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doctenwho · 4 years

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Exhilarating

Hello! Thank you so much, you’re far too kind! I’m glad you, and everyone else, seem to be liking what I make! Now, as for the prompt, I really wasn’t sure how to go about it, or how to write a make out session but I tried my best! I hope it was what you were looking for!

Warnings: Attempted make out session (kinda)?

Word Count: 3,103

Summary: Read the prompt! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator!)

You didn’t really understand how danger seemed to follow the Doctor around—or, well, you could understand, he was a hundreds of years old Time-Lord who regenerated instead of dying, but still, how much trouble could one Time-Lord get into?

It seemed that almost everywhere he went (except earth, who had fan clubs about him), someone, or something, or even sometimes the whole planet, had some kind of grudge against him. It was hard to wrap your mind around. He seemed like a perfectly nice guy; how could he piss off so many people almost effortlessly?

It didn’t really matter where he put the TARDIS, someone was always upset, or out for blood when it came to the Doctor. It would almost be funny how many people disliked him, if it weren’t his, and your, by extension, life on the line.

You’d gotten used to that though, you had on your first few adventures with the man. You’d gotten used to exploring and then running for your life, or exploring, getting caught and then escaping custody. Or even sometimes stepping out of the TARDIS after landing to a ring of armed aliens surrounding you.

It wasn’t always like this, of course, the Doctor was an amazing guy who was really just trying to do right by everyone—he just didn’t usually think ahead of what his actions to save one specific person would mean after the fact. To really think about what would be waiting for him after a stupid stunt, or calling attention to himself in order to save someone else.

He really was just trying to save people who needed it, or to change outcomes (that weren’t fixed in time). You knew he really tried to be the superhero no one knew they needed.

He’d been your superhero too at one point. And he still was, but there wasn’t the same savior aspect to it anymore, not after you’d been traveling with him for ages and had seen him being a regular guy reading books in his spaceship instead of being a super amazing alien who’d saved your life.

It seemed the man had no regard for his life, not when there was something more interesting, or something he decided was worth more than his own life. Maybe being over hundreds of years old did that to you. Took away your own need to survive and save yourself.

And there was really nothing you could do when he was like that. Not when it was usually you, he was putting before himself, you and your safety. No one could say the Doctor wasn’t a kind and loyal man. There had been more times than you could count where the Doctor would step in front of you to shield you, or direct attention onto himself so you could escape.

He was just the best person you’d ever met.

But...

That didn’t mean he wasn’t an idiot.

You weren’t sure where you were. Which planet, nor which part of the galaxy.

It was cold, compared to most places you’d been with the man. You were further away from sun, but you were almost certain you weren’t still in your galaxy.

The whole place was like a giant labyrinth, dead ends and twists and turns. The Doctor had grinned ear to ear as he led you into the giant maze by a firm grip on your hand. The walls were tall, taller than you could see. When looking up there was just a small little sliver of light at the top.

The walls were almost stone-like, words and symbols of a language the TARDIS didn’t translate carved into almost every stone. The Doctor had studied them, but made no indication of whether he understood them or not.

You were on your own now, having split from the Doctor at the first sign of danger. It wasn’t that you had wanted too (well, not entirely at least) but it was that the Doctor had demanded you turn on your heels and run, while he distracted whatever beast was after you.

He warned you that whatever was hidden behind these walls would be after him, and not you necessarily. He said something about his blood, as the two you snuck down the halls, backs pressed against the wall. His Time-Lord blood, he’d kept saying, and the regenerating ability. Whatever that creature was, it wanted him, and you were just collateral damage.

You’d barely gotten a glance at the beast. It was large, furry to cope with the chill on this planet. You’d been in the maze for a while, the Doctor promising that the two of you weren’t lost countless times. It had only been towards the end that the two of you started hearing noises, groans and growls, and then suddenly it was getting close, just as you were to it.

The creature’s eyes were black, soulless, and the only thing it seemed to be able to focus on was the Doctor. The Doctor, like he always did, seemed to notice this, as he slowly side-stepped away from you. “Run,” he’d muttered under his breath without really moving his lips, then again, a bit louder, “turn around slowly and run, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t do more than follow orders, not with your heart beating a mile a minute, and your limbs numb with fear. You turned slowly, not drawing the creature’s attention away from the Doctor, and then you were running. Sprinting away. You chanced a glance back to see the Doctor dodging around the creature and running in the opposite direction—the way the beast had come.

You tried your best to stay as straight as you could, dropping articles of clothing in whichever direction you went when the labyrinth offered a fork in the road.

You were so glad that the Doctor had insisted you wear warm cloths beyond your jacket. Your hat had been the first thing dropped, followed by your scarf, and your two mittens. There had only been a lucky four turns you’d made before hitting a dead-end, where you decided was safe enough to wait for the Doctor.

Last thing you needed was to get lost in a labyrinth without the Doctor. You’d surely die out here if the Doctor didn’t find you. You hoped he’d follow the trail you’d left.

There was nothing else you could do besides wait and hope the Doctor made it back to you before you froze to death. You knew it was a lost cause to try and make it to the TARDIS alone—not that you’d ever leave the Doctor for real. There was a difference between running a bit from danger, and leaving him alone on a planet and disappearing into the TARDIS.

You waited for a while, back against the cold stony wall. You were tucked into your coat, hood up and hands stuffed in your pockets to try and keep warm without the rest of your warm gear.

Then, suddenly you could hear running. Shoes slapping on the stone ground and claws grinding into the rocks too as the creature ran. The Doctor was coming, and the beast was chasing him. The Doctor was leading the creature down your dead end.

You were both surely dead now.

The Doctor turned the corner, but before you could be angry at him, he was pushing up against you and holding you against the wall with his body almost completely blocking yours in. His hand had slotted behind your head, so when you were pushed back, you head didn’t knock against the stone.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, which the Doctor trapped between the wall and your body as he pressed close. He didn’t seem bothered though, and it allowed him to press closer to you.

He let his chin fall to your shoulder and he was nuzzling your neck and pressing small kisses to it.

It felt nice, but there was a dangerous creature following behind him, so you really couldn’t enjoy it.

You’d pegged the Doctor for a bit of a crazy guy, had since that first day, but he was clearly completely nuts or something as the beast turned the corner behind him. Blocking the two of you in.

The Doctor slowly moved his head up so he was looking at you, kissing your chin, and the corner of your mouth before finally kissing your lips. He was getting really into it too, which was very unusual for the Doctor, and any other time you’d be thrilled and returning every gesture given the opportunity, but you couldn’t manage to return the kiss with your literally death standing a few feet behind you, sniffing the air.

“Doc-”

“Shh,” he hummed, trailing his kisses back down to your neck. “It’ll know we’re here if it hears you.” The man had whispered that against your skin, pressing open mouthed kisses across your neck slowly as he spoke. The vibrations made you shiver, the along with his warm breath on your cool skin.

You snapped your mouth shut, nearly wincing at the noise it had made, but the Doctor didn’t seem bothered. If he wasn’t bothered, you shouldn’t be either, right?

“Clever girl,” the Doctor continued on almost inaudibly as the beast took a step closer, sniffing getting louder as if searching for a scent it couldn’t seem to pick up. You couldn’t look at it, not when your eyes were squeezed tight as the Doctor nuzzled into the skin under your ear before pressing a kiss there as well, “a trail of clothing, very smart, my dear.”

You had half a mind to push the Doctor away and take your chances running past the beast, but you really didn’t want to. Not when the Doctor was being so affectionate. How dangerous could it really be if the Doctor was trying to tempt you into making out here with a creature with the intention to kill you stepping closer by the second.

And even if death was coming, was this the worst way to die? With the Doctor pressing soft kisses along your skin? It was almost pleasant, well, minus the upcoming death part.

The Doctor froze swiftly with his lips pressed to the side of your jaw as the beast stepped so it was right behind the Doctor. You froze as well, stiffening as the beast sniffed the two of you deeply, eyes wide and unseeing. It gave a second deep sniff, and then a third before it was lifting its head.

Then, almost as if it were a miracle, the beast turned abruptly, leaving the two of you alone and stalking out of the dead end you’d put yourself in. You gaped widely as you watched the retreating creature walk away, its tail disappearing around the corner behind it, and then it was gone from sight.

The Doctor pulled away for a second to grin at you before pressing another, lingering kiss to the side of your mouth. “Brilliant, (Y/N), completely brilliant,” he praised as he finally stepped away.

In his hand the had been wrapped around your waist was all the clothing you’d dropped as a way to lead the Doctor to you. He handed them back, wrapping the scarf around your neck as you slipped your icy fingers back into the gloves.

“That thing was going to kill us,” you said in reply, eyes wide. “We almost died and you wanted to make out.”

“It was,” the Doctor grinned, “exhilarating, wasn’t it?”

“Are you insane?” you couldn’t help but huff out in annoyance, “we almost died.”

“There was such a small chance it was going to kill us. There was at least a ninety-five percent chance we were going to make it out alive.” The man pulled your hood up over the hat you’d slipped onto your head, then grinned down at you.

“What about the other five?” you frowned, not really liking the odds, even thought they were in your favor. That didn’t seem reasonable enough for the Doctor to jump you like he had. Cocky bastard.

“Well, the other five would’ve been it sniffing through my disguise. It had been following me from sound alone, since I’d left it’s den at the center of the labyrinth.” He paused, patting whatever was in his pocket before grinning at you, “I got what I came for anyways. I knew the dangers, and I came prepared, you really weren’t in any danger here.”

“What about the other five percent?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him, and crossing your arms across your chest.

“Well, I was ninety-five percent sure you weren’t in any danger.” You opened you mouth to growl a reply, “and,” he cut you off before you could even start, “and, the other five percent I would’ve thought of something to get us out safely had it come down to that five percent. I wouldn’t’ve put you in harm's way if I didn’t think I could get you out.”

