#for fun. I’ve been sick for about ten hours it happens and I got bored and the ask was right there and I thought hey this is fun

[fisherrprince]

I had an ask about alphiwyrm and alisaur and I saved it as a draft and it VANISHED into the aether so I GUESS…. ???? post halfway uncancelled I just wanna talk about them a bit.

alphiesaur is an ice-aspected dragon! both twins are umbral leaning but alisaie can dip into both for her red mageing. this means he can breathe a beam of ice-aspected aether and saie can breathe fire. His wings r big and kitelike, making him good at 1) getting off the ground and going straight up 2) gliding/flying long distances and bad at 1) maneuvering midair. not a boy who knows how to dodge. his wings r also made of a pretty tough leather which makes him good at shielding magic attacks. Since he can’t open a book very easily or carry it, he becomes a sage much earlier. And has a cute little backpack strap for his nouliths. Tataru is enthusiastically up for the challenge of making clothes/accessories for dragons.

alisaur has segmeted wings like hraesvelgr, which means she’s great at 1) maneuvering and dodging midair 2) going FAST and bad at 1) getting off the ground. She tends to prefer jumping off something to get wind under her sails first, which is easier when she can climb. Her wings are also hands, so she has an easier time interacting with things made for people. She still becomes a red mage, because through the POWER OF DRAGON MAGIC (and urianger) she has a floating sword. and the focus already floats so. Can you imagine a six foot tall twenty foot long red mage who can breathe fire and bite you AND has a rapier. Get verdunked on

they both figured out how to talk in draconic pretty fast but there was a period of alphy translating for alisaie and you could tell he was saying slightly different things. alisaie’s neck and side markings glow in the dark. Alphinaud constantly forgets how big he is, which is a terrible sign for when he has his growth spurt, and either bonks his head or tries to fit in a marketplace. this doesn’t stop kids from wanting to climb him. And alisaie keeps forgetting how long she is, and has gotten doors shut on her tail multiple times. neither of them chose to be a dragon on purpose, and it was mostly a set of machinations to get on the wol’s bad side (or at least distract him). he feels really bad about it.

WHA

WHERED MY DRAGON POST GO

[dazenightmare]

I really just want to make a grocery store AU but all I have worked out is:

George as security cam boy that sleeps and only seems to wake up when something interesting is happening

SBI taking over the deli section, with Techno handling the meats, Phil making the food, Tommy serving people at the counter, and Wilbur who does literally nothing but just vibe and talk and nobody knows how he’s managed to keep his job

Tubbo as the roller-blade help boy who has a headset and roller skates, and does whatever task needs to be done (mainly restocking shelves). He is summoned if his name is even uttered into the walkie-talkie system

Sapnap as security near the doors who flirts with timid cashier Karl and goofball janitor Quackity, and somehow gets in a relationship with them both

Dream as the manager who’s always doing paperwork in his office, but always knows exactly what is happening in his store and takes over the store’s intercoms if need be

Eret as the receptionist at the help desk who every customer loves

Niki as head baker with the help of Ranboo and sometimes Fundy (god help them when Fundy’s in the kitchen)

Fundy and Awesamdude as the dudes in the back of the store who’s always unloading the trucks and keeping everything organized in only a way they and Tubbo can understand. Trust them, Dream and Techno tried.

Purpled as a cashier who if is encountered with something without a tag, will just silently put it in the bag depending on what it is

And Schlatt as the drunkard who buys drinks from the store and is always entertaining when he comes in

And the only scenarios in this AU I’ve worked out so far is:

1. If aggravated at someone(s) who works on staff, Tubbo will just say into the talkie system they have five minutes. When that five minutes is up, Dream goes onto the intercoms and says “Attention all customers and staff, be cautious, as rollerblade-boy Tubbo is now hunting (insert name) for sport around the store. Stay clear if you hear shouting or screaming, and cover minor’s ears in case profanities are used. I repeat, Tubbo is hunting (insert name) for sport. Teens, I suggest you get your cameras out.”

And sometimes, about ten seconds later, he comes back on with, “ATTENTION STAFF MEMBERS, TUBBO HAS THE CELERY STICK, I REPEAT, TUBBO HAS THE CELERY STICK! IF YOU WANT TO LIVE ANOTHER DAY, DO NOT HELP (insert name) IN ANY WAY!” And all staff members are just filled with fear, because only they know how painful it is to get smacked by Tubbo with The Celery Stick

2. The first time Schlatt stumbled into the store, he was high off his ass, and just looked at Quackity and Tubbo who were talking nearby and decided mine, proceeding to pick them up like sacks of potatoes and running towards the doors like a madman while the two teens screamed. This event continued as such: Schlatt being chased around the store at first by only Sapnap, but gains more chasers the more departments they stop by. This ends with him being chased by Sapnap and Karl (for their boyfriend), SBI (for their adopted brother), and Sam (for his unofficial son). It only ends when Purpled drops down from the fucking ceiling to crash Schlatt into the ground yelling “BEDWARS!!”

3. Sometimes, an absolute Karen will just be yelling at a bored looking Purpled for how “disrespectful” he was being, demanding to speak to the manager. He tells them he should be here in five minutes, but then the Karen goes “you haven’t even contacted them! Contact them right now!” After this, Purpled just smiles bitterly at them before going on to the intercom, saying in the perfect customer’s service voice, and I quote, “Attention all shoppers, there is a Karen on Aisle Five. Please stay clear if you see an angry tall man in a green hoodie walking to said aisle. Don’t want anyone unsuspecting to die. Again, if you see an angry tall man in a green hoodie walking towards Aisle Five, stay out of his path. Fellow teens, I suggest you get your cameras out.”

The Karens never come back to the store after listening to an angry Dream teach them common manners while a handful of youth were recording the interaction from a safe distance

4. “Bakery. Cashiers. Deli department. Management. My older sibling used to tell me stories about the old days, a time of peace when Tubbo kept balance between the bakery staff, cashiers, deli department, and management staff. But that all changed when Tommy of the deli department attacked. Only Tubbo mastered all four departments. Only he could stop the ruthless staff of the deli department. But when the store needed him most, he called in sick. A hundred hours have passed and the deli department is nearing victory in the Helper War. Two minutes ago, my sister and her friend journeyed to the cash registers to help fight against the deli department, leaving me and me alone to look after the bakery. Some people believe that Tubbo may not return within the next week, and that chaos will reign until then. But I haven’t lost hope. I still believe that somehow, Tubbo will return to save the store.” -Ranboo, during the Helper War

5. For months Quackity held a grudge against George because he somehow got locked in the supplies closet and the only person that would notice was, you guessed it, the person manning the cameras. But of course, THAT MOTHERFUCKER STAYED ASLEEP, LEAVING QUACKITY STUCK IN THE GODDAMN CLOSET FOR NEARLY FIVE HOURS BEFORE ERET FOUND HIM BECAUSE THEY NEEDED A BROOM

6. One day, nobody noticed that Wilbur wasn’t in the deli department until the intercom clicked on, followed immediately by, “Hello shoppers and staff! Welcome to another episode of Why Haven’t I Been Fired Yet? I’m your host, Wilbur Soot of the deli department. Today, we’re going to fill the manager’s office with as much glitter as possible before he gets back from the local Taco Bell, when I will be inevitability killed. Teens, I suggest you get your cameras out, because today will be a fun episode.”

[lavishedinjimin]

all the good girls go to hell

— synopsis: The Angels made a deal with Jeon Jungkook, the son of Lucifer, to help them bring Y/n back to her good, prim and proper self. Even though Jungkook grants the atrocious plan, he leaves a lesson that no one should give their trust to a wicked devil like him.

↳ pairing: jungkook x f. reader

↳ genre: smut, very slight angst if you squint hard enough

↳ rating: m/18+

↳ word count: 10k

↳ warnings: religious themes, heaven and hell, angels, devils (this fic is not a correct representation of these figures and is purely fictional), alcohol intake, cursing, hard dom jk, daddy! jk, fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, squirting, unprotected sex, breathplay, spanking, face fucking, filthy dirty talk, rough sex, jungkook and his demon cock ehe

a/n: title is inspired by billie eilish’s song all the good girls go to hell. her title inspired me to write this fic! please ignore if you find any errors <3

“You’re not good enough.” 

“You look so pathetic, really.”

“Can you at least try to look hot?” 

“This is why no one likes you.” 

These words will forever haunt you until the day you die. 

It wasn’t your fault that you were raised very strictly, your overly-protective parents treating you like some kind of rare treasure that no one, no man, can touch. The fact that your parents still had to drive you home from school even at an age like this always irritated you to the brim of your existence. So now you can’t even have the freedom, the life of a normal young girl can have. 

Being raised strictly with a heavy-handed family – not to mention religious, too – has taken a toll on your mental health. There’s always the feeling of pressure wherever you go and whatever you do. The fear of not succeeding and disappointing your mom and dad is the worst feeling, like the Devil punching your gut repeatedly, as many times as he likes. 

Plus, some students at your school know you for your lack of “personality”, the boring one, the killjoy. You can’t even refute because it was all true. You never experienced fun, parties, how to have interesting conversations, how to interact with a large crowd, all because of your parents being so uptight in you. 

“Y/n!” The high-pitched voice of your mother calls from downstairs, and you were quick to scurry outside your room and find where she was sitting on the couch. “Yes, mom?” You say. 

She was dressed in a royal-blue dress that goes up to her knees, her hair fixed perfectly and the hairspray is clearly doing a great job of keeping her updo in place. She grabs her purse while your dad walks into view, dressed up in a neat suit. “We’re leaving for our business trip, Y/n. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

“Ah.” You sort of forgot about that. 

Quickly nodding your head, you force a fake smile that you know all too well, “Yes.” 

She gives you a weird glance before she fixes her makeup in a mirror, and your dad decides to continue for her. “We’ve hired a nanny to look after you, so that you won’t go out and about going behind our backs—”

“But dad! I really don’t need someone to babysit me,” You scoff. You weren’t a child anymore, what are they thinking! “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. Don’t you trust me?” 

Trust. Something they don’t have with you, whether they admit it or not. 

Your dad just sighs deeply and starts to walk closer to you. He places a hand on your shoulder as he looks straight into your eyes, giving you an authoritarian look. “Y/n, just do as you’re told and be a good daughter.” 

“I’ve always been one,” you scorn. 

“A good daughter doesn’t talk back.” Your mother retorts. 

This is why you can never argue with them. They never let you speak your own opinion or have your own voice. 

Your parents left exactly at 5 PM as they went on their flight to Madrid, leaving the house all to yourself only for tonight.

It was the next day, and you were sitting on the dining table, eating your cereal peacefully as you watched Netflix on your phone – until the doorbell rings. 

You stand up and quickly make your way to the front door, pouting when you already know that it is the person that was supposed to look after you. 

This is ridiculous. 

“Hello!” A bright, short middle aged woman appears standing on the doorway, her bright energy startling you. “Y/n! I’m May, nice to meet you!” She lifts her hand in front for a handshake, and you chuckle nervously, accepting it. “I’m here to look after you for ten days, hm?” 

“Uh, ah, yeah. C-Come in!” You tried to sound as positive and energized as you could to match her own energy, but you couldn’t. You step aside to let her in, pulling her luggage with her and she immediately takes up the design of the house. She was nodding her head, her arms crossed together while you accompanied her little journeys throughout the whole ground floor. You found her weird. 

“Uh, come follow me, my dad says you’ll be staying here at the guest room —” 

“Wonderful! I thought I was sleeping on the couch!” She claps her hands, excited that she has her own room. 

You look at her with big, shocked eyes, yet you can’t say anything. 

“O-Okay…” you mumbled, “Here,” you helped her open the door and she immediately set her things up. “May?” 

“Yes, my dear?” She stops unpacking her bags to look up at you. “I’ll be at the kitchen, okay? If y-you wanna ask anything, I’m right over there.” 

“Ah, that’s okay, Y/n. Your mother told me everything I need to know. Your bedtime is at eight and no midnight snacks!” 

Your heart drops down to the floor as you immediately encountered a wave of emotions. Why did it matter?! Why did your mom had to apply all these stupid rules when she’s not even around? You thought at the start that you’ll have some kind of freedom when your parents aren’t here, thinking that your nanny might be easier, but perhaps not. 

“Okay.” You say simply. 

How else can you prove to people that you can be better? You're sick of everyone seeing you as the boring one, but your parents were the only thing that was keeping you from having fun. So you decide to be a little risky. 

Step one: Sneak out the house. 

Isn't that what people your age do? Usually they sneak out to party, to go hang out with their friends and have the time of their life. But you had none, no ‘best friend’, but a couple of lunch friends here and there. 

“I should try clubbing.” You mumble to yourself as you sit down on the plush comfort of your mattress. Until you hear your phone chimes, signalling a text. You grab your phone from the bedside table and frown when you see who the text was from. 

Mom: Remember to go to church later, Y/n. 

You didn't reply, instead, it got you thinking. 

Nothing will happen if you skip church, right? You've always attended Mass every Sunday with your parents, so there's absolutely nothing wrong with skipping at least once.

Besides, you need to plot your plans for tonight!

~

“What is this girl doing?” Armaros says in a deep whisper, his well-shaped eyebrows furrowing deeply while he watches Y/n on her phone, laying down on her bed as if church isn't just five minutes away from starting. 

Armaros rushes to the other side of the room to get a better view of her human who lays on her stomach, a white wisp of smoke trailing behind him. He shakes his head, crossing his arms together in front of his chest. “Y/n, Y/n,” he tuts, “What are you doing?!” 

He decides to step forward and reaches forward for his hand to caress the crown of your head. He chuckles when he sees your eyes expand in a quick second, your body abruptly sitting up straight from the tingling feeling in your neck. Your hairs stand up, a chill running down your spine. 

This was Armaros’ way of mustering his presence onto you. Your dad always taught that whenever you suddenly feel a chilling sensation out of nowhere, it means that your guardian angel is there with you and trying to send you a message. 

And you clearly know what he's trying to say. 

There was a slight feeling of guilt – uneasiness, even. But no. You've already decided that you weren't going to follow your old routine. 

Armaros’ jaw drops when you don't move from your position on the bed, only making yourself comfortable even further. ”Don’t you dare skip church...” he slowly whispers to himself. But he quickly shakes his head side to side, trying to be optimistic, “It's just one time. Just one time.” 

Time passes by faster than you think, you sink your teeth down on your bottom lip, chewing on it as you try to Google clubs near you. It was ridiculous, feeling so overwhelmed from all of the options the Internet is showing you. 

There was a generous list of bars and clubs with different ratings. It was a humane decision to choose the best one, right? So you went for a nightclub called ‘Soap Seoul’. Although, you feel your stomach churn when you scroll through the images attached to it; seeing all of the strange blue and red LED lights, big and tight crowds, and an HD picture of their bar. The bar was long and almost occupied the width of the whole club. You don't even know if you can stand such a place like that. 

But no. You can't back out now! You had to show yourself and to others that you can have some fun too. 

~ 

The club opens tonight at 8 pm, letting yourself have two hours to prepare. Rummaging through your garments of clothing, you try to find an appropriate outfit.

“I have nothing!” you whined, eyebrows furrowing in dismay. All you had were simple t-shirts and countless skinny jeans and leggings. Your dresses were almost knee-length and suitable for church – not for a nightclub! 

Armaros stands at a distance, shaking his head at you. 

Until, you heard a loud knock on the door, “Y/n!” May's voice shouts from the other side of the room, “Dinner's ready!” 

Oh no. 

Quickly opening the door, you stared at her with big, worried eyes. “May! I-uhh, I-I’m not gonna stay for dinner…” you mumbled, looking at the ground. 

“Oh, why is that?” she asks, a faint sad tone in her voice. You felt so sad and regretful that you didn't say anything to her because she already cooked your dinner. 

“I-I have plans for tonight,” you hold your hands behind your back, slightly getting embarrassed. 

“Are you going out with your friends?”

“Y-Yeah!” You lie. You've never lied before. 

“Ah, I understand. Have you told your mom?” 

She doesn't have to know. 

“Yup.” 

And there it was again, the chills in your neck appeared while your arm and leg hairs stood up. Armaros touches your scalp, desperate to seek your attention and bring you back to your old, good self. The angel didn't like that you were lying, for he was perpetually accustomed to your good deeds. It was making him anxious for what's about to come. 

But you ignored his message. May nods when you told her that she can have the food to herself. 

You feel a pang of guilt rush through your body when you shut the door behind you, your heartbeat suddenly racing faster. The nervousness in you made your head hurt. Is this the right thing to do? No. It wasn't. But you had to show people that you can be different. Will it be worth it? Of course. 

Thankfully, you spot a white dress that you've never worn before. It was a gift from your cousins that was supposed to be another addition to your collection of church dresses but it was too short for your liking. 

“Hm, maybe this will work…” you quietly mumble to yourself.

You tried the piece of clothing on, carefully examining your reflection in the full-length mirror. The hem of the skirt falls right above your mid-thigh, too high for your usual comfort but for the sake of dressing up for a nightclub — there was no problem. The dress was snug, hugging your body so that it accentuates your curves.

The dress was plain white and was relatively simple. You don't really know what people usually wear for nightclubs but you were certain that dresses were a part of the code. 

You looked for your black three-inch heel that you last wore during your highschool graduation, slipping it in carefully. Doing a little bit of makeup and applying a thin layer of lip gloss, you grabbed a purse and walked out of your room. 

“May, please don't wait for me, okay?” you say after walking past her. 

“W-Wait, I'm supposed to–”

“It's okay. I'll be okay.”

“She's not gonna be okay!” Armaros declares, kneeling on one knee before Archangel Michael – the protector and the spiritual warrior, as he mentions Y/n's recent mischiefs.

After you've been to the nightclub the first day, you've never stopped. You became addicted. 

Sometimes you don't even tell May that you're going out, you just sneak out of the window and let May worry about you. You've happened to know how to drink as you get wasted every single night, hanging around with people that you don't know, people that are a bad influence on your good side. These past few days had you acting up like you’ve never before. You longed for alcohol and the feeling of it numbing your nerves, and there’s not a day where you didn’t get drunk.

Armaros’ power wasn't enough to stop you. Every single day he's been drying his best to send signals, to make you feel certain ways and speak to your consciousness that what you are doing is by far dangerous and wrong. But you never listened. 

You've skipped church, stopped talking to God, ignoring your parents’ phone calls, not doing your homework just because you're busy either getting drunk or making out with someone at the club. It's like you have been addicted to misbehaving. 

But for you, you thought you’re doing the right thing. 

“Armaros, are you doubting your powers?” Archangel Michael replies, running his fingertips along the sharp blade of his sword. 

“N-No, but, nothing seems to work. She's been ignoring my calls for almost two weeks. I just want the best for her.” Armaros’ voice fades at the end of his sentence. He was speaking with such sincerity because he really cares for Y/n. He truly loves her. “Why is she doing this?” He asks for help.

“Because, my dear, she's trying to prove something she's not for other people.”

“What?” 

Archangel Michael laughs quietly, staring at him endearingly. He points his sword at him, “She obviously tries to be immoral to fit in. She's rarely praying to God like she used to, rarely respecting the people around her. Ever since humans bullied Y/n for being herself – she starts to change. But the question is…”

He walks around Armaros, his eyes never leaving his. “Is this making her happy?” 

Armaros lowers his head and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The Archangel grins and returns his sword back on the scabbard attached to his belt. 

“If I can't warn her to stop, then who else can?” The angel asks. 

Michael lifts an eyebrow up, crossing his arms together as he stands right in front of him. His mouth draws into a slow smirk, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as if a lightbulb appeared on top of his head. 

“You wanna have some fun, Armaros?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Stand up, stand up.” Armaros quickly obeys his superior’s command. The Archangel places a hand on his right shoulder, preparing to speak. 

“I have an idea. We call Jeon Jungkook up and–” 

“No! Absolutely not! I will not allow Y/n to come face to face with the son of Lucifer!” Armaros bellows, instinctively pushes Michael's hand away from him. 

“Armaros! It's just an idea!” Michael chuckles, spreading his arms to the side as he shakes his head. “And besides, I have to ask permission from our Highness anyway.” 

“And what will he do? Taunt her? Provoke Y/n to be more sinful?” Y/n's guardian angel asks, referring to Jungkook. “We both know how manipulative and cunning he can be!”

“No, no. We'll make a deal with him, of course! No devil will do anything without receiving something in return.” 

“This idea of yours, not to be rude, but is really out of this world.”

Archangel Michael snorts from the out of the blue pun. 

“Do not be afraid. If our Lord agrees to our plan, I'll be watching. I always will. Give me your trust, Armaros.”

Armaros sighs deeply, yet smiles up at him right after. “Okay, I trust you.” 

“May, stop it,” you mutter angrily, pulling your arm away from her hold. May tries to block your way from going outside the house but you abruptly push her to the side. 

“Y/n! Your mom told you that–” 

“Told me what?! That I’m being independent? Unruly? That I should just stay home? I don’t give a fuck anymore, May. I’d rather hang out with friends than stay here and do nothing!” You bark at her. She was smaller than you and you were definitely giving off that intimidating vibes that you wanted to show. She isn’t the one wearing the pants in this house. You are. 

“Y/n, I will not tolerate this behavior!” May snaps, eyes glaring at you with her hands balled up into fists on her sides. 

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sour chuckle, “You sound like my mom.” 

May sighs deeply, the tiredness in her voice evident, “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Y/n. Just listen to me.” 

“I’m an adult. I can keep myself safe. Now, let me go and don’t wait for me.” 

“Y/n!” 

“Bye May! Have a nice sleep!” 

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you?!” Emilia, one of the new friends you've met no longer than three days ago shouts through the phone as loud, blazing music muffled her voice. “Sophia and I are waiting for you! Get your ass over here!”

“I'm almost there, save me a drink already!” you giggle, looking out from the taxi’s window. 

Sophia snatches the phone out of Emilia’s hand to speak to you, “Y/n, you still remember the bet we made, right?” 

“Of course! It's not a huge deal, c'mon now.” You roll your eyes, faking a laugh. 

“We'll see!” Emilia giggles. 

The driver drops you in front of the nightclub and you throw him a couple of dollars. Stepping out of the car, your high heels clicking on the cement. Upon entering the place, you were immediately greeted with your friends. They were both wearing a tight dress – glittery red and silver – whilst you wore a black one that reached down to your middle thigh. You bought the dress only a day ago, special thanks to your Amazon Prime account . 

“Hey! Here, drink this,” Sophia hands you a single malt whiskey and you swiftly drown it down your throat without any problem. You reminisce back to your first day where you can’t even take a sip of beer without gagging. Now look where you are. 

“Ahh fuck, that tastes good,” you mumble through gritted teeth. 

“Why are you late tonight, Y/n?” Emilia asks as she leads you to the bar to order more alcohol. Her high pitched voice mixing with the loud music,”You know it's always 9 PM. Sharp.” 

You breathe out heavily as you watch Sophia pour three shots of straight vodka into a shot glass. She distributes the beverage to the two of you. 

“Well, uh–” 

“What?” Emilia snaps.

“I couldn't find a goddamn cab, that's why!” you hide your falseness with laughter, hoping they won't sense your lie. 

“Alright anyway, let’s go get wasted and you, Y/n – will be our first player.” Emilia smirks as she crosses her arms together. She analyzes your body, eyeing you up and down. You didn’t like it, and you felt worried. 

Your eyebrows furrow, confused and slightly offended, “What, why me?” You take a sip of your newly-ordered beer, trying to get comfortable on the plush-covered stool. 

“Because,” Sophia answers for her, “we need to know your… capacities.” 

You snort, “Capacities of what? My capacity of having to get into a m-man’s bed? Pffft… easy!” 

Sophia’s forehead furrows, glancing at Emilia with a knowing look before focusing her attention back to you. “Sure. Anyway, let’s have fun first and then…” she leans closer to you, her face inches away from yours. You feel your face redden in embarrassment, “And then you can choose your man.” 

It wasn’t that bad. It isn’t bad dancing around the dance floor, beer in hand, as you danced all your worries away. Emilia and Sophia were out there – somewhere, but you didn’t care about them at this moment. You let your body go with the beat of the loud EDM music, holding your hands up in the air as you whipped your head left to right. You had a huge smile on your face, the alcohol kicking in like it was meant for your body to consume. 

Sweaty bodies were bumping each other from left and right, and you for sure stepped on someone’s toe with your pumps. Nevertheless, you didn’t care. You were having your fun. 

It was until the song changed from upbeat to a more sensual, heart-pumping song from the loud bass. As if there was a switch inside you, you turned into a sultry mess. 

Wasted. You were wasted like hell. 

Your eyes turn into little slits as you look around the dance floor to try and find someone to play with. Taking a huge sip of your drink, your throat burns yet you tried to ignore it. 

“Ah-hah!” you giggle, walking – or should we say, stumbling – towards a guy with black hair parted in the middle, nicely dressed in a black button up tucked in some skinny jeans. The man locks eyes with you, licking his plump lips as his eyes rake your body. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he smirks, making you blush in red as he holds your waist and tugs you closer to him. The song in the background was helping you a lot to get into that seductive, sexy mood that you planned to have. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, “I’m Y/n.” 

“What a pretty name for a pretty lady.” He starts swaying your body to the beat, going along with you. “I’m Seokjin. Nice to meet you.” 

Seokjin tugs your body closer until he holds the back of your head with one hand, making you look deep into his dark eyes. “Y-You’re a new face,” you slur, “You don’t belong here.” 

Unexpectedly, your eyes grow big when Seokjin throws his head back as he laughs almost hysterically. “What?” you question. 

The man slightly leans down until his face draws near to yours, and you can immediately smell the alcohol in his breath. You didn’t judge though, you probably had beer-breath too. 

“Baby girl…” Seokjin suddenly speaks deeply, making your heart jump from the sudden change in his voice. There was a sultry look in his eyes that made it hard for you to keep eye contact. “Baby it’s you who doesn’t seem to belong. You don’t know who I am.” 

“Well y-you don’t know me e-either!” You try to retaliate, although it was messed up with your embarrassing stuttering.  

“You really wanna know?” he whispers, his lips right against your lips, almost touching yours. You couldn’t breathe properly, wanting to pull away but his intoxicating scent was forcing you to him. 

You nod your head, not trusting your voice. 

“I own this place, baby.” 

You almost tossed your cup right across the room from his sudden confession, totally not expecting such a young-looking man to own such a place like this. Your eyes expand, body staying still. 

’Wait! Be sexy… be sexy…’ you thought to yourself after an awkward five seconds of silence. 

You decide to chuckle, biting your bottom lip slowly as you draw yourself nearer to him. He lifts a brow up in surprise, wrapping his arms around your hips and he closes the distance between the two of you. 

“Really? Well then,” you mutter, “I want you to own me too.” 

“Oh, finally. Someone straightforward.” 

“Well I – oh!” Seokjin takes you by surprise when he quickly tugs your arm and leads you to the second floor of the club. You haven’t been in this area before, looking so luxurious and well decorated. Although what shocks you is the series of doors that passes through a long, wide hallway. 

“Seok...Seokjin,” you whisper, but he looks at you with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“C’mon baby,” he opens a door and walks you inside, locking it behind him. “Let’s have a little fun.” 

Let’s have a little fun. 

Yeah. I should. 

This is fun, right? 

Before you can even process things, Seokjin shoves your body to a wall as his hands start to wander down your sides. With flushed cheeks, you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost but he clearly doesn’t mind, grinding his hips into yours. 

“Mmm, what a cute babe I have in front of me,” he groans, leaning forward to pepper wet, gentle kisses all over your neck and down to your shoulders. 

Something feels off. 

“Y/n, right?” he asks, his forehead furrows and you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart starts to rapidly pump inside your chest, feeling as if it’ll burst at any minute. An uncomfortable feeling starts to overwhelm your system, sensing your palms getting sweaty. You can’t look at his eyes, looking anywhere but him. 

“Uh, o-okay,” you straighten your back as you try your best to look confident. 

This is the perfect opportunity to tell your friends. Having sex with someone like him will absolutely impress Emilia and Sophia. 

Seokjin chuckles, shrugging, “Alright then.” And without any warning, he throws you on the bed and he quickly hovers above your body. 

“Mmph–!” he immediately presses his lips into yours before you can even react to everything that had just happened. He caresses your cheeks with both hands, his lips moving softly with yours. You try your best to keep up with him and his pace, but you can’t. There was something stopping you from giving him your all. Seokjin grunts nevertheless, humping you. 

Seokjin’s right hand snakes down to grab the hem of your dress as he teasingly pulls the fabric up, then lets it snap back down. There was a weird feeling inside your stomach, and it did not feel good at all. 

His hand slowly starts creeping up your leg, and that’s where you couldn’t hold it back. 

“Mmm, n-no,” you mewl, pushing him away from you. Seokjin stares down at you with a frown, head tilted to the side. 

“Y/n?” 

Rapid heart rate, the back of your neck sweating, and chills all over your body occur all at the same time. You were panicking. 

“I-I…” immediately you stand up from the bed, hiking your stupid short dress down as much as you can. “S-Sorry,” furiously shaking your head from side to side, you stumble your way to the door. 

“Y/n, wait!” Seokjin yells, confused yet he felt sorry at the same time. “Let’s talk about it!” 

“No,” you whisper. You can’t do this anymore. There was no energy left in your body to talk, to process what just happened, to stand in this fucking club. Home. All you were thinking about was going home. 

You twist the doorknob open, trying to catch your breath as much as you can but you feel like you were going to pass out any minute. Making your way down the stairs, you run as fast as you can towards the exit of the nightclub yet a person catches your arm. 

“Y/n!” Your eyes widen when Emilia and Sophia stop you, observing your state. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“No…” you breathe tirelessly, “c-can’t do it…” 

“You failed?” Emilia snaps as she leans her body on one hip, resting her hands there. She looks at you with disgust, “But we saw the guy that you’re with! He was hot!” 

Sophia snorts, smirking as she stares at you sourly, “Proves our point. You’re nothing, Y/n. You had such an easy job, the guy’s already all over you and you just had to throw him? Where is he, let me get with him myself.” Sophia struts away, heels clicking as she flips her long hair over her shoulder, leaving you with Emilia. 

“What can I say, Y/n,” she smiles menacingly, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You can never be like us.” 

Your whole body felt heavy, heavy like you were carrying a boulder behind your back. This isn’t what you had planned at all, everything was going so well until this! Your eyes started welling up with tears, blurring your sight. You had to go. 

Without saying a word, you quickly run away to the exit, ignoring Emilia’s insensitive laugh. 

What went wrong? Why did you feel that way? Negative thoughts were clouding your mind as you cried and cried to your poor, soaked pillow. 

Maybe you are just not enough. Perhaps you’re not meant to be like this. 

It was fun the first time around, and you were actually enjoying yourself. But the days passed and you sadly weren't doing this for your own pleasure anymore, but for the validation of other people. 

You should’ve stopped Seokjin from touching you when it clearly made you uncomfortable. There was a line and he crossed it, but you erased that line so you can finally say that you’ve slept with someone. But you guessed it wasn’t that easy. 

Grabbing your phone, you ignored all of the rude messages Emilia has sent you, blocking her and Sophia’s number. You turned off your phone, throwing it somewhere on the ground without care before you switched off your lamp. There was never a time that you’ve cried yourself to sleep, but tonight was your first. 

“And what do I get in return for this deal?” Jeon Jungkook purrs with a low, dark tone, crossing his legs together as he sits on his father’s fire-blazing throne. Even though he has his own throne for himself, thrones on fire were way cooler. He scans the frightened angel from head to toe through the strands that fell in front of his eyes. 

“The A-Archangel says you will obtain a soul. A soul that is longing for hell.” Armaros stutters as he tries to keep eye contact with the devil’s hard glare. 

Jungkook chuckles, hanging his head low. “You mean to tell me…” he starts to stand up and walks towards the angel. Armaros tries his best to keep his guard up and stand as tall as possible. 

Jungkook circles around him, arms crossed while his right hand plays with his bottom lip, “That I should convince this little girl to prevent doing bad, bad things to stop her from going to hell?” He laughs hysterically. “That’s quite… an unnatural job for a devil, isn’t it? It’s completely the opposite of what i’m supposed to do. Tell Michael that his plan is utter bullshit.”

Armaros takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second before replying. “Firstly, Y/n is not a little girl. And second, this job is easy. You have the skill to persuade humans to sin – what’s hard with doing the opposite? Besides, you’ll obtain a soul either way.” 

His words made Jungkook ponder and deliberate with himself. He stops in front of Armaros and shows him his signature imposing smile. “I can have my way with the girl, right?” He bites his lip, “Anyway I want?” 

This made Armaros’ eyes go wide, mouth opening but no words seem to come out properly, “I-I… w-well, um… yes? Yes? P-Perhaps? Just don’t do anything bad to her.” 

Jungkook scoffs, running his long tongue over his teeth as he smirks, “Define bad, Mr. Angel.” 

“You know… hurt her.” He gulps.

The devil squints his eyes, absolutely loving Armaros’ reactions. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill her, if that’s what you mean.” 

“I’m done with this conversation.” Armaros quickly chirps as he unfolds his large, white wings. “Remember what your main goal is, Jungkook. I’m counting on you.” 

Jungkook stops him before he flies back up. “Armaros…” he says, dragging his name long in his tongue. Armaros looks at him, eyes impatient, arms crossed together. 

“You know I’m a devil, right?” 

The angel chuckles, scoffing, “Oh, I know that alright.” He scorns, eyeing Jungkook up and down. Although the devil in front of him looks intimidating and his eyes are jet black, Armaros keeps his calm. “I’m only following orders. I didn’t agree with The Archangel in the first place.” 

“Do you know what devils do to… humans?” 

Armaros nods fully. 

“And what I might do to… that precious little girl?” Jungkook growls deeply, walking closer to him. He tilts his head down, looking at him through his lashes, “There’s a huge chance that I might not control myself when I see her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Suddenly, black smoke appears from Jungkook’s right hand, summoning something beside him. The smoke appears to subside and at once, Y/n’s appearance can be seen through the thin air. Jungkook rests his hips on one side, twirling his hand so that her image spins around. 

“This is Y/n, right?” Jungkook studies your face, watching you read a book inside your room. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful before.” 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Armaros bellows, his tone loud yet sprinkled with fear. 

“I’m just saying, Angel. You can’t stop me from trying to do devilish things to her.” Jungkook smirks, prodding his tongue on the inside of his cheek. “You might have to reconsider this deal of yours if you don’t want me to have my way with that pretty little girl,” He taunts, already warning Armaros.

“Jungkook,” Armaros’ nerves seem to heat up, slowly getting irritated although he tries to calm himself. He looks down, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “There’s no point in doing that. You think she wants to have an affair with someone like you?” 

