d be alone...”

Eavesdropping Janus and Virgil make surprised faces, Remus smacks Janus in the arm, “Oh you were, were you? Why? Phone sex?”

“I wanted to ask for an opinion on a predicament.” Virgil smirks and Janus nabs his phone to speak for Remus.

“Remus would love to-Remus let me talk-You should come have some pancakes with us-Ow, watch the face!-and tell us all about how your science is going.” Janus can hear Logan hiding his laughter through the phone as Remus wrestles with him in the booth. 

“It’s more of a philosophical predicament.”

Janus nearly sees red, eyes widening and making Remus cackle,“Why in the world would you ask Remus Grimm about phi-”

It’s silent for a few moments then Logan hears a familiar voice. “It’s Virgil, we’re at the IHOP on 81st and Green.”

Logan laughs brightly, “I’ll be there. Order something for me.”

They spend the evening with breakfast for dinner, and the four get into a fairly heated friendly debate about moral ethics. Janus isn’t sure he’s ever had more fun in his life. When he’s driving away from Virgil to drop Remus off at home, he can’t help but smile at Remus’ improved demeanor. 

“Remus,” He starts after they’re alone, “I thought you and Roman were doing better, did something happen?”

“He tried to sabotage Logan twice for entirely selfish reasons, I wouldn’t care if he dies!” Remus dramatically cries.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

They’re quiet the rest of the ride, and Janus gets out to give Remus a hug before he goes in. Remus ignores Roman’s questions about his whereabouts and locks himself in his room to try and keep his mood up. It doesn’t work, but he tries. He does. 

August 3rd - Roman gave me a “peace offering” in the form of lunch. I am led to believe he was attempting to give me food poisoning, as Remus ate the lunch and has now come down with food poisoning.

His mother leaves for her office in Paris on August 1st. Roman cries and hugs her, says he’ll miss her, goes on and on about how it’s so terrible how she’s never home. He does this every time their mother and father leave, he has since they were young. Remus couldn’t give less of a shit. His plan now was finding out what Roman’s next move was. Which was hard because they were back to avoiding each other like the plague. They’d spent a few months getting better at being brothers, then one of their parents shows up and ruins it. This time it was great, Remus would never admit it, but it was. Roman made an effort when their parents weren’t around, a few months ago he started doing things like making dinner for them both and bringing it to him, offering to do a load of laundry for him while he was doing it, being mindful of his volume when practicing his singing and acting, all these little things. 

He’d even started initiating physical contact again, which Remus couldn’t get enough of. Literally. An occasional pat on the back, a grab of his hand to pull him somewhere, a light slap to his knee or arm when he said something distasteful. Giving physical affection to Remus was something that seemed to be unique to Roman. It had always been like that when they were younger, and Remus didn’t think he wanted it to stop. Any time he thinks about it he always drifts back to his head against Roman’s knee a few weeks ago when Roman had carded a hand through his hair and then a few minutes later practically tackled him to douse him in perfume The shit smelled awful, but afterwards Roman had slung an arm over his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. That and the closeness with Logan kept him buzzing for the next two days. 

Now there was nothing again. It was like Roman could turn off his affection for Remus and pretend he didn’t exist. Remus tried not to be angry about it, he really did, but he couldn’t stop the fire that he felt when the other people on stage got his praises and affection. Both of them were incredibly clingy, but Roman was so much worse at hiding it and it made Remus nearly scream. He piled all of his affectionate behavior onto Logan, and Logan never really minded. He’d place his head on Logan’s shoulder, hold his hand on stage, sit pressed up against him offstage. He loved it, he did. He loved protecting Logan, talking to Logan, existing in the same space as the dork was exhilarating. He hated having to protect Logan from his brother. There was no way in hell that Remus would let anything terrible happen to Logan, but there was no way he would ever let his brother’s stupid selfish decisions fall back on him. He knows he shouldn’t give a single shit, but he does. 

His tiredness fades with his mother, but he’s still exhausted because Roman keeps trying to fuck with Logan when he knows damn well Remus won’t let him. The selfish ass. This time, Roman has the gall to pull his entire scheme in front of Remus. 

“Logan,” He starts, his affected air is slightly dim today and his hands are hidden, “To apologize for my unkind actions, I have brought a peace offering.” 

Roman hands Logan a little bag from a restaurant Remus swears he recognizes. 

“Oh, thank you.” Logan says quietly, opening the bag and pulling out a wrapped burger. 

Logan takes it out and inspects it as Remus wracks his brain trying to remember where he knows the packaging. It hits him right before Logan takes a bite. This burger is from the restaurant that gave Roman food poisoning a few months ago. It looks like the same burger too. At this point, Remus is half-convinced Roman is taunting him. He’s in a bit of a panic and doesn’t think before he snatches the burger and shoves it in his mouth.

“Remus!” Both call out, the wrapper is still on the end of the burger so he pulls it out then chews and swallows the thing whole. 

He coughs and sputters for almost two minutes after, then shoots Roman an awful glare. 

“What just happened?” Logan asks, extremely puzzled. 

Roman is gawking at Remus again, “Why did you eat that!?” 

“Fuck you that’s why, you horsefucking shiteating egomaniac bastard.”

Roman walks off in a huff, Remus lays on the floor. 

“Are you alright?” Logan questions, handing him a water bottle.

Maneuvering onto his side, Remus takes a sip and his throat feels miles better, “I just straight up ate a burger whole like a fucking snake, how do you think I am dipshit?”

“Hm,” He pauses to think, “Bad.” 

Both boys laugh, and Logan joins Remus on the ground.

“I am beginning to believe your brother has a vendetta against me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Logan pauses, looking at Remus who is still occasionally wheezing.

“Are you alright...emotionally?” Remus wheezes and laughs at the same time, sounding something similar to a goose. 

“‘Thought you didn’t know much about those, poindexter.”

“I do not. However, as your friend I feel like it’s important to ask.”

Remus just sighs, closes his eyes, and blows a raspberry at the ceiling.

“Me and Roman are complicated.”

“I can tell.” Remus laughs, Logan really is something else. 

It’s quiet when Remus asks, “Do you hate him?”

“No,” Logan’s response is measured and confident like he’s asked himself this question a hundred times, “I don’t hate him. I think he’s got some things to work out, and is taking out his frustration on me as of late.”

He keeps talking, Remus covers his closed eyes with his arm, “More importantly, do you hate him?”

He almost rockets to his feet when Logan says curiously, “Or, more interestingly, do you love him?”

It takes him nearly two and a half minutes sat up and sipping water, watching Logan pack his things, to muster up the will to tell the truth. 

“Of course I love him. Nobody else is gonna fucking do it.” 

He could barely comprehend Logan’s response to his admission so he shoved it out of his mind with all the force he could muster, then waved a goodbye to him when he parted and left Remus with his mind. 

He ends up going home early because his awful decision ended up actually giving him food poisoning. He takes a sick day the next day, and spends most of the time feeling like shit physically and emotionally. His brain has kept tabs on all the shitty feelings and thoughts he’s had and is now playing out a full length shitty horror movie about his life and his dumb brother and his shitty summer crush. Then there’s that conversation with Logan. The last sentence is running through him over and over again. He keeps coming back to it, though he’s sure Logan didn’t even mean anything by it. Seventeen words and his world was sent spinning. 

“Ah, I understand, it’s hard to love somebody when they don’t act like they love you back.” 

Logan doesn’t even know the half of it. 

August 20th - Roman asked me directly to leave the production. Though I admire the effort, all it achieved was a quite awful night, and an angry lecture(?) of sorts from Janus. I do not believe Roman will be trying this tactic ever again.

Roman tries to apologize multiple times, but something angry and petty in Remus doesn’t accept any of them. They’re both getting more and more frustrated by the minute. By the time the thirteenth of August rolls around they aren’t on speaking terms again and everyone can tell that it’s taking its toll on them both. Remus acts out more than usual against people he doesn’t usually target. He scared an ensemble girl one too many times, to the point where she ended up slapping him. He deserved it, but it still stung. Roman poured himself into his role more than ever, but it only ended up stressing him out even more than usual. When his voice so much as wavered on stage it shattered his confidence. 

It affected their friends as well. Roman spent more time with Patton and Emile, avoiding Remus and Janus as much as he could possibly manage. Janus rolled his eyes but just resigned himself to the tech booth with Virgil, Remus, and Logan. The only good thing that was happening lately was Janus’ newfound attachment to Logan. The pair's insane intelligence and love of debate meant one was nearly guaranteed every other time they were in the same room. It was exhilarating to watch, and probably exhilarating to take part in. Remus didn’t much care for debates, but watching Janus and Logan go at each other with an occasional snarky comment or new suggestion from Virgil was making him grow a fondness for them. At this point there was barely anybody in the theatre who didn’t adore Logan.

The staff, the cast, the tech. Everyone adored him. He was smart, diligent, and hard-working. He asked questions, didn’t undermine others, and respected the entire cast's talent at what they did. It was magical to watch everyone in the auditorium drift under Logan’s thumb. Remus was included. They were saving Say No To This until near last because of the lack of dancing involved, but it didn’t even matter. Say No To This was not needed in Remus’ seduction plan because Logan seemed to gravitate towards him with ease. He is a damn good friend and Remus is determined to make that boy his bride. 

Despite his growing lack of sleep and reliance on caffeine, Remus is skating by just fine without anything bad happening. Until his brother decides to fuck with his life again. He’s on the thin line between being shitty in secret and full-on breakdown, Roman really isn’t helping his case. Remus is lounging on the floor while Logan reads in a chair next to the makeup mirrors. He hears someone enter, but isn’t bothered enough to move. 

