#every other week i start to say something about how greek heroes are a good case study in diaspora and exile trauma

[brother-emperors]

something. about. the horror of being sent on an impossible (death) quest and obligations and hospitality politics. the trauma of not having a home, and then the trauma of being in a house that becomes actively hostile to you, one that would swallow you whole and spit out your bones if you step out of line. all of this is conditional, your existence continues to be something men want gone.

it's about going back as far as I can with the perseus narrative because there's always a version of a myth that exists behind the one that survives. the missing pieces are clearly defined, but the oldest recorded version of it isn't there! and there's probably something older before that!! but it's doomed to forever be an unfilled space, clearly defined by an outline of something that was there and continues to be there in it's absence.

and love. it's also about love. even when you had nothing, you had love.

on the opposite side of the spectrum, this is Not About Ovid Or Roman-Renaissance Reception, Depictions And Discourses On The Perseus Narrative.

edit: to add to the above, while it's not about Ovid, because I'm specifically trying to peel things back to the oldest version of this story, Ovid is fine. alterations on the Perseus myth that give more attention Medusa predate Ovid by several centuries. this comic is also not about those, either! there are many versions of this story from the ancient world. there is not one singular True or Better version, they're all saying something.

Perseus, Daniel Ogden

Anthology of Classical Myth: Primary Sources in Translation, edited & translated by Stephen M Trzaskoma, R. Scott Smith, Stephen Brunet

[look-at-the-soul]

Straight to the heart

Tommy Shelby x reader (Nurse)

After spending day and night for two weeks with nurses in the house while taking care of my grandma I couldn’t stop this idea running around my head.. this is set around S3E6… sending love and blessing to all the medical staff out there! Edit: Granny is doing so much better now, she can’t wait to go out already lol and now she says she misses us being with her all the time 🥺

Please note I’m not related to the health department, just what I read/watch.

Gif credit to @thesoldiersminute thank you for always keep up with my ideas!!! ☺️

Walking into the intensive care unit, Y/N was asked to immediately attend a new patient who arrived recently, she would only cover the night shift. He had surgery a few days ago and the doctors didn’t know yet how his body would react.

Y/N felt bad for the poor man, he was severely beaten, the damage in his brain still unknown, he was under high doses of medication. Most of his levels were out of proportion.

Right there he looked so helpless, vulnerable even. And even though the bruises and lightly swollen skin, she could see he owned some kind of privileged looks; thick lashes fanning over his cheeks, sharp cheekbones made him look like he was sculpted by a generous Greek God. If it wasn’t for the metal helmet on his head, she would swear he was only sleeping.

Sighting, she wrote down his records, adjusted his medication and left to attend her next patient. For the rest of the day, Y/N repeated the same actions without anything extraordinary or out of normal happening.

“Good luck on the night shift, Y/N” Jackie wished as she picked up her belongings.

“Why would I need luck?”

“You don’t know about that man at the 32?” Jackie squinted her eyes at her colleague.

Y/N shook her head as she organized the paperwork of the day. How would she know? She barely knew this area of the hospital. She wanted to stay out of any gossip or saying that was going around, but Jackie still decided to share the piece of information she heard in the hall. Letting Y/N know he was the infamous gánster from Birmingham known for cutting people’s eyes.

“His sister said he’s a war hero, but I know he’s a criminal, he deserves it.” Shaking her head she added; “his family requested a private room.”

But to Y/N all patients deserved to be treated equally, not taking into consideration their past, mistakes or anything else.

“Have a safe walk back home.” Y/N wished Jackie, hoping the other nurse would leave soon so she could resume the night visits to every patient, she had a long night ahead, starting with a young boy who had an accident at one of the factories.

Walking into Mr. Shelby’s bed close to midnight, Y/N noticed him sweating, shaking a little. Touching his forehead, she realized that he had a high fever. Rushing back to her unit, she grabbed towels and a bowl that she then filled with water.

Checking on his temperature, the thermometer showed 40ºC, so without wasting any more time, Y/N proceeded to provide medication to bring down his temperature. With a damp cloth, she pressed his neck, chest and forehead.

He was mumbling something she couldn’t understand, it was probably something that didn’t make sense, or another language she didn’t know… but as she moved to wet the washcloth one more time, his words were clear;

“Don’t leave me.” His hands got tense. “I need you.”

His frown grew deeper and when he opened his eyes abruptly, one of his hands accidentally hit Y/N above her right eye.

Y/N removed the covers from his body, as well as the upper part of the hospital gown.

Pressing the wet cloth against his hot skin Y/N got lost in the freckles on his chest, it reminded her of the previous night full of shining stars.

“Mr. Shelby, you’re alright, take a deep breath for me.” His breathing was erratic, his gaze lost, nothing he was saying made sense, he was talking about saving his mother and a Prussian boy, he then mentioned the name Charlie. “You’re at the hospital Mr. Shelby, take it easy.”

As Tommy looked around, he took in his surroundings, the pale skin of the nurse attending him contrasted deeply with the small crimson river of blood coming out from her eyebrow.

“There you go, that’s it, deep breaths.” Y/N smiled relieved that the fever was going down. Checking his eyes, his reflections seemed to be perfect, as well as the rest of his vitals. He tried to touch the metal around his head, but Y/N moved gently his hand down.

She helped the man to sit up slowly in the bed and after adjusting the pillow in his back, she offered him some water, to help his system fight the temperature.

“Are you feeling better?” Y/N asked after a few more minutes.

Tommy nodded, still altered by the mixed nightmare he just saw, his mother asking for help, she was dangerously close to the river and when he tried to grab her arm to move her away, he saw Charlie drowning, as he was about to save his son, the Prussian boy appeared from nowhere and sent him to the ground.

“It’s late, you might want to have some rest.” Y/N announced gently changing the pillow since it was soaked.

“I can’t go back to sleep.” He murmured after a few seconds. “My head ‘s pounding.”

“I can give you something for the pain.” But his hand stopped Y/N’s intentions to walk away. Gently and in a caressing motion, she placed his hand between hers, one on top and one under. “Is going to be alright.”

“Can you stay here? With me?”

And with that Y/N was able to see the bluest eyes she had ever crossed paths with, so transparent, so full of fear, so vulnerable. He locked his eyes with her and she got lost in a deep ocean, soft waves crashing against her.

So broken.

Empty even.

In the war she had seen endless horrors, men without a leg or an arm, people who lost their eyes, but nothing compared to what Y/N saw in this man’s eyes.

“Right, just let me call the doctor and I’ll stay here for a little longer, all my other patients are sleeping.” Y/N took the empty chair resting close to the door and brought it closer to the bed.

“Lucky they can.”

Y/N chuckled and in the process, she found the ghost of a smirk in his lips.

“I could give you something to sleep.”

“Oh, so you don’t have to deal with me?”

Y/N looks at him scandalized. “No, I meant it so you can rest.”

“That’s for the weak.” Tommy stated taking a deep breath.

“Are you sure you don’t want something for the pain?” Y/N tried again suppressing a yawn.

“I’ve the heart of a horse.” Tommy winced as her cold hand came to circle his wrist, she looked at her watch and then wrote down something in a chart. She then checked again his temperature. “How long have you been a nurse?”

Her features turned into a bittersweet expression.

“I volunteered as a nurse during the war, to be close to my husband.”

Tommy fixed his gaze on her. “The Somme?”

Y/N nodded. “Blackwoods, but he never came back.”

“Sorry for your loss.” Tommy offered Y/N his handkerchief, which she found on top of the cabinet with the rest of his clothes.

“Thank you, I hear you’re a hero.”

Tommy chuckled tilting his head.

“That’s overrated, I saw more men dying than I saved. Now you, on the other hand are a real hero, Miss?”

“Y/N Y/LN.” She smiled gently.

“Pleased to meet you, Thomas Shelby.” He extended his hand with a groan.

“How did you end up here with an injury like that?”

“I stumbled.”

Y/N didn’t believe that for a second, but she was glad to see that even in a situation like that, he felt like joking, it was a good sign.

“The door must’ve been heavy.” She joked, immediately regretting her own words. ”Sorry.”

“Bad choices brought me here.” Tommy admitted, his hands instinctively looking for a cigarette. “Can I have a smoke?”

Y/N stood up to take a cigarette and light it for him. “Hopefully you won’t make those again, you were very lucky this time.”

“You’d be surprised, sometimes I think trouble simply enjoys following me around.”

“You’re like a magnet then.”

She then decided to stay silent as she saw him with his eyelids closed, maybe tiredness took him finally in, that would be good, because then she would be able to close her eyes momentarily and…

“Has anyone came…?”

His deep voice pulled her from snoozing. Y/N nodded and informed him that his sister visited the previous day. And his aunt the day he had the surgery.

“Do you want me to let someone know?”

Tommy shook his head at first, closing his eyes. Who would give a damn about him?

“Jeremiah, Jimmy he’s a preacher.” He whispered after a few minutes.

“I know him, we’ve worked together helping people in need.”

Why that didn’t surprise him?

“That tells me I’m in good hands.” He ran his cigarette over his lower lip, while a light shade of pink covered her cheeks and neck.

“Thank you for helping me keep my eyes open.”

Tommy then winked. “Anytime love, you know where to find me.”

Y/N told him she would get him a new gown and take a quick look at the other patients, but she would be back before he could realize she was gone. In her absence, a doctor entered and after evaluating the information in his chart, asked a few insignificant questions and left him alone. Tommy wondered if she would be back soon.

“How was your round?” Tommy asked eyeing her by the corner of his eye.

“Fine, most patients are fast asleep except for one.”

“Sorry to keep you up, it gets boring here.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled. “What are you talking about? The fun has just begun, you need to stay for a few months.”

But Tommy being Tommy, he had another ideas.

“I’ll be out of here this week.” He stated firmly.

They stayed in a comfortable silence, until Tommy saw the nurse leaning forwards, at the end of his bed, close to his feet, within seconds, he realized her breathing changed and she was fast asleep, forehead resting on one arm, at some point, she turned her head to the side, so her features were facing him, and he finally noticed the mole close to her lips…

The following morning, Jeremiah entered the hospital room, a beaming smile on his face, Tommy motioned him to be quiet, pointing at the sleepy nurse.

The poor thing worked the previous night taking care of a patient at home, then her regular shift at ER and finally she was asked to cover the intensive care unit as well.

Looking at the feet of his bed, Y/N was peacefully sleeping in an uncomfortable position that would probably hurt her neck and back, she assured him over five times she wasn’t tired first, then that she didn’t need a pillow, she wasn’t going to fall asleep, but in the end, her body claimed some rest. Her lips were partially open, her features relaxed, she exuded calmness through every pore.

A peace he would kill for.

“Looking good Tom.” Jeremiah whispered, walking around the bed, to the opposite side were the nurse was sleeping.

“Now everyone will shave the side of their head too.” Tommy joked.

Before Y/N fell asleep, she got her pocket mirror, helping Tommy to take a look, it disgusted him to see the helmet, and the dark circles under his eyes, paler than he usually was, but Y/N assured him, nothing of that mattered, he was alive.

But Jeremiah couldn’t hold back the laugh at Tommy’s comment, and Y/N woke up.

“I’m so sorry I fell asleep!” Y/N quickly apologized and walked out from the room, returning a few minutes later after a quick trip to the bathroom to refresh herself and as she walked over to the bed to check one more time for Mr. Shelby’s vitals, she overheard a conversation that concerned her.

“Jimmy, I need you to bring me some papers, the keys to the first drawer are on-”

“Mr. Shelby you can’t work right now.” Y/N looked between her patient and his friend, her whole body protesting for sleeping in that position.“You need bed rest, physical therapy and nothing that stresses you.”

Tommy chuckled and his head hurt from the effort.

“I’m sure Polly can manage for a while, you need to follow her orders.” Jeremiah stated before touching Tommy in the arm, followed by a wink. “He’s a bit stubborn, just so you to know.”

He thanked then Y/N for taking care of his friend and left them after that.

“I didn’t mean to sound bossy, sorry Mr. Shelby.”

“Call me Tommy, please.” Making an effort to look at her, he found a deep frown. “What’s the matter?”

“The doctor prescribed Morphine to your own judgment?”

“It’s for the pain.”

She knew this kind of high dosis could represent a big threat for the patients, it should be administered by someone who knew what they were doing, but it wasn’t her place to discuss that, so she only shook her head.

“Thank you, for not letting my nightmares hunt me last night.” Tommy whispered. “And sorry for that.” He then pointed out to the now clear cut on her eyebrow.

Y/N smiled brushing it off and left to do a quick check on her patients. Later, when she returned, she found Tommy sleeping, and just like he did the previous night, she let him sleep, hoping the nightmares would leave him alone.

***

When Tommy woke up again, he didn’t found Y/N back, no, there was a rude and grumpy, old nun making noise, disturbing the small peace he was able to reach.

After a heated argument, Tommy didn’t hesitate to point the revolver at her, he just wanted to scare her though, in that condition he wouldn’t be able to shoot properly, but it worked, because she mumbled he would be burned in hell and left. A doctor came in shortly, sweating, worried he would kill him there.

“Where’s Y/N?” Tommy asked cleaning his weapon with the sheet covering his lap.

“She has the day off, until tonight, she covers the ER Night Shift.” His apple bobbed up and down. “I’ll ask the nurse to check on you.”

“I don’t want anyone but Y/N.” Tommy resisted the urgent feeling to press his forehead, the headache was unbearable.

“She attends the emergency un-”

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, Doc… Y/N is from now on my personal nurse.” He removed the security button of his gun. Feeling dizzy, he could see the doctor moving towards the door.

The intensive care unit looked oddly quiet that night, she shouldn’t be here without permission but there was no one to ask around, so she’d only stay for a couple of minutes and go to work at the other side of the building.

“Ah, I see you’re awake now Mr. Shelby, I brought you some tea that will help you with the pain, is strong so I added some milk and sugar.” Y/N smiled.

But the smile soon was followed by a shock, when the Director informed her she would now work as private nurse for Mr. Shelby, but she didn’t even try to gainsay against the new instructions, she just asked a few minutes to move her belongings over the intensive care unit.

“I hope you understand, the other nurse didn’t think I was a nice patient.”

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. “You pointed a gun at her, Tommy.”

“Yeah, yeah, she mentioned I was going to hell.” He retrieved the cigarette case and match from under the blanket, motioning for her to light it for him.

“How are you feeling?” She noticed the helmet was gone, and he could move freely now, slow but better.

“Like shit.”

Y/N looked at the cigarette between her fingers, Tommy cleared her she could smoke in her shift now. “Last night, when you had that nightmare… you mentioned someone… Charlie.”

Tommy ran his tongue over his lips, blinking at the thought of his son.

“I was trying to save him, he’s my son, now it’s just the two of us… his mother passed away.”

The air abandoned her lungs, her heart sank down, the worst pain this man was going through wasn’t for the head injuries, the emotional felt deeper.

“Everything I do, is for him, ‘cause I don’t want him to suffer what I went through.” He admitted.

Tommy threw the covers to the side, determination in his eyes.

Scandalized, Y/N rushed to his side, “what are you doing?!”

“I can’t stay in bed, have things to do.”

But her hands on his chest, held him firmly.

“You need to take it easy, it takes time to heal and recover.” Shaking her head, Y/N covered him again. “You hired me to be your nurse, and as such you’ll have to follow my orders.”

With an evident groan, Tommy allowed her to adjust his pillow, taking the revolver in the process.

“And I’m keeping this somewhere safe.”

“Fucking hell.” He scoffed.

***

Of course, he wasn’t out in a week like he said, Tommy needed medical attention and professional equipment to monitor his progress, the doctors didn’t even care he was using his pipe when the pain was too much.

During the following days, Y/N stayed by Tommy’s hospital bed day and night, helping him to stand up once the doctor cleared him out to walk around, she read out loud endless books and news to him, somehow she was his eyes and ears.

She earned completely his trust, he talked to her about things he didn’t dare to say to anyone else. And never complained about how difficult and headache he was as her patient, he lost all his dignity when she had to clean him up in the beginning when he couldn’t move, and kept his nightmares at bay some nights.

Staring into the ceiling, he didn’t even remember what day it was, memories were a bit blurry, but he had enough time to plan, to think, to realize things.

In the loneliness of those cold walls, it was all silent. Just him and his thoughts.

Where was his family? He had gave them all; everything they needed, everything they wanted… money, stability, power, luxuries, properties.

And they had only be around a few times for short and sporadic visits.

No one offered to spend the night with him, just in case he needed something during the night. All he heard was excuses to leave as soon as possible. They had other things to do.

The obscene amount of money he spent with whores to warm his bed for a moment and for what? They wouldn’t even dare to look a man ill in a hospital bed. They were empty, it was nothing more than a chore for them.

Not a single whore was appealing enough the effort now.

Deep down, he felt disappointed.

And heartbroken. If he ever had a heart.

All of the people he helped down the road, weren’t able to pay him a ten fucking minutes visit.

A knock on the door pulled Tommy away from his thoughts.

Y/N entered brightening not only the room, but his life as well.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” She chirped.

“You kept snorting, I had to recover my sleep-hours.” He lied.

“I did not.” Her voice faked indignation towards his words, touching his arm playfully with the package of the gauze.

“Why do you keep sleeping in the chair, when I asked them to bring in a couch for you?” He smirked accepting the biscuits she made for him.

“Trust me, if I take the couch, you’ll never wake me up.”

As she leaned to clean the spot of his surgery, Tommy turned his head and stared into her beautiful eyes, straight to her heart and soul. Wondering if she would allow him to kiss her, almost asking for permission. His hand came to rest to the side of her head, fingers intertwining in her hair… closing his eyes, he let his lips fan over hers, barely touching, teasing, burning and waking up every nerve in her body.

And when their mouths finally collided, time stopped and the fucking world could’ve exploded and they wouldn’t have noticed.

“Just what the doctor ordered.” The corner of his lips turned upwards and small lines formed around his blue eyes as he pulled in his nurse for another kiss.

“Tommy…” she whispered trying to catch her breath, easier than trying to ask her heartbeat to normalize.

“Tell me this isn’t a one side feeling?”

The feeling of his hands cupping her face close to his, made ir harder to shook her head. “No, it’s not that… is just that this isn’t professional. I’m your nurse.”

“Perfect, you’re fired then.” He joked, pulling her down for another kiss.

He would be forever grateful with her for those days when she was all the company he got, for the long talks, and making his most miserable time feel lighter. For encouraging him to walk again and do his exercises.

For being there for him.

He never imagined tragedy would take him to the place where he would meet love and compassion in the same person. He would get his head smashed a hundred more times just to be with her.

After getting more kisses, because he swore the doctor prescribed them, Tommy gave her the envelope with her payment and she almost fainted she saw it. It was more money than she could expect to see in months of working non stop.

“This is too much, I can’t accept it.”

“Y/N you stayed with me when I needed it the most, didn’t ask questions… no amount of money could ever really pay what you gave me.”

He was determined to go back home, promised the doctors he would take it easy and after watching his health improvement, he was discharged earlier than expected. But of course he was planning to have someone taking care of him.

***

Y/N couldn’t believe this was the correct address she was given. Taking a double look at the mansion before her, she swallowed hard.

