#I wanted to shade this but I’m sick af so rip

[rottentherat]

Did the Six Fanarts challenge on my TikTok!! I hope u like it as much as I do 💗

[gaysimpsstuff]

Could I get a Hawks in his rut headcanon?

No problem, Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be perfect since I really like thinking about Hawks’ avian traits, and I know people really like it too. I hope it’s good! 

Hawks Rut Headcannons

Genre: fluff, smut

Type: headcannons (so... many... headcannons)

Warnings: animal traits, Keigo being possessive af, the commission being assholes, sickness, food, breeding kink, lots of horny times

Other: most of this is based off of real research, but some of it also comes from personal preference. @keilemlucent and their fic Best Nest very much inspired many other headcannons, check them outI They’re one of my favorite creators, and the linked fanfic is one of my favorites! Hope it’s okay I tagged you here lmao

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (Lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the Taglist)

Remember to check if requests are open before sending in a request. This was made while requests were still open.

Pre-Rut Behaviors

Grooming and Preening

Before his rut, Keigo starts to feel dirty. He just seems to accumulate more dust and dirt during hero work than usual. He’ll come back home grumbling about blood in his hair and little bits of concrete in/on his skin.

He will insist you clean him off. So you get to brush his hair, put creams on his face, and wash him off in the shower.

Finally, there’s the preening. If he lets you preen his wings, then you know he’s in it for life. He loves and trusts you with everything he has. 

Expect him to press his nose against yours a lot.

Possessiveness and Protection

You’ll notice he gets more clingy, more possessive of you. He gets really controlling in the days leading up to his rut, so you’ll be annoyed a  l o t.

Just text all your friends and family that you’ve been swamped at work, it’d be a little weird to say “hey guys, sorry I can’t hang out, my boyfriend’s horomones are crazy right now and he gets really insecure if I so much as exist near anyone but him.”

You would come home from work and he’s already on you, sniffing your body to see who you’ve been around, and to see if any of them were attracted to you at all.

If he had any kind of sneaking suspicion that anyone posed a threat, he’s literally laying on you and rolling on top of you to try and get his scent on you. Even if no one will smell it except him, he’s gonna do it.

He’s so protective of you, and if something tiny hurts you or makes you upset...

He.

Is.

Angry.

Someone was rude to you? He’s screaming at them.

Someone tries to hurt or touch you? You’ve got to hold him back to stop him from ripping that person apart limb from limb.

All that x100 when he’s approaching his rut.

One person accidentally bumps into you? He takes it as passive aggressiveness even if they’re very apologetic about it.

You stub your toe on a table? He’s smashed the table and burnt it then thrown the ashes in the ocean. 

If you’re sad about something he can’t beat up, he feels horrible. He’s not the best at comforting people, so he’s just grabbing onto you and not letting go, telling you how much he loves and cares for you, and just how amazing you make his life feel.

If you don’t give him enough attention, he gets really huffy, and it gets worse leading up to his rut. 

You lifted your hands from his head to reach for your buzzing phone? He’s already whining and pouting and begging you to give him more head-pats again.

Nesting

He’ll leave hints asking for you to make a nest, usually saying things like “Our bed needs some changing, don’t you think?” “Don’t you wish our space was more personalized?” 

If you don’t get the hint, he’ll be very sad, and he thinks you’re rejecting him. So you’d better be good at reading into things and realizing he’s approaching mating season and wants you to build a nest.

He comes home one day and sees you piled blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes in the living room, sprayed with his cologne and you’re cologne and/or perfume. He pulls you into his arms and spins around with you, giggling and laughing.

He’s so happy you made a nest for the two of you. 

He starts putting pretty shiny things he likes around the nest. Your toothbrush went missing and you found it in the mountain that was your nest.

Once, you were in desperate need of a clean shirt, and the only clean shirt you could find was in the nest. So you picked it up to put it on, and two seconds later, Keigo was in front of you, hands in your shirt, staring at you with such a fierce intensity, you felt almost like a villain.

He was very mad at you for taking things from your shared nest.

He leaves feathers all around the penthouse, but they’re all piled mostly around the nest, they’re for your protection so don’t try and throw them away.

Noises

He also gets really noisy, so he’ll be ‘singing’ and squawking and cooing constantly. He feels really bad about it so he might get you some noise-blocking headphones for when he’s screeching into the sky in the dead of night about how “THIS IS MY FUCKING TERRITORY Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS STAY AWAYYYY!”

You really think bird’s springtime songs are about love? Nah he’s mostly screaming about how he’s gonna fuck his partner and how the neighborhood  practically belongs to him.

Someone called the police once, tired of all the shouting, but the officers backed off when they saw who was doing all the shouting. Most of your neighbors are used to the screaming during early spring.

Rut End-game

On the third and second to last day before his rut, he gets a sudden burst of energy and an increased appetite. He refuses to eat anything unless you’ve made it though, so let’s best hope you can cook at least a little.

When he was younger, his hungry times before his rut were spent either eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. The commission broke that behavior very quickly though, so he’d starve himself before his rut, which would result in him getting very sick from a lack of energy and sustenance. That plus the extreme arousal was a recipe for pain and suffering.

So when you noticed he suddenly stopped eating, you insisted on making food for him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him go hungry ever. That was the first rut in years that didn’t feel like torture.

You’re cooking almost all the time, and he’s constantly eating everything you give him, running around from room to room while he waits for his next meal. He’s basically a hobbit.

In the last day or two before his rut, he suddenly has no energy, and starts getting hot and cold flashes. He’s sniffling, curled up in your shared nest, dirty tissues surrounding him. He comes in and out of consciosness, and when he’s awake, he’s whining and complaining about exhaustion and aches.

Physical Changes

Most of these happen in the last few days leading up to his rut, so it’ll be very sudden. These physical changes is what causes the extreme hunger and sickness.

His feathers darken several shades, and they become super sensitive. They also seem to grow in size, so when you cuddle, you’re smothered by them more than usual.

He also gains an extra couple inches in height, so expect some teasing now that he’s just that little bit taller. His hair also gets thicker and stronger, that’s so you can pull on it when he fucks you.

His nails get longer and darker, and they’re impossible to file or cut. So when he holds you and touches you, he often scratches you on accident. He’s really apologetic about it, but honestly you could totally paint his nails and pretend they’re acrylics if you’re into that.

His teeth get sharper, and he starts biting you just for fun. Bites your finger, hand, wrist, neck, even your nose. He underestimated just how strong his teeth are, and he made you bleed first time he bit you.

His whole body is very sensitive, so head-pats, back rubs, wings, and even his touching his feet can get him to the verge of cumming.

his tongue is longer, and it’s a whole lot stronger. He could probably carry a full plastic water bottle with his tongue (which isn’t a lot, but for a tongue it’s very much a lot).

His voice drops a whole octave and a half- mans is sounding almost like Corpse now. Maybe Markiplier? Anyways, if you’ve got a voice kink, you’re in luck

His dick changes too, it gets bigger, and he grows a lump at the base of it, between his shaft and balls. His balls get smaller until they’re barely noticable beneath what he calls him ‘knot.’

His eyes become sharper too, so don’t try and hide anything from him. 

Rut (MAJOR NSFW)

Everyone already knows Keigo has a breeding kink, but he hasn’t brought it up with you until now. It just kind of- happens. As he’s drilling into you, he suddenly starts blabbering about fucking a kid into you, and how hot you’d look all round with his kids. Might be a little weird for those of you who physically cannot give birth to children (my lovely AMABS and infertile AFABS). 

He can’t control it, so it’s especially weird if you don’t even want kids. If you can get pregnant, you’d better double check that you’re taking your birth control. And get to know some good clinics just in case.

However, if you do want kids, if you want to start a biological family woth Keigo, fuck. You will not be able to handle his happiness and horniness in that moment when you beg him to get you pregnant.

He is going to mark you up. Hickies, bruises, hand prints, bite marks, plus his scent. He needs everyone to know that you are his. He wants to claim you, make sure you know you belong to him. No one else can have you but him.

Halfway through your fuckfest, he starts making animalistic noises. He’s growling, roaring, whining, chirping, etc. This is around the time when he stops thinking about you, so he’ll really rough you up during this phase.

This man was a virgin before you, so this is also the first rut he’s ever going to have with another person, so he’ll hold himself back a lot. He needs you to reassure him at every step, tell him how good you feel, how you want him to fuck you, how not only are you okay with him going all out, you want him too.

Did he just cum? You think you’re finished? HA! No way in fucking hell is he finished after one, two, five, ten... so many rounds. He just keeps going and going and going and how the fuck is he still hard? He cums so fucking quickly, so much, and then keeps going.

When he finally does go soft, his whole personality changes. it’s like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. He immediately goes into ‘protect’ mode, which includes cuddles, him spoon-feeding you, petting you like a dog, and singing to you.

He puts the nest near a window so he can keep an eye out for possible threats. Just like “gotta keep mate safe. Is that the mailman? NO FUCK NO GET OUT OF HEREEEE!” 

One moment, he’s fucking you, and the next he’s leaning halfway out the window, screaming at some poor dude walking his dog. Remember, he’s still naked. You learned your lesson after that and kept the windows locked, and warned the neighbors to stay out of sight of the window, at least for the time being.

You’re going to feel very dirty, because he does not want you cleaning off the sweat, cum, and tears from your body. He likes that you smell like him, and you washing it off makes him feel rejected. 

He’s going to break a lot of things, so move pictures and vases into another room and lock the fuck out of that room. Or else he will break all of it.

He thinks any clothes you’re wearing are mocking him, so wear clothes you hate when his rut starts, then get used to being naked for a couple days. 

Oh yeah, his whole rut lasts one to five days. He’s fucking you for about three days on average.

He fucks you until you faint, and then keeps going until he’s out of ‘fuck’ mode and into ‘protect’ mode. A few times, he fucked you unconscious in the middle of the afternoon and then kept fucking you until the sun rose. 

Yeah, he’s got that much energy.

Don’t worry, during the whole time, he lets out pheromones with a strong vanilla-chocolaty scent that keeps your body and mind relaxed. 

There’ve been times when he’s just fucking into you and your water bottle is just out of reach.

During his rut, he has no shame. Let’s hope your walls are soundproofed, or else your neighbors will all know how he fucks you. 

He will not restrain you or hurt you in any way during his rut. So no degredation, no collars or chains, the only thing keeping you in the nest is his weight on top of you.

He gets upset if you try to touch yourself, things it’s you trying to tell him that he’s not satisfying you enough. 

He wants you to cum as many times as him, which is difficult because of his increased sensitivity, so he’s using every skill he knows to get you cumming again and again and again.

Most of the time, he’s going hard, rough, and spilling absolute filth from his cock and mouth, but in the last few hours of his rut, he suddenly gets emotional.

He’s rocking up against you, holding you close to his body and blabbering about you

How much he loves you

How good you make him feel

How he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side for his rut

How you’re his mate for life

How he’ll protect you and keep you safe.

Please be gentle with him, he’s very vulnerable near the end of his rut, and he’ll cry very easily.

When he’s nearing his last load, he makes out with you sloppily, trying to talk as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

He finishes off by  pushing his knot all the way inside you, and stays there for an hour.

This is the softest moment, and he’s covering your body in kisses. 

His knot pushes these small eggs inside you, and you have the lovely job of pushing them all out the next day. 

Post Rut

When his knot deflates, he finally pulls out and starts cleaning you off. 

He’ll carry you around and finally gives you a bath, constantly making sure you’re okay.

He’ll give you lots of massages and he’ll cook for you. He’s constantly thanking you for helping him, telling you he didn’t deserve it.

Just kiss him on the cheek, tell him you had fun, and that you love him so very very much.

He needs the most reassurance now than ever before.

He’s also very tired, so you’ll be taking care of each other.

Then his ‘post-rut’ resets, and he sleeps for hours.

Then he gets super hungry, and the two of you make huge meals and just kinda binge eat for a day or two.

Then his physical changes go back to normal, and you have a happy lil bird boy who simps for you so hard

[howdoyousleep3]

Idek why I’m all in the softs when I’m horny af, but daddy Steve’s reaction to bucky dressed to the fucking nines, in a suit or a tux and he’s just like wtf all that is mine?????

Babyyyy some of the best horny times are the soft ones! And this one would be one of them!

As soon as Steve gets done adjusting his bowtie, centering it on his neck, he’s glancing down at his watch. Plenty of time. There are events where he himself gets a little nervous, his stomach a tad uneasy, and this is one of them. A lot of people, a loud environment, the importance of impressing; it’s all swirled together into Tony and Pepper’s holiday party. It’s a party thrown by friends but one that Steve can’t totally let loose at because there are also a plethora of people who work for and with Steve, whom a connection is valuable and necessary. That pushes Steve to ensure he’s on point and on his best behavior for the entirety of the night.

It’s also Bucky’s first time accompanying Steve to this event. It isn’t his first time attending a work event or a party of sorts by Steve’s side, but it is his first time attending this particular party. Steve would be lying if he said there wasn’t added pressure because of that alone. Adding to that small mountain of pressure is the fact that Bucky is incredibly nervous for tonight. He’s only whispered his worries about tonight into Steve’s shoulder once before and only once, but Steve knows they remain underlying.

Steve needs to be strong for his boy.

“Buck? How’s it goin’?” Steve asks rather loudly from the bathroom, knowing Bucky’s in the closet changing into his suit. He spent an adorable amount of time in the mirror fussing with his hair, wanting it to be perfectly curly, as if Bucky wasn’t angelic enough. Steve hears Bucky respond but can’t hear exactly what he says so he steps out of the bathroom and heads to the closet.

“You okay, Buck? I couldn’t hear—”

It’s one of those moments just like the movies, time slowing down, the rush and chaos of the evening deafening out to a lull in Steve’s brain. Every piece of his own body zones in and focuses on Bucky standing before him in the closet fidgeting with his sleeve.

“Buck…”

He hears himself say it, like a breath, like a prayer, the same way he says it in his head, like a song. Bucky looks…looks—

“Bucky, you look…holy shit, baby.”

When Bucky turns to look at him over his shoulder Steve feels like his heart slide up into his throat. He tells himself to breathe, to stop being dramatic, but how is he supposed to act anything close to normal when his boyfriend looks like a fallen angel right here in front of him?

Bucky is dressed to the nines, looks like he’s walked right out of a high-fashion ad in Vogue. Sleek black shoes, tight as sin black pants, white dress shirt with simple black buttons. It’s simple, elegant, classic; of course Bucky looks immaculate in the basics. What stops Steve in his tracks is the jacket Bucky is wearing.

It’s the prettiest shade of green Steve has ever seen. It’s like the color of a Pacific Coast forest, deep and dark but lively, matches beautifully with the chestnut locks all curled and perfect on the top of Bucky’s head. Steve is ten steps away from Bucky, but he can immediately tell that the green was a gorgeous choice to go with his boys’ eyes.

Steve loves Bucky in this suit but wants to rip him right out of it as well.

