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shorkbrian · 4 years

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Syndicate

Prelude: Hey pals! Sorry for not posting, usual excuse of “I saw pictures of myself and got very depressed lolololol” I have some spicy HC ideas for some of my requests, so I will be getting to those! Thank you for being so patient y’all, love u and if you have a doggo pet them for me.

Pairing: Kiribaku X Reader

Prompt: I was watching “Mission Impossible: Fallout” and there’s that one fighting scene where Hunt and Walker are beating up that dude in the bathroom and inspiration STRUCK. Cause like oof, how hot would it be for the darling to be fighting against the two of them and they just tag-team beating you up??? Bruh.

Warnings: Needles, mentions of an aphrodisiac. Fighting, blood, gunshot wounds. Mention of a headshot and brief sentence about what that might entail. Stalking. Alludes to NSFW but there is no actual smut.

Music: https://youtu.be/wyUaurKZEN4

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Your mission was clear. Pick up the hard-drive from your contact, lay low for a few months until the Syndicate stopped looking for it, then transport it out of the country.

The first step was easy - picking it up from your contact. Well, easy enough. Something had gone wrong, either someone had talked or the Syndicate was more watchful than you thought, and your contact had been killed right as he was handing over the drive. You had to flee, his blood and brain matter still dripping off your face. Whoever had shot him had gotten a bullet in you too, in your left shoulder. It had made moving excruciating, but you were built for running and hiding, hired for how good you were at sneaking yourself out of tough situations.

You had spent the next few weeks double-checking everything. You couldn’t afford any mistakes, looking over your shoulder whenever you left the dingy safehouse-apartment to get groceries, paying for everything with cash to leave no digital trail. You took a walk across town with the intent of chucking your phone in a dumpster, paranoid that somehow the syndicate had somehow tracked you, that you were responsible for the death of your contact. Every night your blinds were taped shut, your door locked and a chair placed under the handle. It was hard for you to relax, to sleep instead of watching the door, knife ready.

How you wished you had a gun, but you were barely more than a street rat. A woman had simply come up to you one day, promising you plentiful payment if you just followed a few simple, easy instructions. They would even supply a safehouse, and how you wished they would’ve also supplied a gun.

Gradually you allowed yourself to ease up, to sleep at night. There were more walks, you went out to eat, you even joined a local gym to keep yourself in shape while you waited out the next few months. Instead of ignoring your friendly neighbors, you allowed yourself to return their friendly greetings. By doing so, you learned that the pair of men living to your left went to the same gym. Sometimes you saw them there, familiar shocks of blonde and red hair catching your attention.

At first you had been suspicious, suddenly fearful that the two men were watching you, maybe they were part of the Syndicate? But you quickly brushed that aside, reasoning to yourself that too much time had passed since you grabbed the drive - plus, you had seen the pair kissing in the hallway right outside their door when you had come back from a walk the other day. They didn’t notice you until you were turning your key in the lock, and the noise made the blonde shove the redhead back, scowling and muttering as he did so. The redhead just chuckled and shrugged at you apologetically. If they were part of the Syndicate, they would have noticed your presence the moment you stepped off the elevator.

Plus, you had similar suspicions about a worker at the grocery store who always seemed to be working whenever you went, even though you tried to choose odd hours. And you were wary of the gym attendant, how he always seemed to be eyeing you whenever you were there. You had to be careful, had to watch everyone. Every time your shoulder twinged you were reminded that no matter how safe you seemed, you could always be wrong.

——

A knock at the door had you scrambling for the remote, pausing the show you were barely paying attention to. Another knock sounded as you dragged your body off the couch, tired and half-asleep. Whoever was knocking better have a good reason for bothering you, eyes finding the clock to confirm that it was as late as you thought.

Not bothering to check through the peep-hole, you swung open the door to find your two neighbors, the redhead’s fist raised to knock again.

“Oh, hey guys. Need something?”

The two men were both dressed in casual clothes - basketball shorts and t-shirts. They probably just wanted to ask if you could turn down your show or something, you hadn’t been paying attention to the volume.

The redhead lowered his hand, a sheepish smile coming across his face.

“Heyyyy, (Y/N), right? Do you have any uhm, oats?”

You blinked at him, then at his scowling partner.

“Oats?”

“Oats.”

The redhead nodded, before he realized how it must sound, and he rushed to explain. “It’s just! Bakugou here-“ he gestured to the blonde at his side, “He was making some cookies, and apparently we don’t have any oats. Could we maybe… borrow some?”

You laughed, before holding the door open, motioning for the pair to come in. “Yeah, no problem!” You shut the door after they stepped instead, then led them to the kitchen. “Honestly though, you don’t really seem like the baking type.”

You glanced at the blonde, only to find him already staring at you. Odd. He shook his head with a “tsk”.

“Yeah, well I am. Got a problem with that?”

You held up your hands innocently before reaching into a cupboard to find the container of oats. “No, of course not! It’s like in that movie with the rat, yanno? “Everyone can cook!””

Both men turned to look at you, and you mentally facepalmed. God, why were you so awkward? Sure, you were capable of stealing and hiding an important hard-drive, but you couldn’t hold a normal conversation with your two (attractive) neighbors. You tried to laugh it off, hoping the men weren’t writing you off as a socially-awkward loser. The blonde man, Bakugou, turned to scan your apartment, so you held the container of oats towards the redhead.

“Here…. There isn’t much left but you guys can have it.” The redhead smiled at you gratefully. “By the way, what’s your name? I’m assuming he’s Bakugou?”

You nodded at the blonde, who moved towards your living room. Was he going to go sit down? Maybe he was curious about what you were watching?

“Oh, I’m Kirishima! And yeah, he’s Bakugou. Thanks (Y/N).”

You don’t remember giving them your name, but it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out. Kirishima made no move to take the container from your hand, and you noticed him tensing up? You could see Bakugou from the corner of your eye, seemingly looking for something in your living room, inspecting the packed bookshelf by the couch. This seemed….. off.

“Hey uh, Kirishima?” You turned back to the redhead (who still hadn’t taken the oats, geez) “You didn’t both have to ask, I would’ve given either one of you the oats.”

“Oh! Yeah, Bakugou’s a little harsh and sometimes he needs help being civil so-“

A crash interrupted the redhead, and you whipped around, only to see all of your books on the ground, Bakugou shaking out the bookcase.

Before you could react, an arm wrapped around your waist, a hand coming into your vision, a long ziptie clenched in the fingers as they moved towards your hands.

This wasn’t good.

You threw your head back, simultaneously kicking behind you, both movements making contact with Kirishima’s body, dislodging his hold on you. You turned as he let go, the container of oats flying out of your hand, straight into the man’s face. It burst open, contents flying everywhere as you used the distraction to throw a quick jab to Kirishima’s throat. He choked, stumbling backwards before you kicked him squarely in the stomach, sending him to the ground.

You were still focused on him, advancing on his form as he tried to stagger up when a large hand gripped the side of your head. In a flurry of movement, you were pitching sideways, the hand forcing your head to bounce off your kitchen counter.

Fuck, you had forgotten about Bakugou.

A sharp, throbbing pain followed you as you collapsed to the ground, dark spots dancing in your vision. This wasn’t good. You were dazed, disoriented as Bakugou stepped over you, moving to check on his partner. You were proficient in hand-to-hand, but your skills were more suited in running and hiding, evading. There was no way you could take on two athletic men.

You should’ve listened to your gut, followed the instinct that the two men were somehow bad news. Bakugou helped Kirishima to his feet, and you saw their lips moving. Your head ached. You struggled to get your feet underneath you, hands gripping the counter as you tried to haul yourself up.

You had to run.

If they found the hard-drive, bad things would happen. You needed to run, to get away.

The two men turned towards you, Bakugou taking something out of his pocket, Kirishima rubbing at his throat. You weren’t even on your feet yet, still scrabbling against the counter for support when you saw what Bakugou had.

A syringe.

You collapsed onto the ground again, kicking your legs as you tried to drag yourself backwards, black dots still dancing around your vision. They were going to kill you.

Kirishima stepped behind you, an arm wrapping around your chest to pull you to a sitting position. You tried to push him off, bite his hand, anything, but you were too woozy.

Bakugou stepped over you, crouching down with syringe in hand. He flashed his teeth at you, eyebrows drawn as he leaned in.

“No, no no no no-“

There was nothing you could do as he jabbed it in your neck.

——

Waking up was confusing. There was no pain, just a sense of calm as you groggily opened your eyes, consciousness returning to you.

The room you were in was relatively bare. Nothing surrounded you but grey walls, and the only furniture was the table you were chained to, and the chair you were seated on.

You sat there, blinking down at the chain trapping you to the desk, slowly filtering through what you remembered last, trying to piece together where you were, what had happened. You didn’t like what you were able to recall.

Head buried between your hands, you wanted to hit something. You had failed at keeping the hard-drive safe, failed at your mission. You had slipped up, gotten too relaxed. Fuck.

You could only hope that you had hidden the drive well enough.

The door in the room slammed open, making you jump, chain rattling. Bakugou smirked at you from the doorway, before sauntering in, Kirishima following. The two looked totally different, both in pressed suits, Kirishima’s red hair spiked up. They both had dark, satisfied looks on their faces. You wanted to punch them. There were apparently chairs on the other side of the table, the pair sitting down across from you, Bakugou crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ll kill you.”

Voice quiet, you could barely contain your rage. You wanted the both of them gone, wanted to hit until your knuckles were bloody, until their bodies stopped moving. And you weren’t even that type of agent.

Bakugou snorted, before leaning forward. “Yeah? And how’d that go for you back in that shitty little apartment? You’re so fucking weak.”

You fumed, jaw clenching as you glared at the man. If you could, you would bite into his neck, tear out his jugular and make him bleed. What he was saying was true, but you were willing to try and prove yourself.

“Hey, lets all get along here.” Your focus snapped to Kirishima, who seemed… different. When you had seen him before, he was all smiles, goofy and floppy, like a big puppy. Now he was calm, held an air of dangerous confidence. Somehow he scared you more than his feral companion. “(Y/N), you’re going to cooperate with us. If you don’t, we have methods that would be more than enjoyable for Bakugou and I, but you would find far less than pleasant. Now-“

“I’m not telling you anything.” You snapped, causing Kirishima to raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t need you to tell us anything. We already found the hard-drive. Where was it, Bakugou? In the bathroom, right?”

Your blood ran cold.

“It was in the fucking floor. Under the tile and packed into a brick. A goddamn hollowed-out brick.” Bakugou clarified, confirming your fears.

They had found it.

“H-How??” You spluttered, face turning red. You almost felt like crying. You had failed, horribly.

“It’s not that hard to figure out where tile’s been replaced, (Y/N). Pro tip; never become a home renovator.”

Kirishima chuckled at his jab, watching your face twist further. You could tell they were enjoying this. If they already had the hard drive, what were you still doing alive?

“What do you want then? I don’t have anything other than that drive. You want information? I don’t even know who hired me to safeguard it. You’re out of luck, you stupid fucks.”

Bakugou leaned forward suddenly, slamming his hands down on the table and making you flinch back.

“Do you even know how fucking /worthless/ you are to the Syndicate? They could get more use out of a flat tire than they could get out of you. Sure, you’re good at hiding and running and all that shit, but obviously not that good. Kiri and I found you a week after you got the drive.”

Oh god. You wanted to cry. Bakugou noticed, a sick smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah, you were a fuckin’ mess. Found you cause you got shot, left a bunch of blood at the scene. Then we get word of some idiot running through town flickin’ blood everywhere. Wasn’t that hard to put two-and-two together. I bet you’re a goddamn newbie, aren’t you?”

You glared at him. How could he tell? You were just trying to make money, this your first ‘real’ job after spending almost your entire life living on the streets. Kirishima nudged Bakugou as you started sniffing, trying your hardest not to cry in front of the two men.

“What Bakugou’s trying to say, is that the Syndicate doesn’t need anything from you. Bakugou and I however, do. You could say we got sort of…. attached, after watching you for so long.”

“I’m surprised you never even noticed that we bugged your shitty apartment. Seriously, how did you miss all the fucking cameras? Not that I’m complaining; just cements the fact that you’re so fuckin’ inexperienced.”

You were desperately trying to rationalize this to yourself, eyes darting back and forth between the two men. You were ready for them to yell “surprise!!” And bring out the torture tools. They couldn’t be serious. They had been watching you? They had you on camera?? Kirishima cleared his throat, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We were gonna wait until you pulled the drive out of it’s hiding place. You never did, the higher-ups got antsy and ordered us to move. That’s why we came looking for it the other night….. sorry about that.”

“Wish we would’ve gotten more time on the cameras.” Bakugou scoffed quietly, looking up as you trembled under the onslaught of information. “You put on quite a few shows, fucking enjoyed those.”

