#Doing whatever and being trailed by a shit ton of shades | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fbfh · 4 years ago

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light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

116 notes · View notes

mooshs-crack-headcanons · 4 years ago

Note

Hey can we get some relationship headcanons with lady, trish and lucia? Thank you moosh! 💝💝💝

Possible tw: talking about Lady's survivors guilt because Arkham is a piece of purple blobby shit.

Lady

Lady is without a doubt a very strong woman, after having to deal with everything her father caused at the tower and everything that lead up to it including the murder of her mother, to killing him and slowly recovering from the guilt the best she can and suffering from it all even to this day, and that's not even getting into her successful career as a devil hunter. Even with how hard her life has ever since the death of her mother, Lady is strong and has learned how to treat her mental wounds and how to move on as best as she can. She's especially pleased now that she has the rest of the crew and you to call as family. You are very lucky to have this woman at your side.

Lady loves hunting demons, she has ever since she started her revenge against her father, so if you're in the business (which I'm going to say is likely because I don't see Lady dating a civilian without having lots of guilt about you being possibly put ton of danger because her name is pretty big with rival hunters and devils alike) expect to be hunting partners like Dante and Trish are which she finds quite amusing seeing you in action especially on big jobs where the both of you have to bust out the big guns (and in her case literally.)

With you two being partners, both in business and romantic sense, you can expect cut on jobs to be fairly equal (sometimes with her giving you most of the cut because you're so cute) compared to whenever she teams up with the rest of the crew which she keeps most because everyone has at least a little debt owed to her, and Dante (who has the biggest ridiculous amount of debt) has bitched and whined over this fact the most before going back to pout over his strawberry sundae, which the sight makes Lady laugh every time.

She has surprisingly really soft hands, which you would expect calluses and for her to have joint issues given how much she shoots things on a weekly basis but the woman takes good care of herself and practices regular self care so whenever she holds you hands, caresses your face, or mindlessly runs your sides when in bed her touch is very comforting.

She likes giving attention to scars, whether it be hers or yours she likes for the two of you to trace each other's and tell the either the cool stories about the badass ones you've received from jobs or share the the mental ones and the anguishing hardships from them that will end in the two of you finding quiet comfort in each other's embrace.

Kisses with Lady go through a variety of stages depending on where you are in the relationship. In the beginning they are quick and flustered (especially on Lady's part) then they turn into more and more confident with time as the two of you get over possible embarrassment before finally they turn into kisses that tingles your brain and makes you forget how to breathe before one of you pulls back and gives the other a cocky smirk before going back to doing whatever they were previous.

Lady's preferable date locations are at bars, she really likes the occasional drink and it's fun to hear gossip and possible leads for potential jobs. Lady is actually a lightweight so when she does have the occasional drink be prepared to take care of the mess afterwards because she is a clingy drunk and it's actually pretty funny to hear her complain to Dante about terrible lines when her pick up lines are godlike in cringe and it's fucking adorable added with the cute shade of pink dusting her cheeks. But without fail Lady is also a bitchy nightmare when she's hungover so also be prepared so her to often harshly snap back at you the next day but know she never means the harsh words thrown your way, just let her shoot Dante a few times and she'll be good as new.

An activity that she absolutely loves doing with you before bed is taking a shared bubble bath together. She finds it super relaxing with you leading into each other and washing each other's hair as you talk about whatever that occurred in your dangerous lives that day, also a bonus if there's music playing in the background because she loves hearing you hum along with the tune as your hands make work shampooing her hair.

Somewhere around the time she realized things between the two of you are very serious and that the two of you are going extremely steady, does she decide that she has to be a hundred percent honest with you. She loves you and you deserve to know about the truth about the nights that she leaves you alone in bed to do whatever random thing around the apartment to distract herself from sleeping. Her haunting guilt, even though she's come to accept that what her father did wasn't her fault...the guilt still comes up from time to time, his face still imprinted in her mind. When she tells you one night before the two of you were getting ready for bed, something in her just - broke and she had to come clean. When she starts telling you the details of how her father sacrificed her mother for being a descendant of the priestess that Sparda sacrificed, how that he probably never did love either of them and that he just manipulated them both for his own plans and that sometimes she would desperately think of somehow she could've changed things and at that point each word she speaks gets harder and harder to understand before she breaks down crying. Hold her and let her sob into your shoulder and let her take all the time she needs to let it all out. Once she's calmed herself does she apologize for having to see her like this, these types of situations are hard but make sure you tell her that you love her and other comforting words that slowly give her peace of mind. Your relationship noticeably deepens that night.

Once long further down the road of your relationship does Lady start thinking about the future. Yes she loves hunting demons but she would absolutely love to retire one day and finally settle down with you and just...somehow live a normal life. However those are thoughts for way into the future and she still hasn't had her fill yet and she's proud to have you right along with her.

Trish

Trish has always been since the moment she was created a woman that was very hard to get a good read on what she's feeling, she just radiates this smug badass confidence everywhere she goes whether it be hanging around the office or gracefully slaying demons. However despite this everyone who has been around for long enough knows that expressing sometimes feelings can be really hard sometimes for Trish, with her still being demon and all. That doesn't mean she doesn't feel anything; the exact opposite in fact given the dmc rules she has cried therefore she feels human emotion, so she feels a lot but given her demonic nature she doesn't know at times how to apply them and that was the one of the exact reasons why she left Dante to travel the world to do some self discovery shortly after dmc 1, so that she can learn what exactly to do with these new sensations. And with that journey it eventually leads her to having you be a major role in her life.

Trish can be a bit unpredictable and when it comes to this they're often moments that show her devilish side off, especially on jobs (again another case of not feeling very comfortable dating a civilian) where she jumps around the battlefield, bright volting yellow electricity trailing her every movements, slashing through devils one after another and another before leaving you completely abandoned and going off on her own or with her still massacring every demonic thing that moves but this time she's looming over you almost like a predator on prey when actually she's only taking a front row seat watching you beat the shit out of demons on your end or right after the two of you slay all enemies in one area she either complements or taunts you on your kills one form the other depending on your kill count versus hers and this ends with her challenging you to a friendly spar before going any further on the current job.

With Trish being a demon and all she has a great memory so she remembers a lot of mundane things about you, some things that even you didn't notice. She remembers all of your favorite restaurants, your favorite breakfast dishes, what preferred time you wake up, how exactly you like to be held, what tell signs that you're embarrassed, and her personal favorite: what exact words to say to see those pretty cheeks heated up.

Her hands are fairly smooth given the healing aspect to demonic nature but uniquely her touch always has a sparking touch to it so that's something you're going to have to get use to every time your skin comes in contact with them, but after awhile you'll find comfort in it every time your hands interlock together the electricity is like a spark of a reminder that two of you are there together and alive.

She is absolutely not afraid to spook you at times either at your place or at the office with taking on different human forms, one time she took on her Gloria form to sneak behind you while you were cleaning your pistols and tapped a few fingers along your shoulders and next thing Dante knew was there were several new bullet holes in the kitchen that he didn't remember there being before.

You know how I talked about the electric sparks on her hands? Well that doesn't just apply there but on other parts of her as well. So that being said it's no surprise that kisses between the two of you are quite electrifying, and again something that will take time to get used to but eventually it's quite comforting.

Trish, like Lady, loves self care and that includes going on shopping sprees so expect a lot of dates at various stores, your girlfriend with Dante's -stolen- borrowed credit card in hand getting you everything your hearts desire.

Being a full demon Trish technically doesn't need to eat or drink anything but still she goes for the occasional pizza slice since that's usually the only food to be found at Devil May Cry, which she only does when she's bored and wants to do 'human things' however if you so happen to cook anything she will always 100% eat your food. It doesn't matter if your cooking skills would put Gordon Ramsay in an absolute shit fit, she will eat all of it and proclaim that it's the best meal she's ever had, this is a cute way she's found a small way of expressing her love.

In the beginning of your relationship, Trish has to actually remind herself that you're human and even though you're strong you're nowhere on the same level of strength that she and Dante are on, and that even though you can handle yourself you do need protection from time to time. But she doesn't just need to remind herself that on strength but also on the emotional aspect as well. As a human you've come into this world feeling emotions, she's only felt them for a few decades which in a demons lifespan is barely anything. Trish loves you deep down and she's told you that countless times, but there are situations that you've been dragged to your absolute worst and she...has no idea what to do. She feels awful and wants to comfort you but she just doesn't know how to express that, so she can only sit there next to you and listen to you sob for hours and just feel...hopeless. Over time the two of you find a way; she confronts you about this and tells you that she doesn't want to feel hopeless without being able to express and be able to properly comfort you, which ends up with the little system of whenever you feel sad that she says next to you and holds your hand, the light bolts of electricity becoming the way of her expressing her comforting presence to you for however long you need it forehead has all the time in the world, and if you need something further feel like it feel free to cry on her shoulder and tell her everything that's bothering you, she's a great listener and her memory is great after all.

I think out of everybody it's Dante that notices and feels Trish's feelings the most, call it a demon thing with feeling auras and such, or that he really knows his friends, or just it's possibly both. He actually prefers when Trish wants to go on jobs with you instead of him, and sure it's a little weird seeing the clone of his dead mother with someone that isn't his dad, but he really appreciates that you bring something really amazing out of his old devil hunting partner, thinking about how vastly different the demon servant that led him to Mallet Island is to the woman he sees now, and even though he doesn't comment on it the sight of the two of you excitedly bustling out of the door to go on a hell spawn killing spree always without fail gets a smile on his face.

Lucia

Lucia has come a long way with her self acceptance. She's artificially a demon and not human and for a good while she worried there might be a day where she might lose control of the devil inside and kill Matier and everyone else she loves and cares for, but a certain son of Sparda changed her way of thinking and now she's proud to have her powers to protect the ones she holds dear, and that includes you. She's a proud guardian of Vie de Marli and she hopes that one day she can be just as strong as Dante, and with it that's her motivation to continue to train.

Lucia has a duty to kill demons and she views it as the way to get stronger, out of her Lady and Trish she is the one that would be alright dating a civilian although with you being a civilian that puts an even heavy weight on her shoulders to make sure the island is protected at all costs, but if she were to prefer she would rather you be a demon hunter so she wouldn't have to stress as much.

I think Lucia would really want whoever she's interested in to be liked and respected by Matier, she is her mother after all, adoptive or not. But I really don't think there's too much to make Matier not like you, she trusts her daughter's judgment after all but still expect the cliché: "If you hurt my daughter-" speech, and despite the older woman's small figure and age this is probably the most terrifying moment you'll ever see from her.

Lucia's, even with the healing aspect from her demonic nature, hands are fairly callused with how much she's gripped her blades over the years. Maybe it's because of her artificial status that she can heal herself quickly like all demons can but it's just not perfectly on point, she does have many scars from slip ups from the past that never fully healed that she keeps mostly hidden.

Despite her most being present on Vie de Marli she does like to travel to the Devil May Cry office to take jobs from Morrison from here and there. It took awhile for her to feel comfortable around everyone else who was Dante bit she came around and she actually likes spending time with Kyrie when Nero brings her over. So eventually when she considers everyone in the crew trusted companions does she bring you along on one of her trips. It really does warm her heart to see you around having a fun time with these ragtag gang of colorful personalities, maybe if she has the chance and the island isn't at that much threat she could also bring Matier along?

Kisses with Lucia are awkward at first. You're most likely her first s/o so she has absolutely no idea what to do. She had pinned feelings for Dante awhile but after seeing him in day to day situations at the office she came to learn that it would never work between them and she would prefer to stay friends, but now she has you and an actual relationship? She gets embarrassed from the slightest touch so kissing is a whole different realm for her. But of course over time and she learns to have some confidence with you she slowly becomes used to it and those awkward fumbles become slow and sweet passionate entanglements.

Dates with Lucia on Vie de Marli mostly include late night patrols around the island, a time where it feels like it's just the two of you on the island where any type of conversation can start. But on the mainland with Dante's suggestion Lucia really likes going with you to Fredi's dinner the food there is quite different from back home and the people that work there are so nice, she once got a compliment from Cindy about how pretty she was and the shocked flushed look on her face was so adorable and precious that it's something you'll never forget until the day you die.

Lucia when she's not on duty has a hobby carving wooden figures, the process really relaxes her. So a lot of gives from her are of beautifully sculpted animals with your name carved neatly onto the bottom of them. You end up having lots of them on shelves in your study and whenever you're sitting down doing whatever while Lucia's away they bring a nice sense of comfort like she's still there with you. Another bonding moment the two of you have is her teaching you how to carve, it's a sweet moment with her place next to you holding your hands as she instructs you what to do, all potential shyness that she normally shows gone and instead replaced by full confidence, which is always really nice to see from her.

Lucia has long before your relationship learned to accept what she is, but there are some times where she has moments of doubt that you would be much happier dating another human instead of a devil as herself. After the two of you have visited the office a couple of times and she sees how you've become good friends with Lady that her insecurities come up and she has the thoughts of if you'd be more happy in a relationship with Lady, another human, than her, an artificial demon. With this plaguing her mind she becomes more distant, which with her not being really good at hiding when something's bothering her you notice fairly quickly. When you finally approach her about it she does come clean and tells you what's troubling her and even more than she's still doubting her strength as a guardian and isn't sure if she's able to protect you, Matier, and everyone, and even more so that even though she has demon blood (even though artificial) that she is nothing like how strong Dante is. You then tell her that her being demon or human doesn't matter, that you love her for her and that she is strong but she doesn't have to be strong for everyone she can show weakness and that everyone does, and that you know Dante is proud of how far she's come and how far she can still go. She looks at you with a mystified look before pulling you into an embrace telling you how to Sparda she's so lucky to have someone as amazing as you.

Lucia likes to think about Sparda from time to time, with all the stories that she's managed to get out from Matier and the various things she's read in books she wonders what type of man he really was deep down to love a human woman - Dante's mother - and if what he felt about her was anything how she felt about you.

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #lady dmc #lady x reader #trish x reader #trish dmc #lucia dmc #lucia x reader #mine #tw survivors guilt

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

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Something Just Like This - CH25

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: NSFW, fluff, angst, violence, minor character death

WC: 4366

A/N: I had this chapter ready before I thought I would. Happy Tuesday, I guess!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Cas walks beside Y/N, she has her hand hooked through his arm, her grip’s tight around his biceps. She’s shaking. Not particularly because of Cain’s words. Well, maybe a little because he makes it sound like he could bring everyone down and he’s not afraid to do it if she gives him a reason to. She feels like she’s caught between a rock and a hard place. That’s not really true either, she feels like she’s caught between a rock and a soft place, one that is 6ft tall and freckled and she knows which one she would choose if she has to.

“I need a drink.” She mutters under her breath and Cas hears her, guides her through the mass of people and makes a beeline for the bar wordlessly, he doesn't even complain at how hard her grip is on him.

She orders something that for sure will go to her head fast, takes two shots within seconds, inhales and exhales loudly. She closes her eyes, counts to ten before opening them again to see Cas’ staring at her, a crease between his eyebrows. “You okay? Did he do anything to you?”

“I’m okay, don’t worry about it.” Y/N says, because it’s true. She’s feeling so much better already, her head gets woozy.

“I kinda have to be.” Cas purses his lips, gives her a last nod when he sees that she won’t be answering him and turns around to face the dance floor. He leans back, his elbows resting on the bar top.

There were lots of people dancing, some of them mingling around the edge of the dance floor.

They watch the dancers in silence for a while when Cas suddenly turns to her and asks, “You wanna dance?” He’s already holding out a hand for her to take, which means that he’s not taking no for an answer.

“I must warn you,” She’s laughing as she places her hand in his, clearly feeling light headed from the booze, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Can I tell you something?” Cas asks as he leads her towards the middle of the dance floor, dodging some other dancers as they go.

“Of course.”

He has one hand around her waist now and she places her hand on his shoulder. Cas winks, “I’m terrible too.”

They dance and laugh for a while and she’s sure that Cas’ toes are numb by now from her standing on them all the time.

“May I have the next dance?” Dean’s standing next to them, a stupid grin on his face. She wonders how long he’s been watching them. Wonders if he’s seen that they were terrible dancers. He must have. She’s blushing a little at the thought of him watching her making a fool out of herself.

“Oh my god, I’m a terrible dancer.” She says, her cheeks are flushed and she’s a little out of breath from laughing too much.

Cas’ mouths something to Dean that looks like ‘terrible’ while rolling his eyes.

“I take the chance.” Dean grins and sneaks his hand around her waist, and she places one hand on his shoulder and the other one in his hand.

Dean starts to lead and surprisingly, she’s not as clumsy as she was with Cas.