But the address written on the paper Tommy gave her, was correct. After finishing her shift at the Hospital that day, she would be joining him at home.

Knocking on the heavy door, Y/N waited smoothing her uniform a petite woman in a black and white uniform opened the door. The look the woman gave her up and down made Y/N feel uneasy, worried there was something wrong with her.

“Mr. Shelby hired me to.-”

“I know who he is, I don’t understand why they sent someone lik-” shaking her head, she moved to the side as Polly approached them.

“Thank you so much for showing up earlier, he has been asking for you, I’m Polly.” She gave the nurse a candid smile and looking then at the maid, she added; “Mary please prepare her something to eat.”

“That won’t be necessary Mrs. Gray, I had breakfast after finishing my shift, but thank you.”

Polly guided her around the house, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Thank you for taking care of our Tom all of this time…” Showing her where was the kitchen, the bathroom, everything she might need.

“Is alright, don’t worry about that.”

“I’ve work to do, but I’ll give you a phone number where you can find me if anything urgent comes up, there’s also a driver and a car outside in case you need to use it.” They both walked a long hall, the house was decorated immediately. “My nephew has been talking about you.” She gave the nurse a knowing look. “Something changed, but not something physical, something inside, you gave him his heart back.”

As Polly opened the door to Tommy’s bedroom, Y/N found him playing with his son in bed, bare chest moving the child up and down in the air, his small giggles echoed through the room.

The image didn’t only made its way through her eyes, it went straight to the heart.

*******

And sorry it got long! I couldn’t stop writing for these two… your feedback is always highly appreciated and treasured ♥️ it means the world to me! Thank you for reading.

Master list

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[cocrante]

I Start Over With You

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

summary: After the great battle against the forces of Gaea, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter had formed a long-lasting alliance. Everything had gone well, and everyone was ready to start anew. This included Nico, who, after confessing his feelings to Percy, was prepared to open a new chapter in his life—perhaps the happiest one the Fates had ever written.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Mondays and Fridays. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 14]

THE CAMP JUPITER WAS JUST AS HE HAD LEFT IT, with the only difference being the new temples being erected, following the architectural patterns indicated by Annabeth. The Roman camp couldn't look better. It still bustled with nature spirits, lares, and fauns trotting through the camp's streets, occasionally hindering a hero in training. Some demigods strolled through the paths, discussing the upcoming war games. Others stopped and pointed at Nico, wondering why he had returned. With all eyes on him, he headed towards where Reyna was waiting.

The hall was bright, the tiles reflecting the sunlight, and the marble columns giving the building a regal appearance. Sitting there, waiting for his arrival, was Bellona's daughter, his adventure companion and trusted friend. She stood up, walking towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back to camp, Nico" Reyna greeted, leading him outside. "I found a decent place in the city, and you can come to camp whenever you want" she said, heading towards the Roman city that mimicked the style of the Italian Rome, with its warm and round colors, making it almost feel like being on the same European peninsula.

Bellona's daughter told him - during the journey - that things at the camp had improved since the new agreement with the Greeks. She had received messages from Camp Half-Blood that summer, announcing that in the fall they would receive visits, so combat techniques could merge along with culture and lifestyles. "It wasn't easy" the girl explained. "Many are tied to the Mos Maiorum, the senate itself started by saying it was sheer madness" she sighed. "But even they cannot go against the will of our gods" Nico nodded, understanding the difficulty of accepting something different. He had been through it himself, and only the gods knew how long it would take for others to accept him as a camp member.

"But enough about the camp" Reyna said, noticing a certain silence from her friend. "It's been a while since we talked, besides that conversation the other day"

"I've been busy" he briefly recounted the past few weeks at Camp Half-Blood, mentioning something about Apollo's son, avoiding telling her about the Capture the Flag game and especially the kiss on the hill. The girl didn't make a sound, just let him tell, noting a slight and thinly veiled smile every time he mentioned Apollo's son. "He's a good friend" he concluded, letting out an imperceptible sigh.

"Just a good friend?" she dared to ask, as she had seen well beyond the tough exterior that protected him.

The boy took some time before responding. "Well, yes" he confirmed, though not entirely convinced. Reyna simply pursed her lips, not asking him more about that boy. If he wanted to tell her, he would, she thought. "Okay" she said, stopping in front of a building. "First floor. Your school is just a block away, you can't miss it. I've also taken the liberty of getting your books"

Nico was truly speechless; he hadn't imagined she had done him such a big favor. "Thank you, Reyna" he looked at her with deep gratitude.

"Don't mention it! For anything, you know where to find me" she handed him the keys, giving him a final pat before returning to the Roman camp.

Nico twirled the keys between his fingers, anxious and terrified to go in. He opened the door, dragging his suitcases behind him, climbing up to the first floor. There, he entered the comfortable apartment Reyna had found for him. It was a bright and warm room, the walls painted in a matte yellow and divided in half by charming Roman motifs. It seemed completely the opposite of his gloomy cabin.

Having found the bedroom, he unpacked his belongings there, hiding the box he had taken from camp in a drawer. He put away all his clothes, the few that he had, in the wardrobe, and having emptied the suitcase, he flopped onto the bed with a sigh. He didn't stay there for long because as soon as he touched the mattress, someone rang the doorbell, forcing him to go and answer. It was a real joy when he realized it was his sister, who had just knew about his arrival at camp. The two greeted each other warmly; Hazel had been missed more than anyone. Along with her was her boyfriend, the son of Mars, who seemed to have grown a couple of inches during those weeks.

Frank gave him a pat on the shoulder, quite happy to see him again. They had never really talked, but he was still part of Hazel's family, and that was enough for Frank to like him.

The son of Hades invited them both into the still-empty apartment, making them comfortable in the living room. He had a lot to tell his sister about those weeks at Camp Half-Blood, avoiding dwelling too much on Will and what had happened before arriving in New Rome. He also told her about Jason, who seemed to have completely rebuilt his life. "I'm really happy about that" exclaimed Hazel.

"Piper is such a good girl, those two make a beautiful couple" she told him, with Frank nodding in agreement.

"How's Percy?" asked Frank. The son of Hades just shrugged.

"Well, at least he hasn't gotten into any new trouble" he then told them about the absurd climbing wall challenge, of Jason being determined to win and not faint every two seconds.

The three spent the afternoon together, inviting Nico to join them for a bite to eat. The son of Hades agreed willingly, following them outside the building.

There were still many things Nico wanted to tell his sister, all carrying the same name. However, it was difficult to talk about them with Frank around.

They mostly talked about the Roman camp and how it had evolved in such a short time, telling him the same things Reyna had hinted at earlier: some problems that had arisen at the beginning, the decision to build more temples dedicated to minor and almost forgotten deities. "You should have attended the council" sighed Hazel, squeezing Frank's hand. "The Senate didn't want to hear any reason. According to them, we had to continue with our traditions" she briefly recounted what had happened after their return to camp.

"Some demigods thought the same, obviously" explained Frank. "Centuries of tradition thrown out the window" he grimaced.

"But even they had to bow to the will of the gods" Nico guessed. The son of Mars nodded.

"Thanks to the gods, they opened their eyes, our societies cannot survive if we don't collaborate. This was evident even this summer" added the boy, getting a nod of approval from Nico.

Frank began to speak freely, monopolizing the conversation a bit. He cared deeply about New Rome now that he had become praetor, telling them about the boring Roman bureaucracy that Jason had mentioned that morning, the holes to fill, the people to meet, all the supervision needed during the construction of the temples. "We could rely on Annabeth, she's a real architect!" exclaimed the boy.

The conversation gradually dwindled with the setting sun, coloring the green hills and the tips of the tallest buildings. Under that light, the city of New Rome seemed like a replica of the authentic Rome. "See you around" said Frank, bidding farewell with a nod.

"Of course" replied Nico, finally managing to spend five minutes alone with his sister, who had not missed the agitation and urgency to talk only with her. She was really good at reading body language. "Let's talk about what you forgot to tell me tomorrow, okay?" the girl smiled kindly, speaking near Nico's ear, who simply nodded and thanked her.

She walked away, the smile on her face leaving him in the driveway, which was slowly darkening.

The son of Hades returned to his apartment, finally lying down on the bed he had longed for all day. His mind was strangely empty, yet so full of thoughts that he didn't exactly know which ones to grasp.

He ran a hand over his face, forcing himself to get up, put on pajamas, and set the alarm for the next day. It was while turning the red hand that the air seemed to fold on itself, gathering the light like many small tiles, then opening into a window of light. On the other side, there was a brightly lit bedroom, although it was clearly night outside. The walls were covered with band posters, along with some photos and concert tickets now weathered with time. At the center of that window made of light was the boy who had been at the center of his thoughts all day.

"Hey!" Will was radiant as usual, but his smile faded when he noticed that Nico might be getting ready for bed. "Did I disturb you?" he hurried to say, regretful for not being able to call him earlier. Nico shook his head, placing the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"No, it's fine" he replied, unable to hide a certain embarrassment.

"Okay—" he tried to smile, but it was clear that something was wrong. All day, Will had berated himself for giving him that cheek kiss; he shouldn't have done it. Who knows what Nico thought now. "So, school starts tomorrow, huh?" he said the first thing that came to mind, even if it was rather mundane and predictable. Nico sighed, still not believing that he would really be picking up paper and pen again. "Yeah" he replied. "I'm kind of nervous" he hinted at a smile, sitting on the bed.

"It's normal" Will tried to cheer him up. "At least you won't have the fear of being expelled eight times" he joked, tilting his lips sideways. Nico stared at him, realizing that for the entire time, that was the first time he had looked him in the eyes.

"Then I guess they'll be more prepared for hyperactivity and dyslexia issues there" the boy continued. Nico struggled to imagine Will with such problems—at camp, he seemed like such a normal guy that Nico often forgot that, like most demigods, he suffered from hyperactivity and dyslexia. Life in mortal schools was often challenging.

"Do you start tomorrow too?" Nico asked then, breaking his silence.

"Yeah" Will sighed. "If it weren't for my friends, it would be a torture" It wasn't the first time he had said that, even during the days spent together at camp, Will always talked about his school and how heavy the schedules were, thankfully lightened by his two friends he had made during the past year. "Did you already get the list of extracurricular activities?" he asked, just to liven up the conversation. "It arrived yesterday, mom already signed me up for that music course. May she be blessed, I wouldn't know what to do without her" he said, unable to hold back a clear laugh. Nico thought about how it must be to have a mother; the only memory he had of his was of a faded smile, and maybe it wasn't even real. At that thought, he became saddened.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Will asked, concerned to see that dark expression.

Nico simply shook his head, coming out of his thoughts. "Nothing" he lied, trying to look at something other than Will's blue eyes. "Just tired, I guess" he said, trying to convince him with that excuse. Apollo's son tried to believe it, without delving too much into the details. "When does the course start?" he asked the next moment.

"Next week, while auditions for the choir are this Friday" he replied, and at that thought, he immediately became enthusiastic.

"A smile will be enough to get you in" Nico weakly smiled, imagining him auditioning for the school choir.

"Do you think so?" Will laughed.

"I think so" Nico answered so seriously that Will didn't know if he was really joking or being serious. He decided to take it as a joke.

The two continued to talk for a while, avoiding touching on the "hill kiss" topic. It seemed that both were fine with it, yet they couldn't deny to themselves that after that morning, a kind of strange tension had arisen. Will would have liked to explain, give him a reason for what he had done, yet something prevented him, perhaps the current situation. He thought that maybe it would be more appropriate to talk to him about it in person. Yes, he would do that when he returned to camp. However, he had not taken one thing into consideration:—"Remember during the game in the woods?" Nico suddenly reminded him, wanting to get that thought out of his mind that had been buzzing around all day. Will swallowed, hoping he hadn't heard it. "Yes" he replied, torturing his lips.

"You were about to tell me something" Nico continued, hoping he could talk to him about it now. Apollo's son nodded; he didn't want to tell him like this, via a message, but actually, at that moment, there was no one who could interrupt them. Will parted his lips, ready to tell him the truth. "Well, the thing is that..." he stammered, trying to find the right words, and as he struggled, the message was slowly dissolving.

"You'll tell me tomorrow" Nico hurried to say.

"Goodnight, Nico," he said just as quickly, before the window of light disappeared, leaving the son of darkness in the shadows.

"Goodnight, Will"

[CONTENTS]

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16

[cupidstwin333]

Hi, i hope doing good. Can i have a Romantic Mha matchup please. I prefer proheroes. I'm genderfluid, bisexual with male preference. I'm a Libra, Infp and 5w4. I have long black wavy hair. I have thick black eyebrows, brown eyes. I always have rosy cheeks. My body is curvy with very big chest and little tummy. Also i'm 172 cm. I always have poker face. Those who know me for the first time describe me as cold, quiet, scary and distant. I'm only close to two or three people. They describe me as cold, soft inside, calm, resourceful and knowledgeable. They say I make clever jokes and I'm the mom-friend. And i hate phsyical touch. My love language is words of affirmation. And I'm a switch in a relationship. If I talk about myself, I've always been on my own. I have family problems, I was never close with my father. Even though we are side by side with my mother, we are distant. I'm just my own mom and dad. That's why I've always focused on academic achievement for salvation. And I think I'm very good at it. My hobbies are drawing, sewing, writing and researching, especially about mythology, cultures, history, fashion. I always wear my headphones and listen to music. I like silence, soft colors, being alone, flowers (especially honeysuckle), spring and breeze. I don't like crowds, noise, children, loud talkers and shiny things. I always wear colorful clothes with floral prints. I also wear interesting earrings and different printed socks. And finally, I don't really have an ideal type. I love every person. I like the fact that there are different people.

After a long time of thinking 💭 your match is...

Shōta Aizawa (Eraserhead)

Background:

You’re a pro hero and also a teacher at UA you mainly teach History but you also teach other subjects from time to time. This was thanks to your high focus on academic achievements. It was your first year as a teacher you were still very new to it but you were very excited and proud that you got into UA High of all schools. You were teaching for three months now and you really enjoyed it. You just finished your last class and you had waved your students off when they left. You glanced over at the clock and it was 16:30 o’clock. You stretched your sore muscles after a tiring day of teaching. You got ready to prepare the lessons for tomorrow as you were excited to teach your class about Greek mythology. You were busy editing and adding information on your lesson plan. Until you heard the tune of the intercom go off. It was principal Nezu. He was calling all the teachers for an urgent meeting through the intercom. You put on your baby blue cardigan and quickly put your hair in a ponytail. And you rush to the meeting room. Entering the meeting room you are met with only one other teacher you greet him quickly and notice it’s Eraser Head. He looked very handsome up close. You’ve seen him before in the hallways but never had a real interaction with him before. “Oh you’re the new teacher? I’ve heard from principal Nezu that the two of us will be working a lot together in the future, it’s nice to meet you.” He says giving you a curt smile but he quickly drops it to your surprise “Whatever you do though don’t give me unnecessary extra work.” He says with an annoyed look. You just stare at him with narrowed eyes. What’s up with him? You thought. Suddenly you felt a little less excited about this school year.

How it started:

You stood in front of the massive door and took a deep breath before entering the classroom. The day before, after classes ended, Aizawa knocked on your classroom door. "Nezu told me you'd do the explaining about Re-destro and the Quirk singularity doomsday." You stopped grading your students' work and looked up. You nodded "I'll have to explain that to all the first-year students this week, I finished the preparations for it." you said in a self-assured tone. He nodded and entered your classroom which surprised you, you gave him a suspicious look. "Can I help you with something else?" you asked narrowing your eyes. I mean Aizawa was always a mystery to you, he made it clear that he saw you as a burden from day one, yet he still lingered around you. "I am a first-year student and you are you. Let's practice," he said in his usual lazy manner while sitting down in front of you. You stood up from behind your desk and decided to get this over with. You started to explain the whole theory and you started to lose yourself in the information and gave your own opinions and speculations after you finished rambling. You saw that Aizawa looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. It looked like fondness, he praised you and said to do it like this tomorrow, and after that he left. Once you opened the door and entered class 1-a, you noticed how all eyes were on you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous but you had your trusted poker face painted on your face. "this is y/n (or your hero name) she is a new teacher and she will teach you guys something. She is more educated on the matter than I am." Aizawa said while sitting in the back of the class and letting you do your thing. You introduced yourself to the class and started your lesson and answered all the questions they had. One student in particular, a freckled green haired boy, seemed to have a lot of interest and opinions on the topic of the quirk doomsday theory which you appreciated. It made you feel more passionate and listened to when you were explaining the topic in front of the class. After no one seemed to have anymore questions, you finally gave your ending note and thanked everyone for listening. You didn’t expect to get a standing ovation but you did. “Okay class that’s enough!” Aizawa speaks up with a commanding voice his hair was floating and his eyes were glowing red. He activated his quirk, erasure. You thought it was interesting how much more different and intimidating he could look by just activating his quirk. The class immediately went silent as everyone sat back down in their seats. Aizawa made his way over to you at the front of the class. “Thank you y/n you can leave now.” He spoke up again, but this time a lot more calmly and without his quirk being activated. You gave him a quick nod as you got ready to leave but Aizawa stops you before you can do so. “Wait, could you come by after you're done with your lessons. I have something I would like to discuss with you.” He says you didn’t like the sound of that but all you can do is agree. Aizawa seemed to notice that you weren't happy with his request because he suddenly speaks up again. "I mean over dinner." He says in a hushed tone so that the students don't hear him. "what?"You asked dumbfounded. He discreetly leans in and whispers "Let's go out for dinner after classes. You and me.”

General headcanons:

💘Whenever you’re grading papers Aizawa will accompany you and ask you about your researches.

💘Aizawa bought you flowers and when the 1A students found out they wouldn’t stop teasing him about it.

💘Aizawa immediately notices if something is wrong with you and (surprisingly) gives amazing advice (he always knows exactly what to tell you to comfort you).

💘 Aizawa doesn’t really like talking about his day but he will sit and listen you talk about yours and he remembers everything you mention.

💘Aizawa will randomly send you cat videos at 3am, but you don’t mind it (you think it’s cute).

Other possible matchups: Endeavor

I'd appreciate it if you'd reblog this, and I hope you enjoyed it <3

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[psychewithwings]

Pt. 1 A Visitor... Once Again  Kirishima x Goddess!reader

hello hello, this is my contribution to this months bnharem collab! The theme was ‘mythology and lore’ and hit very close to my ancient greek loving soul. We have so many wonderful writers and artists that have worked hard so pls check out the rest of the collab here!!!

I’ve been rather ill and so I’ll be breaking it up into parts, part 2 will be out as soon as I am feeling more myself (which will hopefully be next week). Please enjoy a story about 2 of my favourite characters. Kirishima Eijirou, as his hero self (tho with a demi-god twist) and reader! as Kalypso, the goddess, daughter of Atlas, the titan who holds up the sky. Her curse is that she is forced to live alone on an island and fall in love with any visitor who falls to her shores. Once she falls for them, she is forced to ask if they would like to stay and she may grant them immortality if they say yes, and if not? They may leave. They have no way of leaving the island until she falls in love. She is a kind and wonderful character and I have a lot of love for her, (perhaps I relate to her a bit too much) so it is an honor to tell a new version of her story. 