Would it be possible for you to somehow disappear? Yes, you had masturbated a few times, but you were a young, healthy individual, with needs! As far as you had known, you were in the safety of your apartment, away from prying eyes. You didn’t know you were being watched!!

You blushed in embarrassment, beginning to shake harder. You didn’t like where this was going, what the two men seemed to be implying. Kirishima laid a syringe on the table, letting it clack gently against the metal as he met your eyes.

“(Y/N), you can either do what we say, or I’ll have to inject you with this. I want you to-“

“What’s in there?” You nodded towards the syringe, noting Kirishima’s big, meaty hands wrapped around it, ready to rush over the table and shove it in your neck.

Bakugou barked out a laugh before Kirishima could respond, leveling you with a dark look. “It’s an aphrodisiac. It’ll turn you into a little horny mess, and the only hard part of getting you home will be making sure you don’t try to jump Kiri or I before we can get you in the car.” He sniggered, much to your horror.

Kirishima sighed, even though you could tell he wanted that to happen. His fingers were tapping against the syringe impatiently, his body shifting subtly; he almost looked like he was holding back from jumping you himself. You gulped. You felt so cold, goosebumps rising along your flesh as you shivered. Was it because the room was cold, or because of fear? You couldn’t tell. Kiri stood up, producing a key from his pocket as he stepped towards you. He leaned down to unlock the chain strapping your hands to the table, before straightening, looking down at you threateningly.

“You be nice and good while we walk you out, otherwise Bakugou and I get to have our fun right here in the halls, where everyone can see.”

You felt trapped. There was nothing for you to do but nod.

#ew lol #yandere #polykiribaku #poly relationship #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #yandere kirishima #bakugou katsuki #yanderebakugou #bakugou x reader #stalking #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kiri #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #yandere oneshot #oneshot #kiri

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dolphin-enthusiast · 4 years

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Hey bro, I hope you're doing well🥺💖 if your hcs are open, could you do hcs with bucci gang and a s/o getting catcalled/street harassed (only if this is not a trigger for you obviously)? I am upset 🙂🙂🙂...ANYWAy I love you sOoo much Morgane

This is extremely late my apologies but dw I don’t mind writing for sensitive topics such as this one!!! Behavior like this absolutely enrages me and you have all the rights to be upset because it’s fuckin vile. It goes without saying but tw harassment yadda yadda.

Bruno:

- He’s usually freakishly good at masking his true feelings and overall keeping his calm under pressure, but if he were to actually witness you getting catcalled he’s going to go lowkey sicko mode. His motherly/protective instincts kick in and he’s instantly death glaring the person who dared wrong you like that right on his weary watch. Honestly he’d feel like throwing a fit even if it didn’t happen before his very eyes. No, he’d be EVEN more enraged if you’d just come home one day and tell him that since he wasn’t there to intervene.

- At this point he doesn’t even have to do much, all that it takes is for Bruno to shoot said person a quick murderous glare then tell them to beat it and they’ll instantly fuck off not even 2 seconds later. After they are out of scene, he flips back to his usual calm and polite self (the d u a l i t y of man) as he proceeds to check up on you by asking if that asshole’s words managed to get to you. Hell, this man is going to be comforting you for hours and wouldn’t let go of you unless you were absolutely certain you were feeling at least just a little better.

- No matter your response, Bruno is going to pull you into his arms and firmly let you know that he’ll never let anyone hurt you. As long as he lives and he’s by your side he’s going to fight whoever dares to bother you, you have his absolute word for it. Normally he’d at first try solving the issue through diplomatic means but there’s just something about catcalling that utterly enrages him and makes him lose control for a few seconds, let alone if it’s his partner we’re talking about. Tl;dr: dont fucking make the mistake of wronging his s/o, he’ll fucking end you.

Giorno:

- Just like Bruno, but 3 times more menacing if that’s even possible. If Bruno managed to hold himself back just a bit and didn’t let his anger COMPLETELY consume him in that moment, our dear aries right here is quite the opposite. Sure it’s not like he’s going to throw said person into a death loop of despair (although that’s the first thing that would cross his mind), but in that second Gio wouldn’t really be able to mask his emotions like he usually does.

- If it happened before his eyes, that person is as good as dead. He merely steps in between you two, hooks an arm around your waist and “kindly” asks said person to repeat themselves since he’s not sure whether he heard them correctly or not the first time. At this point the person in question would already be getting lowkey uneasy since Gio’s aura and overall presence would be goddamn menacing, and so they’d be beating it in due time after he throws them a cold glare and tells them to never speak to you in this way ever again.

- Akin to Bruno, he’d revert back to his usual calm self right after that asshole leaves then ever so gently he’d check up on you and tell you that you should ignore their dirty, meaningless words and that he’ll be there to protect you always. That day Gio would try his best at keeping you preoccupied and cheering you up since he wouldn’t want you to think of this experience again. He’d put on an unbothered mask for you but deep down he’d still be fuming at the thought of another person just...insulting someone like that. Not only a random someone, but HIS beloved.

Abbacchio:

- Straight up shoves his fist in front of their face, I ain’t even joking. The second he hears them whistling and saying some dumb dirty shit he’s instantly walking over to them whilst seeing fucking red and asking if they have a problem with HIS partner. As said person would desperately try explaining themselves, Abbacchio would merely scowl then threaten to beat the fuck out of them if they don’t fuck outta here in the next 3 seconds.

- He’d be highkey scary threatening that person like that but would then try calming himself down in order to be able to actually think rationally again and check up on you. By the time he’d walk over you and grab your shoulders whilst asking if you’re alright, poor Abba would still be breathing heavily, his cheeks tinted red from the previous intense anger episode. He’d immediately escort you away from the place where the harassment happened as he’d keep reassuring you that you’re safe now with him here.

- That day Abba would keep replaying that episode inside his head over and over because he simply cannot understand how someone could just speak to a stranger in such a horrible way, and the thought of you getting insulted like that is enough to send him into a fit of anger, let alone if you were actually touched by said person. He’s absolutely ready to square up for you 25/8 and, although he’s not the best with words, he’s going to make sure that you’re feeling better and would keep cuddling and comforting you for as long as you need in an attempt to make you forget about the incident.

Mista:

- Makes a damn scene and rightfully so. He’s already a very touchy guy even in public, so the fact that the person in question clearly saw the both of you together and STILL decided to hit on you absolutely enrages him. Hell, even if you were alone what do they think gives them the right to talk to someone else like that??? Mista cannot wrap his head around it and at this point he doesn’t even try to anymore, he’s full on f u m i n g. He already took on some fuckers that were harassing a poor woman in the past and will gladly do it again for his partner.

- Whether he was there when it happened or not, you bet your ass that Mista is going to go on a rant and insult that person’s entire bloodline, mostly using italian curse words of course. He’d hate himself for not being there to properly protect you if it happened when you were alone, but if we’re talking about him actually WITNESSING that scene then it’s game fucking o v e r. Mista would just go like “O I” then waltz towards that rude ass with his fist clenched and brows tightly knitted together in sheer anger. He’d be screaming his ass off at that person telling them to never get near you again, calling them out on their bs right in front of everyone else on the damn street.

- He wouldn’t be afraid to legit fight them whilst everyone was watching either so you’d most likely have to drag his ass away from there or else he’d end up fucking killing them or something. Mista would need some time to come down from his rage episode but when he does he’s going to be apologizing over and over for his outburst, quite literally crushing you into his arms afterwards and trying not to fucking cry whilst telling you how much he loves you and how he’s going to beat up anyone else that tries wronging you like that again. Expect him to be EVEN more clingy than usual for the next few hours as well since he can get v e r y protective over you.

Fugo:

- As expected, probably the one that erupts the worst. If you thought Mista and Abbacchio threw a scene honey you ain’t seen s h i t. The second he hears that person call out to you in an insulting way he’s violently whipping his head around towards them, his jaw clenched and hands trembling with anger. In that second said person knows they F U C K E D U P because Fugo starts screaming his ass off and calling them all sorts of colorful insults.

- Just like in Mista’s case you’d have to hold him down or else he can and WILL kill them. Fugo has absolutely 0 patience and regard for people that do this also because of personal reasons, so it would almost be ptsd inducing for the poor man. Not only would he be utterly enraged with such behavior directed at a total stranger (who also happened to be his beloved mind you), but it would also remind him of some past experiences he wished he could forget.

- Afterwards Fugo will be unusually clingy and significantly more open with his feelings, telling you over and over how he’ll stop at nothing to protect you and constantly expressing his love for you through gentle touches and soft words. He’s normally extremely shy when it comes to showing affection, but after this he’d feel an overwhelming need to be there for you and comfort you through your distress, swearing that he’ll protect you no matter what and that you shouldn’t care for such heinous comments coming from an uneducated rude ass.

Narancia:

- At first is flabbergasted and tries to process what that person just said. Did he hear that right?? Are they really serious?? Did they really just dare to mess with Y O U???? That’s it, Narancia is angrily stomping towards the scene, throwing an arm around your shoulders whilst straight up bullying your harasser for their disgusting behavior. Now if said person tries mocking him that would be their last mistake because Narancia can and WILL throw goddamn fists regardless of who’s watching.

- He’ll tell off anyone that bothered you then smother you in hugs and spoil you with anything you wanted in an attempt to cheer you up. He’s also a surprisingly good listener so you can pretty much pour your heart out at him for he will sit through it all then proceed to comfort and hug you plenty. He may be smol but Narancia has no fear of fighting for his close ones, so he’ll let you know that whenever someone else starts bs you should immediately call him.

- He doesn’t like dwelling in the negative feelings and will instruct you on doing the same. Basically, he’ll try getting your mind off of things to the best of his abilities and is going to constantly be encouraging and reassuring you. Narancia is pretty much a walking serotonin machine who will be your emotional support human as well as your “bodyguard” because he really likes to pride himself in protecting and keeping you safe.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #Vento Aureo #bucci gang #jojo headcanons #headcanons #anon #tw

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all-or-nothing-baby · 4 years

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Would love to see you do U with Destiel

Mini-fic prompt-fill. The letter U is "Coming Home".

@avidbkwrm For you, Spencer... here you go, my friend <3

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The Last Time

Tags: Dean POV, Modern AU, Drug and Alcohol Misuse, Prostitution, Hurt With Comfort, Angst With A Happy Ending.

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Getting back to his shitty apartment afterwards was always the worst part.

It wasn't the peeling wallpaper that bothered Dean. He didn't care that there were only bare floorboards splashed with spilled paint in the bathroom. Couldn’t even give a shit that the wet rot, in the corner above the sofa, was probably the cause of his perpetual cough. And yeah, okay, so he knew the fuck-ton of weed he smoked, on top of the booze, didn’t exactly help. And no, it didn’t exactly make him forget, either. But it did help him to give less of a shit about how shitty he felt.

...until the next time.

Cas was a drug. Dean had known it from the start, had known he shouldn’t get involved. Known he’d end up losing people too, if he did. And he had. But fuck, after that first time? He was hooked. A junkie. Now, he was so far fucking gone it was scary because being with Cas was better than anything Dean had ever had. And whenever Dean wasn’t tangled up in sheets and smiles, all sticky, with him? He was in hell. Especially right afterwards… the instant craving was unbearable. Still tasting his sharp citrusy taste; smelling of bubble gum and baby wipes, just like him; running his rough fingertips over the pink and tender places he'd been claimed. Yeah, Cas was the drug Dean didn’t know how to quit. And Jesus, he didn’t want to, which was worse.

Yet still, at first, he'd swear every visit was the last.

…until the next time.

Dean had lived all over, growing up. Cheap hotels and motels, trailer parks. And worse. Never knew what it was to settle and lay roots. Cas told him he'd been raised the polar opposite: huge family, a single home his whole life. Until his folks had found out he liked dicks not chicks and tried to bible-bash it outta him, quite literally. Cas had left and never contacted them again. And it turned out, being where he was now was better than being on the streets.

Really don't know why I'm telling you all this, he'd said to Dean after only the second time. Maybe it's just those kind eyes? he'd smiled. But I'm sorry, you're not paying to hear about my screwed-up life in a sob-story… want me to fuck you now, baby?

Dean had never gone with a sex worker before. Hated the idea—not for him, exactly, but for them. The idea that some people thought they were worth so little that they'd sell themselves? It horrified him. But walking out that bar that night and seeing that dark, unruly hair and those blue, blue eyes heading straight for him, coming for him...

Hey, beautiful, wanna spend the night with an angel?

No such thing, Dean had tried. But it had come out as a question, a challenge. An almost prove me wrong, please—and with a smile he couldn't have helped if he'd tried.

The man—dressed in a long coat, black boots and tight jeans; the crispest of white shirts with a low slung tie; and an eight o'clock shadow Dean instantly craved to leave a tingle on his inside thighs—had smiled back and said, that's your problem, beautiful. You have no faith.

