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tojiaesth · 3 years

Text

boyfriend

gojo satoru x f!reader

summary: you and gojo had some sort of unspoken agreement in which you refused to adhere to labels and instead chose to have fun. except neither of you would ever admit the hold you had on each other.

warning: heavy smut, 18 +, minors dni, fingering, oral (fem receiving), rough handling of reader, marking, dom!gojo, sub!reader, choking/breath play, overstim, raw sex, tummy bulge, ?slight breeding kink, jealousy and possessiveness, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

tags: college au, fratboy!gojo, friends with benefits, unlabelled relationships, bisexual!gojo, bisexual!reader, fluff at the end <3

A/N: inspired by ariana herself <3 so i recommend at least listening to the song before you read, if you’re like me and can’t read and listen :p

It was loud. That was the first thing you picked up on before you even entered the sweaty house. Your friends begged you to come, as if there weren’t parties every week and missing one would change the world. You struggled to find a parking space, choosing to walk the rest of the way. The deafening thump of bass could be heard a few blocks down and you wondered how there was never any noise complaints.

Satoru probably threw money at them.

You smiled, it was such a him thing to do. The cold air nipped at your dress, having left your coat in your car. You had chosen to wear an emerald green satin body con dress that stopped mid thigh. It accompanied a criss cross pattern that exposed your back. You first saw it online and had fallen in love, it partly being the reason why you had said yes. You wanted him to see you in the dress, already craving the dark look in his eyes when he was turned on.

Gojo Satoru, college senior, with his charismatic personality had a very big presence at the college. Almost never alone and surrounded by a group of admirers, both men and women fell at his feet. If someone had told you back in your first year that you’d be sleeping with this man on the regular you’d think they were crazy. He honestly, despite being very handsome, was not your kind of man. Too pretty, very cocky and had serious commitment issues, bedding half the campus. But it had started at the beginning of the year, your friendship groups overlapping as you had grown close with Suguru Getou and Shoko Ieiri having been studying the same subject. You found yourself around him a lot, eventually going out with just each other and things quickly progressed.

Soon enough he was between your thighs, lapping at your cunt with fervour and sucking gently on your clit, two slender fingers hitting that spot. He did that a lot, seeming to relish in the way you fell apart on his tongue, your slippery walls pulsating as you softly said his name like a prayer. He’d nonchalantly get up, sometimes not even asking for anything in return and it surprised you. You pegged him as more of a receiver than a giver but it suited you fine.

You became pretty popular on campus as you hung out with them, attending parties and making life long friendships. You usually weren’t someone who slept around, but that quickly changed. So did your care for a steady relationship. You were 21, life was short, you had a great body and a pretty face, opting to have fun.

You found yourself caught in Gojo’s trap, legs wound around his waist on a weekly basis, his hard cock driving into you with such force you thought you’d break. Your legs clenched just thinking about it, a thin layer of slickness coating your panties.

Your thoughts were brought back to reality when you entered the frat house, NalinA by Block B was being blasted at full volume through the house and you already felt a course of excitement run through your veins. You couldn’t wait to let loose and find your friends. The house, just short of a mansion, had been decorated with l.e.d lights, a soft red and blue glow painting your skin. There was alcohol everywhere, sweaty bodies and the strong smell of weed.

“Y/N! Over here.” You looked over to see the majority of your friends on a sofa, catching sight of Satoru with a girl on his lap. His hand was caressing her ass, as she pouted saying something to him. She was pretty, and you tried your best not to care. Their faces were sweaty, with cups in their hands, indicating they had stopped dancing. You walked in their direction, plopping yourself next to the person behind the voice.

“Hey Mei-Mei. You look hot.” You said casually and she automatically pulled you to sit on her knee. You smiled and took her cup, whatever bitter liquid sliding down your throat. You and Mei were another short lived fling, sleeping together a handful of times and besides Satoru, no one else could compare to that sinful mouth of hers. A queen at teasing, she brought her hand to your waist and lightly began tracing shapes with her fingers.

“You look hot, that dress is making me want to do things to you.”

You chuckled as you stared at each other, tensions running high as the song changed to one you were familiar with. You wanted to dance.

“God, please make out.”

You ignored the annoying comment from Sukuna who was sat diagonally from you, blatantly checking you out. You told him to shut up, your mouth twitching as he looked completely unfazed. Looking away, you ran your fingers through Mei’s soft hair,

“Come, let’s dance.” You whispered, breath hot on her ear as she shivered. You loved how easily you could fluster Mei, knowing the more you worked her up the more she’d punish you for it later.

You both got up and your arms were grabbed by Shoko,

“We’re coming, we’d rather not watch Sukuna hunt for a girl like an animal or Gojo practically fuck in front of us.” She said, shuddering and dragging a very amused Getou. Your eyes flickered to Satoru, finding that he was already watching you. The girl was now straddling him and the buttons on his shirt looked undone, his hands rubbing circles on her thighs. He refused to break eye contact with you, kissing her neck as she moaned, smirking as you looked away, grasping Mei’s hand.

You don’t know what he was trying to do, but it pissed you off. It annoyed you more that he’d groan in your ear some nights, grabbing your neck and claiming you were his and his only. Not wanting you to touch or look at anyone else. The next morning? Business as usual as he was all over some girl. You deducted that him saying those things to you were just in the heat of the moment, recalling how your clit would throb as he would rub slow circles, staking his claim. You liked how possessive he could get, the rough sex, and how occasionally he’d surprise you with a gift. All without having to actually be in a relationship.

You didn’t care about labels and neither did he. So why? Why did his eyes say, he wanted you to get jealous? You sighed, these mind games and mixed signals were your least favourite part of Satoru.

The beginning of an all too familiar riff began to thump through the walls and you all squealed in delight. As ‘Do I Wanna Know’ began you swayed your hips and lip synced, literally letting your hair down as Mei came up behind you. Shoko began recording you without your knowledge, watching as your head fell onto Mei’s shoulder, her hands ghosting around the space between your breasts, purposefully ignoring how your nipples hardened as she whispered something lewd into your ear.

“She’s gonna kill you if you post that.” Suguru watched as Shoko posted the video to her story, her eyes shining with amusement as almost instantly people replied asking who you were.

Satoru on the other hand could not take his eyes off of you. He studied you as you wrapped your arms around Mei and he was exasperated. She was addictive, he thought, those pouty and full lips had a hold on him, his dick twitched thinking about them wrapped around him. Her body was something else, those breasts of hers heaving against her dress. Shit. He almost got hard. The girl currently giving him a hickey was just not doing it for him. In fact no girl or guy was, he had tried countless times only his encounters with Y/N fulfilling his desires. In spite of that, he would not tell her this, not wanting to ruin the game of cat and mouse they had going.

“Satoru, let’s go somewhere.” The girl whined, hips grinding against his crotch. He suddenly got up and pushed her off of him,

“Nah, not in the mood. I’m sure Sukuna would be interested. He has a habit of going after my sloppy seconds.” Gojo snapped, sick of the way he was gazing at you, eyes darkened with lust.

He ignored the girls cuss words directed at him as she stormed off and Sukuna snickered, looking up from his phone.

“She’s fuckable but I have my eye on something else tonight.” He thrust his phone in Satoru’s face, only to be met with Shoko’s story, full of Y/N dancing suggestively.

He willed himself not to show anger and hummed,

“Like you could pull her.” His voice dripping with fake amusement as Sukuna tensed in irritation.

Satoru walked in the direction of his friends, still dancing crazily and singing very out of tune to ‘Kiss me more’, you were now dancing with Suguru and laughing loudly as he tried to attempt some sort of dance move so terribly, Satoru could not decipher what it was supposed to be. Your lips were glossy, eyes twinkling as he picked you up and twirled you around, ribs hurting from laughing so much. You never laughed that much with him.

Satoru pursed his lips, he was just so irritated. Suguru put you down when the song finished and you fixed his hair that your arm had messed up,

“Your hairs gone so long now, I love it.” You said cheerily, fingers twirling on a stray strand as Suguru bent down slightly so he could hear you over the music.

“It suits you.” You stated softly, unable to look away from his intuitive eyes. The lights were casting a glow across his face, bringing his jaw to attention as you traced it slowly. He was a different kind of handsome you thought, more your type than Satoru was and you thought about how his eyes were a warm brown, compared to Satoru’s cerulean ones. You scolded yourself internally for still finding ways to think about Satoru, you just couldn’t shake him.

Suguru smirked and focused on the feeling of your hands, now running through his hair and eventually resting on the back of his neck. You smelt so good, he thought, he wanted to kiss you. He leaned down and you realised his intentions, your hands paused on his biceps that were coated in tattoos. As you closed your eyes, thoughts wild and slightly clouded by the shots you did with Shoko, you braced yourself to kiss the god-like man that was Getou Suguru, pulse racing.

“Y/N!” Your head automatically snapped at your name being called, sheepishly looking at Suguru whose eyes were now filled with something you couldn’t quite figure out. Satoru was in front of you both, promptly grabbing your hand and dragging you away. Eyes bewildered you looked back at Suguru who looked entertained at the whole situation. You found yourself at the focus of everyone’s stares, all curious as to why Gojo had a dark look in his eyes.

“Satoru, what the fuck? Let go-“ His large hands were gripping your smaller ones hard, uncomfortably squishing your fingers together. He said nothing, back to you as he hauled you up the stairs and into his room. His door slammed as you stumbled into the dimly lit room, turning around in utter confusion at Gojo’s behaviour.

“Fuck, what is your problem?” You were enraged at how he just did what he pleased with you and how you just let him. You massaged your wrist, now slightly red at Satoru’s force.

“Why the fuck would you try and kiss him? Seriously, Suguru? You’re such a fucking whore.” Gojo clenched his jaw, finding himself even angrier at the thought of you underneath Suguru, moaning, sweat dripping off your backs.

You were baffled. A whore?

“Firstly, you’re literally the definition of a whore and secondly, why the fuck do you care?!” You stepped closer to him, cheeks flushed in anger at Satoru’s audacity,

“You have no fucking right to care about who I fuck. Got it? You’re not my boyfriend.”

Satoru moved closer to you, your nose in line with his chest as the man’s eyes changed suddenly. For once, he had no comeback or witty remark, you were right but he’d had enough. Just the thought of his best friend between your legs snapped him into action and he had to come to terms with his feelings. His fingers lifted your chin, your eyes willing itself not to melt at his touch, goosebumps already littering your arm. He silently moved to your lips, thumb pressing against your mouth, encouraging you to open.

You were so unbelievably confused, this man blew hot and cold. One minute so angry he couldn’t speak and then next initiating a kiss.

“Satoru-“

His lips were against yours before you had time to think, furiously pressing against them and swiping his tongue across. You relaxed into his touch and opened your mouth. His tongue found yours in an instant and lightly sucked it, your breathless moans pleasuring his senses as his hands pulled your body closer to him. He explored your body, cupping your ass while you simultaneously wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers drowning in his soft white locks. Eventually he pulled away, cupping your face gently like you were a porcelain doll,

“I don’t want you to see anyone else or kiss them like that. I’m not playing any more games. You’re mine.” He stated firmly, blue eyes framed by his ash coloured lashes, gazing into your soul.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tease him. Gojo...was serious. All those extra knowing glances you’d give each other, the fiery arguments, the passionate sex, the pang of jealousy at his lips on another girls neck and the way his eyes would linger a little too long when you spoke to a guy, you realised the both of you were stupid. Too busy trying to convince yourselves you didn’t care you both buried your thoughts away, afraid to articulate them in case you were rejected.

You found yourself repeating after him, his eyes almost hypnotising you as you stuttered,

“I-i’m yours.”

Satoru lightly kissed you on the lips and motioned you to jump up, supporting your legs as you wrapped them securely around his waist. He gingerly placed you on his bed, hovering over you as his hands slowly rid up your leg, ghosting around your inner thigh and you suppressed a moan. His touch was magnetic, something as simple as stroking your thigh with Satoru becomes so much more, a tingly sensation jolting through you when his hands brushed between your clothed folds. Meanwhile he began kissing his way down, starting with your neck and sucking furiously at the spot above your collarbone. You mewled against him as he licked the now marked spot, your hips desperately finding his to grind against.

“Patience, baby. I’m taking my time with you.”

You whined at his remark, you just needed him inside you, now.

“Such a whiny brat.” His voice slipped through your ears like silk as he slowly slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders, the new stimuli adding to the experience. You were never more glad to have not worn a bra. He focused on your exposed breasts, nipples hard and swollen and he groaned at the sight.

A warm sensation reached your nipples and you cried out in pleasure, looking down at Satoru lapping up your soft mounds. His seductive gaze ripped through you as he began to trace slow circles with his tongue. His fingers kept your other breast occupied, rolling around your left nipple with his fingers, constantly switching sides and worshipping them.

His attention switched to your lower stomach, kissing your skin with affection as you anticipated his lips between your thighs. You could feel the damp spot slowly spreading on your panties and the swell of your clit, begging to be touched.

“Fuck, Satoru you tease.” You breathed out in gaspy moans, he had completely removed your dress by now and was blowing warm breaths against your knickers. Satoru brought a single digit to rub against the wet spot, moaning as he felt the tent in his pants. He loved teasing you but it required self control, wanting nothing more than to release his large cock from its restraints and into your warm hole, throbbing at the thought.

He finally pulled your panties to the side at your delight and your whimpers filled the room as his fingers brushed against your soaked clit. He played around with your pussy, stroking up and down and noting the creamy juices that were flowing out your hole. The sight of his fingers coated in your juices and he almost came right there. The lewd squelching of your cunt was slightly covered up by your cries of pleasure as he entered two slender fingers inside you, stimulating your sensitive walls. He reached down and took your clit into his mouth, humming at the taste.

“F-fuck, right there Toru” You moaned, attempting to wriggle but Satoru quickly used his arms to clamp your thighs into place, his sensual mouth causing white dots to appear in your vision. Your stomach fluttered at the slow, familiar build up of your climax, not even embarrassed that he had only been eating you out for five minutes. You were just so sensitive today and paired with Satoru laying claim to you, your body was responding to each and every one of his touches.

“Ah, k-keep going baby, fuck. You’re so good at it.” The praises fell from your lips as the deep pleasure in your stomach changed, indicating you were near.

Satoru was persistent, his insatiable need to feel your cunt quiver against his tongue caused him to add one more digit, scissoring his fingers against your gummy walls. He could feel you frantically clenching, chuckling at his inability to move as fast as his fingers were in a death trap. He kept his eyes on you, watching as your hand came up to your mouth to stifle your sobs, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“I’m close.” You whispered and you made a mistake of looking down at Satoru, his tongue was pressing down against your sensitive nub, saliva dripping onto his bed. His fingers went even faster, determined to make you cum.

“Shit, shit, shit. I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me princess.”

That was all you needed. You legs squeezed frantically against his head, the euphoric sensations causing your back to refuse to rest against the bed. Satoru paid no mind to your repetitive whimpers as you began to come down from your high, his lips still stubbornly attached to your clit. It was too much, the previously pleasurable feel was now borderline painful, his sticky fingers removing themselves from your cunt.

You legs jolted occasionally each time he purposely grazed the bundle of nerves, continuing his efforts by using his tongue to tease around the now sensitive area, chuckling when your hips wriggled.

“Delicious.” His velvety tongue swiped his lips and he brought his fingers into your mouth. The tangy but familiar taste of your undoings were accompanied by his soft fingers, swirling around your tongue until your saliva created a mess.

“Shit, you’re so hot.” He groaned, the twitching of his cock was unrelenting. You pressed your legs together, the achy feeling of need returning. Reaching to kiss him, your hands started to undo his belt buckle,

“I want you.” You whispered, unable to look away from his eyes.

His lecherous eyes stared back at you, his fingers curling around your back as he brought you closer, now hovering above you.

“I want you too.”

In one swift movement, his cock was freed and he entered you, the new feeling causing you to cry out as he slowly bottomed out.

“Shit, you’re clenching like crazy baby.”

You couldn’t even reply, his thick shaft splitting you open, Satoru stared down at how you sucked him in, a creamy ring of your juices at the base of his cock. You felt him harden even more, he hadn’t wasted any time by helping you adjust. He started a rough pace, watching your perky tits bounce as he reached down and placed a nipple into his mouth. You were truly addicting, he thought, your whimpers becoming louder with the sticky sound of your cunt. Your pussy seemed to fit him like a glove, Satoru’s eyes wandered towards your soft tummy, at the faint bulge of his devouring and his eyes widened, using a hand to press against it and his ears welcomed your high pitched gasps.

“What’s the matter baby girl?” He cooed, chuckling at your stifled sobs and flushed cheeks.

“‘is too much...” You managed, barely able to communicate as he fucked you dumb.

You were so sexy, he thought.

You scooted away, his rough movements almost resulting in your head banging against the headboard but without missing a beat Satoru pulled you back, cock sinking into you with a new sensation.

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You’re gonna lie there and take it.”

His hands ghosted at your waist, using the soft tissue as a grip as he forcefully used your body, eyes unable to look away at how you took his thick, veiny member. Your pussy twitched as he licked a stripe at the side of your neck,

“Oh...you like that?” He muttered, sucking on your weak spot, he groaned when you tightened against him, knowing the tip of his cock was red and angry, your walls were too much.

You blink, eyes glossy and lips swollen from his kisses, Satoru’s marks were littered across your body, evidence of his ravishing as he continued his strong pace, cock driving into you with hunger. Your moans changed pitch,

“t’s...too much...can’t...too big.” You babbled, a new, insurmountable pleasure was ripping into your stomach.

“It’s too big?,”

Satoru wrapped his slender fingers around your neck, pressing down lightly as he smirked,

“I know.”

Your breath was slowly snatched from you as he gripped your neck harder, it somehow heightening the feeling of him around your cunt. His groans were turning you on, you always loved how vocal Satoru was.

Satoru paid attention to you, removing his hands and watching as you gasped for breaths. He grinned at how crazy your pussy went whenever he did that, he had really met his match. His cock twitched, indicating his nearing climax and you creamed shamelessly around him when his thumb lightly brushed your rosy clit. Your legs had gone to jelly at this point, but you securely clamped them around Satoru’s waist, bringing him even closer as your eyes closed in pleasurable agony.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” The way you cried and babbled nonsense, mouth messy with saliva as you drooled around his fingers, Satoru pressed at the pad of your tongue, cerulean eyes gleaming at where you connected. As he sinked into you again and again, the intemperate need to feel you squirt around him, he took your soft mounds into his mouth once more and before he knew it, you let out a long, drawn out moan as you found your release.

The white hot pleasure against your stomach snapped and as you orgasmed for the second time, a new warm sensation splashed against Satoru’s cock. Your juices dripped onto the bed, your pussy quivering and legs shaking as you rode it out.

“Fuck.” His azure eyes twinkled with amazement and you didn’t think he could possibly get any harder, as his member remained snug against your cunt.

Satisfied at your mess and how your slimy walls squeezed so torturously against him, Satoru’s own release was not far behind. With one last sound of pleasure, another warm feeling filled your pussy, spurts of the familiar white liquid spilling out of you as he slowed down his thrusts, emptying his balls into you with his repeated moans.

He pulled out, watching the results of his orgasm dribble onto his sheets. Using his fingers, he pushed the remaining liquid deep into you as a low moan escaped your lips. He brought his coated fingers to your mouth, and you licked them clean, humming against him.

As he hovered over you, his captivating eyes caught in the moonlight peaking through the curtains, illuminating his spacious room. He was so beautiful, you thought, mind now unclouded as your high disappeared. Instead, a lighter but warm feeling fluttered through you as Satoru bent down to give you butterfly kisses across your stomach.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered and he felt you smile against the top of his head, white tendrils tickling your nose as he placed himself on your tummy, careful not to crush you.

A comfortable silence lingered in the air, for the first time neither of you needed to fill it in with pointless words. You stroked his hair, content that he was still here and showing you affection even after sex, a concept new to the both of you.

After some time, with the both of you deep in thought about each other, Satoru’s head lifted and he made eye contact with you.

“I meant what I said earlier. I know this is new to the both of us so we can take it slow and I’ll probably fuck things up a few times but...I really do care about you, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened, as he glanced nervously at you. You had never seen him so vulnerable before and somehow it made you like him even more.