“Why are we here anyways?” You frowned again, leaning against the Doctor’s side. The sheer fear you’d felt really drained the energy out of you, “and what was that thing?”

“This used to be training ground of sorts, back when Gallifrey still...” He left it hanging, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He cleared his throat before glancing down at you and continuing, “I came here when I was very young, it was a long journey from Gallifrey. The beasts in the labyrinth were the obstacles, Time-Lords, a fine delicacy for them. They can smell a Time-Lord's blood from miles away. I really wasn’t sure they’d survive without the Time-Lords interfering, but clearly I’d been wrong.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you said nothing at all.

“I suppose I probably should’ve guessed that they would’ve survived given that they had before Time-Lords intervened.” The man gave a laugh as he started leading you through the turns of the maze with practiced ease, “there was a highly sought-after prize in the creature’s lair. The center of the labyrinth. Few came close, others lost their lives trying. The creatures are savages, brutal and when given the opportunity will go for the kill.”

“But...” you couldn’t help but mumble. The beast had been so close to the two of you. Had sniffed the Doctor and walked away with nothing. It didn’t go for any kill.

“I told you,” the Doctor grinned, “I was disguised.”

The Doctor lifted his hand up, showing a ring on his finger. It was small, but the patterns decorating the outside of the ring were familiar. “It’s a Chameleon Arch,” the man explained, “Time-Lord technology that was used to place the prize in the creature’s lair when one had been collected. I’m sure you’ve seen the fob-watch Chameleon Arch?”

“Yeah,” you gave a nod. You remember the Doctor showing you one, explaining it, and how he’d had to use it with one of his earlier companions to hide himself from something. “But you didn’t forget.”

“No,” the man agreed, “I’ve been modifying this ring for hundreds of years. Time-Lord technology is a pain to mess around with, even if you know what you’re doing. I had to decrease the components, but also make sure it worked in disguising my genetic code perfectly. To that creature, I was nothing but a human, and humans aren’t as easily tracked, unless you’re bleeding. It can’t smell you the same way it can smell me.”

“So, it couldn’t smell you?”

“Right,” the Doctor grinned, “the creature is basically blind. It relies on its sense of smell, and it’s hearing. Humans smell like nothing. And its hearing is hardly as good as its nose. So, it didn’t hear, smell or see us in the dead end, therefore, we couldn’t be there.”

That actually explained a bunch. Maybe the Doctor had a right to be a cocky bastard. “You knew the ring would work? If the creatures were still alive, you knew the ring would hide your Time-Lord DNA?”

“Eh,” the Doctor hesitated, flashing a grin, “I had few doubts.”

“Few doubts,” you mocked with a glare. “And what was so important you’d risk a run in with whatever that creature was for it?”

The Doctor flashed a bright grin before reaching down and digging through his pockets. When he withdrew his hand there was a box that you had no idea how the Doctor fit in his pocket. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small by any means either.

It looked a bit like a coffin if you were honest. But the Doctor looked incredibly proud of it.

“This is a Hand of Omega,” The Doctor informed with a pleased grin, “it’s a bit smaller than the originals, and not nearly as powerful, but this small device is able to turn regular stars into supernovas, which can fuel the TARDIS in time travel should we ever need it.”

“Really?” you tilted your head to look at the device in the man’s hand. It didn’t look nearly as cool as it sounded.

“Really,” he nodded. “I’ve only really read about them, they were scarce. This trial, the labyrinth trial, was the toughest and few Gallifreyans returned, let alone came back victorious. I never managed to finish back then, but I have now. This is quite possibly one of the last Hand of Omega left in existence.”

The Doctor almost sounded giddy, excited and giddy. “This is quite the accomplishment, (Y/N).”

“Well,” you bit your bottom lip before glancing at the Doctor and watching him slip the device back into his pocket for safe keeping until the two of you were back at the TARDIS, “I’m proud of you then.”

The man grinned once more, pausing in his steps to pull you into another kiss, this one, no doubt a victory kiss. “I’m sorry to kiss you when you were frightened,” the man whispered against your lips. You were happy to return the kiss now, “I was just so excited, I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s alright,” you smiled against his lips, “I liked it, I think.”

“Oh, you did,” the Doctor pulled away grinning, “your heart was fluttering like mad, I was afraid the beast was going to hear it.”

You blushed brightly, making the Doctor laugh before he was pushing into your space once more like he had back at the dead end. He pressed a series of kisses on your neck, just above your scarf before whispering a husky, “you can’t tell me that wasn’t utterly exhilarating, (Y/N).”

“Okay fine,” you relented with a breathy huff, “maybe it was a bit exhilarating...”

<><><><>

As always, you’re welcome to prompt again if it’s not what you’re looking for, but hopefully it is! Thank you for the prompt, it was fun to write, even if I had no idea what I was doing, or where it was going! Sorry it’s a bit short, but I couldn’t think of anything else to make it longer.

The labyrinth, if I didn’t describe it well enough, is based off the Zelda: Breath of the Wild labyrinths, and the Hand of Omega was just a cool Gallifrey invention I tweaked to fit the story! Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #reader insert #writing prompt #prompt #TARDIS

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xmagicxshopx · 5 years

Text

☕ Deeply Poisoned ☕

Genre: Greek Mythology, Fantasy, Romance, Angst Rating: M (Smut) Warnings: Jungkook being a manipulative man in love, smut Pairing: hades!jungkook x persephone!reader Notes: This is a Greek Mythology AU based on the story of Hades and Persephone. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: Please understand this is fiction and therefore the real BTS members would never act this way. Okay. Happy reading! Also, please don’t think that Hades “poisoned” Persephone at the very end. Poison doesn’t always have to mean killing. There’s no death in this one shot. I can promise you.

Tagging: @justbangtanandjams @lizardsocial

Summary: Kiss me on the lips, a secret just between the two of us. Deeply poisoned by the jail of you. I cannot worship anyone but you and I knew the grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway.

MASTERLIST , HADES!JIMIN , HADES!TAEHYUNG

“Your tea, sir.”

“Thank you, Theseus. You are dismissed.”

Hades watched his most faithful servant exit with an elegant bow of respect and soon left him with no other company but his bride. Yes....his beautiful, gorgeous bride-to-be. His future wife. Oh how stunning she looked there laying across the chaise lounge; staring into the fire and watching the flames do their heated dance.

“Be careful, love, that frown may not come undone if it stays for too long. A smile suits you way better.”

Of course all he was met with was silence. The smile formed by his lips was a small one but full of amusement. You were going to make an excellent queen of the underworld. Should he ever need to step down, he had no doubt you would be the perfect successor. He could practically smell your rage as you laid there looking stone faced. Some would say you looked bored but Hades knew better.

“We have a wedding to plan, my love. Have some tea and let us discuss the arrangements.”

Again, silence. Not that he expected anything less. It was no secret that you had came down here against your will. Kidnapped as you had called it. One day you would see that this was meant to be. This was where you belonged; next to him on the throne as the queen of the underworld.

“Persephone, my love, sulking will get you nowhere. You could become a mute but you will still stand at the alter and become my wife.”

His voice left no room for argument but it still held a soft and loving tone. Only Hades could pull that off. It was called tough love and he was darn good at it. You were the love of his life and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. He would do whatever was necessary to keep you by his side; whether you liked it or not.

“Please, have some tea.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“At least she speaks.”

“You aren’t giving me a choice, Hades.”

“Because I’m already giving you the best choice.”

By this time, you had at least turned your head to glance over at the male across from you. He was lounging in one of the huge, well-cushioned armchairs with a grand winged back. The deep burgundy color of the fabric went amazingly well with the shiny black leather of the chaise lounge you were laying across.

You despised him. You loathed him. He had taken you away from everything you loved. Your family, your friends, your home. Everything. It had been almost a month now and things weren’t any better. You didn’t feel any less sad or empty.

Thank god he had given you your own room. However, he claimed it was only because they had yet to become husband and wife. Once the wedding was over and the marriage was official, you would be moving into his room and sleeping with him in his bed. The mere thought disgusted you.

And yet, despite it all, despite the fact that he had kidnapped you and was keeping you trapped down here against your will......he had treated you with nothing but kindness. He had given you space which shocked you most of all. Space to come and go as you pleased. You could eat and drink whatever you liked and was free to roam the courtyard gardens. He claimed he had put in the gardens just for you.

You’d never forget the first time he took you to see them.....

TWO WEEKS AGO.....

“Okay, here we are.”

You felt him stop behind you so that he could carefully remove his hands from over your eyes so as not to mess with your makeup. It was odd having female servants who were actually demons doing your hair and makeup every morning. Blinking at the sudden brightness of the outside, you took in the sight before you.

Flowers, they were everywhere. Fountains carefully sculpted; water pouring out and all around them. A cobblestone path that branched out like a grand labyrinth. You had to admit, the sight was breathtaking. Naturally, given who your mother was, you loved flowers. You loved spending your time in the flower fields picking the wild blooms.

“I didn’t know flowers could exist in Hell.”

“They don’t. I um.....”

You looked over as he was now standing beside you and what shocked you the most was the sheepish smile on his face. He rubbed nervously at the back of his head; messing up his once perfectly coiffed hair. If you hadn’t already known who he was, you would have never guessed he was actually the king of the underworld.

“I had some servants sneak up to Earth and swipe some stuff. I’ve had them working on this ever since I saw you in my dreams.”

“You----You what?”

“Yes. You came to me in a dream, my beautiful Persephone. You were there and from that point on, I knew where fate was taking me. I needed you down here with me. Living with me as my wife and queen.”

He was a lot more composed now compared to a few second ago. No longer the sheepish, shy male and back to being the suave devil king. He turned his attention from you to back at the courtyard before continuing calmly,

“I had my people working countless hours on perfecting this courtyard. I knew how much you loved flowers; watching you countless times frolicking in the fields.”