By the time Dean had left the No-Tell room later that night—left Jimmy, as he'd called himself back then—Dean was born again. His belief suddenly so strong, he'd gone back to his apartment and goddammit he'd prayed.

But for the days that followed, the guilt was overwhelming. Dean had hoped beyond hope he'd be strong enough to stay away from the stranger he now wanted to help; to take away from this dangerous life, this mess Jimmy had gotten himself into... No. Dean told himself he wouldn't go back. It was wrong, on so many levels. Shit, he didn't even know the guy from Adam and yet, what, he wanted to save him?

Dean actually did actually managed to keep his distance, for a time. For a little while, he thought sense had won out.

...until the next time.

After that, Dean became fucking devout. Being with Jimmy—with Cas—very quickly became more than a one-sided thing… it became about not just fucking, but enjoying each other. Them tasting and devouring each other. Holding out for one another. Worshipping each other. Had the tables now turned? Was Cas really the angel he'd said he was and Dean, the sinner who needed saving? For the two hours a week that Dean could barely afford, Dean was happy. They'd often spend time just talking, tracing patterns on the others skin. As contradictory and ironic as it was, being with Cas? It honest to God felt holy. Dean was a better man when with him. Wanted to do better because of him. Felt more himself than he ever had before. And soon, inevitably, every time he'd leave Cas, it was ten times harder than the last.

...until the next time.

The night Dean saw the bruises was the night he'd started thinking seriously about it.

Doesn't usually happen, Cas had promised. Like it was nothing. Dean called bullshit, his voice tinged with anger. But he was mostly completely fucking heartbroken. He felt helpless. Dean had kissed each purpling mark with gentle lips and stroked that untamable hair for over his allotted time slot. Paid the extra. Told Cas dumb jokes that Cas laughed at regardless. They watched some TV together on Dean's phone, tied up like a pretzel.

Turned out Cas had... refused to fulfill some specific act and the disgruntled john had complained to Cas' twisted pimp, Naomi, who'd then set her muscle on him. They were supposed to just scare me a little—well, a lot, Cas had smiled sadly. Maybe swirlie me or choke me out, you know? They weren't supposed to beat him. To mark him. He'd admitted, the clients don't like that—well, most of them, anyways. Some were sicker fucks than others. After ten months, Dean knew that by now.

Soon after, Dean had started working longer shifts at the restaurant, always asking for overtime. It meant they sometimes couldn't meet, or maybe only had an hour together instead of two, what with Cas' workload being not exactly flexible. It was tough. And maybe not just on Dean? Cas almost seemed disappointed whenever Dean told him he wouldn't be seeing him as usual. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Dean's part. He'd thought they'd had a connection but... Dean didn't have the words to ask. So he'd just hoped Cas understood. He seemed to, mostly. But sometimes, he'd get that look in those baby-blues. The one that said, you've lost faith in me Dean. And, at one point, Dean worried this just couldn't work. That maybe he'd lost what little faith he had in himself. That Cas probably had no faith in Dean to begin with.

...until the next time.

Dean wasn't sure if it had been a slip. An accidental admission. He'd been so close, so many times, to uttering the words himself. But he'd never imagined Cas letting his guard down in that way. And honestly? Dean had stopped allowing himself to think about the possibility of it being a reality at all.

I love you Dean, Cas had whispered in a breath. And then Dean found that he couldn't breathe at all, the air in his lungs leaving in a rush. Time stopped and for a moment everything was the way it should be. Just them and this…. and then Dean realised, Cas probably just needed the money. Wanted Dean to start coming back more regularly because he always paid well. Dean treated Cas well, too. And what if the other clients were rougher, meaner? Yeah, these things. Dean knew they were the real reason Cas had said what he'd said. Not some accidental slip.

But it didn't really matter, not to Dean. He'd already made up his mind. So, he'd said nothing. Pretended he hadn't heard.

...until the next time.

Dean packed up the few things he owned. Left all the crappy furniture he'd accumulated in the equally crappy apartment he hated, got in his car and didn't look back.

They made love, because he knew it would probably be the last time. Dean savoured every second with Cas. Hoped his long licks and trembling bites, soft moans and desperate squeezes told Cas everything Dean knew he still had to say, so he wouldn't have to… but, as astute as his angel in a trench coat was, Cas couldn't read minds.

So, Dean dressed. Then, chewing at his bottom lip, emptied the bag he'd brought with him onto the bed. Cas' eyes blew wide at the sight of all the bills that spilled from Dean's largest duffle.

I can't do this, Cas, he blurted. Can't let my decisions be controlled by some high and mighty less-than-human asshole anymore. So I'm... leaving. And I ain't comin' back... and he only stopped to take a breath, steal his courage, because there was more to the speech he'd planned—but Cas cut him off there.

It's okay, I was waiting for this. Knew it was probably coming, Cas said flatly. Then he spat, but, Dean, do you really think I want your fucking money? God, I was so foolish to think that maybe you... Just, please leave, Dean. Leave and let me keep the ounce of dignity I'm managing to hang on to. Cas turned away from Dean now. Wouldn't let him see those pretty blue eyes.

Then Dean said it. Cas, I want you to come with me. Don't know where, but I wanna get you outta this.

Dean knew he had to do more. Say more. Cas needed the words neither had really spoken; had rarely been said to either of them. Hell, Dean needed to say them just as much.

Not able to look directly at the man who meant everything to him—too scared, too cowardly—Dean said, I love you, Cas. Like nothing else. And I know you only said it to me 'cause you thought you had to... but it's okay. I don't mind that you don't. I just wanna… I gotta help you be safe, man. Away from here. Please let me. Then you can go wherever you like, do whatever you wanna and I'll—

A small sob cut Dean's speech short. He looked up at Cas as, terrified his words had maybe had the opposite effect. But Cas flew at Dean, threw arms around Dean's neck and held onto him, speaking quiet yes, yes, yeses, into the shoulder of Dean's leather jacket.

They left via the fire escape.

...it was the last time.

Dean drove them into and through the night, Cas gripping his free hand tightly, not letting go. Not even once.

After two more days on the road, when they were about to leave the state, Dean asked Cas, where to?

Cas said, take me home.

Unsure of what it meant but sure about this—about them—Dean asked, where is home, sweetheart? because he knew he'd do whatever it took to be with this man.

Cas looked out of the window for a moment and smiled. Then, laughing gently, he looked back at Dean and told him, anywhere you take me, baby.

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #modern au #tw: mentions of drug misuse #tw: alcohol #tw: prostitution #hurt with comfort #angst with a happy ending #long post #the last time #my words #lucy's writing #all-or-nothing-writes #all-or-nothing-baby #ask prompt #prompt fill #for my lovely friend

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sopewriters · 4 years

Text

Mιɳԃ Gαɱҽʂ | 01

Summary: With a murderer prowling the streets, and a charming villain on the loose, all bets are off.

Pairing: Jaehhyun X Reader; Hero x Villain AU

Word Count: 4.9K

Warning(s): None yet.

“Run the tape again.”

The screen flickers dimly, lighting up your gaunt features. Every part of you screams of exhaustion, as it should – you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all night. Your fingers tap against the desk in front of you, restless, and it takes everything in you not to bounce your leg.

The man beside you – your partner – looks at your tense jaw, pursed lips, and frowns. “You can take a break for tonight, you know. I doubt they’ll come back so soon.”

“But you don’t know that.” You correct harshly, making him recoil. Guilt stabs at you, and you sigh. “Sorry, I… I’m sorry Mark, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Mark smiles at you, and you only now notice the pallor of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. Your partner hasn’t gotten anymore sleep than you have. With a large, cracking yawn that could probably split a lesser man’s face open, you shake your head.

The protest – or lack, thereof – building on Mark’s lips immediately dies, and he exhales heavily.

“This guy is unreal.” He comments, dropping back into his seat beside you. “How does he avoid the cameras so well? They were even set up so no one would be able to dodge them – is this his Gift, do you think?”

You cast a wry glance at him, then. “No, Mark, we both know for a fact that his Gift isn’t invisibility. Remember the one time he made some sort of illusion to throw the cops off his trail?”

“Ah, right.” Something like awe passes quickly over his face, though he’s careful to school his expression at your chiding glance. “I forgot.”

“Funny, you were gushing about how wicked Joker was for weeks.” You nudge him lightly, a tiny grin on your lips – probably for the first time tonight. “It was cute.”

His cheeks immediately flush – adorable – and you wish there were better lighting so you could see them better.

Unfortunately, being a superpowered vigilante can really cast a wrench in your budget. Not everyone can be a millionaire-cum-superhero, no matter how much they’d love to be. And balancing the criminal nightlife with your actual life… well. University has always been particularly unforgiving.

“______…” He grouses, burying his face in his palms as you laugh. “Why’re you always so mean to me?”

“You just make it really easy.”

“ ______!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

Mark huffs out a breath, pushing away from the desk and standing up to flick on the light. “I’m not even gonna bother. I know you aren’t going to drop it!”

“You’re – oh my fucking god, turn the lights back off!” The measly light you do have is still blinding, making your head almost ache from how bright they are. “Mark!”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” He laughs, dodging one of your well-timed swipes. “Alright, I’m going to jet before you actually manage to hit me again. Please try and get some rest? We’ll go over this again tomorrow.”

He looks at you imploringly.

You laugh fakely. “Oh, yeah, of course!”

Mark sighs, resigned, and gives you a waning smile as he moves to leave. He pauses, briefly. “We should really find a new HQ.”

You look around at your converted closet, thinking he’s not wrong. But, again, life isn’t quite like the movies and you don’t really have the money to spare on much beyond your daily necessities. Frozen food isn’t quite as cheap as it used to be around these parts. If anything, you’re lucky you have a walk-in closet large enough to accommodate a small desk, especially in your dorm.

Going to an expensive college in a rich part of town does have some benefits even if, tuition aside, you’re financially on your own.

“We’ll see,” you mumble tiredly, head thumping softly against said desk. “You know how tight our budget is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Mark looks apologetic, giving you a quick wave before he’s stepping out, likely heading back to his own room.

Now that he’s gone, though, your place is entirely too quiet, and it really puts you on edge. At least Mark turned the light on, earlier – you might as well credit him for that – so it’s not as creepy as it could be. But still.

You turn back to the monitor, mouth pursing into a frown as you watch the slight flicker of shadows – the criminal’s only trail. Something about this guy doesn’t seem all that right, and it’s seriously making you paranoid. You’ve never interacted with him, though – that, as it seems, only really happens to the licensed superheroes in your sector – but there’s just something about him…

You turn off the monitor with a sigh, wondering why on earth you’ve stupidly chosen to deal with this guy, of all people. You ignore the little niggling in the back of your mind that tells you that you’re really just trying to put off real-life responsibilities by taking unnecessary tasks upon yourself; that’s totally not true, no. What – why would anyone think that?!

You duck your head out of your closet, tentatively stepping out into your actual room. There isn’t much in there; just your bed, a cabinet for your papers and files, and a dresser in which your clothes actually go. Most of the place is just free space, honestly, and you could have your whole hero setup here, but… secrecy is important. And your closet is a lot more private than your room itself, for obvious reasons.

“ ______ !!” The door slams open, and your enraged best friend storms inside.

Case in point.

“Hey, F/N…” You say awkwardly, leaning against your bed so you can look at her fuming face. “Um. Fancy seeing you here?”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter, eyes catching onto her mussed hair, puffy eyes. “I was so quiet; how could I possibly have—?”

“Mark.” She says simply, to which you inwardly groan. Of course. Mark “Clumsy” Lee lives up to his name, yet again. “Are you sure you two aren’t dating? He’s been over for whole nights before.”

“What, are girls and guys not allowed to spend the night without dating or screwing around?” You snap defensively. Too defensively, judging by the smirk forming on her face. “No. No, no, no. Whatever bullshit you’re going to spew at me right now, save it, because I sure as hell won’t like it.”

“I’m just saying, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt,” she sings, ducking to narrowly avoid a pillow projectile. “It’s not a big deal! Mark’s super cute.”

“And you can have him.” You mutter in response, shuddering at the thought of dating him. Being in close quarters has really educated you to some of his more… quirky habits, and you couldn’t ever deal with that on a permanent basis. Plus, he’s not really your type.

F/N just rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, pretend all you want. I know the truth though.”

“Is there something you actually need?” You level her with a flat stare. “Or are you just trying to snoop in on me?”

She smiles guiltily, like the guilty person she is. It might as well be branded on her forehead, G-U-I-L-T-Y, and you really hope she trips over one of her stupid pencils and stumbles down to hell.

What? You can be petty if you want to be, and it’s all in your head anyway. No one will ever know.