The devil laughs loudly as he twirls his hand until your image disappears. This conversation further proves Jungkook’s argument that angels are actually dumber than they realize. 

“If you want me to help you, I will have my way with her. My job, my rules. Understand?”

Armaros feels defeated, but he can’t say anything but nod and agree to him. He can’t fight him anyway. Jungkook dismisses him, and with that, the angel ascends back up to earth. 

Jungkook can’t wait to have his fun. 

~

Prancing around, making friends, getting to know each other – Jungkook doesn’t want to do that. Instead, he’s very straightforward, saying words that he probably shouldn’t, he likes to say what he thinks no matter how bad it’ll probably hurt. 

That’s what he plans to do with you. 

If he gets his point clear, make you frightened, scare the shit out of you, then the job would be complete. 

Easy! 

You were currently on your laptop, scrolling through your pinterest tabs until you hear loud and frantic knocks on your door. “Y/n!” May shrieks, her voice quivering. “Someone’s at the door!” 

Oh no, you thought. 

Immediately hopping out of bed, you went out to see who it was with May following behind you. You peak out through the windows and suddenly, you inhale sharply from the man that you see. 

He was unfamiliar. Thankfully, it wasn’t Seokjin or Sophia nor Emilia, but rather tall, might you say handsome looking man waiting outside your doorstep. He was dressed in all black, his hair covering his eyes. 

“Do you know him?” May asks quietly. You shake your head slowly, “N-No.” 

“Y/n… I think you should just leave him.” 

“May, I can handle it. You can go now.” You say softly to her. 

“Are you sure—”

“Yes.” You spat a little harshly, blazing your eyes at her. May nods, sighing as she walks away to her room. 

Gathering the courage to open the door, you took a deep inhale and exhale, calming your nerves. 

Once you open the door, your eyes immediately fly to his dark ones. Your whole body suddenly shivers, the air around the place somewhat getting cold as if it was winter. 

You can't take your eyes off of the man. You have never met him before but it felt like you've known him for too long. There was a strange aura surrounding the two of you that you can't explain. 

“Hello.” He speaks first, giving you a sly smile. 

His voice. You've never heard such a dark and menacing timbre before. 

“Hi,” you gulp, “Who are you?” 

“May I come in?” Jungkook snaps, ignoring your question. He doesn't want to waste any time, that's for sure. 

You furrow your brows as you shake your head, “Answer my question first.” You blurt, blocking the entrance by placing your hands on either side of the doorway. 

“Hm,” Jungkook slowly shows you a deadly smirk, eyeing your body up and down. “You really wanna know?” 

What kind of a question is that? 

You quickly got annoyed, looking at him with a scorn. “Obviously!”

Feisty, Jungkook thought. 

“I'm the devil.”

There was a long pause, silence filling the air. This man is too handsome to be this dumb. You laugh hysterically, bending over as you hold your aching stomach. “A-Are you… oh my god… please tell me you're fucking joking!” you say with creased eyes. 

Jungkook already expected this reaction, and he only rolls his eyes without you noticing. 

“Mhm. You don't believe me?” he slowly pronounces his words, voice deep and sinister. 

“Nah,” you shake your head, giggling. 

“Aren't you religious?” Jungkook pushes you to the side without hesitation and enters, your eyes expanding slowly as his body suddenly comes in contact with yours. “Don't you believe in your God? You believe in angels, right?” He backs your body up and shuts the door loudly behind him. 

You felt a series of chills erupt from your system, his gaze locked on yours. You wanted to look away from his intimidating gaze, but you can't, for some strange reason. “Huh, Y/n?”

You gasp. “Wait, h-how do you know my name!?” 

Jungkook smirks at you, tilting his head to the side as he ignores your question again. 

Your body seems to move by itself, like you can't control your own limbs. The air thickens around the two of you as you feel your body submit to the man in front of you. 

Sighing, with a shaky voice you answer. “I do. I do believe in them.”

Although what shocks you is the way his eyes suddenly turn a bright shade of red. From deep black to red, his irises glow. 

“What the fuck–” you quickly back away, body shivering in fear until your back hits a wall. You rub your eyes, trying to see if your mind was only playing tricks with you. 

Jungkook grins and chuckles darkly, clicking his tongue. “Then…” he draws, walking closer to your frightened figure, “Can this convince you enough?” 

“S-Stop… stop playing games with me!” you whimper, feeling your palms get sweaty. “Your eyes are red!” 

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Jungkook snarls, forehead creasing, “Maybe because I'm the fucking devil?” 

And in a flash, Jungkook’s appearance changes from a tall, handsome boy into a dark red figure. Black, bat-like wings sprout from his back, long horns appearing from his forehead, a spear-like tail behind him. His lips and the area around his eyes were tinted in black while his fingers grew longer, sharper. 

You almost fainted then and there. 

“Oh— p-please,” your eyes turn watery as tears start to fall down your cheek, lifting your hands up to your mouth in shock, “please d-don't kill me!” Shutting your eyes to avoid the frightening image in front of you, your knees drop down to the floor with a loud thud. “I'm sorry, please f-forgive me! Don't k-kill me! Please!” 

“Oh, what a cute pretty girl you are,” the devil grins, his voice more gravelly now. He looks down at your frail self, amused. “I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to teach you a lesson.” 

You start to sob as your body shakes, “No! Please d-don't…”  

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yes! Yes I do!” you quickly reply, voice cracking. “I’m sorry s-sir, don’t hurt me!” 

Jungkook, satisfied with your reaction, morphs back to his normal human look within a few seconds. “Look at me.”

Slowly, afraid to anger the devil in front of you, you obey his words. You sigh in relief when he finally looks normal again, but you can't look at him the same way. 

“Stand up.”

You do so with wobbly legs. You felt so weak with your energy quickly drained so quickly. Wiping your tear-stained cheeks, you try your best to keep your composure. 

“Anyway, I'm Jungkook,” he gives you an award-winning smile, “I'm sent here to supposedly warn you from doing bad things.” He cringes, shaking his head. “Which, honestly speaking, I think is atrocious.”

He scans your body, biting his lip right after. “A good looking girl like you should have her fun.” 

You try to regain your senses back. A devil — a real devil appeared right in front of you. You can't seem to shake the thought away while he’s there looking so handsome in his human form. 

With a shaky breath, you ask him, “J-Jungkook? I'm really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.” 

He snorts. Brushing his black hair away from his face. “Wrong. You know what you're doing.” 

“W-What?” 

Something in the air changes when Jungkook snaps his fingers. A thick, black smoke appears, capsuling the both of you in. “What is this?!” you question, terror overtaking your face. You watch your surroundings getting blurry, blackness covering the area. 

“Oh nothing,” he gives you a lopsided grin, “just making sure that your little angels can't see us.” 

Jungkook's eyes shine and his pupils enlarge, smiling as you notice how his teeth grow sharper. There were veins popping out in his neck, grimacing at you in pure excitement.  

“We can't afford your poor, guardian angel to stop us now, can't we? I don't want him to see us…playing.” 

“Playing?!” You gasp, eyes expanding in shock.. 

“Yes, baby. Angels are so fucking dumb, aren't they? Asking a devil to do their own work? Isn't that pathetic.”

You were locked to him like a magnet as your body seems to fill with utter desire in such a quick time. 

Was he doing something to you?!

A series of pleasurable chills erupt from your body, mouth getting dry as you look up at Jungkook with big eyes. 

His hand suddenly touches your bare arm, making you silently mewl from his chilling touch. He smirks at your reaction, “How dumb of them to trust the son of Lucifer himself.”

“Y-You… you're…” your voice fades, trying to process his words. 

“Mhm. Aren't you excited to play with me?” 

Maybe he's doing tricks to your mind, controlling your body – or maybe you’re just fucked up. Either way, you want him. 

You lust for him. 

“Yes.”

Jungkook draws his lower lip between his teeth, his hands finding its way to your waist, holding you firmly until he unexpectedly pulls you to his body. He lifts a single eyebrow up, “Really?” 

Your heartbeat quickens. 

“I've… I’ve never been more sure.” Words seem to spill out of your mouth without your consent, as if it wasn’t you who’s speaking. But you don’t try to take your words back.  

Jungkook laughs and starts to lift you up without struggle, finding his way to your bedroom while the smoke follows the two of you. “Bad, bad girl you are.” He lowers you down on the mattress, sending you a seductive wink, “I'm so fucking proud.” 

He preps himself on his knees, capturing your thighs in between. His eyes run down your body, chills running down your spine from how hot he looks. His figure was so big and muscular, making you feel like he can destroy your frail self. 

“Look at this, you look so fucking delicious baby.” 

His hand suddenly flies down to your armpits, roughly handling you as he carries you up as he sits down on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard, as he places you in between his legs. 

You hold back a whimper as he pushes your body closer to him. Hearing him growl deeply made your cunt throb, feeling a strange wet feeling down there. 

“Demons can't help humans,” he mutters lowly, his lips right against the shell of your ear. “They want you to sin and sin and sin until the day you fucking die.” 

His hands play with your shirt until in a quick flash, he rips the cotton material in half, your body shivering as it has been exposed to the cold air. “Ohh,” you whimper, covering your body with your arms. 

“Nu-uh,” Jungkook grins behind you, “Don't do that, baby.” He leans down and starts pressing wet and sloppy kisses all over your shoulders, running his mouth up to your neck. “Don't try to hide away from me.”

He sucks on the soft skin of your neck, his big dick throbbing in his pants from the way you were constantly squirming. You were so sensitive, and it made him so horny. He hums, marking your skin in bright red and purple bruises. 

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moan, throwing your head back until it rests right against his shoulder. 

His hands suddenly fly to your breasts, his long and slender fingers pinching and twisting your hardened nipples. You bite your bottom lip as you can't seem to open your eyes from the feeling. It was until Jungkook suddenly digs his nails into your nipples, pinching them roughly that made you jolt right up. 

“Oh, t-that hurts,” you cry, the stinging feeling of his sharp nails pinching your buds. Jungkook watches your face contort, digging his nails even harder. He feels your body twitch, hearing your gentle whines and mewls. 

“Ohhh you don't like it baby, does it hurt too much for your sensitive, precious body?” he mocks a concerned tone. “Hm?” 

He was playing games with you, that's for sure. You nod your head up and down, trying to push his hands away. “Mhm…” 

Thankfully, he does stop but he quickly cups your breasts with both hands. He feels your rock-hard nipples pushing against his rough palms, kneading your boobs until he finally lets go. 

“Take these off,” he instructs you to pull your shorts down, and you do so. With trembling hands, you swiftly tug them off of your legs. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts behind you, his right hand lowering down from your stomach until it reaches the destination right against your clothed pussy. His fingers slowly trace down your slick, feeling how wet you are through your panties. 

He smirks cockily, “You're fucking drenched, baby. Are you this horny?” he rubs your clit in slow, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure with the tips of his two fingers, your legs shivering. “Want something to stuff that little hole of yours?” 

He pulls your underwear down to your thighs, and you instantly shake it off with your legs. Jungkook pushes your legs apart, forcing your knees up with your feet flat on the mattress. Your cunt flutters around air from the exposure. You whine when his left arm possessively wraps around your stomach, his biceps flexing when he holds you tightly. 

“Stay fucking still,” he growls, his warm hand cupping your bare cunt. He chuckles, prodding his tongue against his cheek as he plays with your folds. He uses two slender fingers to spread your labia apart and you can feel your glistening arousal drip from your hole down to your ass. 

Jungkook hums in satisfaction, spreading your lips wider, making you emit a moan. “Jungkook—”

“No. I want you to call me something…” he elongates the pause in his sentence to suddenly insert the tip of his middle finger in your pussy, causing you to jump. “Something else, baby.” 

“Ah-ahh, what?” your legs couldn't stop trembling as he pushes his finger deeper, your walls sucking it in deliciously. 

You can feel him smirk against the skin of your neck, he snickers, “Starts with the letter D.” 

Your eyes squint in confusion, tilting your head up to look at him. Jungkook, with his glowing red eyes, scans your face with a quirked eyebrow expectantly. 

“Devil?” 

Jungkook scoffs loudly and instantly pushes the rest of his finger in your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a rapid pace. Your hands quickly hold onto his arm that was wrapped around you, mouth agape from the sudden thrusts. “Ohhh!” your body shakes, leaning your head against him. Electric waves of pleasure run through your body, being new to the sensation. 

He growls as he removes his finger out to slap your pussy harshly, hitting your sensitive clit. “Wrong.” 

“Oww…” you mewl, your hips bucking up from the sting. He does this again, and again, and again, making your eyes watery. He tightens his hold on you, stopping you from squirming too much. 

“Daddy.” He purrs. 

Your body instantly feel a series of shivers. 

“Call me daddy.” Jungkook bites your neck roughly while he inserts his digits back, this time using his middle and ring finger. You hiss in pleasure, eyes tempting to roll back when he brushes the sponge-like texture inside your pussy. 

“Shit, right there daddy,” you curse, rolling your hips against his hand for more. “Right there!” 

Jungkook feels his cock harden even more, precum dripping down his tip as it twitches against his clothes. The way you pronounce that certain word drove him crazy. Jungkook loves how your body easily crumbles beneath him as you allow him to have all the control. He pounds your pussy faster with his hand, putting his bicep to good use. 

You were about to cum, the feeling of a tightness inside your tummy, a ball about to burst at any second. You warn Jungkook, “Daddy, i-i think… I think I'm gonna c-cum,” you sob. 

“I know.” He says simply, fucking you harder. Suddenly, he pushes his index finger in, three digits stretching your walls out. You cry loudly, thrashing around him as high-pitched moans carelessly leave your mouth. “Shiiiiit, d-daddy!” 

“Need to stretch this little pussy out for my cock” he purrs, “cuz’ we don’t want that tiny hole of yours to split into two, right baby?” 

Your toes curl, nails digging into the skin of his arm as you fail to warn him that you're gonna cum any second now. Although he can feel the way your pussy was pulsing around his long fingers. He angled his hand until your clit was brushing against his palm, “Daddy! Ohh fuck, just l-like that!”

Until it all stops. 

All of the pleasure stops when Jungkook pulls his fingers out. 

“Fuuuuuuuck!” you yell, never been more frustrated before as he denies your orgasm. You were about to cum so hard. Your legs shake uncontrollably, scratching his arms as your body shudders. Your poor cunt pulsates rapidly from the sour loss. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess. 

Laughing dryly behind you was Jungkook, licking his fingers clean as he watches your dignity wash away right in front of his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you scowl, pushing away his arms and turning to face him. “Fuck. You.” 

But he wasn't bothered at all, of course. He was the devil after all. He had no remorse.

Before you know it, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat and swiftly pulls you close to his face. You gulp, terrified from the intimidating look in his eyes. 

Jungkook thinks that he can easily kill you then and there. If it were a different person, he wouldn't hesitate to snap their neck like a stick. Usually he would feel tempted to physically hurt a person in this kind of situation. But no. He likes you. He likes you too much to kill.

“Take my cock out.”

Even though you hate him for denying your orgasm so brutally like that, you nod your head. Jungkook removes his shirt as you scoot down. You were careful to unbutton his pants, heart rate going faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. By the look of the large tent evident, he was gonna be huge. Jungkook watches you with heavy eyes, running his hand through your hair softly. 

You pull the garment down and your mouth visibly waters from the sight. The outline of his cock was evident from his briefs, long and thick and was certainly rock hard. You were so afraid to even touch it as you let your hands sit right on his thighs. 

“Haven't done this before?” he asks, rubbing your cheek with one hand. You shake your head, afraid to look at his glaring eyes. 

Jungkook chortles, quickly pulling his underwear down by himself.

His cock immediately springs out and rests on his abdomen. With wide, surprised eyes, you notice his red tip leaking so much precum, dripping down his abs. You involuntarily whine and wiggle your hips in need, your wetness dripping down your thigh. 

“Take it in your mouth.” He orders, voice strict and demanding. 

“But—” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“No daddy.” You whisper, looking away and finally gathering the courage to wrap your hands around his girth. You clench your thighs together when you feel him against your palm – warm and heavy, yet the skin was soft at the same time. When you stroke his shaft up and down watching how his precum pours down to your hands, providing you lubrication as it coats his cock. 

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles down at you, feeling so good. He bucks his hips up repeatedly, meeting your timid strokes. 

His patience runs out and slaps your hand away, gripping his cock tightly. Suddenly, he slaps his dick on your cheek, making lewd and wet sounds. “Open your fuckin’ mouth.” 

Obeying his command, you wrap your lips around his leaking tip. You taste the saltiness of his seed on your tongue, trying your best to take more of him. His thick girth was making it hard for you as your jaw immediately feels sore. 

His hand flies to grip your hair, making you whine around his cock, causing vibrations. “Look at that pretty little mouth tryna’ take this cock,” he smirks, “Go deeper baby. Gag around my cock if you don't wanna be punished.” 

Your hips swivel in need from his words, pussy soaking like a river. You slack your jaw as you sink down on his cock, trying to ignore the harsh gags when his tip hits the back of your throat. Jungkook growls loudly above you, seeing that the corners of your mouth were dripping in saliva. 

He uses both of his hands to force you deeper. Your eyes start to water when you swallow just half of his big dick, already being too much for you. The harsh and wet gagging sounds were music to Jungkook's ear, loving to see you struggle. “Mhm, fuck yes,” he grunts, “Choke on that big dick.” 

He keeps you down there, feeling sinister as his devilish instincts get the best of him. He ignores your cries and pleads, only focusing on the feeling of the sweet vibrations whenever you moaned around him. Or whenever your throat closes around his shaft when you choked, it was all too good for him. 

You immediately tapped on his thighs furiously when you can't take it anymore, but what did he do? He starts fucking your mouth with sharp thrusts of his hips. You whimper, closing your eyes tight as your nails dig into the skin of his thighs. He grabs you by your head as he uses your poor mouth for pleasure. 

Trying to breathe through your nose, you ignore the burning sensation in your mouth yet it feels too good. “Ahhhh holy fucking shit,” he grunts, feeling your throat tighten, “Look at that – fuck. Bad little girl aren't you? Mhm? You're my bad, naughty girl.” Jungkook mocks, watching the stream of tears drip down your cheeks. 

Finally, he pulled out and there were thick strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He groans loudly, his cock twitching as it lays back on his stomach. 

“Ohh, c'mere baby girl, come here.” Jungkook whispers and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds that made you hiss. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches close to yours. You try not to be intimidated by his menacing eyes, but he notices this and clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it again that made you inhale sharply. Jungkook sees your pout, your lips bruised from your numerous bites, and he chuckles. 

He tugs you until his lips are right upon your ear. “You wanna cum, baby?” 

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice was, although you nod your head. “Please, daddy.” 

“Oh but do you deserve it? Do you even deserve a cock like mine?” 

You hate how frustrated he can make you. You punch your hands down on his chest, whining, “I-I do…” 

Jungkook quirks a brow up, immediately forcing your hands behind your back. He roughly grasps your wrists together with one hand, surely leaving a red bruise. He bites his lip, “You do?” He swiftly lands a spank on your right ass cheek, making you moan. “Then sink down on my cock.” 

With a puff of your breath, Jungkook helps you align his dick to your sopping entrance. You couldn’t breathe properly, anticipating what will happen as soon as you slowly sink yourself on his thick tip. 

“Ohhh daddy!” Your walls stretch out as you take his tip in, making you feel a harsh, stinging sensation as he rips your walls. If it wasn’t with his impressive girth, it probably wouldn’t hurt as much. Jungkook grunts, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he watches your pussy take him further, your juices coating his shaft. He tightens his hold on your wrists, slightly bucking his hips up. Jungkook lands another hard, loud spank. 

“Daddy you're so b-big,” you moan, almost halfway down his dick but you can't take more of him anymore. Jungkook gets turned on from the sweet tone of your voice, the thought of tainting such a girl like you made him chuckle. 

Jungkook feeds himself from the idea of corrupting you, letting you know how it feels to truly rebel. Who the fuck cares about what your parents think? Humans are all going to die anyway, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. 

You start to bounce up and down slowly, your pussy rubbing against him, feeling the thick protruding veins upon your walls. You dig your nails onto your palm, eyes closed shut as you prop yourself up to your feet. 

“That's it, baby. Ride daddy's cock,” he insinuates, watching your face contort in pleasure. With your eyebrows knitted together, eyes shut and mouth wide open, Jungkook’s cock throbs inside of you.

“Look at that fucking face, cant take it?” he snickers. 

“I can, I can,” you pant tirelessly, legs getting sore. Your brows drew deeper as you concentrated on the feeling of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves so good, already so close to an orgasm from how big he is. 

But Jungkook wanted more. He wants it harder, rougher. He wants to shoot his hot cum so hard and deep inside your fresh womb, filling you up. He wants to wreck your body until you break. 

So he releases your hands free and instead grabs a hold of your waist firmly, keeping you still. He plants his feet on the bed and starts to thrust his hips up like crazy. 

Your jaw drops into an ‘o’ shape and you release a particular loud squeal. Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder, throwing your head back as he continues to drill your abused cunt. His balls slap against your ass, creating lewd slapping noises. 

“Dadddyyyyy!” you shriek, eyes expanding so wide from the unexpected bliss of electric currents shooting down your spine. You can't handle it, your orgasm snapping in a quick second. “I'm—!” 

Jungkook groans loudly when your pussy squirts your cum all over his dick and gushes all over his stomach. He fucks you through your mind-blowing orgasm, your eyes rolling back to your head as your legs shake from the unexpecting feeling. Your mind seems to cloud in lust as he doesn’t stop fucking you. 

“Shit,” he laughs, “look at this poor little girl.” Jungkook caresses your ass before he spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth, kneading the bruised flesh right after. “Squirting all over daddy. You love my big cock so much, huh? You horny, desperate little slut.” 

Before you can even process what he just said, he flips you over until you lay down flat on your stomach. He hovers on top of you, keeping his dick in without pulling out. You yelp as he wraps his big hand around your throat, tightly squeezing your jugular without mercy. 

“A-ahhh oh—” you choke, letting your forehead down to rest on the sheets as he continues to pound you from behind. 

He had absolutely no mercy, using you as his little fucktoy for his pleasure, abusing your pussy like it was made for his demon cock. He chokes you harder, almost making you see stars. 

Your cunt throbs once again, signalling that another orgasm is coming near. “Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” you moan, heavy puffs of breath coming out of your mouth every time he thrusts into you. 

Jungkook feels his nerves getting hotter and hotter, his cock aching to cum. He doesn't think of anything else but the way your walls clench so tightly around him. “Gonna break this motherfucking pussy of yours,” he growls, leaning down until his chest presses against your sweaty back. “I'm gonna fucking paint your walls with my cum, baby. You're gonna take all of it, you're gonna take all of daddy's cum in that tight cunt.”

Your legs squirm, hands closing into fists as you hit the bed over and over from how sensitive you become. Your hands claw the sheets tightly, back arching from the breathtaking pleasure. 

“Ahhhh daddy! Ohh my fucking— ahhh yes, yes yes!” your body crumbles, mouth wide open as you scream while you cum for the second time. Your pussy pulses so harshly around his dick, coating it with your juices, making it more wet for him. 

He groans, removing his hand from your throat and slaps your ass again. “Naughty little shit right here.” It was so messy, just how he likes it. His cum covered in your glistening arousal, fucking you through your high. 

He immediately flips you around again, making you face him. He smirks cockily from your flushed chest and face, noticing that you were having trouble opening your eyes. 

He leans down and rests his forearms beside your head, “Take it baby, take it.” he murmurs roughly, his balls getting heavier. “Take my fucking dick.”

Your legs never seem to stop quivering, everything around you seems blurry besides Jungkook's face. How does he still look so handsome and perfect? His black hair falls down his forehead, swaying with every hard thrust, his deep dimples peeking through when he bites his lower lip slowly while he savors the feeling of your warm, wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum in you baby,” he pants, holding your cheek in one hand. “Daddy’s gonna cum so fuckin’ hard for you.” You notice a dark, sinister forming his lips as he looks down at you. There it was again, that intimidating, almost teasing look. 

He growls roughly, hips staying still inside you as he dips down to gnaw at your shoulder. You hiss, whimpering when he sinks his teeth so harshly into your delicate skin, leaving an ugly mark. “Ah-ahh, daddy!” His cock spurts out warm strings of his seed, filling you up to the brim. 

“Mmm, mmm, fuck yeah,” he moans, “take it, Y/n.” 

When he pulls his cock out, his pupils enlarge as he sees your arousal dripping out of your cunt and onto your bed. He chuckles, stroking his cock a couple of times to milk himself furthermore, not wasting any of his sperm.

The two of you were breathless, breathing heavily. Your legs feel so sore and you can't feel them either, your ass stinging from his numerous rough spanks. 

“Clean yourself up, Y/n.” Jungkook suddenly throws you a wet towel, about to ask him where it came from, although he just stares at you blankly with a quirked brow. 

Gulping, you nod and start wiping yourself clean. 

~

He can't leave now. Not after all of this. 

There was something that attracted yourself to him. You can't seem to grasp what it is – but whenever Jungkook looks at you in the eyes, you feel like submitting. 

It was like your body doesn't belong to you anymore. He possesses your body now. 

“Crawl to me, my love.” He whispers, and you were easily drawn to his beautiful eyes. 

Still naked, you do as you're told and crawl towards the edge of the bed where he stands. He wears his pants, thankfully covering his goods. 

He sighs and softly caresses your cheek with a warm hand, making you flutter your eyes shut whilst leaning against his palm. He hums delightfully, smirking. 

“Surrender.” He purrs, eyes drooping down as he looks at you with such gentleness, almost with care. He leans down until your faces are mere inches away from each other. “Surrender to me, my love. And I’ll take you to somewhere you belong.”

Your eyes shimmer, batting your eyelashes as you gawk up at him with eagerness. “W-Where I belong?” you repeat in question.

“Yes, Y/n.” He smiles, showing you his perfect teeth. “Where no one will judge you, no one will criticize you for you. You can be whoever you want, you can do whatever you want. Isn’t that exciting, baby?”

Mouth getting dry, your nerves heat up once again, feeling nothing but anticipation. “Yes.”

Jungkook holds your face in two hands, compelling you to stare unswervingly at his red eyes. “Submit to me, Y/n, and you’ll never worry about this earth’s dreadful problems.” His voice gravelly yet dark, somehow different to his normal human speaking voice. 

You didn’t know what he really means by ‘submit’, or where he was supposed to take you. But your mind was telling you to go. Your consciousness speaks to you like someone was whispering in your ear what to do. You kneel before him, still keeping eye-contact. The air around the two of your shifts and it suddenly grows warm as your body starts to sweat.

“Where are…” your voice was breathy, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook starts to chuckle, brushing your hair back with his fingers. Suddenly, your heart races when he presses a tender, wet kiss on your forehead. Your eyes widen, heart beating out of your chest when he continues to kiss you down to the bridge of your nose, until it stops right upon your lips. He hovers his mouth right against yours, feeling his warm breath.

He whispers the words so ominously that goosebumps appear all over your arms and legs. “I’m gonna take you down to hell.” 

Jungkook watches your face go pale, all the blood leaving your face as you gaze at him with such big, surprised eyes. Without warning, he presses his lips against yours. You can’t keep up with him, his kiss rough and dominating. You whimper when his hand goes to wrap itself around your throat, pulling you closer. His tongue easily slips in your mouth, causing you to gasp. Jungkook smirks through the kiss as he controls the way your mouth moves. The two muscles dance together with such need and passion, hands getting sweaty. 

He bites your bottom lip, chewing on the soft flesh while he gently rolls it against his teeth. Jungkook growls, eyebrows furrowing. He can’t seem to get enough of you, wanting you all for himself. He’s addicted to you; your scent, your beautiful eyes, your body, he doesn’t want to leave this earth without you. 

He needs you down with him. 

Jungkook pulls out as he watches your flushed face, all out of breath. There was nothing else that you could do but whine about the loss of his lips. You were craving more of him. You pout, hoping that he’ll give in but Jungkook just shakes his head with a smirk. 

“Answer me, baby. Go down with me, and I’ll treat you so good.” He insinuates, “I’ll treat you like my own fucking queen. Don’t you want that?” 

You nod your head furiously, “I do want that,” you say softly. 

He clicks his tongue, “Tch, louder.” 

“I want it, please. Bring me with you.” Jungkook watches your pupils dilate, growing bigger as you speak. “Please.” 

Jungkook smiles. And within a flash, the black smoke that was encircling the two of you all this time thickens and starts to wash over the two of you. You cough uncontrollably yet Jungkook just stands there and watches. The smoke fills your lungs until you lose consciousness. 

~

Sounds of the crackling fire fills your eardrums, and your body tries to accommodate the scorching heat of your surroundings. 

Opening your eyes, you see that you’re nowhere in your room, or in the overworld. All that your eyes can see was miles and miles of dark red and black hills, huge torches of fire everywhere, scattered all over the place. There were girls and boys dressed in all black outfits, walking around the place with blank faces, eyes having stripped off of their emotions.

You look down on yourself and thankfully, you were wearing clothes. A tight red dress that hugs your body perfectly, enhancing your curves.

“Y/n.”

A soft voice calls out your name, and you whip around to see Jungkook in his demon form, smiling at you as he sits on his throne. You feel a warm, familiar feeling in your heart as if coming home and going to bed from a long trip. His blazing eyes lead you to a trance.

He beckons you to him for he lifts his right hand out to you. He eyes your body up and down, fixing his posture whilst he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. The way your hips gently sways as you make your way towards him – not losing eye contact – and how your irises burn in desire, it was all that Jungkook asks for.

Your legs move without your permission, leading you up the stone steps to his throne.

His hand was warm when you grasp it, although it was rough and almost hard unlike his human skin, you touch as if there was no difference. You weren’t afraid anymore. Jungkook signals you to sit on his lap, and you gladly obey. With legs on either side of his thigh, you straddle him.

“You’re mine, baby.” Jungkook snarls, “This is your place now.”

“I…” you speak for the first time, “I can’t see my friends and family anymore?”

He shakes his head no with a sly grin.

You exhale, a big smile painting your face. You’ve never felt so content and happy in your entire life.

“Then I love it here.”  

Jungkook makes sure that your angels can’t and won’t look for you anymore. He swears that he’ll protect you in every way possible, promising to shield you from anything that will hurt you. Jungkook looks at your beautiful red eyes, feeling your arms wrap around his neck as you pull him close. 

The last thing anyone should do is trust a devil — and that goes for your foolish angels. 

[swan2swan]

So, where do we go from here? 

Camp Cretaceous Season 4 Prediction (LONG): 

As much as I’ve argued that we need to stay on Isla Nublar the whole time, turning right back around after that final sendoff would be too much of a forced “Return to Status Quo” for a story that has propelled itself forward so much. The kids did it. They won. They got off the island. I feel like we've explored almost everything we needed to (what's left? The bamboo forests? The gardens?), and though we never saw Triceratops or Stygimolochs or got chased by Gallimimus, we can't just go back after everything's increased. The only Big Challenge remaining on the island is the volcano, and that's six months out.

But the story’s nowhere near done, because we have four major plot threads that need to be addressed before the show ends:

1. Most immediately, we have the dinosaur in the closet. Is it a baby Scorpios? Blue? A Monolophosaurus? A Dilophosaurus? A baby Ouranosaurus? A baby Baryonyx? Jeanie? We don’t know, but odds are that it’s going to throw a wrench into the kids’ plans to return home. 

2. The state of Sammy's family and the ranch are still in flux; what will happen to them? Did they get all the money they needed from lawsuits? Does Mantah Corp have dirt on them? Are they going to try to interfere with Sammy because she Knows Too Much? They were set up as villains for a reason.

3. Darius and Kenji's strained relationship is a setup for future conflict.

4. We need to see Bumpy again. This isn't something that “needs” to come up, but the fact is that she's one of the main characters—bringing her back is essential to the story's quality, and we're not missing that thread. She either needs to get off the island, or we need to see that she lives afterwards.

Considering all of these things, I can rule out a lot of options: we're not getting chased right back by the Mosasaurus, and the creature in the ship isn't just going to wreck the engines and send them back. They're less than a hundred miles off of Costa Rica, so even if they're cruising at a cautious ten miles an hour, they should be able to see the shore within twenty-four hours, which means we're not going on an island-hopping adventure, either. You need dinosaurs, too, so nothing generic will happen.

Thus we can consider:

1: The kids are on the mainland of Costa Rica, and lost in the jungle or mountains. Just because they found their way back to mainland doesn't mean that they're going to find a port, and if their stowaway or the Mosasaurus causes problems, they can crash easily. If it's a Scorpios Rex baby, they'll have to hunt it and capture/kill it to finish their mission from this season. The problem with this option is that it just retreads the threat from the last season, which is boring; if it's a Monolophosaurus (or two), then it might not even impact things...so, I don't think the “kids in the jungle” plot is going to stick. I give this one a “D”.

2:  The kids run into a patrol vessel before landing. Isla Nublar is under quarantine. While they're on the boat, their rescuers/captors unleash the creature (which could be Scorpios!), and now there's a tight opening adventure on the boat. Thrilling, but not much of a big season if it's just a navy vessel...which leads me to:

3:  This is the only way I think we go back to Nublar, and that is if they meet up with a patrol boat, and then the creature in the hold (a small Scorpios???) rampages through the ship. They put it down, but the noise attracts the Mosasaurus, which wrecks the boat and puts them right back on Nublar—separated and with a bunch of adults alongside them. With a cast of much-more-plot-vulnerable adults to care about now (perhaps including Roxie, who joined the crew?), the stakes are higher and the kids are guides—maybe even separated at different points on the island. Not a big fan of this idea, though—again, it's retreading, and the number of excuses for “military-trained adults can't radio for help” is slim. So, I give it an “F”. But let's refine it a little further:

4: The kids get picked up by a patrol boat that is actually working for Mantah Corp—and they discover the dinosaur that has snuck aboard. Seeing an opportunity, Mantah Corp excitedly takes the kids to their secret base...on Isla Sorna. Though the dinosaurs on the island are mostly extinct and sick from disease, the abandoned island was perfect for a field laboratory. Specimens to study, buildings that already existed, a quarantine keeping prying eyes away...there's a whole organization here now. The kids escape from captivity (as they do) and find themselves wandering around a new island with new dangers: all around them are long-decayed skeletons of dinosaurs from the past, and hunting them are bizarre creations from Mantah Corp's labs. It's an island of ghosts now, and the kids need to escape...and perhaps, when they do, they find that they only have enough fuel to make it to one place: and it's the place they never thought they'd return to.

