#the most he could have hoped for is Great staying apathetic to everything like he was at the start of the show

[kennyomegasweave]

4 Minutes really is Korn and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Life.

His dad clearly doesn't care about him besides him being his firstborn and thus heir, possibly because he didn't care about his mom. Great's mom doesn't give a single shit about him. Great was willing to throw him aside like it was nothing, despite Korn seemingly always being there for him AND being willing to take on everything terrible about their family so his baby brother doesn't have to. He's lost Tonkla due to his own inactions, actions, and just the circumstances of his life*. Fasai seems to be the only one on his side, but they so clearly don't see eye to eye on the realities of their lives. His own henchman went above him to report to his dad, so he really doesn't even have any power at his job either.

I'm pretty sure he's about to do some real clown shit to try to get his dad's approval. Especially with Great and his mom being shot since that only happened because Nan was able to go live and that is sorta kinda definitely his fault. If his dad already didn't like him and thought he was a disappointment, he's certainly not going to be happy that his failure with Nan got his wife and son possibly killed.

I just don't see this show ending well for Korn the most out of everyone. I feel like death will actually be the best ending Korn can have at this point, it's just gonna suck hardcore for him before it happens.

*and lowkey I'm not sure he even knows Tonkla at this point anymore. Like even if he was able to fix what's broken with their relationship, there's no chance it would be the same anymore. Tonkla's not the same college student that was trying to do better than his alcoholic dad for his brother. He's out here smoking meth, killing people, and his brother is dead. Tonkla can no longer be his getaway from everything because Tonkla is living foully himself. And I stay scared about what his reaction is going to be when he finds out Tonkla not only is fucking Win, who's a cop at that, but moved him in to the house Korn bought. Especially since everything in his life is imploding and he has control of nothing.

[killerskillercaptain]

Canceled lectures, pasta, and feline love

pairing : Levi Ackerman x Reader

synopsis : You study litterature and you're married to Levi, all your classes get canceled and you get to spend the night w/ your beloved husband.

warnings : nsfw

a/n : this fic has been sitting inside my drawer for a bit now, so i thought i'd publish it now or it will just get forgotten and fall into oblivion.

You put on your bomber jacket over your T-shirt, swung your messenger bag over your shoulder and headed out with an enthusiasm you could hardly hide : all your afternoon lectures have been canceled, you could go to Levi's appartement earlier and spend the entire afternoon and the entire night there, walking down the stairs of the college where you studied litterature, you brought up your left hand up and stared at the small glinting diamond on your wedding ring, and a smile, just as shiny as the rock appeared instantly on your face.

You and Levi had just gotten married, he felt he was ready and steady enough to balance his life, you, and your awful temperament, and basically everything in between.

You were in your last year in college and Levi was very supportive of your aspirations. Even though you were married, you still didn't live together in one place, it has been only two months since the ceremony, and you still had a lot of things to move out of your appartement, changing adresses and other small details that were taking way too much time to both your likings, the situation didn't but you two had to be patient.

You jumped out of the last step and landed on the nude concrete, heart fluttering like the one of a child. The sky was incredibly blue, not a single cloud around, the sun was warm and swimming in the clear blue, you noticed how stunning the details in the architecture of your building was, it was a beautiful day.

You literally thought that this day couldn't get any better.

Just when you reached the portails of your college, you heard your phone ringing, it was Levi.

"Hello ?" you singed into the device hoping your good mood will reach Levi on the other end of the line.

"Where are you brat ?" a masculine voice asked

He calls you brat even though there were only a few years separating you in age, you hated that nickname and that's exactly why he keeps on using it.

"So that you know who's in charge here" he told you once jokingly as both of you sat on a couch preparing for the wedding, but you knew Levi too well, and knew he wasn't entirely joking.

"I am actually heading out to your place sweetheart" you said smiling mischievously, since he was going to call you by the nickname you disliked the most, you were going to do the same, he hates it when you call him sweetheart. "I have good news, all my lectures have been canceled ! I am all yours today !" you finished.

"Well i called to tell you i was making your favorite dinner-"

"Pasta ?" you interrupted him overjoyed.

"Pasta" he confirmed.

"Oh Levi !"

"Yeah yeah just come home already, looks like you're having a really nice day huh ? some people really have it all..." he said sarcastically, and you being able withstand his stingy tongue and not be affected by it is probably one of the reasons he married you.

"But you have it all too Levi !" you said, a smile perceptible through your voice.

"I do ?"

"Yeah, you have me !" your laugh ringed through the air making its way through the phone, you were now walking down a really crowded road and some people turned around at your loud and joyful laugh.

"Hurry and come home already ! Your cat is annoying me he wants you ! and be careful when you cross the street idiot" The reason he said that is because he could hear the sudden honks that bursted all over, you yelping and someone in the distance shouting at you. Talking on the phone and crossing a street was never something you were good at.

"I'll be there in ten minutes..."

"Wonderful" he said in such an apathetic voice that you knew he was being sarcastic again.

but you weren't finished

"...sweetheart"

CLIC !

*****

Putting a bag filled with some ripe and red apples in front of his door,, you searched for your keys in your messenger bag and opened the door to what was your small heaven on earth, before you heard the familiar clicking sound you could hear your cat scratching the door, your feline companion really did miss you. You picked up the bag of fruits that your bought on your way and entered the quiet and minimalistic appartement. It smelled so clean, as usual, and some tea was being brewed, black tea probably. You took off your jacket and bag and laid them carefully on the arm of the grey -and incredibly comfortable couch- in the living room. The kitchen was at the left, separated from the room you were in by a big wooden furniture with shelves, and just when you were about to get in there, the man who was sarcastically teasing you on the phone appeared, wearing a black top, and black jeans, his hands tucked in his pockets.

"What's that ?" he asked pointing at the heavy bag.

"Apples, i know you love them!"

"Great"

"So you too can have a perfect day"

"I can't have any good day with this cat using me as his scratching tree" he said while the said cat jumped on the counter where you were washing the apples in the sink.

"Hello little guy, did you annoy Levi as i asked you too ?" you nuzzled your cat's head, the purring that started automatically had you smiling fondly.

You heard Levi shuffling your way and coming to stand next to you to watch you wash the fruits. He was just standing, but you were so comforted by his presence and his incredible warmth.

"How are you doing today ?" he asked, voice low and almost husky ?

The cat hopped on the floor and started going in circles around your leg while Levi's arm slowly made its way to your waist in such a caring and loving manner that it almost surprised you, making you look up at him, your faces were so close you could feel his breath on your nose.

He's been drinking tea you thought to yourself.

"I feel great" your words were sure joyful but your tone was a bit off, and Levi was quick to notice it.

"Why are you lying yo me ?"

"I am not lying to you, i really do feel great, it's just-"

You exhaled deeply. It's true you were as happy as someone could be, but you were also very overwhelmed by all the changes in your life happening all at once, the mariage, the moving out, the workload in college, this new life, you were the type of person to get easily stressed when overwhelmed, and your were grateful for a husband and a partner like Levi who made it seem like you could do it, no matter how hard and stressful it could get.

"Levi, you did absolutely nothing wrong, it's me, i'm a little bit stressed about everything. not because i don't want it, it's what i have always dreamed of, i'm just...well, stressed, you know me...

-"always stressed out about anything and everything." finished Levi, putting your final thoughts into words.

He looked at you with a very serious look while you rumbled about every little thing that has been bothering you, paying attention to every word you said, when you finished talking he nuzzled your neck just like a cat would do to comfort you. A small candid laugh slept through your lips at the gentle gesture.

-What's so funny ?

-I just realized you're just like a cat !

-Excuse me ?

-You hate having to socialize, you like to stay alone and only like my company or the one of only a few people...and just like a cat you know how to show love when someone needs it the most.

*******

Small candles lit up the small space of the living room, a bigger candle -that you insisted on buying not long ago only to realize later that it was ridiculously too big- was sitting down next to the couch casting soft hues on your naked bodies.

All the candles smelled so good.

They wrapped the room in a vanilla scented veil, keeping your bodies warm.

"Levi...i love you so much"

Your voice almost cracking half way through your sentence, you couldn't help being vulnerable tonight. You didn't have the time to eat that pasta Levi had been preparing all afternoon and that you've been waiting for all evening. When you were standing in front of that sink, going on about how hard it was for you to keep up, his arm around your waist slowly climbed up to rest on your shoulder and pull you closer, then the pulling closer became kissing your forehead, then kissing your forehead started to become not enough. All you remember is that you and your husband ended on the couch making out with a need you didn't even know was there, both of you had missed each other the whole day, Levi being so touchy with you earlier was a dead giveaway, he only touched you this much when he missed you.

You loved this couch it was so comfortable, soon you were making love, wrapped in a soft blanket Levi kept there for his reading nights alone, surrounded by the intoxicating smell of vanilla, yours and Levi's favorite scent to make love to.

His touches were passionate yet calculated, his eyes studying your curves painted by the dim light, he enjoyed looking at you covering your face with embrassement, kissing every inch of you.

The fluttering touches of your sweaty palms, your tangling sweet warm skins and your hot breaths mingling in the air between you two made you dizzy.

Today was such a good day you thought to yourself as you straddled Levi, positioning yourself on top of him, as soon as your most sacred and intimate parts found themselves again, Levi's breaths became erratic, slipping grunts here and there, telling you to move, go faster as he was entranced by everything about you.

He parted the two locks of hair covering your face like someone would part the curtains so the light would shine on them, and the suns in your eyes made him all too aware of how much you two loved each other.

He loved every inch of your body but also every inch of you, your mannerism, your happy mood that always seemed to rub off on him, your laugh, your joyful spirit, your boldness, the one you display when you take the lead in bed, just like you did right now.

Sweet moans soon filled the room, your head pulled back, mouth hanging open, you didn't bother cancealing anything, because anything that could show Levi how happy you were here and now was to be welcomed, to be expressed freely. Soon, sweet and lovely waves of pleasure washed all over you before you collapsed ontop of his now drenched chest, sighing at the drowsiness embracing you slowly.

-I guess it's too late to eat that pasta now.

-It's okey, i just had my other favorite meal.

-And what's that ? asked Levi with a half smile that made him look so handsome.

-You.

[thejudgingtrash]

11. “...did you just sniff me?” for percabeth pretty please 🙏🤍🤍🤍

Heya! I’m finally here to come back to this request 😄😄 It took me only a little bit in comparison to other requests, but I'm here!

Also since @percyheartsannabeth, @skaterannabeth and @not-optimistic-petrol-biscuit had asked about fluff. Here you go... Kinda? 😬 Anyway. Here's a monster sneak peek into may I introduce you to my beloved wife? 😋

It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to pump out 11k words. That's a record for a single session in one day (with like two breaks). And yes, that is still not the entire chapter. Here are roughly 9,2k for you to consume!

TW: alcohol, overbearing relatives not minding their own business, a tiny section talking about domestic abuse and Athena and Frederick Chase ain't shit but that's nothing new. Poseidon too, for once. Enjoy!

may I introduce you to my beloved wife?

(*absolutely not proof-read, my bad)

Annabeth sighed. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve already finished the week. Think about the money. Think about the move to California. Push through this day and next week, think about the money and the minute you’ll hand your termination in. She wanted to splash some water up her face, but the makeup that tinted her lips in a luscious rose and added some bronze to her high cheekbones was too expensive to be washed off and hastily reapplied.

It was pre-Dionysus Day, which meant it was merely the calm before the storm. The first sparkling sip of an impending disaster waiting to rollover the roomy Greek villa Percy forced her to stay in. Well not really forced. Forced and bribed her to stay in. That made it sound slightly better. Just think of the one-hundred seventy-five dollars he’s going to transfer into your bank account for your new start in California. I should renegotiate. California is also expensive. Make it two-hundred fifty thousand.

The tall blonde looked at her reflection in the mirror. A young woman full of life was the first thing she had seen in the morning but now she looked tired and annoyed, just how she felt. Something crashed in one of the dozens of rooms next to her and people laughed. Annabeth sighed again. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise she would scream like a banshee, making sure that at least Hermes and Prometheus would check her, if it wasn’t for Percy stuffing socks into her mouth to make her shut up before they got to her. The majority of his Greek relatives had been lovely if not terribly nosy and overbearing. It was the opposite of her family. His was warm and chaotic and for the most part welcoming. Hers? Cold, apathetic, disapproving of everything she did. She had no family in comparison, and neither would she want to compare this wholesome messy bunch to the cold-hearted Athena Pallas and the monster that was Friedrich Chase.

Annabeth respected Hera and Hestia, she definitely side-eyed Aphrodite who was cheating on her husband and she would definitely stay away from Zeus. Crossing paths with him occasionally in the New York office of Atlantic INC. was terrible, seeing him openly be flirty and loosen up during a forced trip was way worse.

This was a bad idea and I have a terrible feeling about this. The burgundy wrap dress that hugged her skin was soft and light but in the Thessalian heat it felt like a sticky cocoon caging her. She wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, ready to burst out and wow everyone. Neither was she a moth drawn to a flame. She was a bug that had been sprayed by Percy with a pesticide, wrapped in toxic chemicals which were slowly dissolving her body, piece by piece.

A knock shoved the horrendous image inside of her head aside. “Yes?” she asked with a firm voice. Too firm with a hint of annoyance, but she was not a professional actress and could not switch her emotions off as she pleased. She was a junior marketing manager for Christ’s sake. Not for much longer. Only two more months…

Percy opened the door. “Are you ready?“ he asked with his usual pleasant baritone reaching her ear.

He wore light linen pants that hugged his legs loosely and a light blue shirt with the first buttons opened up. She could see his defined chest and the swirls of black hair peeking through. The hair was styled into a disheveled curly mess which suited him way better than the gelled back corporate look and he forgot to trim his beard like the day before. Annabeth couldn’t deny what she saw – her tormentor was a very attractive man.

“Do you want to bail?” His sea-green eyes darkened a shade. Worry flashed through them.

Annabeth exhaled sharply for the last time. “I wish I could but then I’d leave you without a fiancé,” she smiled through the pain.

Her glance found her reflection again. The topknot was still intact, and a few strands carefully framed her heart-shaped face. She looked perfect on the outside and she wanted to commit manslaughter in the inside.

“Let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and stretched his hand out. It seemed like Percy was the one that would rather bail.

Annabeth took it without any complaint. She was the happy girlfriend soon-to-be-wife and holding hands was way better than being forced into kissing him during Sports Day. The Theodoropoulos family truly had planned activity after activity during those two weeks in winter.

“Oh!” Sally peeked into the bathroom and saw her son holding Annabeth’s hand.

“There you are! Is everything okay, mija?” she asked with her sweet Dominican accent and looked at Annabeth.

Annabeth automatically smiled back. Sally was the mother she never had, and it broke her heart crumble by crumble by the sheer charade Percy and she were forced to display for the next six days. Sally Jackson deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve being deceived and lied to by her terrible son and his tag-a-long coworker.

“Yes, Percy was just making sure we’re arriving on time.” Annabeth got on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Percy’s stubbled cheek. It tickled but by now she had gotten used to it.

He rolled his eyes, smiled at his mother, nonetheless. Sally’s eyes sparkled and she clapped, clutching her hands tightly. “You don’t know how proud you’re making me, mijo,” she then said teary-eyed.

“You finally found a great girl and she is standing next to you.” Sally wiped a tear away and the awful feeling that sat on Annabeth’s chest and made everything heavier, amplified by a thousand times.

This was way worse than being referred to as the woman that would bear him three to five children presuming with the first one sired on this current vacation by Ares. Yes, Annabeth wanted two children at max, but not definitely now. She was twenty-eight and in the prime of her life! Note: Percy would certainly not be the father of said two children. Unruly blond waves and a mischievous grin blitzed through her head. Pale blue eyes came back from the deepest pit of her memory. Luke. Fuck no, that was even worse than Percy. His betrayal… Annabeth tried to shake the memory off and focused on the ongoing situation in front of her.

Sally truly hoped her son found love and not a quick fling. Oh shit, Annabeth thought and looked up to Percy whose face expressed similar thoughts. His conscience nibbled and guilt flooded his body.

“Mamá,” Percy began and released Annabeth’s hand in order to grasp the older woman’s shoulder.

Sally brushed his large hands off. “No, no! Off you go! You younglings should be downstairs celebrating your reunion with the entire side of Poseidon’s family.”

Annabeth appreciated the fact that Sally was invited and flown out each winter holiday by the Theodoropoulos’. Despite having been divorced from Poseidon for over twenty years, she was still a popular and welcomed guest, not just because of her son’s attachment to the Greek side and his tied division of the Greek family company.

Sally gave each of them a last smile before entering the women’s bathroom. Percy exhaled and pinched his nose. After ten seconds he released the nose and looked back at Annabeth. “Ready?” he asked a final time. Annabeth nodded.

The loud singing, yelling and talking that had been muffled by the bathroom hit her by a tenfold. The place had all the Mamma Mia vibes without the fun singing four days ago. Not anymore, as drunk relatives hit up the shore with loud music and talked loudly in their Pontic Greek dialect.

As the couple descended the stairs and walked through the parlor, a new wave of guests arrived at the same time. Three people that have just entered early adulthood looked up to them. Two men, one blond with a stoic face and bronzed skin, the other was shorter with spiky black hair and a beautiful grin on his lips. The woman next to him was the tallest out of the trio and possessed a high ponytail that would leave Ariana Grande dying out of envy. The dyed lilac hair swung around and nearly reached the middle of her thighs, meaning the hair was even longer without its tight prison on top.

“Thanatos, Zagreus, Megaera!” greeted Percy and gave each one of them a rib crushing bear hug. They looked pleasantly surprised at seeing Percy being accompanied by a pretty woman his age. It seems like the proposal didn’t reach all of the ends of the Greek world.

They fell into a short conversation in Greek and Annabeth smiled politely next to Percy as she fell entirely out of place. The evil Duolingo owl didn’t prepare her for this experience. Neither did her mother bother teaching her at least their Athenian dialect properly. She could introduce herself in Greek, order a beer, say goodbye and that was it. Thank you, Athena. For nothing again.

“Oh, you must be Annabeth,” Megaera eyed her carefully and Annabeth had the feeling that she could split her open with her hands. Weirdly enough, Annabeth was kind of into it. Megaera wasn’t only as tall as Percy but she was clearly the one with the toughest workout regimen as she displayed her muscular legs and defined arms with a short cocktail dress only a few shades darker than her hair.

“Yes,” Annabeth squeaked. She nearly added a ma’am towards the end. Megaera cocked her dark eyebrow. She had an aura that demanded respect.

“Interesting to see the woman who captured Perseus’ heart. It seems that he did develop a good taste after all. Calypso was as pretty as the crescent moon flower but sadly as dull as his corny jokes are.” Megaera’s deep smirk was a stamp of approval as her eyes roamed all over Annabeth.

“Hey!” Percy interrupted and placed a firm hand on Annabeth’s waist, as if he was trying to mark his territory.

“You have your own toys right to your right,” he then added with a playful tone.

Megaera actually laughed and waved dismissively. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.” A clear offer which left Annabeth’s face turn into a fiery tomato red.

“Anyway, we have some catching up to do,” Thanatos proposed as Zagreus and he silently watched the conversation blossom. He sounded as reserved as he looked.

“Indeed,” Zagreus agreed, surprising Annabeth with a posh English accent. “Father will murder me if we miss out on his moussaka. It’s to die for you need to try it, Annabeth, at least before Hephaestus gets ahead of himself.”

Annabeth laughed. The Theodoropoulos did have their positives. “I will, Zagreus,” she nodded.

“Oh please, if aunt Sally gave her go for you to stay here, you’re as good as family. We’re Than, Zag and Meg for you,” Zagreus offered.

“Annabeth is already my nickname but thank you for the kind offer!”

The three new guests went on to join relatives and friends at the party which seemed to get more chaotic by each passing minute as the volume seemed to increase.

“My cousin Zagreus from my uncle Hades’ side,” Percy explained as the three went out of his sight.

“Are they friends? Or…”

“Pretty sure they’re polyamorous. You know, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t really care, I see Zag once every twelve months at max. Just don’t stick to Meg’s side for too long otherwise she’ll turn you into her fiancé.” Percy’s tone suggested that he was not joking.

“Oh.” Annabeth didn’t know what to think of it.

Percy closed his eyes as if he was making a silent prayer, before his sea-green met Annabeth’s light gray ones. She smelled like lemon with a hint of lavender, instead of roses like normally. Delicious. If it weren’t for the fact that it was Annabeth.

“So, listen. You know I’ve talked about Dionysus Day and how his birthday brings out the worst side of everyone.”

Annabeth nodded as Percy went on to explain.

“Pre-Dionysus Day is basically same with the only exception that my great-grandmother’s house is filled with the entire family. Yes, we’re expected to eat, drink, laugh, drink, dance, drink, reminisce on our past, drink, make fools out of ourselves in order for them to take blackmail pictures and drink some more, but no matter how much they want you to open up… try to control yourself. Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Annabeth’s stomach started to churn, and her knees slightly gave in. “Look, I’m truly sorry for the mess that I’ve caused,” Percy looked directly into her eyes and tried to ignore the rosy streaks across her flushed cheeks. “And my relatives can be overbearing. But if we manage to stick through this night and the next one tomorrow, we’re as good as done with playing games.”

“Fine,” Annabeth gritted through her teeth. She had agreed to the terms and condition. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupid decision she made two months ago.

“Let’s go.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob that separated the parlor from the huge living room. Percy followed her as she opened the door. A wave of laughter, wine, ouzo, discovered secrets, cigarettes, sweat and fun hit them.

“Oh wow, someone should open a window.” Percy suggested as he coughed. Luckily cousin Metis had the same idea. No, aunt Metis. Or was it Thetis? Why did Percy need to have so many relatives with similar names again?

“Oh, Annabeth, look at you!” Aphrodite had snuck up behind them and surprised the fake couple by hugging each of them and nearly spilling the expensive Greek vintage in her hand on Percy’s shirt. The red alcoholic liquid carelessly swirled in her glass and more than often seemed to want to escape from her clutch.

“Aphrodite, be careful!” Percy reminded her as she dug her fingers into his arm. Her nails were as fake and bought as was the bond between Annabeth and Percy.

“Oh, please cousin, you should learn how to loosen up!” She laughed, but it sounded more like the shrill sound a bird made when it got nearly hit by a car. The high pitch made Annabeth slightly frown.

“Take your girl upstairs and show her all the Zorbas moves you got!” She wiggled her badly overdrawn eyebrows.

Aphrodite had always been the poster child of perfection. She knew how to dress her curvaceous body the right way, she knew how to apply the perfect touches of makeup on her face and she was the most graceful being Annabeth had ever met. Seeing her so disheveled left the blonde American content. It showed that Aphrodite wasn’t one of the gods, she was a mortal mess like they all were. That, and it was kind of funny seeing the abrupt transition from oozing perfection to looking like a rough mess after a couple of glasses of wine.

“If you know what I mean, you two know what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy answered. Unfortunately, they did.

“That reminds me, this is such a pretty dress that you got!” Aphrodite’s eyes widened and she tugged at Annabeth’s sleeve that went slightly over her elbows. “Percy needs to bring me a couple of those the next time he visits. Oh wait! You’re about to marry, Annabeth can take me shopping. I want to visit New York next summer. When was your wedding again?”

Panic filled Annabeth she tried to stutter a lame excuse like they had done the entirety of the stay. Aphrodite’s brown eyes found something else to focus on in the meantime. Her hand went out to poke the tall blonde’s chest as she went on to pull on the thin fabric.

“You should show the men what you got! Free the girls!” Aphrodite yelled over the loud music, pushing Annabeth’s C cup to its limits. “Let Percy stand in the corner with that stupid frown, all jealous and depressed while you’re out on the hunt!”

Percy did not look amused especially since he tried to pull Annabeth away.

“Yeah, just like that!” Aphrodite’s glass pointed directly at his face as Annabeth tried to shove Aphrodite’s fickle fingers aside. “Oh, if I were just a little bit younger and not tied to your cousin…”

“You mean cousins,” Percy corrected and made a step backwards as Aphrodite’s dreamy and drunk dazed focus shifted from Annabeth to him.

“Aphrodite, leave Percy and his future wife alone,” Hera arrived to save the stressed couple and rolled her eyes. “Go harass Hephaestus and try to be a faithful wife for once in your life.”

She still looked like she had a massive stick shoved up her ass by the way she stood entirely straight next to them, but Annabeth appreciated the gesture. If Hera didn’t like Aphrodite much, Annabeth would rather join Team Hera than stand alone by the bleachers and under Aphrodite’s charmspeak. Aphrodite pouted and stomped with her feet twice as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman marching towards her forties. Then she stormed off and ran into the arms of her lover, nother husband to spite her mother-in-law and embarrass her even further.

“Malàka,” Hera cursed and lost her cool for one second, before clearing her throat and focusing on the already tired fake engaged couple in front of her. Not even Hera seemed to be averse from drinking a glass of wine or two. “You two definitely need a drink.”

Annabeth agreed with her for once.

She pointed at the bar behind her, which was managed by Dionysus and his wife Ariadne. The number of relatives ganging up on them and demanding new drinks was frightening. Surprisingly Dionysus kept his cool and shoved drinks in people’s hands at an impressive speed.

“Yeah, let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and took Annabeth’s hand again.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked him. She knew from Thalia that Percy rarely ever drank and that his family was to blame for most of it. Percy seemed stiffer and graver than usual as well. As much as she disliked his jokey nature and easy-going demeanor he displayed at work, she’d much rather have that Percy by her side right now. Dionysus Day and the day before seemed like it was hell on earth for him and walking through it each year must take a toll on him.

“Yeah, let’s just each grab a glass of wine. Let them be happy about me shoving this disgusting stuff down my throat.” He thanked Ariadne as she prepared two glasses of the same vintage Aphrodite seemed to have inhaled earlier.

“Thank you.” Annabeth took her glass and sniffed. The wine smelled sickly sweet with a hint of the bitterness that the fermentation process had left. The glass in her hand weighed surprisingly heavy, not because of the wine itself but because of the golden swirls decorating it. The glass transitioned from the crystal-clear transparency into a deep black. A lyre surrounded by a bigger laurel wreath decorated the middle section and a golden snake was wrapped around the stem. The golden rim gave it a nice finish.