You extended your arm, your fingers tapping against his cheek,

“I care about you a lot too, Satoru. More than I’d like to admit.” You looked away, confused at how quickly the atmosphere changed from the desperate grappling of hands against skin to soft eyes and shy kisses. You were shy around him. You really did care about him but you also weren’t the best at articulating your thoughts, Satoru was always one upping you with his smooth talking.

His smile softened before his eyes changed, amusement dancing across his face.

“Well why wouldn’t you like me? I’m amazing.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, his hands grabbing you and placing warm kisses around your neck. You melted into his touch, only now realising he hadn’t even properly undressed, unlike you who was completely bare.

He paused as you wriggled uncomfortably in the messy and slightly damp sheets, the both of you a tangle of limbs.

“Is this a bad time to ask if you’re on the pill?”

You stared at him.

“You are such an idiot.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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boom-boom-boyx2 · 2 years

Text

Revamped Bnha Oc’s

and they don’t have anything to do with the actual story line!

Birthday: August 24

Age: 25

Job: interior Designer/shop owner/waitress

Pronouns: She/They

sexuality: PanAromantic

eyecolor: mustard yellow

ethnicity: Japanese/korean

species: Human

gender: female

quirk: luminescent Shine

info abt quirk: user control the light in any way they wish. they imagine it and it comes to life, and size, shape, and color. Takes a huge amount of hydration and focus. if user is not properly hydrated they will die. if they aren’t focused it can cause fires.

tattoos: 1 triangle on her neck below her ear. a single flower petal on her right wrist. 2 more triangle, 1 on her L.Shin and another on their right bicep.

Bakground information: Yun grew up in a happy house with her mother and her littler brother. Her youngest brother died in a car accident at 17, she was 20 at the time. Her mother still lives in Yuns childhood house. While Yuuna was in Highschool she worked in a small craft store, owned by an older man. Her brother worked for him while she was in college, and when he passed she went home once she had graduated college. one day on the way home from the store she saw a man bleeding out in a dark alley and instead of calling the cops or an ambulance like any rational person she helped him to the store and cleaned up his cuts. the owner let him work at the shop with her and once the owner had passed and Yun owned the shop they wanted to make the shop their own.

2 months after the shop had been redone to what they liked, a woman with red hair was leaning on a person with light green hair. they both sat down at a table and went to order something to eat, roshi got defensive but yun said it was fine and gave them food. the woman passed out and yun asked if she was okay she had been cut and was bleeding a shît ton out of her thigh that was wrapped, not so graciously. Yun cleaned them both up and they both now work with her.

partner: Hiroshi

species: Human (maybe)

age: 24

pronouns: He/Him

sexuality: “whatever Yun is”

quirk: pain

info abt quirk: whatever pain is inflicted on (them) they can choose to feel or pass to another person within a 50yrd radius. using this quirk can damage the users nerves. if it’s used to much they could become entirely numb, body & mind. a very dangerous quirk overall.

scars: 2 large ones on the left of his rib cage.

tattoos: roses on the back of his neck down his right arm, not colored. an empty heat on his left thigh.

job: Cheff/full-time simp

Birthday: November 26

Extra info: ‘Hard Love’, quiet but very loud. doesn’t have an inside voice. Serious. miss-use of sarcasm. puns all the time but never intentionally. Punch then talk.

Background: Hiroshi’s parents died when he was a newborn, he was adopted by a nice family that loved him and taught him well. once he turned 16 he started training, for self defense, but within the first week of high school some kid tried beating him up but he kicked his ass. this made the (younger) Yakuza groups want to beat him but he was just to powerful your honor. he ended up like almost killing the leader of a group that then shot his little sister in the leg, so ofc he killed the whole gang and got a job to help his family move. because of his intimidating démener and ass kicking background he could never get a good paying job which led him to leave school and his family to live in another city. He joined a gang and basically got his ass beat one day and lost all his money and was sitting in an alley way bleeding out. Yuuna found him in the alleyway she uses to go home and decided to help him out and clean his wounds. he ended up helping her work at the shop she now owns.

Name: Akane (Aki)

Birthday: july 18

age: 21

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual

species: human

job: waitress/a sales clerk

eyecolor: grey/silver

hair color: red

hobby: guitar… rlly good

scar: face scar between nose & eyes, thigh scar on the front of her left leg.

tattoos: 3 roses on the right of her chest. an angel on her inner right ankle. an ‘X’ behind her left ear.

Quirk: none

info: she doesn’t have a quirk but she’s really good with her hands, don’t take that the wrong way. she can do any knife and/or axe trick. just don’t ask her to use a gun.

Backstory: Akane was left by her parents in front of a church, with no name or anything. she was picked up by an old lady who had taken care of her till she passed when Aki was only 10. Akane had a job but got robbed by some thugs and lost the job. she joined a gang and met a long lasting friend/partner. There was a new mission but it was to kill a kid, neither wanted to do so, so they said no and tried to leave, both were attacked and Akane got stabbed in the thigh, her s/o tried wrapping it and they decided to just get something to eat to cool off, they came across a cute hole in the wall (Yin’s store) and went there- yk what happened next lol. adter getting fixed up Yuuna had asked what their names where but Akane forgotten the name she was given by the old lady and had been going by ‘12’ in the gang. Yuuna gave her the name Akane because of how red her hair was, and bc how brave she was.

Partner: Daiki

Birthday: September 4

age: 23

pronouns: They/Them

Sexuality: Hot people. (emo’s ~Akane)

species: human

Eyecolor: light blue

tattoos: a lemon with a heart piece missing in the middle of it, on his upper side (next to his left Peck)

scars: 1 right under his eye, not from anything cool they got it from trying to learn to cook w/Hiroshi & Kaido. a long thin scar on their right calf.

job: waiter/sales clerk (not to be trusted with cash register they need to pass first grade math first.)

quirk: colors hue

quirk information: it’s kinda like making people color blind- they can change the hues of color people can see, it’s basically useless but it’s fun to confuse people.

random facts: really good with guns. has a decent singing voice. “what?” “huh?” always confused. the kid of the friend group even tho their gf is younger than them. the biggest procrastinated yet always gets the most done. has an obsession with crayons & wax.

backstory: Daiki’s mom died when they were born and their dad was abusive when drunk, and he was an alcoholic. Daiki had been fed up around second grade and just left! he ended up becoming friends with a person in the gang and then that’s how Dai & Aki met. Dai always called Aki ‘Red’ bc of her hair and they became bffs then eventually got into a relationship, it’s an open one. when they both weren’t dying and had been given a job and home from Yun they both asked Yun & roshi if they wanted to join, ofc Roshi declined but they all laughed about it afterwords. Daiki loves his friends and his gf but he has a little crush on Kaido but Akane sees him as a brother so Daiki hasn’t made a move lol.

age: 28

birthday: February 15

pronouns: xie/he/xem/his

sexuality: BiASexual

species: Human (aparently lol idk that)

eyecolor: purple

horns: yellow

tattoos: 1 on his right wrist, it says “love the burn” in korean.

scars: xey have a lot of little ones on his hands and a decent large one on his back from an old fight

job: second head chef/cashier

quirk: sound control

info: he can control sound waves, like he can push them a certain way, stop them, it’s like controlling everyone’s hearing yk? the quirk is used through his hands, causing scars. because of his quirk xie has rlly good hearing!

random facts: everyone has him in their phones as blueberry. yes he’s Mina’s uncle shhh. no xie doesn’t have a partner, it’s complicated. he has a son that passed after a year due to complications with the birth, he was married before and things ended badly after the pass of his child. Xie had gone through a lot while being a hero, he quit & decided to pursue xes favorite hobby, cooking!

background information: he got married at 22 to a woman and she got pregnant and gave birth at 23. Their child had been born with a rare disease causing him to pass a year after being born. Kaido loved his wife and wanted to mourn with her but she blamed him for the death of their child and she had left, kaido has mourned the death of his child and has moved on from his (personally disgraceful) ex-wife. after this Kaido retired from hero work and decided to begin mastering cooking, which had been a hobby of his since young. he had known a friend from high school who had recently come in ownership of a cafe shop and decided to ask if she needed help. that friend being Yunna, she hired him after she offically interviewed him. Kaido was the last to be hired at the store.

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hermionegrangerfan123 · 2 years

Text

The Ministry Has Fallen

Chapter 7

Woah. Ginny stumbled against a rock wall and held her head. That was crazy. She looked around to make sure nobody had noticed her. Apparently, in Nafplio, Greece, the time is 7:00 am instead of 10:00 pm. Apparating through time zones is not her thing, never was, never will be. She had to keep moving though. The other crazy thing was that she had just bombed Salazar Opera House. There were several important people from the ministry there, and that was perfect, but now there were some pretty bad people chasing after her. As she started walking down the beautiful street, she straightened her leather jacket. She looked around and saw a 20 year old man riding a motorcycle. Jackpot.

“Excuse me, sir?” She said in her most innocent voice. “Could you please help me? My purse just got stolen! It was that guy over there!”

“Of course!” The man has fallen into the trap. As he ran over to the guy she had pointed at, Ginny hopped on his motorcycle and fled the scene. Ginny swerved in between traffic and sped through red lights. Once she could see the waterfront, Ginny knew she had gone far enough. She dropped the motorcycle off and headed toward a cute little inn. The lady at the front desk was nice enough, and come she paid and came to the hotel room, she flopped down on the bed in exhaustion.

She went over the last week in her mind and it was so crazy it tired her out even more. On Monday she had helped Harry and Ron moving muggleborns, on Tuesday she had assisted Luna trying to get out of being arrested, on Wednesday she had found out all of her friends, including her, were wanted for more than 34,000 galleons. Then, on Thursday she had broken up with Harry because, ultimately, she was bisexual, and, to her surprise, so was Harry. They had ended on a good note but it was still a little overwhelming. She hadn’t even been able to admit it to her siblings or parents yet, but now she had told her ex. And today was Friday. What the fuck.

Ginny stood up, walked over to the bathroom, started the shower, got in, and just cried. How pathetic, she thought. How could Ginerva Weasley be crying right now. But, all girls need a cry every now and then. So she let go, and after a few minutes of that she finished up, brushed her teeth, and went to bed. What a messed up world this is.

After she woke up the next morning, she got dressed, brushed her teeth, and left the inn. The sooner she could find out where her friends were the better. Since no one had come for her that night she figured she was safe here for at least today and maybe tomorrow. She walked around and soon enough found an ATM. After she exchanged her English muggle money for Euros, she went jnto a coffee shop and ordered a nice black coffee.

“Excuse me,” she asked the barista, “but do you know what time it is?”

The barista looked down at her watch. “It’s 10:32” she said with a smile.

“Thank you! Have a nice day.” Ginny was astounded at how nice the people in Greece were.

“You too!” The barista called after her.

Well that was a nice start to the day, thought Ginny. The sun was shining, she had her coffee, and no one was chasing after her, for the moment. She went down to the water front and looked around and the beautiful water.

“Wow.” She said in astonishment. The water was breathtaking. It was so clear you could see the bottom and the the sand was white as snow.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Said a familiar voice.

As Ginny turned around she was filled with joy.

“Ronald!!!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around her big brother.

“Woah!” He said chuckling. “Be careful with that coffee, I think u spilled some down my shirt!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well hello to you too.” But she kept holding onto him. Finally, Ron embraced her too and they just stood there. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, or days, but all that mattered was that’s she had her big brother back.

#ginny weasley #ronald weasley #harrypotterdailly #the ministry #drarry #brothers and sisters #family

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mrsluttystark · 4 years

Text

Repeat After Me

Tony was growing tired of his life, the never ending routine he’d tied himself down to. Even with a fiancee, a stable job, and a comfortable life, there was hardly a time where he didn’t think about the past to escape the present. He could never have guessed a simple friend request and a pretty Peter Parker would be his undoing as well as his sanctuary. 18+

Part 1 | Part 2

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter hadn’t been on Facebook in years...technically. Maybe every so often just to update his profile picture so people knew he didn’t still look like a 15 year old with a face riddled with baby fat. Sure, he could just delete his account, but he’ll admit he likes knowing what his high school classmates are up to. It was interesting to see how some people he’s known since elementary school turned out now that they were all college graduates. He’s never interacted in those times, just lurked and scrolled for a few minutes before he came across a corny meme or a factually incorrect post that looks like it was screenshotted a million times and had to exit.

He was extra bored tonight, though. Peter tried not to think about how quiet it was now that he lived in his own apartment. Aunt May had moved in with her boyfriend after Peter graduated and landed a job at Oscorp. It came with a starting bonus and a large paycheck that allowed Peter to live comfortably on his own while he worked in the R & D department. A compromise made with Norman Osborn instead of selling him the rights to the web fluid he created in college. Peter wanted to continue to develop it front and center; find every possible application for it. So much so, that he didn’t get to go out much. Ned was in DC at his NASA internship, living out his “guy in a chair” dreams. MJ was somewhere in Asia, backpacking with her girlfriend. The friends he made at Columbia went their separate ways.

So this was his life now. Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep. Alone.

After getting home from work around 6 pm, Peter went for an hour long run, ate dinner, and showered. 8 pm found him sitting on his living room sofa, flipping aimlessly between different streaming services unable to find anything interesting to watch. He went through Instagram, Twitter, and even Tumblr a few times before the last “you’re all caught up!” notification popped up on his phone. So, with a heavy sigh, he propped two pillows against the wall for him to lean on, flopped down on his bed, and opened Facebook.

The first post Peter saw was a life event update from Flash Thompson, his high school nuisance, (“bully” would be giving him too much credit) “In a Relationship with Brad Davis”. Peter huffed out a breath, not really surprised with how much Flash used to tease him about being openly bisexual. Penis Parker. How original.

A memory appeared at the top of his feed from 7 years ago, today. It was a picture of him and Ned when they finished building his Lego Death Star. Peter smiled at that, Ned was holding it above his head with a beaming smile plastered on his face. His younger self had both scrawny arms thrown in the air looking triumphant as ever, curls unruly, and rectangular metal glasses falling halfway down his nose.

Peter was glad he filled out a bit since he was 15 and traded in wearing glasses daily for contacts. His curls were still nice and floppy, the tips of them tickling his ears, but he liked it that way. Plus, he could tame them when he wanted to.

He scrolled for a while longer, watched a few videos of cats being adorable assholes and one-pot recipes, went on Marketplace to see what people in his area were selling. He even went through his old pictures and deleted the incredibly embarrassing ones, and updated his profile picture to his most recent selfie.

This Facebook arc was coming to a quick end, he could feel the boredom seeping back in. He looked to his right, the bright red digital numbers on his clock read 10:05 pm. Good enough. He can turn in for the night without feeling inept.

Thumb poised, ready to swipe the App closed, his eyes caught on a name in the “People You May Know” section. Tony Stark. As in, Mr. Stark, his Sophomore Chemistry teacher. AKA his most inappropriate high school crush. Despite being alone, Peter could feel the tips of his ears heat up.

Wow, he hadn’t thought of Mr. Stark in years.

Alright, that’s not true. Peter thinks about him every time he wonders why he has an affinity for older men. Besides the point, he’s taken back to Midtown, sitting front row, head balanced on his palm watching dreamily as Mr. Stark explained how atoms and molecules join together through ionic and covalent bonding (which Peter already knew, so it was fine that he was zoning out). The man’s voice was like honey, words oozing smooth and sweet, rumbling deeply in his chest. Peter remembers every time he caught his eye while he scanned the room during lectures. Mr. Stark was 30 then, it was his first year teaching, and a 15 year age gap seemed like a canyon.

Peter tapped on his name to go to his profile so he can get a better look at his picture. His heart was racing, despite a few sporadic grey hairs at his temples, some crows feet wrinkling at the corner of his eyes, and deeper smile lines, he looked the absolute same. Fucking hot. If anything, all those things made him look even sexier. Licking his lips, Peter tried to go through his profile to see more photos of the man, unfortunately he had a lot of his privacy settings on so there wasn’t much to see but his last profile picture update and location. He still lived in New York, so that was a plus, but Peter wanted - needed to see more.

His thumb hovered over the Add Friend button. It wouldn’t be weird, would it? He was Facebook friends with other teachers from Midtown. He graduated over four years ago, and he wasn’t a lovesick kid with a school boy crush anymore. Fuck it, right? The worst he can do is deny the friend request.

Tap.

“Add Friend” turned into “Cancel Request”, and Peter blew out a large breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Alright, Peter. Time to turn in. He said to himself as he threw his phone onto his bed and got up to brush his teeth. No use waiting around, he wasn’t going to accept it tonight or any time soon for that matter. When he got back from the bathroom, he didn’t even bother looking at his phone. He plugged it in, placed it face down on his nightstand, and drifted off to sleep.

A few minutes later, the man’s phone lit up with a Facebook notification, unbeknownst to a slumbering Peter Parker.

Tony’s daily routine had been rather monotonous lately, to say the least. Since he’d made his way up the proverbial ladder of life and moved on from being a teacher to becoming a senior engineer at a major tech conglomerate, you’d think his day-to-day life of overseeing technical advancement projects wouldn’t be so boring.

The paycheck was substantially bigger than when he was a high school teacher and the amount of technology he had access to was more than the idle body walking the street could ever dream of, but…he missed teaching. He missed the kids. The pure unadulterated joy they displayed whenever Tony praised them on their science projects. He watched over brilliant men and women every day but nothing compared to the ambition of those kids.

Tony often found himself dreading going to work each day, and coming home to an empty house and take-out food his fiancée left for him that night.

Pepper was a great woman. Fierce and reliable. She was there when Tony’s parents died. She even stuck through all the years of Tony trying to decide what he wanted to do with his life. So, naturally, Tony proposed to her when he graduated from college. As a “thank you” and as a promise. That once he had enough money he would make an honest woman out of her. Of course, she already was an honest woman. It was Tony who needed the support, she was all he had left besides Rhodey, but he decided to join the Air Force and shipped off right after graduation. Tony sees him every couple of months, if even that.

She has had all these years to focus on her own career as well while Tony worked menial jobs and then became a teacher. When Tony finally got the Mechanical Engineer job, she was so relieved to not have to be the only one taking care of the bills. Though she never said it, Tony knew. Pepper is the head of HR at Oscorp as well as Norman Osborn’s personal assistant. Operating at the same routine for seven years now and she doesn’t seem to be bored, but that’s Pepper - reliable.

It’s been nine years since Tony asked her to marry him, and he’s been financially capable of paying for an adequate wedding for two of them. The truth is, Pepper has become a part of the monotony that Tony is so tired of.

Tony opened the door to their apartment, the main hall light illuminating the dark wood flooring and the entry table he tossed his keys down on. Toeing off his shoes, he could already smell the Thai food Pepper had eaten and left for him. He flipped the lights on and made his way to the kitchen, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first two buttons in the process. Rounding the large white marble island at the center, Tony reached into the bottom cabinet, pulled out a bottle of scotch, and poured himself a finger before throwing the left-overs in the microwave to heat up.

A little white card with Pepper’s uniform handwriting sat on the table next to the take-out bag: Emergency at work. Don’t wait up. Love you, Pep x. Tony took a sip of his drink, unaffected, it’s been happening more as of late with Oscorp’s new launch around the corner.

“JARVIS, could ya turn on the TV for me? Oh, and heat up my food.” Tony spoke into the open space. He’d been working on his own Artificial Intelligence software in his spare time and recently implemented it-him into their apartment’s security and electrical. Pepper was wary at first, seeing Tony put up cameras in every single room. Even the bathroom, Tony? He assured her that it was unhackable, bet it on his life.

“Certainly, sir.” A disembodied british voice replied. Sure enough, the TV powered on and the microwave came to life.

“Thanks, J.” Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of himself. He’d been drawing up the specs for JARVIS since he was in high school, now he finally had the means to develop him.

When the microwave turned off, Tony gathered up his plate and went to sit on the black leather sectional in the living room. Shoveling a mouth full of pad thai with his chopsticks, he kicked up his feet to rest them on the ottoman in front of him. He very well knows he could just pull out his phone and look, but he wanted to give JARVIS a little workout.

“Got anything new for me?”

“An email from Mr. Justin Hammer about a job offer, would you like me to read it aloud to you, sir?” Tony waved his hand dismissively with a sour expression. Justin Hammer, a sad excuse for a tech mogul, cutting corners for a bigger pay off.

“Delete it, will ya?”

As Tony scrapes the rest of his plate clean, he rises off the couch and stretches his arms and body. The pain in his lower back calls for a hot shower to soothe his aching muscles. Earlier today he’d been bent over his lab table working on an advanced prosthesis that can form to any amputee with ease and give them full range of motion like it was theirs, not just a placeholder. He was grateful his employer seemed to actually care about the greater good.