“You’re not bad.” He pulls her a little closer, his big hand is on the small of her back, his fingers span over the whole of her back. She feels safe in Dean’s hands.

“The terrible dancer must be Cas then.”

Dean laughs, “Yeah. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because Cas can’t lead.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean swings her around, and it’s surprisingly smooth. She also manages not to trip over her own feet. “Because Cas’ never played the male role when we were practicing.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks up to him. “You mean ‘we’ as in you and Cas?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles at the memory. “Dad wanted me to take dancing lessons but then I got Cas’ to play the woman. We practiced so much that I’m quite good but he’s the worst.”

“Oh no, poor guy.”

“It’s okay, I think Anna’s teaching him now.”

She raises her eyebrows in question, “Anna?”

“His girlfriend.” Dean smirks.

“Cas has a girlfriend?” She didn’t know, never thought of one of them having anyone, to be honest. Feels a little guilty because of course they have their own lives too, next to the one they’re living. They must have.

Dean swings her around, avoids bumping into others on the dance floor, “Yeah, she was a GP. A few towns out. Fixed Cas up real good when things went wrong. They’ve been together since and she even moved here to be near him.”

“Awe, I Iove that for Cas.” She’s smiling, and is genuinely happy about it.

Dean chuckles, stops mid dance and leans down to kiss her. He parts after, this thumb comes up to brush at her bottom lip, lingers there too long and she bites on it, which makes Dean grin. “I taste tequila.”

“Yeah, rough night.” She breathes out.

“There I was about to ask you how you’d feel about me and you drinking a bottle of champagne on the rooftop, but now I’d rather not take the bottle with me.”

“Unless,” Y/N squints her eyes and looks up at him. He’s so cute when he has his lips pursed and there’s a hint of a smile, his dimples showing a little. “You wanna hold my hair back when I puke all over the bathroom.”

“Yeah, hard pass.” Dean says in a playful voice while he leads her away from the dance floor, his hands staying on the small of her back.

They ride up in the elevator, and Dean has a hard time not picking her up and making her ride his hard dick. Has to remind himself that they’re not home and he has to fucking behave.

Now he’s having a key to the rooftop, doesn’t even have to pick the lock. Money buys you access to all kinds of places, apparently.

He opens the door, lets her take it in first. He’s been here a moment ago, helping the employee set up the fairy lights and lounger chair.

“Wow.” Y/N walks a couple of steps towards the railing. The city light sparkles in the dark. “Did you do all that just to get into my pants?”

“Can’t lie that it’s also part of the plan, yeah,” He walks up behind her, hugs her from behind, kisses the crown of her head. “Come on.”

Dean leads her to the lounger chair, lies on it and looks up to the sky, waits for her to join him. He hates being in the city. Hates it sometimes, that the air is so polluted and the lights are so bright that he can never spot any stars.

It makes him want to move out even more. Move somewhere where they can always see stars on a clear night sky.

She joins him and he takes her in his arms, letting her rest her head on his chest.

He kisses the top of her hair, his fingers lazily stroking along her back, “Can I ask you something? From friend to friend?”

She tilts her head up, “Hit me.”

“Right,” He clears his throat, “There’s a girl I kind of have a crush on. And I kinda just bid on her at an auction. Do you think that’s creepy?”

“How much did you spend?”

“Two hundred?”

“That’s not a lot.”

“Thousand?”

“Ugh. You should tone it down a little. But I don’t know, does she like you back or is it one sided?”

“I have a strong feeling that she has a crush on me too. But now I’m afraid that she’s a little mad at me.”

“Ah,” She laughs and braces her forearm on his chest, leans down to kiss him. His heart is making somersaults. “‘M not mad. I just don’t want you to spend money on me.”

“I know, can’t promise that I won’t do it again though,” He sighs and adds, “Sorry I had to talk to Crowley in private.”

“It’s okay, Cas found me.”

His forehead creases, “Found you where?”

“Shit,” She mutters, hides her face in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N.” He rarely calls her by name he realizes, only does it when he’s a little annoyed with her.

She looks up and mumbles, her mouth still on his shirt, “Cain was waiting for me in front of the bathroom.”

“He what?” It might have come out louder than he intended.

“Yeah, basically asked me why I left him. And then he said that he’s the key to your next whatever it is and that he holds the upper hand.”

God dammit.

“Did he?” Dean controls his voice now.

“I asked him if he would rat you out and he said no because he wants the money you’ve promised him, but I don’t trust him. He also said that maybe he can win me back once he’s rich.”

“Huh,” He breathes out, “And what did you say?”

“Okay, don’t be mad at me alright?”

“Baby,” Dean cradles her face, trails his thumb across her cheeks and pulls her down, kisses her, “I could never be mad at you.”

“Well, you’ve been all shades of annoyed.”

That’s true. Can’t lie about that, but he’s never been mad.

“I told him maybe.”

“You what?” Dean shouts out.

“You’re being loud!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He says and hisses instead, “You what?”

“I don’t know, I just did it because I want him to keep hoping! So like, that he would keep working for your whatever it is! I know that it’s the worst thing to say to a stalker but,” She buries her face in the crook of his neck again, mumbles into his skin, “You’re mad.”

Dean lets her words sink in before he laughs, making her look up at him as if he’s gone crazy.

“‘M not mad,” He soothes her, smiling a little, too, “You know why I talked to Crowley?”

“No?”

“Because I want Cain out. That dude’s fucking creepy and he doesn’t fucking know his place!”

“And?”

“He’s out. He just doesn’t know it yet. Crowley said he’ll tell him tonight.”

“Wow, that easy?”

“Yeah, Ash’s been working a lot and we have another contact from the company Cain works for.”

“Oh thank god.” She straddles him now, attacks his lips and he smiles into the kiss.

“So,” Dean says when they part and she grins above him. “What do you say,” He draws figures on her dress with his fingers, “Now that we got this out of the way, can I get in your pants?”

There’s a glint in her eyes when she moves down his lap to kneel in between his thighs, her lips crooked up at the edges. “Not if I get in yours first.”

Her fingers hastily work on his belt, unbuttons his pants and pulls down the zipper, and there’s that little tongue sticking out at the corner of her lips when she’s concentrating. Dean thinks it’s super cute.

She cups his cock through his underwear, and laughs when he jerks his hips at the sudden friction.

Hooking her fingers through his waistband, she pulls it down, and he helps her, lifts his ass so she can push the underwear and pants past his ass. He strokes himself twice, feels his cock hardening at the thought of what’s to come. Not that it wasn’t already half hard before. He doesn’t think soft is a frequent occurrence around her.

Taking his dick in her hands, she licks up along the shaft, and Dean bites back a moan that’s about to escape. Fears that if he starts, he’s gonna lose it too soon.

Y/N’s grinning when she spits on his dick, strokes him one handed and lowers her head down to suck at his balls. She sucks them in, one by one and lets it out with a lewd popping sound, her fist twisting at the head of his cock.

“Baby, if you keep on doing that it’ll be over before you know it.” He’s barely able to hold himself together.

She snorts out a laugh at that and comes back up, sucks in the tip of his cock and works her mouth deeper.

That’s the thing, he usually has very good stamina but with her, that went out the window pretty fast. He makes it up to her though and sometimes, can go twice or even three times in a row when he’s really horny. Mostly his horniness depends on her neediness, and sometimes, she can be insatiable. Not that he minds, he just has a hard time keeping up.

Dean watches her take his cock, it’s not perfect, she can’t take that much in and she’s also not very experienced — mainly also his fault because he doesn’t let her do it that often. It’s a fight of dominance between them, really, because he just loves it a little bit more when he can go down on her and not the other way around.

Even though she's not perfect, she still is. Because it’s her.

She fists the part she can’t swallow, and bobs her head to the rhythm. He can clearly see that she enjoys it as much as he does, maybe even a little bit more because she likes that, likes it when she can make him lose his mind.

“That’s it. Just like that, breathe baby, don’t forget to breathe.” She looks up at him, her eyes a little teary but full of determination. “Good girl. You’re taking my cock so well. Your mouth feels amazing.”

Her lips curve into a smile around his cock and there’s a sparkle in her eyes. She’s always so happy when she gets praises and he’s not going to stop giving them. The sight almost makes him burst.

“Okay, okay, easy there tiger,” He whispers as she strokes him hard and fast while giving little pecks on the tip of his leaking head. “Come here,” His hand grips around her arm, pulling her up, kissing her hard.

“You wanna ride my cock?” He breathes into the kiss.

“Uh-huh,”

“Uh-huh? Are you even ready?” His fingers go down to her clit, rubs at it before breaching her pussy to check if she’s ready. Two fingers slip in without any problem, she’s soaked.

“Dean, please,” Y/N whines, moves her hips back and fucks down onto his fingers. “I’m ready, promise.”

He chuckles.

So needy.

“Then hop on, hold your skirt up, I wanna see,”

She grabs at the hem of her skirt, pulls it up and bunches them around her, jams it into her armpit as she slowly sits herself down onto his awaiting dick.

Dean has to bite down on his bottom lip when he feels her warmth and wetness surrounding him. “Jesus,” He pants. “Oh my god, you feel so fucking good.”

Y/N stays still for a long time, her eyes cross before her eyelids begin to flutter, a soft moan escapes her lips.

He feels her pussy clench around him, squeezing him real tight and after a couple of seconds, she starts to smile and laugh.

“Fuck, baby. Did you just come?” He looks at her with admiration as she begins to bounce up and down his length.

She’s still laughing, “Yeah.”

“Christ, I didn’t do anything!”

“Your cock just hit the right spot, don’t get ahead of yourself,” She’s breathing hard again and he spits into his fingers, brings them down to rub at her clit.

There it is, the eye crossing before the flutter of her lids. Her pussy flutters too, clamps down and grips at his cock like a vice.

He helps her ride it out, strokes her softly.

“Do you have, like, a button inside you or what is it?” He asks in disbelief. She can come easily and often but it was never that easy.

She bites her lips, grins when she hears it.

“Alright, sweetheart,” He says, “It’s my turn. Why don’t you lean forward?”

Leaning forward, they’re chest to chest and Dean keeps one arm around her waist while he pulls her even closer by the back of her neck. He kisses her hot and wantonly as he starts to move his hips, fucks up into her, his movements growing harder and faster. The sound of his wet balls slapping against her ass is loud and obscene. He has to keep on kissing her so as not to let her make too much noise. She moans into his mouth and he drinks it up, like it’s something he needs to survive, and maybe it is.

He pulls her head back a little by her hair and she’s grinning, because she’s come to love that too. Hair pulling. Another kink they found out that she likes. Likes to mix pleasure with pain and who is he to deny her something that is such a fucking turn on for him as well.

“Look at me,” He whispers, low and dark, “I want to see your eyes when I come.”

His hips still work in a wild pace, fucking up into her hard and fast, their breathing mixing as they look at each other. Dean comes so hard he sees fucking stars.

He kisses her after, holds her close as he rocks his hips lazily against her, only stops when his cock softens inside of her.

Dean couldn’t help it, laid Y/N down and ate her out right inside the limousine. That’s what she was shy about at first too, Dean licking at her sloppy and fucked out cunt, but he makes it seem so natural and doesn’t mind his own cum still dripping out of her pussy.

He made her squirt too and she doesn’t even know if the devider’s been up between them and the driver, and even if it wasn’t, she didn’t really care. He licked her clean after, though, hums his approval while doing it and Y/N still doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t know how someone can enjoy it so much. Like, he really, truly enjoys going down on her and smiles like a kid on a Christmas morning when she would let him. Dean gave the driver a generous tip, because that poor guy needs to do some serious cleaning.

They get into the elevator and Dean leans against the wall, plays with her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, not too tired.”

He raises an eyebrow in question, “You aren’t?”

“Nah, I’m in the right mindset to have more mind blowing sex.” She grins, it’s cocky, she knows, and it’s not entirely true. She’s tired but she just loves winding him up.

Dean snorts, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s really great, but I hope the sex is not with me because I’m beat.” He pulls her close by her dress, leans down a little so their noses touch, “You’re wearing me out.” Dean kisses her before they get out as the elevator signals the arrival on their floor.

They are joking around some more while Dean pulls out the key to his apartment when there’s footsteps echoing on granite flooring.

“Ah, look at the happy couple.” Cain mocks, waving around with one hand that is holding a freaking gun.

Dean’s instinct was to stand before Y/N, shielding her with his own body. His second instinct was to push at the panic button on his key chain, alerting his men. A great little device courtesy of Ash.

She doesn’t want to stay behind him though, pushes herself back to the front. “Cain, what are you doing?”

This fucking girl, seriously.

“Get out of the way Y/N. I just want to talk to your boyfriend for a minute.” Cain’s voice cracks.

Cain’s been crying, Dean can see it, the red of his eyes, his cheek, his nose.

Dean holds up his hands to let Cain see that he’s not armed and then he speaks, his voice calm and low. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously between you and me, Cain. So why don’t we let her inside. You still love her, don’t you? Do you really want to hurt her? Let her go in and we discuss the issue, whatever it is that upsets you.”

The tall man’s facade is crumbling, he’s weeping openly while he scratches his head with the barrel of a freaking gun. Somehow, Dean thinks that this won’t end well.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Winchester. When I let her go she’ll call the police.”

“No, no.” Dean tries to calm him down, holding his hands up, fingers spread, “No police. I’m not really friends with them and she knows. You should know that, too. No police.”

Dean tries to push Y/N to the side but she stays in front of him. “Jesus Christ, baby, would you just for once do what I want you to?” He hisses through half gritted teeth.

She doesn’t even listen to Dean and takes a step closer to Cain. Dean’s so fucking close to lose his damn mind with her, “Whatever it is Cain, you can tell me too. Dean doesn’t hide anything from me. What happened?”

“What happened?” Cain laughs a laugh Dean only hears on people that are completely mad in their head. “I just got fired! Fired! Can you imagine, Y/N? It’s all because of him!” He waves his gun in Dean's face.

“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” Dean tries to calm him down, and she tilts her head to look up at Dean to which Dean shrugs.

“What are you doing, Cain. This won’t get you your job back?” She asks Cain and takes a step closer and Dean’s not really okay with that, and walks closer to her too. If he can get his will, he’d like for her to be behind him and not wandering closer to a fucking lunatic.

Cain grins, “I figured, if I kill him, I don’t need money to change your mind of coming back to me. Am I right? You’d come back to me, don’t you, Y/N?”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Cain.” Her voice is incredibly calm and Dean’s really impressed.

“Well, I’m gonna kill him anyway.” Cain shrugs and then he aims.

It’s like Dean’s stuck in slow motion. There’s so many things happening at once. Not even in Afghanistan where he fought a war did he see things like he does now.

Dean sees the gun, sees Cain firing. It’s loud and the next thing he knows Y/N gets in front of him. The impact makes her hit his body before she slumps down to the floor. Her body hitting the granite with a dull thud.

“No!” Dean shouts, “No, no, no!” He crouches on the floor right next to her, his shaking hands touching her face before he inspects her wound.

She’s hit right below her right clavicle and Dean’s pressing his hands on the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Oh no,” Cain’s on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, the gun lies abandoned on the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to. I love her!”

Dean has tears in his eyes himself. “If you fucking love her, then you would fucking pull yourself together and fucking help me here! Call a fucking ambulance! Now!”

He can see how Cain lets the word sink in but instead of helping, Cain sits on the floor and lies down, rolls himself up into a fetus position.

Dean cradles Y/N’s face with one hand while his other one still presses into her wound, his hand bloody and she opens up her eyes just a little. She’s in pain, and it hurts him even more. He presses on the wound harder and there’s a painful groan coming from her throat. “Baby, I’m sorry, I know it hurts. But stay with me alright? I got you, I’m here, I got you.”

Dean tries to pull himself together, manages to jump start his brain again to fish out his phone from his pocket and call an ambulance.

When he hangs up he hears it.

“Dean!”

A familiar voice is coming up the stairs.

“Cas! Get Sergei, pull him out of his fucking bed, I don’t care!”

Sergei is Dean’s in-house doctor and thankfully lives only a floor below him. He can hear Cas turn around on his heels and fly down the staircase.

The doctor rushes up, still in only his underwear and kneels beside Dean. “I’m here, it’s okay.” He says and takes over in putting pressure on the wound. Dean stays there as he watches Sergei work on Y/N.

Cas picks up the gun from the floor and stands back, keeping Cain in check.

Dean sits back on his heels, brushes away the tears from his face with bloody hands that are shaking uncontrollably.

He can’t lose her. Not now. Not when things finally start to look up for him! He kneels there, staring at his hands. He hears sirens in the distance.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Cain’s sobbing voice brings Dean back to reality.