“Into a fruitful night,” Percy darkly mumbled over the music. He was really not looking forward to it, which confused Annabeth immensely. She didn’t understand why he pushed himself through this if he really didn’t like the drinking activities. He surely had his reasons, hence her not starting a fight with him over it. It was his family and their tradition after all.

“Into a fruitful night,” Annabeth instead repeated.

Issuing a weird toast as well. Percy Jackson was clearly not a drinker. Their glasses clinked and each of them took a sip. Thankfully grandma Rhea made sure they were well-fed before the festivities began.

“Fuck,” Annabeth muttered. A fine vintage as well. Not as sweet as she thought, it left a hint of sweet cumin as the lingering aftertaste. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, but she didn’t bother to care as she took another gulp. The wine was nearly finished. She slowly started to understand why ancient civilizations went crazy after this stuff.

As she looked at her so-called fiancé, she saw that his glass was already empty. A grimace rested on his face as well.

“Err, Percy?”

“What?” The dark brooding look on his face was no more.

“Shouldn’t you take it easy?” Annabeth carefully asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I am,” he stated and cocked his head towards his cousin who was still busy playing the barkeeper but kept an overall watchful glimpse on the guests that flooded the gates.

“Dionysus saw me drink. Most importantly he saw us have a drink. That should be enough for me, but if you want some more, be my guest.” He shrugged.

Annabeth felt that she should probably drag his mopey ass out of the party, but it was way too early to leave. “Fine,” she said and asked Ariadne for a refill. Annabeth went in for another long sip. She should definitely stock her wine cabinet once she was back at her shitty apartment. Before the glass reached her lips again, Hermes snatched it away and chugged the remaining wine.

“Hermes, what the hell?!” Ariadne grabbed the glass and pushed her husband’s cousin away. The bored postman was back with his shenanigans.

“My bad, dear wifey, but I’m on a mission here to abduct sweet Annabeth,” Hermes winked and placed his hands around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“What are you up to?” Out of all of the relatives she’s met so far, Annabeth was convinced that everything Zeus had ever sired was a mistake. Zeus himself was a mistake.

“Can you stop being German and boring for once?” he joked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She did not like this one bit. She turned her head around and saw that Percy had been pulled into a conversation by Hypnos and Morpheus. He had completely forgotten about her. Great.

Hermes guided her through the crowd, towards the middle of the room. They had to dodge chairs, drunk relatives, a sofa, chatty relatives, the coffee table and dancing relatives before they made it.

“There she is!” greeted Achilles the confused marketing manager.

Paris, Helen, Patroclus, Hermes and Achilles stood in a circle around a table. Dozens of shots of all sorts of colors were displayed. Annabeth had a terrible feeling about this.

“What is this and why are you pulling me into this?” Annabeth asked and did not like the mischievous grin they all shared. She wanted to go back home and cuddle with Daedalus on her sofa and push his cat ass out of the way before the next steamy Outlander scene hit the screen. Yes, Annabeth was that much of a single that seeing some on-screen action was the best she could get. She hoped that the mangy cat didn’t bother Thalia all too much while she was staying in Greece. She owed her so much already.

“Well, I stayed in your country,” Paris started. “And they have a weird tradition with ouzo. They don’t drink it the way we do, watered down and slowly at lunch and what not…”

Annabeth was still American for the most part and had nothing to do with Germany. The last time she stayed there was nearly thirteen years ago. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Germany. Friedrich Chase lived in Germany. And she fucking hated Friedrich Chase. Therefore, she hated Germany. Things that would never change. Okay, Hamburg was a cool city and she was glad her father moved to Cologne. Should she feel the urge to travel back to Germany for a week or less, she’d go to Hamburg, take ten thousand pictures, and post them on Instagram the minute before she was boarding her flight back to New York. Helping her to enrage her stupid father was all Germany had to offer.

“Germans do ouzo shots,” Patroclus cut to the chase. “And since you’re the newest member of our family…”

“And German!” Paris and Hermes added simultaneously.

“We’ve decided to play this little game,” Achilles added.

“What’s the name of the game?” Annabeth asked. She was only slightly curious. Emphasis on slightly.

“Last man standing. Oh sorry, ladies. Last person standing,” Hermes corrected himself as he placed four shots in front of each person. That was way too much hard liquor to handle. But if she did Jägermeister bombs in her sophomore year of college without any issues, this should be fairly easy.

“What are the rules?” They all looked at her in silence. No rules. No prize. Just drink.

“Oh wow.” The urge to roll her eyes and walk off came back with a force.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Annabeth said and already turned to her right.

“Why?” Helen asked innocently. “Need your man to look after you? The one who’s having an amazing time back there with his third glass of wine?”

Foul game. Annabeth’s head shot to the right. Helen was right. Percy was laughing and looked like he was having a great time chatting with Oceanus and his wife Tethys. Tethys refilled his glass as her husband and Percy broke into laughter once again.

If that’s the case…

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Annabeth agreed. She swallowed the bait and she knew it. There was no reason why she should feel upset about Percy opening up all of a sudden. He desperately needed it. Why she wished to be a part of that, Annabeth did not know.

“Great!” Helen threw her brown mane over her shoulders and grabbed the first glass.

“Για μας!” they all yelled and chugged the liquor. Gia mas, the Greek toast, was repeated every time and it seemed to brighten the mood, despite resting heavily on Annabeth’s stomach. Her college days were over, but she was glad she resisted coughing repeatedly.

Patroclus clutched his stomach after the second shot, Helen ran out after the third, Paris and Achilles were laughing maniacally after the fourth and Hermes mysteriously disappeared after the first one. Annabeth was the last person standing. She placed the crystalized shot glass back on the table and examined the messes around her. The only thing that had happened to her, were that more golden locks escaped from her bun and her lipstick needed some reapplying as she left marks on each glass.

Annabeth tried to take a step away from the table and felt how the world slightly shifted around her. The fact that she would curse and hate herself for her behavior in just six hours, was something drunk Annabeth gladly put aside. The headaches that definitely would haunt her for the rest of the trip didn’t matter, she won and that was all she cared about.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled as all inhibition faded away, leaving pure and raw life force behind. Unbeknownst to her, Annabeth had moved right into the circle of dancers.

“Perseus, get your bride before she breaks her legs!” someone laughed. Was it Iapetus? Or was it Hyperion? Who even cared at that point?

The next two hours were a blurred mess. A blackout slowly crept through her mind, leaving foggy memories behind. Annabeth felt how she was dancing with people and how people were laughing. Were they laughing at her or with her? Did it really matter? Why was her hair repeatedly slapping her face, didn’t she tie it up?

She danced with different people, men and women. She really hoped that the guy that looked like a naked Danny DeVito with longer black hair was not Zeus who had lost his shirt and pants. Who was the guy with the sea-green eyes again? Why was he clapping and laughing whenever she was busting a move next to Hermes? Was he important? Why did he remind her of work? The shots might have been a short-sighted idea after one and a half glasses of wine. She probably overestimated the amount of food she had consumed at dinner prior. Wasn’t she supposed to try someone’s moussaka?

“There you are! Ares, stop dancing with her for once. We’re about to leave.”

Ugh. Ares. Not Zeus, but still yucky.

Sea-green eyes. Percy, of course. How could she have forgotten the asshole that brought her into this whole mess? He seemed fairly sober, didn’t he have a glass or three of wine? Annabeth was certain, she’d be able to drink him under the table. His height and his build might put him at an advantage, but if he wasn’t used to drinking, she might have a fair shot.

A rock song was the next song that appeared. Percy wanted to drag Annabeth off the dance floor.

“Oh no!” Aphrodite intervened with a shrill screech. “Give the two lovers some room to show each other affection!”

Hera actually raised her glass for once to show that she actually agreed with one of Aphrodite’s wild ideas. Someone fumbled with the playlist and a Greek slow jam roared through the old speakers.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Percy muttered under his breath. But roughly eighty pairs of eyes were all but watching the soon-to-be betrothed and waited for a romantic dance which reminded Percy more of the horrors that the eight-grade dance was.

Annabeth drunkenly hiccupped and looked at him in surprise as she felt one of his hands around her waist and the other one taking her hand. They rocked as if it was the final dance at prom. Annabeth barely remembered prom. Oh right. Her mother had forbidden her from going. She never attended prom.

A casual glimpse through the crowd showed her that people were actually filming this nonsense and some women were actually cooing. Did… did they seriously think this back and forth with sweaty clothes on was romantic? Her eyes found Percy’s again.

“So…” he began.

“So…” she repeated.

“Careful!” he warned her before twirling her through the tight circle. People screamed and applauded. A camera flash blitzed through the darkness twice.

“Oof,” Annabeth groaned. Her stomach and equilibrium did not appreciate that sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” Percy swore. The rocking motion made both of them sleepy. Annabeth suppressed a yawn, rested her head on his shoulder. Percy could make the perfect comfy bed, if he wanted to.

Percy, sensing that people were awaiting some action from either of them, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Annabeth’s eyes widened. Is he going to kiss me in front of them? Again? her panicked brain asked. She was turned into stone, not by Percy’s distant cousin Medusa who had eaten most of the truffles, but by the tenderness of his actions. He was one solid actor.

Percy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before moving on to a temple. Annabeth blushed and buried her heated face in his chest as he released her. Intimate, soft and sweet. The screaming relatives disrupted their comfortable silence yet again. The slow song came to an end and the next upbeat one invited everyone back to the dance floor. Annabeth released herself from Percy’s tight embrace and just bolted. Damned be nausea. A wave of coldness hit her. She felt something she didn’t like the minute Percy had softly kissed and soberness woke her at a start. What was it? Anger? Disappointment? Longing? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted, but the amount of people standing in his way made it more difficult for him to keep up with her. His hand brushed over his own lips.

Annabeth opened and closed doors left and right. The kitchen, the dining room, the smoking room. She hasted through the first floor until she found another lost soul in the fireplace room. Why the villa had a fireplace room in the first place, she did not know. It had been super-hot the entire time but what Annabeth understood as heat and what native Greeks deemed as hot temperatures didn’t have to correlate.

Great-grandmother Gaia’s humming faded away. The eldest of the Theodoropoulos looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. When she came to find out the intruder was Annabeth, joy spread over her face.

“Come, come!” The broken English that she softly spoke reminded Annabeth of her own grandmother. She hadn’t seen Elsbeth Lilienthal-Chase since she had left Germany. And since her mother didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, she didn’t have a phone number to reach her with. The only way would be through that asshole Friedrich Chase, and the only time she’d willingly let someone contact that man was if she had been six feet under and he would be forced to show up for one important family event for once.

“I was unable to sleep. Parties aren’t something for me. I’m too old and boring for my children and their children,” Gaia sighed as Annabeth took a seat on the green sofa next to the light blue armchair. All of the cushioning seemed to have been made by Gaia as the socks had the same pattern as the pillow that Annabeth leaned against. Balls of wool surrounded the older woman as if she sat on a field of fresh tulips.

“Drink, drink! You need water. I’m pretty sure you danced a lot.”

Annabeth kindly took the offer, grabbed the carafe and poured herself a little bit of water into a small glass. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing.

“My children deem me crazy,” Gaia continued. “The war with the ottomans. Deportation. Fleeing and seeing death everywhere. Losing my father in the chaos. Then the big world war after that twenty years later. They don’t want to listen to the same stories. They only want to have fun. So, they sent me away.”

Annabeth felt terrible for the old lady. It looked like she had been through hell and back in her youth. She didn’t look like she needed much, only someone to listen to her.

“I won’t bore you much,” promised Gaia.

Gaia’s tanned leathery hands continued working on the little socks. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dearie. We have plenty of acetaminophen and other hangover remedies. Tomorrow will be even worse, because Dionysus wants to celebrate his birthday with even more wine,” the old woman laughed, and her green eyes twinkled full of life.

“I also was young once…”

The two sat in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Gaia’s humming or Annabeth refilling her glass of water.

“So,” Gaia began.

“So?” repeated Annabeth.

“You are the woman that tamed my little Perseus,” the older woman grinned.

Oh no.

Annabeth had a lump in her throat and drinking water to solve it, didn’t work. She wasn’t just lying to Zeus and his wife. She was lying to an entire clan, from the youngest to the oldest members. What Percy and she were doing wasn’t right, neither was it fair. Sure, Percy’s shitty uncle didn’t help much by forcing him to marry the next person, but did the rest of the family deserve to be deceived as well? No, they didn’t, and that truth rested heavily on Annabeth’s narrow shoulders.

The fact that Gaia looked so much like her great-grandson was crazy. They possessed the exact same shade of sea-green. It was passed onto Rhea, Percy’s grandmother, and then Poseidon, Percy’s fucked up father. Always full of intelligence and calculation. Shifting easily from delighted and full of life to the crashing anger of a storm. Power and knowledge were key features of Gaia’s eyes.

“How did you meet my sweet Perseus again?” Gaia innocently asked but Annabeth knew that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question.

“At work,” she honestly answered, and Gaia smiled. The old lady was able to sense the truth.

“He’s not my direct boss, but we run into each other a lot. And we hated each other from the moment we saw each other.” Annabeth remembered how she accidentally spilled her hot coffee all over his shirt. She had been public enemy number one from then on.

“He’s an excellent boss, as much as I hate to admit it. He knows his ways around and is passionate about the ocean and its inhabitants. Definitely more passionate than me, I’m just there for the money. He actually wants to make a difference. And he’s extremely annoying, might I add.”

Gaia burst into laughter and needed a minute to calm down. Annabeth cracked a toothy grin. “Ah yes, I can see how you fell in love with him.”

Doom. Uneasiness. Discomfort. The lump in Annabeth’s throat grew bigger and bigger. Why was her vision so blurry all of a sudden? She looked down at her dress. Dark dots appeared. More sprinkled across her lap as Annabeth realized she was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth sniffled. “I… Percy… I…”

Gaia put her knitting utensils aside and set herself upright in the armchair. “Oh no, what is going on, Annabeth?”

The calming hand on her back did not help the young professional at all. No, Gaia’s honesty and curiosity made it way worse.

“Percy and I… we’re not engaged. We did it because Zeus-” Annabeth tried to confess, but Gaia brushed her off.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I know,” the old woman smiled.

The tears that smeared her foundation or rather what was left of it ceased to fall. “You what?!”

Shock widened Annabeth’s light gray eyes.

“I knew from the minute you stepped into my house. I’m pretty sure Rhea knows as well.”

Annabeth’s jaw fell open. “B-but how?!” she stuttered and felt like an utter and complete idiot. The first few days had been rough and difficult, but now she thought that Percy and she conveyed the illusion of being a happy couple.

“You were scared of everything including him the minute you arrived,” Gaia warmly smiled. The infectious warm smile of a grandma looking out for her little chicks. Was Annabeth now one of them?

“I knew something was off with that sudden engagement of yours with the way you two behaved. Either you were pregnant, or it was a ruse. Since you are heavily drinking and paper thin, it was clear that there was no pregnancy. You young people truly don’t eat enough anymore,” Gaia shrugged, patted Annabeth’s knee and went back to knitting the sock.

“But now… it all makes sense. You do feel something for each other. Even if you are blind to it for now.” She continued to hum. “I just hope that my dear Perseus will be the young and carefree boy he was all those years ago one day again. And I do believe that you are the key in finding him hidden underneath all those layers and walls he had put up due to his father.”

Annabeth didn’t even close her mouth during the elder’s monologue. Did Gaia seriously connote that she… that Annabeth Chase… might feel something for her soon-to-be boss? Madness. Absolute madness. She took everything she had thought of the friendly old woman in front of her back. Maybe her relatives did have a point, when they decided to brush Gaia off due to her old age.

Annabeth? And feeling something for Percy? If that something was hatred and the utmost rage, absolutely yes. But… anything else? She would receive a hefty sum on her bank account and would put in her two weeks the minute she found a better job in California.

“You know… there is a tale I’d like to tell about men.”

And Annabeth would prefer to place the glass back on the table, throw the heels away, storm out and run to the next airport.

“They are stupid vapid creatures,” Gaia carried on.

Annabeth snorted behind her glass. “That is certainly true,” she agreed and earned an honest grin from Gaia.

“My dear husband Ouranos with whom I had all of my dear children decided one day that one woman was not enough. And that twelve children were not enough.”

Twelve children?! Annabeth's womb just twisted and turned in protest. The shocked expression on Annabeth’s face made Gaia chortle loudly.

“Oh yes, back in my day we were all very fruitful,” Gaia affirmed.

“That sounds horrible,” Annabeth interjected.

“Oh, only the birth part and the eighteen years after it,” the older woman dismissed her which made Annabeth in turn laugh again.

“My father was a farmer and he had one piece of advice: never let someone toy with you. You are not a doll; you are a person with morals and dignity, a person with feelings and dignity. Let no one, especially not a man, treat you like a commodity or something to kick around. Well… when dear Ouranos left me and sought our neighbor with bigger breasts… I taught him that lesson. And I did so with my father’s trusted knife that I hung on the wall afterwards.”

There was no knife displayed on the wall. It was a fucking scythe. Large, frightening, brutal. A golden great long sickle with jagged teeth rested on the wall as if it were ready to cut you up into one thousand pieces. Was there really dried blood stuck on the teeth or was Annabeth’s drunken mind making things up?

“The minute our youngest turned eighteen he took off and was never seen again. And now, should a person, in that case my Perseus, not know how to treat you properly, you know what to do,” Gaia advised and took a sip out of her own glass.

“Uh… you mean threaten to cut his genitals off with a large and sharp family heirloom?” Annabeth’s eyes widened again.

“No, dearie…” Gaia gave it some thought. “Well maybe so, dearie,” she then went on. That made Annabeth chuckle again.

“But demand absolute respect from him. Don’t ask him for it. Demand it. I don’t know how but he has dragged you into our family and expects you to play the perfect fiancé. This will eventually blow up in his face and he will drag you along with him. Teach him a lesson, however.”

“You know what? I will!” With Gaia’s official blessing, Annabeth was all smiles and scheming new plots. If the head of the family gave her the approval of kicking Percy’s ass, she definitely would.

Steps echoed in the fireplace room and Annabeth and Gaia’s heads turned to greet the intruder. They didn’t even realize the door opened and closed again.

Gaia’s younger twin who still had some black streaks in the braids marched into the hall, curious about what the two women in front of her were previously talking about. Gaia’s youngest daughter Rhea had joined them. The large blue floral dress made her seem like she never left the late 1960s and the two long braids only added to that sentiment.

“Mamá, what is going on? By the way Percy is looking for you, Annabeth,” Rhea informed her grandson’s alleged fiancé before taking a seat in front of her and grabbing one of the many balls of yarn in front of her mother. Rhea then went on to play with it as if she was a six-year old.

“Oh no, Rhea, Annabeth and I were just chatting about love and life,” Gaia batted her eyelashes.

“You see, I gave Rhea the same advice about her disgraceful husband when he went out to seek another woman.”

Rhea rolled her eyes behind the large pentagonally glasses. “You and your stories about the scythe, mother,” she sighed.

“I have to make sure the younger generation knows!” Gaia huffed. “I won’t be here for much longer and then-”

“We'll regret all the things we’ve said and done to you, I know mamá, you have been telling me this since I was four years old and spilled my apple juice,” Rhea completed her mother’s sentence.

Rhea’s attention shifted to the smiling blonde in front of her. She grew to like Percy’s fiancé. She had a fire within herself and a backbone, all great things to handle a Theodoropoulos man.

“But my mother is right when she says that the scythe is a trusted tool. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades did scare Kronos with it after he tried some foul things with their sisters. Treated them worse. Did overall horrible things. He never wanted daughters, only sons. Didn’t seem to accept the fact that it was out of my hand.” Rhea squished the ball of light blue yarn in her hand.

“My children were always looking out for me and I will be forever grateful for them. I do hope that you will have the same feelings and love for your children.” It was clear who their father was supposed to be.

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Annabeth squeaked. Did it get hotter in here all of a sudden?

The door opened, and a worried Percy stepped into the fireplace room. “Oh, there you are,” he sighed as he immediately sighted Annabeth’s blonde unruly curls. He had been running from the basement all the way to the roof searching for her. Relief washed over his face like some shower gel from a cheap commercial. Only then did he realize that Annabeth had been cornered by both his nosy grandmother and his even nosier great-grandmother.

“Whatever they’ve been telling you, it’s a lie, it’s wrong and it never happened!” he warned her as he took a seat right next to her.

“Oh please, relax,” Rhea rolled her eyes and threw the wool at her grandson. “We have been talking about mamá’s scythe.”

“Hey!” both Percy and Gaia complained. At least they hadn’t dished out embarrassing stories of him taking off in diapers at night.

“This is expensive! You young people show no respect towards others' belongings,” Gaia cursed.

Annabeth took the blue yarn and placed it back on top of the pyramid of other colors.

“Thank you!” Gaia smiled before she focused on finishing the sock.

“You’ve found your fiancé, Perseus. Now go off back to celebrate and let us old people reminisce about the past and talk.” Rhea lazily waved at them whilst Gaia didn’t even look up from her craft.

“We will,” Percy said while getting up and casually dragging Annabeth along. He kissed both Gaia and Rhea on the cheek, Annabeth threw a hasty “See you in the morning!” over her shoulder before the couple left.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked as he pulled Annabeth aside for a small breather.

She nodded. “It’s just a bit overwhelming with the amount of people that either want to take pictures of us, hope I remember when their youngest kid’s birthday is, or they tell me they hope we have our first baby preferably in less than a year.”

Percy blushed. He didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, men are mostly left out of the baby talk until their mother’s saw that their best friend’s children had their first grandbaby. He truly didn’t have any intention of having a child before the age of forty. He had to save a business from his damned uncle, run and manage said business and preferably find a woman he tolerated enough to marry before he could even think of children.

Percy apologized again. “One week,” he promised her.

“One week,” Annabeth repeated and nodded.

“We’re going in, you’ve missed the high of the party with your talk with my yai yai, but that’s perfectly fine. The first have already left, let’s just mingle for ten minutes or so before we can-”

The door flung open. “There they are!” yelled Hermes who was followed by Zephyrus and Hercules.

None of them had any intention of letting the party stop before five in the morning. It was merely two. The minute Hermes had his sights on Annabeth, he knew that he had found his best drinking buddy aside from Dionysus himself. Oh no, Annabeth thought and rightfully so.

The minutes of calmness and rest next to Gaia did their wonders because Percy and she were thrust back into the party at full force. She didn’t exactly remember when the blackout happened, but it was roughly thirty minutes later. She was drinking, she was dancing, she was completely making a fool out of herself. The hair? A mess. Annabeth herself? Don’t even think about it. She had been dancing with Hermes and Patroclus, Aphrodite accidentally stepped on her foot one time when Ares approached her.

Percy broke his own promise and accepted a fourth glass of wine from Dionysus who insisted on it. That glass was his doom. The last droplet touched his tongue and his world turned into a flashy mist, his consciousness was broken into pieces, fragmented and sprinkled across the floor. Where he was, when he was and who he was were things he couldn’t remember. The only thing that popped up in his mind were waves of solid gold. Was it hair? Could hair truly move like that and possess that texture? And a whiff of lemon with a hint of lavender crawled up his nose. It was an odd combination, but it felt safe and like home. He liked this smell. Where did he smell this before?

Percy didn’t care, he had other matters to attend to. The first thing on the docket was finding the bathroom, he had drunk way too much. The house had weird rules in regard to bathrooms. Was it the left side or the right side that the young men could use? Why did his uncle Hades have to break two sinks in a span of a week when he was sixteen again? Why were women and others allowed to do whatever they wanted? His great-grandma and her weird plans were always set to make him fail somehow. Things that she had thought of decades ago still bore fruit today.

Percy stumbled upstairs and turned right and prayed the doors he was opening were empty bathrooms and not relatives making out. That was just what he needed. The first door he opened was of his great-uncle Oceanus and Tethys who had a face mask on her face and pink curlers up her hair. At least the old people still knew how to behave. He hoped his mother had left the party hours ago. He apologized and closed the door. The next one was an empty bedroom, his even maybe. No, his bedroom was on an entirely different floor. Or was it?

The next bedroom was closed off thank god, but from the sounds on the inside it seemed like cousin Eos and her newest catch Orion had some fun. Disgusting, Percy thought before he moved on. The next door was what he was looking for. A bathroom. Lit up, clean and empty. Empty if it wasn’t for this one woman who was clutching the brims of the polished sink. She was tall, the golden hair equaled a rat nest and her red dress seemed to have witnessed a lot.

“Ugh,” she muttered and looked into the mirror. Her eyes found his immediately.

“Percy?” she turned around.

Oh right. He was Percy Jackson, thirty-one, single, hopefully the new CEO of Atlantic INC., he had a fantastic apartment in the Upper East Side with an amazing view and he was in Greece to impress his family with his fake fiancé in order to secure his father’s legacy. His fake fiancé being Annabeth Chase, a woman he loathed, had to pay a little hush money and hoped would leave the company fairly soon after.

“You’re in the men’s restroom,” Percy then stated.

Annabeth looked around. No, it was not the same bathroom she used in the morning. Oh yeah, Gaia’s weird bathroom rules.

“Honestly who cares?” the junior marketing manager complained. “A toilet’s a toilet, no matter who uses it.”

Percy shrugged. Annabeth had a point but it wasn’t their house so they couldn’t dictate the rules.

“I wanted to retouch my makeup, but I didn’t find my makeup bag.” She walked steadily to Percy, but it was clear to both of them that she had her fair amount of shots in her system.

“Yeah, it’s probably in the other bathroom. Wait, let me use the bathroom for a second and then we can head back to our room and you can look for your makeup.”

Annabeth nodded and waited on the outside while Percy was tending his business. After drying his hands, he opened the door and found Annabeth yawning in front of one of his yai yai’s paintings. It showed the scythe from the fireplace.

“In all honesty, your great-grandmother is an amazing woman. I admire her. Showing kindness and strength each day. How old is she?”

“Turning 106 next October,” Percy smiled at her. “She always said she wanted to live long enough to see her favorite descendants find their own happiness, whatever it may be.”