Ever the polite, Logan greets the newcomer “Ah, Hello Roman, how are you?”

“I need to ask you something.” His brother asks, and Remus turns his head away from the noise. 

“Alright, what is it?” Logan sounds so measured and calm.

There is a long pause, “What is it going to take for you to realize you should quit?”

The calmness in Logan’s voice wavers, and Remus can hear it wobble, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I mean, it’s obvious I've been trying to get you to leave, so what’s been keeping you!?” Roman raises his voice near instantly, that same childish selfishness burns from his tongue. 

“It is none of your business.” There’s a dignified fire raging under his voice now, it’s like he’s been practicing for this. 

“You’re not even a good actor! From what I can tell, you’re entirely uninteresting and way too intellectual to be here!” Roman continues, Remus feels the urge to get up but he can’t find the will to move. 

“Roman, please think before you say something you regret.” Remus knows what Roman is going to say before it happens.

“No!” His brother is so typical, “You have no idea what this role means to me, why can’t you just leave!?”

That’s typical too, Remus opens his eyes and looks at the pair. Logan looks pissed off, Roman looks pissed off, and Janus is watching from the doorway. 

“I try very hard to give you the benefit of the doubt in regards to your debilitating egomania, but it is beginning to appear as if your whole sense of stability and purpose is built upon some false reality where you need to be the star at every possible moment. Go to therapy about it, and leave me alone.” Logan spits this in Roman’s face, then turns back to his book. 

Clenching his fists and staring at the ground, Roman looks almost defeated until he catches Remus staring and his face morphs into something so bitter he has to force himself to look away. 

“No. I will not leave you alone until I get this part. None of you have any idea how much I need it.” 

“Roman-” Janus speaks up daringly from his spot by the door, his tone is enough to warn him to stand down. 

Roman’s eyes are squeezed shut, his fists are clenched, “I know we have the same face, but I’m not a failure like my brother.”

That sends Remus to his feet and out the door before anyone can say a word. As he passes Janus on the way out Janus tries to stop him but he pushes past him, past everyone, and out the front door of the theatre. 

Janus turns on Roman in an instant, walking slowly into the room and shutting the door with purpose. Roman’s eyes are sewed shut and all the guilt he tries to push down floods him when he makes eye contact with his pissed off friend. 

“Roman, we need to have a talk.” 

[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship.

Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!!

This is the previous Ch2 snippet I posed + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I understand you want to see her”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so, even though I’ve never done this before, I’m thinking continuing to post snippet-by-snippet is perhaps the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!!

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, you may kindly let me know! I’d appreciate if you said things you liked too though.)

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who said they were interested! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia, @lynnie51

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippets 1 & 2:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid for breakfast if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

*

Notes: The part I’m most stuck on is the conversation between Zeus and Hades. We rarely see Zeus being real and emotional with people...so I’m really struggling where to go with that with little to nothing to base it on. If you have any ideas for that, or think you can help, feel free to DM me!!

[breakingsomething]

the fall

the second this idea came to me, i had to write it. also, this is NOT CANON IN MY LORE. at all. please heed the warnings, as this fic is. very heavy. lotta bad shit. enjoy.

trigger warnings: torture, blood, gore

the only sound to be heard was a silent click, click, click. perfectly continuous, never faltering. heavy boots tapping the floor as they marched down an empty corridor with gently flickering lights until they reached a door. a gloved hand tapped buttons whose piercing beeps shattered the silence, and the door was opened to reveal a much shorter hallway. at the end was a thick steel door, which required several codes and fingerprint scans to open. this place was clearly very deliberately made. eventually the door made a hissing noise and the man that the pair of boots belonged to stepped inside, swinging it shut behind him and slowly walking into the middle of the room.

it was very small, and very dark. there was only one light, just above the doorway, but it was bright enough to show what was inside, which was - nothing. nothing apart from one man, handcuffed to a pipe against a wall with a cloth gag in his mouth, and a wooden bat next to the door where the man in gloves and boots stood. he paused as he sauntered in, casually picking up the bat and swinging it from hand to hand. the mask over his face creased with an unseen smile as he came forward, looking down on the man beneath him.

for a moment they were both silent. then the standing man yanked his hood from his head and removed his mask, revealing wavy brown hair and pale, scarred skin. he grinned, showing off gap teeth and sparkling dark blue eyes. he tilted his head, tapping the bat against the floor.

"hello, hello, hello," he said slowly, dragging out his words as he clicked his boots against the floor. "sorry it's been a while. i've been… busy. you understand, i'm sure. i know you were a very busy man too, once."

the man on the floor said nothing, of course. his expression was blank, but his eyes were burning with rage and hatred and defiance. the standing man felt a twinge of pride at that, revelling in how weak he looked, how sick, how human.

he raised his eyebrows dramatically, putting on a babying tone. "oh, oh! pardon my forgetfulness, bro." he crouches down to be at the other man's level, not breaking eye contact. "it's hard to remember things that are so unimportant. i'm sure you understand that as well. see, we get each other, you and i. do we not?"

he suddenly yanked the gag from the other man's mouth in one ferocious motion, causing him to cough and splutter from pain. the gloved man tossed the gag behind him, biting back a giggle at how the other quickly regained his composure and growled softly, his eyes going from soft brown to green to blue to white to fully black. even without his pupils visible and his greasy curls falling into his eyes, his gaze seemed to bore into the man, pure anger bubbling in it. the gloved man laughed out loud at that, sitting back and smiling.

"nothing more to say, anti?" he said cheerfully. anti only made a rumbling sound deep in his throat, staring. he was very still, the only sign of life being his chest rising and falling and the twitching of his right eye.

the man chuckled and shook his head. "this is - wow. seeing you reduced to this… it brings me an immeasurable amount of joy, seeing you looking so pathetic, so helpless." he gripped anti's face in his hand, squishing his cheeks tightly. anti should have learned not to try and bite him. he did it anyway, earning another laugh from the other man as he slapped him, three times in quick succession. anti reeled, blinking rapidly before returning to his previous position of simply staring, still growling lowly, static humming weakly.

"ah, you ought to learn!" the man exclaimed, tutting and wagging a finger in anti's face. "this is just sad, come on. do you not have any dignity left, aiden mcloughlin?"

it was that that caused anti to snap. "speak that name one more fucking time and i'll dig your eyes out with my bare hands and shove them so far down your throat i'll make you choke on them." he spat, voice incredibly hoarse from disuse. and to his credit, he kept up the glare as and after he spoke, his gaze never once wavering. the man wondered how he managed to keep it together so well when he could smell the fear radiating off him.

the man's face split with a wide smile. "oh, do keep threatening me. it's the highlight of my day." he ran his fingers through anti's hair, noticing how despite his uncaring demeanor, his breath hitched at the contact. "really, all my time spent here is just wonderful. just sitting here, admiring my work. it's wonderful. just wonderful. you, i have to say, are the greatest thing i've ever made."

his fingers gently traced anti's scalp, and anti's eyes fluttered shut for just a moment before they snapped open again, his rage returning. "you like this?" the man said with a mocking smile. "poor little anti. been without human contact so long, how sad. when was the last time someone played with your hair, or touched you at all this gently? surely the last time you were with your brother, before he left you? was that then? or even before that, when you were just jack's little pet and a single kind act from him made your day?" without warning, he gripped anti's hair tightly, yanking his neck back hard. "i can't believe i used to be afraid of you."

he leaned in close to anti's ear, despite how he uselessly struggled to pull away. "now i see you're no scarier than the rest of us. just a sad, angry, lonely little human with a desperate need for affection and validation. can you agree with that, anti? nod for a yes, shake your head for a no."

"what happened to you?" anti rasped, wincing as the man pulled his head further back, his hair brushing his shoulders. "you were one of jack's boys. i will admit, out of all of you, i had you pinned for least likely to go fucking insane."

the man let go of anti's hair, and anti wheezed as he tried to get a breath. the man just watched, smirking, until anti had calmed, steadying himself. he already appeared to be at the breaking point, poor bastard. most likely wouldn't stay conscious much longer. a trail of red blood dripped from a reopened wound on his head under his hair.

"i am many things," the gloved man said to anti calmly, hands resting on his thighs. "but i am not insane. i can just see things so much clearer now. i can see how weak you are. i can see how powerful i am. i can see how my brothers perhaps always needed me to be more like this in order to protect them."

despite it all, anti grinned crookedly, his lip busting open again with the movement. "but your brothers don't know you have me held here, do they?" he said, and the man felt his expression slip for only a moment before his cool rage returned to his face. "your brothers don't know where you are at nighttimes. they think you're - ha, they think you're out protecting the city, don't they, hero? don't they, red? you mock me for my weakness, but you can't even face telling your little brothers that you're a sadistic -"

he struck anti again, noting in grim delight the cracking sound of his nose breaking once more. this time, he didn't stop until one of anti's eyes was swollen shut, his nose dribbling a waterfall of blood. even with that, he couldn't seem to wipe the smug grin off anti's face.