“No, there’s nothing important.” She assures you, though you really don’t need her assurance. “I just… worry about you sometimes, you know?”

“Well gee, thanks for making my night a whole lot better with that vote of confidence.” You mutter, sarcastic as ever, though your subsequent words die on your tongue at her sharp look.

“Relax, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to know if you were going to go to bed, or if you couldn’t sleep or something.” She shrugs. “I’m being rebellious and staying up past my bedtime.”

Well.

You grin sharply at that. Maybe she can stay in the land of the living for a little longer. You take back everything you thought just a few moments ago. “Oh, have I been waiting for this day.”

So. Staying up last night was possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made. Your eyes feel like they might just pop out of their sockets any moment now and the only thing that could possibly make this better is a good cup of coffee. Or, even better, two.

But life, as always, is cruel.

“I hate you.” You mutter at your coffee pot, squinting angrily at it through stinging eyes. “You had one fucking job.”

Yep. The coffee pot, as fate would have it, has completely broken down – just to deprive you of your life, of course, no big deal. Who even needs to be awake for their 8AM discussion anyway, right?

“Stupid, useless hunk of garbage, I should just melt you down already.” Your fevered death chant follows you all the way to the front door as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. It stops there, though, because you’re too tired to keep it up.

F/N’s lucky she doesn’t have to wake up early today, and you angrily curse her in your head because goodwill? It’s all gone now. Maybe she’ll get a really bad case of the Hiccups. Maybe it’ll be terminal Hiccups.

You cringe at your own deviousness.

You manage to bike all the way to class without perishing which, in your books, deserves a gold star. You don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve somehow managed to not get hit by a car, or a bus, or a truck, or another bike, or a pedestrian (though you wouldn’t really mind that last option. People really need to stop looking at their phones while they walk, holy shit). It’s a miracle, truly.

Maybe it’s because you’ve got to attend a Classics discussion; shockingly, it’s one of your more bearable classes. Scratch that, it’s possibly one of your favorites. You might be a STEM major, but the way they discuss mythology in this class really gets to you.

And, of course, there’s your TA too. He’s probably one of the kindest, sweetest people you know – and that’s saying something, given that you know Mark and are even acquainted with Wong Yukhei, the Student Council VP. No, you don’t know how that happened and, frankly, don’t care to find out either.

“Hey there, ______.” You look up at the sound of your name, seeing your TA cock his head at you a little quizzically. “You okay? You seem a little out of breath.”

Yeah, it’s no big, I practically just pulled an all-nighter and biked all the way here using the mothballs that are my eyes, with the level of coffee running through my bloodstream hitting a critical low. It’s fine, it’s totally fine! And if you weren’t the unobservant piece of crap, sweetheart you are, I’d feel a hell of a lot better—

“I’m fine.” You make an effort not to let your gasps for air grow too obvious, giving him a strained smile. “I just, um – just biked here.”

“Ah, I see. You can come inside, you know, sit down.” He holds the door wide open for you, letting you slip inside. “Do you have water? Would you like me to get you some?”

He gives you an appraising look. “Though, something tells me you need something stronger? Coffee, maybe?”

He holds up a thermos, shaking it gently with a questioning look on his face; and, on cue, your mouth begins to water. You need it. You must have it.

“What gave it away?” You chuckle weakly, before shaking your head. “No thanks, Jungwoo, but I appreciate it.”

You last remaining braincells cry, extremely sorry for your loss.

Jungwoo sighs, “I don’t mind sharing, ______, trust me. I promise I didn’t poison it or anything, and I won’t give you much – just a tiny cup.”

He pours some out into the cap of his flask, offering it to you. You stare at the beautifully crafted drink of perfection, steam gently curling off it, and wonder if Kim Jungwoo is a god. He must be, with this sort of impeccable timing.

Still, you’d feel a little awkward taking a drink from a TA that you actually don’t know all that well. That… might not be a good idea.

“I’m really fine.” You smile tightly at him. “I promise. Thank you, though.”

But why?! your brain cells demand, and you don’t have a satisfactory answer for them.

“If you’re sure.” He shrugs it off easily, smile never dimming. He’s pretty cute when he smiles – basically, all the time – but he isn’t really your type.

You think back to the crush you used to harbor on Yukhei. Your cheeks burn when you remember that you still find your gaze fixed to his long, slender fingers on more than one occasion – but you can’t help that. He’s just… too much. It’s unfair, really. But yeah, that’s your type. Tall and handsome, and unfair.

Great, and now you’re thinking about Jung Jaehyun.

You settle back into your desk and will your blush away as you begin pulling out a notebook and a pencil. You don’t usually take notes during section – not unless you’ve got some big essay coming up that he’d review in class – but it gives you something to do instead of just sitting idle.

You quickly sneak a peek at Jungwoo and, seeing that he’s preoccupied leafing through some of his notes, play a game of Catch the Pen. You locate the nearest shadow and guide your pencil through it, propelling it with enough of a velocity for it to hurtle out of another shadow to nestle comfortably between your fingers. It’s basically like playing catch with yourself.

And yeah, it got boring after the third or fourth time, but your only other option is using your phone, which – hey, not a bad idea. A quick scroll through your social media has you holding back your coos when you see videos of cute puppies attempting to do even cuter things. God, do you love dogs.

It’s only when Jungwoo raps his fist against his desk – a cue for all of you to start paying attention – that you notice that the empty desks from before have all been filled up. You quickly stash your phone in your back pocket, before leaning forward on your desk, settling your cheek in the palm of your hand as you force yourself to pay attention.

Ah, damn it. Your eyes still sting.

“Good morning guys!” Jungwoo beams at you, entirely too cheery for your tastes, given that it’s eight in the fucking morning. “How were your weekends?”

Your mind flashes back to your weekend, and you suppress a wince. Yeah. That was… not a good time, especially for the vigilante Caligo – for you. After getting your ass pummeled by a random guy in a mask – a random guy who you think just might be Joker, thief extraordinaire, and the person who you were watching through the footage last night – you weren’t really having a great time.

Not to mention your purpled cheek, courtesy of a deck to the face. You bruise like a peach and you’re really fucking lucky that F/N has a healing ability and a penchant to not ask difficult questions. She probably thinks you’re getting caught up in some shady business – drugs, maybe? – and honestly, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth, if a little exaggerated.

Jungwoo, luckily, takes the grumbled mutterings from the rest of your class that perfectly encapsulate your weekend experience in stride, beaming excitedly and holding up a faded copy of the translation of Ovid’s The Fall of Icarus. “Well, nothing better than this to turn that around, yeah?”

You hold back a sigh as you flip to the page he’ll inevitably bring up. You’d rather read about Icarus, who the book’s title deceptively alludes to, than the rest of these short stories. But, well. As life would have it—

“Let’s talk about what happened with Theseus and the Minotaur, shall we?”

A part of you is grateful that you’ve managed to survive most of your day, and it’s really only the thought of going to your chem lab that makes you perk up.

Now, don’t be misled; you still hate having to go to lab. The actual practice, in itself, isn’t all that hard, but the fact that you have to do it at all is just so ugh. Frankly, you’re only going because it’s required for your major, because fuck chemistry, and doubly fuck organic chemistry. It’s all just way too stressful.

But, well, back to the main point: lab is only really fun because you get a whole two and a half hours to fully appreciate some A+ eye-candy. Not that you would ever actually want to objectify him that way, but your TA is just so gorgeous that it’s unfair, really. Just a smile from him could have you tripping over your feet and potentially spilling dangerous chemicals all over yourself.

As it is, you’ve managed to survive so far, if only to irritate F/N with your very accurate description of how sharp his jawline is, how his dimple is to die for, how he just looks so dependable and warm and—

“Hey Jaehyun.” You greet him as you wait outside the lab. No one’s really allowed in until your TA – Jaehyun, basically – lets you.

Jung Jaehyun, AKA “God who has literally descended from the Heavens to bless your undeserving soul”, smiles at you and – aw, yeah, there it is. That fucking dimple. Paired with his soft, unassuming smile, and the reassuring warmth of his eyes as they look at you through the soft fringe of his hair—

Deadly. That’s what he is.

“Hey ______, how’s it going?” He greets cheerily, not unlike Jungwoo earlier. The only difference is that it’s actually a humane hour of the day right now; a little past noon as opposed to oh, you know, the crack of dawn. You still hate any and all sunlight, no doubt about it – especially with the night lending itself to your element – but at least you’re somewhat awake now.

Jaehyun fiddles with the keyhole before pushing the door open. Is a lab coat supposed to look this good on a person? You aren’t sure.

“It’s pretty meh.” You offer him a shrug and what you hope is not a dorky smile. “Just stressed, you know.”

“Oh, I figured.” He nods, raising an eyebrow. “Apparently Professor Kim’s being super hard on you guys for this first midterm and, I won’t lie, with her past record…” Jaehyun winces. “Yeah, things might be a little stressful. But you’re capable, and I know you can do it with the right amount of hard work and effort.”

Then, like he hasn’t just sprung an unwarranted pep talk on what’s left of your dreary soul, he disappears behind the door. You stare at it like it’ll give you the answers racing through your mind; what the fuck, how the hell does he know exactly what to say, how the fuck is he always so gorgeous…? etcetera, etcetera.

Immediately, you pull out your phone and text F/N.

You:

Oh my fucking god, I think Jaehyun and I just had a moment

Not like a Moment but he literally just gave me the best pep talk in my life, 5 stars on yelp

Jaehyun’s my TA btw

Checking the time, you impatiently rock forward on the balls of your feet, biting at your lips. You figure that, maybe, instead of constantly thinking about how gorgeous Jaehyun is, you should probably also start thinking about the experiment for today. It’s just some simple identification tests, thank goodness, but those could take a long time – especially if you have to share your resources with the rest of the class.

Sharing is caring, they say and they’re wrong. Sharing, in most cases, is essentially just shooting yourself in the foot, and you’ll stand by that until the end of time. You used to share everything – even your heart – after all, and where did that get you?

You shove all of that away, filing it into the mental Untouchable cabinet and locking it up. You’re a busy person now, and you can’t waste time delving into the past. For all your bravado and bluster, though, you just… sometimes feel like you always make the worst decisions for yourself and you’re just tired of having to put yourself through the same things again and again. Like – like clockwork.

The door cracks open, and Jaehyun pokes his head outside. “Huh, that’s weird. No one else is here yet?”

A quick glance around you shows you that no, there really isn’t anyone else here yet. What the fuck? You check your phone, though, and see you still have ten minutes before lab actually begins. Ah, yeah, that makes a lot more sense now.

“You can come in anyway.” Jaehyun grins at you charmingly, and you dimly wonder if he knows the effect he has on people, with how easily he throws that smile around. “Maybe get set up? You can’t start before the rest of your class is here, obviously, but you can still be prepared.”

“Of course!” You beam at him, a little shocked at how easy it is to smile at him. With how things have been going, with both your personal life and – ehem – line of work, this is actually nothing short of a miracle.

Jaehyun really is a great guy and you think to yourself, a little sadly, that whoever gets to date him is a really lucky person. It’s not like you expect for life to work out like a fairytale with you as the persevering royal protagonist who gets the prince she’s only ever dreamed of.

Oh, you wish though. Sometimes, you even wish you had the power to make wishes come true instead of the shadow manipulation that comes so easily to you. When you think about it, you immediately discard the thought; you’re happy with your Gift, though it does get a little tricky navigating its faults.

Faults that Joker took advantage of over the weekend, obviously. You seriously screwed that one up though, to be fair, you kind of had to get home pronto to finish up your biology lab report. Still, a screw up is, ultimately, a screw up. It’s not going to change just because you slapped some excuses onto it.

Your fingers spasm, clenching tightly around your lab notebook and digging into its spiral binding as you remember, all too vividly, what happened over the weekend; the way Joker just slid out of your bindings and smirked at you, lips brushing against your ear as he revealed it was all a lie—

The spiking pain in your hand forces you to let go of your book, allowing it to drop onto the table with a muffled thump. It was all your fault, really, for not realizing that, since Joker had a Gift that allowed him to make illusions, he would obviously take advantage of it to distract you.

You were such a fucking idiot.

“Hey.” Your lab partner slides into the seat beside yours, effectively distracting you from thinking about your Weekend Failure some more. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one who thinks that the data for this lab report was ridiculous.”

“You’re not.” A light smile pulls at your lips and you try to forget about everything else. “It was pretty crazy.”

It’s not until you step out of lab a few hours later, blinking the sun out of your eyes, that you see that F/N’s finally responded to your texts.

Wifey!! <3:

i’m glad he was so kind to you!

and yeah babe, i think you’d realize i know who Jaehyun is by now

you’ve only mentioned him a billion times

you’re such a puppy

You:

He was really nice man, he made me feel like I could actually do this

I mean idk how long it’ll last but it’s nice of him to even try ;-;

And I think you’d realize I know I’m a puppy by now

You’ve only told me, like, a billion times

Let it be said that you’re never one to let the opportunity to be petty go to waste.