The softness in his voice made Annabeth’s heart ache. She turned her head back to the painting. She was a nobody. She had no family, no traditions she could upkeep. She didn’t even have a steady relationship in the past five years. Fucking Luke Castellan. He also had to take that from her as well. Make her suffer. That’s what Athena, Friedrich and Luke all thought at the same time. And they all had nearly reached their wicked goal if it hadn’t been for her stubbornness and will to eventually blossom into something else. The first step towards that something else resided within her move to California. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and start a new life, somewhere where no one knew her.

A thumb brushed over her cheek. Annabeth looked up to Percy. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing again.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Percy assured her. His hands found her sides, pulling her into a soft hug.

A true fiancé level hug. Annabeth had never felt that comfortable within a man’s reach. Percy might have been an awful and annoying coworker, but he truly cared about his fellow people. The way they slowly rocked and kept hugging each other reminded her of the school dance work they had put on the floor earlier. But this time it was real. This time there was no one taking pictures or yelling into their ears, or the demand to see a kiss.

Annabeth rested her face in his chest and Percy leaned his head on hers. It was like they had been made for each other. A welcoming scent greeted Percy. Lemon and lavender. The person stuck in Percy’s crumbled mind had been Annabeth. She was his anchor in the havoc his relatives had created in such a short time. He took a deeper breath. It felt reassuring.

“Did you just sniff me?” Annabeth laughed as she pulled away from him.

“You do smell good!” he defended himself with a stupid grin on his mouth.

“Oh, wait you’re super drunk,” she giggled again as she saw his widened pupils that had pushed the darkened sea-green iris away.

“Well, look at you,” he retorted.

They looked at each other. Aside from the bumping music and the noises people made downstairs it had been completely silent. He missed her warmth; she missed his comfort. Neither would have guessed that a simple embrace could offer so much. Neither would have thought they would take it to the next step within a split second.

One last look. A last time sea-green and light-gray met before each set of eyes closed and their lips met with a brutal force in the middle. Their teeth clacked but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered now, was the moment. Forgotten was the alcohol, forgotten were the troubles of past, present and future. Forgotten were the friends and relatives in the building and back in New York.

So... what do you think? 😄 Like I said, this is not the entire chapter 🤷🏾‍♀️ I honestly feel bad for cutting the chapter off because it's really getting more interesting from that point on 💁🏾‍♀️ I'll probably continue working on this once I've published the next act of The Fool 🥳

Also Greek people, if something seems off with this (aside from random English at times lol) hit me up, I definitely have to do more research!

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Three

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: so yeah this isn’t my best work bc i havent been feeling great lately but i hope you guys can stay patient with me until i get my shit together. we’re almost to the end🤞

***

Sitting crammed between Elain and Feyre on the gray couch in Lana’s office, Nesta has to cross her legs prettily and pretend she doesn’t want to peel out of her skin right there. She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she invited her sisters to one of her therapy sessions, but she’s assuming it would be considered rude to kick them out now.

“Who wants to speak first?” Lana’s bob swings as she looks at each of them. The office is ice cold today, and Feyre and Elain’s presence doesn’t help the chill in the air.

Nesta crosses her arms before she can be asked to speak. “No, thank you,” she says. She knows everyone probably expects better from her, but no way in hell is she going to be the first to open up in front of this crowd. “Feyre,” she turns to her youngest sister instead, “why don’t you say something?”

“Actually, why don’t you set the example, Nesta?” Lana gives her a look, making her cheeks redden with irritation.

“Fine,” Nesta grumbles. She clears her throat. “As you can see, I have made moves to reconnect with my sisters. I invited them here because I hoped that therapy would bring us closer and also make them more… tolerable.”

Elain coughs, “Bitch.”

Nesta smiles tightly. “Elain could especially use this, I think.”

Lana is already frowning. She never frowns this early into a session. “We’ll start with an easy question, then. What’s been on your mind lately, Nesta?”

Nesta purses her lips, pretending to think. “Nothing important. I’m looking at jobs for the summer. I think Azriel keeps sneaking money into my purse, and it’s starting to become more than a little condescending. I caught up with some friends from school, and I was polite enough to pay for lunch.” She mentions off to the side to Elain, “Lucien was there, too.”

“Why would I care?” Elain sneers. She spies Lana’s disapproving look and lowers her head demurely. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

“That’s alright,” Lana says. “Why don’t you go next?”

“Me?” Elain’s head snaps up, and Nesta holds in her snicker.

“Start by describing your relationship with Nesta. I heard you two used to be very close.” Lana uncaps her pen, preparing to write.

Elain flushes lightly and folds her hands. “That was when we were children. The only thing keeping us together was that we shared a home. When we stopped living in the same place, some of us had no problem leaving others in the dust.”

“You can use my name,” Nesta rolls her eyes, “I’m right here.”

From the corner of her vision, Feyre cringes.

“Are you saying you feel abandoned by Nesta?” Lana continues probing.

Elain’s answering silence tells more than enough. Therapy must actually be paying off, though, because Nesta only thinks about interrupting and defending herself for a second before shaking it off. Her mind focuses on the word abandonment instead.

Lana is focusing on the same thing, because she leans closer and says, “Being abandoned bothers you?”

“I never said that,” Elain says indignantly.

“It would bother most people.”

Nesta watches Elain sigh and blink her big doe eyes at Lana. She’s always been able to use those eyes on anybody for anything. “I just don’t understand why I’m the villain for expecting a little loyalty,” Elain says sweetly. “Especially when you take a look at this face.” She cups her round cheeks. “You know psychology. How could you abandon this face?”

Nesta’s jaw hangs open. “Are we still talking about me?” She remembers Cassian telling her the story behind Azriel ghosting Elain, and a pang of guilt and pity hits her. She still hasn’t talked with Elain about why Azriel left Velaris, and she knows she won’t be able to decide whether to spare Az or not until she does.

“So that’s my turn,” Elain finishes up. “Feyre can go next.”

Lana is writing something sharply on her notepad, but she nods coolly. “Feyre, how would you describe your relationship with your sisters?”

“Oh, we don’t have time for all of that,” Feyre laughs awkwardly and waves a hand.

Nesta agrees, but the look Lana gives Feyre tells her that yes, they do have time.

Gulping, Feyre glances around. “Well, I was born last, so I guess that made me the outsider of the family. I never had much in common with my sisters, but now that we’re older I… hoped that we would grow past that.”

Translation: she hoped that once she found her happy ending in Rhysand’s arms, poor little Nesta and Elain would happily assimilate into her new community of wealthy friends, putting the cherry on top of her perfect life. And while Elain did that exact thing, it’s always bothered Feyre that Nesta won’t do the same.

Feyre continues, “I admit I’m not the best at understanding Nesta. Elain and I get along fine now, but Nesta…” Feyre meets her eyes. “It’s like nothing we do is enough for her, but for some reason I can’t stop trying.”

“Whose fault is that?” Nesta mutters.

“You want her approval,” Lana hums, taking notes.

“Is that what it is?” Feyre looks away.

Nesta refrains from saying yes, that’s exactly what it is, and it’s not my problem if you keep looking for something I can’t give.

“What are your feelings about that, Nesta?” Lana turns her focus to her. “Remember that this is a safe space.”

It really isn’t, not with two siblings holding long term grudges against Nesta. But once and for all, she’s going to set the record straight. “I spent most of my life being a bad sister.” Nesta’s voice is apathetic, straightforward. “I let Feyre take the burden of providing for us even though I was the oldest, and I didn’t know how to be anything other than cruel to my family. So once I had the means to do so, I cut everyone off for all of our sakes. I still don’t regret it, because being a stranger is better than being a bad sister.”

In that way, Nesta is a bit like her mother. Nesta was angry after her death, but she knows she would have been even angrier if Magdalene Archeron had lived and continued to be a disappointing parent. In that way, both of them are wise for leaving their families when they did.

“Or you could just be a good sister,” Elain interrupts with a drawl.

Nesta smirks bitterly at her. “I’d rather die.”

Feyre takes in a breath. “Why? Why are you like that with us?” She blinks furiously, and Nesta can see the simmer of her emotions. “It was okay when we thought you hated everybody, but you don’t. You only hate me and Elain.”

Nesta looks to Lana for help, but her therapist is sitting this one out. She sighs through her nose. “I don’t hate you,” she says, even though they might never understand. The next line comes with great difficulty. “I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was. But I don’t like you very much, Feyre, and you don’t like me, either. Please stop trying to change that.”

When she finally meets Feyre’s eyes, though, they’re glimmering with tears. “How can I stop trying to change that?” Feyre whispers. “How can I give up on us like that?”

For Nesta to give Feyre and Elain the relationship they want from her would require nothing but lies on her part. And as much as she wishes she was capable of lying about this, she can’t do it.

Looking away and down at her hands, Nesta mutters, “It’s not fun for me either, but it’s how I am. I can’t be easy or friendly with you. I hate watching you try to make me be easy or friendly.”

Nobody says anything to that, but when Nesta looks up again Lana gives her a remote nod that Feyre and Elain don’t catch. Thank you for your vulnerability, it says.

“You said something interesting, Nesta,” Lana breaks the silence. “Did you see your sisters as your responsibility to raise?”

Nesta shrugs. “I was the oldest,” she repeats.

“Your father was the oldest.”

“He wouldn’t do shit even if you held a gun to his head, so I was up next.” Though Nesta hadn’t done shit either. Neither had Elain, but the rules have always been different for her. Elain redeems herself to others by handing out sunny smiles and pretending to have the intelligence of a fawn.

Lana stares at Nesta until Nesta’s skin starts to heat. “What?” she says defensively.

Ignoring the other two women in the room, Lana leans forward. “You told me once early into our relationship that part of the reason you left Tennessee was to get away from your sisters. You said you were heartbroken when they ended up following you here.”

Nesta doesn’t breathe or look to see her sisters’ reactions.

“Now I’m going to ask: did you really want to get away from your sisters, or did you want to escape the feeling of failing them?”

Nesta doesn’t know how to answer, because to her they might as well be the same thing. Having Feyre and Elain around is like having a weight tied to her chest. The lingering guilt every time Feyre is in a room, her existence screaming I’m the reason you’re still alive. Elain’s constant expectations of unconditional support and loyalty, whether it’s reciprocated or not. It’s all so heavy. And it all goes back to the fact that the three of them were once just helpless children.

If she couldn’t take care of her sisters, how is she supposed to take care of any child, ever?

Nesta releases a weary sigh. “You’re going to bring this up the next time we have the baby talk, aren’t you?”

Lana’s eyes sparkle. “Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet.” But Nesta can see from where she sits that her therapist’s notepad is covered in bullet points.

***

“I need to use the bathroom.” Feyre is hopping back and forth on her feet once the session is over. “You guys head down to the parking lot without me.” She exits in a rush, leaving the two sisters alone. Nesta hisses in frustration, nearly chasing after Feyre so she won’t have to face the inevitable awkward conversation with Elain.

By the end of the session, it was Elain that broke and pleaded with Nesta, “Don’t do everything we want, then. Just keep doing better, the way you’ve already been doing. I’ll be happy with just that.”

Nesta was surprised that Elain had even noticed her efforts, but she retorted, “And how do you plan to do better?”

To which Elain twirled her hair and murmured something halfheartedly about, “I might be more open to taking criticism or whatever.”

Though it was the absolute bare minimum, it was still a relief for Nesta to hear Elain admit that she has flaws worth criticizing.

Now, Nesta clutches the straps of her purse and turns for the stairwell leading to the parking lot. Elain follows without comment.

Inside the stairwell, Nesta asks, “Have you spoken to Azriel since he left Velaris?”

Elain looks surprised at the sudden question, and doesn’t remember to be guarded when she answers, “No. Why?”

Nesta shrugs, her heels thumping loudly on the linoleum stairs. “Because I know what happened between you two. I know why he left.”

Elain halts midstep, grabbing Nesta’s arm and turning to face her with wide eyes. “What do you mean, you know? He told you?”

“He told Cassian, and Cassian told me.” Nesta hardly cares that she’s being a poor friend to Azriel by spilling all this to Elain, and continues, “If I had known he was such a coward, I would have kicked him out of our place a long time ago… but I figured I would get your input on it first.”

She’s never seen Elain look so genuinely pleading before. “Get my input on what?” Elain breathes. “What did he say about me? Was it something I did?”

At that torn face that borders on heartbroken, Nesta decides that she’ll do more than kick Azriel out of the cabin. She’ll kick him off the whole mountain.

She shoves Elain’s back to get Elain detached from her and moving down the stairs again, and as they walk, Nesta spills everything she knows. She tells Elain about Rhysand’s talent of shoving his nose into places it doesn’t belong, and how one conversation with him managed to convince Azriel to ditch Elain for good. She tells her about how instead of having a straightforward conversation with Elain, Azriel chose to leave the city and hide out in the mountains like a pussy. She might sound blunt, but Elain needs blunt. She needs to know the unfiltered truth of things.

By the time they reach the floor where their cars are parked, Elain is silent. “Did he really say that?” she finally asks quietly. “He said he wants me to hate him?”

“That’s what I heard.” After a moment, Nesta feels the need to add, “You should hate him, though. He fucked up bad.”

When Elain continues strolling for their cars without replying, concern bites at Nesta. “You are mad at him, right? And mad at Rhysand? You’re not going to forgive them, right?”

“I’m not a total pushover,” Elain snaps. She stares at the cement ground as they walk. “I’m just… more disappointed than anything else. He gave up so easily.” She chuckles without humor. “It sounds like he was looking for an excuse to get away from me.”

Nesta frowns. “I don’t think he would’ve spent so long moping around our house if he wanted to leave you.” Though they can never truly know what Azriel was thinking or feeling until he grows a pair and talks to Elain. Still, she shudders at having to defend him.

“I take it he doesn’t mope anymore?” Elain says.

Nesta doesn’t know how to answer that truthfully. She knows there’s more to Azriel than he lets her and Cassian see, and she knows he’s gotten better at keeping his feelings to himself. So she says, “It looks like he’s doing better, but I really don’t know.” They reach Elain’s car.

“Were you in love with him?” Nesta suddenly asks. Or worse, is she still in love with him?

Elain digs around for her keys in her purse. “You know how I am. Of course I was.”

“Not anymore, though?”

Elain looks up, keys now in hand. “It’s hard to still feel love for someone I haven’t talked to in two months.”

Then it wasn’t real love. Nesta is relieved, even though it doesn’t change the fact that Elain is hurting either way.

Elain jabs her keys at Nesta and says sharply, “Don’t you dare punish him for what he did. That’s for me to decide on.”

Nesta’s brow creases in refusal. “I’ll do what I need to do, and you do you.” She’ll have to be careful with her plotting, though, considering Azriel is Cassian’s brother.

“No.” Elain surprises Nesta with the force in her tone. “He’s your roommate and your friend. Keep treating him like it.”

Elain makes it sound easier than it is, and Nesta wants to argue until she sees Feyre heading down the parking lot toward them. “Fine,” she grumbles halfheartedly.

Elain gives her one final long look, not of threat but something else. “Thank you—for inviting us today.” That’s all she says before getting in the driver’s seat of her little red car. At the same time, Feyre catches up to them.

“Where are you parked?” Feyre pants as she approaches Nesta. She sounds a bit out of breath, like she ran to get here before Nesta could drive off alone.

Nesta points down the lot to where her scrappy old car is waiting for her, and Feyre straightens up with a grim smile. “I’ll walk you.”

Nesta knows that arguing isn’t worth it, so she allows Feyre to trail her the rest of the way to her car. Once they reach the old thing, Nesta gives a curt goodbye and heads straight for the driver’s door. Before she can touch the handle, Feyre attacks her from behind with a hug.

“Get off me, freak!” Nesta tries to jostle her way out of Feyre’s arms. She tries being nice to her sisters one time and this is what she gets—

Feyre only squeezes her tighter. “You don’t have to hug back. Just let me love you my way.”

Nesta squirms for another second before stilling. Swallowing tightly, she stares at the reflection of herself and Feyre in the car door window. One of her hands goes to where Feyre’s hands are clasped around her stomach, and she stands there without moving. She can’t remember the last time she shared affection with a family member like this, but it must have been before their mother died.

The warmth at Nesta’s back doesn’t leave, like Feyre is trying to pour all her understanding into the hug. Silently saying, I’m finally starting to get it.

In a way, Nesta is starting to get it, too. After all, how do sisters with such a complicated history begin to forgive each other?

Not by apologizing, but by doing better in the future.

***

On her way home, Nesta remembers at the last minute to stop by Gwyn’s apartment to pick up one of her sweaters. She doesn’t know when Gwyn started raiding her closet like it was a free mall, but she has a school event next week and doesn’t plan on letting her nicest clothes rot at Gwyn’s forever.

Nesta enters using the key beneath the doormat, knowing Gwyn is at work and won’t mind her stopping by. She scans the living and dining areas for a glimpse of brown cashmere, but only finds scattered books and a disorganized mess. Her fingers twitch with the urge to stop and tidy up the place, but she continues hunting for the sweater. Gwyn promised it would be waiting in plain sight for her.

Realizing the scatter-brained girl probably forgot to put the sweater out for her, Nesta pauses in the hallway leading to Gwyn’s bedroom and bites her lip. She doesn’t know if bedrooms are off limits or not, considering how often Gwyn and Emerie have barged into hers, but she knows she doesn’t want to make a second trip here just for a sweater.

Without giving it further thought, she strides into Gwyn’s room—

And yelps to find Gwyn on the bed.

Except she isn’t alone, and there’s definitely another body under the dark green blanket with her, and whoever it is definitely has their head between her legs.

Nesta spins away at the same time she hears Gwyn’s cry of surprise. She braces one hand against the doorjamb and presses the other to her freezing cold face, not having any words for what she just saw.

“Nesta?” Gwyn calls from behind her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, have you seen my sweater? It’s the expensive one.” She’ll just grab it and leave. Or maybe she’ll just leave—yes, that sounds like a good idea.

“Nesta?” a new, deeper voice repeats.

Gwyn hisses, and Nesta freezes because she recognizes that voice. She wants to be wrong so badly, but she has to whirl back around to confirm for herself.

“Azriel?”

***

a/n: i decided to cut this chapter short and add an extra one to flesh out my silly little gwynriel subplot. so if there’s anything specific or random you wanna see happen in the next chapter tell me bc i might have space for prompts!!

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea

[radiosandrecordings]

Crossposting my @summer-in-the-archives-event fic here too. [AO3] [Accompanying beautiful art]

He’d never get used to the rolling fields of quiet.

Miles behind and miles to go, not that he could see any of it through the thick blanket of fog that clung to his ankles, and his wrists, and his eyes. Miles to go before I sleep…

It was hard to describe the rain that fell, because even ‘fell’ felt like too active a descriptor. It didn’t pour, it didn’t ‘beat down’, it didn’t pelt, because those all required a sense of agency that the landscape just felt too apathetic to muster. It simply existed, and just happened to be moving downwards by coincidence.

Jon wasn’t sure if he knew or Knew that it seeped into his clothes, coating his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the droplets landing, even pinpricks of touch creating too much of a sensation for this place. He briefly wondered that, if he still had need for his glasses, would the rain even make the effort to trickle down and cloud the lenses.

The last Lonely domain he’d passed through, he’d never seen the avatar that lorded over it. He didn’t have any real interest in finding out, not like the personal vendettas that lead him to seeking out Jude, or Jared. Because with Peter dead he wasn’t left with any Lonely avatars left to chase, save the vague notions of the Lukas extended family. He was simply going to keep his head down and keep trudging, hopefully emerging through the thick banks of mist before he lost his mind to the monotony. If there was ever something to make you miss muffled cries from beneath the earth…

“Why are you here?”

The sound was accusatory, and may as well have been a shotgun in the silence. The damped chill was nothing in comparison to the ice that shot up his spine. The voice had no clear origin, no figures even silhouetted in shadow against the overgrown grass, but it came in close, delivered on the gentle, numbing breeze. Despite this, though, never in a thousand domains could he forget the sound of it. Of course it was his. Of course. Of course. “Martin?”

“No! ”

The voice sounded… Angry. But hurt, like it flinched away from the word. Like something that had been left to sit in the dark too long, that recoiled back from a stinging source of light.

“... I’m going to assume no one has called you that in a long time.” He tried to keep his voice light, as much as the stifling atmosphere would allow it.

“No one is anything here. It’s easier that way. If you’re somebody, you can be hurt. If you have too much personality, too many little facets and cracks, things start to snag and catch on it, and it drags you down to where things ache. But if you’re nothing, then they don’t have anything to cling onto. You can just slip away unharmed.” The voice sounded like it was moving, curling around him and moving from ear to ear, forward and back as it droned on in that echoing monotone that Jon had hoped he would never hear again, and at the same time, had longed to.

“And what about the good things?”

“There isn’t anything good, not anymore. You saw to that.”

Jon snorted. “Low blow, but fair.” He hesitated for a moment, trying to summon the words.

He’d had time, after he left the Lonely, to consider his actions. Regret pooled like acid in his stomach at the memory, and somehow it hurt more than ending the world. He wouldn’t say it was more important. He knew whatever he felt, and moreso, knew that one human life, was not paramount to the suffering of every creature great and small, but it felt more tangible. When he walked through the hellscapes, they were dreamlike, hazy, information in such clarity but to an extreme where it still felt nonsensical to perceive it as reality. He knew the fundamental truths that surrounded him but it still felt hard to accept them even as he lived them.

Yet despite having lived without it for eight months prior, the space beside him that failed to solidify into Martin still stung with his absence. And Jon regretted it every not-day he spent walking the hellscape, both in knowing he doomed a good man to suffering, or worse, revelry, in this new world, and in the far more personal, and far more selfish, part of him that missed him so goddamn much.

“But- But Martin, I think I made a mistake.”

“Obviously.”

“Not- Not that. I mean, when we were in the Lonely. The- The first time. With Peter Lukas.” The silence droned on, and Jon took that as his cue to continue. “Do you remember what I said? That maybe you were safer here? And that’s… That’s why I let you stay. I didn’t push you to, to leave with me because I thought you wanted to be here, that you’d be safer here than you’d be with me. But I don’t think that was entirely true.”

“I am safe here.”

“Maybe so. It doesn’t mean it’s better though, does it. Martin, I saw those people, in the last Lonely domain. I know it’s different, they were victims and you’re… You’re an avatar, here, you’re feeding off of all of this, but I promise you they were not happy. They were so alone and it didn’t protect them, it just made it worse. Think about it, the logic of this world. There are threats out there of unimaginable horror, and yet they were still assigned here, it’s their worst nightmare. And you were assigned here too. You’re all suffering, just in different ways, but all calculated to be your personal worst.”

“The Martin Blackwood you thought you knew doesn’t exist anymore. He had to be filed down, too many breaks and tears in him that grew and grew, any time someone raised a harsh word. The best way for him to be protected, is for him to go away entirely. You cannot hurt something that doesn’t exist.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you just said ‘I’.”

“What? ” That anger reemerged again, and as staunched as it was it was beautiful, a return to form amongst the dull monotone, reminiscent of the few times Jon had been privileged enough to witness a truly pissed off Martin Blackwood.

Jon found himself grinning. “You said ‘I am safe here’. Emphasis on the ‘I’. Ergo, you still have some form of identity left, and thus I would wager that the part of you left is Martin. Unless I’ve wandered across some other avatar of the Lonely who sounds like him, of course.”

“You’re always so fucking smug, you know that?”

The voice is coming from behind him. Actually, physically, presently behind him and Jon spins around so fast he’s almost dizzy.

And as much as it made his heart soar, and much as he was glad to finally, finally , see him again when he’d thought he never would, Martin looked… Bad.

His skin had darkened, mottled and blotchy with large swathes of a bruise-like blue or sickly green cropping up across his face and neck, or the parts of his forearms visible where his cable knit sleeves rolled back. It was like frostbite from the cold, or some disturbing onset of trench-foot from the damp, corpselike and unsettling. What was worse, though, were the parts that simply ceased. His hair didn’t even reach the tips, simply fading out into a grey static that merged with the mist, and it consumed his eyes whole, tear tracks streaking down his face in patterns of fuzzy, crackling grey that snapped and popped in the silence, far too reminiscent of a tape.

The sight made Jon’s heart clench like a fist, the combination of relief and horror, and in that moment he understood Jane Prentiss more completely than he ever had before. It would’ve felt like a rude comparison to consciously make, the person he cared for most equated to a pulped and writhing mass that churned out creatures that made your skin crawl before tearing into it. But he knew what she had seen in it, that call towards the thing that fascinated you, despite the turning it causes in your stomach.

Despite this, however, Jon steeled himself. This was rapidly becoming a battle, and he couldn’t afford the cost of emotions. He had to keep Martin, well… Martin. Draw out the emotion. In short, be a bit of a bastard. So instead, he cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you liked that about me?”

He could see Martin’s fists clench, the colour of his extremities dyed black from frostbite. The irritation was still clear as he started into “Fucking hell J-” but they both appeared taken aback as he dissolved into a choking, hacking cough.

It took everything in him for Jon to tamp down the need to surge forward, put a hand on his back and ask if he was okay. It was a strangely mundane thing; the man was made out of static and fog and despite seeming to have an on-and-off-again relationship with his corporeal form, this was the first recognisably human thing to adversely affect him. Why, though? What had Martin done to trigger- Oh. Oh .

“That- That priest from the statement… 0113005? Father Burroughs. He couldn’t say the name of god. Anything related to it, really. And you… You couldn’t say my…”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Martin spat. “You’re not a god or thee god, whatever your new eye magic might imply. It’s just…” He let out a breath that turned into a grumble. While his eyes had always been cloudy, he was now refusing to meet Jon’s gaze.

Regardless, it still drew a breathy laugh out of him. “No, I’m not that far gone into my own self importance yet. But… It’s about the connection, isn’t it?” Something in the conversation had changed, it’s tone or it’s flow, that felt contradicting. Tension coiling up to spring, or they’re barrelling towards a culmination, but at the same time, Jon felt like the wind had been kicked right out of him. He lowered himself to the ground, slowly, settling among the grass and trying to ignore the unpleasant dampness under him. Hey, he could feel the damp again. That was something.