“I don’t frolic.”

You heard his sudden snort of amusement and it would seem even he wasn’t expecting that sound because he quickly covered his mouth in slight embarrassment. Hades, the most evil man of all, had just snorted. Meanwhile, you stood there with your arms folded and a small but loud pout on your face.

“No offense, beautiful, but you definitely frolic.”

THE PRESENT......

That was the first moment you thought Hades might actually have a heart. So you had attempted to plead with him. Begged him to let you go. That if he truly loved you the way he claimed he did, that he would let you go and return you to Earth. But you had no such luck. He just kept insisting that you would grow to love it here just as the flowers did.

Suddenly, he was standing up and your dark, hollow eyes followed him. With curiosity slowly filling said eyes, you watched him as he sauntered over to you only to plop down on the floor so that his face was mere inches from yours as your head was comfortably positioned on the lounge’s armrest. He grinned cheekily at you only for you to scoff which lead him to chuckle softly.

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

“You’d look cute beheaded and dismembered.”

“Dang, babe. Keep talking dirty to me. I’m loving it.”

He full-on laughed when you lightly hit him over the head with your hand. Why you hadn’t truly decked him confused even yourself. Perhaps you figured there was no point? Or maybe it was something else. You didn’t quite understand it.

“So I was thinking black for the color.”

“It’s a wedding, Hades.”

“Yeah but it’s a wedding in the Underworld. We’re supposed to be all dark, spooky and evil down here. Black is like our official color.”

You rolled your eyes as he fabricated a small journal along with a quill and a bottle of ink. Apparently he was going to take notes of their planning. You had to admit, Hades may be an evil man, but he was an elegant and sophisticated one. His penmanship was astounding and you wished you could learn how to read and write. It was like he could sense your troubles as he stopped writing and turned to glance at you.

“You okay, my flower?”

“Ye-Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Persephone. But I trust you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

You remained silent as he went back to what he was doing. His perfect scrawl started to fill the pages but you couldn’t understand a single word of it. It all looked like a bunch of symbols to you as you laid there; watching over his shoulder. Irritation gripped and ate away at you before you finally confessed with a tone of defeat,

“I don’t know how to read or write.”

The sounds of quill scratching against paper suddenly came to a halt and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck and trying to spread over your cheeks. The tips of your ears were burning by the time he had turned around a bit to glance over at you. Surprisingly enough, there was a warm smile of understanding on his face.

“Was that it? Oh, sweetheart. That’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. Lots of folk don’t know how to read or write because they’ve never had a reason to.”

Hades may be the king of evil, but you were his weakness. The one thing that made him soft. Seeing you there laying across his lounge looking all bashful melted his heart. You were so adorable and precious and you were all his. No one was going to take you away from him. Not now, not ever. Smiling and shifting to where he had set the quill in the ink bottle and set the book aside, he rested his chin on the edge of the lounge and said softly,

“If you’ll have me, I would consider it not only a joy, but a great honor to be the one that teaches you how to read and write. If you’re interested in learning, of course.”

The silence that followed seemed to drag out while you laid there pondering your options. On one hand, you really did want to learn. However, it nearly made you sick to think that he would be the one to teach you. Then again....aside from all the horrible things he’s done and what he does for a living.....he really has been nothing but kind to you. And he seems like he’d make a pretty decent teacher.

“Just so you know, this changes nothing. You’re still the dirt bag who kidnapped me and is holding me captive down here against my will.”

You hated how his warm chuckles made your heart flutter. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this to you. He wasn’t supposed to have this effect on you. You were supposed to hate his guts; his very existence.

Furthermore, why did he have to look so handsome? Sitting there all decked in black with that very form fitting turtleneck that showcased his firm chest and broad shoulders. And those ripped skinny jeans that made his thighs look like freaking tree trunks. It was when you began to wonder what it would be like to sit on his lap that you brought your thoughts to a screeching halt. Perfect timing, too.

“Babe? You okay?”

“Yeah. So um-----Where do we start with this whole reading and writing stuff?”

With a soft bark of laughter, he picked the journal back up along with the quill and ink bottle. Patting the spot next to him, you silently obeyed and slid off the lounge to sit beside him. With both your backs against the edge of the lounge, it was then that he finally answered your question.

“I figured we could start with the reading. I’ll write and you read. But first we have to learn the alphabet.”

Seemed simple enough. You watched him as he started writing random symbols on an empty page of the journal. With you being on his right side and him being right handed, sometimes your shoulders would touch and every time it left your skin tingling beneath the fabric of your dress. But that wasn’t all.

As he wrote down what you presumed to be the basic alphabet, his foot would occasionally bump yours. At first you just thought it was an innocent accident or maybe his foot would move whenever he was concentrating. But after awhile, you discovered he was being playful and so you took your bare foot and shoved his sock covered foot back. He chuckled and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking,

“Is the all feared and powerful Hades seriously playing footsie right now?”

“Yes he is. What of it???”

“Oh my god. You’re such a man child.”

You playfully roll your eyes and he just laughed even more. It was amazing how this man was supposed to be the most feared above all and yet here he was acting like a big kid who liked picking on other kids on the playground. Then again, you supposed you’d rather have that than him torturing you. Things could definitely be worse for you right now.

“So let’s start with the first letter.”

And so there the two of you sat on the rug covered floor of the living room with your backs propped up against the edge of the chaise lounge. He would introduce each letter to you one at a time in the proper order. He explained the various sounds each letter could possibly make when used in a sentence. Never in a million years would you have guessed that the devil himself would be the one to teach you how to read.

“There’s actually a library in here, you know. Once you get the hang of it, we can read together. I bet you’ll love all the cheesy, mushy, gooey romance novels.”

“Oh yeah? Let me guess----You go for all the murder mystery novels?”

“Hey----Murder mysteries are the best. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him only for him to do the same. Anyone who was on the outside looking in would have thought the both of you to be big kids but it was still a comical and perhaps even heart-warming sight to see. Just two people sitting together spending time not wanting to rip each other’s throats out. It was kind of nice.

So the lessons continued. Once you felt pretty comfortable with the alphabet, he moved on to some pretty basic words. Mostly three letter words so as not to overwhelm you. He was a great teacher, you’d give him that much. He held all the perfect traits of a leader and you could understand now why he was the king.

“What’s this word?”

“Um......I know it starts with S.....”

“Ah......I think the last letter is......Hades!”

You were a blushing mess when you suddenly figured out what word he was trying to spell for you. Extremely flustered, you tried to shove him but of course he never budged. Thankfully you hadn’t knocked over the small bottle of ink in the process of your attempt to get him as far away from you as possible.

“You’re so gross. Sex? Really?”

“Hey. At least you’re learning how to read, right?”

“Typical male.”

“You can’t blame me. It’s obviously going to be on my mind with all this talk about our wedding. Because we both know what happens once the wedding is over.”

With your arms folded and still quite flustered, you glanced over only to see him wiggling his eyebrows in a greasy manner. That was something else you despised. His eyebrow game was strong. Really strong. Was it possible to be attracted to someone’s eyebrows??? Because as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were fascinated with his.

“Again----You’re so gross.”

“Speaking of our wedding, we should probably get back to planning that, huh?”

The initial response was to recoil back to the lounge and resume your silent treatment. However, had he really given you a reason to do such a thing? No. Well yes and no. Could you really forgive him for taking you away from everything and everyone you know and love? Could you really just let that go? Could you picture yourself standing next to this evil man for the rest of your days?

And why the hell did the idea of having sex with him set your core on fire???

“What do you say, we have Theseus make us a fresh batch of tea along with those small shortbread cookies that you won’t admit you love and we can talk about our wedding. For real this time.”

“Do you always have to get that jab in there? How do you know whether or not I like Theseus’ shortbread cookies?”

“Because I have eyes and ears everywhere and he told me you loved them?”

“He ratted me out!?!?”

Hades let his head fall back and as he smiled through his laughter, you could see his crows feet trying to show and his bunny teeth were on full display despite staring at his side profile. What bothered you the most was how torn you were between decking him a new shiner or kissing that dumb smile off his face. With a huff of annoyance and your lips forming a pout, you mumbled in defeat,

“Whatever. Just get me those stupid cookies and your stupid tea.”

“That’s my girl. I knew you’d see things my way.”

“Why I outta!-----”

But before you could follow through with any kind of feeble threat, the male had snapped his fingers and within seconds, his favorite servant was back and at attention.

“Yes, sir?”

“Theseus, it would seem my beautiful flower and I got caught up in wedding planning and the tea has run cold. Could you please brew us a fresh batch. Oh----And could we get a plate of those shortbread cookies you make? Per my flower’s request.”

“Of course, sir.”

When the male servant had left, you couldn’t help but look over at your soon-to-be husband and it dawned on you......

“Why do you treat him so much better than the rest of your servants? You treat everyone else like crap but you treat him like a real person. Why is that?”

It surprised you how silent he was. Or perhaps he was just mulling over how to properly answer your question. Heck, maybe even Hades himself had asked that question a few times here and there. Setting the journal down in his lap, he put the quill back in the ink bottle and pushed everything to the side so that it wasn’t in the way. Turning so that he was now more turned towards you, he smiled softly; warmly even.

“Because he’s faithful. He does what I tell him to. His death......was an unfair one. So I took mercy on him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mafia. He was their butler. Got shot right between the eyes. Died instantly. He didn’t deserve such a fate but it was a fate he chose. He knew what he was getting into when he took that job. But still......”

“So that’s why he’s down here? Because he chose the mafia?”

“Pretty much.”

You found yourself staring at him. There he goes again. The big bad evil Hades whom was supposed to torture people for a living, and granted he did, but here he was looking like a young man who carried more weight on his shoulders than anyone could imagine. You watched him pick at random fibers in the rug you both were sitting on; the awkwardness practically radiating off of him.