This plot covers pretty much every base—the stowaway, Mantah Corp, the relationships, and a chance to return to Bumpy—and gives them a proper, probable reason to go to Isla Sorna that isn't “Fate decided that it would be fun if they went to a different island”. I give this one “B-to-A” probability.

However...

There is one other major option:

Three. Year. Timeskip.

There are only two things holding me back from leaning into this: one is that it would deny us the sight of the kids reuniting with their families. We need that. We need some sort of triumphant return home. The other, simpler, more obvious problem is the monster in the hold; that kind of cliffhanger seems like it should come up. Obviously both of these problems can be solved via flashbacks, or a prologue, but...the need for new models and such would be an issue, because “budget” has always been a thing.

The other major problem, obviously, is the fact that the kids would need a reason to come back together. Maybe they all gather together for an anniversary and a dinosaur attacks them; maybe they're all being interviewed; but a far more interesting, compelling, and obvious motivation would be this:

Bumpy is alive and in danger.

Thus, all six kids (well...at least two would be adults now...) go running off to find and rescue Bumpy. They're bold and independent, rebellious and reckless: they each go to save their dinosaur friend, and they end up running into each other and ultimately facing Mantah Corp, who is one of the major power players in the prelude to Dominion.

This one has the ultimate story potential, in my opinon. You have Kenji and Darius meeting again with death glares because they left on poor terms. Ben has adjusted. Yaz and Sammy have had three years of yearning, notes, and problems (or maybe Sammy vanished...). And Brooklynn has had to forge a completely new life for herself, because she can't deal with internet fame anymore—everyone asking her about the island wherever she goes was just too much.

It directly sets the stage for Dominion, allowing glimpses of the world as it will be in the movie. Maybe the kids set more dinosaurs loose from Mantah Corp's (land-based in this one) laboratories as they free Bumpy. Maybe they become renegades and outlaws—forced to live in the wilds of California, Nevada, or Mexico. They're no longer looking for rescue, but for refuge. Maybe Claire has a sanctuary, a real one, that they have to get to. This would make it a full-scale adventure in a world filled with dinosaurs. Whatever they brought back with them is out there, too...and perhaps an old, scarred nemesis they never thought they would see again.

The biggest drawback to this is that the show hasn’t been running long enough for kids who started it to connect with the grown-up forms of the characters, but also...at the same time...it could work? I dunno, I give it “B” probability, A+ potential. 

Other thoughts that could work in any of these:

Roxie is working for Mantah Corp. She's unemployed, combat ready, and bitter at InGen...also, she'd look great in a uniform.

Brand is involved in any mainland shenanigans.

Dodgson. Dodgson. Can we get Dodgson here?

[julemmaes]

One of the kids getting lost in a crowd.

Find Her

A/N: Have I ever told you how much I love angst? Oof, too much. This is set in the same au as this fic here, but there’s no need to read it to understand this. You only need to know that Nessian have five children: Ezra (15 - he’s 14 in the other part), Cal (10), Nora (7), Celia (6) and Andra (4). Ezra is my bby boy and I think we can all agree he’s the best;)

Enjoy!

Word count: 5,175

Cassian couldn't get over how hot a human being could get before collapsing or dying. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back as if he were under the shower jet, and Andra's sticky little hands pulling on his left arm every four seconds didn't help. His mind was somewhere else as he led his family toward the market parking lot.

They were spending their summer vacation in Adriata and although the last ten days had been great, today Nesta had had the great idea of taking the whole family to one of those traditional street markets and it hadn't even taken two hours before the whole Navarro team started complaining that they wanted to be at the beach instead of at that place of "old men with three minutes left of life" - as Celia had described it.

Nesta had tried to convince them that they could have fun there too, watching the locals as they created traditional items from the region and cocked typical local street food, but when she had turned around to see the reaction of the clique, even Cassian had a bored grimace on his face and had sighed, she had decided she stood no chance against them.

After all, though she would never admit it out loud, she didn't even mind all that much spending another day on the sand soaking up the sun while her kids played in the water and didn't bother her.

"Dad are you okay?" asked Ezra suddenly. Cassian turned to his son with a furrowed brow and maybe he had moved too fast because he saw black for a second.

He nodded bringing a hand up to his face to cover himself from the sun, "It's this goddamn heat that's making me sick, but I'm fine don't worry."

Nesta gave him a wary look, ready to snap forward in case her husband decided to pass out, but Cassian smiled lovingly at her and she sighed again, lowering her hat over her face.

"When we get to the beach can we go swimming right away?" asked Andra mumbling half the words as she ate a cookie.

"No, you have to wait until I've put sunscreen on you and everyone else," Nesta answered her flatly - they had that talk every day now. "No one goes in the water until you're all ready, remember?" her mom asked her.

Andra nodded, a little disappointed that she wouldn't be able to jump into the water the second they arrived. They'd made that rule after the fourth time the first two to be ready and “sunscreened” had run into the sea and left the others alone and it had been a ruckus of crying and fits of abandonment.

"I'm hungry." said Celia hopping in front of them and starting to walk backwards so she could look them in the face. Cassian was about to tell her to watch out for the road when the little girl stopped and frowned, making everyone else stop as well.

Nesta extended a hand towards her to cross the street, "We'll figure it out when we get to the car, now give me your hand come on."

"Mom," Cal said with a hint of agitation in his voice. Cassian turned to him feeling his uneasiness. His son's dark eyes locked into his, "Where's Nora?"

Ezra jerked his head up, taking his eyes off his phone, "She was next to me ten seconds ago." he said.

Cassian let go of Andra's hand, moving between them to see if she was hiding behind someone. "Nora!" he called agitatedly. He cast a quick glance at Nesta before starting to walk briskly in the direction they had just come from, motioning the people walking towards him. Ezra brought a hand to his hair and cursed.

Nesta counted her children and gave a choked noise, closing her eyes, "Let's be calm."

"Nora!" they heard Cassian yell again as the reality of what was happening was spread over them like a giant, suffocating black veil.

Ezra stepped closer to her, eyes wide, "I'm going with dad."

"No." said Nesta immediately, her hands beginning to shake. She felt her legs bounce with the need to run after Cassian and find their daughter. Her eyes darted from spot to spot in the garden, behind the bench, through the trees, next to the playground. Nora seemed to be nowhere to be found.

She heard a ringing in her ears and the faint sound of Cassian's voice shouting in the distance.

"Mom." called Ezra to her again, with more urgency.

Nesta snapped out of her trance and grabbed Andra's hand, taking her in her arms and giving her to Ezra, who took his sister without hesitation, "You hold them, I'll go with dad." then she pushed Celia and Cal closer to their older brother, "Please, please don't wander away from here." her voice broke mid-sentence and Ezra winced. He had never seen his mother so upset in his life. None of them had.

Andra began to whimper, probably only just realizing in that moment that Nesta was about to leave. Ezra put a hand on the back of her head and pushed her against his shoulder, "I got this, go find Nora."

Nesta looked into his eyes and blinked a few times, then counted again. One, Ezra, two, Cal, three- three, Celia, four, Andra. Only Nora was missing.

She turned and without another word began to run through the crowd, letting her eyes run over every figure shorter than her hips.

Her stomach was twisting so hard she was afraid she might throw up at any moment.

"Nora."

She saw Cassian freeze suddenly across the garden. Leaning forward as he brought his hands to his mouth in a daze and then resumed running through the crowd shouting his daughter's name.

Nesta stopped in turn, starting to spin around.

This place was too big.

Too big.

She began to breathe heavily, resuming to dart through people, asking anyone if they had seen a little girl with black hair and dark eyes.

No one answered her, but the reaction of the others was always the same. Their faces scrunched up in grimaces of pity and sadness.

Where is my daughter?

The second those words formed in her head a sob came desperately from her throat, scratching its way out of her.

A couple beside her had stopped and were about to approach her, but Nesta had no time.

She started running again, "Nora!"

She felt the dread of any possible option make its way inside her. The idea that she had only strayed from the family and was safe a hope too great for her to wish for.

The image of someone drawing Nora's attention away from the family and kidnapping her was as vivid as a picture in her mind.

How had this happened?

They had all been together until seconds before.

How had it-

Nesta's breath suddenly caught as her vision blurred and she leaned forward, bringing a hand to her throat. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe in enough air to keep looking for Nora.

How many minutes had passed?

How long had she been looking for her?

She felt a hand settle on her back and she snapped forward, pulling herself up and turning around to see who it was.

How long had she been gone?

Nesta sobbed as her face turned into a mask of pain. She had never seen that fear, that terror, in Cassian. She thought at that moment that no parent should ever be forced to feel such utter horror.

Cassian brought his hands to her shoulders, "Nes, I know," his voice as hoarse as hers, but his eyes were so serious, so focused, "I can't find her either, but she can't be too far away." he tried to reason with her.

"What if-" she took a shuddering breath, "what if she hasn't gone far?"

His eyes darkened as he squeezed her shoulders.

"What if someone took her?" she breathed.

Cassian shook his head, looking around, "Don't talk shit, kids get lost all the time," then turned around eyeing all the kids running through the crowd, "She'll be around here for sure."

Her children never strayed.

"Listen to me," Nesta demanded, "it happens. Children get kidnapped and- and taken to the other side of the world to be sold." another sob escaped her.

Cassian closed his eyes, breathing through his nostrils, "Can you please not talk about child trafficking right now?" he begged her. Then she looked over his shoulder and behind him immediately after, "Where are the others?" the panic clear in his voice.

Nesta put a hand on his chest, "They're with Ezra at the entrance of the park." she reassured him, "So if Nora comes through there, they'll see her."

Cassian nodded, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips, bringing her hands to her face, "We find her, okay?"

Nesta nodded.

"And we're not leaving until we do," he murmured.

Then they parted again.

Every time she heard a child crying, laughing, screaming, Nesta felt hope bloom in her chest and her heart break when she realized it wasn't Nora.

A lady had flanked her after ten minutes and they had been looking together for half an hour. She had returned to the entrance after a few minutes to leave Ezra some money and the car keys in case they needed anything, but she had begged them again not to move from where she had left them.

"What was she wearing?" the woman asked. Nesta turned to her with wide eyes and it was as if he couldn't see her. She was looking at her but had no face, no name.

She shook her head, bringing her hands to her temples and closing her eyes, trying to remember what she had taken out of the suitcase that morning, but billions of memories and images were repeating in her head.

The first outfit they had given her when she was still pregnant and had found out she was expecting a girl. The way she had realized just then that she was going to have a little girl.

All the pairs of white and pink and purple booties they had bought her. All the toys she had been submerged in and all the things her aunts and uncles had spoiled her with by being the first of the girls to enter the family.

"I don't remember," she whispered, "I don't remember. My husband dressed her this morning."

Oh god, Cassian.

She hadn't seen him in half an hour, but she knew that he too had gone to make sure the others were okay and had stayed put at the entrance. Cal had made sure to let her know.

The lady put a hand on her shoulder, "It's okay, it's not important." then she stepped closer and Nesta looked up, "If you don't want to involve the authorities that's fine, but there's one of the park rangers there, I think it would be wise to go talk to them, spread the word. Maybe Nora could hear someone talk about it too and get help."

Upon hearing her daughter's name, Nesta felt the tears build up behind her eyelids again. She nodded slightly and then the woman pushed her towards the ranger.

***

Cassian was going crazy.

Never in his life had he felt such extreme fear as he was feeling right now.

He could hear Nora's voice calling to him from every direction and none.

He could hear her laughter like an echo in the distance. He could see her dark, ever-cheerful eyes and-

"Nora!" he shrieked with all the voice he had left. He had lost track of time, but he knew it had been too many minutes, too many seconds, since his daughter had walked away. Too much time for her not to be crying in despair because she couldn't find her parents, her brothers or sisters, any person with a familiar face. He didn't want to picture her thinking they had abandoned her.

A group of people turned toward him, shocked by that sudden burst of hopelessness and anger. He brought a hand to his mouth and choked on a sob.

Nesta had planted the seed of doubt in his head and now he couldn't think of anything else but Nora being dragged away by strangers.

He tried to take a deep breath, to no avail.

Where are you? Where are you-

"Nora where are you?" he said in a broken voice, spinning around.  

Two girls in the group stood up, approaching cautiously.

"Sir," one of them asked. Under other circumstances, Cassian would have laughed in outrage at that word. "Have you lost someone?"

"My daughter, Nora," he answered immediately, continuing to look around. How was it possible that there were so many people and no one had found her yet? Surely, a little girl crying in need would have found help right away. "She has dark hair and today she had two braids with fuchsia scrunchies and light blue pants and a green t-shirt."

"We heard one of the guards talking to your wife, I think," said the other. Cassian looked at them, they both had serious and worried expressions on their faces. "If you want we can help look for her."

"Please." he murmured, nodding. The words left his mouth before he could think them out.

One of the two girls turned to the group, "Guys come here."

It didn't take Cassian more than a minute to explain where they had last seen her and how she was dressed, how tall she was. And although he knew these people's intentions were good, he couldn't block out the concern. He was providing a clear picture of his daughter to a group of strangers that could have been as dangerous as they were helpful.

The feeling of panic and dread only intensified as they all scattered, beginning to shout his daughter's name.

He couldn't help but wonder if this would only make the situation worse.

Nora was smart and would never leave of her own will. But she was also very reserved, probably the shyest of their large family, if she heard someone call out her name, Cassian wasn't sure she would come forward. In fact, it would probably get the opposite reaction in her and make her look for a way to hide.

After all, he and Nesta had taught her not to trust strangers.

He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath.

How was he going to explain to Nesta that he couldn't find her anywhere?

How was he supposed to get out of that place if he wasn't holding his daughter?

***

Nesta had fainted.

The lady had been just in time to put an arm around her waist when her legs had given out under her weight. She had closed her eyes for a second and then found herself lying on a bench, while someone pulled her legs up to get the blood flowing to her head, surrounded by curious and worried people.

"Nora..." she murmured, trying to find out something about the situation.

She wasn't crying, but she could feel the tears sliding down her temples.

Fuck the heat, fuck the low blood pressure.

She needed to find her daughter.

She had pulled herself up to her seat, despite the protests of the people around her, and resumed wandering around the park, screaming Nora's name as loudly as she could. It was as if the whole world was looking for her now. She could also hear the voices of others saying the name again and again and again.

She felt her legs weak and her knees wobble beneath her, ready to buckle from exhaustion, ready to give way one more time when she heard it.

"Mom!"

Nesta's head snapped in the direction of the sound, perhaps too quickly as she couldn't focus on anything, but she had already begun to cry when her daughter's small, puny body collided against her legs, leaping into the air to be picked up. Nesta let herself fall to the ground, taking Nora's face in her hands and laughing through her tears, looking into her eyes, making sure she was okay and unharmed. She was crying too, but she didn't seem to be hurt.

She wrapped her arms around the little girl as she too cried and hid her face in her mother's neck. Nesta breathed heavily when a sob broke the crying, one hand went to caress the girl's head.

"Nora." she whispered, "Nora, Nora, Nora-" she repeated over and over.

Her daughter's hands tightened around Nesta's shirt and she didn't care about anything else but the fact that Nora was okay. She was safe.

"Oh thank god." she heard someone say and then a loud thud, before arms wrapped around both of them and Cassian's sobs of relief and exhaustion from the dread they had shared so far joined theirs.

Nesta pulled away just enough so her husband could see that Nora was intact and when the little girl saw her father, a sound that Nesta wished she never heard again in her life made its way between them, produced by her daughter, "Dad!"

A huge smile spread across his face and Nesta laughed amidst tears, "Potato," he called before Nora launched herself onto him and wrapped her little arms around his neck. Cassian's hands left their place on Nesta's back and tightened on Nora.

"It's okay honey," she whispered, resting her forehead against Nora's back, "you found us." she continued when she heard her daughter sobbing louder.

She met Cassian's gaze over Nora's shoulder and smiled at him, letting go a sigh of relief and closing her eyes.

They stayed cuddled on that lawn until Nora stopped sobbing so hard that it seemed impossible to speak and each sob was like a stab to the heart. Nesta and Cassian had spent an hour looking for her, terrified that someone had kidnapped her, but Nora must have thought they had abandoned her, left her behind.

At the mere thought that she was the cause of the heartbreaking cry that was shaking her daughter, Nesta pulled Nora's arms away from Cassian's body and brought her to her chest, cradling her as she told her how much she loved her and how worried she had been. Then, to play it down a bit, she added chuckling, "Mom even fainted at one point, you know?" Nora's eyes had looked up at her at that point, "I fell straight down on the floor and some gentlemen had to lift my legs-"

She was interrupted by Cassian, "You what?"

She looked up at him, smiling wearily, and he seemed to realize how white she actually was just then. Cassian dropped his head forward, bringing a hand over his eyes, "Sorry I didn't notice, I was thinking about Nora-"

Nesta put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm fine." she told him, then looked at Nora again, "I'm fine." she repeated more slowly, moving a strand of hair from the little girl's forehead and smiling at her.

She felt Cassian's gaze on her, trying to figure out if she was actually okay, if she was going to pass out at any moment, but she didn't care. Nora was in her arms and breathing and intact and she didn't care about anything else.

The lady who had helped her had brought them a small bottle of water and now Nesta was sitting Nora down so she could drink.

"Easy there." Cassian had told her seeing how she had stuck to the bottle. It had hurt them both to see how quickly she had finished half the water.

That wasn't thirst, that was fear.

Nora hadn't said anything yet, but they knew it was only because she was in shock.

They had thanked everyone who had helped look for her and then turned back toward the exit, Nora in Cassian's arms, her head resting on her father's shoulder and her arms dangling at her sides as she slept worn out with emotion.

When Celia saw them coming she broke away from the group, starting to run towards them and shouting Nora's name, but Nesta brought a finger to her mouth and she froze dead in her tracks, but she was smiling. As were the other three for that matter.

Cassian could see the remnants of a cry on Andra's face and felt guilty for leaving them alone in the sun for so long without returning to them from time to time. He saw Ezra close his eyes and sigh with relief more than once and put Andra down, who along with Cal ran to their parents. Ezra sat down on a bench, bringing his hands to his face.

"Nora's resting now, okay?" pointed out Nesta to her three children. They all nodded frantically. "So let's not make too much noise."

"Mom and I thought we'd go back to the hotel, at least for a few hours," Cassian continued, keeping his gaze fixed on his oldest son, who still kept his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands, "Then when she wakes up, after we've all eaten, we''ll see if we can go to the beach for a few hours, sounds like the plan?" Andra let out an excited squeal and Celia shushed her, Cal simply nodded, but he still looked worried about Nora.

Nesta smiled at him and lowered herself to their height. As if she had been a magnet, the three children immediately reached out, touching her in some way: one hand on her shoulder, one on her knee, one on her hand. Cassian stepped back.

"Nora's fine, I mean it," she squeezed Cal's tiny hand. "Sorry we were gone so long, but we couldn't find her," she explained to them, "We went all over the park, made new friends, talked to the park guards. I even fainted from the heat, ouch." she brought a hand to her forehead, imitating the fainting gesture, to make them laugh. It only worked with Andra. "But we're all fine, we're all here."

Nesta smiled, "One, Ezra." she said, "Two?"

"Cal." said the person directly concerned.

"Three?"

"Nora." said the girls.

"Four?" asked Andra.

"Celia." replied her sister, "And five?"

"Me!" squealed the youngest.

"That's right, you're five and you're all here," said Nesta, "You do know we didn't want to leave you alone here?" she asked, hesitant to introduce the subject. Three little heads nodded in confusion. "Dad and I would have reacted exactly the same way for all of you," she continued, "And we're sorry if we scared you acting like that, but we were scared too," she explained, stiffening her back and watching each of her children's reaction carefully, "If you feel that you're scared or stressed or want to cry because it seems like too much, you can do that. Mom and Dad cried, too." Celia opened her eyes wide, mouthing a dad and shifting her gaze to her father.

Cassian was much more emotional than Nesta, actually, but he tried never to do it in front of his kids because he knew it made them restless and sad. It had only happened a few times and Cassian still hadn't forgiven himself for making his kids worry like that, but that didn't mean they didn't teach them to express their feelings openly.

"These are stressful situations for everyone, so we understand if you need to release some frustration." Nesta smiled at them. Then an idea occurred to her, "How about when we get back to the beach tonight or tomorrow morning, we scream under the water so loud that we scare the little fish?"

Celia and Cal nodded again with excitement. Andra frowned, "I don't want to scare them."

Nesta stroked her face, "Then you'll sing to them and scream just a little bit loud. So we can let go of some of the stress of this horrible day, hmm?"

They all seemed to agree.

"Can we get pizza when we get to the hotel?" asked Celia with a strange glint in her eye. The little girl knew perfectly well when to ask for certain things. She knew full well when Nesta wouldn't be able to resist giving her kids everything they wanted without batting an eye.

Nesta nodded.

The children suddenly rejoiced and began to do a little dance that had been a tradition for more than seven years now. Something little Cal and the still child Ezra had invented when theirs sisters weren't even an idea.

Smiling, Nesta pulled herself up to her feet again, "Come on let's go to Dada."

***

"Ezra." murmured Cassian.

His son's head snapped toward him and he frowned. Cassian contracted his jaw.

"How is she?" asked Ezra in a raspy voice. Realizing this, he cleared his throat and pulled himself up to sit with his back straight, looking away from the approaching duo.

Cassian watched him closely, "She's fine, she got really scared and her mom found her crying, but she's fine." then he sat down next to him, being careful not to bend Nora's legs. Ezra bent down to his little sister, stroking her forehead, as Nesta had done only a few minutes before. "How are you?"

"Fine," his son replied too quickly, "why? How am I supposed to be?" he asked, snickering nervously.

Cassian was tired. So tired that if it wasn't for the fact that he had to take everyone to the hotel, he would have fallen asleep on the first free bench and slept for days, but he had to make sure his son was okay.

"Because we left you alone with the other three and it's not a small thing. Thank you for doing this." said Cassian to him, looking at the wedding band on his finger and playing with the ring, trying not to make the other uncomfortable.

Ezra shrugged, "I do it all the time, it's no big deal."

"That doesn't make the task any easier," his father murmured. "In fact, the fact that you do it every day is admirable and I'm sure without you, Mom and I wouldn't survive half a day," he chuckled. Ezra smiled wearily.

"How are you?" he tried again.

The boy seemed to really think about it, "I was afraid something bad had happened to her, but I couldn't do anything about it and I couldn't talk to the others about it because they're still too young and I'm sure a riot would have erupted if I said even half the stuff I was thinking," Ezra confessed in one breath. Cassian was about to respond, but his son continued, "And then Andra started crying and Celia was hungry and I didn't know what to do because she didn't like the stuff at the food trucks, but I couldn't get out of the park because if Nora came by, I'd lose her and-" he took a deep breath and looked toward Cassian, "You know?"

Cassian wished he didn't know. He wished his son didn't have to take those things into account. He wished he and Nesta didn't have to lean on him so much.

"Yes, I know," he murmured. Then he looked into his eyes, "I know your mom has been telling you this since you were born, Ezra, but if you want to cry because it all gets to be too much, no one is going to make fun of you or tell you to man up. You know it's all bullshit." said Cassian, turning slightly towards him, "Andra and Celia don't know how to talk about their emotions yet because they're too little, same with Cal and Nora and they cry to make us understand they're feeling too much. Just because you can release some of the tension by talking about it, doesn't mean it has to be just that way."

"I know," Ezra nodded, "I know," he said more softly. Then he ran a hand over his face, "Although I'd rather you didn't give me these heart-to-hearts in the middle of so many people."

Cassian chuckled, already feeling lighter upon hearing that Ezra had started joking again. He just had to make sure his son knew one last thing.

"Maybe not in situations like this, because we really needed you today," he said sincerely, "But when we're home and Mom and I want to take a night off and ask you to babysit, if you're not up for it or even just don't feel like it for one night, tell us and we'll figure something else out or we'll go out another time." Cassian watched as his other children danced in front of Nesta and smiled, "We would never want you to feel forced to parent."

"Yeah yeah, I know," Ezra chuckled, "all that talk about me being a son too and not having the same responsibilities as you as a sibling." he turned a relieved look to his father, "Mom reminds me enough that I know her speech better than happy birthday."

Cassian burst out laughing at Ezra's exasperated tone and when Nesta and the others stopped in front of them they were all smiling. Nesta leaned forward over her oldest son kissed his forehead, "Thank you, love."

Ezra nodded just once, a tight smile on his lips.

"Can we please go now?" sighed Cal. Celia nodded beside him, ever the one to agree with her brother.

Cassian pulled himself up with a grunt and then Ezra, who took Andra's hand and held it tightly as if afraid she might disappear at any moment.

"Are you going to sing or yell at the fish?" asked the little girl as they crossed the street.

"What?" asked her brother laughing.

"Do you sing like me or yell with mom?" she demanded without giving any context yet again.

Ezra shifted his gaze to his father and Cassian looked as confused as he was, so he looked at his mom, who was laughing under her breath.

"Mom?"

"I may have promised them that we would scream underwater to release some of the extra steam," she explained.

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head, "Sure, all normal."

Ezra shifted his attention to Andra, "I think I'll sing with you." he replied, smiling.

Eyes as light as his locked on his face and then a lighthearted laugh made its way between the two and Ezra couldn't help but laugh along with his sister, picking her up and spinning her around in the air.

Nesta counted her children one last time before getting into the car and when she got inside, she leaned her head back against the seat, sighing. Cassian mimicked her and then leaned toward her, Nesta turning just in time for their lips to collide.

A roar of disgust and embarrassed giggles erupted from the backseat, and Nesta thought she'd never heard such a beautiful sound while still smiling at her husband.

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send an ask)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @perseusannabeth​

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 2:

“Say ‘please?’”

“Fuck off, Greenbriar.”

“Close enough.”

Previous

Read chapter 2 on AO3 or read below:

This is the shape of my nightmares:

My sister Taryn and I are thirteen years old, sick and miserable. We’ve just endured our first heats and stayed home from school for a week with doctor permission. Even now, we feel residual awfulness: headaches and sore muscles. Heats are painful when there’s no one to help you through them, and obviously we’re too young to mate. We sheltered in our rooms, and our adoptive father briefly hired an omega nurse to tend to our high temperatures and help us wrap up in blankets, so at least we felt safe and cocooned.

Everybody knows why we missed school, and they whisper about it behind our backs. Even before we presented, our designation was obvious. The rest of our class—the rest of the school—is alpha kids, and the ones in our year have all started growing out of their baby fat, shooting up like wheat stalks. Taryn and I are only barely taller than we were last year, our cheeks are still soft, and we are gaining weight in our hips and chests. Everything about this is awful. Nothing is fun.

We are outside for gym class. The alpha kids, growing into their bodies, have a lot of extra energy, so they need to spend time circling the track or tackling each other in games of capture the flag. Taryn and I will join them until we get tired, but if we show signs of flagging, we’re benched. Omegas aren’t as sturdy. Omegas break.

Today, the teacher is more generous. During our game of capture the flag, she simply mandates we play defense, guarding the precious flag, and abstain from running around with our classmates. It’s boring, but fine. We get to talk to each other while the alphas tussle among themselves upfield.

Except a few of them are “on defense” today too—the alpha elites, too lazy or too important for gym, who can slack off. As the only two omegas on school grounds who aren’t staff, Taryn and I are categorically beneath their notice, but we know every member of the clique by name: Locke, the son of a wealthy consultant who’s never home, always traveling; Nicasia, whose mom is a senator; Valerian—nobody knows what his family does so we all kind of assume it’s crime; Cardan, the youngest of six heirs to the most absurd family fortune this side of the Rockies.

Already, they are taller than us, stronger than us, looking unfairly sculpted in the autumn sun. Already I am aware of how we are different.

Then the wind blows past me, picking up my hair. And the scene changes.

The first thing I notice when Cardan unexpectedly strides toward me is that he smells amazing. He smells so incredible that I goggle at him for a second, baffled by how I somehow didn’t notice this about him before. I feel a clenching in my stomach and the urge to do something, although at the time I don’t know what. And then, while I am paralyzed by his scent, he gives me a hard shove for no reason, knocking me off-balance.

I land on my backside, an embarrassing but safe place to land, padded with muscle and fat. Our adoptive father always taught us that it’s better to land there than anywhere else, better to suffer a little humiliation than to crack your skull open or shatter your ankle or wrist. It still smarts, but at least the only thing bruised is my pride.

Then Valerian throws his head back and laughs. “That’s where she belongs,” he crows. “On her back, like a good little omega.”

Nicasia thinks that’s hilarious. Locke raises his eyebrows, blinking at us with large, tawny eyes. And Cardan, the instigator. Cardan just sneers.

That sneer has haunted me. I’ve seen it countless times since then. He starts holding his nose when he passes me in the hallway. Whenever I get complacent, he makes sure to whisper in my ear that I reek. He and his friends seem to find it more fun to bully the alphas smaller or weaker than them—omegas already know their place, after all—but that does not protect us when they’re bored, or when said alphas further down the food chain need to take out their own aggressions.

I think they thought it would break me.

They couldn’t know it would do the opposite.

---

“Jude?”

I open my eyes to a darkened room, and groan. I feel vaguely like I’ve been run over by a truck, then the truck stopped and someone picked me up and threw me in the back of it, and we proceeded to drive down a very bumpy road. In other words: like shit. My head throbs, and when I try to sit up, the world spins and I flop back over.

“What happened?” I mutter. Everything is greyish and blurry. Dim light seems to be filtering in from somewhere above my head and to the left, but there isn’t very much of it. I hold my hand up in front of my eyes and squint at it until I stop seeing double.

There’s a relieved sigh from somewhere past my hand. A male voice. “You’re okay.”

I make a second attempt at sitting up and am more successful this time. My shoulder scrapes against a wall to my right, so I lean into it. The light source I clocked before is a small window, longer than it is wide, set high up above me. And on the other side of the room, sitting across from me, sits the dark shape of a boy, or a man, or someone caught eternally in between those two things.

Cardan.

I blink at him. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, you too.” Cardan rubs his eye. He isn’t sneering now. In fact, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen him. His hair is messy—which is nothing new, people are doubtless running their hands through it all the time with how perpetually tousled it seems—but there are circles under his eyes and he looks pale. He’s also bleary-eyed and squinting a little. He doesn’t seem to have any visible injuries, though, although jury’s out on whether that’s good or bad. I’ve often thought he could stand to get pushed around a little more, instead of always being the one to do the pushing.

“I gave you the mattress,” he says, gesturing at what I’m sitting on. “There was only one.”

I look down. I’m indeed sitting on a mattress. There’s no linens, but someone has thrown a slightly scratchy blanket over the lower half of my body. I peer around, dread sinking in as I begin to grasp the severity of our situation. “Oh, fuck.”

“I think it’s ransom,” Cardan volunteers. “I mean, I really can’t think of anything else it would be.”

I hug my arms to my chest and say the thing drilled into every omega’s brain since they’re old enough to wander off from their parents. “What about sex slavery?”

“Yeah, there’s not a huge demand for alpha men on the black market. Although…” He looks down at himself and smirks a little. He’s built like a classical sculpture and he is well aware of this fact. “Can’t blame them if they decided to make an exception.”

It’s impossible to think he’s making a joke about this, not when it’s actually a thing that could happen to me, a possibility that my stepmother Oriana warned us of ever since she married Madoc and inherited his adopted twins. Sex slavers looking to snatch up omega girls became our bogeymen.

But the odds are that Cardan’s right: it’s probably ransom. I imagine people would do and have done worse to get their hands on a fraction of the late Eldred Greenbriar’s billions.

But I say, “Maybe someone finally got tired of you being annoying as shit.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Feeling mouthy, are we?”

“Fuck off. This is your fault,” I accuse, wagging a finger at him. “You did this.”

Cardan blinks at me. “What, you think I kidnapped myself?”

“Not literally.” I slump back against the wall. “Although it seems like something you would do. You love attention.”

“Ah, yes. All of the attention I am getting from you in our cozy eight-by-ten cell. I’m just soaking it in.” He pantomimes splashing water on his face. “Great for the skin.”

“You’re in a playful mood.” But of course he’s feeling better than me. He would have needed a larger dose—of the chloroform? ether? they used on us to get us here—but he also would have bounced back quicker. Everything about alpha biology is kind of extra like that.

“I joke a lot when I’m nervous.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “I am actually freaking the fuck out.”

“Oh, great.”

“I do have water, though. Thought that might interest you.”

I sit up a little straighter. “God, my head is killing me. Yes.”

“Say ‘please?’”

“Fuck off, Greenbriar.”

“Close enough.”

Instead of getting up, which I think for a moment he might, he rolls the half-empty bottle of water across the floor and over to me. It bumps against the edge of the mattress and I have to lean over to grab it, which nearly makes me hurl then and there. The water helps, though. It’s room temp, but even a mouthful makes me feel more like a person.

“It’s not drugged,” Cardan calls. “Surprised you didn’t ask in advance.”

I flip him off. After I’ve drained the last of the bottle, I let myself just breathe, counting backwards from ten in my head. There are many warring emotions vying to tip me over the edge of a panic attack, but I can’t let them. I have to get out of here.

Cardan flicks at a bit of dust on the floor. When I am on three, he interrupts my mindful breathing. “You realize that, technically, we have now swapped saliva?”

“Ew.” I throw the empty water bottle at him and am annoyed when he catches it effortlessly from the air. “Could you be, like, useful for once in your life?”

“Sure.” He leans forward and lowers his voice, like he’s afraid someone might overhear. “There are three of them. One’s a woman, I think the other two are men. The only one I’ve seen is tall and white and barely spoke a word to me. He dropped off the water when I was still groggy.”

That is useful. Dammit. I frown. “Designation?”

“Dunno. Couldn’t get a read on him. I think they might be using maskers for their scents.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I exhale. “Tall” doesn’t have to mean alpha—my sister Vivi, who’s shorter than me, is proof enough of that. But it doesn’t sound good. “Any idea where we are?”

“I don’t think we’ve left Long Island. I don’t know for sure, though. We could be in Jersey for all I know.”

“Right.” I sigh again and rub my temples. “Okay, so ransom. Ransom. You could technically pay the ransom yourself, right? You’re over eighteen—”

“I’m twenty.” When I blink at him, he clarifies, “Repeated sixth grade, remember? And I just had my birthday in July.”

How could I forget? My life wasn’t exactly blissful before he came along, but it definitely got worse when he got bumped down to my year. “Okay, you’re twenty, and your dad died last year. So you’ve got your own money now.”

Cardan raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Real considerate.”

Now is definitely not the time to quibble over manners, but I manage, “Sorry, I guess.”