“That’s more flattering, actually, I would say… The Lonely, it thinks if you acknowledge me directly, that would loosen it’s hold on you.” Jon huffed out a breath. “You know I listened to all the tapes. What was it that Daisy said to you, when I was on the run? ‘People say you two are close’? Well, the Lonely appears to agree.” He took a minute before adding, “I would, as well. And, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was too… Too in my own head, before, to admit it. Too much of a coward to do it before that, even. But you need to know I love you. And I know that you… Cared for me, at least? Even if I stuck my head in the sand to ignore it. But the Lonely seems to think you do, still. So will you please come back to me? I know it’s not- I know it won’t be much better, travelling through the domains, but it’s all I can offer and it has to be better than this. I can’t promise anything kind will be waiting for us in London, but you’d be yourself again, and I can’t… Martin, I can’t lose you again. To leave here, again, without you, I’d be losing you. Please.”

“No.”

There wasn’t even a delay to his response, stating it in monotone the second Jon had finished speaking. It felt like ice, lancing through his heart.

“Martin. Martin, please -”

“I said no. I thought you would’ve learned by now; I’m not exactly amenable when you come crawling to me with half baked plans of escape. Because you don’t love me, you love the idea of me. You are quite literally the only free man left in the world and you’re lonely . So you’re looking for a familiar face. Kind Martin, caring Martin, always there with tea and taking your side in every argument. Defending you to Tim when you’d just as soon slag him off behind his back, or on tape. Pretty appealing when everyone else is trying to kill you. At least he treated you like a god before this even started.”

Each sentence felt like another dagger to the chest, and it took him a moment to compose himself, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Eventually, though, Jon spoke. “That’s not true, though. I- Martin I can’t apologise enough that that’s what it’s felt like, for you. But I need you to know, that isn’t true. A-At the start, maybe, I can’t deny I was stupid and spiteful, but you didn’t deserve any of it. And after that… I didn’t do a one-eighty and decide you were a doormat. I liked you because you were secretly enough of a prick as well. Any time you’d pull me out for lunch when I dragged my heels, or argued back when I said something shitty, that was… It felt like I was seeing the real you. The one you didn’t want to let people think of you as, but the one you were, because despite wanting to appear like the picture of innocence, you are a bitch, Martin Blackwood. And that’s my favourite thing about you. Maybe time is sweetening my memory, slightly, but I truly don’t believe there’s rose coloured glasses here. If we walk out of here, I’m not under any sort of illusion that it’ll be a honeymoon. We will doubtless find something to argue over, if not several, but I want that. I want you at my side to, to disagree and point out all my blind spots. We’re both stubborn bastards but I’m stupidly fallible, and I need you to keep me balanced. I don’t want a yes-man, I want you, Martin, and I’m asking for that knowing full well what it entails.”

When the words stopped flowing, he found himself gasping for breath, sobs building in his chest and threatening to spill over. But Martin was standing closer.

“That’s- I don’t- Fuck.” As Jon looked up, wiping at his own eyes, he could see fog starting to trickle from Martin’s mouth, coming in short bursts as his nostrils flared and chest rose and fell noticeably for the first time that Jon had seen since he stepped foot onto the moors. This caused a conflict of emotion in Jon, because while it seemed to be another step towards humanity, Martin letting the Lonely fall to the wayside in favour of reclaiming himself, it also looked far too close to a panic attack to be something worth celebrating.

“I don’t understand,” he finally settled on, voice cracking on the words. He slowly let himself sink to the ground opposite Jon, knees pulled up to his chest. “I left you. Time and again I left you. I left you to work with Lukas, and I left you when you tried to get me to run away, and I left you when I stayed on the beach.” His palms were pressed into his eyes, mist seeping from between his knuckles as he dragged them across his face, though Jon couldn’t be sure if he was attempting to wipe the fog away, or if he was stalling while he faltered, trying to summon the words. Both, maybe. Jon took the silence from him.

“You didn’t really choose that, though. You didn’t feel like you even had a choice. So Martin if… If you’re worried that I think badly of you for that, I don’t. Martin, I’ve done so many terrible things, so to- No, no, actually I don’t mean it like that. I don’t mean that you’re a good person, compared with me. I think you’re a good person full stop. And I just want you to be able to see that. I know the Lonely is quite literally clouding your judgement right now but… Please, just, just make me a deal?”

Martin’s palms were resting on his chin now, cupping his cheeks and curving around his neck. He nodded once, wearily, for Jon to continue.

Jon drew in a breath “I think I’m in some sort of… Bubble. Like a miniature domain, when I’m travelling. I think, if you agree to come with me, even for a little bit, that might dissolve some of the Lonely’s more adverse effects. Make it easier to think, to, to be yourself without its influence. If that is what happens, and you want to return… I’ll bring you back. But please, just… Try? For me?”

Martin sighed, hands dropping from his face. “...Fine.”

“You- Really?”

“Yes. I… Look, J-” Martin bit back another coughing fit. “Look. I am… There is a lot of me right now that wants to leave. The fog is… It’s in my head, figuratively, probably even literally, but… I remember something Basira said. When she got back, from, from The Unknowing . Melanie wanted to know how she got out, when the other three… When you, and Daisy, and Tim, didn’t. She said she reasoned her way out. So I’m going to listen to reason for a minute, as much as it’s paining me.”

Despite those final words, Jon felt his face crack into a smile. “That’s… Yes, you’re right. Well that’s… That’s a very reasonable connection to make.”

And for the first time in a long time, Martin smiled.

“Uhm, so how does this work then?” He eventually said, hand coming up again to scratch the back of his neck in an old nervous habit Jon could not be more happy to see.

“Well”, Jon said, taking a moment to brush sodden grass from his trousers as he got to his feet, “I would say, based on the dream logic that everything here seems to run on here, it should be rather simple.” He held out a hand to tug Martin up after him.

Martin took it.

It was almost cliché, how the Lonely fell away from him. It only took a few seconds, all in all, for the bruising to fade, receding their colourful splotches until his skin lay clear again. His frostbitten fingers healing themselves, sewing broken skin back together and returning to a healthy colour. His face, too, was returning to its original pallor, the change creeping up his neck and across his cheeks and leaving rich brown in its wake. Dark eyes stared down at Jon from behind long lashes, blinking away the last of the fog. He was beautiful.

“Hi,” Jon managed to choke out.

“Hi,” Martin said, and pulled him into his arms.

Jon just let himself be held in the pressure of the embrace for a moment, before bringing a hand up to card his fingers through Martin’s hair. While it had solidified into soft curls, the colour had stayed the same, bleaching it white under his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if Martin had noticed or not, but that was a conversation for another time. They were both a little preoccupied for the moment.

“How do you feel?” Jon eventually said, words pressed into the side of Martin’s neck.

“Uhm. Strange?” Martin eventually settled on. “It’s… I can remember what my thought process was, what the Lonely was pushing me to believe, but it’s like… It’s like the camera panned out, and now I can see it all clearly, and it looks… It looks stupid. Thank you, Jon. For coming to get me.”

“Of course,” Jon whispered, “Of course.”

Another moment passed before Martin spoke up again. “...Did you mean what you said, though? Or was that… Was that just to try and get me to leave? I- I won’t be angry, if it was, that- that’s very clever, I just want to know.”

Jon furrowed his brow. “Which part do you mean?”

Martin let out an agitated sigh. “You- You know which one I mean, Jon. The- The part where that you said that you…”

“That I love you?” Jon said, picking up where Martin trailed off.

Martin’s face flushed, and just the sight of colour spreading across it made Jon’s heart soar, let alone the implications of why . “Of course I did. I- I’m sorry that you would think I would lie about that, even for something like this. No, Martin, I love you. So very much. And I know you might not feel that way anymore, in which case I am very much embarrassing myself here, but I know that you did at one stage so I hope it won’t make things too awkward between us.” “I do, Jon.”

“What?”

“I do. Still feel that way. I love you too, of course I do. My hero.”

It was Jon’s turn to feel his face flush, pleasant warmth bubbling to the surface. “Oh,” was all he managed to stutter out.

“Can I- Jon do you mind if I…” Martin trailed off again, and Jon began to think this might be a recurring theme between them. He’d make it work. He was pretty good at reading Martin, and the eyeline pointed directly at his lips made intentions quite clear.

“Is- Would just the cheek be okay?” He replied. It didn’t really feel like the time for a full run down on where boundaries lay, but he figured it was a start.

“More than,” Martin said, leaning down to press his lips softly against Jon’s cheek. He lingered for a few seconds, skin largely healed but still chapped from the cold, and it was one of the most beautiful things Jon had ever felt. He slipped one hand into Martin’s, and he felt their fingers twine together.

Martin leaned back, clearly trying to calm his grin into something more close-lipped and calm. “Where to now then?”

“Uhm. Forward, really, is just how I’ve been going. There isn’t any real sense of geography to it, we’ll just…. Get there when we get there.”

“Right. Because nothing can be simple these days.”

Jon missed this. He missed him. But he didn’t have to miss him anymore, did he? He was right there.

He squeezed his hand once, and started leading the way.

[yoursinfulurges]

AntiHero

[The Venom Within] <- read part one here.

Description: The events that soon followed your emotional downfall turns dark and horrifying after Hydra gains possession of your freedom. 

1/2 of part 2

Warnings: Abuse. Kidnapping. Angst. 

Disclaimer: In this story' venom has no conscious and is simply just the readers alter, or the readers inner thoughts and insecurities. This takes place after civil war time. So Endgame and Infinity War never happens.

____________ 

You huffed inaudibly, hearing your stomach roar from starvation for the fifth time this minute. You had only gotten twelve blocks away from the tower, which was still very much visible when you turned back. Annoyingly so, you tried to avoid any peripheral contact with it, in fear of changing your mind and running straight back. 

Even trying your very hardest to block out any childhood memories spent there from coming back to you, as the last thing you needed was for more tears to be shed. You felt eerily deprived of sensation, and you didn't know if it was because of the cold New York air or the fact that you left a part of you behind back in that tower. The one capable of deciphering the many layers of the overwhelming apathy you ever so felt reside within you. 

The one able to comprehend and break down your other feelings that remained intacted, yet almost seemed brain dead. As if not computing the sitution that had happened moments ago, defying how your tense heart truly ached. Feeling as though you were just a walking body, an empty shell of the person that once was. You knew your inner subconscious was protecting you from added trauma, and was doing the best thing it could by preventing you from feeling the complexity of it all and only allowing minor details to slide. As said feelings would only send you into a spiralling depth of anxiety.

 And only god knows what would happened if your emotions alone suddenly decided it was time to have a panic attack at this very moment. Despite being greatful for the somewhat unorthodox coping mechanism that was forced upon you, you were at war with yourself. Almost angry that you couldn't process the overwhelming wave of sensations, having to submit to the black cold solitude of your mind till your brain finally decides to open up and evaluate just how badly the damage was to your mental health. 

But till that happens your soul was left to wonder and yield in confusion instead of settling on one dependent emotion.... 

You were conflicted to no doubt. 

You were angry yet, if tried hard enough and dug a bit deeper, pass the wall you built around your heart, you found yourself strangely at peace. Contradicting the forefront frustration you had with the profound perplexity of the situation, confusing you once more. As a part of you almost beams at the sudden calmness that over came you, in contrast to your outbursts merely an hour ago. 

Sure, you felt a myriad of miniscule emotions coincide you, tiny enough not to affect you in any way shape or form, or take away your apathetic structure, (thankfully so). And you knew that you were definitely far from okay as of right now, especially since you were somewhat going through an existential crisis. Yet in a funny defiant kind of way you were fine. It was as if your amygdala had froze, preventing you from registering everything that had happened. Forcing you to rerun the moments leading up to here in order to get to the bottom of what your true emotions and opinions were. 

You made it out of the tower unnoticed, given the fact that you dressed a lot more muted than you'd normally do. Nobody would think that it was Y/n Stark under the hood of one of Steve Rogers' old jacket. Your clothes weren't exactly ideal, but you were in no position to complain, you acted in a panic and grabbed whatever was on the way to the exit. 

That being Natasha's grey hoodie and Steve's oversized leather jacket. Both laid untouched, draped over the abandoned conference room chairs. You saw it the moment you stepped out the elevator, peering through the glass walls just to confirm whether it was really their's. It was a given that the room hadn't been cleaned out yet, being that it had been months since anyone has been in there. But then again, only a few people had conformation to that area of the tower. 

Without thinking, you had scanned your hand onto the access pad, and before you knew it, the glass door slid open. A decision you silently curse yourself on now for doing, since there was no doubt about it that Friday had already informed your dad that your last digital encounter was going into that room. You knew how incredibly smart that AI was, so you even made it an effort to take the route with less cameras. Even purposely running around the building, going to useless area's to confuse her in the future before sliding pass an unsupervised emergency exit. 

Despite the fact that it was 1:30 AM, the streets of Manhattan was as lively as ever. Though there was a lot less traffic at this time of the night. It gave you comfort to know that you weren't completely alone walking the streets. You may be skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but at the end of the day, you were still a girl, and that fact alone made you a clear target for some. 

And you doubt you could put up much of a fight, especially with how starved weak (and not to mention injured) you were. You had to be weary of who was around you at all times, stick to crowded areas yet be inconspicuous enough not to be spotted by cameras. As you knew for a fact that Friday was most likely scanning the area. 

Though despite how stress driven the situation was and how fidgety you felt, you weren't completely wandering lost, you had a destination set at mind and it gave you all the hope that you needed to keep moving onward. That location being the small little Chinese restaurant tucked away at a back alley passage seven blocks away from where you were. As you were quite close with the owner, being a regular weekly. So you knew for a fact that if you asked she would let you stay for a couple of days without hesitation. The small cozy family owned business reminded you so much of your old home, back when you still lived with your mother. 

After that night- or more so week spent with Tony, your mother had decided it would be best to stay put in China for a while. Delusions of starting something more than just a hook up with the oh so' brilliant Tony Stark flooded her mind. She wanted to be at arms reach for the man and stay exactly where he left her. Tony told her multiple times over the course of seven days that he'd be back for her, but he never came back... 

As weeks went by your mother had come to the realization that those words were merely nothing but empty promises and drunken slurs. Thus feeding her resentment for the small little child that grew inside her. You weren't a native of China but you were born and raised there up until age eleven or twelve, when your mother passed from cancer. Your childhood for the most part was dry and barren of any affection, having to submit and be degraded to being your mother's personal maid. Despite the mistreatment you had to endure, you couldn't exactly complain because you weren't exactly suffering. You had a roof over your head and all the food and water you could ever want, not to mention access to education. From a young age you had always shown signs of carrying the infamous Stark gene, harboring a profound skill to grasp and master any subject thrown your way. At the age of only six you were already capable of speaking three different languages; English, Chinese, and French. You had all characteristics of being a Stark. 

Except of course the looks.... Which was primarily why Tony didn't believe you were his child to begin with. You knew from the age of twelve that you looked more like your mother rather than your dad, but the contrast was blatantly eye striking next to the man whom was supposed to be your father. You had your mom's features more not to mention her complexion, being that your mother was [your race]. 

(If you're white then imagine y/n is paler or tanner than Tony, I'm Asian so....) 

You had never forgotten the most pivotal and accurate representation of your relationship that unfolded the day you first met... 

🕸🕷🕸 

You ran towards the man stood a few feet away from you, letting go of the woman's hand. Your face beams displaying a blinding smile as you ran towards Tony. 

"Dad!" 

You screamed in joy running towards the male engulfing his mid waist with your arms. The man looked down at you in a fright, his brows furrowing together as he looked at the Stark family lawyer and the social worker. 

He gently yet assertively pulls your arms off of him, not sparing you a glance as you looked up in question. 

"Are you sure she's mine?" 

Your heart drops at that moment as all becomes clear... The smile no longer present on your face as you looked down and distanced yourself away from Tony. Something no one took notice of. 

"We've already done a DNA test on her sir and she's yours..." The social worker lady spoke timidly, clutching her files tightly. 

"Well do two more tests, god damn it!" 

Tony screamed causing you to flinch slightly. A prickling sensation of shame washing over you as you watched him begins to pace, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands in distress. 

"Come here sweetie, let's go get you something to eat, you must be hungry from your flight." 

A woman with ginger hair spoke lightly as she forced out a smile, extending her hand for you before glaring at the man when you took her hold. 

"I want a cheese burger...." 

She nodded briefly, pulling you away from the scene and straight towards the elevator. 

🕸🕷🕸 

And at that day was when you realized that things were only going to get more complicated from there. Because the first moment that you both met, he had already decided that he didn't want you. 

Though contrary to his primal feelings, you were very much aware of your fathers attempts in searching for you, even though it had only been forty five minutes since the fight. It was reassuring but, you weren't in the mood to awe about it. You were still mad at him, and had zero plans of forgiving him any time soon. Or returning any time soon... You wanted him to worry and loose sleep, it was petty but it would be a mere compensation for the suffering he put you through. 

You brush pass a halted group of people, no more than twelve, lightly shoving pass them irritably. Slightly annoyed with their odd behavior, as they all seemed to be watching something you couldn't care less about. You let out an inaudible scoff, as you walked passed them. Your attention devoted to unwrapping the bubble gum you had in hand. Harshly shoving the minty treat into your mouth before putting your bandaged hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. You heaved in relief, finally giving your roaring stomach a somewhat rest after fourteen hours of starvation. The gum was probably months old by now since you found it in Nat's hoodie, but you couldn't care less. It was only meant to sustain your hunger for twenty more minutes. 

You walk at a leisurely pace, stopping slightly to push the pedestrian button at the cross walk. You watched as multiple cars pass by, rolling your eye irritably as you hear the crowd of people gasp in awe again. You normally weren't so easily agitated, but you're currently having a hard time figuring out just what your new normal would be from now on... Tapping your foot on the concrete pavement, you wished time would speed up. 

"What do you think is happening up there?" 

"Who knows" 

"Maybe he's just testing out his new suits.' 

With that, you freeze all movements. It was as if everything stilled at the command of one word. You were scared shitless of all the possibilities it could be, not knowing whether you were willing to look or not, but your anxiety was killing you. Feeling it increase at every breath, taunting you like marionettes on a string, dearing you to look, only to scream no just afterwards. With an in take of air, you pushed back those thoughts and slowly, you turned to view what all the fuss was about. Gasping in shock and horror at the sight infront of you. 

He was insane. 

There stood the Stark tower tall and proud, being lit up like a firecracker with multiple yellow streaks of light ejecting from the building. It looked as though hundreds of missiles were being fired into the air, contrasting the twilight sky. Even with the skyscrapers that surrounded the tower, the sight demanded all the attention. No, those weren't missiles...  

They behaved too smart to be simply just that. And you knew better than to dismiss them so easily. Multiple flew in every direction, some swirling around the tower, and others going straight up. There was at least two or four going north and south, while a dozen takes off headed east and west. It looked as though someone was celebrating New Years early, and doing so extravagantly, except it was the middle of fall... 

The sight was beautiful you couldn't deny that, but you were confused as to what exactly that could mean. Was it meant for you? Was he calling you back? Was that his version of an Amber alert? Or maybe they celebrating that you were finally gone... Images of Pepper, Tony, and Peter celebrating your leave quickly flash through your mind, stabbing you in the back ones more. Quickly, you shake them out of your head, returning your attention once again to the event in front of you. Your brows pulled together in question before it officially clicked. Hitting you hard like a brick, demolishing the wall of protection you built around yourself to stop the flood of overwhelming emotions. Feeling a small tug in your chest, the numbness that guarded your heart slowly dispersed as anxiety crept up your spine. 

He had unleashed the entirety of his Iron Legion's to search for you. 

All 108 suits.... 

Without thinking, you quickly crouched down, seeing one flying low into the street, right towards you. Your hood fell from a gust of wind as your hair blew all around. You screw your eyes tightly, covering your ears at a loud swooshing sound invading your eardrums. Thankfully, it flew pass you. You ignored the cheering of the crowd, quickly trying to run and sprint into an underground sub station. Turning back one last time, only to be greeted by more iron suits taking off from the tower. You frantically focusing your eyes, seeing a blue and red figure swinging from a far. 

      Peter....  

As luck may have it, he swung left, following a completely different road. 

And with that, you ran. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, frantically looking for the 99th street substation opening so that you could hide underground. 

Cut short gasps of panic erupt from your mouth as you hurriedly ran across the street. You closed your eyes tight, feeling tears forming and falling down your face. Oh no, not now... Cold frost bitten air hits your skin as you maneuver yourself around bystanders. Not now, not now, not now. The tears fell more frequently as you squeezed your eyes shut once more. 

You were not going to send yourself into and anxiety attack, not now, and not because of this. 

Your running comes to a halt as you stand exactly where you're supposed to be, eyes quickly looking around in search for the station opening. 

There! 

In a fright, damp cold sweats engulfs your body as you enter and ran down the steps, out from above ground sight. You jump over the turnstile, panting from the tiredness as you took note of how soar your legs were becoming. You gulp, chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked around to see if anyone saw your odd behavior. And to your surprise the station was completely empty, odd... Though that could very well be because the scheduled 1:40 train had just took off fifteen minutes ago. You moved with hesitation and weariness as you looked around for any person in sight. Silently, you plopped yourself down onto a steel bench, trying desperately for your breathing to calm down. 

You didn't know how long it had been or how much time passed since you've sat down, but you stayed put fidgeting for what seemed like hours. Your thighs bounced anxiously as you kept an eye out for any short of movement, the dimly lit grimy station gave you an on edge feeling and it didn't sit right in your stomach. You felt like you were being watched from all sorts of corners and you shook it off as anxiety but something told you to stay guarded. 

Your ears would perk from time to time, hearing loud gusts of winds and cheering from above ground, ensuring the fact that your father's search party wasn't going away anytime soon. 

You hear movement coming in, snapping out of your haze as you felt a presence sit beside you. You peer up meekly in curiosity before gasping in shock and horror at who the person was. 

      Brock Rumlow.... 

"Long time no see little Stark." He spoke voice raspy and sinister as you cringe at the sight of his face. There, half of his profile was burnt and agitated red as one of his eyes was completely titanium white, you figured he was blind there. Wanda really did a number on him as you all suspected that she had killed him.... 

Little Stark.... That was something only Fury called you... 

You swallow in fear as you notice five more men appearing suddenly. You suddenly felt incredibly hyper aware of the situation, your vision tunneling as your heart rate increases. This was really happening... 

"I've waited a long time for this kid... knock her out!" 

Before you could scream in distress a throbbing pain consumes the back of your skull, and then everything turned black...

_____________

I owe you guys an explanation, and to put it simply, I was depressed and felt unmotivated so I took a lot of time to myself... I wasn't aware that so many people were expecting a follow up to a stupid little story I had written in April... I am without of words and am absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of support and love you all have given me. Yet the feeling of being pressured to write came with the notion of so much positivity, thus tainting it. I can't promise when the second half of part two will come out, but know that it is coming......

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[doesitmatterseriously]

Okay, here are some of my favorite finished darklina fics. I have like a shit ton book marked but I come back to these a lot. And the fics helped me since the books sucked so god damn bad. Any waysssss, check em out on ao3.

1. Bedroom hymns by destinies @destiniesfic

You need to read the “Out of Time” story in order to get this. I loved “out of time” but bedroom hymns is told from Alexsander’s pov. It’s kind of infuriating right away because she captures the personality of the character so right. That he could win everything and yet his ultimate downfall will always be his arrogance. Caution, Very very unenthusiastic consent is in the first part then enthusiastic consent. It’s just fascinating to see this point of view because technically he won everything except for what he truly wanted. also this fic writer is one of my favorites for FOTA and darklina.

2. Between Midnights by vuas

Dude vuas can write for literally any fandom. I’d beg to read her damn grocery lists. The writing is out of this fucking world! Okay, enough fangirling. This story is about an arranged marriage and it is fucking fabulous. It’s part of a series of hers called the “marriage verse” and she incorporate humor, sex, and doesn’t dial back on any of the struggles this couple would face. I know im not giving good plot info but just read it. The ending is to die for. Also literally anything by vuas is fucking amazing. She has a gossip girl fic that I squealed at.

3. Nocturne by amplifierverse @stupidlyentangled

A fic where Alina lost the war and has to marry darkles. Is one of the best ones I’ve read because they actually get over their shit at the end. In a realistic way towards the characters. It takes that whole “but you could make a better man” thing. Except Alina doesn’t. He kind of deals with his shit(in his way)

And my all time favorite. I’ve literally accepted this one as canon because I fucking hate the ending and the books.

“start a war” by njmja (and all the stories in that universe)

This one is my favorite because we get a satisfactory ending. She does have to change the darkling in a way because he becomes more patient. I feel like in the books the author saw that people like the darkling and then she just made them into a cardboard villain cut out. This fic has him actually back off and let Alina live and then she becomes jaded herself and then he actually has to rescue her. It’s interesting because both characters are very much the same and yet different because time will do that to you.  I genuinely recommend reading this if you were unsatisfied with the ending. If you were not unsatisfied with the ending then….well…you probably will hate everything I’ve recommended. 

There are a lot more that I can recommend but I really want to keep this short. Whenever I was literally so pissed off about the ending because it was just a waste of potential AND characters, these fics helped me through. I mean to the point where I literally consider one of them canon in my mind. There are so many great fics out there so it’s really hard to narrow it down and only recommend four. But these ones stayed with me. Especially because these writers kept it true to the characters they were writing about. The whole thing with this couple is that they won’t have a happy ending. They are dysfunctional. ANY happy ending they actually have is due to a great amount of compromise and work amongst themselves and most of all TIME. 

Caution, all these have sex in them. That’s kind of a thing with these characters. The darkling craves intimacy. Not just regular sex but actual intimacy. At least that’s what he craves from Alina because she is the only one who can truly understand him. It’s one of the things that makes him such a tragic character.

I honestly believe that the author really screwed his character over because she saw that people actually liked him. The author of the grisha Trilogy has made it clear that she hates the darkling. She just did his character so badly.

I understand that he was meant to be a villain yet in some parts he was morally grey and he actually had a goal (one that was perfectly understandable based on the persecution the grisha go through) . But there was so much emphasis placed on him being patient then that all went out the window and I’ll never understand why so that’s why I believe “start a war” really could genuinely be an actual ending because he showed that he could be patient yet he just goes off the walls in the grisha books and completely changes character.

Maybe it was because he had waited so long but I also believe he had it in him to actually wait for Alina. He wanted to protect grisha but he also just wanted to not be alone anymore.

 It makes “bedroom hymns “ so sad in a way because of this. The darkling was written as a complex character and then just literally thrown in the trash and became an apathetic ass and cardboard cutout of a villain. What a fucking shame.

