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readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

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Flower | 30

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff

; Warnings: Discussions of sex, questions of consent (no rape, don’t worry), body issues, body weight issues, self-esteem problems, self-confidence issues, brief mention of self-harm thoughts, mentions of bullying

; Word Count: 4.2k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This chapter is one pretty close to me and might be tough for anyone else who’s also overweight or has been overweight during those tough times in school! Don’t worry about the MC, she’s okay. There’s no rape, the consent thing is briefly mentioned as a question. Please reblog this if you enjoyed so others can read, leave me comments or asks so I can know what you think :) only 10 more chapters left...

; Flower Masterpost

Giggling quietly to yourself, you scroll through the pictures on your phone carefully. It takes you forever to finally move onto the next one as you feel the need to carefully scan over each one in depth to catch all the little things. There’s so much to find in each picture and you spend as long as you can looking them over in amusement, grinning at the odd fashion choices.

“What are you laughing at?” Hoseok asks, coming over from the kitchen with a fresh glass of water for you and a cup of peppermint tea for himself. He’d only been home from work for about ten minutes while you’d been home for over half an hour now. Taking a sip from your glass, you smirk at him slightly as he sits next to you with a deep sigh.

Tiredness is etched into his face today, the dark circles under his eyes a little deeper than usual. He’d been struggling to sleep lately for some reason, waking up repeatedly apparently. Reaching over, you gently cup his cheek and stroke his skin softly, enjoying the welcome smile he gives before you turn your phone around to let him see.

“Interesting hair. How many jars of hair gel did you go through when you were a teenager?” You tease him, watching as his eyes widen when he realises what the photo is. It’s of Hoseok when he was a teenager; maybe fourteen or fifteen and with what looks like a bucket of grease on his head. The spikes of his hair turn quickly into an overly long hairstyle in the next picture, straightened but with a distinctive fringe covering one eye.

“You had an emo phase! Look at you! All that eyeliner and those neon streaks. I never had an emo phase, you know. I don’t think I had any phase to be honest. Except for a horse phase when I was really young.” Hoseok goes to grab for your phone, his mouth pulled into a cringe as you scroll to the next picture and reveal yet another emo looking Hoseok with an abundance of sweatbands, colourful wristbands and more. He looked distinctly drunk, even though he can’t have been more than sixteen.

It’s so strange seeing Hoseok with slightly chubbier cheeks, his body gangly and lean in that teenage boy way as it went through the process of puberty while his face still maintained such a youthful look. Despite that, you can see the template for the statuesque face he’d end up with already in the pictures. The elegant slope of his nose was still pretty, even if he’d not quite grown into it at that point and a jawline that’s not quite as strong as it is now.

“Mom sent you this, didn’t she?” He groans, rubbing at his eyes before peering back at the phone through gaps between his fingers. Chortling softly, you shake your head before looking back at the screen.

“No, actually. She put them on her Facebook. Apparently she found the pictures while cleaning and scanned them in. Reminiscing about your wild years.” That makes Hoseok make the strangest noise, a combination of a groan and a shout. He’s looking at his own phone instantly, face palming when he sees the pictures.

“Moooom,” He whines pathetically, looking through them. You place your phone down on the coffee table and shuffle closer to him, letting yourself see the photos through his screen. Glancing at his face, you take in his slight frown and the pout of his lips, hoping he’s not too annoyed that his mom has put them up.

“Are you angry at her?” Shaking his head, he sighs deeply before letting his phone drop onto the table too.

“Not really. Just...it’s more embarrassing. Though, isn’t that her job at this age? As you can see through; I’ve always been good looking. Maybe not always with the best style admittedly but...at least the music is still great. My Chemical Romance remains one of the best bands in my opinion, even if they’re not as heavy as what I listen to now.” Rolling your eyes, you pull your legs up and rest a hand on your knee.

“I mean...it was certainly a style.”

“So come on then, I’ve shown you mine. Where’s your embarrassing teenage pics?” Hoseok teases, sticking his tongue out at you playfully. The silver ball of his tongue piercing catching the light momentarily before it disappears into his mouth once more.

Awkwardly, you smile back at him before shrugging slightly. The sudden change in your behaviour is obviously noticeable as Hoseok frowns, tilting his head in a silent question at you. Licking your lips, you realise that you’re playing with your fingers. A nervous habit.

“I don’t have any,” At the confusion Hoseok shows, you clear your throat. “I mean, outside of graduation photos. I...I wouldn’t let myself be photographed back then.”

“Wha-, seriously? Like...none? I don’t think my parents would have let me, even as grumpy as I was to them all the time.” You can understand why he doesn’t understand. There’s not many people you can think of who have near enough zero pictures of those years. For many teenagers today, the very idea of not having a million pictures might be unthinkable.

“Have you ever been overweight?” You ask quietly, the question seemingly random as you lean into him until he has to wrap his arm around you to make it comfortable. For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Being with him for well over a year now means that you’ve come to understand him, the knowledge that he’s not ignoring you but considering your question carefully.

“No. Can’t say I have.” He finally answers, running his fingers along your arm slowly.

Twisting your lips, you sigh heavily and let your head fall back against his shoulders as you let your mind wander back to when you were younger. Back to where your insecurities began, all those years ago. Swallowing hard, you decide to go ahead with it. You’d alluded to it enough and now felt like the right time to finally talk about your formative years.

But your breath stutters, throat closing tighter as you realise it’s hard to go back to then. To when you were so easily hurt and affected by everything. Even in the safety of Hoseok’s embrace, you felt the tremor of fear and anxiety as your memories came back tainted.

“I have. I mean, when I was a little kid, I was like a stick. I could eat whatever I wanted and I used to spend so much time running around having fun. We don’t have too many pictures from back then; my parents couldn’t really afford a camera. Occasionally they’d get a disposable one but that’s about it. But...when I hit puberty around twelve or thirteen...I just kind of, ballooned? I don’t think I even realised it at the time, but it’s like my metabolism just plummeted or something. And before I knew it...I was the fat kid in class.” The heat in your eyes tells you that you’re on the verge of crying and you take a moment to breathe, blinking hard before looking up at the ceiling.

Hoseok remains quiet, letting you tell him without interrupting or anything.

“I mean...no one outright bullied me or anything, you know? It wasn’t like in the movies where you’re getting beaten up or shoved into lockers. It was more...the comments, the looks and just the general knowledge that you’re not attractive. Teenagers are really good at making those sly comments that are so hurtful, especially when you’re so young and still finding yourself. It’d be like...we’d be watching something and a pig would turn up on the screen and somebody would snicker and say it was me. Or someone else would joke about dating me and...I could just tell that it was an insult. And that their reasoning was my weight.” The arm around you tightens suddenly, as if hearing the casual cruelty you’d endured had ignited Hoseok’s protective instincts.

Memories flit by in your mind as you recall incidents; someone in your class finding out your crush and spreading that you liked them. Their disbelieving snort as they looked you up and down, their eyes falling heavily on your stomach before saying it would never happen. Without even realising it, you’re cradling your stomach now. Still not flat like you’d always fantasised, but not like it used to be.

You didn’t hate it now at least. Never loved, but not hated anymore.

“That...that sticks with you. Something I’m not too sure people realise is that, like, when you’re overweight...you’re constantly aware of it. It’s not just your body, it’s your life. It is you. There’s this weird mentality that people think overweight folk don’t know it, that you’re oblivious. You’re never oblivious. You’re not allowed to be oblivious. People make sure you’re aware, you know? The people telling you it’s unhealthy or it’s ugly and stuff. If you’re overweight, you’re well aware of these issues. But trying to resolve them is just as hard. You go to the gym and you’re aware of all the fat rolls, the way you jiggle and roll. How you’re out of breath doing the simplest thing while super fit people are probably watching you in disgust, even though you’re there to get fit,”

“If you eat, then you feel uncomfortably aware that you’re not just eating. That you’re fat and eating. So you become self-conscious over food. If it’s something healthy like a salad then you just think everyone is laughing at you. ‘What’s she bothering with that for?’. If it’s unhealthy then it’s more like, ‘of course she’s eating that, the lard ass’. You’re hyper aware of every aspect of your life and that’s the worst thing. Just...being so aware. You’re convinced that everyone is judging you, staring at you or talking about you. I felt so many times when I was like, fifteen or sixteen that I just...took up more space than I should.” Wiping at your eyes, you sniff before looking at Hoseok and giving him a watery smile.

The concern on his face for you makes your heart swell, the knowledge that he’s listening to you openly. That he cares. Even if you’re exposing a part of you that you’ve never let anyone see. Not even Chungha or Soyeon. It had felt far too personal, something that they couldn’t understand.

“It’s like...everyone has a certain amount of space they’re allowed to have, but when you’re fat, you realise that you take up more. And you become so aware that other people don’t like that. That they’re disgusted by the idea, and you become afraid of things like...sitting on a seat in a bus because you’re terrified of spreading past your ‘space’. Or sliding through a small gap and the panic that you’re just being...too much. I’d always try and run to the school bus when class finished so that I could find a seat first. And I’d always let the other person sit next to the window so that I could hang as close to the edge as possible and get off quickly. Then I’d panic that I’d look disgusting to others, half-hanging off the seat. I just...it affects you. Mentally. You just do things differently because you’re always aware of your body. In negative ways,”

“I’d never go swimming with anyone else. Mandatory swim classes left me panicked because it meant people would see me. See all the lumps and the bumps, everything I hated. I’d never look at myself naked in the mirror, or even in my underwear because I hated it. I was disgusted. I used to fantasise about just...slicing off bits of me to make myself nice and thin. I don’t even know if that’s normal.” Your voice breaks slightly, going slightly hoarse as you recall the pure hatred and revulsion you’d felt for yourself back then. The way your body felt like a cage you were trapped in.

Sitting up straight again, you take a deep breath to fortify yourself before smiling at him gently. Taking his hand, you squeeze it for reassurance and feel comforted when he squeezes back.

“I hated myself. Didn’t ever think I was going to be anything amazing. Or that I’d ever fall in love. How could anyone fall in love with me when I hated myself, right? When I was seventeen, I finally took the plunge and joined this free gym. Started eating healthier. It was really hard. I hated it so much. Vomited everywhere from the exercise, cried a lot. I wanted to lose weight healthily though, not too fast otherwise I’d end up thin but with skin flaps. So it was gradual. I wasn’t hugely overweight thankfully, but I only felt finally happy when I was nineteen.” Now you laugh at yourself, rolling your eyes and poking at your stomach in amusement before kissing Hoseok’s cheek playfully.

He doesn’t laugh back, causing you to kiss him gently. A silent way of letting him know that you’re okay, that it’s okay for him to laugh and smile too. When you pull away, he hesitates for a moment before giving you a slightly awkward smile. It’s enough for you.

“That’s why I didn’t have any experience until college. I was nineteen when I met Chungha and Soyeon in class. They were like...these ridiculously beautiful girls who were so confident and full of life, you know? Partygoers and everything. And I wasn’t. But somehow, we found things in common and it’s like...they knew I needed encouragement. So, it was slow but...I did stuff. I went to the parties...hated them just as much as I thought I would. Finally kissed a guy; wasn't as good as I thought it’d be. Lost my virginity to a random guy at a party in some house when I was twenty. Also wasn’t that good. The extent of my dating life was a few guys who didn’t last long. Both in terms of relationship and sex.” You grin at Hoseok, wiggling your brows and causing him to chuckle in amusement.

His chest gets a little bigger as he pushes it up, a smug look on his face. “All those memories obviously pale in comparison to my amazing kissing and sex skills.”

Snorting, you push at him playfully before reaching up and pulling him down, hand resting on the short undercut hair on his neck as you bring him into a kiss. Hoseok obviously wants to prove his skills, kissing you a little more intense than you’d expected but you just laugh into it before pulling away and smiling at him happily.

“Well...I’m not going to say you’re wrong. It did kind of depress me a little that it seemed guys were only interested when I was a bit thinner but, I also felt a weird sense of pride. That I’d finally done it. Gotten what I thought I’d wanted. Until I realised I hated that whole scene and wanted nothing to do with it. So...I just kept myself as in shape as I could over the years and tried to come to terms with myself. As you know...I’m not quite there. But I’m better than I was, I promise. I just feel a little bad that I was convinced being thin would change things. It changes some stuff but...not everything.”

You can tell that Hoseok isn’t entirely sure what to say. It isn’t surprising really, you wouldn’t have any idea how to respond to someone telling you all these sad things they’d experienced either. But then again, you were just generally useless when it came to anyone else’s emotions and feelings.

When he does finally speak again, his question surprises you completely as it seems to have nothing to do with what you’d just been telling him.

“Did you drink alcohol back then? I know you don’t drink it now because you don’t like the taste but if you went to parties…” He trails off, his face twisted in question as he considers what you’ve said. It was true that you didn’t like the taste, hence why you never drank it. You also just preferred to drink something like water as it was much healthier for you.

“I did. Too much. When I started going to them, I threw myself into the alcohol as it helped me to overcome my shyness. A drunk me is apparently very outgoing. I also have very little inhibitions when I’m drunk. Pretty sure the only reason I first kissed a guy was because I was completely fucked. And I’d drank a lot when I lost my virginity; there was no other way I was going to get naked in front of a guy.” You don’t notice the instant concern on Hoseok’s face when you say that, your gaze far away as you stare unseeingly at the TV screen.

You’re too busy remembering those wild years in college. Or what you can remember anyway. Another reason you hated alcohol was the way you didn’t feel in control of yourself and your emotions while inebriated along with the way you often end up forgetting parts of a night. Why anyone could possibly enjoy that all the time was beyond you.

“You...I hate to have to ask this but...you did...consent to it. Right? It wasn’t like...forced on you?” Hoseok sounds intensely uncomfortable as he asks the questions, causing you to frown as you look back at him. “I just...if you were really as drunk as you say you were, then I mean, well, I just...I wouldn’t have been comfortable sleeping with a girl who would only sleep with me if she was completely inebriated.”

He shifts in position on the couch, bringing a knee up so only one foot remains on the floor while taking your hands. The look on his face is completely earnest and filled with worry. For you. And you finally click as to what he’s talking about. Hoseok is concerned that you may have been raped for your first time.

Smiling at him gently, you squeeze his hands and shake your head. “No, no baby. Please don’t think that, I swear. It was consensual. I wasn’t that drunk. Just...enough to let me get over my worries. I needed the alcohol for the confidence and the lights off. I remember it all though. He wasn’t good but he wasn’t mean or anything either.”

His worry seems to decrease a little, shoulders lowering as he lets out a deep breath and you marvel for a moment that you’ve found someone who gets worried about things like that. Things that you hadn’t even bothered to properly consider. If you hadn’t been completely sure in the knowledge of your first time then you’d be concerned as well.

Leaning forward, you kiss his cheek affectionately before grinning at him and cupping his chin. “Thank you for being concerned about me though. I promise, I’ve never been forced into anything like that. I may not have enjoyed a lot of sex but I did it openly in the hopes of it getting better.”

Hoseok’s cheeks flush ever so slightly and you laugh sweetly, kissing his lips quickly before shifting back. Leaning against the couch sideways, you let your head flop onto the back and smile at him.

“So, yeah. That’s why I have no pictures of me from being a teenager. If you thought I don’t like being photographed now, then you’d be shocked to see me back then.” There’s a moment where Hoseok is stiff, unsure of what to do before he smiles back and shifts into a similar position, his head closer than you might have anticipated.

But you get the sense that he’s a little uncertain of how to proceed now.

So you make the move for him, gently pushing at him until he’s laying on the couch. The L-shape means he’s at the point the two halves connect, one half completely free except for Kasumi stretched out. But you want the safety and security of his body. Not only for yourself, but also to comfort him. Even if he hasn’t said it, you can tell he’s a little unsettled by your negative feelings towards yourself.

Hoseok let’s you move him with ease, smiling happily when you get yourself settled and comfortable. His natural scent is strongest at the base of his neck, and you inhale it happily while your arm rests over his waist. Even if you’d talked about your deep and painful teenage years as willingly as you could to him, it was still traumatic to remember. And you needed your own comfort to assure yourself that those years were over.

“Well, I don’t think you’d have wanted to meet teenage Hoseok. So it's probably a good idea we never knew each other.” Humming, you recall all the times Hoseok has told you about his own teenage years. Unlike you, he was much more open about them. Mainly because he acknowledged how bad he’d been.

“I doubt it would have mattered anyway. From what I’ve learnt from you, teenage Hoseok wouldn’t have given me one look. Nevermind two looks.” There’s a brief pause and you feel Hoseok’s chest rise as he goes to respond. He stops though and you chuckle, running your fingers along the soft material of his shirt over his stomach.

“...you might have got one look. I mean, I’ll be honest. I wasn’t exactly picky but that’s not a good thing. Just means I was an out of control teenager. Besides, it sounds like you were very shy and quiet. I was...not. Loud, brash, abrasive. Often drunk and high. God, I was terrible. I don’t know how my parents put up with me, honestly. I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet me. I’d have just hurt you even more.” Humming, you wiggle against him slightly and kiss his neck gently.

“I’m glad we met when we did. I think we’d both had enough time to grow and accept ourselves. There’s no way I would have reached out to you if I was still like my teenage self. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have said yes if you’d been like you were.”

“True. Three cheers for maturity! But on a more serious note; I’m glad you’ve told me. I figured there was something along those lines after all these months but...I understand more now. I hope I haven’t made you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.” Closing your eyes, you nuzzled closer to him while shaking your head.

“You haven’t. At least, not through anything you’ve done. It’s mostly been in my head. If anything...you’ve helped me to grow and become more...loving of myself. Just you accepting me has helped so much for my mind to understand that...well, I’m not ugly or anything. That you’re not judging me. And that you actually find me attractive. It’s a slow process.” You feel the press of Hoseok’s soft lips against your forehead, their warmth resting there for a few moments while the arm wrapped around you gently runs along your arm.

The very fact that you can talk with him like this is pure proof of the growth you’ve experienced over almost a year and a half with Hoseok. Just his welcome acceptance and love of you has created a safe space for you to explore yourself and grow comfortable in your own skin and mind. It was nice.

“I’m glad. And if I ever do anything that’s wrong, then please tell me. The last thing I want is to be an asshole by accident. Or remind you of a bad time.” Laughing gently, you smile and nod before tightening your arms around his waist fondly.

“I mean...I’m still considering the whole lingerie thing. Especially those super revealing ones. I’d love to wear one but I just...don’t think I look sexy in them.” Pouting, you shift as Hoseok moves until he’s looking at you with wide eyes that quickly become stern. Poking your cheek gently, he tuts.

“I’m not gonna push you into that, but there’s literally no way you wouldn’t look sexy wearing black lace lingerie. Oh god. Just the thought of you in it makes me hard. But for now, I’m content with my mind for that.” The way he presses his hips against you lets you know that he’s being truthful, the mental image of you in the lingerie you’d bought on a whim the other month causing the erection that presses against you.

Grinning, you push at him until he’s laying back again and crawl on top of him, raising your brows. “I think you just get horny at the thought of sex full stop.”

“Well...duh. I’m a man. With a beautiful girlfriend. Whom I enjoy sex with.” Laughing loudly, you lean down and kiss his nose playfully. The whine he lets out when he tries to follow you for a proper kiss causes you to grin as you press at his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Glad to hear it.”

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whenisitenoughtrees · 5 years ago

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look me up and define me (please remind me) (part 1/2)

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

Janus has never minded the fact that his identity is fluid, ever-changing. He acts as whoever Thomas needs him to be in the moment, and if that means he doesn't know much about himself as an individual, well. It's never been a problem for him.

Until he gives away his name, and then it very much is.

Chapter Warnings: identity issues, non-graphic panic attack, references to self-harm

Chapter Word Count: 4,493

Pairings: platonic TDLAMPR, implied Moceit (though you don’t have to read into it)

Notes: This fic started as a oneshot but ended up being more than 10k, so I’m dividing it into two parts, the second of which will hopefully be posted Friday. Also, this fic as a whole was inspired by the awesome ‘The Record Player Song’ animatic by @turbovickii, which, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t seen it

Chapter one podfic by @titheinironside

(part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

Janus isn’t his name.

Or rather, it isn’t, and it is. He’s never had to think too hard about it before, has never had to struggle for the words to put it all into context. Janus is his name, yes, the name he chose for himself back when Thomas was young and they were all bright-eyed, foolish children, and his preferred moniker wasn’t Deceit but rather something entirely different.

Janus. Roman god of beginnings and of ends, of transitions, of doorways, of passages that lead on and on. God of time, and god of duality. He thought it a fitting descriptor for himself; he is sweet lies, lies that soothe and lies that heal, and he is bitter truths, truths that no one wants to hear, that he must keep to himself lest they do more harm than any lie could. If that is not duality, he doesn’t know what is.

But he is, at his core, whatever Thomas needs him to be. He is fluid in a way that the others are not, able to shift and change depending on the day, depending on what Thomas requires of him at any given moment. He is Thomas’ ability to lie, but only when it benefits him; when a truth would do the most good, he suggests that, instead. He wants Thomas to succeed, to do whatever it takes to better himself, to pursue his ambitions, but only until he pushes himself too far, works himself into exhaustion or questions himself too much. Then, he is the voice that tells him to relax, to take time for himself, to put his health above his goals.

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He plays the part of the others, too, whenever it is necessary. They are used to it by now, so used to it that by the time he reveals himself to Thomas, they react with anger rather than surprise or alarm. But what they do not know is that for every time they catch him out, there are five more times he goes undetected, slipping in amongst them, a snake in the grass. He mediates arguments as Morality when the real Patton is nowhere to be found, uses Logic to pull them down to earth when Logan is too buried in his books and theories to realize there’s an emotional problem, uses Creativity’s bravado to advocate for Thomas’ dreams when Roman is busy dreaming himself.

He keeps the mindscape running smoothly. And when he is not one of them, when he wears his default skin, scales and all, he is known to them as Deceit. Nothing more, nothing less. A convenient villain, uniting them all in their distaste. It makes him sick, sometimes, their naivety, the knowledge that without him here, they would run Thomas into the ground all while professing their love for him. But he swallows it down, hides it within himself with all the other truths he hoards, and he carries on another day.

He is Janus when he is alone.

But even that is not true, not really. He is Janus in the snatched moments he has for himself, when there is no pressing crisis, nothing for Thomas to be doing or saying or making, when he can sit alone in his room with the jukebox crooning soft melodies. He is Janus, but only sometimes, because even alone, he draws on the traits of the others. Logan, when he needs a clearer perspective; Roman, when he needs an ego boost; Virgil, to indulge in his worries; Remus, to indulge in darker thoughts; Patton, when he is feeling weak and lonely and wanting, when he wraps his arms around himself and wants to pretend that he does not stand in solitude.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

The Roman god Janus has two faces, one to look to the past and the other to the future. None to look to the present, and that is how he feels, most days, like there is none of him-as-Janus present at all, like every face that he wears is a false one, and his namesake has only two but he has far more than that.

He’s not sure he even knows who Janus is, besides the name, what he likes and what he dislikes, how he feels and how he acts when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. He likes chess and philosophy, but he only ever plays as Logan, only uses that knowledge when he’s wearing the necktie and glasses, because otherwise he can’t get anyone else to listen. He dislikes surprises and stupidity and the ever-present knowledge that nothing in Thomas’ life is guaranteed, due to a society that actively works against most of its members, but are those his concerns or Virgil’s? He only indulges in stronger emotions when he takes Patton’s form, so who’s to say that the feelings are Janus’ at all?

And he almost never gets to act when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. That pressure is always there, has always been there. Without it, who would he be?

In the end, Janus is just a name. Whether it’s his or not is difficult to say. And that has never been a problem for him; he exists to benefit Thomas, after all. He doesn’t feel the need for a solid identity beyond that, not like the others do. He only picks a name in the first place because everyone else does, because Creativity-that-is-Remus needs someone he can look up to, because Anxiety-that-becomes-Virgil needs to know that not everyone is out to get him. It’s a display of trust, in a way, but trust only leads to disaster, to angry two-toned words and pounding footsteps and a blank space in the wall where his best friend once lived, so really, what is the point?

Janus is his name. But he’s not particularly attached to it, and he’s content to leave it there.

But then, there is the callback, and the wedding. But then, he fights for Thomas’ desires harder than he has ever fought before, and when that turns sour, he returns to fight for Thomas’ failing mental health. He does so as Logan, and as Deceit when Logan’s form no longer suits the goal, and he’s not expecting them to listen but he still tries.

But then, everything changes.

But then, Thomas says, I don’t know that we are, and he believes for a moment that he is imagining all of this, that he has slipped into Roman’s face and has allowed a daydream to get just a bit out of hand, because to hear those words out of Thomas’ mouth is something he has fantasized about for so long.

But then, he has a chance at acceptance, a chance to change it all so that he no longer has to struggle to make his voice heard, a chance that all depends on using the right words at this exact moment, and in the split second before he begins to tug his glove from his hand, he panics. Because he is Deceit right now, and the amount of sincerity that he has allowed to spill from his lips has already been taxing. What else can he possibly say to earn their consideration, to earn a place among them?

And then he remembers the importance they place on names. From there, the decision is practically made for him.

He says the words as if on autopilot, an odd mixture of nervous and numb, and he has to check to make sure he has not accidentally shifted into Virgil’s hoodie rather than Deceit’s capelet as his fear thrums though him. Roman laughs, and he lashes out in return, though more due to offense at the idea that the name is stupid rather than because of a personal connection to it.

When Patton says it back to him, he can’t stop himself from flinching, just a bit, can’t stop the widening of his eyes, the stilling of every muscle. He should be glad, he thinks, because this shows that Patton, at least, is willing to give him a chance, is willing to let him in just a little. But all he can feel is a pervasive sense of wrongness, because he isn’t supposed to be Janus here. Here, he is Deceit, is acting as Deceit. Janus is for isolated, personal moments, and for the life of him, he cannot change that, cannot draw out what little he knows of Janus while there are others here, while Thomas is here.

It’s all wrong. And it only gets worse.

Patton wants to spend time with him, after that. Mostly, he’s glad to accept, is glad of the opportunity to endear himself, to cultivate a relationship that once would have been impossible. Patton invites him to bake, to watch movies, to play games, even to debate morality with him, and he does, and he finds himself enjoying both the activities and the company. But every so often, he catches himself, happiness curdling and souring, because these are all things he enjoys when he is Patton, when he is filling in the cracks that form in Morality’s absence. He has never done any of this as Janus, and every time Patton calls him by the name, he feels dirty, feels like the worst kind of imposter, because in these moments, he doesn’t feel as though he is acting as Janus so much as acting like a reflection of Patton himself, and if Patton knew that, knew that the person he thought he was befriending barely exists at all, he would be devastated.

For some reason, he thinks he would do just about anything to avoid that. For the sake of Thomas’ mental health, surely, and not because he cares about Patton as an individual. To do that would be to open a door that he wouldn’t know how to close. Better to leave it shut and locked, and to ignore the fact that the knob is already turning.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Patton asks him. “You seem a little distracted.”

He manages a smile, and he knows it comes off well, because that is what he is practiced in. “Perfectly fine,” he says. “Sorry about that.” He sniffs the air. “This batch definitely won’t burn if you leave it in any longer.”

And Patton gasps and bustles around, pulling the cookies from the oven, the redirection working perfectly.

Leave it shut and locked? Please. The door is open, he thinks. Perhaps it would be a disservice to both of them to pretend otherwise. Because he finds himself almost unbearably fond of Patton, these days, and guilty for feeling so. As soon as he has a moment alone, he has to shift into Patton’s form to get his emotions under control, to abate the itching tightness of his skin. Deceit isn’t made for these pleasant interactions, and Janus is about as tangible as mist, but he can hardly be Patton in front of Patton, so he wears a mask of scales and speaks past the acid burning in his throat.

The smart thing to do would be to stop. To retreat, to cut off these developing ties before they can do him any more harm. But for all the cognitive dissonance this is causing him, he doesn’t want to lose Patton’s friendship, his smiles and warmth. He’s not sure how he used to live without it.

The door is open so wide that it might as well be hanging off its hinges.

He can grin and bear it when it’s just Patton. For a while, it seems as though it will remain that way. Roman, at least, doesn’t want to see him, and when Virgil isn’t avoiding him, their interactions are far from cordial. And when he is tired, he can sink back into the dark side of the mindscape where Remus awaits him, and Remus, at least, has never expected him to be anything that he is not. He never calls him by his name, either, instead blurting out whatever obscene nickname pops into his head in the moment.

He has never been so glad of that.

But then, Logan invites him to play a game of chess, and for a full three minutes, he is overjoyed, because he loves to play chess, and Logan is the only one who could possibly give him a challenge, and the fact that Logan voluntarily wants to spend time with him is nothing short of amazing. The euphoria lasts until the board is set and they are facing each other, and he catches himself just before shapeshifting into Logan’s form. And he remembers: he has only ever played chess as Logan, learned to play in the first place so as to better imitate Logan. He has played against everyone in the mindscape but Logan at one point or another, providing a distraction and logical advice when Logan himself was unavailable, and none of them were any the wiser as to just who commanded the opposing set of pieces.

Except Remus, but he just thought it was funny.

It is all he can do to focus on the game. All he can do to put up a decent showing, though he loses. All he can do to prevent himself from mirroring Logan’s mannerisms by mistake, out of habit.

He doesn’t know how to do this as Janus. His face is frozen, but his hands are fidgeting, seeking release. Normally, he would copy Logan’s calm, his professionalism, but he can’t do that when Logan is sitting right across from him, sure to notice anything odd or out of place.

“It was a good game, Janus,” Logan says when they are done, and he wants to scream, because Janus doesn’t belong here either, doesn’t belong sitting by a chessboard. That has always been Logan’s place, and it disturbs him somewhere deep inside to be playing Logan’s game, wearing Deceit’s face, being called Janus. So much so that once the game is completed, he retreats to his room and stays there for a week, refusing to answer the door.

It should help. He is not Janus often, but when he is, it is here, in the sanctuary of his own room, his own bed.

It doesn’t help. If anything, it unsettles him even more, because the lines that hold his identities apart have been blurred so far that he spends the entire week uncomfortable in his skin, unsure of who he’s trying to be at any given moment. He shifts into the others, stares at their reflections in the mirror, but that doesn’t make things any better.

He needs help. He has to admit that, at this point. And there’s only one other he can think of to go to, only one other who might have experienced anything close to this tailspin.

He knocks on Virgil’s door.

Virgil opens it promptly enough, though his expression morphs from neutral to pissed off immediately upon seeing him. “Fuck off,” he snaps, and slams the door shut in his face.

He knocks again. And when he gets no reply, he keeps knocking, knocking and knocking and knocking.

“Don’t worry, I definitely couldn’t do this all day,” he calls airily, and Virgil jerks the door open again, face now firmly set in incandescent rage.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, all nerves and anger, all fight and no flight at all.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

Virgil stares at him, wordless, eyes narrow. And then, he holds the door open, allowing him to step inside.

“Make it quick,” he bites out, closing the door behind him. “What the hell do you think you and I have to discuss?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, because really? They have everything to discuss, and the longer they put it off, the more difficult it will be to start. Their relationship as it stands now is untenable; left to rot much longer, and it will begin to actively harm Thomas, which is something he absolutely cannot allow.

But that is not what he is here for.

“For both of our sakes, I won’t answer that,” he says. “I just have a question for you.”

Virgil glares. In his hoodie sleeves, his hands are balled into shaking fists. It hurts in an odd sort of way, to see how much he hates him. “Then ask it and leave,” he says, his voice threaded with trepidation. He already knows that he won’t like what he hears.

Well. That makes two of them. He knows he isn’t going to like asking this question.

“After you first told the others your name,” he says, “how long did it take for you to like hearing it?”

He has the dubious pleasure of seeing shock, pure and unfiltered, pass across Virgil’s face.

“How long--” Virgil starts. “What are you even--? I don’t know, I've never thought about it. I… I never disliked hearing it. I mean, I told them in the first place because I trusted them.” A barb, though not an undeserved one. “It was weird, but I wouldn't have told them if I didn’t want them to know it. Why are you asking me that?”