A week later, you’re sprinting up the street between your favorite Thai place and the café F/N likes to frequent, short puffs of breath escaping your lungs into the cold night air. Your worn sneakers slap against the concrete as you try to find a secluded location for you to change covertly into more appropriate ‘crime-fighting’ clothing, when your frantic gaze lands on a relatively abandoned alleyway.

Key word: ‘relatively’, because there’s really only a cat in there, of course.

“Fuck yeah!” You whisper triumphantly under your breath, stepping into the shadows cast by the nightlights, letting their familiar chill wash over you, twist its way around your waist and seep under your skin, a comfortable, cool pressure—

And you’re out again, a couple of blocks ahead of where you started, and sprint up the street, jumping shadows to the second floor of a building, from where you see figure flying overhead.

You smirk. Right on time.

“Hey! Mind giving me a lift?!” You holler up, and with a flick of his wrist, you’re being lifted off your feet, propelled to the very top of the building. A grin pulls at the corner of your mouth, and you give in as you zip along after the figure ahead, who’s dressed in dark blue. “Thanks G!”

Gravitas – Mark – spares a look at you through his mask as he runs ahead, leaping gracefully over to the next building. “Hey Caligo!”

A grin pulls at the corner of your lips through your own mask, fully visible since it only extends to the bridge of your nose. He wants to play it like that, does he?

“Impressive, but you’ve got nothing on me!” You arch in a graceful backflip over the gap between the buildings, landing steadily on your feet.

Mark chuckles lightly at you, shaking his head when you skip ahead of him through the shadows. Like you aren’t going to wring out every advantage your Gift could possibly give you; there’s no way you’re letting him have the satisfaction of possibly being better than you.

“See anyone we need to beat up?” You slow your pace enough for him to run beside you, not needing to shout to be heard.

Mark’s mask covers his entire face, but you’re pretty sure you know the look he’s got on his face right now; that little dip between his eyebrows and the lightest pout on his lips. He’s really too predictable.

“We aren’t looking for people to beat up.” He corrects you. “We’re looking for people to save.”

You come to a stop so you can face him properly, hands settling on your hips. The seriousness of the situation doesn’t stop you from keeping the playfulness from your voice, though, forced as it might sound.

“Now that’s the mind of a future hero-in-the-making.” You shrug, mouth pursing into a tense smile. “The rest of us don’t really care so much about that, you know.”

Mark falters, nearly tripping over himself even though he’s slowed to a walk. “That isn’t what I was trying to imply, you know that.”

“I know.” You provide him with another half-shrug. “I’m just saying that I’m here to beat people up; you can call it saving people or whatever else satisfies your hero-complex but, at the end of the day, someone’s still getting beat.”

No matter how close the two of you are, this is an age old argument that neither of you have been able to shake off; the constant debate of vigilantism versus heroism. At the end of the day, you’re getting the same things done, so why Mark needs to get so prickly about it is beyond you.

He is training to be a hero – which you’ve grudgingly accepted, despite your misgivings – so that might be it. Unlike you, he’s always interested in those caped fantasies, in saving the day and happy endings. Even he has to admit it; Mark is the definition of a happy fool.

And you? Well, that’d make you the tortured genius – though there’s nothing particularly genius about you. Just tortured.

“At the end of the day, we’re still saving people too.” Mark’s voice is low, brittle. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“And we’ve always ended it the same way.” You force yourself to keep your calm, though you itch to blow up at him. “So what makes this time so different?”

Mark starts forward, about to answer, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice. A very unwelcome voice.

“Hope I’m not interrupting!”

There’s a muffled thump, like someone’s landing on their feet, as you slowly turn around, eyes growing wide behind your mask.

Decked out in a tight-fitting leather bodysuit and a black choker, which delicately circles his neck, he looks at you with dancing, mischievous eyes. The black eye mask that sculpts itself to his face prevents you from being able figure out who the man behind the mask is, but that isn’t your priority right now, because you know who this is, standing in front of you with that cheeky grin.

“Joker.”

Written By: Midnight

The amazing moodboard was done by Sangria! Blessed that I am to have such a perfect wife <3

Next: 02

#kwritersworldnet #kreativewritersnet #nctwriters #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #nct jaehyun #villain jaehyun #nct jung jaehyun #villain jung jaehyun #jaehyun series #will i update consistently? let's find out

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marmolady · 4 years

Text

Pride

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Diego x Varyyn, Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending– set after my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains’, if you’ve not read it, assume a happy ending). Surrounded by a barrier of friends, Varyyn joins Diego as they march in their very first Pride parade.

Word Count: 1588

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Cloaked in a dark hood, at odds with the popping attire of near everyone around him, Varyyn was wide-eyed with fascination as he stepped out of the Northbridge train station, Diego at his side. The streets were awash with colour, hues that were draped over countless flags, banners, even the skin of revelers.

Diego grasped his husband’s hand tightly. He was awash with emotion; anxiety at having Varyyn surrounded by so many people, but more than that, a feeling of belonging that he’d craved for as long as he could remember.

“This is it, Varyyn,” he uttered hoarsely. “Happy Pride!”

“I am always proud to be with you, my love.”

Taylor was grinning like an idiot-- for her, too, this was a first, as it was for Estela with whom her fingers were entwined. “We’ve got this, Diego, the rest of us should be enough of a barrier to stop anyone from looking at you two too closely.”

Giving his best friend a warm smile, Diego nodded. That he’d been touched to have ten friends putting themselves out there to give him the kind of Pride experience he’d wistfully imagined was an understatement. They had his back. “Yeah, we got this.”

He looked around. Friends surrounded him on all sides, dressed in their colours or else proudly wearing ‘ally’ pins. To think he’d felt so alone before--

“Hey!” Craig exclaimed, “If anyone gets to close to our V-Dog, I can pull off a killer diversion. I’ve been practising my moves for weeks…”

“It’s been fucking torture to watch,” Zahra said. “But, yeah, your dancing will scare anyone off, I’ll give you that.”

As they marched on with the parade, the smile on Estela’s face just grew broader. She’d never had a chance to do anything like this in San Trobida, and probably she’d have steered clear of all the fuss anyway. Since returning from La Huerta, her sexuality, the identity that came with it, meant a whole lot more. On La Huerta, no one gave a damn, and she hadn’t bothered herself with labels. Today,though, her wrist was adorned with a pink, yellow and blue bracelet.

“I didn’t know you identified as pansexual?” Quinn queried warmly. When they’d discussed these things previously, Estela had always been vague-- which had always been accepted without hesitation; but it seemed something had changed.

Estela nodded. “I didn’t think I wanted a label, but then I thought… words have power. They can make you visible. I like who I am, how I love; a lot of people where I’m from struggle with that because for so long they had to hide. Visibility is important.”

“That’s my wife! Fighting the good fight and making the world less shit, one PDA at a time.” Taylor jumped to give Estela an enormous smooch, delighting in the happy squirm she caused.

“So, uh,” Estela tried to continue, whilst her love continued to pepper her face and neck with kisses, “basically, I just… find some people attractive. And I don’t think it would have mattered if Taylor was a guy or a girl or both or neither. She’s my person. It was a weird feeling, like something deep inside me knew.”

“Aw, ‘Stel!” Taylor gushed. “As for me? Basically, I’m gay as the day is long. Useless Lesbian: Alien Edition.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Zahra scoffed. “You’re a walking fucking stereotype. If there were U-Hauls on La Huerta, maybe you wouldn’t have even needed to get hitched after what… how many weeks? Three? Four?”

Diego was quick to swoop to his friend’s defence. “Hey! La Huerta rules apply! Way too much wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff to untangle.”

Quinn smiled warmly. It wasn’t the first time she’d been to one of these events, nor even the third or fourth, but to be surrounded by the friends who’d become her family made for a very different experience. She was not alone, dodging pitying whispers while she tried to embrace a side of herself that was so much more than ‘the dying girl’. And now, she had Michelle.

“Life can be over so fast; if you care for someone, there’s no shame in putting yourself out there and showing it.” She gave Michelle’s hand a squeeze, and they exchanged an affectionate glance. “Being trapped at the end of the world can do a lot to put things in perspective. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m living without regrets. Who I am is who I am; and that includes the pieces I wished I could hide from.”

Grace looked to her friend with admiration. “That’s very brave, Quinn. Sometimes accepting yourself can be the hardest thing.” Especially when the people you love can’t look at the true you and do the same. “Honestly, you’ve helped me a lot.”

Walking beside Diego, Varyyn was beginning to see why they called it ‘Pride’; he could feel it emanating from his husband, creating a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down. And the smile on Diego’s face? Varyyn was sure he’d not ever seen anything quite so beautiful. Though careful not to peer to far out from his hood, he took the time to look over each of the different coloured flags and ask about each one. A young woman jogged past, wearing a cape of black, grey, white and purple-- the same design that was plastered across Raj’s shirt.

“Raj,” he queried, “ I believe Diego told me about your colours. It is for… ‘ace’? For no romantic partners?”

“You got it! Basically, I get all the love I need from my bros. I never really felt like anything was missing, you know?”

“I understand. It’s not something my people have a word for, though I know several friends who have always felt the way you do,” he said, thoughtfully. “So much of this we don’t have words for; we just… be. I appreciate your sharing with me. And I am very grateful to be one of your bros.”

The whole experience was vastly different to anything that could exist among the Vaanti. Sexuality and gender was of so little consequence; there had never been much weight put on words and labels, there were no expectations that it be necessary. By the generally agreed upon human terms, Varyyn supposed he might call himself ‘pansexual’ as Estela did. The rainbow flag, though, was his favourite. In it he saw the jubilation of making it through a storm to something beautiful. Appropriate it was, that it meant so much to Diego, as he stepped out unafraid and loved. Varyyn looked at Diego, his husband, the love of his life; surrounded by a wall of friends, laughing on Taylor’s shoulder. He was truly radiant.

Varyyn put a hand on Raj’s shoulder. “Could I ask a great favour of you?”

“A personal favour for the elyyshar of the Vaanti? I think I can swing that….”

Taylor was chuckling as she ruffled her best friend’s hair. “So, how is it? Everything you dreamed of-- if you’d even dreamed you’d have the Knights’ bi legend Sean Gayle as part of your pride posse?”

“Pretty sure Past Diego would think you’d hit your head too hard if you’d tried to tell him this was coming. I mean, the time travel, the monsters, my best friend being some sort of knockoff ET, are unbelievable enough, but these kind of squad goals…? I…” Suddenly, he found himself choking up. If it was a life-altering adventure, he’d got it. What was left at the end of it was something that could never be truly grasped by outsiders, some bond, sacred even, that had helped him find his own strength. As he struggled to come to grips with the tatters that remained of his family life, it was that strength that would keep him afloat, and that bond that would see his heart start to heal. “I… didn’t think this feeling was possible for me.”

And Taylor hugged him tight. “You’d better get used to it, because you’re stuck with us. You deserve this. Just for being you… and also for being the world’s best wingman. The best thing that ever happened to me happened because you helped me believe in taking a leap. Diego Soto, I will never not owe you one,” she laughed.”So, for my next trick, I will pass you off to someone who wants his arms around you even more than I do. You’re welcome.

With a wink, Taylor spun Diego into Varyyn’s waiting arms, which draped an enormous rainbow flag around the two of them.

“My love,” Varyyn crooned, “you bring my world more beauty than I believed possible. You showed me hope and light in my darkest hour. Diego, you are my rainbow.”

Cloaked in a fluttering of multicoloured fabric, they kissed, long and tender; the pounding of music and marching, the chants of ‘Variego!’ fading far into the background, beyond their own private euphoric celebration.

Varyyn came away slowly, his expression warm as he stared into a look of fierce affection. How could he ever have dreamed what had been held in store for him, when this lion-hearted storyteller was beyond anything Vaanu had yet shown him. A whispered ‘I love you’ from his beloved Diego set his heart, once again, all aflutter, dancing like the rainbow flag around their heads. “And I love you.”He quirked an eyebrow. “Best Pride ever?”

Diego gave a short laugh and pecked a kiss to his love’s gentle lips. “Best Pride ever.”

#happy pride y'all #endless summer #variego #diego X varyyn #playchoices #mlm #wlw #estela x mc #estela montoya #diego soto #varyyn #raj bhandarkar

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

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.

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years

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villain!Uraraka Ochako

a/n: so a little backside, villain!uraraka happens because she can not help with her parents expenses fast enough, so she heads to the villains in search of help because the heroes don’t want to help...

SFW:

A = Affection (How affectionate are they with a s/o?)