These are in no particular order! Except I DO accept “Start a War” as the actual ending lol.

Hope you guys enjoy. Also, please save the whole “ stop romanticizing this couple because they’re toxic” yah,I’m aware. But I like what I like. I tagged the tumblrs I could find. But once again, I know a woman cannot change a man. I just feel the grisha books turned into trash. I enjoy the fics so much more. They stay true to his messy ass and Alina’s messy ass.

[stuckonstarker]

Getting the rogue Avengers pardoned was a hassle and a half but Tony is nothing if not a miracle worker. According to the UN, the only hope the Avengers have of coming back is if they stay under limited surveillance in the Stark Tower.

Which is unfortunate considering that Tony would much prefer staying as far away from him and Peter as possible.

It’s a total sham if you ask Tony.

But the world needs to be protected and if this is the way it must be done then so be it.

The old Avengers floor is still in place from when they were a team. Those days feel like an eternity ago to Tony. Most of the Avengers’ stuff sat there collecting dust as the original drama with the Accords unfolded.

Though, once Tony had been notified of the Avenger’s return he prepared everything in advance. The Avengers floor has rooms for each member, its own kitchen, living space, and several bathrooms. Along with numerous other rooms designated solely for more leisurely activities.

Basically, Tony had tried to give everything the ex-rogues could ever want so that they’d bother him as little as possible.

There’s a separate building for Wanda. It was vetted by the Avengers themselves along with Tony. Though, none of the other Avengers seem partial to Tony’s opinion at the moment.

She is being kept elsewhere due to the damage she was responsible for and her powers that seem to have a mind of their own. The general populace reported extreme discomfort with her. It was negotiated that, instead of a high-security prison, she’d be in a secluded area designated for training and therapy away from the daily stressors of life.

The Avengers are allowed to visit her whenever they please and Vision, with permission from the UN, decided to reside with her permanently. Tony gets updates on Wanda from Vision. Wanda doesn’t want to speak to Tony and Tony shares the sentiment.

Tony says, “Your rooms all should be just down that hallway. They have nameplates and everything so it’s impossible to miss. The training floor is still right beneath this one and all your equipment has been set up for you should you need it. If you need anything then Friday can help.”

He turns to make sure the rest of the Avengers are listening to him - because that seems to be something that they have difficulty with. But, to his great surprise, he’s suddenly subject to the watchful eyes of Steve, Bucky, Sam, Nat, and Clint.

He freezes for a moment and a sudden chill races through him.

He regains composure just as quickly, though, and resumes, “There’s also a room for Wanda and Vision should they ever need it.”

He shudders at the thought. Preferably, he and Wanda wouldn’t even be within the same state. Nevermind, the same building.

He considers that he could just move. He wasn’t placed under house arrest. He could very well just move to Miami or something.

There’s an awkward pause.

Tony says, “I’m glad you guys are back.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods with what might pass as a smile.

Tony asks, “So, are you guys set?”

Steve looks at his group for confirmation and they all seem varying shades of apathetic. Steve nods and Tony takes it as the unanimous answer.

He races his way to the elevator. There’s a vague, familiar feeling that starts clawing its way up his ribcage and into his heart. The same animalistic instinct that’s telling him he needs to survive above all else. It’s irrational and illogical, but it's real and raw and refuses to let up.

The elevator rises steadily to his home.

Tony’s heartbeat similarly upticks and then continues beating at a rapid rate.

It’s an unstoppable force that just pushes Tony over and washes away all reason.

Peter had compared it to a tidal wave once. Tony had found the comparison apt and charming, in a way.

He smiles and laughs a little breathlessly while he braces against the cold walls of the elevator.

He flinches just the tiniest bit when the elevator alerts him of his arrival on the penthouse floor. He strains to gain his poise as he forces himself to look calm and collected as he walks into the living space.

Peter is sitting on the couch.

He turns and his concern is prevalent in his face and voice as he asks, “What happened?”

“Nothing special,” Tony answers as if his entire chest isn’t tightening into a near unbearable knot.

Peter echoes, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, “Nothing special?”

“Nope,” Tony shakes his head and leans all of his weight on the wall.

If he had been more inexperienced he might’ve been more worried. At one point he may have assumed he was having a heart attack.

This is not a heart attack, Tony knows now, it is arguably worse.

His body racks with shivers and a heavy shadow starts to loom over him. He feels so cold so suddenly. And, God, breathing feels impossible.

“Tony,” Peter says, “I’m right here.”

Tony nods.

Peter asks, “Can I hold your hand?”

It cuts right through the static.

“Yes,” Tony says. 

He registers Peter taking his hand into his own. Peter’s skin is soft and warm to the touch. It sends pleasant flutters going through Tony’s fingertips. It feels rather nice, admittedly.

Peter says, “You’re doing great, Tones, just focus on us right now.”

Tony nods and tightens his grip on Peter.

Peter pulls Tony closer into somewhat of a half-hug and begins rubbing small, comforting circles into the small of Tony’s back.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Peter whispers, “nothing is going to hurt us, Tones. I love you. You’re here with me in the penthouse.”

Tony nods and rests his head against Peter’s shoulder.

A weight drops from Tony’s chest and, suddenly, he can breathe again.

“Peter,” he whispers.

Peter says, “I’m right here.”

“Peter,” Tony breathes and it feels easy again.

Peter presses a gentle kiss to Tony’s forehead, “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you too,” Tony says. It’s soft and raw and vulnerable.

Peter runs his fingers through Tony’s graying hair. Something electric sparks within Tony and he almost moans in response.

Peter says, “I’ve made you some lunch.”

Tony nods and laughs, “That would be nice.”

[star-maiden]

Help! These D*** Cards Don’t make sense!

What To Do When a Tarot Reading Seems Like Nonsense

⭐️ First of all, we need to get a few things clear. Tarot won’t always make sense. You will make mistakes. Sometimes, you won’t get any messages at all no matter how hard you try. If this sounds similar to your experience with the cards, don’t feel bad. It doesn’t mean you’re a “bad” reader. As soon as you get more comfortable with the idea of being wrong, you’ll find that your confidence (and subsequently your readings) will improve a lot! Got that? Great! Let’s move on to the topic at hand.

Confused by your tarot cards? Don’t get discouraged.

⭐️ I’m just going to tell you plainly. There isn’t a single tarot reader in the world who hasn’t been completely baffled with their cards at some point. This is natural and a completely normal part of the learning process. What’s more, Tarot is one of those things that you never really stop learning more about. There is always room for growth, and for finding deeper meanings within the stories each card tells. So if you’re hoping to be a “Tarot Master” with omnipotent vision and 100% accurate readings about everything, then I’m afraid I must be the bearer of bad news: There’s no such thing. We’ll all be wrong or confused sometimes, and that’s ok.

Even so, there are a few things to consider if you find yourself bamboozled by your cards more often than not.

Reasons why your tarot cards don’t make sense, and what to do about it.

1. You’re cards haven’t been shuffled properly.

⭐️ This is a common culprit for readings that aren’t making much sense. If you don’t shuffle your cards enough, either straight out of the plastic wrapping or after too many readings, you won’t get any clear messages. This is especially true if you’ve been doing a lot of readings, and just quickly shuffling your pulled cards back into the deck afterwards. If you notice that you are getting a lot of cards from previous readings, and they aren’t making much sense, it might be time for a good shuffle.

What to do: If your deck is new, you’ll want to spend several days shuffling and getting to know the cards. This will mix up the cards enough for you to actually get messages, and help you become more familiar with the imagery of the deck (which will improve your intuitive readings).

⭐️ If you deck isn’t new, it’s likely that you just haven’t shuffled well enough in between readings. It happens. Just give them a good shuffle, and you’ll be set.

2. You don’t know the card meanings well enough.

⭐️ Wait! Don’t get upset yet! I’m not saying that you have to memorize the traditional meaning of every card, and use only that definition as the “be all, end all” of card interpretations. Far from it! That would be super boring. I’m also not saying that you can’t use the guidebook (you totally can). In fact, if you use your guidebooks, you’ll be able to learn the subtle nuances that each deck author attributes to the card meanings. It’s pretty neat stuff!

⭐️ However, a basic understanding of your cards and their key meanings will help you read accurately with consistency. A big part of intuitive reading is being able to recognize the symbolism within the cards. If you know a keyword for each card, you can use them as a starting point for your interpretations.

⭐️ For example: Let’s say you have the 4 of cups. Traditionally, it shows a moody figure, staring off into the distance, with spilled cups before them. Above the figure is often some sort of offering that they can’t see. If you know that a keyword for the 4 of cups is apathy, you could use the symbolism in the card to read it as “having lost interest in a situation”. The figure feels apathy for the situation he’s in, and is not interested in what is being offered. That’s an example of the traditional, symbolic meaning of the tarot in action. Ready to take this a step further? Once you know the traditional meaning, you can combine it with other cards, as well as the details of the situation, to “springboard” into other interpretations.

⭐️ Example 2: Maybe you know that “apathy”, the traditional meaning of the 4 of cups, doesn’t completely fit. In this imaginary reading, the client is asking you about an argument they had with their partner. They are hurt and upset, and have asked you if it’s worth it to stay in the relationship. Clearly, they are not feeling apathetic toward the situation! In this case, we would go beyond “apathy” or “loss of interest”. What is the energy of this card? Combining the imagery with the traditional meaning, we can generate other meanings. Stagnancy, miscommunication and an inability to see another perspective are all alternative, non-traditional interpretations. In this situation, I might tell this client that there is some confusion between them and their partner. Neither one has a clear understanding of how the other feels. Therefore, it might be a good idea to discuss the current situation with each other once they have both had time to calm down. The surrounding cards will usually help you fine tune your interpretation.

What do to: There’s no way around this one. Study the cards. In particular, the imagery of your deck will be very useful to become familiar with. Read your guidebook, read other tarot books and blogs, journal about your readings. If books are not your thing, there are countless YouTube videos and podcasts that cover tarot these days. My favorite tarot podcast is Tarot bytes by Theresa Reed. Pace yourself. You don’t have to learn everything in a week. Most importantly, read, read, read with your deck. The more you read, the more you will begin to understand how your deck communicates and how your intuition picks up on this subtle energy.

3. You are too emotionally invested in the outcome of the reading.

⭐️ This mostly happens if you are reading for yourself, but it can also happen when reading for close friends or family. Sometimes, if we are hyper focused on a particular outcome or in a state of reaction, it’s easy to project our own personal feelings onto the cards. This skews the interpretation. Its not a bad thing to read for yourself, your family or your friends. However, it’s a good idea to keep this point in mind.

What to do: If you are nervous, upset or in any way unable to remain objective about the outcome, it’s probably best to not do the reading. You can try again later when things are calmer.

4. You’ve ignored the focus question.

⭐️ This happens when a reader fails to take into account the “focus” or theme of the reading. For example, if a client asks you about work, and The Lovers card comes up, you should not tell them that they will meet their soulmate soon. This has nothing to do with what they were asking about. You’re more likely to encounter this problem when reading for others, but it can happen when reading for yourself.

What to do: An easy answer, stay on script. Keep the original question in the forefront of your mind during the entire reading. Like our example above, if you are reading about work, don’t start interpreting anything about romance. The cards are nuanced and varied enough to have multiple meanings. Instead, if The Lovers card appears in a work related reading, consider how the energy of the card might show up within the context of the reading. Instead of a “soulmate”, you might say that this client needs to find a harmony and balance between their home and work life. This is just one of many possible ways to interpret this card within the context of a work-related reading.

5. You’ve asked a question that is too specific OR that the tarot cannot answer.

⭐️ This can happen with both self-readings and readings for other people. Tarot is a powerful tool of self reflection and insightful divination, but it is not omnipotent. Further more, tarot readers themselves are not mind readers. We have to have context and understanding in order to see the connections clearly enough to interpret them with accuracy. With tarot, the more context we have about a situation, the better a reading will be. So for vague questions like “what will happen next Tuesday?”, a reader would need to supplement the reading with their intuitive abilities. It can be done, but the chance of misinterpretation is much higher if a reader is unsure how to weave the tarot and clair senses together.

⭐️ Some types of questions are ill-suited to tarot. Generally speaking, these would be questions that limit the ability of the seeker to act. “Will I pass my exam?” would not be a good question because it leaves no room for change or growth. A reader might struggle to interpret this correctly unless they are very experienced.

⭐️ Another type of question that you might see a lot are third party questions. For example: “Is person A having an affair with person B?” This type of question that doesn’t directly involve the seeker in any way is not useful with tarot. Most likely, you won’t get a clear answer or any useful information. Tarot is not a tool to be used to spy on others. In fact, it’s quite disrespectful to use the cards in this way.

What to do: A lot of this boils down to personal preference and reading style, but a good rule of thumb is to ask open ended questions. In this sense, questions that begin with “how” or “what” will be better than questions that start with “is”. Remember, tarot does not deal in absolutes. It reflects energy of situations and projected futures, and energy can change. Nothing is 100% certain with tarot.

[aster-aspera]

for writing: do what i do (:

just get really emotional and project onto characters. but like. in a fluffy way.

this is my way of telling you to make characters cuddle and love eachother.

maybe anxceit for projection reasons? (although if you take this idea i may overanalyse what you write for virgil...)

Oops, this one got a bit personal, but you did give me permission to project :)

Warnings: Bit of an existential crisis ig? idk tell me if it needs any other warnings

Pairing: (queerplatonic) anxceit

Janus was lying on the floor, watching the rain drip down from steely grey skies as the occasional gust of wind blew through the open window, shuffling the papers on his desk around. It picked up something he had been reading, pressing it against his door before letting it fall to the floor. Janus shivered slightly as the chill ghosted along his arms, caressing him like a lover, like a ghost.

Somewhere outside, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and the sky brightened just slightly, casting the grey world in golden light. The patch of sunlight let in by his window didn’t quite reach him, stopping just at his feet. Something in his chest stirred, tempting him to move and curl up in the light, letting the warmth fill the emptiness in his bones. The flame was snuffed out by the grey stillness in the rest of his body and he continued staring at the raindrops hitting his window, wishing they would wash him away too.

He imagined it, dissolving into the rain, being washed down into the soil and trickling between the rock layers, to eventually end up in a great ocean somewhere, a small drop amongst millions, insignificant in the vastness.

Maybe he needed to get up, do something else than have an existential crisis over rain. Or maybe he could stay here and hope that if he wished it enough, the world would disappear, leaving just him, alone in his room with only the rain for company.

His phone buzzed where it was laying on the ground beside him, jolting him out of his existential crisis. His phone overflowed with messages. People from classes pestering him about work, family asking him why he wasn’t talking to them anymore, friends worried about the fact that he hadn’t replied in days. He cast his hand about clumsily and grabbed his phone, turning off the sound.

He had no idea how long he stayed there, staring up at the heavens and rubbing his fingers along his stinging wrist. It was long enough for the sky to turn dark, the occasional star winking out from behind the clouds. It was long enough for the streetlight to switch on, the orange light illuminating the mist wreathing the streets.

There was a quiet, timid knock on his door and Janus looked up apathetically, brain trying to come up with a way to deal with the fact there was someone in front of his door.

“Janus?” Virgil’s gentle voice called, “I ordered dinner, you coming down?”

Janus felt something wet trace down his cheeks and he furrowed his brow in frustration. He didn’t want Virgil to see him like this. But his body stayed heavy and uncooperative on the floor.

“Janus, love, can I come in please?”

Everything in Janus screamed at him to say yes, to show all his broken, crumbling pieces to Virgil. He wanted someone to hold him, to tell him it would be alright. To tell him the lies in his head were just that.

And the other part, the sensible part, told him to wipe away the tears, to tell Virgil he was perfectly fine. It was selfish, to need Virgil to comfort him. To take his comfort when he could barely offer the same in return.

It seemed he took too long to reply, because Virgil pushed the door open, worry clearly written on his face. His eyes immediately locked onto Janus and the worry softened into concern. He kneeled down next to Janus, took his wrist in his hand and rubbed gentle circles into his skin.

“Bad day?” he asked. Janus just nodded.

“How about you go lie down in bed? This doesn’t look comfortable,” Virgil suggested. Jnaus tugged his hand closer, till Virgil nearly toppled over on top of him. He looked up at him imploringly. “Hugs,” he mumbled.

Virgil sighed, lying down next to Janus so he wouldn’t fall onto him. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to Janus’s hair. “So needy,” he murmured and there was no reproach to his voice, just that familiar fondness. Janus felt something warm stir happily in his chest.

His body finally gave in and cooperated as he turned to bury his face in Virgil’s chest, hands gripping his hoodie tightly, almost desperately.

“This would probably be more comfy in bed,” Virgil chuckled. Janus whined plaintively. “Don’t want to move,” he groaned.

“You’re going to have to get up at some point.”

“No,” Janus said decidedly, “I’m just staying here forever. And you’re staying here with me.”

“As much as I would love to, we do have to eat.”

Janus gave him his most serious look. “No.” he said again, trying to hide his fond smile.

“How ‘bout this?” Virgil said, pressing another kiss to his hair, “You go lie down in bed, and I’ll bring up some food, and then once you’ve eaten we can cuddle for as long as you like.”

“Or,” Janus argued, “We could stay here and cuddle.”

“You,” Vigil said, leaning up on his elbow and flicking Janus’s nose lightly, “are absolutely impossible.”

Janus smiled up at him, realizing the sadness that curled up in his bones like a heavy fog had lifted slightly, the bright rays of sunshine that accompanied Virgil breaking through the grey.

“I love you,” Janus said, sudden and soft.

Virgil looked at him with surprise at the words. Then his face softened into the most beautiful smile and Janus wanted nothing more than to hold that smile in his heart, as a memory of the sunlight that chased away the clouds. He brushed the corners of Virgil’s lips with a soft finger.

“I love you too,” Virgil whispered, voice filled with so much love and warmth Janus felt like he was choking on it.

Janus pushed himself up off the ground too, groaning when his back protested. “Maybe the bed would be more comfortable.”

Virgil’s triumphant smirk almost made Janus reconsider the love thing. But then Virgil stood up with him and wrapped his arm around his waist, bumping their hips together playfully and he felt just as besotted as a few moments ago.

Janus sat down in bed and pouted at Virgil as he kissed his forehead, promising he would be back with food in less than a minute.

As soon as Virgil left the room, the grey settled back in and Janus dug his nails into his wrist, the sharp pain helping to drive away the fog. He closed his eyes, sinking into the pillows and straining to hear Virgil in the next room, clattering around in the kitchen.

Virgil reappeared in the doorway, balancing a tray filled with take out containers and two glasses of water, a heat pad tucked under his elbow. He sat down on the bed, placing the tray on the side table and giving it a stern look, as if that would stop it from toppling off the ridiculously small table. He handed the heat pad to Janus.

“Here, your back can’t feel too good after lying on the ground for so long.”

Janus scowled at him but accepted the heat pad, tucking it behind his back and melting into the warmth as it loosened his tense muscles.

Virgil sat as close as he could as they ate, their legs tangled together, their sides pressed into each other. Janus occasionally got an elbow in his gut but it was something he could bear for the sake of getting to sit so close to Virgil.

Once Virgil had put away their empty dishes, Janus took no time pulling him into a hug. He had waited far too long for the cuddles he had been promised. He crawled as close to Virgil as he could get, pressing his face into his chest and basing in the glorious warmth that chased away the cold chill of the rainy day.

Virgil pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and then another to his neck and cheeks. He slid down a bit, settling into the pillows more comfortably and adjusting Janus so his head was resting at his collarbone, his arms circling around his waist.

A warm weight snuggled against Janus’s neck, settling down on Virgil’s chest and Janus looked up with a smile as their cat started purring happily. Virgil scratched her ears gently.

“Next time you’re having a bad day, you know you can always just tell me, right?” Virgil whispered and Janus nodded. “I know,” He whispered as he closed his eyes, every sharp edge softening, melting into a puddle of warmth and contentement.

Janus woke up first the next morning, as he nearly always did, curling up contentedly in the mellow light of the morning, letting sleep soften the morning as he stared at Virgil, lit by the golden rays filtering through the windows they hadn’t bothered to close, hair sticking up in a million different directions, face relaxed and unguarded. The warmth of Virgil curled around him, the quiet of the city this early in the morning, it all threatened to drag Janus back into sleep. He probably would have given into it, if his stomach didn’t take that exact moment to start complaining.

He sighed softly, figuring he might as well take advantage of the situation to do something for Virgil. He carefully peeled Virgil’s arms from where they were tightly wrapped around him, shushing him with a soft kiss when he muttered something in his sleep.

He padded into the kitchen on bare feet, their cat appearing from somewhere and winding between his legs. He bent down to scratch her along her back, smiling as her tail curled around his arm.

He hummed softly under his breath as he searched through the cabinets for the ingredients needed for crepes, mixing the batter from memory, the movements ingrained in his memory. He put on some quiet music as he waited for them to bake, swaying along to the music, his eyes closed and his body relaxed.

Arms wrapped around his waist suddenly, startling him out of his reverie and he smiled as a kiss was placed at the base of his neck, Virgil’s gentle voice rumbling in his ear. “Good morning love,” he said, voice still rough and heavy from sleep.

“Good morning buttercup, I trust you slept well?”

“Mhmm, perfectly, definitely with you there.”

Janus turned to press a kiss to his cheek before going to flip the crepes onto a plate.

“And what did I do to earn this fancy breakfast?” Virgil asked, leaning back against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Can’t I just want to make my boyfriend some crepes?” JAnus said lightly, stacking them on the plate and setting them on the table. “I was mostly just in the mood to bake something, but making you happy is always a plus.”

“You’re so sappy,” Virgil chuckled as he sat down on the floor to pull the cat into his lap. Janus smiled at him as he smothered the cat in affection. “And you say I’m the sappy one.”

Virgil looked up at him, brow furrowed in adorable confusion. “What?”

The cat made a noise of protest and he returned his attention to her. Janus rolled his eyes and finished setting the table. “Once you’re done there, how about you come eat those crepes I so painstakingly made for you?”

Setting the table ended up being redundant, as they curled up on the couch to eat, the cat sandwiched between them and some cartoon Janus wasn’t paying attention to playing on the tv, talking quietly about all sorts of things.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Smoke and Mirrors ~ Sesshomaru x Reader

(( You’ll have to excuse me if I make any lore mistakes. I watched/read InuYasha 7 years ago and I forgot a lot of stuff, but I’ve been thinking about this story idea for a while...So here we are. ))

“Father? Why are we here?” a young Sesshomaru asked his father, Toga, the Lord of the Western Japan, Leader of the Dog Demon clan. “You are my son, Sesshomaru, and some day, when I will be no more, you will be the new ruler of this place. Everything you see with your eyes, and far beyond the horizon, every living being and every inch of land, will be under your rule.” Inu no Taisho began his explanation to his young son, who resembled him so much. “That is a lot of responsibility you are putting on my shoulders, father.” the boy spoke in a calm voice. “Such is the burden that a Lord must bare, and for that, I apologise. However, this is our duty, and our people must live in peace.” the older man nodded, putting his hand oh his son’s shoulder. “What is it that you want to say, father? I can sense there is something bothering you.” his father smiled softly at how perceptive and witty his flesh and blood is. “Yes, you are right. What I wanted to inform you is that, as you know already, soon enough, you will have to marry, and I have found you a suitable bride. She is the daughter of the Lord of the Northern Japan, the Leader of the Fox Demon clan, and the man I trust the most in my life. He is a brilliant Warlord and his people are thriving, his land has not seen War in centuries, and we agree that together, this country will be much safer.” Toga explained his reasoning and it seemed that the young one sketched no expression on his deadpan face. “I see. When are we going to see her?” was the simple reply he uttered, which left his father with wide eyes, clearly not having expected that. “In a week. She is very young, and the marriage won’t happen for a long time, but we believe getting to know each other would prove to be beneficial...And we truly hope you will get along as well as I and her father do.” the Dog Demon lord smiled down at his son, who could only nod and hum in agreement. “We shall see.” Sesshomaru muttered, before turning around and leaving back inside his home.

A week passed by faster than the breeze of Spring, and so, Inu no Taisho took his son, Sesshomaru, on a journey that lead to the Northern Kingdom, to the Clan of the Fox Demons, and much to the young one’s surprise, there were a ton of unbelievable phenomena happening all around him, that made him get ready to strike, but his father could only chuckle in amusement, clearly unphased by all the trickery.

By the time they stepped up in front of the Castle, they were greeted by a tall man with long, red hair like the blazing fire and striking green eyes that would rival the beauty of a forest. And on his face, there was a very annoying and mischievous smirk that seemed to greatly irritate the young Dog Demon for his smugness and aloof aura he radiated.

“Toga, my old friend, marvelous seeing you again! It’s always such a great pleasure having your companionship, and now, you brought your mini-you!” the man took a long drag of his pipe, letting out a puff that oddly resembled a fox jumping around playfully, before the nine tails, long and red, spread open like a fan of fire behind him, and stepped down the stairs to greet them. “Kasai, it is as you say, always great seeing you. This is Sesshomaru, my son. Sesshomaru, this is Kasai, the Fox Demon Lord I told you about.” the white haired man grinned at his best friend, who gave of a sly grin and bent down from the waist, looking into the boy’s amber eyes. “My, Toga, I believe this young one is going to surpass you in looks, strength and maybe even wit too. I bet Y/N is going to love you in no time. Maybe even put a smile on this cold face of yours...” Kasai hummed teasingly as he pinched the boy’s cheek, which made him glare and slap his hand away. “Sesshomaru, be more courteous!” his father warned, but the red haired man only laughed in amusement, shaking his head and putting his hands inside the opposite sleeves. “Worry not, my friend, he was right to do as he did! Now, if you wouldn’t mind, follow me to the tea room. Y/N is a bit shy so she is still with her mother, doing her hair.” he started walking ahead, only to be greeted by two red haired beings, one mature while the other much younger, yet both wearing rich, pink kimonos with intricate embellishments of gold, their hair mostly let loose, to fly with the wind, but the upper part was held with gorgeous flower ornaments.

Unlike the man in cause, however, their skin was much paler and had natural red markings, fit for being the Nine Tailed Kitsunes from humans’ tails and paintings and their eyes, as green as Kasai’s, yet much more piercing and richer than his.