This was a rare side of him, though. Or was it? Was this the same man who had took you to the courtyard gardens? The same man who sheepishly confessed he had his people grow a whole garden just for you. There was definitely more to the lord of the underworld aside from his bad reputation. Just when you were about to reach out for his hand, Theseus came through the doors and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Your tea and cookies, sir and madame.”

“Thanks, buddy. Take the rest of the evening off, okay?”

“As you wish, sir.”

Just as the servant was about to head for the doors, you piped up and said with a pointed finger,

“You! I’ll deal with you later, tattletale.”

However, all this got you was a soft chuckle from the male sitting next to you and a small smile of amusement from the servant. After giving you an elegant bow, he went for the double doors and just as he was about to close them behind him, he said in his smooth voice,

“Of course, madame.”

With the doors now closed and leaving just the two of you, Hades and his chuckles grew a bit in volume before he said in thick amusement,

“Babe, I think that threatening tone of yours needs some work.”

“Oh shut it. You know how I like my tea, right?”

“Absolutely. Get your pretty self comfortable again and I’ll fetch it for you.”

While you were plopping yourself back onto the black leather chaise lounge, you watched him carefully as he prepared the two cups of tea. How could a person look so fine when all they were doing was pouring liquid into cups and adding lumps of sweetener??? Soon enough, he was carefully walking over to you with a steaming cup perched on a matching saucer.

“Your tea, my love.”

“Thank you.”

His eyebrows, darn those eyebrows, shot up in surprise and that bunny smile was back as he asked in a clearly teasing tone; now pouring and doctoring up his own cup of tea,

“I get a thank you? To what do I owe this pleasant mood you’re suddenly in, hmm?”

“Oh shut up.”

“Well that didn’t last long.”

While you carefully blew on the steaming liquid to help try and cool it faster, you noticed out of the corner of your eye how the male had picked up his items off the floor and was now scooting his huge, winged back hair over to you so that you both could be comfortable while you worked.

It was a bit surreal now to think that you were finally accepting fate. Is that what you were doing here as you allowed him to start back up with the wedding plans? Would some people call it giving in? Did this acceptance make you a quitter? Did it even matter at this point???

“So I was thinking if you’re not entirely a fan of black, then you can pick one color to go with it. How does that sound?”

“Deal. Let me think......Hmm.......”

You sipped at your tea now that it was cooled down enough to where it wouldn’t burn your tongue. Taking notice of how this tea tasted a bit different from the blends you’ve had before, you tried to think of what color you could possibly want for this wedding. And then it hit you.

“This color.”

The male turned his attention away from the journal where the tip of the quill was poised and ready to write down whatever color you wished. You were pointing to the deep burgundy of the fabric that his chair was made out of. While he was curious, it made sense to you. Call yourself cheesy, but it made sense in your mind.

This room was where you finally accepted your fate. Where you accepted him and his world. In this very room where the furniture was black and burgundy. Those were going to be your wedding colors.

You still weren’t entirely happy about it, but what else could you really do? Escaping was obviously out of the question and it wasn’t like he had dragged you down here to torture you. In fact, as you had been thinking about over and over all evening, he has treated you with nothing but kindness and his own twisted form of love.

“Burgundy it is. Good choice, my flower.”

The planning continued as the both of you enjoyed the tea and cookies. Dang. You really were a sucker for those shortbread delights. Within 20 or so minutes, you both had agreed on colors, location, and vows. The ceremony would be held out back in the courtyard gardens and the both of you would write your own vows.

“You’re not gonna fill yours with all the ways you’d like to kill me, are you?”

After taking a moment to dramatically hum in thought while taking another sip of your tea, you acted like you were really thinking about it as you stared up towards the ceiling.

“I might throw in a couple here and there.”

“You’re so mean to me. I feel like this relationship is one-sided.”

“You don’t say?”

You tried your best to keep up the smooth and suave facade but it honestly didn’t last but only a couple seconds before you were softly snorting and laughing; his own noises of amusement mixing well with yours.

It was then that you took notice of......how warm you were. Not the fuzzy kind either. In fact, you were starting to break out in a light sweat. Balancing your saucer and cup with one hand, you used the other to lightly fan at your face. Looking over, you could see the male was starting to get a bit warm too; a slight sheen of sweat reflecting off the light from the flames of the fireplace. He had to be dying in that turtleneck.

Now that you were looking him up and down.....something wasn’t right here. Something was wrong. Your body was on fire and you itched to touch him; wanting nothing more than to rid him of those ridiculously tight clothes and feel him up. You wanted to know what lay beneath the fabric. Was he truly sculptured like the greek god he was? You looked up and locked eyes with him. He was starting to breathe a bit heavier just as you were; his eyes dark as coal.

“Hades.......what’s in this tea?”

“Does it matter?”

Silence presumed but only for a small second as the two of you played a battle to see who could undress who with their eyes the fastest. And within the following seconds, all hell broke loose.......no pun intended.

“Get over here, flower.”

Sounds of fine china clinking and clattering filled the silence as you both scrambled to put your cups of tea aside, shortbread crumbs went flying and soon enough you were straddling his waist as he sat there in the huge armchair. Lust filled his eyes as he stared into your own darkened orbs.

“Good girl. Now undress me. It’s bloody boiling in here.”

“You’re the one who chose to where a turtleneck in Hell.”

“Pipe it down, woman, and just do as I say.”

Pouting, you nonetheless did as you were told and watched him lift his arms so that you could work on getting the form fitting garment off of him. With the article of clothing now on the floor, you took a moment to feast your eyes on the man in front of you. Wow. Yeah. He was built. Definitely built.

“Don’t get distracted, baby. Keep going.”

Huffing in annoyance at his silly demands, you moved off of him so that you could take care of his belt buckle. Making quick work of it, you soon had him raising his hips so that you could tug down his jeans and boxers all at once. Okay now you were just drooling. It was like standing in a buffet line.

Where did you start? Muscle, there was so much muscle. It was all you could do not to sink your teeth into his bicep or his thigh. His collarbones didn’t look too bad either. Your eyes traveling further down, you appreciated his perfectly toned abs and that v-line. Dear god. With your eye on the prize, you took notice of his erection. He looked absolutely delicious. You could feel yourself salivating and tried to pull yourself together. Noticing his smug smirk, you grumbled,

“Now what?”

“Let me show you.”

Again with the whole magic show. Not before rolling your eyes, you soon watched him raise his hand and with a crisp snap of his fingers, you heard soft rustling sounds behind you. Turning around with knitted eyebrows and a facial expression of curiosity, you were met with a sight that had you raising an eyebrow.

“I think you’re the one who reads cheesy romance novels.”

“You’re such a mood killer, babe. I’m trying to be romantic here.”

In front of the firelit hearth was a sight right out of a romance novel. Pillows stacked upon pillows and cozy cotton sheets all spread out. To the side, there was a small dish of strawberries next to a dish of chocolate sauce. Just as you were about to make another snarky comment, you felt his arms wrap around you in a back hug. A shiver ran down your body when he started kissing at the shell of your ear and whispered,

“I’m trying to be romantic because tonight I’m going to make love to my beautiful bride-to-be. And while I’m showing her just how much I love her.......”

He paused so he could let both his hands fan out across your stomach before finishing in a sultry but loving tone,

“I’m gonna fill her with a baby. Our baby.”

And then it all made sense to you.

“I’m never drinking your baby-making tea again. Tell Theseus to throw that shit out.”

His lips had been busying themselves with planting soft, gentle butterfly kisses to the skin of your neck when you said that. So naturally when he snorted in amusement, it tickled and caused you to giggle and try and squirm away from him. With another kiss to your neck, he chuckled and spoke casually,

“Oh come on. You love my baby-making tea and you know it. Now get your pretty ass out of that dress and lay down for me. And spread those legs nice and wide. I wanna see all of my gorgeous flower.”

Fortunately for him, you were growing just as impatient if not more than he was. With your dress and undergarments off in a flash, you made sure your hips swayed as you walked over to the cozy space in front of the fireplace. Carefully laying down, you took a moment to swipe a strawberry and dipped it in chocolate.

God, Hades was in his own sinful version of Heaven right now. There laid his future wife, his queen, and hopefully after tonight, the mother of his children. Laying there in all her beautiful naked glory sucking purposefully on a chocolate covered strawberry.

“You’re evil, baby girl. Absolutely evil. That’s supposed to be my job.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to learn from the best. I figure since I’m going to be queen and all.”

He moved to where he was crouching down and crawling on top of you; his face now nuzzling your bosom. You took a sharp intake of air upon feeling his lips press more of those soft, tender kisses to your heated skin. Lapping at one of your now very perky buds, he made direct eye contact with you before saying against your skin,

“That’s right, baby. You’re going to be my queen who helps me rule this land with an iron fist. Show no mercy.”

And then everything happened so sudden. You let out a small cry of surprise when you watched him wrap his lips around your nipple; sucking slow but rough. Your back arched on it’s own and your head pressed harder into the pillows. It would appear your nipples were a weak spot of yours. Something Hades no doubt took mental note of.

Not wanting the other breast to feel neglected, he used his large, warm hand and started to massage your other mound. In between sucking, licking, and nibbling, he began to talk his praises of what he hoped your future body would look like.

“I can’t wait to see you swollen and full. These babies full of milk for our little monster. You’re going to be positively radiant. Glowing. A sparkling diamond in the deepest, darkest pits of Hell. And you’re all mine. You hear me, beautiful? You’re all mine.”

You had been laying there basking in the pleasure he was bestowing upon you with your body bowing and your hands in his hair trying to push his face further into your chest. You yelped softly in mild pain and surprise when you felt him gently bite down on your nipple and heard him say with a soft growl,

“Say it.”

“I’m all yours!”