"that one strike a nerve?" he giggled, voice slurred with the amount of blood in his mouth. "are you imagining the look on little jinx's face when he finds out what big brother red has been doing? when he looks at you and sees the blood on your hands? or when the doctor sees your face but only sees his old captor, not a brother in sight? or when dear kitten -"

the man stood, breathing heavily. he held his bat up threateningly, cursing how his hands shook. "one more word and i hit you with this and i will not hold back."

anti threw back his head and roared with laughter, only stopping to cough wildly, red spraying from his mouth. "what's wrong, jackieboy man? can't handle a -"

jackie stayed true to his word. after three violent strikes, anti's head fell to his chest, unconscious. jackie didn't stop there, however. he bent down and grabbed anti's throat, lifting him up as high as the thick handcuffs and chains would let him. anti groaned, still almost completely out of it.

"you think you can just fucking talk to me like that?" jackie screamed, shaking anti and slamming him against the wall. anti was just aware enough to whine in pain, his eyes flickering. "i keep you alive, i give you the privilege to keep breathing when you should be long fucking dead and this is what you do?"

"not asking you to keep me alive," anti mumbled, limp against jackie's hold. "kill me if y'must."

"no!" and with that, jackie let him go, leaving anti to slump to the ground again. "no, no, you don't fucking deserve to die! not after everything! not - not after - you don't deserve anything as good as death!"

anti made a noise, sitting up and spitting blood to the floor. the wound on his bare neck had reopened, the crusted dark blood being replaced with new, brighter red, a wave dripping down his chest. still, anti laughed, and jackie howled with rage, his vision blurred with pure hatred towards the man in front of him. "shut up!" he screamed, voice breaking. "shut up, shut up, i'll tear your fucking tongue out!"

"do that then," anti giggled. so much blood. jackie almost gagged. through the redness, anti's brown eyes glittered with amusement. "i'd love to see you do that, i would. i really would."

jackie pulled his knife from his back pocket, holding it to anti's mouth. "don't fucking make me!" he cried, voice audibly trembling. "one more goddamn word and you'll never fucking speak again, i swear to christ!"

anti smirked, and jackie's heart sank.

"do it," anti challenged. he didn't flinch as jackie brought the knife even closer, scraping into his skin. "fucking do it."

and jackie did.

later that evening, he sat in the shower for close to an hour. just staring at the wall, letting the red rinse off down the drain. just letting all the gross wrongness go away, letting all the evidence disappear. letting himself disappear. this is what i have to do to keep my family safe, he told himself. this is necessary to make sure no one ever hurts them again.

that wasn't true. and he knew that.

when had he lost himself so badly? when had he become so cruel, so angry? when had he become what he hated the most in the world?

anti never spoke again. but that defiant look never left his eye. and that was what scared him.

[tae-cup]

When The Earth Met The Sea | Of Eternity and Euphoria (2)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Summary: You had been playing this game with the god of the sea for far too long. He decided to finally put an end to it. 

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4.7k Words

A/N: Ideas are just-flowing. Let me know your thoughts, they help motivate me a lot! 

Other: 

Series Masterlist

Normal Masterlist

-

-

The god of the sea, with dark eyes like the depths of the ocean and luminescent skin like the fish below, met her when she was just a new god. A goddess meant to manage Earth long after the original god had worn himself out. 

You were the newest addition to the collection of gods and goddesses. Everyday seemed to have a newcomer. It was bad enough that they need a welcome booth for where they all seemed to pop out of nowhere. The Earth was changing and so were the gods. When the god who brought the continents of the Earth together discovered that his apprentice, you, had accidentally triggered fault lines to break them apart, he was rightfully angry. 

“I can’t believe this. A million years of work to be broken like this.” He had hissed at you. You smiled, still young and hopeful, open to change. That’s what the new gods held against the old gods. They were more open and adaptable. They broke tradition. 

-

You met while you were busy arranging Iceland. You sat puzzled at your desk. It was glass with a large Earth in the middle. You could rotate it with a wave of your hand. For a long time most gods called you the insane ruler of Earth. The goddess that was always in her head. You spent most of your days alone, but you had your thoughts distracting you anyway. 

There was a soft knock on your office doors. You looked up quickly, hesitating to open the door. Maybe you could pretend you weren’t here? You shoved Iceland towards the top of the globe hastily, telling yourself you’d move it soon enough. 

“I know you’re in there.” A low voice announced. You knew that voice, everyone did. The god of the sea often complained to the other gods if they encroached on his territory. You had simply been waiting until he got around to you. After all, you were the reason for so much distress in the oceans with continents sliding everywhere. 

“Come in.” You sighed, not wanting to deal with the annoyed god. Taehyung always looked calm on the surface, but he had a swirling vortex of emotions below. You just didn’t feel like being dragged under right now. 

“Pardon my intrusion,” He started off, to which you held back rolling your eyes. “But there are important matters we need to discuss.” 

“Ever the polite gentlemen.” You drawled. “Well, I suppose I have some time. Please, sit.” You gestured to the chairs at the other side of the desk. You then waved your hand, shooing away the globe. 

“First of all,” He sat carefully, making sure not to wrinkle his suit. “I would like to request you slow down your innovations to the modern world. The continents are stirring up the sea floor and causing thousands of species to become endangered or extinct.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, giving away his frustration. 

You simply smiled, clasping your fingers together at the other end of the desk. “Of course, I understand your anger. However, Mr. Kim, there will always be change. Perhaps you just need to adapt?” Your words held a fire that so contrasted your innocent look. 

You may be considered innocent, lost in your own world, and fragile, but in reality you were anything but. You held a fire in your soul, a down to Earth nature, and you quipped back impeccably well. Taehyung had never met a goddess like you, much less a god. Usually gods and goddesses alike would bow to the whims of one of the oldest gods. He may have let the power get to him. He was taken aback. 

“While that, uh,” He swallowed thickly, not sure how to string together the right words. “While that is true, water adapts easily, I can as well. The issue here is the rate at which change is happening. It’s too fast to adapt. I’m asking for your compassion in this to understand my concerns.” 

“I’ll think on it.” You said vaguely. “I want to get the continents settled. After all, I have my own people to take care of.” 

He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement before standing. The tension in the air thickened. 

“Well, then, I must be going. Thank you for your...consideration.” His voice was steel, but there was a hint of warmth. You couldn’t deny that you had enjoyed the snappy conversation. 

“Good day.” You smiled as you watched him leave in a hurry. It would take more than good looks or witty dialogue to change your mind on things. 

-

-

“Ah, Ms. Y/N.” A familiar voice reached your ears. Oh no. You slowly turned around, a forced smile on your face. 

“Taehyung, how lovely to see you again.” You greeted, looking past him to view the other gods he had arrived with. “I didn’t expect you to actually come.” Your face didn’t give away any emotion, staying on a stagnant smile. 

“Of course I would come, it’s your 1000th birthday.” His lips twitched into a smile. 

“And I will have many more.” You shot back. 

“The first millennia is always special. Soon enough you’ll be considered a proper goddess yourself.” 

“I’m not considered a proper goddess already?” You quirked an eyebrow. He let out a loud laugh that would seem natural if you didn’t know him. He casually ruffled your hair. 

“You’re new yet, don’t be in such a rush to grow old.” His voice had a touch of affection and you weren’t quite sure what to do with that information. He walked away to grab a drink and socialize with the other gods and goddesses at your party. 

It wasn’t a grand party, in god terms. You had a large ballroom in your home, though you rarely held any parties. Humans were tiresome and always needed something from you. That reminded you of another encounter you had with the old sea god. 

-

-

“What’s got you so agitated?” Taehyung leaned casually against the wall in your office. You didn’t need to look up to know it was him. That voice was iconic enough. 

“These humans.” You muttered, running a hand through your hair. “They always want more. It seems Jin has created a very greedy species.” 

“But Jin loves them nonetheless. He admires there tenacity.” 

“They’re like weeds.” 

The dark eyed god laughed genuinely. “You are correct, my darling goddess.” 

You rolled your eyes. “First they thought the world was flat and now they’re begging for a better harvest as if I have nothing better to do.” You massaged your forehead, holding your head in your hands. You sunk miserably into your chair. “What makes it worse is that I don’t.” You practically threw your hands up in frustration. “Why couldn’t I have gotten assigned to the stars or moon?” 

Taehyung’s gaze softened seeing you struggle so hard. He carefully approached you, looking around uncomfortably. What could he do? He lifted his hand and slowly patted your back. It was a mixture of being comforting and annoying. 

“Hey, it’ll be okay. You’ll learn soon enough that you don’t have to do everything they want. Yes, they’ll worship you, but they love you even more if they experience what’s it’s like without your guidance. They’ll appreciate you more.” He said, his voice deep and soothing. You sighed, back moving up and down under his touch. 

“You’re right, I guess.” When you looked up, you met his eyes. And it was like you were drowning. The orbs of his eyes weren’t obsidian at all, they were a deep, glittering blue. You felt like you were losing your grip, so you quickly pulled away. “Thank you, but I’m very busy.” 

He simply nodded and made his way toward the door. “Try not to be so hard on yourself.”

-

-

Even now, your eyes trailed him around the room. You shook your head and decided to distract yourself with greeting the endless sea of new guests. The temperature of the room rose with the amount of bodies piling in. You hadn’t expected so many to show up. You weren’t much of a crowds person, again, you were known as the looney goddess up in her head all day. 

“I hope we can get along well.” Seokjin smiled, placing a kiss on your hand. You smiled gently. 

“I, too, hope we can work together. Though, your humans are troublesome creatures.” 

He chuckled and moved to the side, making way for the last god you expected to see. The god of the underworld stood there, his presence seemingly dropping the room’s temperature in itself. He frowned, looking awfully out of place next to the bright colors of the night. 

“Mr. Min, lovely to see you.” You smiled pleasantly. He waved you off, eyes lazily surveying the room. 