It was clear to Sesshomaru that women of this clan, perhaps only the nobles, or maybe all of them, had much more delicate and beautiful features than men did, and now, he could understand why humans seemed to fear yet adore the Nine Tailed Foxes so much.

The look they gave you with those jade-like eyes seemed to go right into your soul, leaving you naked, exposed, to the whole world to see and read, only for you to want to beg for more of this seducing charm of their.

It was no secret power, it was just beauty, and they knew how to glorify it, from young to old.

“Ah, look who we have here! My darling, you look radiant! Here, here, this is Toga, my dear old friend, and this little one is his son, Sesshomaru.” the man planted a soft kiss on his daughter’s forehead, before putting his hand on her back, encouraging her to step in front of the two new men. “It’s great finally meeting the man who accompanied my papa on so many adventures. I am Y/N, it’s a pleasure.” the young one smiled shyly, bowing her head slightly to show her respect for the two visitors. “My, she’s so adorable! And she has such an angelic voice! She truly resembles her mother more than you, Kasai!” Inu no Taisho gave a mirthful laugh that strongly throughout the forest. “Toga, Toga, always so nice with everyone! How is Inukimi, I haven’t heard from her in a while! Is she a bit jealous that cute, little Sesshomaru looks more like you than her?” Moeru put her hand to her mouth, humming in amusement. “Moeru, darling, let’s get Toga inside for tea and let the children get to know each other and have fun. I’m sure they couldn’t care less about our adult conversations.” Kasai suggested, putting his arms around both his wife and best friend, guiding them inside.

After a few silent seconds between the fox and dog demons, the girl cleared her throat and raised her head slightly, to meet to boy’s golden eyes, giving him a playful smile.

“I heard you will be staying over for the night. Is that true?” she asked, already knowing the answer, and yet, wanting to play coy. “It is.” he answered in a monotonous voice. “Twilight is going to appear...Come on, let me show you something.” Y/N extended her hand for him to take. “Where are you taking me?” the silver haired boy asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Shh, wait and see! It’s a secret place.” she giggled, before running even faster than before, which surprised the older boy who could barely keep up with her. “It’s a secret no more if you tell it.” he pointed out, as soon as they arrived at a lake. “I keep no secrets from my fiance.” she chuckled, before sitting down at the base of the willow, dipping her feet in the warm water. “I see.” he looked down at her, a tad uncomfortable and unsure, as he sat down next to her. “Do you want to know what makes this place so special?” she asked him, with a soft smile on her face. “Sure.” he replied, as more of a mutter. “This is a human tale, and it goes as follows - Every Twilight, the Lake of the Princess is graced by the presence of a maiden, the nymph of the lake, Limnades, more beautiful than any man has ever witnessed in his life, and she comes here to bathe, for the water is magical and it sparkles like diamonds, making her skin flawless and delicate, just like a flower. At midnight, she emerges from the water, as fairies come to robe her, and she walks upon the sheen of the mirror water, dancing in the moonlight, to the tune of a flute and the wind rustling and dancing with the falling leaves and cherry blossom petals. Some call her Sakura, while some say she is a Will’o’Wisp, and yet, nobody knows the truth.” she told him the story that has been passed down from generation to generation, only in her clan. “Are all mortal tales so absurd?” Sesshomaru scoffed at the girl’s story. “Yes, they are, but don’t you think they hold a grain of romanticism to it?” she chuckled at his apathetic reaction. “What is the real story behind it, then?” he faced the girl. “Well...It’s all much simpler, really. The truth is that the only magical thing about this place, is its beauty. The moonlight is so powerful here that, since the lake is surrounded by big trees, it looks like a silver mirror...And the fairies are just ordinary fireflies...We have plenty of those, thankfully.” she grinned at him in amusement, as he nodded in understanding. “And that maiden, nymph or whatever she is?” he asked, wanting to know the whole truth. “About that...” she giggled mischievously, before springing up and taking a leap towards the middle of the lake, which startled the boy...Only to see her floating.  “How...?” he asked as he jumped to his feet, looking at her in wonder. “It’s one of our many tricks, Sesshomaru. This Lake is the place where the Princesses of the Fox clan bathe. We all have a love for fun, art and beauty, so of course we use our illusions to make everything as perfect as possible. We know a variety of dances, we all wear luxurious clothes, no matter our ranks or titles, and of course, we all know how to play at least one instrument. We have so many festivals, so we all have a lot of fun!” she explained, twirling around, letting her nine tails spread around in a fan of fire, just like her father did, greeting them. “So humans can’t differentiate between a Kitsune and a Naiad. Clearly, one cannot expect much from them.” calming down, he leaned back on the old tree, watching her with a certain sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. “That is not wrong...However, I find this naivite and innocence quite...Silly and amusing...If not, easily exploitable. Humans are creative and superstitious, therefore, we have all these silly stories, rituals and myths about ever little thing.” she said, getting back on the ground, sitting where she did just before. “You and I have very different views on these mortals, clearly.” he scoffed once again, looking away. “Mayhaps you just have too many emotions stored up inside your heart. Take some time from the world, focus on yourself, and relax. Look at the sky, appreciate the myriads of shades and colours it is painted with, and listen to the lullabies and hymns the nature is singing to you. Come on, Sessh. Sit down, breathe and enjoy life.” Y/N looked up at him with a sweet smile, as she held his hand and urged him to sit down next to her once again. “Does anyone in your clan take themselves seriously?” he gritted his teeth for a second, before sitting down next to the girl, only sparing her a glance with the corner of his eyes. “Only when necessary. Life is beautiful and it’s meant to be lived and enjoyed, and sometimes, it’s the little, insignificant details that matter - Those that are often overlooked...For example, were you born with your markings? I noticed you your father doesn’t have the same crescent moon on his forehead as you do...And your side lines are different in number and colours.” she asked, leaning on his side, putting her chin on his shoulder. “I was. All nobles have different markings...And the crescent moon is from my mother. You?” he felt himself warming up a bit to the girl, that he asked about her without even realising. “We aren’t born with them, they start appearing, only to girls, with years going. As you see, mine are still pale, but my mother’s are a brilliant shade of red. They reach that colour when we reach maturity, which is a sign we can marry. And...They are always different, depending on our personality. My mama is more gentle and soft...I’m more playful and mischievous.” she closed her eyes for a few seconds, before turning them on again. “That much is obvious.” the silver haired boy nodded, as if he already realised that long ago.

Giggling in amusement, she took out a leaf, and with a poof of smoke, Sesshomaru found himself with another version of himself leaning on his side, which made him look at the fox demon with an unphased look on his face.

“Fascinating power...If only you would not forget the leaf on your head.” he smirked, taking off the leaf from her head. “What?!” she gasped, which only made her turn back to herself, her green eyes widening like a little, surprised fawn. “It is rather weird seeing myself in front of me...It would be rather entertaining to see a successful trick like this, without forgetting the leaf. A very deadly weapon as well.” he informed, giving her the leaf back. “Is this how you do your tricks?” “Yes...I have a ton of leaves with me at all times...Ahh, I was sure I took out the leaf this time, how miserable!” she sighed, pouting, which earned a soft chuckle from the boy. “You are young, Y/N. Much younger than me still. There is enough time for you to stop forgetting that leaf...And to show me when you’ve perfected it.” he put his hand on her head, patting it. “Ehhh~? So that means you can’t wait to see me again! What a pleasant coincidence~!” she grinned teasingly, leaning o him. “Don’t push your luck.” he shot her a look of warning, but she obviously didn’t care.

Instead of replying, she got her hand inside of her kimono, taking out a flute and she began playing a magical melody that she learnt from her mother, that has been passed down through generations from her grandmother and so on, yet nobody knows who created it and how long has it been since someone was first taught it.

Sesshomaru closed his eyes, letting the back of his head rest on the bark of the Willow, allowing the song to create an atmosphere of complete bliss and serenity, and as the Sun set down, disappearing so that the Moon could take its place. The Moonlight was creating the illusion of diamonds floating, dazzling on the sheen of the mirror-like water, while the fire flies were flying around like small Will’o’Wisps dancing together in the gentle Spring breeze.

For the first time, so far, the silver haired Dog Demon princeling understood what it’s like to relax and take in the beauty of the moment, and for the next 500 years, he has been courting her, in his own way...Albeit not too often, for they were both very busy with their training and life in general, for they will be Lords, after all.

Unfortunately, this serendipity didn’t last too long for either of them, for Sesshomaru’s father went to another woman, a human that he loved and even had a child with...A half-demon...And in return, to keep them safe, Toga died, and with that, Kasai’s heart as well, for his best friend perished in vain.

As soon as Inu no Taisho died, Sesshomaru couldn’t be the Lord and reign with an iron fist, for he was still too young and inexperienced, despite the fighting he had done by his father’s side, which lead to a riot in both the Northern and the Western parts of Japan...

And Kasai died protecting his people.

From fear, Moeru ran away with her daughter, away from the mess, from the enemies, from the ill-will, from the bittersweet memories, from all the danger that wound cause her little Y/N any harm, so they took refuge to the Southern Lord, who gracefully welcomed them and offered his condolences.

It all went down in a flash, but her mother died from suffering so much over her husband’s death, leaving the poor girl all alone in this world, a young maiden out there, fighting to regain her birth right and take down the people who took away her lovely family from her, and killing them with no mercy or second thoughts, she managed to get the throne back, and now, she was the Lord of the Northern Japan and nobody dared go against her again.

She wasn’t sure how many centuries passed since she had a normal day, back when things were so much easier and when she could properly enjoy the beauty and art that her people had ingrained in their blood since the beginning of their making.

Nobody dared get on her territory without her consent, knowing they would get crushed by her and her blazing Fox Fire...

That is, until a silver haired boy with fluffy ears and a few companions come by, seeking shelter, and cause a commotion, as expected of them, and as they started fighting the intimidating guardians of the land, a luxurious woman with long hair, burning like the Twilight Sun, her long, nine tails spreading around her just like the flaming sky, her jade-like eyes piercing them like the harshest wind blade. Her face, despite the seductive, almost Geisha-like look, given by her pale skin and red markings, held a cold ruthlessness that seemed to drain the blood from the humans’ faces.

As soon as the half-demon took out his large sword and did a wind attack, the girl jumped on it, crouching down on the other end of the blade, her hands inside the opposite sleeves, looking at him with a taunting smirk.

“What’s your name, kid? What kind of animal demon are you? I have seen no half-demons in a very long while...Or, well, one that looks as cute as you, that is.” she giggled mysteriously, earning an angry growl from him. “What’s it to you, huh?! Why do you care about us?! They attacked us first!” he swung his blade again, only to get burnt by her fire, his sword kicked out of his hand, far away, and him, flat on his back, with her foot on his neck. “You are on my territory. My kingdom. Without permission. State your business and I will decide whether or not to forgive your intrusion...For your crew doesn’t seem to be harmful.” her voice became much darker and harsher, putting pressure on his neck. “We are sorry for the intrusion, miss! We are looking for shelter, we didn’t know this was your land. We are all human here, clueless about most of the demon business. My name is Kagome, this is Miroku, Sango...That is Inuyasha, and these are Shippo and Kirara.” the brunette girl in a weird attire spoke with feign confidence, making Y/N’s eyes widen slightly, leaving the half-demon and going to her, bending down slightly to get to her eye-level. “Kagome, Kagome...Who is behind you, bird in the cage? Yes, I always told him, humans are interesting indeed...And you look at that, you have a little Fox demon with you, how adorable...But you’re so tiny...Can you even transform, little one?” she asked the kid who stood with a shy expression on the brunet’s shoulder. “O-Of course I can! Look, I can be even you!” he tried to sound mature, transforming into the woman in front of him...Only for her to start laughing mirthfully. “Perfect transformation! ...Except for the leaf.” she grinned, picking the leaf from his head. “Ah...! Damn it, I was sure I took it off! I always forget to do take it away!” he whined in disbelief. “Don’t worry, little Shippo. When I was young like you, I used to forget the leaf all the time. Well... Stopped after meeting someone...But that doesn’t matter now.” she chuckled, letting the kid jump in her arms. “When you are so many centuries old, you tend to forget about the little mistakes you used to do when you were just a little snowdrop.” Y/N’s voice was so much calmer and gentler now, soothing like a mother’s lullaby to her child, and her voice seemed to ease everyone in the crew as well. “Tsk...Maybe you’re not such a bad chick. Since you asked, I am a Dog Demon. Why are you so interested in that?” he scoffed, still glaring at the woman as he got up on his feet. “You...Are a...Well, that explains it, you look so much like him...” she muttered, looking away into the horizon with a nostalgic smile. “Him? Someone who looks like InuYasha...?” Kagome’s eyes widened in realisation. “The only one who comes in mind would be...Sesshomaru...?” Sango questioned, unsure of herself. “I wouldn’t have expected humans to know someone like Sesshomaru. I haven’t seen him since before InuYasha was born and I was just a child. How long has it been...800 years ago maybe?” Y/N gave a satisfied, kitten-like smile, earning shocked gasps from everyone. “Well, we know him because he attacked InuYasha...But how do you know him for so long?” Kagome asked, blinking in curiosity. “Oh, well...I am his fiance.” she laughed, very amused at them falling to the ground in shock. “When we were both children, our fathers wanted us to marry, so from our marriage, the Northern and Western Japan would be united and peaceful. They wanted no more wars and disputes, so this was the perfect idea. They were best friends, so they had absolute faith in each other...” she explained, guiding them towards her castle. “Wait, so...What happened?” Shippo asked from her shoulder. “...Inuyasha was born.” she muttered, looking down for a few seconds, then back up ahead. “Huh?! What the hell do I have to do with that?!” he spit out in annoyance. “Your father died to protect you and your mother. Because of that, there was no more Lord in the West, so Sesshomaru had to do something about it, and with that, wars and riots started happening in the West, trying to overthrow my Clan...And my father died to protect us...Which means I haven’t seen him in over 200 years. I’m not blaming you, obviously, but I use some things as year bornes to remember things chronologically. Immortality can get confusing and tedious sometimes.” she laughed, a natural, mirthful laugh, just like her father used to, as she showed them inside the castle. “Woaw...So, that means you are the Leader of the West?” Kagome asked, very excited. “Yes, I suppose I am, and have been for quite a while. Took a while to take back my throne from those usurpers, but...None is alive to tell the tale of betrayal. Anyway, if you want to stay over, you will have to join me for a cup of tea and tell me the reason of your journey together and your personal stories. You are all incredibly different and unique...There must be something that brought you together.” she flashed them a mischievous smirk, before welcoming them inside.

They told the Kitsune about the destruction of the Shikon no Tama, which shocked her, until she found out about this Naraku who is creating chaos everywhere and destroying the peace and harmony of the world, that was already in shambles enough as if was.

Easily agreeing to help them with anything they needed, she made plans on how to aid them while also taking care of her kingdom, which was her priority, first and foremost.

She thought awhile on what the best course of action would be, and protecting the West from threats like Naraku was the best course of action, and thus, despite going on an aimless journey, she found a treasure that she would have never expected to stumble upon.

A little girl, brunet, wearing an orange kimono and walking barefoot, humming a cute little tune and picking berries, while a green gremlin, half her height, was nagging her with a greatly annoying voice that she paid no mind to.

Y/N leaned on a tree, watching the scene with a smile, realising that he was no harm to her - surprisingly, that is - Until their peace was destroyed by a numerous gang of large and fearsome demons ran towards them, growling, clearly wanting to mangle and eat them.

Tsk-ing in annoyance realising that the little demon was close to useless, despite the fire-breathing staff he had as a weapon, he was trembling even more than the frightened young girl, which lead Y/N to take action. With a speed that could barely be caught with the human eye, she made her claws elongate and easily slashed through the enemies without even the littlest effort.

When she was done with the group of thugs, Y/N stepped in front of the scared little girl, crouched down to her level, and pet her long brunette hair, giving her a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry, they are gone now.” she spoke in a soothing voice, making the girl quickly wipe the tears brimmed in her eyes, and returning a sweet smile. “Miss, you were amazing, you saved us! Thank you so much!” her voice was so adorable and filled with glee and gratitude. “I’m glad I was here when needed. What were you doing here? There is no human village around. You saw what happened just now, and that this gremlin here is rather useless, as you saw. Not to mention, staying around a demon is pretty dangerous in itself.” she giggled with a shady smirk, making the girl laugh as well. “Oh, but I’m not alone, and I’m not afraid of demons! Lord Sesshomaru saved me and took care of me! He always protects me, but now, he was away to investigate, so he let Jaken take care of me.” as soon as the girl mentioned that familiar name with such leisure, the Fox girl’s jaw dropped to the ground in shock, her green eyes widened as never before. “You...You said...Sesshomaru...? He’s here? Really?!” the woman jumped to her feet, as if electrified, which made the green gremlin shriek at her. “It’s LORD Sesshomaru for you, you filthy wench! How dare you address him with such disrespect?!” his voice was grating her brain so bad that she was barely stopping herself from kicking him into the horizon. “I will speak to him however I please. I gained that right long ago. About five centuries ago, in fact.” she spoke in a smug voice, crossing her arms, digging her claws into the material of her kimono, clearly waiting for the Dog Demon to return.

And return he did, and much faster then she expected, descending from the sky gracefully, his amber eyes holding the same harsh and cold gaze, as he hurried and examined the woman that seemed to hold no hostile will.

“Lord Sesshomaru, you’re back! This lady saved us from a bunch of ugly demons that tried to eat us!” the little girl ran to the man with a wide grin, which made the Fox Demon put her hand to her mouth, stifling a chuckle. “I see. I thank you for saving Rin’s life, despite being a demon yourself.” he walked in front of her, obviously trying to analyse her. “Lord Sesshomaru...Is that what they call you, even now? And what are you, Lord over nothingness? Wandering the world for two centuries in a journey to find yourself, while I had to fight with blood, fire and tears to regain my throne from the usurpers. If I didn’t know better, Sessh, I would say you have become rather...Lazy?” Y/N she gave him a mocking, seductive look, letting her nine tails spread around her, circling him and occasionally turning around. “I don’t quite appreciate the greeting you are giving me, Y/N.” he spoke in a deadpan voice, although she knew he was anything but annoyed as he wanted to be seen. “I did not quite appreciate you not coming to see me in the last two hundred years, you know? You weren’t there to see my markings turning red, either. And on many other occasions. And now...No hugs, no kisses, no affection? That is rather pitiful from you, my darling.” she chuckled, jabbing at him to see how far she could push him. “D-Darling?! Who do you think you are?! What gives you the RIGHT to speak like that to Lord Sesshomaru?! I will make you pay for your impudence!” Jaken ran to hit the woman with her staff, but using on of her tails, she tripped him, making Rin laugh at his misfortune. “She is Y/N, Lord of the Fox Demon clan, ruler of the West. She has earned the right to speak so freely with me.” the silver haired man informed the two, not taking his eyes away from her green eyes that enticed him as always. “You are forgetting another very important title~.” she stepped forward, leaning her elbow on his shoulder, reaching her other hand up to boop his nose. “...And my fiancee.” he grumbled, catching her wrist before she could do what she pleased. “WHAAAAAAAT?! L-Lord Sesshomaru...Why have you never told me you were married...?!” Jacked started crying rivers, while Rin was cheering, extra happy. “I did. Many years ago, when I was trying to escape the pressure of the Lord of the East to marry his daughter.” Sesshomaru spoke, barely bothering with his lackey. “Awww, so you thought of me, how adorable! I am flattered.” she chuckled, hooking her arm to the man, who didn’t seem to protest...Too much.

They started walking, looking for a place to camp for the night, Y/N putting the wood on fire for Rin to roast the food, so when the Twilight started creeping, she started looking around for a lake to bathe, and thankfully, she did. Discarding her outfit, she stepped in the cool water, shivering a bit at the temperature difference, before relaxing and taking out her flute to play.

She hasn’t played since the last night she saw him, and now that she has him close to her again, she can feel at ease playing again. Without even realising, she played the tune she played for Sesshomaru when they first met each other.

The lake wasn’t as beautiful as the one back home, but the moonlight was just as silver, the water was just as crystalline and the fireflies were glowing like little fairies...Just like home.

In the middle of her song, she heard the ruffling of bushes, which made her jump to her feet in full alert, her tails wrapping around her to hide her naked body. Easing her fears, glowing from the light of Mother Moon, Sesshomaru walked towards her, not sparing her a glance until he got to the water to his waist, approaching her, as she stepped back, looking away with a blush.

“Uhm...Sesshomaru, hello. What...Are you doing here?” she gave a nervous chuckle, pulling her tails closer to her body. “I came to bathe, just like you. Do you have anything against me being here?” he pushed her with his words, looking at her with that intimidating gaze of his. “No, of course not! You can bathe here too, obviously.” she flashed a quick, embarrassed smile that disappeared as fast as it came. “You are blushing. Are you...Flustered, by chance? Is my presence here making a Fox like you nervous, per chance?” he teased her, barely able to contain his smirk of amusement. “...A bit.” she muttered, taking another step back. “You act completely different from earlier. Not very Fox-like of you, is it?” he teased her, getting in front of her, lifting her chin up to look at him. “We are indecent...And you are my fiance. We haven’t...Seen each other before. You can’t blame me for feeling nervous.” she muttered, averting her gaze from his. “You worry too much.” Sesshomaru let out an amused breathe, before leaning in, brushing his lips to hers. “I missed you.” he ushered, as he kissed her softly.

It felt like the time stopped for the girl, she felt like lightning struck her and the energy was surging through her bloodstream, blushing even more as she melted into the kiss and let herself feel, kissing back with more passion and fire, resting her hands on his shoulder to bring him closer to her. Her tails seemed to have a will of their own, slowly uncoiling themselves from her body, and wrapping around his, staying glued together, skin to skin, feeling ablaze with every touch.

“How did you end up so far away from home?” he asked, brushing his fingers through her long, fire hair. “Your brother and his little group of friends found their way in my territory. They told me about this Naraku foe they must defeat, and the destroyed Jewel...And I I thought that if I killed him, he would be a threat to my people no more...Moreover, they mentioned seeing you a few times, so it was worth trying to find you...I missed you as well, dearly.” she sighed, looking down, resting her head on his chest, enjoying the warmth she was feeling from his embrace, after so long. “You don’t have to worry anymore, I’m not going to disappear again. They are right, Naraku is a threat...That we will eliminate. When this is all done, we will be able to fulfill our parents’ wishes. We will have peace, and...You will be the most beautiful bride.” his voice was soft, just as back then, many years ago, when he was courting her. “I will wear a pink kimono, not the boring white one. I have style, clearly...Although I’m not sure pink suits me too much, considering what an intense shade of red my hair is. There’s no contrast.” she smiled, purring softly as he started playing with her hair. “It suits you very much...Although I am curious why you always chose this particular colour...Even now, and back then, when I first laid my eyes upon you and your shyness was just as it is now.” he asked, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Because it has always been my mum’s favourite colour since she was little...And she also married in a pink kimono. I guess I felt connected with this, just like I was with her.” she grinned nostalgically, which in turn, earned a soft smile from him as well. “I see. Then we will do as you wish.” he nodded, putting his hand or the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. “Sessh...?” Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glossy and warm, like that of a fawn. “Yes, Y/N?” he muttered, looking down at her. “I love you.” her voice was so soft and gentle, yet filled with so many emotions. “I love you as well, Y/N.” after a brief silence, Sesshomaru answered, ignoring the wall of coldness and properness that he instilled in himself. “Let’s defeat this Naraku and go home.” she leaned her head back on his chest, looking as relaxed and content, just like back then, when they first visited the lake. “That, we will. I promise.”

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Otis’ sibling would include:

AN// Spoilers for whole show. Also, sorry, this one I kind of ran with? Hope you like it :))

 You are a bit on the socially awkward side like your brother.

However, you’re more of an introvert; you let the world go around you and be a background extra rather than be a main in it’s story.

You’re more closed off, more defensive than your brother.

Your opposite on a lot of things, but balance each other out.

Your creative, he’s more academic

It’s mainly just the two of you and Eric. Best pals.

You, like him, are knowledgeable on sex, from your mother, even if you aren’t into that (the sex part or the other part)

Your mother always could tell with you, and assured you there was nothing wrong with it:

“Y/N, darling, you know there is nothing wrong with not wanting those type of relationships, right?”

“…Thanks, mum.”

Although it isn’t spoken, you both hold resentment for your father.

When Otis is picked as Adam’s partner, he gives you a panicked look. You, however, shrug; what can you do?

You are paired with Maeve, which is something that does annoy your brother:

“Trade?” He asks

“What? No. I’m not trading Maeve for Adam.”

“Y/N.” He pleads in a whining tune.

“Sorry, mate. Good luck though.” You wish him, leaving to follow Maeve.

For some reason, she gets the idea she can trust you and allows you to go to her house, knowing that Adam and Otis will not be a good pairing.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you, got it?” Part of her is kind of silently laughing at your scared face. You are quick to assure her this secret stays with you, to the grave.

As you talk, and do find out you have a few things in common.

Of course, you both don’t tell each other everything. But you get a decent reading on each other.

She can tell that, compared to your brother, you’re holding a lot more in.

“How is it?” She asks

“How’s what?”

“Being siblings with him?”

“Otis?” She nods

“It’s nice, knowing you have someone that kind having your back, you know? You can cock up horribly and he’ll still be there. He’s loyal.” You answer.

She considers it, “Not many of those people left.”

“Not as many as I’d like.”

Fair to be said, when you come in happy, and actually almost getting along with Maeve, Otis isn’t the most happy about this.

When the news about your mum comes out, you and him both storm out.

That leads to an argument;

“Why couldn’t we swap?” He asks

“You think it would’ve fixed anything?”

“I don’t know?! Just…”

Maeve is quick to stop your arguing, she knows how bad sibling arguments can get.

When it comes to Adam, you and your brother play rock, paper, scissors to see who it’ll be.

You win, doing the nerdy fist pump as he has to do it.

You see Maeve roll her eyes at your antics.

So, with Maeve bringing in clients, Otis doing the talking, and you doing the PR (in a way) the clinic is born.

However, there is a point of contention between you and your brother; Maeve.

He see’s that you both are genuine friends, with you going out more and more at night.

“Where have you been?” He asks you, whenever you come in (after your mum has asked you of course. Your honest with her)

“To see a mate.”