Villain uraraka is a teaser. She’s very affectionate or not at all. Ultimately it falls on to however she’s feeling

B = Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?)

If you’re a goody-two-shoes, it’s sticking by her side through all the bad. She underestimated your ability to stick around

If you’re a villain too, honestly there’s something sadistically wonderful about you committing a large crime for her.

C = Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

She’s a fucking cat. You want cuddles, she won’t give it to you. But the second you need to get going or are now busy, she’s suddenly in your arms cooing and being loving.

D = Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

The perfect crime lol jk she wants to eventually settle down with you where she’s no longer reliant on her villainous lifestyle to keep herself and you in a steady financial setting

E = Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

She acts like she could give less than a fuck, but she cares a lot, so much

F = Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

It’s the only time she’ll be super soft with you. She’ll hold you close, have your head buried into her chest as she whispers about how she’ll never let anything fucking hurt you ever again if they want to live

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

She will give you whatever she finds off the streets. Villain!uraraka is crazy about what she buys, it is why she became a villain after all, so she gifts you small things that are nice!

She won’t say no to a present, but just give her mochi

H = Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

She’ll hug you! Just… not that often

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

Can be romantic, but doesn’t be romantic often. Has issues with intimacy but nothing too prohibiting that will keep her from loving you when needed.

J = Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

Jealous ass motherfucker. She will fight anyone who stares at you suggestively, she doesn’t care at all.

K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

Isn’t one for making out unless jealous. She is into the soft pecks and slow kisses that last under five seconds, she doesn’t want to build that intimacy ya feel? And if she goes a day without kissing you (given that the two of you see each other) there’s something wrong

L = Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?)

She won’t say it first, and even if she is in love with you after you say it to her, don’t expect a response until 7 months later. She says it on occasion, mostly when she feels at loss.

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

Wants to be an older couple getting married, like in her 40’s with her life of crime. It’ll be super small, just the two of you and the closest of friends.

N = Night out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?)

She enjoys at home dinner dates with the candle lit experience and a bottle of wine between the two of you.

O = Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?)

Won’t show pda in public unless necessary. While she’s not ashamed of her pathway in life, she doesn’t want people connecting you to her for blackmail

P =Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

Is a teasing almost mean person in the relationship, like you know she’s not being serious but… there are times where its like… okay…

Q = Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

Asks for opinions in the way where you think its about hypothetical. Unless you press hard on it, she won’t give you hers.

R = Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

Its very spontaneous or super predictable. Uraraka becomes more spontaneous when danger lurks, so you’ve associated spontaneity with bad things...

S = Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

She’ll sleep with her mittened hand touching you, but always wakes up to find herself ontop of you

T = Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

She trusts you with her life, hands down. She won’t admit it, but its true

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a s/o?)

She does a lot of little things that you initially pass over. She leaves enough water in the kettle for you to use, cereal never runs out, and how she cleans the place when you’re unable to. She does a lot of small things that you don’t notice until she’s gone for weeks and suddenly you realize that for the first time ever you’re having to figure out where the stored paper towels are

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

A long ass time, so so so long. Probably around three years together does she finally let you see parts of her that you didn’t know existed.

When she’s in this state it sort of scares you; she’s not a big crier but she’s so empty and broken looking...

W = Wild Card (Get a random domestic headcanon of the character of your choice)

She really wants to raise kids with you, but has no idea how to ask you about it, nor does she feel ready to bring up a kid with her lifestyle

X = X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

Takes care of you in a super tsundere way

“You hurt yourself idiot.”

“I didn’t see i was walking into the pole…”

“And guess who needs to fucking watch over you now!”

Kinda pampers you ngl

Y = Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

Hates complaining about her villain ways, she informed you beforehand, so if you complain about it she goes a bit feral

Z = Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

Not super passionate but is never ever going to deny any sort of love from you as long as you initiate it during a time she can handle it

NSFW:

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Super duper sleepy, you’re the one really in charge of cleaning up, but she makes sure to tell you that she appreciates it when you wipe come off her legs

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Is a tits girl because she really loves how weightless they seem when she’s tribbing into your clit

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Loves smearing your come against your thighs, like for some reason after the two of you come, she’ll drag herself against your inner thigh. There’s something so great about seeing her slick against your leg

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to watch someone fuck you in front of her one day. To see you whining and sobbing due to someone elses manipulation wishing it was her.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not that experienced, and she’s very awkward in the beginning despite her attempt to hide it with a dominatrix persona. It takes a few months, but she will learn how to do things correctly

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

She loves tribbing you, it’s the best way to watch your tits bounce around

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Not humorous at all, is very very serious.

The only time she laughs in bed is a clear sign to you that you’re in trouble...

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Is sorta trimmed, the tiniest bit bushy down there because she doesn’t have the time to properly keep it up

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Sex is the one place where she is intimate. Sex to her isn’t something you throw around even if she sleeps around to gather information, but with you, it’s special and intimate so you better be fully into it as well

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Will masturbate when the two of you go weeks without seeing each other. It’s always while you’re on the phone with her, and she can’t help but feel the need to touch herself as you talk happily about your day

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

She’s a dom in bed: torture play, definitely fucking you while weightless, exhibitionism, cuckholding, blindfolds

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

In your bed because your mattress is so soft and you have a trillion pillows and it makes everything so much nicer as it gets kinkier

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Her vital need to see you turning into jelly because of her manipulation, she loves seeing your eyes cross, face red, panting, and drooling

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Roleplay. She doesn’t like it especially as most role play dichotomy focuses around good and bad and well, she doesn’t want to be reminded of that in the bedroom.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

She will give you the best oral. She doesn’t like receiving it at all though, something about how she doesn’t like the sensation.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and somehow sensual. She’s gotten really good at figuring out what exactly to do to make you scream her name, but it’s sensual. It makes your face heat in up in the raw intimacy she has while fucking you into the next millennium

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

She loves slamming you into a small closet and finger fucking you while on route to somewhere important! As long as no one sees you going into the closet she’ll mark you in there with no regret.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

She’s very into experimenting. Always trying to figure out what works best between the two of you, but once you hit the area of your sex life you two very much love, experimenting fades out but returns every so often just to keep the two of you on your toes

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Can last two rounds at most, she just gets so tired from fucking

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Her favorite toy to use is the double-ended dildo because she knows how to manipulate it to give you all the pleasure despite the two of you having bought it so that you both could feel good under your request, but no, uraraka knows her way around it

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Only when she’s upset will she tease or when it involves a new thing you two are trying, other than that she’s very direct.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Its soft noises. Not that loud, but if they’re heard no one would think she’s possibly having sex. It’s the weirdest most alluring thing ever.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The best sex the two of you had was when you both got high one night, the two of you went four rounds together and came so many times that your bodies were sore for the remainder of the week

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants/shirts, picture or words)

She’s a smaller cup. B-cup at best. Her nipples are a soft shade of pink and they look weightless as an effect of her quirk, but they’re actually quite dense.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Is a very “depending on her mood” type of lover. Some weeks you will fuck fifteen times in seven days, and others she’ll hold your hand once. Very dependent on what’s going on.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Takes her 2 minutes to pass out. It exhausts her so much that you always will tease her for it.

#uraraka x reader #uraraka ochako #uraraka ochacho #uraraka ochaco x reader #uraraka ochako x reader #bnha writing blog #bnha #uraraka headcanons #uraraka smut #bnha x reader #bnha uraraka #mha #mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha uraraka #burnedbyshoto 2000 follower event

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

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surveys by -thoughtlessdork

Have you ever had the chicken pox? Yeah, back when I was 7.

how often do you do laundry? I personally don’t do it because I have help with certain things like that, but it gets done like once a week. I have a lot of clothes.

Have you ever been evicted? Nope.

would you grow your own garden? Nah. I don’t have the green thumb. Or the energy or interest in even trying.

do you know anyone who snores? Yeah.

what is your favorite font? I like Times, Ariel, Verdana, Tahoma, and Georgia.

do you know what a wombat is? I’m familiar with the name and know it’s an animal of some kind, but I couldn’t pick one out of a lineup.

would you make a good movie critic? No, I’m horrible at describing...anything. My movie reviews are like, “Omg, it was soooo good! Amazing cast, intriguing storyline. 10/10 recommend.” haha. Or on the flip side, “Uh, wtf did I just watch? 10/10 would not recommend. Super lame.”

what goal are you aiming for this year? Well, right now I’m just trying to get better from this infection I have and take this disgusting antibiotic for the next 10 days. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’m still not, but I kinda have to. I’m not getting into it all over again, I made a lengthy rant in a previous recent survey, but basically it’s absolutely awful because I have to crush my pills and this pill is d i s g u s t i n g. My body revolts it when I take it and I have to fight to keep the damn thing down. My body is also dramatic and I don’t do well with nasty tasting things (I mean, most people don’t, but they can probably just suck it up and chug whatever it is or eat it really quickly and move along barely fazed at all... not me). It’s just causing a lot of stress and anxiety and makes me feel worse than the illness because of it and yeah. Not fun. Unfortunately, that’s my only option unless I want to spend a week in the hospital to receive the medicine through an IV and that sounds awful as well. Ha, so much for not getting into all over again. *shrug*

are you currently reading any books at the moment? Not at the moment. I just finished one a few days ago, though, and plan to start a new one soon.

when i say foxy lady what comes to mind? Beyoncé’s character in the Austin Powers movie she was in lol; her name was Foxxy. <<< Hahaha yep.

would you have liked to have lived during the Victorian times? No.

would you own a Siamese cat? No, but I’m just not a cat person.

have you ever had an ultimate adrenaline rush? No.

do you like deviled eggs? I’ve never had them; it’s not a common dish here. But they always look so good in the American shows I watch??? I really hope they taste as good as they look. <<< I think they do! I love ‘em.

what tends to upset you? Upsetting news.

what's the farthest you've walked? All around San Francisco. It’s a big city and the streets and sidewalks go up and down at high slants, so it’s no easy feat.

what is your favorite horror movie? I enjoy several, but my top favorites are the Halloween, Scream, and It movies.

what does your favorite shirt look like? I love all my graphic tees.

is your life like a daily routine? It very much is.

were you ever told as a child if you eat carrots you'll have pretty eyes? Not pretty eyes, but strong eyes.

what career are you most interested in? I don’t know. :/

have you ever seen a rooster? Yeah.

what time do you usually wake up? Lately, it’s been really all over the place. I don’t know what’s going on with my body.

what do you think about religion? I believe in Christianity.

what made you feel most accomplished in your life so far? Graduating college with my BA was my biggest accomplishment. Probably always will be.

have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? No.

what are you allergic to? Tangerines and typical seasonal allergies.

do you ever feel like people hold things you do or say against you? Yes.

what can't you afford but wish you could? A beach home.

what is one word that sums up this year so far? Shitty?

ever felt like you were putting your life in danger? Yes.

what do you like with your eggs? I like scrambled eggs with cheese, green onions, and spinach, or with just country gravy. I like over-easy eggs with just pepper. I like hardboiled eggs as is or with just a little bit of salt. I like deviled eggs with mayo, mustard, and paprika.

what remedy do you partake when experiencing the common cold? The good ol’ wait-for-it-to-go-away life hack. <<< Yep. Cold medicines can help alleviate some of the symptoms a little, although I personally find they don’t really help at all except for if I have a headache. I honestly don’t usually bother taking any cold medicines. I think teas can be soothing and can make me feel a little more relaxed. Ultimately, though, it’s just something you’re gonna have for at least a week or so regardless.

would you ever spend a weekend in the mountains in a log cabin? Not alone, but yes absolutely. That sounds amazing.

have you ever been called a psycho? No.

have you ever taken martial arts? would you? No.

who is someone you look up to? My mom.

is there something you're anxious about? Of course. Ongoing things and new things.

what is the longest you've gone without sleep? Like 36 hours.

what is the longest you've been on the phone? I used to spend a few hours on the phone often with friends back when I was in middle school and some of high school. It still surprises me that I used to do that because of how much I hate talking on the phone now and have for a long time.

do you care about calories? No.

do you know someone with a really annoying laugh? No.

what band do you mostly always listen to no matter what mood? Linkin Park.

have you ever been to Indianapolis? Nope.

what type of bread do you like to eat? Wheat, white, sourdough, croissant.

do you have any great great grandparents still living? No.

what is one country that you really want to visit someday? Sweden.

who usually cooks or what do you usually crave the most? That’s two different questions, but okay. In my household, it’s usually my mom or brother that cooks. My dad does sometimes. As for what I crave the most, it’s ramen and boneless wings from Wingstop.

ever been associated in a program that was a complete waste of time? Hm. Not that I can think of at the moment.

do weird numbers call your phone? Sometimes.

where are you right now? On my bed wrapped in my blanket. I love that it’s finally cold here. It even rained yesterday *chef’s kiss*

do you tend to care about other people's feelings more than your own? I most definitely do.

what type of lifestyle do you want to obtain? if you haven't obtained it? I don’t know.

what was something that use to frighten you as a child? Ghostface from Scream. I love those movies now, though.

have you ever been on a train? Nope.

who's been in your life the longest? did you expect this person to still be around? My family.

how do you feel about anatomy? Uhhh. It’s complex and pretty crazy how it all works.