It’s exactly the answer he didn’t want. He knew that Virgil wouldn’t understand what he is going through, that Virgil, at his core, is exactly what and who he appears to be, unlike him. But he hoped that there would have been an adjustment period, at least, that there was a time when Virgil, so used to being called by his function, deemed the monster under the bed, would have found it disturbing or at least unnerving to be named so casually.

“Absolutely no reason at all,” he says, and turns back to the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil catches him by the arm, and he freezes. “You’re not leaving.”

He breathes out slowly, tries not to show his growing fear. The effects of Virgil’s room are beginning to take root, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that’s not the only reason for the erratic pounding of his pulse.

“Oh?” he says, and fights to keep the tremor from his voice. “I thought you wanted me to ask and leave? Do continue with the indecision, it never ceases to delight me.”

“No,” Virgil says, voice hard. “You don’t get to do that. Not until you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

He should never have come here. He draws on Deceit like a cloak, like armor to protect him, armor woven of sarcasm and misdirection and misplaced confidence. Be what he expects, and he will never see anything different; that is a lesson he learned years ago. But the persona is shaky, muted by his confusion and by the bleed-through of every other guise he’s ever adopted. To give ground in front of Virgil is like diving into shark-infested waters with an open wound, but the smoothness he seeks to emulate slips through his grasp.

“It’s a question I need answered,” he says. “No more than that.”

“Bullshit.” Virgil tugs on his arm, and despite himself, he turns his head to face him. There is something odd flickering behind the irritation in Virgil’s eyes, something strange in the tilt of his head that he cannot place. It puts him ill at ease; to be unable to read Virgil is inviting danger, especially in Virgil’s own territory. “If you don’t like them saying your name, then why did you tell them?”

Caught.

He can feel all the blood draining from his face. His vision tunnels, focusing on Virgil’s face, on the expression that is anger and something that cannot possibly be concern, because they burned their bridges far too thoroughly for that. His head throbs, his breathing hitching, and he knows that he needs to leave, now, before he spirals further, because showing weakness in front of another is reprehensible but far, far worse if that someone is Virgil--

“Janus!” Virgil says, alarm threading through his voice, and that is absolutely the last straw. He rips his arm from Virgil’s grasp and sinks directly out, falling through the mindscape until he is in his own room, gasping for breath. His pulse races, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and when he turns to look in the mirror, he finds that he has wrapped himself in Virgil’s form as his fears threaten to overwhelm him, hoodie and eyeshadow and all.

He curls up on the floor and tries to remember how to breathe.

It takes a long time for him to calm himself, and when he manages to look up again, it is Patton staring back at him. He likes being Patton, likes it more than being any of the others, because Patton is warm and soft and for all his flaws, fundamentally good in a way that used to repulse him but no longer does. Being Patton feels like the closest thing to a hug that he will ever get.

He forces himself to shift again, forces himself into Deceit before stumbling from his room and into the commons. Remus is laying on the couch, half-naked, watching some gory anime and eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He pauses for a moment, watching him, taking comfort in the familiarity; everything changes, but Remus, at least, is a constant, like the north star if the north star showed its love by threatening violence at random intervals. For the briefest of seconds, he shifts into Remus and then back to Deceit again, and for once, feels steady.

Remus takes notice of him eventually, sitting up and baring his teeth in a grin.

“How’d it go with Virgey?” he asks.

He decides not to question how he knew where he was.

“Right, because I want to talk about it,” he grumbles. “Can’t you tell?” He strides over to the couch, keeping as much dignity intact as possible as he shoves at Remus’ legs until he moves them, providing room for him to sit. “What are we watching?”

“Parasyte,” Remus offers, but there is an odd tone in his voice. When he looks, he sees that Remus is watching him now, rather than the screen, and something in the strangely level gaze is discomfiting.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Remus says, raising his hands. “Just, are you good? I mean, we can switch it to something you wanna watch, if you want. Like, uh, that one show where everyone’s dead? You like that one, right?”

“The Good Place,” he mutters. “No, that’s alright. You’d be bored to tears.”

Remus frowns, but doesn’t respond. It takes another full episode-- he thinks; they must be in the middle of the plot, because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on-- for him to speak again, which is strange in and of itself. A quiet Remus never bodes well, because a quiet Remus means that either he is hurting, or he is seriously contemplating hurting someone else. No jokes, no disgusting gags, just a desire to inflict pain for pain’s sake. It doesn’t happen often, but it is never pleasant when it does. All too often, it is Remus himself who becomes the victim of these tendencies, Remus who tears into his own flesh rather than harming another.

But then, the silence is broken, and he almost wishes that it weren’t.

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right, Dee?” Remus asks, and he swallows, hard.

“Of course,” he lies, and of course it is a lie, a lie hissed out between his teeth, because there is nothing that Remus can do about this, so what would be the point in telling him about it? Remus cares, even if he shows it in odd ways, and it would only hurt him to be presented with a problem that he can do nothing to solve.

“Good,” Remus says, settling back in. “‘Cause you know, if anybody was hurting you, I’d smash their skull in. Like a watermelon. Bits going everywhere. Hey, have you ever seen those videos of people crushing watermelons with their thighs? Do you think I could get someone to do that to my skull?” He shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, speaking around it. “I bet it’d be real juicy.”

“I bet,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have the energy to respond further.

What is he supposed to say? He has no doubt that he could set Remus on any of the others easily; all it would take is a sentence, a white lie, and perhaps not even that. Oh, so-and-so was a dick to me, Remus, don’t you think they would like to be introduced to your mace? Remus would jump at the chance for a bit of sanctioned mayhem.

But no one is hurting him but himself. He wonders what Remus would do if he told him that. Could he get Remus to bash his head in, to hit him until whatever is broken in his brain comes loose? Or until he can’t feel anything at all anymore, and wouldn’t that just solve every one of his problems? No more confusion, no more angst, no more churning in his stomach whenever someone calls him by a name or a label that feels no more like his than any other.

The idea is more attractive than it should be.

He excuses himself not too much later, and Remus’ eyes bore into his back as he returns to his room, telling himself that it’s a strategic retreat, that he’s not running away.

He knows it for the lie it is, little though he wants to admit it to himself. And as he stands there in the center of his room, trying to decide whether it is worth it to continue with the day or if he should go to bed now, avoid the world for a little longer, his reflection in the mirror catches his eye, and he turns to stare at it. A face stares back, and he supposes that the face must be his, but he doesn’t feel like it. It looks as though it is mocking him, taunting him with his unreality.

He shudders and turns away, but the name rings in his head. Janus Janus Janus. A person he should know but that he can no longer find, even here. Once his room was a safe haven, but now it feels like a prison, trapping him between identities that he no longer knows how to escape.

He has his back to the mirror, but the reflection is still there, he knows, and a shiver creeps down his spine, filling him with something like anger and something like fear.

He turns off the lights.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones

#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic tdlampr #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #remus sanders #ts remus #long post #my fic #this is essentially 'janus has an identity crisis: the fic'#and boy oh boy is it a doozy

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years ago

Text

I Know What You’re Going To Say - Chapter 4

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: A Beauty and the Beast style Vampire AU. Vampire!Virgil has picked up Logan off the street and is holding him captive under the threat of killing his friends if he tries to escape.

Word Count: 6041

Chapter Warnings: Unsympathetic!Virgil, Angst, Captivity, Threats, Mentions of Police, Implications of abuse, Threats of violence, Anxiety, Hypervigilance, Crying, Doctors/Medical Examination with questionable consent, Food, Mentions of prescription drug abuse, Malnourishment, Unhealthy relationship with food, Yelling, Anger, Ethical Dilemmas, Swearing, Mentions of Drugging/Mind altering effects, Mentions of blood/drawing blood (Let me know if I missed anything!)

---

Virgil snarled as he turned the corner of the empty hallway. Two paper bags hung from his hand as he turned on his heel, cutting the corner short as he stalked his path through the warehouse. His anxiety ached in his chest as the door in front of him flew open against the wall.

He didn’t miss the way the man across the room flinched at the sound of the door slamming into the wall. Though to his credit, he didn't try to scurry out of Virgil’s way as he approached. He simply remained stock still, submissively staring at the ground as Virgil leered down at him.

“Look at me.”

The guy's shoulders tensed, but he tipped his head up to meet Virgil’s gaze without hesitation. Virgil didn’t miss the glimmer of anger that flickered in the man's dark eyes as he lifted his head, but any inclination of rebellion immediately went up in smoke as Virgil bared his teeth down at him.

“I'm going to make this quick.” Virgil hissed as he slid forward, hands curling around the man's collar as he growled down at him. “but whether or not this painful is entirely up to you. Got it?”

Logan flinched at the sound of his growl, nodding a stiff affirmation as Virgil released his collar.

“Why aren’t the police out looking for you?” Virgil’s voice cut through the silence as the man's eyes shot up to him.

Logan’s face suddenly drained of color as he stared up in Virgil in shock. His mouth dropped open as he stuttered out a response. “W-what?”

“Don't play dumb.” Virgil snarled, looming as Logan trembled. “Janus heard your pretty friend say you'd planned for this to happen.”

“I didn't—”

“These answers already aren't working for me.” Virgil curled his shoulders forward as he circled around Logan’s back. The scent of adrenaline filled the air as he disappeared from the man's periphery and Virgil grinned, feeling his canines extend as the man sputtered out a response.

“It's not what you think—”

“Then, explain,” Virgil hissed. His voice dripped with a dispassionate venom as he leaned into Logan’s ear, sending shivers down the man’s spine. “and do it before I lose my patience with you.”

“I didn’t know Roman would actually follow through on what I asked him to do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at the tremor in the man's voice. “And what was the pretty boy supposed to do?”

“I was upset—” Logan’s breath hitched in his throat. “—I needed to know Patton would be safe, if something happened to me.”

“Keep going.” Virgil leaned into Logan’s ear from behind him. He rested a hand on Logan’s shoulder, sneering as Logan winced at the contact.

“Please—”

Virgil tightened his grip on Logan’s shoulder, feeling the man curl his shoulders in discomfort as Virgil breath lingered in his ear.

“Okay—” Logan forced out an affirmation as he struggled to contain the panicked breaths rising in his throat. “—Okay. I've been trying to get custody of my brother for almost two years.” He mumbled, relaxing slightly as Virgil dropped his hand from his neck and stepped back, lingering behind him. “I wasn't handling being kept away from him well and Roman helped me.”

“How?”

“He—” Logan sucked in breath, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder. “I wasn't allowed to see my brother, and on the nights when I was weaker, Roman had to talk me through whatever spiral I’d fallen into. Sometimes that meant talking through what would happen to Patton if something happened to me.”

Virgil hummed, circling back around front of Logan. “You asked him to keep it a secret if you went missing to keep your brother safe?”

Logan swallowed nervously and nodded. “The police would alert my father, and if he managed to get Patton back, we wouldn’t have another chance until he turned eighteen.” Logan released a breath as his captor stood in front of him, leaning against one of the crates as he pondered the new information. “Still, it was an agreement Roman made under duress. Given the circumstances, I couldn’t be sure he'd follow through.”

Virgil huffed, crossing his arms as he eyed the man in front of him. “Is there anything else you’d like to share?”

“If Roman sticks to our plan, he'll call my job and resign for me if he doesn’t hear from me in three days.” Logan's eyes darkened as he bowed his head to Virgil. “This should only benefit you. No one’s coming for me and it's unlikely that you’ll be caught.”

Virgil chewed his lip as Logan sank back on his ankles. He hesitated, staring at the despondent look on Logan's face as the fluorescent light flickered above them. Silence hung between them for a moment before Virgil decided he was satisfied. He snagged one of the paper bags off the crate behind him and carefully dropped it in front of Logan.

“Eat,” Virgil mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he turned back to his crate. “I don't need Emile thinking I'm neglecting you.”

“E-Emile?”

Virgil hesitated at the tremor in the man's voice. He turned his head over his shoulder and his eyes traced down the man kneeling in front of him. The man trembled, dropping his head to his chest as he avoided Virgil’s gaze.

“Relax,” Virgil watched Logan carefully as his eyes flitted up to him. “He's a doctor.”

“A d-doctor?”

Virgil blinked as the man stuttered, watching a glistening streak run down the man's face. “Hey—”

“What are you going to do to me?” The man's voice cracked as the words poured from his lips and the light glistened on his face as tears suddenly streaked down his face.

“Nothing.” Virgil managed to squeeze out. He watched in shock as Logan pursed his lips, nodding stiffly as he edged back into the wall.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I—”

“Emile is only going to check your health. You’re going to be fi—” Virgil’s wide-eyed statement ended abruptly as a knock interrupted his thought.

“Virgil?”

“Come over here, Em.” Virgil sighed, reluctantly turning away from the man in front of him.

“Hey, Virge. I—” The man in the tan sweater vest stopped short of the full distance as he caught sight of Logan. “Oh.”

“Don't freak, Em.” Virgil held a hand out to him, gesturing subtly at Logan. “You’re not going help anyone by getting upset.”

Emile's body tensed as he glared at Virgil. His eyes flitted down to Logan curled against the wall before turning to Virgil with a disapproving glance as he adjusted his glasses. “He does not appear to be doing well, Virgil.”

“We hit a bump in our communication, Em. That's all.” Virgil reassured him, skin prickling on the back of his neck as he heard Logan look up behind him. He slowly turned his head back to the man trembling on his knees before him, locking his eyes on the man as he slowly knelt down to eye level. “I was just reassuring our guest that you are here to perform a simple physical exam. Nothing invasive today.”

“Nor any other day, Virgil.” Emile growled from behind him.

Virgil could almost feel the waves of anger rolling off him as Virgil reached up at the wet streaks on the man's face. Gently, he wiped away the tears from Logan's face. The man winced, but didn't pull away, allowing Virgil to wipe the wetness from his face. “Whatever you might think of me, I'm not a liar. Cooperate and no one will hurt you. I promise.”

“Virgil, may I have a word?” Emile’s carefully tempered voice sounded like it might shatter under the pressure of the emotions he was clearly holding back.

“Do your exam and then we can talk, Emile.” Virgil stated dryly as he stood and turned back to Emile.

“Fine. Then leave,” Emile growled bitterly after a moment of staring at him. He quickly stepped past Virgil toward Logan, glaring over his shoulder at Virgil as he took a step toward the exit. “and expect to get an earful when I come out for you.”

“Thank you, Em.” Virgil whispered gratefully as he took a step towards the door, bowing his head. “I’ll be just outside the—”

“Wait.” Logan’s weak protest pulled Virgil's attention from Emile as he looked up to see the human staring intently at him. “We made a deal. You said if I did what you wanted, you'd tell me about Patton.”

Virgil stalled, lost at the sight of pleading in Logan’s eyes. He bit his lip as Emile turned back to him with a serious expression, but he ignored his friend. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on the man staring up at him. “Allow Emile to complete his exam without issue and I will give you news of your brother.”

Logan whimpered as Virgil turned on his heel toward the door, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went.

“Don't go far, Virgil.” Emile’s deadpan voice stopped him in his tracks. “I still want a word after this.”

Virgil glanced over his shoulder at the barely concealed tension in Emile’s eyes. “I'll be outside when you’re done, Em. Just come find me.”

---

Emile stared after Virgil in disbelief as he staggered out of room before quietly turning to the man cowering beneath him. He frowned, feeling an ache in his chest as the man dipped his head submissively away from him.

Taking his time, Emile lowered himself to the ground, sitting a few feet away from the stranger. He could feel the man's eyes following his movement bit he pretended not to notice, pulling out his notebook from his bag. Careful not to make any sudden movements, he pulled out a pen and jotted down a few cursory notes.

“Okay. Let's start easy, kiddo. I'll make this—"

A sharp intake of breath stopped his words in his tracks. Emile glanced up, heart sinking as the man's chin immediately dropped to his chest. He watched as the man tucked his shaking hands out of sight, still avoiding Emile’s eyes.

“Is something bothering you?”

“I'm fine.”

Emile frowned. The guy’s response came a little too quickly for his comfort. “Are you sure?”

“I'll do whatever you ask. I swear.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Emile whispered gently, staring as the man's eyes filled with desperation.

“I'm sorry. I can do better—"

“Don’t be. You're doing just fine.” Emile waved him off gently. “I'm not going to hold anything you do against you. Though, I would prefer to know what is causing your discomfort, so I may avoid doing so in the future.”

Logan eyed him suspiciously not quite sure what to make of the man sitting in front of him. After a long minute, he dipped his head with a quiet whisper. “I just want to cooperate with you.”

“Telling me what's bothering you helps me do my job. I can assure that you are being cooperative by doing so.” Emile let out a sad sigh at the desperate look in the man's eyes. “Whatever Virgil promised you, you'll still get it if you tell me what's bothering you. I'll make sure of it.”

The man looked at him skeptically and Emile didn’t miss the quick flick of the man's eyes to the door Virgil had left through before he answered. “I'd prefer not to be referred to as kiddo, if it's not a hassle.”

“Not at all.” Emile smiled gently at the kid as some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. “Is there a name you’d prefer for me call you?”

“Logan.”

“It's nice to meet you, Logan.” Emile whispered gently. “I wish our meeting were under different circumstances, but—"

Emile faltered as Logan looked up at him for the first time. Behind the disheveled hair, he could see the distant look in the kid’s eyes and something about his expression gave Emile pause. After a long moment of staring, he realized that Logan seemed to be waiting on him for direction and he dipped his head to his notepad briefly before turning back up to the kid.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to know before we begin?”

Logan seemed to hesitate for a moment. His eyes seemed to tip up cautiously as if gauging the truthfulness of Emile’s statement before dropping his eyes to the ground. “M-my neck is tender. I'd prefer to minimize contact there, if possible.”

“Oh. Sure thing, kid—Logan.” Emile stuttered uncertainly as he sat up. Still keeping his distance, he leaned to get a better look. “I—uh, don’t see any puncture marks. Just some faint bruises. Did you hurt yourself?”

“Sort of.” Logan evaded, raising a hand to brush along his throat.

The quick, look Logan shot towards where Virgil left from was all the answer Emile needed to guess what had caused the kid's injury. A pit of anger boiled in his stomach at the indication, but he plastered a sweet smile on his face, taking a deep breath. He was beyond anger, but he’d be damned if he was going to contribute to this poor kid's misery.

“Would you like to eat while we continue?”

“What?” Logan’s eyes clouded with confusion as Emile gestured to the bag of food on the floor next to him.

“I assume that’s something Virgil brought you to eat.” Emile smiled reassuringly. “The first part of the process is just me asking you questions about your health history, so it's perfectly okay if you want to eat during that time.”

Logan hesitated. “I can wait.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t recommend it. Fast food tacos tend to become less appetizing with each minute that passes. You really should eat them before they get soggy.” Emile smiled apologetically as the kid still hesitated, torn with indecision. “It is, of course, your choice still, but that is my recommendation.”

“Okay.” Logan whispered as he hesitantly reached for the paper bag.

“Great,” Emile beamed as he slowly jumped to his feet, patting the crate beside him. “Why don’t you come sit up here and eat while I ask you some questions?”

“Sure.” Logan replied cautiously, rising to his feet as he moved to sit where Emile had indicated. He was still reserved as he moved, but Emile could see he seemed to be accepting that he wasn’t in any immediate danger.

Emile smiled, backing away a few feet as Logan sat down on the crate and pulled out an individually wrapped taco from his bag. Emile frowned at the pungent smell of grease, but Logan seemed undisturbed, quickly picking at the taco until it was gone.

“So, Logan.” Emile continued, eyeing the man curiously as his attention seemed distracted. “Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Good.” Emile watched the kid swallow his food before moving on. “How about drinking?”

“Never."

“You were never curious?” Emile whispered with curiosity as the man shrugged.

“Not particularly.” Logan stated dryly, not looking up at him. “I prefer not to inhibit my brain's functions.”

“Alright. That's good, Logan.” Emile blinked, relaxing slightly as the kid started to open up. “though I still have to ask if you've used recreational drugs?”

The kid froze at that question, staring at the taco in his hand. He seemed to deflate, dropping his food to his lap as he mumbled out a response. “Define recreational.”

“Illegal drugs or prescription medications that didn’t belong to you.” Emile watched the kid carefully as his nervousness started to show. “There’s no wrong answers. I can’t exactly turn you over to the police, Logan. These questions are purely for your safety.”

Logan looked up at him cautiously and swallowed, nodding subtly. “Then, yes. I have used drugs in the past.”

“What did you take?”

“Adderall.”

Emile frowned as the kid tensed, staring at the ground. “I take it you were not using it to regulate ADHD.”

“No, I got it from a friend.” Logan's hands trembled as he avoided Emile’s eyes. “I used it to help me study when I was in school and later to focus when I interned for my father at his firm."

“You must have been very stressed to have turned to drugs to keep up with your workload,” Emile prompted as Logan turned back to his food. He frowned as the kid nodded quietly. “but you stopped?”

“I've used it a few times since, but for the most part I stopped.” Logan crumpled the wrapper in his hand, tossing it into the paper bag.

Emile bit his lip at the monotone in Logan’s voice. He could feel the kid growing distant as they talked. “Did you ever talk to your father about your stress?”

Logan huffed as a bitter smile curled on his lips. “He would not have appreciated hearing of my weakness.”

“It’s not a weakness to ask for help.” Emile replied automatically, but the kid simply shrugged, unconcerned. “What about your mother?”

“She was too far gone on her own cocktail of drugs to be concerned with my problems.”

Emile’s chest ached as the kid set aside the empty paper bag and stared at his lap. “Have you ever spoken to a therapist about this?”

“That hardly seems like it would matter now.” Logan mumbled, casting a cautious glance up at Emile. “But no. My parents didn't believe in that kind of medicine.”

“And you?”

“The evidence is compelling.” Logan pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged on the crate underneath him. “I’d like to believe it could have helped.”

“Sometimes, simply talking about your feelings makes it easier to handle them.” Emile smiled reassuringly as he took a step forward, resting a hand gently on Logan’s shoulder. “We don't have to push any further on that. Shall we just continue on?”

Logan tipped his head up nervously, biting his lower lip as he nodded.

---

The rest of Emile's exam went smoothly. With a bit of coaxing, he was able to convince Logan to allow him to check his breathing and heart rate without causing the kid any significant distress. His reflexes were good and he didn't appear sick. Even the bruising on his neck seemed minimal as far as the damage that was actually done. In fact, the kid seemed to be in overall good health save for one other detail Emile had noticed.

“We’re almost there, Logan. I only have one more question for you.” Emile stated seriously as he stopped in front of the kid.

“Okay.” Logan’s voice was tired and he’d given up any pretense of being evasive at this point.

“Please forgive my prying questions. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t relevant to the issue at hand.” Emile sighed as Logan looked up at him with a suddenly guarded expression. “Judging from what I was able to feel when I used my stethoscope, I believe it is safe to assume that you are significantly underweight.”

Logan swallowed nervously and nodded. “I don't disagree with that statement."

“Alright.” Emile tipped his head to him and gestured to the empty fast-food bag next to Logan. “Clearly, your appetite is not the issue, so I have to ask. Did you have some food insecurity issues where you were living before?”

“No,” Logan chewed his lip at the skeptical look in Emile’s eyes and he dropped his gaze to the ground. “Access to food was never the problem. I just prefer to have extra cash on hand in case something goes wrong.”

Emile’s lip twitched into a frown as he stared sympathetically at Logan. Every word that passed the kid’s lips only seemed to sink his heart deeper into his chest. “Is Virgil bringing you enough food now?”

“What he brings me is more than sufficient for my caloric needs,” Logan responded quietly, quickly adding on before Emile could interrogate him further. “and I'm eating far more than I would on my own.”

Emile held his breath for a moment before letting out a long sigh of resignation. “Okay."

“Okay?” Logan glanced up, clearly skeptical at being let off that easy.

“Yes. If nothing else, I'm going to discuss the quality of the food he's bringing you, but I'm glad to hear you’re eating.” Emile's exasperation faded to a gentle smile. “I'm going to go speak to Virgil and I won't probably see you for a day or two. Is there anything you’d like me to bring you when I return?”

Logan looked taken aback by his offer, but he shook his head. “I don’t need anything.”

Emile let out a breath at the kid's automatic response. “Perhaps not, but surely there's something you want. I imagine you get bored during the day when you’re alone.”

Logan blinked, still hesitating at the offer as Emile smiled reassuringly at him. “Um, books would be nice.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Honestly, I'd read the dictionary at this point.”

“I'll bring a variety then.” Emile chuckled as Logan let a small smile spread across his face for the first time since they'd met. He stood up off the crate he was leaning on and paused, looking at the kid earnestly as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Logan. Again, I wish it were under better circumstances, but I’m glad to have had the opportunity all the same.”

Logan was silent for a moment, but as Emile turned towards the door the kid's whisper stopped him.

“I don’t understand why you’re helping him.”

Emile glanced over his shoulder at the crestfallen look on Logan’s face before turning back. “I know you’re scared, and you want a simple answer to why this is happening, but the truth is there isn't one. We're all just trying to survive here.”

He could almost feel the kid's disappointment as he stepped toward the exit and he smiled weakly back at him.

“You’re going to be okay, Logan. I promise.”

---

Emile gritted his teeth as turned out of the room. He turned to see Virgil leaning against the wall down the hall, flashing a glare at him that could cut glass. He could see Virgil’s shoulders slump as he approached.

“Please, Em. Not you too.”

“I agreed to help you,” Emile snapped. “not to enable you to brutalize that poor kid.”

“Brutalize—” Virgil growled defensively. “—I haven’t touched him.”

Emile snarled. Instinctively, his canines extended as his eyes glowed a dull red. “Do you expect me to believe he bruised his own neck?”

“Oh—Yeah, okay.” Virgil held up a finger up as he made himself small in front of Emile. “That—that was an accident.”

“You don’t choke someone out on accident, Virgil.” Emile hissed as he loomed over Virgil.

“He fucking snarled at Janus and I lost my temper.” Virgil’s voice cracked as he dipped his head, shadows darkening around his eyes. “I haven't fed in weeks, Em. I can't help how protective I get around Janus, but I know now that I should’ve been more careful and kept my distance but I didn't. It won't happen again.”

Emile’s expression faltered slightly as he stared down at Virgil. “Virge—”

“I don't want to fucking hurt him, Em.” Virgil muttered as he slid down the wall. “I don’t fucking want any of this, but the world just fucking loves to screw me over.”

“Virgil,” Emile whispered. “He is terrified of you.”

“Yeah, I scared the shit out of him. The last thing I need is for my problems to blow back on you and Janus because I couldn’t keep control of that bastard.” Virgil hissed. “That doesn’t mean I'm enjoying any of this.”

Emile paused hesitantly, shaking his head in disappointment. “Virge—"

“It’s not fair. You and Janus are both so happy to get up on your soapbox and lecture me about how shitty I am but you don't get it.” Virgil yelled. His eyes glistened in the light as he held back tears. “You never have to worry about going without because you can always your husband. Janus can just drag any guy he likes home, feed on them and they can go home none the wiser. Do you remember what happened to the last guy I fed off of?”

“Virgil, you don't get to hurt him just because you’re hurting.” Emile chided him lightly. “You already took him away from his life. He doesn’t deserve to be your punching bag on top of that.”

"I only wanted to scare him, Em. I swear I didn't mean for him to get hurt.” Virgil muttered. “I just can't have him trying to escape. I’d never forgive myself if you or Janus got hurt because of my problems.”

“Terrorizing him emotionally is still hurting him, Virgil.”

Virgil sighed as he stood up and staggered over to the dark window, leaning against the frame. “I know.”

“—and you need to bring him real food. He can't subsist forever on that junk you’re bringing him now.”

“I know. I will.”

“—and I want to see him regularly.”

“Em, please don’t get attached. You know what's going to happen when I finally feed off of him.” Virgil sighed. “He's either going to turn into another zombie thrall to my every whim or he's going to lose his mind entirely. Such is the nature of my stupid fucking curse.”

“Perhaps there's another way.” Emile whispered quietly.

“Well, damn Em.” Virgil muttered, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I'm all ears for another fucking solution.”

“The donated blood—”

“I can't keep doing that.” Virgil sighed. “Every unit of blood I steal is another person that could be going home to their family. That’s the whole point of me bringing this guy here, Em. This way I'm only stealing one person away from their life.”

“I know, but—”

“Not to mention, he is the person that put Janus and I in this situation to begin with.” Virgil pointed back to the room where Logan was being held. “He's not exactly blameless in all this mess."

“I can draw his blood.” Emile sputtered out without thinking.

“What?” Virgil looked up at his friend curiously as he shifted his feet nervously in front of him.

“If I draw his blood, your curse will not affect him.” Emile stated plainly, trying to sound firm as he crossed his arms. “He can keep his awareness and you still get to feed.”

Virgil sighed, stepping off the wall to stand closer to Emile. He dropped his voice, speaking empathetically to his friend. “Do you really think he wants to be aware that he's never going to see his brother again?”

Emile was quiet, staring back at him with resistance in his eyes.

“Seriously, the guy's in a shit situation. The least I can do take away his pain.” Virgil reasoned softly, feeling his breath catch in his throat. “I hate enthralling people but it's blissful. He won’t feel a thing.”

“He should have a choice.” Emile sighed.

“Fine. Then, give him one.” Virgil raised an eyebrow as Emile looked up at him. “If you want to commit to a lifetime of drawing that guy's blood, be my guest—”

“Okay.”

“But—” Virgil held up a finger to Emile as his expression turned stern. “—You will give him both options. I won't have you prolonging his suffering because of your own guilt. Got it?”

“Very well, Virgil. You have a deal.” Emile nodded, dipping his head in thought. “However, that decision will have to wait. He's not able to give blood yet.”

“Emile—” Virgil groaned.

“You asked for my professional opinion.” Emile interrupted him. “The kid's weight is too low. There could be complications if we draw blood now."

“Are you serious?” Virgil’s heart sank as Emile nodded reluctantly. “How long, Em?”

“Once he's been on a stable diet for a few weeks, we can attempt to take a small amount.” Emile stated plainly. “If he tolerates that well, we can consider taking more at that point.”

“Weeks…” Virgil breathed, feeling panic rise in his throat. I can’t wait weeks. It already hurts so much. I-I'll lose my—”

“Relax, Virgil. We'll find a way to get you by until then.” Emile put a hand on Virgil’s chest as his breath became unsteady. “I haven't fed off of Elliot in a while. I'm certain he'd be more than willing to let me draw his blood for you.”

Virgil leaned up, blinking in shock at Emile. “You’re really just going offer your husband’s blood like it’s nothing?”

“I'm not going to let you starve, kid,” Emile smiled as Virgil curled his arms around him. “and Elliot wouldn’t want one of his favorite students suffering anyway.”

“Thank you, Em.”

“I expect you to treat that kid in there better from here on out.”

“I will.” Virgil pulled away slightly, not quite letting go as he looked down at Emile apologetically. “I promise I’ll make him comfortable. I'm sorry, Em.”

“Don’t apologize. Just make it right. I'll be quick, okay?” Emile smiled sadly at the gratitude in Virgil’s eyes. “Probably can be back within an hour or two.”

“Thank you.” Virgil’s dark hair fell away from his eyes as he poured his gratitude out to Emile. “God, Em. Seriously, I can't thank you enough —Please, I’m so sorry—”

“Hey, now.” Emile curled his arms around Virgil as the makeup under his eyes ran down his face. “It's okay—”

“Please, don’t hate me.” Virgil cried as Emile clung to him tightly. “I don’t want to be this person, Em.”

“Never, Virgil.” Emile whispered as tears brimmed in his eyes. “I know you’re just trying to survive. There’s no easy answer here.”

Virgil nodded, gradually releasing Emile from his grip as he forced himself to find some level of composure. “Thank you—”

“Hush, now. You don’t have to thank me.” Emile smiled as he pulled away. “You’re going to be okay. Please, just go give that kid whatever you promised him. I'll be back before you know it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Virgil breathed, feeling lighter as he nodded at Emile. “Okay, I will.”