“Good girl. Now----Do you need prepped or are you already soaked for me?”

“I’m dripping. Please. No more teasing. You can love me and be all romantic later. I just need you in me now. This heat is killing me.”

Chuckling, he planted a few more kisses to your breasts before reaching up for your face. First he kissed your chin, then along your jawline. Feather-like touches soon moved to your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Upon landing a kiss to your lips, he allowed his forehead to rest against yours before whispering against your lips,

“Oh my beautiful flower......I will never stop loving you. Never.”

That’s when you felt him align himself with your drenched entrance. You were pretty sure things were about to get messy but you couldn’t care less. What you were more focused on was how careful he was being with you. It was as if he were handling glass. Perhaps Hades only weakness.......really was you.

“Tell me if it starts to hurt, okay?”

“Okay.”

The softness behind your own voice surprised you. Were you possibly growing soft for this guy? Yeah. Probably. Let’s be honest......he included chocolate sauce. The quickest way to a woman’s heart is chocolate. That’s a given fact of life right there. And so as he slowly started to guide himself past your folds, you wrapped your arms around him and started to plant soft kisses to his face. Chuckling in between his shaky breaths, he said with a smile,

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one comforting you? This is your first time, right? I don’t want to break you, darling.”

“I’m fine, Hades. Just relax. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

Nodding despite the clouds of uncertainty swirling in his onyx orbs, he continued to move. The both of you gasp when you felt the bulbous tip of his length slide in past your wet folds. You had to admit, he had some weight to him. He was hard as a rock and larger than you initially thought. But you had no doubt that once you got used to the stretch, his girth would feel like sinful bliss.

And yeah. It hurt. It more than hurt. You felt like you were being split in two down there. But with soft words of encouragement from both parties, he was finally able to fill you to the hilt. In fact, another synced gasp filled the space between you when you felt him bottoming out inside you. God it hurt. You tried to fight back the whimpers of pain; not wanting to look like a wimp.

But to your surprise, Hades never once poked fun at you for it. Never once called you a baby or even played a pussy pun. In fact, he was busying himself by peppering your face with more butterfly kisses. His warm hands soothingly rubbing your hips to try and help distract you from the pain. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“You’re doing so good, baby girl. Taking me like a true champion. You were made for me, beautiful. Don’t worry. The pain will soon pass.”

And he was right. About half of that. The pain did eventually subside but it could have happened a lot sooner than it really did. Taking deep breaths to help calm your racing heart, you moved to where your nails were gently digging into the meat of his back and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Breathlessly, you spoke,

“Move. I’m okay. Please move.”

“Okay, my love. It’s okay. Just keep breathing and I promise you it’ll start to feel wonderful. Like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.”

Boy he wasn’t kidding. Sure it felt like hell at first, but soon it started to feel like you couldn’t get enough. Perhaps that’s what this whole thing was about. Finding out that Hell wasn’t such a bad place. That it didn’t have to be Hell at all. Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of Heaven in Hell too.

“Does this feel good, baby? You feel amazing. So tight and warm around my cock. Taking me like a good girl. Ah---god so tight.”

“Faster! Harder! Please! I want more! I need more!”

You were like a feline in heat. His little sex kitten. Oh how he knew you were made for him in every way. The two of you fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces. Not wanting to deny his queen of her needs, he picked up his pace but he could tell you needed more. Something a little extra. And that was when his hand slithered between your sweaty bodies and found your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh my god! Hades!”

“Yes, beautiful. Keep saying my name. Shout it. Scream it loud enough for the whole castle to hear. Let all of Hell know who’s making you feel this good.”

He could tell you were getting much closer. But he still hadn’t found that special spot he was looking for. If he could just get that perfect angle to where you were seeing stars, then he’d be happy. He knew instantly when he found it, too. You practically cried out in pleasure and your walls tried to squeeze the life out of him; causing him to grunt as he kept hitting that spot over and over.

“That’s it, my flower. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes! Feels so good! Don’t stop! Please!”

He hissed as he felt your nails dig deeper into his back; now basically clawing at the flesh. That was gonna leave a mark but he honestly couldn’t care less. He wanted you to mark him up. To mark your territory as you deemed fit and he would do the same with you. Leaning down, he started to do exactly that as he turned your neck into a star map.

You were close and so was he. He could tell from the way your walls were starting to spasm around him. Dear god you felt so good around him. If it wasn’t for wanting to wait on you, he’d have came a good few minutes ago. But he was waiting. Because this was about love but it was more than love. He wanted to create a family. Right here, right now.

“Come on, beautiful. Give me a baby. Boy, girl, twins, triplets. Doesn’t matter. I’ll be happy no matter what. Now cum. Cum for me, Persephone.”

Hearing your name and the way he talked about wanting a family with you, it was enough to send you over the edge. And just as Hades had planned and timed it, he breached your womb and made sure to spill every last drop of his load into you. He could only hope for the best. That you both enjoyed yourself and wanted the same things he wanted.

As you both laid there with him still deep inside you, because there was no way he was letting a single drop slip out, you took time to catch your breath. You had never felt anything like this before. He was right. This was definitely a first for you. Then again, you had always been the innocent flower that was supposed to wait till marriage. Finding your dream guy and getting married under the sunset and all that cheesy horse shit.

Guess you must have a thing for bad guys.

“So um.......you want another cup of tea?”

And I knew the grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #hades!jungkook #hades jungkook #os;deeplypoisoned

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ol-plots-blog · 6 years

Photo

The dungeons were dark, damp, and silent, and Lysander’s skin was prickled with goosebumps from the moment they entered.

It was strange to walk through Hogwarts castle at night - the stone hallways were so devoid of life. Each footstep echoed, but not with the chattering or laughter of students going to or from class, as Lysander could remember; it was as though a blanket had been laid over everyone and everything, muting it beneath layers of heavy fabric. They’d all been nervous and put off by the nothingness of Hogwarts, instinctively on high alert and wands drawn, even though they knew the castle had been secured, save for one or two persons of question.

It didn’t ease the jumpiness of their demeanour when Corbin Elloway led them down into the sealed-off dungeons, the oppressive silence even more pronounced. Lysander had given the instruction for the dungeons to be evacuated, to make way for their party, as well as to dislodge the great blathering idiot that is Samwell Whitmore, but even still - they’re so quiet that Lysander can feel the back of his neck prickle. He isn’t a man that fears much; he prides himself on being unshakeable, persevering through the worst of it with a grin, and it would take more than an empty labyrinth of dungeons to spook him. And yet - it unsettles him, because Lysander, better than most, knows what’s possible down here.

The solid presence of Henry at his side calms Lysander. He senses him there, rather than sees him, though all of Lysander’s other senses ring with the familiarity of him, too: the smell of him, like wooden sawdust, crushed fall leaves, the salt of the ocean, clinging to him from home, or what’s become home since this whole thing began. The steady gait of his walk, heavy and measured, his long legs always keeping stride with Lysander’s own. And the feel of him, like Lysander’s body and his are in a constant orbit, push and pull, gravitating both toward and around one another. It comes from being life long friends; it comes from being bonded mates within a pack. Lysander needs no other.

But others, he has, filing in behind them in lines of two, their wands clutched at their sides. It’s been years since any of them had a chance to step inside the walls of Hogwarts again; not since their ill-fated attempt at guarding it before the riot in London had they set foot here. Back then, they’d been a group barely out of its infancy stage, still learning how to be together, fight together; they’ve had ten good years since, and Lysander knows all of them deeply, each of them earning their place within his pack and proving themselves over and over again.

And prove themselves they must.

They duck their heads as they enter a tunnel, Lysander in the lead behind Elloway, noticing the way the man seems a little more ragged than when they’d seen each other last. His letters had betrayed nothing of the weariness that hangs on Elloway’s shoulders, the grey at his temples; there had been trials at Hogwarts, but Lysander couldn’t have guessed the toll.

“Straight down, only a little further,” Elloway says, navigating a path through the rocky tunnel, dotted with the misshapen boulders of hard granite, protruding from the tunnel walls.

It’s not the most homely place that Lysander’s ever stayed, and speaking as someone who’s lived out in the open forest for months on end at one point, he knows uncomfortable when he sees it. And the deeper they go, tunneling further under the castle, the more Lysander feels trapped. He’s never been claustrophobic, but then again he’s never been so far from the grass and trees and sky; he’s never had to go without, not like this, and it already messes with his head to feel no wind, carrying the scent of wild prey and the last gasps of winter.

“It’s alright,” Henry says, voice a low rumble as his hand falls onto Lysander’s shoulder. “It’s not forever.”

“Feels like a fuckin’ tomb,” Lysander snaps, eyes darting around, seeing better in the dark than most of the others.

“But not ours,” says Henry, fingers tightening, grounding Lysander.

Lysander’s jaw is tight but he nods, a small jerk of his head to let Henry know he’s alright, that he’ll keep it together, and his eyes have to readjust when they step into a cavernous room.

It looks like its been hollowed out by a giant ice cream scoop, the sides smooth and the room feeling rather circular. Lysander’s eyes trace the walls up, up, to a pointed ceiling somewhere in the distance - but it never touches the ground nor the light beyond. The knowledge of that sits heavy in his gut as the rest of the Order spread out among the space.

“It used to be the Chamber of Secrets,” Elloway says casually, and all eyes turn to him sharply. He doesn’t seem to notice, busy inspecting one of the many tunnel mouths that lead away into the darkness. “Funny that, isn’t it?”

“Hilarious,” drawls Lexie, dumping her large bag down in the centre of the room, where several beds have been set up. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather sleep than the same place a giant serpent did.”

“Actually--”

“Not now, Knox,” June says gently, cutting Knox off before he can start.

Lysander doesn’t like it much more than the rest of them, but he keeps his mouth shut, eyeing the surrounds carefully. They’ve got a lot of exits, but each one is also a potential entrance.