This is set in present day even tho Kalypso is an ancient greek figure, Kirishima is about 25-28 here? Pro hero Kiri!

TW: a small sex scene in the beginning, little bit of dirty talk, penetration

———————————————————————

“Fuck, thats it baby, feel it going all the way inside? Feels good right?” You moan into his neck, “s-so good.” He starts to thrust in and out slowly. Your nails dig into the muscles of his back… his… names and faces are unimportant blurs as he continues to thrust inside. Each drag of his cock hits each sweet spot and taps against your cervix. “Fuck~ you feel so fucking good darling, so-fucking-good, perfect, fucking perfect… yeah that's it clamp down on my cock, massage it with that perfect pussy.” His hand slips between your sweat soaked bodies and rubs quick circles over your clit. “Gonna cum for me baby? I can feel it, you’re about to gush~” You cry into his neck, soft tears of ecstasy hitting his skin. You’re close, so very close-

“Hello? Hey!!! Is anyone home?? Hello?”

You open your eyes and the man above you, the cock inside you, all falls away. It had all been a dream… a delicious, wonderful dream. A dream that had been ruined by an incurable racket. You stare groggily at the ceiling. The ache in your core of having been so close to cumming now boils into a rage. “Hello?!?! Is someone here? Hello??” Your brow crinkled in confusion as to who the rasping voice belonged to. You check to see if you had somehow managed to flip the tv on but the screen was dark. “Does anyone live here?” It dawned on you then… It’s a visitor.

You check the clock that blinks 5:37AM. You groan into a pillow and kick your legs in an attempt to relieve the ache. Your bare thighs are covered in your arousal, which has turned into your frustration. You stay lying still in hopes that he will go away, leave you alone, never return. “HELLO????!?!” But he had to stop screaming and it didn’t seem like he was going to until he came into contact with someone… You knew the nature of the curse well enough at this point but you would try to rebel as long as you could…

You flip the covers off of your body and slowly walk to grab a robe to cover yourself with. You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror while you finish tying the robe. “We got this,” you point to yourself, “no falling in love this time, no falling in love no matter what, ever again, you hear me?” You nod back to yourself. “Pinkie swear.” You touch pinkies with the mirror and laugh coldly. “No more foolish love,” you sarcastically remark before opening the french doors and stepping onto the balcony.

You stare down at the man who had been shouting for so long and your heart drops. He’s beautiful, red hair hanging in his face, still wet with the sea. His body must have been designed by the muses and chiseled by delicate hands. It’s clear even through his clothes. Son of Ares? Or even Zeus perhaps? He is interesting, never had you seen a demigod with such clear physical strength and kind eyes. The combination was rare. He gives you a grin which then fades to surprise. “Oh- I am so sorry, my manners,” he laughs nervously before slowly kneeling on the ground. “Great Goddess, I humble myself now in front of your grace and all encapsulating beauty…” You roll your eyes hoping he will take the hint and shut up. It wasn’t any different from the men before him… It was the same shit as always, though you were disappointed, this one seemed different upon first glance. “...your magnificence is profound, you are both elegant and ethereal in your just standing there-” you cut him off before he can continue the asinine speech. “Ya done?” you ask bluntly.

His eyes grow wide and he softly utters a “what?” You roll your eyes and lean on the gold railing. “Dude, it’s 5am, you’re yelling and ranting, can ya just get to the point?” He remains on his knees in a bow. His pitch varies with confusion as he speaks. “My ship, uhh I crashed it on your shore, and I was hoping that you could umm, maybe assist me in getting home? I-” he hangs his head for a moment, perhaps in exhaustion before continuing. “I have no GPS, no compass, not even a map… if I could do it without bothering you, I would, nothing you for help isn’t very manly... but please Goddess, please help me get home.”  You sigh, century after century of the same request has really weakened your patience, though he had asked nicer than most. “You’re stuck here for the foreseeable future,” you smile slightly. You wait for the look of annoyance, frustration, fear… but it never comes. In fact he gives a slight half smile as he stands. “Well, nothing we can do?” he asks. “‘Fraid not,” you sigh. He starts to say something else but he winces. “Are you okay?” you ask, genuine concern bleeding through the nonchalant tone you had been practicing the past milenia. He nods and grabs hold of his side. “I got a little beat up, but don’t worry goddess, ‘tis but a flesh wound,” he tips his head down.  As he raises his head he looks deathly pale. “Hey sit down okay?” you call down to him, but it’s too late. His eyes roll back and he collapses. “Shit-” you mutter to yourself as you run down to him.

He lays there in a crumpled heap, his breathing shallow. “Wish you’d said you were hurt first dummy,” you grumble before assessing the situation. You need to get him to the herbs and the back porch. This wouldn't be easy, he’s big, huge really. But he collapsed on his side which makes things easier. You hook an arm around one of his and the other around a leg. It takes a lot and it's a staring but you manage to lift him on your shoulders. If your father can hold up the sky, you can surely carry this brick house of a man back to the bed on the porch. 

You step into the house while fireman carrying him to the screened-in porch to lay him down on the daybed. You place him carefully in the soft, green covers and he whines softly. “You’re gonna be just fine,” you reassure gently. Your back porch was reserved for growing herbs, arts and crafts, summer sleep, and it occasionally became a makeshift infirmary when visitors came to you injured and in need of patching up. It happened once every few centuries…

You grabbed some fabric scissors and cut away his shirt to reveal what had been ailing him. You hoped for a broken rib, those were easy to heal with a careful dose of leaf from the widows bone flower and some angel root. But what lay beneath was worse than imagined. A deep gash in his side had tried to close over and heal but it’s irritated, angry. The wound is oozing a sickly yellow pus and iridescent ichor. The skin around it is red with infection. This is one of the worst you’d been brought with. You touch his head, it’s hot and sticky with sweat. This wasn’t good. “Wait here, okay?” You grab a clump of angel root and take it back inside to the kitchen, setting it in a pot of water to boil. You grab a cloth and wet it under the sink in cold water.

You place it on his forehead and sit on the bed beside him. His face was relaxed and he was even more beautiful now. You brush the hair from his eyes and smile down at him, there was something familiar about him… like you’d met before. Though no one could return to Ogygia.

You lean down to where you can speak over his heart in a language that cannot be written or replicated... But the meaning of the words would go something like:

You are healing

You are youthful and strong

Your heart knows how to heal because it is made of love

Pure love can heal anything

You are healing now

You repeat this chant until you hear his breath deepen and watch the cut sooth. It’s a small enchantment but it has done its job. Sure, you’re no Circe, or her brethren, but you’re an enchantress all the same.

You rush back inside and grab the angel root, that's now wet and flexible from being submerged in water. You lay it across his wound before wrapping it carefully. “There now, wait here and I’m going to get you some nectar to drink,” He doesn't respond but his face is relaxed, less anguished, less in pain. You sigh in relief, hopefully that will be enough to close the wound in a day or so, else he will need to be stitched up.

You return with a small bottle of nectar and a dropper to feed him with. You coax his jaw to relax with your hand before dropping the nectar slowly onto his tongue. “You heroes are an awful lot of trouble… you know that?” You continue to feed him slowly so he won’t choke. You sigh in relief as the colour returns back to his face. He’s so beautiful he’s almost glowing, you start to reach for him, to brush the hair from his eyes but you stop yourself and turn away. “No, no love this time, remember?” you say to your reflection in the glass of the windows.

His eyes flutter open with long slow blinks. You watch as they focus on you. He blinks again. “Elyssium,” he breathes and you can’t help but chuckle. “No, Ogygia,” you correct gently. “I’m Eijirou,” he smiles. You laugh again. “No no, this island, where you are is called Ogygia, you aren’t dead,” you assure. He blinks up at you still and you curse the gods for creating him to be so breathtaking. “And what are you called?” he asks. He attempts to sit up but finds it difficult. You place your hand on his head, it’s warm and you can feel his brow relax against your palm. “You’re much better now, but just take your time…” His hands touch his torso and then move to his head. “You healed me?” You nod, “I’ll have to sew this one the rest of the way, it was quite deep.” He circles his hand around your arm, his thumb stroking soft circles. “Thank you, goddess,” he murmurs. You pull away, his touch sending lightning down into your fingertips. You don't remember the last time you had a visitor on this island of yours… but none of the previous visitors seemed to matter anymore, even though each one had stolen your heart some way or another. But no- no love, not this time, not now, not again… It hurt, but you suppressed the feelings of desire and brushed your hands down the front of your robe. “It’s nothing, but for the love of the lethe, stop calling me goddess. Kalypso is fine, just Kalypso.”

He grabs your hand as you turn to leave, “thank you... Kalypso, thank you for saving my life.” In all the years you had been saddled with this curse, it was rare for the visitor to say your name... and none of them, had said your name quite like that. 

You pull your hand from his grasp and make sure not to look back, even though you want to. “You’re welcome,” you answer simply, “I’ll uhh- get you some water.”   

to be added to the taglist

[miraculouswolf99]

Breaking Into The Watchtower Part 1

Miraculous Ladybug-DC Universe crossovers are some of my favorite fanfictions. They are just a good match. I especially love ones where the Justice League either ignores the Paris situation or one of the League members gets the messages for help and doesn’t believe them. Mostly, it’s the Flash, Guy Gardner, Green Lantern, or Booster Gold.

In this story, some of the miraculous have changed hands for my story. There will be new holders and different holders for old miraculous. All of my OC characters will also be included. Nathaniel has the fox, Marc has the turtle, Rose has the horse, Juleka has the tiger, and Alix will have the bunny.

*****

“This is most definitely not something that I would ever have thought that I would ever do,” White Wolf says.

“We are magical teenagers that use the power of mini gods and mystical jewelry,” Beautifly says. “Your statement pretty much sums up every day of our lives.”

“Trust me, I never thought that I would be doing anything like this before I met Plagg,” Cat Noir said.

“At least I can cross this off my bucket list,” Ladybug giggled.

“Why is the name of the Olympian gods would this be on your bucket list,” White Wolf looked at the teen hero weirdly.

“I put it on after they started to ignore our cries for help,” Ladybug crossed her arms. “Or, when it was made obvious that they were ignoring us, at least.”

“How much sleep have you gotten lately,” Beautifly asks. “You only get this sassy when you haven’t slept in about two days.”

“I remember going to sleep on Wednesday,” Ladybug put her hand on her chin as she started thinking.

“Uh… It’s Saturday,” White Wolf deadpanned.

“Oh,” was all Ladybug could say.

“If you don’t go right to sleep after we get back, I am sending Plagg over to destroy every device you have to make sure you are not distracted and can finally sleep,” Cat Noir threatened.

“But what if there is an akuma,” Ladybug protested.

“Then we will have to make sure that Cat Noir saves his power so that he can Cataclysm the moth when it comes out of the akumatized object,” White Wolf says.

“And the damage,” Ladybug continued to protest.

“We will get to that when we get there,” White Wolf said.

“You are sometimes too selfless for your own good,” Beautifly shook her head.

“Yeah, she tends to be like that,” Cat Noir chuckled. “Why do you think I force myself between her and the villains we face when she tries to protect me because she will take the hit for me. But she needs to be the one that the attack does not hit because she is the one that purifies the akuma.”

“We are a very colorful crew,” Beautifly giggled.

“Says the butterfly girl whose hero outfit is almost entirely black,” White Wolf said.

“Not my fault that Flutter is a monarch butterfly kwami,” Beautifly shrugged.

“I certainly wish that I had some color on my suit,” Cat Noir says. “While the black makes my eyes pop, the color doesn’t match my personality at all. Why couldn’t Plagg be a tabby cat or a white cat?”

“Because he is the literal god of bad luck and nobody thinks of either of those two other kinds of cats when bad luck comes to mind,” Ladybug stated. “Deal with it, Chaton.”

“Yeah, you really need some sleep before you become permanently sassy,” Beautifly says.

“I blame Hawkmoth and his never-ending late-night akumas,” White Wolf stated. “My ears are still ringing from that banshee akuma he created last week.”

“And talk about unoriginal,” Cat Noir rolled his eyes. “Scream Queen was probably the most obvious choice of name in the history of villain names.”

“Even more so than that Poison Ivy woman in Gotham,” Beautifly asked.

“Well, she could have called herself Mother Nature,” Cat Noir shrugged.

“Point made,” Beautifly said.

The four then looked at the rest of their teams preparing themselves for what was going to be done. The Greek hero team had stayed the same throughout the three years of fighting, but the French team had changed. Their current members were Vulpix, Emerald Turtle, Queen Bee, Viperion, Lady Unicorn, King Monkey, Ryuko, Shadow Cat, and Bunnix. The last two being the newest members of the hero team. The Greek team was Gladiator with the grizzly bear miraculous, Tigress with the leopard miraculous, and Ocean Mage with the mermaid miraculous. The last one being the only person to be currently using a magical creature miraculous on the planet.

All of the heroes were getting ready in their own ways. Ryuko, Ocean Mage, and Viperion were meditating. King Monkey, Bunnix, Tigress, and Gladiator were all getting themselves hyped up for the mission. Queen Bee was trying to find a way to take off her gloves to file her nails. Vulpix and Emerald Shell were cuddling, comforting each other, and probably trying really hard not to start making out. The same could be said about Shadow Cat and Lady Unicorn. Those four were always the more timid ones of the group, even though all of them were amazing heroes.

“Alright, does everyone remember their parts of the plan,” Ladybug asked them, snapping them out of their trances.

“I will make sure that everything goes smoothly and no one truly gets hurt,” Viperion says.

“White Wolf, Lady Unicorn, and I take out our biggest worries to being discovered before we are ready,” Bunnix added.

“The rest of us force them into a position where they have to listen to us,” Gladiator said.

The rest of the team nodded in agreement. Some of them were still looking nervous about what they were about to do.

“Are you sure doing this is the right thing to do,” Lady Unicorn asked. “We could get into serious trouble for this.”

“We wouldn’t be doing this at all if they stopped ignoring us,” Tigress crossed her arms. “Even with all these miraculous being active, Hawmoth’s akumas are getting more and more dangerous.”

“He is also akumatizing more dangerous people like con artists, martial artists, and policemen,” Ocean Mage says. “What’s to stop him from going all Scarlet Moth and sending his moths to a prison if he gets desperate enough?”

“That is why we need their help,” Ladybug said. “If contacting them through official means does not help, then we must do what we have to.”

“I just hope that we don’t get labeled as criminals for this,” Beautifly said.

-----------------------------

If there was one thing that Robin currently was, it was bored. He had to stop himself from yawning as he sat in another long and boring meeting of the Justice League.

One would think that a young hero like him would not be a part of one of these meetings. But this was less of a war room and more of a meeting between all heroes to discuss general things involving heroes in general and not entirely league business. It was always the same things being discussed in these meetings. Egotistical politicians trying to control the league, villains breaking out of prison again, as well as discussing potential new members of the League and the Young Justice team.

Other than Robin, the rest of the Bat-family was there as well. Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Oracle, Spoiler, Orphan, Batwing, and even Batwoman. The Super family was also there. Superman, Supergirl, Superboy, and the former Superboy that now called himself Krypton. Robin smirked at how Conner had finally broken the trend of having “Super” in his hero name. He may be a clone, he knew that both Kara and Jon both adored him. The other young heroes that were there were Red Arrow, Artemis, Aqualad, Tempest, Miss. Martian, Beast Boy, Starfire, Zatanna, Kid Flash, and Impulse.

And other than Batman and Superman, there were also the mentors of the other young heroes as well. Green Arrow, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Dr.Fate, and the Flash. The other adult heroes in the room were Hawkman, Hawkwoman, Wonder Woman, Sparton, Black Canary, Red Tornado, all three Green Lanterns, Black Lightning, Captain Marvel, Captain Atom, the Atom, and Katanna.

As Robin looked around, he noticed that he was not the only bored-looking young hero. The entire Bat-family looked to be wanting to be anywhere else, especially since they lived in a city where a crime was committed every five seconds. But the other heroes that looked bored were Superboy, Krypton, Red Arrow, Aqualad, and Beast Boy. They were all probably like him. They were excited to be part of league meetings until it was discovered that there was a lot more politics involved than actual hero work.

“Does anyone have anything else that they would like to add,” Superman asked the room.

“How about we talk about actually saving people instead of dealing with politicians,” Nightwing muttered, making the Bat-family hide their snickers.

“Especially that psycho Lex Luthor,” Krypton muttered from his place next to Nightwing.

“Well, if that is all…” Superman was about to wrap up the meeting.

“Wait,” Zatanna shot up from her seat, her hands on her head. “I sense something.”

All the younger heroes were all now thinking how something interesting was finally going to happen during one of these meetings. But the heroes were also all reaching for their weapons if they had them.

“What is it,” Wonder Woman asked the magician, her hand on her sword.

“There is an incoming magical…” Zatanna was cut off.

A bright blue portal opened up right under her feet. She fell in before she could finish her warning. The portal closed right after she fell into it.

“What in the world,” Flash gasped.

“ZATANNA,” the members of Young Justice yelled their former team member’s name.

“Oracle,” Batman did not even have to say the entire order.

“I’m on it,” the wheelchair-bound hero immediately started typing on her holographic computer. “She’s… I can’t find her.”

“What do you mean you can’t find her,” Captain Atom demanded to know.

“It’s like she vanished into thin air,” Oracle continued typing. “She’s nowhere in the Watchtower, or on Earth, not even on my planet in our galaxy. There is no sign of Zatanna anywhere.”

“She managed to say that it was something magical that was approaching,” Wonder Woman says.

“Dr. Fate, can you do something,” Superman requested of the lord of order.

The master sorcerer stood up from his seat. While he, personally, did not care for Zatanna other than a fellow user of the mystic arts, his current host body was that of her father. So finding her will hopefully silence all the yelling that Zatara is currently doing inside of the helmet.

But before the lord of order could do anything, another portal opened up behind him. But unlike the bright blue of the first one, this portal was a ring of blue surrounding a white portal. Something had quickly reached through and Dr.Fate was instantly turned into an ice statue. An invisible figure sneaked through the portal before it closed.

This caused all the other league members and Young Justice members to all jump and, drawing their weapons or preparing their powers. They all looked around and were on guard just in case another portal opened up.

“Oracle,” Batman ordered her again.

She was typing as quickly as humanly possible.

“I can’t find anyone else in the Watchtower,” she said, still typing. “I’ve run heat scans, x-ray scans, even the program to search for invisible opponents. I still can not find anyone else in the Watchtower.”

A soft tune suddenly played throughout the room. It was like a theme song for a peaceful day in the Fall played on a flute. A ball of light soon soared to the end of the room and brightly flashed. When the flash died down, the heroes were all shocked to see a message had been written in light in the air.

“We Just Want To Talk.”

It floated there for about a minute before Superman and Maritan Manhunter flew over to the message to examine it. But the moment that one of them touched it, it vanished in a burst of orange smoke-like light.

“It was an illusion,” Nightwing was the first to realize it.

“Maybe that is how they are hiding,” Red Robin opened up his own holographic screen over his glove and started typing. “Under an illusion.”

“And if they are magical like Zatanna said, it would not be possible to detect them since the technology that can detect magic has not been invented yet,” Oracle added.

“There is no such thing as magic,” yelled out Kid Flash.