“Good.” Emile smiled as he turned to go. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

---

Logan winced as the door opened behind him. His heart jumped in his chest as he shot upright, realizing he was still sitting on the crate as the footsteps approached. It was too late for him to move back to the ground so he bowed his head, hoping that would be enough to appease the man.

He shivered as his captor circled his left side to face him, sending a prickling anticipation down his body as the man eyed him up and down. Logan took a breath, tensing as the man let out a long sigh and shoved his hands into the pockets of his purple sweatshirt.

“You seem to make a strong first impression.” The man drew out his words slowly, still eyeing him carefully. “I don't think I've ever seen Emile that mad. I never thought I'd see the day where he actually yelled at me.”

Logan swallowed, feeling sick with fear as the man stared at him. “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him—”

“Hey, relax.” The man looked up, holding up a hand to stop panicked rambling. He paused, his expression guarded as Logan lifted his head. “Emile was right to be upset.”

Logan tensed, watching as the man chewed his lip. His black hair fell over his eyes casting shadows on his pale face. For the first time, Logan could make out the black streaks marked his face as the man stared him down.

“You’re stuck here. There’s no getting around that,” The man let out a long breath. “but you've been cooperative. So, I'm not inclined to make you miserable.”

Logan dropped his head, drawing on the last of his bravery to speak up. “M-my brother. Is he—”

“He's fine.” His captor paused as Logan let out a choked breath. He watched Logan, sounding hesitant as he continued. “The kid made it to your pretty friend. Safe and sound. Janus is going to watch them for a few days and make sure nothing else goes sideways with your father.”

Logan nodded, bringing his fist to his lips as he struggled to conceal his relief. He sucked in a sharp breath as he forced his voice to be steady. “Thank you. Do—”

The man raised an eyebrow as Logan glanced up at him, immediately swallowed back his question as he made eye contact.

“What?”

“Do I get any more details?” Logan shivered as the man's intense stare turned to him and he dropped his gaze. “If there’s a cost, I'll pay it—"

“No.”

Logan sucked in a breath, disappointed at the man’s quick response, but he continued to dip his head submissively. “Okay.”

“No. That's not—I meant there's no cost.”

Logan froze, cautiously tipped his head up. The man was running a hand through his dark hair, staring down at him. The man’s demeanor had changed from before but Logan couldn’t quite place the man’s emotions.

“I'm not going to fucking punish you for actually giving a shit about your little brother.”

Logan stared blankly at his captor, unsure how to process the man’s sudden change. He dipped his head as the man's shoulders slumped and he turned back to him.

“Last I heard, your friend had put the kid to bed.” Virgil offered hesitantly. “That’s all I know for now, but when Janus returns, you can ask him whatever you like. Good enough?”

“There’s no cost?” Logan asked quietly. He barely dared to lift his head, not wanting to give the man a reason to change his mind.

“No cost.” The man confirmed once again, drawing a relieved breath from Logan as he continued. “I—I can't let you go, but if you continue to cooperate, I'll guarantee the kid's safety. Janus will check on him periodically and give you updates for as long as you ask.”

“If I cooperate, Patton will be safe from my father?” Logan asked cautiously, considering his words.

“He couldn’t be any safer with Janus around,” Virgil nodded. “and from what I gather, Janus is already defensive of the kid. Your father will be lucky if he doesn’t find himself dead in a ditch if he tries anything.”

“Good.” Logan muttered bitterly. He glanced up, refusing to be ashamed as the man raised an eyebrow at his reaction. Fortunately, he didn’t seem inclined to press further. Logan let out a long breath, feeling the weight of his captor’s offer as he resigned himself to his fate. “My only concern is Patton’s safety. If you keep your word, I won't resist you, but—” Logan hesitated as he timidly negotiated with his kidnapper. “—but I would like proof that Patton is safe.”

“Done." Virgil reached over and grabbed the other paper bag he’d brought in earlier. He tossed it to Logan who glanced down at it, frozen with shock at the man' agreement. “That’s a change of clothes if you want them. You can change while I figure out a better place for you to sleep.”

Logan's fingers curled around the paper bag and he nodded, responding automatically. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t call me that.” The man groaned as Logan flinched at the command, softening his approach. “Please.”

Confused, Logan looked up at the man's sudden concession. He blinked, taking in the strange look of anxiety in the man’s eyes as he stared back at him.

“You can call me Virgil.”

Logan nodded stiffly, tipping his eyes away at the man's agitation.

“—or don’t. I don't care.” Virgil muttered. “Just please, nothing else. Okay?”

Virgil waited for Logan to nod his affirmation before turning to the door. He paused, thinking for a moment before straightening up. “Good. Um—stay here, I guess. I’ll be back for you when I figure something out.”

He didn’t wait for Logan’s confirmation before turning to the door, locking it behind him as he left Logan staring after him, struggling to process what had just occurred.

---

General Taglist

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

I Know What You’re Going To Say Taglist:

@theoddkidnextdoor @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @im-actually-ok @justanoymous @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @hope340

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts virgil #ts logan #ts emile #analogical #slow burn analogical #emile picani #unsympathetic virgil #questionable virgil #tw violence #tw captivity #tw food #tw blood mention #tw malnourishment #I Know What You're Going To Say #villain writes

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marvel-and-mischief · 4 years ago

Text

His Saving Grace Part VII

Title: His Saving Grace - Maxwell Lord x F!Reader Words: 3600 Warnings: conversation about feelings, reader talks about her dark thoughts in the past, kissing, detailed description of a panic attack Synopsis: You meet with Diana to discuss Maxwell’s options.

His Saving Grace Masterpost

The Smithsonian looked a lot different in the day, the imposing building loomed over you as you walked up the front steps. You knew it wasn’t the museum that was making you nervous, but the job you had to do and the woman you had to meet.

Maybe you should have ran the idea by Maxwell first, but a part of you knew he would be hesitant. After what you had seen on the night of the gala, Maxwell had been uncomfortable in Diana’s presence, and Diana was confrontational when she walked over to him. They obviously weren’t friends.

But it was literally your job to get Maxwell back into the workplace, and if this didn’t work, and you didn’t manage to convince him that it was the ideal solution, then you didn’t know what you were going to do.

You asked for Diana Prince at the information desk and was told by the man at the desk where she worked, pointing in the general direction of a staircase (you think) before answering a ringing telephone and dismissing you.

Trying to find your way to the Anthropology Department without a helpful staff member, or a map, was confusing and you ended up walking back on yourself more than a few times but you got to Diana’s office eventually.

You were about to knock when the door flung open, Diana pausing just before bumping into you, a look of confusion on her face as she tried to remember where she’d seen you before.

“Diana isn’t it? I’m Maxwell’s friend, we met at the gala,” you said casually and stuck out your hand towards her, reminding her of your name. She took it after a moment, shaking your hand and politely laughing. If she was wary of you being at her place of work she didn’t let on, instead she ushered you into her office and offered you a cold coffee which you gladly took.

“Look, I don’t know what Maxwell has told you but as long as he stays out of trouble, he will never hear from me again.”

Diana sat on one end of a velvety soft, maroon loveseat and you took a seat on the other end.

“Actually, I’m hoping that won’t be true,” you began, cradling your cold coffee on your lap, “you must have some idea that Maxwell is struggling. Black Gold is bust and it will never recover. No one will hire Maxwell Lord, for obvious reasons.”

“I don’t see how I can help him. I sympathise, but Maxwell is reaping the repercussions of what he sowed. You can understand why no one wants to help him,” Diana spoke to you gently, offering you a sympathetic smile.

You sighed as you looked around her office, a poster of human evolution, an old wind instrument that reminded you of the recorder you were taught to play at school, a long piece of parchment paper with what you could only guess were hieroglyphics or something similar. And on the wall next to where you sat was a diagram of a stone of some sort.

“Maxwell got his stone from here, right?”

Diana nodded but said no more.

“A Dreamstone?”

“Whatever Maxwell has told you, it needs to stay a secret.”

“Diana, the whole world saw him use it.”

“The world saw a madman,” at your look of offence Diana shook her head, “I’m telling you what everybody saw, not who he actually is. And that is my point.”

You weren’t going to get into an argument with Diana about the Maxwell you knew, not right now anyway, so you bit your tongue.

“But he has ties to this place.”

Diana thought for a moment, starting to understand that you weren’t going to give up easily. She slowly nodded, eyeing you curiously and weighed up how much she should say about what had gone down with Maxwell and the Dreamstone.

“Maxwell only has ties to the Smithsonian because he wanted the stone. He befriended a gemologist, Barbara Minerva, to get to it. He succeeded and then he became the stone. And I presume you know the rest.”

It took you a second to realise that Diana had said “he became the stone” but you filed it to the back of your mind for another time. Or maybe you would never bring it up. If you wanted Maxwell to get passed this part of his life, you would have to stop asking questions eventually.

“So let me get this straight, because he was the Maxwell Lord he could just walk into this place and take what he wanted?”

“Well, he was very persuasive. Plus he gave a lot of money to the department as a bribe.”

“So he’s given money to the museum before?” The cogs were starting to turn in your head as you realised it could work in Maxwell’s favor if he’s already shown support for the Smithsonian.

Diana tilted her head as she watched you, trying to work out what you were planning. She was clever enough to realise almost instantly.

“You can’t seriously be suggesting that Maxwell work here?”

“I am! He’s already proven his loyalty to the museum through a donation I assume was considerable. I’m sure it helped the museum a lot.”

Diana hesitantly nodded, knowing the money was much larger than any benefactor had given to the museum in years. She sighed in frustration and stood, walking over to her desk to rifle through a pile of papers. You placed your forgotten coffee on the table and followed.

“I know he can’t work in any of these departments. But he has a business degree, he’s got the experience. He’s someone the museum would jump at the chance to have work here.”

Diana laughed cynically.

“You said yourself, nobody will hire him, what makes you think we will?”

“I said no one will hire Maxwell Lord. But what about Maxwell Lorenzano?”

Diana looked up from her papers and gave you a quizzical look.

“He wants a fresh start and I think I can persuade him to leave the Lord name behind.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, wondering if you were overstepping. Maxwell had said to you at the diner that he wanted to be more like his old self, maybe this was the way forward?

It wasn’t unlike you, as a lawyer, to be persuasive to get the results you wanted, the results you thought were best for your clients. But Maxwell wasn’t a client, not in your heart. He was your friend, and hopefully more in the future. Were you being too pushy, putting out the idea of him changing back to his birth name? Even though he’d suggested that very thing to you at the diner?

You were starting to realise why it was frowned upon to begin relationships with clients, it made everything so complicated, it had you second guessing everything you were saying and doing whilst working for them. Because it wasn’t about getting results for the pay check at the end of the job, it was about getting results for the man you loved. It was about wanting the best for him, wanting him to be pleased with you and everything you were doing for him.

“Are you okay?” Diana’s voice jolted you out of your spiralling thoughts and had you laughing awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes, but you cleared your throat as you pointed to the papers she was looking through, silently asking her to explain.

“There was a list of job vacancies the boss sent around to everybody on Friday, it was here somewhere… a-ha!” Diana produced the single piece of paper with titles and one-sentence job descriptions on it.

“Is there anything appropriate for Maxwell?” You asked hopefully, going on tip toes to try and peep over the paper. Diana shook her head as she read down the page, coming to a stop right at the bottom.

“Although…”

“What is it?” You asked, a little too forcefully. Too impatient to wait a moment longer you snatched the piece of paper from Diana’s fingers and skimmed through the titles until you saw the very last one.

“Do you think-“

“It’s perfect,” you shot Diana a beaming smile, “will you-“

“I’ll let the boss know I have the perfect guy for the job.”

Maxwell nervously shuffled from foot to foot outside your apartment door, holding a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands, similar to the ones you wore on your dress the night of the gala. His polo shirt felt too tight on him all of a sudden, and he wasn’t sure if he should button all four buttons or leave it at two.

The issue wasn’t that he had never been to your apartment before, or even that he was visiting unannounced, but entering into a new relationship. With you.

He loved you. He realised that at the gala when he watched you charming potential clients, giving away business cards until you had ran out of them, it had filled him with such a sense of pride that you had walked in on his arm. It wasn’t a slow realisation either. It was when he was seeing people notice you, laugh with you, agree with your advice, and then he thought yes, see this brilliant woman who can make your dreams come true? I love her.

It didn’t scare Maxwell, quite the opposite. He was excited. Because you both worked so well together already. It was all so natural, the way you joked with him over lunch, or grabbed his hand in the middle of conversation. And the kissing.

Maxwell hadn’t kissed anyone the way he’d kissed you in… forever. It was a kiss that lit a burning flame in his heart, warm in every way but persistent and wouldn’t burn out until you reignited it with another. He felt the ghost of your lips on his, even in his dreams and he would wake up with a smile on his face, ready to start the new day in the hopes that he would see you soon.

He felt young again, in a wide eyed, fresh faced kind of way. Like the world was his for the taking because he had you by his side to keep him grounded but also an encouraging voice in his ear telling him he could do anything if he just believed in himself.

Maxwell wished he’d met you so much sooner. Before the seed of the Dreamstone had been planted in his mind and he’d gone on his reign of self destruction. He thinks you would have been able to stop him, to persuade him that he had everything he needed already. You could have helped him through the financial difficulties of Black Gold. You would have saved him.

Maxwell shook his head of that thought and readjusted his collar. He couldn’t change the past. He could only look to the future.

He knocked on the door, realising he probably should have called before coming over. You might be working, or have friends over, or not be in at all-

The door flew open and you appeared, holding a wooden spoon in your hand and wearing an apron tied at the front covered in what looked and smelled like cocoa powder.

“Maxwell? What’re you doing here?” You asked, surprised to see him at your door.

“I should have called ahead, I apologise-“

“Don’t be silly. How many times have I come over to yours without warning? Come in,” you pointed towards the living room with your spoon and closed the door behind you.

Maxwell let you lead him into the open plan area. It was smaller than Maxwell’s apartment but the layout was almost the same. The furnishings however were trying to be less impressive, more rustic with dark, wooden furniture instead of brightly colored plastic. It was comfortable and had a homely feel to it that Maxwell didn’t realise he liked until now. There were papers strewn across the coffee table, bookshelves actually filled with books unlike his own, dozens of blankets laid across the top of the couch, coffee stains on side tables. It was a perfect mix of your head and your heart. Smart and kind. Hard working but also relaxed.

You went into the kitchen area, pulling open the oven and the smell of freshly baked chocolate cookies filled the air. Maxwell’s stomach rumbled but luckily you were too busy to hear. It was then that Maxwell remembered the flowers in his hand.

“I brought you flowers,” Maxwell placed them on top of the island, perching on a stool.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” you picked them up and went searching for a vase in the cupboards. You found a decanter with a thick neck and decided that would be sufficient, filling it with water from the tap and placing the flowers inside to display on the countertop.

“I wanted to talk to you about some things,” Maxwell cleared his throat and interlocked his hands together on top of the island, “about my future.”

“Yes,” you nodded, taking a seat on a stool opposite Maxwell, “I think I have a plan, the next step, maybe even permanently if you agree to it.”

“Can we talk about us first?”

You froze in your spot, ready with your speech that would sell your plan to him, but you could see he had come over for a reason and decided to let him talk first.

“I said I wanted to take things slow, and I still do. But I need things to be clear, out in the open so you know where I stand,” as much as Maxwell was nervous he kept eye contact with you, “I love you. I’m falling in love with you. These last couple of months have opened my eyes to how lonely and alone I am. And I’m not using that as an excuse for what I did but if I am going to succeed in being a good father, a good man, then I need you by my side. I think the world of you and everything you’ve done for me and I promise to try and make it up to you in any way I can.”

Your smile grew the more Maxwell talked, hearing everything you’d hoped he would say. You were on the same page, wanted the same things. Maxwell patiently waited for you to respond, even though the butterflies in his stomach were threatening to painfully burst out of him.

“Maxwell Lorenzano, I love you too.” You laughed, tears welling in your eyes, your chest full of happiness that things were looking up for the both of you.

You wiped at your eyes with the bottom of the apron you were still wearing, then placed both your hands over the top of his.

“You say I’ve helped you but you have no idea how much you’ve helped me too. I was at the bottom of a very dark pit of self hatred before I met you. And although I was getting better, I don’t know what would have happened in my life if you hadn’t called me that day. I’m not sure if I believe in fate or destiny or anything like that but I believe we met each other at the perfect moment so we could help each other through the worst time of our lives. And if we can pull each other out of that then we can do anything together.”

Maxwell’s watery smile grew as he stood from his stool and walked around the island to stand next to you. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to the top of your head, before placing another on the tip of your nose that had you giggling. You stood and used the sudden closeness to press a bold kiss to his lips, hands running through his hair as his hands came to naturally place themselves in the dip of your waist.

Maxwell pulled away to place small kisses to the corner of your mouth, tasting the remnants of the chocolate mixture you must have tasted whilst baking your cookies. When he got to your jaw he felt your hands on his shoulders gently pushing him away, an apologetic look in your eyes.

“I still need to talk to you about the plan I’ve put together.”

Maxwell groaned, keeping a hold of your waist as he playfully tickled the soft skin of your neck with his nose.

“Maxwell…” you chuckled, enjoying this playful side of Maxwell.

“You’re ruining the fun,” Maxwell removed his head from your neck and pouted. You tried to take him seriously but he looked like a grumpy child who had been told ‘no more sweets’. You kissed him sweetly on the cheek and motioned towards the couch in the living room.

His sigh was overly exaggerated as he took a seat on the couch. You had taken off your apron in the kitchen and sat next to Maxwell with a yellow sweater on, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. In amongst the rustic aesthetic of the living room, you looked like actual sunshine to Maxwell.

“I tried to find you a job that I thought you’d like, that wouldn’t necessarily be easy but would use your previous skills and still challenge you.”

You took a piece of paper from the side table and handed it to Maxwell. It detailed a job description, the kinds of jobs he’d be taking on and with what departments, and the key skills he would be using. Maxwell nodded the whole way through until he spotted where he would be working.

“The Smithsonian?” He asked, unsure and a little take aback that this would be the place you’d choose considering his connections to the place.

“Yes, it was much easier to find you a job at a place you’d already given a sizeable donation to,” you explained gently, you ran your fingernails along the lines in the palm of your hand, a nervous habit as you tried to gauge Maxwell’s reaction.

“I don’t know,” Maxwell re-read over the job description, which he was comfortable with, the annual salary that was more than enough to look after himself and Alistair, the job title ‘Financial Manager’ was more than suitable for his qualifications, everything was perfect, except the place of work. He would run into Diana probably, and was Barbara still working there? That would be awkward. That place held bad memories, Maxwell was trying to move away from his past not shoot head first towards it.

“Look, you would mostly be working in the offices away from other departments, Diana said-“

“You spoke to Diana?” Of course you had, how would this job be practically given to him without so much as an interview without Diana’s help? Maxwell eyed you suspiciously, wondering how much she’d told you about the incident, how much you’d told her about Maxwell’s situation. He trusted you, he loved you, there was no love without trust but he suddenly felt like the walls of your apartment were closing in on him and the piece of paper in his hand was shaking as though an earthquake was ripping through the building.

“Maxwell?” He heard your voice but it was so far away, where had you gone? It was like listening to someone shouting from the other end of a tunnel, had you left him? Maxwell’s eyes were closed tightly shut so he couldn’t see where you’d gone but he felt something soft and warm on either side of his face, and then his face was being pressed into something fluffy, it felt like how your sweater looked, was it you?

Your voice was getting clearer and his breathing was slowing down though he didn’t remember breathing so fast, why was he struggling to breathe?

Your hands, he could feel them now, moving over his shoulders, along his back, up and down his upper arms and the fog was slowly lifting from his mind, from his lungs, and there were tears falling from his eyes. And all he could hear were your apologies and his name leaving your lips. Your sweet lips that felt so good against his own, they were touching his ear as you spoke soothing words, he concentrated on that and then everything was clear.

He cautiously pulled away from you, just enough to see you looking at him full of concern. Maxwell placed his large hand against your cheek and guided you to press your foreheads together as he continued to breathe through the panic attack.

“I’m so sorry Maxwell,” you whispered but Maxwell shushed you softly, stroking your cheek, your hair, your neck until he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you into a hug.

“You are perfect and have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, holding you close until he believed you were truly there and not a hallucination created out of his panic stricken mind, “it just all suddenly felt very real. I think I’m scared.”

He felt you nod against his chest, your hand was running up and down his side, soothing him, comforting him in any way that you could. You were nearly lying on top of him; Maxwell had leaned you both backwards, his head resting on the corner of the couch as he tried to relax and prevent another panic attack.

“I’m here. You don’t have to do any of this on your own. Or at all, I’ll call Diana and tell her the job isn’t suited to you. We’ll find something else.”

“No,” that made you look up from his chest, searching his eyes for what he meant, “it’s the kind of job I’d be good at. I just have to remember that I’m not alone.”

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, holding each other close, but by the time you tried the cookies they were cold.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @galactic-rhi @phoenixhalliwell @thewayofthemandalorian @computeringturtle @lesbianlena @shikin83

#His Saving Grace #Maxwell Lord #Maxwell Lord fic #Maxwell Lord x Reader #WW1984 #Wonder Woman 1984 #Pedro Pascal

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smile4thepaparazzi · 4 years ago

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ronnie radke of falling in reverse and his problematic past masterpost

this is a masterpost regarding most if not all of the issues regarding lead singer ronnie radke of emo band falling in reverse. if you’d prefer to read this on twitter, here’s a link. nothing will be posted without evidence or support. for legal reasons however everything in both this post and the twitter thread are allegations. now onto the issues:

tw fatphobia and body shaming / ronnie has a long past of insulting both fans and random people online, often choosing to bodyshame with insults such as ‘is it like a new law/crime to be rude to morbidly obese people?’ ‘look like you need a fucking diet’ etc as seen here and here

tw racism / he believes in reverse racism as seen here

people have different opinions on this as he was not the one to actually kill michael cook but i am choosing to provide the information regardless and you can decide how you feel about it: in 2006 he was present at a fight that resulted in the death of an 18 year old kid and he was put on parole. however, he broke said parole and wound up serving three years of prison time (source)

again, this situation is similar opinion wise to the one above, i will simply be providing context and information and you can decide your feelings on it: in 2012 the band ‘i see stars’ (i will refer to them as ISS from now on) was set to open for falling in reverse but a few months before tour they were caught with weed in their van resulting in their arrests. ronnie chose to kick ISS off the tour (this is background context, not the issue). ISS felt bad for disappointing fans and offered to tour for no pay. ronnie agreed to this and had them sign a contract stating they wouldn’t tell anyone they weren’t getting paid. after letting them back on tour ronnie threatened an ISS member with violence because he ‘didn’t like his stupid fucking face’ and kicked them off the tour a day or two later, and his tour manager then assaulted ISS’s manager. sumerian records has confirmed all of this. he also kicked fans out of venues for chanting ISS’s name. (source)

he’s been known to throw metal mic stands into large crowds on multiple occasions, having hit people many times, causing one man to need stapes on his head and another girl a broken hand. here’s some links to more info, news clip regarding man with stapes, and a video of ronnie throwing the stands

due to the throwing of mic stands, six flags made the decision to ban all metal shows. due to his recklessness causing multiple injuries, he was charged with simple assault and aggravated assault (link to more info, source)

here is a video of ronnie spitting on a fan and cussing at them during a show

tw suicide / here he is telling someone to ‘sit on a gun’ because they asked for him to credit the photographer, as well as making a statement that photographers should just be thankful that he even let them take pictures of him

tw suicide / when nick mathews of the band ‘get scared’ attempted suicide, tweeting a photo of pills on a table with the caption ‘yeah....goodbye’, ronnie tweeted nick’s girlfriend saying ‘get scared ;)’ as well as posted a picture of candies on a table with a caption mocking nick, you can see both tweets here

tw transphobia / he misgendered laura jane grace of against me! multiple times as well as deadnamed caitlyn jenner, these posts can be seen here

tw homophobia / he told elijah daniel, a gay man, that he would ‘scare the fucking aids out of him’ as seen here

tw ableism / he used the r slur with no care for its meaning or past as seen here

that’s all i have for this post for now but i’ll try to remember to update this as i need to! please dm me on twitter @nightheatplayer with any questions or concerns and let me know if you have anything to add

#ronnie radke #falling in reverse #what a piece of shit #ronnie radke masterpost

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notfeelingthyaster · 5 years ago

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Imagine (based on the incomplete fanfic Son of the Underworld) (Son of Hades! Percy AU) (5/5) or (5/10)

Hey so, this is the last part of PJO - I follow into HOO, so before you read this, check on the masterpost - and read the warnings before proceeding :)) Good reading!

Annabeth comes to him, at the end of his fifteenth birthday party, and shows her Daedalus laptop. There's a document open in it, and it's labeled Achilles' Curse.

Percy doesn't read it - he hates reading, in any way or form or language - but she does, out loud.

"I'll think about it"

They have a year. Most of them, even those who aren't year-rounders, are going back to camp, to draw battle plans and stock on the armory.

He feels kinda selfish - for a whole five seconds before he remembers he'll probably die next summer, so he just shrugs it off - Percy deserves this year.

They all leave to go back to camp. Nico seems conflicted over something - but Perseus doesn't question it, there's enough bad blood between them.

Paola is really cool - and Sally really loves her. It's kind of bizarre at first, to see his Mom dating his teacher - and of a subject he hates - but Paola is calm and well-tempered and she laughs at his stupid ass jokes.

He visits Persephone afterward - and it really feels like he has three moms to fulfill his lack of a father - well, he is absolutely grateful for the women in his life.

Percy isn't truly in good terms with his father. The man doesn't really seem to care much for him as a person - he is much more of a trophy son.

Perseus loathes being a trophy son, but at least he has someone to help with his powers - not something a lot of half-bloods can claim.

So he goes back to school with Rachel, and they pretend everything is normal. He tells her about his quests - all three of them. He thinks she understands him better now.

He opens up to her. Tells her about Annabeth - the adrenaline-fueled kiss - and Rachel stops talking with him for a week.

She apologizes when she comes back. She needed to figure some things up - firstly, the redhead tells him she is probably asexual - and maybe aromantic too, but she is not certain because the internet wasn't really clear about that.

Then Rachel confesses that she is not jealous of him in a romantic way - she is envious of his friendship with Annabeth. Percy is her first genuine friend that really appreciates her.

This is the first grudge Perseus lets go for real before it even takes place - Rachel didn't leave him because of teenage drama, she ignored him out of confusion. Everyone is allowed space - he knows this better than anyone.

They don't kiss anymore. Not because Rachel doesn't like it - no, she is all for it - but because Percy is starting to think kisses should mean something - he is saving them.

They kiss once - when Rachel father calls for the first time this year - not to ask about her, but to tell Rachel he found this amazing all-girls school. To Percy, kisses mean comfort.

They cuddle a lot, though. These past few years of fear have made Percy very touch-starved.

It's sophomore year - and Percy is in five AP classes: Macroeconomics&Microeconomics, Statistics, Calculus AB, Physics 1, and Comparative Government and Politics.

He is planning on taking both AP Computer Science classes, Psychology, Physics 2, and Calculus BC next year; leaving only Electricity&Magnetism, Mechanics, Chemistry, and World History for his senior year.

If he lives, he is working on a tight schedule here. He doesn't know what he wants yet - and if he is in constant danger, it's already pretty lucky he can do high school - but probably something with Math.

Rachel says fourteen AP courses are ambitious - that he'll burn out. But math comes to him easily enough - it's in his blood.

She is also overworking: She is taking AP Environmental Studies, Art History, Drawing, 2-D Art and Design, and English Literature and Composition.

They complete each other. Rachel is planning on taking as many Art, History, and English courses as she can - he is taking as many Physics, Math, and Science as he can handle.

(She is also going to take on Japanese studies for some reason - probably for her GPA, but Perseus just teases her that she is getting too invested in anime)

Perseus doesn't care about languages anymore - the only languages that matter to him are C++ and JavaScript now.

They study together, they take naps together, they climb to the roof together, they flee school to visit Sally together - he is the Pinky to her Brain, the Scooby to her Shaggy, the Lois Lane to her Superman, the Robin to her Batman.

They look like troublemakers - They are honor roll students, but she is always with ripped pants dirty with paint, and he is always full of flowers everywhere, even in his muddy converses - a cliche to kill all cliches.

They're both nerds - he is the classic one, all polo shirts now, the first chair for every number-related class - and she is the artsy one - there's a brush behind her ear and her hair is so messy that half the time it covers her face.

Paola gifts him a pair of cheap frames without lenses once - saying it adds to the aesthetic - he totally uses them.

Persephone just makes him flower-crowns, and giggles when he matches them with his polo shirts.

When winter comes, he goes back to his hoodies and sweaters and gloves - to find out he doesn't miss them a lot.

Rachel introduces him to polaroids - and they look eerily pretty in the winter, her hair looking like blood spilling over the snow - and he loves it.

If he survives - he can feel Rachel slapping him - when he survives, his college credits will be remarkable. The idea of doing SATs makes him want to cry - reading always does - but he'll get somewhere good - he knows it. Perhaps Stanford. Or NYU. Or the dream of his life, MIT.

He is living his life to the fullest - he starts reading comic books, he gets really (really) into Tony Stark once Iron Man 1 comes out (even if he has to kill at least three monsters just to go to the movies), he plants trees and Rachel starts teaching him how to play her ukulele - but half his mind is still on the upcoming war.

Christmas vacation comes - and he goes to visit Camp Half-Blood, before heading back to his mom. It's quite memorable, if only by the fact that Nico Di Angelo freaking betrays him.

He tells Percy to come to the Winter Solstice with him. Most of the campers are not going - the war effort is in an all-time high - but Percy has never gone before. Hades will be there - it'll be great!

Perseus should absolutely be less surprised with the outcome - seeing that Nico is inviting him in Cabin 1, post-dinner, and they don't even stop to talk to Chiron about it.

But Percy goes. Because Percy wants to make amends.

There's no time to really talk to anyone. They travel in Blackjack for the Empire State Building - and it's fine.

They go up to Olympus, Nico shows him everything in the god's land, the temples are a work of art, if not kind of old, and the meeting is kind of okay, even if the gods are squabbling children.

Then the gods leave, and Perseus thinks they're leaving too.

"My father needs a word with you"

Perseus feels the betrayal claw on him. There are no shadows in the white hall, there's no way for him to escape. Nico looks apologetic - Percy wants to clock him in the face.

"He promised to tell me more about my mother" Nico pleads "He will tell me more about where I've come from. Please, Percy."

Nico is cute. He is, for a soon-to-be fourteen-year-old. But his pretty face and exquisite white eyes don't make him any less of a freaking liar. All his handsome male straight friends betray him - it's a worrying pattern now.

He muses for a second that they also all have a crush on Annabeth - gods, the blonde attract the worst types.

It's double-crossing - Percy ends up in an all-white cell that burns his retinas without any weapons because Zeus wants praise in the middle of this freaking war - doesn't matter if a hundred demigods die, if he only has the glory.

Nico ends up with barely any information - Zeus didn't promise anything. The god of the skies is a lying-ass motherfucker - literally.

And Zeus justifies it - He says Perseus is a criminal because he awakened Typhon. So Hephaestus issues a quest so he can save a hundred demigods, he destroys a powerful titan weapon of doom, and he is the villain? Sure, Jan.

Perseus writes this grudge in his heart - that's where trust will take you. To a cell. Betrayed by a "friend". Again.

He flinches when Nico comes into his cell, pins him to the wall and promptly begins to try and strangle him. He wants to melt in the boy's shadow - to go and never give him a chance to explain - but he looks so guilty Percy waits for his repentance.

The son of Zeus saves him, but Perseus is still pissed off. The god of thunder has threatened to kill him off at least two times now, what is to say he wouldn't have killed off Percy for the sake of glory?

He half hopes Zeus had killed him off. The war is close, too close - Nico wouldn't be the Prophecy's child. There would be no child. Olympus would fall - and Percy would have seen it all from his very comfortable couch in Elysium.

He wants Kronos gone - but he kind of wants Olympus to fall with the Titan.