“Don’t be. He was a dick.” I glare at him, but he ignores me, patting down the pockets of his skinny jeans. “Huh, you know, when they took my phone and my wallet, they must have also taken the special checkbook I keep on me just for hostage situations. Think they’d accept Venmo?”

“Very funny.”

“But the real issue here is that I can’t touch my trust until I turn twenty-one.”

I wish I could say that didn’t interest me, but it does. Sure, Madoc has money. He’s a ruthlessly efficient attorney with killer instincts, and, among other prominent clients, he’s represented Cardan’s dad and both of his older brothers at one point or another. But he’s not among the alpha ultra-rich. Private helicopter rich. Secluded island rich. And I’m nosy enough about how the point one percent of the one percent lives. Anyone would be. So I ask, “Why’s that?”

“Why did my dad do anything?” Cardan folds his hands behind his head. “To make my life difficult, I guess. It was probably to ensure I wouldn’t embarrass myself by buying and crashing seventeen Porsches in a row. Give that frontal lobe time to develop. He’s not here to say. Anyway, Balekin’s the trustee. Maybe there’s some clause about life-threatening emergencies.”

Balekin is Cardan’s oldest brother, but thinking about siblings makes me wonder, with a pang in my chest, about Taryn. What had she done when she and Locke couldn’t find me at the party? Had she panicked? Had she gotten home safe? I don’t want to think about Madoc because he’s probably freaking out in a big way, a side of him I have only seen once before, the last time someone threatened me. It’s more likely that he’ll tear the kidnappers limb from limb than give into anybody’s demands. I hope Balekin has a more level head, although given his reputation for throwing massive parties, I am not counting on it.

“Right,” I say. “So they’ll hit up Balekin for the money?”

“Dude, I don’t know. Honestly? He might have staged this himself to get at the trust, or more likely my stake in the corporation. In some ways, I think it’s better for my family if I disappear.”

It surprises me to hear him say that. “Wouldn’t—that would be a huge scandal, though?”

I don’t say what I think, which is Don’t they love you? But there’s a pretty big age gap between Cardan and his oldest siblings. They could be practically strangers for all I know.

Cardan just shrugs and looks gloomy.

“I don’t think they planned on getting me, too,” I say quietly. There’s only one mattress in the room. One bottle of water on hand for when Cardan woke up. And anyone who thinks they can extort “Mad Dog” Madoc is definitely biting off more than they can chew. But that curdles my stomach, because if Cardan hadn’t chased me down the beach, I probably would have woken up in my lavender canopied bed, safe. Probably with a killer headache from overstimulation, but safe. As safe as I can ever be.

“Yeah,” Cardan agrees, which doesn’t help me feel any better. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

I blow out a breath. “Well, Balekin better pay up in the next forty-eight hours, or we need to figure out how to get out of here. Otherwise we’re going to have problems.”

“We are?”

I swallow. I hate that I have to spell it out for him. But I keep my voice even, casual. “Unless you’ve got spare heat suppressants on you.”

Cardan looks dumbstruck. “Oh,” he says after a moment. “Shit, no. I must have left them in my other jeans with my hostage checkbook.”

I feel myself blush, which is ridiculous. Unregulated heat cycles, messy and inconvenient as they are, are nothing to be ashamed of, as everyone says. Just a quirk of biology. Just the way I am. There’s even a group of pretty radical omega activists out there fighting to destigmatize unregulated cycles, citing the damage that suppressants can wreak on the body. Except my designation is going to be pretty problematic if I’m locked in this room with Cardan for reasons other than societal stigma.

To be honest, it’s already a problem. The room is probably ten feet long, not long enough for us both to lie down across from each other without curling up to avoid touching. I am already hyper-aware of his presence, the nervous drumming of his long fingers, the terrible urge I have to run my fingers through his already messy curls. It’s just chemistry, but if it’s bad now, it’ll be about eighty times worse for both of us if I go into heat.

And if any of our captors are also alphas…

I shake myself all over. I can’t go down that road. I’ll never pull myself back. I’ll just curl up in a little ball and then it’ll be up to Cardan to save us, which, no thank you. “Yeah. So, one way or another we have to get out of here.”

Cardan goes pale. “Jude, I—”

“So we assume nobody’s coming,” I continue. “Use the next twenty-four hours to figure out as much as we can about the people who’ve taken us and where we’re being held, and the next twenty-four to escape. That’s the plan.”

“That’s a reasonable plan,” he says, vaguely startled.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not. You were valedictorian, of course you have a plan. Just, uh, my mind went totally blank when you pointed out you’d—”

“We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” I snap. “I assume you want that just as much as I do.” Which is not at all.

The way he pales further tells me I’m not far from wrong. I mean, he’s always made it clear how much he’s hated my scent, the way I look, the fact that I get better grades than him. He hates pretty much everything about me, because I am an omega and he is an alpha, and that means he should be on top of the world and I should know my place.

I massage my temples, trying to clear my head. “No, we’re going to get out of here before that happens.”

For reasons I can’t pretend to understand, that seems to reassure Cardan. He nods and unfolds his arms, letting his head fall back against the wall. His eyes close. “Okay.”

I am surprised that he seems at all willing to trust me, but I suppose he is pretty low on options. That’s his mistake. Already I am thinking of what a relief it will be to leave him behind, even though I know that, morally speaking, I should be formulating an escape plan for the both of us. Besides, abandoning Cardan to his fate wouldn’t really solve any of my problems. But I wouldn’t have to face his sneer anymore, wouldn’t have to wonder what it would take to convince him I have earned my place when the answer is clearly “Nothing, ever.”

“I just have to figure out how,” I mutter under my breath.

Cardan cracks one dark eye open to look at me, but I ignore him, staring up at the little window. There has to be a way to crack this place open like a nut, and if there is, I’ll find it. There is no other option but this, no other way but out.

I refuse to believe otherwise.

Next

[trvelyans-archive]

look out

a comm for @dauntless-necromancer of the detective’s daughter miss maxine spending a weekend at the warehouse with unit bravo <3 it was such a pleasure to write for you again !!! i hope you enjoy <3

-

When Max finishes up science club on Friday, there are three vampires waiting outside school for her.

… That sounds like the beginning of a bad YA novel.

Not that she reads those. Well… she does, just not that often. She’s too busy with homework most of the time – also, lots of them are bad. Besides, she’s glad that she hasn’t had time to read lately, because she wouldn’t want Unit Bravo to catch her flipping through some trashy teen book when they get home from… y’know, killing werewolves or demons or whatever. (Or not killing them? She doesn’t really understand what it is they do.) She hitches her backpack higher over her shoulders, pushes her glasses up her nose and clears her throat as she heads down the sidewalk towards the sleek black van they’re standing in front of.

Nice, Max thinks. Better than Dad’s car.

It nearly broke down on the way to school this morning. Max doesn’t know how she felt about him making the 45-minute drive into the city with it, but he kept changing the subject whenever she brought it up. Actually, he didn’t really say or do anything but go over a checklist of what she needed for the weekend until she was about to get out of the car and he said, “Sorry, kiddo. I’ve just been… on edge lately.”

As if he had to tell her that. She sees him every week – she knows how stressed he’s been. That’s part of the reason she went along with this plan so willingly: she wants to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with him.

“Max!” The shortest one – Farah – practically pounces on her as she approaches their van outside the school, grinning widely. (No vampire fangs, Max notes. Maybe they only come out sometimes? She has an urge to write that down somewhere. She should definitely start taking notes.) “How are you? How was school?”

“Good,” Max says. “And I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Farah replies, grinning. “I’m excited!”

“She has quite the schedule planned for you,” Nat says, smiling softly. Max likes Nat the most out of all of them – she’s smart and nice, if a little… boring. But boring can be good, sometimes! “We’ve all been looking forward to your visit, though.”

Max looks over at Morgan, who tosses her cigarette onto the ground and stomps it under her boot, staring at the school with a frown and a furrowed brow.

Maybe not all of them, Max thinks.

“Whose car is this?” she asks, pointing at the van.

“The Agency’s!” Farah hurries to pull the door of the van open and gestures inside. “Nothing but the best for Eddie’s daughter!”

“All the vans look like this,” Morgan grumbles. Farah elbows her.

“Nothing but the best,” she repeats.

Max pokes her head inside – it’s practically spotless and smells like new-car smell (except she knows it probably isn’t). They’re probably just really particular about, like, cleaning them after they use the vans to haul back dead werewolves or whatever. (God, she hopes they don’t do that, and she especially hopes they haven’t done that with this van. She makes a mental note to ask Nat about it later.)

As if on cue, Farah grabs Max’s overnight bag from her hand and tosses it inside the car.

“What are you waiting for?” Farah asks. “Let’s go!”

-

At first, Max as hesitant to spend her weekend with Unit Bravo. Before her dad finished finalizing plans with them, she begged Mom to take the weekend off work until her mom was sick of her asking. As much as she’s grown to like… most of the Unit, she didn’t know how much she’d like spending three days with them. After all, she still hasn’t forgotten what happened with that freak Murphy earlier this year. She still hasn’t forgot that, whether they wanted to or not, they left her dad out to dry and he got his ass – butt – kicked because of it.

And yet, by ten o’clock Friday night – the time she would usually be getting ready for bed – she’s pretty sure she’s gonna like spending the weekend here much more than she thought she would.

They’ve set up camp in the games room. After Max scarfed down the slightly burnt dinner that Nat made her, they spent the evening playing darts – Morgan won the first three games, to Farah’s annoyance, and then Max won the fourth game, to even more of Farah’s annoyance – and now they’re about half an hour deep into what feels like will be an incredibly prolonged game of pool.

Max’s on Farah’s team, apparently. She thinks it’s because Farah doesn’t want to lose again, but she’s going to be disappointed – Max’s only played pool a couple times before, and Dad is never an easy opponent.

(In pool, at least – she kicks his ass – butt – at chess.)

“Y’know,” Farah says, leaning on the pool table and turning to face Max with a bright smile, “I don’t know a lot about you, Max. Your dad doesn’t talk about you a lot – well, I mean, he does sometimes! But just about how proud he is of you and stuff.”

Max smiles. It never hurts to hear that the hours she spends doing homework every night always pay off. “He doesn’t tell us much of anything else, though, like…” Farah purses her lips, scanning the ceiling while she searches for a question. “What do you like to do for fun?” Her eyes widen with excitement. “We can add whatever it is to the schedule for this weekend!”

Morgan snorts and hits a striped, orange ball, sending it straight into the pocket at the corner of the table. “Not even I have enough energy to put up with all the shit you have planned for this weekend, Farah,” she says. “You think the kid does?”

“I’m not a–“ Max stops herself before she finishes the sentence. “Well, I would love to do anything you have planned, Farah,” she continues politely. Mostly because the more time they spend together, the more dirt she can try to dig up. “I can’t wait to see what else we’re going to do tonight.”

“Tonight? Oh, the rest of tonight is all about pool, baby!” Farah grabs her cue stick and turns back to the table. “We gotta get through the next three games of our tournament before we even think about doing anything else.”

Max waits until Farah’s back is turned to wince. It looks like she won’t be able to sit any of them down and have a serious discussion anytime soon, then. It’s not that she doesn’t want to play pool at all – she’d like to play pool and see if she can find any board games – but she just has more important things to tend to, as well.

She’s not exactly going to say that, though, so when she catches Morgan smirking at the look on her face, she forces herself to smile.

-

Saturday morning, Max creeps out of her dad’s bedroom wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts she found in his closet. She thought about having a shower but decided against it – firstly because she’s too lazy to figure out how the shower in his bathroom works, and secondly because she really wants a bowl of the cereal that she spotted on top of the fridge last night. She pads slowly through the wide, empty hallways, her socked feet thumping softly against the floor, and the kitchen door creaks open as she walks inside, yawning.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get a lot of sleep. It’s kind of hard to do so when you’re in some supernatural underground warehouse surrounded by vampires and one of them plays music very loud and very late at night.

“Good morning,” Nat says. She’s sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a book open in front of her – the book looks old. Looks ancient. If she has access to books that look so ancient, then how old is Nat? Max can’t ask that, right? Dad’s told her that it’s rude to ask women how old they are - does that count for vampires, too?

She clears her throat when she realizes that she hasn’t answered yet.

“Good morning,” she replies, tiptoeing over to the table and tucking her hair behind her ear before pushing her glasses higher up her nose. “Can I – uh, have some cereal?”

Nat laughs gently. “Of course,” she answers. “I bought it just for you – the others don’t eat human food very often.”

‘Human’. It feels weird to hear them refer to her as a human. She knows they aren’t humans, of course, at least not anymore, but – they look like humans and sound like humans. She hasn’t even seen a fang yet! (Though she’s not sure whether or not she wants to.) “Oh.” She nods, blushing. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Max can feel Nat watching her as she heads for the fridge, standing on her tiptoes to grab the cereal box. “Does Farah have any plans for you today?”

“She does. Well, I think she does – she said so last night, anyway, when I finally went to bed, but I think I might try and catch up some homework this morning first.” Max opens the door of the fridge and reaches for a jug of milk that looks entirely unopened – Nat really did buy everything just for her, apparently. “I have a journal to write for English, a project to work on for science, some equations to work on for math…”

“Sounds like quite a lot of work.”

As if any of her work compares to the work of top-secret agents who also happen to be vampires. Still, Max sighs and nods. “Yeah, it is a lot sometimes,” she agrees. “I don’t mind it most of the time, though. I like school. But I’d rather just… I don’t know, hang out with you guys this weekend…”

Well… she’s a bit worn out from playing pool and darts as of right now, and she doesn’t want to spend any more time with Morgan because Morgan doesn’t seem to like her very much, but she all she needs is to have some coffee and she’ll feel a lot better. (Hopefully.) (Do they even have any coffee here?)

“Who says you can’t do both?” Nat asks. “I’ll be moving to the library soon, if you want to join me.”

Max smiles. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Nat answers. “There’s plenty of room for you to do your work, and I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“Okay.” Max nods, looking down at her bowl as she pushes the dry cereal around in her milk. “Thanks, Nat. For, uh, you know…” She shrugs, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Buying me food and stuff.”

“Of course. My pleasure.”

She goes back to her reading, leaving Max alone with her thoughts and her cereal.

-

Miraculously, in the peace and quiet of the library, Max manages to get almost all of her work finished.

Well, she saves the last part of her science project for tomorrow, but mostly because she starts falling asleep in her chair at about three in the afternoon and heads back to her dad’s room to take a nap that ends up lasting a lot longer than she intended. Nat’s not in the library when she returns at about half past ten, which is a letdown, both because Max genuinely likes her company but mostly because she didn’t get any information about what’s going on in Wayhaven out of her earlier.

She’s hoping she can get some tomorrow. Unless they have to go into the field and kill (or not kill) some more werewolves, in which case she’ll probably be out of luck.

After scarfing down the leftovers of last night’s dinner, she decides to continue her search for Nat anyway, and while she’s leaving the kitchen she comes across Farah in the hallway. She tails Max around the Warehouse for a little while and asks her what feels like a thousand questions – what class her favourite is, what her mom’s like, what she wants to be when she grows up – and while Max wouldn’t have liked answering them a month ago, she does now without even thinking about it. Playing darts and pool with someone for six hours can really help them grow on you, apparently.

They’re on their fifth lap when Farah stops abruptly. “Alright, Max,” she says. “Think I’m gonna head to Morgan’s room and ask her if she wants to play darts!”

Max cringes – she hadn’t realized how bored Farah might be wandering around what’s basically her own house. She doesn’t seem too bothered by it, though. (Is she ever bothered by anything?) “But you can come find me later in the games room if you’re bored, alright?” she continues, smiling widely.

“Okay.” Max smiles. “Thanks, Farah.”

“No problem!” Farah pats her shoulder before she bounces away whistling, and Max considers going with her for a few seconds before she remembers the importance her mission and prepares herself for another several hours of searching for Nat.

She knows that whatever she finds out is probably going to scare the hell – heck – out of her, but she still wants to know – her dad is scared, too, and she doesn’t want him to feel like he’s alone or like he can’t talk to her about it! Which she knows is a silly thing to think, but she can’t help it. She loves her dad – besides, she’ll be much better off if he can prepare her for anything scary that might happen to her, right?

The way his mom didn’t?

She wanders around for a couple minutes before she can hear the sounds of someone grunting and yelling in the distance, and she starts running towards the sound before she can question it. She doesn’t find any rabid werewolves or anything, though, which she definitely thought she would – just an open set of double doors to her left and someone with a blonde ponytail punching mannequins inside.

Ava.

Max frowns immediately. She didn’t want to see Ava this weekend – out of all the Unit, she’s Max’s least favourite. She dislikes Ava more than Morgan, and considering that Morgan personally doesn’t like Max, either, that’s saying something. She steels herself to run back the way she came when Ava glances over at her.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows furrow slightly. “Maxine.”

Staring at her, Max nods politely. “Ava.”

And then, without thinking about it, she steps through the open doorway into the room, glancing around curiously.

It looks sort of like a school gymnasium, only with lower-hanging ceilings and an army of dummies and mannequins that they definitely, definitely don’t have at her school. The lights are brighter in here than they are in the hallway, and after nearly an hour of wandering through the Warehouse, she half-heartedly raises a hand to shield her eyes, lips pursed.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Training,” Ava answers.

Training.

Maybe she’s training so that next time some bloodthirsty freak tracks Max’s dad down, Ava won’t let him get taken again. She’s the one who was with him when Murphy snatched him, after all. Max hasn’t forgotten that.

(Dad says that Ava couldn’t have saved him, that something had happened to her before they escaped his apartment, but Max doesn’t care. Her dad matters more than anything.)

“Have you been avoiding me?” Max asks.

Ava’s eyes widen in surprise before she clears her throat and shakes her head. “I haven’t,” she answers. “I had Agency work to tend to today.”

Max toes a crack in the floor with the tip of her shoe. “You didn’t come with the others to pick me up yesterday.”

“I had work to do then, as well.”

“Mmhmm.”

Ava turns back to the dummy, shaking her bandaged hands out before curling them into fists again. “I won’t be able to entertain you, if that’s what you’re looking for,” she says, reaching out to hit the mannequin so hard that it nearly topples over. “I’m sure you could find something to do with one of the other agents.”

“Do you train a lot?”

Max doesn’t know if she’s asking to pester Ava or if she’s genuinely curious. Probably a little bit of both.

“Yes,” Ava answers. It doesn’t sound like she’s going to say any more than that, but Dad has always said that she’s not very talkative. (He says it with a smile, though, which Max doesn’t understand at all.)

“So, you’re gonna keep my dad safe from whatever it is that’s been going on lately?”

Across the room, Ava tenses. It’s visible enough for Max to notice.

“What has he told you?”

Of course, Max’s first instinct is to be honest with her and say “nothing”, but when the realization that she stopped her herself from getting any sort of information hits her, she nearly kicks herself for it.

“Good,” Ava says. “You don’t need to concern yourself with Agency business.”

Max frowns. “I do if I want to keep my dad safe.” Because you might not, she thinks, but she doesn’t say it.

“That’s not your job, Maxine.” Ava says her name like she knows her, and Max doesn’t like it one bit. “I think Ed- I think your father would agree with me on that.”

“But it’s not fair!” she says. “If I’m in danger, too, don’t I deserve to know?”

“That is not my choice.”

Max curls her hands into fists at her sides. If she were in cartoon, she knows for a fact that she’d have steam coming out of her ears. Her dad would say she’s being unreasonable for pinning what happened with Murphy on Ava, but – she got her stubbornness from him, so he’s really the one to blame. Him and Ava and whoever else in the world lets her dad get hurt.

“Fine,” Max says. “But you better keep me safe, then, too, or my dad will never forgive you.”

She swears she can hear Ava open her mouth to say something behind her, but she’s turning on her heel and stomping down the hallway before the vampire can get a word out. When she reaches her dad’s room, she nearly slams the door but stops herself at the last second and closes it slowly, taking deep breaths in and out through her nose so she doesn’t get too wound up.

All she can hope is that Ava doesn’t tell Dad about their conversation. As much as she loves him, she doesn’t love being scolded.

-

To Max’s relief, Ava doesn’t tell Dad. (At least she hasn’t told him yet.)

She tells Rebecca, instead.

Max is packing her stuff up at the end of the day on Sunday when she hears a knock at the door. At first she thinks it’s her dad – by now, he should be on his way to the Warehouse to pick her up – but when she hurries over to open the door, she sees her grandmother standing there on the other side, instead.

Rebecca smiles kindly. “Maxine,” she says. “May I come in?”

They’ve only seen each other once or twice since their first meeting. She’s another one of the people that Max has a grudge against for how they’ve treated her dad, except this time he seems to hold the same grudge, too.

Still, Rebecca let Max stay the whole weekend and didn’t come to see her until now. She can’t exactly say no.

Max moves to the side and opens the door even further while Rebecca steps into the room, scanning the space with sad eyes. Max guesses from the way she’s acting that she probably hasn’t been in this room much before, at least not long enough to get a good look at everything. Max feels defensive about it for her dad’s sake – this is his space, after all, and he’s not here to decide whether or not he wanted Rebecca to come inside – so she relaxes when Rebecca turns to her again.

“I’ve been meaning to come see you,” she says, her voice soft and tentative. “I’m afraid I’ve just been rather busy this weekend.”

Busy. Max nearly snorts at that, but she doesn’t.

“Agent du Mortain talked to me earlier,” Rebecca continues. “About your conversation with her yesterday.”

Max’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t say anything bad to her, I promise!”

Her grandmother smiles. “I know you didn’t,” she says. “She didn’t say that you did. Only that you expressed a concern for Ed- for your father’s safety. And I wanted to assure you that the Agency is doing everything we can to keep him safe.”

“So he won’t get kidnapped again? Or get strapped to a bed by some bloodthirsty weirdo?”

“He told you that, did he?”

“Yeah. He tells me everything.” Max crosses her arms over her chest. “He doesn’t treat me like a kid the way everyone else does.”

“Well… I suppose that’s fair.” Rebecca presses her lips together. “As long as you haven’t told anyone…?”

“Of course not!” Who would she tell? The girls in her class would never believe her. Even if she came to school with a vampire bite on her neck or carrying a werewolf tooth, they would probably just say that she was faking it to impress the boys in their class.

“Good.” Rebecca nods. “In any case, Maxine, I just came by to promise you that I, personally, will do everything I can to keep your father safe, as will the Unit. Your father – as well as you and your mother – are all under our very close protection. What happened with Murphy…” She clenches her jaw the way Dad does when he’s upset. Max’s heart hurts at the sight. “It will not happen again. I promise.”

“You can’t abandon him.”

Rebecca seems surprised by how firmly Max says it, but she responds with nothing more than a tight nod. “I won’t. I would die before I let that happen.”

Despite that, Max’s first instinct is not to believe her. After everything her dad said about Rebecca, how much can they trust her, really? Even if she’s trying now, it doesn’t make up for everything she missed when Dad was a kid, nor does it make up for the fact that no one will tell Max what’s going on even though she might be in danger, too. But the determination in Rebecca’s words, in her eyes… Max’s seen the same look in her dad’s eyes a million times. Her dad, who she loves to the ends of Earth and trusts more than anyone.

So, in the end, Max can’t help but trust Rebecca, too. Her and the team, even Ava. She just hopes that none of them do anything to break that trust, because after spending eight hours playing darts this weekend, she has pretty good aim.

-

It’s ten o’clock when Dad and Max get back to his apartment that night.

His car stalled on his way back to Wayhaven – she knew something bad was going to happen! – but thankfully he was close enough to town that he could call someone to tow him back in. They’ve borrowed an Agency van for a couple days that he’ll drive her to school with tomorrow, and as she sits on the counter beside him and watches him put dinner together, she tells him that he should just buy it from the Agency.

“Maybe you’ll get a discount,” she muses, leaning back against the cabinet. “Or maybe if one of the werewolf corpses left a stain –“

“Max!”

“What?”

“They don’t –“ He sighs in exasperation. “That’s not what the vans are for.”

“Sure it’s not.”

Dad laughs. Max can always trust him to laugh at her jokes. She can trust him with anything. She turns to look at him and watches him pour pancake batter into the pan, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

“Dad?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t get kidnapped by someone like Murphy again, okay?”

He glances up at her, face softening. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

She believes him. Even if she doesn’t believe anyone else, she believes him, no matter what.

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Seven: Clip 5&6

master list

...

note: I’m sorry, I’ve given up on actually making the texts. Also I didn’t italicize the texts because everytime I do, Tumblr doesn’t always get them all for whatever reason.

...

Maandag 11:52

Chat: Broerrrs + Luc

13 July, 11:52

Jens: ROBBE. IJZERMANS. What part of ‘text us about it’ did you not understand?

Robbe: Lucas. You could’ve warned me at least.

Lucas: Sorry.

Aaron: What happened to ‘Chill Jens’?

Moyo: Caps lock must’ve been on. 

Jens: Caps lock was on. Didn’t feel like changing it though. It served a purpose.

Moyo: What’s going on?

Aaron: Yeah, what do VDS know that we don’t?

Lucas: Um, do you want me to tell them?

Robbe: I can’t have one blissful Monday afternoon, can I?

Aaron: Of course not, it’s Monday.

Lucas: Robbe had a *visitor* this weekend. Someone who showed up on Friday night. And didn’t leave until this morning 👀 Should my sources be correct… 

Robbe: Zoë or Milan?

Lucas: My sources are confidential.

Moyo: Please tell me it was Sander.

Robbe: Yes, it was Sander.

Moyo: Thank god. Wait, are you being serious?

Jens: Yes! And *someone* forgot to tell us.

Robbe: I’m sorry, I was busy.

Aaron: Yeah, we know what you were doing all weekend.

Robbe: Cuddling and watching Harry Potter?

Moyo: You’re boring.

Robbe: Haha 🖕🏻 Sander didn’t think so. Also, who else would it be, Moyo?

Moyo: Worst case scenario? Thomas. Best case scenario? A random one nightstand.

Jens: Thomas? As if.

Moyo: That’s why it was the worst-case scenario.

Lucas: If it was Thomas, none of us would be able to stop Jens. And I’m thankful it’s not because I’m sick of his face. And my boyfriend isn’t in jail.

Aaron: Seconded.

Moyo: Third.

Jens: You guys know I almost always agree with Lucas. But I am also sick of Thomas’s face. And I would need bail money. 

Robbe: Yes, I know. I have a rotten ex-boyfriend. Luckily, I have a new one that’s ten times better.

Jens: Yes. Did he explain why he was distant?

Robbe: Yes, he did and I forgive him. I would’ve forgiven him anyway, but he did explain. And we’re together now.

Jens: Good. That’s all that matters.

Robbe: So, since we all know what *I* was doing this weekend: how were all of your weekends?

Lucas: the Netherlands was fun. Got to see Isa and the girls again. Plus, Mom kept trying to force-feed Jens. She told him he was too skinny.

Jens: She said the same thing to you. Why are you singling me out?

Aaron: Amber and I went out to lunch with her mom on Sunday.

Moyo: My girlfriend’s roommates were out on Saturday night. So we ended up cooking together. The first try was a bit of a disaster, but we managed to make something good the second time.

Robbe: That’s great. I’m glad everyone had fun.

Lucas: When are we going to meet this mystery girl, Moyo? You seem smitten.

Jens: Yeah, you do. And you call me whipped. You should see you.

Robbe: But you are whipped.

Jens: I’m not denying it. But he’s also whipped.

Lucas: You are.

Moyo: When are we going to meet Sander? As your friends, he’s just as important as you are.

Robbe: I don’t know. Probably about the same time that you introduce us to Noor.

Jens: Wait, Noor is your mystery girl?

Moyo: Aaron!

Aaron: I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING. I haven’t even told Amber!

Jens: Wait, Aaron knew about this and not me? I’m offended, bro.

Lucas: I’d like to know how Robbe knew. Because if Aaron didn’t tell Amber, he didn’t tell Robbe.

Robbe: My source is confidential.

Moyo: Robbe, I hate you.

Robbe: Don’t hate me. She’s a great girl. Plus, it’s not like you two are sly. At our movie night, you two were far more comfortable than you should’ve been.

Moyo: Yeah, you’re right.

Jens: I feel like my entire world has changed. 

…

Dinsdag 17:45

When Robbe had stepped into the tattoo parlor a little before 17:00, Alicia had leapt over the edge of the counter and bounced across the empty lobby. She had tackled him, nearly causing both of them to crash onto the floor, and her electric blue ponytail smacked him in the face. Robbe recoiled slightly from the accidental slap before sinking into her embrace. Once she pulled away, she bounced on her feet, looking like she might explode from excitement. 

“I’m so happy to see you here again!” she said, grinning. “I was starting to worry that I would have to deal with grumpy Sander for the rest of my life.” Robbe chuckled and Alicia smiled proudly. “But I’m glad to see that you two have made up—you did make up, right? He has just seemed happier today and yesterday and I’m assuming it’s because of you.”

Robbe laughed. “Yes, we did.”

Alicia bounced again, still grinning. “That’s great! His shift is over in a few minutes…” She trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I have a feeling that you already knew that.” While Alicia continued to eye him with playful suspicion, Robbe shrugged and grinned. “Sorry, my mom always tells me that I seem strange to people who don’t know me. It’s just I’ve heard so much about you from Sander and he’s practically family so I’m pretty protective of—”

“No, it’s okay, I understand—”

As if on cue, Sander stepped out of the hallway. Even after a long day of work, his bleach-blond hair was still immaculate and pristine. Today, he was wearing another black shirt but this one had Emilie’s Tattoo Parlor printed across his chest. He looked tired, but Robbe wasn’t surprised. He had worked the early shift. 

Stopping at the desk, he placed down a binder and adjusted the strap of his bag a little higher on his shoulder. Glancing up, his eyes caught Robbe talking with Alicia. As soon as he spotted them, he grinned brightly over at them, all tiredness fading from his face, and said, “Alicia, leave my boyfriend alone.” His tone was light and teasing as he crossed the room. Sander wrapped Robbe in a hug before moving towards the parlor door. “I only have him for an hour before he has to go to work.” 

“Oh right,” Alicia said, smacking her head like she forgot. She grinned at Robbe, waving goodbye at the two of them. “Have a good dinner!” 

“Tell Britt hi!” 

Leaving the tattoo parlor, Robbe collected his bike before following Sander down a well-tuned series of turns to their destination. With one arm around Sander’s waist and the other steering his bike, Robbe felt like he was right where he was meant to. Robbe didn’t know where they were going—just to some restaurant that Robbe had to try—but he followed Sander’s gentle tugs and guidance with ease. Once they arrived at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Robbe locked his bike up and let Sander drag him inside.��

Robbe didn’t know what he had been expecting from the small restaurant, but it was one of the best pizzas that he’d ever had. As soon as they walked in, the cashier recognized Sander and proceeded to tease him about taking too long to bring his boyfriend around. When the cashier brought them their pizzas, moving before Sander could get up to get them, they were hot to the touch and fresh from the oven. 

As they ate their food, Sander would reach out to feed Robbe a bite of his or brush a hand on his thigh beneath the table. Every time Sander did something, paid attention to him, his heart grew three sizes. Even so early into their relationship, he felt so cared for. Robbe tried to do the same. He would reach out to hold his knee or hold Sander’s hand beneath the table. And Sander never shied away from Robbe’s touch. In fact, he seemed to blossom with it. 

As they left the restaurant, hand in hand and laughing, the cashier tried to say it was on the house for their favorite customer and his boyfriend. Robbe blushed profusely at their comment and Sander merely chuckled, thanking them. As soon as the cook called the cashier’s name, Sander quickly dropped the money to cover the order (and more) into the tip jar before dragging Robbe from the restaurant. 

Even though it wasn’t that long of a ride, Sander insisted on driving Robbe back to the flatshare. Their only trouble was getting Robbe’s bike in the car, but they managed to make it work by tilting it a little. The ride itself was short and relaxing. Sander drove with one hand on the wheel and the other was wrapped gently with Robbe’s hand. As he weaved through the traffic, Sander talked in vivid detail about a tattoo that he did earlier this afternoon as Robbe listened intently. 

As they pulled into a stop outside the building, Robbe got curious. “Hey, Sander.”

“Yeah?” Sander asked. 

“What were you thinking about, that night at the bar?” Robbe asked. 

It had been a question on Robbe’s mind for a while. His thoughts of the night were abundantly clear—okay, maybe slightly buzzed—that the random stranger with an armful of tattoos who sat down next to him and offered him a smoke and gave him an impromptu therapy session was hot. As he nursed his hangover the next morning, Robbe had briefly entertained the thought of meeting him again but Robbe had thought it was an impossible feat. Seeing Sander walk in that bar less than a week later… it had felt like a sign.

One that Robbe had been simultaneously curious and terrified of. 

When Sander was quiet, simply staring at the steering wheel with a small smile on his face, Robbe added, “I’m sure that it must’ve been one hell of a crappy impression.” 

Sander glanced up at him with a small look of disbelief and a scoff. “What makes you think that?” Sander teased. 

Robbe turned in his seat, facing Sander with a mischievous smile on his face. He placed their joined hands in his lap, running his finger over the back of his hand. “I don’t know, but if I saw a guy sitting quite dramatically on the floor—I think that was your wording,” Robbe said and Sander laughed, “and lamenting his ex-boyfriend, it wouldn’t have been the best first impression I’ve ever made.”

“I don’t know,” Sander said. He put the car in park before turning to Robbe, who was waiting impatiently beside him. Sander tugged their joined hands back into his lap before turning Robbe’s over so the palm was facing upward. Sander trailed a finger along the lines of his palm, leaving Robbe squirming in his seat. “I think you made quite the first impression.”

This time, it was Robbe’s turn to scoff. He leaned against the leather of the car, relishing in the feeling of Sander’s doodles on his palm. “You know as well as I do, I could’ve done a lot better than bitching about my ex with someone—”

“No,” Sander said, interrupting him lightly. His voice was quiet like he was having a private conversation with himself and Robbe watched on, biting down on his lip. “That wasn’t the time I meant.” 

Robbe’s eyebrows pulled tight, staring at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sander’s eyes darted up to meet Robbe. He could see the panicked expression in his eyes, like he didn’t expect Robbe to hear his secret confession. Quickly, his expression shifted to nervous. A small lopsided grin formed on his lips as he tilted his head to the side. Sander’s hand fidgeted around his and Robbe twisted his hand around to grasp at Sander’s fingers. 

“Sander,” Robbe said. “What is it?” 

“Um,” Sander said, biting down on his lip. “Last August, I went to the bar with my roommates after a long day at work. While I was waiting for them to show up, I spotted this beautiful man standing at the bar talking with the owner like he did it every day.” 