Young Justice rolled their eyes, used to the constant rants that the speedster goes on about his disbelief in magic. It certainly annoyed those like Aqualad and Tempest, who both were born in Atlantis and attended the conservatory of sorcery there. Few other magical heroes tolerated the loud-mouth. Which was why heroes like Phantom and his brother Gold Siren wanted nothing to do with the team. (Reference to my fanfictions on Wattpad, Phantom Music and Home.)

“Try to find out where the illusion came from,” Superman ordered.

“You could try looking right in front of you,” a female voice was suddenly heard.

The heroes all turned and saw three masked teenagers standing there. Two boys and a girl. 

The first boy was a redhead with his bangs covering his right eye. He had on a fox-themed skin-tight orange and white outfit with red boots, gloves, and a red jacket. He also had real fox ears and a real fox tail as well. A flute was strapped to his back.

The boy next to him had black hair with green tips, which matched his turtle-themed outfit. The outfit also had a dark green leather jacket and boots with a green shield on his back, going with the goggle-like mask over his eyes.

The girl was blond with a single black streak in her ponytail. Her outfit was definitely themed by bumblebees. But unlike the shoes of the two next to her, her shoes had a slight heal to them. Like a two-inch-high wedge heel. Around her waist was a spinning top on a string.

“What have you done to our allies,” Captain Atom demanded of them.

“They are perfectly fine,” the turtle boy informed them.

“Why should we believe you,” Robin held his katana in his hand.

“Because we need your help and harming your fellow heroes would not help our situation,” the fox boy crossed his arms.

“What could you possibly need from us,” Black Lightning’s hands sparked with his powers.

“How about for you to stop ignoring us while we have been fighting a terrorist for three years,” the bee girl yelled at them.

“We also are not lying,” the fox boy said. “We have no reason to lie when surrounded by most of the world’s heroes.”

Before they could say anything else, all three were surrounded by separate green spheres that floated them up into the air. The Green Lanterns all had their rings pointed at one of the masked teens.

“This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous,” the bee girl complained as she crossed her arms.

“I got captured by the original Green Lantern,” the fox boy looked to be almost fanboying inside of his sphere.

“Lucky, I got that class clown Guy Gardner,” the turtle boy almost seemed to pout.

“Hey,” Guy Gardner protested, offended.

“Why are you here, where is Zatanna, and what did you do to Dr. Fate,” Superman demanded of the three as he flew close to them.

“You know, you are a lot less threatening than you think you are,” the bee girl stated with a smirk. “By the way, whoever told you that underwear on the outside of your pants was a good choice needs to be thrown into fashion jail.”

Most of the Young Justice team had to stop themselves from laughing. Even Superboy, Supergirl, and Krypton were trying not to laugh. They had no idea who this girl was, but she was certainly sassy.

“How did you get into the Watchtower undetected,” Superman continued to demand answers from them.

“That is for us to know,” the fox boy started.

“And you to find out,” the turtle boy finished.

The smirks the three had told the league something, alright. Batman was the first to realize what it meant.

“There are more of them,” he said.

As if him saying that was their cue to come in, three more masked teens almost seemed to materialize into the room. A guy in a monkey-themed outfit hit his Ruyi Jingu Bang against the ground and then threw it into the air.

“Uproar,” he yelled.

He threw his now glowing staff into the air, the staff letting out a flash as it spun in the air. With a swift flick of her lasso, Wonder Woman grabbed the weapon before it could fall back into the monkey boy’s hand. But something else fell into his hands that they did not see.

But then came the second masked teen, who looked like he had been born of the ocean. He took out what seemed to be a hilt made out of sapphire. Water came out of the hilt as the masked boy flicked his wrist, the water forming into a whip. Before they could move, the teen whipped all of the Green Lantern’s hands at once. Pulling his whip, the masked teen caused their hands to collide together.

That was when the monkey boy threw the object that he had caught out of the air. Katana was close enough to try and slice through it with her sword, but she was intercepted by a second masked girl, this one appearing out of nowhere and seemed to have a tiger theme to her. Even if she was purple and black and not orange and black. Katana’s sword was met with a metal tiger-claw gauntlet. While they fought, a bunny-themed girl showed up and intercepted Green and Red Arrow, fighting both archers at once. Then, to the shock of the Green Lantern trio, a stuffed octopus child’s toy landed on their connected hands.

For a moment, nothing happened and they wondered why a stuffed animal had been thrown at them. But then their rings all started to malfunction at once. The rings stopped glowing and all three trapped teens were released from their bubbles. And since the rings were no longer working, the Lanterns all fell to the ground without their ability to fly.

“We’re teenagers, not stupid,” the bee girl smirked.

No longer wanting to underestimate the masked teens, the big hitters of the league all started to move toward them. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Red Tornado, and Captain Atom.

“Venom,” the bee girl shouted.

The top in her hand seemed to grow a bit in size and start glowing. As Superman flew at her, she dodged him and managed to touch him with her top. He fell to the ground and did not move from his punching pose. He was paralyzed.

“Confusion,” a female voice shouted.

Wonder Woman turned around to almost immediately be scratched on her arm by a girl in a leopard-themed outfit. The scratch on her arm glowed purple and the hero suddenly became very dizzy and could not seem to focus. She had never been drunk before, but she was sure this was probably how it felt.

Captain Atom’s hands lit up as he aimed one of his energy blasts at the masked teens. As he was just about to blast, another masked teen appeared. This one was themed by a brown-furred bear. Probably a grizzly bear.

“Roar,” a male voice yelled just as Captain Atom blasted.

The bear boy’s fist lit up gold and he punched right into the energy beam. To the surprise of the league, he was able to keep the beam at bay with a single punch.

Red Tornado was about to throw one of his twisters when he was hit on his robot head by a thrown horseshoe. It bounced and flew around like a boomerang-gone-wild until it landed back in the hand of a horse-themed girl.

All of the heroes and masked teens in the room were either fighting or dodging the attacks of another from one of the other groups.

“Enough,” a male and female voice shouted at once.

Even the Justice League froze as the voices boomed throughout the room. Standing on the other side of the room were six more masked teens. Three boys and three girls. The two that had shouted were a ladybug-themed girl and a boy with an icy wolf outfit. The boy standing next to the ladybug girl looked to be related to Catwoman while the girl next to the wolf boy was like a butterfly turned human. The last two were a snake boy and a girl that looked to be dragon-themed.

“All of you, front and center, now,” the ladybug girl ordered.

All of the animal-themed teens stopped what they were doing immediately. They put their weapons away and walked over to join the others at her sides.

Wonder Woman looked at the group for a few moments. The drunk feeling had been lifted from her and she could focus. There was something about them that was making an old memory of her’s rise to the surface. An old story that her mother used to tell her about when she had been friends with, who she had called, an adorable and wise little creature known as a kwami. A creature that she also remembered was bound to a magical object called a miraculous.

“The ladybug and black cat are active once more,” she gasped.

The league looked at the Amazon princess in shock. She actually had an idea who these teens were.

“We thought that you would be the one to recognize our magic, Wonder Woman,” the ladybug girl softly smiles.

Wonder Woman approached the group, putting her sword away as she did. And surprising the league again, she bowed to the ladybug girl and cat boy. The two of them and the wolf boy and butterfly girl bow back.

“It is an honor to meet the wielder of the ladybug miraculous,” Wonder Woman said.

“The honor is all ours, daughter of Hippolyta,” the ladybug girl says. “Tikki says to tell your mother ‘hi’ for her.”

Wonder Woman smiled at that.

“Would you care to explain exactly what is going on,” Batman ordered them, crossing his arms. “Starting with where Zatanna is and what you did to Dr. Fate and Superman.”

The bunny girl got out a pocket watch from her pocket. She checks the time.

“We can answer the first question now,” she smirked. “We’re right on time.”

She put her watch away and then threw her hands forward yelling “Burrow.” Out popped the same type of portal that Zatanna had disappeared through. And seconds after the portal was opened, out fell the magician.

“What just happened,” Zatanna immediately asked.

“The rest of your comrades will be fine somewhere between five to ten minutes,” the butterfly girl says.

“Before we go into the full explanation, do you guys have a bathroom in this place by any chance,” the leopard girl asked.

[musingsbydeepo]

The Trojan War from Above

genre: i have no idea LMAO, oneshot ig?

description: Percy, Thalia and Nico ascend to Olympus to seek help from the gods for Percy's Trojan War project.

notes: hera reconciled with the demigods after TOA so they're cool now, most of the gods are pretty much casual with the saviors of olympus, post-TOA

warnings: none i can see, but lmk if you catch something via asks or dms!

word count: 1,157

"Professor Paulin assigned us a project, and we need your help."

Percy's voice boomed all across the throne room, while the Olympians -- except for Zeus, which was momentarily replaced by the Zeus Rock™ that was sitting on the King of Heaven's throne in the center of the room.

"Um, ok?"

"Son, what kind of help do you mean-"

"Anything to help Sally Jackson the Great's son!"

"It feels rather gratifying that you approach us - and I mean me, of course - rather than my daughter-"

"Well, unless you've come to do a project on agriculture, I'm afraid I can't-"

"Hard pass, Peter Johnson."

"Ugh, is it that puny punk who saved us from being dethroned again? I swear he's here every week for dinner-"

"Oh my, it's the male lead of the most romantic story of all time!"

"You're exaggerating again, Ditey."

"Am not!"

"Well, this should be interesting."

"Oh, it's that kid who set off my alarms in that god-awful amusement park - get it, god-awful? 'Cause we're gods?"

"Hello, hero."

"Hi, Aunt Hera." Percy glanced back at his friends for support. Thalia gave him a thumbs up while Nico simply shrugged. Somehow that simple movement expressed sorry man you're on your own. "Um, so we -- I mean I -- have to retell the Trojan War in my words. Except I don't really have enough concrete evidence to completely retell the story, so I was hoping you could...um...supply the missing and perhaps the blurrier parts?"

"You'd think I blessed Homer enough to accurately narrate that war, but noooo he just had to skip the start. Ugh." Apollo complained, holding the back of his hand to his forehead, then sat up abruptly. "Actually, you'd think the Greeks were living in peace, but noooo you vain goddesses just had to fight over your looks. Double ugh."

"As if you're not vain, Apollo!" Aphrodite protested, her fist clenched on the armrest of her throne.

"Yeah, but that was before I became Lester. And please, if we're not in a formal situation do call me Lester. Now can we make this quick, I have to visit Aeithales later."

"Can we please return to the situation at hand? My son is in dire need of our help!" Poseidon redirected the counsel's attention to Percy, who felt increasingly small as 11 pairs of eyes turned to him once more, 12 if you include the sunglasses his dad had put on the Zeus Rock™.

"Okay, so, uh I've got notebooks here and stuff, if you could just write down what you know-"

"Um, Percy? One teensy little problem?" Thalia tapped her friend and cousin's shoulder lightly. When Percy turned to her, she said, "New Rome U needs you to cite a source. I know NRU is pretty lax about the gods and whatever, but Prof Paul is mortal. He's not just sweep this under the carpet if your paper says 'source: Olympian Gods'."

Everyone's shoulders slumped as they took this in consideration. Even the Zeus Rock™ seemed to slip slightly lower on its throne.

"I have a solution to that." Athena announced, and everyone let out a sigh of relief. From thin air, she summoned a leather-bound book. The cover was branded and gold-leafed with The Trojan War from Above by Athena Chase, PhD, EdD, EngD, DProf, DArch, ThD, DDiv, ScD, LitD. "If everyone here could just lend me their memories about that war -- and no, Apollo, I'm not asking you to give up your memories, I'm asking you to share, which you should be familiar with now." She shot down her brother, who was starting to raise his hand.

For a few beats the entire throne room was silent, which was probably the quietest it had been since the completion of the dodecatheon. Even Bessie the Ophiotaurus kept to himself, though he usually mooed, hence the very rare silence of the Olympian throne room.

"Alright, here it is. Godly knowledge about the Trojan War condensed in a portable book. Pretty hefty, huh?"

"Um, Theney, wouldn't it be...unwise to share such knowledge with mortals? We're revealing secrets here. Doesn't that go against everything you stand for?" Ares huffed. "Besides, I should be the one offering this to you, punk. I'm the god of war, after all."

"I'm a god of war too! And besides, as long as none of you included your personal comments, it should be fine. You didn't include any right? Right?"

Silence. Again.

The three demigod were having a silent conversation using sign language -- a habit they picked up from Hearthstone, one of Annabeth's cousin Magnus's friends. The were huddled closely to each other, so that the gods couldn't see their hands.

Am I seeing right? Is that Chase on the cover? Nico signed, his eyes bewildered.

I think so. I see it too. Thalia replied.

Should we let Annabeth know? Percy asked, his teeth clenched. I mean, she's always wanted this. A complete family. She... Percy faltered. I saw it when we passed by the sirens, years ago. This could either make or break her day, maybe even her life.

Annabeth's not that dumb, Percy. Thalia scoffed as she signed.

Yeah but- Percy's sign was cut short by Athena's voice.

"Normally I would request to redo this, but it's getting late and we all have plans. Here you go, Perseus. I ask you to be careful, this book can very well start another war if it's in the wrong hands." The book flew towards the demigods' general direction, and Percy leaped to catch it.

"Uh, thank you, my lady. I'll uh, make you guys proud and get a good score on this project! Please send my regards to Grammy." Percy bowed along with Thalia and Nico. They were about to leave when Apollo shrank down to human size, simultaneously transforming his toga to jeans and a t-shirt, and patted Percy on the back.

"I'll go with you guys, I'm going to Meg's." He pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket and handed them to Percy. The frames were gold and engraved with literary and solar symbols. "This should help with reading your book. If you're ever in need of help to express yourself in this project, hit me up. God of literature at your service! Just don't call when I'm with Meg, alright?"

Percy hadn't even considered his dyslexia. He accepted the glasses with a thankful smile and said, "Uh, thanks LA." I probably won't need -- or want -- your help anyway, he added inwardly.

"No prob."

"Oh, what's this?" Annabeth picked up a book from Percy's shelf. She had never seen this book before, and it seemed expensive, what with the leather cover and gold embossing.

The Trojan War from Above by Athena Chase, PhD, EdD, EngD, DProf, DArch, ThD, DDiv, ScD, LitD

Annabeth only knew one person -- well, not exactly a person -- with those doctorates.

"Mom," she whispered.

sources: Zeus Rock™ HC, Percy calling Rhea Grammy HC and Trojan War project HC from @caffeinatedflumadiddlebutpjo; i saw an HC where Percy asks how to cite The Olympians as a veritable source but i'm not sure if it's from caffeinatedflumadiddlebutpjo as well but if you know where it's from please let me know i beg you; pretty yellow dividers from @skylightlantern

[mademoiselleseraph]

Do I really think this would make Catherine better or do I just want it to be more like Perfect Blue?

AU where Vincent is an aspiring actor still trying to make it big at age 32. He has talent, dammit, but he never seems to get the right auditions at the right times. He's lost more than one job over prioritizing his potential acting career and is lucky that Orlando got him a job with a little more leeway at his workplace.

He does love Katherine-with-a-K, but he'd be lying if he said their relationship wasn't beneficial to him and his ability to chase his dreams. She's paid his bills a few times and she honestly doesn't mind if she'll pay his bills for the rest of their lives, she just wants something to show for it. And honestly, it's worrying that he wants to do something where so much can go wrong and he isn't even insured. Katherine herself got into fashion by designing otokoyaku costumes for stories that would make great Takarazuka shows when the should have been studying. The first conversation they had was about the performance arts. She wouldn't ask him to give up his dream but would it kill him to be more realistic?

The first night out with the guys we see has Vincent tell them that he went to audition for Romeo in a production of Romeo and Juliet. But they were hoping for someone younger and prettier so he read for the part of Paris instead. When Toby admits he didn't actually read it in school, Jonny explains that Paris is the romantic rival. Vincent scoffs at this, objecting that Paris is the one Juliet doesn't want to marry, and would rather die than marry. Toby responds with a sympathetic "ouch."

When the mysterious Catherine-with-a-C shows up she makes a point to mention that she has connections. Helpful connections.

And after waking up with her in his bed and no memory of how she got there, he gets a call from the theatre company. They went with someone else and he apologizes for wasting their time but the director on the other end says their sister company is casting Hamlet and they put in a good word for him as the title character. It would suit him much better than Paris. He thanks them profusely and writes down the address and time so he can make it. He'll have to cancel plans with his actual girlfriend Katherine, but she'll understand.

You don't get suggested for Hamlet after being a Paris so sub-par you don't even get a call-back. It just doesn't happen. Something's fishy here. And yet... maybe that girl had something to do with it. She did have connections, didn't she?

And so it goes. Vincent goes home and passes out after a night at the bar, seeing the same girl every night. He finds himself exposed, clawing his way to the top of a shaky tower. He can't stop or get too comfortable or it will fall from underneath his feet. Sometimes he has to push others down to get there. He wakes up next to that girl he can't remember saying yes to or inviting home and he finally starts actually landing the roles he tries for in tv and film. They're not leads, but the characters are named and have a good amount lines and personality.

Jonny mentions that his girlfriend is an opera singer, and discusses plot points in Faust, her current production, with Vincent, who studied Goethe's version of the tale in college. They talk about nude witches and smutty metaphores involving apple trees, and of course, the betting of one's soul.

Toby describes Vincent chasing his dreams as inspiring. Vincent wonders at what point does inspiring mean desperate and pathetic, but in a cute way.

Erica and Vincent were in a Greek tragedy club in high school that cast the characters "the traditional way" and Vincent remembers taking the role of Jason in Euripides' Medea so Erica could play the title role. He jokes that she didn't seem offended at them letting her perform and she says they just weren't used to girls that looked like her then.

Two questions relevant to Vincent's role as Hamlet show up in the confessional. One is "who's responsible for the king's death?" The answers presented are Claudius, which leans toward order and Gertrude, which leans toward chaos. The other goes "Did Hamlet have a hand in Ophelia's demise?" The answer "he's not guiltless" leans toward order and the answer "it's not his fault she's sick" leans toward chaos.

The best ending for Catherine-with-a-C involves everyone at the bar wondering what happened to Vincent and catching a news story on the tv that he's set up to become a star like few others after showing up out of nowhere and landing roles that should have conflicting schedules left and right. He sounds like a pig in the interview, saying it's all about the connections and sometimes connections have nice legs and a waist you can wrap your hands around and that he's not looking for love but child support would take care of itself if his career keeps up like this. Everyone shares their disdain, hates his shades, and Jonny states that he'll give Katherine-with-a-K a call to make sure she's okay. We cut to the other Catherine sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbing Vincent's hair and saying, ever so sweetly, "I'm still your number one, aren't I?" And he leans in to kiss her, whispering "Anything you say," before his lips touch her neck.

In Katherine-with-a-K's best ending, Vincent mentions signing on to play the neighbor in a family comedy. It's not prestigeous and it won't get him any awards, but it's a steady paycheck, and they've even given him some creative leeway. The deal with his character is that he's head over heals with a lady way out of his league. He suggested that she could be a missed connection from high school, career-oriented, in the fashion industry, and named Katherine. They've accepted all this input. His girlfriend is touched by this and when they get married he declares that she'll be a bigger household name than him, and he can't wait to be known as her husband.