“What mate?”

“I have other friends, Otis.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s just –”

“You think I’m,” Cough, “Doing…that, with Maeve, don’t you?”

“Wha—No?!”

“It’s ok, Otis. I get that you like her and all. But, just to assure you, no, we’re not together. We are just genuinely friends.”

“Oh…right.”

He seems happy for you, but you can tell there is a bit of jealousy.

However, you don’t hold it against him. You understand that he has feelings for Maeve, and do support him with it.

However, Maeve can read you well, so you try and be careful when you bring up your brother.

When the party at Aimee’s happens, you try and drum up business as well.

You get split up from the group, desperately escaping to the outside, only to see your mother outside:

“Mum?”

“Oh, Y/N, darling, hello.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just in the area.”

“…You were spying on us, weren’t you?” You accuse her.

“I – yes, darling, I was. I’ve already had this talk with your brother.”

Being in a house of constant sex therapy, and being the way you are (asexual, aromantic) can be a bit of a contradiction of times.

For example, when Otis has his wet dream, the topic does make you a bit uncomfortable.

Maeve calls you, asking you tom meet her. She tells you a time and tells you to get there on-time.

And you do, you go to the clinic just as she goes into the room. You get yelled at by the protesters, but you walk it off.

“Don’t you care about the poor child living in there?”

“At this stage? To be honest, more about the woman.” You’re honest, but not horrible to them about it.

You come in your casual clothes, just sit there and wait.

Otis joins you, flowers in hand and wearing a suit.

“Oh, bloody hell, you thought it was a date, didn’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

“Classy first date.”

“Piss off.”

When Maeve comes out, you both great her and walk with her.

She texts you later: Maybe your brother is not so bad, after all.

Otis comes to you about the whole Jackson thing:

“I can sabotage him.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course I am, Y/N. I need your help –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m not the talking guy, you are.”

“Yeah, but your more convincing.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you the money he’s given to me and that I can’t seem to bloody lose.”

“But I thought you wanted to give –”

“I can’t lose it, Y/N! I’d rather not stare at it.”

“Then don’t?”

“Take it?”

“No, you take it.”

However, you do see how it ends, and do feel for your brother.

As much as you may not have supported his methods, you could see why he did it.

You both find out what happens to Eric, and both take the blame for it.

“Seriously, Y/N, you too? You’d rather pick this girl you’ve known for a few weeks at best over me?”

“It’s not like that –”

“Then what is it like?!” Words are exchanged, and he leaves.

However, then you meet Ola and Jakob.

Ola’s nice; friendly, sincere. You like her.

“So, you’re Y/N.” She says as a greeting, shaking your hand.

“That is I, madam.” She laughs at it.

You become good friends fairly quicky. But, she respects your boundaries about the past.

You see how close your mum is getting to Jakob, and it just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, you call Maeve. She’s quick to answer:

“Pisshead?”

“Hey, uh – can…can we talk?” She detects the tremble in your voice.

“Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t really tell you over the phone.” You tell her to meet you at the bridge.

She meets you there quite quickly:

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

You take a breath to collect yourself, “My mum’s met this new guy…” So, you tell her about how your mother seeing someone new feels off to you. And you confess to her that you don’t know what the fuck is going on with Otis and Ola. She just lets you ramble the whole time.

At the end, she grabs your hands in hers, “Have you told Otis any of this?” She asks, softly.

“…No. No, not yet, anyway. He’s got his own issues and –”

“You have needs too, Y/N. You can’t go running around for him, forever. He’s your brother, a good one, he’ll listen. But…I’m here too.” She vows.

“Maybe he can give me a freebee on a session?” You joking say.

“Yeah, have to pay, of course, but I can slide you in for a meeting.” She fired back in the same manner.

“Thanks, Maeve.”

She hugs you, not saying anything.

Then the dance comes around.

Starts off well enough, you say hi to all your friends.

You and Otis both make up with Eric. It’s nice to have your best mates back.

Then you both save Liam, both convincing him not to jump.

You, however, see that Maeve looks at your brother differently. You always hated that “friends don’t look at each other like that” bollocks. But, you see that she has it read all over her face as well.

Then Jackson talks about what Otis did.

You get out just at the end of their confrontation, and Maeve turns to you in anger:

“Did you know?”

“Maeve –”

“Did you know?”

You go to speak, but Otis speaks for you;

“Y/N had nothing to do with it. It was just me, Maeve.”

She just looks at you, waiting and watching for something to confirm the words are a lie.

However, when she see’s that nothing has happened, she accepts it and storms off.

Now you’re in an awkward situation; between your brother and a close friend of yours.

Both parties don’t want you to be forced to choose, so they leave you out of it.

However, there is a bonding moment with you and your brother; mainly learning about the book your mother was written on you both. Well, more Otis, but there is a chapter on you.

That’s when it all just explodes:

“You can’t just do that, mum!”

“Can’t do what, darling?”

“Can’t just – can’t just put our entire lives in that bloody book! You gonna mention dad? You gonna mention how you make your other child feel uncomfortable with all the sex talk? How the world wants them to conform to some fucking normality, but they can’t because they just don’t feel that way?”

Your mother can do nothing but watch as you breakdown in front of her, how it all comes bubbling to the surface.

Time goes on, however. And you start going to therapy sessions in school.

Maeve contacts you every so often, but you don’t really reply too much.

Your brother and Ola help you as much as they can, helping you get up in the mornings and including you if they go out for something.

Ola and you become closer friends as well, despite the weirdness of your mum dating her dad.

You bring that up to your therapist a lot.

The two (especially Otis) support you during this time. They encourage the therapy and talking to them when needed.

When school restarts, Otis keeps a close eye on you, knowing that you burned yourself out last time, and he won’t let it happen again.

When Maeve comes back, he makes sure to point it out, hoping that can help in some way:

“You seen Maeve’s back?” He asks, as he gets some books from his locker.

“Sure.” You answer, almost apathetically.

Eric sits with you on breaks and when Otis can’t be there, doing what he can.

Otis ignores the tension between himself and Maeve when he pulls her aside one day:

“You have English next with Y/N, right?” He asks her.

“Yeah.” She answers, already being able to tell where this is going.

“Can you –”

“Of course I’m going to keep an eye on him.” She finishes for him (ha)

And she lives up to that promise, doing just that as you write some things down whilst not listening.

When the teacher gets pissy at you, she stands up for you:

“Sir, Y/N is going through something, lay off.”

Otis thanks her for that after the lesson

Then you are off on the trip with your father Remi

You both find out the real reason for the trip. That he was using it as a way to get away from a newly broken up relationship and to find another.

Then comes the party.

You, in your state that has (sadly) been declining, drink till your hearts content. Eric and Rahim try to warn you, but you keep going.

You brother also spirals. Although, out of the two, you are way more wasted.

Ola arrives, and she is pissed. You haven’t exactly been keeping up with affairs.

You vomit in the sink, with your brother drunkenly trying to help you by patting your back, but he only ends up falling over.

It’s Eric who helps you.

Then he does his speech; in it, he includes you as he rambles (apparently being “on a roll”)

“And then there’s my sibling, Y/N. They’ve been struggling for a while, guys, and has anyone noticed? No, but I have, because I’m a good brother. So, even if I can’t have those two (Maeve and Ola) than at least I have, Y/N.”

The next day, before leaving with Ruby, he remembers parts of what he said, but to him it’s a blur:

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“So, what? I’m just a second fiddle to them?”

“No, of course not. You’re my sibling, Y/N. That comes before anything. I was drunk, and pissed at them. I didn’t mean to leave you out or make you feel that way.”

The day out with Ruby actually helps your bond repair, as you both go back to old times; doing the weirdest shit together. In this case, helping a girl Otis had sex with.

Still, Ruby comes around to liking the two of you.

You both go to your father, united as one.

You both confront him on the pain he’s brought you, and how it hurt you both and how you both carried a part of the blame.

He’s quick to try to dissuade you, but you both move on.

However, you see that your brother has a revelation. He calls Maeve to explain it.

Then, he goes with you to therapy.

Despite it all, despite the things you could and do say to each other. Despite the way you both are different in many ways, you’ll always come back home.

You both care about each other. You’ve been through a lot.

You have each other. And, sometimes, that’s enough.

[mirrorforevers]

the wrong side of the bed • damon albarn/reader

smut with feelings, i guess. sorry if is this is too long – this prompt excited me too much. i hope you guys like daft punk - though this is not a songfic, but you’ll get why - and i promise i’ll write something not involving sadness and alcohol someday. this is unbeta’ed, and english is not my first language, so have mercy

thank you so much for the music teacher prompt, anon! hope you enjoy it x also, just in case you haven’t read my graham/reader fic yet, here it is too.

tw: unprotected drunk sex

word count: 4.477

Music has been a very important escape mechanism for you recently. Your job has been hellish, and getting your degree has also been a chore - in the midst of so many deadlines and professional disappointments what has been a light for you is Damon Albarn, your newly divorced music teacher who is old enough to be your dad.

You detail these little “buts” as a mantra whenever the subject is him, whether in internal monologues or when you talk about him with your close friends. You never really believed in relationships between two people of very different ages, and you felt like you needed to remember those details whenever you could to keep that completely carefree crush from becoming something you couldn't control.

You started taking classes with him every Saturday after you were cast on your city’s production of a musical. You knew it was a very small step for a career in the industry, but it was very significant for you. You were exhausted from any activity that involved learning given how tired you were from college, but learning music with Damon was definitely something that you didn't even place in the same mental category. It was with him that you vented about how your week was, how you missed your parents who lived absurdly far away from you, it was with him that you shared the small victories of the day-to-day that were too insignificant even to share with your longtime friends. Which is funny, since this symbolic relationship was built in a matter of 2 months. Damon, in the beginning, was very reserved and “gray”, and it was amazing how in a matter of such a short time he shown himself to be someone so energetic, observant and empathetic; although a little bit of a control freak sometimes. When the wild waves of life seemed to take you everywhere at the same time and left you lost, despite so little time in your life, Damon became a constant.

And it worries you.

What are you going to do when the money to pay for his classes runs out? Certainly, although significant, what you had seemed to be was, above all, a friendship of convenience. You were very different people, with very different aspirations, and especially at very different points in life. As much as you liked each other *as friends* and considered yourselves people you wanted close by, Damon had a well-lived life to sustain. He would not have time much less willpower to listen to your complaints and insecurities in a context that did not involve an exchange relationship. At least, that's what you thought.

Saturday was also one of the two days you could wake up late, so in addition to having a rare time for your leisure, you were able to rest at least a little more than normal. That particular morning, you noticed that there were two missed calls from Maggie on your cell phone. Maggie was one of the producers of the musical. She used to bring you very decisive and very good news. If she called you, you did whatever it took to answer her right away. An unbelievable wave of anxiety takes over you. “Hello, Mags, you called?” You say, excited, but very nervous. Dealing with people who have your dreams constantly in their hands is somewhat stressful. You bite your nails.

“Hey, Y/N, yes. Um. You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for asking. What happened?” You notice that Maggie's tone is different. The funny thing is that everyone is always so apathetic in the artistic world, and Maggie was the only person you knew so far that showed any kind emotion.

“So… you were dropped.”

Ah.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“You… were dropped. We made some changes here and there and you won’t be on our show anymore. If anything changes again, we’ll call. I promise.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

“Good luck, kid.”

Um.

Your stomach drops, and for a moment you feel like you've been punched. Maybe you've been wrong all along.

My God. My God. My God.

You feel like your entire world has collapsed around you. There aren't even reasons for you to keep going to class. All that effort and money spent... are now in the trash.

Artists spend a lot of time investing in themselves. You always have to become better. Faster. Learn techniques. Reinvent yourself. Stay beautiful. And you don't believe that in your first real experience in this world... that happened. Most likely a friend of the director took your place.

My God.

You swallow the tears, after all, you told everyone you knew that you knew how this world worked and you wouldn't be shaken if something like this happened. No one is watching you right now - but you still feel that you would disappoint them if you cried.

But you couldn’t smile anymore. Nothing could take away your expression of shock and uncertainty.

Not even funny posts on Reddit. Not even funny memes sent by your friends in the morning.

Nor the message from Damon confirming the class of the day.

I won't be able to go today ☹, you type, and you erase it.

Hey, I got dropped from the musical. you type, and you erase it.

How are you doing? Definitely not.

I’ll be there! 😅 You hit send.

Hope we finally figure out that bloody solo, he replies.

You do not answer.

You change your clothes, without your motivational playlist playing in the background this time. The beginning of a great plan going on in your life was no longer there. You didn't even pick up your headphones and the subway ride was completely silent, except for the ambient sound.

You arrive at school, and Damon welcomes you with the usual tight hug, and wide smile. You give a yellow smile in response, and he immediately realizes that something is out of place. “Is everything okay?” His expression quickly changes to one of concern. Your stomach drops even lower. Maybe it hit the ground by now.

“I…”

You don't want it to end. Your dream ended, but not this, too. This cannot end. “Can we try another song today? One not from the musical?” You ask, exasperated.

“Uh… I mean-”

“Please?”

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" He laughs nervously. “But... the musical’s why you’re here. I’m confused--”

“I know, but pretty please?” You insist, cringing by now to keep from crying.

“Um. Sure – but did something happen? Tell me. I’m-I’m here to help.”

“I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Please.” You feel your voice weaken more and more. You don’t wanna cry, though your eyes are already burning. “Please, Damon.”

“Right. Okay.” He says, raising his hands in defeat. He starts collecting his material.

“What are you doing?”

“No class today. Something clearly happened and we need to talk it out.”

“I-I got sacked. But there’s no need to…”

“I got it. C’mon. I’m not a monster, I won’t charge you for talking it out. All we’ve worked for… fucking cunts.” There’s the visceral side of him. “You gotta tell me how it happened.”

“Okay.”

He only leaves your two chairs in place.

After you two sit, he starts. “This happens quite a lot in this world. And every student reacts the same.” Though this sounds a little too insensitive, you imagine it’s the truth, and his tone does the job of conveying his compassion. “Did they call you? Or did you find out through somewhere else, like Patti LuPone?”

“Huh. At least they called me. They just straight up told me I’m no longer in the cast.” You say, totally not comforted by that. But it would be even worse if you found out by other means. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Don’t let your spirit be broken by that – you’re really talented, and I don’t like paying compliments. You know that.”

“Talent is not enough sometimes. That’s also something you’ve said to me before.”

He goes silent, and you start apologizing in the same instant.

“No, no, you didn’t hurt my feelings.” He interrupts you. “That’s true. But you’re really young, I shouldn’t have said that to you. Shit like that happens all the time. We learn a lot from it and you have your entire life ahead of you. That was… limited of me.”

“I know I’m almost getting my degree, and there’s other things for me to do… but fuck. I-- I really wanted that. You know how much.”

“I do. I also know exactly how you’re feeling now. We’re always so excited when this kind of thing happens. We plan our entire lives based on that one fragile and uncertain plan, and then boom, it’s gone. We always count on the fact that we’ll eventually have to decide between our career and something else when the choice comes, but what do we do when it doesn’t come? I know how that feels. Also--”

He grabs his guitar. You roll your eyes. “Don’t tell me you have a song for that.”

“I don’t.” he answers. “But I do have a story to tell you.”

For the next two hours, he tells you all about a very ambitious audiovisual plan that he tried to engage in his early 30s. Among countless questions and answers, Damon Albarn showed you through his history how very determined he really was. He goes into the most minute details about the ideas he had for a film and several concept albums for a virtual band that, in your opinion, sounds like something very innovative and, at the same time, incredibly palatable to the mainstream. You thought that the band he was part of when he was even younger was already very wronged because, from what you heard from the demos, they were really incredible, but the fact that such a project didn't go ahead ... just proved to you more and more that talent sometimes really wasn’t enough. Just when you thought you couldn't admire that man more.

“So, believe me when I say I know how that feels.” Goddamn. He looks at his clock, and almost jumps at how the time flied. “Bloody hell, I have another student in like, 5 minutes.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is a tale very few people know about. I’m glad I shared it with you.”

“…That had potential. Don’t give up on it.”

“Don’t give up on your plans either. I really mean it when I say you’re talented as fuck.”

You couldn’t help but smile through the dried tears and puffy eyes. You say your rushed goodbyes. But before can you leave the room, he holds your arm. “Wait. I know it’s hard, but don’t spend the rest of the day thinking about it. Do you want to do something tonight?”

“Uhhh—what you have in mind?” You can’t believe your ears.

“I don’t know. Do you drink?”

“More than I should.”

“Perfect. So I know a place we can go. Any preference of hours?”

“After 7 pm, I guess?”

“Works for me. I’ll send you the address soon then.” He says. You stand still, frozen, still processing what just happened. He’s blinking as if he just told you how’s the weather outside. “Now you can go.”

“O-kay. See you in a few hours then, Damon.”

“See you in a few hours, Y/N.”

You tried to hide your excitement, in vain. You smiled like an idiot.

This was one of the scenarios of your daydreams when you were walking around, talking quietly to yourself. Damon Albarn, your newly divorced music teacher who is old enough to be your father, just asked you out. You don't care if it was pity. After such disappointment, you allow yourself to create a little more of that stupid, inconsequential hope that your life would take an exciting turn for the first time.

He sends you the address a few hours after your class/conversation, when you were starting to get ready to meet him. It was a pub that you already knew well, and had visited with some friends in the past. You choose a dress that has become your “uniform” recently, for valuing your body type well and for translating your style in a way that is both stylish and very comfortable. When you finish getting ready, you take a deep breath. There is a world of difference between what you wanted to happen and what you think will happen. But you do not care.

The tragic call you received in the morning barely crosses your mind on your way to the pub.

Upon arriving, you find Damon - always so punctual - sitting in the corner of the lounge fiddling with his cell phone while he takes a few sips of a drink that you have no idea what it is made of. You never took him for a complex drink guy. He is really full of surprises. You feel slightly self-conscious out of a sudden, stomach churning in anticipation. He raises his eyes, and his gaze meets yours. His usual welcoming smile makes all your worries go away. You couldn’t help but smile wide too.

“Hello there. A stark contrast to this morning’s Y/N.” He notes, looking you up and down after you two share a tight hug, that smile still there.

“My plan tonight is to forget everything that happened before we talked, okay? Just let me forget about the call!” You answer, playfully, trying to pretend you weren't in the least ... affected ... by the way he received you.

And the time you spend together goes as usual. It’s amazing how there’s no space for awkward silences between you two. To one thing you tell him, he brings you three more things to tell, and vice-versa. You two just… click. You make each other laugh, and even if things don’t go the way you daydream about, which is totally okay, given that he’s twice your age and you’re not sure if you can handle the implications that age difference has, you’re glad to call him a good friend. He’s amazing, and you’re having a great time with him.

By your fourth beer and his fifth fancy drink, your conversation enters a territory that hasn’t been truly explored by you two yet. His romantic past. You only knew he was divorced because he mentioned it very vaguely one day, nothing else. You didn’t know why, who was her, or when. But apparently, he was about to tell you.

“We were both really… young… and didn’t have a clue of what we were doing with our lives. She was a musician too, Justine. Not anymore.”

“Because of what happened between you two?” You ask, the beers gradually taking the indiscretion filters out of you.

“Maybe. I don’t know. She seemed tired of everything. She wanted a life I’m not sure I would be able to live. I also pressured her a lot, I tried to create a version of her that somehow fitted all my expectations and, long story short, we weren’t right for each other. But I still think she’s incredible. I still admire her a lot. Not sure how she feels about me though.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“Oh, no. There’s a big difference in admiring someone and being in love with them, kid.”

After that sentence of his, for the first time that night, an uncomfortable silence hangs between you - Instant Crush, by Daft Punk, almost ironically, starts playing on the pub's speakers. You feel like you're in a movie.

You're still a kid, aren't you?

“Definitely.” You finally answer him, finishing 70% of the bottle in a few gulps. You become a bit more lightheaded after that, and your eyes start to struggle to focus. You try to hide how slurred your voice wants to sound. “I confess I still don’t know how to really differentiate between the two.”

“Oh yeah?” His wistful tone gives place to one of amusement. “You never told me about your exes. Feel free to.”

“This is not about them.”

He turns to you, after a one-sided staring competition with his own cup. His voice is calm, and somehow even deeper, when he asks you: “Then who is this about?”

You gulp. The cramped space you were sitting on somehow feels even smaller. And hotter. You feel drops of sweat sliding on your belly. You’re sitting by his side, not in front of him, and that interaction feels almost… primal. You two are trapped by a huge table in a corner very few people can see.

“I think I need to go to the loo.”

He lets you, and you feel his eyes following you to the restroom.

My God. My God. My God.

You take a much longer time to do everything than you really need while reflecting on the dialogue you just had. You feel the ground is starting to spin, and the desire to sleep on literally any place grow. You’re drunk. And confused. And anxious.

You spend some good minutes staring at your own face in the mirror before you return to your table. He’s still in the moment, judging by the contemplative look on his face. This is the point of no return.

This is no movie – this is a fucking RPG.

“It was full,” you justify.

“Yeah, it’s always pretty crowded in there.”

That goddamn awkward silence again. You try to talk at the same time, but he wins.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “It’s… about a guy. He’s a…current… thing. Not from the past.”

“Right.” His tone is serious, more teacher-like than he has even acted while actually teaching you.

“I met him through an ad. I was looking for music teachers in my area and I found him. He had a fair price.” He was now smiling in disbelief, shaking his head. You’re both tipsy and you don’t care if your words are slurred anymore.

“And?”

“I have classes with him every Saturday. It’s the event of the bloody week for me. I can’t believe I’m saying that now because at first he seemed quite intimidating and not open to any meaningful interaction. Like, all frowns and monosyllabic answers and all.” You steal his drink, and he’s not even bothered. “We talk a lot, and even though we talk every day I somehow always thought he didn’t give a fuck about me when we were out of class. That he only saw me as a student, not as a friend, you know? I think about that chap every single day too. He’s handsome--like. Fuck. And he pays attention to everything I say. He’s always so nice to me, he makes me feel welcome. A part of… something.” You take a few more sips, and he gently takes the drink out of your hand, mouthing an ‘enough’. “He’s old enough to be my dad and I feel guilty for thinking of him that way. He invited me for drinks when my world fell so I could get my mind out of the shambles my life’s in and I almost died because I’m madly in love with him for a while now, but I don’t want to ruin everything. I don’t know what to do now. People shouldn’t start things thinking of how they’re going to end, but, you know?”

“They should, though. He’s indeed too old for you. And your life isn’t in shambles.”

“But…”

“Everything sounds pretty lovely in theory, but, he’s probably thinking that he’s going to slow you down in a way. You’ve got too much life to live. He’s probably really tired of everything he’s already lived.”

“But I love him. He makes me laugh! I don’t wanna have children.” You whine.

He muffles a laugh. “It’s not that-“

”Please take me home tonight.” You plead; your tone more serious now. “I know what I’m doing, I know where I am. Just please take me home.”

“Y/N…”

“Please, Damon. If you don’t feel the same then fine, call me an Uber and I’ll get over it.”

That triggers something in him, apparently, and he kisses you deeply and intensely. His hands caress your back and the whole kiss, though a little disjointed because of the state you’re both in, is full of affection and love. His lips taste of strawberry vodka, and your mind is spinning.

When your lips part, you stare at each other for a while, thousands upon thousands of thoughts per second, unsaid. “Are you sure you wanna come with me?” He asks, kissing your hand.

“Yes. I am.”

-

After he fumbles with his keys, you’re finally in his apartment – it’s surprisingly nice and tidy. Judging by how carefree he’s with his looks, you imagined that characteristic would overflow to other aspects of his life.

From the Uber drive home to his door, his hand never left yours.

He locks the door, and you stand staring intently at each other, sizing each other up like men before a fight. This time, you start the kiss, with a little less hurry than before. But the desire is still burning hot on both of you.

“Do you have any idea of what you’re doing to me?”, he murmurs, discarding his jacket while he does his best to not break the kiss. You take this as a signal to start taking off your clothes too, starting by kicking off your shoes. It has become a choreography of sorts - his hands grasp your buttocks and pulls you closer after you’re done with them, drawing a gasp from you.

“I wanted you for so long.” You reply, your hands exploring his body below the fine fabric of his shirt. You motion to take it away from him, and he lets you, completely entranced by how red your lips look from everything it went through. He guides you to his sofa, quickly adjusting it so it’s comfortable enough and serves as a bed for both of you.

He lies down first, eagerly waiting for you to stay on top of him. You finally do, and you feel like a goddess from the way he looks at your body. You take off your dress, and now you’re almost fully exposed to him. You have no bra on, and his hands immediately travel to your breasts, fingers running tantalizingly over your nipples to get them stiff and erect before he pinches them between his fingers, smiling at the whimper his actions elicit. You start bucking your hips on the rough fabric of his trousers, and you feel him harden below you. “God, you’re… something else.” he whispers, and you respond with another whimper, biting back a full on moan when your clit hits the perfect spot. You separate your legs a little further so you can feel him better, drawing a groan from him. He takes this a signal to take his jeans off, eyes not leaving your hips.

Now that a distance of an entire layer is shortened between you, the contact is even more intimate, and the bulge of his cock straining against his underwear is driving you mad. You’re aching for him. He brushes against you and your moan is higher than you expected, and you immediately cover your mouth in order not to wake up his neighbors. As he feels the wet heat of you around his painfully hard cock, he takes your hand out of your lips, grip then tightening on your hips as he pushes you down right on to him. Your moan is even louder. “Let them hear.”

“Fuck-Damon-I’m getting so close--” As if you just gave him a command, his hands now grab the flesh of your inner thighs, massaging them further and further up until he reaches the center of your arousal, and the sound you make when he pulls your panties to the side and runs his finger between your folds while still grinding against you is somewhere between a whine and a whimper. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice rough from how excruciatingly aroused he is. “Come for me, baby.” Your clit was more exposed now, pressed more tightly against him and you whine in relief when your orgasm finally floods through your body.  

Before you could fully recover, he finally frees himself from his underwear and, with your help, effortlessly aligns himself with your (quite ready) entrance. You bury your head in his neck the moment he enters you in one swift motion and your moans are almost like cries by now - the overstimulation is driving you insane. You take his face on your hands and give him a passionate kiss while he gradually picks up a merciless pace inside of you, the more heated the kiss becomes the more shamelessly you ride his cock. “Shit,” he mutters, massaging your breasts in an almost desperate way. It’s too much - you’re almost becoming one.