Brushing the tears and snot away from his face, Dean stands up and walks over to Cas, takes the gun from the man’s hand.

“Dean,” Cas says. It sounds like a warning at first but then Cas stands back, and nods at him.

And then everything goes so fast. Dean feels the familiar heaviness of a gun in his hand and launches forward, comes to stand before Cain, gun drawn to the guy’s head.

Dean’s still crying, his vision is blurred. His hand shakes.

“No, please.” Cain cries, “I’m sorry.”

Dean bristles with madness and anger. Knows that Cain is the fucking source of it.

“I love her,” Cain shouts. “I love her as much as you do!”

Brushing the tears away with the heel of his left hand, Dean speaks, “No, you don’t.” He breathes in and out. “Nobody loves her like I do.”

Dean pulls the trigger.

CH26

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

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threeletterslife · 5 years ago

Text

08 | Illegirl

→ previous | next

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity (LITERALLY, WHAT’S NEW), kissing/making out but iN tHe cLaSsRoOm

→ wordcount: 8.3k

The car ride is so silent, you can literally hear the gears of your brain working as all sorts of thoughts fly through your head.

Jimin hasn't said a single word to you since you've left the school and neither have you. It's like the awkwardness is being fueled by the silence. God, you want to say something so bad, but what would you say?

Haha, sorry Jimin, but yeah, I might like you???

You mentally slap yourself, sighing. From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin steering steadily, both hands gripping the wheel tightly.

You almost scoff at the thought but... What if Jungkook was right? What if... he likes me too?

You've never really thought of that possibility before. Why hadn't it crossed your mind until now?

Because you're not supposed to fucking like your teacher, Y/N.

Right.

But still...

"Jimin?"

Your own voice surprises you as you can visibly see your ex-friend jump in his seat. Immediately, you regret ever speaking but it's too late now.

"Yes?"

Damn. You never realized how much you missed his smooth, beautiful voice until now.

"I... This... I miss this." You literally want to shank yourself for your inability to form coherent, non-humiliating phrases.

Jimin looks shocked but he doesn't turn his head to look at you. Instead, he mutters a soft, "Me too."

Silence follows after that, and you're worried you made the situation worse. Just as you think it's ruined forever, Jimin speaks again. "We kind of drifted apart, didn't we?"

You nod vigorously. "We shouldn't have... Right?"

"Right."

Silence again.

"I'm sorry," you say at the exact same time as Jimin. Both of you laugh, the awkward atmosphere lifting bit by bit. It feels exceptionally good to laugh with him.

"What are you sorry for?" Jimin chuckles. "You made no mistakes."

You flinch at the word, god, you hate it. "Okay, can we not call that a mistake?" you blurt out before you can even process what you said. Oh shit.

Jimin cocks his head. "What would you want to call it then?"

Ohhh, you fucked up, Y/N.

"I dunno... A... A?" You're stuck. You're screwed. You're roasted. "Um --"

HONK! BEEP! SCREECH! And an angry: "DRIVE, ASSHOLE!" saves you.

Multiple impatient people are slamming their palms hard on their wheels, erupting a shit ton of raucous noise in the evening air.

"It's a green light, go!" you shriek, laughing as your teacher hurriedly smashes his foot down on the excel.

Both of you are still laughing by the time Jimin pulls up on your driveway.

"So, an asshole now, aren't you?" you joke, snorting.

Jimin huffs. "People are so impatient!" He turns to you, grinning slightly. "But that's me included. Now, where were we? Something about 'not a mistake?'" he teases lightly.

Your face starts to flush an ugly shade of rose. "Just don't call it that!" you exclaim. "What else am I supposed to say? It was the best kiss I've ever had? Huh?"

It takes you a moment to process what you'd just said. Y/N, are you fucking kidding me.

Now it's Jimin's turn to flush pink. "Best kiss?" he says softly.

"O-oh, um... Actually..." You can't even deny it though. Granted, you've only ever had one other kiss in your life and that too, was with your goddamn teacher.

"Do you... hm..." Jimin trails off, hands still gripping the steering wheel as he refuses to make eye contact with you. "Do you... feel the same as me?"

You make a face. "What kind of vague question is that? How am I supposed to know how you feel? If I knew, I would've either cried from rejection or cried from happiness already!"

Jimin cocks his head, eyes still trained to look in front of him, not at you. "Damn," he mutters to himself.

"Damn straight!" you exclaim, getting weirdly worked up. "You know the fuck what? Let's say I do feel the same as you. Would you be glad or happy?"

"Aren't they synonyms?" Jimin asks, a small grin on his face.

You huff. "You're such an asshole! Glad, if you don't like me. Happy, if you like me back! Isn't it obvious?"

Suddenly, Jimin whirls around, facing you straight and grinning like a madman. Startled, you lean back. "Like you back? You like me?"

Oh, fuck. You forgot how much of a nervous blabbermouth you are. You sigh. Actually, you know the fuck what? What have I got to lose?

"Fine, you goddamn asshole. I like you," you blurt out. Immediately, your whole body feels so much lighter as if your confession had just lifted fifty pounds off your chest. So logically, you continue on.

"It's probably illegal for you to like me back so I won't even ask if you return my feelings. Ugh. I swear to fucking god I've been such a miserable little shit ever since we stopped talking. You're an asshole for avoiding me, you know that? And a dumbass for calling the best moment of my whole life a fucking mistake." You pause for a deep breath, nearly choking on air doing so. "But who am I kidding... You're no asshole or dumbass," you sigh, massaging your forehead as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"You're amazing, smart, a workaholic, yes, but also a caring friend and teacher... I just—" You quickly bury your face in your hands. "I'm not crying, I just lost my train of thought," you say, your voice slightly muffled. Sniffling, you continue. "You make me just... lose my fucking words. You make me blabber like a goddamn second grader! You make me cuss so much, goddammit!"

You hear Jimin's low chuckle and jerk your head up, glaring through your teary eyes.

"Y/N, Y/N!" Jimin chuckles. "Are you really blaming your foul mouth on me?"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Park Jimin?" you rage. "I just confessed my whole heart out and that's the first thing you say?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just—" Jimin laughs. "You're so adorable. I'd pay good money to see you confess to me again."

Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance... maybe even humiliation, you don't know anymore. Aggressively, you wipe away the tears welled up in your eyes and look away.

"Y/N?"

You pretend you can't hear.

"Y/N."

What was that? Must be some bird --

"Y/N!"

An angry bird at that...

"Yoon Y/N!" A hand grabs your arm, forcing you to look at the man you really didn't like at the moment. (Despite the fact you're literally whipped for him.)

You expect Jimin to apologize for being an ass, but to your surprise, he laughs. Okay, this bitch!

"I'm sorry, sorry, Y/N!" Jimin giggles. "I swear I'm not laughing at you. I'm just... I can't believe -- I like you too!" he blurts out.

What.

What the FUCK?

"YOU ASSHOLE!" you shout, shaking your arm away from Jimin's grip. "YOU MADE ME CONFESS LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT!"

Your teacher laughs again. "On my defense, I didn't think you were going to blurt out a confession. Besides, you don't have any idea how much pain I've been in, thinking you didn't feel the same. I'm laughing because of the irony! I'm not laughing at you, Y/N!"

You huff. "You're lucky I like you so much. Or else I would've shanked you."

Jimin scoffs. "You? Shank me? Please, Y/N, you're half my size."

"Oh, we're roasting each other now? Okay, fine. Who's the one who can't, for the life of him, keep his hands to himself when he's drunk, hm?" you say, proudly.

"That doesn't work anymore, Y/N. I think I'm safe to say that day I kissed you drunk was the best mistake I've ever made," Jimin announces, grinning widely.

You flout. "Asshole."

"But you know you like me."

"Oh, shut up or else... or else..." you trail off, "or elSE I'M GOING TO INVITE YOU IN THE HOUSE! HA!"

Jimin bursts out laughing. "Not really a threat, but I full-heartedly accept."

Something in your chest explodes at that moment—it's a burst of emotions, warm, fuzzy and cordial. You've got to admit, Jimin is an asshole. Too bad you're whipped for him—and he's whipped for you.

"I haven't been here in forever," Jimin chuckles as he enters your house. "Thanks for inviting me in," he teases, reminding you of your stupid outburst earlier. You scowl as your face flushes a brighter shade of red.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you mumble as you throw your backpack on the couch and head towards the kitchen. "Wanna eat anything?"

"Not in particular," your teacher answers, sliding into one of the kitchen seats. He places his elbows on the marble counter and rests his chin on his folded hands, looking at you in a way that has your heart leaping around in your rib cage.

Fuck. You don't know how long you can contain your happiness, literally feeling as if you'll burst out screaming that your crush likes you back in any second.

"Suit yourself," you murmur calmly, swinging open the refrigerator door and hiding your flushed face behind it. "Get yourself together, bitch," you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to calm your palpitating heart. Then, you put on a confident face, grabbing a bowl of pre-washed strawberries and shutting the refrigerator door.

"Actually, do you happen to have gum?" Jimin asks once you set the bowl of strawberries down on the table counter.

"Gum?" Your eyebrows raise.

"Yeah, mint gum."

Strange request, but okay.

"Uh, yeah," you reply, quickly opening a drawer to take out a pack of your favorite mint gum and tossing it whole to Jimin. He catches it midair with unsurprising finesse, unwrapping a piece and placing it in his mouth before looking up and smiling at you. His smile literally kills you.

I must be dreaming. There's no way all of this just happened. There's no way—

"So... what now?" Jimin asks, chewing on his gum thoughtfully. "We like each other but what happens after that?"

His bluntness makes you blush ever harder as you quickly pick up a strawberry and shove it in your mouth to prevent yourself from blurting out anything imbecilic. While slowly chewing on it, you give yourself some time to think.

What does happen now? What do you do if the person you like, likes you back? Hell, this isn't even a normal case—this boy, man, if you will, is my goddamn teacher.

After intense contemplation, you swallow the last of the strawberry and speak your very well put together answer: "I don't know."

Jimin blows a bubble with his gum, popping it somehow gracefully as he chuckles. "Well, you should know something. It's kind of illegal for us to be together—I don't know the exact laws but I'm pretty sure somewhere in the teacher handbook there's something about not having relationships with students..." he trails off. "But technically, if no one finds out, we won't get in trouble." He gives you a suggestive look, wiggling his eyebrows.

You burst out laughing. "Oh my god, Jimin—you're just so..."

"So... what?" he teases, scooching closer to your smaller frame.

"So... I dunno... Didn't I tell you? You make me lose all sense of the English language," you pout slightly, turning out your lips as you give Jimin a look. "And I have a fucking A+ in that class too."

"You're adorable," he comments, leaning in to ruffle your hair. And he doesn't pull away. Instead, his eyes linger around your lips, making you very, very self-conscious about them.

"A-Are you going to kiss me?" you whisper without thinking, your warm breath hitting Jimin's lips. Lips that curve up into a faint smile.

"Do you want me to?" His warm, minty breath makes you feel like you're floating in the soft clouds in Heaven but you manage to stay sane.

"I dunno... I mean, yeah? Wait, maybe. Actually..." you stop yourself before you stutter even more. His question had caught you so off-guard you didn't even know what to say.

"I'm taking that as a yes," Jimin mutters, his lips slightly grazing yours. You lean for more contact when—

"Wait, lemme spit out my gum real quick."

What.

You watch, slightly horrified as Jimin just sticks his chewed, mint gum on his finger. He looks like he has no intention of walking over to the trash can to throw it away.

"Sorry," Jimin says, giving you a sheepish smile as he cups your cheek with the hand that doesn't have the gum stuck on it. "Just wanted to have minty breath."

You roll your eyes. "For what?" It's a dumb question and you know it. You don't even expect an answer—and you don't get one.

Jimin quickly leans in, his lips meeting yours halfway. It's a small, chaste peck that barely gives you a chance to taste the mint on his tongue. But you're not complaining. Not when things are unfolding like this.

"If I haven't made it extremely obvious already, Yoon Y/N, I like you," Jimin mutters, breath hitting your cheek as he softly kisses it.

That comment alone has your stomach twisting around in knots. Blushing, you manage to reply a shaky: "You and me both, Jimin."

He chuckles, giving your lips another little peck before he pulls back, fondly admiring your face. "You have no idea how long I've liked you."

Feeling a surge of confidence, you slowly wrap your arms around Jimin's neck, giving him a smile. "Try me. Bet I've liked you for longer."

"Oh? Is it a competition now?" He leans in to kiss you, and this one lingers around on your lips just a tad bit more—actually, quite literally since he hasn't pulled back yet.

"Isn't it always?" you respond against his lips. Finally, finally, finally! you can taste the mint on his tongue as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. It's less like an explosive feeling of euphoria and more like a feeling of something slow, sensual and loving.

Jimin hums, moving forward to press you against the back of your chair, making sure every part of your body's touching his.

You've never really been a smooth talker—no fucking surprise—so you're very much glad you can express yourself with your actions. And Jimin, that little bitch, he's a somewhat of a smooth talker and an obvious connoisseur of kissing.

You melt against his body, his lips suckling yours as his fingers tangle in your hair. Honestly, you could stay like this forever—this warmth, this feeling, this silence. Dare you say this feeling was better than scoring hundred's on your tests—

But of course, things never go smoothly when you're involved.

With a loud gasp, you slightly pull away from the kiss, frowning. "Jimin, your hands..."

"What about them, baby girl?" he coos, leaning in to kiss you again.

"No, your hands, Jimin. They're in my hair," you say slowly, brows furrowing. God, no.

"Yes, baby, they are," Jimin says, staring at you as if you've just lost it. "Has my kissing really made you lose your head?" he jokes.

Oh my god. It looks like you just have to go out and say it then—

You close your eyes, deeply sighing. "You had gum on your finger, Jimin. It's in my hair, isn't it?"

"OH SHIT!"

You ended up having to cut a strand of your hair.

Yeah, thanks to your new fucking boyfriend, not only did you get a (quite literal) taste of his romantics, you also got his chewed up gum in your hair. How! Great!

But are you complaining? Not really.

Not when you're cuddled up with him on the couch and it feels more cordial than home itself. You can't believe you, the most pragmatic person you know, is literally playing around with stupid platitudes, but you might as well just found home with him.

You look at the cylindrical bottle with disdain, lips pulled out in a full pout. Picking up the concealer with a maximum of two fingers (to minimize the surface area you touch), you turn around to glare at your boyfriend who's watching you with adoration in his eyes.

"I don't even wear makeup," you whine for the hundredth time. "This is all your fucking fault, Park."

"Hey, hey!" Jimin raises up his hands in defense, giving you a sheepish look. "I quite remember that you liked it when it was happening... Oh, JiMiN, yEaH rIghT tHeRe!" He gives you a shit-eating grin.

You're blushing even harder than before, rolling your eyes and huffing. "Shut the fuck up."

"Now, now, that's no way to talk to your dear teacher, Y/N," Jimin teases. He walks over to you (you were very adamantly scrutinizing your bruised neck) and he wraps his arms around you. "If it helps, I can help you apply it?" He rubs his face into the soft material of your loose hoodie.

You groan. "Fine. You better know shit about makeup because I sure don't."

"We can learn," Jimin answers as he spins you around and takes the concealer from you. "What's learning without a few failures?"

Two hours later and half a bottle of concealer wasted, you're looking at your covered up neck in the mirror with satisfaction. "I feel like if your clumsy ass hadn't spilled the concealer halfway through, we would've finished earlier," you tease, poking Jimin's cheek affectionately.

Jimin scowls, checking his watch as he sulks. "It's only half-past four... We can still have our date at the park."

You smile as your boyfriend grabs your hand, tugging you towards the front door. "Of course... But hey, can we be back by seven? I have this test tomorrow—"

Jimin laughs, squeezing your hand. "Without a doubt... nerd," he mutters the last bit under his breath.

"What did you call me?" Your brows furrow up and you glare at Jimin.

"Oh, just the ray of sunshine in my dark, muddy life."

Conversations have never been your cup of tea. Sure, finding the root-mean-square-deviation was a piece of cake—or writing a literary analysis on The House of Mirth didn't even make you break out in a sweat. But conversations... That shit's hard.

There's so much you want to say, so much you'd like to share. But you have to factor in the others' reactions to your words to make sure you're not saying something rude or offensive. God, things are so much easier when you're just talking to yourself.

"No, but I really think mermaids are real!" you huff. "We didn't think of the possibilities of the oarfish or the deep sea hatchetfish or the fucking viperfish until we found them, you know! 95% of the ocean is undiscovered, alright? Mermaids are out there!"