Insert interesting fact here: Nah.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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mitsukieu · 3 years

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⟨ NANA KOMATSU. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, SATO MITSUKI is actually a descendent of H E P H A E S T U S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old MECHANICAL ENGINEERING MAJOR from YOKOHAMA, JAPAN has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite VENTURESOME & DESTRUCTIVE.

all in one google doc

hello hello!! this is alex bringing you my third child <3 she’s a little different from anything i’ve played so i’m EXCITED. Above you’ll find her google doc with everything i’ve written down about her so far & some wc’s (some day)! aaand since i always have this need to make everything extra long, here’s a little summary of her backstory:

Momma didn’t want to take care of her because she was already too busy raising her prodigy smh and building her career. She was sent to a government institution so they could help raise her and basically never picked her up again!

Life in the orphanage was tough but she still had a blast. The bigger kids ruled but eventually it was her turn + despite her reckless behavior, she won over anyone at the orphanage.

School…. She wasn’t too interested in. It was HARD bc of her adhd and dyslexia, besides, there was no way for her to get anywhere in life after being labeled as a throwaway child so why bother?

FIRE-STARTING, PYROMANIA TW: At 12, she causes a fire in the orphanage and Hephaestus’ like… not cool, kid. So he claims her & sends one of the satyrs to offer some fancy scholarship to this camp (Camp Sabaku) at an island near Tottori.

She LOVES camp… but then she’s bored and at 15 she drops out against everyone’s wishes oops!!

At 18, she’s kicked out of the orphanage ofc and she’s honestly like… this adult thing is cool but hopefully we don’t get to do this too long because where is my life actually going?

Her step-brother, Hiroto, also shows up when she’s kicked out to offer her help in an attempt to make up for their mother’s mistakes and Mitsuki is like lol no thanks bye.

Without a cent, she gets a lame job at a love hotel & eventually meets Fuji. He has money and she’s charming and so they live their best young love lives! Truth be told, he’s an ass but she’s like… that’s okay, i’m not the best person either. This is where she gets into the life of personalized cars & the thrill of illegal street races.

MURDER, FIRE-STARTING, PYROMANIA TW: Her pyromania kicks in at the worst possible moment and she blows up a gas station– Fuji and a couple other friends die.

The police don't blame her because… duh it must’ve been an accident! But Hephaestus knows and he’s like PLEASE let Eonia help I’m begging.

With nothing else to do and Excited to leave Japan, she agrees and here we are!! A mechanical engineering major.

#euintro #⋆『 muse 』⋆

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bright-molina · 5 years

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a/n I meant for this to be ficlet/drabble length and well, it’s a lot longer than that. This is for you anon! I’ll reblog a new prompt list soon, here’s the one I’m using now but feel free to request whatever you’d like!

request: can u do a steve harrington x reader with 1, 7, 19, and 20? ty

synopsis: It’s been three months since the fight between you and Steve and you still have no idea what prompted it. When you come back home from college for fall break the last thing you’re expecting is a drunken message from Steve confessing everything.

It had been exactly 3 months and 16 days since Steve had last seen you. He’d know. He was counting. It was the night before you were leaving for college and also the night he had made his biggest mistake in his life so far. And no, he wasn’t being dramatic like Dustin always insisted. Steve was certain that out of all of the things he had done wrong, letting you go had been the worst.

He had no clue how late it was. All he knew was that for the last two days you had been the absolute only thought in his head. It was two days ago that Lucas, who lived just across the street from you, very dutifully informed him that you were back home for break. It was two days ago that every painful detail of the night he foolishly left you invaded his mind and wouldn’t leave. It was late and he was desperate for some sort of release and so he sat alone in his living room with empty containers that had once held various types of alcohol scattered all around him.

It didn’t work. Steve’s guilt ran deep and instead of the alcohol making every thought of you disappear, it enhanced them by a hundred. He was supposed to feel numb and instead his mind played a never-ending loop of the last fight you two had.

“I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

You had let out a choked sob. It had killed him listening to it then and it killed him remembering it now. He had known you for as long as he could remember. You had fought monsters from other dimensions and outwitted evil Russians side by side and not a single time had you ever cried. You were the toughest and bravest person he knew and he hated the fact that he of all people was the one to make you feel that way.

“You’re lying to me and you’re lying to yourself, Steve Harrington.” He had never seen you so angry at anybody before. And that was saying something since you had punched Tommy H. in the face on multiple occasions. Steve swore that he could see the fury burning in your eyes, swimming among a million other emotions you were pushing aside. “I don’t know what your problem is or why you’re being such an ass and you refuse to tell me. But I do know that I don't want you here. Not anymore. Now get out.”

And he had listened to you. He had turned right around and made sure to slam your front door shut on his way out without another word to you. Steve shook his head, taking another swig from the bottle in his hand and resisted the urge to punch himself. How could he have been so stupid?

Steve’s head was a blur of thoughts and emotions all screaming at each other. It took a few minutes but one finally screamed louder than the others. Call her. And maybe it was the alcohol taking over, but he was absolutely positive that it was the right move. He reached for the phone, knocking over a few things in the process. The numbers blurred together and moved a little when he tried to push them but he persisted. After three tries the phone was finally ringing and he waited for you to answer. But you never did. It was then that he looked outside and glared how dark it still was. He barely processed the sound of the beep telling him to leave a voicemail and decided to do just that.

“Shit,” Steve screwed his eyes shut tight as he tried to throw together at least one coherent thought. “You remember the last time I saw you, Y/N?” He waited for an answer before remembering that you weren’t actually on the other side of the phone. “I was a fucking dumbass and told you that I didn’t care what you did at college because we were never anything more than friends. Well, you know what? If we were just friends, how come you always let me sleep over whenever I had a bad day? Just friends don’t do that. Why did we do everything together? We threw parties and hung out with the kids and went out for dinner and snuck out all the time. Shit, Y/N, you know how many people asked me if we were dating.” Steve thought of all the times he had gotten the question. He thought of all the times he had insisted you two weren’t. And then of all the times he had wished you were. He thought of the day before the two of you had fought. “Just friends don’t sleep together the day before one of them leaves for school.” Steve let out a heavy sigh. He shook his head and wished that he had said all of those things 3 months and 16 days ago instead of hiding them all just because he was mad. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“You’ll drop these all off later?” Robin asked from where she stood at the door while getting her coat on. She motioned towards the various empty movie boxes littered all over the coffee table.

“Promise,” You smiled, setting a small pile of plates and utensils on the same table while El, Max, and Nancy carried the rest of the various breakfast items to the living room. “You sure you can’t stay for breakfast?” You had invited them all over the same day you had gotten home for your week-long break from school. The night before was the first night you had all been able to spend together.

“Maybe I’ll take a plate to go.” She sat back down after looking at all the food and you let out a small laugh.

“Hey, there’s a message on the machine,” Max pointed out as she piled food on her own plate. You looked over and saw the blinking red light.

“Honestly, who in their right mind calls late at night,” You groaned as you walked over, more out of obligation than anything else. Your parents weren’t home and you promised them you’d let them know if anyone called. It was the only reason you were even listening to the message. You clicked the button next to the flashing light and were vaguely aware of the tv being clicked off.

“Shit. You remember the last time I saw you, Y/N?” You knew who it was the second the message started playing. Everyone’s eyes were trained on you but yours were focused on where Steve’s voice was coming out of the speaker. “I was a fucking dumbass and told you that I didn’t care what you did at college because we were never anything more than friends. Well, you know what?”

You listened to the message in its entirety. The many stuttered words and slurred sound of his voice made it obvious that Steve had been drunk when leaving the message. It didn’t make the mess of emotions you were now feeling any less real though. You knew your friends were all listening intently and watching for your reaction. None of them said anything upon hearing the revelation that you had slept with Steve. They didn’t say anything after the message, either. Instead, they waited until you looked okay to speak. The four of them were your favorite people for a reason.

“It,” You stopped, willing the memories that had been pushed to the front of your mind by Steve’s message to ease up just a little. “It was one time.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to us, Y/N,” Nancy insisted sitting down on one side of you and taking one of your hands in an attempt at comfort. “We just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” You flashed a small smile. Honestly, you were fine. It had been a while and yeah, the memory of that day sucked and it constantly replayed in your head at the worst times, but you were fine. You had already dealt with the fact that Steve ended up being...well him. Even with you. “I haven’t talked to him in months.” You admitted to them.

“Yeah we, uh,” Max briefly thought of all the times Steve had found some way to bring you up and immediately complain that you weren’t talking to him. “We knew you two had a fight.”

“He never said why, though,” El shook her head, sitting down on the other side of you. “Always changed the subject when we asked.”

“Of course he would,” You couldn’t help rolling your eyes. It was just like Steve to complain and then not say why. It had been the whole reason behind your fight after all. In just a split second you felt a more subdued version of the anger you felt the last time you saw him take over. And so you told them everything.

You told them everything from the events leading up to it to every word that was said. And as hard as you all tried nobody could connect the dots between him all but admitting he was in love with you one day and insisting that you were never anything more than friends the next. Whatever his problem had been he had evidently kept it locked inside his own head, refusing to talk it through with anybody. The five of you could only speculate as to what it was that had made Steve so mad that day.

When Steve finally clocked in for the start of his shift it was noon. He had absolutely no idea why Robin met him with a glare the second he walked through the door. Frankly, he didn’t really want to know considering how much all the lights hurt to look at and how much his head hurt.

“You’re screwed, Harrington,” Robin said, crossing her arms the second Steve stepped behind the counter. He glanced at the time, sure that she was just messing with him.

“What are you talking about?” He set his head down in an attempt to block out as much light as he could. “I’m on time. Which is honestly a miracle.”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her question was confirmed when Steve didn’t answer. Whatever he happened to remember from the night before was all still a little fuzzy. “You must’ve been really drunk.”

“Care to elaborate on whatever it is I did?” His voice came out muffled since he hadn’t bothered lifting his head to speak. Robin rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter waiting to see his reaction.

“Nothing much,” She shrugged, not that Steve could tell. “Just left Y/N a super long-winded message in which you relive the argument you’ve never told anyone about, wished you had been dating her, knowing now that you were ‘more than friends’, and oh yeah, brought up sleeping with her the night before she left for school.”

“I’m sorry, I did what!” Steve’s head shot up. It was the fastest he had moved all day and he wasn’t sure the movement agreed with him. Or maybe the nausea was just from finding out that he had apparently called you while drunk off his ass the night before. “How,” He gulped and tried to gather his thoughts. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I spent the night at Y/N’s place,” He had reacted just like Robin thought he would. “So did Nancy, Max, and El by the way. All of whom also heard your very passionate drunken rant.”

Steve groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t even remember calling you last night, much less what it was he had said. The only thing he could assume was that it couldn’t have possibly been good if what he said was anything like what he remembered thinking.

Maybe the universe hated him. Maybe whatever forces were out there decided to get payback on him at that exact moment for every bad thing he had ever done. Or maybe karma was just a bitch. Whatever it was, he hated it because at that exact moment the bell hanging over the door dinged. And of course, the person entering the video store just had to be you with El walking right beside you. Steve immediately ducked behind the counter, the second fastest move he had made all day.

“Hey,” Robin smiled, ignoring Steve’s antics in the process. She figured it’d all be better in the long run if you didn’t confront each other for the first time in three months in the middle of a Family Video.

“Your movies, as promised.” You and El both set down a pile of movies on the counter. You were in much better spirits than you had been earlier that morning.

“We also came to take you to lunch,” El added, watching carefully as Robin glanced...towards the floor?

“You are going to lunch soon, right?” You asked, only noticing her face fall just the slightest.

“I am!” She quickly shook her head, realizing what it must have looked like. Your smile returned and you started debating with El where to go for lunch. In the short while you were distracted Robin took the boxes and crouched down behind the counter. “What are you planning to do now, dingus?”

“Hide here until Y/N leaves,” Steve nodded to himself, sounding absolutely sure that his plan would work out. “Should be easy enough.”

“I don’t think so,” Robin eyes locked onto one of their coworkers she hadn’t bothered learning the name of. What she did know though, was that he was a huge stickler for rules. Rules that included the fact that Steve was supposed to take over before she left, which he couldn’t do if he was still taking cover behind the counter.