Rin's best ending involves him being a producer, yes, but any movie Rin composes a score for is contractually obligated to offer Vincent a cameo. By the time he dies he's sure people will make compilations of the cameos, construct elaborate theories of them all being the same universe-hopping character, dedicate memes to him, and the like. His legacy will be people on the internet having some harmless fun.

The Neutral ending has Vincent publishing a memoire of that week of nightmares, dedicated to "The two women who taught me what I was not and the person who saw me for what I was. I still think about you, Rin." He's well aware this won't be received as nonfiction, and so he's working an a manuscript for a fantasy novel. There's a hero and a dangerous tower and a god with ill intentions and, well, you'll have to read it to find out what else.

[towerfandoms]

3AM Encounters

A/n: I feel like everyone uses that title but oh well I’m uncreative when it comes to titles. I’ve been simping a LOT for Shinsou recently so here enjoy this <33 and ik requests are off but for Shinsou I make exceptions ✨✨✨

Summary: Shinsou had trouble falling asleep and was laying in bed, counting as the hours passed by. That is, until he heard footsteps outside

Pairings: Shinsou Hitoshi x reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none just fluff

Despite the many times Shinsou had laid awake at 3am, he still could never quite get used to the eerie silence. It was times like this when he truly understood the phrase “deafening silence”. The quietness felt too loud. The nothingness made him feel uneasy. During the day, he despised hearing the loud screeches of jumpy teenagers but now, he almost misses it. He could hear just about every little thing, the slight gust of wind from outside his open window, the creaking of his bed every time he shifted to get comfier and the footsteps outside.

Wait,,, outside?

Shinsou grabbed his phone from his bedside table and squinted at the screen, the harsh light illuminating his room. It was 3:15AM. Trying to make as little noise as possible as to not draw attention to himself, he heaved out of bed and looked out the window that was overlooking the gardens. He was surprised to be met with the sight of a black silhouette scurrying across the gardens, making their way towards the equipment shed. They were dressed in what seemed to be a black hoodie and pyjama bottoms. He couldn’t make out their face, their hood masking all their features. Leaning out a bit to get a better view, he noticed they were holding something close to their chest. He wasn‘t sure but to him it seemed like a box.

Now this peeked the teenage boy's interest. He wondered what was inside the box to make them run so early in the morning. They were most likely a student in his year as these gardens were predominantly used by second years, since they were right by their dormitories. Should he go after them and make sure they weren’t getting into trouble? Thinking, he had nothing better to do and the chances of actually being able to fall asleep were slim so he decided to investigate. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say or do when he met the person but he just hoped they weren’t up to no good.

He pulled on the first sweatshirt he found and carefully made his way down to the backyard. He stopped when he thought he heard footsteps and thought of just going back to his dorm and letting the person do whatever they wanted. He wasn’t the class president or anything so he wasn’t obligated to check on every little out of the norm. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep influencing his decisions but for some odd reason he desperately wanted to know what the person was up to. When he first joined the Hero Course in second year he announced to everyone that he wasn’t looking to make friends. However that soon changed as he got to know everyone. He still wasn’t the most sociable person but hey who knows, maybe he’ll find a kindred spirit when it comes to the inability to sleep. So he let curiosity get the better of him and pursued onwards towards the equipment shed.

Once he was outside the shed, Shinsou leaned his head against the rotting wood trying to listen in. He was surprised to hear low whisperings but he couldn’t make out anything bar a few hushed be quiet’s. He stiffly stood outside for some time, unsure whether to knock or barge in. He decided knocking would probably be silly so he opted with the latter. In one swift motion, he swung the handle and stepped inside.

The scene before him was baffling, to say the least. Whatever Shinsou was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. The black figure from before was kneeling down,  their back to him, petting a large grey cat while a kitten was on their lap. There were three more kittens around them, all purring and rubbing their heads against them, whining for their attention. When they heard the door creak open, they rapidly swung their head around, eyes wide at the thought of being discovered. So they were quite surprised when their deep e/c eyes met with Shinsous' own lilac hues.

They both stayed staring like that, neither pulling away and refusing to break eye contact. After what seemed like hours but couldn’t possibly be more than a few seconds, Shinsou finally pulled away, looking to the side while sheepishly bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Sh-Shinsou!” was the only thing you managed to say, confusion clouding your brain. Just what was he doing here this early in the morning? Then an even more alarming thought popped into your head. Was he going to report you???

Sensing your disarray, Shinsou quickly tried to explain himself, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, um, you don’t have to worry about me snitching or anything haha,” he nervously fumbled out, “I-I just saw you running and was wondering what you were doing is all…” he trailed off, unable to look at you in the eyes.

Of all people he had to meet in the middle of the night, why did it have to be you. You were also in 2-A, in fact you sat behind him in most of his classes. You two had a few brief encounters but it was enough for Shinsou to feel butterflies whenever he crossed paths with you. You were really sweet to everyone, always smiling and happy to lend a hand to anyone in need. Well you were the class president, he supposed, it was your job after all. Still though, the level of kindness you showed them all was something that not even Bakugou wanted to push away. As if your looks and kindness weren’t enough, you also had a killer sense of humour. You were always sending the funniest memes, tweets and tik toks to their class gc and responded to his sarcastic comments with ones of your own. You were without a single doubt one of the most perfect people Shinsou had ever laid his eyes upon. And now here he was seeing you surrounded by cats??? Hell, in his eyes you were quite literally an angel.

“Oh! Whoops, I suppose I should’ve been sneakier,” relief evident in your voice as you chuckled softly. Thank God it was just him and not someone like Iida a stickler for rules.

However, the fact that he was here now meant that...

”Wait a second! Did I wake you up??? Oh my God no, I am so so so sorry. Ugh, I feel so horrible now,” your tone changing abruptly as you ushered out an apology.

“What? No, no, it’s fine. I was always awake,” he quickly replied back looking down to meet your shining eyes again. There was only one window and the moonlight trickled through, enhancing your eyes and accentuating all your lovely features. You really looked as though you were hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves.

You met his eyes again, sharing a look of sympathy as you understood his pain.

“Oh, you couldn’t sleep either? That’s why I came down here. I found the mama cat and her kittens three weeks ago. No one seemed to be feeding them or even know of their existence so I was kinda like damn, alright I’ll take care of yous,” you rambled on, almost forgetting about the kittens beside you, desperately mewling for attention.

You stopped to take a deep breath and started playing with the kittens next to you, looking up at Shinsou awaiting his reply.

Shinsou on the other hand was so absorbed watching you play that he didn’t even realise you were finished talking until you gave a small laugh.

“Do you wanna come over here and play with them?” you asked a small smile splayed on your lips.

He could not say yes fast enough. He walked over to where you sat and carefully kneeled down so as to not scare away the kittens. He gently started petting mama cat who instantly became smitten with him. Shinsou slowly began to smile, the pure adoration for these kittens displayed on his face.

You allowed yourself to stare at Shinsou while he wasn’t paying attention. Shinsou was a beautiful man, even Kaminari noting his good looks. You two never had much interactions bar a few good mornings and complaining about training. The usual small talk. He was always polite and when in a good mood would throw a few sarcastic comments here and there. Though he was never rude, it always felt like there was a barrier between him and the rest of the class that no one could quite break down. However now, early in the morning you somehow felt closer to him. It was like he was slowly letting his guard down. Even though neither of you were talking, you enjoyed his company, the silence almost comforting.

Despite how much you enjoyed just being next to him and petting cats, you also wanted to talk to him. It was hard talking to him in class, what with the walls he surrounded himself with. You decided now would be the best time to get to know him if you ever wanted to make a lasting friendship with him.

You wracked your brain for a conversation starter, not wanting to be too dry to bore him away nor wanting to be too chaotic to scare him away. God, just why were you so nervous anyways? It's just Shinsou after all. Why did talking to hot boys always have to be so hard ugh?

You looked over at him again, admiring his toned body that could almost be seen through the sweatshirt. You let your eyes trailed down until you noticed his pyjama bottoms. They were baby pink with Hello Kitty printed all over it.

You had to suppress a scream of joy. They were without a single doubt the most beautiful pyjamas you had ever laid your eyes upon.

“I like your pj bottoms,” you said teasingly, though that wasn’t your intention.

“O-oh, thank you,” he muttered, surprising himself by getting out a coherent sentence. Inwardly though, he was cursing himself for not throwing on a pair of sweatpants. You probably genuinely meant it but it was still something Shinsou didn’t want to go around flaunting. Fortunately for him, it was too dark for you to see the tinge of red on the tip of his ears and cheeks.

When he looked back up at you, he was expecting a face of mockery but was pleasantly surprised to see you smiling, your eyes shining brightly under the dim moonlight. The peace he was feeling before returned and he started to feel more confident in your comfortable presence.

“Y’know,” he started, his deep velvety voice becoming more confident. “Aren’t you the class president? What would Iida say if he found out?” he asked, completely breaking the ice between yous.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said in a low voice, feigning a look of mock fear.

“I don’t know, it just wouldn’t be honest. My guilty conscience would never be able to handle it,” he replied, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

You couldn’t stop smiling at the thought that he was willing to continue the conversation. You wanted to see how much longer you could make it last.

“Hmmmm, well how about I make it even. If you want, you can join me to feed the cats. They need to be fed in the day too, so it’s not like we’re always breaking the rules.” looking down as soon as you finished, afraid of the answer. You didn’t want to seem like you were being too pushy but at the same time you really enjoyed Shinsous company. The morning was slowly coming to an end and soon you both will have to go back to your dorms. You’ll both have to continue classes the next day and pretend this night never happened. You wanted it to continue. So you waited with baited breath for Shinsous reply.

Coincidentally enough, Shinsou had also been thinking the same thing. He had thoroughly enjoyed his time. Though you both hadn’t spoken much, your presence really put him at ease. He felt so much more relaxed around you. It would be a shame if this was the first and last night of spending time with you and the kittens. So when you asked, he knew his answer straight away. He just had to somehow play it off cool and act unbothered.

“Deal. I guess I have enough time to visit the kittens. And you too, I suppose,” he added with his signature smirk.

You felt your cheeks heat up but managed to return a mischievous grin of your own. You quickly pulled out your phone and sighed with disappointment when you checked the time.

“Unfortunately, I think our time here has ended. It’s nearly 4am, the sun will be coming up soon. And we have annoying classes tomorrow,” you stated a bit sad about the fact that such an enjoyable night has come to an end. However he did say he’d continue joining you so that kept you somewhat excited.

Shinsou looked at you, mouth slightly parted in shock.

“4AM already? Shit, sorry for keeping you up for so long,” with that he tried to remove mama cat from his lap who had fully made herself at home on it. She lazily stretched and got off, a bit annoyed that her nap time was ruined.

You and Shinsou both stood up and brushed yourselves down, dusting off any dirt that may have stuck on to you from the old floors.

“I can walk you back to your dorm,” Shinsou offered, his hand rubbing the back of his next.

“How chivalrous,” you giggled slightly. “Don’t worry about it, besides we wouldn’t want anyone to catch you in those stunning bottoms now would we,”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes irritably but there was a pleased smile on his lips, indicating he wasn’t really annoyed.

You both made your way back to the dorms, whispering softly to each other occasionally. You broke apart to go to your separate dorms and try to get at least a couple of hours of sleep.

You lay awake in your bed, replaying the encounter and a bit upset at how quickly it had ended. You remembered his eyes, his smell and his deep velvety voice. You couldn’t stop smiling stupidly when you remembered your conversations. Somehow thinking about his voice managed to help you drift off to sleep, your last clear thought being Shinsou playing with the kittens.

A/n: I tried really hard to keep it gender, race and features in general neutral. If there’s any place where I could improve or switch up my words please let me know and I’ll be happy to oblige :)) constructive criticism/ feedback is always appreciated in fact encouraged so do not hesitate to tell me anything. Anyways thank you so much and have a lovely day yall <33

[kuroopaisen]

imitheos. (oikawa tooru)

➵ oikawa barely recognises the god he used to be. 

wc: 3.8k

warnings: gn!reader, greek god au, melancholia? angst? is that something to warn people about?

a/n: so this got away from me, and ended up half a character study, but,,, @kacchand (sorry for tagging this one but i couldn’t tag @kacchand-archive aa) thank you so much for the warm, lovely things you’ve said to me ever since stumbling across my blog, and for complimenting my oikawa specifically. it’s those sorts of compliments that makes me feel all soft!

Oikawa Tooru. He’s still not sure of the name. He never chooses them himself; they come to him, quite naturally, each time he assumes a new form. Each time he knits himself a backstory, he wonders what this life will bring. If it will be better than the last.

He hasn’t always been Oikawa Tooru. He’s been many other forms littered throughout history, recycling the same ego. And before each of those, he was Apollo.  

Apollo had been a god amongst gods, deity of so much and so many. He could absolve men of guilt, gift mortals with the power of prophecy, balance their lives in his hands as he commanded the fate of their crops. Even the gods feared him, loved him, revered him.

But he is no longer Apollo. He is a whisper of him, a half-forgotten shadow.

His old name is everywhere. Rocket ships, theatres, philosophical concepts. He’s watched countless effigies to his old self shoot themselves into the sky, chasing a distance once thought unreachable. They always seem to take the light with them, blazing into the darkness.

But Apollo is just a name, now. Everything he used to symbolise seems to pass through him like white smoke.

It’s so hard to find the light in this endless winter.

Archery is just a niche hobby, now. Wars are won through other means.

Disease and the means to combat it are far past his sphere of influence now. Both continue to take on new and frightening forms that even he couldn’t conjure.

There is no space in this world for prophecy anymore. Such things are considered untruths, the trade of hackneyed swindlers masquerading as fortune tellers.

But poetry. Poetry refuses to die.

Sunday afternoon. The sky is already dark. Slam poetry night at a dingy little coffee shop. He’s sat in his usual spot, a dark corner that grants him a clear view of the makeshift stage at the back of the shop. It’s the best spot to melt away into, to become a true observer. 

He’s not sure why he’s come here. The coffee itself isn’t particularly good, nor is the atmosphere of the place much to his liking. It’s a little dingy, reliant on weak oil lamps for light. He knows that it’s supposed to give off a retro vibe, but he thinks it just makes it miserable. There’s the smell of musk too, permeated through both wood and cushion. 

 But something is drawing him to this place. Something, beating against the fabric of the universe, is telling him that this is where he’s supposed to be.

He still doesn’t know why.

You smile at him from across the room, giving him a small wave. You usually work Sunday afternoons, right until close. He isn’t sure of your name, and usually, he wouldn’t care.

But every Sunday, you seem to take it upon yourself to fulfil his orders. Once upon a time, he would’ve been sure that it was his charm that induced you to do so; mortals often found it hard to resist the gods, after all. But he’s not so sure he can still claim that allure.

“You’re becoming a bit of a regular,” you smile, setting his drink down in front of him. Something made with honey, but he’s not sure what. He never pays much attention when he orders.

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’re always here on Sundays,” you nod, daring to meet his gaze. “But you’ve never performed yourself.”

Oikawa smiles. One person, at the very least, has noticed his existence. That’s as powerful as a prayer these days.

“I take it you’re a fan,” you remark, eyes scanning his face.

Oikawa nods. “You could say that.”

You smile. It’s small, and he wonders if it’s merely a nicety. “Of slam poetry in particular, or…”

Ah. Yes.

He wants to say it’s because he’s tired of typical poetry. Tired of all its embellishments and platitudes. Slam poetry is newer, younger, angrier. There’s a rawness to it, a rage that speaks to something more visceral in him. Pretty words are not enough anymore.

It’s an offering of something else, of a yearning he still struggles to place. It’s a call for something better, for change, for vindication.

But he won’t bore you with that. You’re just a waiter, making small talk to be polite.

“My preferences change often,” he shrugs.

He appraises you for a moment, clad in a button-up shirt and dress trousers, a charmingly small apron wrapped around your waist. He’s not paid you much mind before; maybe because he’s been looking too hard.

He once thought that this café was drawing him towards a modern muse, an echo of Melpomene. Or perhaps Erato? But it hadn’t been that at all. It had been a call to draw him to you.

For what, he can’t say. But this small moment, this little recognition in the back of a dingy coffee shop on a dour Sunday afternoon in the midst of winter, is the closest he’s felt to worship in aeons.  

He fears, for a moment, that you might be Daphne. Or maybe Marpessa. He’s already lost another Hyacinth; not to death, but to the rhythm of life. The pull of a world to which Oikawa couldn’t follow. How long had it been since Hajime left?

Oikawa can’t say.

But he’s been so lonely. So faded.

Whoever you are, whoever you were, does not matter.

What matters is that you’re the first person in a very long time who can see him.

☉ ☉ ☉

“Back again,” you smile. Another drink with honey is placed in front of him. It’s the only thing he’s been ordering for the past few weeks.

He nods, looking up at you with a smile. He knows it’s dead behind the eyes, but he’s trying. He hopes, quietly, that the darkness will mask it. 

“You must really enjoy the poetry,” you remark, looking over your shoulder.

One girl has just finished, face flushed with both nervousness and pride. She is young, perhaps barely seventeen, but with the fury of someone who knows too much about the horrors of the world. She’d done quite well by Oikawa’s account. He hadn’t derived much joy from it, but she certainly has potential.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you prefer more…” You pause, brow furrowed as you search for the words. “Traditional poetry?”

Oikawa shakes his head.

Perhaps his tastes would err more to the modern, if he knew more about it. But the fact of the matter is that he simply doesn’t have a clue. Too much time spent with volleyball preoccupying most of his thoughts, and very little time keeping up with the artistic scene of the last decade and a half.

He can’t speak as an expert. But he can speak as the god who invented poetry, who gave mortals the means with which to express their magnitudes. A gift, he’d said. To turn the human experience into something beautiful. But was it for them, or for him?

“The anger is sincere,” he muses, “And they all seem to have poured their soul into their poems.”

You nod, smiling at him. “I wish I was that creative, at their age.”

He looks at you. You look about the same age he should be; twenty-something, maybe? Young, perhaps still in university.

You’ve been spending your breaks with him for a few weeks now.

He doesn’t mind; in fact, he enjoys the company. And, you seem to care about what he has to say, which certainly fluffs his ego.  

Why you would care so much about an odd, discreet man sitting in a dark corner of a coffee shop is beyond him.

But he wants to know why. Know more about you. What you love. What you desire.

“What do you want to do with your life?”

The question is sudden, perhaps a bit invasive. It flies from his lips before he has time to reassess it, to craft it into something a bit less intense. He fears, for a moment, that it might scare you – that it might be a bit too much.

But you laugh, tilting your head at him. “That’s a bit of a big question, don’t you think?”

He smiles. “You must have some idea.”

You sigh, shrugging. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I need to survive university before I can start worrying about that sort of stuff.”  

He hums.

“What about you?” You ask, polite smile gracing your lips.

He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows creasing. “Not sure.”

He might have dreamed of greatness a while ago. He would’ve chased volleyball, brilliant and vibrant as he was.