Sander’s eyes raised, catching his brown ones in an instant, and Robbe was certain his heart stopped in his chest. Him, Robbe realized. Sander had seen him before. 

“Before I could work up the nerve to talk to him, to get the name of this beautiful man who turned my world upside down in an instant, his boyfriend showed up and whisked him away from me. I thought that was the end of it—that I missed my chance until…” Sander trailed off. 

Robbe felt his stomach flip, nervous and excited. Bringing Sander’s hand to his mouth, Robbe placed a kiss against his knuckles. Sander followed him with a heavy gaze in his eyes and the corners of his lips quirked up nervously. “Until?” Robbe asked, his lips brushing against Sander’s knuckles. 

“Until…” Sander continued. Robbe scooted closer to him—or as much as he could in the small confine of the car. He was practically leaning over the console, trying to get as close to Sander as he could. Sander glanced at Robbe nervously. “Until last month. It had been a rough few months, but I was starting to come out of it. It was my first time out of the apartment other than for work for a month and I looked over and saw the beautiful man in the bar again.”

Robbe giggled. 

“As soon as I saw him, I knew that he was the one. My mother used to tell me that there was no such thing as a coincidence,” Sander said, reaching up to wipe a thumb across Robbe’s flushed cheeks. “She used to go on and on about how ‘what is meant for you won’t pass you by’—”

“Is that what the quote on your side is?” Robbe asked, quietly. Sander paused, staring at him. “I saw it on Saturday but your arm was covering most of it.” 

Sander grinned. “Yes, it is. Now, back to the story—” 

Robbe mumbled out a quiet ‘sorry’ and Sander gave him a stern look. 

“When I saw that beautiful man for the second time, I knew that the universe was trying to give me a sign and I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. When I saw him head outside to get some air, I followed. But I only managed to learn his name before the universe ripped him away from me again.” He let out a heavy sigh and slumped his shoulders. “But, lucky for me, I managed to find him again, not even a week later, and I knew that I couldn’t let him get away from me again.” 

“Wow,” Robbe said, breathless. Sander looked up at him with nervous eyes, staring at Robbe intensely. He let out a breath, reaching up to take Sander’s face in his hands. “You really saw me that long ago?”

“Yes,” Sander whispered. “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve wanted you, Robbe IJzermans… even before I knew what your name was.” His eyes scanned Robbe’s face. “Are you mad?” 

Staring at Sander for a few seconds, Robbe hastily undid the seatbelt around him. He could see the worried look on Sander’s face, like Robbe was going to climb out and never look back, but Robbe simply climbed on the seat. His knees dug into the leather as Robbe leaned across the center to press a deep kiss against Sander’s lips. He clung to the strands of Sander’s icy blond hair, holding on for dear life, as Sander let out a grunt. 

Since the beginning, Sander had always seen him. Whether it was last month outside the bar or last year inside the bar, Sander had seen him. He had seen Robbe in the comfort of his bed, in the disarray of a friendly gathering, desperate in a tattoo parlor, and so many moments in between. Robbe wanted Sander to see him in all of his moments and moods, just like he wanted to see all of Sander’s faces and facades. He wanted all of Sander, everything he could get them. 

Sander’s words from last Friday came rushing back: Robbe IJzermans, since the moment that I first saw you, I have wanted you. 

“So you’re not mad?” Sander asked, breaking their kiss. 

Robbe shook his head, practically panting against Sander’s mouth. “No, I’m not mad.”

“Good,” Sander said, quietly. “I was worried you might be.” 

“I’m not. I promise.” 

Robbe moved to kiss Sander again. Robbe wanted to kiss him a little harder. Robbe wanted to pour every single emotion bursting out of his chest into the kiss for Sander—for Sander to taste—at the same intensity Robbe was experiencing from him. But, at the last second, Sander pulled away a mischievous smile on his lips and Robbe couldn’t help the whine. “What were you thinking the night that you first saw me outside the bar?”

Robbe chuckled. “I could only think of one thing—” Pausing, Robbe leaned forward. His knees were strained from this position, but he didn’t care. Stopping a hair away from connecting their lips fully, Sander glanced up at Robbe with a mischievous look in his eye as Robbe grinned. “—Fuuucccckkk, he’s so hot.”

Sander laughed but his laugh was muffled by Robbe’s lips pressing against his. 

[turbulentt]

Obey, Princess

genre: smut | minghao!werewolf x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: explicit content, dominance, rough sex, unprotected sex

summary:  worriedly, you decide to look for your brother’s best friend. only to find him lost in the middle of his whines fighting a heat.

It was a gloomy Friday and the class never seemed so boring. Maybe it was because the art teacher decided to wear its not-so-friendly face, or due to the fact that Minghao wasn't there to make fun of it.

Never in your school nor university life, you witnessed Minghao miss class. Everyone found his love for learning obsessive, but you thought there was a great charm to it. Not even sick the boy missed one day of school. Only when he was so bad he had to go to the hospital, but even like that he would always tell Mingyu so he could warn the teachers. 

"Gyu," you called your brother gently "did Hao say something?"

"He... hm..." you saw your brother tense up at your sudden question and you could sense that he knew what was happening but he didn't want to tell you. "Well, I think he got a cold and can't really leave the apartment." you just hummed at his response, fully aware that it was a lie.

You just kept quiet the rest of the classes. You knew Minghao wouldn't just miss university because of some cold. Something was wrong and you were going to check it yourself.

All morning classes had ended and quickly you made your way over to Minghao's apartment. As you arrived there you could see that his bedroom blinds were partly closed. Another odd thing. Minghao loves to let his blinds fully open so the sun can roam through his place.

"'Morning miss, may I help you?" an old lady approaches you and you recognize her to be one of Minghao's neighbors. "Good morning ma'am." you smiled kindly "I'm a friend of one of your neighbors, Xu Minghao. He didn't appear in class today so I'm here to check on him."

"Oh, of course! Come with me." the old lady entered the building with you following right behind "Thank God you're here. I've been hearing screams coming from his apartment all morning." your concern grew bigger hearing that sentence "When I went to check on him he was really brief, telling it was only a really bad back pain.".

The old lady opened the door for you and you quietly thanked her. The apartment had a strong scent, like... dog? Since when did Minghao have a dog? And why was everything so quiet? 

"Minghao," you called his name hoping for a response, but nothing. "Minghao, where ar-" you were cut of by a loud groan coming from the boy’s room. It seemed like a painful groan, mixed with anger.

Similar to a hurricane, you burst into his room only to stay petrified by the door. What kind of kinky situation did you get yourself into? There he was: sitting on the ground, sweating as if he had been running for hours non stop, loud groans and whimpers coming out of his mouth and hands cuffed to his bed with chains. "What the fuck is going on?" was the only thing you could say at that moment. "Y/N.. Get out." he hissed without even looking at you. 

Finally moving, you headed to him to uncuff his hands. "I don't know what kind of sick prank is this, but you and Mingyu can stop now," you said and Minghao tried his best to keep you away. "Don't you dare uncuff me." he gazed at you with angry eyes right before letting out a whimper. "Or what?" you dared to free his hands fully from the chains. 

"Or I will rip you apart with my cock." 

He roughly pushed you to the floor and you hit your back on the hardwood, letting out a low painful moan. His glowing eyes looking straight into yours, making you tremble with fear. Minghao is a werewolf? How was he able to keep that hidden from everyone? Your head was spinning fast and having your brother's hot best friend whimpering on top of you wasn't helping. "Please," this wasn't a plea, it was an order "Tie me up again before I do something you'll regret." 

You nodded fearfully and chained him up to the bed again. A sigh of relief came out of you and you glanced at the boy before you. "I'm gonna get some wet towels." he completely ignored you and kept on his quest of trying to stay calm and don't respond to his needs. 

You came back to the room with some wet towels and a bottle of water. "Here." you lightly touched his neck with the towel making him moan at the feeling. You were too embarrassed to even look at him if you did he would know how turned on you are by that scenario.

"You're on a heat?" you asked, but the answer was quite obvious. He nodded in response and groaned "It hurts so fucking much, and you're making things even worse."

"Me? Why?" you were confused by his accusation. "Because your smell is fucking delicious and it makes me wanna fuck you really badly." you've never seen Minghao like that, so direct and harsh. Normally he would just joke around, but still, be a gentleman most of the time. Now you were seeing a side of him that made you wet your own underwear. 

"I'm not going to leave you alone," you stated while giving him some water to drink "I'll be in the living room.". Not waiting for a response you just left his room heading towards the living room and sitting on the sofa. 

"What am I going to do?" you whispered to yourself resting your forehead on your hand. The whole wolf situation wasn't that shooking, you knew many of them. The real problem was that heat and how fucking hot Minghao's angry groans sounded. 

Not even ten minutes after, you heard a loud metallic sound followed by a scream of pain. You rushed to the room again only to find Minghao tangled on the chains. "Fuck," he moaned "the.. the chain fell.. on my dick, take... take it off." he managed to say between groans and you did as asked. 

"Do you need me to take your pants off?" 

Your sentence made him turn his head to you almost instantaneously and a quick smirk could be seen on his lips. "Yes, please.", different from before he now seemed inoffensive almost like a little child asking for candy, obviously he had something in mind. 

You slowly opened his zipper, trying hard not to notice his hard bulge marked by the boxers' fabric. "Quicker, princess.." the nickname flew naturally out of his mouth and you blushed aggressively while quickly undressing him.

"Now I'll go back-" 

"No," he said firmly "Stay here with me.". You were reluctant "Didn't you just say that my smell makes you wanna fuck me?" he chuckled at your response but quickly changed his expression to a more serious one. "Don't talk back at me. Just do as I say, Y/N." 

His dominance made you shiver and you just sat by his side not too far but also not to close. The werewolf smiled cocky and leaned into your neck "Your smell is really good.." his nose tickled your neck and you let out a small sigh "and you're so warm." 

When you noticed, Minghao was grinding on the air in search of some contact and planting wet kisses on your neck which made you have a hard time hiding your sexual desires. "You love... my touches don't you?" you could feel his cocky smile on your neck "Answer me, princess." 

You loved how only the things he said made you feel, and that fucking nickname, it made you lose your mind. "Yes, I do." you managed to say while he left small bites across your neck. 

"Then untie me," Minghao ordered huskily and you almost answer to his command but retracted before getting to his hands. "I know you want this as much as I do. Untie me, Y/N. Let me fuck you. I've been waiting for so long." his words caused your whole body to heat up and you felt like you were about to cum just by listening to his harsh and low voice. 

Feeling defeated and extra horny you unchained the boy next to you, who didn't even waste a minute. The werewolf picked you up roughly and slammed you to the wall "I want to hear you begging.". His hands held you by your ass gripping it tightly just how you liked it and it only took one loud moan of yours to throw Minghao over the edge. 

"Please, Hao." you closed your eyes tightly feeling his hard cock rubbing against your pussy. "Please what?" he teased, grinding on you as much as he could. "Fuck me, oh God. Fuck me hard, Minghao."

"I'm going to do it far beyond hard and you’re going to take it," he stated panting "like the slut you are."

Oh and how it felt good to be called a slut by Minghao, to be thrown to the bed and undressed by his desperate hands. Everything was so erotic and arousing it made you moan just by feeling a simple touch. "You're so sensitive." he held himself on top of you with both hands on the sides of your head "That makes me want to fuck you even harder."

You moaned loudly at the feeling of his wet lips on your breasts while rubbing his needy clothed cock on your pussy. He could feel how wet you were and it wrecked his mind. "Suck me, princess." he whispered on your hear "Then i get to tear you apart, as I promised." 

Still laying on the bed you opened your mouth and welcomed his hard dick inside your warm mouth. "Oh fuck... fuck... fuck, Y/N..." he groans as his tip touches your throat, not giving you the chance to move he did all the movements, hungrily fucking your mouth. 

"You take it so well, princess..." 

As Minghao left your mouth you took the chance to suck only his tip, making his legs weaken and low moans escape his mouth. "I want to cum inside you." he breathes heavily moving his shaft away from you and kissing you passionately for the first time since you arrived. And, even though being a rough, needy, and desperate kiss, it was the best one you've ever had. 

Minghao took all the dominance and quickly deepened the kiss making you whimper. His lips tasted like wine, so addictive and seductive, and his warm tongue made you want to cum just by touching yours. 

"On all fours." he commanded and you took a minute to steady your breaths "Now!". Like a tamed kitten you did as told and before looking back at the chinese boy you felt a hard slap on one of your ass cheeks "Good girl." 

From one of his drawers, he took a condom and some lube. Just with the vision of your body displayed only for him he felt his cock harden even more, making his heat pain return and his urge to fuck something get bigger and bigger by the second. 

Quickly placing the condom and pumping his own dick with the lube, Minghao made his way closer to you and grabbed your waist viciously most probably bruising it. "Hao... please," you whined rubbing yourself on his dick indicating how much you needed it. 

"Scream loudly for me, princess. Will you?" he whispers while sliding into you, in the most torturous way possible. Your moans felt like knives tearing up your throat. When fully inside you Minghao tried pushing himself even further groaning like a wild animal at the feel of your walls clenching around him.

"So tight.." he starts moving slowly and as you thought he lost all his strengths, Minghao slides off of you only to slam in hard and aggressively into you again. And there it was, the power that made you scream. Between his low groans, you could hear a few chuckles, he loved how you screamed for him.

Hungrily he rammed into you making the sound of his balls hitting your core fill the room. It was like being eaten by a lion, a powerful and sexually frustrated one. "You feel so good, princess." he pulled your hair making your back hit his chest "Such a good little slut."

You pushed yourself into his cock eagerly, urging to feel him more and more. "I'm... I'm going to-" you were interrupted by the sudden emptiness inside you. "You only cum when I tell you to." he spins you around making you lay down again and hops on top of you "Understood?"

You nodded repeatedly and he only let out a low tsc. Longing to fill you up again, Minghao slammed himself inside of you again and didn't wait to start his hard movements. The way only he knew how to. "Don't be disrespectful," he wrapped his hand around your neck, not griping hard nor letting it too loose "use words."

"Understood," you answer in a moan. Minghao was actually ripping you apart and you somehow felt like his roughness would end up breaking you. It sounded like a good plan, honestly. "Good girl." he praised before kissing your lips muffling your loud moans.

His kisses seemed to last eternities. Making you see stars with that many pleasure being transferred through your bodies. You break apart from the kiss to scream as Minghao hits your sweet spot. "Oh God... please let me cum, Hao," you whined making him chuckle.

"You can cum, princess," he says sweetly countering his aggressive hip movements. With his words it only took you a few moments to release, clenching your walls tightly around his cock stimulating him to cum inside the condom too. "Fucking hell." he groaned as he was exiting you "Look what you've done to me, Y/N." 

You couldn't even look at his eyes without blushing. Noticing your shyness Minghao chuckled and cuddled your hair "You're shy now? You didn't seem too shy when you were moaning my name like crazy and enjoying when I called you slut." 

"Shut up, Minghao." you smiled getting up from the bed but his strong arms threw you back to it. "Do you think I'm done? Not even close to it, princess. You're 'gonna regret telling me to shut up."

[carrotmakar]

You Not Only Saved My Life, You Changed It

Part 1 - Twice

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Peter saving the day, more than once, as Spider-Man. 

Bored. That’s what you were. And you had been that way for weeks. Stuck in your house with nothing to do except for watching Netflix, scroll through your phone aimlessly for hours on end, and write your junior research paper. Because the world was basically ending, and your teacher thought that writing a research paper and preparing a speech was the best thing to do.

The world has been overcome by a horrible virus, one that is extremely deadly to the people that catch it. Survival rate: 0%. It was terrifying, to say the least. So you stayed inside. Mostly everyone did. The streets of New York were uncharacteristically empty and the crime rate had dropped to almost nothing.

You just wanted to do something fun. You had been lonely and bored for way too long. You wanted to do at least one thing that you were able to do before quarantine started. You wanted to go up on the roof and watch the stars. But you didn’t want to catch the virus. Logically though, there is no way you would catch it just from sitting on the roof, there would be nobody else up there, and you could only get the virus if you came in contact with someone who already had it.

So you were safe, right?

You decided that you were going to go on the roof, if your mom let you, of course. You didn’t want to get in trouble. It would suck to be grounded in this situation.

So, you walked into the living room to ask your mom.

“Hey, can I go up on the roof? There won’t be anyone else there and I just really want to watch the stars.” You ask, expecting a no, but hoping for a yes.

“Yeah, sure. Just make sure that if anyone is up there, you turn around immediately. I don’t want you getting sick, honey.” She replies. You can tell by the look in her eyes that she feels bad. She just wants you to be able to live your life. She knows that you can’t though. That’s why she’s letting you do this. 

Before she can give it a second thought, you turn on my heel and rush excitedly to get dressed. 

You put on my Midtown High sweatshirt and a pair of joggers before getting my headphones. It was cold in Queens, you didn’t want to freeze to death on the roof.

Just before you climbed out your window, you grab your backpack and a blanket. You might as well do a little bit of your schoolwork while you’re up there. If you get to that point, of course.

You take your time climbing up the fire escape. You’ve always been terrified of falling off of these things. The roof? No biggie. But there was something about this rickety old fire escape that scared the life out of you.

Once you made it to the top, you scan the rooftop to make sure that nobody had the same idea as you. Luckily, the area is vacant. Not a soul in sight. You sit down your stuff, laying out the blanket as you get ready to lie down and look at the stars. 

Before you get to lay down, however, something catches your attention. It’s silent. Yeah, yeah, it’s quarantine, nobody’s out of their homes. But that doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t have their window open, music blasting to make them not as bored.

That’s how it had been for weeks. You would open your window to let in a breeze and hear tv shows, movies, music, and lord knows what else. It was never quiet in Queens. 

But tonight it was.

You began walking over towards the edge of the roof, trying to get a better look at the seemingly vacant part of New York. 

And it’s so peaceful. Everything is calm and perfectly perfect. Until you trip on something and take a tumble right off the roof. 

Maybe heights don’t scare you, but falling tens of stories down and then ultimately landing on concrete scares you. But there’s not really anything you can do. So, you do the one thing that any sane person would do in this situation.

Seconds later, you hit something hard. It knocks the wind out of you, but it doesn’t really hurt. You’re not dead. Nothing seems to be broken or bruised. So you open your eyes slowly.

And then you see it, well, him. The ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’. You had no idea that he was on patrol tonight, but thank God he was.

You were panting, gasping for the air you thought you would never get the luxury of breathing again.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.” He coos, soothing you into calmness.

“T-thank you for saving me.” You say weakly, barely able to find your voice.

“No need to thank me.” He says, looking down at you, still in his arms. 

You realize that you’re clinging to him for dear life. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders and your face is all but nuzzled into his chest.

You start to let go, but he stops you.

“You’re going to need to hold on if you want back up on that roof, darling.” He says, assuming you were up there for a reason.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I kinda don’t want to be back up there, but I need my stuff.” You say, looking away from him. You sound weak. You sound, almost, broken.

“Which apartment is yours?” He asks.

“Um, 15th floor, apartment C.” You all but whisper. 

“Alright, hold on.” He says, making sure that your arms are wrapped around him before he puts his arm out straight and shoots a web right next to your window. 

In less than a second, you’re on the fire escape outside your window.

“Go on in, I’ll go get your stuff and bring it back down.” He says, nudging you gently so you’ll go in the window.

“Alright.” You reply, crawling into your room.

After a few minutes, he’s back with all of your stuff in his arms. He sits it all down on the desk and looks at you to make sure you’re okay.

“Thank you, again. Uh, Spider-Man. I’m really glad that you were on duty tonight. Oh, and uh, you can sit down if you want.” You say shyly, turning red at your invitation.

He’s Spider-Man for crying out loud, there’s no way that he wants to spend time with you. 

To your surprise, however, he takes a seat in your revolving desk chair. And, even more to your surprise, he spins a few times.

You giggle at the action, making him stop and look at you.

“O-oh, I’m sorry. That was silly.” He says, looking down as if he’s embarrassed.

“No, you don’t have to be sorry, I just didn’t expect big, bad Spider-Man to do something like that.” You say, honestly.

“I’m not that big and bad, plus I’m only 17 so I like to do things like that sometimes.”

“You’re only 17?!”

“Yeah, why?”

“I mean, you just seem like you would be so much older. You’re a superhero. You’ve saved the world more than once. It’s just crazy that you could be the same age as I am and do all of that stuff.” 

“Wait, you’re 17, too.” 

“Yeah, and while you’re out there saving the world, I’m stuck inside writing a research paper and trying to turn it into a speech.”

“What’s your topic?” 

“Equal rights for the LGBTQ+ community.”

“Oh, I know a little something about that if you’d like my help.”

“Really? You don’t have to.”

“No, I know. I want to though.”

“Alrighty then.” You agree.

He was extremely helpful. Little did you know, that he was only this helpful because he had already written his research paper. Coincidentally, on the same topic.

After a few hours, your paper was done and you felt less stressed than you had since the outbreak.

“So, Mr. Spider-Man, what’s going on in your life?” You ask, wanting to get to know him better, but also just not wanting this night to end. There was something about his presence that just made you feel so incredibly calm.

“Well, as I said, I’m 17, so I still have to do that online school that they’re making us do. But then I also go out patrolling the city almost every night. The crime rate may have gone down, but it still isn’t zero, so I’m trying to stop all the bad guys that are still out there.”

“Isn’t that stressful?” 

“Yeah, actually. I don’t ever tell anyone this because I don’t want to seem selfish, but sometimes, I just feel like I can’t do it anymore. Sometimes I don’t get the bad guy. And I feel like I failed. But then I realize if I didn’t do anything, it would be a lot worse. When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you. And I don’t ever want someone to get hurt because of me.”

“Yeah, I get it. Not on that scale, obviously, but I try to help people as much as I can.”

You glance over at the clock and see the time 4:23 a.m. 

“Oh my God, I’ve kept you here for way too long. It’s almost dawn. Like, thank you for saving my life and all, but you have more important things to do than talk to me.”

“I mean, not really. I get an alert from Karen if there’s anything going on.”

“Oh, well, I guess you can stay if you want. It’s safer than patrolling.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“The virus, I don’t think you want to catch that. It’s deadly to everyone that catches it.”

“If I catch the virus, I’ll be alright. My body basically moves at superspeed. My body would kill it within an hour. I wouldn’t even know that I had it.” He explains and you look at him in disbelief.

“That’s fantastic.” You say.

All of a sudden, you see him tilt his head slightly to the side.

“There’s an alert. I wrote my number down in your notebook before bringing it in here. Text me so I’ll have yours. And text me whenever you just wanna talk or whatever.” He says.

“Alright, thanks again Spidey.” You reply lowly, getting up and giving him a hug.

“Anytime, darling.” There’s that name again. The one that makes him so much more appealing than he already is.

Weeks pass before you see him again. You text each other every day, but there’s so much going on that you can’t be together in person. 

But then one morning, you wake up coughing, lungs burning, and skin on fire. You try to yell for your mom, but your throat is dry and the attempts are helpless. 

You pick up your phone as fast as you can and text your mom about what is happening. She’s in your room in seconds, rushing you to get into the car. 

A few hours later and the doctors have confirmed it. You have the virus.

They basically push you out the door with a simple, “You’ve got maybe two weeks. So make sure to say goodbye to everyone. I’m so sorry about what’s happening to you.”

Your first instinct int to text him. To tell him about it, but you don’t want to give him the news through text. That’s cruel. 

So, you do the next best thing you can think of. That night, you go back on the roof. You put your blanket down and lay there with your eyes closed, just embracing the quiet.

You’re there for less than five minutes when you hear him land near you. You don’t even open your eyes. You know that it could not possibly be anyone else.

“What are you doing up here again?” He asks, clearly confused because last time you wouldn’t even come up here to get your stuff.

“I wanted to experience this one last time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“I got diagnosed. With the virus.” You say, fighting back the tears. You hadn’t said it out loud before now.

“Come here.” He prompts, wanting to hug you.

And you let him. You let him wrap his arms around your shoulders and lay his chin on your head.

You stand like that for a few minutes before he says the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Come with me to see Mr. Stark.”

“I can’t do that, I’ll get him sick. I can’t be the reason that a multi-billion dollar man dies.”

“No, no, no, you don’t get it. He’s already had the virus. He can heal you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s this place called Wakanda. They have this really advanced technology that can heal people.”

“Really? You’d take me there to get me healed?”

“Of course I would. Now, come on, grab my shoulders, and wrap your legs around me. We’re going flying.”

You do as he says and you feel yourself being lifted into the air. You keep your head buried in his neck until you feel yourself stop moving. 

Once you lift your head up, you see that you’re on the balcony of the Avengers Tower.

“Wait, are you an avenger?” You ask, never thinking of the question until now.

“I mean, basically.” He answers, blushing slightly.

All of a sudden, you hear the doors open and there he is. The incredible Tony Stark himself. 

“Hey, kid. Hey, kid’s friend.” He says with a smile.

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” You sound scared and shy. Your voice no longer sounds like it’s yours.

“Please, call me Tony. Now, kid, why is she here?”

“Sir, she has the virus.” 

“Take her to the lab.”

Spider-Man takes you by the arm and leads you down winding hallways until you reach a state of the art lab. There you meet a beautiful woman that leads you to lay down. She already knows what’s wrong. She can tell by the way you’re flushed pink, shivering, but also sweating. 

“Hello, I’m T’Challa. I’m going to give you this herb concoction. You will fall asleep and when you wake up, you’ll be healed.” She states, looking at a tablet in her hands.

“Alright. How long will I be out?” You question.

“Around thirty minutes.”

She gives you the drink and you gulp it down. It tastes sweet, like candy almost. 

In only a few seconds, you’re sleepy, and you don’t put up a fight.

It seems like only moments before you’re up again. The moment you open your eyes, you see him. But he’s not wearing his mask. He’s not Spider-Man anymore. He’s just Peter. Peter Parker. The dorky, kinda weird, really smart, amazing, talented Peter that you’ve known since you were literally 4 years old.

“P-Peter?” You manage to choke out, hoping that he can hear you. 

“Crap. I forgot to put the mask back on.” He sounds worried. 

“It’s alright Peter, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I know, I just don’t want Mr. Stark to be angry.”

“Tony will be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I will not let him hurt the kid that just saved my life.”

“I mean, technically, I didn’t.”

“Technically, if you hadn’t brought me here, I would be dead. So yeah, you saved my life. Twice.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it is, Peter. Oh, and thank you for helping me write my speech.”

“That’s no big deal wither, it let me spend more time with you.”

“Well, we could spend more time together if you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I do need a best friend, and you seem like a great guy. And who knows, maybe we’ll be the friends that do everything together. We could both use a life.”

“Yeah, we could, couldn’t we?”

“So, best friends?”

“Best friends.”

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 17

Now I know most people would think that hearing their best friend dangling a carrot of temptation like “did you go through ANYTHING in the shed” would have them rushing out with a flashlight to their backyard and unlocking the damn thing to see what might be waiting for them.  Or at the very least, since it was starting to grow dark, a slightly less dramatic start might be the bedroom across the fucking hall from theirs?  

Yeah, well, I’ve never really checked the “normal” box on any fucking form and coming back from where the fuck ever Thanos the big purple peckerhead snapped me off to didn’t change that personality trait.  Sorry to disappoint.  

If Connie was coming over to force me to face whatever was in my dad’s workshop and whatever else my parents left me, with Bryn in tow, I should probably make sure that I had something to keep her mini me occupied.  After I grabbed a sandwich, some chips, and glass of tea I headed up to my room - where a stash of my childhood shit that I kept “just in case” lived and hoped I could find something that the three year old would find fascinating.

Morning dawned as they had since I returned.  Gasping, shivery, but now with the addition of the murmurs from the television that I left on thanks to Bucky Barnes.  My hand was reaching for my cell phone before I made the conscious decision to do it, and I sighed when I didn’t see a pineapple waiting for me.  It was still early, so I took a beat to run through my mental checklist of what I’d put in place downstairs for Bryn.

I’d taken my copies of the princess movies downstairs along with a few dolls and some picture books that I’d loved.  There was a tea set and a few stuffies and I hoped that she wouldn’t be too bored while her mommy was dealing with my bullshit.  

While I was considering what I should make for lunch, or if I should toss together something for breakfast too, my phone chirped.  It was still beside me on the bed, so I didn’t have to reach.  Thinking it would be Connie, I lifted it up - I had never seen a phone number like it before, but there it was - my pineapple.  I shook my head even as my smile grew.  At least I knew he was alive.  That was one good thing going for me today.

Connie called a few minutes later, telling me that she’d be over after she got Bryn cleaned up after breakfast - answering one of my questions right off the bat.  I told her I’d hop in the shower and be waiting for them. 

“Don’t make a fuss,” she warned me.  “Bryn’s three, the fact that she’s never been to your house makes it like Disneyworld automatically.”  I rolled my eyes.  “I mean it, Brooke.”  

“I know you do, Connie,” I agreed, sliding out of bed and moving to the closet to grab something to wear, but then I realized that I didn’t know what we were about to do.  “Um, are we going to be digging into something dusty and gross?”  

She snorted and when I didn’t react she went so silent I thought she hung up on me, but a check of the phone told me she was still there.  “You’re joking?” I assured her I wasn’t.  “What the fu -” she stopped and I waited while she apologized to Joey, apparently Bryn was picking up some “adult language” and sharing it with the other children at daycare and preschool - I snorted, like those kids didn’t already hear that shit at home.  “What would your dad have in his workshop that we’d need to DIG, Brooke?”  I could HEAR her eyes rolling.  “Wear what you normally do, you fu -” I heard her groan and mutter to herself about politically correct nonsense.  “Go shower, we’ll be there in about an hour.”  

I had ice tea, soda, juice, and water, along with some of Bucky’s beer in the fridge, but I highly doubted that Connie would consent to letting Bryn partake in that.  I was showered and dressed, and was taking stock of the kitchen while I waited for them to come.  I had sandwich stuff on hand, along with some staples, and if all that failed there were enough takeout menus in the drawer to keep us fed.

The knock came at around the hour mark, and when I opened the door Bryn was staring up at me like she was seeing me for the very first time - again.  She really did look around the house like it was an adventure, and I could see the “I told you so” building in Connie’s face.  

Showing them the living room, where I’d set up the “play area”, you’d have thought Christmas came early.  The tiny tot squealed and clapped her hands, then she was having a tea party with the dolls and stuffies after choosing the first princess movie to play while they partied.  I supplied the “tea” -water, Connie insisted - promising I’d thank her during the cleanup, while filling a sippy cup with some juice for the hostess.  

With Bryn occupied, I thought we’d get to work, but Connie shook her head and pulled me into the dining room, adjacent to the living room so we could keep an eye and ear on Bryn.  With glasses of tea in front of us, she sighed and I got worried.  

“When IT happened,” Connie was looking at her glass, finger tracing a drop of condensation as it dripped down the glass.  “I started calling you immediately.  As soon as the news hit, as soon as the first moment we knew SOMETHING was going on -” She looked up and I nodded, I figured she would have, along with Mom and Dad.  “Your dad came home, he ran to your room because he knew you’d planned on staying in and being lazy.” Connie smiled, the memory of Dad making her sad, but also nostalgically happy.  

I opened my mouth, but was at a loss for what to say.  What could I say?  It’s ok?  I was Snapped into non-existence, but I’m here now, so we’re cool?  I mean, we were, but clearly she wanted to tell me something.  

“He ran in, seeing a thousand texts and calls from me, but it was what he FELT that got him.”  I squinted at her, confused.  She reached out and took my hand.  “When I came over, since I couldn’t get in touch with you, he was with your mom and she was in pieces - falling apart because you weren’t here and everything that you’d take with you if you went out was still here, but he wasn’t.  He was adamant, Brooke, absolutely adamant that you were coming back.”  “He was hopeful, Connie, that’s all.”  She shook her head and I sighed, but her hand squeezed mine.  

“Your dad and mom were the MOST pragmatic people I’ve ever known, Brooke.  Hell, everyone in this neighborhood agrees.”  I knew what she meant, our family was the no nonsensical, straight to the point people.  We didn’t do sugarcoating.  “When Baxter got hit by the car when we were ten -” I rolled my eyes, her dog, a sweet darling of a mutt.  “Everyone, including my brothers were telling me that he was gonna be fine, that he was gonna pull through and live to play fetch another day, but your dad took me aside and -”

“Told you that sometimes dogs don’t pull through, that sometimes they’re not strong enough, but not to worry because you took Baxter to the Feast of St. Francis and he was blessed and that meant that he’d be safe on the other side and waiting for you.”  I remembered, vividly because I’d been just as sad and upset.  

“Exactly.  So when a man like your dad, Andrew Ashley, tells me that you and all the other people who disappeared into nothing are going to come back one day?  I believe him.”  She gave my hand another squeeze and I thought, ok now we can get to work, but she wasn’t done.  “Your mom, she didn’t get there as fast.”  She let my hand go and took a drink from her glass.  “She avoided your room like you’ve been avoiding the shed and their bedroom.”  She was smirking at the knowledge that she knew me so well.  “When I found out I was pregnant, I wanted something of yours with me, Brooke.”  

“That’s where it went,” I shook my head and she grinned at me.  “I wondered, it’s hung in my window since I came home from that nightmare.”  

“Since WE came home from that nightmare, you mean.”  Connie’s smile was firmly locked in place.  “I called up your mom and told her the news, asking for something to keep with me, and she finally went into your room.”  I waited, wondering why it took crossing a threshold into a damn room for something to click into place?  “And that was it, Alice Ashley came out just as convinced as your dad.  She looked so much more at peace, Brooke.  She went along with your dad, but knowing it for herself, it was like a weight came off of her.”  

“So they just knew?”  I didn’t get it, not even a little bit.  “How?”  

Connie shook her head.  “No idea, but I do know this - when two of the most stocic and staid people in the community tell you that people will come back, you believe them.  And I did.”  

“What’s in the shed?”  I wanted a head’s up.  Some kind of hint, something to go on.  “Why do you think it’s important for me to know now?”

“It’s important, dumbass,” she shot a look toward the living room and let out a relieved breath when she realized that Bryn hadn’t heard her slip.  “Because what’s in the shed has been there since BEFORE you got Snapped into wherever, but we’re not going there first.  We’re going upstairs.”  

“Upstairs?”  I was confused and only growing more so.  “Why?”

Connie sighed, like she was sick of my shit already.  “It’s time to show you that your parents knew you better than you know yourself, Brooke.”  

Bryn’s tea party became a portable one.  Upstairs to my room, where she got to play on the floor while the television played another princess movie.  She was having fun, which made one of us.  

My parents’ bedroom door loomed far larger than it really was - and it was firmly closed.  