“I just came to wish you well. I believe we’ll be in touch very shortly.” He whispered so only you could hear him. You froze. No god or goddess who was in charge of living things wanted to hear that they would be meeting the god of the dead any time soon. 

“What do you mean? What do you know?” You murmured back, fighting the urge to run to your office and check on the troublesome humans. Jin had left them in your care after he was done perfecting them. He claimed they were the perfect inhabitants for your lonely continents. 

“You’ll have to talk to Jungkook about it.” He shook his head, moving to the side. You realized you had been talking far too long and people were throwing you suspicious stares, especially Taehyung. You excused yourself from the long line and made your way to the bar. You practically stumbled into a seat, like you were already drunk. You must have looked physically paler than ever before because the bartender poured you a glass of something strong without question. 

Jungkook was a new god, like you. He had been made when humans were made. A very select few gods knew his reason for being here. That included the big three (Yoongi, Taehyung, and Seokjin), Jungkook, and Namjoon. The five of them didn’t seem very happy about him being there and they refused to tell you his reason for inhabiting this world. Taehyung would just shake his head, a soft look on his face, and say that he prayed you never found out. 

“What happened?” Taehyung slid into a seat next to you. 

“Tell me, Tae.” You turned to him, hand tightly gripping the glass. “What is Jungkook’s purpose here?” Your jaw clenched. 

“Why do you need to know?” He looked bewildered. 

“It pertains to the safety of my inhabitants.” You hissed. 

“You really shouldn’t worry about it.” 

“Why did Yoongi claim I would be meeting with not only him, but also Jungkook, very soon?” 

Taehyung’s gaze searched your face. He had a distant look on his face. Then he brushed his hands through his hair. He forced a kind smile onto his face, but his eyes were cold. 

“War. Y/N. War. He’s the god of war.” 

-

-

You rushed out of your room to empty the contents of your stomach out once more. You truly were the most human of all the gods and goddesses. You took on a certain amount of pain your little humans possessed, but this was getting ridiculous. How many times can a god throw up on an empty stomach? 

You were not well, everyone knew this. When you could stand, other gods sent you sympathetic looks. Your little humans. Your dreaded companions that plagued themselves with hatred for each other for centuries. 

You gasped for air, flushing the toilet. Your eyes closed, trying to hold onto your stomach. You couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. You had to constantly survey the Earth to make sure they didn’t completely destroy it with any of their fancy new weapons. You fell to the floor, feeling like you’d just been punched in the gut. Gods, what had they done to your beautiful creation this time? 

You stumbled down the halls and towards your office, feeling more dizzy by the minute. Then you saw it, the news reports that flashed onto your screen, the carnage. 

“No.” Your voice was so quiet in disbelief. Then it rose. “No! No! No!” You banged your fist against the table, your other hand clutching your stomach. You felt sick, sicker than before, like you’d been poisoned. All you could see were the words atomic bomb and Japan. You wanted to scream in pain and frustration. You had no lively energy, no color in your cheeks. Your eyes were hollow. Your hands shakily grabbed the table as you pulled yourself to a standing position. Quiet tears streaked down your cheeks. 

“Jungkook.” You yelled hoarsely. “Jungkook!” 

Finally, the young god appeared in a shimmering light, an astral projection to your office. Unlike you, he seemed to be glowing, basking in the violence. Now he radiated energy and pure rage. 

“Please.” You choked, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please, stop this.” You cried out, voice breaking. He just tilted his head, seemingly reveling in your tears. 

“Why? I’m thriving, Y/N.” He chuckled darkly. 

“You’re killing me.” Your voice was flat, stating a simple truth. If the reason for a god’s existence disappeared, then the god would be forgotten as well. He smiled a little. 

“Fine, but you can’t expect me to hold back next time.” He disappeared and you collapsed on the floor, unable to stand any longer. 

Pain was all you felt, saw, heard, smelled. His sadistic smile forever burned in your vision. 

“Y/N?” A concerned voice came through. You heard a tray drop and the hurried footsteps of someone. “Oh my gods, what happened?” 

You didn’t have the energy to respond. 

“See, this is why I told you not to get so invested in your little humans.” He murmured, the low voice giving you a sense of peace. Inside, Taehyung was furious. Seeing you laying there helpless broke something in him. And when he picked you up, you were so frail, all bones. Your immortality would not allow you to starve to death, but you could feel that pain. 

“You idiot.” His voice didn’t wobble, though he felt like breaking down seeing you like this. Maybe he cared more about you than he should. Maybe he was the idiot for falling in love with you. 

“I just-I just wanted to help.” You murmured softly against his shirt. He just clutched you tighter, laying you down onto the large bed. 

“I know, love, I know.” He whispered, brushing a few strands of hair from your forehead. He couldn’t handle seeing you in this feverish state. This is not what a god should look like. 

Your ethereal light was faded significantly, now a dim glow. 

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to take care of me. You have the sea to handle.” 

“I’d choose you over the sea any day.” He murmured, hoping you hadn’t heard, but you had. You just didn’t react, knowing he would feel awkward if you acknowledged it. Your heart beat quickly, and not because of the fever. 

You tugged on his hand. “Stay.”

And he did. 

-

-

“What’s the prophecy?” Taehyung tilted his head, looking at the pale god before him. Yoongi sighed and took a deep breath, ready to repeat the entire thing again. “No, no,” Taehyung held up a hand. “I’ve already heard that version. Just sum up the important points.” 

“Alright.” The older god grumbled. It wasn’t unusual for Taehyung to talk brashly. “Basically, I’ll meet my soulmate and they will lead me down a path that will end in my demise.” 

“Anything else that could lead to your demise?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow. 

The seven men all sat rather uncomfortably around a table in the throne room. They all looked around, trying to avoid the topic. Finally, Jungkook banged his fist on the table. 

“Can we all stop acting like idiots, we’re gods! Why can’t we utter his name? It’s pathetic!” He shouted. Namjoon shot him a glare and Taehyung eyed him warily. He still hadn’t forgiven the younger god for putting you through so much pain. 

“Kronos is not a titan to be trifled with.” Namjoon muttered, barely making out the name. 

“We all know he’s coming back, hell, even Y/N can feel the growing tension.” Jungkook continued his rant, though a little more subdued. It was true, you had been complaining of this tension in your chest for ages now. 

“Don’t talk about her.” Taehyung crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. 

“What? You worried for your girlfriend?” Jungkook sneered. “You’ve grown soft for that insane goddess.”

His fists clenched under the table and Namjoon eyed him carefully. 

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Namjoon glared harshly at the two gods. “Jin?”

“Yes?” The sky god straightened. 

“Keep an eye on Kronos and Taehyung, please stay behind. I need to speak to you about something.” 

Taehyung simply nodded as the others filed out of the room. Now alone, he sagged in his seat. “What do you want, Joon?” 

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Is that any way to speak to me? Now, I need you to watch Yoongi. I don’t...I don’t want his love to be the downfall of us.”

The sea god scoffed at the other. “You really think Yoongi would fall in love with anyone?” 

Namjoon’s eyes softened, looking Taehyung over. “I mean you fell in love, it’s not impossible.” 

Taehyung gaped at Namjoon. “What-what? No!” He sputtered. The elder god gave him a knowing smile. “And what are you suggesting! I’m not that hard to love.” He mumbled the last part.

“Listen, you just need to take care of whoever it is.”

Taehyung’s face fell. “Take...care of?” 

“Make it look like an accident.” 

“I thought you didn’t believe that stuff?” Taehyung argued. The thought of destroying someone’s soulmate made his heart ache. 

“Of course I believe the fates. I just didn’t want to worry Yoongi too much. Now, Tae, you’ve found your soulmate, yes?”

The dark haired god tilted his head. “Really?”

“Oh come on, Tae. You can’t be that stupid. It’s obviously Y/N.” Namjoon rolled his eyes. Taehyung swallowed. 

“Why does this matter?”

“Well, I love you like a brother, but if you can’t follow through on this...” Namjoon looked into Taehyung’s eyes, a dangerous smile reaching his lips. “...I won’t hold off Jungkook next time.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But, hyung, this is too cruel.” Argued the restless god. 

“I have no issue with being cruel. I have an issue with Olympus falling to Kronos once more.” 

“Do you know who it is?” 

“Yes, a mortal.” 

Taehyung froze, swallowing thickly. “A...mortal? Hyung this is too easy.” 

“Mortals are easily curious and attracted to evil, you know this better than anyone...Y/N knows this better than anyone.”

“And yet she stays good on her word to Jin. She still defends them and helps them tirelessly.” Taehyung had even grown a soft spot, seeing how much you cared about those pitiful creatures. 

“She’s a bit odd,” Namjoon watched a muscle in Taehyung’s jaw twitch at that. “But she will understand, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“She’ll hate me, hyung.”

“Thousands are lost to the sea every year.”

“But never on purpose!”

“She won’t hate you. Y/N is your soulmate, she’ll understand it’s for the better of all gods.”

Though the sea god doubted this, he still nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if I get kicked out of the house, I’m staying with you.”

-

-

You did not understand. 

“Tae! You can’t just do this to an innocent person!” Once she had overheard the plan, she ran straight to Yoongi to warn him. “She’s eight. EIGHT!” You felt distraught, feeling sympathy for this poor child who was almost killed for no fault of her own. 

“I can’t believe you went and told Yoongi.” Taehyung cried, slamming his hands on the desk. You flinched slightly, but that didn’t deter him. “I did what I had to! Don’t you understand that? Do you want to die? You’re part of the original gods who put Kronos down there. He won’t be kind to you.” 