“Where do these lead?” he says, pointing to the two in the back wall.

“We’ve yet to complete an exploration of each in full,” Elloway says, bashful, “but as far as we can tell, they lead into the castle. Some are caved in, while others remain functional.”

Lysander drops his things without care and walks toward one of the tunnels, its great, gaping black mouth yawning open, larger and larger as he walks closer. The myths and legends about the basilisk that had once roamed these tunnels doesn’t frighten Lysander, even though he’s not of pure blood. He figures his odds are better than the average.

“We’re going to need a full search of each tunnel as soon as can be arranged,” Lysander says, looking over his shoulder at Henry, who nods. “I want each of them mapped by distance and time taken to travel, as well as its condition and potential entrances or exits to the greater castle beyond.”

“Of course,” says Henry.

“Once we’ve established that, we’ll ward each of them so that students are not able to enter,” Lysander continues, feeling himself get back into the groove of it. “We might also be able to use one or two as a rigged trap.”

Henry nods, and starts taking notes by hand in a notepad, muggle pen scratching across the paper.

“We’ll also simultaneously establish our base down here, with a clear means of communication with the outside world. We’re expecting letters,” he says, adding the last bit to Elloway, who nods.

“If you need anything, we have the usual means of communication,” Elloway says.

Henry keeps writing, and Lysander wanders from tunnel to tunnel, looking at each of them. They’re intimidating, and he’d feel a lot better if he knew where each of them went.

“I should get back, I’m supposed to be patrolling the second floor,” says Elloway, rocking nervously, the dark circles under his eyes catching the shadows. “Georgette said she’d come in the morning, to see how things are.”

“Right,” Lysander says, preoccupied by the twists of one tunnel that make him crane his neck.

By the time he straightens, Elloway’s gone, and everyone is spread among the beds that have been erected for them. They look listless and dispassionate, and Lysander sort of knows the feeling - Skylar and Lexie undoubtedly missing the outside world as much as he.

“Come on, get off your ass,” he calls, and they perk up at the sound of his voice, but only slightly. “We’ve got a job to do.”

Lexie groans, but June makes a show of standing up, wand in hand, and brushing herself off. Always demure and spotless, June competes daily with Henry for most loyal, which makes Lysander smile.

Henry steps in.

“Alright, we’re going to assign each tunnel a number, and you will each be given a number and expected to explore, map, and catalogue it within the hour,” he says, voice authoritative, carrying around the cavernous space.

Lysander folds his arms and watches from the back.

“Lexie, tunnel one,” Henry calls, as though he’s raffling off prizes, pointing with the end of his pen to the tunnel on his right. “Tunnel two, Knox with Violet.”

Knox gives Violet a weak smile, but Lysander’s sure he can see sweat forming on his upper lip.

“Tunnel three, Skylar. Tunnel four, Demetria.”

They don’t look happy to be split up, and Skylar looks as though he’s about to protest when he catches Lysander’s eye. Lysander stares him down until Skylar’s mouth closes and his brow furrows.

“Tunnel five, June. And I’ll take tunnel six,” finishes Henry, looking up from his notepad while pushing up the frame of his glasses by the bridge. “Questions?”

Skylar looks to Lysander, who stares back coolly, and no one says anything.

“Great. Within the hour, people,” Henry says, and everyone jumps to action, wands in hand.

Lysander stays where he is, propped against the cold stone that bites into his shoulder, watching his pack split up, taking their assigned tunnels with quiet determination. Knox takes Violet’s hand, allowing her to help him into the tunnel mouth, while Lexie strides into the darkness of her tunnel without so much as lighting her wand. They’re an odd bunch, no denying, but they’re as close to family as Lysander has allowed himself to get.

Once they’re all gone, swallowed up by the darkness, Henry walks over. He’s taller than Lysander - shot up like a string bean in their third year and hasn’t slowed down since.

“You coming?” Henry asks, jerking his chin to the tunnel to Lysander’s left. “Might lead somewhere interesting.”

“Pass,” Lysander says. “Thought I’d stay and unpack the essentials.”

Henry snorts. “You mean that stash of whiskey you smuggled in? Not sure that counts as essential, Lys.”

Lysander just grins, pushing off the wall and closing the space between them. “That’s for me to decide.”

“And I don’t think it’s going to last you,” Henry adds, a thoughtful frown on his face. “You’ll have to get more from somewhere.”

“Hogsmeade is only a short walk away, and I’m positive I could get a crate or two brought over,” says Lysander, shrugging. “Where there’s a will.”

Henry doesn’t smile, even though Lysander knows he’s being downright charming.

“Stop worrying so much,” Lysander says, bringing his hands to Henry’s robe, smoothing out the lapels. “We’re going to be fine here.”

“I think you’re being a bit too nonchalant about things.” Henry keeps frowning this small little Lysander-specific frown, for when he can’t work something out about him. “Did you forget why we’re here in the first place?”

Now it’s Lysander’s turn to darken, pulling away from Henry. “Stop the bad guy, save the day. What other heroics would you ask of me, Hen?”

“I’m not asking you to do anything--”

“Aren’t you?” snaps Lysander, staring Henry down. To his credit, Henry stands his ground. “Isn’t the whole fucking reason why we’re here because of you?”

“No, we--”

“No,” Lysander says, cutting him off. “You. You wanted this, and I agreed. You wanted to do more. You were the one tired of waiting. You were the one who thought being more proactive is what we needed. Well, we’re here, aren’t we?”

Henry says nothing, watching Lysander, who shoves past Henry to kick open his trunk. From within, he pulls out one of the bottles he’s stashed within, and instead of reaching for a glass, takes a mouthful directly from the bottle.

“You happy now, Hen? Got what you wanted?” he says, taking another mouthful, eyes closed as he swallows, relishing the feeling of his throat burning and lungs screaming for air.

“Lys,” say Henry, coming closer. “Lys, stop.”

Lysander doesn’t.

“Lys--” and Henry snatches the bottle from Lysander’s hand, spilling some of it, and Lysander can’t help but watch the liquid fall to the floor, anger swelling up. “Christ, Lysander,” Henry murmurs, looking at him.

He feels the concern radiating off Henry, but doesn’t meet his gaze.

“Just go,” Lysander says, and when Henry doesn’t move, Lysander turns to look at him properly. “Go.”

It’s not an order - not an alpha order, anyway - but Henry nods, placing the bottle on the ground and walking away, over to his assigned tunnel. Lysander watches him go, slipping into the darkness, and when he turns to look at Lysander, their eyes meeting, it’s Lysander who looks away first.

The silence once Henry’s gone is absolute.

Exhaling loudly, running a hand through his long hair, pushing it back away from his face, Lysander sits heavily on one of the beds. He misses home - the sea air, the sound of the gulls in the morning, the crash of waves whenever there’s a pause in conversation. He misses the woods that butt their home, knowing an escape is always possible. He misses his room, his study, his bed - Henry beside him, the others around.

Lysander never wanted this war - he never wanted to have to do any of this. But the war came to him in the form of Lowell Tegus, a face that had become twisted with revenge and determination, and Lysander knew that he was the only one who could stop this world from imploding. Because Lowell was more than capable of doing everything he did - and didn’t - promise; he would make it happen, because that’s what he did. He got things done.

The weight of it all sits heavily on Lysander’s shoulders, and he reaches forward for the bottle, now lighter than when he’d last held it. Without thinking, he drinks - drinks until his throat burns in that beautiful way, and his lungs beg for air. He drunks until his head rings, and when he surfaces, eyes watering, the ex-Chamber doesn’t look half bad.

It’s just another place, it’s just another job. He’ll get through this, and they’ll be one step closer to finishing the whole thing.

Or Lysander tells himself, taking another swig from the bottle, anything to feel the burn, anything to feel something other than this - the gnawing ache for release, for this to be over. He drinks until it goes, and then he drinks a little more to make sure it stays that way.

He’s drunk by the time the others return, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. They’ve come to expect it from him, stumbling, propped up by Henry to make it to the bathroom. Lysander might be their leader, but it’s Henry that takes care of everyone, not him.

There’s a hand easing him into a bed, water pressed against his lips, and then he’s out, the sound of voices bubbling around him, none quite penetrating the fog in his brain.

And when Lysander dreams, it’s of the past, rather than the future - why dream of something and torture yourself with a promise you’ll never keep?