You could tell by how frantically he fucked you now that he wasn’t going to last much longer. His thrusts were becoming irregular and you were so close once again. His head falls forward, buried in between your neck and shoulder - his cock twitches inside of you and his movements become staccato, his mouth curving into a beautiful ‘o’ shape as he comes inside of you. His movements stop before you could reach your second one, but the entire situation you were on was so arousing to you that just by touching yourself while still feeling him inside was enough. Not letting you alone in this, one of his hands focus on one of your nipples while the other one is below yours, providing pressure above your clit. And like that, you come undone a second time, head above his shoulders.

For a few minutes, your panting was the only thing that could be heard inside of the apartment.

“Thank you. You were amazing. ’s been quite a long time.” He notes with a tender kiss on your forehead. After a while, and with much reluctance, he slides out of you, and gets up to fetch a warm, wet cloth and carefully clean you both, finally collapsing next to you with a groan.

“It was everything I expected.” You confess, smiling.

“Did you… think about me like that when you…?”

“Of course. But let’s save this talk for another Saturday.”

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

Hi, I'm working on a SPN fanfic right now and I was hoping I could get some character ideas from you. It's a destiel fanfic-I know you don't ship them anymore but I'm kind of stuck on what to do with John? I want him in the story because I love Jeffrey Dean Morgan and the way he plays Dean but I also don't want to write him in a repetitive way, I want to do the character justice and not make him all cringe. Got any ideas?

Hi! Yes, I'd be more than happy to give you some advice.

To me, John Winchester is such a fun character to write, full of angst ripe for the picking with Sam and Dean, ya know? And Jeffrey does such a good job bringing the character to life, I just hate reading fics where the the writers just make him the cringey, abusive, alcoholic, homophobic father, the obstacle needed to overcome for Destiel (or whatever ship) to truly be together, you know? I'm not saying that we shouldn't use the abusive parent trope in coming out stories because obviously those family dynamics exist in real life so of course many who have suffered through that trauma want to write about it to work through it and I do not begrudge them at all for that. But, the trope is overplayed and typically there isn't a whole lot of nuance to it so its kind of boring to read about all of the time, and when something gets boring, it gets cringey.

So my advice if this story you're writing is going to have some sort of coming out story feat. John Winchester aka Abusive/Homophobic Father of the Year, then try to add a little bit more nuance to it to give it a freshness so it doesn't feel so overplayed to your readers. No one likes carboard cut outs of characters, they want characters not caricatures (at least that's I want but you know depending on your audience, maybe they're ok with caricatures as long as they get their fanservice). So definitely, if you can, try and dive a little more deeply into the psyche of John Winchester. Really analyze his emotions, his motivations, his reasonings for why he does the things he does. If he's gonna be abusive and homophobic, think about why is he really those things? Is he abusive because he can't look at his kids because they remind him of Mary? Is this his own way of protecting them? Is he homophobic because he's a product of his time? Or is there a deeper reason behind it? Is it a means of protecting his sons from the harshness and brutality of living that life? Because while it is freeing and liberating to come out and truly be able to be yourself, sadly, the world is filled with bigots that won't see it that way, that are threatened by it and will enact violence because of their bigotry.

Me personally, if I were to ever write for John Winchester, I'd choose to stay away from the abusive, alcoholic, homophobic angle that so much of the fandom likes to depict him as. Like I said before, its overdone, boring, and cringey. And truth be told, I've never jumped on the band wagon of hating John Winchester. Honestly, when I rewatch Season 1, the episodes featuring him are always so enjoyable to me because he's so interesting. Sure, he's terrible for his sons, but digging into his motivations and how he thinks, in his own twisted mind, he means well and he's genuinely thinking that these means are what's going to keep his boys safe. So I don't know, if I were to write a coming out story whether it be destiel or sastiel, I'd kind of like to depict John as being supportive of his son coming out because there is an aspect of his personality there that does treasure his boys. Sure, it doesn't negate that he's a terrible father who has treated his children abysmally but everything that he's done in the show, it's never screamed at me that he's homophobic. I'm sure some Dean Winchester stans will come at me, get up on their soap box and try to tell me that we can gather that John Winchester was homophobic because of Dean's own homophobia and repressed feelings towards men, how he womanizes and fetishizes women, etc. He learned it from John. Or maybe, just maybe, John Winchester was not around a whole lot and Dean watched a lot of macho cop shows and things of that nature whilst spending endless hours cooped up in a hotel room. Or Dean Winchester actually is straight, I know horror of horrors for me to suggest something like that and I'm not really here to make an argument on that. If you want to yell at me and tell me all of the reasons why Dean Winchester isn't straight, don't bother because I don't care. SPN is done and over with and we all now have the freedom to characterize Dean however the fuck we want and we need to stop getting into such heated arguments about this. If you see Dean has a repressed homosexual, great I totally see how you would see that so you should write about it, I don't have a problem with it. But I also don't have a problem with him being characterized as straight either. I have written Dean as straight before and I've also written him as LGBT as well. I'm not more partial to any reading of his sexuality really, he's never been a favorite character of mine, most of the time I have to really fight my own dislike of him to even find him palatable. If I think of a story and I want to include him in said story, I'll characterize him in whichever way befits the story I'm writing. But the point is, in regards to John Winchester, I kind of went on a tangent there, but what I'm essentially getting at is John can be abusive, he can be alcoholic, but I would also find it interesting if amongst those things he was supportive of his sons' sexuality or at the very least apathetic to it.

But anyway, those are my thoughts/advice. Hopefully it helps and good luck on your story. If you post it on Tumblr, be sure to tag me, I'd love to read it.

[brandyspringsluxury]

The Staff of Brandy Springs Suites

Welcome to Brandy Springs Suites- a luxury apartment complex filled with clean, cared for facilities and on location gym, spa, emergency laundromat, and even a recreation room. It was once a hotel, but bought and modified by the current owner it is now peak luxury living. It’s a place that values consistency, kindness, and loyalty. The owner, a very mysterious man known only by Mr. Carter, was already very wealthy, so money is not something he prioritizes solely. In fact, he values loyalty more than income and if you prove to be a loyal and kind person, you may find certain perks and advantages. So, I hope you enjoy your stay and remain here for a long, long time. Nevermind all the tenants who seem to always have ulterior, hidden motives or the ever revolving spa and cleaning staff. Oh, and if you’re looking over things, please do try to ignore the first floor after midnight- and if you go down it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to whatever noises you hear or things you see. And if you ever- EVER- manage to meet Mr. Carter make sure you are on your best behavior and prove your worth, or you may not leave the complex alive. 

TW: mentions of sex trafficking, kidnapping, murder, drugging, torture 

The Owner - Mr. Carter

55 - 6’1” - 188 lbs || Caucasian || he/him || lives separate || Weinstein Wannabe

Evil, awful man. Sells victims in the basement of the apartment complex, sex trafficker and if a tenant can’t pay and their intensive “background check” indicates the tenant is not someone that may be missed that tenant will be sold. That being said, if a tenant shows worthwhile attributes that could bring the Owner more money (ie bringing victims, more tenants, or generally having skills the Owner can exploit, etc) then the Ownery may be able to help the tenants with their own, perhaps nefarious, deeds (ie kidnapping/killing someone for them, bribing the police, etc). That being said, only the staff know what he looks like and have a direct line of communication with him. All tenants speak to staff, unless they are unlucky enough to have bumped into him or to have been a direction for his ire. He has no empathy and doesn’t attempt to pretend he does. He’s a cold, cruel man and he makes it known to everyone he interacts with. 

Emergency room in complex is Room 002

The  Front Desk -  Ronaldo Cortez

28 - 5’9” - 196 lbs || Latinx || they/them || lives separate || Golden Retriever Friend

Raised hyper christian american; couldn’t speak at the table or if they weren’t spoken to, couldn’t make or visit friends outside of the church, etc. Because of that they are fantastic at masking or playing characters and very much embodies the charisma of the golden retriever friend, but has an aggressive and vicious side hidden. Doesn’t let the tenants know much about them, but does blind side them with occasional double-sided comments. Great at picking up information on the tenants or on potential tenants from the position of Front Desk. Very beneficial for the Owner. The Owner places a lot of trust in them and how they vet tenants and workers-- essentially the Owner’s right hand person and second in command. Much smarter than they seem and is quite intuitive. Struggles to back their intuition so they get along very well with Lily-- the very person who can dig up the evidence to back their intuition. The pair are largely unstoppable. Their intuition is never wrong and Lily can find literally anything if they motivated her enough. Has never personally done anything illegal (hands on) but has facilitated and encouraged it enough. Essentially, the plan B of the operation should it fail. Cannot legally be prosecuted for any crimes and thus can help anyone who falls  into legal trouble get the best help to get away with whatever crimes committed. 

In case of emergency has access to Room 003.

The Head of Security - Lily-Anne 

23 - 5’4” - 180 lbs || Russian American | she/her || Room 005 || Greasy, Lazy Genius 

  Doesn’t look it but can pick anyone up and throw them like they’re nothing. Learned to deadlift and hack to prove the boys in her high school classes wrong. Mastered biology freshman year and went on to throw herself into the STEM programs. Won lots of scholarships but never went to secondary school. Can find anything about anyone. Normally quite apathetic but you don’t want to trigger stronger emotions- obsessive to either degree. She’ll either kidnap you as hers (and literally love you to death) or she’ll just kill you in her anger and hatred of you. Wants to push those around her to the brink, control them to the point that they’d do anything- kill or die for her. Heavily sapphic but not exclusionary and likes who she likes. Has few friends, most online, but Ronaldo is one she begrudgingly admits to befriending. The Owner knows a lot of Lily-Anne, but she knows little of him. She mostly digs up the dirt for Ronaldo, in return for a toy to play with and some cash, but she also largely protects the complex more heavily than traditional security including cyber security and bribing/hacking the police. This makes her a very valuable asset and the Owner has a soft spot for her, throwing her a toy to play with out of the blue occasionally if one fits her preferences that the Owner can tell. 

The Gym Trainer - Rocky

25 - 6’1” - 265 lbs || Dominican-German || he/him || Room 217 || Aggro-gym bro

Got hired after being a tenant due to his actual degree but also because Marissa had stumbled across his strength and ruthlessness and mentioned it to Ronaldo. The perfect backup and, well, Rocky killed his darlings often enough that the disposal of their bodies was payment for the heavy lifting he did for the Owner. Doesn’t know much, just knows he sees some bitches being taken and he beats some douchebags up. He doesn’t care what happens to the victims, doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know or care. Rent is significantly cheaper and after being the backup for a few years, his rent was waived. He showed loyalty and that is rewarded. Always on the prowl for tenants to trick into the complex and then trap them in the gym so he can bully them. Its a win-win for the Owner and for him. He earns commission from both. Quite handy to have on staff despite his own (willing and willful) ignorance. The rooms on either side of him are often vacant due to the screams of his victims (both sexual and tortured) and the Owner buckled down and sound proofed his entire apartment. Saves them both some stress.

The Head of Maintenance - Marissa Thompson 

27 - 6’ - 178 lbs || Black American || she/her || Room 008 || Chaotic ADHD gremlin

Trans-woman and proud. Black and proud. Can do everything a straight white man can do but better. Always has 100+ projects on her plate but still takes on every project offered. Prioritizes well and always helps the tenants in a timely and kind manner. Has never gotten a complaint-- about her work. She, herself, now requests tenants be out of the apartment while work is being done because she’s so chaotic it stresses out the tenants. Loves and leans into the “plumber’s crack” trope when she does plumbing work. Makes straight white men super uncomfortable and she lives for it. Unlike most other tenants, she knows nothing about The Owner or his operations, she was vetted by Front Desk and okay’ed due to her oblivious nature and genuine skills. (Front Desk totally knows about how she’s obsessive and stalks her love interests, how she sneaks into their rooms and frots against their bed while she caresses their skin while they sleep, how she hooked cameras up in her apartment so she can watch them always, how she always helps them first-- drops everything to help them first; but it’s okay, Front Desk can use all that to their advantage and when it stops being an advantage, well, they have more proof against her than she could dream of having against them. This job pays too well to lose, anyway, right?)  

Lobby Cleaner - Amelia Moser

21 - 5’6” - 134 lbs || Caucasian || he/him & she/her || Room 004 || Discreet Wallflower 

Soft, sweet, and quiet. She often blends into the background unnoticed. Gathers  a lot of intel that way and is quite willing to play the bait or honey pot people for the Owner. She’s more dangerous and promiscuous than she looks, after all looks are deceiving. She’s always getting dirt on the tenants, too. Cleaning the lobby and gym bathrooms while people are in them, eavesdropping on conversations, and generally watching everyone with a very close eye. She, herself, has an entitlement to her if you can catch her in conversation, though just know if you are in a conversation with her she’s already got you hooked. She doesn’t talk to anyone unless she wants or needs something from them- though they’re largely the same. Whatever it is, she’s getting it. Loves sweet things that aren’t just pretending to be kind, if you treat her and everyone with kindness but also get shy and flustered or you’re a little bit of a crybaby then- well, you’re her’s now. She’s kidnapping you, locking you up in her nursery, and drugging you until you believe you’re the child she’s treating you as. And if you try to leave- well, she won’t be afraid to take drastic measures. She knows how to clean up the toughest of stains after all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of his recent notoriety.

Note: Alright, so I know this starts slow but I promise it is a steady creep towards the finish line. 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

It was a morning like any other. Steve woke up, pulled on his track pants and a light blue tee, and took his time tying his old sneakers. He stretched as he neared the door and hopped down the front steps of his walk-up. It was early and as quiet as New York got.

He set off on his usual route. It was his only chance to just lose himself. He could just run and not think about everything that awaited him. He was due at the compound that day; another briefing. That one thought tugged at his mind. Was it time?

When he returned to his townhouse, he jogged up his steps and let himself inside. He had some water and made his usual breakfast. Two eggs and four strips of bacon with rye toast. He sat and ate alone. The place felt empty.

It had taken him over two years to renovate the place and he missed the flurry of activity. He hadn’t felt so lonely then, even when half the world had disappeared. Now it was just him. He felt less and less himself every day. Bitter, resentful, tired.

He rinsed his dishes as he stared at the deep red tiles above the sink. He sighed. He’d tried dating. He was about as great at it was he had been when he weighed as much as his left leg. He dried the plate and placed it among the stack. He didn’t know why he had so many; it was only ever him. The glass went with the rest and the utensils clattered loudly into the drawer. 

A buzz sounded. The noise was quiet but nagging. He often ignored it. He left his phone by the door when he got home to charge and only took it when he went to work. It continued to vibrate. It was ringing. He unhooked the cord and answered as Fury’s name flashed up at him.

“Rogers,” He answered as he headed upstairs. “I’m on my way. I’m not due for another--”

“You’re due when I say you’re due,” Fury snapped. “Which is now.”

“Alright, just let me get dressed,” Steve huffed as he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. 

“Maybe start answering your phone,” Fury snarled.

“It was charging.” Steve argued. 

The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the mattress and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For all he did, it was never a please or thank you, it was only more, more, more. 

He stood and pushed his hair back. He’d take his time just to spite Fury. The biggest act of defiance he could muster. He went into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He closed the glass door and let it steam up before he stripped. He glanced in the mirror. 

He wondered what life would have been if he had stayed the skinny boy who punched up. He was certain even that would be a happier existence than this. He had sold his soul for what? It didn’t have to be him, it could have been anyone. Why had he always insisted on being the big guy? The hero?

He pulled open the shower and stepped inside. The cloud of steam settled over him and he closed his eyes. No, it did have to be him because there was no one like Steve Rogers.

🖋️

Steve walked into the compound. He was agitated. He had been accosted coming out of his house by some photographer and had resisted the urge to swat him away like a fly as he unlocked his car. The compound was worse. A dozen people with cameras awaited him as he pulled up to the parking lot gate and waited for the booth operator to let him in.

He took the stairs. Fury greeted him with crossed arms and his usual one-eyed sneer. This couldn’t be good. He held a magazine and turned it to reveal the cover. Steve squinted and shrugged as he stopped before the irritable man.

“Look closer,” Fury shoved the magazine towards him. 

In the corner, Steve recognized himself. An edited photo which showed half of his face with his cowl on and the other without. A small tagline stood out below: ‘The Man Without A Plan: Steve Rogers’ Struggle for Stability’. He grabbed the issue and looked closer at the glossy cover in shock.

“Shit,” He swore.

“Shit?” Fury repeated. “So I guess I don’t have to remind you of what you said to that reporter.”

“Why are you mad at me? You approved the interview.” Steve flipped through the pages to the exclusive.

“But I didn’t give the interview. If I had, it wouldn’t have made the front cover,” Fury hissed.

“No, it would all be redacted,” Steve started to read through. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t say any of that?” Fury challenged.

“No…” Steve looked up. “I did but I…”

“You let a journalist get the best of you.” Fury shook his head. “And now your plastered all over the city.”

“It’s one magazine,” Steve said.

“You need to start using that goddamn phone of yours.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly typed and turned it to Steve. “Search yourself once in a while. I know it’s tacky but shit.”

Steve read over the top news articles; ‘Steve Rogers lashes out at journalist in report’ and ‘Rogers’ Dilemma: Hero condemns ungrateful civilians’. He pulled back and looked at the magazine again. The stabbing in his heart turned to fire.

“That little--” He clamped his lips together to keep from swearing. 

“Come on,” Fury glanced around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. This much attention on you, we can’t be too careful.”

He followed Fury through the halls and past several training rooms. He thought of the reporter and her pensive eyes. The way she’d watched him so closely as she scribbled on her notepad. She’d seemed harmless until she started asking questions. 

After he calmed down, he’d nearly forgotten about the whole debacle. He assumed it would be buried like most of his interviews. One day of press and then done.

Fury led him into the plain office which looked like it was never used. It was as clean and clinical as an operating room. Fury leaned on the desk as Steve pored over the last lines of the article and paced.

“There’s not gonna be a briefing this morning,” Fury said. “Not for you.”

“What--?”

“It’s best we keep this quiet but… Rogers, you need a break. Take it.” Fury pushed back his long leather duster as he gripped his hips. “Maybe get away from the city until this all dies down.”

“Get away? This is my city,” Steve hissed. “I won’t be run out by some… some…”

Bitch! He wanted to say but he held it in. Even in front of this man, he had to put on a mask. He could never just say what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He bent the magazine and hit it with his palm.

“It’s just an article. Christ. I think my job is a little bigger than some gossip rag.” Steve huffed.

“I’d agree but it’s not just my call and it’s not just about you. We have a team, a younger team now. They can’t be distracted by all this.” Fury said.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Two weeks.” Fury replied. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated. 

“It should all die down before then but if it doesn’t…”

“This is bullshit.” Steve barked. “What did I say that was so wrong?”

“The concern is your temper and as ridiculous as I thought that was, I’m starting to see the sense in it.” Fury sneered. “You need to calm down, Captain.”

“I don’t have a temper problem.” Steve snarled.

“Why don’t you read that again? You were hostile and some would think intentionally trying to intimidate that reporter. A female.” Fury said pointedly. “Who, by the looks of her, isn’t much of a match for a super soldier.”

“I was across the room from her,” Steve argued. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“People won’t know that. They know that you got aggressive, quickly it seems, and then shut down the interview abruptly.” Fury took a breath. “You’re only lucky she stopped where she did.”

Steve glared at Fury. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the magazine tighter.

“Fine,” He uttered. “Two weeks.”

🖋️

Steve didn’t realize he still had the magazine in his hand until he got in his car. He sat, staring blindly out the windshield, then slowly looked down. It was bent in his grip and as he let it fall onto the passenger seat, it remained warped. He shoved his key in the slot and turned the engine.

Still, he didn’t budge. He grasped the steering wheel and a rumble began deep in his chest. A carnal growl. He invited her into his home and she ruined his reputation in return. 

Perhaps he was still the naive little Brooklyn boy. He thought she was so sweet over the phone. She was just as self-serving and apathetic as everyone else in this world. The very same he had saved, time and time again.

He pulled out sharply and flashed his pass to the booth. There were still photographers out on the sidewalk; waiting for him. He drove without thinking. He had never felt so angry. He had never let himself be this angry. Always holding it in for the sake of others. Always compromising his feelings because it was ‘right’.

He stopped parallel to the curb. His vision cleared and he peered up at the tall building. He shouldn’t have come here but he was there and he couldn’t stop himself. He turned off his car and waited.

He muted his phone as it kept buzzing; Bucky, Sam, all his team members. Asking where he was or maybe about his new found infamy. Well, he wasn’t their leader anymore. Not for the next two weeks so they could take care of themselves as he found something else to do. Something for himself, for once in his life.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Probably too long. An hour or two. Then he saw her. She appeared through the front doors of the building, her attention on the open purse in her hand. She dropped it as a camera flashed and Steve leaned his seat back as he watched her scramble for the overturned contents.

She didn’t look malicious. At a glance, she was just another girl. She picked up her purse and resumed her route past the photographer. He watched her through the rear view as she disappeared into a sandwich shop just a few buildings down. 

He readjusted his seat and hovered his hand over the ignition. He paused and closed his eyes. What was he doing? Let it go. It would all just go away.

He started the car and pulled out into traffic. He was edgy and found himself leaning a bit too hard on the gas. He stopped short as he almost hit another car. He punched the dash and swore. She could play innocent but she wouldn’t get away with it. Not if he had anything to say about it.

🖋️

Steve went home but not for long. Another photographer outside his house as if he would give them a show on his front stoop. He went inside and paced his front room then went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He went upstairs and changed. Black pants, grey hoodie, a dark blue ball cap to cover his blonde hair. He fished out his only pair of sunglasses and found his way back to the first floor.

He peeked through the window. The photographer was still there. He went to the back and glanced out into the small fenced yard. Nothing but the patio set he had yet to use and overgrown grass. He went back and grabbed his keys and wallet. He sneaked out through the back gate, careful that no one saw him slip down the next street.

He walked to the subway and strode down into the station. He checked the time as he climbed on the train. He sat by the door and his leg jiggled impatiently. He stopped it with his hand and looked around. No one else seemed to notice his anxiety or him. It had been a long time since he felt invisible.

He got off and slipped past the crowds. He walked the same street he had lingered on hours before. He kept to the other side of the street as he checked the time again. Would she already be gone? He kept to the mouth of the alley and watched the photographers as they waited by the front doors.

When she came out, it was the same as before. She scurried away from her own ilk as they attempted to talk to her and catch her in their lens. They left her at the subway entrance; their cameras too expensive to chance in the underground. Besides it would be difficult enough to get a shot in a car full of people.

He crossed the street and quickly descended the grimy steps behind her. He caught sight of her just before she disappeared onto her platform. He kept his distance, far enough that he’d get on the next car. The train pulled up and he watched her step inside before he mirrored her.

When the train shifted, he waited a minute before he slipped through the doors to the next car. He sat at the end as she huddled in a seat on the other side. She kept her head down, her eyes on her phone. The old New York solitary. She looked entirely vulnerable and it made something inside of him flinch. A subtle snap as he couldn’t look away even as she did nothing at all. 

She was nothing compared to him. He could break her as easily as he did criminals and villains. Probably easier. He gulped as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to resist the thoughts. No. He wasn’t that. He didn’t do that. 

But what was he doing? Following her; watching her. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just done it. What would he do from here? Follow her home and what? He could try talking to her but for what? The damage was done; she couldn’t undo what she’d done. And she likely wouldn’t want to. 

She had used him to climb her way up the ladder. Now her name was featured alongside his and the world was at her feet. She was the innocent and he was her antagonist. Well, if that’s what she wanted.

As the train stopped, she stood and he did too. Almost too quickly. He slowed and kept several bodies between them as he followed her out onto the platform. She continued up onto the streets and he stayed with her. Close enough to see her but far enough she wouldn’t see him.

Her building was among many sentinels looming along the New York skyline. Boxy overpriced apartments which were often barely more than a single room. He watched her flit inside and waited. Slowly, he approached the door and stepped inside the small entryway. It was empty. 

He searched the rows of buttons for her name. The speaker was outdated and dirty. Even he could tell. Her last name was half-faded. He memorized her number and went back out into the street. He inhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly walked on. He stopped just past her building and looked down the alleyway between it and the next.

The dimming sky contrasted the wrought metal of fire escape. He glanced over his shoulder and turned down the alley. The dumpster stunk and broken bottles littered the ground around it. He stopped beyond the stinking box and looked up. He bent his knees and jumped, catching himself on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He pulled himself up. Second floor, he noted. He climbed the first set of stairs and the next and on until he reached her floor. He counted the windows across the side of the building but it barely helped. He didn’t know where they started and ended.

He went to the end of the escape and the window beside him lit up. He ducked and listened. He could hear every step on the other side of the wall. His enhanced ears could even measure the heart beat within. He slowly raised himself and peeked over the window ledge.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Or the coincidence. It was her. Her purse was on the table as she removed her blazer. Her small apartment was cluttered but not messy. She yawned as she went to the fridge. She took out a slim can of sparkling water and opened it. She searched the shelves and pulled out a styrofoam box. She picked at the contents with a fork as she leaned on the narrow counter.

She slid her phone from her pocket and set it beside her leftovers as she scrolled with her finger. She turned it over and pushed it away from her. She sighed and flipped the lid closed. She tossed the container in the bin and crossed to the couch on the other side of the counter. 

She dropped down and flipped on the television. She spread out with her head against the arm. He could see her face as she wriggled and pulled the tails of her blouse from inside her pants. She unbuttoned just the first few buttons and then let her arm hang off the side. She fiddled with the remote then set it on the low table in front of the couch.

He watched her for a while. She didn’t do much. She just laid there. She turned onto her side and took off her socks. She closed her eyes but opened them shortly after. She changed the channel again and he backed away from the window.

He thought of forcing it open but didn’t dare to think beyond that. The little tug at the back of his mind scared him. What would he do if he just went in there? What could he do? He shuddered and crawled over to the stairs. He descended carefully.

When he reached the ground, he dropped down and took a breath. There was a heartbeat racing in his ears. It was his. He looked up and licked his lips. It took all his strength to walk away.