“That was the original god, not me.” You defended yourself. “I’m sorry I went to Yoongi, but I can’t do that to him. I know I would feel absolutely heartbroken if my soulmate died.” 

Taehyung frowned, ignoring your statement. “Did you know?”

“Know? That you wanted to kill a child?” 

“No,” He stepped around the desk and took your hands in his. “That we’re soulmates.” 

Your face got visibly pale and you instantly dropped his hands. You tried to ignore the hurt that flashed across his face. “You’re mistaken.” 

“Namjoon told me.” 

“He could be wrong.”

“Would it really be so bad, to be soulmates with me? To live together, forever?” He peered into your eyes. You softened your facial features. 

“I mean, no, I don’t know.” You sighed, tugging at your hair. “I just didn’t expect this.” 

“I wouldn’t mind.” 

You stopped your worrying, glancing over his features. You searched for a sign of sarcasm, but you found none. 

“I think I love you.” You suddenly said, your voice quiet. He resisted the urge to kiss you right there, the look on your face was so pure. 

“You think?” He teased. He took a step forward and this time you didn’t move away. “I think I love you too.” 

He leaned forward, lips brushing yours, teasing you almost. You leaned up, planting a soft kiss on his lips timidly. It was all over then. He grasped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You ran your hands through his hair. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth and you gladly let him in. Taehyung’s breath fanned over your face as he pulled away, leaning down to pepper kisses down your jawline and neck. You gasped, surprised at the neediness he displayed. His hands ran up and down your waist. 

“You know I’ll protect you no matter what, right?” He said breathlessly. You nodded, shifting under him. “You drive me crazy, Y/N. You make me want to ruin you.” 

You felt your cheeks heat up. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, the centuries of being alone slowly fading away. It had been so long since you’d touched anyone intimately. You were sure you were that last virgin goddess in this town. You nudged him away softly. 

“Not yet.” Your voice was firm but rang sweet. 

He whined ever so slightly when he pulled away, taking in your flushed face. 

“Gods, I’m so in love with you.” He declared. 

You were speechless. You were so madly in love with him too. But how could you say it? It almost embarrassed you to be so open in your affections. So you simply nodded, pulling him into your lips once more. 

-

-

You had long forgotten the little eight year old you and Yoongi had saved. Then she stumbled into the underworld, every god could feel the disturbance, no longer a little girl. She held herself with a lovely confidence. You couldn’t help watching her. After all, she was under your jurisdiction. You left your bed early in the morning, wiggling out from under Taehyung. 

You watched him slowly shift, not noticing the lack of warmth. You smiled at his sleeping figure. He looked so peaceful, no sign of the whirlpool underneath. You had long been swept under, but you didn’t mind. He never overwhelmed you. 

“Little human, what are you doing here?” You murmured to yourself, watching her wander through the halls. Then you remembered the meeting the gods had in a bit. You carefully flicked through the latest news, though you, of course, knew all of it first. You enjoyed the simple views of these papers, just trying to grab the attention of consumers. 

“You’re up early.” Taehyung stood in the doorway, watching you with such love in his eyes, you just wanted to melt. You were still emotionally unstable since World War II, unable to think about war without wanting to break down again. Taehyung hated that he never stepped in. He hated that Jungkook allowed you to go through that. You felt like a ghost, often drifting off during conversation, but Taehyung was always gentle and patient with you. It seemed you were the only one he had patience for. 

“Oh, yeah.” You scratched your head awkwardly. “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” 

“Yeah. Yoongi said it was important.” 

“You didn’t kill the girl.” 

“I know.”

“What will happen to you?” 

I’m more worried about you. He thought to himself. “Nothing, love.” He opened his arms and you didn’t hesitate to hug him. “You don’t need to worry about me.” He murmured into your hair. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid.” You mumbled. 

“Of course.” 

You patted his arm lovingly. “And try to give her a chance, okay? You intimidate most gods, what can you expect from a mortal?” 

Taehyung chuckled, but he didn’t respond. You sighed and gave him a chaste kiss. “Be safe, love.” 

-

-

Your face blanched, watching Taehyung get dressed. His hands shook. 

“Where are you going?” You asked, voice small. He jumped, looking back to see you standing in the doorway. Taehyung fastened his necktie, swallowing. 

“Namjoon wants me to finish the job.” 

You froze, eyes widening. “What?” 

“I know.” He groaned, hurriedly putting on his shoes. “but it should be easy since she’s traveling to the surface to pack up.” He went to move past you, but you planted yourself in the doorway. 

“No.” You said firmly, crossing your arms. He looked at you, bewildered. 

“I know you don’t like this, but at this point I have no choice. It’s you or her.” 

“I’m a goddess, Taehyung. I’m not a fragile flower. I can handle pain. A mortal cannot!” You cried out. “If it’s me versus her, choose her.” 

His gaze hardened and he stepped forward. He place his hands on your shoulders. “No.” Then he moved you aside like you were nothing. 

“Kim Taehyung.” You were shaking, hatred pouring through you. “If you do not turn back around right now, I can promise you I will leave. I will leave and you won’t see me again.” 

“I can’t believe this.” He whispered menacingly. He turned on his heel, facing you, pain in his eyes. But he knew the terror and pain you were displaying on your face would be engraved in his mind forever. “A human over yourself? You truly are the most selfless goddess I know.” 

“They are my fish.” You gestured grandly. “If they die, I die. If the Earth dies because of them, then that’s my fault for loving them too much.” 

“You always love people too much. Including me.” He took your hands in his, giving them a soft squeeze, all anger from before was gone. “But you’re lucky I’m absolutely, madly, in love with you.” 

Then he turned around, leaving you frozen in place, heart beating wildly. “Taehyung!” You cried, dress flowing behind you as you chased after him. Too late. He was gone. “No, no, no.” You sank to the ground, holding your head in your hands. The pain you felt for that poor girl. 

-

“Lift your head, Y/N.” His gentle voice called to you. And when you looked up, there stood Taehyung in all his glory. Not a hair out of place. You scrambled up, immediately backing away. 

“That was fast.” You said bitterly. 

“How long have you been sitting there?” His eyes met yours. You glanced away. 

“Since you left.” 

“That was hours ago.”

“So you did it?” You answered harshly, already feeling the tears ready to spill over. 

“No.” 

You looked up at him, eyes blinking back the tears in surprise. “No?”

“I couldn’t. Not to you. Not to her.” 

A grin broke out onto your face. 

“So you do have a heart after all, Mr. Kim Taehyung.” 

He grimaced, “I didn’t like you using my name like that. I prefer you calling me Tae.” 

You chuckled at his forlorn expression. You walked forward and embraced him. His arms enveloped you in warmth and you felt completely safe. Completely normal. Now you understood why humans went to war for such trivial things. Before you couldn’t understand why they hated each other, why they hurt each other, and by default, you. It’s because they love something else that’s worth fighting for. And as you sank into his embrace, you knew you would go to war for him, even if Kronos ate you like your ancestors, you wouldn’t regret it one bit. 

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part VIII

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 8

4.2k words

Mentions: sex, swearing

---

Miriam dresses you in the morning, rousing you from a cold, empty bed so that you may be ready on time to link up with the Chancellor. You feel a pang in your chest when you realize that Kylo’s not there, though you don’t let it hurt your feelings too badly. He’s a very busy man, your husband, and you assume that he’s got much to do today running the galaxy and all.

The Chancellor greets you graciously in a main corridor, and you’re thankful to see a friendly face in a sea of stormtroopers, uniformed technicians, and other complete strangers. He begins leading you through the ship, the both of you flanked by members of the Imperial Guard. Once again, you find yourself impressed that he’s navigating the ship without a map or compass— you feel utterly lost already, and you’ve been walking about no more than five minutes.

“The Supreme Leader has told me that the people of your home planet adore you,” the Chancellor states, and though he’s being his serious self, you can tell he’s happy to be talking with you. You’re glad to be with a friend, glad to have an ally as you waltz into a new situation.

You flush under the praise, humbled— you had no idea that people spoke so highly of you at home. “I just try to be kind to everybody, no matter who they are.”

“Well it seems to work,” Hux says with a shrug. “I think you’ll be an excellent fit for this job, given your demeanor and manner of dealing with others. I will admit that myself and many other Order officials lack your gentle touch.”

“What about the Head of Charity?” you ask. You’re most nervous about meeting her, you think. She attended your wedding, but you never got the chance to speak past the casual hello. Still, the woman in question made quite the impression, dripping in gems as more than one handsome man nipped at her heels.

The Chancellor’s brows draw together, and he speaks as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “She’s… I think you’ll be able to handle her. Just don’t take anything that she says or does personally.”

You want to ask him what he means by that, but you don’t get the chance.

---

The Head of Charity is just as striking as you remember, all sharp features and intense gray eyes. She looks almost like a bird you think, but not the kind that sits on a branch and makes sweet music as the sun rises. No, this woman is a predator, a raptor bathed in gems and precious metals. Every bit of her glitters, light glinting off her throat, wrists, fingers, and ears as she glides across the floor to greet you. Upon closer inspection, you realize that the Head of Charity is a bit older than you realized, lines crinkling in the corners of her mouth and eyes. Still, it’s as if her age only serves to enhance her beauty, and you think that you may have been a bit taken aback by this woman if you weren’t so keenly aware of how she’s been judging you since you walked in the room.