"It's scientifically impossible!" Jimin huffs, squeezing your interlocked hands.

"Park, a shit ton of things were called 'scientifically impossible' before they were proven to be quite feasible," you sigh, patting Jimin's shoulder. "Admit it, Jimin, mermaids are real."

"Oh, c'mon, Y/N. I thought you were a woman of practicality!"

"What's more to it than you thought wrong?" you giggle. "Mermaids probably exist! What if I told you I'm a mermaid, huh? Would you run away?"

Jimin rolls his eyes. "You're impossible."

"Much so like the so-called non-existent mermaids," you pipe up, giving your boyfriend a shit-eating grin.

"Y/N, I'm literally so ready to—FUCK, DUCK!" Jimin yells, turning your body around and pulling your hood over your head and dipping his face into the small space under the hood as if he was trying to hide both of your identities.

"What? Huh? What's wrong?" you whisper, face flushing from the close proximity between you and Jimin.

"Holy shit, we shouldn't have come to a local park, holy shit!" Jimin murmurs, hands shaking as he wraps his arms around you, tugging you closer.

"Who are we hiding from? What?" you hiss. "Jimin, what's wrong?"

"Students!" he hisses right back.

The blood flowing in your veins runs cold and your freeze before you start to hyperventilate. "Students?" you repeat in horror, barely believing it yourself until you see them through a small space between the hood and Jimin. "Fuck! Oh, shit! Fuckshitholyhell, they're coming, oh my god, oh MY GOD—"

Before you can scream and blow your cover, Jimin's lips are on yours, face dipped further into your hood as he kisses you softly. You're too shocked to say anything, only to respond by moving your lips against his, steadying the hood over both of your faces with heavy precaution.

He only pulls away when you're 110% sure you're tomato-red and panting for air. "What... was that for?" you ask, breathless.

Jimin grins. "To play the part of a romantic couple having their date at the park. No one looks twice at a couple engrossed in PDA," he murmurs. "They're gone, by the way."

"Oh thank the LORD! We should really—mmf!"

Jimin's lips crash down on yours for the second time that day, stopping you mid-sentence, again. You're not even mad—although PDA was something you always hated (being a watcher), you never thought how exciting it would be on the other side of it.

Or maybe Jimin's just a good kisser. There's something about how his lips tug and release, how there's just the right amount of affection and the way he makes you want to literally glue your lips onto his for eternity. (Ignore the last part that's borderline creepy.) But for real though. He's so perfect.

You sigh into the kiss, hands tugging on Jimin's shirt as he kisses you harder in response. The sounds, the taste, the feeling puts you on cloud nine, and you barely even notice when your hood falls down from the force of which he's kissing you.

And when both of you pull away for air, his nose still lightly pressed against yours as he pants softly, you can't help but grin so wide it physically hurts. Both of you catch your breaths together.

"I'm kinda glad this played out like this," you mutter, nuzzling your head into Jimin's chest.

"Today's date... or us as a couple?" Jimin chuckles kissing the top of your head.

"Both, of course."

Jimin laughs lightly. "You know, you can't really scientifically prove that mermaids exist, but I sure can scientifically prove that we're meant for each other."

"God, Park. That was another level of greasy," you tease as Jimin flushes furiously. "I'd like to see you try one day... With all that scientific evidence."

Your boyfriend just smiles, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he tugs you close into his arms. "Why don't we test my hypothesis out right now?"

You don't even get to answer because his lips are on yours.

Who would've fucking thought?

It's crazy how that night your teacher had drunkenly kissed you, both of your fates had been sealed. You would've never thought in a million years that you'd be so emotionally and physically attached to another being that wasn't Jin.

But here you are. With Jimin. How he looks at you when he thinks you're sleeping. How he tucks in a loose strand of your hair behind your ear so he can softly kiss your closed eyelids. How he hugs you so tight in the privacy of his cozy living room. How he loves it when you play with the silky locks of his hair and how you love it that Jimin's all you can really think about.

You're crazy for him—to the point you wonder if it's even healthy. But rest assured, you know he's crazy for you too.

Every single moment the two of you meet, your heart feels full, your shining smile never leaves your face and your eyes twinkle from sheer mirth.

Yes, he's your teacher, out of your league, almost a decade older than you. But you really don't care. Age is only a number and a teacher is only an occupation.

It could sound wrong at first glance—a teacher and his student in a loving relationship. Yet you can't really stop two people from being together, right?

Besides, life with Jimin as your boyfriend is good. Great. Amazing. Too good to be true. Ineffable.

Dates are never a problem. Underneath his nerdy persona, Jimin is a romantic freak. He's learned a thing or two from the pile of Nicholas Sparks novels he keeps under his bed. In turn, he's also learned a lot of cliché but romantic endeavors. Which is exactly why you've been stuck in the car for the past five hours, driving to the goddamn beach at an ungodly time of day.

"Jiminie," you whine, shifting positions in the cramped shotgun seat of the car for the umpteenth time. "Are we there yet?"

"God, Y/N, you've been asking that every five minutes!" Jimin laughs. "We're almost there."

"That's what you said three hours ago," you sigh, stretching your feet out. "Why did we have to go to a beach so far away, huh? And so early, jeez, it's literally five in the morning, and we started this road trip at midnight!"

"Oh c'mon, you know the answer to that." Jimin gives you a sideways, knowing glance. "We can't have any students interrupting our date—unless you're into that kind of stuff."

You snort, shaking your head. "Still doesn't explain why we hit the roads so early."

"You'll see." Jimin smiles, taking his eyes off the road for a quick second as he looks at you with adoration. You can't help to shut up when he looks at you like that. Come to think of it, you think Jimin knows that that look is the only way that'll get you to stop talking. He's using it against you. That little bi—

Your stomach growls loudly, interrupting your own thoughts. It's that kind of growl that sounds like a mixture between a fucking fart and a burp. The most embarrassing kind, of course. There's an awkward silence that follows and then, laughter. Jimin's snorting, slapping his thigh with one hand as the other keeps the wheel steady while you're cackling like a goddamn hyena (you've never been blessed with a pretty laugh).

The situation wasn't even that funny. In fact, you felt like a sixth-grader again, giggling at immature shit all the time. But it must be the tiredness talking—er, laughing.

"Well you're hungry, aren't you?" Jimin manages to say, attempting to steady his breaths.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you choke out, grabbing your gurgling stomach to shut it up. "Are we there yet?"

"Oh my GOD, Y/N," Jimin laughs again. He takes the liberty to literally reach over and pat your head. "You're acting like a goddamn child. Like I'm dating a kid."

You pause to think. "Okay but technically, you are kinda dating a child," you say, stifling a small yawn. "What a pedo."

Your boyfriend scoffs but grins. "Hey, hey, hey!" he protests, "just because you're a minor doesn't mean you're a child. Besides, aren't you turning 18 soon?"

"Eh, late birthday," you reply, shrugging. "I'm turning 18 in August."

"Well fuck, Y/N," Jimin sighs. "What are you so young for?" He shakes his head disapprovingly.

You roll your eyes. "Oh yeah? What the fuck are you so old for?"

"Excuse me, 24 ain't that old," Jimin pouts, lips pulling out so plumply that you have the sudden urge to kiss them. "It just seems old in comparison to 17!"

"Whatever you say... grandpa."

"I'm one word away from driving five hours back where we came from," Jimin teases, making you shut up right away. "That's more like it. We're almost there, anyways. Just in time too."

"Just in time for what? We better make this quick. You know, before Jin finds out that we've both vanished without a single text," you say.

"Relax, Y/N, you and I both know that Jin likes to sleep in 'til two during the weekends. We'll be on a time crunch, but it'll be fine," Jimin answers, shrugging.

You pout like a petulant child. "But just in time for what?"

"Oh! What do you know? We're here!" Jimin exclaims, flat-out ignoring you and your sulking ass. "I'll get the beach towels, you stay right here!" Your boyfriend excitedly opens the car door, rushing to the back of his trunk to rummage through the supplies.

"Hmph." You cross your arms, a bit pissed that Jimin won't tell you shit, especially when you're not the biggest fan of surprises. It's still slightly dark outside since the sun is barely peeking over the beach horizon. Which reminds you that you should be in bed, sleeping.

Oh well. Jimin time is worth sleep time.

"For you, m'lady."

Suddenly your side of the car door opens with Jimin behind it, grinning widely at you. He's holding that typical picnic bitch basket and that basic beach mat for couples. Then, you look down to see a fucking red carpet, starting from the parked car all the way to the sand.

"What the fuck."

"Why? Do you not like it?" Jimin asks, brows creasing in worry as you express your shell-shock.

"No... I love it. It's just. Damn. I'm just impressed..." you trail off. "You did all of this for me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Jimin grins, holding out his hand for you to take. "C'mon, let's walk down the red carpet."

You giggle, taking your boyfriend's warm hand as you giddily hop out of his car. "What did I do to get the honor of walking down this special carpet?"

"Well, for one, you miraculously survived this five-hour road trip. And two, you're dating me, a well-known celebrity, so you get privileges," Jimin teases, poking your cheek as he starts to guide you down the colored rug.

"Celebrity my ass," you snort. But you pull your body closer to Jimin's as he protectively wraps his arm around your figure.

Jimin chuckles. "Well if I ever become a famous rapper, my name should be Statz, you know, for statistics."

"Yeah, sure, and people will drop their asses to your passionate rapping about the wonders of the z-score table," you giggle. "I see you more as a dancer. You've got the body."

"Oh?" Jimin quirks his eyebrows. "Been looking at my ~body~?" he asks suggestively.

"Shut up, I'm underage," you snort, hitting his chest. "Besides, I catch you looking at me all the time. Don't act so innocent, grandpa."

"Okay, we're both guilty then," Jimin smirks, squeezing your intertwined hands before letting go. "Hey, look at that, we're just in time." He smiles, spreading out the beach mat and placing the picnic basket in the middle.

The soft sound of the waves and the salty breeze helps you relax. But the silhouette of your boyfriend setting up a romantic scene for you keeps your heart beating madly.

"We're watching the sunrise," you whisper, your voice coming out as a small squeak.

"Yup. Took you long enough," Jimin quips, grinning as he helps you sit down on the soft mat. "Just you, me and the sunrise, you know?"

You smile, snuggling into his warm arms. "It's perfect."

"Okay, good, 'cause I kinda might've forgotten to put food in the picnic basket... not to ruin the mood or anything. Ugh, I knew I was forgetting something but I didn't know what it was until I picked up the goddamn basket from the trunk and was like 'oh shit, it's fucking empty' and panicked. But I was like, nah, I should just bring it for show, makes it more romantic, right? So here we are with an empty picnic basket," Jimin rambles, scratching the back of his head nervously. "I hope you don't get hungry."

You laugh lightly, reaching for Jimin's hand to console him. "Hey, it really doesn't matter. My stomach should learn to take hunger once in a while."

"It's still perfect?" Jimin asks tentatively.

"Ineffably perfect," you murmur, leaning back against your boyfriend's chest to look out at the scenery. "Think the sunrise's starting."

And it was. You and Jimin sit in silence as vibrant colors of yellow and orange slowly mix with rich shades of magenta, painting the most beautiful canvas; the morning sky.

You're in awe with the beauty, living in the tranquil moment.

Then you hear a soft whisper. "I love you."

Your eyes turn wide and you gasp quietly, whipping your head up to see Jimin looking away from you.

"W-What?" you manage to say.

Even though it's still slightly dark, you can see the blush creeping up on Jimin's cheeks as he whispers again. "I... I think I love you, Y/N."

Now you're flushing all shades of red as your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. He loves me. He loves me! HE LOVES ME! You don't know what to say, what to do, what to think.

"W-What?" is all you can utter. Quite stupidly.

"Y/N, I..." Jimin sighs, looking you in the eye, "I love you."

You're in shock. Never have you ever been confessed to. Never have you ever been exposed to this kind of romance. Never have you loved someone to this extent either. There's a first time for everything.

And so you muster up all the courage running through your veins, clear your parched throat (when had it become so dry?) as you look right into your boyfriend's twinkling eyes. Jimin smiles, squeezing your hand. "Yeah. I love you," he repeats, surely, confidently.

You smile back, leaning in to place a chaste kiss against his lips. "You and me both."

You don't wanna sound like you're from a fucking fairytale or some shit, but damn you really think you got your happily ever after.

Yeah, like every princess out there you're practically an orphan, but you're surrounded by the most caring and loving bunch of people ever. And plus, you have your prince. Prince Jimin. (Why the fuck does that have a nice ring to it???)

But anyways, you basically have it all: a loving boyfriend, a hearty group of friends, an affectionate cousin and some impossibly immaculate grades. Now you kinda get why some people say they peaked in high school. You'll probably end up the same... yikes.

And acknowledging that, you know you've got to use the most of this peak in your life. You've been going out on frequent dates with Jimin (telling Jin they were math club meetings) and hanging out with Taehyung, Yoongi and Jungkook at school.

Now it's not so much of a struggle to be happy. And your happiness shows.

It's funny how putting a smile on your face can change a lot. You're no longer a turtle dwelling in her thick shell. You're no longer afraid of befriending people. You're no longer afraid of getting hurt because you have people to help you back up on your feet. You've put yourself out there, waved to a few people, exchanged salutations. And now, it seemed as if everyone knew and liked you.

"Hi, Y/N!"

"Hey, girl, what's up?"

"Y/N! Hey!"

"How did your philosophy presentation go?"

"How are you?"

"Damn something good happen today?"

The last one was Taehyung, suggestively moving his eyebrows up and down as he nudges your side. No doubt teasing you.

"Ooh, did Jungkook... confess?" Yoongi mock gasps, placing a delicate hand over his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "No, I'm just..." You huff. "I dunno, do I really need a reason to be happy?"

"Well then, do you need a reason to be so sassy?" Taehyung shoots back, chuckling.

"Excuse me, I wasn't being sassy!" you argue, crossing your arms. "Yoongs, help me out here!"

"I agree, she really wasn't," Yoongi chuckles, bobbing his head up and down in approval as you smile. "Sass is just ingrained in her personality, duh."

Your jaw drops open at the sheer betrayal. "What the fuck."

"Oh, how could I have forgotten?" Taehyung laughs as you glare daggers into him. "Kinda forgot the second definition of 'sass' is 'Y/N.' Think I read it on the Merriam-Wattster dictionary before. Right Yoongs?"

"Right. All that SAT vocab practice last year really got to us, huh?"

"Guys, guys, be nice to Y/N!" Jungkook interrupts, literally appearing out of thin air as he casually swings his arms around Taehyung and Yoongi. You're inwardly glad that Kook's here to save you from your suffering.

"Hey, you always pick Y/N's side!" Taehyung pouts. He crosses his arms against his chests and leans against Yoongi. "It's soooo unfair."

The shorter male snorts, playfully pushing the taller off of him. "Yeah, I fucking wonder why."

"I'm so sick of both of your sarcasm," you announce, throwing your hands up in defeat. "But whatever." You turn to smile at Jungkook. "Hey, Kook. Any plans after school today?"

Jungkook immediately perks up, grinning from ear to ear. "No, why?"

"Well I dunno, I was wondering if we can go to the bowling alley," you say, scratching your head shyly. You're not usually one to initiate any hangout, leaving Jungkook absolutely shocked.

"U-Us?" He asks, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"Yeah, the four of us, you know? Why are you so surprised?" you giggle, nervously twisting strands of your hair. "Not good at bowling?"

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head as he stands up straight and tall. "Uh no. I'll have you know that I used to take bowling lessons. Prepare your ass to be run over by the professional."

"Mhm, sure." You nod your head, voice dripping with pure sarcasm. "Bet. Loser buys dinner."

"You're on. Yoongs? Tae?" Jungkook asks. He turns to his friends who look at him disapprovingly.

"Hold up, we never agreed to this!" Yoongi complains as his face wrinkles in distraught. "Save me and my empty wallet!"

"Same, I'm kinda a broke fuck sooo..." Taehyung trails off.

"Fine. We all play then. But whoever scores the lowest between Jungkook and I will pay. Good?" you dictate as your competitive and slightly bossy side takes over.

"Perfect as usual," Jungkook sings as he swings his arm around you. "I'm thinking lobster night, what about you guys? And we'll thank Y/N in advance for the meal since I'm so gonna win."

You feel his warm arm around your shoulder, and instinctively, you lean in. His figure is warm against your side, his proximity letting you smell his fresh, clean scent. "Watch it, Kook. Don't make promises you can't keep," you chirp, smirking confidently. "I know a great lobster place downtown. Hella overpriced, but totally worth it. We'll go there."