“Open it, Brooke.”  Connie nudged me, and I bit my lip.  “For God’s sake, it’s a door.” 

“Yeah, it is.”  I agreed, a door that I wasn’t really excited to open.  What if Mom’s perfume lingered?  What if Dad’s cologne does?  What if nothing about them lingers?  I took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob.

The room looked the same, but foreign.  A hint of both of them seemed to lurk just out of reach, as if I could almost grasp it if I could find it, but where was it?  

Their bed was still made up in the same sheets and bedding that Mom had picked months before I’d gone away.  Her cosmetics were still lining the vanity table that Dad had created in his workshop, craftsmanship that could only happen by hand.  A mirror she’d found and had re-done hung on the wall behind it.  My reflection stared back at me, a sad mimicry of the woman she’d been.  

Dad’s table still had his reading glasses, the pair he kept solely for reading before bed and the remote, the lamp tilted so he’d have the perfect lighting even if it would annoy Mom’s need for perfection.  I wondered what book he read last, if he had it tucked in the drawer, but Connie’s voice cut through my reverie.  

“See these?”  She was staring at a set of photographs that my parents had framed and hung on their wall.  They were black and white, and I knew them very well - I’d taken them.   I nodded.  “When you took that job that you were muddling through the commute every day?”  I started to say something, but she snorted and kept talking.  “Your dad had reprints of these made and did some research, he sent out feelers and found out that you have an eye.  A talent, something that we ALL knew, including your dumb ass, but instead of taking that scholarship that you were offered to do something with your artistic talent, you went and -” She sighed.  “He didn’t want you to settle, Brooke, neither of them did.”  

“We couldn’t afford for me to play artist, Connie,” I owed them more than to play at photography.  “Besides, these were just shots I took to -”

“To set up the cheap and old camera that our high school gave you to use for yearbook,” she nodded, “I know.  And yet,” she walked to my parents’ closet and pulled out a huge fucking box.  “This is ALL the presents for all the birthdays and holidays you missed, including the birthday that came right after the Snap.  Come on, Brooke, let’s go have a party with Bryne.” 

[ethereal-parkner]

Challenge Accepted

Parkner Week 2020 Day 4: Coming Out

read it on AO3

Harley Keener was never one to shy away from a challenge. When the older kids in school dared him to try a cigarette, he smoked one all the way down without so much as a cough. He’d seen his father do it enough when he was younger that he knew how to go for it immediately. In fact, he was so determined to prove the other boys wrong that he continued smoking for another four years.

When Harley first met Peter he was told that Peter “couldn’t hate anyone.” That was a challenge. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he’d utter everytime he waltzed into the lab. Peter was always there at 8:00 AM on the dot, sometimes earlier. (Harley would get there at noon if they were lucky). “Whatcha workin on today?” He’d watch Peter flush as he draped himself over the back of the boy’s chair, reaching over his shoulders to flip through the pages of scribbled notes and plans. Yes, he could certainly make the boy hate him and prove the old man wrong. (Watching him flush and stutter at his words was just a plus).

The younger boy wouldn’t answer some days, only tug at his shirt and flush red and pretend not to notice Harley. Other days he’d barely tug out a response, tripping over every word that tumbled through his mouth. His favorite days were the ones where he’d quip back. If Peter felt up to it, the two could go back and forth for hours until Tony kicked them out of the lab for distracting him. Of course, they never made it too far from the lab, choosing to sit cross legged on the floor outside of the lab door until they were allowed back in, continuing to jab back and forth at each other.

“What, have you got a crush on me?” Peter crossed his arms and gleamed at the boy who was laughing at him. Harley’s eyes widened and he bust out laughing again.

“A crush on you? I could crush you, shortcake.” Harley held a hand up to his waist as if to motion how tall Peter was. Peter kicked out one leg to knock Harley in the knee. Grabbing his leg in pain, Harley couldn’t help but continue at the boy who was trying so hard to act mad. His words barely came out as he was wheezing through glee, “You look like angry pingu!” 

“I already told you I’m not short!” Peter couldn’t help but giggle too at the comparison, proceeding to cross his arms and scrunch his nose for only a moment before dissolving back into a fit of hilarity.

Tony banned them from sitting outside the door of the lab when he kicked them out.

That was a challenge.

Harley’s new agenda was to get kicked out of the lab in every way possible. (Making Peter hate him could always wait for later). Just the next day, he tried figuring out every way he could get kicked out of the lab. It started with the banter, just as it had been already, but wasn’t that too boring? This was a challenge, Harley could do better than that. He decided to bring in the one thing he knew Tony would never ever understand: gen z culture.

It took some help from Peter, but they were able to sneak some code to Friday while Tony was passed out in the lab. Through quiet giggles and occasional shushes, they somehow managed not to wake up the man sleeping fifteen feet away. Harley was banned from the lab for a week when Tony woke up to see a suit doing the Savage dance in the lab.

The suit really could throw it back, though. Gross.

Peter wasn’t banned from the lab, but he still sat outside with Harley. They got to talking about new ways they could get kicked out of the lab and anger their mentor. 

“I know how to juggle,” Peter offered whilst stretching his arms out in front of him. 

“How on earth would that help us, Sugar?” Harley grinned tiredly and rolled his head to look at Peter. Peter was still showing up to sit outside the lab at 8:00 AM, and Harley couldn’t help but feel bad for letting the boy sit alone by the door for so long, so there he was, sitting outside the lab at hours that Harley’s not sure he’s ever seen before.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Peter articulated, “I know how to juggle bricks.” He shot one finger at Harley with a small grin.

“Wha- How did you learn to juggle bricks?” Harley sat up from where he was leaning against the wall.

“It was kind of an accident, long story though. What can you do?” Harley could barely comprehend what just happened. Peter just disclosed that he learned to juggle bricks on accident and acted like it wasn’t a story worth telling.

“I mean, I can juggle bricks too.” Harley grinned, “But not for very long, and I’ll break a few things.” Peter stared at him before breaking into the most joyful laughter Harley thinks he’s ever seen in his life. His eyes lit up, and it took two minutes before Peter could speak again, and another ten before he’d totally calmed down from small giggle fits (but Harley was sure he’d caught Peter quietly laughing again hours later).

“Are you still laughing over the bricks?” Harley asked astounded. He couldn’t hold back a small chuckle at the sight of Peter letting go of barely contained laughter, noting that it was “just too funny.”

Harley didn’t notice a change until the day they watched Tony walk past them into the lab, the sun already up. They made it a habit to stay up and talk, now about anything that came to their minds. He listened to Peter talk about his friends from school, the science papers he’d read for free when his friend hacked the school’s database, and how he enjoyed Solo for Han even though most people didn’t actually like the movie. In fact, Harley had somehow learned a lot about Star Wars. He felt like they had a nice friendship, even though making Peter hate him was still on his to-do list. Harley never backed down from a challenge, but he could postpone one. 

Making Peter hate him could always wait for later.

“Do you think Tony would kick me out if I smoked in the lab?” Harley asked carelessly from the other side of the couch. Peter immediately turned his head up to look him in the eye,

“I think I’d kick you out if you smoked in the lab. Do you know how dangerous that is? You shouldn’t be smoking at all, Harls.” 

Where did that come from?

“Aw, come on, shortcake. I was just kidding.” Harley chuckled.

“Harley, no, I’m serious,” Peter considered his next words carefully, “I bet you can’t quit smoking.”

Harley stood from his seat, thin blanket falling off of his lap along with Peter’s legs. “I can quit smoking,” he defended.

“Prove it.”

That was a challenge.

From that day on, Harley never so much as looked at a cigarette. It was almost nice, he considered, nobody had ever really cared enough to want him to stop. In fact, nobody had even realized how to push Harley the way that Peter learned to.

Harley thought it was normal, he really did. He was just spending time with a friend and having fun, every day, all day long, always finding new things to talk about. Hell, Harley would never have listened to anyone talk about Star Wars so much before he met Peter. Too bad he still had to make Peter hate him, right? It could wait.

Harley managed to accidentally find another way to get banned from the lab: getting sick. For a week, he was hurling, coughing, sneezing, and napping at all hours of the day. Peter, the saint, was by his side through the whole week. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t get sick,” he’d told him when Harley blearily expressed his concern. He didn’t really understand, but he was sure it all came down to the fever. 104, for fuck’s sake. 

Peter came in with chicken soup, Gatorade, blankets, tissues, lysol, anything he could think of. 

“Bet you can’t eat the whole bowl of soup,” Peter would whisper as he sat next to Harley on the bed, resting a hand on his forehead. 

“Bet I can,” Harley would mutter half asleep and delirious with fever, “Gimme that.” Peter smiled and handed over the thermos of chicken soup. Harley never finished the soup before falling back to sleep, but Peter always let him believe that he had.

He laid in bed with Harley and let Harley press his burning forehead against his cold hands. God, how Harley wished it were his hands in his instead of his fever, wished he had Peter around forever to take care of him while he was sick, wished he had Peter around forever.

Harley got over most of the sickness smoothly enough. His fever went down, his food stayed in, and his nose cleared up. The part that stuck around, though, was his cough, but that could be ignored easily enough. Harley had to make up for lost time with his best friend and terrorize their mentor.

“I want to go into music, but I feel like I’d be wasting my brain, y’know? I mean, I want to study music in college, but everything in my life has been pointing me towards engineering, or business, or whatever.” Harley sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.

“You can do whatever you want. If you really wanted you could even double major,” Peter offered with a frown when Harley let out a breathy cough, “You’ve had that cough for a while now. Maybe we should get it checked out?”

“No, it’ll go away. I’ve been sick before, it’ll just figure itself out. But I feel like I’d be letting down everybody if I didn’t go on into SI. Like, why have we been here this whole time? Why have I spent so much time in the lab?” Harley wheezed again prompting Peter to rub his back with a gentle hand on his wrist. Peter always knew what to do, could always help. Making Peter hate him could always wait for later.

“We just like to spend time with you. You know Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts wouldn’t be disappointed, and if you really wanted to still do SI, you know Ms. Potts knows more than some old professors would,” Peter grinned with a lilt to his voice, “You can still play music if you want. Get the best of both worlds, like Hannah Montana.”

“You know I’m not Miley, I’m Travis.” Harley laughed.

“You can still be Travis if you’re playing the cello.”

It only took Harley two weeks to decide that he liked Peter’s idea. Studying music but still being able to take over SI, Pepper had already offered to teach him everything there is to know about running the company. Four years in a music program, and the rest of his life running Stark Industries with Peter, it didn’t sound so bad. (Unless Peter hated him, but that could wait).

Another two weeks and Harley was checked into the hospital, Peter refusing to leave his side. They told him that his body wasn’t reacting well to the flu he’d recovered from and that his lungs were struggling to keep up. Harley knew why, Peter knew he knew. 

“Don’t be afraid. The two of us can get through anything, don’t even worry. We’re, like, the dream team.” Peter sat on the edge of the hospital bed and spouted off everything that came to mind. Really optimistic, Harley thought, considering he’d just been told that his lungs may fail to keep up at all, but that was why he loved Peter so much, always so optimistic.

…

Fuck.

So Harley had feelings for Peter, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he’d had said feelings for quite some time and never addressed it even with himself. Because he was too chicken to admit his feelings to himself? Because he’s too chicken to admit his feelings to his beloved?

Is that a challenge?

He could put that off until he got better. He could wait until Peter hated him. He could wait. Wait, wait, wait. He wasn’t scared to admit his feelings to Peter and lose him. He wasn’t scared to make Peter hate him and lose him. He just needed more time, he had more to hold onto before then.

He needed more time.

More time to have a best friend, more time to play music and build nothing in the lab, more time to risk his friendship for love because, yes, he fell so in love with the best friend who was supposed to hate him. More, more, more time.

Harley couldn’t say he was surprised to hear the words “terminal illness” when the doctor came into his room with that look on his face. It sounded like a challenge, Harley knew it was an obstacle. What was a challenge was the ticking of the clock on the wall, counting out loud every second that Peter lived on not knowing how Harley felt. 

He pretended to not hear his friend cry in the dark room at endless hours of the night. He pretended not to think about the future that he planned out with his friend. He pretended not to notice the way Tony could barely stand being in the room with him. He pretended not to feel the ache in his chest with each weak breath he tried so hard to take. Evading the end wasn’t a challenge. Greeting it with courage was a challenge.

“Peter?” He was leaving soon. He wasn’t ready. His music, his unfinished projects, his Peter.

“Can I tell you something?” Someone else could play music, right? Someone else would interpret his notes, right? Someone else would love Peter, he knew that. That may have been the worst part.

“I, I like guys. No. I like you. I love you so much.” The words had no pitch, no volume. 

One last challenge.

Maybe Peter would hate him for leaving him so soon, not giving him any time. Peter could hate him and find a new best friend, a better lover, never grieve or shed a tear. Harley Keener never shied away from a challenge. (Peter loved hard. Harley’s picture stayed in his wallet all the way through old age nonetheless).

Once I was told that good men get better with age.

We’re just gonna skip that stage.

- “What Would I Do?” Falsettos

[sage-sunset]

music to my ears (2)

akaashi keiji x reader, college au

You stared down at your phone, surprised to hear from your newest acquaintance. Akaashi Keiji was easily the prettiest boy you’d ever met, and you felt your stomach flutter at the idea of going on a date with him.

“Good morning, Y/N. How’re you feeling today?” “Great, thanks!” You’d bought the new sheets, and it had worked wonders. Combined with some ointment and a benadryl, the swelling and rashes had gone down quickly. A quiet beeping on your watch reminded you that your lecture was in half an hour. 

“I’m heading out, Yacchan. I’ll be in the practice room after, so I won’t be back until noon.”

“See you soon!”

You headed out, violin case in hand. Your lecture was for English, which was one of your favorite subjects. Not to mention you were reading Pride and Prejudice, which was one of your favorite Western books.

As you walked across campus, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You spun to see who it was, and your face fell.

“What do you want, Kuroo?” “Kuroo? Formal. What happened to Tetsu-” “Tetsurou was my friend. You’re just an immature asshole.” “Ouch.” “I have to get to class. What is it?” “He asks about you every day. Did you block him?” “Yeah, of course.” “Damn. That’s cold.” “You know what was cold, Kuroo? Him sleeping around with anything that had a vagina. I’m not getting back with that dickhead, so tell him that it’s over. It’s always been over.” He sighed, and before he could say anything else you turned and walked away.

_______

You thought about it during your entire class. Akaashi was very kind and respectful from what you’d seen, not to mention that he was gorgeous. It would be nice to get to know him a little better.

After class, you went into a practice room. You had it reserved for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at ten forty five until eleven thirty, and it was a nice one with a piano. You warmed up before moving on to your assigned pieces, beginning with part of Amy Beach’s Sonata.

On off days you practiced in one of the public ones, but those rooms were smaller and not as soundproofed. You spent an entire practice session trying to drown out the noises of a squeaky ass alto sax playing careless whisper.

Your fingers danced across the strings as your mind drifted away. Every time you played, you got sucked into another world, a world away from ex friends and toxic masculinity and itchy dryer sheets, a world where there were only gorgeous boys with a lyral allergy that asked you out to coffee.

As the timer ticked its final minutes away, buzzing once your time was up, you finished the piece. Scales and warmups were boring, just a way to get your fingers used to the feeling of playing, as if you could ever forget. But when you played a piece that you loved, it felt amazing.

You packed up, shutting the case and putting the sheet music back into your folder. A million thoughts raced through your head as you tried to put your mind in order. Being organized wasn’t your thing.

You had a baroque workshop at one, and then at four an art history presentation. You decided to get some quick lunch, but before that you realized that in your haste to make it to class and in your anger at seeing Kuroo again, you had forgotten to actually respond to Akaashi.

________________

You drummed your fingers on the table lightly, waiting for him to show up. It was about twelve, and you only had a short time to get to know him.

“Hello, L/N-san.” “Oh, hey Akaashi-san.” He sat across from you, and you blushed slightly under his gaze. Why was he so freaking pretty?? 

“So, what’s your major? You mentioned a workshop.” “It’s music theory and composition.” “You play an instrument?” “Yeah, violin. I can also play the piano and flute, but the violin is my favorite.” “I see. I’m not very talented with music, but I love to write.” “Are you a literature major then?” “Yes.” “Sounds fun. What do you like to read?” “All kinds of books. Western novels have been my interest lately.” “Which authors do you like?” “Agatha Christie, Charles Dickens, Ernest Hemingway, Jane Austen-” “Pride and Prejudice, right? And Emma?” He smiled, nodding.

“That’s right. Do you like those books?” “They’re classics. My mom used to read them to me, it was how I learned English. That and from listening to musicals.” “So, you like musical theater as well?” “Yeah! I like singing, and I like telling stories, so it’s the best of both worlds.” He nodded again, and you both chatted for a while before your watch started beeping again.

“Oh, class is in a few minutes. I’ve got to go.” “Before you do, would you like to go somewhere together? I had a nice time, and-” “I’d like that.” It slipped out, and you blushed profusely.

“Well, my roommate’s friends with a bunch of guys. They’re having a party on Saturday night, and maybe you could come.” “Oh, sure. Where is it?” “I’ll text you the details. I don’t want you to be late.” You smiled, grabbing your case and backpack before putting a ten on the table for the drinks you’d gotten. You didn’t really eat anything, but it was fine. You’d order takeout with Yachi later.

“I’ll see you soon, Akaashi-san.” “Call me Keiji, please.” “Then call me Y/N! Thank you for meeting with me, Keiji-kun!” You turned and left, feeling impossibly light. Going to a party with a guy who seemed into you… a dream. Saturday morning you had orchestra practice, but that ended at one. 

The next class you were feeling inspired, and it translated into your playing. Kiyoko, one of your friends and a pianist (but not a music major, just someone who enjoyed it for fun), told you that you sounded better than usual.

Music was more beautiful when you had someone to share it with.

You stretched out on the couch, eating your Chinese as Yachi typed away on a paper. It was getting late, and you were both tired, so once she finished you put on a horror movie to fall asleep to.

“This one’s scary. What’s it called?” “As Above something something. It’s in the catacombs, I think-” Your phone went off, and you grabbed it, smiling when you saw the name but face falling when you saw what he’d written.

Yachi looked over your shoulder, and leaned her head on you.

“That’s good, don’t you like him? Are you gonna go?” You felt conflicted. A little sick. Tired. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” “Omega Kappa, that’s where Teru-” “Oh. I get it. Crap.”

You sat in the darkened dorm room, staring at the message.

That was your ex’s fraternity.

[behindtherobinsmask]

tagged by @runnfromtheak

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. I write the most random things so if you can actually find a pattern then... let me know. Help a fool out. 

P.S. - I know it says opening line and not paragraph but come on, that doesn’t do any story justice.

Gonna do my tags before because this turned out to be longer than expected - @elwon @stevieraebarnes @epistemologys 

1. All The Times Damian Wayne Felt Loved 

This was a birthday fic I wrote for a darling friend of mine. The whole time I was writing this my biggest fear was that the characters were going to... just not be right. Still have that fear.

“Gripping onto a pillow, Damian walked down the dark halls of his grandfather’s house, uncertainty clouding every step that he made. At this hour of the night, no one seemed to be around yet he could feel eyes watching his every move. The eyes of the stars in the sky, the moon and the many trained soldiers that had years of practice when it came to blending into the shadows. It was their presence that forced him to walk with his head held high, to bat away the tears in his eyes and pretend that everything was alright. Pretend that he wasn’t afraid.”

2. To all the stars that are listening

Another birthday fic (maybe that was the pattern all along jk). I actually really enjoyed writing this fic because I felt like I was back in my zone (my zone being angst). Can’t wait to get started on the second part.

“Dick’s life had been anything but ordinary since he was a child. As someone who grew up in the circus, his morning was spent studying with the other kids that travelled with his troupe while in the afternoon, he practiced with his heart and soul to fly as beautifully as his parents. In the nights, he’d stand on the sidelines and watch them perform, absolutely awed by the way their bodies moved, each twist, each turn so seamless, every difficult stunt seemed easy in their skin. Clinging onto the edge of the tent, he wished with all his heart that someday, he could be just like them. A bird freed. With every wish, his voice grew louder and louder until somewhere, up above, a star heard his cry. It heard his desire to be free. The chains that grounded him slowly slipped away and he flew with practiced grace. And just as Dick spread his wings, his parents fell. Birds flightless.

Freedom he had asked for and freedom he had received.”

3. Come here, won’t you hold my hand?

Listen, I spend hours of my life playing genshin impact. Did you really think I wouldn’t write a fic for it? 

“After chasing the traveler away, Xiao sighed, wondering if now was the time to head back to Wangshu Inn. There he could stay away from the harbour and its people, away from the wishes made on stars that could never hear them, away from their fragile happiness that he could shatter with a single touch. Someone like Xiao, so burdened with sins, could never mingle among the mortals without bringing harm. Wherever he went, only misery ever followed. But even though he knew that it would be best for him to leave, a part of him, as silly as it was, worried that the journey back would make him miss out on the opportunity to see an old friend. While he never attended the Lantern Rite in Liyue, he always made sure to catch a glimpse of the Mingxiao lantern that always honored the adepti. It was only at that moment that he could lose himself to the past momentarily and remember a time when he wasn’t so alone, when his battle wasn’t only his to fight.”

4. Jon Kent Must Die

A jaydick flashfic challenge gave birth to this crack series and I will happily go down with this ship. I’ve written too many of these and maybe, in the future I’ll write more. Who will stop me? God? I don’t think so. 

“Damian was sick and tired of his siblings.

Never had he met two people who were so dependent on their partners that they needed them around 24/7. It didn’t matter whether it was day or not, whether they were at the manor or in their respective homes, wherever his brothers went, their fool boyfriends seemed to follow. The obligatory family dinner had been turned into a circus with Todd’s usual clownery that had Damian rolling his eyes so hard that sometimes he was afraid they’d just pop out of his skull. Kent was no better. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had encouraged Todd’s rambling as though he was God’s chosen prophet, sharing his truth with the world. Damian really wished, just for a day, the two of them would simply go away. It wasn’t that he missed his siblings or anything. He just wished to have a conversation with Richard that didn’t end with him wanting to stab someone. Hopefully a 5’11 man with black hair with a streak of white and deep green eyes that could find a conspiracy in Titus’s preferred pose for napping.”

5. I wanna be in your arms by the sea (studying your freckles so curiously)

Yes. It’s another genshin impact fic. Sue me. (Please don’t I’m broke).

“Every night, Zhongli saw the same dream.

Caressed by the gentle winds of the Guili plains, he watched over his people, Guizhong’s people as they lived in prosperity, enjoying the calm and gentle wind that wrapped around them. Serenity was a blessing and they had an abundance of it. In the beginning, when Guizhong had described such a scene, something knit carefully in her imagination, he had not believed her. But now that he was seeing with his own two eyes, he was glad that he had agreed to her terms. Glad that he had formed a contract that had been beneficial for all.”

6. I stay up late and talk to the moon (And I can’t stop telling her all about you)

A christmas exchange fic that I loved writing because it really got me back into the writing for jaydick. It had been a while since I touched anything fandom related. Then this story happened. 

“According to Jason, there weren’t many things that Bruce really got right. Not with his rules that could never be bent for anyone or his sickeningly righteous sense of justice. But if there was one thing Bruce excelled in, it was throwing the world’s most boring party ever. Every event that ever took place in the Wayne manor was the same. Classical music. Champagne flutes. Appetizers that could never replicate Alfred’s cooking and finally, the same old rich folks of Gotham who needed to be filled in on the latest gossip lest they melt into a puddle.”  

7. Now I’m going down on you (proving what I want is true) Who told me I could write smut? Please take away my license. “Click. Click. Click. With a heavy sigh, Dick switched off the TV and tossed the remote aside after an hour of clicking through the channels, unable to find anything that would keep his mind occupied. Two weeks ago, during a drug bust with the rest of the bats, Dick had suffered an injury to his shoulder which he considered rather minor. But Alfred and Barbara said otherwise as he was benched until he healed, his own city taken over by other vigilantes while he was forced to sit at home and entertain himself with murder mysteries with plot twists he saw coming from a mile away. Unfortunately, even when he hit the gym to let go of some restless energy, he could only do the most basic of workouts, the kind that simply weren’t enough for someone who was so used to being active all day long.”

8. Wayne Boys Unsolved

Another crack fic that I really enjoyed writing. Poor Yvonne though. She was really suffering. 

“Yvonne’s body was thrumming with excitement as she peeked out the window of her room, her eyes falling on the black car that just pulled up in front of her house. Four boys stepped out, ones that she was so very familiar with. After all, she had spent many nights watching every single video they uploaded on their blog. They were paranormal investigators of sorts, the kind that didn’t believe in the supernatural and lived to debunk the stories that revolved around each haunted location. Because people loved to watch them so, both alive and dead, the boys had become famous in every circle possible.”

9. You make me wanna die (I’m burning up in the light)

Another birthday fic and the first dark story I ever wrote. Writing this was fun but also nerve-wracking. 

“I think we need a break.

Two years, three months, four days and seven hours. That was how long it had been since Jason had said those words to Dick, sitting in the middle of the bed they shared, silk sheets pooled around his scarred waist, the white of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, droplets of it swimming down his throat and across his bare chest that was bruised red with bite marks, across the autopsy scar that he had been reborn with. He looked like a picture, each feature painted so delicately with colours that pulled, that hypnotised and drowned. The fingers of his right hand flexed, parted and then brushed across the back of his neck, tracing the bond mark that tied him down to Dick, shuddering slightly under the imprint, his heady scent spreading across the room like a drug. Strong, so fucking strong that Dick could still taste it on his tongue. Looking like that, after everything they had done, when he opened his mouth, when he said the words that had been sitting on the tipping of his tongue, it was only to end everything that they were.”

10. Come fire up the night (make me feel alive)

Who told me I could write smut (2)

“Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, Dick lay in his bed, tired but unable to fall asleep, the ticking of the clock haunting him. Tick. He took in a deep breath. Tock. He closed his eyes. Tick. He tried to sleep. Tock. Every memory of Jason came rushing back to him. The dark hair with a streak of white that framed his chiselled face. The plump lower lip that he often dreamt about kissing, pulled between his teeth until Jason was groaning. The freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks. Those deep green orbs that gleamed with mischief, teasing and taunting, burning with unbridled fury, one look enough to make Dick’s knees tremble. And as goosebumps spread across his arms, he found himself waking up, lest he did something that he knew he would regret. Like calling up Jason and confessing feelings that were better left unspoken, buried in a special graveyard from which there would be no sudden resurrections.”

[reidology]

He Was A Skater Boy... (Chapter 2) (Hotch/Reid)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid 

Summary: Spencer and Aaron finally meet and they make a deal. Oh how the cherry blossoms.

Words: 1,575

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 2: Something Wicked This Way Comes...

It was safe to say that reading at the skatepark was now part of Spencer’s routine. Most evenings he would get to the park and read his assigned philosophy readings on top of the halfpipe, then move on to his own books. When it became too dark, he would stop reading and watch the magnificent sunset. It never got old. Here he felt relaxed. Finally, Spencer had found a safe space other than his therapist’s office. Indeed, this place belonged only to him.

That was until one evening, when his new-found comfortable routine was wonderfully disrupted by the hottest guy he’d ever seen.

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

Spencer’s nose was floating around the depths of a wondrous world of murder and mystery fabricated by Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle when it happened. The sun was setting, casting strange shadows around the park, he hadn’t noticed a particular large silhouette rolling his way. Not until he heard the sound of wheels barreling toward his serene perch did he look up, and oh he wished he hadn’t , because when he looked up he came face to face with none other than the guy-with-no-shoes from days earlier.

He stood on top of the opposite halfpipe, jumped down on his board and came towards Spencer. But when he got to him he didn’t stop, simply rolled back to the other side and did quite an impressive turn-flip-trick where he spun and brought the board to his hand. Is he trying to impress me? Because it’s working, thought Spencer. The dude landed with a flourish right next to him. Spencer looked up half in shock and half in awe (because that was pretty hot). He couldn’t stop looking at his face, it was so angular and gorgeous and the light framed his face perfectly, his dark hair falling into his eyes. The definition of tall, brooding, and handsome. He died a little when the guy nodded down at him and spoke, “Sup, do you like ice cream?”

His voice was so deep . That and the fact that he was towering over him was too much for his little genius brain compute. Quantum theory he could handle, helplessly attractive men brought his IQ down into the negatives.

And how could anyone expect him to be coherent when the guy looked like that , and not just his face but… everything, from the slope of his shoulders, to the curves of his triceps, to the way his lean frame dipped into very delicious-looking calves, and finally those infamous socked feet, still shoeless.  It was when Spencer had been eyeing this handsome stranger’s feet for a good ten seconds that he realized he’d been asked a question.

“Uhmm.. pardon?” Casual. Polite. Was he in this guy’s way or something?

The man chuckled sickly sweet and gave a devilish smirk, “I asked if you like ice cream?” And he lifted his hand, wherein he held a cone of what seemed to be chocolate ice cream. How had Spencer not noticed that unfairly-hot-guy-with-no-shoes was holding ice cream? Did he skate up here with that? Did he do those tricks without dropping the cone?

Either way, Spencer did not know how to respond. He was feeling very confused, amongst other things...

“Uhh… I- sure…?”

The guy grinned and sat down next to Spencer, skateboard on his lap, and handed him the cone. Spencer hesitantly reached and took it, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Hi, I’m Aaron. I’ve been watching you”,

“Oh?” Spencer immediately blushes at the thought of this stupidly attractive man, Aaron , taking notice of him. And even though Aaron had already shown the classic signs of a Dangerous Situation™ (giving him ice cream and watching him), Spencer couldn’t help but be absolutely smitten.  

“Yeah, you’re always reading,” he nodded at the open book in Spencer’s lap, “what are you doing here?”

What was he doing here? “I- uhmm..” What was he supposed to say? Fuck it , “My therapist wants me to get out of the house and find a hobby.”  Way to sound normal, you really hyped yourself up there, idiot.

“So you chose skateboarding?”

“What? No…I’m just studying here instead of at home. And when I finish my work I read my own books.”  

Spencer could feel Aaron’s intense gaze boring into his face, he was beginning to notice that Aaron’s natural expression was a perfect dark, (sexy) , serious pout.

Aaron broke his attention from Spencer’s face and glanced beyond the boy’s lap to the satchel overflowing with books, “... you read all of those in one day?”

“Uh… actually I read all of those in an hour.”

Aaron blinked a few times.

“Really? You must be… I mean, how do you do that?”

He was sure he was going to say ‘you must be a loser’ but he tried not to think about that. So far, Aaron had been nice to him.

“Um, I don’t know. I have an eidetic memory and read a lot as a child, so I guess my baby brain just learned to process words quicker than others.”

“How quickly?”

“20,000 words per minute.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows in interest, still giving that smoldering stare. He was so very intrigued by this strange, skinny, adorable kid. From the moment he saw him hunched over, reading, engulfed in his own world, Aaron had been fascinated.  And when their eyes met that fateful evening, all he could think of was I need to know him .

“So what are you studying for?”

“Right now I’m going for a BA in Philosophy.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t have pegged you as the philosphe type , smart guy like you ought to be a scientist or something,” Aaron chuckled.

That laugh would be the death of him. It was so deep and sultry, Spencer felt like burying himself in it.

Sheepishly, Spencer corrected him, “Actually, I have two PhDs in Mathematics and Chemistry. I wanted to begin an engineering PhD this summer but my mother got sick and I had to take care of her, so I figured a Bachelor’s in Philosophy wouldn’t take up too much of my time.”

Aaron gawked at him and made no attempt to hide it.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Damn. Well, here we are, a 19 year old genius and 21 year old law school burnout. Funny we’d end up in the same place at the same time.’’

The pink-orange-purple of the sky seemed to give Spencer a boost of confidence,

“Weren’t you stalking me? That’s not much of a coincidence,” he teased.

“I wasn’t stalking you, I said I was watching you. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I came to say hi.” Aarons eyes glistened.

Spencer couldn’t help the tinge of pink on his cheeks and the small smile he gave. Aaron came to say hi. For a while they sat in silence, both considering what to say next. The older man opened his mouth to say something but Spencer took charge.

“You’re a law student? Do you go to Georgetown?”

Aaron nodded, “First year at Georgetown, did pre-law at Columbia.”

“Wow, those are good schools! I’m surprised you’re failing!”

“Yeah, Georgetown’s a lot more than I was expecting. Nothing you couldn’t handle I’m sure, Mr. Philosophy-Bachelor’s-For-Fun.”

Spencer laughed a genuine laugh, he didn’t answer though, because Aaron was right, he’d totally crush it in law school.

“You go to Georgetown, too? How come I haven’t seen you around campus? The Law Center isn’t that far from the Philosophy Department.”

“Well I don’t live on campus, I’m with my mom. And most of my classes are early morning, my therapist said that would be a good way of starting the day but really all it did for me was give me an unhealthy coffee dependency.”

Aaron actually laughed brightly at that.

“So, you’re going to tell your therapist you took up skateboarding when in reality you’ve just been reading in a skatepark?”

Spencer nodded bashfully.

“What are you going to do when she asks to see it?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Well, it seems we’re both in a bit of a predicament, huh? What do you say we help each other out?”

“How do you mean?”

Aaron smirked that same wicked smirk from the first night they saw each other leaned in, “I’ll teach you to skateboard… if…”, he bit his lip and looked into the younger boy’s eyes, “you help me pass Midterms.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Aaron leaned in impossibly closer and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.”

“Spencer,” He said deliciously, “do we have a deal?”

Aaron’s gaze was so intense but he couldn’t look away. His eyes were a deep, rich, coffee color with glistening flecks of green and they did not falter. This close, Spencer could see the few light scattered freckles feathering his nose and cheeks. And he was still biting his lip, Spencer stared and didn’t care. The breathtaking man in front of him was really offering to spend more time with him, how could he say no? Penelope would be so proud to find out he just had a conversation with a stranger and he was going to see him again.

“Deal.”

Aaron grinned maniacally, “Sweet.”

They sat just smiling at each other for a little bit, then Spencer asked, “By the way, why don’t you wear shoes?”

Aaron shrugged, smirked and brought his lips close to Spencer’s ear, “I like to feel the board,” he whispered.