Who would have thought that Apollo would find his heart in something so coarse as sport? For a moment, however brief, he’d felt like he might be able to shrug off this immortal shackle. To exist for himself, and not as a mere echo reliant on mortal belief. To maybe, finally, have a chance to live as he wanted to, dictated by his own desires.  

That last spark of vibrant humanity had spluttered out the day they lost that one fateful match.

He had wanted to chase his own dreams, the tangible passions he’d discovered as a mortal. He hadn’t wanted to be this, a pathetic half-god that was fading into the grey. But that was the trappings of his dying godhood – a life half-lived, a dream unfulfilled. Where would he be, if he had been able to take on the world as Oikawa Tooru?

Happier, he supposes. Though, he can’t be sure. Because maybe this early evening, grey and cold and bitter, almost tastes like happiness. Almost. And he knows why.

☉ ☉ ☉

There’s a glow to him. He doesn’t notice it; he’s been brighter in the past, blindingly radiant. He was once considered the most beautiful of the gods for a reason.

But to you, this distant, peculiar man is beautiful. There’s something of a fallen giant to him; is he the sort of person whose glory days has long since passed? Had he been a high school hero maybe?

There’s something else to him, too. Something strange. Something esoteric.

You don’t quite know how to explain it.

It’s like he’s asking – no, begging someone to acknowledge him. To breathe new life into him.

And for all his strange, aggressive indifference, there’s a little flame in him. One that seems like it’s been burning for centuries, too stubborn to flicker out.

You haven’t missed how it’s getting brighter.

He only comes in on Sundays, staying from three until eight. If his prolonged presence bothers your co-workers, they don’t mention it.

Perhaps it’s silly to be so fascinated by a complete stranger, especially one that simply sits in a corner and watches. Perhaps it is even sillier to spend your breaks with him. But it’s as if you can’t help yourself; something pulls you towards him, even if you don’t understand it.

“What about the Greeks?” You ask one evening, sitting next to him in his booth.

His smile is bemused at best. “What about them?”

“Well… they’re classics,” you muse, “Are you a fan, or…?”

“Homer can suck my dick,” Oikawa grumbles. He never quite forgave that man for the unflattering portrait of his godliness.

You laugh. There’s an echo of a lyre in it. He wonders, for a moment, what you might look like with a laurel woven through your hair, smiling on a Pierian coast in the height of a blistering summer.

He doesn’t let his mind wander too far.

“I’m not really one for poetry,” you murmur, looking down at your hands.

“Is that so?” Oikawa smiles, taking a sip of his coffee. It’s lukewarm after sitting on the table for so long, but he doesn’t mind.

You shake your head. “I find it difficult to wrap my head around. It makes me feel kind of stupid.”

He nods. He used to understand poetry so well – in the darkest of nights, it was often the only thing he understood. It used to be laced with his very being, threaded through his body like veins. But now, it just fills him with bitterness.

“I like the classics, though,” you smile softly, playing with your fingers. “There’s something about the simplicity and straightforwardness of the language that appeal to me. And, I don’t know…” You bite your lip. “Some emotions seem to transcend time and culture. And some of the classics are so… raw. So… human.”

‘Human.’ He gazes at you, that word in particular playing over in his mind. There’s some truth in the classics, he supposes. Something in them that echoes across the centuries. But he’s been around far too long to care for patterns and parallels.

“Sorry,” you blush, smoothing your apron. “I must be boring you.”

“Not at all.” Oikawa shakes his head, leaning towards you. He takes another sip of his coffee. It’s cold now. “So, you’re a history buff, then?”

Maybe you are Clio, after all.

You shrug. “Only ancient history, really. But I haven’t read as much about it as I should’ve.”

“Are you a fan of the myths?” He asks, a playful lilt to his voice. He knows you won’t get the joke, but he doesn’t mind.

“Some,” you nod. “Why?”

“Know any about Apollo?”

“Apollo?” You smile. His old name sounds like a melody on your lips. “As in the god?”

“Sure.” Who else could he mean?

You pause for a moment, pressing your lips together. It’s a beautiful silence.

“Have you read Plato’s Symposium, by any chance?” You ask, gaze meeting his.

He nods. He doesn’t mind Plato; the man had been grateful for the gift of music, after all.

“There’s a story in it I really like,” you murmur, eyes turning towards the roof. “Well, it’s more of a myth, but… it’s the one about soulmates.”

“Oh?”

“Do you know it?”

“Vaguely.” Of course he knows it. He just wants to hear it retold in your voice.

“Well, alright,” you clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter. “There were three kinds of humans, descended from the sun, the earth and the moon. All had four arms and four legs, two faces, et cetera. But, the gods felt they were too unruly and powerful. By Zeus’ count, this was unacceptable, and he wanted to humble them.”

Oikawa hopes his expression is neutral enough. How is Zeus? Is he still around?

“Instead of simply destroying them, he split them in two,” you continue. “And that made us miserable.”

Your use of the word ‘us’ intrigues him, but he wants to save his questions for later.

“But, Apollo took pity on us,” you smile. “He decided to patch us up, and shape us into, well… the form we have today. The story goes that our navel is where he sewed our broken skin together. But he turned our heads around to what had once been our back, so we’d have to look at that mark as a reminder of our punishment and how incomplete we are.”

It does not matter to him if there is any truth in this story. Regardless, it certainly sounds like the folly of the gods.

“Once we were split, the two halves were flung to the far ends of the earth. From then on, each of us yearns with both body and soul to be reunited with our other half.” Your voice is so lyrical, so comforting. It is, perhaps, the closest thing to music he’s heard in a while. “Those of us who are lucky enough to find them supposedly know no greater joy. We’ll never feel so understood, so complete. Most of us though, will never know that joy.”

Perhaps the gods didn’t deserve the reverence they got. Perhaps they really had been tyrants, all along. But then again, there was little love between gods and mortals; if anything, worship was simply a reflection of the fears the divine inspired.  

A new question itches at the back of his mind.

“Do you believe in life after death?” He asks.

You blink at him, eyes wide and round. “Well, I… I don’t know, really.”

He knows it’s a heavy question. He knows that he didn’t prepare you for it, and that it’s only tenuously connected to the conversation at hand. But, he always found that people were at their most honest when they were caught off guard.

 “I don’t like thinking about it,” you admit, looking down at your hands. “It makes me all existential.”

Oikawa nods. Most humans react like this.

The relationship between mortals and death has always fascinated him. Fear, loathing, regret. It’s all bundled together. Sometimes, there is comfort. Sometimes, there is a sense of calm. But it is never easy to face the unknown, after such a brief stint of being alive.

It’s something he cannot understand in this existence of his that stretches itself thin across the millenniums.

What is death to a god? He imagines it must be something like relief.

☉ ☉ ☉

“Do you write yourself?” It’s a little question, one he knows was coming.

He doesn’t know how to answer.

You sit next to him in the lamplight, eyes sparkling as they always do. If he was more human, maybe he would compare them to the stars. Or perhaps the ocean after a storm. But he is not human, much less a poet.

How does he say that he’s never needed to? That his patronage, his presence alone was enough to inspire those classics you so dearly love? That he himself has never put lyrics to the human experience?

He has always been a god. There is no beauty to his experience; only in those small pockets of human intimacy he’s been granted across the centuries. There is no beauty to the life of a god – only fire, and fury, and hubris. Even his body is unlike yours; he has no heart, and he bleeds ichor.

“Not really,” he shrugs. It’s all he can say.

“‘Not really’ implies that you write at least a little,” you smile, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t really have time to do something like that.” He pauses for a moment. Should he tell you? Should he reveal more of himself than is maybe wise? “I played volleyball in high school.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

“I was good, too,” he sighs, brow furrowing. “But my team never made it to nationals.”

“Oh.” You look genuinely sad. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. There’s little else to do.

“I wanted to go further,” he admits. The lamplight casts a long shadow on his face, each feature soft and delicate as marble.

Each form, each reiteration, wants more.

So much of what he’s done this time doesn’t echo the traditional Apollonian figure. There is no art, this time. No song.

There was drama in sport, but it was different. It had filled him with a passion he’d never felt before, beating in his chest just like a heart would. It provided that rush of adrenaline, the brutal awareness of the importance of just one moment. Eternity stretches on forever for a god, but a game must end. Perhaps, in some way, death is very much the same. 

He wants that closure. That passion for the now. 

Now, more than ever before, he wants to be mortal. To lose himself in the storm that is being human – he wants it all. He wants to let go of the god he no longer is.

Where does Apollo end? Where does Oikawa Tooru begin?

☉ ☉ ☉

Time is passing again. Each day is over before it’s even begun, slipping through his fingers like a lucid dream. A heartbeat that isn’t his own thrums in his ears, quick and loud and frantic.

And yet, he finds himself outside the coffee shop, standing on the curb. You’re next to him, hands dug deep in your pockets. He’s arrived earlier than usual, catching you right at the beginning of your shift.

There’s something he wants – no, needs to say. Something that can’t wait.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, looking up at the sky. It’s pale, a shade found in-between blue and grey. A perfect winter sky, one you might find on a postcard trying to capture the beauty of the season.

Something is pressing on his chest, heavy and immovable. It feels like a goodbye.

“What for?” You laugh. It really is a delightful sound.

Where to begin? You couldn’t possibly comprehend it. Nor would you believe him. If he speaks too frankly, you may not remember him fondly.

“For the coffee,” he says.

There’s more he wants to say. Something about how, maybe, in another life, there could have been something more between the two of you. Something quite beautiful.

But he knows it’s wiser not to speak that into being. If you feel even a modicum of these emotions, then silence would be an act of kindness.

“Are you… going somewhere?” You ask, all signs of levity gone from your face. He regrets speaking at all now.

“Something like that,” he murmurs. It’s the closest he can get to the truth.

A long silence ensues. Oikawa doesn’t know if he should try to fill it; perhaps he should just let it sit for a while? To enjoy this little moment with you, standing with you in front of a dingy coffee shop on a dour Sunday night in the midst of winter.

Because this moment cannot last. Because nothing can.

“Well,” you clear your throat, eyes lingering on his face, as if you’re committing each detail to memory.

He smiles at you. He’s not aware of it, but it’s almost blinding. It brings a warmth to his face that you’ve never seen before, a warmth that makes him so striking, so beautiful, that you know you won’t be able to find the words to praise it.  

“I hope I’ll see you again,” you murmur. It’s the best you can manage, keeping your feelings in your heart as best you can.

“Me too.”

He means it.

It’s time to go. Where, he’s not sure. But, with all the courage he could muster, he turns his back to you, making his way down the street.

There’s a space in his heart for fear. But it’s empty. Whatever’s coming, whatever’s about to change – he’s ready for it.

He welcomes it.

☉ ☉ ☉

He opens his eyes. He’s tangled in blankets; his own, or someone else’s?

One thought.

My name is Oikawa Tooru.

In the haze of a Sunday morning, he knows nothing else. His eyes flick to the blinds as they flutter with the wind that whispers through his window.

The light floods in.

It’s finally spring. 

[vrednic]

COLLATERAL DAMAGE (PT. 2)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: After Scott refuses to join his pack, Peter Hale turns Serena McCall into a werewolf. Will her transformation be for better… or for worse?

Word Count: 3,285

Author’s Note: This series will skim the events of seasons 1-3. I have a lot of content planned, so there will be some skipping around at certain points, but it will all work in unison, I promise! I hope you all enjoy part 2! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE IS HERE. *

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Werewolves.

The topic of lycanthropy was one I hadn’t visited since freshman year english. I thought back to the unit of Greek mythology, and how we had been assigned research projects on famous Greek myths. My english teacher gave us the liberty to choose our own myths, and I had naively chosen Lycaon of Arcadia. Lycaon, the king of Arcadia, attempted to trick Zeus into eating human flesh, testing to see if he was truly all-knowing. Angered by Lycaon’s blasphemous actions, Zeus punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf.

Oh, the irony of it all.

For the past three weeks, I have been given gradual insight into the world of the supernatural. The full moon was fast-approaching, and I needed to learn everything I could as quickly as possible. I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about my transformation. I was amazed at how quickly I began noticing changes. Overnight, it seemed, my senses had been dialed up to a thousand. I was stronger, faster, and more confident. I could smell, hear, and sense things other people couldn’t. One of the most fascinating things about my newfound abilities was that my body’s healing process was nearly instantaneous. The only downside of it was that I had yet to experience the brutality of the full moon. I was afraid that I would see things differently after, that I’d realize that I’d never be able to control it. Would my supernatural powers really be worth being enslaved to an insatiable bloodlust every month? Would it be worth putting my friends and loved ones at risk, especially when one slip-up could mean death for any and all of them?

I had been training tirelessly with Scott every day since I was bitten. Before school, after school, and during free periods. He had effectively taught me how to make my claws appear and disappear at will, how to partially shift into my werewolf form, how to follow scents, how to decipher chemo-signals, and how to trigger the healing process of an injury using pain. I was impressed with my progress, but I knew that I had only been exposed to bits and pieces of the extensive supernatural spectrum that I was now a part of. I had always been good at the technical side of things, so I knew that learning the basics of lycanthropy wasn’t going to be an issue. I considered myself to be on the smart side-- I had no problem displaying resourcefulness or creativity or administering critical thinking in complex situations. One thing I wasn’t very good at, however, was regulating my emotions.

When our parents got divorced, Scott and I handled things very differently. He was always a mama’s boy, and I was a daddy’s girl. Our father was an alcoholic and a cheater; something I knew all too well, but was also something I wanted to remain oblivious to. I’m assuming this realization is what made it easier for Scott to hate him, to be okay with moving on without him. It was harder for me to cope with his absence because our dad had always been my rock -- my hero --  and I couldn’t picture him ever hurting anyone. Especially me.

The night my mom kicked my dad out of the house for good, he had come home drunk. He instigated an argument with her over something, as usual. But with them it was never just an argument; it always ended up with them screaming at each other. Scott and I shared a room back then, and it was located right by the staircase, which was where they happened to be arguing that night. Not surprisingly, their heated voices turned into shouts, and we were both awoken. We peered through a crack in the door as our parents fought. My dad could barely keep his balance; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes crazy, violent words spewing from his mouth fueled by intoxication. I remembered vividly how he had lost his composure and grabbed my mother by the neck, slamming her against the wall. I let out an audible gasp and stood frozen in horror. Scott flung the door open and rushed into the hall, immediately wedging himself between our mother and father. My dad grabbed Scott’s arm, attempting to pull him out of the way, but yanked my brother with too much force. He was flung against the railing of the staircase, and he tumbled down the stairs. He was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs for maybe 30 seconds, and when he came to, he didn’t remember a thing. My mother ushered us back into our room and put us into bed. I fell asleep crying that night, but I didn’t know exactly for whom I was crying. Had it been for my brother? Had it been for my mother? For the loss of my dad? Or was it for me?

I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to him. I woke up the following morning, expecting him to be there, bags in tow, waiting to talk to us one last time. But he was already gone. I knew he didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help but miss him. When the plea for divorce was initiated, there was never a discussion about shared custody or visitations. Once the divorce was finalized, I knew that he was never coming back. It was because of his betrayal and abandonment that I grew up with issues when it came to trusting people. I was filled with this deep, aching feeling of isolation, and it made me angry. Very. As I grew older, I got better at suppressing it, but I knew that somewhere deep down, it was still there. With the full moon prodding and poking at my resolve and self control, I knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings resurfaced.

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The day of my first full moon, I felt the effects as soon as I got out of bed in the morning. I felt my heartbeat rising with every breath that I took. When I got to school, my senses immediately began to feel overstimulated. Everything was brighter, louder, and more jarring. The sound of the bell ringing made me feel like someone was hammering nails into my skull. The people I passed in the hallway blurred together, all of their emotions and scents hitting me like a door to  the face. At lunch, the sound of people’s voices and laughter made me want to tear their heads off. I looked around the cafeteria, feeling myself grow angrier and angrier, for seemingly no reason at all. Rationally, I knew that these people had done nothing wrong. Emotionally, they were the piece of gum stuck under my shoe. My gaze locked on Jackson Whittemore, and I fantasized about how good it would feel to tear his tongue right out of his head. He had always been an asshole to my brother, so why shouldn’t I kill him? It would be extremely satisfying to watch the smug look on his face disappear as I stood over him, my hands drenched in his blood, as I began to tear him limb from limb…

“Uh, Serena? Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice brought me back to reality. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety as I realized the vile intrusive thoughts that I was just experiencing. What was the matter with me? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. Only, maybe that wasn’t exactly true anymore.

I nodded, fabricating a smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s great. I was just thinking about my research paper for… biology. It’s due tomorrow and I have no clue where to start.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But remember that it’s perfectly okay for you to be feeling on edge today. It’s your first full moon and I promise nobody will blame you for not feeling or acting like yourself.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease ever-so-slightly. I nodded once more, reassuring him that I was in fact okay. I felt better knowing that out of all of the things that had changed, our sibling bond hadn’t. He’d be there with me to make me feel safe and to teach me control. Before long, I would be able to be just like him. I trusted him, and I knew he had faith in me. That meant only one thing: I had to have faith in me too.

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Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, I began feeling the effects of the full moon amplifying. My heartbeat was nearly erratic and Scott was nowhere to be found. I was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. There was a flicker of golden yellow in my eyes, and I nearly sobbed out of pure anxiety alone. I balled my hands into fists, trying to focus on anything other than the impending sense of dread that I was experiencing. I felt a warm, slippery substance course down my wrist. Blood.

I opened my fist up, revealing four deep punctures on both of my palms, where my claws had dug into. The temporary flicker of pain was small, but enough to bring me out of the frenzy. I took this opportunity to set out to find Scott.

I didn’t remember the way to the Hale house all too well, but what I did remember was its scent. The smell of charred wood and smoke would be very hard to miss. I maneuvered my way through the darkness, making sure every step I took was careful and calculated. Scott had mentioned that Beacon Hills Preserve was littered with traps set by hunters. It was also a full moon, so I knew there would not be any shortage of hunters roaming around town tonight, hoping to catch and kill their next supernatural victim.

As if on cue, I heard voices from a distance. By the sound of it, there were maybe four or five of them, all men. I swallowed, trying to think of an escape plan. I couldn’t run. It was fall, and the weight of my body against the leaves on the ground would give my location away immediately. I could have hidden, but I knew that they probably had some sort of a thermographic camera. If they happened to get me in one of the shots, I would have considered myself dead.

I tried to weigh any and all other options, but I had none. The best chance at escape that I had right now was simply to run. They sounded far away enough so that even if they did hear me, my superhuman speed would give me an advantage. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and began moving. I tried to keep to the shadows, not daring to make any unnecessary sounds. I noticed too late that I had no idea where I was going. I looked around me, but I couldn’t pinpoint any familiar landmarks. I could have sworn that I was heading back in the direction I came, but judging by my surroundings, that wasn’t the case. I stopped for a moment, attempting to gather my thoughts.

“Come on, Serena,” I whispered to myself. “Think.”  