“Steve, quit it. Does it…does it look okay?” Steve’s heart aches. He’s so in love, so very in love with this man. Steve has moments where he realizes how lucky he is that Bucky chose him, has a thousand a day he feels like, but the ones such as this are rare. One such as this where he can’t tell if he wants to grin or laugh or cry or fall to his knees and grab at any piece of Bucky he can get.

“Buck…’okay’? Sweetheart you look…” Steve can’t even finish his sentence, can’t even find the right words to use and just stands there and watches Bucky look at his feet sheepishly, run his hands down the front of his suit jacket. Steve’s walking before he even realizes he’s the one taking the steps himself and his lovestruck self doesn’t even stop when he gets to Bucky, grabs onto the younger man and walks them back until they’re pressed into the shelves.

“Steve!” Bucky whines through a giggle, Steve feeling hands on his own hips, Bucky’s hands, but he’s distracted, is looking down into Bucky’s eyes and shit—

“Fuck, look at you, sugar. Look at these eyes, god. Is this…Buck, is this velvet?” His hands run from Bucky’s jaw and down to cup at his shoulders, groans when he feels the softness beneath his fingers.

“Nat…Nat said that you’d like it, that you…wouldn’t be able to keep y-your hands off of me.” Bucky’s voice is meek and shy, and it makes Steve want to gobble Bucky up right there, makes him want to hide Bucky away from the rest of the world. He squeezes at Bucky’s shoulders, makes a little rumbly noise before sliding his hands back up to cup Bucky’s face.

“Remind me to send Nat flowers. Has she been hinting at wanting to go somewhere lately? Should we send her away for a weekend? God, Bucky. How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you all night?” and Steve’s voice gets a little deeper, a little breathier, leans in and gives a breathless Bucky a few heated kisses.

“You…you don’t have to,” is what his beautiful Bucky responds with and Steve is so in love. His lips trail from Bucky’s mouth to his jaw, little heated kisses with equally small noises given to each one. Steve’s hands cup Bucky like he’s a rare treasure but his kisses and the sudden roll of his hips are much rougher. Bucky’s noises are surprised, petite, as Steve sucks on the hinge of his jaw.

“No marks! Steve, don’t—” but Steve groans, growls, runs his hands down to cup at Bucky’s ass through his pants that are fucking painted on and—

“Fuck, baby how am I gonna get through the night, huh? Gonna have to keep my hands on you all night, gonna have to make sure people know you’re mine, that you have a Daddy.”

“Steve.” Bucky’s hands get a little more grabby, run up under the older man’s suit jacket, fingers pressing into his shirt.

“Fuck the party—let’s stay home.” Bucky’s giggle is like music to Steve’s ears and he does what he can to catch the melodic noise on his own lips. Bucky’s hands are on Steve’s chest now, pushing at him playfully, and it makes the older man lean and nibble his way up to Bucky’s ear.

“If you think I worried myself sick about this party and dressed up like this and fussed over my hair for nothing, Steve Rogers you are mistaken. We are going and we’re going to have a great time and—quit it!” Steve succumbs with a dramatic sigh, an extra hard squeeze all over.

“In all seriousness, Buck you look incredible. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, sugar but Lord only knows I’ll keep up what I’m doin’.” His voice is low as he attempts to ensure that the younger man fully believes the words he speaks. The flush that rises to Bucky’s cheeks makes more than Steve’s heart ache, makes him press a few more wet kisses to Bucky’s plump lips.

“Thank you. What you’re doing is more than enough, Steve. I love you.” Steve’s grin is entirely out of his control.

“Love you too, baby. You ready?” Steve takes a step back, straightens out a few stray curls of Bucky’s, his own bowtie. The hot pool of arousal heavy in Steve’s gut simmers as he watches Bucky straighten out his jacket, runs his hands down his chest.

“Yes, let’s do this,” and Steve’s grabbing his watch from the drawer to their right as Bucky makes his exit when his boy, (more than out of arms-reach, the smart kid), says—

“Oh, and Steve? Wait until you see what’s under suit, Daddy…”

Steve is a goner.

[ddaenggtan]

from eden | myg + jhs

you've been in the dark a long time, overworked and exhausted. the only bright point is your gatekeeper, hoseok, your closest friend and the man you love but can't have. you've accepted that loneliness is inevitable for you. when a voice calls to you, though, and moves you so deeply that you rip open the earth to help them, you meet a mint-haired boy that changes everything you thought you knew about your prison. | monsters and gods pt 1 (masterlist)

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

genre/warnings | greek god au, hades!reader, thanatos!hoseok, persephone!yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, mild depictions of violence, mentions of blood (well, blood equivalent, bc gods), pining, depictions of abusive parenting, v v brief panic attack (seriously, I don’t go into a ton of detail, but it’s enough, pls don’t read this if that triggers you at all), love triangle (kind of), polyamory, , mutual masturbation, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, fingering, dick-riding, double penetration, unprotected sex (gods can't get sti's but u can! Wrap it b4 u tap it!), creampie, everyone hates Zeus but what's new, demeter sucks and is the literal worst

word count | 15.6k | cross posted to ao3  monsters and gods masterlis

a/n | hello! i’ve renamed this fic at least ten times, but it’s here!! the first part of monsters and gods!!! i keep seeing hades!yoongi (who i LOVE, don’t get me wrong, seriously you should check out @/seokoloqy’s hades yoongi fics because they’re PHENOM) and while I love hades yoongs, I also keep seeing him in flower crowns and being soft and sweet and, as we know by now, I am ultimately a slut for soft bangtan. so this happened. and then i thought ‘wow this mc is dark af i need some contrast here’ and that’s how thanatos hobi happened, also i couldn’t stop thinking of his Judgement Face, which is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and how fast he switches between that and his smile, plus.....sope, I mean. c’mon. sope. and then it all kinda spiraled into a whole series of fics, only one other of which is even started tho its close to being finished whoops lmao so yeah!!!! pls tell me what u think, i’m not used to writing angst at all, so it may not be suuuuuuper prevalent in this, but i tried!!! also i really recommend listening to hozier while you read it bc i had his first album on repeat while writing it and from eden fits this pretty well imo!!!

It's dark when you open your eyes. You've spent so long down here, you're used to it, but the shadows always seem to make the air colder than it should be. Though you suppose the land of the dead isn't supposed to be warm.

You stretch and wince at the crick in your spine. Another night sitting at your desk, greek fire burning through the hours so that you can scratch away at the papers in front of you. Your siblings always enjoy doing whatever they want, using mortals and throwing them away however they please, cleaning up after each other whenever they can spare the time.

No one ever seems to think about you, nor do they remember the chaos up top only worsens your constant migraines.

No, instead they start their wars and slaughter their enemies and are absolutely oblivious about the fact that the Meadow is at 80% capacity as it is, with more souls arriving each day. Thanatos did well at his job, as did Charon, and you were always sure to be thankful to them, but you wish, not for the first time, that there was someone - anyone - to help with your work.

Your brothers have the naiads, the winds, and the lesser gods to help them with their oceans and skies. Gods of vengeance and retribution help with war, while the fertility goddesses and the muses aid the lovelorn.

And yet here you are, still alone after all these years. Millenia, you've been stuck down here, forced to live out your days in the cold darkness and manage the dead mortals. You've always been introverted, even before you drew lots with your siblings, but never like this. You've tried to leave, of course; at first making short visits to Olympus or the mortal realm, just to speak to another living soul again, someone else who understands what it's like to be trapped in your own life. It seems like every time you came back, though, the underworld had gotten smaller and smaller, nearly suffocating you in an attempt to keep its claws in your skin. And then, of course, came the curse.

You haven't felt the sun on your skin in nearly a thousand years, and while you've always been one for the shade, you miss it. You miss the smell of the flowers in the temples, you miss the sound of the river as it babbles past, you want to feel the warm summer breeze ruffle your hair as you stand in the middle of a marketplace. You're tired of the Fields, you're bored of walking the streets of Elysium with the weight of their stares at your back, sick of standing at the steps to the Isles and wondering if it is, truly, euphoric and if any mortal would ever find out. You don't wear your sandals around the palace anymore; you don't want to hear the footsteps echo. It's just a reminder that you are, truly, alone.

Even the other deities in the Underworld have stopped calling on you. The aura that surrounds you is enough to wilt most any plant, unnerve most every animal, and the gods are no exception. The only exceptions are Hecate, who makes it her personal mission to bribe you into visiting the Meadow if only for a moment, and Thanatos when he can slip away for longer than a moment to distract you from your work. They rarely succeed, but it's the thought that counts, you suppose.

You muse on this as you walk, bare feet skimming lightly over the soil of the Meadow as you make your way to the Gates. You could probably just shadow-walk, if you wanted, you do enjoy giving your Thanatos a fright, but you figure the walk would do you good. There’s no one to bother you as go, thankfully. The dead wander aimlessly around you. There's no acknowledgment as you pass; there's never any recognition of anything in the Meadow, the price mortals pay for being so utterly inconsequential and mundane.

You smile when you see that your friend is busy, and you give a silent command to Cerberus not to alert the man to your presence. The dog whines a little, but sits back on his haunches, shaking the ground as he does so. You're silent as you move up behind the judge.

"You wanted me to tell you my judgment and I have," Hoseok says firmly. "You could have gone straight to the Asphodel Meadow and existed in relative peace for eternity, and instead you request a hearing, and then have the gall to question my decision?" You grimace slightly; perhaps putting Hoseok in charge of judging the souls was not the best idea, but he has yet to be wrong about someone.

"Please, sir," The mortal whimpers. He's on his knees, suit crumpled and dirty where he sits. "I was only doing what I thought was best, please, surely that matters."

"You used children!" Hoseok says in shock. "As slaves! It's 2019 and you had nearly a hundred seven-year-olds sewing clothes together in a cramped warehouse with one bathroom. You seriously expect me to give you leniency because you thought that was best?"

"Their families would have starved without that money," The mortal says. He's on the verge of tears, which has always made you uncomfortable, so you stay hidden for now. "I kept them all fed and safe, didn't I? What would they have done without me? Gone to work in some factory, with dangerous machines and cruel managers, whipped every time they needed to eat?"

"You used children as nearly free labor, barely allowed them time to piss, fed them once every twelve hours, and you expect that to be okay because they could’ve had it worse," Hoseok says. Disgust drips from his voice and you’re inclined to agree with the sentiment. "I respect your opinion, but you are to be punished for your deeds fittingly." Hoseok snaps and two of the Bones come over. These two are in desert camo, one barely tall enough to be an adult judging by the skeletal build, but their grip is unforgiving as they cart the mortal off to the Fields. You don’t even need to mold together a punishment for him; the warehouse you sent others who’d done the same wasn’t quite crowded enough yet.

"Well, that was fun," You call, and delight at the way Hoseok jumps nearly a foot in the air. He glares at you as he turns and you don't bother to hide the smirk on your face. "Child slavery, huh? In this day and age?"

Hoseok tsks. "I know we used to allow some crazy shit back in the old days, but you'd think that people would know better by now. Using children like that, kids…” He trails off, still fuming, and you nod.

“I know.” You pull a piece of lint off his suit with a wrinkle of your nose. “You made the right decision if it helps.”

“I know I did,” He says with a smirk. “I always do.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, watching the lines of souls head through the gates to their eternal blandness. It's the best way to hide the flush he brings to your cheeks. “What brings you out here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be doing something important?”

“Don’t I wish,” You mutter. “All I’ve got to do is figure out how to expand the realm again without Zeus’ approval.”

“Wait, he didn’t approve the expansion?” You shake your head and step closer to where Cerberus is laying, all three heads focused entirely on you as you rub his middle nose. “Where does he think we’re going to put all of the souls, up your ass?”

“Clearly,” You spit.

“I know it’s not exactly great down here and that they would all rather be thrown into the Pit than visit, but they need to sometimes. If only to see what it’s like. I mean, honestly, what do they expect us to do, just toss everyone in the Meadow and call it a day until there are so many that they’re tripping into Elysium? What the f-”

“Thanatos,” You say quietly, and Hoseok stops. It’s not often that you call him by his title rather than his name, preferring the familiarity of his friendship over the detachment of your positions. “Even here, the gods have ears. You know better than to criticize them like that.”

He huffs but nods his head. You press a kiss to Cerb’s middle nose and coo at him until he starts wagging his tail. When you turn back around, Hoseok is stumbling to keep his balance on the shaking ground. You laugh, which he does not appreciate, but before he can say anything in his defense, another soul is escorted to him by a Bones. The guy is already pleading with Hoseok, who’s returned to the stony mask he usually wears. The silver aura that surrounds him always brings you comfort, reminding you of the moonlight that bathes the surface world, but it has turned colder and is as deadly as mercury. You envy the way he can switch back and forth between his professional mask and the bright, loving man you know; if only it were that easy for you. Without so much as a wave, you weave the shadows around you once more, ignoring the soul's cries to you for mercy, and let yourself disappear into the darkness.

When you emerge from the shadows, you settle at the base of your garden tree. The only living thing that would grow down here, the sole reminder of the world above. Its branches show that it should be close to the harvest soon, maybe a month away at the most. You reach up, weaving through the darkness to pluck a pomegranate from the tree. You don't even like pomegranates anymore, you think as you inspect it. Ripe, juicy, and utterly disgusting; the gods' idea of a joke. The thing that brought about your isolation, your solitude, yet it continues to be the only thing that grows in this wasteland.

You laugh bitterly before tossing the fruit up in the air, letting it fly through the shadows to land beside Hoseok, whatever he's doing. He always appreciates your little gifts, the only real thing you can do to show that you aren't cross with him and are glad for the work he does. He's long been stuck here with you, but the fruit doesn't turn to bile on his tongue the way it does yours. Perhaps the willingness he had that first time made a difference.

Please.

You glance around, looking for the voice that suddenly echoes around you. It's soft, a memory of a whisper. It's not rare for you to hear the voices of the dead in your realm, but this is different. This one strikes you to your core, for this…

This one sounds hopeful.

The prayers that make their way to you are never hopeful. They are sad or angry or scared, always filled with tears and regret and more than a little hesitancy, but never do they have any shred of hope in them.

You stand, eyes narrowed as you look through the darkness for whatever soul may be calling to you.

Please. I don't want to go back. Don't let her take me.

Without thinking, you reach into the shadows. The blackness swirls around your fingers, unsure where you're trying to go. You don't know yourself, and you wish you did. You aren't sure why you're doing this; you rarely answer prayers, least of all the ones that don't mention you specifically, but something in this voice calls to you. It resonates in your chest, shakes your very being because you remember that feeling. You remember the way it felt to be free, standing in the sun and clawing at the earth as Gaia dragged you back down to your post, tears mixing with the dirt as you pleaded, begged her not to take you back down there.