“Empress,” the Head of Charity greets, curtsying deeply as she comes to stand before you. Something about her tone and the look in her eyes makes you think that she may not have done such a thing if others were not present, and you get the vaguest since that you’re being mocked in some way or another. Still, you are gracious and warm, smiling sweetly as you gaze out on the Chairwoman and the rest of the Board of Charitable Affairs.

“It is so lovely to meet you, Chairwoman, members of the Board,” you say, and already, you can pick out the little pets. There’s a handful of them around the table, and while they return your grin, the twist of their mouths is just the least bit suggestive of a sneer. Something’s already been said about you, that much is plain, but you let their ridiculing looks roll right off your back.

Thankfully, Chancellor Hux sticks around, seating himself next to you as the meeting begins. Introductions are made, and you try very hard to remember everyone’s names and faces, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of making you look like a fool later on. All eyes fall on you each time you ask a question, but Hux proves himself to be a great ally, always armed with an answer or an explanation. You already knew that the Order’s influence is vast and wide, but you come to understand that they truly do have their hand in every part of the known galaxy. Dozens of planets are discussed, and the charitable causes established on all of them tally into the hundreds. It’s a heavy workload to manage by anyone’s standards, and you understand at once why an entire team of people has been selected to oversee it all.

“I had no idea that the Order was so involved in charity,” you declare, awed by the sheer amount of money that the organization is shelling out for its colonies and possessions. You’re pleased to see such a difference being made, pleased to know that the First Order has no interest in simply conquering and pillaging anymore. You knew that Kylo changed much when he took the throne several years ago, but still, it’s flooring to hear what he’s done to help his people.

“Yes,” says the Head of Charity, “the Supreme Leader has always been quite insistent on spreading the Order’s wealth.” You don’t like the quirk of her mouth as she tells you this, don’t care for her tone. It’s almost as if she thinks your husband silly for spending all this money, for having all these schools and orphanages designed and built for the people under his rule. You cannot believe her attitude, yet, you don’t say anything, unwilling to kick up a fuss so early on.

“The Supreme Leader,” Chancellor Hux elaborates, speaking directly to you, “wanted to change the galaxy’s opinion of the Order after the end of Supreme Leader Snoke’s tyrannical rule. The first thing he did was end the kidnapping of children for the stormtrooper program, and then he established the Board of Charitable Affairs. Since then, he’s been insistent on improving the quality of life on every planet he makes an alliance with.”

The look in the Chancellor’s eyes would indicate that he doesn’t think much of the Head of Charity himself, though you must say that his subtlety is impressive. Something passes between yourself and Hux in that moment, an understanding of sorts, but you think it’s too quick for anyone else to catch.

The meeting only goes on for a bit longer, and you’re thrumming with excitement by the end of it. You still lack a bit of confidence in your ability to handle everything, but you can’t wait to start working on new efforts. The Order’s acquired several underprivileged planets in the last couple of weeks, and there’s much talk of benefits and fundraising events, of dedications and the completion of existing projects. Your head swims with ideas, though you don’t want to reveal any of them to the group just yet.

An official adjournment is called, and members of the board begin to file out of the room, leaving in groups of two and three. Chancellor Hux invites you to take lunch with himself and some other Order officials, and you accept the invitation happily.

As the two of you go to leave, the Head of Charity calls out to you. She practically floats instead of walking, coming to stand before you. Her smile is catlike, and you catch a subtle glint in her eye as she speaks. “I just wanted to say that I so look forward to working with you,” the woman gushes, her admiration entirely fake. Stars, she reminds you of your aunt, of Mila. They’re all the same kind of woman, power-hungry and cold to the core.

“My sentiments are the same, Chairwoman,” you reply, throwing her put-on sincerity back in her face. The Chairwoman knows what you’re doing, but her confidence doesn’t falter for long.

“Please, call me Evan,” she insists. This is a blatant ploy to draw you in closer, but you can’t decide if she’s being transparent on purpose or if she really is a terrible actor.

Your smile is sickeningly sweet. “Evan it is, then.”

But you do not give this woman permission to call you by your given name, and you would sooner die than do so… A fact that obviously gets under Evan’s skin. There is a pause, and then the Chairwoman reaches out to tuck a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. It’s a ballsy move, seeing that you’re flanked on all sides by Imperial Guards. “If I may be so bold, Empress— I must say that you are a very beautiful girl… by the standards of your little planet.”

It’s her most cutting remark yet, and the most overtly aggressive, but you’ve had worse said to you over a casual breakfast. Still, you cannot believe her brazenness.

“Thank you, Evan,” you reply, acting as if you’re genuinely touched. The Chairwoman gives you a long look before bidding yourself and Hux a good day, and then she’s gone, floating out of the room in a quiet huff.

You and the Chancellor watch Evan go, waiting for the coast to clear before you speak.

“What an awful woman,” you declare, laughing at the Chairwoman’s audacity. Never before have you seen someone so insanely brave!

“That was outstanding, Empress,” Chancellor Hux breathes, genuinely impressed as the two of you finally make your exit. “I’ve never seen anyone manage to ruffle her feathers like you just did.”

You roll your eyes, waving a hand flippantly through the air. “Oh please, I know all of her tricks the way I know the back of my hand. She’s just like my aunt was, always trying to cut someone else down for her own amusement.” Scoffing, you add, “If she wants to make me squirm, she’s going to have to do better than that.”

Chancellor Hux is amused by what you’ve said, and it’s nice to hear him laugh for once. Like Kylo, your new friend suffers from an eternally serious demeanor.

You turn to him in disbelief. “How did she even get this job? Don’t tell me she treats other diplomats and galaxy leaders that way.”

The Chancellor shakes his head, resigned. “She’s a shapeshifter,” he tells you simply. “She knows all the right people, and she has a way of bending them to her will. You would think she was a different person when she’s at galas and benefits, the very epitome of a selflessness.” He rolls his eyes as he says this, obviously thinking back on something specific.

“Surely Kylo doesn’t like her,” you declare, unable to fathom a man like your husband finding friendship with a woman like that.

“No, of course not,” Hux affirms. “But she brings in big donations from outside the Order, and she’s strengthened a couple of important alliances using her own… methods.”

The look of disgust on your friend’s face is evident, and you decide it best not to ask.

“A necessary evil,” you conclude, and the Chancellor confirms this with a nod.

“But,” he amends, “I think the Supreme Leader would be happy to push her out if someone better came along.” Hux looks at you directly now. “In a few months’ time, after you’ve sharpened your skills and gained a bit of knowledge, I think we can be rid of her.”

“Kylo told me that he wants me to replace you.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize how that sounds. “I mean, at least that’s what he told me. He says that he needs you for—"

Hux cuts you off with a wave of his hand, smiling slyly. “That’s what he said, yes, but—”

You catch on immediately, cutting him off now yourself. “But that’s not the real plan. The both of you want to be rid of Evan, but you told me differently so I wouldn’t blow your cover.”

Under different circumstances, such a deception may have hurt your feelings. However, you get it— your ignorance of the situation only helped you during the meeting, and you’re sure that Kylo and Hux wanted to feel out your real opinion of the Chairwoman before they let you in on their little secret. You tell the Chancellor as much, and his expression slowly shifts into a satisfied grin.

“We’ll make a politician out of you yet, Empress,” the Chancellor proclaims. The two of you share a sly look, and then Hux is guiding you into a grand dining room.

---

The officer’s luncheon is littered with friendly faces, but it makes you a bit sad to see that Kylo isn’t among the group of men and women that you’re to dine with this afternoon. You had hoped he might be there, but you guess he’s off doing something else at the moment.

Conversation flows easily at the table, and you’re content to listen more than talk as you eat your delicious meal. You’d been a bit worried at first about what eating on the ship would be like, but you’re delighted to see that it’s not all pre-packaged foods and tasteless protein portions. The gathering only lasts for about an hour, but you have a splendid time nonetheless. You leave happy, relieved at the thought that your peers in the Order seem to genuinely like you.

It would seem that your schedule is clear for the rest of the afternoon, all of your meetings and social engagements done for the day. You don’t know what else to do, so you ask your guards to show you around the ship a bit. They lead you through a virtual maze of corridors and passageways, escorting you to the medbay, the bridge, various landing decks, and even the medbay. It’s a comprehensive tour, and most of your afternoon has been eaten away by the time you’re satisfied with what you’ve seen. With nothing else to do, you simply have the guards take you back to your quarters. Before you dismiss them, though, you have one last question.

“If I wanted to speak to the Supreme Leader, how would I do so?”

One of your guards answers quickly, telling you that your comlink is all you need. You feel a bit silly as soon as he says it, having almost forgotten about the thing entirely. They aren’t standard on your home planet, and Miriam had only mentioned it in passing this morning as she tucked it place behind your ear. After a quick tutorial, the guards leave you alone, walking off down the hall to do stars know what.

You settle yourself in the living room, hesitant as you try to reach out to your husband. It feels strange, just talking out loud, but you do it anyway. Kylo’s voice is crystal clear in your ear, and you jump at the sound of it.

“I’m here,” he says. “What is it?”

As you go to reply, you almost feel silly for bothering him. “I was wanted to know what you’re doing.”

Your husband doesn’t seem annoyed though, telling you, “The Knights and I have been out on a scouting mission. We should be back in a couple of hours.” A pause, and then, “I apologize for not telling you my whereabouts.”

“No, no,” you say quickly, “it’s all right. I just wanted to know if you were going to be home this evening, that’s all.”

You don’t tell Kylo that you’re a bit eager to see him, or that you were afraid you might be sleeping alone tonight, and you pray that none of that comes out in your voice.