Spencer was a goner. The ice cream had melted.

thank you for reading <3 leave some feedback/like/reblog <3

[ddaenggtan]

from eden | myg + jhs

you've been in the dark a long time, overworked and exhausted. the only bright point is your gatekeeper, hoseok, your closest friend and the man you love but can't have. you've accepted that loneliness is inevitable for you. when a voice calls to you, though, and moves you so deeply that you rip open the earth to help them, you meet a mint-haired boy that changes everything you thought you knew about your prison. | monsters and gods pt 1 (masterlist)

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

genre/warnings | greek god au, hades!reader, thanatos!hoseok, persephone!yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, mild depictions of violence, mentions of blood (well, blood equivalent, bc gods), pining, depictions of abusive parenting, v v brief panic attack (seriously, I don’t go into a ton of detail, but it’s enough, pls don’t read this if that triggers you at all), love triangle (kind of), polyamory, , mutual masturbation, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, fingering, dick-riding, double penetration, unprotected sex (gods can't get sti's but u can! Wrap it b4 u tap it!), creampie, everyone hates Zeus but what's new, demeter sucks and is the literal worst

word count | 15.6k | cross posted to ao3  monsters and gods masterlis

a/n | hello! i’ve renamed this fic at least ten times, but it’s here!! the first part of monsters and gods!!! i keep seeing hades!yoongi (who i LOVE, don’t get me wrong, seriously you should check out @/seokoloqy’s hades yoongi fics because they’re PHENOM) and while I love hades yoongs, I also keep seeing him in flower crowns and being soft and sweet and, as we know by now, I am ultimately a slut for soft bangtan. so this happened. and then i thought ‘wow this mc is dark af i need some contrast here’ and that’s how thanatos hobi happened, also i couldn’t stop thinking of his Judgement Face, which is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and how fast he switches between that and his smile, plus.....sope, I mean. c’mon. sope. and then it all kinda spiraled into a whole series of fics, only one other of which is even started tho its close to being finished whoops lmao so yeah!!!! pls tell me what u think, i’m not used to writing angst at all, so it may not be suuuuuuper prevalent in this, but i tried!!! also i really recommend listening to hozier while you read it bc i had his first album on repeat while writing it and from eden fits this pretty well imo!!!

It's dark when you open your eyes. You've spent so long down here, you're used to it, but the shadows always seem to make the air colder than it should be. Though you suppose the land of the dead isn't supposed to be warm.

You stretch and wince at the crick in your spine. Another night sitting at your desk, greek fire burning through the hours so that you can scratch away at the papers in front of you. Your siblings always enjoy doing whatever they want, using mortals and throwing them away however they please, cleaning up after each other whenever they can spare the time.

No one ever seems to think about you, nor do they remember the chaos up top only worsens your constant migraines.

No, instead they start their wars and slaughter their enemies and are absolutely oblivious about the fact that the Meadow is at 80% capacity as it is, with more souls arriving each day. Thanatos did well at his job, as did Charon, and you were always sure to be thankful to them, but you wish, not for the first time, that there was someone - anyone - to help with your work.

Your brothers have the naiads, the winds, and the lesser gods to help them with their oceans and skies. Gods of vengeance and retribution help with war, while the fertility goddesses and the muses aid the lovelorn.

And yet here you are, still alone after all these years. Millenia, you've been stuck down here, forced to live out your days in the cold darkness and manage the dead mortals. You've always been introverted, even before you drew lots with your siblings, but never like this. You've tried to leave, of course; at first making short visits to Olympus or the mortal realm, just to speak to another living soul again, someone else who understands what it's like to be trapped in your own life. It seems like every time you came back, though, the underworld had gotten smaller and smaller, nearly suffocating you in an attempt to keep its claws in your skin. And then, of course, came the curse.

You haven't felt the sun on your skin in nearly a thousand years, and while you've always been one for the shade, you miss it. You miss the smell of the flowers in the temples, you miss the sound of the river as it babbles past, you want to feel the warm summer breeze ruffle your hair as you stand in the middle of a marketplace. You're tired of the Fields, you're bored of walking the streets of Elysium with the weight of their stares at your back, sick of standing at the steps to the Isles and wondering if it is, truly, euphoric and if any mortal would ever find out. You don't wear your sandals around the palace anymore; you don't want to hear the footsteps echo. It's just a reminder that you are, truly, alone.

Even the other deities in the Underworld have stopped calling on you. The aura that surrounds you is enough to wilt most any plant, unnerve most every animal, and the gods are no exception. The only exceptions are Hecate, who makes it her personal mission to bribe you into visiting the Meadow if only for a moment, and Thanatos when he can slip away for longer than a moment to distract you from your work. They rarely succeed, but it's the thought that counts, you suppose.

You muse on this as you walk, bare feet skimming lightly over the soil of the Meadow as you make your way to the Gates. You could probably just shadow-walk, if you wanted, you do enjoy giving your Thanatos a fright, but you figure the walk would do you good. There’s no one to bother you as go, thankfully. The dead wander aimlessly around you. There's no acknowledgment as you pass; there's never any recognition of anything in the Meadow, the price mortals pay for being so utterly inconsequential and mundane.

You smile when you see that your friend is busy, and you give a silent command to Cerberus not to alert the man to your presence. The dog whines a little, but sits back on his haunches, shaking the ground as he does so. You're silent as you move up behind the judge.

"You wanted me to tell you my judgment and I have," Hoseok says firmly. "You could have gone straight to the Asphodel Meadow and existed in relative peace for eternity, and instead you request a hearing, and then have the gall to question my decision?" You grimace slightly; perhaps putting Hoseok in charge of judging the souls was not the best idea, but he has yet to be wrong about someone.

"Please, sir," The mortal whimpers. He's on his knees, suit crumpled and dirty where he sits. "I was only doing what I thought was best, please, surely that matters."

"You used children!" Hoseok says in shock. "As slaves! It's 2019 and you had nearly a hundred seven-year-olds sewing clothes together in a cramped warehouse with one bathroom. You seriously expect me to give you leniency because you thought that was best?"

"Their families would have starved without that money," The mortal says. He's on the verge of tears, which has always made you uncomfortable, so you stay hidden for now. "I kept them all fed and safe, didn't I? What would they have done without me? Gone to work in some factory, with dangerous machines and cruel managers, whipped every time they needed to eat?"

"You used children as nearly free labor, barely allowed them time to piss, fed them once every twelve hours, and you expect that to be okay because they could’ve had it worse," Hoseok says. Disgust drips from his voice and you’re inclined to agree with the sentiment. "I respect your opinion, but you are to be punished for your deeds fittingly." Hoseok snaps and two of the Bones come over. These two are in desert camo, one barely tall enough to be an adult judging by the skeletal build, but their grip is unforgiving as they cart the mortal off to the Fields. You don’t even need to mold together a punishment for him; the warehouse you sent others who’d done the same wasn’t quite crowded enough yet.

"Well, that was fun," You call, and delight at the way Hoseok jumps nearly a foot in the air. He glares at you as he turns and you don't bother to hide the smirk on your face. "Child slavery, huh? In this day and age?"

Hoseok tsks. "I know we used to allow some crazy shit back in the old days, but you'd think that people would know better by now. Using children like that, kids…” He trails off, still fuming, and you nod.

“I know.” You pull a piece of lint off his suit with a wrinkle of your nose. “You made the right decision if it helps.”

“I know I did,” He says with a smirk. “I always do.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, watching the lines of souls head through the gates to their eternal blandness. It's the best way to hide the flush he brings to your cheeks. “What brings you out here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be doing something important?”

“Don’t I wish,” You mutter. “All I’ve got to do is figure out how to expand the realm again without Zeus’ approval.”

“Wait, he didn’t approve the expansion?” You shake your head and step closer to where Cerberus is laying, all three heads focused entirely on you as you rub his middle nose. “Where does he think we’re going to put all of the souls, up your ass?”

“Clearly,” You spit.

“I know it’s not exactly great down here and that they would all rather be thrown into the Pit than visit, but they need to sometimes. If only to see what it’s like. I mean, honestly, what do they expect us to do, just toss everyone in the Meadow and call it a day until there are so many that they’re tripping into Elysium? What the f-”

“Thanatos,” You say quietly, and Hoseok stops. It’s not often that you call him by his title rather than his name, preferring the familiarity of his friendship over the detachment of your positions. “Even here, the gods have ears. You know better than to criticize them like that.”

He huffs but nods his head. You press a kiss to Cerb’s middle nose and coo at him until he starts wagging his tail. When you turn back around, Hoseok is stumbling to keep his balance on the shaking ground. You laugh, which he does not appreciate, but before he can say anything in his defense, another soul is escorted to him by a Bones. The guy is already pleading with Hoseok, who’s returned to the stony mask he usually wears. The silver aura that surrounds him always brings you comfort, reminding you of the moonlight that bathes the surface world, but it has turned colder and is as deadly as mercury. You envy the way he can switch back and forth between his professional mask and the bright, loving man you know; if only it were that easy for you. Without so much as a wave, you weave the shadows around you once more, ignoring the soul's cries to you for mercy, and let yourself disappear into the darkness.

When you emerge from the shadows, you settle at the base of your garden tree. The only living thing that would grow down here, the sole reminder of the world above. Its branches show that it should be close to the harvest soon, maybe a month away at the most. You reach up, weaving through the darkness to pluck a pomegranate from the tree. You don't even like pomegranates anymore, you think as you inspect it. Ripe, juicy, and utterly disgusting; the gods' idea of a joke. The thing that brought about your isolation, your solitude, yet it continues to be the only thing that grows in this wasteland.

You laugh bitterly before tossing the fruit up in the air, letting it fly through the shadows to land beside Hoseok, whatever he's doing. He always appreciates your little gifts, the only real thing you can do to show that you aren't cross with him and are glad for the work he does. He's long been stuck here with you, but the fruit doesn't turn to bile on his tongue the way it does yours. Perhaps the willingness he had that first time made a difference.

Please.

You glance around, looking for the voice that suddenly echoes around you. It's soft, a memory of a whisper. It's not rare for you to hear the voices of the dead in your realm, but this is different. This one strikes you to your core, for this…

This one sounds hopeful.

The prayers that make their way to you are never hopeful. They are sad or angry or scared, always filled with tears and regret and more than a little hesitancy, but never do they have any shred of hope in them.

You stand, eyes narrowed as you look through the darkness for whatever soul may be calling to you.

Please. I don't want to go back. Don't let her take me.

Without thinking, you reach into the shadows. The blackness swirls around your fingers, unsure where you're trying to go. You don't know yourself, and you wish you did. You aren't sure why you're doing this; you rarely answer prayers, least of all the ones that don't mention you specifically, but something in this voice calls to you. It resonates in your chest, shakes your very being because you remember that feeling. You remember the way it felt to be free, standing in the sun and clawing at the earth as Gaia dragged you back down to your post, tears mixing with the dirt as you pleaded, begged her not to take you back down there.

With a jerk, you pull the shadows apart, and the ground quakes above you. You watch, anxiety pooling in your gut, and it's only the intensity of your focus that lets you see it: a figure, falling limply through the earth that you've opened. The string of curses you let out would make even Ares blush, and it's with a rush you haven't felt in millennia that you weave the shadows together into a net and toss it upwards. The figure falls into it with ease, shadows wrapping around the body to glide gently downwards until they can deposit the person with ease at the roots of your tree.

Your breath catches in your throat as the darkness recedes, revealing soft mint hair with flowers woven into it, pale green robes that are sliced nearly in half at the back and caked with mud. The man is beautiful and soft and bright, every inch the antithesis to your own black and grey clothes. You hesitate to even look at him, too afraid of dulling that sun-kissed skin with the death you carry on your fingertips.

His brow furrows and he winces, though his eyes remain closed. You blink owlishly before guiding the shadows around him once more; when you're sure he's secure, you pull him along behind you until you reach the only spare room you have in the palace. You situate him on the bed there, fluffing pillows and smoothing blankets until you can almost pretend he fell asleep there of his own accord. With pursed lips, you assign three of your Bones to watch him; one just inside the door and two outside of it, just in case whatever he was running from attempts to come for him.

You don't want to leave him, but you have work to do, and the land of the dead cannot rule itself.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. There is Greek fire in the corner, and shadows dancing on the walls around it, but he cannot make out much else. When he sits up and slides his feet off what feels like a bed, he hisses. The marble is cold and unforgiving against the bare skin of his feet and he doesn't know of any feeling like it. He's too accustomed to the dirt and grass from his mother's domain, and even the white marble of Olympus was warm to the touch. This is different. Alarming. New.

He eventually works up the nerve to stand fully. Looking around, he doesn't see any kind of light sources other than the brazier in the corner, so he grips one of the coals in his palm and uses that bit of light to find the door. The fire tingles against his skin, but he's long since grown used to holding fire in his palms for his mother. The warmth is comforting for a brief moment before the image of his mother flashes through his mind. He flinches at the memory of her face, twisted with wrath, and the stone drops out of his grip before he can catch it.

The marble of the wall is cool against his back as he slides to the ground, knees brought up to his chest and his eyes screwed shut against the darkness. There's a vice around his chest and he can't breathe and he can't see and he doesn't have any idea where he is or if he's even alive or if she's stuffed him somewhere he'll never be able to escape and the thought makes his head spin as the air catches in his throat and gods don't even truly need to breathe and yet he can feel the cold claws of death tighten around his throat and all he can see in his final moments is the horrifying face of his mother's anger and he can feel the vines and roots around his ankles once more and-

"Who the hell are you?"

He looks up, pushing the sweat-covered hair out of his eyes. There's a man, in the darkness, who exudes a faint silver light around him that illuminates the walls and black marble floor. The man doesn't seem angry that he's there, or even all that surprised; just curiously resigned. There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so much he wants - needs - to know but only one makes it past the rock lodged in his windpipe.

"Am I dead?"

The man frowns and shakes his head. "I seriously doubt it, since you didn't cross the river." The man looks him over, taking in the flushed skin and sweat beads and the purple robes he donned the moment he decided to run and seems to decide something. He crouches down so he's eye level, poised on the balls of his feet with his elbows on his knees, and even in a full suit, he looks impeccably put-together. "I'm Thanatos. You can call me Hoseok. If you'll let me, I'd like to take you to someone who probably has a better idea of what you're doing here." All he can do is nod, and Hoseok extends a hand, which he uses to bring himself to a shaky stand.

"I'm Yoongi," He says, hesitant and quiet. "Um, I'm Kore. Or, Persephone. Either one."

"I think I'll stick with Yoongi," Hoseok says. His smile lights the hallway that Yoongi stands in, and it eases something inside him, though he isn't sure what. Hoseok doesn't let go of his hand as he guides Yoongi through the corridors, and talks to him the entire time. He speaks of his duties there, souls he's judged that day, ones he wished he could do more for, comforts Yoongi when a walking skeleton in Roman armor passes him and explains that those are the security force of the palace. By the time they make it to a large room, lit on each side with braziers of Greek fire that give the room an eerie glow, Yoongi has a fairly good idea of where he is, and who Hoseok is taking him to see.

The large ebony throne at the end of the room and the black-robed figure sitting atop it only confirms his fears.

When Hoseok enters the throne room, you're only slightly surprised. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to take a break from his judicial duties, and so long as there were plenty of Bones to watch the gates, you had no issues. Years would sometimes pass before Hoseok needed to return, relieving the judgment council once more and returning them to their own afterlives.

To see him shadowed by the mint-haired boy you pulled through the earth, however, is a shock.

You set the papers you'd been writing at to the side. Your robes, woven from shadows and dipped in the Styx, swirl around your bare feet as you move to sit correctly with your back straight instead of lounging as you'd been doing before. The darkness you’d brought forth to cushion your chair, plump and fat and soft underneath you, shifts as well, keeping the hard edge of the marble from digging into your skin. Hoseok stifles a smile at the sight and you narrow your eyes at him. You wish he'd say something about it, the punk.

"What can I do for you, Hoseok?" You eventually ask as he and his companion reach the steps just below your throne. Even now, you can barely bring your eyes away from the boy behind him; he's radiant, the light in the room seemingly drawn to him despite the way he's slouched into himself.

"I was just wondering if you knew how this young man came to be in the underworld, my lady," Hoseok says. Your eyes dart back to him and you can't help the way your heart softens at the soft silver shine around him. You look to the mint-haired god again; his eyes dart around nervously as if he expects something to jump out at him, and he's close enough to Hoseok that if the other were to step back, they'd both likely fall to the floor.

You lean forward in your throne, doing your best to project a calm and friendly air to the shorter of the two gods. "Do you not remember?" You ask quietly. Your eyes don't leave his big brown ones, and you can see the moment the panic sets in. "It's fine, you don't need to answer me. Just know that you're safe here."

"Yoongi?" Hoseok says quietly, drawing the boy's attention. "Hey, it's alright. We're not gonna let anything happen." It takes several minutes but eventually the boy - Yoongi, apparently - nods. He hasn't relaxed at all, but he doesn't seem like he's about to bolt out of your throne room, so you consider it a success.

"You were praying," You tell him softly. "You asked for my help, so I gave it, as best I could. I don't think you meant for your words to reach me, but they did." Yoongi frowns ever so slightly as he takes in the knowledge. There's a hint of anxiety in his face, his brow furrowed adorably, but he doesn't startle when Hoseok rests a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, though, and the two of them seem to have a silent conversation. Something settles in your stomach, seeing the ease with which Hoseok interacts with him, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. It's ridiculous to feel anything like this; Hoseok is your subordinate and friend, and you've hardly known Yoongi for five minutes.

"He can stay here, right?" Hoseok asks. You look to Yoongi, wondering if he even wants to stay, if he even wants to be here at all or if he wished someone else had answered his prayers. Hoseok calls your name softly and your gaze flicks to him. "Can he stay?"

You find that you're debating with yourself. Yoongi clearly doesn't belong here; he is soft and sweet and gentle and completely at odds with the harsh, depressive atmosphere that lingers in your palace. He looks terrified even now as he takes in the room, eyes lingering on the bones that were fused together to make your throne. And yet...you cannot escape the fear and hope that had echoed in his prayer, the sheer desperation that someone would help him. He had been running and terrified, which could only mean that he was being chased by something or someone, and you couldn't force him out if he was in danger.

"If you would like to stay," You say after a moment too long, "Then you are, of course, more than welcome to do so." You rise from your throne, shadows dissipating as you do, and take a couple of tentative steps toward the pair. He doesn't shrink back in fear, which you take as a good sign. "The guest quarters will be yours to do with as you please. Hoseok can show you around the palace and grounds, so you don't get lost, and the Bones can bring you anything you require." You move to press a hand to Hoseok's arm, and you level him with a careful look.

"Of course, my lady," Hoseok says. He turns to Yoongi with a radiant smile. "And you can leave whenever you'd like."

"Of course," You agree quickly. "Hoseok can take you back and forth across the river as you wish. Charon can be quite fussy about it." Several times, your guests have been stuck on the wrong side of the river until someone brought your ferryman his payment. Yoongi looks slightly less terrified, and in the emerald glow of the fires, you notice how wide his eyes are. "Oh! You're from the surface, of course, I forgot."

With a snap of your fingers, the sconces along the walls light themselves, and the candles ringing the large chandelier in the center of your throne room surge to life as well. Yoongi startles a little, stepping closer to Hoseok.

"Ah, I forget you surfacers can't see as well down here," Hoseok mutters. "We'll get you a candlestick as well, just in case." He nods to you, Yoongi copying him in a most adorable way. They're halfway out of the room when a thought occurs to you.

"Yoongi?" You call after him. He turns, and the green halo around him makes your heart falter. "Don't eat the pomegranates. Not even the seeds." His brow furrows in confusion but he gives a hesitant nod before he turns and hurries after Hoseok.

As much as your chest aches for him, you won't subject him to this life. You watch him go and wonder how long he'll last in this hellscape.

When their shadows have long disappeared from the walls, you turn and retake your seat on the throne. With a wave, a small team of Bones appears in front of you - the same uniforms, with the same unit numbers, stamped on their dog tags, and the same haunted look where their eyes once were - and you do a quick count. Ten should do fine for what you need.

"Scour the earth. Do not speak to anyone. Find out what he was running from, and if it still searches for him. Don't let anyone see you, and don't let anyone know why you're looking. Return if you're in danger. Report to me immediately." They salute, and you watch their forms slowly disappear, becoming more and more transparent until they glide upwards and through the cracks in the ceiling.

You sit back and wonder how long it will take for you to get answers, and if it will be before or after Yoongi realizes he's too good for this place.

Yoongi is quiet. That's the first thing Hoseok notices about him. He doesn't initiate conversation, really, instead content to listen to Hoseok talk about the various souls he's judged and the occasional escape attempts someone has made. At first, when Yoongi speaks, he's quiet, like he doesn't really want - or expect - to be heard, and he always looks pleasantly surprised when Hoseok answers his question or responds to his comments.

It makes his heart ache, and he wonders what exactly Yoongi has gone through to make him so shocked that anyone would actually listen to what he has to say. It takes weeks for him to warm enough to Hoseok to start speaking more often, to ask questions about his day, to actually request specific things. The day Yoongi asked Hoseok, soft and hesitant, if he could show him the Meadow and the tree, Hoseok almost cried. Yoongi was so obviously ready to be told no, fully expectant for Hoseok to decline such a simple request, and it only reinforced Hoseok's need to give the god everything he could ever want.

"What are you doing, Yoongi?" Hoseok asks when he looks up. They're at the gates, Hoseok in the usual position, eyes roving over the lines of souls slowly shuffling forward, and Yoongi sitting nearby. Cerberus is curled up behind him, dwarfing the god with his massive body, all three heads snoring and slobbering as they sleep haphazardly on top of each other. Yoongi glances up at Hoseok as he grabs another flower from the basket beside him.

"I'm making Cerb some flower crowns," Yoongi answers as if it was obvious. Hoseok frowns.

"Flower crowns?" He echoes. "What's a flower crown?"

Yoongi gives him a disbelieving stare. "It's a bath salt. What the fuck do you think it is, Hobi? It's a crown made of flowers." Hoseok is caught off guard by the sarcasm, as he has been every time Yoongi has spouted off some kind of sass to him. He strides over and crouches beside the mint god to watch him.

Yoongi's fingers are sure and steady as he weaves the stems of the flowers together. It's already half-dozen, Hoseok thinks, the crocus blossoms blending together prettily and not straying in the slightest from where he places them. Hoseok hasn't ever seen anything like it, and he's entranced by the way Yoongi's fingers move and the way the flowers seem to just do whatever he wants without much coaxing on his part.

"I had the Bones bring me back a basket from their last excursion," Yoongi says. "Since none grow here." He stops with one last crocus and eyes it critically before apparently deciding it was good enough. Hoseok can't take his eyes off the thing, enraptured even as Yoongi sets it gently on his head. Hoseok can feel his eyes widen and his cheeks flush red.

"Thanks," He says after a second, one hand darting up to steady the crown as he shifts his weight. He smiles, unable to help himself and poses. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

"Ugh, you wish," Yoongi says. Hoseok can see the smile in his eyes and is satisfied with the mirth threatening to bubble past Yoongi's lips.

"Y'know," Hoseok says after a while, hands in his pockets as he watches Yoongi make the second crown for Cerb. "I bet if you planted some seeds near the pomegranate tree, they'd grow." Yoongi's hands stop moving, his eyes drifting up to look past Hoseok. Something similar to excitement hides behind his eyes, and Hoseok wants nothing more than to bring it out to shine. Yoongi cocks a brow as if to say 'really' and Hoseok nods.

The gummy smile he gets in return, full of hope and light that the underworld hasn't ever seen before, is well worth the potential scolding you may give him for suggesting Yoongi fiddle with the tree's courtyard. And the way he keeps the flower crown nearby, hanging off a hook on the gates long after the blossoms have wilted and died, is worth the shy smile Yoongi gets every time he sees it.

You don't see Yoongi for the first few weeks he's there. Not really. You catch glimpses when he passes through the palace halls with Hoseok, and he sits with Cerberus while you visit Hoseok at the gates, but he makes no effort to seek you out, and you respect that distance. You can't bring yourself to force your company on him. You're an acquired taste; Hoseok has been in this realm for so long that he's accustomed to the darkness that follows you, the aura of death and despair that usually surrounds you. He's been surrounded by the dead almost as long as you have, so you know he can't be affected by it. Yoongi, though…

Yoongi is life. He's the springtime blossoms in a summer breeze, he's the sound of birds chirping in the treetops, he's vibrant and fresh and lovely and you cannot ruin that. You can't watch him wither away like a winter garden, you can't watch the color drain from his skin until he's just as much a ghost as the souls that wander the Meadow, you can't let him become just as dead as everything else in this cursed place.

So you leave him be. You offer curt nods when you see him with Hoseok and polite waves because giving any more of yourself to him without letting yourself get closer would be too dangerous. Even with the distance you keep, your chest tightens with every smile that graces his lips, you ache to hear his voice even just once, and it's too much. It's too much for someone you haven't even had a real conversation with. Someone who looks at you with apprehension and anxiety, yet brings undeniable joy to the man you've always held in your heart.

It's too much for you to feel like this for someone who makes Hoseok smile as if he's seeing sunlight for the first time in thousands of years. You love Hoseok too much to stand anywhere near them.

You've been avoiding both of them for days. You can't bear to see Yoongi's gummy smile and Hoseok's adorable dimples as they gaze at each other, and you're busy enough to make a decent excuse for it. Expansion isn't difficult, but keeping it quiet is. Plus you've been on the hunt to figure out what had been after Yoongi with such ferocity that it sliced right through his robes and had him praying to anyone who would listen.

You had a few helpful leads, but nothing concrete, and it was more than a little frustrating. Which is why you find yourself stepping out of the shadows of the pomegranate tree, hopeful that it could help to ease even just part of the emotions rolling in your gut.

The sight of Yoongi surprises you, even more so when you see that he's on his knees beside the tree with dirt covering his hands and a smidge of something on his cheek. He looks absolutely wondrous, like everything you've been missing from the world above, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you let it because he's so far out of your reach.

"Hi," You say after a long debate with yourself. Yoongi's head shoots up and he fixes wide eyes on you. He reminds you of the ones who come to you with no memory of what's happened to them, scared and alone and about to get the worst news of their lives. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," He says immediately. "I didn't mean to, not really. You just said not to eat them, and I'm not, so I thought it would be okay. Hobi suggested it and you two are so close that I figured he'd know if you'd be upset."

"I'm not upset." Your voice is as gentle as you can make it. "I'm just curious. Hoseok didn't mention anything to me, and no one really comes here."

"Oh." The relief is palpable as it courses through him, and he looks back down at the ground in front of him. "I'm just planting some flowers so I can make more crowns for Hobi and Cerb. The others died so fast, and I don't want to keep sending the Bones out to get more if I don't have to."

"Oh, you made the flower crown for Hoseok?" You'd figured as much. No one else in the underworld knew how to make them, and Yoongi was the only consistently around him. "He showed me that, it was gorgeous."

"Obviously, it was made by me, after all," Yoongi spouts. You gape at him, and he gives you a contrite grimace. "I'm sorry, my lady Hades, I forgot who I was with for a moment. It won't happen again."

"It should," You say before you can stop yourself. He glances at you curiously. "I don't mind if you're relaxed and casual around me. I've never been one to enforce the rules that Olympus has. Hoseok is proof enough of that. And you can use my name, I don't mind."

The way he whispers your name, almost as if he's practicing it to himself, makes your heart flutter in your chest. It's so dangerous to be around him like this, relaxed and casual; it's so easy to forget that it's Hoseok that gets this, that deserves this small piece of sunshine.

"Well," Yoongi eventually says. "In that case, you can get to work. I've got an entire basket of seeds left to plant around this thing, and I can only work so fast. Plus I'm getting hungry."

"Oh. Okay, show me what to do." You don't hesitate to mirror his position, robes bunching under your knees in the dirt as he points at the small holes he's carved out of the dirt with the trowel and rake the Bones nabbed for him.

Yoongi is patient, you learn. Not extremely so, but he walks you through what you need to do with clear directions. The seeds are small in your hands, which amuses you to no end, and there's an odd delight in packing the soil around them and dripping water down onto them after. You're smiling for the first time in...you don't know how long, and the feeling of Yoongi's hands around yours as he shows you how to use the trowel is something akin to paradise.

His hands are rough; calloused and weathered and wonderful against the softness of your own. You start to talk freely to him, asking him about each seed you plant and what they are and how they look. He tells you about each one, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. He rolls his eyes at every joke you make, despite the way he smiles, and hits back with several quips of his own. He listens as you tell him, voice shaking, about the pomegranate tree, and how it curses anyone who eats its fruit to stay trapped in the underworld forevermore. He talks and listens and jokes and laughs and it's only after you've made a particularly ridiculous joke that you realize your mistake.

"You've spent too much time around Hobi," Yoongi says. "He made the same joke yesterday." He's looking down at the last few seeds, plotting where in the courtyard to put them, and doesn't see the way the smile dies on your face. You'd forgotten. For a brief time, you'd forgotten that this is just pretending.

You don't get to keep this. You don't get to stay here, in this courtyard, with Yoongi and his rough hands and the mint hair that falls in his eyes and his gummy smile. This isn't yours. You don't get flower crowns and jokes and soft kisses, no matter how much you want them, just like you don't get Hoseok's bright grin or his dimples or his long fingers intertwined with yours. Your heart aches for these two beautiful boys, both of them everything you could ever want in so many different ways. And yet you have neither of them, you don't get either of them. They are each other's, and there is no room there for the death you bring in your wake. You kill everything you touch; the mortals whisper about the cold grip of your hands on their neck as they pass over.

You look back over the seeds you've helped Yoongi plant and wonder how many you've killed before they even lived.

You stand and brush the dirt off your robes. "Well," You say, careful to keep your voice level. "I've got some things to do. I trust you'll be alright on your own." You can't bring yourself to look at Yoongi, can't bear to see the dirt that smudged along his cheek, can't stand to see the way the orange robes drape along him and remind you of the way the autumn leaves looked coating the grass in the meadows.

He doesn't even get a response out before you flee, but you feel his eyes on your back long after you've hidden in the shadows and sunk down onto your bed.

It's astounding, you think as you rinse the dirt off your hands later, how a single afternoon planting seeds with someone can be so detrimental to the walls you'd put around your heart. Tears blur your vision and your fingers are trembling, but you keep scrubbing until the phantom slide of his hands against yours is gone and there is no more evidence of the planting you'd done. When you finally stop, your skin is raw and throbbing, and there are tears running down your face.

You had long accepted that Hoseok could never be yours. You were in two different positions, and he was much too bright to want to be with someone like you. Your shadows would have suffocated him, so you resigned yourself to being his friend. Friend is safe. Friend is good.  

You’d known the same when you met Yoongi. Bright and colorful amidst the darkness of the underworld, you wouldn’t dare to get any closer to him, too familiar with the fluttering of your chest and the jumping in your stomach every time you saw him. Just being friendly was enough, ensuring he is safe and happy is fine with you.

But this? Watching the two of them grow closer and closer, able to love each other so wholly while you stand alone in your darkness, watching their bright smiles and soft looks, all directed only at each other, for eternity? This was too much for you to bear. Being hopelessly in love with one man you can’t have is bad enough, but two of them…

You wish for the first time that you were not immortal, but a meager human upon the surface, unaware and blissful in your ignorance.

He never expected this. Not from the moment he woke up, not when he was sprinting through a forest to escape his mother, not for a single heartbeat could he ever imagined everything that has happened to him since he arrived in this cold land.

He’s been alone for so long, hidden away in his mother’s garden with only the rare visit from Artemis or Hestia as he learned how to do anything and everything his mother wished. He’s never had friends before, he’s never had the subtle inside jokes that he shares with Hoseok, familiar enough that even just a quick glance can have them both bursting with laughter. He’s never known a goddess like you, able to weave together the darkness into something tangible, something useful, something real. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen, and Hoseok’s uncanny ability to bend the environment around him and use his silvery aura to turn almost invisible to the naked eye never ceases to amaze him. The two of you are so powerful, so utterly awe-inspiring, and every single thing his mother had told him is so far from the truth that it almost hurts.

Neither you nor Hoseok is standoffish, really; he can see the hesitant friendship in every smile you send his way, and Hoseok’s primary concern at any moment is making sure he’s happy and safe. It warms Yoongi in a way he could never explain, not even in a million years, simply because he’s never felt this way. In all the books he’s read, the plays he’s seen, every mortal he’s watched, he’s seen this.

He’s seen how they turn red with just a look, how their hearts stutter when hands brush, how they smile, soft and private when they think no one is looking at them. He’s seen this feeling, the bubbling in his chest that he gets every time Hoseok laces their fingers together while walking and the moment you step into the courtyard and see the kaleidoscope of colors that you helped plant. He never would have guessed that he would feel it, though, too isolated from the rest of the world until he came here. Until you pulled apart the earth itself to help him escape, without even knowing why or who he was.

The feeling grows inside of him, thorns pricking into his every breath because he knows it can’t last. He’s seen how you and Hoseok look at each other when you think no one is watching, can feel the pull between you and the years upon years of familiarity that lie between you. The two of you are closer than he could ever get, two sides of the same coin, and more suited to each other than he would ever be.

And he can’t stay.

That’s the worst part. He knows it, knows that she will find him before long and wrap her claws around his throat and drag him back into that gilded cage she calls a greenhouse just to leave him. It’s for the best, my dear, she’ll say, it’s to keep you safe.

Yoongi doesn’t want to be safe, though. He wants to be happy and free, and he’s found that place here, surrounded by death even as he carves out his own little area of life. With Hoseok’s warm grin across from him and your own cool fondness beside him. With flower crowns atop his head and Hoseok’s, and the small buds are woven into your own crown of bones and grief as a small reminder that even in death, there is life.

But she will find him. She always does. And though he cannot bear the thought of leaving you, he will, if only to keep you safe.

Yoongi's been there almost a year when you summon Hoseok to dine with you. By the time he gets to your office - a very understated term for the sprawling library - you're already sitting at your usual desk, food pushed aside and forgotten in lieu of the papers stacked in front of you.  Even with your head bent low and bags under your eyes, you're the most beautiful person Hoseok has ever seen.

He remembers the first time he met you when Zeus had assigned him to be the gatekeeper for the underworld. You were so young, so skittish and worried that you were going to be a terrible ruler as if the dead could be disappointed in you. You'd been beautiful then, too, but not in the same way. You've grown into yourself since then; you're no longer afraid of being a bad queen. You know that you're competent and capable, you know you can do this, and you frequently prove wrong any Olympian who says otherwise. You're mature now; strong and confident and brilliant, and even with the bags under your eyes and the shadows that lick lovingly against your skin, you are absolutely radiant.

Hoseok is so in love with you that it physically hurts him, and every time he looks at you, he is reminded of how you are just out of his reach.

He clears his throat and you look up. The tired smile that graces your face warms him, and he settles into a chair on your left with practiced ease. This isn't the first time you've asked him to dine with you, and it won't be the last.