With a jerk, you pull the shadows apart, and the ground quakes above you. You watch, anxiety pooling in your gut, and it's only the intensity of your focus that lets you see it: a figure, falling limply through the earth that you've opened. The string of curses you let out would make even Ares blush, and it's with a rush you haven't felt in millennia that you weave the shadows together into a net and toss it upwards. The figure falls into it with ease, shadows wrapping around the body to glide gently downwards until they can deposit the person with ease at the roots of your tree.

Your breath catches in your throat as the darkness recedes, revealing soft mint hair with flowers woven into it, pale green robes that are sliced nearly in half at the back and caked with mud. The man is beautiful and soft and bright, every inch the antithesis to your own black and grey clothes. You hesitate to even look at him, too afraid of dulling that sun-kissed skin with the death you carry on your fingertips.

His brow furrows and he winces, though his eyes remain closed. You blink owlishly before guiding the shadows around him once more; when you're sure he's secure, you pull him along behind you until you reach the only spare room you have in the palace. You situate him on the bed there, fluffing pillows and smoothing blankets until you can almost pretend he fell asleep there of his own accord. With pursed lips, you assign three of your Bones to watch him; one just inside the door and two outside of it, just in case whatever he was running from attempts to come for him.

You don't want to leave him, but you have work to do, and the land of the dead cannot rule itself.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. There is Greek fire in the corner, and shadows dancing on the walls around it, but he cannot make out much else. When he sits up and slides his feet off what feels like a bed, he hisses. The marble is cold and unforgiving against the bare skin of his feet and he doesn't know of any feeling like it. He's too accustomed to the dirt and grass from his mother's domain, and even the white marble of Olympus was warm to the touch. This is different. Alarming. New.

He eventually works up the nerve to stand fully. Looking around, he doesn't see any kind of light sources other than the brazier in the corner, so he grips one of the coals in his palm and uses that bit of light to find the door. The fire tingles against his skin, but he's long since grown used to holding fire in his palms for his mother. The warmth is comforting for a brief moment before the image of his mother flashes through his mind. He flinches at the memory of her face, twisted with wrath, and the stone drops out of his grip before he can catch it.

The marble of the wall is cool against his back as he slides to the ground, knees brought up to his chest and his eyes screwed shut against the darkness. There's a vice around his chest and he can't breathe and he can't see and he doesn't have any idea where he is or if he's even alive or if she's stuffed him somewhere he'll never be able to escape and the thought makes his head spin as the air catches in his throat and gods don't even truly need to breathe and yet he can feel the cold claws of death tighten around his throat and all he can see in his final moments is the horrifying face of his mother's anger and he can feel the vines and roots around his ankles once more and-

"Who the hell are you?"

He looks up, pushing the sweat-covered hair out of his eyes. There's a man, in the darkness, who exudes a faint silver light around him that illuminates the walls and black marble floor. The man doesn't seem angry that he's there, or even all that surprised; just curiously resigned. There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so much he wants - needs - to know but only one makes it past the rock lodged in his windpipe.

"Am I dead?"

The man frowns and shakes his head. "I seriously doubt it, since you didn't cross the river." The man looks him over, taking in the flushed skin and sweat beads and the purple robes he donned the moment he decided to run and seems to decide something. He crouches down so he's eye level, poised on the balls of his feet with his elbows on his knees, and even in a full suit, he looks impeccably put-together. "I'm Thanatos. You can call me Hoseok. If you'll let me, I'd like to take you to someone who probably has a better idea of what you're doing here." All he can do is nod, and Hoseok extends a hand, which he uses to bring himself to a shaky stand.

"I'm Yoongi," He says, hesitant and quiet. "Um, I'm Kore. Or, Persephone. Either one."

"I think I'll stick with Yoongi," Hoseok says. His smile lights the hallway that Yoongi stands in, and it eases something inside him, though he isn't sure what. Hoseok doesn't let go of his hand as he guides Yoongi through the corridors, and talks to him the entire time. He speaks of his duties there, souls he's judged that day, ones he wished he could do more for, comforts Yoongi when a walking skeleton in Roman armor passes him and explains that those are the security force of the palace. By the time they make it to a large room, lit on each side with braziers of Greek fire that give the room an eerie glow, Yoongi has a fairly good idea of where he is, and who Hoseok is taking him to see.

The large ebony throne at the end of the room and the black-robed figure sitting atop it only confirms his fears.

When Hoseok enters the throne room, you're only slightly surprised. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to take a break from his judicial duties, and so long as there were plenty of Bones to watch the gates, you had no issues. Years would sometimes pass before Hoseok needed to return, relieving the judgment council once more and returning them to their own afterlives.

To see him shadowed by the mint-haired boy you pulled through the earth, however, is a shock.

You set the papers you'd been writing at to the side. Your robes, woven from shadows and dipped in the Styx, swirl around your bare feet as you move to sit correctly with your back straight instead of lounging as you'd been doing before. The darkness you’d brought forth to cushion your chair, plump and fat and soft underneath you, shifts as well, keeping the hard edge of the marble from digging into your skin. Hoseok stifles a smile at the sight and you narrow your eyes at him. You wish he'd say something about it, the punk.

"What can I do for you, Hoseok?" You eventually ask as he and his companion reach the steps just below your throne. Even now, you can barely bring your eyes away from the boy behind him; he's radiant, the light in the room seemingly drawn to him despite the way he's slouched into himself.

"I was just wondering if you knew how this young man came to be in the underworld, my lady," Hoseok says. Your eyes dart back to him and you can't help the way your heart softens at the soft silver shine around him. You look to the mint-haired god again; his eyes dart around nervously as if he expects something to jump out at him, and he's close enough to Hoseok that if the other were to step back, they'd both likely fall to the floor.

You lean forward in your throne, doing your best to project a calm and friendly air to the shorter of the two gods. "Do you not remember?" You ask quietly. Your eyes don't leave his big brown ones, and you can see the moment the panic sets in. "It's fine, you don't need to answer me. Just know that you're safe here."

"Yoongi?" Hoseok says quietly, drawing the boy's attention. "Hey, it's alright. We're not gonna let anything happen." It takes several minutes but eventually the boy - Yoongi, apparently - nods. He hasn't relaxed at all, but he doesn't seem like he's about to bolt out of your throne room, so you consider it a success.

"You were praying," You tell him softly. "You asked for my help, so I gave it, as best I could. I don't think you meant for your words to reach me, but they did." Yoongi frowns ever so slightly as he takes in the knowledge. There's a hint of anxiety in his face, his brow furrowed adorably, but he doesn't startle when Hoseok rests a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, though, and the two of them seem to have a silent conversation. Something settles in your stomach, seeing the ease with which Hoseok interacts with him, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. It's ridiculous to feel anything like this; Hoseok is your subordinate and friend, and you've hardly known Yoongi for five minutes.

"He can stay here, right?" Hoseok asks. You look to Yoongi, wondering if he even wants to stay, if he even wants to be here at all or if he wished someone else had answered his prayers. Hoseok calls your name softly and your gaze flicks to him. "Can he stay?"

You find that you're debating with yourself. Yoongi clearly doesn't belong here; he is soft and sweet and gentle and completely at odds with the harsh, depressive atmosphere that lingers in your palace. He looks terrified even now as he takes in the room, eyes lingering on the bones that were fused together to make your throne. And yet...you cannot escape the fear and hope that had echoed in his prayer, the sheer desperation that someone would help him. He had been running and terrified, which could only mean that he was being chased by something or someone, and you couldn't force him out if he was in danger.

"If you would like to stay," You say after a moment too long, "Then you are, of course, more than welcome to do so." You rise from your throne, shadows dissipating as you do, and take a couple of tentative steps toward the pair. He doesn't shrink back in fear, which you take as a good sign. "The guest quarters will be yours to do with as you please. Hoseok can show you around the palace and grounds, so you don't get lost, and the Bones can bring you anything you require." You move to press a hand to Hoseok's arm, and you level him with a careful look.

"Of course, my lady," Hoseok says. He turns to Yoongi with a radiant smile. "And you can leave whenever you'd like."

"Of course," You agree quickly. "Hoseok can take you back and forth across the river as you wish. Charon can be quite fussy about it." Several times, your guests have been stuck on the wrong side of the river until someone brought your ferryman his payment. Yoongi looks slightly less terrified, and in the emerald glow of the fires, you notice how wide his eyes are. "Oh! You're from the surface, of course, I forgot."

With a snap of your fingers, the sconces along the walls light themselves, and the candles ringing the large chandelier in the center of your throne room surge to life as well. Yoongi startles a little, stepping closer to Hoseok.

"Ah, I forget you surfacers can't see as well down here," Hoseok mutters. "We'll get you a candlestick as well, just in case." He nods to you, Yoongi copying him in a most adorable way. They're halfway out of the room when a thought occurs to you.

"Yoongi?" You call after him. He turns, and the green halo around him makes your heart falter. "Don't eat the pomegranates. Not even the seeds." His brow furrows in confusion but he gives a hesitant nod before he turns and hurries after Hoseok.

As much as your chest aches for him, you won't subject him to this life. You watch him go and wonder how long he'll last in this hellscape.

When their shadows have long disappeared from the walls, you turn and retake your seat on the throne. With a wave, a small team of Bones appears in front of you - the same uniforms, with the same unit numbers, stamped on their dog tags, and the same haunted look where their eyes once were - and you do a quick count. Ten should do fine for what you need.

"Scour the earth. Do not speak to anyone. Find out what he was running from, and if it still searches for him. Don't let anyone see you, and don't let anyone know why you're looking. Return if you're in danger. Report to me immediately." They salute, and you watch their forms slowly disappear, becoming more and more transparent until they glide upwards and through the cracks in the ceiling.

You sit back and wonder how long it will take for you to get answers, and if it will be before or after Yoongi realizes he's too good for this place.

Yoongi is quiet. That's the first thing Hoseok notices about him. He doesn't initiate conversation, really, instead content to listen to Hoseok talk about the various souls he's judged and the occasional escape attempts someone has made. At first, when Yoongi speaks, he's quiet, like he doesn't really want - or expect - to be heard, and he always looks pleasantly surprised when Hoseok answers his question or responds to his comments.

It makes his heart ache, and he wonders what exactly Yoongi has gone through to make him so shocked that anyone would actually listen to what he has to say. It takes weeks for him to warm enough to Hoseok to start speaking more often, to ask questions about his day, to actually request specific things. The day Yoongi asked Hoseok, soft and hesitant, if he could show him the Meadow and the tree, Hoseok almost cried. Yoongi was so obviously ready to be told no, fully expectant for Hoseok to decline such a simple request, and it only reinforced Hoseok's need to give the god everything he could ever want.

"What are you doing, Yoongi?" Hoseok asks when he looks up. They're at the gates, Hoseok in the usual position, eyes roving over the lines of souls slowly shuffling forward, and Yoongi sitting nearby. Cerberus is curled up behind him, dwarfing the god with his massive body, all three heads snoring and slobbering as they sleep haphazardly on top of each other. Yoongi glances up at Hoseok as he grabs another flower from the basket beside him.

"I'm making Cerb some flower crowns," Yoongi answers as if it was obvious. Hoseok frowns.

"Flower crowns?" He echoes. "What's a flower crown?"

Yoongi gives him a disbelieving stare. "It's a bath salt. What the fuck do you think it is, Hobi? It's a crown made of flowers." Hoseok is caught off guard by the sarcasm, as he has been every time Yoongi has spouted off some kind of sass to him. He strides over and crouches beside the mint god to watch him.

Yoongi's fingers are sure and steady as he weaves the stems of the flowers together. It's already half-dozen, Hoseok thinks, the crocus blossoms blending together prettily and not straying in the slightest from where he places them. Hoseok hasn't ever seen anything like it, and he's entranced by the way Yoongi's fingers move and the way the flowers seem to just do whatever he wants without much coaxing on his part.

"I had the Bones bring me back a basket from their last excursion," Yoongi says. "Since none grow here." He stops with one last crocus and eyes it critically before apparently deciding it was good enough. Hoseok can't take his eyes off the thing, enraptured even as Yoongi sets it gently on his head. Hoseok can feel his eyes widen and his cheeks flush red.

"Thanks," He says after a second, one hand darting up to steady the crown as he shifts his weight. He smiles, unable to help himself and poses. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

"Ugh, you wish," Yoongi says. Hoseok can see the smile in his eyes and is satisfied with the mirth threatening to bubble past Yoongi's lips.

"Y'know," Hoseok says after a while, hands in his pockets as he watches Yoongi make the second crown for Cerb. "I bet if you planted some seeds near the pomegranate tree, they'd grow." Yoongi's hands stop moving, his eyes drifting up to look past Hoseok. Something similar to excitement hides behind his eyes, and Hoseok wants nothing more than to bring it out to shine. Yoongi cocks a brow as if to say 'really' and Hoseok nods.

The gummy smile he gets in return, full of hope and light that the underworld hasn't ever seen before, is well worth the potential scolding you may give him for suggesting Yoongi fiddle with the tree's courtyard. And the way he keeps the flower crown nearby, hanging off a hook on the gates long after the blossoms have wilted and died, is worth the shy smile Yoongi gets every time he sees it.

You don't see Yoongi for the first few weeks he's there. Not really. You catch glimpses when he passes through the palace halls with Hoseok, and he sits with Cerberus while you visit Hoseok at the gates, but he makes no effort to seek you out, and you respect that distance. You can't bring yourself to force your company on him. You're an acquired taste; Hoseok has been in this realm for so long that he's accustomed to the darkness that follows you, the aura of death and despair that usually surrounds you. He's been surrounded by the dead almost as long as you have, so you know he can't be affected by it. Yoongi, though…

Yoongi is life. He's the springtime blossoms in a summer breeze, he's the sound of birds chirping in the treetops, he's vibrant and fresh and lovely and you cannot ruin that. You can't watch him wither away like a winter garden, you can't watch the color drain from his skin until he's just as much a ghost as the souls that wander the Meadow, you can't let him become just as dead as everything else in this cursed place.

So you leave him be. You offer curt nods when you see him with Hoseok and polite waves because giving any more of yourself to him without letting yourself get closer would be too dangerous. Even with the distance you keep, your chest tightens with every smile that graces his lips, you ache to hear his voice even just once, and it's too much. It's too much for someone you haven't even had a real conversation with. Someone who looks at you with apprehension and anxiety, yet brings undeniable joy to the man you've always held in your heart.

It's too much for you to feel like this for someone who makes Hoseok smile as if he's seeing sunlight for the first time in thousands of years. You love Hoseok too much to stand anywhere near them.

You've been avoiding both of them for days. You can't bear to see Yoongi's gummy smile and Hoseok's adorable dimples as they gaze at each other, and you're busy enough to make a decent excuse for it. Expansion isn't difficult, but keeping it quiet is. Plus you've been on the hunt to figure out what had been after Yoongi with such ferocity that it sliced right through his robes and had him praying to anyone who would listen.

You had a few helpful leads, but nothing concrete, and it was more than a little frustrating. Which is why you find yourself stepping out of the shadows of the pomegranate tree, hopeful that it could help to ease even just part of the emotions rolling in your gut.