Tony went to pour himself another finger before retreating to the bedroom to take that shower his body was craving. He undressed slowly, watching himself in the full length mirror opposite the foot of his California King bed. The tie went first, falling lightly to the carpeted floor. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket along with his slacks. Olive skin pulled taut against the small yet defined muscles of his stomach, chest, and arms littered with various burns and scars from working with robotics and chemicals.

Tony definitely wasn’t 21 anymore but he knew he looked good for 37. He could only thank his genes for that and the still full head of hair despite his greying temples that he never bothered to dye.

“JARVIS, shower?” He heard the water splash against the tile of the shower floor and waited until he could see the steam bellow out into the hall to down the rest of his glass and make his way to the bathroom.

The hot spray connecting with his cool skin made him jump a little until he got used to the heat enough to relax. The buzz he was feeling from the scotch aiding the water in loosening his muscles. After washing his hair, Tony decided to stand beneath the spray for a while longer, reveling in the gentle caress of the water.

He then grabbed his mesh loofah ball, poured some body wash on it, and started scrubbing his body. Washing away the trials and tribulations of the day, along with some oil and grease. He worked over his arms, chest, and back. Bent over to wash his legs and feet, then dragged the loofah over his ass and stomach before he lightly grazed his cock, making it twitch in response.

God, he was so wound up, he and Pepper hadn’t had sex in over two months. Always so busy, always just missing each other. When they did happen to be home at the same time, they were too tired to do anything.

He wrapped a soapy hand around his shaft and stroked lazily to work himself to full hardness, which didn’t take very long. Tony tried thinking about Pepper but he couldn’t quite imagine her face and her body, the scotch must be making his mind hazy. He chuckled softly at the thought, not even believing it himself.

Searching through his brain for something to get him there, Tony grunted in annoyance that nothing was coming to him.

He thought harder, until a body started to form in his mind. Smooth pale skin over a lithe, hard body. The V at the bottom of the abdomen pointing to a skinny dick with a pretty pink head. Tony had a fondness toward pretty twinks in college, the one he was imagining mirrored the ones he fucked before he met Pepper.

His hand began stroking faster as his thoughts got more detailed. In his mind, he stretched the young man open with his fingers before seating his newly opened hole on Tony’s larger, thicker cock. He braced himself with one arm against the shower wall while his other hand tightened around his shaft. Hunched over, eyes closed, he saw a pert little ass bouncing up and down, swallowing every inch of him. He moaned loudly, keenly aware that he was home alone, imagining high whimpers and whines thrumming in his ears as the boy in his mind came. Tony came in spurts down the drain soon after with a choked off groan.

Rinsing himself again, he got out of the shower, quickly toweled off his body and hair before wrapping it around his waist and making his way out into the bedroom once again. His body definitely felt looser than it had been when he arrived home from work. Pulling out another of the same bottle of scotch from the small bar cart he had in his room, he poured himself another drink.

“Have a good shower, sir?” If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d think JARVIS was taunting him.

Tony scowled and raised an eyebrow at the ceiling.

“I don’t remember programming you to be nosy.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Actually, sir. You designed me to do exactly that.”

“Or to give me lip.” No response.

“You did receive a new notification in your absence. Would you like to know what it is?” He took a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, sure.”

“You received a Facebook friend request from a Mr. Peter Parker.”

Peter Parker? Why did that seem familiar?

“Throw it up on the screen for me, J.” The flatscreen lit up, displaying Peter’s profile.

The first thing Tony noticed was the sharp, angular jawline coupled with high cheekbones. A stark contrast to the delicate chestnut curls pushed back into a nice cowlick wave. His smile was bright, pure, and genuine, like the photo had been snapped right as he finished laughing.

It wasn’t until Tony looked at his eyes did he realize who this was. The soft brown eyes were identical to a lanky teenage boy that sat in the front row of his Chemistry class when he taught at Midtown High. Even behind his wiry glasses back then, Tony could tell that his eyes radiated a wholesome energy - just like they did now. That had been...what? Seven years ago? Peter was one of his most brilliant students. Hardly paid attention in class but knew the material like the back of his hand.

Tony almost felt guilty about finding him attractive. Almost.

He accepted the request without another thought. Peter would be 22 by now, nothing weird about that, right? He scrolled through his basic info. Still lives in New York. Graduated from Columbia. Single. Interested in men and women. He doesn’t ever really post anything, then again neither did Tony. The only things on his page were happy birthday posts and tagged photos from his Aunt May. Tony remembered parent/teacher conferences with her, he guessed being smokin’ hot ran in the family.

Tony couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about potentially lusting over this kid. He’d always been faithful to Pepper, but something was missing. Tony craved excitement and some inkling of control over his life. Besides, he could look, as long as he didn’t touch. This is just a Facebook friendship after all.

He pulled the Facebook app up on his phone and tapped on the “Message” icon. When the screen pulled up the chat box, Tony gulped down the rest of his scotch, feeling just on the right side of drunk, and typed out two words.

Hey, Kid.

tags: @sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @problemchildnoonewanted (I’ll def be implementing some of your points in future chapters!)

#starker #starker fic #starker au #teacher/student #tony stark x peter parker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #ironspider #sluttystark stuff

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

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Cadmus Durand ⚔️

the charming assassin on the run

Introducing...

Full name: Comte Cadmus Orion François Durand

Meaning: the title Comte is the same as a count or an earl (Cadmus is specifically an earl) his first name comes from Greek mythology:

In Greek mythology Cadmus was the son of the Phoenician king Agenor. He was sent by his father to rescue his sister Europa, who had been abducted by Zeus, although he did not succeed in retrieving her. According to legend, Cadmus founded the city of Thebes and introduced the alphabet to Greece. He also famously slayed a dragon.

source 1 source 2

Cadmus also translates to “one who excels”

Gender: male, he/ him

Birthday: April 10th

Age (start of story): 29

Orientation: bisexual

Magic: illusions, light

Occupation: assassin

Familiar: Agatha the black mamba snake, named after Agathodaemon, a mythological personal companion spirit often pictured as a snake

Love interest: Julian Devorak, no canon route

Shippable?: very!

Theme song: Take Me Out- Franz Ferdinand

(the perfect song for him, lyrically and because the band is named after the famously assassinated Archduke)

full playlist

— ALIGNMENTS —

Zodiac signs:

Sun: aries

Moon: aquarius

Rising: capricorn

MBTI: entj

Element: fire

Major Arcana: The Chariot

UPRIGHT: Control, willpower, success, action, determination

REVERSED: Self-discipline, opposition, lack of direction

Minor Arcana: 9 of Wands

UPRIGHT: Resilience, courage, persistence, test of faith, boundaries

REVERSED: Inner resources, struggle, overwhelm, defensive, paranoia

Magic:

— Illusions: Can create minor illusions such as fake walls to hide behind or temporarily changing his appearance (hair color, facial features etc)

— Light: Can create a ball of golden light, for flashlight or distraction purposes usually

Other abilities: espionage, speaks multiple languages, skilled in various types of weapons including swords of all kinds and archery, skilled dancer

— PERSONALITY & PREFERENCES —

Personality: Cadmus is direct, confident, and decisive. He’s quick thinking and resourceful and always has a plan. He’s outwardly very charming, though he uses the information he learns from others to figure out the best way to take them down. Always vigilant and observant, Cadmus tends to see people in terms of how they can be of use to him.

He’s got a talent for making people feel like they know him, even though they don’t. He makes friends easily, though whether he would consider them friends is another matter. He also makes enemies easily, both through his job and family affiliation and through his boastful attitude. He has a bad temper and his pride is easily hurt. He likes to be the best at everything he does, and he usually is. Cadmus will rise to any challenge and has to hold himself back from fighting every battle.

When he does genuinely care for someone he is loyal, protective, and can be kind. The only people to earn this treatment so far are his younger sister Daphne, and occasionally his best friend and Captain of the Guard, Alexander Garreau.

Mental health: Cadmus is very emotionally closed off, he deals with PTSD from his childhood and vocation but generally does a great job of never letting anyone know he’s upset. His attention ranges from hyperfocus to being completely unfocused with little in between. He also has very bad coping mechanisms and tends to be self destructive in his relationships

Likes: dancing, sunny days, playing games (of any kind), sleeping in

Dislikes: indecision, lack of control, travelling by boat

Fears: small spaces (he’s claustrophobic), losing his sister

Quirks: walks with a bit of a limp from previous injuries

Favorite food: crème brûlée

Favorite drink: gin

Favorite flower: larkspur

Favorite color: black and gold

Most likely to: consider sword fighting first base

— APPEARANCE —

Height: 6’, 183 cm

Eyes: blue grey

Hair: honey blonde, curly, he often lets it grow to his shoulders

Other: has freckles everywhere, and a multitude of battle scars ranging from tiny ones on his arms to a large one on his torso, his left shoulder has a tattoo of a dragon that stretches onto his arm, he also has pierced ears

Color theme: black, gold, silver, royal blue

Fashion sense: described as “fancy goth prince / part time pirate”, his clothing is expensive, detailed, and always impeccably tailored, he comes from money and his wardrobe shows it. Cadmus wears mostly black, especially on missions, but at special events will branch into colors, usually blue or gold. He’s a fan of a classic puffy sleeve and tight pants combo.

— FAMILY & BACKGROUND —

Family:

The Durand Family Motto is “ex gladio vita” from the sword, life

Augustin Durand - father- alive | relationship: bad

Helene Durand - mother - alive | relationship: nearly nonexistent

Alastor Durand - younger brother - alive | relationship: bad, pretty much mortal enemies

Daphne Durand - younger sister - alive | relationship: best friends, slightly paternal

History:

Born and raised in the city of Avronne, Cadmus was trained as an assassin from a young age to protect his family’s political and business ventures. He’s used as a weapon, a pawn to his father the Comte d'Avronne, and sent across the world on missions to take out anyone who could threaten the family. Cadmus never questioned the things he was asked to do, simply doing as he was told to protect his life and out of a sense of duty and loyalty to his family and city.

He grew up in the luxury of the castle, going on missions as commanded until he was forced to reconsider his morals and family loyalty. He’s sent to assassinate the princess of a neighboring city to allow his family to control the line of succession in their favor. When he arrives, he finds that the princess is only 16 years old and reminds him too much of his own younger sister Daphne. When the time comes to kill, he chooses to spare her instead and faces his family’s wrath.

On the run from his family and their army of trained assassins (some of them Cadmus’ own friends and relatives) he flees to Vesuvia, a city big enough to hide in. He plans to stay for a few weeks at most, but plans change when he meets an old friend (or enemy depending on who you ask) His stay in Vesuvia is cut short when he receives word that his sister is in terrible danger.

Now Cadmus must choose whether to walk into his father’s trap to save his sister, perhaps at the cost of his own life. With the help of a certain red haired doctor he might just be able to pull it off- but sacrifices must be made.

Five facts:

he’s allergic to nuts which has nearly killed him on at least 2 occasions

he loves his horse, he’s the male equivalent of a horse girl but he’d never admit to it

he has a chipped front tooth and it gives him a slightly crooked looking smile

his familiar Agatha has deadly venom and has assisted him with taking down targets before

he fights with a sword left handed for the tactical advantage, even though he’s right handed

note: Hi hello here is my newest child, I’m very excited to share him! Special thanks to @leila-of-ravens because I stole her oc bio template lol, and thank you to all of my lovely mutuals who have listened to me gush about him 💗

#he’s here!!#cadmus durand #beas ocs #ok so maybe he’s originally inspired by westley from the princess bride #decided to do a more involved bio for him than i have for my others #he has a lot of backstory to share #this info is all subject to change but For Now!#also his original quote was 'try me bitch' but i gave him something more serious dfsjfj #his story has no ending yet but i’m hoping to write a fic series for him eventually to tell it all!

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ddaenggtan · 4 years

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black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG, some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it.

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway.

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience.

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain.

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands.

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more."

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet.

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring.

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected.

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough.

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago.

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you.

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better.

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home.

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from.

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing.

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering.

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas.

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd.

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal.

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault.

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name?

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do.

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why.

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success.

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts.

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point.

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process.

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing."

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar.

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks.

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you."

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered.

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space.

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat.

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him.

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive.

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already.

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you.

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles.

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows.

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off .

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse.

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think.

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own.

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want.

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way.

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear .

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you.

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are.

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them.

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you.

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself.

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all.

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long.

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar.

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe.

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off."

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws.

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?"

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper.

"You are going to wish that you could die."

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it.

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body.

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight.

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats.

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have.

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages.

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself.

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom.

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns.

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.”

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs.

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says.

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them.

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you.

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers.

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out.

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues.

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest.

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head.

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is:

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead.

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway.

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer.

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you.

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.”

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal.

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference.

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is.

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new.

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will.

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking.

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore.

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that.

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you.

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings.

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment.

Someone says your name and you swing.

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor.

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway.

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to.

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building.

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too.

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you.

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love.

If you can love.

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed.

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself.

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is.

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there.

Until the night when it’s not.

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win.

You would take it back if you could.

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster.

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal.

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them.

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive.

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips.

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again.

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly.

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you.

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you.

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist.

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair.

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out.

“I didn’t-”

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have.

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking.

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her.

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough.

It’s never enough.

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan.

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster.

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing.

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it.

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips.

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with.

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go.

Frustrated, you pull back.

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown.

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress.

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees.

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh.

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free."

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath.

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat.

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve."

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits?

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again.

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time.

Not with Taehyung.

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him.

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating.

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could.

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up."

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind.

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been.

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately.

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you .

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you.

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder.

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come.

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.”

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for.

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose.

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena.

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake.

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs.

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have.

He’ll learn.

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it.

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face.

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes.

The giant swings.

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guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 4 years

Text

Roses of Melrose

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Language, murder, death, mentions of gangs, gun violence, mercenaries, physical abuse, verbal abuse, parental neglect, drug use, underage drinking, mentions of knives, brief mentions of sex, blood, piercings.

Word Count: 8.4k

Songs: Ultralight beam-Kanye, I love Kanye- Kanye, Good Kid-Kendrick Lamar, Sing about me I’m dying of thirst- Kendrick Lamar, Violent Crimes- Kanye, Apparently- J.Cole, Black Wave- K.Flay, Pretty Little Birds- SZA, Wouldn’t it be Nice- The Beach Boys.

“ It was the way I fought back. It was my first ‘fuck you’ to everyone to everything. It was my best friend. It was my first love. So to you I’m just another girl with another basic rose tattoo but to me. To me? It’s the way I remember it’s the way I keep my friend with me. It’s the way I’d make sure I couldn’t forget the unforgettable”

A/N: Sorry it took so long to finish this school and home got in the way. Sorry If the grammar is off there was only one proof read. Hopefully you enjoy it. Sorry that there’s less Peter in this one. It’s more character building.

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

I had my suspicions about Peter being Spiderman, I mean it was kinda obvious he’s always leaving decathlon meetings according to MJ. They both have the same annoying ass optimism. No one is just that sure of anything. Like ever. Thanks to Liz I’d finally know.

I entered the house having to maneuver past a couple of people standing in the hall past the front door. This party was tame compared to others I’d been to. Flash was DJ-ing he’s so annoying. Liz was cool though she was nice.

I found MJ standing in the kitchen opening a pack of bread holding a jar of peanut butter. When I walked over and said

“Only you would come to a party to just eat bread.”

She only replied with a short “Whatever loser,”

“Hey, Peter Parker. Where’s your friend Spiderman?” Flash announced on the mic.

“Lemme guess with your imaginary girlfriend?”

Peter just stood there stunned

“That’s not Spiderman that’s just Ned in a red shirt,” Okay that one would’ve been kinda funny if he didn’t add that annoying horn sound.

“Shut the fuck up!” I said before smiling at Peter and walking off. I didn't do it for him, necessarily Flash was just annoying. Like I’ve never understood how someone with the grandpa name Eugene could talk so much shit.

I was making small talk with some random senior boy when I heard a high pitched squeal and excused myself to the bathroom. The sound only got louder and louder and louder. It was so painful it felt like Athena should’ve split my forehead and climbed her way out. My vision blurring together made me not able to grab onto anything as I lost balance. I wasn't going to cry,

I wasn't. I couldn’t crying’s pathetic I wasn't going to cry. I could push through the pain. I’ve done it before, that's what I always do. Just when it got so intense I was sure I was gonna pass out it stopped. I did not pass out however I did throw up into the toilet. I looked in the mirror after washing my face off and for a second I could’ve sworn my eyes were glowing. Great now I’m going into a psychotic break why would my eyes be glowing.

I just need some fresh air. Yeah that’s all. I sat there for a while letting my mind wander until I heard MJ’s voice from behind me.

“So this is where you were? I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” She said as she sat down next to me. When I didn’t respond she turned facing me waving her hands my face

“You good?”

I looked up from picking at the grass.

“I’m just tired MJ,” I mean I have every right to be tired there’s a whole fucking gang war going down where I live. Which makes no fucking sense why are people fighting over streets that no one actually owns. The weapons Vulture is selling make me good money, but they’re getting way too close to where my friends lived. I was snapped out of diving into all my problems by a purple cloud in the distance. Hearing the distant squeal slash siren hybrid. I felt my eyes widen.

“What was that?” MJ asked.

Fucking Vulture

ARE YOU KIDDING ME. I told him to stay out of my neighborhood and he came to my friends.

“I don’t know,” I said “Let’s just go back inside,”

As we were walking back to the backdoors I took one glance behind me, and there he was Spiderman heading towards the cloud

“Hey,” I called out walking closer to Ned, “Ned!”

He turned around

“Who me?” He pointed to himself.

“I mean I don’t see any other Neds around were,” I joked

“Oh, it’s you just usually don’t talk to me,” He pointed out.

“Yeah sorry about that,” I said “Actually where’s Peter? I can’t seem to find him,”

“Oh he uh,” he scratched the back of his neck “He had to go,”

“Aw, how unfortunate,” I patted his shoulder “Well enjoy the party I have to go too,” So Ned knew Peter was Spiderman.

“Can I get a ride?” I asked MJ to which she just said

“You don’t have to ask,”

“Just drop me off at the corner store by my house,”

It never felt awkward around MJ. Normally I had to be on high alert around everyone, but it’s never like that with her. This isn't an “honor” many people have but she’s one of the few I feel comfortable falling asleep around. I knew being in the car would make me feel sick so I drifted off.

Shutting the door to the car we said our goodbyes and I headed into the gas station when Mr. William greeted me. I felt a warm feeling in my body. It was nice but short lived and replaced by an emptiness that humans like to call nostalgia. I missed feeling “home” I still lived here. I don’t know why It seems like I don't. I guess it was the fact I’d been giving more attention to Queens and Thorn lately. I know it’s not the projects anymore which I am immensely grateful for but it’s the same neighborhood. According to Briana, one of the like 3 friends I managed to keep I “never come around anymore” or “I’m too good for them”.

I made my way to the bathroom and located the tile I kept my burner phone in. I used to keep it in a shoe box at home until my sister started going through the phase where she feels the need to borrow all my clothes. Stomping on the edge of the tile it flipped up and I grabbed the phone and shoved it in the pocket of my hoodie.

Getting a soda and some gummy worms before I left. I started to walk back to my apartment complex. I went up to sit on the roof of the building just eating my gummies looking. That was something I did a lot just look. When I was younger I couldn’t stand being alone in my own head, but the older I got the more I began to understand why old people would just sit out on their porch doing nothing but looking.

When I checked my phone it was 12:47 and I decided it was time to go back in. First I sent out a message on the burner phone to what I hope to God was the right number.

I headed back down to my room and spent the whole night tossing and turning. When I put on a podcast I slept much easier. I found that the environment I grew up in bred me to not be able to sleep probably without some sort of noise even if it’s just arguing.

I woke up with my phone on my face and my bonnet halfway across the continent. I checked my phone fully expecting to be late but by some blessing I had at least two hours to get ready before I had to leave. The house was quiet like eerily quiet no TV on or anything. I went to wake up the drama queen, middle child, Aaliyah. When I say drama queen I mean both acting and just straight up being dramatic. And then there’s Sapphire who’s the physical embodiment of a Gemini. I flicked on the lights, revealing toys scattered all over Sapphire‘s side of the room. The only response I got was from Aaliyah who simply whined and pulled her blanket over her head. I picked up a pair of rolled up socks and tossed them at her to which she loudly exclaimed

“Ow!”