I was jolted away from my thoughts when I saw a red light from my peripheral vision. I was frozen, completely unsure what to do. More red lights emerged from the darkness, pointing straight at me. Lasers. It was then that instinct spoke to me, telling me to run. And that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted away from where the hunters had been. I didn’t take the time to care about the tracks or the noise I left in my wake. I had the advantage of speed, but they had the advantage of knowledge and experience. These were professional killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew what move I’d make next even before I did. Through the commotion, I almost forgot why I had been in the woods in the first place. The fury of the full moon hit me, unforgiving. It was as if she allowed me only a few moments of peace before the storm. I looked up at the sky and the moon glimmered at its peak. Almost instantaneously I was overcome with an animalistic urge to go back and rip the head off of every single hunter that was on my trail.

My claws and fangs appeared as if by magic, and my eyes were aglow. I felt angry-- so angry. But it was that anger that gave me power. I felt strong… unstoppable. Against all rational thought, I turned back around, using my infrared eyes to see through the darkness. A few rows of trees ahead was where I spotted them. Two of them were kneeled down, examining the tracks that I had left behind, judging the direction I must have taken. The other three were behind them, standing guard. They looked around, weapons drawn, ready to fire at any given moment.

I growled. It was a sound that conveyed equal parts rage and purpose. I was hiding behind a tree, looking for the perfect moment to attack. Just as I was about to launch myself in their direction, a pair of hands snagged me from behind with tremendous force. Before I could growl or scream, the person used one hand to cover my mouth and tucked me against his chest, making sure our bodies were still shielded by the tree. I tipped my head back to see who it was, and was met with the fiery gaze of Derek Hale.

He broke eye contact first and peered over my head, trying to come up with an escape tactic. His stone cold composure made it clear that it wasn’t his first time evading death by the hands of werewolf hunters. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I felt an equal amount of shame and embarrassment once I realized how foolish I had been. It was a night of the full moon and I wasn’t in control, for one. I also felt extremely stupid for walking into woods that were infested with hunters; ones that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. Another shame-inducing component was the fact that Derek just had to be the one to find me. I had gotten a brief description of him from Scott, so I knew that he was hardcore. He also hated liabilities, and at the moment, that’s exactly what I was.

“Now’s not the time to wallow in shame,” he whispered to me, his voice gruff. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’ve got us completely surrounded. It’s a miracle they haven’t seen us yet.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother denying it. The smell of embarrassment is rolling off of you like a stench.”

Your commentary isn’t exactly helping, I wanted to say to him. But I knew better than to push his buttons, especially when we were on the brink of being discovered. I kept my back against the tree, waiting for further instructions. After a few minutes, Derek finally spoke again.

He lowered his mouth next to my ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation onto my neck and down my back. “On my signal, you run. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction so you can get away.” He pointed behind him to another row of trees. “Run that way. Get out of the woods as fast as you can.”

Before I could get a word out, he was gone. He roared loudly, capturing the attention of the hunters that resided a few yards away. As they ran to him, he turned back to look at me, flashing his icy blue eyes. That was my cue. I took off running in the direction he had said. I heard the commotion of the fight almost the entire way. Growls and roars from Derek’s end were met with the sound of guns firing. I found myself secretly hoping that he would be okay, although in the back of my mind I knew he would be. He was Derek Hale, after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I made it out of the preserve after only a handful of minutes of running. At the end of the treeline, right where the road started, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the darkness. The closer I got, the more details I could make out. It was a blue 1980 Jeep CJ5. Standing beside it were two silhouettes, both male. I let out a sigh of relief.

I jogged the rest of the way and launched myself into Scott’s arms. He squeezed me tightly and ushered me into the Jeep. Stiles drove onto the road, taking the route that led back to my house. Scott turned to look at me from the passenger’s seat.

“Why the hell were you in the woods?” He asked. His tone was firm but still held a touch of delicacy. We both knew it was more for my sake than his. “Didn’t I tell you about the hunters? The preserve is not a safe place for a werewolf on a night of a full moon. Argent and his hunters have memorized every square inch of those woods. You’re lucky Derek found you when he did. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Gerard would’ve turned you into a human kebab by now.”

I felt my throat tighten in frustration. “The imagery really isn’t necessary. I know what I did was stupid, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was losing control and you weren’t there, Scott!” My voice caught on his name, and I had to take a few moments to collect myself. “You weren’t there and, quite frankly, I have no one else to turn to on this. I don’t have a best friend like yours. I don’t have one that’ll pick up my call in the middle of the night and be willing to be a part of the world of the supernatural. I don’t have a best friend who’ll chain me up on a full moon and help me find restraint. I was all alone in my home, which I could have easily torn apart if I had lost control of myself tonight. I was counting on you to help me, and you weren’t there.”

The air was thick with tension. I could sense the sadness emanating from both Scott and Stiles. I felt guilty for taking all of my frustration out on my brother, but everything I said was true, and I wasn’t going to apologize for how I felt. Scott was a natural leader, and I admired that about him. Being a leader meant taking on responsibilities, and I understood that he wouldn’t be around all the time. Over the weeks following my transformation, I got a chance to see just how much people needed him.  Peter wanted him in his pack. Derek wanted him as an ally. Stiles wanted him as a best friend. Hell, even the lacrosse team needed him as team captain. But tonight was the one night that I needed him. I needed my brother, and he wasn’t there.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I can do better, I promise. If you’ll just let me--” he began.  

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk. Just take me home.”

With that, I turned to face the window, looking at the blur of lights, cars, houses, and dark, desolate streets passing me by. Scott sighed, but he didn’t protest.

We rode in silence the entire way back.

TAGS

@broco8

[deaddovecoterie]

butterflies

marinette dupain cheng x adrien agreste || ladybug x chat noir

fandom: miraculous ladybug

rating: T (maybe R to be safe for next chp? ahaha jk jk,,, unless?,,,) 

word count: 1.8k

genre: angst. just pure angst. maybe fluff if you squint real hard

warning(s): swearing, vaguely unedited, blood mention

a/n: heyyyy :DD im back on my writing bullshit with my favourite personnnn (guess who) @whoseblogsthis cause me and this talented mf co-wrote this :’) ky i just wanna know what it feels like to carry every ff we write together on your back because of my linguistic incompetence. anyway this is my first mlb fic so i hope yall like it i guess !!

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

“...Bystanders have not been hurt, although Paris’ superheroes have not made an appearance yet…”

There was unrest among the students of Francoise Dupont High School as Adrien listened to his friends talk quietly amongst one another. Thunder rumbled in the distance as heavy, chilling rain poured down from the skies. There was a gloomy eeriness that clung to the air, a quiet that made the high schoolers feel like they were just waiting for something to shatter the silence. Grey clouds were collecting, casting the city in shadow-like darkness. 

Another Akuma attack had been reported yet again. The Parisian superheroes were more than glad to help out, but it was obvious they were tiring: their moves became sloppier, their conversations shorter, and their patience thinner. 

Adrien listened to the chatter exchanged between Alya and Nino, while Marinette remained quiet. She looked tired, which really wasn’t that uncommon, but her fatigue seemed to spill into all of her activities. She had less “pep in her step,” as Alya had said, and her eyes weren’t nearly as bright as they used to be. Not that he meant to pay attention to such things, of course, but it was hard to not notice. Even Chloe, who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone but herself, had laid off on the harassment. Adrien chalked up his attentiveness to Marinette as nothing more than being a good, concerned friend, but as of late that excuse was becoming harder to sell, even to himself.

It started about four months ago when they came back from summer break. Everyone had gone back to school and while Adrien was physically there, he was mentally absent. Kagami had just gone abroad for school again after they’d broken things off. He would have liked to say it was a mutual breakup, but she was the one who brought it up. Kagami was wise beyond her years so when she told him that his heart wasn’t in the relationship, he knew she was right. He expected his first heartbreak to be gut-wrenching, but it wasn’t. He felt sad, sure, but not in the way that leaves you paralyzed in bed for weeks on end. At the time, he wondered why that was, but the answer was obvious: Marinette. 

When he got to school, it was almost as if she could see the gloomy cloud over his head. She was there for him when no one else seemed to notice, her stuttering and fumbling hardly present in their conversation. In the beginning, he felt almost guilty for confiding in her. It would’ve been ignorant of him to believe she didn’t have problems of her own (who didn’t?), but it was a fact known by many that Marinette Dupain-Chang was one to do whatever she could to help the people she cared for. 

It was then that he noticed it: the butterflies. It was like a tsunami of anxiety, excitement, and shyness all rolled into one whenever she did anything: the way her hair moved in the breeze, her clear laugh that dared him to smile, but most of all, her kindness. Marinette was one of those people that you couldn’t hate. She was that person who helped others even when no one was looking. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help himself when he started falling for her every move. 

She didn’t know, probably never would, but she had him whipped. 

The blonde was snapped back into reality when his best friend nudged him: “You coming?” Nino’s brow arched in question.

He looked across the street, where his bodyguard was waiting for him, standing by the driver’s side door of the sleek black Audi. Though it’s been the same car since Adrien was like thirteen, it still looked brand new. 

“I forgot my homework,” he said to Nino, calling out to his bodyguard to repeat the same thing. With a barely discernible nod of approval from the bodyguard, Adrien turned back toward the school doors.

Adrien grumbled as he jogged away from his friend group: “Well, Nadia, Paris’ superheroes happen to have vaguely normal lives too if you weren’t aware.”

Plagg floated up from Adrien’s pant pocket and did circles around his owner’s head. “You put too much faith in humans, they don’t think about that kinda stuff. To them, you and Ladybug are untouchable.”

“Yeah, well we’re not,” he mumbled frustratedly. He pressed his palms into his eyes tiredly and took a deep breath before dropping his arms back down to his sides. 

“Plagg claws out,” he muttered. 

Plagg liked to think he knew his miraculous holder quite well. Despite the kwami’s demeanour and seeming distaste toward anything non-cheese related, he did have feelings. Yes, he loved cheese, but he also loved Adrien. He had spent the last two years with Adrien, and he knew something was terribly wrong with his owner. 

He’d ask later. The cat-like kwami entered the ring miraculous, and with that, Adrien Agreste was gone, replaced by Chat Noir. 

The leather-clad hero headed toward the disaster zone, the rain not doing anything to help his vision. He landed on a rooftop near the Akuma attack and swiftly surveyed the scene. Upon not seeing Ladybug anywhere, Chat Noir sent a quick message to Ladybug, highlighting the damage, before swooping in to hold off the Akuma.

xXx

To put it simply, Marinette was struggling. It had been the fifth Akuma attack that week and after two years of being Ladybug, her excuses were becoming weaker and weaker as time went on. Adrien’s abrupt exit was odd, but she didn’t have time to think about it as she felt the ground shake slightly. It didn’t matter how exhausted she was, she couldn’t put off her duties any longer. 

“I uhm, I forgot I had a question for Miss Bustier. I’m going to go see if she’s still around and I’ll uh just stay here until Ladybug and Chat Noir get everything taken care of!” she flashed her friends a thumbs up and with that, she ran back inside the school, toward the locker room. She opened her tiny purse in order for Tikki to emerge. “This is bullshit,” she muttered to herself. 

Tikki gasped in shock. “Marinette!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled half-heartedly, “You wouldn’t happen to care if I maybe just happened to not show up and let Chat handle it?” 

The glare that the small kwami sent her way told her otherwise. “Something about this one tells me that you’ll need all the help you can get,” she told her owner. 

Her stomach twisted with anxiety, both confusion and shock washing over her face. Tikki had never talked about the dangers of an Akuma before, which alarmed Marinette. Shit.

“Tikki, spots on.” 

Ladybug swung with all her might as her trusty yoyo grabbed onto buildings and chimneys, the sounds of destruction nearing. A black blur, undoubtedly Chat, streaked the cloudy, grey sky as an akumatized villain screeched out. Her eyes skimmed over the cobblestone streets in front of her, but nothing could prepare her for the screams of terror and bloodied civilians that scattered the scene below. 

Her feet had only touched down on the ground for a second when she heard him. 

“Nice of you to drop in,” Chat purred, startling her. “You’re late,” he added, his voice icier than expected. 

“Cry about it,” Ladybug responded coldly. 

“Meowch m’lady,” he said in mock hurt. 

“Sorry,” she muttered to her partner as she took him in. His blonde silky hair was plastered to his head from the pouring rain, the droplets permeating the black leather. If the suit wasn’t skin-tight before, it certainly was now. She had to tear her eyes away from the sight of him, her sensibility screaming at her to focus while her eyes wanted nothing more than to drink in every inch of him.

Literally what the fuck, she said to herself. Now was no time to pine for her partner. 

The Akuma that stood before her was physically underwhelming in stature, but her clothing made up for it. The girl in front of them held herself at around 5’3 and couldn’t be more than 18, but her wicked smirk sent a chill through her spine. The girl was clad in an array of green from forest, sage, to mossy shades, the dress that adorned her body looking like that straight from greek mythology. It was made up of grand silks, almost entrancing Ladybug and Chat with the way that the fabric moved like rippling water. It was ethereal, really, but the closer she looked at it the deadlier it became. 

From around the waist and shoulders, long strips of silk floated behind her like the snakes on the head of Medusa. They almost seemed to bend to her will, the fabric defying gravity. Not only were pieces of the dress floating, but so was her long dark hair. In her hand was a staff made from tree trunk like material. Resting atop her head was an obsidian black crown with spikes the length of Ladybug’s hand. 

After looking around at the already distraught state of the street, their evaluation was over: she was not going to be another walk in the park.

“Shit,” Chat breathed out. It was at that moment that the villain opened her mouth to address both the heroes and bystanders. 

“Citizens of Paris, I am Gi Mágissa. I am not here to compromise with your heroes. Others in the past have failed to retrieve what Hawk Moth desires, but I will not: today will be the day that you remember as the fall of Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Her voice resonated as if it was echoing off the walls. She shifted her gaze to the left, her eyes locking with the two of them. 

“Give me your miraculous and I may decide to spare you and your city,” she said in a dangerously low voice. Her voice was smooth, yet it cut right through the two partners like a freezing wind in the dead of winter. Under any other circumstances, her words would be humorous, cheesy even, but this was not like anything else they faced.

Chat laughed as his trademarked smirk appeared. “Funny, because I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he said in mock thoughtfulness, almost like he was trying to recall a memory.

“Chat,” Ladybug hissed, “I’m starting to get the feeling that you won’t be able to joke your way out of this one,”

“C’mon m’lady, live a little.” 

“Yeah, well I might not be alive to do so if you keep being an idiot.” Ladybug could feel the frustration rising in her as Chat continued to appear so casual and relaxed. How could he not sense that this was so much worse than before?

Chat turned to her and she could finally see his eyes. Despite his outward appearance, she saw the nervousness in his gaze. There was almost a buzz in the air, a metallic smell that made them wrinkle their noses: blood, iron maybe. 

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” 

[kyleys-empty-mind-shit]

butterflies • i

pairing(s): marinette dupain cheng x adrien agreste || ladybug x chat noir

genre(s): angst; drama

fandom: miraculous ladybug

rating: g・t・r

rated t for language, violence

word count: 1.9k

warning(s): blood mention

chapter two || chapter 3

“…Bystanders have not been hurt, although Paris’ superheroes have not made an appearance yet…”

There was unrest among the students of Francoise Dupont High School as Adrien listened to his friends talk quietly amongst one another. Thunder rumbled in the distance as heavy, chilling rain poured down from the skies. There was a gloomy eeriness that clung to the air, a quiet that made the high schoolers feel like they were just waiting for something to shatter the silence. Grey clouds were collecting, casting the city in shadow-like darkness.

Another Akuma attack had been reported yet again. The Parisian superheroes were more than glad to help out, but it was obvious they were tiring: their moves became sloppier, their conversations shorter, and their patience thinner.

Adrien listened to the chatter exchanged between Alya and Nino, while Marinette remained quiet. She looked tired, which really wasn’t that uncommon, but her fatigue seemed to spill into all of her activities. She had less “pep in her step,” as Alya had said, and her eyes weren’t nearly as bright as they used to be. Not that he meant to pay attention to such things, of course, but it was hard to not notice. Even Chloe, who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone but herself, had laid off on the harassment. Adrien chalked up his attentiveness to Marinette as nothing more than being a good, concerned friend, but as of late that excuse was becoming harder to sell, even to himself.

It started about four months ago when they came back from summer break. Everyone had gone back to school and while Adrien was physically there, he was mentally absent. Kagami had just gone abroad for school again after they’d broken things off. He would have liked to say it was a mutual breakup, but she was the one who brought it up. Kagami was wise beyond her years so when she told him that his heart wasn’t in the relationship, he knew she was right. He expected his first heartbreak to be gut-wrenching, but it wasn’t. He felt sad, sure, but not in the way that leaves you paralyzed in bed for weeks on end. At the time, he wondered why that was, but the answer was obvious: Marinette.

When he got to school, it was almost as if she could see the gloomy cloud over his head. She was there for him when no one else seemed to notice, her stuttering and fumbling hardly present in their conversation. In the beginning, he felt almost guilty for confiding in her. It would’ve been ignorant of him to believe she didn’t have problems of her own (who didn’t?), but it was a fact known by many that Marinette Dupain-Chang was one to do whatever she could to help the people she cared for.

It was then that he noticed it: the butterflies. It was like a tsunami of anxiety, excitement, and shyness all rolled into one whenever she did anything: the way her hair moved in the breeze, her clear laugh that dared him to smile, but most of all, her kindness. Marinette was one of those people that you couldn’t hate. She was that person who helped others even when no one was looking. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help himself when he started falling for her every move.

She didn’t know, probably never would, but she had him whipped.

The blonde was snapped back into reality when his best friend nudged him: “You coming?” Nino’s brow arched in question.

He looked across the street, where his bodyguard was waiting for him, standing by the driver’s side door of the sleek black Audi. Though it’s been the same car since Adrien was like thirteen, it still looked brand new.

“I forgot my homework,” he said to Nino, calling out to his bodyguard to repeat the same thing. With a barely discernible nod of approval from the bodyguard, Adrien turned back toward the school doors.

Adrien grumbled as he jogged away from his friend group: “Well, Nadia, Paris’ superheroes happen to have vaguely normal lives too if you weren’t aware.”

Plagg floated up from Adrien’s pant pocket and did circles around his owner’s head. “You put too much faith in humans, they don’t think about that kinda stuff. To them, you and Ladybug are untouchable.”

“Yeah, well we’re not,” he mumbled frustratedly. He pressed his palms into his eyes tiredly and took a deep breath before dropping his arms back down to his sides.

“Plagg claws out,” he muttered.

Plagg liked to think he knew his miraculous holder quite well. Despite the kwami’s demeanour and seeming distaste toward anything non-cheese related, he did have feelings. Yes, he loved cheese, but he also loved Adrien. He had spent the last two years with Adrien, and he knew something was terribly wrong with his owner.

He’d ask later. The cat-like kwami entered the ring miraculous, and with that, Adrien Agreste was gone, replaced by Chat Noir.

The leather-clad hero headed toward the disaster zone, the rain not doing anything to help his vision. He landed on a rooftop near the Akuma attack and swiftly surveyed the scene. Upon not seeing Ladybug anywhere, Chat Noir sent a quick message to Ladybug, highlighting the damage, before swooping in to hold off the Akuma.

xXx

To put it simply, Marinette was struggling. It had been the fifth Akuma attack that week and after two years of being Ladybug, her excuses were becoming weaker and weaker as time went on. Adrien’s abrupt exit was odd, but she didn’t have time to think about it as she felt the ground shake slightly. It didn’t matter how exhausted she was, she couldn’t put off her duties any longer.