The sight of Yoongi surprises you, even more so when you see that he's on his knees beside the tree with dirt covering his hands and a smidge of something on his cheek. He looks absolutely wondrous, like everything you've been missing from the world above, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you let it because he's so far out of your reach.

"Hi," You say after a long debate with yourself. Yoongi's head shoots up and he fixes wide eyes on you. He reminds you of the ones who come to you with no memory of what's happened to them, scared and alone and about to get the worst news of their lives. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," He says immediately. "I didn't mean to, not really. You just said not to eat them, and I'm not, so I thought it would be okay. Hobi suggested it and you two are so close that I figured he'd know if you'd be upset."

"I'm not upset." Your voice is as gentle as you can make it. "I'm just curious. Hoseok didn't mention anything to me, and no one really comes here."

"Oh." The relief is palpable as it courses through him, and he looks back down at the ground in front of him. "I'm just planting some flowers so I can make more crowns for Hobi and Cerb. The others died so fast, and I don't want to keep sending the Bones out to get more if I don't have to."

"Oh, you made the flower crown for Hoseok?" You'd figured as much. No one else in the underworld knew how to make them, and Yoongi was the only consistently around him. "He showed me that, it was gorgeous."

"Obviously, it was made by me, after all," Yoongi spouts. You gape at him, and he gives you a contrite grimace. "I'm sorry, my lady Hades, I forgot who I was with for a moment. It won't happen again."

"It should," You say before you can stop yourself. He glances at you curiously. "I don't mind if you're relaxed and casual around me. I've never been one to enforce the rules that Olympus has. Hoseok is proof enough of that. And you can use my name, I don't mind."

The way he whispers your name, almost as if he's practicing it to himself, makes your heart flutter in your chest. It's so dangerous to be around him like this, relaxed and casual; it's so easy to forget that it's Hoseok that gets this, that deserves this small piece of sunshine.

"Well," Yoongi eventually says. "In that case, you can get to work. I've got an entire basket of seeds left to plant around this thing, and I can only work so fast. Plus I'm getting hungry."

"Oh. Okay, show me what to do." You don't hesitate to mirror his position, robes bunching under your knees in the dirt as he points at the small holes he's carved out of the dirt with the trowel and rake the Bones nabbed for him.

Yoongi is patient, you learn. Not extremely so, but he walks you through what you need to do with clear directions. The seeds are small in your hands, which amuses you to no end, and there's an odd delight in packing the soil around them and dripping water down onto them after. You're smiling for the first time in...you don't know how long, and the feeling of Yoongi's hands around yours as he shows you how to use the trowel is something akin to paradise.

His hands are rough; calloused and weathered and wonderful against the softness of your own. You start to talk freely to him, asking him about each seed you plant and what they are and how they look. He tells you about each one, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. He rolls his eyes at every joke you make, despite the way he smiles, and hits back with several quips of his own. He listens as you tell him, voice shaking, about the pomegranate tree, and how it curses anyone who eats its fruit to stay trapped in the underworld forevermore. He talks and listens and jokes and laughs and it's only after you've made a particularly ridiculous joke that you realize your mistake.

"You've spent too much time around Hobi," Yoongi says. "He made the same joke yesterday." He's looking down at the last few seeds, plotting where in the courtyard to put them, and doesn't see the way the smile dies on your face. You'd forgotten. For a brief time, you'd forgotten that this is just pretending.

You don't get to keep this. You don't get to stay here, in this courtyard, with Yoongi and his rough hands and the mint hair that falls in his eyes and his gummy smile. This isn't yours. You don't get flower crowns and jokes and soft kisses, no matter how much you want them, just like you don't get Hoseok's bright grin or his dimples or his long fingers intertwined with yours. Your heart aches for these two beautiful boys, both of them everything you could ever want in so many different ways. And yet you have neither of them, you don't get either of them. They are each other's, and there is no room there for the death you bring in your wake. You kill everything you touch; the mortals whisper about the cold grip of your hands on their neck as they pass over.

You look back over the seeds you've helped Yoongi plant and wonder how many you've killed before they even lived.

You stand and brush the dirt off your robes. "Well," You say, careful to keep your voice level. "I've got some things to do. I trust you'll be alright on your own." You can't bring yourself to look at Yoongi, can't bear to see the dirt that smudged along his cheek, can't stand to see the way the orange robes drape along him and remind you of the way the autumn leaves looked coating the grass in the meadows.

He doesn't even get a response out before you flee, but you feel his eyes on your back long after you've hidden in the shadows and sunk down onto your bed.

It's astounding, you think as you rinse the dirt off your hands later, how a single afternoon planting seeds with someone can be so detrimental to the walls you'd put around your heart. Tears blur your vision and your fingers are trembling, but you keep scrubbing until the phantom slide of his hands against yours is gone and there is no more evidence of the planting you'd done. When you finally stop, your skin is raw and throbbing, and there are tears running down your face.

You had long accepted that Hoseok could never be yours. You were in two different positions, and he was much too bright to want to be with someone like you. Your shadows would have suffocated him, so you resigned yourself to being his friend. Friend is safe. Friend is good.  

You’d known the same when you met Yoongi. Bright and colorful amidst the darkness of the underworld, you wouldn’t dare to get any closer to him, too familiar with the fluttering of your chest and the jumping in your stomach every time you saw him. Just being friendly was enough, ensuring he is safe and happy is fine with you.

But this? Watching the two of them grow closer and closer, able to love each other so wholly while you stand alone in your darkness, watching their bright smiles and soft looks, all directed only at each other, for eternity? This was too much for you to bear. Being hopelessly in love with one man you can’t have is bad enough, but two of them…

You wish for the first time that you were not immortal, but a meager human upon the surface, unaware and blissful in your ignorance.

He never expected this. Not from the moment he woke up, not when he was sprinting through a forest to escape his mother, not for a single heartbeat could he ever imagined everything that has happened to him since he arrived in this cold land.

He’s been alone for so long, hidden away in his mother’s garden with only the rare visit from Artemis or Hestia as he learned how to do anything and everything his mother wished. He’s never had friends before, he’s never had the subtle inside jokes that he shares with Hoseok, familiar enough that even just a quick glance can have them both bursting with laughter. He’s never known a goddess like you, able to weave together the darkness into something tangible, something useful, something real. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen, and Hoseok’s uncanny ability to bend the environment around him and use his silvery aura to turn almost invisible to the naked eye never ceases to amaze him. The two of you are so powerful, so utterly awe-inspiring, and every single thing his mother had told him is so far from the truth that it almost hurts.

Neither you nor Hoseok is standoffish, really; he can see the hesitant friendship in every smile you send his way, and Hoseok’s primary concern at any moment is making sure he’s happy and safe. It warms Yoongi in a way he could never explain, not even in a million years, simply because he’s never felt this way. In all the books he’s read, the plays he’s seen, every mortal he’s watched, he’s seen this.

He’s seen how they turn red with just a look, how their hearts stutter when hands brush, how they smile, soft and private when they think no one is looking at them. He’s seen this feeling, the bubbling in his chest that he gets every time Hoseok laces their fingers together while walking and the moment you step into the courtyard and see the kaleidoscope of colors that you helped plant. He never would have guessed that he would feel it, though, too isolated from the rest of the world until he came here. Until you pulled apart the earth itself to help him escape, without even knowing why or who he was.

The feeling grows inside of him, thorns pricking into his every breath because he knows it can’t last. He’s seen how you and Hoseok look at each other when you think no one is watching, can feel the pull between you and the years upon years of familiarity that lie between you. The two of you are closer than he could ever get, two sides of the same coin, and more suited to each other than he would ever be.

And he can’t stay.

That’s the worst part. He knows it, knows that she will find him before long and wrap her claws around his throat and drag him back into that gilded cage she calls a greenhouse just to leave him. It’s for the best, my dear, she’ll say, it’s to keep you safe.

Yoongi doesn’t want to be safe, though. He wants to be happy and free, and he’s found that place here, surrounded by death even as he carves out his own little area of life. With Hoseok’s warm grin across from him and your own cool fondness beside him. With flower crowns atop his head and Hoseok’s, and the small buds are woven into your own crown of bones and grief as a small reminder that even in death, there is life.

But she will find him. She always does. And though he cannot bear the thought of leaving you, he will, if only to keep you safe.

Yoongi's been there almost a year when you summon Hoseok to dine with you. By the time he gets to your office - a very understated term for the sprawling library - you're already sitting at your usual desk, food pushed aside and forgotten in lieu of the papers stacked in front of you.  Even with your head bent low and bags under your eyes, you're the most beautiful person Hoseok has ever seen.

He remembers the first time he met you when Zeus had assigned him to be the gatekeeper for the underworld. You were so young, so skittish and worried that you were going to be a terrible ruler as if the dead could be disappointed in you. You'd been beautiful then, too, but not in the same way. You've grown into yourself since then; you're no longer afraid of being a bad queen. You know that you're competent and capable, you know you can do this, and you frequently prove wrong any Olympian who says otherwise. You're mature now; strong and confident and brilliant, and even with the bags under your eyes and the shadows that lick lovingly against your skin, you are absolutely radiant.

Hoseok is so in love with you that it physically hurts him, and every time he looks at you, he is reminded of how you are just out of his reach.

He clears his throat and you look up. The tired smile that graces your face warms him, and he settles into a chair on your left with practiced ease. This isn't the first time you've asked him to dine with you, and it won't be the last.

"What's the occasion?" He teases, delighting in the way you roll your eyes and gesture to the food and nectar that sits in front of him.

"How is Yoongi?" You ask. It doesn't escape him that you don't answer, but you always have your reasons, so he doesn't call you on it.

"Well. He wanders around on his own and doesn't seem to jump at the slightest sound anymore. He came with me the other day when I judged and managed to pick fifteen people for Elysium in a row." An expression passes over your face that he can't decipher. He continues anyway. "He still won't talk much about what happened, but he also doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave. I imagine he'll get bored eventually, and we'll need to give Cerb extra treats when he does, but I'm not concerned just yet."

You nod and Hoseok starts to eat as you rifle through a few more papers. "You know he's Persephone?" You ask, and Hoseok nods. He'd forgotten to share that knowledge with you, but clearly, you had your own way of finding things out. "So then you're aware that his mother is Demeter."

Hoseok pauses for a minute. He swallows the food in his mouth and really looks at you for the first time since he sat down. The bags under your eyes are more prominent, and you're wearing your Hades expression. The one that stays professional and controlled and tells people nothing of your true thoughts. Well, people that haven't known you for more than a thousand years.

"Hoseok, he can't stay here forever," You eventually say. "She's been looking for him everywhere. The humans' crops are ruined, ice and snow have covered the earth, more people are dying than we can hold right now. She won't stop."

"And that means we kick him out?" Hoseok hisses. You close your eyes and he can feel the sigh you're holding back. "You said yourself that he could stay as long as he wants. You can't just rescind that because some wheat goddess is going on a rampage. We still don't know what he was running from, or if it's still out there, and I won't watch him-" He stops, frozen by the way you're pressing your tongue into the side of your cheek. It's the only tell you have and he rarely sees it, because you rarely keep things from him. "What do you know?"

You don't answer, and he repeats the question, louder this time, as he surges out of his chair.

"I was running from her," Yoongi's voice echoes through the library. You and Hoseok both turn to see him standing in the door, and Hoseok's heart swells at the sight. He's in soft, muted pink robes that Hoseok knows he made himself. His cheeks are rounder, and he's no longer curled in on himself. He looks stronger. Confident. Unafraid. "I was running from my mother. That's what you found out, right?" Hoseok looks to you, and the regret in your eyes just confirms it.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi, I was only trying to make sure you were safe, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," Yoongi says as he moves to run his hand along your cheek. "I know." He smiles at you. Hoseok looks between the two of you - Yoongi's hand resting lightly on your cheek and a soft smile on his lips while his eyes crinkle with rare happiness, your own eyes wide and full of what can only be described as pure, unadulterated love - and his stomach rolls violently. Even after all the time Hoseok has spent with you, and with Yoongi, and the times he's entered a room to find the two of you in comfortable silence, he never expected this. He should've, he realizes; the two of you are a perfect match, complementing each other to near perfection, each fault being smoothed over by the other's strengths.

How could he have thought you wouldn't fall in love with Yoongi? Soft, kind Yoongi, who had just enough snark inside of him to make every word out of his mouth an unexpected joy. Yoongi who braids flower crowns with the flowers he's started to grow in the courtyard, surrounding the pomegranate tree with the beautiful blooms. Yoongi, who encourages Hoseok to judge more and more souls, ones that don't request it, who can somehow pick the good people from the bad just by looking.

And how could he have ever expected Yoongi not to fall for you? Strong and intelligent, determined and kind. You who opened your home to him in his most vulnerable moment and never expected anything in return. You who did everything in your power to find what was chasing him, and find a way to stop it. You, with your lonely smile and your bare feet. You, who Hoseok himself has been in love with for tens of thousands of years.

How could he have expected either of you not to fall in love in the months that you have known each other when Hoseok couldn't even stop himself?

“I’ll go back to her,” Yoongi says softly, finally dropping his hand from your cheek and turning the radiant smile on Hoseok. “She’ll have no reason to continue this if I return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Yoongi,” You say immediately. ““You were desperate to get away from her, and...what she almost did to you, that’s unacceptable.”

“Let her rage,” Hoseok agrees. “You’re safe here, no one can get to you without getting through the two of us first, not to mention Cerberus and the Bones. No nature goddess will last in this place, not with our full force around you.”

“Thank you, Hobi, but no. I can’t ask you both to do that, not when it could end so badly for you. You don’t know what she can do, it’s not-”

“You aren’t asking us,” You say. Your voice is as quiet as always, but there’s a firmness there that Hoseok recognizes. It’s usually saved for the throne room when some mortal has been particularly annoying or stubborn, and it’s a shock to see it directed at Yoongi. “We are offering. Let us protect you, Yoongi. At least let me speak with Zeus about this. I may be able to convince him to intervene.”

Yoongi hesitates, the indecision is written all over his face, and Hoseok leans to lace their fingers together. It’s a familiar gesture, done so often to prevent Yoongi from getting lost that it’s second nature at this point.

“Please,” Hoseok pleads when Yoongi looks at him. “Please, Yoongi.”

The reluctant nod is all the confirmation needed. You’re already scribbling out a summons for Hermes to carry to the lord of the gods, and Hoseok is halfway through the halls to reinforce the gates and ensure Cerberus knows his task. He tries not to think about the way Yoongi lingered behind, one hand on your shoulder as he watched you write and the other caressing the flower-riddled braids he’d made earlier that day.

He doesn’t think about it, because in the end, it doesn’t matter. Hoseok is so deeply in love with the two of you, so grossly enamored, that he would go to the end of time itself if it meant keeping the two of you safe and happy. Even if that meant watching you love each other and not him.

“What do you mean, he won’t help?”