“I’ll be back soon,” your husband affirms, and then the com goes dead. It stings a bit, how quickly Kylo gets off the line, but you try not to take it personally. He’s doing something important, you’re sure.

Miriam appears just a few minutes after you send for her, and she’s happy to help you freshen up before the Supreme Leader returns. You sit in front of the vanity for a while, touching up your makeup as Miriam fusses with your hair. Though there’s no reason for it, you decide that you want to change dresses, indecisive as you pick through everything you brought from home. While no one commented on your appearance when you were out and about today, you felt out of place in your outfit. Everyone in the Order wears sleek, sharp, dark-colored garments— your floaty pastel dress is a far cry from any of that, even if it is pretty.

“I guess I need new clothes,” you sigh, running your fingers wistfully across the neat row of garments before you. You love them all, of course, but none of them look like something an empress would wear.

“Your dresses are beautiful,” Miriam reassures you, reaching out to admire one of your summer frocks. “But I can make arrangements with the tailor if you wish. He makes all of the Supreme Leader’s clothes, and rumor has it that he’s dying to meet you.”

You look at your attendant, perking up a bit. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Miriam laughs. “Apparently, he’s been drawing up designs since your engagement was announced. I don’t think he gets to make many pretty things, working for your husband, the Chancellor, and just a few other important officials.”

You laugh at that, glancing over at Kylo’s rows and rows of black tunics, pants, and shirts. If you had to go out on a limb, you’d say that Hux’s closet is much of the same. “I’m sure he doesn’t, poor thing.”

Miriam helps you pick out a dress to wear, and though you still don’t think you fit in very well, you do feel pretty when she’s done working her magic. You dismiss Miriam after that, thanking her for helping you change. She only smiles and shrugs, saying that you should call for her if you need her.

---

Your husband does indeed return in time to take his evening meal with you, traipsing into your shared quarters in a swirl of black cape. He wears his mask, face a black, expressionless void. Still, you offer him a smile as he enters the room, hopeful that Kylo is happy to see you. Purposeful and quick, he strides right to one of his dresses, stripping off his helmet, cape, and gloves methodically.

“The Chancellor told me that you handled the Head of Charity with a firm hand. He said that you played her own games back at her, that you were catty and sarcastic,” Kylo declares, coming back into the sitting room to look at you now. The content of his speech and the firmness of his tone has your pulse pounding, and you only look in him in the eye because you feel like you must. Half startled and half afraid that you’ve disappointed your husband in some way, you sit up straight as a pin as he regards you with a curious gaze. But then his expression softens, a smirk tugging at the corners of mouth. “I must say that I am very impressed.”

Relief washes over you, punctuated by a burst of white-hot pride. You knew in your own heart that you’d done well today, but hearing this praise fall from your husband’s lips makes you feel lightheaded with elation. Still, you remain humble.

“She’s just Mila if Mila was thirty years older and knew how to accessorize,” you say, laughing at a little. “It’s almost like I’ve been dealing with the Chairwoman since I was a child.”

Kylo’s smirk becomes more a smile as you make this remark, the fondness in his eyes making your heart flutter. “Nonsense,” he says, taking a step towards you. “I’ve seen that woman make commissioned officers burst into tears at state dinners. The fact that you made her squirm is something to marvel at.”

You lower your eyes, smiling a little to yourself. “I guess,” you conceded, biting your lip as you look back up at your husband’s face. Kylo doesn’t say anything else, abandoning the subject in favor of ordering dinner for the both of you. Your state of euphoria lingers nonetheless, and you’re enthralled by the idea of having done something right.

A droid serves you and Kylo your meal at the small dining table, coming and leaving without a word. Like this afternoon’s lunch, your evening meal is rich and delicious. You chatter happily as you eat, making polite conversation about the ship and your luncheon. Kylo makes small remarks in return, though he doesn’t speak at length about anything in particular.

You realize that it’s getting late when the two of you are finished eating, late enough to where it wouldn’t be inappropriate for you to wind down for the evening and get ready for bed. Normally you would take a quick bed and change into your night things readily, but with Kylo here, you aren’t sure that it’s worth it yet. If you were bolder, you would ask Kylo flat out if he intends for the two of you to have sex tonight, but you aren’t, so you don’t. Instead, you dance around the subject, shy and hesitant.

“I think I’m going to get ready for bed,” you declare, getting up from the table slowly. Kylo tracks your movements, watching you carefully as you come to stand. His eyes graze up and down your body, one hand reaching out towards you.

“Come here,” your husband beckons, “I’ll loosen your dress for you.”

Kylo stands, gently turning you around so that he may work on the lacing at the back of your dress. He pulls and tugs for a moment, fingers fighting with the fastenings for a moment, and then your dress is slipping off your shoulders, leaving your shoulders bare. The press of Kylo’s lips against the skin there catches you off guard, makes you flinch involuntarily before you melt into the affection entirely.

“I apologize,” Kylo mumbles, kissing up the curve of your neck now, “I just couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s all right,” you sigh, not complaining one bit when Kylo wraps his arms around you middle, pulling you back against his body.

“It’s a bit early to sleep,” he murmurs. “I’m not tired yet.”

Your husband’s teeth nip at the shell of your ear, and you’re gone after that, putty in Kylo’s hands as he guides you into the bedroom.

The lovemaking is even better than it was last night, more comfortable and less nerve-wracking now that your first time is over and done with. You still fumble a bit, not entirely sure of yourself, but Kylo doesn’t seem to mind. He even teaches you new things, telling you how to arrange yourself on top of him, how to move your hips in a way that makes both of you mumble curses under your breath. But Kylo plays fair, showing just as much as he tells, and you come to find out that your husband is even better with his mouth than he is with his hands. You’d always thought that having someone go down on you would be strange or even unpleasant, but oh, how wrong you were. By the end of it all, the both of you are panting for breath, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you kiss your way through your orgasms.

Kylo is the first to shower, promising to be quick as he leaves you on the bed with a kiss and a glass of water. You lie there in the tangled sheets, listening as Kylo washes the last hour off of his body. It doesn’t take him long, and then you’re the one in the shower scrubbing away everything that’s just happened. Your hips and thighs ache, chapped lips burning as the water streams over them. Drowsy and satiated, you try to bathe quickly, the energy necessary for you to linger in the ‘fresher sapped by Kylo’s cock, mouth, and hands. You reach a hand between your legs in the process, pulling back fingers covered in your husband’s cum. This makes you pause, staring at the milky sheen on your skin as you consider its purpose. Silently, you pray that Kylo’s seed catches swiftly, letting your hand fall under the water as you do so.

A cleaning droid must have come while you were gone, because every sheet and pillowcase is clean and pressed when you come back into the bedroom, unsoiled by you and Kylo’s lovemaking. Your husband is subdued as you crawl into bed next to him, but he doesn’t push you away when you curl into his chest— quite the opposite, actually. His arms are strong around you, just as they were last night, and you’re out like a light within minutes.

[weirdponytail]

Eragon: Book vs Movie. Set & Scene 1

SCENE 1, SET

Brom flipped through the thick packet, one leg crossed over the other. He was sitting in a folding actors chair, a troubled expression on his face.

“Wait, so you just want me to read this?” The old man turned to the Shadow behind him. “Just, read this out loud while things happen around me?”

“Correct.”

Brom sighed. “Alright then,” he opened his mouth to begin but then closed it. One of the other lines had caught his attention. “Oh dear. She isn’t going to like that. Um, might I suggest-”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Out of nowhere, a burlap skirt came flying at high speed to promptly smack the Shadow right in region it’s face should have been. Brom sighed again and covered his face with his hands. “AND YOU CAN KEEP THIS SHIT, TOO! WHAT ARE THESE, MOULDED LEATHER TITS?!” A hard leather…shirt…thing…followed the skirt and struck with considerably more force, two rocks falling out of the moulded…breast region.

The elder Dragon Rider followed the trajectory of the clothing to see Arya fuming on set, wearing her usual leathers instead of the movie getup their employers had insisted on. Durza was a few strides behind her, howling with laughter at the ‘torture’ the directors were putting the elf through. He was practically crying, braced on his knees. Every time he seemed to be close to stopping, the shade would glance at the script of the first scene and start up again.

“Arya, come on.” Brom started. “I know it’s demeaning, and your mother will probably kill all of us involved if you don’t get to us first, but it’s only a few minutes for this scene. Then you can get back in your clothes and, as a bonus, your contract says you can kick Durza in his nether regions after every take.”

Durza stopped laughing.

Arya crossed her arms and glared at the Shadow. “Make it twice.”

“I have no objection to that.” The Shadow threw the elf the clothes.

The woman turned to change and came face to face with the shade, stopping her. “I swear, little elf, if you even think about doing that, I’ll change the script back to the way it really happened.”

Arya smirked. It was hard to take Durza seriously when he was wearing such ridiculous amounts of makeup and color changing contacts. She leaned in until their noses were almost touching and hissed, “You probably like it, masochist.” Then slipped around him and sauntered off. She could feel his eyes on her back and threw a one fingered salute over her shoulder. “And stop staring at my ass!” 

Durza coughed, caught in the act, and turned back to the Shadow. “I also have an issue with my…wardrobe.”

“Your contract renders all your complaints moot.”

“But does it really have to be covered in glitter glue?” Durza lifted his armored shirt in dismay. “And why must I wear this padding? I’m not chubby, why do you insist on making it look like I am?”

Brom stifled a sarcastic chuckle. “I know you think you’re a vampire with the new costume, Durza, but you really need to look in a mirror.”