“I uhm, I forgot I had a question for Miss Bustier. I’m going to go see if she’s still around and I’ll uh just stay here until Ladybug and Chat Noir get everything taken care of!” she flashed her friends a thumbs up and with that, she ran back inside the school, toward the locker room. She opened her tiny purse in order for Tikki to emerge. “This is bullshit,” she muttered to herself.

Tikki gasped in shock. “Marinette!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled half-heartedly, “You wouldn’t happen to care if I maybe just happened to not show up and let Chat handle it?”

The glare that the small kwami sent her way told her otherwise. “Something about this one tells me that you’ll need all the help you can get,” she told her owner.

Her stomach twisted with anxiety, both confusion and shock washing over her face. Tikki had never talked about the dangers of an Akuma before, which alarmed Marinette. Shit.

“Tikki, spots on.”

Ladybug swung with all her might as her trusty yoyo grabbed onto buildings and chimneys, the sounds of destruction nearing. A black blur, undoubtedly Chat, streaked the cloudy, grey sky as an akumatized villain screeched out. Her eyes skimmed over the cobblestone streets in front of her, but nothing could prepare her for the screams of terror and bloodied civilians that scattered the scene below.

Her feet had only touched down on the ground for a second when she heard him.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Chat purred, startling her. “You’re late,” he added, his voice icier than expected.

“Cry about it,” Ladybug responded coldly.

“Meowch m’lady,” he said in mock hurt.

“Sorry,” she muttered to her partner as she took him in. His blonde silky hair was plastered to his head from the pouring rain, the droplets permeating the black leather. If the suit wasn’t skin-tight before, it certainly was now. She had to tear her eyes away from the sight of him, her sensibility screaming at her to focus while her eyes wanted nothing more than to drink in every inch of him.

Literally what the fuck, she said to herself. Now was no time to pine for her partner.

The Akuma that stood before her was physically underwhelming in stature, but her clothing made up for it. The girl in front of them held herself at around 5’3 and couldn’t be more than 18, but her wicked smirk sent a chill through her spine. The girl was clad in an array of green from forest, sage, to mossy shades, the dress that adorned her body looking like that straight from greek mythology. It was made up of grand silks, almost entrancing Ladybug and Chat with the way that the fabric moved like rippling water. It was ethereal, really, but the closer she looked at it the deadlier it became.

From around the waist and shoulders, long strips of silk floated behind her like the snakes on the head of Medusa. They almost seemed to bend to her will, the fabric defying gravity. Not only were pieces of the dress floating, but so was her long dark hair. In her hand was a staff made from tree trunk like material. Resting atop her head was an obsidian black crown with spikes the length of Ladybug’s hand.

After looking around at the already distraught state of the street, their evaluation was over: she was not going to be another walk in the park.

“Shit,” Chat breathed out. It was at that moment that the villain opened her mouth to address both the heroes and bystanders.

“Citizens of Paris, I am Gi Mágissa. I am not here to compromise with your heroes. Others in the past have failed to retrieve what Hawk Moth desires, but I will not: today will be the day that you remember as the fall of Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Her voice resonated as if it was echoing off the walls. She shifted her gaze to the left, her eyes locking with the two of them.

“Give me your miraculous and I may decide to spare you and your city,” she said in a dangerously low voice. Her voice was smooth, yet it cut right through the two partners like a freezing wind in the dead of winter. Under any other circumstances, her words would be humorous, cheesy even, but this was not like anything else they faced.

Chat laughed as his trademarked smirk appeared. “Funny, because I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he said in mock thoughtfulness, almost like he was trying to recall a memory.

“Chat,” Ladybug hissed, “I’m starting to get the feeling that you won’t be able to joke your way out of this one,”

“C’mon m’lady, live a little.”

“Yeah, well I might not be alive to do so if you keep being an idiot.” Ladybug could feel the frustration rising in her as Chat continued to appear so casual and relaxed. How could he not sense that this was so much worse than before?

Chat turned to her and she could finally see his eyes. Despite his outward appearance, she saw the nervousness in his gaze. There was almost a buzz in the air, a metallic smell that made them wrinkle their noses: blood, iron maybe.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

[cartoonfantic8]

Friendships in PJO (Part 1)

I know a lot of people talk about headcannons of the couples or ships and sometimes people forget some pretty great friendships in the books. These are headcannons of friendship that didn’t really happen but I think these would be pretty good friendships.

Trials of Apollo Spoilers

Also I’m ignoring Jason’s death because I don’t consider that cannon.

Percy and Piper

A lot of people talk about this pair and honestly these two would be such a good duo.

One night, Piper wakes up from a nightmare from the war. Jason was at Camp Jupiter so she went to go the Posiden Cabin. She knocks on the door and Percy answers. They both couldn’t sleep and start talking about there nightmares and they really bonded after that.

They would be such a sassy duo. Like both of them would not really listen to authority and pretty much piss of the Gods a lot.

They like to go skateboarding together and make stupid vlogs about all the tricks they would do or something stupid stuff like either of them falling. Afterwords they would get their nails done and this was mostly Percy’s idea, and sometimes when they go to a mortal salon, someone might give Percy a dirty look. Saying some excuse like “Oh he’s a boy, boy’s shouldn’t get there nails done that’s for girls”. Piper curses that person and is like “Bitch no!” Otherwise they go to the Aphordite cabin and those guys are chill and really don’t care, they like to make people feel beautiful or handsome.

They both go surfing togther too. Piper misses the beaches in California and Percy takes her to the closest beach near Camp Haft-Blood. They like surf and collect seashells by the beach. Percy likes to take Piper underwater using his water bubble thing and they see all the sea life and coral under there.

They watch “Dance Moms” or any drama show, and get so invested in all the drama.

Piper and Percy cuff there jeans and listen to Sweater Weather togther. They would blast it at full volume in the Posiden Cabin at 3:00am, singing it at the top of their lungs. Sometimes Leo joins them (those three are all bisexual, no one can convice me otherwise). They like to go to Pride together with other LGBTQ+ campers and they both paint small bi flags on there cheeks.

They also help each other set up dates for Jason or Annabeth, during anniversary’s or just dates in general.

They both would really support each other in anything and have a very chaotic friendship full of teasing and so much sass.

Jason and Frank

At first Frank never really knew Jason. Jason was missing for a while and let’s face it, at Camp Jupiter, Jason was talked about like a hero. To Frank he was important and once he met Jason, he was a normal guy. During Argo ll, they never really got to know each other since they were saving the world from LITERAL MOTHER EARTH

After the war, the Romans were going back to there Camp meaning Reyna, Frank, and Hazel were leaving soon. Jason had to go, to bring his stuff and move to Camp Haft-Blood and teach Frank about being a Praetor. During there few lessons, they became close and got to know each other.

Anytime Jason gets stressed, Frank turns into a kitten and calms him down. When Frank gets stress from being a praetor, Jason tells him to rest and take a break.

They love to watch cheesy Rom-coms and Disney Channel Original movie and either laugh about stupid it is or cry of how sincere it is.

They like to train together and honestly they are both the moms of the demigod friend group (The Seven + Nico and Reyna) They plan hangouts for there friends.

There really just a nice, chill duo who hangs out and just have fun.

Rachel and Hazel

Hazel and Rachel never properly met. Mostly because Hazel is Roman and at this point Rachel is just Greek like everyone just considers her a Greek. One day, Hazel came to visit CBH, to see her friends and Nico.

Chrion asks if she would like to help Rachel out repainting the Camp’s van and making it more different and less boring. She agrees and properly meets Rachel. At first Hazel is sort of scared because Rachel is the Oracle but once she gets to know her, she’s really just a goofy, fun-loving person and they really hit it off.

They like to paint or draw together and just talk. Sometimes Hazel would be Rachel’s muse or Rachel would be Hazel’s muse. Rachel would also go on art rants and Hazel’s a pretty good listener, so she listen’s even though sometimes she has no idea what Rachel’s talking about.

Rachel introduces Hazel to Disney which she got hooked on. They like to have Disney marathons in Rachel’s cave and will spend hours watching Disney.

Rachel also helps Hazel navigate the mordern world and technogly. Hazel also taught Rachel how to ride a horse.

Rachel is pretty adventurous which Hazel loves and they try new things every time they visit each other.

They were overall a very fun loving pair of friends who are artisy and obsessed with Disney.

Nico and Leo

I know a lot of people ship Valangelo, I love these two but I personally see them as a really great friendship. Sorry to Valangelo shippers but here’s there friendship.

At first Nico and Leo hate each other. Nico just finds Leo annoying and Leo just thinks of Nico as the creepy Hades kid. After hanging out a lot more since there in the same group of friends, they become closer.

If Nico ever feels sad, Leo would always cheer him up with a dumb joke which surprisingly makes him laugh. Anytime Leo is sad, Nico will attempt to make a joke and Leo would look surprised and yell across the room “Hey guys, Nico made a joke!”

When Leo overworks himself, Nico will go to Bunker Nine and brings him a Happy Meal. Leo takes a break and they both play Mythomagic, which Nico got back into.

Leo built them motorcycles and they like to race around the woods with them, Calypso and Will would be cheering on the sidelines being supportive.

Leo introduces him to Pop Culture a lot more and even gives him (and Hazel) lessons on what’s been going on in the world and how it’s changed since the 40s

During the days when Bianca and Esperanza died, most of there friends and campers would leave them alone execpt there significant others (or annoyance in Will’s case) and each other. Nico and Leo both empathize with each other because Esperanza and Bianca were there rocks and there only family (besides the gods but there not really around)

Overall, they would be the Keith and Lance duo. Leo being the more jokey one and Nico being the more tough and cynical one. Its one of the more unexpected friendships.

Reyna and Annabeth

Reyna and Annabeth never were really friends at first because of the whole Greek and Roman war going on and once Reyna helped them, the seven had to go stop Gaea and she had to go deliver the statue to Camp Haft-Blood.

After the war, the Romans and Greeks became friends, Reyna and Annabeth made a peace treaty/alliance togther. They became pretty good friends after that.

Annabeth helps Reyna make renovations to New Rome and Camp Jupiter. Reyna helps with a few new battle plans for Camp Haft-Blood so there a lot more prepared for another war or battle.

If either of them are stressed, they will play Minecraft or Animal Crossing online. Like they both have those gaming headsets and will go online for each other.

When they visit each other, they go to a small, quiet coffee shop and get coffee or pastries and just chill and catch up with each other. Afterwords, they go to Centeral Park or a park in California and have a walk.

Annabeth introduced Reyna to Harry Potter. They both finished the movies in like a week and the books take them longer because of there dyslexia but Reyna fell in love. Reyna takes the Pottermore quiz and gets Gryffindor. Annabeth and Reyna are that iconic Slytherin and Gryffindor team.

Once Reyna becomes a hunter, Annabeth, Reyna, and Thalia all go hunting together. I feel like all three of them have completions of who can hunt the most. Sometimes Annabeth will tag along with the hunters and go camping. Artemis is fine with it because she likes Annabeth.

They would be that badass duo that you don’t mess with or else they won’t hesitate to snap your neck.

[valkyriesryde]

Release the Hounds {2/?}

Chapter Two: The Meadows

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: The three judges of the gates of the Underworld are Hades link to Olympus. They help her rule over the souls and Steve knows it’s his first option to reach out to her.

Warnings: ? I don’t think so, bit of religious talk but that’s every chapter lmao

Word Count: 1760

A/N: A little insight to the Underworld, see if you can guess which MCU character the judges are! 

Series Masterlist ~ Masterlist

~~~~~~~

The Underworld is no place for the living. Stories of it are whispered around Olympus and the mortal world. Stories of pits of lava and torture around every corner; of screams and pleads for mercy that carry out and sound like a melody to those who work there and especially the one who ruled it. Rarely was her name spoken aloud, rarely was she called anything but ‘the Queen’ or ‘her’ or ‘she’. Some were brave, the ones that didn’t  fear the consequences of their words. They called her ‘Satan’ and ‘the Devil’ they spread the rumours that everything she walked on had the life sucked out of it. They talk of her as if they would never meet her, she never set foot in Olympus anyway they thought, but they were wrong. Eventually everyone meets the Queen of the dead, everyone ends up on Charon’s ferry and meets with the judges.

Everyone finds their way to the meadows.

That's right, the meadows. There’s no rivers of lava, there are no deep dark caves that souls never come out of again. The sun rises, and then the moon follows him. There are birds and yes every spider that has been mercilessly killed for taking residence in a child's room. There’s flowing grass and a slight breeze no matter the weather. The fields sit alongside each other.

Elysium field, a meadow flush and green, littered with statues of heroes and beasts that have fallen. Bodies frozen in time, gifts from Medusa in exchange for the freedom of her soul. Those that reside are the best of the best, heroes who died in war, Heracles and Perseus, the men and women who risked their lives for a cause of men in power. They lived in the meadow of heroes. Those who led a life of charity, the ones who redeemed themselves more than they ever needed. This is where they resided. Rhadamanthus walked slowly, the grass slipping through his fingers and the wind, warm and moving through his silver hair. This was the meadow he looked after, every morning Rhadamanthus walked through the field and made sure the souls were at peace, he listened to their stories and laughed at their jokes. It was clear that he was favored by them, he’d formed friendships with the souls in the Elysium field.

On the opposite end of Elysium field lies the pits that the olympians fear, Tartarus, and for good reason. Gods don’t die, they bleed but never die. That does not mean they cannot pay for their crimes. The Titans know this too well. They are the pleas for mercy the gods talk about. The screaming of anger, to let them go or face their wrath. But Minos puts them to sleep. He spreads his wings and he stands above them where they cannot reach. He is her second in command. He is the one she trusts most to do the task nobody wants. He keeps the Titans at bay and he is the final vote when the souls come to the gates.

Between the good and the bad sat the Asphodel Meadow, where the majority of souls resided. It was larger than the others, cramped in places where generations of families had found each other. It was the queen's favourite place. She didn’t look over them, but every morning she sat with them, she walked through the meadow and felt them around her. Aeacus always joined her. She helped souls find their family, she helped them understand what was happening to them. She listened to their stories and knew every soul by name. Aeacus was kind hearted, her smile rested the ones that got restless, however if any stepped out of line she was not afraid to set them in their place.

That was what the gods really feared. It wasn’t the pit, well, it was, but that wasn’t all it was. They feared their power. Hades’ power was secret, she hadn’t used it to its full extent since the war, she refused to. The gods were in fear of what could cause her to snap. They feared Rhadamanthus and the power he must have to keep up with the heroes. They feared Minos, for if he can keep the Titans at bay who’s to say what he could do to a lesser god. They feared Aeacus because none knew how she managed to keep so many souls under her control.

Steve wanted to know what was so terrifying. He watched them in the market, for once a week they came to Olympus to gather supplies and hold meetings on Hades’ behalf. His hand in his pocket as he gripped the letter that he’d written. Bucky had some points and given the time to sleep on it he realised he can’t just go straight to Hermes to get to the Underworld. He needed to be allowed there, he needed an invitation, a reason to go to Hermes to get safe passage. So he wrote her a letter.

He watched them in the corner of his eye, picking at the fabrics in the storefront and trying to get the courage to talk to them.

“It’s rude to stare.” A voice came behind him and Steve felt a chill run down his spin and the smell of soot around him. He felt a mix of emotions, strength, calmness, and power seeped through him as he turned around and faced the three judges of the Underworld.

“Lay off him, everyone stares at us.” Aeacus chimed and she smiled sweetly at him, she was the source of the calmness. Minos was power, his arms crossed over his chest, pushing his biceps out and the wings on his back twitching as if he were on guard. That left Rhadamanthus, strength, it made sense to Steve, that strength would be associated with the Elysium field. But he didn’t look strong like Hephaestus or Zeus, his strength was mental and destructive and Steve felt his own sense of destruction rise within him. Good gods do not destroy things his mother’s words rang in his mind.

“He wants to talk to us,” Minos narrowed his eyes at Steve and he felt small under his gaze like when he was younger, the letter now crumbled in his clenched hand.

“I have a letter for Hades. I was hoping you could pass it along.” The three looked between each other before back at Steve and the men puffed their chests. He saw a glint of red out of the pockets of Aeacus’ coat and gulped.

“We don’t associate with Demeter,” Rhadamanthus snarled.

“Tell your mother to go to Thor if she wants something from Hades.” Minos turned and began to walk away with Rhadamanthus but Aeacus stayed put.

She tilted her head at Steve and held out her hand to him. Slowly Steve placed the letter in her open palm, slightly crumbled but written in neat writing on the front ‘Hades’.

I write this letter to tell you about the happenings within the walls of Olympus. Poseidon Loki has raised the possibility of you joining the council and a proposition for a vote has been put forward. They plan on holding a debate about the matter in two weeks time.

I only know about this from overhearing conversations and my mother’s complaints. She is determined to not let you back onto Olympus grounds let alone into the council. I think this is wrong. At the very least you deserve a say in the matter. I understand you refuse to come to Olympus currently because of the stigma against you and so I want to, if possible, change the people’s opinions of you.

Or at least, if you allow me to, speak on your behalf at the debate.

I know you and my mother do not get along and I want to make sure you’re aware that she has no idea I’m doing this. But I believe you deserve a say and I think the council would benefit from your input as a whole.

Yours,

Steve, god of spring

~~~~~~~~

Steve’s home was much what you would expect from the god of spring. It sat on the outskirts of Olympus, easy access to the mortal world which he and Demeter visited often. During the day he tended to his gardens, he sat in his gazebo and drew, he imagined a way of life where he didn’t have nymphs coming to check on him every hour. Where he had freedom to roam where he pleased.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ruffling of leaves, it was only half past there were no nymphs due and he knew Demeter had gone out. Steve was on guard, his hand snaked under the blanket beside him for the dagger he kept close. And then it popped out, a small doberman with one floppy ear and its tongue hanging out its mouth.

“What brings you to my garden small guy?” he picked up the puppy who immediately situated himself on Steve’s lap and looked up at him. Steve noticed the red collar around his neck, “Spot?” and the dog’s tail started wagging, then he saw the small rolled note above the name tag, delicately placed in the collar’s clip.

God of Spring,

You’re brave to write to me. Not often do I receive letters from Olympus let alone from sons of those that live to work against me. Thank you for your letter and the information it possesses. But there is nothing that can be done.

The council will meet, they will decide and my fate in their presence is not up to us.

Thank you again for your concern, myself and the Underworld appreciate it any time we are thought in such a way as you think of us.

Yours,

Hades, Queen of the Underworld and god of the dead

“She doesn’t want to fight?” He looks between the letter and Spot, the letters on his nametag shifting and morphing into something else, Greek, ‘Cerberus’ it read. “She sent her trusted companion to give me this, why would she not just ignore it?”

Steve had to know more, he needed to convince Hades to meet with the council or at least sit in on the debate in two weeks. He wasn’t going to be able to convince her through letters. That’s why he found himself in Hermes closet, plucking a pair of winged sandals from the floor and hiding them under a pile of his clothes until nightfall. A small daffodil sprouting from where they once sat.

~~~~~~

Chapter Three: Nothing More to Say

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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