You massage your temples without looking up from the letter Zeus had sent back with Hermes. He was, unsurprisingly, not helpful. Hoseok had appeared not long after the messenger had left, and is, also unsurprisingly, irate.

“According to him, he has no dog in this fight, because Yoongi isn’t his son, he’s Demeter’s, and if he were to get involved, he’d side with her since the humans are dying so quickly, which isn’t exactly good for worship numbers.”

“Are you kidding me? He seriously said he’d take her side in this?”

“Not in so many words, but yes. And I get it, Hobi. His job is to keep the peace between everyone in Olympus, and without actually coming here to give me an audience, all he has is Demeter’s side of the story.”

“Which is?”

“That I kidnapped her son and am currently holding him captive in a dungeon down here.”

“That’s absurd. He’s not captive at all, he’s happier here than he ever was up there, and you didn’t kidnap him!” You give a slight nod to show that yes, Hoseok, you’re aware of the truth. “Does he know what she does to him? How she treats him?”

“Hoseok, please,” You mutter. The weight of Zeus’ words is like a blade against your throat and you want nothing more than to help Yoongi. Clearly, the Fates have decided against that. “You know how he is. Do you honestly think he’d care? She has a claim to him, despite what he wants, and unless we find a way to get Zeus down here or go there ourselves, our lord won’t be able to hear any other side of this story.”

“Then we’ll...we’ll go there! We’ll make them listen! You could talk sense into him, make him see that he needs to help.”

“You know I can’t do that, Hobi.” Hoseok flinches, as if just remembering that you are as captive here as the souls you keep. You’re glad, not for the first time, that Death Itself cannot be contained, so that Hoseok, at least, is free to come and go as he pleases. “And before you say it, no, we can’t ask him to go. It isn’t safe. The second he sets foot outside this realm, she’ll pull him back. We’re lucky that he hasn’t already told her where Yoongi is.”

Your statement is punctuated with a muffled thud, and the anxiety that runs through you is mirrored in the look Hoseok gives you. Another thud echoes through the palace, the ground rumbling under your feet, and you stand.

“Where is he?” You ask, already pulling the shadows around you.

“Just past the gate, walking through the Meadow. If we hurry-”

“Go.” You disappear into the blackness, never more glad that Hoseok can sense the living in your land. When you step away from the shadows, Yoongi is there, confusion written across his face and fear in his eyes. “You have to run.”

“No,” He says. “I’m not going to keep running from her. I’m staying here, she can’t take me back.”

“Yoongi, please,” You beg. He’s too vulnerable here, too open, too easily seen with his spring green robes billowing around his feet and flowers woven into a crown atop his head. He takes your hands in his and pulls you close, and you’ve never seen a fire like this in him. It burns hot and strong and it makes your chest ache for what could have been.

“I won’t let her hurt you while I hide away like a coward,” He whispers. His thumb wipes away tears you didn’t know were there, and determination floods through you.

"Please, Yoongi. Let us help you. Let me help you. I-" The words choke in your throat, but Yoongi nods as if they made it out.

"I love you, too." His voice is soft, barely audible over the shaking ground and the deafening sound of hooves slamming into your gates. You feel more than see Hoseok land beside you, and his hand rests on the small of your back without hesitation.

"Take him," You tell Hoseok. "Go to the palace. You'll be safe there. Don't let him leave."

Hoseok's eyes are fire-bright as he wraps an arm around Yoongi's waist. The god's protests fall on dead ears, even as you let your hands brush over the softness of Hoseok's ink black wings. Just one moment, that is all you want, just one single second to pretend.

"I'll see you after, my lady," Hoseok says firmly. You don't have the heart to correct him, nor the time, so you just nod. Yoongi's screams echo in your ears even as you turn, the blackness that lingers at every corner of your realm swirling around your feet and ready to be whatever you need. You let one last year fall from your eyes as the gates crumple, and the furious eyes of Demeter fixate on you and the black-winged figure carrying her son away.

Hoseok flies faster than he ever has, determined to get Yoongi into the palace and relative safety. The god sobs in his arms, still struggling to get back to where you stand in the Meadow, the massive form of Demeter towering above you, but Hoseok doesn't relax his grip. You gave him an order; he hadn't disappointed you yet, and he isn't about to start now. Not with Yoongi caught in the middle.

He doesn't hesitate when he touches down in the palace, wings retracted and brushing ever so slightly against the black marble floor. He turns to the nearby Bones and orders them to the doors, summoning as many others as he can spare from the gates and Fields to help barricade the palace from the goddess.

"Hobi, you have to go, you have to help her," Yoongi sobs. "She's gonna...I can't, Hobi, please, you have to keep her safe."

"I have to keep you safe," Hoseok replies. He's got a vice grip around Yoongi's arm as he pulls him deeper into the palace, doing his level best to avoid any window or door to the outside. "That was the order she gave and that's the order I shall obey."

"How can you say that?! Don't you care that she could-"

"Of course I care!" Hoseok spits, rounding on the shorter god the second the words leave his lips. "Do you think this is easy for me, Yoongi? Do you think I enjoy choosing between the two of you like this? Because I don't. I want nothing more than to be helping her right now, but I can't...I can't leave you alone here. It's too dangerous."

Hoseok isn't stupid; he knows exactly how he feels about you, and Yoongi, and he's not oblivious to the way the both of you look at him. Still, the two of you are powerful deities, worshipped and loved, feared and prayed to. He's just a guardian, content to sit in the background and watch for threats. Yes, he loves you, with every fiber of his immortal soul, but he also loves Yoongi, and he knows you love Yoongi, and you gave him an order.

"Hobi," Yoongi whispers, eyes wet and red and beautiful. "Hobi, please, you have to help her. She needs you. I can manage, I can hide, but she needs you. No one else can help her."

The fact that he's even considering this shows just how easy it is for Yoongi to manipulate him. Hoseok understands now, what you meant all that time ago. Yoongi's voice is rough and lingering and fearful but it carries so much hope that it digs into Hoseok's skin like a hook. He curses and bundles Yoongi into the corner.

"Stay hidden. Don't make a noise. You can't let her find you." Hoseok hesitates for a split second before pressing a quick kiss to Yoongi's forehead. "I will see you after this."

"I know."

It's never been harder for him to turn his back on someone, but Hoseok manages, with only one last look back before he takes to the air and surges forwards to where you stand, keeping Demeter back with every piece of your power.

Yoongi runs. He runs and runs and runs, the bare skin of his feet silent on the cool marble. The braziers have long since gone out, but he stopped needing them months ago. He knows where he is, even as he tucks himself into a small, nearly invisible niche in a corner. He hardly dares to breathe, too scared that the sound will alert his mother of his location. The palace is silent, not a single sound in the entire thing, and it's deafening in the aftermath of the rumbling screams that signaled your battle with her.

He isn't sure how he managed to convince Hoseok to leave him, whether it was the obvious love the god felt for you or the sheer desperation in his own eyes, but he could only pray the two of you made it out. As gods, you're all difficult to kill, but it's not impossible. Not for other deities.

Come out, little flower.

Yoongi stifles a whimper, panic coloring his vision white for a long while before he can breathe again. Memories flash behind his eyelids and he pried them open just to stare into the darkness.

You can't hide forever, little flower. You know that.

Her voice echoes against the marble. It makes her sound like she's everywhere and nowhere at once, able to find him even as he hides. He clenches his teeth and reminds himself that you and Hoseok are the only ones that know this palace better than him.

You're making me very angry, little flower. Why do you run? I only want the best for you, and you insist on causing such a fuss.

The sound of her sandals reaches him, reverberating off the walls and telling him that she's far too close. He slips silently out of the niche and pads across the floor on the balls of his feet. He doesn't make a sound, something he perfected in his time with her, and just as she slips around the corner, he's darting down another hallway.

Look at what you've done, little flower. All this mess, and for what? Do you like it when I'm angry? Do you enjoy this game of ours?

He slips into another hall just in time. Exhaustion has made him slow. The marble of the wall is cool against his heated skin, and he wonders where you are. Where Hoseok is. If you're alright or if you're laying in the Meadow, golden ocher pooling around you. The thought enrages him, and for the first time, he can feel power at his fingertips; real power, not the simple gardening magic she taught him as a child. He's ready to use it, he thinks. He's so tired of running, so tired of being afraid, and he's so fucking angry that the people he loves have had to fight his battles for him.

Found you, little flower.

Warmth circles his ankle and pulls before he can jerk away. Her nails are sharp than before, like sickles at the end of each long finger, and he scrabbles uselessly at the smooth stone floor. She's speaking but the sound of her voice - wind whispering through a field of wheat, a brook babbling in the summer - is drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears.

"No, I won't go back, you can't make me," He hisses, kicking at her hand with his free leg. He doesn't feel the cuts on his soles, doesn't register them at all until he sees the gold dropping onto the floor; the adrenaline masks the pain. She says something else and he stops kicking, though he doesn't know what she's said. He isn't listening, too busy thinking of a way out of this.

It comes to him, all at once, and he relaxes in her grip. His chest heaves in a sob, because he knows exactly what he has to do, and you will never forgive him for it.

"Alright," He says flatly. Demeter stops in her monologue. "I'll go with you. Just leave them alone." The smile that splits her face is more grotesque than any corpse he's seen in the Styx, but the way she releases his ankle is a blessing. He keeps himself hunched and downtrodden as he pushes himself up, into her waiting arms. The hug is bruising and brings vile to his throat, but it is necessary.

It's with a flash of green as he pulls away from her that he makes his move. The flower crown previously atop his head has morphed, grown into thick, thorny vines around her arms and keeping her in place.

Yoongi is gone before she can so much as screech, sprinting as fast he can through the halls to the one thing that can help him. He feels it when she rips through his flowers, his very soul shaking at the pain that rips through him, but he's determined. He's made good ground, he only had a little further to go.

The vibrant colors of the courtyard have never felt so welcome. He's halfway through, blossoms crushed under his feet as he tears through the carefully tended flowers, when she catches up. The blade of her scythe rips through his back, but the adrenaline masks the pain. He's bleeding, he knows, but he can't bring himself to focus on anything but the way the bark feels under his grip, branches reaching down to help him reach his goal.

She tears him out of the tree violently, no longer wearing the carefully sculpted mask of love. The scream that she unleashes when she sees him shakes the entire realm, soft pebbles falling from the ceiling of the cavern miles above his head, but he doesn't care.

The pomegranate is ripe against his tongue, juice tinting his lips pink, and the weight of it against his chest has never been more welcome. Demeter screams for what could be centuries, but Yoongi does not care, because he has won, and he has never tasted anything so sweet in his entire life.

"Come to bed," Hoseok pleads, not for the first time. You look at him with a sigh. His wings are gone, hidden away until he needs them again, and his arm is free of the bandages he's been wearing. It has taken so long for him to heal, and you still aren't sure he should be up and about. There's a small, barely perceptible scar along his forearm, the faintest reminder of what the two of you survived.

"I have to finish this before he returns, Hobi," You tell him, also not for the first time. Hoseok scoffs and comes around the desk to stand behind you, eyes roving over the documents in front of you.

"It's been over six months," He whispers in your ear. "Zeus has approved your expansion requests. I'm fine. You're fine. Yoongi will be back from Olympus soon."

"Hoseok," Your tone is warning despite the way he whispers your name. You deflate, falling back in your chair and letting him rub your shoulders. "I just miss him."

"I know. I do too." You're both quiet for a while. It has been six months since Demeter crashed into your world and rampaged through the Meadow to find Yoongi. You remember it so vividly, the way you struggled against the unbridled fury she had, the way Hoseok screamed as she broke his wing, the pain in your chest as you'd crawled to him and just held him in your arms until the Bones had made it to the two of you and carried him to the palace.

You had been, and still are, vastly proud of him and Yoongi for fighting back, but that didn't change the fact that they had both put themselves in immense danger by doing so. Even with the - admittedly brilliant, if stupid - plan that Yoongi had come up with, things never really worked out for you. Hoseok had been bedridden for weeks, unable to even more because of the pain in his wing. Hermes has helped with the healing process, which you were unendingly thankful for, but Yoongi had been carted off to Olympus almost immediately for negotiations.

Zeus, benevolent leader and incompetent moron that he is, had decided on a compromise: Yoongi would stay with you in the underworld after the harvest was finished, free to do whatever he liked, but until then he had to stay in Olympus. The letter had mentioned something about reparations to the mortals for the utterly obscene amount of crops they had lost - which was ridiculous really, they were doing their level best to kill the planet and you are gods, since when do gods pay reparations to mortals? - that Yoongi was required to use his abilities to help with.

You'd sent Hermes back with several colorful threats of what exactly would happen to the billions of dead you kept here should Yoongi return in any way other than utter perfection, and you've been anxious for days to find out whether you get to follow through on them. It only worsens when you remember that you have a decision to make when Yoongi returns. You remember the way he looked when he said he loved you, returning words you couldn't bring yourself to say, and you remember the elation and subsequent depression that came after the battle at the realization that you could have had him, were he not gone for half the year.

And yet you also distinctly remember the way Hoseok looked, wings splayed over several tables to hold them in place as they healed, vulnerable and shy as he told you that he was sorry for disobeying you. You won't ever forget his face as he explained, the way his lips formed around your name when he told you he couldn't beat to see you hurt, not after so many years spent loving you. The feel of his lips against your skin is like a phantom even now; Hoseok had waited until he was healed to do anything more than press chaste kisses against your knuckles, and even still you've not felt him the way you want, but it hasn't stopped him from trying.

"Come on, my lady," Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Just for a while." You grumble under your breath - you really do have work to finish before Yoongi arrives - but you allow Hoseok to pull you from your chair and lead you down the hall to your bedroom.

So lost in your own musings, you don't notice the figure lounging on your bed until he speaks.

"Six months and I don't get even so much as a hello?"

Your eyes shoot up and your breath hitches in your throat. Pale green robes lined in the most beautiful black and silver embroidery pool around him, matching the braided crown that rests atop his head. You didn't know flowers like that existed, let alone that they could look so wonderful on someone.

"I didn't know you were back," You breathe.

"That's the point of a surprise, my love," Hoseok says from behind you, hand tightening around yours. Guilt begins to grow in your chest and Yoongi tsks at you. He rises and comes to stand in front of you, brow furrowed.

"That's no way for a queen to look, is it? What has you thinking so hard?" His thumb smooths the space between your brows and you can't help the glance to Hoseok.

"I can't...I don't want to hurt you." Your voice is barely a whisper, and the familiar sting encircles your heart once more. You couldn't choose between the two of them, not if you tried, not even if it meant getting out of this place.

"You won't," Hoseok tells you with a familiar grin. "Yoongi and I have already talked about what we feel for each other, and for you. The only question now is if you'll have us. Both of us."

Months ago, you would have called them crazy and had them exiled for fear they'd gone mad. You never imagined you could have one of them, let alone both; you had been ready to tell them both that you had been mistaken because having one by your side while your heart still yearned for the other was far more cruel than anything you could put in the Fields of Punishment.