"Great! It's all set then," Taehyung says, clapping his hands. "I'm practically drooling already!"

"I love freeloading off of my besties!" Yoongi chimes in, a great grin tattooed on his face.

"Don't worry you're not freeloading completely. You'll pay for dessert," Jungkook chuckles, momentarily taking his arm off of you as he slaps his friend's back. The shorter male grumbles unintelligible things, glaring daggers into Jungkook.

"Hold up, I just have to tell my cousin not to wait for me after school," you say, fishing out your phone as Jungkook slips his casual arm off of you. "Or else he'll worry and call the fire department, the police, the navy and the fucking president."

"Your cousin? The Kim Seokjin?" Taehyung says in awe as his eyes turn glassy. "He's so hot."

"Hey!" Yoongi protests, elbowing Taehyung in the stomach. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he looked hella jealous. "I mean... er, that's very inappropriate to say to your teacher!"

The last remark makes your face burn hot, (considering you've done worse with your teacher) so you quickly attempt to cover it by ducking your head down to dial Jin.

Your cousin answers in three rings. "Y/N????" he practically screeches. Even an idiot could tell he was worried, almost as if you called to break some bad news to him. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, hi," you chirp calmly. "No nothing's wrong I—"

"Oh thank god," Jin sighs into the phone. You slightly flinch as you hear a front-row sample of your cousin's dramatic breath. "So what's up?"

"Uh, yeah well, listen, Jin, you don't have to pick me up today after school. I'm going out with a couple of friends."

"Come again? Friends?? What frie—o-oh, uh, I mean, really? Um yeah, have fun then and be safe!" Jin slightly stutters.

"Excuse me, what do you mean, what friends? I have friends. A lot of them!" you announce, frowning. You grip your phone with two hands, lowering your voice: "I mean, now I do."

Jin laughs on the other line. "Mhm. Alrighty, Y/N. But for real, have fun and be safe, okay?"

"You know I will!"

"Good. Make sure to be with your friends at all times! Don't go wandering off on your own okay? Do you have enough money? When and where should I pick you up? Huh? Y/N?" Jin frowns he deattaches his phone from his ear. What the heck, you had just stopped talking. But that's when he realizes you'd ended the call quite some time ago.

Your cousin scoffs, shaking his head. He assumes you must've been so excited and ended the call early. A grin blossoms on his tired face. He can't remember the last time you had hung out with other people other than him and Jimin. Jin's glad that things are looking up for you—and he hopes things will stay that way.

"Did I ever mention how proud I am of you?" Jimin whispers. He nudges you softly as your cheeks slowly turn into a pale shade of pink from sheer contact with your boyfriend.

Scribbling down the last few words of your literature essay, you smile, resting your head against Jimin's shoulder. "I think this is the tenth time today, actually." You feel so safe by his side, perched on a chair pulled up by his desk. It's almost as if his classroom is your second home since you spend so much time with him in there. "But you can say that a million more times and I won't ever mind hearing it again."

Jimin laughs heartily, eyes scrunching up beautifully and lips pulling apart gorgeously. "God, I love you." He leans in to peck your lips lightly, sending your head soaring ten miles up the sky. The warmth of his mouth on yours lingers even after he pulls away, and you reach to touch your own lips to chase the heat.

"I love you too," you giggle, "aren't you glad I didn't say 'you and me both' this time?"

"Well, in your defense, you really didn't know it was common etiquette to say it back. Besides 'you and me both' can be our thing, you know? It can be just as romantic as saying 'I love you too,' " Jimin swoons, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand.

"I actually like that idea," you say, reaching up to ruffle Jimin's soft, black hair. "Say you love me again, please?"

"Jeez, am I starting to get you into clichés?" Jimin chuckles, leaning into your delicate touch. "I love you, alright?"

You snuggle up against your boyfriend's warmth, giggling as you take his hand in yours. "You and me both, Jimin."

Your boyfriend can't help but grin wildly at you. And you return his grin, flirtatiously batting your lashes to tease him. Subconsciously, your tongue darts out of your mouth, slowly wetting your lips. Jimin watches your every movement, eyes narrowing as his breathing slows.

Before you can say another word, his warm hands grasp your thighs, hoisting you up onto his desk leaving his papers flying across all corners of the room.

You squeak in surprise, gripping on Jimin's button-up shirt. "What the fuck, Jimin? You're so clum—"

You're interrupted when his lips come crashing down on yours, his hands coming up to caress the sides of your face as you rest your hands in his hair. Deciding to tease your boyfriend a bit, you part your lips only slightly, which Jimin takes as an invitation to attempt to slip his tongue through. But he soon finds out the small space between your plump, kissed lips is just not enough.

You giggle, satisfied with your teasing as Jimin becomes visibly frustrated. He whines, mouth still on yours as he pushes your bodies hard against each other. But you refuse to give in. Your boyfriend's hands fly down to your thighs, gripping them hard. "Stop teasing," he mutters breathlessly into your mouth.

His hands are leaving warm imprints on your legs, and you revel in the feeling, softly kissing the corner of Jimin's lips. "Or what? Do you have an event planned or something?" you say smartly.

You literally swear on your perfect grades that you hear Jimin fucking growl. You're still contemplating if you're dating a goddamn wolf or not when your back is roughly pushed back on the wooden desk. You yelp in shock, forced to peer up to see Jimin, smirking as he hovers over you. "Yes, I do quite have an event planned," he teases right back.

Now you can't help but stare at him with hooded eyes. It's almost as if you forgot that you were human, a fucking student, for goodness' sake. Your actions seem animalistic, full of something people would call lust.

Jimin's careful not to crush you with the weight of his body as he leans in to kiss you again. This time, you let his tongue slip through your parted lips.

There are no thoughts in your head. Only the feeling that you need to be closer to Jimin, that you're not close enough to him, even though he is practically on top of you. You can feel your temperature soaring up as his mouth devours yours in a deep, passionate way. He tastes like mint, your favorite.

"Jimin..." you sigh, legs intertwining with his as you firmly grip the front of his shirt.

You don't know if your boyfriend took that as some sort of sign, or if he was getting too hot, but the next thing you know, he's starting to unbutton the white collared shirt. You don't mind at all.

Instead, you tug Jimin's head closer to yours, deepening the fiery kiss and sending heat coursing through your veins. Both of you don't need to pause for breath as if the lack of oxygen would never keep you apart.

Jimin's still fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and you contemplate breaking the kiss to help him out. But his lips are so warm on yours, moving in sync while pulling and parting. Without realizing, you let out a little moan. Normally, you'd be embarrassed, but you were too occupied to care. Besides, no doubt Jimin heard; his fingers were moving faster than ever, trying to discard his tight shirt off of his body. Something you have nothing to complain about—

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You break the long kiss apart, not to breathe, but to scream. Fuck. You can recognize that (shrill) voice anywhere.

There your fucking cousin was, standing in the doorway. He looks like as if he's been to and survived the goddamn Western Front back in World War I. And you kind of know why.

For one, you're still pinned under Jimin in a vulnerable (rather unflattering) position. Your face is flushed, lips swelled an angry red and clothes beyond what a normal iron can fix. Jimin's shirt is three-quarters unbuttoned, revealing his abs to the wrong person at the wrong time.

It looks fucking bad. And both of you know it.

Jimin's the first to react, scrambling to get off from atop of you and fumbling to button up his shirt. "J-Jin! We er... I mean, I thought you were gonna be in a meeting for two more hours!"

Your cousin is silent as if he was still taking in the atrocious scene. You're in a hurry to fix your hair and clothes, avoiding eye contact to save your own ass. Jin was going to burst out screaming any second now and you and Jimin both knew it.

"MY COUSIN???? AND MY BEST FRIEND?????" Jin hollers as predicted. His forehead vein protrudes unattractively as his eyes bulge out.

You and Jimin both flinch back, you gripping Jimin's arm for support out of instinct. Jin catches the action and screams: "NO! DON'T TOUCH HIM! DON'T TOUCH HER! WHAT THE—I-I—THIS IS — OH MY GOD ILLEGAL—WHAT THE ACTUAL F—"

Your poor cousin is a blubbering, shrieking mess. And honestly, you can't blame him. You and Jimin had started slacking off, being quite careless when it came to public displays of affection. It was both of your faults that your cousin had found out like this.

You helplessly look at Jimin in hopes for some sort of comfort, but upon looking at his scared face, you realize how much trouble you were actually in.

"WE ARE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS AT HOME. GOD, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. OHMYF—" Jin abruptly stops his yelling to massage his head. "Oh my god," he breathes. "We're going home."

Jimin looks at you, eyes reflecting pure fear as he wordlessly begs you to ride in his car. You're just as frightened, not knowing what your unpredictable cousin would say or do. Would he make you break up with Jimin? Would he ban you from seeing your boyfriend again? Force you to move schools?

Nevertheless, you're about to nod to agree when Jin turns around, glaring at both of you. "Y/N, you're coming with me. Jimin, I'll see you in the living room in five minutes."

Your cousin grabs your arm, dragging you away from your boyfriend who still looks shellshocked. You don't blame him. This had not ended the way you thought it would.

The last thing you see before you're pulled out of the classroom is Jimin raking his hand through his hair in frustration, mouthing the words, "We're fucking screwed."

It does nothing to calm your nerves.

—previous | next

—masterlist

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin imagine #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #teacher au #jimin fanfic #illegirl

177 notes · View notes

ddaenggtan · 5 years ago

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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cruecifymesixx · 6 years ago

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Love and Leather /part fourteen/

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: my few days of not writing really fucking helped me. Hope everyone enjoys it! Feedback is always loved and appreciated 🤘🏽

Warnings: Drug use, language

Taglist: @oskea93, @brideofdraculana , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @miserablecunt, @electradestiny, @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @tiranni, @justjodeye, @venus-calum, @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @tashy-bear, @extremesadnerding, @myheadisinvaded, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @countrygirlswonderland, @dillightfulpickle, @baiabouk, @madsthegroupie, @martabastic, @hoop-diddy-doo, @romanticvengeance, @krazykatkay456, @shinobi-nobi, @shouttatthedevill, @gees-jacket-slut, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @brooklyn-antiques

December 4th, 1984

Vanity looked up at the twinkling Christmas lights of the beach house Vince had moved into a few months prior. Taking in the smell of the ocean, almost as much as she took in the smell of cigarettes and marijuana. She walked inside of the bass booming house as her friends forced her to come to the Crüe’s party, only getting off of work an hour ago.

Her heels clicked against the concrete as she walked up the front porch stairs and inside the house, a purplish tint slowly cascading over her body the further she got away from the door.

She greeted everyone who acknowledged her with a smile, “Hello ladies.” Tommy said popping out of the crowd, Tonya and Lucia said hello, “Where is Nikki?” Vanity asked him, having Tommy draw a smile on his face,

“Worry about him later girl, you and me are doing a beer chugging race.” Tommy told her while wrapping his arm around her shoulder, making her laugh, “You are such a sore looser.” Vanity told tommy which made him laugh and roll his eyes, “You won on a whim last time!!” He shouted and Vanity chuckled, shaking her head.

“I’m going to find Nikki.” She said and Tommy rolled his eyes, “Of course, go find your boyfriend.” Vanity gave him the middle finger, causing tommy to laugh.

Vanity walked through the crowd and saw Nikki on the couch bent over and snorting lines off the table, “Woo!” He yelled out while rubbing his nose, and licking the residue off the plastic wrap, getting every last speck of blow.

“Vanity!” Nikki finally noticed her, “Move Zutaut!” Nikki yelled, shoving his record label executives legs off the table, before strutting over to her, making her smile as he looked at her.

“Hey doll.” Nikki said while placing a kiss on her cheek, wrapping his arms around her and picking her up. “Come sit with me.” Nikki said in her ear over the loud music, while grabbing her hand and guiding her to the couch.

Nikki plopped down on the couch, while pulling Vanity down to sit, throwing his arm around her shoulder, “I missed you.” Nikki told her, while kissing the side of her head, “You’re extra affectionate tonight.” Vanity teased him while putting some distance between them, “and you saw me just a few days ago.” She added on making Nikki smile cheekily.

“I know, but you’ve been too busy at work for me to harass you into sleeping with me.” Nikki retorted with a sly smirk on his face.

Ever since Vanity returned home four months ago , Nikki has been one persistent son of a bitch. There’s never a moment when he’s not dragging her away from everyone while trying to seduce her. He keeps getting close but to his displeasure Vanity shuts him down or his idiot band mates keep interrupting, he’s having a difficult time accepting the answer no from her.

“Maybe I’m doing it on purpose, did you ever think of that?” Vanity replied, causing Nikki to raise his eyebrows, “Is that so? Every time we’re in the middle of it and I have you half naked on top of me, you are just practically begging for it.” Nikki said proudly, “Yeah whatever...stop being stingy with the blow and give it to me.” Vanity said while reaching for the silver dish she has become so accustomed too.

“Princess, I’ll give you whatever you want.” Nikki said while handing the plate to her, only to receive an eye roll from Vanity,

“God, can you two just fuck already and get it over with? It’s like two cats in heat.” Mick stated while looking at the both of them through his black shades,

Nikki laughed as Vanity snorted up the dust, choosing to ignore his comment.

“Hey look...” Nikki nudged Vanity’s arm while pointing across the room.

Vanity looked up and noticed Vince chatting up a big titted blonde, “watch this doll.” Nikki said, taking a swig out of a Jack Daniels bottle and then clearing his throat.

“Hey are you in the baaaaanddd?” Nikki said with a high pitched girly voice and rubbing his hands over his chest, resulting in Vanity to crack up in a fit of laughter, “What do you fucking think?” Mick chimed in, mocking Vince’s voice,

Nikki laughed at himself, smacking the table. “Have you met my wife Sharise? You wanna have a threesome?” Tom Zutaut butted in, causing the three of them too glance over, “Why would you say that? She’s fucking pregnant.” Vanity snapped at him, “That’s fucked up Zutaut.” Nikki said, his octaves back to normal, “She’s fucking pregnant man, don’t be a fucking dick.” Nikki warned him, a scared look flashing across Toms eyes,

“Ah! I’m just playing with you man, but seriously, don’t be rude.” Nikki playfully warned him, “Don’t be a dick Zutaut...don’t be a be a dick.” Mick added on before taking a swipe of vodka,

“Now, how about you and I go upstairs and take care of business.” Nikki whispered into Vanitys ear, “I just got here, I’m not even drunk yet.” Vanity replied, stealing Nikki’s bottle of JD and taking a sip, “So you’re telling me you’ll fuck me only if your drunk?” Nikki questioned her, and in return Vanity gave him a smile.

Vanitys attention got diverted when Razzle walked up and sat next to her, “How are ya, love! Haven’t seen you in a while.” Razzle said full of enthusiasm, “I’ve been working, some of us need to have real jobs.” Vanity replied, “Uh, you have a fuck ton of money, Van. You don’t need a real job either.” Nikki butted in, “So? I get bored sitting around in my multi million dollar mansion, with my countless butlers.” Vanity joked, “And dont forget eating all the caviar in the world on your twenty four karat gold plates.” Nikki added on, only for Vanity to laugh,

“Love, when are you gonna stop hanging around this joke and come be with a real man.” Razzle said to Vanity, while grabbing her hand and kissing it.

Nikki knew he was joking but still took offense to it. “Fuck off Razz.” Nikki growled at him, “Show me a good time and maybe I’ll accept your invitation.” Vanity teased Razz, trailed her fingers down her chest before resting on his belt buckle, “Ya know, I’ve never been with a British guy....” Vanity paused,taking another look at Razz, “Maybe you could be the first.” Vanity trailed her fingers back up his chest, while grabbing the side of his face and making him look at her,

Nikki quickly got up, shoving Toms legs out of the way yet again and storming outside.

“I think you may have ruffled his feathers, love.” Razz said with a cheeky smile, causing Vanity to chuckle, “Hey Razz! You coming man!!” Vince yelled for him, “Twice today already!” Razz quickly looked at Vanity, “Maybe three times after I come back.” Razz said while putting his finger under Vanitys chin, making her look up at him, before kissing her cheek. “Let’s go man!” Razz said while getting up and walking over to Vince before leaving.

Vanity sighed, “You sure know how to drive him mad.” Mick said, making Vanity scoot over to the older gentleman,

“Oh common, I was just playing.” Vanity expressed while rolling her eyes, “He has no right to get upset when I talk to a guy Mick, especially when they’re my friend.” Vanity was quick to defend herself.