See what I mean by dramatic but thankfully for me, she woke up Sapphire meaning I didn’t have to step on sharp plastic trying to navigate her side. Not that I could judge her though I can’t remember the last time I had the motivation to clean my room.

I was fully expecting my dad to be passed out on the couch when I walked into the living room but he wasn’t. He wasn’t in his room either. This was nothing out of the ordinary though, he’d probably be back tonight or tomorrow.

One of the perks of my dad being gone was I could use the bathroom in his room to shower and take as long as I want. Another perk of dad not being here is I can take his car today instead of my skateboard. My sisters don't go to a local school but it’s still way closer to our home then Midtown so they don’t have to go so far away. I,on the other hand, have to skate to the bus stop, get on the metro then get on a subway and skate the rest of the way to school.

“Y’all wanna get something to eat?” I asked my sisters once we were in the car.

“Wendys!” Sapphire interjected from the backseat

“No one wants to eat Wendys,” Aaliyah turned around from the passenger to face her. “Get McDonald’s” she demanded, turning back to face me.

“Oh so you don’t want Wendys but you can eat the plastic from McDonald's,” Sapphire asked accusingly.

“Wendy's tastes like shit,”

“You taste like shit,”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

I just giggled at the fact this is what they decided to argue about.

“I’m just gonna get somethin’ from Mr. Washington, Since it’s the closest thing to us” was all I said before turning the radio up.

I pulled into the parking lot. Looking at the buildings that look like they should be dead. With their bulletproof windows with anti robbery bars. It’s honestly depressing if you think about it for too long. But these places are nothing but living and bustling no matter what. Like the roses in the cracks of the sidewalk. I left the keys in the ignition once my sister confirmed they weren’t coming inside.

“Hey Y/N,” Mr.Washington’s son said from the kitchen. I believe he’s 18 now?

“Hey,” I nodded my head at him walking towards his father to order.

“Hey, Y/N how are you doing?”

“I’m good how are you?”

“I’m good thanks for asking, you know you look more and more like your mom everyday,” he pointed out and I just smiled. “She was a great kid,”

“Yeah…” I trailed off.

“So the usual?” he asked and I nodded.

I don’t know how but he remembered everyone’s usual orders and knows everyone’s names.

Quick rule of thumb the best food comes in brown paper bags.

Once I was back in the car I had to make the conscious effort not to speed. MJ never goes anywhere when I drive because I “drive like I have nothing to live for” which personally I just think she’s dramatic.

Honestly my sisters are so lucky they go to a local school. I mean yeah the education at Midtown is better than the local highschool, but it’s not like I even belong there. So basically I commute almost 40 minutes everyday to a school I’m not smart enough to go to.

By the time lunch came around I had a terrible headache the smell of my food made me vomit. And no I’m not being dramatic I really had to stop by the bathroom and throw up.

Now I didn’t really feel like walking all the way over to sit at my usual table so I just sat with the school stoners. Yes cliques are real and if this were a movie I’d be one of those clique surfers. Pretty much everyone is a clique surfer if we’re being honest.

I don’t know why they get such a bad wrap stoners have got to be some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Like this one girl Jessica she gave me one of my first tattoos for free in freshman year when I met her. Since she noticed that I looked stressed, she offered to let me hit her cart. I didn’t even have to ask her

Oh my god I’ll marry you were my exact thoughts at that moment. That I’d apparently voiced out loud because she responded with.

“I’m down. When’s the wedding?”

Her and two guys who were sitting at the table with us made their way to the boys bathroom with me.

After about 3 hits I could feel the life returning to my body as if the rain finally stopped crashing down and the rainbow entered the sky. I could've sworn I heard God say “I’ll never flood the earth again”

“Do you think I’d look good with a nostril piercing?” I asked while examining my nose in the mirror.

“Are you kidding me? You’d look hot as fuck,” Jessica added in.

“You should pierce her nose, J” the guy who was standing closest to the door said. Zach I think.

“Yeah I could do that, do you want me to?” She asked.

I pondered it for a second before the boy who already looked off of cloud nine Tyler I believe his name was interjected with

“She’s really good at it, she did my girlfriends,”

You know what? Fuck it

“Why the hell not,” I said

“Alright,” she said after clapping her hands and walking over to her backpack on the floor. She pulled out a lighter and an earring. She lit the earring to disinfect and I hopped up on the sink and she moved towards the right side of my body. Just as she was asking me where exactly I wanted it we all jumped at the sound of the door creaking open.

Low and behold Peter Parker of all people walked in.

“Uh I was just gonna...yeah,” He stammered out still standing by the door. He was still just staring at me. Now I’m not sure if it was because I was a girl in the boys bathroom, if I looked high, or if it was the fact I was about to pierce my nose in a dirty school bathroom but he was starting to make me feel awkward.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said as a blush raised up his cheeks “I’m just gonna,” he pointed to one of the stalls before scurrying into it.

Jessica simply chuckled and called him cute.

By the time he came back out to wash his hands the earring was already pushed into my nostril with a slight pinch. Jessica told me that I’d have to clean the piercing everyday for a couple weeks, which is something I could manage. I hopped down the sink and asked

“Do I look okay?” Referring to my eyes

“Yeah and me?” Jessica asked

“Yeah you’re good,” I reassured her. That was the last thing she needed to hear before her and the other two guys left the bathroom.

As Peter was washing his hands I turned back around to look at my nose in the mirror. It was still a little red with irritation. It was also slightly sore to the touch. I was shaken out of my thoughts by Peter’s voice.

“Did that hurt?” He asked.

He was so adorable.

“This?” I pointed to my nose and he nodded.

“No not really,” I said grabbing my bag off the floor.

“Well this very short convo has been a blast but I gotta go,”

Okay so, I hadn’t been to the class in like forever because of the sheer fear of what would happen cause I skipped it so much. However, my fear of having to confront Olivia is stronger and she was coming towards me so, I ran in through the door. Ugh I’m such a pussy. I saw her walk out of my view. I was gonna turn back out and leave but ,unfortunately I had already locked eyes with the teacher. Looking around at all the students staring at me I just looked back at the teacher.

“Y/N! So nice of you to finally join us,” Ms Warren just had to announce. I simply choose to give a curt nod before she said

“We’re doing a partnered assignment, you can sit by Peter,” She said while pointing near the back of the classroom.

I made my way to the back of the class and slumped into the seat.

“Hey,” I said putting my legs on the empty desk in front of me.

“Hey, didn’t know you were in this class,” Peter pointed out.

“I mean I don’t think I’ve been here since the second week of school? Yeah I’m not sure. So from the beginning of sophomore year to now would be like maybe 1…2...3. No 2, yeah 2.” I went on before realizing I was rambling “Sorry I’m talking too much I’m like tiniest bit faded right now, and okay let me shut up,”

“No, no you’re fine. I like hearing you talk”

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered before raising my hand.

“Yes Y/N?” Ms Warren asked.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

She sighed “Uh, Yes I guess that’s fine just don’t take to long,”

I grabbed the pass and started down the hallway. I was never planning to go to the bathroom. In all honesty I was going to the freshmans’ lunch cause I’d gotten hungry. I was in the line to get snacks when I felt a buzz in my pocket. I knew it was the burner phone so I got my chips and went outside to the area of the school with no cameras. Looking around to make sure no one was looking. I opened the text. Which read

this T?- B

yes, do you still have it?- T I responded

I do- B

ok meet at usual X and Place- T

ok- B

I’d confirmed my brother could pick up my sisters from daycare. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about them at home when I was doing what I needed to do.

I was trying to keep a low profile. I don't need anyone to claim they saw Thorn tonight. Since I’ve been on the radar of the police more often lately. No one would be looking in an abandoned train cart anyways. I‘d be fine. I just went with a black hoodie and a bandana to cover my face.

But of course Black Cat was in her suit because when was she ever not.

“You sure this is it?” I asked

“Yes I’m sure,” she said and placed the flash drive in my hand. I stuffed it in the pocket of my hoodie.

“Don’t forget what we talked about,” she said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve got you,”

Great now I have to get into the government protected flash drive and clear her name. Just as I was about to turn to leave. The sound of someone sliding open the doors to one of the carts.

“Were you followed?” she whispered

“No of course not,” I rolled my eyes

I only had one weapon on me but I knew that Black Cat could handle whoever it was. Although just because she could do this on her own doesn’t mean I was gonna help. I had one expandable baton. Waiting for whoever was here to come in. I got my baton knocked out of my hand.

The fight that broke out wasn’t really a fight if you could even call it that, it was just like 3 guys trying to get the flash drive and us knocking them out. I did however get my fair share of bruises but that’s only because I was thrown into the wall once. I did have a pretty deep gash on my forehead but I should be able to cover it with a headband.

I almost gave myself a heart attack when I checked my sisters’ room because I forgot they were at our brothers house. My dad also still wasn’t home so I was just sitting home alone on the living room floor watching ‘Nick at Night’ with a caked up bloody forehead eating cold leftover spaghetti.

I knew my dad had come home because I heard the keys turning in the door but I was too tired to move.

I should’ve moved.

By the way the door was slammed shut I could tell he was in a bad mood. And what’d he do when he was in a bad mood? Take it out on me.

I don’t remember what happened. I just know he said I looked like a whore and I probably got heated and blacked out, but I do know I was in immense pain and my nose was bleeding and the police were on their way.

Only two things could come from my dad calling the police: I get sent back to the Psych ward or I get arrested. I wasn’t about to stick around to find out which one was going down.

I grabbed my skateboard and took off. Technically he did kick me out so he couldn’t say I ran away.

I can’t exactly recall how I remember where he lived seeing as I hadn’t been there since his girlfriend died.

I was going to knock but I knew he never actually opens the door. I went around to the back and started banging on the window and I’m sure looking at this from an outsider's view it must’ve looked like I was breaking in. Which I’m not sure that I wasn’t. I could see his shadow.

“Open the fucking door, Wade!” I yelled from the door I could see his light was on.

He sleepily strutted down to the door and slid it open.

“What do you- Oh my god you look terrible,” He stated.

“Oh really? Thanks, I didn’t notice,” I spat back pushing past him.

I popped down on the couch.

“I need somewhere to stay for a minute” I said once I was settled in.

He moved over to me and grabbed my face but I pushed his hands away.

“I’m fine,” I lied “Can I stay here though?”

“Did you really think I’d ever say no?”

He examined my face again

“Did your dad do this?” He asked.

He took my silence for the answer that it was.

“Do you want me to kill him?” He asked as what I thought was supposed to be a joke but I was scared to answer yes cause I knew there was a chance he actually would.

He was never very fond of my dad from the moment he’d met my mom. Wade was always trying to keep my mom away from him.

If only she’d listened.

“Yes, I was joking and go clean your face before you get infected”

Oh well I guess I voiced that thought out loud.

I promise I was just looking for the first-aid kit but who was I to say no to a 6 ounce bottle of Hennessy. It was almost as if it’s eyes bore into my soul calling after me because it knew I was too weak to resist.

The sweet burning sensation of it going down my throat was relieving and fun at first until I realized I was turning into my dad. Then it wasn’t so appealing anymore it was just depressing.

The last thing on earth that I’d want would be anything like him. It was pathetic.

It was pathetic how I had to throw up because apparently I couldn’t handle my alcohol.

It was pathetic how I couldn’t even bring myself to stand in the shower.

It was pathetic how I couldn’t even hide the fact I was drunk.

It was pathetic how I broke down crying in front of Wade.

It was pathetic how he had to lull me to sleep by stroking my hair.

It was pathetic because I knew he wasn’t mad.

It was pathetic because it wasn’t anger it was pathetic because it was pity.

Pity. I hated pity with my entire chest. She always seemed to just hold you down underneath the water knowing you couldn’t breath but the feeling around you made you believe you were floating. It’s like the feeling of drowning in the open sea but it isn’t painful but still you know you’re gonna die but you can’t help but look at how beautiful everything around you is. All the fish, the seaweed, the sunlight shining through the water. But still you’re drowning and you know you’re gonna die so how beautiful can it really be?

Pity. That’s what I saw in the hallways so I knew I must’ve looked terrible because no one bothered to say anything negative about me. Everytime anyone looked at me it was like they knew. They knew. They knew that I had a shitty life and a fucked up family. Of course they didn’t but I couldn’t help the nagging feeling that everyone knew.

Everyone was looking at me with a glint of pity in their eyes because I knew I looked like I was going to pass out at any moment now, I had bruises everywhere, I had no makeup to cover them up, possibly had a broken rib, and the gash on my forehead was probably still visible under the sweatband.

Literally everyone looked like they felt bad for me. Except Flash. I never thought I’d say this but, thank God for Flash. The only sense of normalcy I’d experienced all day, was him calling me a witch then acting like it was the funniest thing ever and walking off after I told him to go fuck himself. One thing about Flash is he’s unoriginal. He'll find one “good” joke and use it for the rest of his life. The fact I could put out a lit match in my mouth spread around through a tiktok at some point, and he’s been calling me a witch ever since. I’m assuming the fact I had a pretty gothic style freshman year probably played a part in it too. Major small dick energy right there.

I was on the verge of passing out and all I really wanted was to go out and get high with my old friends but I can never get what I want. Can I? The universe must really fucking hate me.

I just went to the nurses office and slept all throughout lunch but when I woke it was like I was even more tired than before.

I wonder if this is what zombies feel like. I couldn’t tell if it was getting bad again or if I was just getting sick because the lines were blurred between a depressive episode and a cold or the flu. However my eyes were watery and my nose was stuffed so hopefully it was the latter.

The odds had finally aligned in my favor and the class I’d skipped like all year teacher was out. We had my favorite sub who was really just the ISS teacher. Normally I would’ve sat by him and caught him up on all the chisme I had but I felt terrible. So I just leaned on the closest person to me instinctively. Once my brain caught up to my body and I realized. I was laying on Peter's shoulder. I shot it and immediately apologized.

“Oh no, you’re fine I don’t mind,” he said.

Well okay then. I think I slept at least 10 minutes in every single class today. Which is good I’d need it cause I forgot I promised my brother I’d babysit today.

After I sent Wade a text that I probably wouldn’t be back in his house for a while. I went to my brother's house. Sometimes I’m jealous of him for getting to escape our dad and live in an actual nice area. He literally has a house. Like he has his own property, no landlords or anything. Pros of him having a different mom I guess. However he needs to stop having kids. Like yes I love my niece and my nephews however they can be the biggest pain in the ass.

“I get off at like 11, so make sure they don’t break anything or die thanks, and you know where everything’s at, so,” He said, giving me a hug before walking towards the door but right before he opened it he turned around with a smile on his face.

“Oh and don’t get my kids high,”

I rolled my eyes trying to keep the edges of my mouth from turning into a smile. I lost that battle.

“Yeah, yeah whatever asshole,” I flipped him off.

I went into the room where the youngest child was sleeping. Taylon, he was about 1 I believe. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about him for a while. I made it back to the front room where the two trouble makers Kaitlyn and Jason. Kaitlyns the oldest at 4 years old and Jason at 2. Although I don’t think Kaitlyn has ever gotten in trouble like ever because she’s a huge daddy’s girl.

I had like 36 missing assignments for Physics and about 4 things of homework one test to study for, a partnered project to work on, still had to go two decathlon practice 3 days a week, and a flashdrive to get past the firewall of. God could I use some adderall right now.

By distracting the kids in the room with me with the Cocomelon channel.

I’d put my headphones on and nodded along to my music and actually got two homework assignments done in a relatively short time before the screaming started. I went to get Taylon who’d woken up because he peed. I changed his diaper but he was still crying.

I truly did not have time for this. I fed him and everything. Thank God the Cocomelon was still distracting the other kids. Whoever made that channel needs a raise. I could not get him to stop crying for more than 5 minutes. I found if I held him he’d stop but I didn’t have the time to just sit around holding him.

I gave him my phone and let him play with that which shut him up.

Then Kaitlyn decided to come and pester me about food. I made peanut butter jelly sandwiches, but they decided they didn’t want them after I’d already made them. So here I was making spaghetti with a toddler on my hip and doing homework at the same time.

I’d actually gotten used to all this multi tasking that’s when I heard a knock at the door.

I put the spoon back in the pot and closed my textbook heading over to the door.

I open the door to Peter standing there.

“Uh Hello?” I asked more than said.

“Uh, yeah hi, we were supposed to work on the project?”

“Oh shi-” I almost said then remembered I was holding a kid. “Sorry I forgot,” If we're being completely honest I don’t remember anything from school that day nor do I remember telling him to come here but I wasn’t gonna send him away.

“Well you can come in” I announced stepping towards the side of the door.

“Sorry about the chaos” I gestured to everything. ”You can go sit on the couch, I’ll be right over”

He did just that and sat his backpack on his lap.

“Jason, Kaitlyn bebé ven a buscar tu comida”

( Jason Kaitlyn baby come get your food)

They made their way over still attached to the tablet.

“I thought your dad said no tablet at the table?” I said. I wasn’t really going to take it away, I was just teasing.

“I thought you were fun tía,” Jason shot back.

“I am fun!” I said fake hurt and they both giggled.

I slid the plates across the table towards them. “Here eat,”

“¿Es tu novio de ahí?” Kaitlyn asked looking over at Peter.

(Is that your boyfriend over there?)

“No he’s not, but can you watch your brother for me for a little bit?”

She nodded. I shifted Taylon off my hip and slipped him into his high chair and gave him a bag of chips.

Plopping down next to Peter I clapped my hands.

“Okay sorry about the wait, so what do we need to do?”

After explaining the project to me we’d gotten half of it done and Taylon was napping again and everyone else was quiet and watching TV. We probably could’ve finished the whole thing if we hadn’t gone on so many tangents. Peter was actually good at explaining things.

We talked about literally everything from favorite flavors of starburst to life goals and shit. I don't know what I want in life actually. It’d be cool to go to college but it’s expensive and no one else in my family has been.

When it got late Peter announced that he had to go.

“Alright let me walk you out,” I pushed up off the couch.

“You’re really smart, I know you don’t think that but you are,” he said almost out of nowhere once we were out the door. I could feel my face heat up. This is a moment I was thankful for my melanin allowing me not to blush.

“Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself, Parker,”

“So we're doing this same time tomorrow right?”

“Yes, that’s the plan,”

For the past week I’d convinced my brother to let my babysit everyday so I could still hang out with Peter. I never thought that we of all people could be friends. Before this he was so like “Peter” just way too much. Once you get to know him he’s not that bad. We’d finished the project and I still hadn’t done any of my other work but by the power of adderall I’d gotten into the flashdrive. I was too scared to check anything in it, but I did erase Black Cats name from the police station records.

It’d been at least three more days and I hadn’t done any work. I hadn’t talked to Peter or MJ or anyone else either. The one other human I’ve had contact with is Wade. Even with me living at his house it was still minimal. I hadn’t gotten much sleep because adderall keeps you up at all hours of the day but I don’t think I could survive without it.

I knew I had to be walking. I was walking because I had to. I mean I was walking and I had no intention of stopping. I was getting major deja vu. This exact place felt so familiar.

Oh- that’s why.

I was in the projects where I used to live. I was off in Bronxchester off of 156th St. Ann’s Avenue. I hate this place so much.

I hated it.

Having to live in a rat infested one bedroom apartment sleeping cramped up on top of my siblings was literally the worst time of my life. The shitty school University Heights where half the girls were pregnant. Not to mention my dad was on a fucking rage rampage all the time cause he couldnt get a job as a felon.

I was still walking though. I knew I was going somewhere. Not sure where until I’d gotten near the Hartz chicken on the end of the street. That’s where I was going. I knew I was meeting up with my friend. How could I forget that? I was about to cross the street until someone in a grey van rolled down their window sticking out a gun.

I knew she was gonna get shot. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Yet still I was screaming at least I was trying to. I couldn’t find my voice.

By the time I could it was too late.

I’d seen her. The bullets piercing her skin would be something seared into my brain forever. And as fast as the car came it was gone.

Then I was running. I was running to get to her because I could still help her. I had to.

She was bleeding and there was too much blood. It was everywhere. I remember my brother told me if someone is ever bleeding out you need to stop the blood.