Now? Now you know what the Isles must feel like. It is Yoongi in front of you, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek while Hoseok's warmth is steady behind you, one arm encircling your waist and keeping you steady.

"Both of you?" You echo. Yoongi nods.

"You don't have to," Hoseok says from behind you. "But we know how you feel about us, and we're sure in how we feel for each other. There are stranger pairings in the world, aren't there?"

"Only one of you could be king." You aren't sure why you say that, can't remember why it even matters when Hoseok trails his lips over the shell of your ear.

"I never have looked good on a throne," He says. Yoongi's chest rumbles in a laugh, and you could cry at the sight of that familiar gummy smile.

"Please," Yoongi eventually says. "Please say yes." You search his eyes for any hint of indecision or regret, and when you find none, you turn to Hoseok. He has a soft, encouraging smile on his face, and he holds your crown in his free hand. The cool black metal is harsh against his tanned skin, but what draws your eye isn't the way the bones are fused together or the etchings of historical scenes across each. No, it's the soft pale green blossoms woven in among the metal, a stark contrast to the harshness of the bones, and the silver thread twined around all of it, dipping in and out in various places but clearly noticeable in the light. It's a perfect representation of the three of you and it makes your chest swell.

"Yes," You breathe. They don't move, and your eyes dart between them. "Yes, absolutely. I can think of nothing I have ever wanted more."

Yoongi surges forward, capturing you in a long-awaited kiss. His lips are soft as blossoms against yours, warm and gentle as the hands that cup your jaw and draw you closer. You're aware, distantly, of the soft clink of metal on stone as Hoseok sets your crown to the side, though his arm never leaves your waist.

Hours could have passed with Yoongi kissing you. You aren't sure. Time runs together and blends, a dizzying whirlwind of slow drags of his lips across yours followed by quick, messy bursts of his tongue. You can barely focus on what is happening, mind split between the absolute euphoria of kissing him and the heat that comes from Hoseok's fingers dancing along your waist and shoulders, his breath ghosting over your neck as he watches. When Yoongi finally detaches from your lips, he ducks down to suck at the exposed skin of your collarbone, and Hoseok turns your chin so you face him.

"May I, my lady?" He asks. His voice is rough and deeper than you're used to, affected by the sight of you and Yoongi. His fingers twine with the strings holding your robes together and you give him a nod. It doesn't even take a full breath before the black material is pooling at your feet. Hoseok stifles something that sounds suspiciously like a moan behind you, and you think Yoongi actually purrs. They both run their hands along your skin, basking in the goosebumps that they raise and the shivers that crawl up your spine.

"Absolutely ethereal," Yoongi mutters. You pull him into another kiss, one hand coming up to rest against his shoulder while your other tangles in Hoseok's hair where he's doing his level-best to leave his mark on your neck.

"Please," You murmur. "I want to make you happy."

"You've already done that, my queen," He says. His smile is soft and the glint in his eye is sharp. You huff a little and tap twice at Hoseok's neck; when he pulls away, pouting but compliant, you push Yoongi until he's falling back onto your bed. He goes with no objections, one hand twining his fingers with yours and you crawl up to straddle his hips. "Let me please you, my queen. I've been waiting six months to taste you, and I don't want to waste another moment if I don't have to."

Your breath hitches as Hoseok steps up behind you. The bare skin of his chest is a shock as it presses against your back, and he slides his hands along your sides before beginning to tease your nipples. You stifle the moan, emitting more of a whine than anything, and you think you nod. All you know is the heat between your legs and the knee-deep ache to make them happy.

Yoongi's between your legs in a flash. You can't be sure how exactly he moved so quickly without jostling you, but the thought is all but shoved out of your mind as he swipes his tongue against you for the first time. You're glad Hoseok is behind you because your legs are already trembling where they're curled under you and your head drops back to rest against his shoulder. As merciless as Hoseok is in his torment of your chest, Yoongi is doubly so.

You imagine a man starving and dehydrated in a desert wouldn't be this invested in a sudden banquet laid in front of him; Yoongi worships you, circling your clit several times before dipping down to dart teasingly in and out of your hole. He laps up every single drop of your arousal, dutiful in his mission even as Hoseok begins to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The heat of his breath has you closer to the edge than you want to admit, but the sheer love that radiates from his words at the same time Yoongi rumbles out a heavenly moan straight into your folds, tongue buried inside of you, is what drives you over the edge.

You aren't surprised when neither of them stop; you get the sense Yoongi is thoroughly enjoying himself between your thighs, based on the growing tent in his robes. Hoseok grinds against your ass, and his own hardness presses against you with every painless thrust of his hips. A pang of guilt shoots through you and your hands drop. It's a bit of an awkward angle, but you make it work as you glide your hands over him. He's thick, that's for sure, and nearly as long as your forearm. How you're supposed to take that inside of you is anyone's guess, but as Yoongi brings you to yet another orgasm with his mouth, you realize that's exactly what they're preparing you for.

The whimper comes unbidden, walls clenching around nothing at the thought of them filling you, and they both shudder. "Please," You gasp, "Please, I need you. Both of you."

Yoongi graciously lets you rise off of him, and when you settle on your back, he sits up to smile at you. His lips and chin are absolutely coating in your slick, the sight erotic and exciting. The feeling is doubled as Hoseok grips Yoongi's chin, turning the mint-haired god to face him.

"How does she taste, my flower?" He purrs. You don't hear Yoongi's response, just the deep thrum of his voice, but you see the way Hoseok runs his thumb across Yoongi's lips, collecting your juices, before sliding it into his own mouth. You moan at the sight, Hoseok's eyes falling closed as he relishes in the taste of you. Yoongi strips out of his robes while he can, and he doesn't seem to miss the way your and Hoseok's eyes watch hungrily.

"Tell me what you want," Hoseok says, pulling you closer as Yoongi settles behind you. "We're here for you, my queen."

"I…" You falter. You aren't even sure what you want now; you've spent six months trying to figure out how to tell both of the men you love that you can't be with either of them and now you have both of them naked in your bed, waiting to please you. You can hardly think, can't focus beyond the feel of their skin against yours and the heat of their gaze, but you know one thing.

You need them to know how desperately you love them, and with the fire burning between your thighs, there is exactly one way you can do that.

"I need you inside me, Hobi," You tell him. "I need to feel you inside of me. Yoongi, too. Both of you." Hoseok's cock twitches and something in his jaw clicks. You don't wait for more of a response, choosing instead to slide across the sheets to straddle Hoseok's hips. His hands rest lightly on your hips, tentative now, and you smile at him. His hands are gentle now, soft as the smile he gives you in return. His cock is dripping and red, a warm heat in your palm as you guide him to your entrance.

The look in his eyes, the small moan he releases, the hitch in Yoongi's breath behind you as you slowly sink down onto Hoseok will forever be etched into your memory. You're so full that you could cry; he feels absolutely perfect inside of you, and it only gets better as he guides you carefully up and then back down onto him. Your moan is felt more than heard and it only gets louder as he speeds up. His fingers are marble against your his, unmoving and firm as he slides in and out. He doesn't look away for a second and neither do you; all the years you've spent thinking about him, the millennia you've ached to love and be loved by him, it has all led to this. Your hips moving against his, connected in a way you've never been before; if it were possible to read his thoughts, you think you could at this moment, because they must be a mirror of your own.

"I love you," You whisper. Yoongi's warmth presses against your spine as he slides a finger between the two of you to rub slow circles into your clit, and you gasp. "I love you, Hobi, so much." The words are a mantra on your lips, and you think there may be tears in his eyes but you can't be sure because you're coming again, shuddering on top of him, and Yoongi is gently pulling you off.

Hands turn you, and now it's Yoongi between your legs, cock red and throbbing where it sits against his stomach. He isn't as long as Hoseok, but he's wider, and you clench again at the sight.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a soft kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth. You slide down onto him, welcoming the slight burn that comes with the stretch. It takes two breaths for you to become impatient and begin to move, grinding your hips down against his. Yoongi isn't as loud as Hoseok, soft pants and whines where Hobi is echoing moans and groans, but it's just as attractive. He moves his hips in tandem with yours, and the muses themselves couldn't have created a better rhythm. The words fall from your lips again; it's easier, now that you've said them to someone, to let them go. They don't ball in your throat, aren't a lump to swallow down anymore, and you revel in the feeling.

"I love you," Yoongi returns, thumbs ghosting over the skin of your thighs. "So much, both of you. Saved me, can't fucking...fuck, can't tell you enough." You nod and loose another moan when Hoseok slides a finger in alongside Yoongi's cock.

"Do you think she can take us both, my flower?" Hoseok asks. His voice is raspy in your ear and you shudder as you orgasm again. There's a moment when you wonder just how many times you can come from the two of them, but it's gone the second Yoongi speaks.

"I think she could," Yoongi responds. "She's certainly wet enough. Absolutely soaked, aren't you, my queen? Do you want that? Both of us in here, filling you up?" He punctuates every word with another thrust of his hips and you nod. You don't think you've ever wanted anything more.

Hoseok is careful as he fingers you, working you open with one, then two, then three fingers as Yoongi slides in and out. You'd commend them both on their stamina if you could spare a single thought to anything but the feeling of them. Yoongi looks wrecked, covered in sweat with swollen lips, panting and desperate as he writhes beneath you.

When Hoseok finally decides you're ready, he slides his fingers out and asks you again if you're sure. You barely have the presence of mind to nod, too close to coming again, but it's enough for him. He slides in, and all three of you are moaning. You can't be sure what it feels like for them, but you're in absolute bliss. Hoseok peppers your shoulder with chaste kisses, murmuring encouragement as he sinks deeper inside. His cock drags against your walls and Yoongi's dick, and the thought makes you clench around them both. You're so full, you may explode, but it's perfection. When Hoseok bottoms out inside of you, you're all still for a while, just getting used to it.

"You're perfect," Hoseok whispers into your skin. "Both of you, you're both fucking perfect. Fuck, can I-?"

"Yes," You interrupt. You're already grinding down onto them, desperate for any kind of friction. "Please, Hobi." He grunts as he starts to move, and Yoongi does the same. They get a steady rhythm after a while, one sinking in as deep as he could get as the other drags outward, only to slam back in at the last second.

A sob builds in your throat, the sheer pleasure rolling through your body too much to handle as orgasm after orgasm slammed into you. There are hands everywhere, two on your hips keeping you steady, two roaming your body and teasing your nipples, on one Hoseok's neck to keep him close as another rests lightly against Yoongi's throat. You aren't sure which are yours, can't tell where you end and they begin, too fucked out to be able to think beyond the drag of their cocks against your walls and the growing ache inside you.

"Please," You gasp. "Please, need it. Fill me, please, need you both to fill me, make me yours, forever. Mark me. I'm yours, always, please, fill me with you." They both groan at that, and their pace speeds up. They're hitting harder and deeper and brushing against the spot inside of you that makes your vision turn white. Something gushes down your thighs as you spasm around them wildly, hips jerking of their own accord, and you feel it as they come together, hot seed spilling inside of you as you ride out your highs together.

You're panting and sweaty and hot and still, you don't think you'd trade this for even a moment of sunlight. They slide out of you and their cum seeps down your legs before you can stop it. You fall to the bed beside Yoongi, chest heaving even as he wraps you in his arms. A wave of your hand creates a small fan near the bed, shadows churning out cool air that feels like ambrosia on your skin.

Hoseok reappears with water for you both, and you thank him. Your voice is nearly gone, but it's worth it, you think. You pat the space beside you and Hoseok climbs in. His skin is hot against yours; the three of you are essentially a furnace at the moment, but you can't bring yourself to care. You can't count how many orgasms you had or how long you spent with them; it could have been minutes or hours or even days. It doesn't matter to you, really. Sprawled between an already-sleeping Yoongi and a Hoseok that's tracing invisible designs onto your skin, you have everything you could ever want.

Later you sit atop the shadows near your bed, chin in your hand as you admire the card between your fingers. Yoongi and Hoseok are wrapped around each other in your bed, lightly snoring as the sheets rise and fall against their naked chests. As you watch them, Hoseok’s brow furrows and he lazily stretches his arm to pat against the bed in search of you. He snuffles a little, and Yoongi nuzzles deeper into the crook of his neck until they’re both quiet again.

Silver foil glints in the light and you look back at the card in your hand. There’s a stack a hundred high beside you, all of them identical to the next save for the curling letters that make up the recipients, but this one is special. This one is your favorite. If you didn’t absolutely have to send it off, you would frame it and hang it above your throne; ultimately, though, you’d rather bask in the aftermath that’s sure to come.

With a small smile, you set it atop the others and wrap the bit of twine around them all. It’s gone with a wave of your hand, no doubt appearing wherever Hermes is. You wish you could see the look on his face when he realizes what they are, but he’s not the one that you really wish you could watch.

The raspy call of your name brings you back to the present, and you look up to find Yoongi watching you, lids heavy with sleep and eyes dark. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You grin and stand, letting the shadows underneath you fall away. “Just sending out a quick notice.” You slide in beside him and Hobi, the latter still asleep but turning to wrap his arms around you nonetheless. Yoongi presses kisses to your knuckles and you pull a stray flower petal from his hair.

“You’re gloating, aren’t you?” He mutters. There’s a smile behind his eyes, and it warms you.

“Maybe a bit.” You lean over and kiss him, gentle and tender and you hope that it conveys everything you can’t put into words. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No,” Yoongi answers after a long pause in which he moves to straddle Hoseok’s hips in order to get close enough to suck marks into your neck. His lips are slow against your skin, tired and lazy from sleep. “I think I enjoy this side of you, actually.” “I, for one, am very much enjoying this side of you.” You grin at Hoseok’s words, smiling down at him. He’s half-hard again, hands resting lightly on Yoongi’s hips and eyes fixed on the bruises that bloom on your neck. “I thought we were sleeping.”

“We were,” You tell him. “You can always go back to sleep if you want.”

“You wish,” He mutters. Yoongi groans against your neck and you look down to see Hoseok palming him, working him up to fullness as Yoongi fucks into his hand. You wrap one of your own around Hoseok and return the favor; the way his moan echoes through the room is better than anything the nine muses could have created.

It’s slow and tired, each of you already spent from your earlier activities, but when you eventually drop between them, chests heaving from your orgasms and already half-asleep again, you think it’s worth it.

When you wake later and find a card sitting on the flower-woven throne - a new addition to the hall, one most welcome - crumpled and half-torn with a thorn sticking out of it, you know it’s worth it.