Nico flies him down to the Earth - the elevator is monitored. Zeus has left, like many others - not to bother with the war effort against his main enemy, but to go to the human world mess with people.

Some gods are doing something - He has heard from Annabeth that Artemis is leading the widest hunt ever, with her brother by her side; Hermes (with Hephaestus help) is delivering Celestial Bronze, other metals, old schematics and a whole lot of fuel to Camp Half-Blood every few weeks; Poseidon is fighting his own war, in the ocean; Dionysus is at Camp - and this time, he is really helpful with the battle formations; Demeter is on the Underworld - Chiron seems to think his father is preparing for war, but Percy sorely doubts it.

Percy is taking some people with him to Sally's Christmas dinner. Just Annabeth, Clarisse, Rachel, Connor, Travis, and Charles - people who don't have a present family to celebrate it with.

Grover is coordinating the dryads up in San Francisco with his second cousin, Gleeson Hedge - they are the first to fall if anything goes wrong in Mt. Othrys.

"I think you should stay." He tells Nico.

"You don't trust me anymore." It's not actually a question.

Percy doesn't trust the boy. Not at all - it's the third time he does something shady to achieve his ends based on emotional turmoil. But he is a good person - it's just his father's cursed temper and his grief.

"It's not that. You're needed for the war effort."

Both of them know it's a lie. Percy doesn't care - he deserves to be bitter a little longer.

Percy goes back home. Christmas is amazing - even if Rachel asks him where Nico is because he is talking about making amends with the boy for a while now.

He goes visit Persephone - but she is occupied, so he wanders through the Underworld after Bianca di Angelo - someone he, for some reason, never been able to reach. It's a pointless endeavor by now.

He finds her. Or else, he finds a shadow of her - she is blocked from his view. Bianca doesn't talk to him - they weren't close - but she guides him to a girl.

Her name is Hazel Levesque.

She seems lost - like most ghosts - but something in Percy calls for her. It's the color of her skin and the sparkle in her golden eyes - Hazel remembers him of himself.

He promises to visit more - even though he doesn't think she'll remember it - and leaves to go back to the surface - he will finish the sophomore year.

And Percy does. After a very distressing break, he is doing his best. His grades drop a little in English because he can barely focus - half his mind is on the war and Nico's betrayal and Hazel Levesque's golden eyes.

Miraculously, his GPA doesn't fall - he still is taking a ridiculous amount of AP classes, and barely has time to breathe - dark circles grow under his eyes, and he looks like a mess - but now he is a Junior.

That's why, as soon as the year ends, Rachel takes him on a road trip with Connor. They go all the way to Boston, then Portland, Quebec, Montreal, Ottawa, Syracuse, Baltimore, and Filadelfia, before going back to NY.

They are stopped five times by the police - because Percy is black, and it's Rachel driving the Camaro, because she has a learner's permit and Connor is, somehow, an approved license holder.

They are on a pier, enjoying the view of the beach. They did the last week alone because Connor wanted to go check on one of his cousins - at least, that's what he said, with an over-exaggerated wink that both Percy and Rachel ignored for the sake of their sanity.

She tells him about Clarion Ladies Academy - but that her father is at least mildly happy with her GPA this year, even if he disapproves of her Art focused AP classes. Percy thinks Mr. Dare would love him, with his APs on Economics and Politics, if only he was rich. And white.

This time, when Charles Beckendorf arrives in a Pegasus to tell him it's time, Rachel doesn't kiss him - she justs hugs him and makes him promise to call her.

Perseus doesn't go to the Andromeda Ship - he is needed in Camp. He is useless on the water - but they do need him to improve battle strategy.

Charles Beckendorf is dead. Thalia is the one to tell them - she was in her father's palace helping with a monster under her Lady's orders - he went on the mission alone.

Percy talks briefly with Beckendorf's ghost - is his worst developed power, and he can barely hold the "seance" for more than a few minutes. He does it with only Nico di Angelo for witness - the others are the way to close to the situation.

There's a spy passing information to Luke.

They look at him. Doesn't matter how much he does, he is always the first suspect - he is a son of Hades. He was friends with a lot of people on the other side. He was gone for a year and a half, who knows where.

Perseus wants to say that he has helped to save their asses four times now - that without him in the Labyrinth, they would all be dead right now - and that Charles was basically his older brother.

Then he points out he wasn't even here - he had no idea of any plans of anything - and he told him about the spy, so he is not the freaking spy, go point fingers at each other instead of him.

When they start yelling, he stops them - this is not the time, he was just angry at their accusations. They have to burn Charles shroud. Silena is inconsolable - Percy is not very far from it, but he is not a public crier. The last time he cried in public, Luke was dead on a cliff.

Percy speeds up the line for Elysium to Beckendorf - his brother deserves it.

They read the prophecy together - Perseus already read it last summer, he doesn't even care anymore. They look at him anxiously - no one has forgotten that he abhors most of the gods.

Clarisse and Michael Yew fight, but Lee Fletcher - with a mechanical arm built by Beckendorf himself, still re-learning how to shoot arrows and forever incapable of playing the guitar again (but the keyboard is not ruled out yet) - stops them: They can share the chariot. The war is more important - is not the time for petty fights.

Chiron shows them Typhon - and Perseus has a sliver of hope that they can destroy Kronos and be free of the gods at the same time - It's a horrible hope, because he loves Persephone and some of them are even okay sometimes, but he really wants Zeus to go to Tartarus for at least a century, so Perseus doesn't meet him again in this life.

But he also wants the gods to win, because there's a lot of dead people - innocents, people who have nothing to do with this war.

He dreams of Rachel. Rachel is painting Luke - and Percy wakes up crying, for the boy the gods took away.

Annabeth takes him aside and reminds him of Achilles' Curse. He is off to May Castellan's house - the last place Luke has been - for it's his best and only chance, its what Annie thinks. And she is scarcely wrong.

Perseus hates the gods. They wrecked a family - and for what? May Castellan - forever waiting for a son that will never come back, haunted by visions of his future, plates of burned cookies everywhere.

Perseus doesn't pity her - he rages against the gods, who brought madness upon this woman and then left her to it. Where was Apollo, the god of health? Dionysus, who is supposed to control mental health? Artemis, whose job is to protect women?

Hestia is kind - but she is still a goddess. She could've prevented this - but she hides in her hearth and abstains - and that's enabling. Hestia enables the other gods to do as they please, even when she is the oldest. She says they ignore her - oh well, she ignores them right back! He has no time for the laments of another all-powerful being.

So he goes to his mother and asks for her blessing. Then, just to be sure, he asks Persephone's too.

He thinks about his anchor - where does he want it to be in his body. He doesn't want somewhere in his back - where he can't see it - or in his gut - where anyone can stick a sword. He settles for the bottom of his back - where he can at least touch it and it's well protected by armor - and dives.

Perseus hates water - and he has an uncanny fear of drowning. He feels pain - everywhere, horrible pain.

His vision now doesn't have Annabeth's face - the blonde is his link to the demigod world, Persephone is his link to the Underworld and his mom is his link to childhood - but the person who grounds him is Rachel.

He is stronger. He feel his powers at his fingertips - Perseus feels the Underworld as a whole, and it's overwhelming.

Green flames explode from his hands. Flowers made of shadows curve around his ankles - he has been training since he was 12, but now his body can sustain all of his power. This is all his.

He goes meet with his father - Perseus manipulates him. He tells Hades he'll be the hero, but the god himself can be praised for more than being his father. That he should join the battle against Typhon - That's his chance of proving himself. Also, there's less paperwork for him if there are fewer dead people.

His father is amused with his blatant bribing, but he thinks about it, Percy can tell. In a way or another, he excuses himself and goes back to the surface where he is needed.

Persephone stalls him. She asks him to stay, just for this night. He can go back in the morning - he sleeps, and dreams of Rachel again, drawing in the sand. In greek.

He is scared for her - she is having demigod dreams, but she is mortal. Something is wrong.

Typhon is getting worse - and Kronos draws closer to NYC. It's time - he calls for Blackjack and leaves - Mrs. O'Leary, who has become more or less of a mother to his own hellhound, follows. Persephone promises to convince Hades.

They have about sixty campers able to fight heading for the Empire State Building, and five healers. The ones too young to lift a sword or string a bow stayed back at Camp with Argus - fifteen children between 5 and 9 years old.

Percy knows he looks different - he looks just like his father. He has gained a godly aura - he has no scars anymore, no imperfections. Perseus looms over all of them - he went from 5'7'' to 6'2'' - it's a weird view, from up there. It's still strange when they look at him with a mix of fear and admiration.

Perseus Jackson is officially their leader. He hates Olympus - but he will give his life to defend every single one of his demigods.

The vision Hestia shows him just makes him want to tear this throne room with his bare hands - Luke was a kid. He was a kid - and the gods corrupted him. Thalia was a kid - and the gods took her life, twice. Annabeth is still a kid - they all are - and she is here planning battle strategies.

Annabeth missed an extra year of formal education - while Percy is a Junior, Annabeth barely qualifies for a Freshman - because the gods took this from her too.

Percy rages. The ground of Olympus trembles beneath him - he wants to kill something.

Then Hermes appears - like this whole war is not his fault in the first place, the literal bastard - just to relay a message from Athena that gives them a plan that Annabeth was already putting into works and tells Percy to stay away from Annabeth.

Like she cares. Like Athena has ever, ever, done anything for Annabeth.

Perseus can't punch Athena, so he punches the messager (also, because he freaking guilt trips both of them about Luke). He has nothing to lose - he is going to die by the end of the day anyway, and they need him too much.

He has punched a god before - Ares, in a desert in the middle of Los Angeles - but this time, it's satisfactory. He feels good after it.

Hermes seems strangely resigned - He feels guilty about Luke too, but Perseus doesn't think it's enough. It'll never be enough, not while the gods leave their children to rot in a cabin of rejects and May Castellan bakes cookies for a son that will never come back.

Hermes leaves, ashamed. It's only fair, Perseus thinks. They all should be ashamed.

They see the city asleep - the prophecy is in the works.

Perseus executes their strategy - every cabin is covering a tunnel, with the exception of Dionysus, because Pollux is with the Demeter kids, and the Hecate kids stay behind to use spells to overlook the city. Lincoln Tunnel is getting covered by Ares - who, this time around, is actively participating.

The undetermined who didn't desert are with Hermes - and the minor god's children are divided by specialty - most Hypnos and Morpheus children follow him directly, but the two sons of Iris go with the Apollo Cabin.

Annabeth executes Plan 23, automatons, mounting on Mrs. O'Leary (who has strict orders to take Annabeth anywhere she wants without stopping to play around) - she doesn't need his help with this, and Percy has a tunnel to defend.

That left the rivers uncovered - until Thalia appears, with magical sand money, and made the rivers cooperate.

The hunters join the Aphrodite kids - who are half a dozen children between 11 and 19 - the oldest being Silena Beauregard, who uses a crossbow that looks exactly like her immortal half-brother's one.

His bridge is completely covered on skeletons - but no monster comes, even if he hears explosions. He leaves an English Lieutenant from the Battle of Yorktown in command of the bridge - with Tyene, the oldest daughter of Morpheus, to be in alert and don't let Clovis sleep through the battle. Because he did it before - and while it is funny, it can't happen right now.

Perseus mounts Blackjack - and go see where the noise is coming from. It's the Williamsburg Bridge - where are most of Apollo's Cabin.

They fight - and Percy almost cries when he sees Luke, who is not Luke anymore. Luke, who is a puppet controlled by Kronos.

Perseus kills the Minotaur and the weight of his stone spikes collapse the bridge - and Michael Yew dies. This time around, the bridge falls silently into shadows, and he doesn't bother about searching for the corpse - he saw the boy falling, and his screams will haunt all of them, forever.

This time around, Annabeth is not there to protect him - Ethan also doesn't try to kill him. The Son of Nemesis doesn't leave Kronos side for a second - but there's regret in his eyes.

After the bloodlust is gone, Perseus collapses - Will has to bride carry him back. Overuse of his powers - he summoned skeletons and produced shadows, melted enemy swords (with the bonus of incapacitating them without killing), and sprouted stone spikes everywhere - there's even a vine or ten that he used to hold his friends from falling.

Perseus doesn't sleep quickly enough to not hear the yell of anguish that comes from Lee Fletcher - the pain of losing a brother and not being able to fight beside him.

But he does sleep - and he dreams. He dreams of Hades killing Maria Di Angelo, not Hera, like Zeus told Nico. He dreams of Zeus cursing the Oracle - and he seethes, because he also sees what happened to May Castellan.

He keeps getting angrier and angrier at the gods - it's building inside of him. But his friends are still here, still fragile. He can't let them suffer more.

Perseus wakes up, checks on everyone - most everyone is either injured and/or exhausted, but he checks on every camper. He knows all of their names, their ages, their cabins. - and promises to sit up to talk with Thalia and Nico - war makes him prone to peace - and promptly goes back to sleep.

He dreams of Rachel. He wants to scream for her not to come: but she'll anyway.

Perseus dreams of a boy. He is his age - maybe a little younger. His hair is blonde and his skin is whiter - but Percy glances at his eyes, and there are waves in them.

There's a girl by his side - she is familiar to Percy, somehow. They're climbing a mountain.

The dream ends and Percy can't make heads or tails of it. He asks Thalia if she has a brother, but she says that she doesn't, looking wistful.

Prometheus is tempting - but he knows there's no Luke anymore, there's only Kronos. And the gods are horrible, vile and immature - but they never killed any of Percy's friends. Some of them died for the gods - but never by their hands, so for now, Perseus would toe the line.

He does want to punch Hermes again. He takes the Pythos - if everything goes wrong, he will not hesitate in going down for the sake of his friends - but there have been six deaths, and it's enough.

"Was it worth it?" He asks Ethan.

"Alabaster is alive" And it's all the answer Percy needs.

He dreams of Ethan and Alabaster. Alabaster is alive, yes, but he is missing half a leg - courtesy of Clarisse herself. Luke - Kronos - is indifferent, and Ethan curses the daughter of Ares - "The sword that took from us will take from you"

He contains Hyperion with his shadows. Then he helps Grover (who was half asleep, because of Morpheus) to make the Titan into a tree. It's a pomegranate tree - then he sets hellish fire to it and sacrifices it to Hades and Persephone.

A pig is in the sky - this time around, Annabeth and her frightening army of automatons kill it with Nico's help.

Perseus laughs - because Annabeth has about two hundred automatons under her command, Martin Luther King and Alexander Hamilton leading the charge with a giant bull being ridden by the Mad Hatter behind them.

It's weird to see historic figures Percy admires - like Jane Bolin, Sylvia Mendez, or Abraham Lincoln - fighting alongside people he downright despises - Thomas Jefferson and the goatfucker, herpes-ridden, Colombus. His Comparative Government teacher would have a field day.

Annabeth and Nico's pair up is amazing - They fight alongside like they have been doing it all life.

Nico is a force of nature, flying and commanding the winds to do his bidding - His eyes shine in the midst of the stormy clouds. His specialty is weather manipulation - he hasn't had much success with direct energy or electric discharges.

Annabeth has her mother's tenacity for war - and her clever mind for strategies. It's clear in her eyes - she is racking the weaker points of the Clazmonian Sow in her mind and destroying it. The automatons hold the pig in place - and she makes bacon of it.

Hercules couldn't do it. Nico and Annabeth can, because they have the power and the mind.

Perseus is still fighting off monsters - but they're too widespread, so they retreat to the doors of the Empire State Building.

Percy does a mental tally: of sixty-two campers, six are confirmed dead, twenty are injured and nine are out of commission on exhaustion. There should be 27 orange shirts here - but there's only twenty.

Percy wonders if the seven missing are injured, or dead, or under a pile of rubble somewhere with no one to help them. Is there someone being slowly eaten by monsters? Is there someone alone and injured and abandoned? He doesn't know.

He prays that those seven deserted them - at least that means they probably are alive and well.

Perseus looks at Phoebe's grief-stricken face, and he knows it's not probable - she had almost three dozen hunters with her, and now there's barely fifteen still fighting, Thalia nowhere to be seen.

They prepare for their last standing - Percy keeps conjuring skeletons, but they're no match for the sheer strength of the hyperborean giants. Nico is shoulder to shoulder with the Stoll brothers against a group of telkhines - Clarisse is bringing down a whole giant by herself.

After the Party Ponies save them - Chiron leads the charge against his own father, and Perseus is so proud of his mentor he can't even put in words how much - he goes to sleep. Fighting gets him tired quickly, and they'll come back.

He dreams of Dionysus. Perseus is not fond of any god who is not Persephone, but Dionysus is mostly okay sometimes. He seems to care about his children.

Perseus couldn't care less about the Western Civilization - but he'll care for Pollux. It's one of his demigods, after all, and Underworld people are possessive of theirs (i.e. Hades and Persephone).

He dreams of Thalia, in her father's palace, begging Poseidon to leave the underwater war and help with the invasion - His wife is none too happy with the presence of his immortal bastard daughter.

He wakes up to Rachel's helicopter falling - how is Rachel even awake, is a mistery.

The improbable pair Nico and Annabeth strike again: The girl knows how to fly helicopters, and the boy can fly himself. They save the redhead and the pilot - everything is fine.

"You're not the hero"

"Why did you risk yourself to tell me something I already know?"

Rachel doesn't explain - she can't. But she has a vision that says that he is not the hero. The hero of what? Perseus has no idea. But there's no way any of his cousins is dying for this stupid prophecy.

Suddenly, there's a drakon there. Rachel has another prophecy - Perseus fears she will walk the path that led May Castellan to destruction - that only a child of Ares will be able to kill it.

Bad news: All children of Ares are otherwise out of battle.

Clarisse is resting after a nasty concussion - and her brothers and Apollo's children are fighting yet again because Lee Fletcher is in no condition to stop them and Michael Yew is dead. Ares' side refuses to fight without the chariot - which Cabin 7 has hidden somewhere.

The best they can do is fend the drakon off until a miracle occurs. And it does: Clarisse, in full armor, manages to lead her brothers into battle.

Clarisse is dead. Something shatters inside of Perseus - and he leaves the drakon for the Ares' children to solve - he can't kill it anyway - and starts to vaporize the army behind it.

He is so caught up in bloodlust, that he almost misses Clarisse slaying a dragon. Clarisse, who has no armor. Clarisse, who is alive.

Ethan's curse rang true - Clarisse's weapon took something from her.

Silena is a traitor. She is also dead - which makes her a martyr, and probably going to reunite with her boyfriend in Elysium.

He remembers how easy is to fall for Luke's charm - he was - is - still in love with the guy. Percy thought the son of Hermes could do no wrong - and he wonders how much of his rage against the gods sprout from his influence.

Something evil inside of Perseus's mind tells him she deserved it. It tells Perseus that better her than Clarisse - but he shuts it down, and concentrates on his shining red friends.

He hates Ares. But he might just have an okay side if he can produce such a magnificent daughter.

Silena is the Patroclus to Clarisse's Achilles, and the Drakon is Hector - and the daughter of Ares is sure to parade its dead body.

It's the first time they feel like they are winning. It doesn't last - but as he hugs Clarisse tightly, he thinks he might cry of relief.

Clarisse looks tough - but she is a wonderful human being. She loves Silena with her whole heart - even more than she loves Chris, her best friend. Silena might've been in love with Charles - but she and Clarisse? They are soulmates.

The damned Pythos is following Perseus - and he is done with it. He knows where hope will survive best. Rachel wants him to give it to Hestia - but he owns the fire goddess nothing.

She has never interfered, not once, to help the dozens of demigods with no family that is abandoned in Cabin 11, and he won't forgive her for it.

He sacrifices hope to Persephone because that's what spring is. Spring is the hope of a new life. Maybe, Perseus thinks, it'll convince his father to come.

They go down to make their final stand against the forces of Kronos. There's not a lot of them - but they're not getting through those doors.

Well, his father doesn't come. But Poseidon does, with his whole army, Tyson and Thalia behind him, and the scales seem to turn.

And then Kronos cuts the barrier. Perseus can see his Mom (why is his Mom here with a handgun?!) and Poseidon fighting against the monsters under the eyes of extremely confused mortals.

Some are trying to break the barrier - but it's futile. Kronos has corraled them like sheep for the slaughter.

It's just him, Grover, Annabeth and Nico, fighting against Kronos vanguard - which is big, but not as strong as they are.

Kronos passes him without resistance - Ethan follows, but there's anger in his eyes - not for Percy, but for the monster he is leashed to. Alabaster is not there.

As soon as Kronos powers stop working on them, the four follow the titan - and some things never change, no matter the universe.

This time, it's Nico who falls because of Hera - it's her curse over all of her husband's bastards.

Ethan takes one look at Perseus, and they don't even need to fight. They have been friends for longer than they have been enemies - and they both loathe the gods, but Kronos is as much of an all-powerful controller being as any of the Olympians.

They battle against Kronos - Perseus has only his ax against his scyther - a true Underworld fight.

Ethan dies. And Perseus bloodlust consumes him - it clouds his eyes and he can only keep fighting.

"If... if we've had cabins... and they had thrones"

It's true, and more than ever, Perseus wishes Kronos wasn't such a bastard. He wouldn't bother killing the gods - but the titan is a way worse option.

"LUKE, PLEASE" It's Annabeth. He doesn't have her faith - she didn't saw his transformation. But he tries anyway because he loves Luke just as much as he hates Kronos.

"Luke, remember our summer" But his words are caught up in his throat when the titan throws him against the wall.

But the amalgamation of his friend and an all-powerful being looks confused, so props for his genius best friend.

Kronos shows them a rainbow message of Typhon - and that's where Perseus it's pretty sure he starts liking his father.

Because the Lord of the Dead opens up the earth and gets out in a black chariot guided by skeletal horses like a king. By his right side, is Persephone, in armor battle as a queen should be. By his left, is Demeter, who looks every single bit like the matron she is supposed to be.

Behind him, a hundred thousand dead roars. Charon is mounting Cerberus - and literal hell is unleashed upon the Father of Monsters.

The gods strike down Typhon, sending him back to be locked away - this time, in the depths of Tartarus instead of Mount Etna.

Kronos gets mad. Utterly, undoubtedly mad. He talks about burning Luke's body. Then he hurts Annabeth and breaks two promises in one fell swoop.

"Luke.... remember family" It's what Annabeth utters, but Perseus, already certain of their own demise, is crying now.

"That summer Luke, you promised to never hurt her again. You remember it? YOU PROMISED LUKE!!"

Annabeth's promise was already broken - he had hurt her, all those years ago, in Mt. Othrys. But the promise he made to Percy - that he would never hurt her again - is new and broken, in the river Styx no less.

Luke regains his own body, for a minute, and Perseus runs to him like a man in a desert with no water.

"Please, please tell me there's a way to undo this, Luke, please, please"

"There isn't one, Percy" And it's the first time he hears Luke call him Percy, Percy and not Perseus, in his own voice, in two years. Percy cries.

"We... we don't have much time, hellebore. Give me Annabeth's dagger. Before he... before he takes back"

Luke calls him hellebore and it makes him start crying all over again. He gives him the dagger - and Luke kills himself, taking Kronos out with him.

Luke doesn't need to ask if Percy has ever loved him - Percy kept loving Luke, one-sided as it was, even when Kronos was there.

He still crying over Luke's body when the gods arrive. Luke is dead. Ethan is dead. Silena is dead. Michael Yew is dead. Charles is dead.

He lost three of his best friends in two days. Ethan is dead. Luke is dead. Luke is dead.

Perseus can't stop crying. They take Luke's body away - but he can't stop. Annabeth explains what happened to the gods - most of it, anyway. Apollo says he is in shock - his father says he is a hero.

Perseus doesn't feel like a hero. Was this all worth it? Was it worth it the pain and the death and the suffering?

Persephone touches him - and he has no tears to cry anymore. She can't hug him here, but she'll do so later.

He stares at the walls, listening to his friends being awarded - compensated by their siblings and friends' deaths - with a blank stare. Perseus wants his mom.

They call for him. He raised his head but doesn't bother getting up. He just saved their asses - for the fifth time in a roll. He deserves to grieve.

They offer him immortality. A place between the gods.

He laughs. Zeus looks murderous, but he can't stop laughing.

"My apologies, but I have to refuse," he says. But in his mind, he is thinking about how could they even think he might want to sit between them and be an all-powerful being, be another god ignoring his children and messing with mortal lives while thousands die for him.

"Promise me, on the river Styx, that you'll give me the wish that I want."

They promise him, that if it's within their capabilities, they shall grant him his wish.

"I wish for every child at the age of twelve to be claimed. I wish for cabins in Camp Half-Blood, for every single minor god, and my own father. I wish for Calypso to be free, and to the demigods from the opposite side of this war to be given amnesty. It's not their fault. It's not any of our faults."

"You dare to-" Zeus begins, but Percy is really tired of Zeus.

"We fought your war, we won your battles. We, the unclaimed and rejected stowaways of Cabin 11. We, the children of minor and Underworld gods. We deserve respect. Just like my father deserves a throne, just like the minor gods deserve justice."

"Don't you fear us?" Athena asks, something weird shining in her eyes.

"I thought I would be dead today. At least if I die now, I'm dying for something I believe in."

It stays unsaid that he doesn't believe in them. The other demigods look at him worried - but he is not afraid of the gods.

They grant his wish. Some of them aren't happy with it, but they have to do it. He meets Calypso at the front gates of Olympus - and her smile can brighten the pits of Tartarus. He sees Alabaster talking with Lou Ellen - they are both crying.

He thinks it's the end - it's not. Thalia tells him Rachel left for Camp in her Pegasus - and his father has lift the curse, the Prophecy is gone, but he fears for his best friend.

Perseus is too tired for shadow travel - he does it anyway. He flickers, but anyway, he is too late.

It works. Rachel - his best friend - is the new Oracle. Someone jokes they can't be together anymore and Rachel lifts an eyebrow.

"We never were. Didn't you see the last few hours?" Well, he did out himself. Mostly - they might say it's just friendship, and he will hate the way they twist it. Luke wasn't a villain, and Perseus isn't a pure hero with a heart of gold.

Perseus is healing from lost love - and Annabeth is too. His crush on her was only a crush, he thinks - She is his best friend first and foremost. They cry together at the bonfire that burns away the shrouds of 43 demigods - from both sides - and 16 hunters of Artemis. Their souls all rest in Elysium now.

Alabaster comes back to Camp and helps his siblings to build the new Cabin for Hecate, full of spelled blocks and magic chimneys. Clovis and Tyene have their hands full with their own cabins - it doesn't help they keep getting sidetracked with naps.

Somehow, Nico, Thalia, and his bond over helping construct Cabin 13 - They are both way too invested in the goth vibe, mostly because Cabin 1 looks like a temple, and Cabin 3 looks like a beach cabin. And both of them are so over it.

Perseus doesn't want a goth cabin - he is fighting against the aesthetic for years - but sometimes, there are no arguments. His Cabin is made of black marble, and there are skulls everywhere, with torches shining with green fire. Outside, at least. Inside, it looks like Persephone's garden, with input from the queen herself. It's ready just shy of the end of summer vacation.

Rachel tells the next Great Prophecy. Perseus isn't such a positive person to think it won't affect him - he hopes at least it'll wait until he is done with High School.

That night, he dreams of the blonde boy again - it's his first night without nightmares since the battle. He has a scar in his lip, and his green eyes pierce Percy's soul. Perseus wonders if they'll ever meet, wonders if this boy is one of the Seven of the Prophecy.

But alas, Perseus lets it go. The summer is over - he is sixteen, somehow. He is alive and going to go back to his mortal life and his junior year, and grief. Not everything is fine - but eventually, it will be.

It's not the end. Not yet.

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not-a-space-alien · 3 years ago

Text

Magnanimous Moonrise Chapter 10M

Please understand I need to write or I'll DIE from severe Blorbo blockage

Story masterpost

Complementary chapter

Little reminder...my stories gotta have a happy ending, it's the entire reason why it's fun for the characters to get dragged through the mud for me. so dont worry :)

Content/Content warnings for this chapter: Nonconsensual bondage/restraint/being trapped, gag/muzzle, aftermath of torture, starvation, heavy emotional distress, mind control, whump of a female character, blood blood BLOOD, unsanitary/vomit, brief eye whump, burns

The ride there was long and awkward.

Valen wanted to say something, to explain himself, to mount the defense he’d had locked inside ever since this whole nightmare started.

But he needed to save his voice. He was terrified of the possibility of wearing out his newly returned defense mechanism, terrified that if he talked too much his frayed vocal cords would give out and he would no longer be able to use persuasion.

He was starving, unable to help himself, unable to even walk on his own, deep in human territory, when angry vampire hunters would be after him for vengeance. He was keenly aware of how vulnerable he was, of what a razor’s edge he was on. If he couldn’t use persuasion, it was over for him.

Still, he should say…something at least. If not for his own satisfaction, then to reassure Lex he wasn’t the monster she thought he was.

“For the record,” he croaked, “I never killed anyone.” This was true, unless you counted the lizard he’d had when he was 15 that’d died because his parents let him buy it without knowing how to take care of it.

She said nothing. It wasn’t like she couldn’t; he hadn’t commanded her not to talk, and although it might be an uphill battle, she could definitely do it if she wanted badly enough.

He could tell she was not more at ease. She wouldn’t believe me even if I tried to say more. If I told you I won’t hurt you, if I told you what I was here for originally, you wouldn’t believe me. You have no reason to.

Just like Valen hadn’t had any reason to believe her when she’d said he would be okay, which he hadn’t been.

The dark road whizzed by them, the needle of the speedometer resting perfectly at the speed limit. Valen cradled his head against the window, watching the painted lines fly past. He was glad Ari wasn’t here–there was only room in the cab for two people, and having Ari in the cargo space back there would have been nerve-wracking, trying to maintain control over both of them at once, for hours. He wasn't that good at persuasion, and doing it on multiple people made it even harder.

He turned on the radio. The emergency broadcast signal came out, squealing and beeping. “–issued for Marsh county. Residents are advised to stay indoors until sunrise. This is not a test. A V alert has been issued for Marsh county. Residents are advised to stay indoors until sunrise. This is not a test. A V alert has been issued for Marsh county. Residents are advised to stay indoors until sunrise.”

A V alert, of course, meant that a vampire had been spotted. As though he were a weather phenomenon everyone had to take cover from. This was probably for him, right?

With shaking hands, he turned the radio off.

He wasn’t sure what time it’d been when they’d left the compound, but it became obvious soon enough that they would not make it back to his house before sunrise. He whimpered as the sky started to lighten, clouds streaking beautiful orange and pink.

If they could pull over–

No, if there was a rest stop–

Maybe he could–

What if–

Moaning in terror, Valen undid his seatbelt and clambered over the center console, into the cargo space in the back of the van. He curled up behind Lex’s seat, tucked against the wall, out of reach of the window. The same place he’d been set the first time he’d been in the back of the van, in the coffin, being ferried to his place of torment.

He tucked his knees against his chest, pressing his face into them, rocking slightly.

He stayed that way for the rest of the ride. He occasionally looked up to check the progress of the sunlight. There were a few stray patches on the floor in the cargo space here and there, easily avoided, nothing compared to the cab. Lex snapped down the visor that blocked the sun from her eyes, saying nothing.

Finally, they slowed down, with the sound of tires on gravel. Then, stopped. Silence.

Choking, Valen peered up, trying to get a glimpse of the outside. He shrieked as an unexpected stray sunbeam reflected off the rear-view mirror into his eye, pain exploding in his head.

He dropped back down, both hands clamped over his left eye. The pain was indescribable. It rocked him down to his very core, grating on his bones, unraveling his DNA. Even if Nick had gouged his eye out and then poured molten silver directly into his eye socket, it wouldn’t even be a fraction of this pain. It blotted out all intelligent thought.

Gradually, the pain started to fade in intensity. “You will–” He whimpered, curling more tightly in on himself. “You will go–go inside–into the house and–and you will–go into–the closet–and find–and bring to me my cloak–and boots–and–enough to cover myself.”