#tw: alcoholism #tno

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impartofthesolution · 4 years

Text

The Treasure of the Sand

“Historians believe this pyramid was constructed around 2100 BC…” Lexi explained. “So, it’s significantly newer than the Great Pyramid,” Benton interrupted. “Yes, I was getting there, but you already seemed to know that. Scientists and historians all differ on the purpose of this pyramid. All of the rulers’ remains from this time period have been recovered.” Lexi continued. “I know, I know. The pyramid had gone undiscovered until the late 1800s. Yadda yadda. Too many people died to booby traps or uncanny coincidences. No imaging tech has been able to fully explore.” Lexi turned to face him with pursed lips and a stern stare. “If you already knew so much about this pyramid, why did you hire me?” Benton chuckled, completely unfazed by her indignation. “You didn’t really think a man offering a large amount of money for a solo trip to an off-limits pyramid after dark wanted a fricken tour, did you?” “Well, no,” she averted her stare, slightly embarrassed by the misunderstanding. “You Americans always want weird things.” “And do you know what I’m paying you for?” “Haha heh, not a tour,” Lexi went with the answer that she hoped would ease the awkwardness she was feeling. She was apprehensive to hear what he had in mind. He smiled at that. It was a kind smile, but layered through it was cunning, adventure, mischief, and greed. “Indeed, not. You’re going to help me break into the pyramid.” “Why?” she returned to staring at him. “Why would you want to do that? People have died doing that.” “Because it sounded like a great way to spend a Tuesday night.” He laughed deeply. “Because there’s treasure in there, and I want it. And you seem interested. I notice you haven’t said no.” “What makes you so sure you can get this treasure?” She still hadn’t said no. “With this book,” Benton flourished a book, “and your help,” Benton did a bow with his arm extended towards Lexi. “I know all of the tricks to this here pyramid.” Lexi thought it over. This was the kind of adventure she needed to break out of Cairo and start traveling the world. Success always came with risks. “Fine. You go first. At the first sign of you not being in control, I’m out of here.” Benton just smiled confidently and gestured for her to lead them to the entrance. Many pyramids were rather linear in construction. However, this particular pyramid was a labyrinth. Lexi noticed that Benton spent more time looking at his book with the flashlight than he spent looking where he was going. And yet, so far so good. Occasionally, he would call out instructions or read from his book excerpts like “a heavy foot on the sand will sink, but a light foot on the stone would soar to the heavens” or “the kids are laughing and singing their songs, skipping up the circles to play their games.” There were plenty of skeleton, picked clean. Lexi didn’t want to think about what would do that… what could live in the permanent darkness of the inside of this pyramid. For all of her bravery and confidence earlier, she no longer had a clear sense of the right way out. If she lost Benton, she might wander until she became a skeleton herself. Or the booby traps would get her first. Benton stopped and read a section of his book. Then, he spoke up. “Follow me, exactly. See this hole in the wall? Every three feet, there will be one. They alternate high and low. We step over the first, and then we duck under the second. Got it?” Lexi nodded when he lit up her face with the outer edge of his flashlight’s light. Benton took an exaggerated step. Then, he crouched low and duck walked a few feet forward. He stood and beckoned for Lexi to take her first step over the alleged booby trap. He continued on, stepping over the next. Each movement was fluid, practiced. It looked like he trained for this very sort of thing. Lexi followed him exactly. Towards the end, she crouched too close to the previous hole. An unseen force threw her against the wall. “Lexi!” Benton turned quickly and carefully to check on her. A spear had pierced her backpack and embedded itself on the far wall. “Lexi. You’re okay. Listen to me. You’re safe a few feet behind you, but don’t move too far forward yet. Take off your backpack and leave it behind. Then, keep following me.” Lexi nodded, breathless. Her thick black hair was sticking out in different directions from her rapid flight. Slowly, afraid moving too fast would somehow be her downfall, she slipped one arm out of the backpack at a time. When she was free, she continued forward, ducking underneath the next hole. Despite the close call, they made it out the other side unscathed. “I hope you didn’t have anything important in that bag,” mused Benton, both serious and teasing. “Oh, sure, nothing important at all. The first aid kit was there, so try not to get hurt. And I hope you lead us to the treasure soon, since we have no food or water if we get lost. After you.” Lexi said that last part with a firmness that meant he had better know what he’s doing. She was sure now she would never find the way out on her own. Benton continued to lead them through forks in the path and less terrifying booby traps. He even claimed if she stepped in the wrong place at one part, there’d be an Indian Jones style rock to roll after her. She had to take his word for it, since they never tripped that alleged booby trap. Finally, Benton stopped at the entrance to a large chamber. “This should be it,” he spoke slowly, not even looking up from his book to study the room with his flashlight. “This I’ve got to see,” Lexi started to rush ahead. Benton’s arm shot out and stopped her before she passed him. “Hold on, we don’t know if this is booby trapped.” “Well, what does your book say?” asked Lexi, her voice tinted with accusation. “Sink or swim, the choice to make. Those who don’t flee shall meet their fate. Be it treasure or torture, the rising tides decide.” “Good job. That’s just vague enough to work.” Benton hummed to himself as a response to her jab. He had to think about this and compare it to what he was seeing. “Lexi, do you see that goblet?” Benton flashed his light at a golden goblet a few feet closer to him than the center of the room. “Oh, no, that can’t be good. That looks like a trap well and good.” “Perhaps it is, but do you see any other treasure around?” Lexi answered him with silence. She had obviously noticed. “The final clue indicates we have to best one final challenge before we can recover the treasure. Now, I don’t see any openings, which makes me think we need to trigger the booby trap before we can escape.” “What if I wait here where it’s safe and you try it?” “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You probably won’t be safe. Besides, I heard you mumbling about how lost we are.” Lexi looked surprised. “You have the knowledge, your book, and you can speak Arabic? Why did you need me?” “I have my reasons.” Benton turned to face the goblet. “Shall we?” He held his hand out in a cooperative gesture but kept it out of her reach so she couldn’t take it. He started forward, and, as he expected, she followed. Nothing was happening. They looked around. Benton shrugged, stooped down, and picked up the goblet. The stone under it moved up as he removed the goblet. Instantly, a massive stone fell, blocking their exit with a mighty crash. “This is it!” Benton exclaimed, a broad, adrenaline-filled smile on his face. Lexi didn’t share his enthusiasm. They shot their flashlights everywhere, waiting to see what would happen. After about a minute, Lexi spoke up, “Hey, where’s that sound coming from?” “It sounds like someone is shaking an hourglass.” Their flashlights focused on some dust falling from the ceiling. What they originally took to be residual debris from the entrance collapsing, they realized was actually sand falling from the ceiling. They looked around the room. There were more growing piles of sand. The sand was coming from holes that opened in the ceiling. “I thought you said some door would open up. I don’t see any way out, and we’re going to get buried alive.” The sand had fully coated the floor, and it was rising at an alarming rate. It wasn’t super fast or anything like that, but panic has a way of making a person feel he or she is out of time. Lexi tried to step up onto the sand, but her foot sank a bit and new sand began to cover it. Benton was on his back next to her, trying to float. He coughed some sand out of his mouth. “That’s not going to work,” he said with an amused chuckle. “Then tell me, what is going to work?!” They were standing on roughly a foot of sand, and more sand was up past their knees. “I said there would be a door. There’s got to be a door.” He looked around. The room was getting hazy with dust particles. As he wiggled himself to try and get above some more sand, his eye caught something in the flashlight’s beam. “Hey, Lexi, look here.” She didn’t stop squirming to stay above the sand as she followed his flashlight. “This hole in the ceiling doesn’t have sand falling from it. Maybe it’s our way out.” “But how are we supposed to get up there? That’s still ten feet above us.” “We wait it out and let the sand carry us up, I suppose.” “That’s crazy. What if it isn’t the way out? Then, it’ll be too late.” “Do you trust me?” Benton asked her, this time extending his hand to her to hold. “For some reason, I do,” she replied, taking his hand. It took them minutes of crawling, scampering, and sliding through the sand before they got close enough to the hole. Benton kept his flashlight fixed on it. “I think there’s a big space on the other side, perhaps an air pocket. I can’t see the walls. It might be big.” The ceiling of the chamber was level with their heads. It was this hole or their quick, painful deaths. They huddled close to line up with the hole, still treading sand to try and stay up. “I might be able to reach,” Benton said through clenched teeth. With a mighty effort, he tried to jump up. His fingers caught the other side of the ceiling. It took all of his strength to pull himself up. When he looked back down, only Lexi’s head was above the sand, and the sand had reached the ceiling. “Give me your hands, I’ll pull you up.” She reached her arms up, and her head bobbed under the sand. Benton grabbed her by the forearms and hoisted her up. As she whipped out of the sand, she gasped for air, sand spilling out of her everywhere. He dragged her up to him. They looked around and gasped. Before them was arrayed far more than a single king’s fortune. They were looking at the largest single find in all of Egypt, and it was all theirs. They were speechless for a few moments until they were all wide smiles and bright eyes. Back to Table of Contents (x)

#Horror Vignettes #October2020 #cairo #I stole this from an unpublished short story #Which I stole from Genesys #boobytraps #gotta love them #treasurehunters #who is Benton really?

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c-is-for-circinate · 7 years

Text

Another lengthy list of Persona 5 thoughts and bullet points, before tomorrow’s inevitable ten-hour marathon of play.

(Spoilers through late June and the third boss dungeon)

Makoto is my favorite character, full stop. If you have read my epic capslock, you may have already figured this. She is so fierce and so badass and yet also, the whole judging her self-worth based on her utility thing resonates so hard with me, and I love her and if she weren’t seventeen and also fictional I might propose, but probably I’d just stand back in awe and crush forever. My new game goal is to max out her social link. Given that starting it requires significantly more knowledge than I currently have, I forsee a lot of studying in my future...

Current social links I do have: Fool, Magician, Emperor, Hierophant, Lovers, Chariot, Strength, Justice, Death, Moon, Sun. I am waiting on either stats or trigger events for Makoto (Priestess), Iwai the fence (maybe Tower, I’m guessing now? because who the fuck knows???), the fortune teller in Shinjuku (I am assuming Fortune...), my homeroom teacher who I have been told is an SL (maybe Temperance? IDK, she seems very ‘sigh why me I just can’t’, which isn’t quite Hanged Man, but whooooo knows), and the two party members I know I’m getting but don’t have yet. (I’m going to randomly guess Empress and Hermit just based on their character art and the fact that a hacker navi seems Hermit-y to me.) That counts up to 17 out of 22. Judgement and World/Universe always auto-level, so I’m still missing three--Devil, Star, and Hanged Man if all of my probably-terrible guesses are right. Really hoping Sae Nijima is one of them. Besides that--the reporter lady who gave me Kaneshiro’s name, and maybe that rival model of Ann’s who is such a bitch? Maybe? WE SHALL SEE.

Pretty sure I need to do Mishima’s damn Maidwatch thing to start an SL, damnit. I know I’m not going to max everything (I will max Makoto if she is the only thing I do so help me), but I refuse to deliberately not start something. Sigh sigh sigh.