Mick took a sip of his vodka, “Maybe so, but anyone that knows him and knows you, also knows that you are his, wether or not you like to admit it.” Mick wisely spoke, causing vanity to scoff. “I am nobody’s, and I’m definitely not Nikki’s.” Vanity defensively crossed her arms and leaned back into the couch,

“Sweetheart, everyone knows that you are Nikki’s girl, even if there isn’t a label or grounds for a relationship.” Mick explained, making vanity roll her eyes, reminding her of how her dad use to talk to her.

“I don’t even want a relationship with him.” Vanity stated while evening out another line of blow on the glass table. Mick reached across and grabbed the straw from her, “Hey! Give it back Mick!” Vanity shouted at him, “Vanity, now we both know you’re lying when you say that. I may be quiet, and I don’t say a lot but I’ve watched this all transpire. Never in my years of knowing Nikki have I seen him act like this when he’s around you, and you? You just act cold.” Mick explained, as Vanity snatched the straw back out of his grasp.

Vanity snorted up the lines, rubbing her nose and looking back at him, “I’m not cold.” She replied, again snorting up another line, “I know that, you’re such a sweet heart, full of sunshine and shit like that. But what I don’t know is why you act like you don’t want him.” Mick continued to psycho-analyze Vanity,

“Mick just fucking drop it, it’s none of your business.” Vanity snapped at him, while standing up, “Move!!” She yelled at Tom, startling him out of his sluggish drunk state.

She went to cool off on the balcony when she saw Nikki chatting up some blonde.

‘Ha! Go figure.’ She thought to herself, while walking out onto the balcony, and slowly walking up to them.

The blonde acknowledged Vanity by giving her a glare, “Go away.” Vanity told the blonde bimbo who was clearly sticking out her chest to make herself more appealing, “Van, let’s play nice...we can all share.” Nikki responded to Vanitys jealously, causing a smirk to form on his lips,

“I said, go away and I’m not gonna tell you again.” Vanity warned her and she finally left.

“Why’d you leave like that?” Vanity question him, but he brought a cigarette up to his lips and lit it.

“Nikki, I’m talking to you.” Vanity said, grabbing his arm and making him face her, “Oh so now you want to talk? Thought you would be preoccupied flirting with everyone else as usual.” Nikki spat his frustration out at her while taking a drag of the cigarette.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like that?” Vanity questioned him, taking the cigarette out of his fingers and taking a hit, “It’s nothing doll, don’t worry about it.” Nikki spoke softly, taking back his cigarette all while avoiding her glazed over eyes.

“Well obviously somethings wrong.” Vanity mumbled while leaning her head on Nikki’s shoulder, or at least tried to before he moved away from her touch,

“Why are you always flirting with everyone? If it ain’t me it’s T-bone, or Vince or Raz, or just about any other guy I introduce you too, you just jump from one guy to the next.” Nikki angrily replied, finally meeting her line of sight. Vanitys mouth gaped open, surprised that Nikki would even say that to her.

“I do not flirt with everyone. And I for damn sure don’t flirt with Tommy or Vince.” Vanity defended herself.

‘What is with everyone jumping down my damn throat tonight?’ Were her inner thoughts.

“Oh fucking stop it Van, you do it with fucking every guy that gives you attention, you might as well just take off your fucking clothes and suck them off.” Nikki stated, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Don’t be a fucking jerk to me. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Vanity said, lightly shoving the side of his arm,

‘God, What is it with her and shoving me?’ Nikki clenched his jaw and looked away from her.

“It’s called being nice, maybe you should try it for once in your life, fuck this I’m going back inside.” Vanity rolled her eyes and turned on her heels starting to approach the door, but Nikki’s warm hand grabbed her wrist to stop her,

“Y’know I really fucking hate it when you walk away from me.” Nikki says while looking down at her short frame, his eyes quickly glancing to her tits that were about to fall out of her tube top at any given time.

Vanity pushed into Nikki’s chest, letting a small huff escape her lips. “Y’know, i really hate when you say mean things that make me walk away from you. “ She says, rolling her eyes after.

“Well maybe if you didn’t act dumb, I wouldn’t have to say mean things.” Nikki slyly says while snaking his arms around her, pulling her close to him again.

“Well maybe if you didn’t play hard to get, I wouldn’t have to act dumb. “ She says while looking up at him, raising an eyebrow.

Nikki let out a boisterous laugh, “Me playing hard to get!” He pauses and laughs some more, “Princess that’s all you, I’ve been trying since you got back.”

Vanity shrugs, shaking her head. “Obviously not hard enough. “

Nikki’s arms dropped from around her waist, growing frustrated, “Not trying hard enough? Vanity, I’ve been trying to get in between those legs since you got back but you won’t give it up.” A smile grew on Vanity’s face, “I’m only fucking with you, babe.” Nikki’s eyes lit up when she called him that.

“I don’t like to be teased, Vanity.” His voice low as he grabs her by the wrist and leads her into the house Vanity smiled softly, biting her lip as she followed Nikki through the house.

“Hey man! Where you going! Van, come take a line with me!” Tommy says while stepping in front of Nikki

Smiling at Tommy, Vanity nodded only to get a glare from Nikki, “We’re busy T-bone.” Nikki told his band mate. A smirk playing on her lips, “I could go for a line, how bout you Nikki?”

Vanity pulled away from Nikki’s grasp, “Vanity.” He says her name sternly, “Hold on babe.” Tommy looks at both of them confused as to why Vanity would be calling him that.

Knowing it’d piss Nikki off, Vanity grabbed Tommy’s hand, pulling him towards the party. Looking back at Nikki, she gives him a small smirk and turns back around.

Nikki didn’t let her get far as he quickly wrapped his hand around her upper arm and dragged her away from him, “Bye tommy.” Vanity laughs, as she’s starting to feel the affects of the cocaine as Nikki leads her away from the crowd and takes her up the stairs.

Tommy plops down next to Mick, “I think they’re gonna fuck.” Mick tilts his glasses down and watches them go up the stairs while disappearing around the corner, “Bout god damn time.”

#YALL KNOW WHATS NEXT 👀#the dirt #the dirt fanfic #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfic #motley crue #douglas booth #motley crue fan fic #1980s #hanoi rocks #rocknroll #drugs #fan fic #writing #my idea

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alberteatsglass · 5 years ago

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spot conlon: red

warnings: tw blood, tw metaphorical death

editing: kinda

word count: 1,029

disclaimers: ok so pat is @drawings-and-nightmares oc and this is a CC au like thing, me and @orollyitsracetrackhiggins had a shit ton of fun writing this so show those two some love for being literally the best ever

red. the colour of blood. the colour that seemed to follow spot wherever he went. blood and death, destruction and red. from the life that spot lead red was the best and most easy to surround himself with. good to hide stains with, whether those stains were coffee or perhaps blood.

red is easy to hide in. it's bright. threatening: it scares people away and no one wants to get close. no one has to see the blood on his hands, the blood that cakes under his nails. He washes his hands again and again and it never goes away. That's fate, he supposes, fate that took York, fate that brought Blink into it, fate that brought smalls to him after the whole ordeal. red is his, it owns him as much as he owns it. they're tied together, forever cursed to follow each other.

red was his. spot knew that went further than the branding of brooklyn being red. the colour of blood, the colour of danger was his. danger followed him wherever he went, sucking everyone who he came in contact with in with him like a black hole. the danger that coloured graves bracelet, the danger that covered blinks body after what went down, the danger in pats cheeks. oh god pat. most people knew what danger that the red he wore carried and stuck around anyway, though spot didn't want them to know most of the time. pat just wandered into this mess not knowing the consistencies. not knowing that soon it could be his body on the ground covered in the colour of danger that hung in the air.

pat wasn't safe, spot knew that. everytime his hand graced the others cheek, the red seemed to follow, teasingly leaving red streaks across his face, reminding him of what was sure to come.

he's selfish, its something he can't seem to help. he holds close to whatever he can until the red seems to over take it, each touch bringing them closer and closer to the end.

"i love you." he whispers and the red coats pat's hair, his cheeks, his lips.

"do you?" the red whispers back, swirling angrily like cuts over pat's chest.

he's not sure.

so he says yes and the red grows darker. darker and darker he can see the red lines faintly grow, swirling around pats heart he can see it turn darker than blood, not alert like danger. like a somber remembrance, like a dark rose blooming out of the center of pats chest but with a red rose comes thorns. thorns that cut and and make the red bleed out. thorns that trap and cut off circulation. it felt so new with pat, the red had hardly started to grow on him compared to the dark shades of hurt and anger that pierced spots soul and mind. just a light shade of red, trailing along his knuckles as spot held his hand, his lips as they embraced, all this new found sensitivity washing over spot.

he looked to race and all over him spot could see the dark red stains striking out from his chest but they had grown brown like dried blood, the fire that used to be burned out and merely ash. the angry red lines, almost as bright as spots himself jutting out from alberts head as spot felt like he was playing with alberts mind, everything so off and on that it made his head want to explode not sure how spot could even start to explain how he felt. red slowly spreading out from smalls hand that spot had grabbed in a desperate attempt to make them leave the place that spot knew he had made them go back to, a small trickle of red going down smalls chin spilling out from their mouth all the words that couldn't be taken back. spot pleaded with himself to let pat go fearing this might be waiting for him as well.

spot could hardly meet alberts eyes, the red seem to be all he could focus on. his hair blended with the fingerprints on his cheek until what once was beautiful perfection turned into the swirling remains of haunted destruction.

race barely even seemed alive anymore, his words hit like knives, spilling blood and poison. spot couldn't look at him without seeing the pain he had caused.

pat was fading faster than spot was ready for. he tried to hold back, it had worked with race and albert for a while, but pat pulled too much on his heart strings to stay away. he put spot first, he wasn't used to that. people stayed away, he's good at leaving before it gets to be too much, but pat doesn't allow that.

pat kisses his cheek and spot's eyes well with tears when red smears like blood over his lips. he keeps his hands away but pat pulls him close, and spot doesn't have it in himself to pull back. just a few more days, he thinks, then he can let go. pat will be fine, the red will fade, and he won't have to worry about how much darker and angrier the red seems to be as he falls closer and closer to his fate.

he watched pat fade, going from gorgeous, soft welcoming earth to the tones of fire and blood. He was gone, almost completely now and there was nothing spot could do. With tears in his eyes, he took Pat's hands. He placed a kiss on his cheek, leaving burning scarlett in its wake.

"goodbye, my love." He mumbles as the last bit of light faded from him, swallowed up in the swirling liquid that seemed to flow from spot's fingertips.

the red takes him completely and pat shuts his eyes. spot knew this was coming, knew it had to end. once again the red covers him, like a blanket and everything else fades as once again his fate takes over.

they're meant to be together. nothing will change that.

the red isn't a friend, but it's a comfort in its own way.

it's always there, like nothing else can ever be.

#heheheheh #character study #still not sure if thats what i can call it #but thats what im gonna call it #spot conlon #Newsies #newsies fan fiction

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sibillascribbles08 · 6 years ago

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ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Still writing this fuck shit cause ?? I wanna write Max tbh

In which............ actually I have no idea how to describe this scene it’s fucking bizarre. Like it SHOULD be horrifying but Toby’s seen so much shit it’s mostly just a little strange and somewhat hilarious to him so there’s that I guess

“So picture this.” Max scurried ahead of Toby a bit. The pair of them were still in the desert, not making any rush toward wherever they were going. The time to catch up was precious in Toby’s mind, even if it’d be easy to keep Max around for good.

“I mean, it’s not a happy story or anything.” Max effortlessly pulled sand up from below them. It swirled around his hands before warping into glass.

“Whoa.” Toby stared at it, watching it move like liquid. “How are you doing that?”

“Huh?” Max looked at it, as if he only now became aware of it. “Oh, well, mixture of earth and gravity I think? Although sand is a mixture of things I think, but you can easily turn it to glass. Fun to mess with.” He changed it to the shape of a rat. “You still obsessed with these?”

“Enough to have a whole house of rodents.” Toby smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Hah! Good to know somethings don’t change.” Max went back to shifting the glass around. “Okay anyway, picture this. I mentioned earlier that thanks to my heritage I have metal powers right?” The skin on his arms shifted, dots of metal appearing before covering his hands. It was dozens of shades, gold, copper, all kinds of greys. “I mean, fighting the overlord was a bit of a suicide mission, but not like I had anything to lose right?”

He laughed as he turned the glass into a miniature version of that monster, spider legs and all. Toby felt hollow staring at it, not just from the image but Max’s words as well.

Toby had gone in there with plenty to lose. Why hadn’t Max?

“And gold’s a metal. Thought I could pull a fast one by manipulating it, but it wasn’t quite working.” He let the glass figure fall onto his palm as he glanced it over. “And uh, wouldn’t you know it. In the middle of the fight I started falling apart.”

Toby blinked. The air caught in his throat for a moment as he stopped walking. “What?”

“Yeah, kind of sucked.” Max was still smiling, though Toby could tell it was forced. “Figured I was done for, but I didn’t want to be. I kind of just grabbed onto one of his legs anyway.” He picked up the figure by one of the spider limbs. “Crawled all the way up to his armor.”

“And he let you?”

Max shrugged. “He probably thought it was funny at the time. But he wouldn’t later.” His chuckle was dark. “See, something wild happened. Between my elemental power, his armor, and my whole body losing a grip on itself everything just kind of...”

His hands smashed together. The figure shattered before the glass in the air froze, going back to it’s liquid state.

“Wait.” Toby walked over to him. “Max are you saying you... amalgamated with him?”

His friend blinked, as if confused. “Isn’t that what happened to you?”

Toby tried to keep the shock out of his voice. “No, no. These marks in my arm.” He held it up. “It’s a spell I got from a witch, in order for my body to ‘absorb’ the things it comes in contact with. It was the only way I could utilize the realm crystal since it was shattered so I could get back to my home universe.”

“Home universe?” Max narrowed his eye. The glass had fallen from his grip at this point.

“Yeah, back when we escaped the factory where I’m from we eventually escaped through a spacial rift. We wound up in a completely different universe.”

“Seriously?” His shock melted into a pout for a moment as he turned and kicked the sand. “Damn, why could I get that lucky?”

“You were stuck with the overlord all those years?”

“Toby, I only recently started universe hopping.” Max had the crystal back out again. “So, yeah, I’ve been there the whole time.”

“That sucks.” It was all he could really think to say. He could barely even fathom it. “But uh, I assume that whole thing that happened killed him.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s dead.” Max’s grin returned. “Should have heard him scream, fucker.”

“It’s not hurting you is it?”

Max shrugged.

“What does that mean?”

“Can’t feel a lot of pain anymore.” He just laughed. “I... oh well it’s easier to show than explain. So I have form powers too now, right? Plus I’m mostly space gunk anyway. Kind of does a number on your nerves when everything’s shifting around.”

Toby wasn’t sure how to take that. Right now it was just a mixture of curiosity and disgust. Part of him wondered how his friend was even functioning like that. He was glad for it, glad that the overlord didn’t have a heavy influence, though he wasn’t stupid enough to not notice something was off.

Whatever, couldn’t judge there. Dark matter had caused him to lash out more than once.

“Anyway, check this out.”

Toby foolishly blinked. By the time he was focusing again Max sprouted three more arms. Without hesitating he grabbed one, pulling it off with just a small trail of purple smoke.

“Hey Toby, how many fingers am I holding up.” He laughed as all his hands showed different numbers, even the one that was no longer attached to his body.

Once again he was teetering between fascination and terror. Somehow that resulted in him smiling as he said, “Can’t lie, that’s a little freaky.”

“Oh it’s the tip of the iceburg.” Max snorted. “Wanna hold it? You totally could.”

“Oh god no.” Toby laughed as he waved his hands and took a few steps back. “Knowing my luck you’d try and have it pinch my nose.”

“Aw, come on.” Max stepped over. “Don’t be shy.” He waved the spare limb around as his two extra arms slowly shifted back into his body.

“That’s gross, dude!” Toby was still laughing as he teleported away.

“Hey! Quit cheating and get over here!”

“Not on your life!” Toby teleported once again before taking off in a sprint. He could hear Max chasing him, though clearly not putting a ton of effort into it.

“Better run faster Toby, or the disembodied hand might catch you.”

“Good to know you being an absolute weirdo hasn’t changed either.” He shouted over his shoulder.

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t want an extra arm to flip someone off three times?”

“Weirdo!”