The door opened and the van rocked as her weight left it. Valen panted in acute terror. That had been just one ray of sunshine, for the briefest second. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have his entire unclothed body in the sun for any amount of time.

He waited and waited, terrified that Lex had somehow managed to ward off the persuasion and was just going to leave him there to face the sun.

But no. Her boots sounded outside eventually. The back doors were thrown open, and he started, shuffling back, horrified that maybe the sun would reach him.

It didn’t, mercifully. Lex stepped up and came to him. She had a bundle of black clothes in her arms, which she deposited next to him.

He unfolded them with shaking hands. Clothes, his clothes, his clothes from when he was a person and not a piece of meat. He slid the pants on first, one hand on Lex for balance. They were far too loose on him now, but it would do. The boots came on next, precious coverage for his feet, which hadn’t touched anything but the bare concrete floor for months. He had trouble lacing them up, with his uncoordinated hands, every motion aggravating his wounds and his broken bones, and now this new problem he had of being blind in one eye.

A t-shirt, something to finally, finally, finally cover his chest.

He pulled the cloak over himself, keeping an iron grip on Lex’s arm. “You will–you will escort me into the house.”

Lex helped him down and supported him as they walked across the grass. He kept his petrified gaze on the ground, on the vision of his boots moving in and out of the dreaded sunlight, afraid to look up, afraid to get a repeat of what had just happened, his left eye still residually burning.

His boots touched the familiar wood of the porch of his temporary house, then walked him into the shade. He almost wept with relief.

As soon as they were inside, Valen shut the front door, then finally let himself look up.

His house. It was still here. The broken kitchen window had been boarded up–by who? A neighbor? The lights were all off–the electricity must have been shut off long ago when no one had been paying the bills. He was too afraid to look out the window, but it would be a miracle if his car was still there.

“Close all the blinds.”

Lex walked around the first floor and shuttered all the windows.

He’d done it. He was here. He was safe.

Now what?

His roaring, angry stomach demanded his attention first. He needed to feed. Everything would be easier if he could feed. He could get some strength back, he could heal faster.

He strode into the kitchen, where Lex was waiting obediently by the broken window, having pointlessly lowered the blinds over the plywood. He ignored her and opened the fridge.

The light did not come on. The fridge was room temperature. Of course. It probably had been for months.

Valen put a hand over his mouth, almost sick at the rotting smell released when he opened the door and broke the seal. All the bottles of artificial blood had congealed into a dark sludge, rings rimming the insides to mark when they had been fuller. Most of them also had mold blossoming in them.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t realized that the blood would, of course, be inedible by now. Vampires were predators, not scavengers. They drank fresh blood. This wouldn’t do anything for him.

Maybe I can–

Maybe if there’s–

What if I–

He stumbled out of the kitchen, barking a command for Lex to follow him and help him down the stairs into the basement. Into his workshop.

He let out a screech as something moved, a blur of motion across his workbench and down to the floor. A ringed tail disappeared into the crawlspace….a raccoon. A raccoon had made its home here in his absence.

The light wouldn’t come on, so Lex surely couldn’t see very well with only the light coming from the very small window up at ground level, but Valen could still see all right.

His equipment was mostly still there. Some of it had been knocked over, apparently by his racoon lodger. He braced himself against the workbench, clumsy hands swiping glassware off of it and shattering on the floor.

Were his supplies all still here? He lit the bunsen burner, setting a glass flask above it. He went to pour a glucose solution into it, only to find it’d all evaporated, a crystalline crust on the bottom of the jar. Frantic, he looked around the workbench. A few jars had been knocked over, shattered, their contents scattered. Some of them were missing entirely–Lex and Ari had taken them, he realized suddenly, they had collected things from his workstation and taken them as evidence of his activities.

He lowered his head down onto the counter, crying. He couldn’t make more. He didn't have even half of the things he needed to do so. And even if he could, it would take a long time, too long for him to stay and wait for it to brew. The hunters knew where his house was. And even if he could have waited, he knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t be enough. The artificial blood had, at best, tided him over between real feedings. He still needed real human blood a few times a month even with the most developed version of his product, and it’d been six months. He needed to eat.

He pushed the glassware rig off the bench as he got up, smashing more glass across the floor, his boots crunching over them with each wobbly step. He snarled at Lex to help him up the stairs, and she did so.

She stood by the basement door, watching him as he went back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, groping in it, knocking over bottles which tumbled to the floor and shattered, spilling sludge and mold and glass shards all over the floor.

His chest heaved in desperation. He took a bottle, examined it, saw the black and green blooms of mold. Threw it on the ground, adding it to the mess, took another. Saw the deep, sickly color of the congealed blood that had never even been blood, an insufficient imitation even on its best days.

He staggered backwards, catching himself on the fridge door, and bottoms-upped the bottle into his mouth.

It tasted like dead meat and rot. He spat it out immediately, the remnants of the bottle spilling down his front. He let it fall to the floor, cracking and rolling away under the sink.

He knelt, the growing layer of blood and glass underneath of him painting his knees, and he reached further back into the fridge, knocking aside obviously tainted bottles, seized by some mad hope that somehow there would be something edible if he just looked hard enough.

The last bottle slipped out of his hand. The dark desperation clawed at him again, the animal that had driven him to use persuasion, the thrumming, pounding fear and anger and hopelessness.

From his kneeling position, he raised his head to see Lex still standing idly in the doorway.

He scrambled to his feet, his front and hands and knees all slick with tainted blood. “Kn-kneel down.”

Lex did so. He could see the twinges of fear on her face, the panic pinned into place and unable to be released. She knew what was coming.

He collapsed in front of Lex, blood-soaked thighs laced in her own, talons grabbing her shoulders. He’d never fed from a human before, but he’d seen others do it. It was awkward, a trick to get the right position.

He lowered his head down into the crook of her neck. He felt her body trembling, fear racking her body even under the spell keeping her still. He started to cry there, shaking along with her.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

He pressed his lips gently to her neck, a hand threading through her hair and pulling her head to the side. Tears slid down his cheeks as he planted a gentle kiss there. This wasn’t how he wanted touching her to go, not at all.

He knew there was no going back once he did this. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t. All that mattered was his own animalistic hunger, and the sweet scent of the human who would satiate it.

You did this. You drove me to this desperation. What was it you always comforted yourself with…You deserve it.

He bit down, his mouth filling first with the salty taste of skin, then the sweet, warm, heavenly taste of blood, real human blood, fresh from the source. The feeling of his fangs in her neck was intoxicating, drawing out the stream of life, feeling the warm, sticky substance leaking out under his teeth. He had never tasted anything this delicious, never in his decades of life. He wanted to drown in it.

He lapped at it ravenously, drawing out more, going in for a second bite, tearing more of the skin. He needed more, more, more. It would never be enough, it would never fill the bottomless hole in his stomach, in his blackened heart.

Lex trembled in his hands. “You’re–” she choked out, her voice so, so small. “You’re going to kill me.”

He was drunk on this feeling, the power, the hot gore in his mouth. He grabbed her more tightly, held her more closely. Her skin was starting to feel colder, her movements weaker.

He broke off. Not because he’d heard Lex. But because he suddenly felt so wrong. Physically.

He’d gorged himself. He hadn’t eaten in months, and he’d just gorged himself like a mosquito or a fat tick. Except his body wasn’t designed to take in that much food at once and hold it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He felt sick. Vomiting was a strange and rare sensation for most vampires, and Valen was no exception. He could feel it coming, though, his body reacting violently to the sudden dump of mass into his stomach.

He’d gotten carried away, he’d binged. His abused, starved body no longer knew how to handle this much food at once.

Valen turned and staggered into the kitchen, aiming for the sink, but he collapsed midway there, onto his hands and knees, and retched. All the precious blood he’d just swallowed came back up, spattering onto the floor, dribbling down his already saturated chin.

He heaved until his stomach had turned itself inside out to empty itself. Panting, he knelt there, feeling the strength once again sapping from his limbs, the euphoria of feeding wearing off.

His blurry vision focused in on where he was, kneeling in a thick pool of blood spreading across the kitchen floor, the artificial blood and the human blood he’d just vomited up and the glass shards from the shattered bottles slicing his knees and adding his own dark blood to the pool. Blood, blood, blood. This is what he was, a creature of blood and pain and suffering. He was born and bred to cause suffering and death. It was in his bones.

Why did it matter how hard he tried to be otherwise, when this was the outcome either way?

Maybe he should just embrace it. Maybe he should just be fine with being a creature of blood.

He shakily got to his feet, bracing himself on a chair, trying futilely to wipe the blood from his face. Lex was now on her hands and knees as well, looking pale and weak and dizzy. He walked past her to the phone on the wall.

He took it from its cradle with shaking hands, leaving bloody fingerprints on the buttons as he dialed.

It rang and rang. It was morning, after all. Everyone would probably be getting ready to go to sleep.

Finally, someone picked up. “You’ve reached the Kithrara estate.”

“Hello,” said Valen, trying to stay dignified, but his voice cracked instantly. “Is Priscus there? Can I talk to him?”

There was a stunned pause. “M-mistress Kithrara,” said the voice. “It has been so long–”

“I want to talk to my husband.”

“Yes, yes of course. One moment.”

He was put on hold. He leaned down and put his forehead to the wall, face taut with anguish.

“My sweet?” said a man’s voice from the receiver. It sent a shiver up Valen’s spine.

“Priscus,” he said, voice warbling. “Please come get me.”

There was a long pause. Then: “My little turtledove, where are you? It’s been so long.”

He hid his face in his hand, sobbing. “Priscus, please, please, please. Please come rescue me. I’ll be the mistress of the house, I’ll bear your heir, I won’t demand to drink from blood packets like a commoner. I won’t complain. I even–I even have–” He cast a glance at Lex, then hid his face again. “I even have my own–my own human we can–to add to yours. Please, please just come get me. I’ll do anything. Please.”

Utterly exhausted from his begging, voice starting to give out, he panted.

“This is an improvement,” the voice purred. “Of course I’ll come get you. Where are you?”

“I’m–I’m in human territory.”

“Why…are you there?”

“I can–It’s–forget about it, it doesn’t matter now. Just–just please, please come–”

“You have been very disobedient,” said Priscus sternly. “And I will have to discipline you, so you don’t wander off again.”

He swallowed. “Yes–Yes, sir.”

“I will come get you at nightfall.”

Panic lanced through Valen. “I won’t last until nightfall. The hunters know where I am, they’re coming, they’re going to find me. Please, Priscus, please save me, I’ll do anything, anything.”

His voice cracked, giving out from the force of his begging. Mortified, he swallowed.

“Very well,” said Priscus slowly. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll get to you as soon as is feasible.”

He moved his lips, trying to force words out of his mouth. He finally managed to rasp out, “One minute.”

He didn’t remember the address anymore. If Lex hadn't remembered how to get there, he wouldn't have been able to give her instructions. But he had it written down somewhere.

He set the phone down on the table, moving towards the stairs. He had some papers in the bedroom…if they were still there.

As soon as he crossed in front of the window, it exploded outwards with a huge BANG, glass shards tearing through the blinds. Valen threw himself to the ground, covering his head.

He heard something banging open, the sound of plywood breaking behind him. He scrambled backwards, unable to muster up the strength to jump to his feet despite the terror coursing through him.

A second bang quickly followed the first, and this time Valen realized what it was: gunshots.

They found me. They got to me already. He’d thought surely he’d have more time than this.

“Yoohoo,” said Nick’s voice from outside, and his silhouette appeared at the window. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

More sounds from behind him. He was paralyzed with shock and fear at how fast it had happened, how quickly they’d followed him and how fast they’d appeared. Footsteps were rapidly approaching from behind him, but all he could focus on was the terrifying visage of Nick clambering in through the window, a revolver in his hand.

“S-stop!” he choked out, trying to take command of the situation again.

It was too much. He couldn’t keep up persuasion over three people at once. He wasn’t good enough at it. He’s already been stretching himself with two. The command rolled harmlessly off Nick as the human grinned wickedly, and that’s when the force from behind him barreled into him.

Something slammed him into the ground, a full body press, cracking bones and knocking the wind out of him. He opened his mouth to try again, but a hand clapped over his lips.

“You’re dead, fucker,” Ari’s voice snarled from on top of him. “You’re so fucking dead.”

Valen yanked his head back just enough to get some leverage and sunk his teeth into the meat of Ari’s hand, more blood exploding into his mouth, feeling the tissue and bones crunch beneath his jaws.

His bite was pathetically underpowered. There’d been a time when he might have been able to just bite clean through Ari’s hand. Even still, Ari yowled in pain.

But she didn’t let go. That…wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected her to yank her hand back as a reflex, giving him an opening. If anything, she seemed to lean into the pain.

“Give her back!” Ari growled, Valen’s teeth sinking deeper into her flesh, forcing his jaw closed as much as he could get it.

“Ari…” said a weak voice.

There was a silence as Ari presumably saw Lex, limp on the floor. Saw what Valen had done. He swallowed the mouthful of blood he had.

The room tumbled over as Ari rolled him onto his front, still keeping her bleeding hand wedged in his mouth. Her face was full of frightening anger. He’d never seen any human this angry before.

She planted a boot on his chest. He uselessly grabbed her ankle with his hands.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew a wooden stake. “I’m not asking this time.”

“Wait!” said Nick’s voice. “Don’t kill it!”

“Fuck off!” said Ari, but Nick’s hands had appeared and tentatively blocked her from plunging the wooden stake into Valen’s heart. “I’m killing this monster!”

“Just let me–You’ve already–!”

“Fine!” Ari snapped, tossing the stake aside. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

Nick grinned evilly and withdrew another muzzle.

Electric, full-body fear surged through Valen instantly. Not again. Not again. NO.

Ari removed her hand, and the muzzle went in and on, too fast for him to put up a struggle.

It burned. Why did it burn? He waited a moment for it to subside, then when it didn’t, realized with horror why: The muzzle was made of bare silver.

He thrashed and screamed and kicked out to the full limits of his destroyed body, desperately trying to keep his hands free so he could remove the burning metal that had been forced into his mouth, onto his tongue, around his jaw.

Ari turned her back on him, kneeling and helping Lex instead.

Valen howled as best as he could, crying out for mercy, unable to fight off the silver chains that Nick had wrapped around his wrists, cinching them together. The chains burned too.

“Come help me,” Ari snapped at Nick.

“What about–”

“Just toss him in the basement and lock the door for now.”

Valen watched Nick through his one good eye, blurred with tears, as he kicked the basement door open and dragged Valen over by the ankles.

“Good night, you piece of shit,” said Nick, and threw him down. Back into Hell.

***

Tag list <3

@annablogsposts

@darlingwhump

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@whumpsday

#hurt/comfort #angst #vampires #whump #vampire whumpee #whumpblr #my writing

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snowdice · 4 years ago

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 39]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. None edited chapters are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

Alright. Time to get a bit of studying done.

Arc II What We Do to Each Other

Chapter 16:

As it would turn out, Janus and Virgil did not get in trouble for hooking up the old phone to Virgil’s integrator, mostly because it wasn’t really a mistake on their part. The phone cleared all virus checks that the tech people both from the university and the TPI ran on it. The phone should have been clean and should not have caused an issue.

In fact, they were still trying to pin down the code on the general university server. They could tell that something was mucking about on the system but what or how was a mystery. This also meant that there was no telling what information had been compromised and considering how many things Silver Mountain had its hands in, that was… a bit worrying.

Another worrying thing was there was suddenly more activity of late at the TPI. There were more time distortions popping up every day. Usually they would be few and far in between. There had been 3 total recorded the year before, but over 12 in the last week. Some of them were fake like the one Janus had investigated, but some of them were real. It painted a distressing picture and also was a drain on their resources. Khalid was actually looking to advertise positions to hire new recruits which was something she rarely did as she liked to keep appointments to the TPI in house.

They’d even loosed the number of field agents needed for each mission and Janus and Remus had been splitting up just to get everything done. Today, he and Remus had thankfully only two missions scheduled for the day.

“Are we going together or separate today?” Janus asked Remus.

“Think they’ll burn me at the stake for being a witch if I go alone to either of them?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I think we’re getting a bit late into the 1700s for that in Cuba, but I have no idea about Mesopotamia.”

“Let’s just go together. I did not like almost drowning yesterday because I was the only stranger in town when the weather was going wonky.”

“Surely it isn’t because you opened your mouth. Ever.” Janus said dryly.

“How was I supposed to know he was the local clergyman’s son?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “On second thought,” he said, pushing a button on his desk to choose Cuba as he next mission, and standing up. “I don’t want you coming with me.” Yet, he did not protest when Remus also signed up for the Cuba mission and he waited for him by the office door before going to talk to Rhi.

Rhi was a bit frazzled when which meant quite a bit as she was usually incredibly put together. Remus didn’t even seem inclined to tease her today.

“Okay,” she said once they’d closed the door behind them. She flipped through some documents on her desk. “Picani and Clockson. Camaguey Cuba 1755. Do you know Cuba?”

“Uh,” Janus said. “Yeah?”

“Like you’re reading the things, right? I don’t have to babysit you, right? You got it? The Seven Year War was happening, but it won’t affect you much as it hasn’t really hit Cuba. It’s the middle of the Camaguey Carnival. Everyone will be everywhere and there will be chaos so as long as you don’t really fuck up you should be fine. Um…apparent races.” She looked up at them and studied them each for a moment as thought looking at them for the first time despite having known them for years. “It’ll work. Go to costuming.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Janus said, “sign things?”

“…Yep,” she said, fiddling with her desktop and then sending documents over to their side to sign.

Janus and Remus both did before sending them back.

“Great. Good.” She stood and grabbed some things from behind her. “You can go.” She sat back down as they took their things and Janus noticed a message pop up on her desk. She looked up at Remus looking exhausted. “What?” she asked.

“Just open it,” Remus said.

Rhi tapped it and a photo opened.

“I got her a new mouse toy!” Remus said happily as Rhi looked at the picture of Diesel Fuel attacking a cloth mouse.

“That is… appreciated Agent Clockson,” Rhi said. “Now get out.”

They did, leaving to get their costumes on and checked. Costuming was just as busy and frazzled as Rhi had been and they actually had to wait for decon because there’d been a mix up with the agents leaving before them. They landed in Cuba without issue. Janus could already hear the festival in full swing outside the small building they’d were in. Remy was standing there with a very not time appropriate mug of coffee.

“Sue me,” Remy said when Janus raised an eyebrow at it. “Please just… get in and out without causing trouble. Seriously. I don’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“We’ll do our best,” Janus assured.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down to look at him. He looked exhausted. “God please do more than your best.”

Janus nodded tightly. “We’ll be in and out,” he said, already glancing at his timepiece. It had been disguised as a golden bracelet which made it a bit harder to actually use, but wrist watches wouldn’t be invented for more than a century, so they’d have to make do. “The time distortion, if that’s what it is, should be in the middle of town. Let’s go.”

He and Remus exited the building onto the packed city street.

Janus was immediately bombarded with all types of sights, sounds, and smells. There were many colorful articles of clothing and costumes as people went every which way along the street talking to other members of their community, playing instruments, and dancing. There was the sound of people speaking Spanish, still mostly almost pure Castilian Spanish with perhaps a bit of influence from Taino as the Haitian revolution had yet to push the Creole language over to Cuba. People must have been hard at work cooking different dishes for the carnival as many different spices wafted through the air. It was sticky hot considering it was the middle of June in the tropics and Janus was immediately sweating despite the temperature appropriate clothing he’d been outfitted with.

He glanced around their immediate area, just scoping out the crowds. His eyes were immediately drawn to one person near them.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said out loud when he saw Pat. Remus looked in the direction Janus was.

Even if Janus didn’t recognize him the moment he laid eyes on him, he probably still would have ended up staring as he was the only person in the area who clearly did not know how to do the dance he was attempting.

Remus snorted and Janus shook his head in secondhand embarrassment. “Well, would you look whose boyfriend’s here,” he said to Janus. Make that firsthand embarrassment. “Has anyone told him the Mambo wasn’t invented until the 1900s and also that’s not how you do it?”

Chapter 17

Pat stopped dancing the moment he saw Janus approaching him, but he still bobbed cheerfully ( and unrhythmically) to the music. “Hi Janus,” he said pleasantly.

“You just have to rub it in, huh?”

There was a flash of confusion across his face, but then he smiled. “Well, I know where in our relationship you are. How was France?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You stole the phone,” he laughed.

“You stole the bomb,” Janus countered, “and you wanted me to steal the phone. You booby trapped it.”

“No,” Pat correct, putting a finger up. “We have security on my phone because in high school I once forgot it in the school locker room and long story short, the three of us ended up in a lake. So, then Lo made sure I always had some sort of tracker on it. When I started time traveling, he updated it and when I met you we updated it again in case there was ever an opportunity like that. Lo calls it using our weaknesses to our advantage.”

“He’s a bastard too,” Janus growled.

Pat just laughed.

“Is someone talking about me?” Remus asked, stepping over to them. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Pat said, blinking at Janus’s partner for a moment. “Remus.” He hesitated slightly. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Remus asked. “Uh, I’m doing good. A little stressed out with work, but fine.”

“Good,” Pat said with just a little too much heartfulness to it.

“What?” Janus asked, eyes narrowed at Pat. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Pat asked. He met Janus’s eyes briefly and it made panic surge up Janus’s spine because the look Pat was sending him wasn’t one that said he was playing dumb. It was a warning.

Oh, Janus did not like this. That look told Janus Pat had some foreknowledge that he absolutely could not tell Janus about without messing up the timeline spectacularly. This was why this mess the two of them were mixed up in was so bad, but it seemed Janus did not have much of a choice when it came to Pat.

Despite how bad of an idea he knew it was, he still wanted to push, because whatever Pat was hiding could be very, very bad and it had to do with Remus. There were so many reasons Pat could be acting like that around Remus, but the worst ones were definitely the ones on his mind. Death, injury, illness. They were all possible especially in their line of work and especially with how time was being screwed with right now. And Pat knew. He knew exactly what the answer was, and oh did Janus want to push.

Experience knowing what worse things could come out of having foreknowledge made Janus bite his tongue.

“So, what are you two doing here,” Pat asked, and Janus unhappily let him change the subject.

“Oh, like you don’t know,” Janus replied.

“I don’t know,” Pat said innocently.

“There’s another time distortion,” Janus said, “and while you didn’t know what it was the last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you do now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a time distortion here. I can help you if you like,” he offered sweetly.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if I could find the Flying Dutchman,” Pat told him.

“And so you went to Camaguey?”

“Uh huh.”

“One of the farthest places from the ocean in Cuba?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t trust you.”

Pat just shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want my help finding the time distortion, I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait,” he said when Pat went to turn away. Pat paused. Janus turned to Remus. “Remus, do you think he’s bullshitting me so I let him wander off and do whatever the hell he’s doing, or do you think he’s bullshitting me into letting him come with us.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, looking Pat up and down. Janus could immediately tell he wasn’t going to get any helpful answer. “Well, if we’re going with the how much do I get to see his, admittedly very sexy, ass criteria.” Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Letting him leave now means instant gratification and a nice full image when he turns away. However, letting him go with us means many more opportunities to get a glimpse, but they’d probably just be glimpses. So, yeah that’s a tough call.”

“You didn’t even bother to give me an actual hidden suggestion with that bullshit,” Janus groaned. He glanced at Pat only to see him hiding his very red face in his hands. Janus blinked. “Oh,” he said. “You got him, Remus.” Janus was surprised. He’d expected a bit more tenacity for someone with Pat’s personality. Of course, Janus was used to Remus, so that perhaps had some effect. Pat made a muffled distressed sound behind his hands and Janus raised an eyebrow. “You really got him.”

Pat flapped one hand around while still using the other to completely hide his face. “It’s just. His face. Saying that. Is weird.”

Janus could not say that he didn’t feel a slight spark of joy at seeing Pat flustered. After all, Pat’s weapon of choice had often been flirting with Janus in the past. However, he still smacked Remus on the shoulder when it looked like he was about to continue with something likely far more inappropriate. “We are here for a reason,” he reminded. He turned to consider Pat and squinted at him. “You’re coming with us, I’ve decided. I don’t want to let you out of my sights. Don’t,” he said empathically turning to Remus as the man opened his mouth once more.

Pat had mostly recovered, though his cheeks were just a bit pink still. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Where do we start?”

Janus glanced at his timepiece. “It’s not showing up on our trackers yet.”

“It messed with your tracker last time,” Pat pointed out.

“I know,” Janus said. “Which means it could be another fake one or whatever is causing it hasn’t started yet. If things start going wrong, but it still doesn’t show on our radar, it’s almost certainly a fake one, but some of the fake ones haven’t blocked our technology.”

“Here, I can check,” Pat said.

“Please don’t pull out an iPhone,” Janus begged.

Pat stuck out his tongue at him, and then smiled. He reached for the bracelet on his wrist and twisted it back and forth a few times before pressing his palms together. He glanced around them quickly to make sure no one around them was watching and then peeled apart his palms like he was miming reading a book.

“What the fuck is that, and how do I get one?” Remus asked immediately. It was innocuous, whatever it was. If someone from this time caught a glimpse of the display, they’d likely assume it was a trick of the light, but staring right at it, Janus could tell it was a map of the surrounding areas with a softly glowing blue light marking their current location. Janus could see no screen or origin of a hologram. It looked like the image was drawn onto the man’s palms, but as he watched, the image shifted to zoom out.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything major yet,” Pat said wiggling his fingers a bit. The display changed slightly to some sort of colorful overlay Janus did not understand. Pat hummed. “Did you two come from that building recently?” he asked nodding at it.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “How do you know?”

“There’s sometimes a slight temperature change when people time travel,” Pat explained. “I can read it on here.” He tilted his head. “There also seems to be a big enough temperature change in a church a few blocks away that could indicate time travel. Want to check it out?”

“We might as well,” Janus agreed.

“And if it’s nothing, we can get drunk on the communion wine!”

“He’s going to get immediately struck by lightning,” Janus said.

Chapter 18

“If we see anyone,” Janus said as they entered the church. “You keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me? Remus, do you understand me?”

Remus immediately turned to Pat. “You know, I didn’t grow up Catholic,” he said to Pat who looked at him in confusion. “So the first time I ever entered a Catholic church, you can’t blame me for being a little confused about the whole cabinet thing with a wall between them. After all, everyone was singing about glory to god and what not. So I…”

Janus slapped him. “This is why you were almost burned at the stake yesterday.”

“Excuse you,” Remus said, putting his hand over his heart. “I was almost drowned.”

“You were almost drowned?” Pat asked, his voice seeming legitimately distressed.

Remus shrugged a smile on his face that caused a Pavlovian migraine to start up behind Janus’s eyes. “It’s one of the hazards of the jobs, and really it would have all been worth it if I’d actually gotten to drown in that man’s…”

“We’re in a church!” Janus cut him off switching from Spanish to Swahili in the hopes that no random passersby would be able to understand him in this time and place. “Don’t talk about lewd sex things. Don’t talk about sex at all. It’s a Catholic church!”

Remus continued to speak in Spanish with no regard for anything. “But not talking about lewd sex things takes away 3/4ths of my personality,” he pouted.

“More like 9/10th,” Janus grumbled, “and the other 1/10th is just normal stupid.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t be mean,” Pat scolded, in fucking English for some reason, “but Remus, honey, you probably shouldn’t be saying things like that right now.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Remus said switching to English.

“He’s my partner, I have the right to call him stupid,” Janus insisted.

“And I love you too!” Remus said in Greek because he was really, truly, stupid.

Pat looked between the two, but then seemed to accept it, dropping the concerned expression for a slightly amused one. “If you say so.”

“Can I… help you?” A voice asked. All three of them whipped around to see a young boy looking at them and seeming very confused. Which was fair considering that to his ears, they’d just been speaking nonsense.

“We’re here to pray!” Remus claimed, then he turned to wink at Pat and said under his breath in Swahili, “to that ass.” Pat went immediately bright red again, which was doubtlessly Remus’s aim. Janus subtlety stepped on his foot while smiling at the boy.

“Oh,” the boy said. “Okay.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in questioning the random strangers in front of him further. “I’m going to go back to the celebration now.”

Janus smiled at him. “Have fun,” he said. He waited for the boy to leave through the front door before slapping Remus on the back of the head.

“Ow!” he whined sounding far too pained for how hard Janus had actually hit him.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Let’s just start investigating,” he said.

“Sure, sure, you never let me have any fun,” Remus said, pulling up his wrist and spinning the golden bracelets on his arm. “Hmm…” he said.

“What?” asked Pat.

“Either I put on the wrong jewelry this morning… or my timepiece isn’t working.”

“Well, then I’m guessing we’re in the right place,” Janus said. He turned to Pat. “Your stuff still working?”

Pat brought up whatever device was on his hands. “Yeah,” he said, “and it looks like something is just starting.” Just as he said it, there was a violent crash of thunder.

“Well,” Janus said. “We should probably find the source and soon. Which way?”

Pat glanced around himself and then motioned with his wrist. Suddenly there was a 3D display of the church in front of them.

Janus could see immediately where the problem had to originate. There was a swirling mass of some sort of energy centered at the top of the bell tower of the church. As he watched, he saw the picture of the church glitch out a bit. He had a bad feeling about that.

“Is there something wrong with your display?” he asked, or more hoped.

Pat shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so…” The room seemed to shift suddenly underneath their feet. It felt a bit like time travel, but also wrong. The picture on the display flickered harder, part of the building fracturing and dissolving before appearing back in place. The room settled after a moment, but Janus’s stomach did not.

“Whatever is going on,” Janus said, “We need to stop it right now.”

Pat nodded. “The quickest way up would be that way,” Pat said pointing. The display closed as he did.

“Then, let’s go,” Janus said.

The world was eerily calm as they all started off in the direction Pat had pointed out. In fact, it was almost too quiet.

“Where’s the nearest window?” Janus asked when they came out on the second floor.

Pat glanced at his hand. “There should be a couple a few feet that way.” Janus nodded and left them standing there. When he glanced out of the first window he came to, it appeared to be night. Yet, when he walked to the next window, he saw daylight.

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“Time is fracturing,” Janus informed them. “We need to be careful.” This time distortion was much more intense than any of the other ones the agency had been tracking down over the last few months. It had also come on much faster. Usually there was some time between when the time distortion began and it started having extreme effects on the environment. He was suddenly very glad that he and Remus had not split up today. He was even glad for Pat’s company, no matter how aggravating he may be sometimes. Not to mention, he was glad for the man’s technology that seemed to circumvent whatever was blocking Janus and Remus’s timepieces.

He backed away from the windows and returned to the others.

“Whatever you do,” Janus said. “Don’t let anyone be in a room alone.”

“I know what time fractures are this time,” Pat promised.

“It was as much for the idiot as it was for you,” Janus said.

“You accidently bring a bubonic plague infested rat to 900BC one time and you never live it down.”

“I’d say I should put a leash on you, but you’d twist it into something disgusting.”

“Probably,” Remus agreed.

“Where next?” Janus asked, ignoring him.

“That way,” Pat said.

They walked together to the door he’d indicated. “Please don’t be bullshit,” Janus prayed. He opened the door and immediately got bowled over by a stream of salt water.

Chapter 19

Janus landed flat on his back, a wave of water splashing over him and then quickly retreating, but still leaving him absolutely drenched. He sighed, looking at the ceiling. “Don’t,” he warned, “say a word.”

Of course, he was with the two most impossible people in all of space and time, so neither of them headed him.

“I thought you said we were far from the ocean, Jan,” Pat said.

“Yeah, Janny,” Remus immediately jumped on board because he was an asshole. “I thought we were far from the ocean!”

“Maybe I’ll achieve my goal of finding the Flying Dutchman after all!”

“Ooo ghost pirates! I’ve never gotten to fight ghost pirates before. Any good with a sword Patty?”

“My friend has a sword and he let me use it before… but all I did was cut a hole in our couch, and then Lo was mad at us.”

“I mean… just pretend the pirates are a couch and we’ll be good!”

Janus slowly sat up. There was still water on the floor and every so often a wave would crash into the room as though the door frame signaled the edge of a beach. Pat reached down to offer him a hand up and Janus slapped it away.