[uruhabuns]

Sensuous (part 5 - Zuho)

A/N: THIS ONE IS FOR ALL THE ZUHOES OUT THERE~ Just so y’all know, writing this chapter made me lose it a few times bc daddy zuho is one of my kinks so afjdksjslfk IT’S ALSO LONGER THAN I PLANNED IT TO BE ORZ anyway, please give it a like or reblog if you’ve read!! I find that the members after youngbin aren’t getting as much attention ;____; and as always, ENJOY >:))

Word count: 4472

Pairing: girl reader x zuho

Warnings: MAJOR DADDY!ZUHO, swearing, hair-pulling, scratching (yes pls)

Prologue / Part 1 (Youngbin) / Part 2 (Inseong) / Part 3 (Jaeyoon) / Part 4 (Dawon) / Part 5 (Zuho) / Part 6 (Rowoon) / Part 7 (Taeyang) / Part 8 (Hwiyoung) / Epilogue

[ jiyoon ] : omg this is so intriguing…

[ _____ ] : And I thought I was nasty smh

[ jiyoon ] : EXACTLY

[ jiyoon ] : You are nasty

[ jiyoon ] : You can guess what the boys’ kinks are

[ _____ ] : I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD SAY I HATE YOU BUT I DO

[ jiyoon ] : YOU LOVE ME~

[ jiyoon ] : Anyways…NEXT!!

[ _____ ] : Ugggghhh…

[ _____ ] : Okay so for Juho…his ones are pretty easy HAHA

[ jiyoon ] : I am intrigued

Juho swallowed a gulp. He always saw you as cute with a bright and sassy personality, so it surprised him to see you discussing such scandalous things with your friend. Even so, Juho knew that you were a young adult, so of course it would be normal for you to talk about these sorts of topics every now and then.

[ _____ ] : First thing’s first

[ _____ ] : Even though he’s really soft

[ _____ ] : EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM SCREAMS DADDY!!!!!!!!!

[ jiyoon ] : AAAAAAAH

[ _____ ] : HE HAS THE ULTIMATE DADDY KINK IN THE GROUP!!!!

“Oh god, why?” the male in question whined, resulting in an eruption of laughter from the rest of the boys.

“SHE GOT HIM!!” Taeyang yelled upon seeing Juho’s inability to respond to their teasing. “He likes being called daddy!!”

Juho only jabbed his elbow to Taeyang’s arm. “Why are you such a creep? Wait ’til we get to your—“

“Daddy, please punish me~” Jaeyoon teased, imitating your voice. Juho’s cheeks flushed slightly red as he buried his face in his hands.

“It’s because you look at the fans like you wanna seduce them,” Hwiyoung said, rolling his eyes.

“And because of your voice,” Taeyang added and nudged Juho’s side, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Girls love guys with deep voices ‘cause apparently it brings them to their knees.”

Juho’s ears turned a light shade of red at the younger boy’s inference. “W-wait a second, I don’t think she’ll—“

“You seem to know a lot about these kinds of things, Tae,” Rowoon said with a raised eyebrow.

Taeyang only rolled his eyes. “It’s common sense, isn't it? Everyone knows that.”

While the boys were discussing why you would see Juho in such a way, he was having a hard time processing the teasing.

“KEEP READING!!” Dawon exclaimed, “She’ll be finished in ten minutes, maybe!”

[ _____ ] : Not only that, HE’S PROBABLY FREAKY AF

[ _____ ] : I can see him being really into scratching, hair pulling, a bit of choking, and the girl being loud and really submissive

[ jiyoon ] : Oh my goddddd he does sound freaky…I need that in my life

[ _____ ] : STAY AWAY FROM HIM YA NASTY OMG

[ _____ ] : He’s too soft 80% of the time lol…

Juho immediately widened his eyes in shock. “H-hang on—“

“WAIT, WHAT?!” Dawon yelled upon reading the message. “I thought Inseong’s bondage and ice kink was kinky…”

“Juho, you are the freakiest out of all of us, don’t deny it,” Rowoon said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Hey, we gotta read everything before deciding anything,” Youngbin suggested, “But for now, though…Juho?”

The male in question only continued to rest his chin in his hands, unwilling to face the others.

“…are you really as freaky as she thinks you are?”

_________

The sound of sirens coming from Dawon’s phone pierced through your ears. Your best friend stirred from behind you while you whined and pulled the blanket over your face in attempt to block out the noise. Dawon reached over you to turn off the alarm, before slumping back and pulling you close to him by your waist. He then buried his face in your hair, and sandwiched you between his legs. The movement caused a sharp pain between your legs, adding to the throbbing that was already prevalent, causing a yelp to escape your lips.

What a night. You’ve just slept with another member, and it was your best friend. What happened to have you sleeping with the one of boys every night all of a sudden? Something seemed off.

“Hyukie, you have to get up,” you mumbled sleepily.

“Ugh…I don’t want to.”

“You have schedules…you don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“I’ll only get out if you come with me.”

“To where?”

“The photoshoot, of course.”

You blinked. “What? You’ll be fine. Why would you need me to come?”

“It just makes the day easier,” Dawon answered lazily. “Pleeeeeease?”

You only let out an elongated groan. “But I wanna sleep!”

“You’re always sleeping! Fine. If you don’t wanna come, I won’t shout you lunch,” Dawon compromised as he sat up.

At that moment, you found yourself already missing his warmth and touch. You didn’t feel this way since the night before he officially left to become a trainee. But now you know he won’t leave you again, so it was quite strange for you to feel that way again. Was it because you two had sex for the first time after being so close for so long?

You grabbed Dawon’s shirt, giving in. “Fine, I’ll come. But you owe me for making me wake up this early on my summer break.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

After getting up, washing up, and changing, you realised you still had those hickeys on your neck left by Youngbin and Inseong as you were applying your makeup. You couldn’t go to an official schedule with them showing, otherwise the managers would get suspicious.

“Shit…��� you hissed. You frantically rummaged through your makeup case in search for your concealer. When you found it, you applied it thoroughly on the purple marks before covering the areas with foundation.

“______, you ready?” you heard Dawon say outside his room’s door a few minutes later as you were applying your lip tint.

“Yep, coming!”

You quickly grabbed your bag, and rushed to the front door to see Dawon waiting.

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” he said as you got out. The two of you then speed-walked to the elevator, and making your way outside the building to where two black vans were waiting. Dawon dragged you to the one with the open door, and practically shoved you inside.

“Woah, ______-noona is joining us today?” Hwiyoung asked in pleasant surprise as you sat on the seat in front of Juho.

“Yeah, ‘cause Hyuk wouldn’t stop whining,” you replied with a roll to your eyes as Dawon got inside and closed the door.

“I wasn’t whining!” Dawon argued.

“You had to bargain for me to get out of bed!”

“That sure sounds like him,” Taeyang snickered.

Dawon glared back at the younger boy. “At least I don’t flirt to get things my way.”

“At least I don’t lose money by flirting—“

“So what made you bring her here?” Juho asked before an argument could start.

Dawon shrugged. “Can’t I bring my best friend around? Besides, she’s probably bored to death being at home by herself.”

You blew on your fringe. “Yeah, it does get boring. But I don’t wanna distract you guys.”

“If anything, we’re the ones distracting you,” Taeyang replied with a small smirk.

You turned your head around to glare at him. “What do you mean?!”

“We are pretty noisy,” Hwiyoung answered, “And you can’t do your assignments with us around.”

“Mostly Hyuk, though.” Juho added with a slightly smug look on his face.

Dawon turned around to glare at the younger male. “Oi, you take that back!”

The rest of the car trip was filled with their usual bickering and roasting of each other, so you decided to keep yourself occupied with your phone. Little did you know that Juho took glimpses of your neck every now and then, observing the patches of concealer and foundation that seemed to be layered a bit more on your skin. He knew you tried to cover the hickeys left by the members, as he could also see hints of purple around the edges. He didn’t know why, but seeing you try to conceal love bites in order to go out in public turned him on.

When the vans arrived at the photo studio, Dawon stepped out first, holding his hand out to assist you.

“I’m fine, Hyukie,” you said as you were getting out. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I know you’re not, but you can barely walk right now.”

You widened your eyes, glaring at him as if to say ‘don’t fucking say that in front of everyone, or I’ll kill you!!’

Your best friend had noticed, but he only smirked and placed his arm around your shoulder as he walked in with you.

As soon as everyone arrived in the studio, the boys were rushed into the dressing rooms to get their hair, makeup, and outfits done. You awkwardly sat outside in the reception so you wouldn’t distract the stylists or boys, and so you could avoid having hairspray filling your lungs.

While you were on your phone, you heard a pair of footsteps coming towards to you. You looked up to see Juho walking towards you as he was doing up the the middle button on his loose white dress shirt.

You couldn’t help but blink in slight shock. His hair was slicked back, showing his undercut, and allowing you to see his sharp cheekbones, while his ripped black skinny jeans, and loose white dress shirt that was tucked in only at the front emphasised his broad shoulders and toned body. He looked absolutely mouth-watering to the point where you felt your knees shaking even if you were seated. Sure, you had seen them styled like this before, but there was something with Juho today that gave him a dark, alluring aura. The man in question was not oblivious to your reaction, so he smirked quietly.

“J-Juho? What’s up?”

“The photographer needs help setting up the lights and stuff,” Juho replied nonchalantly, “Apparently the assistant is sick today, so I told him maybe you could help since you tagged along.”

“Oh, sure…”

You gulped, feeling your cheeks turn warm as you stood up. You rushed past Juho without looking at him to hide your blush, speed-walking past the change rooms, and onto the set. After greeting the photographer, you put your bag next to the table with the computer for editing. You then immediately got to work on setting up the lights, asking every now and then if the lights were in the correct position or whatnot.

After 20 more minutes of setting up, you finally got everything in position that the photographer was satisfied with.

“Great. Can you see if the group is ready?” he requested.

“Yes, sure.”

I really should get paid for this…you thought tiredly as you walked off the set and to the dressing room. When you reached it, you knocked on the door for it to be opened by Rowoon, fully styled and looking like a god.

“Oh, hey ______!”

You blinked in surprise as your cheeks turned slightly pink. “A-are you guys done? The photographer is waiting.”

Rowoon looked behind him before facing you again. “I think Juho is done, I’ll go and see.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Soon enough, the door opened to reveal Juho. You gulped once more as he walked out, and closed the door behind him.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said shyly before leading the way to the set.

Juho followed closely behind you such that you could smell the hairspray and cologne. You chewed on your lower lip from how seductive he smelt.

No, not now…you’re supposed to remain professional…you thought to yourself.

The two of you made it to the set room, where Juho greeted the photographer and went over and stood at the set, while you stood beside the desk with the computer for editing.

Throughout the whole shoot, you were completely stunned at how attractive Juho really was when he was in idol mode. His intense and sharp gazes at the camera were not like any other member. There was something that just made you want to scream ‘daddy’ out loud to him; something that made you want to drop to your knees and let him do whatever he wanted with you.

You couldn’t help but notice that he shot gazes at you every now and then. Every time, you felt like he undressed one item of clothing from you with his eyes. You chewed onto your lower lip, averting your vision at other places to avoid more eye contact with Juho. What was he trying to do to you?

_______

“Kill me now,” you grumbled to yourself as you collapsed onto the couch.

Since the photoshoot had finished, the boys headed to the dance studio to practice while you went back to the apartment. You were basically the replacement for the photographer’s absent assistant, so you worked the whole time while they were shooting.

While you were lying down on the couch, you couldn’t get the images of Juho’s stares at you out of your mind. Sure, the rest of the members also looked handsome, but their expressions were more soft compared to Juho’s fierce, intense gazes. You remembered how weak your knees felt when he  looked at you as if you were his first proper meal after dieting.

“No…he couldn’t be,” you muttered. He doesn’t see you in that way, idiot! You’re just overthinking everything…you mentally yelled at yourself, shaking the thoughts away. You didn’t know if you were seeing things or if you were just horny because you slept with four members already.

After a few more minutes of resting on the couch, you got up to change and take off your makeup. You decided to leave the makeup on your neck to take it off before going to sleep so the hickeys wouldn’t be visible to the boys (as if they didn’t notice them before, anyway).

You had decided to make dinner tonight, since they always had takeout, so you headed out to the kitchen to salvage whatever they had left in the fridge and pantry to make kimchi stew. You also knew how much the boys loved your cooking, so you wanted to surprise them.

After an hour or so of painstakingly preparing all the ingredients, you began to throw them into the pot to cook them first before pouring the hot water in from the kettle. While you were waiting for the whole thing to boil before seasoning it, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, you felt a pair of toned arms slide around your waist, and pull you in so your back was to his chest.

You gasped at the sudden skinship, so you immediately assumed that it was your best friend. “Hyukie? Are you done with practice already?”

The man behind you chuckled softly, moving his lips to your ear. “He’s not done, but I am.”

You froze immediately.

That voice. That fucking voice. That fucking voice deeper than the Mariner’s Trench. If only it didn’t affect you so much so you wouldn’t want to succumb to whatever he wanted.

You felt his warm breath ghost from your ear, and trailing down to your neck. You found your knees growing weak as you felt his already-hard crotch pressed up against your behind. “J-Juho?”

“Why are you covering the hickeys? Even at home?” he questioned before planting soft kisses beginning from the corner of your jaw, and down to your neck.  

Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I-I didn’t think you would notice…”

“I can see them very clearly, baby girl…”

Your thighs clamped together, that spark of desire inside you igniting once more. It seemed like the guys knew how to turn you on like a light switch with just one word.

Juho continued to bite and suck on that area on your neck, eliciting a whiny moan to come from your lips.

“Juho…please…” you sighed, leaning into him. You then felt him grind his clothed hardened shaft against your ass, causing you to begin to feel a warm wetness coating your lower lips.

“Call me daddy, baby…” he said deeply, sending shivers down your body.

You gulped, sliding your hands across his arms around your waist. “Daddy…”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised softly in your ear.

You bit your lower lip; you never knew Juho treating you this way would turn you on so much. You reached to the stove to turn it off as one of Juho’s hands made its way underneath your shirt, and up your chest to cup one of your breasts. He squeezed his hand on it, massaging it a few times, making you let out a needy mewl. Juho then slid his other hand down your body to palm and massage your core, stimulating your nerves.

“D-daddy, please!” you moaned, grinding your core against his hand. You could feel yourself growing wetter as the tips of his fingers teased your entrance through the thin material of the shorts.

Juho smirked against the skin of your neck. “My little baby girl is so needy…and so wet…”

You whimpered at his degrading words, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to make you cum regardless of method.

“Daddy, p-please,” you begged, grinding your hips more against his hand that was still teasing your entrance and clit.

“Nuh-uh,” he rejected, “You must wait first, then daddy will give you what you want. Can you be patient for me?”

You felt goosebumps form on your neck; it seemed like his voice could make you submit to every command. You only let out a mix of a whine and moan as he continued to torture you slowly. Juho then moved the hand that was groping your breast to slide up your chest and wrap around your neck. His fingers gently squeezed the sides to slightly reduce the airflow, but making sure you could still breathe.

You then felt one finger suddenly slip inside your slick cavern, causing a high-pitched mewl to escape your lips. “D-daddy!”

Juho curled his finger in a come-hither motion before dragging it out slowly. Your knees buckled in, making you almost lose balance, but Juho still managed to hold you up.