#clone universe #Max grows spare limbs and takes on of them off but it's nothing graphic #he's mostly made of....#weird space gunk now anyway #.......#lmao god #can he even bleed #I #don't think hecan #that's weird to think about #max arc

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laketaj24 · 7 years ago

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Careless: Chapter 6: Balconies

A/N: There is some smut. There is a ton of Ivar/Leela angst as well lol. There are some mild threats lol I hope you enjoy though lol. I really like writing Leela. She just has no bound which makes her extremely awesome to write. The taglist is open!! If you would like to be added or removed, say the word!!! Let me know what you think!! I made a MASTERLIST!!!!

Ivar had no words to say to Leela and was bad at detecting if they were angry or sad tears. But she hadn’t stop crying since he picked her up two days ago. This was the reason she had left him last time and a smart piece of his heart ached to think she might leave him again. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Freydis but he said nothing. He stayed to himself consoling Leela who didn’t even want to go to work.

She had started cleaning. Leela sorted through the laundry as the washer changed cycles. He hooked his arm around her waist puling her up to him. “You good?”

“No.” She moped turning to him. “This is all too much again.” She breathes.

Ivar doesn’t want to hear it scooping her up from the ground placing her on the washer. She feels the water trickling into the washer and the hum from the spin cycle starting. He grabs her to the edge of the machine taking her underwear off allowing them to fall in to the ground. They hadn’t had sex in days and being used to having her daily and multiple times had him on the edge. He spreads her legs watching her breath grow shallow as she peppers kisses along his cheek bone. He enjoys her soft moist lips trailing along his neck pulling up his scrubs and then her hand reaching in his pants. She grips his shaft causing another hungry groan to escape. Leela was already slick and he had done nothing to her. He pushed her down on him causing her to hold her upper body up on the washer which was spinning non-stop below her. They both could feel the vibration surging through them. Ivar thrust in her forcefully. Pushing in and dragging back out only to pound into her again. Her hands claw down his back down a familiar trail of fingernail marks and tattoos. Ivar felt his orgasm building and he knew she wasn’t there yet. He reaches between them circling her clit. The sounds she makes in front of him are majestic. The melodic cries of her coming cause him to follow her but he doesn’t stop for a few strokes making sure he filled her before pulling out.

He can’t stop kissing her, a feeling of lost had been following him around for a few days, since the incident. He gets dressed once more still watching her on the couch.

“I have a quick route today. I have to do four stops and then check in with Sig about last week.” He grabs his backpack kissing her briefly before taking his keys from the end table.

“Okay.” She pauses. “You don’t have to come over tonight. I have to get some things done.” Leela looks at Ivar dressed in his powder blue scrubs and his freshly shaved face. “You look nice.” She inhales taking in the scent of his perfume and then laying back down on the couch. She couldn’t say the same about herself. She’d ate her weight in junk food and ice cream curled up on the couch with him. Her eyes were swollen, and her hair was a hot mess.

“I’m coming back. I can help you with whatever you go to do, and I’ll help you clean.” He nods at her smirking. “Love you, see you later, aight?”

“Aight. Get your nursey ass out.” She tries not to smile, kind of proud about seeing him actually do what he worked hard to accomplish. “Love you too.” He left, and she climbed from the couch trying to come to life from her obvious slump. The three weeks of vacation she had saved up had been her saving grace, even if she hadn’t planned to use them all right now. The billboard was gone the pictures were burned and her job was still intact, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want to know who was out to get her. Leela felt the guilt weighing on Ivar. He’d taken the pictures, but he always had taken pictures of her. They were that couple that couldn’t stop recording each other just to look at it later. Everything pointed back to Freydis. She showered and slicked her messy sew in back into a pristine bun. She pulled her dress suit from the closet and beat her face. There was a plan in action and she wanted to make sure Freydis saw the real her. The drive to the hospital took all of twenty minutes and the entire time she blasted her music amping herself to not kick her ass on sight. She got there parking in the guest section and she headed up to the floor she’d heard she worked on.

Freydis was not busy, perched against the nurse’s station talking to Hvitserk. His eyes widened as walked towards her quickly. “What are you doing here Lee?”

“Hvitserk, good to see you too. I didn’t come to visit you however, so I suggest you move your skinny ass out of the way before I, “Mike Tyson” you.” She shrugged her shoulders walking passed him with no resistance to Freydis.

Freydis was trapped against the wall and the counter and the fear in her eyes was evident. She swallowed hard gazing at Leela. “What are you doing here?”

“I came here to say in the politest way, that if you keep fucking with me and him, I will…” She leaned closer to Freydis barely touching her ears with her lips. “Fuck you up and I don’t mean in the drag you across the floor way. I will reach…” The threats continued for a stream of a minute and then she stood up clearing her throat. “I know you hung those pictures. I’ve called my lawyer and he’s contacted the police and they have cameras in the surrounding areas. So, I guess you will get what’s coming to you.” Freydis says nothing as she backs away from her pivoting and smiling. “I have to go. Have a good one.”

It helped that she said something to her or at least for the moment it did. She opens her phone seeing snapchat telling her that Ivar was nearby. She dials his number and he doesn’t answer. It doesn’t bother her, the shop he was at was around the corner. She’d go to him.

Ivar closes the hood of the car tugging the hat down to cover his eyes. This was the first car he’d done in years. The car might eve run fine and not explode. He’d likely lost his touch. He jogged a block out the way waiting for the explosion to shake the streets. He slid into one of the cafes ordering a water and some food at sat at the window. He was set to get off work in ten minutes it was enough time for him to get his food eat and head home. Ivar’s hands shake as he opens the water. This was the part of his life that he wanted to seal away. Yidu slid in the booth with him and smiled.

“I remember when you were still a baby, you know.”

“I know.” He grimaces. “Look I don’t think I can do this Yidu.” He whispers. “It’s not as simple as it used to be. I have people I care about and I don’t want to get mixed up in fueled wars and family shit. You aren’t my family.” He stressed.

“I know you have changed.” She squeezes the lemon into her cup of water and it happens. The explosion shakes the block and she watches as his face tings shades of red. “I only need you for three more.” She pushes him a bag under the table. “There is 25,000. Just put it in your bag and go do whatever you young kids do now. Riku will call upon you when you are needed again.”

“Right.” He shakes his head feeling his heart trudge into his stomach and the water threatening to com back up. This was no longer easy. “Leela.” He said as she entered the small shop.

She was dressed up and he liked this adult “come fuck me in my office” suit she wore. He felt his pants grow tighter and his dick pressed against his leg. She still looked shaken and he was sure no matter what is was, he was the cause of it. She walked over to the table placing her huge purse in the middle of it. “Who is this?”

“You and your women.” Yidu giggles finishing off her water. “I will see you later.”

“Uhm, no the fuck you won’t.”

“She’s my old babysitter babe.” He laughed. “This is Riku’s mom. Her and my dad used to be good friends and she was in the neighborhood, so she ate with me.”

She presses her lips together wanting to call his bullshit, but she doesn’t say anything about everything she had just read. “Something is on fire a block over.” Leela says ignoring Yidu as she leaves the table. “We should head back to the apartment. Did you ride your bike?”

“Uber.”

“Come on… I drove.”

The ride back to the apartment is silent for the most part. Leela lets him drive holding all of her their things. “So, these people that are just reappearing in your life are just good people. Why does Ubbe not talk of them? I know you know the same people.”

“I don’t know. Ubbe is weird.” Ivar avoids the question completely keeping his eyes on the road and not on hers. “Why are you so dressed up? I thought you were going to stay in the house? You look like you went to court.”

“I went to the police station and talked to them about the case and then I went to the hospital and I told your ex-whore that I would reach down her throat and rip her heart out if she fucked me over one more time. I’m not Y/N. I know y’all Lothbroks got these blondes going wild and shit, but she ain’t gone try to kill me and all that. If she come for me again I’m swinging her ass over the balcony.”

“Uh huh.” Ivar tries to suppress his laughter and he does biting his lip turning the music up.

“And no sir, I’m not done with your ass!” She turns the music down and turns to him. She quickly unzips the bag pouring the money in her lap. “What the fuck is this?” she pushes Ivar’s shoulder causing the car to swerve. “You’re lying to me aren’t you? You over trying to be thug Ivar and shit?”

“Why in the fuck would you do that?” He gripes straightening the car up and turning into the apartment complex. He parks and turns to her. “What do you mean “thug” Ivar? You’re so damn dramatic, I swear.”

“There was a bomb that went off less than a block away from you. You think I forgot about all that shit Heahmund told me about you? You think I’m fucking crazy huh? So, cut your bullshit. And be honest with me, or Freydis’ ass isn’t gonna be the only person flying over the damn balcony.”

Taglist: @captstefanbrandt@wilddrabble@sparklemichele@imgoldielikehawn@earthsmightiestasses @siren-queen03@whenimaunicorn@titty-teetee @hvitserksgirl@oddsnendsfanfics @amour-quinn@readsalot73@getinmelanin011@sunnyfortomorrow @proudcoiler88@perfectus-in-morte @g4u15@lol-haha-joke@allinestarr-blog @doloreschanal @mads---world—world@xilyadax@leaderradiante @letsshamelessqueen-m @marvelsviking @equalstrashflavoredtrash@sassymcgonagal1651 @kenzieam @igetcarriedawaywithyou@akamaiden @cocobanbooom @tomarisela @cbouvier23@courtrae89 @pebblesz892@cutiebubbleboo @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly@kickbacksnextdoor@bojabee @atequila @samwinchxtr @bang-kim-bap@danceyreagan

#ivar #ivar the boneless #woc fanfic #woc reader #poc reader #ivar x oc #ivar x woc #vikings fanfic #vikings season 5 #vikings #alex høgh andersen #laketaj #laketaj24

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diinofayce · 7 years ago

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Like A Whisper In The Night pt2

Pairing: BuckyxOFC | Word Count: 5,178 | Warnings: Swearing, talk of human trafficking

Previous Chapter

Chapter Two

Layne opened her eyes when she felt the quinjet touch down on the tarmac. She groaned and stretched her cramped shoulder muscles, her attention grabbed by Greg Andrews who was yelling at them all through a strip of fabric that he was being gagged with.

“Welcome back, kid,” Steve chirped pleasantly, clapping his right hand on her knee. Layne smiled softly, still unused to any real interaction with the main squad. Bucky just caught her eyes with his and gave a reaffirming smile.

Bucky had spent the flight back to Stark Tower keeping a careful side eye on Layne as she napped. He bantered with Steve and Nat with Clint adding his own snarky remarks here and there. Whenever the quinjet jostled, even a little, his eyes immediately shot over to Layne to make sure she wasn’t disturbed. It wasn’t until touchdown that he had gently tapped her away with his foot, pretending not to notice Steve and Nat smirking at each other.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “What are you guys going to do with Greg?”

Natasha got up and opened the door to the quinjet; hopping out she offered her hand to Layne which was gratefully accepted.

Steve attached his shield to his back and took Andrews when Bucky passed him off. “We’re going to take him down to holding. Black Widow will be heading the interrogation.” He answered, his hand holding Greg Andrews’ upper arm firmly making the older man walk nearly on his tiptoes.

“Can I come watch?” Layne asked, hope filling her voice. The team seemed to be warming up to her, and she was hoping she could ride out that good luck into actually seeing Natasha in action.

“Nope,” Steve replied, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “You’re going to go to get checked out by Dr. Cho and then write your report. I want a full explanation of what happened.”

Layne tried not to look defeated. She could argue that she felt fine and could just do with a nap, but she knew that arguing with Captain America was probably not a good idea. She also didn’t think an argument of procrastination on her report would go over well either, but she still couldn’t help the snark of; “Not like anyone will actually read it.”

Layne stalked off ahead of them with fire in her steps. Bucky and Clint came up behind the shell-shocked looking Steve, both trying very hard not to laugh. “You should let her watch, Cap,” Clint said.

“She was the one to get him, after all,” Bucky added, smirking as Steve sighed in defeat.

“Yeah, alright. Someone go hunt her back down while I bring this scumbag downstairs,” Cap ordered, hauling Andrews into the facility.

“Go get her, tiger,” Clint laughed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder as he passed by him.

“What? Why me?” Bucky barked back.

“I have to go check the quinjet back in. Plus, I don’t know. I feel like you might enjoy the walk.” Clint yelled back without looking at his teammate who was flushing a very telling shade of pink.

Bucky let out a huff of air, shooting the lock of dark brown curl that had dangled down next to his nose out of the way. “Enjoy the walk. Whatever the fuck that means. You enjoy the walk.”

Muttering to himself like he was most people avoided him in his hunt for Layne. Even Pepper had started approaching him with a file before her right eyebrow shot up and she detoured into a side room to look for someone - anyone - else. He took the elevator to the living quarters but stopped dead when the doors chimed opened, and he was faced with rows of doors. The sudden realization that he didn’t even know what room was hers hit him. What kind of teammate were they to her that none of them knew the extent of her powers or where she lived or even what she liked to order at the bar? Which was weird because what Bucky did know about Layne was that she always chewed her left thumbnail when she was concentrating on a book or her phone and that she washed her hair every three days because the third day it was always up in a bun. He knew she preferred Converses over combat boots, something that drove Cap up the wall, and that she could spit better than some men he knew which was oddly charming. Bucky knew a ton of superficial things, nothing of any real value, but he doubted most of the team noticed them. Now to figure out which door was hers, rubbing his hands together he went down the list in the process of elimination.

~*~

Layne slammed the door to her room shut and pulled out her phone to send an S.O.S. text to Wanda. She pulled a bottle of white wine out of the mini fridge in her room and pulled down two glasses and a corkscrew. She looked at herself in the mirror on her living room wall and let out a sigh; she looked like a mess. Her eyeliner had melted a bit and ran past her waterline, making her look like a raccoon after a bad trip, and a binder was barely containing her thick chestnut hair. Scrubbing at the eyeliner with her thumbs and ripping the binder out of her hair she raked her fingers through the chocolate mass, alleviating the pressure of it all being tied to the top of her skull. She took a step back and gave herself a once-over, she never really got used to seeing herself in the black uniform that matched the one Natasha wore mostly because she never got to wear it with any frequency. Layne tilted her head to the side, her hair all tumbling to the right in a sheet, as she reached up to the zipper at the top of her breastbone and zipped it down to just above her navel, a flash of red lace holding everything in place. For never being any sort of field agent Layne was still in fantastic shape, she had been doing kickboxing and yoga since she was fifteen, so her stomach was toned, and her ass was tight even outside of this sausage suit. She nodded at herself in approval; it felt good to let the girls breath a bit. Layne didn’t think she’d ever be Natasha Romanoff hot, but she could hold her own. She just had to make some plans to go out a bar with Wanda sometime soon so she could get some normal guys to look her way.

Layne picked up the corkscrew and went to work on the bottle of wine while thinking about the mission. Not even so much the mission, more so the post-mission in the plane. She thought about their conversations and felt a rush of appreciation again towards Clint when Layne remembered how he stood up for her. Although, the idea of her getting herself killed in some bought of need to prove herself was a bit exaggerated; Layne had a fantastic sense of self-preservation. She thought back to all the little ways Bucky had actually touched her; her hand, her knee, and when she had returned to her body she swore that it felt like someone had been touching her face. Layne had thought Barnes was attractive when she first came to Stark tower, but it became apparent pretty quick that he didn’t have the time of day for her. As soon as the team learned Layne didn’t have some super cool background or specialty combat training it felt like it became a game to see how long she would last.

Layne had her master’s degree from the University of Minnesota in science with a specialty in genetics. She had written her thesis paper on the genome that reacted with the Terrigen Mist and how it changed the DNA cell structure and the possibilities of it causing hereditary ramifications and the impact that would do to civilization. That was what had attracted Tony Stark to her to begin with, once he learned what Layne was capable of herself it opened up a whole different job offer than just working with Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner in the labs. Not that she didn’t do that too, microscopes were much more comfortable than guns.

Pouring herself a large glass of wine she took a deep drink just as there was a knock on the door and she felt almost giddy with excitement.

“Wanda! Finally!” Layne called through the door sliding open the lock. “Get a load of this…shit…” Layne trailed off, confused, as she opened the door to find Bucky Barnes on the other side of it and not Wanda.

Bucky immediately flushed a brilliant crimson and cleared his throat, turning his head and pointing at her chest. Layne looked down at herself and let out a squeak, dropping her wine glass and slamming the lapels of her suit closed. “Son of a bitch,” she swore, embarrassed, bending down to grab her glass and turning around quickly. Placing the glass on a side table and zipping her suit back up she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m so sorry, Barnes, I was expecting Wanda. You can come in.” Layne turned back to him, biting her lip and looking at him apologetically.