“Rude!” Pat claimed, but his eyes were alight with mischief.

Janus shoved himself to his feet on his own power.

“You deserve it,” he hissed. “For all of this!” he waved his arms around.

“Water you talking about. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You are on thin ice.”

He looked down at his feet with a contemplative expression. “Looks like water to me.”

“Arg!” Janus spat, throwing up his arms.

“I don’t sea why you’re screaming, Janus.”

“Yeah,” Remus contributed. “You seem overally emotional to me.”

“Yes, yes,” Pat replied. “Very em-ocean-al.”

“One may even say he’s pretty salty.”

“I know where you live, Remus,” Janus reminded.

“Alright, alright Remus, reel it in,” Pat said.

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but Janus cut him off. “Why don’t the two of you dedicate all of that brain power to figuring out how to cross the literal ocean in the next room,” Janus suggested hotly.

And it was a literal ocean. If one ignored where they were and the fact that there was a staircase climbing out of said ocean about 80 or so meters away. There was sand being washed up across the door frame and a seagull flying in the distance. At least it looked like a nice day in the room with the way the sun was glinting off the water. At least it wasn’t storming there. Yet.

Janus’s head throbbed with the thought of what had to be happening with the time distortion to plop a piece of the ocean into one single room in a church. Usually they’d be calling the TPI for backup or at least for information, but that was a loss. Even if they tried to get out of range of whatever was disrupting their timepieces, time was so unstable, they’d very possibly get dumped somewhere dangerous. It was better to just get to the time distortion as quickly as possible and stop it.

“Hmm,” Remus said. “I wonder how deep it is. Do you think there are man eating sharks in the water? Or giant jelly fish? Remember that one time I got stung by a jelly fish and almost died?”

“Yes,” Janus said, lips pursed, “and it was entirely your fault.”

“I just looked so squishy!” he declared, “I didn’t know it was a murder blob.”

“I think I have a boat,” Pat said.

They both turned to him. “What?” Janus asked. He was looking at his hands and just hummed in response to Janus’s question. The next thing he knew, Pat made some motion with his hand and a yellow raft started to autofill from his palm. “...Why?” Janus asked.

“I… recently started carrying a wilderness survival pack in my time device.”

“I’m not going to question it. It’s better than swimming.” By the time the raft was completely deployed, they’d all been shoved into the walls by it.

“Huh, on second thought. I probably should have put the raft in the room before blowing it up.”

“You think?” asked Janus.

Pat glared at him over it. “I never really thought about how to open it in a narrow second floor corridor.”

“Just try to shove it through the door without popping it.”

“Why are you looking at me?!” asked Remus.

They managed to somehow squeeze the raft through the door into the other room after a few minutes.

Pat squinted at the tottering raft he was holding to the door frame. “After you,” he offered.

Janus glared at him.

“You’re already soaked!” Pat defended himself.

Janus sighed and very carefully climbed into the raft. It tottered dangerously, but he didn’t immediately fall out, so that was a plus. The other two of them slowly also climbed onto the raft with him. They then sat in it for a few seconds. “Is there an oar?” Janus asked.

“Oh right!” Pat did something else with the device in his hands and an oar slowly unfolded from his hand.

“Seriously, I want one of those,” Remus said.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Janus said, snatching the oar. The staircase luckily wasn’t too far away. They probably could have swam it if necessary, but the raft gave them some modicum of protection. Everything seemed to be going in their favor, which of course meant everything was about to go incredibly wrong.

They were about halfway across the water when the entire world around them rumbled.

“…I hope that was a giant jellyfish,” Remus said.

It was unfortunately not a jellyfish or any sea creature at all. The world around them fractured, the ocean seeming to split right down the middle so the water right of the staircase was 6 feet higher than on the left. The sky flashed red and yellow before the water split completely like Moses splitting the Red Sea.

There was a millisecond as the split widened until it was only a few feet from them, to decide whether when they landed they wanted to be on the side with the water or on the side without it. On one hand, going towards the side without water could mean they fell to their deaths or the water crashed back down on top of them when it settled. On the other hand, if the fissure was closing or shifting to a new area, it was very possible that they’d end up trapped in the middle off the ocean with no connection to the church.

Well, the best chance to actually get to where they were going was probably the side without water. It seemed everyone had the same idea at once because as he grabbed for both of them, they both grabbed for him and they all went tumbling off the raft into what could have very well been a bottomless pit.

Janus learned after a couple of seconds of free fall, that it was definitely not a bottomless pit. He landed hard, flat on his back and saw stars. The next moment something landed on top of him, squeezing all of the air out of his lungs.

Something else fell half on top of his legs.

“Ow,” Pat said from near his ear.

“Yeah, well you’re the one on the top,” Janus groaned though his teeth.

“Wow, I never took you for a bottom, Janus,” Remus said from near his feet. Janus kicked up his legs into whatever part of him was on top of Janus and he gave an “oof.”

Pat snorted a bit and Janus glared at his… shoulder? He shifted around a bit so he was less thrown across Janus and more just on top of him. Janus blinked. There was a wooden ceiling above them, so that was a good sign, though there was also a giant dark hole of nothingness directly above them which was not as good.

Janus moved slightly. He could tell he was going to be bruised later, but he didn’t seem seriously injured. “We should,” he started, but was interrupted as the hole above them pulsated and dumped a bunch of sea water.

Pat shrieked as they were all drenched with the chilly water. Luckily, they seemed to be on higher ground because, while water kept pouring out of the hole, it drained away just as quickly instead of drowning them.

Water still hitting his back relentlessly, Pat peeled his head up to look Janus in the eyes. A giggle bubbled out of his mouth.

“It isn’t funny,” Janus informed him. Pat just giggled more, leaning his head against Janus’s chest and cackling.

Janus just rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, this is an entirely appropriate reaction. Thank you for your contribution to our very important mission.”

Pat seemed incapable of stopping laughing completely, but he did calm himself enough to peel himself off Janus’s chest and lean forward so their noses almost touched. “It’s hilarious and you know it,” he claimed.

“In what way is this ‘hilarious’?”

“In many waves,” was the joy filled answer.

“You’re horrible.”

Pat hummed. He hadn’t moved to get off of him even though they really should be moving in case something worse than water came through the hole in the ceiling. He hadn’t even moved his face away.

“No, no, you two just tell me when you’re done being gay for each other,” Remus interrupted. Janus was surprised to see he’d stood up at some point and was now hovering over them.

Janus flipped him off even while Pat laughed once again. Pat finally drew away and rolled off of him so Janus could sit up. Pretty much everything hurt when Janus moved, but he was able to stand up, so he was probably fine enough. “So,” he said looking around. “Where are we now?”

Chapter 20

Janus looked around himself while Pat booted up his map to try to figure out where they were. They were in a small room that may actually be considered a large landing as there were staircases on either side of it. The water that was still coming out of the ceiling was running down the staircase that led down from the room.

Something was stopping the water, creating a pool on the steps that was already about to overflow into the room. With the speed the water was flowing, they should have enough time before the room completely filled up with water and drowned them.

Janus wondered if they were in the church or not. It was not out of the question and there was church like décor around them, but who knew? He could feel a strange vibration in the ground and the one window in the room shone with green light.

“Hmm,” said Pat. “That looks not good.” He’d projected his map so they could all see everything.

The map itself was moving. Rooms were phasing in and out of focus and fracturing down the middle. One room was even spinning lazily around in circles. Janus could see the room they were in. It was connected to the bigger blob of rooms, and there was a black line connecting it to another room from the top which was obviously the hole spewing water at them.

“Well, at least the time distortion is still coming from the bell tower,” Remus said. Janus shot him an unamused glance. Said bell tower was currently upside down and shuddering as well as divided from any other room by at least two inches of empty space.

28842

“How are we supposed to get there?” asked Pat.

“We don’t,” Janus said. “It’s literally impossible.”

“There has to be some way,” Pat argued with a frown.

“If we try to use time travel, we’ll definitely get shredded by the warping time and space around it and walking there isn’t an option. There aren’t even any entrances!”

“Well, there were at one point.”

“Yeah, before,” he gestured wildly to the ceiling that was still pouring water into the room.

“So?” Pat asked.

“’So’?! What do you mean ‘so’?!”

Pat shrugged. “When one door closes, cut another one.”

Janus froze and looked at him for a long moment. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

Patton raised an eyebrow. “You.”

“I don’t think like that anymore.”

“Well then I guess we’ll die,” Pat said lightly. “Of course, that’ll make an even worse time loop considering I’ve met older versions of you.”

“Fuck,” Janus spat. “Fuck. Fine. Give me a minute to think. Not that I even know if we have a minute because,” he gestured once again to the room.

“Okay,” Janus said. “The room with the source of the time distortion is separated from us by a swirling pool of dark nothingness and there is no way to get to it. But, the only way we’re going to stop the distortion from ripping apart time and killing us as well as probably a bunch of other people is to get to it. That is an impossible situation. There is no solution. That door is closed to us. What other ways are there to look at it?” He looked at the visual representation of the rooms. One of them suddenly went spinning out and his eyes tracked it. We need to be in the same place as the source,” Janus said. “That is fact, but we don’t have to get to it.”

“Um, what do you mean?” Remus asked. Pat shushed him.

“If you want thing A and thing B to be in the same place, there’s more than one way to do it. If you can’t move thing A to thing B, you might be able to move thing B to thing A. Pat, you have a working time device. We can’t travel with it because that would kill us, but if we can make it do a stutter warp, it could draw the time distortion to it.”

“You…” Remus said. “Want to create another time distortion in hopes that the original time distortion will be pulled into this room?”

“Yes.”

“Well, sounds good to me!” Remus said.

He maybe had expected Pat to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved his hand to his wrist. There had been nothing there before, but when he touched down on his wrist with two fingers, there was suddenly a metal bound around it that Janus immediately recognized from the times he’d seen Pat’s timepiece before. How was it made invisible? He shook the thought off as Pat offered it up wordlessly. Janus took it and Pat leaned over his shoulder to look.

Despite the fact that the device looked nothing like his own, the interface was surprisingly convenient. “I assume you have safety setting to prevent a stutter warp,” Janus said. “How do I turn those off?”

Patton pointed at a gear icon on the screen. “You put it under your normal settings?” he asked.

“I have to put in my password or use my fingerprint!” Pat defended.

“It doesn’t matter right now.” He navigated through the settings. He was interested to see that there were many different saved default security settings, but he didn’t get much of a chance to read what all they did. He just turned them all off.” It popped up with a message to put in the password and Pat pressed his fingertip to it. Another message popped up warning them that turning off these settings could cause damage to the machinery, the person using it, and time itself. Janus pushed “okay.” A message popped up that asked “Continue” and Janus pressed “yes.” One last message popped up that said “Security functions disabled.” Janus pressed “okay.”

“Anything else I’d need to disable?”

“Nope,” Pat confirmed.

He navigated back to the main screen and then bought up the manual travel input screen. Yet another message warning him not to do this flashed and Janus once again ignored it. He copied the space time coordinates that the device said they were currently at and put it in the ‘travel to’ location. “Well,” he said. “Here it goes. Let it be known that if I die, it’s my own fault for allowing Remus into a church.”

“Really?” Remus said. “That’s what you’re choosing to be your last words?”

Janus just raised an eyebrow.

“Love you too Janus.”

Janus nodded and hovered his finger over the travel button. He quickly mashed his finger to the button 22 times.”

The device warmed in his hand enough that he almost dropped it. Time literally froze for a few breaths as whatever Deity that may or may not exist processed their stupidity.

Janus was not a scientist or technician, but he had a good idea of how badly they were fucking up right now. The timepiece was attempting to travel over and over again to the exact same place and time. This basically punched a small hole through time, that if left unfixed would grow and disrupt space time all around them. As it was, their current position, all gathered around it and staring at it while one of them had it literally in their hand, was perilous.

There was a rumble under their feet and the world tilted on it’s axis. The all went tumbling down in a pile of limbs to new floor of the room which had once been a wall.

Of course, this change of gravity caused the water that had been building up in the staircase to dump on top of them.

Janus would have cursed, but he was too busy being under the water. He maneuvered himself away from the other two flailing bodies and managed to shove his feet against the wall turned floor. His head popped above the water in time to see the ceiling, or well, it would be the opposite wall, rip in two and the other walls/floor/ceiling start to fold in.

“Give me a boost!” Pat called over the noise of water rushing and walls crunching.

“Give you a boost where?” Janus asked.

“Up!” Janus wasn’t sure if ‘up’ really existed right now, but he still nodded. The water was a few inches over his head, so he held his breath and interlaced his hands so Pat could put his foot in it. He was shoved down into the water, but it gave Pat enough leverage to shoot up out of the water. When Janus resurfaced, he saw that the man had grabbed ahold of the crumbling wall and was pulling himself up into what for all appearances seemed to be absolutely nothing.

It took a moment, but then Janus blinked, and he was suddenly in a new room entirely or perhaps it was the same room. He honestly didn’t know at this point. Remus was next to him. He couldn’t recall if he’d been there before the shift or not, but they were both treading water. Pat crashed into the water next to them. Janus’s wrist buzzed as his timepiece came back online. “Got it!” Pat declared when he resurfaced, holding a device up. It looked almost the same as the device they’d found in France, but this one was definitely different if it was able to cause that much chaos that quickly.

Janus looked around and pointed at what appeared to be a set of stairs. The three of them swam over and pulled themselves out of the water.

“Where are we?” Pat asked.

“Looks like a basement,” Remus replied. “A flooded basement.”

Janus pulled up his timepiece and pushed some buttons to stabilize Pat’s timepiece. It slowly stopped vibrating and cooled. “Here,” he said, handing it over to him. “I suggest you put the safeties back on now.”

Pat nodded and took it.

“We’re still in Cuba,” Remus informed them, looking at his own timepiece. “Same church too, but in the basement and… two and a half centuries later.”

“Remy is going to be pissed,” Janus said.

Remus shrugged. “He’s always pissed… at least at me.”

“Well,” said Pat, slipping his timepiece back onto his wrist. “Thanks for being willing to pool our resources.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Stop.”

“Ah, mi sirenito-”

“I hate you.”

“-never.” He disappeared with a pop which was when Janus realized, he’d never handed over device that had caused the first time distortion.

“…You bastard!” he yelled at thin air as though the man could hear him.

“Well,” said Remus, “that mission went swimmingly.” Janus reached over and shoved him back into the water.

Chapter 21

“We should probably get out of here,” Janus said, very much not helping Remus out of the water. Remus pulled himself back up onto the staircase and shook like a dog. Janus crinkled his nose as water droplets hit him. They didn’t smell salty anymore, he noted. In fact, there was a broken pipe spewing out water on the other side of the room.

Janus and Remus cautiously snuck out of the church, not wanting to be seen and blamed for the flooded basement. They came out on a city street that was much different than the one they’d entered from.

They walked down the street a bit, Janus’s eyes scanning the buildings. His eyes caught on a sign and he tugged Remus towards it.

They entered the small paladare and the person delivering food to one of the tables blinked at them both. Right. They were in clothing from the 1700s and were soaking wet. He met eyes with the woman, challenging her to say something. She did not.

They found a seat at one of the tables.

“Ah…” the worker said, approaching them. “English?”

“Ron,” Janus said, “por favor.”

Remus turned and started ordering the both of them food in Spanish. Janus didn’t pay attention to what he did.

After his second shot of rum, Janus sighed and brought up his timepiece to ping the TPI. The reaction was almost instantaneous from their perspective. Remy all but kicked down the restaurant’s door and walked over to them. “How the fuck?”

“Ah, Remy,” Janus said calmly. “Have a seat. We’re waiting on our food.”

He did, but probably only because people were looking at them. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a long day,” Janus answered, “and I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, it certainly looks like you’re interested in the food,” Remy said, eyeing the empty shot glasses.

“Let’s just say, I’m glad Cuba started letting paladares legally serve liquor a few years ago.”

It’s clear that Remy wanted to ask them what had happened, but he also was cautious enough not to make a scene here and Janus wasn’t planning on getting up until he’d at least gotten his food. “Why are you soaked, by the way?”

“Turns out the ocean isn’t as far away as we thought,” Janus said.

“Also, a church basement is flooded,” Remus said.

“Fantastic,” Remy replied.

They sat there mostly in tense silence until their food came, and then Remus and Janus ate. Remy slapped down some pesos once they were done and then proceeded to all but physically drag them out of the restaurant.

They were led to an alley way and then through an old almost hidden door. Remy immediately rounded on them. “What the hell happened?” Remy asked.

“The time distortion caused level 5 time fractures in its vicinity, we almost drowned three times, and the worst person in the universe fucked me over again.”

“To be fair,” Remus said. “He did save our lives before that.”

“I saved our lives first,” Janus said. “I don’t have to be fair.”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Curl Up In A Ball And Perish. I’m sure we would have been fine without him.”

“Anyway,” Janus said to Remy. “If you want your lump of flesh, I suggest you take it now, because Khalid is going to murder me, and then fire me, and then rehire me so she can put me on desk duty and make me do paperwork until the end of time.”

#not writing #study break stories

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thran-duils · 5 years ago

Text

When the Truth Comes Out (P.1)

Title: When the Truth Comes Out (Part 1) Summary: Reader/Professor Novak. The reader is in graduate school and has fallen into a surreptitious relationship with her married professor. Professor Novak is educated, handsome, and fascinating. But he has an issue of drawing healthy boundaries for him and the reader. And it all comes to a head when their secret is found out and everything has to change. Words: 2,143 Warnings: Smut, ***ANGST***, infidelity, emotional abuse, eventual happiness(?idk if it’s super happy but lmfao)

Chapter Two || Fanfic masterpost || Masterpost (mobile)

Professor Novak’s hands moved up your sides, lips smashed together. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he drove up into you.

You leaned back, biting your lip, feeling him inside. Your hand finding a pile of papers that slid out from beneath your weight, causing you to yelp as you started to fall back. Novak’s grip tightened instantaneously on you, jerking you back up.

“Your desk is a mess,” you teased breathlessly, rolling your hips to him.

“I think we are looking at the culprit for that,” he husked in return, his lips finding yours again.

You smiled against his kiss, your hand finding bare desk this time to avoid another mishap. It was true; you had been bent over his desk only moments before and you had succeeded in knocking over his pens to start with when your hands reached out for grounding. Now his papers, whatever they were. He would collect them later.

A vacuum started down the hall and he froze, fully seated inside you.

You turned your head, just as shocked as he was.

“Shit, it is Tuesday, isn’t it?” he hissed, drawing your attention back.

“What does that mean?”

“Janitor is in the building on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.”

“They probably have headphones in,” you tried to reassure him, running your hands down his arms.

Novak shook his head. “That’s not the problem. How are you going to get out of here without being seen? It’s damn near eleven o’clock.”

“I’ll crawl out of the window,” you whispered, a hand coming down to grip his ass. You just wanted him to continue.

He shot you an annoyed look, “We are on the third floor. Nice try, Y/N.”

“We’ll figure it out after,” you pouted, rolling your hips to him again, sighing softly feeling his cock brush inside you. “Please.” You batted your eye lashes, giving him doe eyes.

It worked; he fell into your rhythm. And soon he had you laying back on your back as he plummeted into you. His hands held tight as they cupped underneath your thighs, his eyes hooded with lust watching your breasts bounce. You touched yourself, biting your lip at him sensually as he locked his gaze on the movement. When your back arched as you saw stars, you whimpered, trying to keep quiet.

Novak followed and his hands planted on either side of you on the desk as he held himself up from collapsing onto you after he had emptied himself. You lazily reached up, running your fingers gently through his hair. He hummed in approval and you massaged softly, helping him to come back down.

He leaned down, giving you a long, deep kiss. “You are lovely,” he breathed.

“You flatter me,” you whispered in return, a grin despite yourself.

Pulling away, he told you, “I mean it.”

You knew he did. He was risking a lot sleeping with you, stealing kisses and time with you when he should be at home. Let alone the scandal it might cause that he was with a student, no matter if you were in your mid-twenties now, in grad school. You had really nothing to lose reputation wise; you would not face the bigger repercussions. He had reminded you time and time again to be quiet about it, saying he did not want you to betray him.

Sitting up, you suddenly took notice that the vacuum sounded more distant.

“Hmm, seems the janitor went upstairs. See? They were wearing headphones.”

“Yeah, luckily it is Tuesday and not Thursday. They come in to vacuum the offices then and that would have put us in a very precarious situation.”

“Truly,” you agreed, sliding off his desk and reaching for your clothes. You dressed quickly, knowing that this was the opportunity for you to sneak out of the building. He was doing the same, gathering up his things.

You bent to pick up his papers and he waved you off, “I’ll do it in the morning. Don’t waste time.”

Shrugging, you straightened back up and went to go snatch your purse off the ground by the door. When you stood back up, Novak was by his desk, holding out a bill towards you.

“Take it.”

“Are you… paying me now?” you asked, unable to think if you should feel offended or amused.

Novak looked unamused himself and he told you firmly, “I saw you eating ramen in the dining hall.”

Realizing he was giving you grocery money, your annoyance melted away. You stepped closer, “You ‘saw’ me?” He said nothing and you smirked, imagining him watching you. You knew he kept an eye on you and happened to show up where you were at times. You had caught him before, giving him mischievous smirks across the green, across the room, to let him know you saw him. He had told you he needed to watch out for you, that you were at risk of being swept away from him. You had laughed when he told you that, but you knew he was serious; he had accused you once of taking a boy back to your dorms from one of your classes; he had seen the two of you leaving the student union, walking close together. He had been actually envious. You knew it was frankly unfair he would be upset about it if you had since he was married. But, you enjoyed the way he coveted you too much.

You still had not taken the bill – you could see it was a crisp hundred though. Squaring your shoulders, you asked, “What if I just like ramen?”

“I don’t care,” Novak stated. “You should be eating better. And I know the refund checks aren’t coming for another week.” You narrowed your eyes slightly, still not moving. You loved teasing him, knowing you could get under his skin. All that power was intoxicating at times. He rose his eyebrows and ordered, “Y/N, take it.”

Sighing dramatically, you said, “Fine” as you grabbed it from him. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to buy some broccoli and spinach to go in my ramen.”

“Y/N,” he warned, and you grinned widely at him as you stuck the money into your pocket

“Yes, dad, I’ll eat better.”

“’Daddy’”, Novak corrected you, his lip upturned into a small smirk.

You chortled and said, “Yes, ‘daddy.’ I’ll make sure to stay healthy for you.” You added playfully, “You know you’re only 35, right? I mean, technically, you could be a daddy but –”

“Enough,” Novak cut you off, ushering you towards the door. He needed to go with you to lock the building door behind the two of you. “They are on the next floor. We need to go before they come back down.”

As you opened the door, you smiled to yourself, knowing he did not want you to tease him for his kink. He followed at your back, locking the door behind you, and ushered you forward again in hushed tones. You smiled, feeling the danger of the situation. The two of you slinking around in the dark to escape the building, hiding your midnight tryst.

<> <> <>

Castiel texted you while you were in class, asking you to come to his office at 3:00pm. When you had seen the text, you were confused. It was the middle of the day, so unless he had gone off his rocker, it not a booty call. You did not have a class with him, so it was nothing to do with academics.

Walking across campus, you racked your brain thinking about what could be going on. His father was sick. You prayed nothing had happened with him, that would devastate Castiel.

You two had been seeing each other – still in secret, of course – for over a year and a half since that night escaping from the janitor. That put you at almost two years counting the time before then. What had started out as sex had blossomed into something deeper. The first time you had called him by his first name, it was real… the dynamic change in the relationship was real. The declarations of love came next. The two of you confided in each other, sharing intimate things. It was hard to explain to your roommate why you never brought anyone home from the bar.

Knocking twice on his door, he beckoned from the other side to come in. You moved into the office, cheeks flushed from the chill outside, hair windswept. Closing the door, you blurted out, “What’s up?” as you turned back around to look at him.

Your face fell for only a few seconds before you composed yourself again; he looked wrecked. His sweater was wrinkled – so unlike him – and he looked like he had not slept. You thought the worse, your mind going back to his dad.

“She knows.”

Forehead creased in confusion, you asked, chuckling nervously, “Am I supposed to know who ‘she’ is?”

“My wife. She knows. About us.” Your face fell immediately as the gravity of the situation fell on you. He exhaled shakily, rubbing his hands up his face roughly, pulling at his hair at the end. He shook his head and said, “She suspected something, she said. So, she looked at my phone.”

“She knew your password?”

Castiel shot you a reproachful look that made you want to recoil. “We’re married, Y/N. We know each other’s passwords.” The way he said it made it sound like you were stupid. “Not sharing that with her would have been suspicious.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I just didn’t know.”

Castiel sighed again and said apologetically, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just…” he trailed off. He paused before saying, “Thankfully she doesn’t know who you are. She didn’t see any of the pictures. And I don’t have your name saved as the contact.” You understood that; you had his number under an alias as well. “She just saw…. our texts. From two days ago. She didn’t even read them all… she said she couldn’t. She only saw a few. But… me saying ‘I love you, night’ confirmed everything.”

You swallowed sharply, not knowing what to say. He was waiting for you to say something though, he was staring at you.

“So. What happens?”

“I fix it. I have to… I can’t leave her, Y/N,” Castiel told you, sounding strained. He could not keep eye contact with you. You felt like you had been hit by a freight train, staring at him in shock. He exhaled sharply at your expression and said exasperated, “Christ, Y/N. Don’t look at me like that.”

“How do you want me to look at you?” you snapped, trying to hold back the tidal wave of emotion welling up inside of you.

“She told me she was pregnant!” Castiel barked, and then closed his mouth, knowing he was being louder than he should be. There were so many people in the building, including in offices nearby. You could not help your mouth fallen open though. They had been trying, but she had not gotten pregnant for years. “She was saving it. The surprise.” There were tears forming in his eyes as he shook his head, letting out a small laugh void of humor. “We’ve been trying for so long. And… it has to all happen like this.”

“’Like this’,” you echoed, catching his attention. “So, that’s it then? We’re just…”

You trailed off, not being able to finish.

Castiel stood up from his desk now, coming around it to you. His hands cupped his face and as much as you wanted to shove him away, you did not. You craved his touch, you wanted to be comforted.

“No. I mean, I don’t want that,” Castiel told you tearfully. “We just need to… back off for a little bit.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I-I don’t know.” He looked at a loss. Choking back tears, you looked away from him. “Hey, look at me.”

Shaking your head, you shoved him away. He looked shocked, his jaw going slack. You wiped angrily at your eyes, trying to hide all evidence of tears threatening to spill over.

“No,” you told him angrily. “That’s not fair. You don’t get to ask me to just wait around for you to get your shit together.”

“Y/N, now don’t—” There was an edge to his voice, a switch in his demeanor. He was going to try to persuade you to be docile about it, as he always did, but you were not hearing it.

Turning around, you flung the door open and stormed out, leaving it open behind you. You did not know if he called out after you because all you could hear was a roar in your ears, just wanting to get out of that goddamn building and be back in your room.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas @stixnstripesworld

#castiel x reader #au spn fic #au castiel fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #castiel fic #my shit

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mimssides · 4 years ago

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One Spade for five Hearts: Chapter 2

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___

Today had been supposed to be a normal Wednesday. Quite frankly it had been a perfectly normal Wednesday until Remus had not come to PE in the last period of the day.

Logan had found it a little unusual; Remus liked chaos but kæ was not someone to skip class, especially not one kæ liked so much. The teacher had asked the class if someone knew where kæ was but eventually just started the lesson.

When Logan had gone back to the changing rooms together with Virgil, he had planned to ask their friend where kæ was, only to be met with twelve very panicked messages from Patton. With a frown Logan halted and looked over the few first messages until he felt Virgil looking over his shoulder.

“Did something happen?” Virgil asked.

Logan held up his phone for him to read and commented: “Probably, but I am unsure of exactly what had happened. Can you glean anything from this?”

Virgil’s eyes darted over his phone screen for a few seconds, he was as quick in reading as he was in running, and shook his head a few moments later.

“They might be freaked out about Remus? Maybe they know something; we can meet up with them after changing?” Virgil proposed as they continued walking and finally entered the changing room.

Logan nodded and texted Pat that they could meet up after Virgil and he had changed if they desired so. Then he put his phone down to get back and change.

When Virgil and him had changed quicker than usually, Logan checked his phone again but found no new text. While exiting the building Logan sent a new message to Patton asking if everything was alright.

The answer he got came not over text.

“Logan!!!”

It was easy to startle Virgil. He sometimes jumped at the sight of a speck of dust being enlightened in the sunlight at the wrong moment. But to startle Logan one had to be truly gifted.

So, it was a rather rare sight of both Spades jumping on the spot, as Patton cried for Logan as soon as they had seen him exit the building. With a hand over his heart Logan looked over to Patton, who was running towards Virgil and him. It seemed like they had cried, eyes red, usually always present smile wiped away from their lips and Logan felt his heart sink. Something was wrong.

The thought got only stronger, when he noticed Roman and Damian following them. As far as Logan could tell, Roman seemed enraged and Damian something between annoyed and worried. This seemed to get more complicated than Logan had expected.

Patton ran quicker and only did not crash into the pair because Logan managed to catch them in time and now was holding them by their shoulders. Patton trembled under Logan’s grip and he quickly let go only for the slightly smaller boy to surge forward and tackle him in a hug, gently crying into nape of Logan’s neck.

“Okay, wow, this is bad,” Virgil commented weakly and shot Roman and Damian a terrified look as they caught up.

Damian put his hand on Roman’s shoulder, who was about to explode, as Logan finally patted Patton’s back to calm them and asked the two: “Could you please figuratively illuminate us about what is going on?”

“Sid Kent has struck yet again!” Roman growled and Logan felt his lips twitch. “And this time he’s getting Remus expelled!”

“What?!” Virgil hissed panicky while Patton’s crying got louder again.

Alerted Logan walked a few steps away from the school building, the others following and asked Roman with a pressed voice: “What has this dimwit done this time?”

“Remus or Sid?” Damian said with an eyeroll and earned two angry glares from Virgil and Roman.

“I was asking for Sid but you can tell me too what Remus did wrong.”

A wet cry came from Patton and all four others looked at them as they wailed: “Nothing! Kæ ‘idn’t do a-anything ‘rong!”

Logan and Virgil exchanged a look. Not that Patton was not reliable, but the possibility that Remus did nothing to cause kæs situation kæ was currently in was astronomically slim.

“I get the looks but,” Roman said walking up to Logan and Virgil and stemming his hands in his hips, “for once in kæs life kæ actually wasn’t at fault. Sid and his friends trapped kæm in the storeroom for plant seed in building K. Apparently one of them knocked kæm out and now kæ is stuck in there. Rem needed a minute to figure out where kæ was and only then kæ texted Pat what happened.”

“Remus is stuck in K?!” Virgil asked perplexed and Logan felt a migraine approaching.

In building K they had the conservatory and next to it the gallery with an exhibition of historical artifacts from the city. It was off limits to be in there for students without permission after 16:00 and if someone got caught, they had to expect to deal with the consequences. And Remus, who was notorious for kæs pranks or just talking out of line in the worst possible moments, would most likely be expelled for a few days after everything kæ had done in the past no matter if kæ had meant to be there or not.

“Gods be damned,” Logan mumbled under his breath.

Virgil next to him began to pace around mumbling ‘shit, shit, shit’ over and over again as Damian sighed once more and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Meanwhile Roman stepped closer to Logan and Patton and put his hand on the latter’s shoulder. They finally let go of Logan and turned to look down at the still furious redhead and sniffled their nose.

“Are we now going to break kæm out, dearest Pat?”

At once Virgil stopped in his tracks and flabbergasted stared at Roman.

Damian groaned and hid his head in his hands saying: “We cannot do that Roman! I’ve said it fourteen times and I will say it again: We cannot break Remus out of there! We’d need to get the key for this damn storeroom, which we only could obtain from one of the members of the gardening club and we all know that they are all narks and won’t give us that damn key. And even if we could get that far, after that we’d need to check if someone is inside the building to make sure kæ could get out safely. How on earth would we do that?”