I could barely see because my tears were clouding my vision. I was pushing down on her stomach screaming for someone to call 9-1-1. Just to help.

“You’re gonna be okay,” I remember saying it over and over again I don’t know if I was trying to convince myself or her..

The police got here right after I’d watched her eyes gloss over just because that’s how it works in Melrose. Yes she was gone but she was only the first of many. The police had never done anything for me before so why would they start now.

They had to pry me off her. They couldn't, I had to help, I had to… I had to help. She didn’t like to be alone. Yeah sure she’d done bad things but she didn't deserve this. She was just a kid. I was just a kid. They took her phone while I was screaming not to touch her.

They asked for my parents' information. I didn’t want to tell them, I didn’t want my dad. I don’t wanna see him. I just wanted my friend back. They loaded her into the back of the ambulance. I

knew they were driving away. I was running and screaming. I could feel people staring. I knew they were looking at me. I knew they knew. I didn’t care, I had to run. I had to get her. A pair of hands grabbed me from behind and I started thrashing.

I couldn’t, I can’t, I had to help, I had to help her. I was still screaming and my throat was sore. Her blood was everywhere, it was all over me and I couldn’t I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t help myself. I was scared.

“Hey,” I felt myself being shook from behind. “Hey!”

I turned around to Wade’s familiar face.

“I’m sorry for waking you, I know it’s dangerous or something like that but you were just screaming and I got worried,”

Wasn’t supposed to wake me?

“I was,” my voice was small I sounded 5 I felt 5 “I was sleeping walking?”

“Yeah you were” he confirmed, leading me to one of the stools by his kitchen island.

He sat me down, walked off and got me a glass of water. I didn’t realize how bad I was shaking until I tried to bring the cup to my lips.

He brought a towel to the side of my arm dabbing at it. The blood dripped from the side of my wrist all the way down to my elbow.

“What’d you cut yourself on?” He asked and I shrugged my shoulders.

“You know they never even said her name?” I said after we sat in silence for a moment.

“What?”

“Rose you know my friend,”

“Oh…” he said as the realization of who I was talking about settled in.

“Yeah her, they never said her name no one said it around me because they felt I was gonna break, they all just looked at me like I was made out of glass, I don’t even know how people knew I was there. But I was- I was just so angry, ”

I waited to see if he was going to say anything but he didn’t. He was just going to listen, no jokes to lighten the mood just listening.

“Even on the news. To everyone outside of St Ann’s she was just a ‘14 year old girl caught up in gang violence fatally shot’ they used a terrible picture of her too. It made my blood boil that, that was all she got, Then I realized that’s just how it was for us and the only way I was making it out the hood was if it was 6 feet under,”

My mom used to say that’s what they did for black people, used a picture of them looking ‘hood’ some people call it a thugshot. They use a picture that makes them look mean and aggressive. She was neither of those things she was the nicest person I ever knew. She just got caught up in the gang mess because it was the only family she had.

“I’ve never talked about this before, but I feel like everyone just forgot about her like it’s only been 2 years and I’ve never heard anyone say her name. At least not around me” I ran my finger on the tattoo of a rose. “This was the first tattoo I’d ever gotten I did it myself so it’s kinda shitty but I feel like it keeps her memory alive, because if no one else was gonna do it and If wasn’t gonna then who would you know?” I trailed off for a second. Then noticed he was in the Deadpool suit just without the mask.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Now I think you know me well enough to know I’m not telling you that,” He smiled and I smiled back weakly.

“You’ll be okay though?” He asked.

“Now I think you know me well enough to know I’ll be okay,” I turned his own words against him.

I glanced back down at the tattoo and I remember looking over the tattoo on my finger for you it means merely nothing. Just another girl getting another basic tattoo. For me it means everything. It was the way I fought back. It was my first ‘fuck you’ to everyone to everything. It was my best friend. It was my first love. So to you I’m just another girl with another basic rose tattoo but to me. To me? It’s the way I remember it’s the way I keep my friend with me. It’s the way I’d make sure I couldn’t forget the unforgettable. Roses are delicate and fragile but they’ll hurt you when you try to pick them. So even the most beautiful of flowers would defend itself if it came to it. To you my rose tattoo is just a flower. However, to me Rose was the most beautiful human this world had ever seen.

Art had to be my favorite subject. Solely for the reason I’ve never had a non chill art teacher, but today it was Physics which is usually my least favorite class.

Only because the class made me feel like my day was turning around.

MJ was standing next to me when I opened by locker and loudly exclaimed

“Yes!”

“What?” She turned to me “What is it?”

“Sorry for scaring you, it's nothing. I just found some candy” I held up the Push Pop “See?”

“Oh if you don’t show up to practice today they’re kicking you off the decathlon team, and make sure you get to class on time though,”

“Of course when have I ever been late,”

She gave me a look that had “really?” written all over it.

“Okay don’t answer that question but I’m going, now you need to get to class you have a test to take,”

I’d taken the test already because I had Harrison’s class on A day, but MJ wasn’t the type to cheat. She was smart enough and didn’t need my help.

She was very smart but she wasn’t smart enough to know the Push Pop wasn’t really a push pop at all.

It was a cart that I thought I’d lost. It was just hidden in an empty Push Pop. Nightmares made me stressed and I know the perfect way to relieve stress. I know many actually such as (good) sex, running, fighting, throwing knives at shit, and weed. Luckily for me this is the last one.

So here I was sitting in the back of the class by the farthest window away from Peter with a “Push Pop” in my mouth and my head down on the desk. I never really paid attention in class but today we were just watching some documentary so I didn’t have to.

One of the students office workers came in and gave a note to the teacher and I figured it was about the new student I heard some of the students talking about here and there. I didn’t think anything of it until.

Briana walked in behind Principal Morita. Briana was my best friend from elementary through middle school and the first half of freshman year before I switched schools. She acted... I didn’t wanna say ghetto but you could definitely tell she was from Melrose if you were from there. I can’t blame her with her dad being a leader to the local set and all.

The teacher told her to introduce herself to the class and she kept it short and sweet. Then she was told to find a seat. I waved her over and she sat next to me.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” She said.

I laughed

“As if, you’re the most extra person I know,” I said, taking another hit.

“First of all fuck you second of all give me a hit,” I smiled handing the “Push Pop” over to her.

”Don’t you dare get caught.”

She stuck her head under the table lightly blowing out her mouth then inhaling before the vapours could go too far out.

“So where you been at? Haven’t heard from you in a minute,”

“Been busy with school shit, but I’ve been around,” I responded taking the “Push Pop” from her again.

“How’s your dad?” She asked. I just gave her an incredulous look and went.

“How’s your dad,”

“Same old same old,”

We spent the rest of the class with her catching me up on the people from our crew and reminiscing. Also might be good to mention we finished half the cart. So I was bugging. We both were. I would not have remembered to go to the decathlon meeting if it weren’t for MJ reminding me again. I didn’t really care for the team. I was just an alternative and I was only doing it so I could pass Mr. Harrington’s class because of the extra credit.

Thank God Peter wasn't at the meeting. I hadn’t talken to him since we turned in our project last week. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him per se. I could just feel myself getting closer to him and I didn't have time for more friends. Because everyone I end up loving leaves me. The more people you let into your life the more people you give the chance to leave. Seeing as I was ‘Thorn’ I probably shouldn’t get close to Spiderman anyway.

Flash was talking about Briana. He didn't say her name directly but I knew he was talking about her. Since he was talking about the new girl. He talked shit about everyone, so I don’t know why this made me as angry as it did. It just rubbed me the wrong way but it did. Seeing as I naturally gave zero fucks and had no impulse control. I definitely had way less control over myself when high. So before I knew it I’d punched him in the nose.

“Y/N!” Liz and MJ yelled simultaneously.

“What the fuck?” Flash screamed, holding his face.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fucking daddy’s money ass bitch,” I pointed in my face.

“Y/N enough, go to the office,” Mr. Harrington said.

I could hear Flash calling me crazy as I walked out the room. Which put a smile on my face. The weird thing about principals is that the more you get in trouble the more they like you and the less harsh your punishments. I only got a week of detention which wasn’t too bad but that stupid “so you got dentention” video of Captain America was gonna get extremely annoying.

I was right it’d only been two days and every time I heard it I wanted to rip my head off. By the third day Peter and MJ had both joined me.

MJ didn’t even actually have detention she never did; she just liked to “draw people in despair” or whatever it was that she said. Today she was drawing Peter. It was surprising to see him here. I was scrolling through tiktok. I was going to say something to him but what would I even say?

I grew some balls and I’d said hi. It was just small talk but we still spoke nonetheless. The week was going by so fucking fast. Tomorrow’s the day we’re going to Washington. I did have to spend a lot of my saved money though. I’d spoken to my sisters and they said dad was sober now and he wanted me to come home. Which I’m not sure if I believe. I mean I know he’s sober. I talked to him too but how long would that last. How many times has this happened before? I don’t have time to worry about him.

It seemed like I had only blinked and now I was on the bus to D.C. Now for the next couple of days I gotta stay in a hotel room. Nothing out of the ordinary for me, except now I get to stay with MJ and Bri. I don’t know how I managed to convince Mr. Harrington to let her come.

Peter had almost missed the bus but showed up last minute. Liz was drilling people and MJ was sitting near her participating so I had the seat to myself. Bri was behind me on facetime with her boyfriend who just happened to be my ex. None of it was awkward though since we only dated for like a week and decided we were better off as friends. If we were being honest I was so tired. I felt like shit. Listening to sad music when sad is a set routine of mine so I was listening to Violent Crimes and staring out the window before I knew it I had drifted off to sleep.

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x black!reader #Peter Parker x Vigilante!Reader #peter parker x villian!reader #peter parker x bi!reader #peter parker x bisexual!reader #reader x peter parker #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x villian #mcu series #peter parker fanfiction #poc reader x peter parker #peter parker x thorn

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years

Note

Onyx tells Mc she’s pregnant. They hosts a party for everyone to announce of Onyx’s pregnancy. How they announce it and how everyone react are up to you!

Written by @evoedbd

WARNINGS Mentions of abuse Mentions of miscarriage Potentially offensive attempts at humor

Chanouncement

Cali was good with weird. Completely fine. The last year had seen her life absolutely flipped on its head. Perhaps rolled over by a truck, chopped up, tossed into a woodchipper, fed to gulls, shat out across the country… the picture was quite morbid.

Cali had foolishly thought her life couldn’t get any weirder. After all, she was dating the nicer of two near identical twins, who both so happened to be supernaturally selected demon slayers. The “evil” twin had turned Cali into a well of Supernatural energy and used said power to give the demons a massive level up. That wasn’t all, she’d also watched said twin, whilst possessed, gut Onyx, the love of her life and watched Onyx emerge a dragon. If that wasn’t unusual and morbid enough, Cali had literally shouted her romantic love at a literal dragon, who had once been her five-foot nothing girlfriend. Cali had been dating a literal dragon. In love with a literal dragon. That should have topped the weirdness charts. But no, Cali had then become the next Envy herself, and thus the only human bridge between a mod girl reincarnated into a brown bear, and her dead girlfriend. If that wasn’t enough, she’d been part of a ritual to bring her girlfriend back into human form, and to top it off, Cali discovered that her blood was the literal key to her girlfriend’s soul and destroying it. Nothing too serious. Just casual lesbian disaster stuff. Only, neither she nor Onyx were actually lesbians. Both of them appreciated men. In the sexy way. In the “Onyx had dated a man who abused her until her twin sister had gutted him like a pig and stolen his supernatural powers”, way. That kind of bisexual… no wonder some people were a little intimidated by the Queer community. Between U-Haul lesbians not checking for demon possession and world ending bisexuals, that was all pretty scary.

Though not as scary as what she and her lady love planned to do. As fate would have it, if fate was a wonderful arsehole conscious, Cali had been delivered a further dose of weirdness in her unusual life. Weirdness in the form of her formerly dragon, formerly dead girlfriend discovering she was pregnant under the potent influence of ritualistic magic, which had restored her human form. Given that these circumstances would have been terrifying for anybody, even without the added fact that she was now vulnerable for a demon demi-devil’s possession and the prime target of an apocalyptic plot, it made absolute sense that Onyx was anxious. Cali had been there, she understood how end of the world pressure like that could mess with a girl, which was why it was imperative to bring the team up to date on the latest development… and no, that was not a kidney, not yet. Onyx wasn’t that far along.

So far, the plan of a joyful distraction had gone off without a hitch. The common area was alive with laughter flowing from the Sin Troupe. Alcohol flowed relatively freely, along with several bowls and bags of typical party food such as potato chips and popcorn. The floor was already littered with crumbs, mostly from the boys throwing scraps at Wrath between rounds of charades. One thing Cali had learned tonight was that for a group that entertained for a living, a group also responsible for concealing the fact the world was woefully fucked from the general population, they were horrific actors. Now the money and tickets made sense, for even the most deluded of fans would surely notice the cracks if it was left to their acting skills alone.

“Shaving! Um, WHIPPED! Oh! BDSM KINK SHAMING!”

“Moron.”

“Darius… how did you even get that from dancing?”

“Oh? That’s what it is? I thought Wrath was possessed.”

“She’s Britney Spears. Cal’s her circus boy.”

“Well we aren’t all DJs here, Malakai. How was I supposed to get that from whatever she and Cal were doing?”

Cali didn’t tune into the words after that. She was back to anxious, or perhaps the woman tucked under her arm was. It was difficult to tell with the bond so active, causing the teeth marks on her shoulder to burn with the heat of a dragon’s love. Try as she might, she was caught between two violent sensations. The magic of the mark; memories of heat as playful nips had become a serious bite, a possessive one from a Dragon unlike the world had ever seen, or ever would. It wasn’t like anybody had seen Onyx as a dragon… except two sold out nights of the Sin Circus, a carnival ground and a shopping mall full of super excited fans and everyone online. Ok, that was a lot of people who’d seen Onyx as a dragon. That could be a problem. Which led to the anxiety. The type which made sweat prickle in all the uncomfortable places and her stomach do terrified flips. She wasn’t even the pregnant one. Onyx had to survive a pregnancy, targeting and contain a literal dragon’s soul.

All Cali had to do was make the statement that she had an announcement to make like a normal human being. She had to ignore the sweat trickling down her palms, tickling every crease, and how her heart skipped several beats in the past minute; rushing faster and faster until she could hear in her ears when she closed her eyes. Slower Blinks. She had to be normal. Be normal. Be normal. Be normal.

All she had to do was make a single little announcement, that was admittedly life changing. It wasn’t like these people would judge. After all they were supernatural Demon assassins chosen by mystical powers based on the Seven Deadly Sins. If there was any group which were not judgemental it would surely be these people.

“I have channouncement to make.” she said with a rather high-pitched voice and a casual smile just a little too tight to be completely relaxed. In a room full of assassins she might as well have been waving a red flag saying terrified med school dropout alert. This was the time for the royal skill of fake it till you make it mixed with an impossibly large dose of denial. Anxious? Cali? Hah! No way. She had nailed it.

“What she means is we want to tell you something. Since we’re already playing charades, we want to try and see if you can guess.” Onyx chimed in, snuggling playfully under Cali’s arm. The mechanic grinned, letting her goofy affection conceal another wave of nerves. It was easier if she just stared at Onyx and let her face do what it would do. Give in to the muscles making her smile as she got lost in the most dazzling green eyes the world had ever seen. The dusting of blue eyeshadow really made those eyes pop, like emeralds offered to thieves on booby trapped pedestals. Hah, boobs! Cali liked those. Especially Onyx’s. No matter how Cali tried to avoid falling for the emerald trap, she found her gaze lingering, feasting on how the light shone across dark lashes and the rhinestone piercing just beneath Onyx’s right eye. It kept focus away from tender pink lips, from subtle little bites that portrayed a mix of excitement and nerves. Cali doubted the others would realise Onyx was anything other than playful. Afterall Onyx was a master of faking it until she made it, even to her closest friends. It showed in how loose her body was, how genuine her show stopping smile seemed. If Cali hadn’t felt the flickering within the bond, she may have bought Onyx’s act. That and the affection. How Onyx’s arm around her waist pulled that little bit too tight to be casual. Or how trimmed nails tried to dig into the grey fabric of Cali’s shirt; dragon talons clinging to the finest treasure. A scared girl seeking reassurance.

“Right. And to make it a team Envy experience, I’m going to tell Rip how to act.” Cali explained out loud, barely restraining her laughter as Ripley’s eagerness flooded her mind.

“Alright! I’m the best at charades! My acting is on point. Everyone thinks I’m a bear.”

Cali didn’t have the heart to tell Ripley that her “bear” act was entirely too adorable to be terrifying. Ripley may have the body of a bear, her soul, however, was still that of a tender human. Her soft eyes would strike terror into the hearts of the masses, along with her awkward attempts at snarls and finely groomed coat. Every gesture of her paws would see her painted pink claws drip sparkles, which admittedly might be horrifying to cishet folk. Ripley as always, was dressed for battle, wearing a fearsome checkered neck scarf, complete with an adorable little bow…truly, Ripley could intimidate the world into movies and cuddles. She could terrify little girls into dropping popcorn into her open maw as she scrolled an iPad and lamented the fashion she could no longer wear. She was oh so very, very terrifying. Cali had fallen for the bear terror for five seconds when they’d met, that was true. Then again, Cali had also believed Vinca a completely evil maniac who killed Onyx’s boyfriend, who was a loving and uplifting man, just to steal his powers and fuck with Onyx. She had assumed Dorran had loved and cherished Onyx until his dying breath. Cali had assumed Dorran had trained her, protected her, instead of abused her and hurled her at demons. Cali’s track record with assumptions was pretty horrific, actually. Horrifically awful.

She realised her lingering rage must have echoed through the bond when a soft touch to her forearm drew her attention. Once again, she was drawn into the trap of green, found herself beneath the crashing wave of Onyx’s gaze. This gaze, however, was different. It was sympathy and confusion, a jumbled mess of understanding which stood secondary to the fact Onyx wished to soothe. A small flick at the corner of Cali’s mouth let Onyx know the gesture was received, the storm had passed, at least for now. She didn’t need to keep her gaze on Onyx to know that the former Envy Assassin’s expression mirrored her own. Cheeky grins and eyes twinkling with mischief as Cali allowed her mind to sink into the images and emotions she needed to convey, needed Ripley to convey. Onyx was their awareness, her approval expressed in delighted cackles and birdsong laughter, by her touch on Cali’s arm shifting with her small body.

The bear started out stiff, walking in shorter, wider strides on hind legs as forelegs awkwardly extended before her in a zombie like attempt of curves. A few strides in, Ripley fell forwards, catching her weight on her forepaws, before attempting her waddling all over again. This time, poor Ripley tried to bring them to her back, only to manage to reach her hips; range of motion not allowing her any further. The awkward waddling, paws on hips appeared like something off a runway full of models who had indulged in too many illegal substances. The display had everyone howling with glee, even Ripley within the Envy Trio’s heads. Eventually, Ripley ceased the arms, instead waddling awkwardly around as crew shouted out their guesses.

“Zombies!”

“Onyx got a Runway offer!”

”Did you buy a petting zoo?”

Both Cali and Onyx laughed, shaking their heads to every shout. Ripley let forth a beastly groan as she lowered herself to the ground, then rolled onto her back. After some awkward shuffling, the bear eventually lifted her feet straight into the air, spread apart as far as her beastly hips would allow. The pose was awkward enough for a human, let alone a bear, with her little tail all fluffed up and her long arms gesturing in awkwardly small arcs across her rather fuzzy stomach.

“Onyx is getting a feature in a music video!”

“She’s designing for a dance studio!”

“Onyx has put on weight!”

“We’re meant to guess an announcement, moron, not state an obvious.”

“Cal, manners.”

“It’s true, she is a bit bulkier since she became human again.”

“You know, it’d be easier if you just told me what I was acting, instead of having me rolling around like a pregnant whale.” Ripley sighed through the bond, rising halfway before freezing. She seemed shocked beyond comprehension. Had she been human, Cali was sure Ripley’s face would have lost its hue. The Envy trio stared at each other. Onyx’s face had gone ashen with fright, concern filtering through her tight smile. Her apprehension flooded the bond, all her concerns jumbled together in a tide which threatened to wash both Ripley and Cali away. Fear that she might lose the approval of her sister figure. That she might garner disapproval or be judged for something beyond her control. That everyone would hate her. That she’d be alone again.

“Onyx is…?” Ripley’s question never came through completely.