Bucky nodded awkwardly and stepped into Layne’s room; he didn’t feel the need to mention that she was blushing as brilliantly as her bra which offset the creamy flesh of what he had seen of her chest and abdomen. He distracted himself around at the various band posters; Led Zeppelin, HIM, DOROTHY, Coheed & Cambria, and a big tapestry of Chris Cornell spattered the walls along with thirty or so odd shaped mirrors that hung in ornate and neon colored frames. “What’s, uh, what’s with all the mirrors?” Bucky asked pointing at one of them.

“They stop me from projecting in my sleep. Sometimes, if I’m not dreaming, I’ll project, and then the mirrors keep me in my room,” Layne explained, leaning against the back of her sofa.

“How do the mirrors manage that?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his pectorals flexing with the movement. Layne looked down the chorded muscle on his arms and had to refocus her thoughts quickly. She brought her eyes back to Bucky’s and was momentarily caught up in just how deep and blue they were. Shaking herself mentally she scolded herself for acting like a weird little school girl and telling herself sternly to focus.

“I can’t see in my astral form, not with normal vision anyway. Remember how that one time I told you it was kind of like being a ghost? Well, I can focus on people’s auras and am drawn in from there. I’m getting better at picking out individuals in a crowd, but usually, I’m drawn into a particularly strong aura. I found out though, thanks to Dr. Banner, that I’m far more interested in being in my own body. So we put up these mirrors because then my astral form will see my body right away and just go home. I didn’t want to risk taking over any of you in your sleep.” Layne explained, wringing her fingers together nervously.

“That is both cool and terrifying,” Bucky said with awe causing Layne to smile softly.

“It would be cooler if I could control it.”

“Well, how much do you practice?”

Layne scoffed and shook her head. “How am I supposed to practice, Barnes? This was my first big kid mission, and it went questionable at best. No way Cap is going to want me puppy dogging along on another mission after this.” Layne moved past Bucky to pour herself another glass of wine since the first one was pitifully soaking into her carpet.

Bucky smirked and took the wine glass from her hand, setting it back down on the table. “Well, I don't know about that. He thinks you’re capable enough to come watch the interrogation.”

“What? Does he? Why didn’t you lead with that, Barnes? Put your coat on, let’s go,” Layne grabbed her phone to shoot a quick text to Wanda for a rain check and opened the door for him.

“My coat is on,” Bucky replied sounding confused, following behind swiftly.

~*~

The elevator doors opened, and Layne rushed out, Bucky reached out to with his flesh hand to catch her by the wrist. “Hey, calm down. Remember, you’re an agent not a kid on a field trip,” Bucky scolded softly. Layne flushed and let out a huff of air. She wanted to argue but knew he was right she needed to get her house in order. Layne steeled herself and nodded sharply, Bucky smirked and let go of her wrist. Layne’s fingers twitched, and she was confused at how her body seemed to miss his touch suddenly. “And you keep calling me Barnes. You know, you’re allowed to call me Bucky.”

Layne hummed softly and followed Bucky down the hallway, staying a step back as he stopped at a large steel door and knocked twice. Steve opened the door and looked at Bucky and Layne waiting in the hall before stepping back and letting them in, closing the door behind them. Layne walked up to the window and watched Natasha try to pry information out of Andrews. The older man’s hair was disheveled, the white streaks sticking out of the ink black in tufts, and his eyes were still bloodshot. Dried blood crusted and cracked around his mouth and peppered the collar of his dress shirt from where his nose was bleeding during his mental struggle with Layne.

Layne stiffened, only for a second, as Steve stood behind her. “What happened in his head, Whisper?” Steve had his Captain voice on, and Layne tilted her head a little to the left, wondering if she was part of this interrogation as well.

“I was following Barnes up the stairwell to the roof when my vision swam, and it felt like a Dremel tool was powering through my ears. I couldn’t focus, I could only hear high pitched squealing,” Layne recounted, her memory flashing back on the stairwell. She took a shaky breath as she watched Natasha coax a smirk from Andrews, his thin lips widening to reveal teeth that were too white and too straight. Her eyes glazed over slightly as she slipped back into the memory. “It was like, tentacles almost, reaching out of the darkness and wrapping around me. But there isn’t a ‘me’, really, just my being and there isn’t a ‘him’. Usually, when I take over someone their being is ejected from their body, there can only be one host at a time, but Andrews found his way back in, and it was like he was trying to strangle me. I couldn’t focus on keeping control of his body because I had to focus on keeping Andrews out of me. It was like hot honey, and I couldn’t shake free. I took what last bit of control I had and asked Barnes to knock me out.”

Layne jumped slightly as Steve put his hand on her shoulder. “Has that happened before?” he asked, his voice losing it’s commanding edge feeling much softer; like a parent comforting a child after a nightmare.

“Sort of. Back in Hong Kong with the acrobatic Hydra agent,” Layne cast her caramel eyes to Bucky, and he looked at the floor, shifting from one foot to the other. “It’s okay, I always understood why you had to shoot her, I actually set you up to shoot her. She was the first Inhuman I tried to overtake; I wasn’t expecting the power in her blood to feel like it did and when I overtake someone initially I get random flashes of their memories. Whether its memories they want me to see or they’re just pulled at random, I don’t know, but her were horrible and twisted and I got a little lost in them. I was stuck in her body, and I couldn’t push her out. I should have just left her but I saw her plan to attack Barnes, and I wanted to try and stop her. I blocked her abilities, but I couldn’t do much else,” Layne turned her focus back to Natasha and Andrews, flinching when Natalia pounded her fist on the table and slammed her chair back. Greg Andrews laughed at her openly, and Natasha just glared before slamming her way out of the room.

Bucky’s brows were furrowed as he looked up at Layne, her brown hair cascading down her shoulders and settling on the swell of her breasts. He liked her hair tied back more; Layne tended to try and hide behind the curtains of her hair. “I always wondered why she just ran straight for me. She had been flipping and dodging around that whole fight, and suddenly she just ran straight to me.” His blue eyes were looking at her with a mixture of confusion and awe.

Layne nodded at him. “She hadn’t even used her abilities yet, she was a teleporter. She could tell I locked her down and it pissed her off. Then I set in her mind the plan to just charge you down.”

Steve had opened his mouth to say something when their door burst open and Natasha stomped in.

“I don’t get it, Cap, I tried everything. I tried sexy, I tried mean, I tried saying please,” Natasha said looking like she had sucked on something sour. “He’s locked up tight and hiding behind some excuse that the kid scrambled his brains.”

“That’s a lie,” Layne said, still staring at him through the one-way mirror.

“I know it is,” Nat sniped before turning back to Steve and Bucky. “What do we do?”

“You send me in,” Layne said before the boys could open their mouths. All three of them whirled on her and stared at her like she had grown a second head. Layne steadied her gaze and planted her stance. “I can do it. I’ve been inside his head, I know his ticks, and if all else fails, I can just persuade him. It probably wouldn’t hold up in court if that’s what you’re going for here, but it’ll move us along the ladder,” she argued. When the three looked like they were just going to argue back, she held up her hands. “Please, trust me.”

“What can it hurt?” Bucky caved looking at his teammates. Layne looked at Bucky sharply, her eyes widened in slight surprise. Natasha scoffed and rolled her eyes, tossing a hand in the air.

“Sure. Why not. Let her in, Cap.”

Steve looked Layne dead in the eyes, “If I see any sign you’re losing ground, I’m pulling you out.” Layne nodded in understanding, and he opened the door for her.

Leaving Bucky, Natasha, and Steve in the observation room, she put her hand on the knob of the interrogation room and took a deep breath. She readied herself and pushed the door open, closing it softly behind her. She glided over to the table with ease and flipped the chair around backward before slinging her leg over the side. Layne rested her forearms on the back of the chair and settled her chin on them; she locked her warm golden eyes to the cold steel grey of Greg Andrews’.

They sat there in silence, Greg fidgeting slightly causing Layne to cock her head to the right and smile at him softly. She never lost eye contact with the sleeze of man. Layne had to assert dominance, that was the number one that made Andrews’ uncomfortable, women in power. He had to have control, feel on top, and Layne had every intention of sitting here calmly until he cracked.

In the observation room, Bucky, Natasha, and Steve all stood right up to the glass, shoulders almost touching. Bucky tried hard to not stare at Layne’s ass as she straddled the chair, the black fabric stretching over her curves in a way that made the spot between his eyebrows sweat. They watched with bated breath as they stared silently at each other waiting for the other one to make the first move.

“She looks oddly comfortable in there,” Steve assessed, chin in his hand as he chewed softly on his middle knuckle.

“Well, she’s been in his head. I’m sure sitting at the same table isn’t nearly as daunting,” Bucky answered, the conversation helping to break the stare he had locked on Layne’s backside.

Natasha put a hand up to silence them as Layne lifted her head, putting her left elbow on the back of the chair and her chin in her hand. Greg had broken the eye contact first, looking down at his shaking hands. Natasha hadn’t scared him, she didn’t know the things about him that Layne knew.

“So, Greg,” Layne spoke lazily, sounding like she didn’t want even to be there. “I’m sure you don’t really want to talk to me. I know Black Widow and I are much older than the girls you usually like to spend your time with.”

Andrews stiffened and his hand shot to the knot of his tie, for the first time looking a little uncomfortable. He knew that this woman had been inside his mind, controlled his body, knew so many of his secrets, but he didn’t understand how. “You have no proof,” he rasped, and Layne just shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re completely correct. I do not have proof, but I’m not here looking to throw proof at your feet. I’m here to save those girls and I’m hoping you could just tell me about them. Where you got them, where they are, why Hydra wants them, that sort of thing,” Layne drawled, drawing invisible circles on the table top with her finger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Andrews insisted, fidgeting with the lapels on his suit jacket.

“You run a security company, yes? Why don’t you tell me about the security files you had on your office computer for Hydra?” Layne asked coolly.

“Why don’t you just dive back into my head and find out for yourself?” Andrews sneered in a last-ditch attempt to sound like he had control and wasn’t afraid of her, slamming his hands on the table in front of him, his long bony fingers splayed out on the cold metal surface.

Layne’s hand that had been drawing little patterns on the table lashed out as quick as a whip and grabbed one of his hands in her small one. He gasped and tried to pull back but Layne’s grip was firm, and she slowly turned his hand over so the palm was facing the ceiling and she brought her other hand over to trace the deep lines in Andrews’ palm with the tip of her pointer finger.

The three agents in the observation room were all but holding their breath, watching her with fascination. The calm and serene manner that she was handling this interrogation was that of an experienced professional, not the goofy lackadaisical girl they were so familiar with seeing around the Tower. Natasha was pulling on her bottom lip softly with her fingers as she watched Layne with rapt attention, Steve has paused the soft chewing on his knuckle, but it stayed in his mouth as his curiosity piked. Bucky was leaned against the frame of the one-way glass, his hands on the sill as he stared intently at the scene unfolding. He watched as Layne took Andrews’ hand in her own and a weird sensation of nausea and anger flared in the pit of his stomach; it was a like a bear waking up from hibernation and letting out a roar that shook the forest. Bucky’s fingers gripped the window sill and his shoulders locked as Layne traced a lineup and down Andrews’ forearm, following the bright blue vein from his wrist.

“I think, Gregory, it would behoove both of us if you could just tell me,” Layne whispered sweetly. What the three in the observation room couldn’t see were the big doe eyes she looked at Andrews with and how the warm caramel of her eyes flared to life with a brilliant amber glow, like someone poured molten lava into her irises. Andrews took a visible gulp and cleared his throat, his gaze starting to cloud over.

“I-I can’t. They’ll kill me,” he answered, his voice strained.

“You’re not worried about them, Gregory. You know you’re safe with me. It’s just you and me here, and no one here can hurt you,” Layne soothed, her fire eyes staring deep into Andrews’ trying to convince him to yield.

Greg tried one last weak and futile attempt to take his hand back from Layne before giving in and letting his posture slump. It was as if the weight of his life suddenly came pounding down on his shoulders. He sighed and loosened his tie with his free hand.

“Hydra hasn’t been able to source girls from The Red Rooms in Russia for a few years now. They started with the mail order girls of Thailand and Russia instead, finding that for every ten girls they brought to their facilities at least half showed promise of something more. I had hired an intern a few years back who turned out to be one of their insurgents; they have people placed in almost every prominent company in the world. I thought at first they wanted my company for the security features we provide, but it turns out they had discovered my taste for…for Asian massage parlors. Soon I had gained them access to the deep underbelly of human trafficking and I couldn’t get out unless they released photos of myself and a few underage girls to the press,” Andrews’ explained, looking and sounding exhausted.

“Where are they taking them?” Layne asked, bile high in her throat and she could feel her energy beginning to drop drastically but if she could just keep it up for a little bit longer. If she could only find out where they were taking the girls, then she could go back and finish that bottle of wine (that was half gone and she got basically none of) and take a nap.

“I don’t know that. I knew Hydra had a base in Hong Kong, but your people infiltrated it. They had just enough time to get all the girls out before your lot blew it all up.”

“What happened to the girls who didn’t show promise?” Layne asked, fearing the answer.

“All I know is they didn’t get sent back,” Andrews responded, confirming her fear.

“Who was your contact?” Layne asked reaching down into a pocket on her thigh and coming out with a pen and paper. She placed it in front of him and resumed lightly stroking his arm. “You should write it down for me, so I don’t forget.” If Bucky watched Layne’s fingers close enough he could see the skin she brushed on Andrews’ arm would let out a soft glow, like a faint flashlight lived under his skin. Just watching Layne use her powers of persuasion looked warm and soothing and he couldn’t help but wonder if she could do that glow thing without using her ability. He had an odd image of Layne tracing her magic fingers down his bare chest, his skin lighting up like fireflies, and had to shake his head to regain focus.

Andrews licked his lips before grabbing the pen and sliding the paper to him, writing down a name and a phone number. “Her name is Mae Ling; she drove the van that would pick up the girls. That’s the only contact I have.”

“What other dealings did you have with Hydra?” Layne asked, making a mental note of the phone number scribbled down.

“My security systems are in place in most major weapons makers and distributing sights, including local gun shops. When they needed to make a hit I just made sure the security system failed,” Andrews said with ease. Layne swiped up the pad and pen and broke contact with Andrews, he gasped and looked like his heart had been ripped from his chest. “What are you?” he asked her shakily, the clouded gaze leaving his eyes only to be replaced with fear. He clutched the arm Layne had been holding to his chest like it was going to fall off of him.

“Nothing but a whisper,” she said with a sneer and stood up, leaving him alone in the interrogation room. Hearing the door click closed behind her she let out a whoosh of air and placed her palms flat on the wall across from her, her arms outstretched and her head down. She felt like cement weights were attached to her all over her body. The door to the observation room opened and the three stepped out from where they had been watching with surprise and appreciation.

“Layne, that was fantastic,” Steve praised, holding his hands out in case she should drop. Concern was etched over all their faces when she looked up and smiled softly to try to alleviate it. “How did you handle that so calm?”

“Thanks, it just takes a lot out of me. I don’t do it a lot. He hates feeling like he doesn’t have influence over women, Natasha was working too hard to get information out of him, it made him feel like he had power. I had to take that feeling away,” Layne explained and passed the notepad to Natasha. “You’ll probably want to run that right away.” Natasha nodded taking the notepad and then cautiously reaching out and placed her palm on Layne’s cheek.

“You did great,” she said before turning around and taking off to bring the information to intelligence.

“I need to go debrief Fury. Andrews can sit in there a bit and sweat, you, however,” Steve said focusing back on Layne. “Need to get back to your room and rest. I’ll make sure to put in a glowing review after today’s mission. I’m glad Bucky and Clint talked me into letting you watch.” Cap clapped Bucky on his metal shoulder before heading to the elevators.

Layne looked at Bucky with her eyebrows knitted together. “You helped convince Cap to let me watch today? Why?” she asked, not that she was complaining or anything, but it’s not like he’d ever stuck his neck out for her before. Or had anything to do with her before. Sticking up for her to come watch the interrogation and then to actually get in the room with Andrews was a new side of Bucky that she hadn’t experienced.

Bucky just shrugged, “Seemed only fair. You’re the one that caught him in the first place. Come on, doll, let’s get you back to your place."

Layne snorted with laughter and pushed herself off the wall, teetering slightly before finding her balance again. “Taking me to my door. What a gentleman you are.”

Bucky flushed and ducked his head, letting his hair fall around his face to hide it. “Yeah, well, it’s not a big deal. Plus, you’re going to need all your energy. After what we saw in there you can bet your butt Natasha is going want a front seat demonstration.”

Layne let out a groan, and she punched the button on the elevator to go up to the living quarters. “Should have run off to join the circus,” she moaned. The doors closing on her and Bucky as he let out a raucous laugh.

NEXT CHAPTER

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