“I don’t care how! I’m going to get my brother out of there!” Roman contested vigorously. “You cannot possibly think this is fair! If it was kæs own mistake, if kæ had brought this over kæmself, I wouldn’t care, but there’s no chance that the teachers would believe kæm that kæ has been pranked. They won’t take kæs side, so I will. I will make it right when the authorities fail.”

There was a beat of silence. Patton’s sniffle broke it and Roman’s eyes softened and he squeezed their shoulder gently. They smiled a little at Roman’s attempt to comfort them and Logan realized that Patton would help Roman break into the damn building.

And with that realisation followed the impact of the things Roman had just said. Remus would be treated unfairly. He knew kæ would. All the teachers were harder on kæm in every class they shared. Of course, Remus was loud and tactless but even more so kæ was brilliant and intuitive.

And kæ was Logan’s friend.

With that thought Logan looked from the two Hearts over to Virgil, whose expression changed from worried to mortified.

“Your will in all honour, but this is not going to work. I mean, even I agree that this isn’t how Remus should be treated, I would like to help kæm, but not at my own expense,” Damian objected softly trying to talk some sense into Roman.

Sadly, Damian’s efforts would be for naught as Logan took a deep breath and said reluctantly: “Actually… There might be a way to get kæm out. But that would require your help, Virgil.”

Logan looked over to Virgil and saw his apparent panic. He knew how much Virgil did not want to stand out, how much he liked disappearing in the background and how much he most certainly wouldn’t want to get involved into breaking Remus out of this building. But he knew also that Virgil was excellent at thinking quick, adjusting to new situations and that he was the most supportive and gentle friend anyone cold wish for. Which was why he had never let Logan walk into new and scary situations on his own despite being absolutely mortified.

“Fuck, L,” Virgil mumbled shakily. “You know I can’t let you do this on your own. You might get scared breaking the rules without me.”

Logan just huffed as an answer and looked over to the two Hearts beaming at him in glee and the Dimond shooting him a glare.

“You can’t be serious, Ward,” Damian said and rubbed over his blind eye.

With a shrug Logan pointed to the tie around his neck and said: “I am always serious, Lucas. Now for the plan.”

___

It was 17:58 now and their plan had worked far better than Logan could ever have expected. Just as planned Roman, Patton and Damian had caught a girl from the gardening club after leaving building K and distracted her with a conversation as Virgil silently picked the key off her. The charm of three very charming red Suits paired with Virgil’s stealth had worked outstandingly well in their favour, just as Logan had predicted.

Now it was time for the next step and Logan hoped that would work just as well. Virgil and he himself would get the key to Remus, so the boy could exit from the inside. They could do so, since the little storeroom had a slim window, which Virgil could reach if he stood on Logan’s shoulders. With a clear view Virgil could teleport the key inside the room and Remus would be able to free kæmself.

Before though Patton, Roman and Janus would go inside to silently check if someone was still on the first floor there and meet up with Remus to get kæm out of there. In case someone would see them, it was way more probable that they could talk themselves out of the situation than Logan, Virgil or Remus could.

Remus had been informed through Patton’s and Roman’s texts and after they saw the janitor leave the building the three red Suits went inside and Logan and Virgil walked to the backside of the building. Quietly they positioned themselves under the little window and Virgil climbed on Logan’s shoulder with little issue. For a moment Virgil checked the room he could see through the dirty glass and saw Remus sitting on the floor next to the door. The screen of kæs phone lit kæs face.

Inhale. Exhale. Concentrate on the spot next to Remus, Virgil reminded himself and clenched the key in his hand until it disappeared from his fist and reappeared in the spot where Virgil had envisioned it. Remus flinched and then looked up to the window suddenly a bright smile on kæs face. Eagerly kæ waved at Virgil before taking the key and unlocking the door to kæs prison.

With a sigh Virgil let Logan know to let him down. For a second they just looked at each other before Logan took his phone out to check if everything was going well with the others.

Everything would be fine if Roman Butkus hadn’t lent Damian his yellow crayon that day in forth grade. If that hadn’t happened, they wouldn’t have become best friends, he wouldn’t be emotionally attached to this impulsive Heart and he wouldn’t be pressed against a wall together with him and Patton because they had seen a member of the gardening club and stupidly fled up the stairs to where Remus was trapped, instead of saying that they had forgot the time and were now leaving.

But Roman had lent him this crayon and now he was here and Remus could not for the life of kæm open any doors silently even if kæs life would have depended on it. Which was why the steps downstairs suddenly stopped and Damian could almost feel how the gardening guy was turning around and walking towards the stairs.

This was bad. Really bad. Suddenly he felt Roman grabbing him by the wrist and he was pulled along with Patton towards Remus. The Club wanted to speak but kept kæs mouth shut when kæ saw Patton gesturing and Roman’s serious look.

Damian looked back to the staircase and Patton typed something into their phone and showed Remus the screen. The dim light illuminated Remus’s face and made it clear that kæ expression changed from confusion to concern. Frantically kæ looked around, as kæs eyes suddenly settled on the window down the hallway. Like a flash an idea came to Remus and kæ looked towards kæs brother in the hopes that he would have come to the same conclusion. And luck was with kæm for once, as Roman nodded and took Damian by the arm and quietly walked towards the window at the end of the hallway.

Remus took Patton by the hand and blindly typed to Virgil and Logan that they needed to come to the window at the eastern side. Only a few seconds later Patton and kæ stood next to Roman and Damian. Both Pat and Damian looked a little lost until Roman opened the window and both became pale in an instant.

As quietly as Damian could he whispered towards the twins: “You can’t be serious?! I’m not getting out of here through the window!”

Just then footsteps from the stairway echoed through the halls and Remus took Patton by the hand and hopped on the windowsill. With a swift movement kæ swung the squealing Heart over kæs shoulder and looked down.

___

Remus stood on the windowsill of the second floor. It was not too high, ten feet maybe, ten and half feet at best but still Remus was not supposed to stand on the windowsill with Patton over kæs shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Logan hissed watching as Remus looked back over kæs shoulder and then looked down to the Virgil and him again.

“We’ve gotta run and you’ve gotta catch us!” kæ said stiffly smiling and just like that jumped.

Virgil was quicker than Logan. Hurriedly he had stepped in front of him and caught both Remus and Patton. Maybe he was grunting and barely capable of holding them both, but he had managed to catch them nevertheless and it was more than Logan could have hoped. Clumsily he stood to the side as Virgil toppled backwards and let both Remus and Patton down.

“What-?” Virgil was asking but broke off and stared down to his hand.

Logan didn’t get to ask what was wrong when he heard a yelp and saw how the second twin, this time with Damian in his arms, stood in the window.

Logan didn’t register how he moved forwards, nor how he stretched out his arms, as Roman took a leap and Damian screamed. The impact from both boys and the rough fall to the ground he did feel though and gasped for air.

“Oh, my gods, Logan!” Logan heard Patton say.

Someone pulled him on his legs. Logan blinked. It was Remus. Kæ looked a little weird but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He didn’t have the time to think about it any longer either as Remus asked hushed: “Can you run, specs?”

Logan blinked. He heard some one yelling from the floor above them. Right. They needed to go.

“Affirmative,” Logan mumbled and like that Remus started running, pulling Patton along.

Virgil followed suit, even overtook them and Roman took Janus by the hand and started sprinting as well. And with that Logan started too. At the rear, he saw his friends run away from the school grounds.

This operation had turned into a mess. It could have gone a lot worse and maybe it would get worse later, but as they ran further, as building K lay behind them, a loud, excited, joyful whoop from Remus cut through the air. And the tension fell apart. Roman joined, Patton laughed and Logan watched Virgil look back and give him a little grin. Even Damian looked no longer as scared or annoyed as before slightly shook his head at Remus’s whooping.

Logan’s nerves calmed and his spirits rose. It was messy, unplanned and uncoordinated. But it worked. And it was right. Somehow this felt right and Logan liked this feeling very much.

Finally, they reached the end of the school grounds and slowed down. Logan’s breathing was heavy, running was not his favourite form of exercise, but otherwise he felt fine. Silently, he watched as the others stood still, as Patton went from one to the other to ask if they felt okay eventually stopping by Remus, who somehow had managed to cut himself during the fall.

It was then when Logan noticed something. At first, he couldn’t place it, only as his running pulse slowed down and the blood rushing through his ears got quieter. Only then he realized that he heard something.

He was hearing noises. Weird noises. Noises that sounded so different from what he knew. They were nice and soft and he felt attracted to them. As if he was under a spell. But they didn’t come from anywhere. They were in his head and Logan looked to the ground and listened closer.

It was different things that made noises. One sounded a bit like loud breathing but not.

Phuu. Phu. Phu. Phuuuuuuu.

It sounded a little nervous but friendly, the noise changing the length and the pitch in some weird patterns.

Patterns. Pitch changes.

Logan looked up. Looked to Virgil. Realized how well the Phuu matched him even though he could not explain why. And then he looked around more.

There was a soft Ting sound next to energetic Bonk sounds. They fit Patton and Remus.

And lastly two more delicate sounds. Quick and swift Plings and a steady mmmmng sounds, which wavered and squeaked a little. Perfectly matching Roman and Damian respectively.

And all of them, despite being so different, the played alongside each other. Had played alongside each other, since the moment they had started running. Logan just hadn’t heard because his heart had beaten so loud and fast.

But now he heard and the sound got stronger and louder in his ears. His heart began racing again. The beat loud in his ears, but no longer louder than the –

- the music.

Logan heard music for the first time in his life.

Which meant that he and his soulmates had shared a moment of harmony for the first time.

Which meant that his five best friends were his soulmates and Logan had to deal with the fact that the strong feelings he harboured for each one of them might not be solely platonic as he had told himself for varying amounts of times.

“Lo? You good?”

The Phu got flimsier and the melody of the Ting changed just as fast. Virgil and Patton looked at him and Logan wanted to cry. His stomach was heavy and Virgil’s mismatched eyes saw far too easily through him to not notice as much. He needed to get home.

“It’s-” Logan looked down to his watch.

A different worry nestled itself in his stomach and he looked back up to Virgil.

“It’s 18:14. I should have been at home 1 hour and 14 minutes ago. I apologize, I need to go,” Logan said and didn’t wait for a response.

With a pounding heart he turned around and ran away. He tried not to hear the faint squeak from the mnnnnng, the rapid Bonks or the slanted Plings. But he did until he was finally far enough away from them.

He kept running for a bit, until his shoulder hurt from his satchel rubbing on the fabric of his shirt, after which he finally paused. He took a few breaths. He was almost home. He was clammy, sweaty and uncomfortable. Father would be home for dinner. And Logan would look like a mess, be late and emotionally compromised.

Just great, he thought, gulped and rubbed over his eyes to keep the tears from overflow from his eyes.

___

@varthandi

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

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twokinkybeans · 4 years ago

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The Arachnoids: ROCK BAND AU [Starker] - Chapter 6: HEADSTART HERO

READ “CHAPTER 6: HEADSTART HERO” ON AO3

Find the masterpost with all the chapters linked here!

Taglist: @crystallinecrimsonmoth & @staticwhispersinthedark (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Chapter 6: Headstart Hero

Peter knows exactly what it feels like to be standing in the crowd, anticipating the start of a show. The strange connection you feel with all these people that you’ve never met, the laughter, the chatter, the excitement coursing through your veins as you wait for the lights to finally dim. Standing backstage holds the same kind of elation; yet it’s completely different. He too, is waiting for the lights to dim. Every time the lights flicker, every time the crowd makes a little more noise, he feels his heart skip a beat. It can’t be healthy to be so tense. His ribcage feels tight and he swallows. Peter tries to shift his guitar strap a little in the hopes of gaining some breathing space. Not that it helps of course, ‘cause it’s not the strap that restrains him.

Next to him, MJ and Ned are fighting equal battles with themselves. Playing for the New Year’s Eve show had been challenging enough, but somehow, this feels different. Like they’re gonna have to prove their worth. This is their chance to get their name out. To connect with potential fans. It’s overwhelming. Very, very much so.

It shouldn’t be long now, please, please don’t keep him waiting any longer. He-

The lights dim at last, and Peter is hit with the screams emerging from the crowd. Astonished, he knows he should jump to action right now. It’s almost as if someone else takes over his body when a broad smile plasters itself on his face and he runs into the stage lights. “Welcome!” MJ laughs into her microphone. She looks absolutely stunning. Her aquamarine dress swirls around her loosely as she walks. Venus, for sure. “We are the inner concentric, the outer radial lineament, the spider-like volcano-tectonic structures from Venus. We have come to Earth to give you a hint of the whirling desire that is found on our planet. We are… The Arachnoids!”

Ned kicks off with a fast-paced rhythm, the deep vibrations of the bass drum tingling on Peter’s skin. Everything about this makes him feel so utterly hyped up. He lets his pick rain down on the strings, earlier nerves forgotten. His fingers glide over the notes so easily. The stage lights are blinding, but he knows how big the arena is. He knows exactly how many people are out there- watching him, cheering for him.

He walks forward, dancing to MJ’s sweet harmony, and slides to his knees to get a break from the lights for a quick second. The group of young adults pressed against the front barrier raise their hands to him and scream. Peter’s eyes widen when he sees one of the girls is wearing a bright-pink tee with ‘The Arachnoids’ written on it with a black marker. He grins widely at her and winks. The girl instantly tears up and brings her hands together in a heart-shaped symbol. “I love you, Peter!” She mouths excitedly.

Peter can’t help the stunned chuckle that rises from his chest and he stands up again, walking over to MJ while quickly waving to the girl in the crowd once. Then, he turns around and leans against MJ, his head dropping backwards onto her shoulder. MJ plays along. She moves her hand up to ruffle through Peter’s hair as she keeps on singing through the high notes of the chorus. “And now we’re hoooo-hoooooome!” Peter jumps away from her and bounces on the balls of his feet and moves his head along to the music. He runs towards the other side of the stage, giving the crowd a good show as he keeps playing with his instrument raised high in the air.

Somehow, his glance is pulled towards the small backstage area he can see from there. Tony’s seated on top of the transport cases again, watching the show intently. Peter can’t help feeling surprised at the fact that Tony’s here watching them play.

Peter swallows when he realizes that his solo is coming up, the exact one Tony had given him the unsolicited advice about earlier today. He presses his lips together and makes the split-second decision to play it Tony’s way. He may not have practiced it yet, but he knows he can do it. He wants to. Why he wants to please Tony so badly is a mystery to him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. That’s how he takes a few steps closer towards the edge of the stage and takes a deep breath. His fingers find their usual pattern, his pick hitting each snare perfectly- D-string, he reminds himself. Play the F on the D-string.

And oh, Tony had been right. Peter flies through the solo so much easier than ever before. Endorphins release from his brain and make him feel nice and warm all over. He turns his head to look at Tony again. The man’s eyes are wide as he watches Peter play all the way through the solo with ease, and Peter wonders if the man had expected him to actually listen. Peter most certainly didn’t.

As soon as the solo ends, he breaks his gaze with Tony’s and resumes playing chorus’ rhythm, walking over to Ned who’s happily smashing on his drums. The new kit suits him perfectly. Peter has to suppress the urge to look at Tony again and he scoffs quietly to himself. He’s starting to get weirdly attached to the other guitarist. Asshole or not, there’s… something about the man and it’s inherently annoying to Peter. So, that’s why he refuses to look over even once for the rest of the show, and by the end of the set, he’s nearly forgotten that it even happened.

Nearly.

“You guys were fantastic out there- Woah!” Harley laughs and pulls Peter into a tight hug. Peter chuckles, patting the other boy’s back in return. It’s a little awkward, with his guitar between them, but the intention is what matters most. “Thanks, dude!” Peter sighs happily and pulls back. He only then realizes how much his shirt is sticking onto his skin. “Ugh, I need a change of clothes.” Harley chuckles at that. “One month into this tour and you won’t even notice anymore,” he jokes. “We’ll all walk around smelling like shit- part of the fun, I say!” Peter laughs and shakes his head at that. Harley, in return, looks very pleased with himself.

“Hey, I gotta go switch the stage set-up- eh, tell MJ I’ll talk to her later?” Harley asks, leaning in a little as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear it. MJ’s standing a couple of feet away from them, talking to Liz, one of the other roadies working on this tour. “Uhh, sure!” Peter answers, noticing the small blush that spreads on Harley’s cheekbones. The blonde grins and glances over at MJ once more before taking a step back. He finger guns at Peter and winks. “You’re a hero!”

Peter snorts, it’s adorable how clearly the boy is trying to get MJ’s attention. Not that he actually has to try very hard. MJ and Harley have been messaging each other every single day since the New Year’s Eve show. Sometimes they even facetime. Peter can tell that MJ is slowly starting to open up to the idea of Harley possibly liking her, but he’ll keep his mouth shut about it. She has to figure it out herself. In her own time.

“Hero,” Tony scoffs from behind him. Peter has to actively keep himself from rolling his eyes at the remark and he turns around. “That’d be me,” he deadpans. Tony lets out a surprised laugh at that and Peter feels a stupid happy feeling emerging in his chest. No, he reminds himself. Don’t let him get to you. He doesn’t want to befriend the man so quickly. He might be less of a prick today, but that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly a kind presence to be around. He’s very much not that. “Space hero… Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” “I guess.” Peter eyes the man, unsure what he wants from him. Tony licks his lips once and tilts his head.

“So,” Tony starts slowly. “Seems my advice wasn’t that bad after all, mmh?” “I never said it was bad.” “But you didn’t like it.” “I didn’t ask for help, Tony.” Peter narrows his eyes a little, trying to read the man’s face. Tony’s deep brown eyes hold something so… Unexplainable. It’s no fragility, neither is it playful. It’s some weird mixture of every possible emotion out there. It makes it feel both very intense and deep, and closed-off at the same time. There’s so much to see that it’s impossible to know what’s truly going on. Peter sighs. “Unsolicited, but it worked. Yes. Thank you.”

“Ah,” Tony exclaims proudly and Peter instantly wishes he hadn’t said it. It’s irritating and he knows that whatever words Tony will speak next, it’s gonna be something cocky again. “When the student is ready, the teacher appears. Mmh, never thought it was true. When do we start your classes?” Peter huffs and looks away for a second. “I’m not taking classes from you. I’m sure you got better things to do than waste your time on beginners like us.” Peter instantly regrets his words when he sees a flash of rejection on Tony’s face. The man straightens his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing together. Peter knows that whatever he said, it triggered the man’s jerkiness full force. “Fine, I’m just trying to be nice. But you’re right, Peter. I got better things to do,” Tony spits out and he stalks off. “Fuck,” Peter mutters to himself. He messed up. Nice job, Parker. Keep going like this and you’ll find your ass on a plane back to New York first thing in the morning. He wishes he knew what had set Tony off so much, but at the same time, he can feel anger bubbling up inside him. It’s so utterly frustrating that Tony can’t handle anything without stomping his feet and throwing a tantrum. It’s not Peter’s problem. It’s not his issue to solve. “Go fuck yourself,” he mumbles quietly. Feeling annoyed with the fact that the whole, hazy feeling of post-concert bliss has shattered.

“Hey Pete, we killed it out there!” Ned interrupts his thoughts as the drummer nudges his side. “And those fangirls in the front, can you fucking believe it? We got fans!” Ned’s enthusiasm instantly lightens Peter’s mood a little. Tension leaves his body and he grins widely at Ned. “We’re gonna be huge, Leeds. One day, I’m telling ya!” “Let’s toast to that, boys!” MJ chimes in and hands both of them a small bottle of water. Peter eagerly takes it from her hands and skews the cap off.

“You,” he says as he brings the bottle to his mouth, “-are a lifesaver.” “I know,” she smirks and chugs some water down as well. “Has anyone seen Harley? He said he’d see me after our set,” she then asks, voice wavering slightly. She cranes her neck to try and spot him. “He just hopped by, told me to tell you he’d see you later. Not sure what he was up to, but running ‘round as always,” Peter tells her. MJ seems pleased with the information that Harley told Peter to make sure she wouldn’t feel left behind. “Poor dude,” Ned mumbles. “I’m sure he doesn’t get paid even half of what he deserves.” “He loves the job, though,” MJ smiles. She tilts her head at Peter. “I saw you talking to Tony, by the way! He seemed nice today?”

Peter scoffs. “He sorta was, in his own way. But one wrong word and he turned all bitchy again.” “Ugh, there’s always some issue with him, isn’t there? Do you still wanna watch their set after that?” “Yes,” Peter answers. “They’re a good band. Who knows when we’ll be kicked off the tour, we should enjoy it while it lasts.” He tries to bring it jokingly but knows it sounds petty as fuck. Dammit, Tony sure brings out the worst in him. “Yeah,” MJ smiles. “I vote we stay.” Peter simply nods and takes another big sip from the water and wipes the small stains of sweat from his forehead using his sleeve. He still feels low-key guilty about the whole encounter with Tony. The least he can do is watch the show and give them their support. He’ll have to try to ignore the nagging thoughts clawing at his mind. He can do that, he hopes.

Read the next chapter >> 7: Ice Cream Ignition

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readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

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Flower | 32

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; A/N: A light chapter that I hope you’ll all enjoy! It’s fluffy and fun...but there’s also something significant that happens in it. So PLEASE let me know your thoughts and what you liked about it! The feedback has been decreasing as we’re getting to the end, which is a little disheartening :)

; Flower Masterpost

“Hobi! Oh my god, try this. It’s so delicious.” You practically moaned out, almost wiggling with delight on the aluminium seat. It wasn’t too hot thankfully, the clouds a little overcast but the hoodie you wore combat any chill. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because you were on vacation. And not the kind of vacations you were used to, which were usually a little weekend break here and there at the closest beach or some nature park. You didn’t have any kind of issue with those places of course but you’d always yearned to be able to travel even further. Explore other countries.

Which is what you were doing right now.

For your second anniversary, Hoseok had surprised you with two weeks in Italy. Two things about that had shocked you. Firstly, the very fact that you’d now been with Hoseok for two years. Secondly, that he’d saved up some of his much higher salary and chosen to take you to one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit.

You hadn’t even known that he’d managed to subtly arrange it with your manager, a woman that you liked and enjoyed working for now. Two weeks of vacation time had been booked for you quietly and he’d organised the hotel, flights and even buying new suitcases. Stuff like this only happened in fiction, or so you’d thought.

But here you were, in the heart of Rome. It had already been a week and you’d eagerly taken in the magnificent sites of the Colosseum, the imposing Pantheon and the ancient Forum. As a lover of history, every part of it had excited you and you’d happily dragged Hoseok around to read every single information stand available while begging him to agree to go inside them all.

Not that he’d taken much begging really, he was just as eager to see things as you were. The only difference was that he was excited because of all the fantastic photo opportunities he was discovering. He’d brought his top of the line camera with him and was going wild with it, finding all the best angles and lighting to bring Rome’s important buildings to life.

For once, you’d been more than happy to pose for his photos. Each picture had you smiling so brightly, happiness evident in every part of you as you just relaxed and enjoyed yourself.

Hoseok leans forward, mouth open and waiting as you scoop up a good amount of pasta onto your fork. Carefully, a hand underneath to avoid any fallout, you fed it to him and watched his reaction eagerly. He chewed for a moment, expression thoughtful before letting out a quiet hum of appreciation.

While Hoseok had opted to go for a pizza bianca, you’d instead chosen the intriguing-sounding pasta alla gricia. It was better than you’d thought it would be, given you’d been a little unsure over the ingredients at first and your boyfriend agreed with your thought process as he nodded with a smile.

“It is good. Do you want a slice of this? It’s also better than it looks. Never considered having a pizza without tomato sauce anymore but...when in Rome, right?” Rolling your eyes at him, you sighed playfully. That was his favourite line to say at the moment, he seemed to take great pleasure out of it.

Instead of responding, you just opened your mouth up as well and let him feed you a piece of the pizza. For a moment, you let the flavours simply roll over your tongue as you chew. It was slightly salty, with hints of the olive oil it was cooked with and layered with delicious parmesan that gave it a lovely cheesy kick.

“Urgh, why doesn’t Italian food taste like this at home?” You moan softly, wiping at your mouth with the napkin before taking a sip of water. Laughing softly, Hoseok continues to eat as he shrugs and you marvel at how easily he travels.

Even though he quite clearly doesn’t fit into the little family-run restaurant you’d both stopped at, he seemed to feel at ease no matter where he was. While you understand feeling at ease with him at home, it was strange to see that he was just as comfortable no matter where he was.

“Probably because the food at home has been filtered through like...a million non-Italian mouths or something. The same way Indian food is nothing like what it is actually in India, you know? This is...this is the real shit.” Pointing towards his plate, he grins and you sigh affectionately before reaching out and brushing away some crumbs from his mouth.

He was like a child sometimes when he ate. Constantly get it everywhere except his mouth it seems. It was cute.

“Do you think they’d give me the recipe if I asked? I’d love to try and make this at home. Authentically.” Murmuring to him, you glance over to the older lady who had come out of the kitchen. This seemed to be a truly family-run place in that she’d only gone in there to cook your food.

“Err, I don’t know. Do you speak Italian? Aren’t Italian grandma’s like...feisty or something?”

“Now you’re stereotyping.” Pointing the fork at him, he just grins and shrugs with amusement. You don’t argue any further with him though, instead focusing on cleaning up your plate with enthusiastic gusto. The two of you were planning to head over to the Trevi Fountain and walk around for a little while, enjoy some gelato and what remains of whatever good weather there will be today.

You were going to throw a Euro into the fountain to guarantee that you’d come back one day before kissing Hoseok silly in some alcove. Enjoy a little of Rome at night before finally heading back to the hotel. Maybe even some more kissing, who knows? You liked it with him.

Once you’d both finished, you went and paid. Unfortunately, you became far too shy to ask about any recipes once there, so instead, you just complimented the old lady in your broken Italian before smiling brightly and leaving quickly. Hoseok’s laughter at your inability to ask caused you to gently poke his ribs until he was asking you to stop.

The walk to the Trevi Fountain was long, but you found that you enjoyed every moment of it. Even though you’d only been here a week, you had fallen truly in love with Rome. An ancient city that has captured your young heart with its delicious food, stunning architecture and rich culture.

Even just a stroll in the evening like now, you felt like you were in some kind of romance film. From the subtle, warm filter Rome seems to have to its colour scheme to the old building’s, the cobbled streets in some areas and the way ancient ruins seemed to pepper the city liberally. You loved every inch of it. Including the graffiti and the not-so-tourist friendly areas. It was proof to you that the city was lived in, and had been lived in continuously for over two millennia.

Surprisingly, you didn’t talk much on the way there. Instead, you were too busy just admiring everything and simply enjoying the moment. If you were this in love with Rome already then you had the itch to not only get to explore more of Italy but also explore the world. And you certainly couldn’t think of anyone better to do that with than the wonderful man by your side.

“Where do you wanna go on vacation next? What about...Greece? Or maybe Japan? New Zealand and Chile are definitely on my list but I’d also like to go to at least one country in each continent. What about you?” Peppering him with questions, Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes before laughing.

“Woman! We’re not even through two weeks in Italy! And you’re already planning our next trip?” Snorting, he rolls his eyes before kissing your temple with more affection than his pseudo-outraged words. “I don’t know, I’m pretty open to anywhere I think. Maybe India? Try that real food like we’ve talked about? Egypt? We could try and visit all the super ancient places. What’s that place with the big, building thing carved into a mountain or somet? It’s all orange?”

“Petra? That’s in Jordan. I want to go there too!” He just smiles at you, squeezing your hand before squinting at the signpost just ahead. You’re finally approaching your destination and you grin as the two of you move through some of the little alleys that make up Roman streets before finally coming upon the world-famous monument.

“Oooh, it’s pretty,” You whisper, simply staring at it with awe. “The water is so...blue. How do they do that?”

The soft click of Hoseok’s camera distracts you, causing you to look over to him before raising a brow. He just smiles and shrugs, looking down at his screen and you presume he’s just taken another photo of you seeing something for the first time. It would seem he’s gaining a collection of your reactions.

“I know something prettier,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. Almost immediately you cringe, pulling away from him to scowl while your lips pull away from your teeth almost automatically.

“Oh don’t. Don’t be that cheesy guy.” You whine, half-heartedly fighting as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. He’s laughing though, so you know he’s not offended by what you’ve said.

“I’ll tell your mom that you don’t think she’s prettier than the Trevi Fountain then. What kind of daught-oof.” Bending over slightly, he holds a hand to his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. It doesn’t stop him from laughing though and you find yourself following along despite how annoying he can be.

“Here.” Handing you a Euro coin, Hoseok takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Standing upright again, he gives you that brilliant and beautiful smile that you’ve come to love so dearly over the last two years.

“I read about this, you gotta stand with your back to it and throw it over your left shoulder with your right hand. That means we’ll come to Rome one day.” Giving him a satisfied look, you do as exactly as you told him to and throw the coin with gusto. He takes a moment to watch the coin fly through the air before doing the same with his own Euro, sealing the promise of a future trip.

“How many coins do you think are in here? There are hundreds.” Hoseok whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and cuddling you closely from behind. The two of you stand there for a moment and watch as others crowd around the Fountain, some throwing coins of their own in while others simply take pictures.

There’s plenty of tourists here, but thankfully your anniversary isn’t near the true tourist season. So while there’s a lot, it’s manageable in your view. Still, you wouldn’t want to be the municipal workers cleaning up after all this.

“Come on, I want some gelato now.” Pulling out of his embrace, you head towards one of the side streets that lead away from the Fountain, positive that you’ll find a gelato shop hidden away this close to a tourist trap. It’s what you’d do if you wanted quick money.

It takes no time at all to find a nice looking shop and you soon have a cone in your hand with three large scoops of delicious looking gelato topping it. One is just plain vanilla, another is pineapple while the last is strawberry. Nothing too outrageous, but just a combination that makes your taste buds dance.

There’s not much in the way of public seating, unfortunately, so the two of you just sit down on the curbside of one of the streets. It’s pretty deserted with only the odd parked car every now and then. A few more mopeds are parked a little haphazardly but you’re not too worried about them really, they’re small enough that neither of you would be a nuisance if they wanted to get by.

“Mm, this is good.” Hoseok hums and you look over, catching him at the very moment that he licks at his mint chocolate flavoured gelato. It’s a pretty innocent movement, but the way his tongue curls into the soft, frozen cream reminds you of how he uses that tongue for something and you shiver softly. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice and you quickly glance away. It doesn’t help that you’re now considering how cold his tongue piercing might be from eating that.

Quietly, the two of you simply enjoy your cold treat while the gentle buzzing of the tourists only a few streets away filters through the alleyways. It’s getting close to sunrise and even though you wouldn’t say it was cold, the air certainly felt cool enough to warrant you cuddling a little closer into the warmth of your hoodie.

“So, now that we’re just chilling for a little bit. I have something important that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Shifting slightly until he’s facing you more, you look up slowly to find him giving you a serious look. He’s got one of those ‘I’m about to ask you something life-changing’ looks. You’re not sure why you know that, but you can just tell instinctively.

“Are you about to ask me to marry you?” Blurting out the words, you slap your hand over your mouth as your eyes widen. Well, you certainly hoped he wasn’t now. If he was, you’d just ruined the whole moment.

Sure enough, Hoseok’s eyes widen at your words and he recoils a little, confusion mixed with shock painted onto his face.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” You’d laugh under any other circumstances if Hoseok had this kind of reaction to anything else. But he looks concerned as to why you thought he might be proposing, a hand resting on his chest almost like he’s trying to protect himself or something.

“Well...I don’t know! You whisk me away to Rome for a romantic holiday for our second anniversary? Then, after having a good time, you tell that you have something important to talk to me about and you look so serious! It was an educated guess!” Folding your arms over your chest, you hunch your shoulders over to make yourself a little smaller.

“I wasn’t going to propose. Did you want me to?” He sounds a little unsure then and you see the way his lips purse in thought like he’s wondering if maybe he should have been proposing or something. “And anyway, if I was going to propose then you’ve totally ruined the moment! It’s meant to be romantic and shit.”