The moment Cali realised what was happening, her mind was there. She stormed Onyx’s consciousness, shield raised to deflect every horrific thought and fear before she lashed out. Snapshots of fantasy, impossibilities given life for a few seconds. A scent more appealing and delicate than anything else the world could offer. Soft baby blonde hairs that appeared almost white against more tanned skin. Emerald green eyes glistening with nothing but utter adoration. The rush of family, how the feeling of their support could provide wings. Onyx, belly rounded, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling with delight, toes kicking through a gentle stream. A loving smile from Vinca, the sharpness abandoned as she cooed over an innocent child. How tiny a child would be in Wrath’s large arms, yet how tender the brawler would be. Malakai’s warm smile as the baby traced his tattoos. Darius, dangling his chain just out of their reach as the babe giggled. Cal, strumming his guitar as the three men sung to the babe, who slumbered in an older Avi’s arms.

“Oh my god! Onyx is-” Again, Ripley never finished the though. Her eyes rolled backwards, almost as if she were being possessed in a hammer horror film. Her legs gave out, her body crumpled to the ground. Cali found herself swaying, her vision filled with black dots as the intensity of their emotions washed over the trio, sweeping them away in the tsunami. She clung to Onyx, fighting to keep the smallest Envy assassin on her feet. Onyx seemed to feel the same way, given how she clung tighter to Cali, preventing the Chinese woman from falling. A loud crash let Cali know that Ripley had indeed gone through the bowls of supplied snacks, along with the table they rested on. Chips flew everywhere, spraying across the penthouse along with shards of broken bowls. The laughter stopped, everyone half rising, half looking towards Cali.

“… That wasn’t part of the announcement.” Was the only thing Cali could offer to the expectant assassins. The room went eerily silent, enough that one might hear crickets chirping, or the din from the streets of Vegas echoing to the top floor of the hotel.

“She’s having a baby!” An entirely too cheerful voice broke the deafening silence, drawing everyone’s attention to Cal’s little boy. Avi stood in the doorway to the common area, his little yellow hood pulled up over sleep tussled black locks. His deep brown eyes shone like melted chocolate, filled with a tired child’s innocent delight and excitement. Cali couldn’t help but smile at the boy, giving him the smallest nod of approval, which only made him smile so delightedly that his white teeth stood starkly against his dark skin.

“How does that tie into O- oh…” Malakai started out confused, only for realisation to flood his rich eyes. His mouth fell open, brows arching towards his hairline as his gaze travelled between Avi, Cali then to Onyx. Cali couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell what that meant. Oh? That was ALL he had to say? Just oh? Oh, that was, OH, so very helpful.

“Oh?” Wrath began, her own eyes following the same path Malakai’s had.

“Ohhhhh…” She drew out, seeming to have reached the same conclusion he had. Cali felt herself bunch up, muscles rippling beneath her skin as if they were infected vines. Did they not realise what they were doing? Could they not see how Onyx shrunk away from them? Could they not tell how close to tears she was? It flooded Cali’s body, overwhelming her with its chill. As if winter had fallen for a thousand years across all her nerves until only an aching numbness lingered. The subtle tensions through her screamed her protective intentions as she angled herself defensively between the troupe and Onyx, shielding the anxious woman from such evident attention. If the troupe were going to hurt her, then they had better be prepared to face the wrath of Two Envy Assassins… or at least a sassy bike mechanic.

“Oh.” Wrath concluded. It was simple but telling, accompanied by the pinch of her brows. Confusion and consideration warred within her eyes, yet her face remained remarkably blank. It was enough to have Onyx’s breath escape shakily as she clung to Cali’s arm, squeezing until she was sure her nails would be biting through the colourful cloth of her hoodie. If Cali felt pain, it didn’t show, she simply stood silent. A guardian. A woman ready to fight tooth and nail to protect what she loved. The magic within her mark burned immensely hot, scorching Cali’s skin as its darkness flared, much like a panther swishing its tail in agitation. Despite everything, Onyx couldn’t help but lean closer, pressing her forehead into the mark she had left so long ago.

“Yeah. Big Oh.” Cal agreed, his own eyes shifting between everyone, calculating in his sharp, judgemental manner.

“A bad oh?” Cali challenged, unable to endure the strain of not knowing for a second longer. The calculating glances, the wide-eyed silence, everything screaming silent judgements. Cali couldn’t stand it, and if she couldn’t then she knew Onyx would be drowning. The blonde seemed to cower, tucking her head into Cali’s collar as the Asian woman unleashed her inner dragon upon every Assassin with a pointed glare. Cali’s arms encased Onyx, a fortress of flesh and bone protecting the scared princess. Despite her height, Cali found herself playing prince and dragon, both warring to keep the princess safe in their ways. It would be so easy to protect with nothing but love, to embody the princely hero and do no evil. Let the Princess make her own mistakes and swoop in to clean up the mess. However, Cali had always been more of a dragon. Someone to shield those she loved from harm with all her might, to try to prevent them ever leaving to make the mistake in the first place.

A universal flinch rolled through the Assassins, ricocheted like a bullet from Cal’s gun once they realised just how they had come across to the smallest yet brightest of their number.

“Girl, you’re gonna be a baby momma? I get to be an uncle?” It was Darius who brought the excitement. His seductive eyes shone with barely restrained glee; glee which bubbled through to his most dashing smile. His whole body appeared to vibrate, as if he was giving everything in order restrain himself. His glee was infectious, seeping into Cali’s muscles with a gentle warmth until they thawed. She allowed herself to relax a little, giving Onyx an opening to lift her head and give a shy nod. At that nod, sparks flew, igniting the warmth within every assassin. Darius practically flew forwards, wrapping his arms around Onyx and Cali in his excitement. Malakai was right behind him, scooping the three huggers into his humongous arms and giving a gentle squeeze. Finally, Onyx laughed with relief so potent it was as if the air itself heaved a sigh.

“I’m so happy for you.” Malakai whispered, lowering his head into the pack so that he could press an adoring kiss to Onyx’s cheek. Darius seemed determined to copy the gesture, planting his own lips to Onyx’s forehead in a few lazy pecks. Onyx giggled, squeezing whomever she could grasp. Cali didn’t kiss, not this time, she simply rested her forehead to Onyx’s temple, offering her own silent support.

“Congratulations, Onyx.” Wrath’s gentle voice was flooded with warmth, with unconditional love as she wrapped her own arms around the group, holding her team as if they may shatter under the intensity of her love. That thought was enough to make Cali smile. Wrath loved as she lived, hard and intense. When one had Wrath’s affection, they had the weight of her heart on their sleeve, the promise of an Arch Angel named for a sin. The warmth of Wrath’s hug was potent beyond the physical, it seeped into the soul. Wrath warmed from the inside out with her embrace, turning everyone mushy and relaxed. None relaxed further than Onyx, who trusted her weight to the men and women wrapped around her. Cali was perhaps the only one who denied herself the safety, instead raising her challenging glare to Caleb North. The only Assassin yet to give a reaction.

“Avi, cover your ears.” He finally began, letting forth a soft hiss of breath between his teeth. Long, callused fingers brushed through his supermodel locks, pushing them away from his glistening forehead as he waited for his ward to obey. Avi, innocently as ever, clamped his little hands over his twee ears. Only when Cal was sure that Avi was blocking his ears did the Sloth Assassin begin.

“I don’t understand how you’re all taking this so well. Especially you, Cali. Even a med dropout should -”

“I didn’t cheat!” Onyx’s outraged cry was enough to have everyone flinching. Onyx was a pool of wrath, sickly tar bubbling to a boil in a cauldron precariously positioned above the archway of a door. Or above the gates soldiers of shame might siege. Cali turned her focus back to Onyx, watching how her nostrils flared, reminiscent of her dragon form. Cali fancied she saw a haunted gleam in Onyx’s blazing green eyes, which had narrowed in utter fury, causing her piercing to gleam like a blade in the light. Gone was the whimpering, terrified maiden within that accusation. Onyx had already been that for two people. Now, Onyx stood confident, challenging the world instead of shying from an abuser. As terrified as she had been of her family’s reaction, Onyx was done running.

“I didn’t even think that!” Cal fired back, as if offended on Onyx’s behalf that such a thing were even considered. It was then Cali could see it. The concern waging war with cautious joy in his deep blue eyes. It was noticing that which kept Cali from lunging into the fray, instead giving Cal a chance to redeem himself in their eyes. Or dig his own grave.

“But pregnancy is stressful enough without adding demons, and the fact that you turned into a dragon! Ask yourself, with everything going on, is this really the time to start playing happy family? Is it safe? You see what I go through with Avi. What if you die, or die again in Onyx’s case? I’m worried about you. A child is a serious responsibility, not something to dabble with in the honeymoon phase of your re-“

“Honeymoon phase? That’s what you’re calling -” Cali fired up, her own dark eyes igniting with rage. Cal had dug his grave with construction grade machinery. She could feel the mark burning, instinctively knew it was the angriest it had ever been, as if rebelling along with the rest of her body. Her vision blurred, weakened legs causing her to half stumble. She could barely hold herself up, yet she wanted nothing more than to lunge at the Sloth assassin. Honeymoon phase? Is that what he thought? There was nothing honeymoon about dying! Nothing honeymoon about offering your soul to a lineage of power just to let the one you love have a single coherent thought!

“Enough.” Wrath didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. The note of finality in her tone was more than enough to bring Cali’s instinctive outrage grinding to a halt long enough for her to take a soothing breath and blink away the haze from her vision. She felt Onyx do the same, even as Malakai, Darius and Wrath untangled from the cuddle huddle and respectfully gave the Envy assassins their breathing room.

“I think Cal is just as confused as we are as to how this happened.”

“The gay club doesn’t know?” Darius’ gasped interruption drew the eyes of the entire room, much like metal shavings to a magnet. Despite his crude wording, his shock that nobody else knew was evident, painted across his dashing face as if it were a canvas hanging in the Louvre.

“Darius. I’m not gay.” Onyx’s correction was gentle, delivered with an amused tilt to her lips.

“Errrmmmm, I’m bi.” Cali lifted a hand timidly, akin to how a child might raise it when unsure of the answer in class.

“I wasn’t invited to any club.” Malakai’s comment was delivered quietly, his brows arched in a mocking display of confusion. Wrath, dutiful as ever, simply crossed her large arms, muscles flexing deliciously with every subtle movement. Her head fell forwards, face meeting her awaiting palm as she bluntly informed everyone.

“There is no club.”

“Code then? So the Bi-bies are having a baby and broke the queer code? Like, aren’t don’t you queers have some form of secret club? How did the Lesbian not know? Aren’t you all meant to be experts on lady parts? Malakai might get a pass as a pan man. Queer people always seem to know everyone’s-”

“Darius.” Malakai began, stepping forwards. The sound of chips crunching beneath his boots was enough to draw a tiny snicker from Cali, though her amusement was quickly smothered by the exhausted frown on Wrath’s face. Her usually blazing eyes held poignant gleam. Something so deeply cut, as if her heart had once more been shattered. The mechanic didn’t even realise where Wrath’s mind had gone, not until she felt Onyx also tense beside her. Oh… that was too telling. The last time Wrath’s sexuality had come into the group, half the group had died. Her family had been torn apart as she helplessly cradled a broken heart heavy in a hollowed out chest. Darius had just toed a landmine; one he didn’t even realise he was prone to step on. Even Cal held his tongue, watching his leader with a softened expression that was all the more lancing. A joust of agony straight to Cali’s chest, or perhaps it was Onyx’s chest. At this point, it didn’t matter, both hearts beat to the same music, each complimentary and connected by the existence of music.

“Stop digging yourself into that hole, man, its deep enough.” Malakai concluded. Darius looked puzzled for a moment as he looked around the room before sudden realisation dawned in his eyes. Never had Cali seen him shuffle as awkwardly as he did then, steadfastly avoiding Wrath’s gaze.

“Right… but yeah, wow, congratulations baby girl, or baby momma now.”

“Thanks.” Onyx muttered, offering a small yet undoubtedly genuine flick of a smile.

“Cali, I gotta say, I did not peg you for… you know?” Darius powered on, earning several confused looks from the group. Genuine awe shone in his eyes, mixed with an overly heaped spoonful of respect. The concoction of emotions was potent, yet it only left Cali blinking in confusion.

“I do?” She drew the sounds out, shuffling awkwardly until she untangled herself from Onyx. With a flick of her chin, she attempted to clear a sweat slicked bang from her face, only to have it catch across her lashes. Her eyes watered, stinging with the saltiness of sweat, punishing her perhaps for not seeing what was going on. Where was Darius going with this?

“Like, wow. I guess we should have known you were packing from all the noise you two make, but I did not even notice.”

“Darius!” Onyx gasped, her tone scolding and scandalised even as the most awkward giggle imaginable bubbled in her throat. The beautiful slopes of her cheeks flushed brilliantly, showing through the layers of makeup in splotchy pinks. Only Cali knew that underneath, Onyx would be brighter than a tomato; her blush the embodiment of coals when left bare to the world.

“Noise? Packing?” Cali inquired, continuing to wipe at her offended eye as she tried to puzzle what Darius was saying.

“Like, your tuck job is insane! And it hardly looks like you’re wearing makeup at all! And your boobs, like, they look real, man.” He powered on like a trooper, gesturing to her chest area.

“Um… they are?” Cali’s questioning tone became even more befuddled. Why was he commenting on her chest? How did that tie into Onyx’s pregnancy? It was not like Cali was going to be providing breastmilk, so what else was she missing?

“Oh! I didn’t realise you were on treatments. That totally makes sense-”

“Hold on… do you think I’m-” Cali tried to interrupt. Treatments. Packing. Tuck job. Breast surgery. All of this pointed towards one thing.

“I’ve seen some bad tuck jobs in my day, I mean like, slipping from under the dress levels. Your tuck-”

“I DON’T HAVE A DICK DARIUS!” Cali shouted, sending the entire room into silence. Instantly, her hands flew to her mouth, covering it in utter shock at her own outburst. Embarrassed didn’t begin to cover it, she was utterly mortified. Both for her outburst and that her sex was even in question. Then, guilt washed over her. Guilt that she was embarrassed over an assumption, that she was even edging on potentially phobic behaviour. She had been born female; born the way she was meant to be as a person. That she was embarrassed as being mistaken for trans felt as if she was insulting the trans community somehow. That thought alone made her feel sick.

“…Oh.”

“We really needed to hear that. I don’t think downstairs heard you.” Cal’s particular brand of snark earned a soft snort from several people, which only made Cali’s cheeks burn hotter. Despite this, she uncovered her face, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m not trans. Also, that is so rude! If someone is trans you don’t just casually tell them you’ve made them! That’s so hurtful! Come on, man.”

“Not cool, Darius. Not cool.” Malakai added. The other assassins nodded, murmuring their agreement.

“Then how are you two so loud? We’ve had to invest in earplugs, and your noise has chased off four girls this week!” Darius’ lament was met by a loud scoff from Cali.

“Seriously? That’s what you meant by noise, Darius? You’re Lust, literally, and can’t think how to get loud without a …?” She trailed off, making several awkward gestures with her hand. Her fingers curled, forming a loose cupping shape as flicked her wrist back and forth, hand around the height of her stomach. Her gesture didn’t last long before Onyx’s shoulder playfully bumped into hers, earning a playful tap in return as the women swayed into one another.

“There have been noise complaints… and a cleaning bill for the elevator. Also, a note to visit lost and found. Something about clothing?” Wrath dutifully informed, fighting off the dusting of pink across her cheeks as valiantly as she could. Several pairs of eyes fixed upon Onyx, who suddenly seemed to shrink into Cali’s side. The Chinese woman felt Onyx’s body heat up, enough that she was convinced steam should have been hissing from Onyx’s ears like smoke from a coal train. In the heat of the moment, neither Cali nor Onyx had stopped to think about anything save each other. Clothes had been abandoned across Vegas, and the elevator… the memory of trees flooded the bond. Onyx climbing Cali like one. The dirt filled roots of the tree Onyx had gifted Cali when she was a dragon. Innocence and seductive depravity bubbled within the bond, only increasing the heat in both their faces.

“Can I be dead again?” Onyx squeaked, covering her face with Cali’s hoodie. The idea of Onyx dying again was agonising, enough that a sharp retort bubbled on the tip of Cali’s tongue. She swallowed it, pushing her tongue down into the cavity of her jaw to resist crying out. If she was in the position of being told to retrieve her clothing from lost and found, Cali probably would have felt the same way.

“Hold on. I thought we were discussing how Onyx got knocked up.” Darius cut in. Instantly, Cali was conflicted. His bluntness was a smack on the snout, though it did save them from a far more awkward conversation.

“Darius…” Cal’s hissed warning was enough to send a chill through the room.

“Which we are all crazy happy for, baby girl, but it is a big change.” The Lust assassin continued, earning a loud snort from Onyx.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“She didn’t cheat, and we didn’t exactly plan for it. Nahara told us there could be a cost for restoring Onyx to her human form. The possibilities included a physical manifestation of the bond between the barer of the mark and Envy.” Cali explained. She stepped up a little, moving to wrap her arm securely around Onyx’s shoulders. Such lithe shoulders, despite their muscle, that bore the weight of the world. Such smooth skin beneath her fingertips as she massaged the curve of Onyx’s far shoulder, trying to ease even a fraction of her burden. Cali’s fingers traced odd patterns, even tickling down the divots of Onyx’s muscled biceps.

“Which arguably could be you. You’re both now, Cali.” Malakai commented, tone thoughtful. His dark eyes narrowed, as if he could read the answer from the bare air if only he focused hard enough. A large hand came to his strong chin, scratching at it thoughtfully.

“That’s what I thought too, but…” Cali trailed off, turning her gaze to Onyx. This was too close to Onyx’s demons, to the secrets she still kept. Cali desperately wanted to speak, yet she found herself tongue tied. Lost in the pain she saw in bright green eyes. Lost in her own loyalty. Could she even physically make herself betray Onyx in this way? Was it a betrayal to reveal the rest of what had been said? Internally, she pleaded, letting her emotions touch the bond between the Assassins. She needed Ripley to validate her, needed Onyx’s consent and understanding. She was falling, plummeting off a cliff with no wings to fly and no claws to cling to the stone she might be able to reach.

“She also mentioned something from the past could return to my future… well, our future.”

The moment the words left Onyx’s mouth, a soft grunt from the table drew Onyx’s attention. Ripley had managed to work herself into a sitting position, something which Cali found rather comical. The bears legs were spread apart, much like an awkward toddler, whilst her back was ramrod straight, akin to a woman forced into an impossibly tight corset. Ripley didn’t flood the bond with her words, she simply watched and listened, apparently trying to understand the responses from Wrath and Cal.

“From the past? When wer-“

“Dorran. Those weeks he increased your training.”

“WEEKS?” Cali exploded, viciously demanding an answer. Everything was red, hazy and hot, as if she’d been looking into the sun too long. Even behind her closed eyes, circles and swirls of color danced across her vision, hammering in time with her racing heart. This was worse than when she’d ridden her bikes to exhaustion or suffered sunstroke. Worse than the migraines that had occasionally followed. This was all of them at once, assaulting her body until only Onyx’s deceptively strong arm around her waist kept her standing. There was no question of whether or not she’d collapse, Onyx wouldn’t allow that, but the intensity burning through her was enough to make her remaining words slurred, gasped out between clenched teeth.

“He did that for weeks until h-” She never finished. Images assaulted her, striking her like books falling from a shelf above her head. An exhausted Onyx offering her best effort of a reassuring smile. She could take it. The deep barking voice. She’ll never learn if you don’t push her. How could she? Onyx wasn’t an assassin! She was barely on her feet. Its ok, Ripley, I can take it. Obedience… denied. She couldn’t. Not anymore. That harsh voice. Then I’ll do it myself. Go be useful. Hospital. Sirens. All my fault. All… Ripley. These were Ripley’s memories. It was sickening to realise this. Ripley had been part of it, she’d been right there and had trusted her leader. Trusted Dorran to protect Onyx. That sick man had used her connection to Onyx as a tool, had weakened Onyx with someone she loved unconditionally first… Cali’s tongue was bathed in bile, hot and thin, save for the chunks of chip swimming in the liquid. Dorran hadn’t even been man enough to do all the work himself. He’d manipulated Ripley too. With a soft snarl, Cali swallowed, refusing to let herself become any weaker than she felt in her directionless rage.