“Harrington!” Unnamed coworkers timing could not have been worse for Steve. He could hear you and El both stop talking the second you heard his name. Robin stood up and opted to see how it all played out. It was out of her hands now. “What are you doing on the floor? You’re covering Buckley’s lunch shift.”

There was no getting out of anything now. Steve slowly stood up from his spot on the floor. He braced himself both for facing you and to keep from falling over from how fast his head was spinning. The second he laid eyes on you though? He was gone. Every single reservation he had previously felt seemed to dissipate when he looked into your eyes. You weren’t happy to see him, and with good reason, but at the same time you weren’t as angry as you had been 3 months and 17 days ago. When you looked at him you were indifferent and that was what hurt him the most.

“Steve.” You managed to say in greeting. Confronting him after hearing the drunken message he had left was not what you wanted to be doing but there you were. Over the last three months, you had played scenario after scenario in your head, seemingly infinite possibilities of what you might say the next time you came face to face with Steve Harrington. Now that you were finally standing in front him you had absolutely no idea what to say.

“Y/N,” Steve felt nauseous again. He wanted to address everything and nothing all at once. He wanted to tell you he was sorry. For all the things he had said to you three months ago, for being a jerk, for the drunken message he had apparently left. He also wanted to pretend it had never happened. He wanted to live in a little bubble where the two of you had never fought and you were here, seeing him for the first time in a long time. But that wasn’t possible. “Look, about the message I left last night -”

“Don’t worry about it,” You cut him off, desperately wanting to run out of the video store. It was deja vu. You swore he was saying the exact same thing he had said three months ago. The words he had said to you, the ones that hurt you more than you ever thought they could, replayed in a vicious loop. About last night…it meant nothing….it was a mistake.

“Y/N,” If he didn’t know any better he’d say he was begging, pleading you to hear him out. Steve knew better than anyone that drinking had a way of bringing out how people really felt. The night before was still a blur but from what he could piece together, he had said exactly what his emotions were. And he wasn’t going to deny them anymore, not to you. “I meant -”

“It was a mistake,” You echoed the exact thing he told you back to him. And Steve knew, you could tell just by the way his face fell into realization. You tried desperately to ignore the way your heart pounded incessantly when you saw how utterly defeated Steve looked. You had to tear your eyes away and look at anything that wasn’t him and you spoke in a whisper. “I gotta go.”

Steve could only watch as you walked out of the video store as fast as you could. He couldn’t blame you. After all, he had been just as quick to walk away from you. He hated it. He hated the way both El and Robin looked at him with a hint of sympathy. He hated seeing your car pull out of the parking lot and drive away. He hated being left almost alone in that store with his thoughts swirling in his head at a million miles an hour. And most of all he hated knowing that it was his fault and his fault only.

When the doorbell rang you expected it to be the pizza you had ordered. What you hadn’t expected it to be was the party looking more worried than you had seen them in a long time. Lucas, Will, Dustin, and Mike all pushed past you without a moment's hesitation.

“Please, come in,” You mumbled to yourself as you shut the door. Despite the concerned look on their faces, they didn’t hesitate to dig into the leftover junk food from the night before. It wasn't until they saw you staring at them that they remembered why it was they had gone to see you. All at once they started talking over each other.

“We haven’t seen Steve in three days -”

“Usually he’s always around -”

“But he hasn’t been since the day we told him you were back.”

“And we know he’s not your favorite person in the world right now -”

“But we need help finding him.”

“He won’t answer our calls -”

“And we just realized now that we don’t actually know where he lives.”

“We were hoping you’d help us.”

Part of you was tempted to tell them that you had run into him earlier that day and that he was fine. But then you thought of how tired Steve had looked and the sunken look in his eyes. Not to mention the drunken message and how hungover he had clearly been. You had to admit, it was endearing how much they cared for him. And so with a sigh and a barely-there smile, you picked your keys up from the coffee table.

“I’ll drive you there but you’re paying for my pizza.”

After a ten minute debate and agreeing that they’d pay for half your pizza then eating said pizza followed by another five-minute argument on who got to ride shotgun, you were finally pulling into Steve’s driveway. It was nearing midnight and the lights on in Steve’s living room stuck out like a sore thumb against the otherwise dark street. The only other car in the driveway was Steve’s and you knew he was alone. You barely registered that the boys were waiting for you before getting out of the car. They may have all been eager and a little impatient but even they all knew how much the fight you and Steve had hurt you both. You shot them all a smile before opening your door.

“There should be a spare key under the doormat.” You pointed them in the right direction while you leaned against the car. The encounter at the video store was still fresh in your mind and you felt the need to put a little distance between you and the front door. So you watched. First, as they unlocked the door and walked in and then as Dustin came back outside and ran over to you.

“We might need some help,” He told you and this time you followed.

Steve was almost passed out on his couch and a few cans of beer were scattered on the floor.

“Is he drunk?” Mike wondered out loud, kicking a stray can out of the way as he walked towards the couch. He moved Steve’s head back and forth a few times and got no reaction other than him half-heartedly swatting his hand away. You pushed any previous inhibitions you had away for the time being. Instead, you moved towards the couch and knelt on the floor. You had dealt with drunk Steve a hundred times before, this was something you were prepared for.

“There’s a closet outside the bathroom upstairs, I need the headache medicine from there. I also need a glass of water, a wet towel, and any food you can find.” All at once they split up and you were left alone with Steve.

“Hey,” You didn’t hesitate to gently shake him out of his half-asleep daze. He groaned in protest but sat up a little straighter. It was then that he looked over at you for the first time since you had all arrived.

“Hey,” Steve wasn’t quite sure if you were actually there or not. In his once more drunken state, he managed to remember that you weren’t happy with him. There was no reason why you would be sitting on the floor beside him like you had so many times before. He could hope, though. “Are you really here?”

“I am,” You spoke softly and moved to sit on the couch beside him. Immediately you found that drunk Steve was easier to handle than sober Steve. At least for the time being. Drunk Steve argued less and wouldn’t remember much in the morning.

“Why?” Steve asked, despite not believing that you were there. “Why would you come to take care of me when I’ve been acting like a dick?”

“Because,” For a second you weren’t going to tell him but then you remembered the many nights you had stayed with Steve when he was drunk. There was no harm in telling him the truth. “Because I still care about you, Steve. Even when you’re acting like a dick.”

You took the glass of water and a half-eaten bag of chips from Will and Lucas. You honestly didn’t think Steve processed the fact that there was anyone else there. He was barely processing the fact that you were there. You handed him a chip from the bag and he popped it into his mouth.

“You know,” Steve reached for the bag of chips and took out a handful. “I don’t think you're really here, Y/N”

“And why is that?” You played along with whatever he said while taking the bottle of aspirin from Mike. Steve took the two pills you handed him along with the glass of water, spilling a good amount as he drank it. Dustin was the last one to come back with the towel. None of them said anything, amused by whatever it was that Steve was ranting about.

“Because the real Y/N probably wouldn’t come in here after I fucked everything up,” Steve took another handful of chips and ate them within a few seconds. “I mean, come on. I said a bunch of terrible shit and when the real Y/N came back I called her while completely shitfaced and accidentally told all her friends we had sex. The only people who don’t know is the party and she’d kill me if they found out. If you were the real Y/N would you wanna be here right now?”

You were very aware of the four boys all gaping at the two of you. Sure, they’d all done their fair share of speculating as to what had happened but this? This they weren’t expecting. They wanted to say something, you could tell, but they also wanted to hear what Steve was going to say next. It took you by surprise a little when he took another swig of water and laid down with his head in your lap.

“Can I tell you something?” Steve shut his eyes and made himself comfortable. You knew he’d be asleep any second now. You took the towel from where Dustin had set it down and placed it on Steve’s forehead. “I hate how much I love you.” You dropped the bag of chips when he said those words while he kept talking like he had never said them. “It fucking hurts. I care so much about what you think of me. I think about you constantly. And the last 3 months and 17 days I’ve spent beating myself up over everything I said to you. It just sucks. Right not-real Y/N?”

You were silent and confused. You loved him, of course you did. Steve had been your best friend for years and even after your argument you were always making sure he was fine through other people. In love though? That was something else entirely. Had Steve really just told you he was in love you while drunk and thinking you weren’t there? There was no way you could have anticipated hearing that. By the time you formulated a way to respond Steve had already drifted off to sleep.

“It’s uh,” You didn’t really know what to say to make everything a little less awkward. When you finally looked up at the boys they were all trying and failing to pretend that nothing had been said at all. “Late. It’s late. You guys shouldn’t walk home in the dark. There’s a guest room upstairs if you wanna stay there.”

“Do you,” They knew you didn’t wanna talk about it. If you did you would have said something already. “Do you wanna take the room?”

They watched as you glanced down at where Steve had fallen asleep on top of you. You shook your head after a few seconds of silence. “No, it’s fine. If I go he’ll wake up and won’t fall back asleep.”

None of them said anything else but they did share a look. One that you could tell meant they’d talk about what had just happened once they were out of the room. You couldn’t bring yourself to mind much. They thanked you for helping them while also apologizing for dragging you into everything again. You assured them it was no big deal, despite what had just happened you’d help them again in a heartbeat if they asked. Soon they went upstairs and left you to dwell in your own thoughts with Steve sleeping soundly.

When Steve woke up the next morning it was because the sun was shining obnoxiously through the thin curtains. He felt halfway decent, much to his surprise. It wasn’t until he sat up on the couch and saw you fast asleep on the couch that he realized he hadn’t in fact been hallucinating the night before.

“Not again,” He mumbled to himself, having a clearer picture of what he had said than the day before. Steve ran his hands through his hair, eyes landing on the bottle of aspirin and the half-empty glass of water. You had stayed with him all night, just like you used to. He couldn’t help but smile at the fact.

“You’re awake,” Your voice tore him out of his trance-like state. He watched you stretch before making yourself comfortable on the couch.

“I am,” He followed suit and soon he was facing you. The air in the room was tense, almost anticipating the conversation that you both knew couldn’t be avoided any longer. Neither one of you said anything. You looked anywhere but at Steve, knowing that if you did you’d be a mess of emotions just like him. He looked at only you, relieved that he was finally seeing you for real after so long. Maybe, just maybe, you’d give him a chance to explain. “Can we talk? For real this time.”

You couldn’t say no, you knew that. For the most part, you had succeeded in getting over the argument. It hurt if you thought about it too much but until a couple of days ago you hadn’t. You had simply resigned yourself to the fact that you’d never know why Steve had gotten so upset. But here he was now, sitting right next to you. And you needed to know everything. “Where do you want to start?”

“The night before you left,” Steve answered almost immediately. He could tell by the look on your face that you were wary but you didn’t protest. “I,” He didn’t know how to go about explaining himself to you. But you were here and you were listening so he was going to do the best he could. “I was scared. We,” He watched you turn to look at him, eyes both sad and curious, and all his feelings came out all at once. “We slept together, Y/N. And after...it was over it hit me. I did the one thing they say you’re never supposed to do. You don’t just sleep with your best friend because things get complicated, you know? You had fallen asleep after a little and I look over and thought ‘do I love Y/N?’ and I sat there thinking about it. But then I realized you were leaving me. Just like everyone else. And I know it was a dick move but when you brought it up the next day I couldn’t handle it. You had always been right there with me through literally everything and suddenly you were leaving me. I was gonna be alone without you for the first time and I wasn’t ready. And a little while ago I finally realized why. I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.”

“Can I ask you something now?” You finally said after a tense pause. Very slowly and a little hesitantly you reached forward and took one of Steve’s hands in your own. He nodded once and braced himself for whatever you were about to say. “Why did it take you so long to tell me this?”

“Honestly?” Steve felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. He had finally told you everything and it surprised him that you were taking it as well as you were. “I thought you hated me after that fight.”

“Oh, I did for a few days,” You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. The smile on Steve’s face was one you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. “Steve, within 24 hours you told literally all of our friends the one thing we agreed not to tell them and I still stayed the night to take care of you while you were drunk. I think it’s safe to say I could never really hate you.”

Your laughter mixed together, a sound that hadn’t been heard in a long time. Before you could process anything that was happening Steve had pulled you into a tight hug, not letting you go for a good minute or two. “I missed this,” Steve let out a sigh when he finally let go. He moved a little bit closer to you when he saw the grin on your face that matched his own. “I missed you.” Your smile told him everything he needed to know, you had missed him too.

In just a few minutes the two of you were talking and catching each other up on everything that had happened the past couple of months. You were both oblivious to Dustin, Will, Lucas, and Mike high fiving each other on top of the stairs at the sound of you two together once more. Not together together like they had wanted but they held out hope that maybe you’d get there one day.

#this is so much longer than i intended it to be #but i think it turned out pretty okay #what do you guys think?#steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #max mayfield #el hopper #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x reader #reader insert #stranger things one shot #one shot #imagine #fanfiction #my stuff #things i write

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