Speaking of social links, I’m actually loving Strength most of all right now??? Mostly because of the twins talking about that mysterious list. I want Margaret or Elizabeth to have written that list for vague arcane reasons more than I can possibly explain. I am so curious about how these twins and their relationship with the protag is going to develop. So curious. That said, the whole ‘how did whoever wrote this list know our next guest would have Wild Card’ thing??? Who ever goes to the Velvet Room without a wild card? How is the Velvet Room even remotely useful to anybody without a wild card?

Also speaking of social links and also previous game references, WHO ELSE NOTICED TAKEMI CALLING UEHARA-SAN AT THE HOSPITAL AND MADE HIGH-PITCHED NOISES BECAUSE I SURE AS FUCK DID. Jesus those two need to be drinking buddies. I need one million words of Sayoko and Takemi going out to bars together. Maybe they go out in Shinjuku and run into the reporter-lady. GIVE ME SOMETHING.

Ahem. Moving on, can I just say some extremely enthusiastic words about dungeon design in this game? (Fun fact: it is possible to do the full exploration of Kaneshiro’s dungeon in one day in-game. Stock up on HP and SP restoration items first, but I have done it and I feel very proud of myself for it.) It’s so puzzle-y and labyrinth-y! There was definitely a while where I felt like I was being deeply frustrated by one of those point-and-click escape games I always find myself playing, which I enjoyed immensely. Everything is so cool and so full of stuff.

So far, we’ve robbed a castle, a museum, and a bank. We know we’re going to climax with a casino heist. What else do people classically rob? Thinking about Leverage is not super-helpful here; they took on a bunch of super high-security office buildings, but I’m not sure they have Sterenkos in the Metaverse, and beyond that it was either new and unusual locations or a lot of museums. Maybe some kind of ancient tomb/pyramid thing, with lots of traps, very Indiana Jones/Lara Croft? Possibly a temple to some dude who thinks he’s a god.

I have been theorizing that, as we go through bosses and dungeons, we’re going through the seven deadly sins--seven is a solid number for total dungeons in a Persona game (matches the number in P4), and I feel like we’ve been on par so far. Kamoshida’s lust, Madarame was specifically called out as ‘vanity’ (which is a subset of pride), Kaneshiro I would’ve expected to be greed but was explicitly called ‘gluttony’, which certainly makes sense with all the pig imagery. Which means we still need envy, greed, sloth, and wrath. I could see greed as a ‘greed for power’ final boss dungeon, but I can only imagine what sloth looks like in a P5 boss. Curious to find out if I’m right!

There have not been a lot of plot developments for me to mull over since last I did a big long one of these. Not a ton of other things to say on that!

I keep batting ships around in my head, thinking about what-if’s and maybes.

It’s cold and October when the protagonist invites Ann back to his room, just Ann. They both know what it means. He kicks Morgana out for the evening and makes coffee and doesn’t meet Sojiro’s eyes, but upstairs it’s... It’s strange, like their lives are strange, this big empty attic-room, this weird outside-of-the-world world where this boy lives like a kid and like an adult and like a thief, making lock picks and training his HP, watching DVDs on rickety chairs with his cat. And it’s strange because these two people...they lost everything months ago and rebuilt themselves anew. Panther and Joker are rough and scarred and ferocious, furious, determined. Panther and Joker don’t do this. They kill, shadows and now humans because this thing they started once keeps getting bigger and bigger than both of them and sweeping them along with it and they are young gods with magic at their fingertips, and-- here in this room, right now, they’re not the Joker and the Panther, they are. Children. They’ve never done this before, because the boy who is now the Joker (most of the time, even when he’s not wearing the mask--how will this train me to be a better thief, how can I use this person, what choices do I make?) well he was quiet and nobody and some core chunk of him still is, under so many masks that he doesn’t know himself any more. Ann’s never touched anyone like this, not really. And they are soft to each other, lying on their sides face to face under the covers on his bed, soft and a little wondering and he touches her, shoulder, waist, skin, and she touches him, chest, hip, face. Very few people have been soft to either of them in a long, long time.

Akechi joins the Phantom Thieves (we all know Akechi already has a persona by this point, right? Akechi who can understand Morgana from the very beginning, when the game makes such a damn obvious point of Makoto not just a few days later?) and Akechi runs with them and Akechi sells them out, because look if it’s not a fake-out then it’s more interesting that way. Akechi sells them out and the protagonist knows right away that it must have been him, because there are ways and ways they play this game. They are not soft to each other and they are not done yet. And however he escapes that jail cell--it is escape, not release, with cops and hounds at his heels, and the help of his team, probably, but our Joker is clever and he manages to twist the facts or appearance of the situation to make it very very clear that Akechi helped in that escape, maybe even masterminded it (even though he probably did no such thing.) That’s it, then, you’re stuck as one of us, boy, one way or another. The protag meets up with the rest of the team just long enough to make sure everybody’s alive and then they scatter, because he was in there too long and talked too much, and the people watching on that camera have every single name they need. Everyone in Tokyo is after them. They need to get out of the city and they need to split up and lie low. Protag calls his social links, sends party members in ones and twos--get to Shinjuku, the fortune teller will put you up. If you can slide through Yongen-Jaya without attracting attention, don’t go to Sojiro they’ll look there, go through Takemi’s back door. Drags Akechi with himself, no questions asked, and they end up in the secret basement Iwai so clearly has for the illegal crap he so clearly sells. Why didn’t you tell them? Akechi says, and the real answer is because that’s not the game, and that’s part of it, but also... We need you now. You need us. We’re stronger together. And also, also, because the team is everything and everyone is at risk now, game or no game, if you do anything like that again I’ll kill you myself, and he will if he has to. Maybe. If he actually can. But they spend thirty-seven hours trapped down there in the dark and the dust and the cobwebs, and it’s not the first time they’ve had sex, but every single time previous it was some how much does he know that I know masque of intent and suspicion, and this time, they know. They know everything. They’re still enemies. They’re still closer than the best of friends. That’s how a good enemy should be.

So look, I don’t know if Morgana ever stops being a cat or not, but if he does, there is going to be Morgana/protag bedsharing fic and I am going to write it. I don’t even necessarily ship it but that needs to exist. What’s more in your space than a cat that insists on curling up in your bed, at the small of your back, on top of your face, right next to you night after night? What’s more ingrained into our protag’s life than the cat in his bag voice in his ear? What happens if and when that suddenly goes away? (Sex. Sex happens. I am just saying.)

I am weirdly into Makoto/Ryuji right now? Because okay, look. Everybody assumes when they get paired together for divide-and-conquer team activities, it’s so Makoto can keep Ryuji out of trouble--impetuous, chariot, loud and somewhat reckless Ryuji. And it is, but it’s also so Ryuji can keep Makoto out of trouble--because everybody looks at the girl with the grades and the brain and the planning skills, and lets themselves forget the girl who marched into Junya Kaneshiro’s nightclub with absolutely none of that on her side. Her inner soul is a motorcycle made of light and she’s every bit as much a rebel as any of them, full throttle, no holding back. And so I see Makoto and Ryuji tasked with doing something together, casing out the next target, exploring some bit of a dungeon, and she’s getting a little bossy and he’s getting a little snappish back until, “Come on, Skull, we both know I’m here to keep an eye on you” and he shoots back with, “Nuh-uh, I’m here to keep an eye on you.” And they face off in annoyance until they discover that no, their leader literally told each one of them separately to keep the other on their best behavior. And look, it’s an effective personnel management technique. They respect that. But also, goddamnit. It makes them both want to do something reckless, just to prove the team wrong. Nothing to jeopardize the mission, that’s the opposite of effective, but. But hmm. So maybe they show up to the next meeting both of them on the back of Makoto’s real-life motorcycle, the one she’s said she has a license for, Ryuji squished up against her back with his arms around her waist in a borrowed helmet, and act like nothing’s changed at all while people gape. Maybe they go a little wild together. It’s good for both of them. (And they have conversations, the stop-start time that runs into awkward walls but then finds a way around, about their missing fathers, the female relatives they want to do right by and just keep disappointing, their self-worth, their dreams. Ryuji keeps up with her. She wasn’t expecting that from him. He doesn’t take over and he doesn’t try to, but he matches her. So okay, yeah. Sure. Yeah. This will work.)

They have to flee in the end, every one of them, the whole eight-person-one-cat team--out of Tokyo, and let’s leave all of Japan, and let’s leave the Pacific, leave Asia, get half a world away and regroup. They’ve got a hacker and they’ve got skills and they end up in Paris because that feels inevitable, in some grand loft apartment or a converted warehouse that looks like the hideout from Inception. They’re not real adults yet but they’re going to have to act like it, because every adult in their lives is long left behind. They were the teens and the children rebelling against the shitty grown-ups, but they have to figure out how to be the grown-ups now. Good luck not being shitty about it They steal because they need to get by and because they’re good at it, and to keep themselves from turning into just exactly the same sort of assholes profiting off the weak they target the biggest assholes they can spot. Not just in Paris--that’s too close to home, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? They spend a week and a half in Belgium, the better part of a month in Germany, a very long weekend in London wrecking things from the base of a couple of hotel rooms, and then they go back to their beautiful huge empty warehouse loft with the tall high windows pouring in sunlight that traces beams through the dust hanging still in the air, and they figure out how to live next. They’re all on top of each other, every one of them, and the boundaries rub away from friction and proximity until they sleep on top of each other in strange piles, until touch comes easy--a hand on a shoulder, a back, a neck, a face. They pretend to date each other for cons and cover in a dozen different combinations until nobody remembers who’s supposed to be dating who any more, until it doesn’t matter. They fuck in pairs behind the screens they set up for something like privacy, and there’s no real privacy to it, so instead they start fucking in threes and fours and maybe that’s better. There’s no real rules here except the ones they make for themselves. They make those unanimously--well. Let them make this one, then. The team is the only family, the only life they’ve got. Let it be everything.

#C plays persona 5

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