“Your abusive ex physically beat you into hospital? And caused a miscarriage? And nobody knew you were pregnant or that he was abusive? What the hell? Cal? Wrath? I though you two were assassins! How could you not realise what that piece of shit had done?” Gone was Darius’ amusement. His voice was raspy in his rage, scratching his usually chocolaty vocal cords. His eyes, which were usually dark, appeared almost black. Made of shadows and rage. He was half Wrath’s size, but the intensity of his demanding glare cowed even the brave leader, who was working her jaw in effort to find even a syllable of an answer. Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes, trailing openly down her cheeks as she allowed her gaze to fall to the toes of her bright red boots. Wrath, who was so strong, could barely stand under the weight of her guilt. Her shoulders shook, slouched in defeat. She may have been their leader. She may have been able to punch the devil out of every man, woman or child she met, but she couldn’t fight off the most horrific truth yet. She had nothing. No answer to give. No justification, even to herself.

“That’s why Vinca killed him, isn’t it? She knew about the pregnancy when that accident put you in hospital. Remind me to send her a gift basket.” Cal didn’t have an answer either, but he pushed on. His own eyes bore an unnatural sheen, one Cali quickly realised were tears. He was close to crying in his outrage. An assassin he may have been, but he was just as helpless now as when he had been possessed. Forced to watch the past rolled out in painful memories. For all the people he had saved, he was clearly struck by the potential he had failed. The possibility he had never even known about. Someone he would have loved with his whole heart, even if it was a lump of coal, and yet was powerless to protect.

“Does she know about the baby?” Wrath barely got the question out before Darius was there, snarling once again.

“Like hell.”

“With Nitsa inhabiting her? After she got my blood? We barely got Rip back, we can’t risk it. I’m not even sure if we should let Yvette know. I’m sorry, Onyx, but until Vinca is safe, I don’t want to risk either of you. I don’t want to control you, or keep you caged, but-” Cali’s imploring was cut off by Onyx’s finger across her lips, silencing her with the gentlest of touches.

“I know, you’re looking out for me. You’re not him.”

“Needless to say, Rip and I will be protecting Onyx, so we won’t be out with you. I also really don’t want Onyx combat training, or up on the highwire.”

“Cali…” Onyx playfully whined, fixing Cali with her best attempt at Puppy Dog eyes. Internally, Cali swore up a storm, using words she was sure even Darius would blush at. The bike mechanic forced herself to gaze into them, willed herself not to crumble at the adorable attempt. If Onyx was bad, how was her child going to be? The idea of baby Onyx alone had Cali cooing, turning into a pile of Oriental mush. If she hadn’t developed an immunity by the time they learned this trick… suddenly, she found herself incredibly hopeful that Onyx could be the strict parent, because Cali could already foresee ice cream for dinner. But to get there, she had to get over this current hurdle. The hurdle of Onyx’s adorableness amped up to a million and directed at her.

“Yeah, no. Sorry. Drop out Doctor’s orders. No being ten foot in the air while pregnant.”

“But the show-”

“Will be there when you’ve had your baby and are ready to return. Your health, and the baby’s health, come first, Onyx.” Wrath reminded; her tone gentle but leaving no room for negotiation. She offered a gentle smile, tears still glistening in her eyelashes. Her warmth was back, encompassing the room with a calming presence. It was enough for Cali to relax, to finally let go of everything and trust her team. These assassins were family. Onyx’s family. Her family. No matter what, she knew they would do their best to protect one another. That they’d die before allowing anybody to harm the baby. That they’d go to the depths of hell, following after Wrath’s angelic aura, to save each other. That’s just what this family did.

#answered #Anonymous #miscellaneous monday #onyx wren #onyx x mc #sin with me onyx #sin with me envy #swm envy #mentions of abuse #mentions of miscarriage #tw pregnancy #swm baby announcement

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koteosa · 4 years

Text

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

#the arcana #julian devorak #asra alnazar #muriel #portia devorak #nix hydra #text #writing #modern au #headcanon #the arcana writing

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pixiegrl · 4 years

Note

For the prompts, 29 and 15 with Lashton? Love your writing!

Hello anon! This was for a prompt on tumblr for Lashton, in a waiting room with “Is there anything I can do to help?” It ended up being goofier and fluffier than intended but @calumsclifford gave me the idea and I ran with it. Enjoy!

As always it is also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431231

Calum hiccups and immediately starts crying again, loud broken sobs. Luke tips his head, counting to 10 and willing himself to not just, get up and leave Calum. Regrettably, Luke is the only one with a car and he can’t just leave Michael at a hospital. He also can’t just abandon Calum here because then Michael will have to deal with an upset Calum on top of the injury and Luke will never hear the end of the whining.

Calum’s sprawled over Luke’s lap wailing at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the ER waiting room is shooting them concerned looks, but it’s 2am on a Monday so no one is actually coming over to check on them.

Luke’s counting to another set of 10 because Calum won’t stop whimpering about Michael’s “never going to recover” and “it’s all my fault,” when Luke hears someone clear their throat next to him. Luke glances over, immediately embarrassed that there’s an attractive guy with light brown curls, hazel eyes, and an old All Time Low shirt with his hands shoved into his pockets staring at the two of them. The one time Luke’s got a snotty Calum in his lap, his curls look flat and greasy, and he’s exhausted would be the time that a hot guy with good music taste comes over.

“I couldn’t help noticing that your friend seems very, uh, upset. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Michael is dying!” Calum wails, flinging himself further into Luke’s lap. The guy looks alarmed, taking a step back.

“He’s exaggerating! Michael is fine! He fell off a skateboard trying to do a “cool trick” and landed on his wrist funny. He thought it might be broken, but he’s going to be fine Cal! I’ve been trying to tell you that for the last 3 hours,” Luke huffs, trying to smack Calum upside the head. At any other time, Calum would have latched on to the fact that a hot guy is talking to Luke and tried to drop hints that Luke is very single and very bisexual and would love a boyfriend. Now, Calum’s too worried that Michael’s at death’s door over a small enough injury.

“He’ll never be able to play guitar again!”

“In 6 weeks, he’ll be perfectly able to play guitar Calum.”

The guy snorts and tries to hastily cover it up with a cough, when Luke looks over at him.

“What are you even doing in an ER at 2am on a Monday?”

“Oddly enough, something similar. My brother Harry tripped off his skateboard and landed on his face. Thinks he might have broken his nose, so here we are,” Ashton says, waving his hand around the waiting room. He pauses before sitting down a few seats away from Luke.

Luke feels a spike of heat in his chest. The cute guy is sitting near him! Calum is not scaring him away. Maybe he’s Luke’s soulmate. Wait, now Luke sounds like Michael and Calum and he refuses to be them.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened. Michael got burned once, totally got half his face and his eyebrows and Calum was inconsolable. I think Michael ended up having to hold him while the doctor was trying to bandage him up. Whenever Michael gets an injury, Calum acts like Michael’s on death’s door.”

“Because he is Luke! How can you say you’re his best friend and then just disrespect him like this?” Calum yells, muffled by the fact that his face is pressed into Luke’s jeans. Luke rolls his eyes. The guy smiles and Luke feels his heart skip a beat. Is he sharing a moment with a stranger in a waiting room? Is he in a rom-com?

“Ashton.”

“Hm?”

“My name. It’s Ashton. Since Calum here said your name, I figured it was only fair that you know mine too.”

“Well nice to meet you Ashton. What do you do when you’re not taking care of brothers with broken noses?”

“Taking care of little sisters who are just the right age where the wrong nail polish color is the end of the world, working at a coffee shop, playing drums.”

Luke perks up, “We’re a band. The three of us. Michael’s guitar, Cal’s bass, and I sing. Play guitar too, but not as good as Michael. We’re looking for a drummer.”

“You guys any good?”

“You could come see us practice for yourself.”

Ashton hums. He gives Luke a once over. Luke goes a little red, ducking his head to stare intensely at the back of Calum’s head. God, he needs Michael here to handle this Calum’s a terrible wingman. Next time, Luke’s going to break Calum’s wrist so he has Michael with him as a wingman.

“I don’t just give out my services for free you know. Drumming is alot of work and I deserve something in payment.”

“Oh? I mean, I work in a bookstore, Michael’s in a music shop, and Calum teaches football we don’t have like alot of money to go around. It’s why we don’t have a drummer yet.”

“You’re in luck because I’m a cheap drummer. All I ask for is a date with a very cute, blonde singer.”

Luke’s startled. Luke’s so startled he’s not sure he’s still breathing and he considers asking the nurse at reception if he’s still alive. There’s no way Ashton’s asking Luke out on a date. This is not happening at 2am on a Monday in an ER waiting room.

“Uhhhh, I would have to check my work schedule. I'm very busy selling books to bored teenagers and very excited children,” Luke says. He’s staring at a point over Ashton’s left shoulder, hoping that if he doesn’t make full eye contact with Ashton he won’t do or say something embarrassing.

“Well, I’m also busy selling coffee to angry businessmen and stressed college students. I think the best thing we could do is exchange our phone numbers so that way we could text each other about our schedules and set up a band practice day. Or a date. Whichever comes first. But just so you know, I know a really nice pizza place around here that I love to take a certain singer to.”

Luke’s too shocked to argue with Ashton. He simply nods, taking his phone out of his pocket and handing it over to Ashton, unlocked and everything. Ashton smiles, entering his information and texting his own phone before handing it back. Luke notices that he saved his name with a little drum next to it. As if Luke has more than one Ashton in his phone that he wants to text on the regular.

They chat for a bit about music, their jobs. Luke tells Ashton about Michael and Calum, that they’ve been friends for close to 5 years now, that Michael and Luke didn’t get along at first until music became involved. Luke shares that Michael and Calum have been dating for just as long, that Luke’s painful single (not for lack of Michael’s trying to find Luke someone). Ashton tells Luke about his siblings, his mother, that he’s just broken up with his boyfriend (he looks at Luke shyly when he says it and Luke grins at the idea that Ashton wants to go on a date with him already).

Luke loses track of time until the doors leading to the hospital wing swings open and Michael comes out, all pink hair and disheveled clothing, brace on his left wrist and a lollipop sticks out of his mouth, grinning around it. Calum lets out a cry that Luke can only imagine wives make when their husbands return from war and runs towards Michael flinging himself into Michael’s arms crying. Michael looks startled, but unsurprised, patting Calum on the shoulder, leading him back to Luke.

“The doctor said it’s just a sprain. I gotta keep it in the brace for a few weeks and come back for a check-up, but it’s nothing serious,” Michael says.

“But it could have been!” Calum wails again. Michael rolls his eyes, fond, pressing a kiss to Calum’s forehead.

“Considering the crying your boyfriends doing, I thought you were on death's door,” Ashton says. Michael looks over at Ashton confused.

“Who are you?”

“The man Luke abandoned me for in your time of need,” Calum says, glaring at Luke. Luke throws his hands up in mock surrender. Michael looks like he’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Ashton. Apparently, I’m Luke’s new boyfriend.”

“He’s our new drummer! We’re not dating! We haven’t even been on a date yet,” Luke rushes out, leaning over to smack Ashton. Ashton lets out a delighted laugh. Michael’s grinning maniacally now. Luke needs new friends.

“I would call this a first date.”

“You’re not allowed to call Michael’s trauma a date,” Calum protests.

“If it gets Luke a first boyfriend, it could be my funeral and they could call it a date,” Michael says. Calum lets out another wail and collapses onto Michael’s shoulder.

“I feel like you missed the part where I said he was our new drummer.”

“Oh I heard that but it’s not nearly as important as you getting a boyfriend.”

Luke jumps up starting to usher Michael and Calum out of the waiting room, “Well it’s 3am on a Monday and we have to go now because you are very injured and we should all sleep,”

“You should call Luke he’s very free all the time for dates!” Michael calls over his shoulder. Luke really needs new friends.

(Ashton still texts him at 5am, letting him know that Ashton’s brother is fine and that Ashton is also very free any time for both band practice and dates.

“You should send him a dick pic.”

“I’m not sending him a dick pic, Michael.”

“How else will he know you’re interested?”

“Are you breaking up with me for the waiting room guy Luke abandoned me for?”

“Not when I don’t know what his dick looks like and I’ve seen yours...on second thought, Luke send Ashton a pic of Calum’s dick instead.”

“I’m quitting this band,” Luke moans, flopping face first into the couch.

“Hey, if I hadn’t injured myself you wouldn’t have a boyfriend,” Michael protests.

His phone beeps. Ashton’s sent him a little heart emoji. Okay fine, maybe Michael and Calum aren’t terrible friends. It did get Luke a date with a cute guy.)

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #was almost an angst one but maggie gave me the idea and it sounded funnier so big shout out to her #love her very much #please enjoy #my writing #Anonymous

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mercuryonparklane · 3 years

Text

I just found this one-shot I wrote based on ‘betty’ that has been sitting in my notes since September. I thought I’d share, if anyone is interested in that. The characters belong to Taylor and her co-writers, of course. I just borrowed them for this fic.

‘Please, come over’

Jamie Mann stares at the text for far too long, watching those three little dots appear and, then, disappear once again. Betty hates sending more than one text in a row. Even more than that, she can't stand it when a message goes unanswered.

Still, Jamie can't quite think of what to say. Her mind flashes back to prom two weeks earlier and the boy who swayed Betty around the dance floor while she laughed at his stupid jokes. Betty told her that she isn't interested in boys, but damnit if she isn't very good at hiding that fact.

Jamie throws her phone down next to her on the bed and pulls the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. She fiddles with the strings of the sweatshirt until she hears the ding of a new message.

'I'm in front of your house. Get your ass out here and hop in.'

Jamie fights the smile on her face, but she can't help feeling a little less hurt in the moment. August was the kind of friend who could convince you to do things you would never even think to do. Like the time they hopped the fence at school on a Friday night to smoke in the softball dugout. Or the time August managed to sneak them into some gay club in the city. Or the time they almost ditched the cop trying to pull her over for running a red light. Okay, so maybe they weren't actually going to try to escape and maybe August's uncle happened to be the cop in question. But still...

Jamie grabs her backpack and puts it on as she heads down stairs.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

"Mom, I literally just graduated high school last night and I turn 18 next month. I'm basically an adult."

Her mom pulls her into a hug. Jamie lets it happen for a few seconds before escaping her grasp. Mrs. Mann runs her fingers through her daughter's hair trying to fix it best she can.

"Hmm... that will have to do. Now, truthfully, where are you going? Yeah, yeah, I know you're all grown up now, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop worrying about you."

Jamie rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. "I'm staying over at August's. She's outside waiting for me, so can I go now?"

"Of course, dear. Have fun."

"Sure thing. Night, mom."

Jamie heads out the door and jogs to the midnight blue '67 Mustang idling in front of the driveway. She throws her backpack in the backseat before taking her spot in the passenger seat.

"So, what's the plan?"

"I was thinking we could go to that party Betty Davis is throwing."

A lump forms in Jamie's throat as she tries to come up with some excuse as to why they shouldn't go. August knows that Jamie is a lesbian, but she doesn't know anything about Betty. It was not something Betty wanted anyone to know about.

As far as anyone at school knew, Betty and Jamie were acquaintances at best. Betty was head cheerleader and Jamie was basically a skater burnout. Betty was class president and Jamie wasn't even on most of her teacher's radars. Betty was going to Yale next year. Jamie was going to a state school. Betty came from money. Jamie's mom worked two jobs to send her to private school. They weren’t exactly the likeliest of friends and no one would ever guess they were more than that.

"Come on, please? Don't you want to know what the popular kids get up to on the weekends?"

"Nah, it sounds pretty lame. I'd rather hang out just the two of us before you take your little road trip around the county, which I still can't believe your parents agreed to."

"You should come with me."

"What?"

"We would have so much fun. Besides I'm a little scared about driving around by myself."

Jamie scoffs, "You? Why, August Adams you are the bravest person I have ever known. What could possibly scare you?"

"I don't know... a car accident, rapists, serial killers, muggers, creatures..."

"Okay, I get it. I just mean... you've been planning this trip for two years. Wasn't it supposed to be some great big adventure of self-discovery?"

August shrugs. "I already know who I am. I'm a bisexual goddess, who is going to be the CEO of a major corporation someday, and no one can stop me. But also I'm just a girl sitting in front a girl, asking her to join me on the trip of a lifetime."

Jamie's heart skips a beat. She loves Betty so deeply, but being with her was torture. It would have been four more years of hiding. 'Just until we graduate college,’ Betty's words echo in her head. Four years is a long time and Jamie is sick of hiding. August came out Sophomore year and didn't care about what anyone thought of her.

"You know what, that sounds amazing."

August squeals and leans across the center console to wrap her arms around Jamie. "We're going to have so much fun, James!"

They never went to Betty’s party. Instead they drove to 7-Eleven, bought snacks and slurpees, and spent the rest of the night at the one skate park in town.

It took a bit of convincing before her mom felt comfortable letting her go on the five week trip. The fact that August had family sprinkled along their route, with whom they would be staying most of the time, helped to reassure her. August created an itinerary for Jamie's mom, so she would have an idea of where they would be and with whom.

A week into the trip, Jamie gets an unexpected text.

'I heard you left town with August Adams. Thanks for the heads up. Hope you have fun.'

The three dots show up and disappear, then reappear once again.

And finally, after almost a minute, 'I hear she's a great lay.'

Jamie doesn't even reply. Her blood boils just a bit. They'd never officially broken things off, but seeing Betty kiss that boy on the dance floor was the last straw. Jamie didn't want to hide anymore. She wanted a girlfriend who's hand she could hold while walking down the street.

So, she got one. Sort of. The text kind of sent her into overdrive and she may have decided to see if all the rumors about August were true. They were. She definitely knew what she was doing and it was nice, but it wasn't the same as it had been with Betty. It was lust. There was no romance in it. At least not on Jamie's part.

Unfortunately, she had no idea the other girl had wanted this since they were Freshmen. It killed Jamie to tell her the truth. August was beautiful and fun and clever, but Jamie's heart belonged to someone else. She confessed everything about her relationship with Betty and how she wished she had gone to that party the night after graduation.

August won't tell anyone. She might be hurt, but she wasn't heartless. She'd never out someone nor would she ever try to get back at Jamie. They did decide to give each other some space. In fact, they only met up once more that summer. It was the day before August was set to leave for school. They hugged awkwardly and promised to keep in touch and to hang out over Thanksgiving break. They didn't keep those promises.

Betty doesn't message her again. Jamie rides past the girl's house on her skateboard almost every day for a month before she finally gets the nerve to text her.

'Hey, I'm near your house. Can we talk?'

She sits on the curb across the street from Betty's house for an embarrassingly long amount of time before she finally gives up. She stops riding by her house.

It's not until her mom drags her to the mall insisting she needs a new wardrobe for college that she finally sees Betty again. She catches sights of the girl from the store across the way and she tells her mom she'll be right back. She's about to step into the store, but someone grabs her by the wrist and drags her towards an empty service hallway. Jamie's heart stutters until she realizes who exactly has a hold on her.

"What the hell, Inez?"

Inez roughly releases her grasps once they are out of the earshot of passersby.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Me?! What do you think you're doing."

Inez rolls her eyes. "Stay away from her, you freak!"

"What gives you the right to tell me what to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that Betty told me all about how you're desperately in love with her and tried to put the moves on her and that's why she had to switch homerooms. Which I said was weird because as far as I knew you were off playing Thelma and Louise with August Adams. So just, like, leave her alone. She's not... like you."

Jamie bites her tongue. There is so much she wants to say, but it would only make things worse. "Whatever. Maybe you should tell your friend not to flatter herself."

Occasionally, over the next few years, Jamie checks Betty's social media accounts, looking for any hint that one of the girls in her pictures were more than just a friend. Jamie thinks about the night after high school graduation often. She fantasizes about what would have happened if she had gone to Betty's party. Would the girl have finally kissed her in front of their classmates? Was she already drunk when she sent that message? Had she finally been ready to say 'fuck it all' and let everyone know she wasn't who they thought she was?

Jamie will probably never know. But she spends her college years chasing the feeling she had when she was with Betty. There were a couple of women who she thought she had been in love with. Maybe she had been, but there was always this one piece of her heart that hung on to past love.

She dates quite a bit the first couple of years after college, until she eventually gets into a committed relationship. It's great for a while. It lasts four and a half years. She's devastated when it ends. But also, a part of her is relieved. It doesn't really make sense until that next Thanksgiving weekend when her high school class is having its ten year reunion.