"What's the occasion?" He teases, delighting in the way you roll your eyes and gesture to the food and nectar that sits in front of him.

"How is Yoongi?" You ask. It doesn't escape him that you don't answer, but you always have your reasons, so he doesn't call you on it.

"Well. He wanders around on his own and doesn't seem to jump at the slightest sound anymore. He came with me the other day when I judged and managed to pick fifteen people for Elysium in a row." An expression passes over your face that he can't decipher. He continues anyway. "He still won't talk much about what happened, but he also doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave. I imagine he'll get bored eventually, and we'll need to give Cerb extra treats when he does, but I'm not concerned just yet."

You nod and Hoseok starts to eat as you rifle through a few more papers. "You know he's Persephone?" You ask, and Hoseok nods. He'd forgotten to share that knowledge with you, but clearly, you had your own way of finding things out. "So then you're aware that his mother is Demeter."

Hoseok pauses for a minute. He swallows the food in his mouth and really looks at you for the first time since he sat down. The bags under your eyes are more prominent, and you're wearing your Hades expression. The one that stays professional and controlled and tells people nothing of your true thoughts. Well, people that haven't known you for more than a thousand years.

"Hoseok, he can't stay here forever," You eventually say. "She's been looking for him everywhere. The humans' crops are ruined, ice and snow have covered the earth, more people are dying than we can hold right now. She won't stop."

"And that means we kick him out?" Hoseok hisses. You close your eyes and he can feel the sigh you're holding back. "You said yourself that he could stay as long as he wants. You can't just rescind that because some wheat goddess is going on a rampage. We still don't know what he was running from, or if it's still out there, and I won't watch him-" He stops, frozen by the way you're pressing your tongue into the side of your cheek. It's the only tell you have and he rarely sees it, because you rarely keep things from him. "What do you know?"

You don't answer, and he repeats the question, louder this time, as he surges out of his chair.

"I was running from her," Yoongi's voice echoes through the library. You and Hoseok both turn to see him standing in the door, and Hoseok's heart swells at the sight. He's in soft, muted pink robes that Hoseok knows he made himself. His cheeks are rounder, and he's no longer curled in on himself. He looks stronger. Confident. Unafraid. "I was running from my mother. That's what you found out, right?" Hoseok looks to you, and the regret in your eyes just confirms it.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi, I was only trying to make sure you were safe, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," Yoongi says as he moves to run his hand along your cheek. "I know." He smiles at you. Hoseok looks between the two of you - Yoongi's hand resting lightly on your cheek and a soft smile on his lips while his eyes crinkle with rare happiness, your own eyes wide and full of what can only be described as pure, unadulterated love - and his stomach rolls violently. Even after all the time Hoseok has spent with you, and with Yoongi, and the times he's entered a room to find the two of you in comfortable silence, he never expected this. He should've, he realizes; the two of you are a perfect match, complementing each other to near perfection, each fault being smoothed over by the other's strengths.

How could he have thought you wouldn't fall in love with Yoongi? Soft, kind Yoongi, who had just enough snark inside of him to make every word out of his mouth an unexpected joy. Yoongi who braids flower crowns with the flowers he's started to grow in the courtyard, surrounding the pomegranate tree with the beautiful blooms. Yoongi, who encourages Hoseok to judge more and more souls, ones that don't request it, who can somehow pick the good people from the bad just by looking.

And how could he have ever expected Yoongi not to fall for you? Strong and intelligent, determined and kind. You who opened your home to him in his most vulnerable moment and never expected anything in return. You who did everything in your power to find what was chasing him, and find a way to stop it. You, with your lonely smile and your bare feet. You, who Hoseok himself has been in love with for tens of thousands of years.

How could he have expected either of you not to fall in love in the months that you have known each other when Hoseok couldn't even stop himself?

“I’ll go back to her,” Yoongi says softly, finally dropping his hand from your cheek and turning the radiant smile on Hoseok. “She’ll have no reason to continue this if I return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Yoongi,” You say immediately. ““You were desperate to get away from her, and...what she almost did to you, that’s unacceptable.”

“Let her rage,” Hoseok agrees. “You’re safe here, no one can get to you without getting through the two of us first, not to mention Cerberus and the Bones. No nature goddess will last in this place, not with our full force around you.”

“Thank you, Hobi, but no. I can’t ask you both to do that, not when it could end so badly for you. You don’t know what she can do, it’s not-”

“You aren’t asking us,” You say. Your voice is as quiet as always, but there’s a firmness there that Hoseok recognizes. It’s usually saved for the throne room when some mortal has been particularly annoying or stubborn, and it’s a shock to see it directed at Yoongi. “We are offering. Let us protect you, Yoongi. At least let me speak with Zeus about this. I may be able to convince him to intervene.”

Yoongi hesitates, the indecision is written all over his face, and Hoseok leans to lace their fingers together. It’s a familiar gesture, done so often to prevent Yoongi from getting lost that it’s second nature at this point.

“Please,” Hoseok pleads when Yoongi looks at him. “Please, Yoongi.”

The reluctant nod is all the confirmation needed. You’re already scribbling out a summons for Hermes to carry to the lord of the gods, and Hoseok is halfway through the halls to reinforce the gates and ensure Cerberus knows his task. He tries not to think about the way Yoongi lingered behind, one hand on your shoulder as he watched you write and the other caressing the flower-riddled braids he’d made earlier that day.

He doesn’t think about it, because in the end, it doesn’t matter. Hoseok is so deeply in love with the two of you, so grossly enamored, that he would go to the end of time itself if it meant keeping the two of you safe and happy. Even if that meant watching you love each other and not him.

“What do you mean, he won’t help?”

You massage your temples without looking up from the letter Zeus had sent back with Hermes. He was, unsurprisingly, not helpful. Hoseok had appeared not long after the messenger had left, and is, also unsurprisingly, irate.

“According to him, he has no dog in this fight, because Yoongi isn’t his son, he’s Demeter’s, and if he were to get involved, he’d side with her since the humans are dying so quickly, which isn’t exactly good for worship numbers.”

“Are you kidding me? He seriously said he’d take her side in this?”

“Not in so many words, but yes. And I get it, Hobi. His job is to keep the peace between everyone in Olympus, and without actually coming here to give me an audience, all he has is Demeter’s side of the story.”

“Which is?”

“That I kidnapped her son and am currently holding him captive in a dungeon down here.”

“That’s absurd. He’s not captive at all, he’s happier here than he ever was up there, and you didn’t kidnap him!” You give a slight nod to show that yes, Hoseok, you’re aware of the truth. “Does he know what she does to him? How she treats him?”

“Hoseok, please,” You mutter. The weight of Zeus’ words is like a blade against your throat and you want nothing more than to help Yoongi. Clearly, the Fates have decided against that. “You know how he is. Do you honestly think he’d care? She has a claim to him, despite what he wants, and unless we find a way to get Zeus down here or go there ourselves, our lord won’t be able to hear any other side of this story.”

“Then we’ll...we’ll go there! We’ll make them listen! You could talk sense into him, make him see that he needs to help.”

“You know I can’t do that, Hobi.” Hoseok flinches, as if just remembering that you are as captive here as the souls you keep. You’re glad, not for the first time, that Death Itself cannot be contained, so that Hoseok, at least, is free to come and go as he pleases. “And before you say it, no, we can’t ask him to go. It isn’t safe. The second he sets foot outside this realm, she’ll pull him back. We’re lucky that he hasn’t already told her where Yoongi is.”

Your statement is punctuated with a muffled thud, and the anxiety that runs through you is mirrored in the look Hoseok gives you. Another thud echoes through the palace, the ground rumbling under your feet, and you stand.

“Where is he?” You ask, already pulling the shadows around you.

“Just past the gate, walking through the Meadow. If we hurry-”

“Go.” You disappear into the blackness, never more glad that Hoseok can sense the living in your land. When you step away from the shadows, Yoongi is there, confusion written across his face and fear in his eyes. “You have to run.”

“No,” He says. “I’m not going to keep running from her. I’m staying here, she can’t take me back.”

“Yoongi, please,” You beg. He’s too vulnerable here, too open, too easily seen with his spring green robes billowing around his feet and flowers woven into a crown atop his head. He takes your hands in his and pulls you close, and you’ve never seen a fire like this in him. It burns hot and strong and it makes your chest ache for what could have been.

“I won’t let her hurt you while I hide away like a coward,” He whispers. His thumb wipes away tears you didn’t know were there, and determination floods through you.

"Please, Yoongi. Let us help you. Let me help you. I-" The words choke in your throat, but Yoongi nods as if they made it out.

"I love you, too." His voice is soft, barely audible over the shaking ground and the deafening sound of hooves slamming into your gates. You feel more than see Hoseok land beside you, and his hand rests on the small of your back without hesitation.

"Take him," You tell Hoseok. "Go to the palace. You'll be safe there. Don't let him leave."

Hoseok's eyes are fire-bright as he wraps an arm around Yoongi's waist. The god's protests fall on dead ears, even as you let your hands brush over the softness of Hoseok's ink black wings. Just one moment, that is all you want, just one single second to pretend.

"I'll see you after, my lady," Hoseok says firmly. You don't have the heart to correct him, nor the time, so you just nod. Yoongi's screams echo in your ears even as you turn, the blackness that lingers at every corner of your realm swirling around your feet and ready to be whatever you need. You let one last year fall from your eyes as the gates crumple, and the furious eyes of Demeter fixate on you and the black-winged figure carrying her son away.

Hoseok flies faster than he ever has, determined to get Yoongi into the palace and relative safety. The god sobs in his arms, still struggling to get back to where you stand in the Meadow, the massive form of Demeter towering above you, but Hoseok doesn't relax his grip. You gave him an order; he hadn't disappointed you yet, and he isn't about to start now. Not with Yoongi caught in the middle.

He doesn't hesitate when he touches down in the palace, wings retracted and brushing ever so slightly against the black marble floor. He turns to the nearby Bones and orders them to the doors, summoning as many others as he can spare from the gates and Fields to help barricade the palace from the goddess.

"Hobi, you have to go, you have to help her," Yoongi sobs. "She's gonna...I can't, Hobi, please, you have to keep her safe."

"I have to keep you safe," Hoseok replies. He's got a vice grip around Yoongi's arm as he pulls him deeper into the palace, doing his level best to avoid any window or door to the outside. "That was the order she gave and that's the order I shall obey."

"How can you say that?! Don't you care that she could-"

"Of course I care!" Hoseok spits, rounding on the shorter god the second the words leave his lips. "Do you think this is easy for me, Yoongi? Do you think I enjoy choosing between the two of you like this? Because I don't. I want nothing more than to be helping her right now, but I can't...I can't leave you alone here. It's too dangerous."

Hoseok isn't stupid; he knows exactly how he feels about you, and Yoongi, and he's not oblivious to the way the both of you look at him. Still, the two of you are powerful deities, worshipped and loved, feared and prayed to. He's just a guardian, content to sit in the background and watch for threats. Yes, he loves you, with every fiber of his immortal soul, but he also loves Yoongi, and he knows you love Yoongi, and you gave him an order.

"Hobi," Yoongi whispers, eyes wet and red and beautiful. "Hobi, please, you have to help her. She needs you. I can manage, I can hide, but she needs you. No one else can help her."

The fact that he's even considering this shows just how easy it is for Yoongi to manipulate him. Hoseok understands now, what you meant all that time ago. Yoongi's voice is rough and lingering and fearful but it carries so much hope that it digs into Hoseok's skin like a hook. He curses and bundles Yoongi into the corner.

"Stay hidden. Don't make a noise. You can't let her find you." Hoseok hesitates for a split second before pressing a quick kiss to Yoongi's forehead. "I will see you after this."

"I know."

It's never been harder for him to turn his back on someone, but Hoseok manages, with only one last look back before he takes to the air and surges forwards to where you stand, keeping Demeter back with every piece of your power.

Yoongi runs. He runs and runs and runs, the bare skin of his feet silent on the cool marble. The braziers have long since gone out, but he stopped needing them months ago. He knows where he is, even as he tucks himself into a small, nearly invisible niche in a corner. He hardly dares to breathe, too scared that the sound will alert his mother of his location. The palace is silent, not a single sound in the entire thing, and it's deafening in the aftermath of the rumbling screams that signaled your battle with her.

He isn't sure how he managed to convince Hoseok to leave him, whether it was the obvious love the god felt for you or the sheer desperation in his own eyes, but he could only pray the two of you made it out. As gods, you're all difficult to kill, but it's not impossible. Not for other deities.

Come out, little flower.

Yoongi stifles a whimper, panic coloring his vision white for a long while before he can breathe again. Memories flash behind his eyelids and he pried them open just to stare into the darkness.

You can't hide forever, little flower. You know that.

Her voice echoes against the marble. It makes her sound like she's everywhere and nowhere at once, able to find him even as he hides. He clenches his teeth and reminds himself that you and Hoseok are the only ones that know this palace better than him.

You're making me very angry, little flower. Why do you run? I only want the best for you, and you insist on causing such a fuss.

The sound of her sandals reaches him, reverberating off the walls and telling him that she's far too close. He slips silently out of the niche and pads across the floor on the balls of his feet. He doesn't make a sound, something he perfected in his time with her, and just as she slips around the corner, he's darting down another hallway.

Look at what you've done, little flower. All this mess, and for what? Do you like it when I'm angry? Do you enjoy this game of ours?

He slips into another hall just in time. Exhaustion has made him slow. The marble of the wall is cool against his heated skin, and he wonders where you are. Where Hoseok is. If you're alright or if you're laying in the Meadow, golden ocher pooling around you. The thought enrages him, and for the first time, he can feel power at his fingertips; real power, not the simple gardening magic she taught him as a child. He's ready to use it, he thinks. He's so tired of running, so tired of being afraid, and he's so fucking angry that the people he loves have had to fight his battles for him.

Found you, little flower.

Warmth circles his ankle and pulls before he can jerk away. Her nails are sharp than before, like sickles at the end of each long finger, and he scrabbles uselessly at the smooth stone floor. She's speaking but the sound of her voice - wind whispering through a field of wheat, a brook babbling in the summer - is drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears.

"No, I won't go back, you can't make me," He hisses, kicking at her hand with his free leg. He doesn't feel the cuts on his soles, doesn't register them at all until he sees the gold dropping onto the floor; the adrenaline masks the pain. She says something else and he stops kicking, though he doesn't know what she's said. He isn't listening, too busy thinking of a way out of this.

It comes to him, all at once, and he relaxes in her grip. His chest heaves in a sob, because he knows exactly what he has to do, and you will never forgive him for it.

"Alright," He says flatly. Demeter stops in her monologue. "I'll go with you. Just leave them alone." The smile that splits her face is more grotesque than any corpse he's seen in the Styx, but the way she releases his ankle is a blessing. He keeps himself hunched and downtrodden as he pushes himself up, into her waiting arms. The hug is bruising and brings vile to his throat, but it is necessary.

It's with a flash of green as he pulls away from her that he makes his move. The flower crown previously atop his head has morphed, grown into thick, thorny vines around her arms and keeping her in place.

Yoongi is gone before she can so much as screech, sprinting as fast he can through the halls to the one thing that can help him. He feels it when she rips through his flowers, his very soul shaking at the pain that rips through him, but he's determined. He's made good ground, he only had a little further to go.

The vibrant colors of the courtyard have never felt so welcome. He's halfway through, blossoms crushed under his feet as he tears through the carefully tended flowers, when she catches up. The blade of her scythe rips through his back, but the adrenaline masks the pain. He's bleeding, he knows, but he can't bring himself to focus on anything but the way the bark feels under his grip, branches reaching down to help him reach his goal.

She tears him out of the tree violently, no longer wearing the carefully sculpted mask of love. The scream that she unleashes when she sees him shakes the entire realm, soft pebbles falling from the ceiling of the cavern miles above his head, but he doesn't care.

The pomegranate is ripe against his tongue, juice tinting his lips pink, and the weight of it against his chest has never been more welcome. Demeter screams for what could be centuries, but Yoongi does not care, because he has won, and he has never tasted anything so sweet in his entire life.

"Come to bed," Hoseok pleads, not for the first time. You look at him with a sigh. His wings are gone, hidden away until he needs them again, and his arm is free of the bandages he's been wearing. It has taken so long for him to heal, and you still aren't sure he should be up and about. There's a small, barely perceptible scar along his forearm, the faintest reminder of what the two of you survived.

"I have to finish this before he returns, Hobi," You tell him, also not for the first time. Hoseok scoffs and comes around the desk to stand behind you, eyes roving over the documents in front of you.

"It's been over six months," He whispers in your ear. "Zeus has approved your expansion requests. I'm fine. You're fine. Yoongi will be back from Olympus soon."

"Hoseok," Your tone is warning despite the way he whispers your name. You deflate, falling back in your chair and letting him rub your shoulders. "I just miss him."

"I know. I do too." You're both quiet for a while. It has been six months since Demeter crashed into your world and rampaged through the Meadow to find Yoongi. You remember it so vividly, the way you struggled against the unbridled fury she had, the way Hoseok screamed as she broke his wing, the pain in your chest as you'd crawled to him and just held him in your arms until the Bones had made it to the two of you and carried him to the palace.

You had been, and still are, vastly proud of him and Yoongi for fighting back, but that didn't change the fact that they had both put themselves in immense danger by doing so. Even with the - admittedly brilliant, if stupid - plan that Yoongi had come up with, things never really worked out for you. Hoseok had been bedridden for weeks, unable to even more because of the pain in his wing. Hermes has helped with the healing process, which you were unendingly thankful for, but Yoongi had been carted off to Olympus almost immediately for negotiations.

Zeus, benevolent leader and incompetent moron that he is, had decided on a compromise: Yoongi would stay with you in the underworld after the harvest was finished, free to do whatever he liked, but until then he had to stay in Olympus. The letter had mentioned something about reparations to the mortals for the utterly obscene amount of crops they had lost - which was ridiculous really, they were doing their level best to kill the planet and you are gods, since when do gods pay reparations to mortals? - that Yoongi was required to use his abilities to help with.

You'd sent Hermes back with several colorful threats of what exactly would happen to the billions of dead you kept here should Yoongi return in any way other than utter perfection, and you've been anxious for days to find out whether you get to follow through on them. It only worsens when you remember that you have a decision to make when Yoongi returns. You remember the way he looked when he said he loved you, returning words you couldn't bring yourself to say, and you remember the elation and subsequent depression that came after the battle at the realization that you could have had him, were he not gone for half the year.

And yet you also distinctly remember the way Hoseok looked, wings splayed over several tables to hold them in place as they healed, vulnerable and shy as he told you that he was sorry for disobeying you. You won't ever forget his face as he explained, the way his lips formed around your name when he told you he couldn't beat to see you hurt, not after so many years spent loving you. The feel of his lips against your skin is like a phantom even now; Hoseok had waited until he was healed to do anything more than press chaste kisses against your knuckles, and even still you've not felt him the way you want, but it hasn't stopped him from trying.

"Come on, my lady," Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Just for a while." You grumble under your breath - you really do have work to finish before Yoongi arrives - but you allow Hoseok to pull you from your chair and lead you down the hall to your bedroom.

So lost in your own musings, you don't notice the figure lounging on your bed until he speaks.

"Six months and I don't get even so much as a hello?"

Your eyes shoot up and your breath hitches in your throat. Pale green robes lined in the most beautiful black and silver embroidery pool around him, matching the braided crown that rests atop his head. You didn't know flowers like that existed, let alone that they could look so wonderful on someone.

"I didn't know you were back," You breathe.

"That's the point of a surprise, my love," Hoseok says from behind you, hand tightening around yours. Guilt begins to grow in your chest and Yoongi tsks at you. He rises and comes to stand in front of you, brow furrowed.

"That's no way for a queen to look, is it? What has you thinking so hard?" His thumb smooths the space between your brows and you can't help the glance to Hoseok.

"I can't...I don't want to hurt you." Your voice is barely a whisper, and the familiar sting encircles your heart once more. You couldn't choose between the two of them, not if you tried, not even if it meant getting out of this place.

"You won't," Hoseok tells you with a familiar grin. "Yoongi and I have already talked about what we feel for each other, and for you. The only question now is if you'll have us. Both of us."

Months ago, you would have called them crazy and had them exiled for fear they'd gone mad. You never imagined you could have one of them, let alone both; you had been ready to tell them both that you had been mistaken because having one by your side while your heart still yearned for the other was far more cruel than anything you could put in the Fields of Punishment.

Now? Now you know what the Isles must feel like. It is Yoongi in front of you, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek while Hoseok's warmth is steady behind you, one arm encircling your waist and keeping you steady.

"Both of you?" You echo. Yoongi nods.

"You don't have to," Hoseok says from behind you. "But we know how you feel about us, and we're sure in how we feel for each other. There are stranger pairings in the world, aren't there?"

"Only one of you could be king." You aren't sure why you say that, can't remember why it even matters when Hoseok trails his lips over the shell of your ear.

"I never have looked good on a throne," He says. Yoongi's chest rumbles in a laugh, and you could cry at the sight of that familiar gummy smile.

"Please," Yoongi eventually says. "Please say yes." You search his eyes for any hint of indecision or regret, and when you find none, you turn to Hoseok. He has a soft, encouraging smile on his face, and he holds your crown in his free hand. The cool black metal is harsh against his tanned skin, but what draws your eye isn't the way the bones are fused together or the etchings of historical scenes across each. No, it's the soft pale green blossoms woven in among the metal, a stark contrast to the harshness of the bones, and the silver thread twined around all of it, dipping in and out in various places but clearly noticeable in the light. It's a perfect representation of the three of you and it makes your chest swell.

"Yes," You breathe. They don't move, and your eyes dart between them. "Yes, absolutely. I can think of nothing I have ever wanted more."

Yoongi surges forward, capturing you in a long-awaited kiss. His lips are soft as blossoms against yours, warm and gentle as the hands that cup your jaw and draw you closer. You're aware, distantly, of the soft clink of metal on stone as Hoseok sets your crown to the side, though his arm never leaves your waist.

Hours could have passed with Yoongi kissing you. You aren't sure. Time runs together and blends, a dizzying whirlwind of slow drags of his lips across yours followed by quick, messy bursts of his tongue. You can barely focus on what is happening, mind split between the absolute euphoria of kissing him and the heat that comes from Hoseok's fingers dancing along your waist and shoulders, his breath ghosting over your neck as he watches. When Yoongi finally detaches from your lips, he ducks down to suck at the exposed skin of your collarbone, and Hoseok turns your chin so you face him.

"May I, my lady?" He asks. His voice is rough and deeper than you're used to, affected by the sight of you and Yoongi. His fingers twine with the strings holding your robes together and you give him a nod. It doesn't even take a full breath before the black material is pooling at your feet. Hoseok stifles something that sounds suspiciously like a moan behind you, and you think Yoongi actually purrs. They both run their hands along your skin, basking in the goosebumps that they raise and the shivers that crawl up your spine.

"Absolutely ethereal," Yoongi mutters. You pull him into another kiss, one hand coming up to rest against his shoulder while your other tangles in Hoseok's hair where he's doing his level-best to leave his mark on your neck.

"Please," You murmur. "I want to make you happy."

"You've already done that, my queen," He says. His smile is soft and the glint in his eye is sharp. You huff a little and tap twice at Hoseok's neck; when he pulls away, pouting but compliant, you push Yoongi until he's falling back onto your bed. He goes with no objections, one hand twining his fingers with yours and you crawl up to straddle his hips. "Let me please you, my queen. I've been waiting six months to taste you, and I don't want to waste another moment if I don't have to."

Your breath hitches as Hoseok steps up behind you. The bare skin of his chest is a shock as it presses against your back, and he slides his hands along your sides before beginning to tease your nipples. You stifle the moan, emitting more of a whine than anything, and you think you nod. All you know is the heat between your legs and the knee-deep ache to make them happy.

Yoongi's between your legs in a flash. You can't be sure how exactly he moved so quickly without jostling you, but the thought is all but shoved out of your mind as he swipes his tongue against you for the first time. You're glad Hoseok is behind you because your legs are already trembling where they're curled under you and your head drops back to rest against his shoulder. As merciless as Hoseok is in his torment of your chest, Yoongi is doubly so.

You imagine a man starving and dehydrated in a desert wouldn't be this invested in a sudden banquet laid in front of him; Yoongi worships you, circling your clit several times before dipping down to dart teasingly in and out of your hole. He laps up every single drop of your arousal, dutiful in his mission even as Hoseok begins to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The heat of his breath has you closer to the edge than you want to admit, but the sheer love that radiates from his words at the same time Yoongi rumbles out a heavenly moan straight into your folds, tongue buried inside of you, is what drives you over the edge.

You aren't surprised when neither of them stop; you get the sense Yoongi is thoroughly enjoying himself between your thighs, based on the growing tent in his robes. Hoseok grinds against your ass, and his own hardness presses against you with every painless thrust of his hips. A pang of guilt shoots through you and your hands drop. It's a bit of an awkward angle, but you make it work as you glide your hands over him. He's thick, that's for sure, and nearly as long as your forearm. How you're supposed to take that inside of you is anyone's guess, but as Yoongi brings you to yet another orgasm with his mouth, you realize that's exactly what they're preparing you for.

The whimper comes unbidden, walls clenching around nothing at the thought of them filling you, and they both shudder. "Please," You gasp, "Please, I need you. Both of you."

Yoongi graciously lets you rise off of him, and when you settle on your back, he sits up to smile at you. His lips and chin are absolutely coating in your slick, the sight erotic and exciting. The feeling is doubled as Hoseok grips Yoongi's chin, turning the mint-haired god to face him.

"How does she taste, my flower?" He purrs. You don't hear Yoongi's response, just the deep thrum of his voice, but you see the way Hoseok runs his thumb across Yoongi's lips, collecting your juices, before sliding it into his own mouth. You moan at the sight, Hoseok's eyes falling closed as he relishes in the taste of you. Yoongi strips out of his robes while he can, and he doesn't seem to miss the way your and Hoseok's eyes watch hungrily.

"Tell me what you want," Hoseok says, pulling you closer as Yoongi settles behind you. "We're here for you, my queen."

"I…" You falter. You aren't even sure what you want now; you've spent six months trying to figure out how to tell both of the men you love that you can't be with either of them and now you have both of them naked in your bed, waiting to please you. You can hardly think, can't focus beyond the feel of their skin against yours and the heat of their gaze, but you know one thing.

You need them to know how desperately you love them, and with the fire burning between your thighs, there is exactly one way you can do that.

"I need you inside me, Hobi," You tell him. "I need to feel you inside of me. Yoongi, too. Both of you." Hoseok's cock twitches and something in his jaw clicks. You don't wait for more of a response, choosing instead to slide across the sheets to straddle Hoseok's hips. His hands rest lightly on your hips, tentative now, and you smile at him. His hands are gentle now, soft as the smile he gives you in return. His cock is dripping and red, a warm heat in your palm as you guide him to your entrance.

The look in his eyes, the small moan he releases, the hitch in Yoongi's breath behind you as you slowly sink down onto Hoseok will forever be etched into your memory. You're so full that you could cry; he feels absolutely perfect inside of you, and it only gets better as he guides you carefully up and then back down onto him. Your moan is felt more than heard and it only gets louder as he speeds up. His fingers are marble against your his, unmoving and firm as he slides in and out. He doesn't look away for a second and neither do you; all the years you've spent thinking about him, the millennia you've ached to love and be loved by him, it has all led to this. Your hips moving against his, connected in a way you've never been before; if it were possible to read his thoughts, you think you could at this moment, because they must be a mirror of your own.

"I love you," You whisper. Yoongi's warmth presses against your spine as he slides a finger between the two of you to rub slow circles into your clit, and you gasp. "I love you, Hobi, so much." The words are a mantra on your lips, and you think there may be tears in his eyes but you can't be sure because you're coming again, shuddering on top of him, and Yoongi is gently pulling you off.

Hands turn you, and now it's Yoongi between your legs, cock red and throbbing where it sits against his stomach. He isn't as long as Hoseok, but he's wider, and you clench again at the sight.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a soft kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth. You slide down onto him, welcoming the slight burn that comes with the stretch. It takes two breaths for you to become impatient and begin to move, grinding your hips down against his. Yoongi isn't as loud as Hoseok, soft pants and whines where Hobi is echoing moans and groans, but it's just as attractive. He moves his hips in tandem with yours, and the muses themselves couldn't have created a better rhythm. The words fall from your lips again; it's easier, now that you've said them to someone, to let them go. They don't ball in your throat, aren't a lump to swallow down anymore, and you revel in the feeling.

"I love you," Yoongi returns, thumbs ghosting over the skin of your thighs. "So much, both of you. Saved me, can't fucking...fuck, can't tell you enough." You nod and loose another moan when Hoseok slides a finger in alongside Yoongi's cock.

"Do you think she can take us both, my flower?" Hoseok asks. His voice is raspy in your ear and you shudder as you orgasm again. There's a moment when you wonder just how many times you can come from the two of them, but it's gone the second Yoongi speaks.

"I think she could," Yoongi responds. "She's certainly wet enough. Absolutely soaked, aren't you, my queen? Do you want that? Both of us in here, filling you up?" He punctuates every word with another thrust of his hips and you nod. You don't think you've ever wanted anything more.

Hoseok is careful as he fingers you, working you open with one, then two, then three fingers as Yoongi slides in and out. You'd commend them both on their stamina if you could spare a single thought to anything but the feeling of them. Yoongi looks wrecked, covered in sweat with swollen lips, panting and desperate as he writhes beneath you.

When Hoseok finally decides you're ready, he slides his fingers out and asks you again if you're sure. You barely have the presence of mind to nod, too close to coming again, but it's enough for him. He slides in, and all three of you are moaning. You can't be sure what it feels like for them, but you're in absolute bliss. Hoseok peppers your shoulder with chaste kisses, murmuring encouragement as he sinks deeper inside. His cock drags against your walls and Yoongi's dick, and the thought makes you clench around them both. You're so full, you may explode, but it's perfection. When Hoseok bottoms out inside of you, you're all still for a while, just getting used to it.

"You're perfect," Hoseok whispers into your skin. "Both of you, you're both fucking perfect. Fuck, can I-?"

"Yes," You interrupt. You're already grinding down onto them, desperate for any kind of friction. "Please, Hobi." He grunts as he starts to move, and Yoongi does the same. They get a steady rhythm after a while, one sinking in as deep as he could get as the other drags outward, only to slam back in at the last second.

A sob builds in your throat, the sheer pleasure rolling through your body too much to handle as orgasm after orgasm slammed into you. There are hands everywhere, two on your hips keeping you steady, two roaming your body and teasing your nipples, on one Hoseok's neck to keep him close as another rests lightly against Yoongi's throat. You aren't sure which are yours, can't tell where you end and they begin, too fucked out to be able to think beyond the drag of their cocks against your walls and the growing ache inside you.

"Please," You gasp. "Please, need it. Fill me, please, need you both to fill me, make me yours, forever. Mark me. I'm yours, always, please, fill me with you." They both groan at that, and their pace speeds up. They're hitting harder and deeper and brushing against the spot inside of you that makes your vision turn white. Something gushes down your thighs as you spasm around them wildly, hips jerking of their own accord, and you feel it as they come together, hot seed spilling inside of you as you ride out your highs together.

You're panting and sweaty and hot and still, you don't think you'd trade this for even a moment of sunlight. They slide out of you and their cum seeps down your legs before you can stop it. You fall to the bed beside Yoongi, chest heaving even as he wraps you in his arms. A wave of your hand creates a small fan near the bed, shadows churning out cool air that feels like ambrosia on your skin.

Hoseok reappears with water for you both, and you thank him. Your voice is nearly gone, but it's worth it, you think. You pat the space beside you and Hoseok climbs in. His skin is hot against yours; the three of you are essentially a furnace at the moment, but you can't bring yourself to care. You can't count how many orgasms you had or how long you spent with them; it could have been minutes or hours or even days. It doesn't matter to you, really. Sprawled between an already-sleeping Yoongi and a Hoseok that's tracing invisible designs onto your skin, you have everything you could ever want.

Later you sit atop the shadows near your bed, chin in your hand as you admire the card between your fingers. Yoongi and Hoseok are wrapped around each other in your bed, lightly snoring as the sheets rise and fall against their naked chests. As you watch them, Hoseok’s brow furrows and he lazily stretches his arm to pat against the bed in search of you. He snuffles a little, and Yoongi nuzzles deeper into the crook of his neck until they’re both quiet again.

Silver foil glints in the light and you look back at the card in your hand. There’s a stack a hundred high beside you, all of them identical to the next save for the curling letters that make up the recipients, but this one is special. This one is your favorite. If you didn’t absolutely have to send it off, you would frame it and hang it above your throne; ultimately, though, you’d rather bask in the aftermath that’s sure to come.

With a small smile, you set it atop the others and wrap the bit of twine around them all. It’s gone with a wave of your hand, no doubt appearing wherever Hermes is. You wish you could see the look on his face when he realizes what they are, but he’s not the one that you really wish you could watch.

The raspy call of your name brings you back to the present, and you look up to find Yoongi watching you, lids heavy with sleep and eyes dark. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You grin and stand, letting the shadows underneath you fall away. “Just sending out a quick notice.” You slide in beside him and Hobi, the latter still asleep but turning to wrap his arms around you nonetheless. Yoongi presses kisses to your knuckles and you pull a stray flower petal from his hair.

“You’re gloating, aren’t you?” He mutters. There’s a smile behind his eyes, and it warms you.

“Maybe a bit.” You lean over and kiss him, gentle and tender and you hope that it conveys everything you can’t put into words. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No,” Yoongi answers after a long pause in which he moves to straddle Hoseok’s hips in order to get close enough to suck marks into your neck. His lips are slow against your skin, tired and lazy from sleep. “I think I enjoy this side of you, actually.” “I, for one, am very much enjoying this side of you.” You grin at Hoseok’s words, smiling down at him. He’s half-hard again, hands resting lightly on Yoongi’s hips and eyes fixed on the bruises that bloom on your neck. “I thought we were sleeping.”

“We were,” You tell him. “You can always go back to sleep if you want.”

“You wish,” He mutters. Yoongi groans against your neck and you look down to see Hoseok palming him, working him up to fullness as Yoongi fucks into his hand. You wrap one of your own around Hoseok and return the favor; the way his moan echoes through the room is better than anything the nine muses could have created.

It’s slow and tired, each of you already spent from your earlier activities, but when you eventually drop between them, chests heaving from your orgasms and already half-asleep again, you think it’s worth it.

When you wake later and find a card sitting on the flower-woven throne - a new addition to the hall, one most welcome - crumpled and half-torn with a thorn sticking out of it, you know it’s worth it.