Yeah, now he looks put out. His lower lip jutting out over how his non-proposal has been interrupted and you can’t help the laugh that leaves you at the sight. He’s too cute for his own good, honestly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to not interrupt any romantic moment in the future. I promise.” There’s only the tiniest hint of sarcasm in your voice as you tell him that. Just a teeny, tiny bit. It’s enough to make him give you a droll stare though, reaching out to gently poke at your cheek with his index finger.

Grabbing his hand, you smile at him innocently before pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of his palm. For a moment, he lets you before shifting until he’s holding your hand in his own. Tilting your head at him, you wonder what he had been about to tell you and he understands the silent question with a small smirk.

“So, anyway. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Just before we flew out here, and I mean literally just before. Like...only two hours before we went to the airport, so don’t get too mad at me if you’re going to get mad. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, our landlady called me.” Hoseok pauses for a moment, letting you compute that information before carrying on.

Given he was far more comfortable talking on the phone, you’d elected to have him be the point of contact for anything related to the house. You figured he’d be able to sort out any of the non-important stuff by himself and anything important would be discussed by you both. Like right now.

“Oh...have we done something wrong? We signed the new lease properly and on time, right?” The two of you had signed a lease for another year just the other month. You liked the house and felt fully settled in it now, not wanting the hassle of having to move anywhere when you’d made it feel like a home. Thankfully, your landlady, Elsie, was lovely and had dealt with any issues quickly and efficiently.

“No, we’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just...she told that she’s going to sell the house. She’s moving across the country to be closer to her family as they’ve all moved away. So she’s selling up everything here to fund her move to a retirement home over there. We’ve got a few months until it’ll probably be sold and will need to move out.” He goes to carry on talking but you’re gripping his hand tightly, worry flickering to life inside you and anxiety following quickly after.

“What! She’s selling? But...but what about us? What do we do? Oh god, we need to find somewhere that’ll let us take Kasumi and-” You’re quieted by Hoseok’s finger on your lips, a gentle smile on his own that seems oddly calm for the bombshell he’s just dropped.

“If you’d let me finish...I thought you weren’t going to interrupt anymore?” Teasing you lightly, he taps your lips before sighing and shuffling on the hard curb. Looking in both directions, he takes the opportunity to stretch his legs out, the black Converse on his feet looking just as dirty as ever.

“What I was about to tell you, was that she told me that we’d been some of her best tenants even though we haven’t been there too long. Because she wants to sell quickly and get moving, she then asked if maybe we’d like to buy the house. First dibs on it. It’s going to go up for a reasonable price and I know we’ve both been putting money into our individual savings accounts for the last year. I mean, I can afford the deposit if necessary and I’m pretty sure we can get a nice mortgage.” Staring at him with wide eyes, you don’t quite realise that your jaw has dropped until he’s affectionately closing it with bemusement.

“Also, before you say anything. Let me just...say my piece here. It’s a good price and well, I’d like to do it. We’ve been together two years now, I love you and I can’t imagine my future without you. So...it’s not a marriage proposal but it is a ‘would you like to take a leap of faith and purchase a physical house with me that will require a mortgage for many years?’. As I said, I’ve got enough saved up to cover the deposit and...well...I know my parents will put money in. What should’ve been my sister’s college fund instead got turned into a ‘whenever you buy a house fund’, despite me telling them to donate it. So...we can get a small mortgage. Easily manageable.” There’s no need for you to ask if he’s thought about this because it’s incredibly obvious that he has.

So instead, you simply watch him in stunned silence. He wanted to buy a house with you. The house you currently lived in, that had become your home for over a year. Not just your home, but the safest place you’ve ever felt outside of your parents home. And he wanted to make that permanent.

Or at least, as permanent as you can get it without having to pay out lots of legal bills to get it all sold. This was a big move. A huge step in your relationship. Hell, in your life. A house. Buying a house. And you weren’t even thirty yet!

“I have some saved up,” Whispering, you cast your eyes down to instead focus on his hand as you gently trail along the veins and tendons along the back. “Probably not as much as you but enough to help.”

“Okay...what if you keep that money. And if we buy it, then we can use that money to start doing some of those home improvements we’ve always wished we could do? Like a new fence.” Gasping softly, you’re suddenly taken away from the fact that you were being faced with a big decision because your excited mind started to run away with you. While you weren’t a big fan of change, you were surprisingly a huge fan of causing planned change.

Which meant you loved decorating or building things. Moving the furniture around in a room and decorating everything into something entirely new was so incredibly satisfying. Plus, Hoseok was right. You’d spent the last year fantasising to him about all the stuff you would improve or change in the house if you could.

Because that’s what adult life was about. Getting excited at the prospect of new fencing.

“Oh my god, yes! And a new roof! Finally, get rid of those ugly tiles. And we can pave over the driveway so it doesn’t have that annoying gravel that gets everywhere. Can we redo the backyard entirely? I want a porch from the back door and then it leads down-” Laughing in amusement, Hoseok gently squeezes your hand before kissing your cheek when you look down in embarrassment.

“Okay, we can make a plan of all the DIY things we want to do. But I just need to know for the moment...would you agree to buy it? With me? We can sort everything properly when we get home, plan out the money and apply for the mortgage and all that. I just want to know for now.”

You don’t respond for probably half a minute, causing Hoseok to frown slightly. But then you almost burst in excitement, jumping up and dancing on the spot in uncontrollable excitement. Hoseok wasn’t expecting it, his eyes widening in shock while his hands are reaching out to you as if he was worried you were going to fall.

“Oh my god! Buying a house! This is...oh my god. Hoseok! You want to buy a house with me?” Reaching for his hands, you half tug him up and he snorts while catching his balance. Resting his palms on your hips, he brings you to a halt before grinning down at you.

“Yes, I want to buy a house with you. I mean, that’s why I asked. So is this a yes? You're an impossible woman, you know that? It’s not a marriage proposal but I’d still quite like a yes from you…” Trailing off, he pouts slightly and you reach up to gently flick at his lip ring.

“Yes. I mean, we need to talk more seriously about it and sort out the finances but...yes. As long as we can do all the things I want to. Like new doors inside. I hate the doors we have now, they’re so annoying.” Hoseok sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on his back before dropping his forehead to your shoulders, arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Okay, okay. I give in, we’ll make a list of all the things we want to change later. But you realise we have to buy the place first, right? And then save up again to make all these home improvement changes? It’s not going to be cheap.” You don’t hear him though, giving him a quick kiss before humming to yourself as you visualise your house as it is and your house as you want it to be.

Watching you closely, Hoseok lets out another breath before smiling and shaking his head. Well, at least you’d said yes.

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saladejin · 5 years ago

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Call An Uber? | 09

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k

< masterpost >

»»————- <<prev | next >> ————-««

“Uh, no you don’t.”

I gasped when the phone was suddenly plucked from my hands. It had been a struggle to find a close-by Uber service, but one had honestly just popped up!

“Bang PD-nim?”

The older man chuckled and returned the phone to my trembling hands. When had he even appeared next to me? He was dressed so casually that I had to look twice to make sure it was even him.

“I can drop you home for a lot less, trust me (Y/n).” He laughed again, and it was obvious I had no choice but to follow him speechlessly. A week or so ago, this would have appeared as quite strange and inappropriate to many people, but I knew the stout CEO well enough now to place my trust in him.

“T-thank you so much, you really don’t have to…” I spluttered and gawked when his expensive car came into view. The reason why he’d even come along to the concert was still unknown. Up until this point, I’d been under the impression he usually didn't get involved with the showy stage side of things, but even so, he had obviously come of his own accord.

“It’s fine. After everything you’ve done for us tonight, it’s the least I can do.” Bang PD sighed, and I knew he was thinking about Soojin’s brashness from earlier in the day.

“That’s completely okay, I really enjoyed myself tonight,” I said calmly, thinking hard about what I was about to suggest. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind helping out like this more often. If they ever need anyone, that is.”

Bang PD smirked at me, and I knew he was teasing at the underlying feelings I had for the members in particular. The fact that I was already missing them and it hadn’t even been an hour said quite enough. There was no denying that it did play a big role in my offer, but it wasn’t everything of course.

“I can think of a few reasons why, but unfortunately it’s not in your job description.”

I laughed and exhaled in slight disappointment, my shoulders sagging in defeat. “I know, it’s only if they need someone though.”

The car ride was silent for a few minutes, and we would be reaching my house soon after seeing how fast his flashy car zipped around the streets and backroads of Seoul.

“I have something serious to say to you, (Y/n).”

I immediately grew apprehensive at his tone. I mean who wouldn’t after hearing something like that? I picked at the leather seat underneath me and willed my eyes to not drift towards the scenery rocketing past the window. I needed to show him my full attention here.

“I came tonight for one reason only, and that was to monitor you.”

Back at it again with the bluntness it seemed. Classic Bang PD.

“Monitoring me? That sounds kind of sinister.” I pursed my lips and trained my gaze onto the man’s bespectacled face. He wasn’t looking back, but it wasn’t as if I expected him to while he was driving anyway. I was, on the contrary, glad to not be confronted with his piercing eyes, because the anxiety about the direction this conversation had taken would have surely consumed me whole.

“It’s not that bad,” he said while chuckling, “I just wanted to check up and see how you were doing, but you never saw me backstage. Heaven forbid Soojin-ssi actually informed you of anything properly. I had an opening in my schedule, and I hadn’t visited the concerts for a while.”

I shook my head and laughed along with him. He knew exactly of his assistant’s behaviour, and it seemed he definitely wasn’t the only one. This wasn’t the outcome I was expecting, but I felt appreciative of his caring nature, nonetheless.

“What I noticed…” he then drew out, and a sense of uneasiness fell onto us both.

“Was your relationship with Bangtan themselves.”

Now the hammer dropped. Horror lit up like a wildfire inside me, and I suddenly thought about all my interactions with the boys so far. Dazed eyes scanned the disappearing road in front of me as the cogs within my mind started breaking to pieces. A simple touch could be considered crossing the line with them. I was only a mere staff member, therefore I couldn’t expect anything more or less than simply that, but thinking about it now reminded me that I definitely had not been acting like it.

I must have gone too far. Hell, I literally hugged two of them tonight! That’s a recipe for scandal disaster right there, what the fuck (Y/n).

“I can see your brain working, please don’t overthink about what I just said,” Bang PD’s tone became louder as if trying to speak over the flurry of thoughts. I couldn’t help but swallow thickly and sat back into the plush car seat behind me. I rubbed the clamminess off my palms and steeled myself to hear whatever he had to say next.

“Sorry PD-nim, I know I’ve been…closer than I need to be, I guess.”

He suddenly let out a wheeze of a laugh, and I wished to open some kind of window into his mind just to understand what was happening. He took one glance at my furrowed brows and stifled another laugh.

“No way (Y/n), I wasn’t going to say it was a bad thing at all! Well, hear me out please. I want to be serious for a minute.”

I let out a bellowing sigh of relief and managed to let any amusement die down. If he wanted to be this serious, it meant that something extremely important needed to be understood.

“The boys are solely focused on their idol careers, so when it comes to hiring new staff we try to avoid potential ‘risks’, so to speak. It’s a precautionary thing, but – you don’t have to concern yourself with that notion, because you’ve managed to prove yourself again and again. (Y/n), you’ve been working with us for only a few weeks now, but you’ve only solidified my opinions.”

I was smiling now, because the man’s words were so heartfelt and honest. I wondered straight away if he was about to open up to me somehow. This didn’t usually happen, right? Or maybe it did, because he just liked being a boss that staff members could be comfortable and adaptable with.

“You have the best of intentions, I know this for sure, but that isn’t the problem,” he continued while gaining a more solemn tone, “The issue itself, is attachment.”

Another hammer, ah yes. I should have seen this one coming from a mile away.

“Now, I don’t have a problem with you and the boys getting along well. Many of the staff are close with them, and it’s not something out of the ordinary because there are so many faculty members that have been with us from the beginning. It’s only natural.”

When he turned to gauge my response from over the rim of his glasses, I found myself nodding in earnest understanding. I completely agreed with what he was saying, because there was no way you wouldn’t form a substantial bond with the very people who had helped you rise to the top. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what the man was trying to get at exactly, though.

“You-”

He stopped and cleared his throat loudly, obviously racking his brain for the right words to use. It left me dumbfounded, because Bang PD had always come right out with whatever was on his mind. Sometimes it was a little too harsh, but most people valued his opinions and appreciated his level of honesty whether it hurt them or not. This industry did teach their employees to deal with no-nonsense attitudes.

“Not including the backstage crew at the venue, you have been one of the youngest staff members we’ve hired in a while.” He finally sighed, and my mind created the imaginary train tracks steering straight to the point.

“I’m not fearing the attachment you may develop if you continue to spend time with them, but I do fear things going awry or their focuses being taken away from their careers. Usually, I would remove you from the situation without question right away, but I saw you with them tonight-”

I flooded with sudden embarrassment when he looked upwards to think again, as that meant he had most likely seen the hugging too. There was a cold dread settling into my stomach at the thought of getting ‘removed’. That would mean the cost of my job and everything I had worked for so far. I would feel empty, because now that the boys were in my life, I didn’t want them to just vanish.

Oh God, why had I let myself get attached already??

“I understand, actually,” I murmured, “and it would probably be for the best if I didn’t see them as much.” I managed to force it out through half gritted teeth. It really did hurt me to say, but I could see that it was the best option. Who knew what hardships would come later if I continued the way I was going?

“That’s not what I’m saying, I said I saw you with them tonight, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Bang PD started to slow down the car, and I knew we had finally reached the entrance to the carpark of my apartment building.

At his statement, I couldn’t help but feel confusion tickling the edges of my mind. The founder of Bighit shifted sideways in his seat to give me his full attention. Now, he could finally focus without having to divert his thoughts to not crashing and killing us both.

“They were nervous wrecks before the concert started. And I know this because I went in there just before you arrived to have a chat with them all. I could tell that Namjoon-ah would be just fine, and they all would’ve been in the end, but seeing the members like that is never comforting.”

I was fully enraptured by the man’s words, because I had never heard him speak with such a deep and sympathetic tone before. I speculated on when he had last talked to somebody like this.

“There wasn’t much I could do. I’ve supported them through the years, and they know they can always confide in me if they ever need to,” he continued while nodding forlornly. “But when it comes down to live events like these, there’s only so much I can say to help them out. And I'm rarely around as it is.”

The sudden silence urged me to convey my thoughts on the matter. “It’s nearly impossible to get rid of the nerves and doubts once they’re there anyway,” I spoke softly, eyes distant as I fiddled with my own hands uneasily. The atmosphere was more disconcerting than ever now that we had managed to find the time to stop and think.

“That’s what I thought too, but then you came in.” Bang PD chuckled and started tapping his fingers on his leather lined steering wheel to an imaginative rhythm.

“I literally watched as you made their tension disappear like it was nothing. Many people envy you when it comes to your ability to read a situation like that, because it was like you knew exactly what to do, and I’m sure they appreciated it more than you know.”

I almost choked at his sincerity. I hadn’t seriously done all that much, just held a small conversation before the show had commenced. It was only because one of the stylists had asked me to help out, otherwise I may not have even made contact at that time.

“Really? Thank you so much for saying that,” I dipped my head lightly, because I also wanted to hide the sudden spell of emotions from showing too much.

“Afterwards as well.” He sighed, and I watched him begin to smile with approval. “They were so happy, but you made them even happier in an instant. Jimin-ah too. Anyone who cared to watch could see it.”

At this point, I couldn’t help but laugh in a bizarre mixture of disbelief and amazement. Maybe I had just felt so ecstatic in their presence that I hadn’t even known their behaviour was changing too.

“This isn’t something they’ll likely admit, but I think I have an idea about how they’re feeling.” Bang PD cleared his throat. “You might just be the consolation they need, (Y/n). They have always had each other and their many supportive staff to help them find their footing, but I think you might be the key to keeping them there. To reassure them, using your viewpoint as a fan of sorts.”

He finally stopped to breathe, and my mind was churning once again at the revelation. He wasn’t even finished, and it seemed he had much left to say.

“You’re basically like a spokesperson. I know they wouldn’t have reason to doubt or disregard anything you have to say about them from their music choices to even their stage images. Min Yoongi came to talk with me the other day, telling me all about how he’d found a way to get over a certain stump in lyric writing.”

“Ah, that boy.” I muffled another chuckle and the softest of smirks made its way onto my features. I was honestly so happy to even think about being a positive influence in their lives, it made me glow from the inside out.

“It’s why I’ve made a decision,” Bang PD spoke again, and I recognised the familiar firmness to his tone that usually meant he was about to drop something big.

“Taking into account what I mentioned before about the attachment, I think it could actually help us out instead. As their presence worldwide grows, so will the pressure, and I want someone they’re comfortable with to be there for them as a support.”

“So, that’s me? What will happen? What am I going to have to do exactly?” I stammered, feeling considerably warmed and buzzed with excitement at the producer’s words. Everything he was declaring sounded like a wistful dream to me right now, but to say I also wasn’t feeling the pressure would be a lie.

“Nothing extravagant just yet.” He held up a hand while stifling a chuckle. “But it’s why I’ve decided to involve you in more activities.”

Okay, now the excitement was ready to detonate.

“And that’s why I’m asking you to go along with them on their next tour.”

tagged: @l4life, @joyful-jimin, @gee-nee, @m0chilattae, @rossemayme, @doilooklikeinoe

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stitchlesswitch · 5 years ago

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have a question and haven't found anyone to answer it.. I've got very mixed feelings on doing any sort of cursing or jinxing of people because I feel like it's not my place and God will be upset... Thoughts and opinions? 👉🏻👈🏻

Oh man, that’s an excellent question, and I hope I can do it justice, but please keep in mind I am no way the final authority on the subject matter. Buckle up, because you made the mistake of asking a particularly wordy person. I’ll try to break it up to be more digestible.

TLDR: Do No Harm ... But Take No Shit

PS: Binding and Banishing Spells are pretty good “christian” alternatives -- to me, anyways. See the bottom of the really long post below.

Inadvertent Masterpost Below?

Opinion on Other Witches Using Curses

In terms of Other witches using cursing, hexes, and jinxes---don’t judge them. (Don’t call it black/dark magic either. It associates “black” or “dark” with “negative/bad/harmful” which has racist repercussions.) To me, it is not a Christian’s place to pass judgement on how other people live their lives.

Now this might confuse some people, and in fact it already has, because I literally just made a post where I told people to not curse donald trump--to clarify, I was kidding. It was supposed to be irony/satire.

Opinion on Christian Witches in General Using Curses

In terms of Christian witches cursing/hexing/jinxing, it’s the same rule, I don’t tell other christians/christian witches how to practice their religion. But it gets really complicated, because there’s obviously a line, right? Like if someone starts using Christianity to be homophobic or racist or as an excuse to oppress other groups, Obviously I’m gonna step up and try to stop them. As christians, I feel we have a certain obligation to stop other people from warping and twisting our faith into a tool of hate. So how does cursing/hexing/jixing fit into that line of thought?

In terms of other Christians using curses/jinxes/hexing, to me it’s a two sided coin. Either they are doing it to be malicious, in which case that’s their personal problem between them and their God. I’m not the sin police. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I espouse Christianity in all my words and actions. On the other side of the coin, and this is really important, they could do be doing it for the sake of Justice, or even in defense of worthy causes. For example, cursing an abuser, or hexing white supremacists. So that’s the distinction I hold, and I feel it’s important to separate: essentially, don’t tell people how to live, but don’t stand by and let them use christianity as a tool of oppression either.

My Personal Opinion on Cursing as an Individual Christian Witch

But, it goes even further, and I think this is really the heart of your question: how do I feel, personally, as a Christian witch, about curses in the name of justice? How are we supposed to know God’s thoughts/feelings/opinions about enacting negative consequences for the sake of a good and just cause? I think that, with all things, it depends.

Defense

I think using curses against someone who is abusing you in any way is entirely justified as self defense. I refuse to believe that God would want you to just lie there helpless and suffering if you have the means, any means, to stop it.

Vengeance

Now this is a big one, and the most complicated one. Especially if the person in question is a past abuser. I have a few of those in my life, and the temptation to curse them, is really powerful sometimes. It’s really hard, because one of the staples of Christianity is forgiveness. We’re taught to believe that those who are evil will get whats coming to them in the afterlife, therefore we do not need to seek retribution against them in this life. So I had to analyze my fundamental beliefs. Perhaps you too, could benefit from these questions:

Why did I become a Christian witch? What is it that I hope to get out of being a Christian witch? And the answer to that question is that I’m trying to be a better person, a better Christian. I am a Christian witch because I’m actually an incredibly hateful, angry, and violent person--I’m trying to use christian witchcraft to undo that. So to curse as a Christian witch would be hypocritical and counter-productive In My Case. Cursing For Me, would go against my core reasons for being a Christian witch.

Secondly, Do I accept letting God take responsibility for seeking vengeance on my behalf? I had to ask myself that--do I trust God? Do I relinquish control of justice into God’s hands? And again, because control issues and trust issues are major problems I’m struggling with, it is in line with my practice to say yes to those questions. To say no I don’t trust God and I don’t relinquish control when it comes to seeking justice, would be counter-productive against my core reasons for being a Christian witch.

But if you have entirely different reasons why you are a Christian witch, then your answers might differ.

Social Justice--Cursing Against Injustice in General

I always go back to this quote: “When we go before Him, God will ask, “Where are your wounds? And we will say, “I have no wounds.” And God will ask, “Was there nothing worth fighting for?”— Allan Boesak (via shaneclouw)

To me, I very much believe that God would want us to stand up for those who are being persecuted. In these cases, things along the lines of “hexing white supremacists” is quite acceptable in my perspective. But that’s because I’m a fighter.

Like I said, I’m a very violent and angry person. I have Zero issue with using violence for the sake of what I believe is right. BUT, not all Christians are like me. Some Christians are pacifists. I know people who are pure love, who are incapable of hate, who couldn’t hurt a fly if their life depended on it. Those are the kind of people that violent and angry people like me are supposed to protect. Does that make sense?

Not all Christians choose to respond to injustice with bloodthirst the way that I do. And I can’t sit here and pretend that there is only one correct way to respond to injustice. Both the fighters and the lovers are important and necessary in the response to injustice. Your wounds don’t automatically have to come as a result of being violent.

( This post is a cool resource fyi )

Protection Post and Hexes for BLM Movement from @littlewitchygreen

Talk to Your God

You don’t have to take my word for it. Try to pray, use divination, journal, ask for signs. Communicate with God. Easier said than done, I know. And God sometimes specifically withholds answers because he wants to see what we’ll do. But I really don’t recommend just jumping into something so serious without having multiple talks with your deity about it first.

It’s Not Black and White

Take this post for example, what magic does the bible prohibit? a very good post. Except, shit’s just not that simple. For example, the Bible unequivocally says, “Thou Shall Not Kill” -- but if someone is attacking me, you bet your ass I’ll kill them without hesitation, remorse, or mercy. Another example, it explicitly prohibits contacting the dead. Well I Regularly speak to love ones that died at their grave--could that count as contacting? Maybe maybe not. The point is we Love to pretend that Religion is just So Simple and Black and White and it just fucking isn’t. We can’t box the creator of the universe into a dichotomy.

Christian Alternatives

Protection Spells/Return to Sender

In some cases, protection spells can accomplish the same thing in a less malicious way, by simply keeping negativity the fuck away from you.

Ultimate Protection Magic Masterpost

[part 1]

[part 2]

Source: auricwitch

Baneful Magic Countermeasures from @breelandwalker

Return to Sender Protection Jar from @shroud-of-roses

Return to Sender Spell from @cyncrow

Return to Sender Masterlist from @the-canary

So you think you’ve been cursed from @sylvaetria

Banishing Spells

Definition: Banish--to forcefully remove something; to put an end to something. Source: lunaesteria. Banish--To magically end something, Or to rid the presence of. Definitely works on people. Source: unknown but not me sorry.

Methodology:

Banishing - take an item that represents what you wish to banish and: throw it in the trash, flush it down the toilet, burn it, bury it, drown it; burn the item and sweep the ashes out the back door or bury them; carve the name of what you want to banish into a black candle and let it burn down completely; transmute negative energy into a stone (preferably a black stone like onyx) and throw it over the fence in your backyard (or whichever direction is south in reference to your home); stir your morning coffee or tea in a counter-clockwise motion while focusing on the intent of what energies you wish to banish for the day; using incense that is associated with banishing negative energy, walk around your space in a counter-clockwise motion with the lit incense in your hand. Source: lunaesteria

Specific Banishing Spells:

Other Examples of Banishing Spells and This One both from @sylvaetria

Christian Banishing: Banished with a Blessing

Binding Spells

Definition: Bind – to restrict the actions/behavior of someone or to tie them to another object, place, or situation Source: lunaesteria

spells – what’s a binding spell ..?

Methodology:

Binding & Sealing - wrap a string around a poppet or other representation of the target or item you wish to bind; put the poppet or other representation in a plastic bag filled with water and freeze it; place the item in a black box and seal it - store in a dark place or bury the box in your backyard; drip wax over the item. Source: lunaesteria

Specific Binding Spells: Search “witchcraft binding” on Tumblr and you will find a Ton of binding spells for a variety of different purposes/reasons. Unfortunately they are not compiled on a single post.

Christian Binding Spells:

Prayer to Bind someone who wishes you harm

I’m so Sorry I didn’t post the below spell I looked all over tumblr for the original person who posted it but I can’t find the post anywhere:

“Christian Witch Binding Spell

Disclaimer: This spell does not belong to me. It belongs to Aslinn Dhan. It’s in her Christian Witch’s Book of Shadows

Materials

Anthame Bowl

White and Black Candle

paper and pen

wand

Incense

Sacred Fire

salt water

Perform cleansing and the calling of the corners to begin each spell. Pour some of your water into a bowl and bless it with the sign of the cross. Using salt, cast your protective circle and light the white candle from your sacred fire. Place the candle in the center of your circle and with your wand intone:

Angels of the four corners, hear my cry. Carry my words to your Master and mine. Within this space stands one who believes Protect me and give me the strength I need.

Write the name of the one who is harassing you. Roll it like scroll or fold it and lay it in your sacred space.

On this paper is the name of who is vexing me. Bind them from harassing others, and me, from harming others or me. The harm they inflict comes back to them. By the power of three make it be. May their heart grow heavy with regret but may they make amends. St. Michael the Archangel, I ask your help in this matter.

Burn or otherwise destroy the paper.

Say the Lord’s Prayer.

Take up your wand and say

___________ I admonish you from harming yourself and others. Your hurtful ways harm not only others but yourself, Angels of the four corners, protect him from harm and protect others from being harmed by him.

Announce: Blessed Be!

Angels of the four corners carry the sentiment of this spell to God in heaven. May all of the elements of this spell enlighten me to help me to withstand evil and encourage those around me to put aside their evil ways that are harmful to themselves and to others. May all we do come back to us seven times.

Perform closing ritual.”

Why are Banishing and Binding Okay?

To some, they aren’t. To me, they are just more defensive. They aren’t saying “I specifically wish ill intent on you” it’s more along the lines of “I wish you would go away” and “I wish you would fucking stop doing that.” (Some will say you’re infringing upon free will with binding, but to that I say, I also fringe upon my dog’s free will when I stop her eating a doughnut off the counter idgaf free will is a myth.)

Tips for Cursing

You should never cast a curse unless you know how to undo it from @sylvaetria

How to undo a curse from @heatherwitch

Curse Breaking from @nightmarist

What I learned about Curses from @kendallscraft

Jinxes Hexes and Curses from @orriculum

Source: lunaesteria

✖ Spell & Curse Breaking ✖

Methods for negating spells you have cast:

Destroy the physical representation of the spell i.e. if your spell was contained within a jar, break the jar and dispose of the pieces

Disassemble the spell and cleanse each component individually

Place item in a bath of sea salt and dried herbs that are associated with cleansing and banishing - leave overnight and disassemble the spell when finished

Cleanse the item with moon or rain water and disassemble if applicable

Place the item in a black box to negate its effects

Bury the item for 3 days, retrieve it, then dispose of it

Bury the item on the night of the full moon and retrieve it at the next new moon

Create a sigil or written incantation with the intent of breaking the spell and place the item on top of the paper - leave in place overnight

Create a written incantation that includes the details of the spell - bury, burn, drown, rip apart, or throw it away

Light a black candle that is surrounded by sea salt while focusing on the intent of negating the spell - recite an incantation if you wish, and allow the candle to burn down; sweep the sea salt out your back door

Breaking and warding spells others have cast upon you:

Perform a “Return to Sender” spell - find a black taper candle; turn it upside down; cut the tip off and leave the wick in place; carve “return to sender” and the target’s name (or a description of them) into the candle; light the candle upside down and let it burn down completely

Leave a Witch Bottle outside of your home - it should contain items like: pins, needles, broken glass (to shred their negative intentions towards you); your name and the names of those who may be affected by this negative energy plus an incantation for protection (e.g. your loved ones, pets, anyone who lives in your home); and lemon juice, lime juice, or sea salt (to purify their negative energy so that it may not get to you)

Create a mixture of charcoal, chili powder, and sulfur powder - sprinkle around the perimeter of your home to stop a spell in its tracks

Alternately, you may combine these ingredients, add to a hollow pendant, and wear on your person to protect you from the effects of a spell

If you know the details of the spell that has been placed on you, write them down on paper; while focusing on breaking the spell, hold the paper in your hand, and then rip it to shreds; throw the pieces in the trash, or bury in your backyard

If you don’t know the exact details, write down the effects you have been feeling if you think they have been caused by a spell or malintent directed at you; follow the steps above

Submerge yourself in a bath of sea salt and light frankincense incense - place the incense on the edge of the tub or somewhere safe in your bathroom - to cleanse yourself of any negative energy that has been directed at you

Place an energetic shield over yourself or your home that is designed to negate negative energy

Tips:

Close all loopholes

When crafting a spell, remember to create a fail safe (e.g. “this spell will be broken if X occurs”)

Add timed conditions to your spells (e.g. “this spell will be broken on the night of the next full moon” and include a specific date)

Be specific when describing the target that will be affected by the spell (whether it’s you or someone else, be sure to include taglocks whether it be their name written or spoken aloud, DNA such as hair, fingernail clippings, etc., or a photo of the target)

Use ingredients, supplies, and tools that match your intent

Employ a method of protection before casting spells, whether the intent is malefic or not

Cleanse your space and tools before and after performing a spell to “wipe the slate clean”

Herbs:

Ague, Angelica, Asafoetida, Bamboo, Basil, Bay Leaf, Benzoin, Boneset, Brimstone (Sulfur Powder), Burdock, Chili Pepper, Cinquefoil, Comfrey, Datura, Frankincense, Galangal, Garlic, Geranium, Holy Thistle, Huckleberry, Hydrangea, Iris Root (Orris Root), Lemon Verbena (Vervain), Lilac, Lily, Lucky Hand (Orchid Root), Mimosa, Myrrh, Nutmeg, Oak Moss, Onion, Oregano, Papaya, Patchouli, Peony, Pokeroot, Prickly Ash Bark, Rue, Safflower, Solomon’s Seal, St. John’s Wort, Stinging Nettle, Squill, Thistle, Toadflax, Turmeric, Vetiver, Willow, Wintergreen, Witches Grass (Dog Grass), Wormwood (Absinthe), Yarrow Flower, Yew, Yucca

Crystals:

Agate, Amber, Amethyst, Ametrine, Black Tourmaline, Bloodstone, Carnelian, Celestite, Chrysocolla, Citrine, Emerald, Epidote, Fire Opal, Fluorite, Garnet, Halite, Hematite, Howlite, Jet, Kunzite, Labradorite, Malachite, Natrolite, Obsidian, Ocean Jasper, Onyx, Selenite, Silver, Smoky Quartz, Sugilite, Sunstone, Turquoise

Jesus Christ I hope that covers everything.

#cursing #hex #hexes #hex white supremacy #christian witch #christian witchcraft #jynx #anon #answered #banishing spells #binding spells #inadvertent masterpost #long post #christian cursing alternatives

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