She contemplates not going, but she's already R.S.V.P.'d and she's already going to be in town to celebrate Thanksgiving with her family. So, she musters up the courage to go.

The first person she recognizes is August Adams. The other woman greets her with a tight hug.

"James! How are you? God, it's been too long."

"It has."

It really has. Jamie missed her friend. She screwed it all up so much back when they were kids. But the woman still had this brightness that radiated from her and Jamie let herself bask in it.

"Oh, you have to meet my wife," August wraps her arm around the waist of a gorgeous brunette, "This is Autumn. I know, I know. Don't even start."

Jamie chuckles, but keeps quiet. After catching up and seeing way too many pictures of August's kid (she was a proud mom and it was kind of cute, to be honest), Jamie was left alone when the other woman found another old friend to talk to. She didn't mind. It gave her a chance to finally get to the bar and get a drink.

Jamie orders a whiskey on the rocks.

"I'll take one of those too, please," a voice speaks from beside her.

Jamie turns her head and takes in the sight before her. Betty hasn't changed much. If anything, she's even more attractive than she was all those years ago.

"Hi."

"Uhh..." Jamie clears her throat, "Hey."

Betty bites her lower lip, a smirk forming on her face anyway. "You look..." Her eyes scan Jamie's body and Jamie shifts a bit under her gaze, "good."

"That's all." Jamie elbows her playfully. The bartender sets their drinks in front of them. Jamie lifts the glass to her mouth.

"Let me try that again. You look incredible in that suit, but all I can think about is what you'd look like out of it."

Jamie chokes on her drink, pounding her chest with her fist as she coughs. Betty quirks her eyebrows and smirks smugly, while Jamie tries to gain some sense of control over her own body again.

"Umm... wow, that... I wouldn't mind..."

"Are you here with anyone?"

"No. I'm actually single at the moment. You?"

Betty doesn't even bother to answer. Instead she kisses Jamie. It takes a moment for Jamie to register what is happening, but eventually she gets a hold of herself and reciprocates the kiss, matching the passion of the woman in front of her.

There are a couple of 'whoops' from former classmates and a 'Get it, Davis' before Betty pulls away.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

How could Jamie say no to that? After that kiss? After ten years of dreaming about this moment? She couldn't.

"Definitely."

'Out of here' isn't very far. It's actually a room at the hotel where the reunion was being hosted, but really it was better than Jamie could have ever dreamed.

As they lay together in the afterglow, Betty runs her fingers through Jamie's curly, golden locks. Jamie rests her head on Betty's chest, her fingers tracing random patterns across Betty's toned abs.

"You're still as fit as you were back then."

Betty buries her face in Jamie's hair. Jamie feels the laughter rumble through the other woman's chest at the comment. "Really? Those are your first words after everything?"

"I can't help it, when you look like this."

"You're not so bad yourself."

Jamie looks up at Betty incredulously, "I'm sexy as hell."

"Hmm... I mean, you're attractive, sure. 'Sexy as hell', may be a touch too far."

"Oh, yeah?" Jamie smiles up at her as she moves her hand down Betty's abdomen. "Let me show you a touch too far."

Being with Betty makes Jamie feel like she's 17 again. All the years away from the girl did nothing to quell her desire to be as close to her as humanly possible. Somehow it was like a part of Jamie's heart had finally found its place again. It was a part that she thought had long been lost and she had resigned herself to the fact that the puzzle would sit there in her chest missing that one piece forever.

Maybe she didn't know much back when they were kids, but she knew one thing that would always ring true: Betty Davis is, has always been, and will always be her person.

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excvlsior · 4 years

Text

about: *gunner paxton.

basics.

full name: gunner brick paxton meaning of name: gunner = ‘warrior’, brick = ‘good man/solid’ nickname: g age: 22 date of birth: july 30th, 1998 hometown: laramie, wyoming nationality: american ethnicity: irish, french gender: cis-male sexuality: bisexual spoken languages: english profession: in lovell verse he’s a student and part time librarian, in carina he’s mooching off the rhodes family while looking for a job >_>

appearance.

height: 5′7″ harry_styles_grimace.jpeg

eye colour: blue

hair colour: mousy brown/lightens to dirty blond if he’s in the sun enough

voice: used to be occasionally hoarse/rough from disuse now it’s just sort of permanently like that, smoking didn’t help either he kinda rly does sound like a chain smoker, with the slightest wyoming drawl

tattoos: fox on his forearm

piercings: n/a

clothing style: outfits consist of only thrift store finds which wouldn’t be an issue if he knew how to match outfits together or what his size is, always wore hand me downs and has never been properly measured so all his clothes r practically hanging off him; almost always wearing an 80′s style ski jacket, shoelaces as belts, mismatched shoes that are a size or two too big in and of themselves; took piper dressing him for him to start wearing outfits that actually fit and they’re usually all black cuz he still can’t style or match colours together even with her tips

health.

physical ailments: reoccurring right shoulder pain, reoccurring dizziness/migraines/memory problems due to multiple concussions, asthma

neurological conditions: major depressive disorder, anxiety

allergies: tree nuts, peanuts, shellfish, citrus fruits, red food dye, cow’s milk, soy, grass, pollen, latex, bees, cats

sleeping habits: prefers irregular 20 minute naps throughout the day instead of 8 consistent hours of sleep cuz he claims its ‘more natural’

exercise habits: n/a

sociability: generally prefers to be alone, has a small, solid group of friends he enjoys spending time with but even then only has so long before he needs his own time again

drink / smoke / drugs: socially / quit but can be caught sneaking one every now and again / socially

personality.

positive traits: calm, dedicated, forgiving, hard-working, imaginative, loyal, patient, resourceful

negative traits: aloof, cowardly, detached, grumpy, narrow-minded, pessimistic, quiet, secretive, vague, weak-willed

goals/desires: i think rly what he wants more than anything is to find out what ever actually happened to wyatt tbh

fears: everything around the situation with wyatt, kinda held on to the notion that wyatt isn’t alive anymore mostly because he was too scared to think of what could have happened/be happening to his brother after all these years, his dad, losing control of himself and his environment

hobbies: creating weird freaky little old horror movies that would probably make people cringe, creating soundtracks for said movies, reading, gaming, baseball

habits: avoids eye contact, bites/picks the skin around his nails, clears his throat when he’s uncomfortable, gives awkward thumbs up, his mouth always hangs open without realizing it when he plays video games, makes a flicking motion a lot with his hand even when he’s not holding a cigarette

favourites.

weather: thunderstorms

colour: n/a but purple if he really had to choose

music: he never really got to explore outside of the realm of his parents’ fav music genres growing up, dad’s was classic rock and mom’s was 80′s pop so that’s 90% of what he listens to, but he enjoys hozier/greta van fleet and some other modern rock artists, anything really out of the norm experimental sounding he likes a lot too

movies: foreign art house films, horror, nothing too jump scarey but more the psychological thriller ones

food: a nice Thick steak thats really rare like the freak he is

drink: almond milk, coors light

relationships.

father: john paxton, never really had a solid job tbh he would do a lot of random odd things or would con people out of their money somehow then would spend days at a time at casinos until he lost it all

mother: jessica paxton, also never really had a solid job LAWL mostly conned people out of money by pretending to be a psychic and then after wyatt’s disappearance spent her days either in bed for weeks or manically tearing their trailer apart trying to redesign their tiny space with money they didn’t have

siblings: older brother need . to work on that now LKHSDGKLHSDG and wyatt paxton who’s assumed to be deceased

pets: golden retriever named duke when growing up, he passed away a year before he left wyoming but gunner considered duke his best friend until then

significant other: piper rhodes in carina verse, their summer fling just ended in lovell verse

family’s financial status: lower class

extra.

zodiac sign: leo somehow

mbti: istj - the logistician

enneagram: the observer

temperament: melancholic

hogwarts house: ravenclaw

moral aligment: lawful neutral

primary vice: envy

primary virtue: temperance

element: air

#muse | gunner paxton.#leetle freak boy.............#death tw #kidnapping tw

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heavensauras · 4 years

Text

MIMI GRANT AURA | SKY SPRITE | SHE/HER | EIGHTY-SEVEN | BISEXUAL

defining traits

( + ) charming, personable, flirtatious, optimistic, confident, creative

( - ) cowardly, flighty, sensitive, dependent, haughty, begrudging, fake

biography

She was born Marie Grant, but she was always their little Mimi — a fitting name, for it was most of what she’d she’d grow to care about; me, me, me.

Her father was a widower; her mother bore the shame of a divorce behind her. Together they began a new chapter, but their love was one that found them later in life. By the doctors’ words, conception at her age was nothing short of a miracle. Mimi was their miracle, and they raised her to know it. She was destined for things beyond the ordinary, they affirmed. Lackluster crayon drawings of stick figures were framed like masterpieces, hung with pride in the hallways. Songs chirped off-pitch received thunderous applause. With mediocrity exalted, there was no need to try, so she never chose to, and they’d never dare force her.

Shielded by a set of parents whose love was strong enough to cripple, her heart was kept safe for a long, long time. The world was such a hard, cruel place.. They only wished to soften parts of it for her, to offer her comfort in the form of pretty white lies — that the family dog left to live on the dog farm, or that she really could go to princess school when she grew up. Any tear she shed was quickly wiped away, and soon forgotten as her attention was redirected somewhere shiny and new. She’d never solved a problem, never faced a consequence. When trouble found her, she had but one maneuver — to pull out her perfected pout, let the tears fall, and pray someone who knew better would save her. They always did, and she never learned a thing.

The Grants had been at the cross section of hard work and good luck after emancipation, among the few Black families in Georgia fortunate enough to acquire property. Her father inherited a small farm outside of Atlanta, and it was on that farm she was raised, gazing out her bedroom window at crops of peanuts, pecans, and blueberries. Of course it had been assumed that any child of theirs would lend their hands to the farm — but an hour of her work, hasty and careless, often required an extra hour of her father’s, as he doubled back and corrected her mistakes. Soon enough, she was no longer asked to chop wood for the stove, or weed the fields. It was better for all of them that way, and the indoors had always suited her better. She found joy in sneaking sprays of her mother’s perfume bottle, slipping into her coat, trying on her ring, and dreaming of a life that was soft and warm and easy and beautiful, dreams her heart had latched onto long before her mind could find the way there.

She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been out to the barn; the scent alone was enough to keep her far from that edge of the property. The day the flames brought it to the ground, she’d been safe in her room, trapped only in the daydreams of a sixteen-year-old girl while her parents, trapped inside.

In hearing of their deaths, she learned what it meant to be shattered. She’d never cried a tear that one of them hadn’t wiped away, and for weeks, she cried an ocean. Taken in by an aunt, her mother’s sister, in that house she was no longer a miracle, but a burden — another child to feed in a family of six already.. and one who couldn’t make a bed, or scrub a pot, or fry an egg. Gone were the days where her burnt toast received glowing reviews; what she faced instead was a barrage of sharp critiques her sensitive heart didn’t know how to process through any means but tears.

Most days, something would leave her crying — a memory of mom and dad, a snide comment from her aunt, a suspicious whisper exchanged between cousins as she passed in the hallway. She grew accustomed to fixing her mascara in bathroom mirrors, wiping black smudges from under her eyes each time she lost control. That new waterproof formula surely made more sense. She bought her first tube, and it lasted through the tears — but no one had warned her it would sting as she slicked it over her lashes, or how putrid the smell was, or how she’d have to scrub her eyes until they burned red to take it off. All that work, for what? Just in case she’d cry? And if she didn’t, then for nothing? If given the choice, she’d always defer discomfort, and so every day she’d make a bet with herself she knew she’d lose as she reached past the cry-proof tube for the easier choice — and every day she found herself wiping away those telltale black smudges.

The Grant estate fell to her as she came of age, and she made quick work of selling the farm. She’d never be able to sustain it, and her parents surely wouldn’t want the land wasted. It was the right thing to do, she reasoned, to put it in the hands of a family who’d cherish it. How convenient, then, that the sale of the property would also pad her pockets comfortably. Had she been a practical woman, she’d have had the funds to live a modest life without worry. Of all the names she’d been called, practical was never among them. Her heart bore a hole in the shape of a family, incomplete without the support she’d always known. Perhaps money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could fund a distraction. The city called to her, and under Atlanta’s lights she found an overpriced apartment and drowned her sorrows in silks, champagnes, and unadulterated excesses, spoiling herself too silly to even remember to be sad.

She never lost the blind confidence that she’d succeed at whatever she chose to try; her parents could be thanked for the cliche. As she saw the way men and women alike fawned over those beautiful girls in the photos they pinned up, with their ruby lips and coquettish grins, she decided that was what she wanted to be, too — a model. She was beautiful. She knew it as simple fact, even took it for granted, and like a fool, she assumed beauty was all it took. No one had told her, before she stepped on set for her first booked shoot, that it really was work — that it hurts to hold those poses in high heels, that the lights are scalding and the hours are long, or that the photographer’s job is to tell you everything you’re doing wrong until you run for the back door in tears.

She darted for the alley out back, desperate for fresh air and a moment to dry her eyes. It was there that she met him, an executive for the cosmetics brand she was surely busy disappointing, with his tie in a perfect Windsor knot, a cigarette on his lips, and his eyes mesmerized. By her. “They don’t know what they’re talking about in there. Just look at you — you have this aura about you..” She didn’t know what it meant, exactly, but as his thumb brushed away a tear from her cheek and his, she knew that all she’d wanted was to be looked at like that, to have someone wipe her eyes and call her something spectacular. It brought a smile back to her lips, brought color back to a world that had faded to monochrome black-and-grey. He wanted to help her, and if she was good at anything, it was being helped.

They abandoned the shoot hand in hand, down the alley and to a neighboring bar for a drink. One mai tai turned into another, her flirtatious giggle bouncing off the lounge’s walls as she slipped easily back into the familiarity of being fawned over. In the coming weeks, a relationship would bloom between the two of them — one that could’ve been plucked right from those sixteen-year-old daydreams she’d lived so comfortably in. She abandoned her overpriced apartment, making a home in his instead. By day she lived a life of leisure and ease, gossiping at the beauty salon and shopping at exclusive boutiques while he holed away at his office. Each night was a new society event they’d light up together, and in the beginning, the role of arm candy had been the cushy lift her ego had needed. She took naturally to being shown off, and he’d introduce her to society folk with glowing compliments, telling charming anecdotes as they sipped from champagne flutes.

It would take years for her to realize the way he recycled all of those compliments with every woman he met, that she’d heard his dull, predictable anecdotes so many times they might as well have been her own. She’d set out to be loved. Instead, she’d become another pretty thing on his shelf, mistaking possession for adoration while the void she sought to fill remained hollow and empty. She wanted out, but what would happen when she cut the cord? She’d be back to fending for herself, back to a world of mascara-stained handkerchiefs and an empty apartment? What little courage she had was far from enough to have the difficult break-up conversation. Instead, she and her cowardice sought to push him away, to force him to leave her. She was sour where she’d once been sweet, bitter in the places she’d once let him savor her, a brat with demands the size of the world — and he paid her so little mind as a person that, so long as she shone like the diamond he’d polished her into, he didn’t care what frivolous nonsense she spouted. She got away with it all, and it only further infuriated her.

She’d find the guts to break it off soon, she’d keep telling herself, moving the goalpost with a nervous gulp every time she failed to muster the nerve to follow through. She’d do it after their dinner date with the Thompsons.. No, after the gala the following week.. No, after their weekend in Palm Beach. She was sure of it.

She said little to him the day they boarded the yacht party, making a point of icing him out in favor of the starlets and models whose light she hoped to absorb. As the storm carried them away, dizzied and terrified, she thought only of her own survival, and as she pulled herself from the wreck on a deserted island, he was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she should’ve felt anxious, should’ve ran the island’s shores in search of him, but all she could feel was relief that she’d never have to have that difficult talk with him at all. He was gone, and the only guilt she felt was about her lack thereof. When her fellow survivors asked about the man she’d boarded with, about her shocking indifference to his disappearance, she’d tell them, “we barely even knew each other,” and she knew there was enough truth in that lie for her to believe it herself, too.

It took but one look upwards at the sky kingdom for the blurry memories of him to fade to black.

The sky sprites were everything she’d ever aspired to be, had everything her fantasies were built from. They were the answer. She’d been a fool to think that human pleasures could ever make her feel whole again, that there was a solution to her problems out in the cold world that had created them. No, she’d always been meant to live somewhere softer, amongst the clouds, where there were no sharp edges on which to prick herself. She found her family in the skies of Caelum — a group that knew their worth, who saw that she did, too, and loved her for it. Amongst them, she ascended, and Aura was born.

She took naturally to Caelum, her ego as large, fluffy, and delicate as the clouds she lived amongst. She wanted nothing more than to fully embrace the powers of the heavens, but none of the sprites had told her just how difficult it would be — that it required diligence, perseverance, training. It was work, and each gust of wind she tried to summon left her more flustered and frustrated than before she’d begun. It was easier to simply not — to sit back and let the other sprites show off, basking in the fruits of their labors rather than embarrassing and exhausting herself with her young, fledging magics.

It was a cruel trick of the universe, she’d lament, that the barrier had sealed her away before the world could see the way she now sparkled. From the little cloud she liked to rest atop of, she’d sing of the injustice of it all, how she dreamed of the day the island’s walls would fall for long enough for her to fly back to the real world — and as they finally do, she remains frozen on that very cloud. She simply has so much to teach these new humans, she’ll reason with a laugh; to leave now would be a disservice to them. But what does a sprite whose powers can be outmatched by an angry wind have to teach? Not a thing, but she’d never dare let the humans know she’s done little more than twiddle her thumbs for sixty-five years, while her equals can move mountains. Instead, she purses her lips and bolsters herself the way she always has, convinced by pure will alone that, before her first audience as a sprite, she will dazzle.

headcanons

A majority of her powers are very, very weak. She’s generally unwilling to exert the energy it takes to strengthen or use them. Her strongest are all relatively superficial — manipulating the sky and wind’s colors, summoning glittering stars, and floating, either on her own or while lounging on a cloud. During the times all of the sky sprites are doing things together, like lifting a plane over to the Wrecks, she’s usually faking it — like when you’re moving furniture, and there’s that one person who’s just pretending to hold the corner of the couch, without actually carrying any weight. That’s Aura.

Because she usually gets around by floating, she’s grown relatively clumsy on her feet over the last sixty-five years. Her leg muscles are weak, and will often buckle under her. Naturally, she finds it quite embarrassing, and will almost always choose to float, unless she has no choice.

She’s more likely to forget before she’ll forgive. She’s often flitting from one thing to the next, and will more often than not simply forget about a disagreement she’s having because her emotions are so caught up in another one. She’s a very resentful person, and her old grudges will often manifest in pouty comments whenever she happens to remember how someone wronged her.

potential connections

found family: Her Caelum family!! Aura has never felt more at home than she does in the sky kingdom, so I’d love to explore where her relationships with her fellow sky sprites have gone.

fellow passengers: I’m also super interested in seeing how she’s gotten along with the others from the 50s yacht! Maybe she met them that day, or maybe she already knew some of them from previous society events, etc. Would love to explore how that group bonded together after the accident, and how those bonds have changed as everyone went their separate ways and joined their kingdoms.

enablers: She’s notorious for doing The Least while simultaneously being The Most, so I’d love to explore the connections with sprites who inadvertently enable this kind of behavior by helping her out with things when she asks/charms/flirts/pouts/wears them down.

frenemies: She’s incredibly social, and generally friendly to most.. but she also looks down on most, and absolutely talks shit behind every one of her friend’s backs. Gimme some on-again-off-again friendships that Aura absolutely fucks up on the regular!!

migraines with aura: Ok this is just an excuse for some dumb wordplay and I’ll OWN IT!! You know the “aura” that comes just before a migraine? Like a warning sign that you’re about to be in a world of pain? Gimme someone that thinks of her like that lmao, that she’s an absolute headache.

human interests: The responsibility of turning a human is probably something that’s too much for her right now, as she barely knows how to take care of herself, but I’m sure she’s very curious about what she’s missed in the outside world and is eager to befriend and gossip with the new arrivals. And, of course, she wants them all to think she’s ethereal and otherworldly and all that.

flings: She’s a fickle-hearted flirt at her core, and she craves attention like Tinkerbell. I’m sure she’s had various flames throughout her time on the island.

#heights: about.

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