Durza scowled at the Rider before growling “I’ll be at my starting point.” And whipped around with a swirl of his new cape. He passed by the trailer just as Arya was walking out, trying to tug the hem of her skirt further down her legs to cover as much skin as possible. “Nice legs, elf.” He casually remarked and quickly took off in a sprint before she could wind up and punch him all the way to Daret.

The ground began to shake as Nar Garzvog lumbered up to the Shadow, his clan of Urgals in tow. “Misty One, where do you wish us to stand for our part?”

The Shadow waved the Kull off. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you, we won’t be needing you. We’ll be using these men.” It pointed towards the group of six-foot chub monsters with blue sharpie on their faces. “Much cheaper, and less stench. Go on, get out.” It snapped its fingers and the clan disappeared in a poof of sulfur smelling smoke.

“Now, Arya, please take your place. We need to begin. Brom, if you would please?”

Brom cleared his throat and picked up his script as Arya hopped onto the horse provided. “Remember, Arya, just grin and bear it.”

“Yeah, that’s what politics is all about. I’m going to kill Nasuada for suggesting this to raise war funds.”

“Ready? ACTION!” 

SCENE 1 FOREST CHASE 

Brom cleared his throat again and began in his best ‘Badass Storyteller’ voice.

“There was a time when the fierce and beautiful land of Alagaesia, was ruled by men astride mighty dragons…

“To protect and serve was their mission. And for thousands of years, the people prospered. But the Riders grew arrogant, and began to-” He stopped, flabbergasted. “Now wait just a minute, this isn’t correct at all! We never fought each other, Galbatorix went bloody insane for the Stars sakes!” He twisted around the glare at the Shadow. “What kind of hack is this? You’re ruining an already fragile history!”

“Keep reading.” The Shadow snapped. “History doesn’t make money, drama makes money. I own you until this film is complete, so keep. Reading.”

Brom sank into his chair, grumbling. “This is so beyond my pay grade. Achhem, But the Riders grew arrogant, and began to fight among themselves for power.

“Sensing their weakness, a young Rider named” Brom paused, and took a moment to slowly and carefully pronounce the tyrant’s name, “Gal-buh-tor-ix betrayed them. And in a single bloody battle, believed he had killed them all. Riders, and dragons alike.

“Well, you got something right.” Brom griped, but turned back to reading when the Shadow mouthed ‘own you.’ “Since then, our land has been ruled by Gal-buh-tor-ix. He crushed all rebellion including the freedom fighters known…as the Varden.

“Those that survived fled to the mountains. There, they hoped for a miracle that might even their odds against the king.”

Brom threw the script down. “Now that I’m done with this mediocre pile of shit, let me tell you something! The Varden has never openly had an army verses army war with dear old Galby until Farthen Dur, you illiterate fool!”

The Shadow opened its mouth to reply but a whoop from out in the forest cut it off. “Oooo, Brom is getting maaaaaad!”

“ARYA, BE QUIET!” The Shadow yelled. “You aren’t done yet, Brom! CUE THE CHASE SCENE!”

“Wait, what?” Arya raised an eyebrow then let out a startled yelp as three of the new ‘Urgals’ lunged from the bushes and slapped the three horses on the rump, sending them off at a breakneck gallop. “OH FUCK YOU!”

“Read!” The Shadow snapped.

“Fine! Our story begins one night, as Arya, an ally of the Varden, rides for her life. Carrying a stone, stolen from the king himself.” Brom looked up with a sour expression. “I STOLE THAT, BY THE WAY! NOT YOU!”

“I’m not arguing!” Arya yelled back, trying to reign in the very spooked horse catapulting through the woods with one hand while frantically flipping through the script with another

“CUE DURZA CLOSE UP!”

Durza glanced down at his script and raised his eyebrows, then jerked back as a camera suddenly shot up inches from his face. “Oh! Um…HSSSSSS-“ He managed a few seconds before shoving the camera away. “THAT WAS NOT MANLY OR SHADELY AT ALL!” Laughter from the direction of his elfin companion could be heard. “I WILL HAVE YOU TORN TO PIECES FOR LAUGHING, ELF!”

She ignored him, finally reaching the correct page of the script. “Ah! Human stand ins get shot-”

Two of the new Urgals popped up, holding loaded crossbows level with the two stuntmen currently taking the place of Glenwing and Faolin.

“We’re sorry.” The larger one said sincerely. “It’s nothing personal, really! But they said they wouldn’t wash the sharpie off unless we do what they say.” They both fired.

Two very shocked and very dead stuntmen hit the ground. Arya stepped her now calmer horse around the bodies and settled her chin on her fist, scanning the script again. “And then…then what, Urgals, Urgals, uh…oh here. I get tackled off and throw down a hill.” After a moment of silence, the woman straightened, a deadpan expression on her face. “I should have read this before hand.”

She could hear the thudding footsteps of the Urgal running towards her and quickly clambered to a crouch on top of the saddle. “Fuck it, I’m jumping.” With that, Arya dove off the horse to the drop at the side. Moments later the Urgal landed on the poor animal. “PETA’s gonna sue yo-OW FUCK SHIT OW, SON OF A BITCH WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU WAIT FOR A VALUABLE PRISONER OW TO BE AT THE TOP OF A HILL WITH ROCKS AT THE BOTTOM TO TACKLE THEM?!”

Brom turned to the Shadow. “I’d like to know that as well.”

The Shadow waved it off. “Semantics. Don’t need it.”

“Oh for the love of- This isn’t even the Ancient Language!” Both looked up to see Durza standing on his ‘cliff,’ about to set the woods on fire. “I can’t summon a flame with this!”

“Light the forest on fire.” The Shadow commanded. “You must use the words provided.”

“But that won’t even work!”

“Then set it on fire using the Ancient language in your head.” The Shadow snarled. “I don’t have time for this!”

“That is incredibly dangerous, and my contract-”

“Says you’re a total pussy and that you enjoy romantic comedies and light bondage in the fine print, now SET THE FUCKING FOREST ON FIRE!”

Durza complied, but only while shooting the Shadow the bird.

Right on time Arya cleared the permitted ‘fire circle of doom’ area and skidded to a stop before she ran into the opposing wall of flames. “So, what, we doing this again?”

“Unfortunately.” Durza strode through the fire. Well, not exactly strode. He had to wave his hands in front of his face to prevent the heat from melting his makeup. He cleared his throat and put on his best ‘rape face’ as the script asked. “Give it to me!”

“D-” Arya paused, her previously prepared dirty joke flying out the window as she saw the blocked text. “Wait, this thing says I have my sword out. Why the hell don’t I just stab you in the chest?”

“SEMANTICS!” Came the yell from off scene.

“Riiiggghht.” Arya shoved the script into the leather bracer on her arm. “Achhem, well. Time to be a bitch.”

“There’s a time when you aren’t a bitch?” Durza remarked, appearing sincerely puzzled.

“Shut up.” The elf shifted into a fighting stance. “Durza!”

Durza switched back into his movie persona. “And I’ll let you live.”

“Is there anyone who trusts the words of a shade?” Arya scoffed. “Oh, that’s very true. Hey, do I really have to teleport this?”

“CONTRACT!”

Arya huffed and pulled the ‘stone’ out of her bag. “Fine. This is going to hurt like a bitch.” Seconds later she was on the ground, blinking stars out of her eyes. “Ooowwww…”

Durza chuckled, “Where did you send it?”’

The elf notice where his eyes were. “What, would you like me to hitch my skirt up a bit more for you?”

“What can I say? I like the hot, sweaty leather look.” He grinned. “The light bondage part of the contract wasn’t lying.”

She scowled. “Poor Durza…How will you tell the king…you’re a total freak? Ahhem, I mean, you failed.”

The two then paused, pulling out their scripts. They spent a few moments reading before Durza started laughing and Arya started swearing.

“What the hell is this?!” She yelled. “[ACT LIKE YOU’RE HAVING AN INTENSE BUT PAINFUL ORGASM]?!?! This is TORTURE?!”

The Shadow materialized in the fire circle. “We just need you to act in pain. The orgasm part is afterwards.”

“Excuse me,” Durza raised his hand. “what is a ‘force choke?’”

“Pretend you’re choking her with your fingers but don’t touch her.” The Shadow made a ‘get on with it’ gesture.

The two looked at each other.

“I’m totally okay with this.” Durza shrugged.

“Yeah, well I’m not!” Arya snapped. “No way am I going to roll around in pain then pretend to bask in post orgasmic bliss in front of YOU of all people!”

“Well, we can do something about that first one.” Durza suddenly stomped on the elf’s stomach. 

“OW!!” She reflexively curled into a ball. “YOU BASTARD!”

Durza looked over his shoulder at the Shadow. “We have the rolling around in pain part down, but I’m not the guy to call to get that second part. You’re going to need this guy, Faolin, he lives-” Arya managed to roll up and land a particularly damaging punch on the shade’s crotch. “OW!! YOU BITCH!” He collapsed and began rolling around in pain, clutching his wounded merchandise.

The Shadow sighed. “Alright. That’s a wrap. SOMEONE TELL ERAGON WE’RE HEADING HIS WAY!”

“Someone warn the poor boy.” Brom rubbed his temples before packing up his chair and helping Arya up. “Tell him we already have wounded. It’ll be a miracle if nobody dies before this is over.” They stepped over the dead stuntmen and made their way towards Carvahall, Durza crawling behind them.

~~~~~~

(Set & Scene 2)