“Such a good girl,” he praised in your ear. He then slipped in another finger, and began thrusting them in and out of you to extract more of your wetness that was now dripping down his fingers and to your thighs.

“Please…please…!” you moaned, tightening your grip onto his arms. You could barely stand, but you did everything you could to not completely collapse to bring him down with you. “I c-can’t take it anymore—!”

Without warning, Juho began to massage your sensitive clit with his thumb, causing you to scream as a zap of electricity coursed through your arteries. You could barely breathe while he assaulted your core so skilfully, stimulating you to the maximum so you could feel nothing but raw pleasure. You then felt him give your clit one last hard pinch to finally push you over the edge. You felt your stomach clench as you unleashed throat-burning scream, releasing everything you had onto Juho’s hand like a waterfall. Juho left his hand in that position for another moment before removing it and letting you go. Your knees finally gave way as you collapsed on all fours onto the floor, heavily breathing.

Juho slid his tongue across his fingers to taste what you gave him. “My little girl tastes sweeter than I imagined,” you heard him say, “But I wonder what you actually feel like.”

Before you knew it, Juho lifted you up, causing you to let out a yelp, and pushed your body forward onto the counter with your cheek resting on the cold surface. He pulled out a condom packet from his pocket, ripped it open with his teeth, and threw the packet onto the counter. Your eyes widened when you saw the foil, so you assumed that he wanted to cum inside you.

After slipping the condom on, Juho pulled your shorts and underwear down, letting them fall down your legs, to which you kicked them off and to the side. You then felt him slide the tip of his length up and down your overly wet slit, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

“Daddy…�� you sighed as Juho took your wrists, and held them behind your back.

“Is my baby girl ready for me?” he asked, placing the tip at your slick, dripping entrance.

You nodded, closing your eyes. “Yes, daddy…please…”

At that moment, you felt Juho slide into you from behind, causing you to let out soft, elongated gasp at how well he stretched you out. He then began thrusting immediately without letting you adjust to his size, which you didn’t have to because you were already so wet and turned on. Your moans grew louder as he thrusted harder and faster into you.

“Fuck, baby girl, you feel so good wrapped around me,” Juho groaned. “So tight…so wet…”

You wished you could hold onto something for support, but Juho’s grip on your wrists was too strong for you to move them anywhere. You could only let out moans and whimpers as he continued to slam into you from behind, your slick walls pulsing and swallowing his hard length too easily. Your head began to feel cloudy and slightly dizzy as each thrust Juho gave you felt like a new shot of ecstasy through your veins. Soon enough, your stomach began to tighten as you felt your climax slowly building up.

“J-Juho…” you managed to whimper amongst the moaning.

He slammed into you once more before stopping suddenly. “What did I tell you to call me?”

Your eyes widened. Fuck! “D-daddy…I’m sorr—“

Juho grabbed a fistful of your hair, with one hand, and holding your wrists together with the other. He pulled your head back, eliciting a surprised scream from you. “I was wrong,” he said darkly, “You’re not obedient after all. Should I even let you cum at this point?”

“I’m so sorry, daddy,” you begged desperately, the stinging pain on your scalp making it hard for you to think to form proper sentences. “Please…please let me cum; I won’t do it again, I’m so sorry!”

A smirk curled on Juho’s lips. “I know you won’t do it again,” he said, leaning into your ear. “And I’ll make sure of that.”

Before you could respond, Juho leaned back up and began to thrust hard and fast into you again, making your hips hit the edge of the counter. You screamed the sudden pace he was tearing you up with. Moans, screams, pants, and grunts came from the both of you, while the lewd noises of skin hitting against skin, and sticky sounds of Juho’s cock ramming into you as your essence was leaking out of your hole, and dripping down your thighs filled the kitchen all at once.

In the midst of the thrusting and screaming, you felt your climax building up faster than before. Your stomach muscles began tightening, and your walls were clamping on Juho more regularly. Before you could even have a taste of becoming undone, Juho pulled out of you. Before you could cry out at the loss of pleasure, he flipped you around so you lay on your back. He then entered you once more, wrapping your legs around his waist so he could thrust deeper into you.

“God, you look so beautiful like this,” Juho groaned, loving how you wreathed and moaned beneath him, and how absolutely disheveled you looked. He then leaned down to your neck, and latched his lips onto the spot just behind your ear. You took the opportunity to hold onto Juho’s shoulder blades while he was biting, licking, and sucking at your skin to leave another dark red mark, all while thrusting deeply and quickly into you. Your moans filled his ears, driving him to thrust even harder. His powerful thrusts made you scream and dig your nails into his skin through his shirt, dragging them down his back. Even though his shirt was cushioning the impact of your nails, Juho also groaned as he could still feel the stinging sensation of your nails on his back combined with your walls clamping tightly onto his cock.

Soon enough, your climax began building up again, and you knew this was going to be your biggest one yet.

“D-daddy, I’m about to—“

“Hold on, baby girl, I’m almost there too,” Juho grunted. He then reached one hand down to your swollen, sensitive clit, giving it a hard massage with his thumb as he gave you one more hard thrust. You arched your back as you let out an earth-shattering scream, your climax hitting you like a wrecking ball. Black and white spots filled your vision as you exploded onto Juho’s cock. He held your hips to support himself as he stayed still inside you to spill his load. You felt a warm liquid coat the walls of the condom indicating that the both of you now had finally had your sweet release.

Juho softly collapsed on top of you as the both of you were heavily panting and sweating from what was probably the roughest sex you’ve ever had. You reached behind Juho’s head to lightly stroke his blue hair.

“Holy fuck…” you whispered, still in disbelief that Juho could fuck you so hard.

The man on top of you only laughed lightly. “So…daddy, huh?”

Returning back to your normal self, you flicked the back of his head, causing him to yelp. “Do not fucking speak of this to anyone, or I’ll kick you.”

Juho heaved himself off your body with a grunt before pulling himself out of you. You arched your back lightly as you pressed your lips together to fight back another moan.

“Trust me, I won’t say anything,” he responded in slight amusement as he slid off the condom to throw it in the bin next to the counter. “I’ll never hear the end of it either.”

As Juho was putting his pants back on, you painfully pushed up your torso with your elbows. He then quickly came over to support your back with his hand to help you.

“Easy now, baby,” he said, pulling your upper body slowly towards him so your torso pressed against his. Once you were on your feet, Juho held onto you as he looked at the area where he fucked you. “Hah…looks like we made a bit of a mess here…”

You wrinkled your nose, also looking at the drops of cum that was dripping down the counter. “Ugh…more things I have to clean...”

Juho squeezed your shoulder assuringly. “You go wash up, and I’ll clean this, okay?”

You sighed. “Alright, but you have to help me make dinner for fucking me so hard.”

“I’m cool with that.”

[softstraykidsimagines]

Boyfriend!I.N (Jeongin) 

MASTERLIST 

WOOT WOOT

Little Jeongin!

This is gonna be so damn fluffy watch out 

Here we go!!!

Ok so Jeongin is shy at the best of times

So God help this poor child while he has a crush on you

He won’t even be able to talk to you properly

Most likely runs away whenever he gets embarrassed

Which is very often

Just

Can’t function

If one of the members even try the subject of his crush on you when you’re in the room

He lets instinct take over

And he dolphin screams to distract everyone

As people look in his direction

Because he is hella loud

He’ll scream again and die on the inside

Why can’t I think straight with y/nnnnn

He’d be so frustrated with himself

He’ll probably mentally slap himself every other second when he talks to you

Why did you say that? What is y/n gonna think of you?! IDIOT

I highly doubt he’d confess to you himself

At least in person

One of the members probably told you

So you went to see him

And scared the bejesus out of him when you asked if it was true

But he eventually nodded and confessed and VERY quietly asked you out this baby my God save him

To which you OBVIOUSLY said yes

And he probably jumped around happily to your response

Tried to stay cool, because he is Mature™

But as soon as you were not around he’d scream with happiness and run around because he is a ball of energy and he’s gonna explode

He’s whipped, your grace

Dates with Jeongin

Is it really such a mystery?

So so SO soft

His first date with you was going to a carnival

Because he made it his new goal in life to win you a stuffed toy

And win your heart forever

Little did he know that had already happened

Got really grouchy when he didn’t win anything

But immediately felt better when you both had something to eat who doesn’t feel better with food?

Forgot how to human when the date came to an end

And you kissed him on the cheek

Half as a joke, he collapsed onto the ground in a heap of giggles not really a joke it was genuine

He was, at that moment, the happiest boy to walk the planet

You can probably guess that this kid is too shy for PDA

But he’s all for hand holding wherever you two go

He really loves to swing your arms back and forth like children cause that’s what you are

Sometimes will peck your cheek if he’s feeling bold

If you initiate skinship out and about, he’s gonna turn a dark shade of red

But will hold in his squeal thank goodness

If the members tease him for being shy

Because where’s the lie

He’ll greet you and become insanely clingy

If you ask him why he won’t tell you

“I just really really really wanted to hug you”

“Jeongin you’ve been clinging onto me for 10 minutes, are you okay? And what if the boys tease you”

“They won’t I’m proving a point”

“Say what?!”

First kiss.

You’d think it’d be you who would have to make the first move right?

Wrong.

So freaking wrong

Because realise: once he makes his mind up about something, Jeongin carries his decision through to the end

And he decided to make a certain evening walk in the park very special

You were walking around, and it had gotten dark, only a few street lamps lit your way

You were both talking about absolute nonsense, laughing at each others jokes etc

And then he suddenly became very serious

“Can I ask you a favour? It’s really important to me…”

You got kinda nervous, because when was the last time Jeongin managed to keep a strait face like that?

From his pocket he pulled out a chain bracelet, with a pretty but subtle pattern on it. “Can you wear this? For me? And whenever you’re sad, or scared, look at it and think of me, and I can protect you”.

You were absolutely dumbstruck, so you just quietly let him out the bracelet on

You were about to cry as well

He showed you a second one which he had on his own wrist. “I want this to be something special between us”

And then he siezes the moment

And connects his lips with yours

Very gently

He kisses you so delicately, like you’re made of ice, about to break

When you part, he smiles softly

And starts walking again, calmly

Making you stand there confused af

Like where tf is shy Jeongin? Who is this?

Spoiler alert, it’s I.N, not soft Jeongin

Oh lord prepare yourself before meeting the rest of SKZ

Physically and mentally

Knowing them they’ll probably try to lift you up and get you to crowd surf

While still teasing the Maknae

They’ll be so protective of you, just like with Jeongin

You have become family, don’t doubt that for half a second

You are also now in charge of being the mood lifter for Jeongin

And his reassurance

Especially if he’s sick

Because he gets really tired whenever he so much as catches a cold, because he refuses to stop working and rest common sense who?

And when he’s tired, he thinks way more negatively

You were once alone with him in the practice room, and he was trying to improve a few moves to a really difficult choreography

For a while he kept smiling like the child he is, staying positive

But after trying over and over, having to catch his breath from fatigue, having trouble breathing from a blocked nose, he still couldn’t get the moves right

And out of pure exhaustion and frustration, he burst into tears no judging I’ve had this it’s painful

You immediately went over and hugged him tightly, reassuring him and calming him down

You both sat together on the floor, until he wasn’t upset anymore, but you still refused to let him practice after that

You took him home and looked after him until he passed out that night

The members were confused af as well 

“What’s wrong with Jeongin?”, asked Chan, being his usual protective-leader self

You replied simply because you didn’t want to upset the other boys. “He got frustrated at the dance he’s learning, and was exhausting himself, so I dragged him home to sleep...”

They were all really grateful the you were looking after Jeongin so well, and their love for you with the Maknae you only grew

Now this boy is not at all afraid of speaking his mind

So you two basically leave everything out in the open

No secrets

If one of you is pissed at the other, you will freaking say that you’re pissed at them

You don’t hold back

So then you can both talk rather freely about why you might be pissed

Basically what I’m saying is that fights are super rare

Because they don’t even get a chance to start when you two are so open with each other

So at most you bicker over food

But there are times

Like I said, insanely rarely 

Jeongin doesn’t tell you how much he’s struggling

He doesn’t want to seem like he’s complaining too much so he stays quiet about his worries about being an idol

It’s a bit like his situation during The 9th: he doesn’t want to burden anyone about feeling down, so he keeps a bright smile on his face

You kinda sense that there’s something up, but he convinces you for a long time that he is totally fine 

But when it becomes too much 

Being tired, frustrated, stressed and worked to the bone, and he still hasn’t said anything to anyone

He’ll break and yell at you over something not even worth yelling about

It’ll shock you so much that you’ll flinch away from him

He won’t just yell at you 

He’ll yell about how tired he is, about how unfair he thinks it is that he can’t learn a dance as quickly as anyone else

He’ll yell about everything and nothing

You understand quickly that he’s letting of steam, getting it all off his chest 

So once he’s quiet again, breathing heavily, crying silently

You’ll hug him gently, and reassure him that you’re there no matter what and that he can ramble and complain all he wants with you

NO MORE ANGST IM OUTTA HERE

He tries to force you to watch Mukbang, until you threaten him that you’ll secretly feed him black beans

You both love blasting Bruno Mars in the dorms, driving SKZ up the wall as you sing at the top of your lungs

He’ll try to teach to sing trot like him

But you both know that you’ll never be as good at singing it as him

He loves texting you whenever he has a spare half-second

He always gets in trouble with the other members because as soon they stop what they're doing, he's off to get his phone

“Where did Jeongin go”, asked Woojin. “He was here a second ago...” 

Chan sighed. “I can take a guess. JEONGIN PUT THAT DAMN PHONE DOWN!” 

He uses his Maknae Influence™ to get our of trouble lol

You both like to try and cook together

Doesn't really work

You usually end up making a mess

Or if you’re baking something

Like cookies

You'll end up eating all the batter before it even reaches the oven

Stray Kids will be deprived of cookies RIP 

When you suggest him meeting your family

He gets super nervous

But refuses to show it

You'll kind of pick up on his attitude

The way he answers questions on the matter so directly and seriously

But you're too kind and high-key impressed to point it out 

But when he does meet your fam he's super smiley and actually seems genuinely comfortable 

You on the other hand

Get hella stressed when you're supposed to meet his parents 

Will they approve? 

Will his brothers like you? 

As soon as you voice your concerns to Jeongin

He hugs you, reassuring you that they'll all adore you

He couldn't have been more right

His parents are so so sweet and love you from the word go 

Both his brothers love you just as much

Especially his younger brother, who just idolises you 

It’s so cute

You immediately exchange contacts and stay in touch

Jeongin ended up making a group chat with you and his bros because he was so excited that you got on so well

His favourite thing to do in the evening with you is just watch a random show

From a K-Drama to a weird comedy neither of had ever seen

He just likes relaxing with you, usually with your legs draped over his lap 

Probably screamed the first time you walked over wearing one of his jumpers

“ISN'T THAT MINE?”

“Oh, sorry I'll go put it back...” 

“DON'T YOU EVEN DARE I LOVE IT” 

Low-key snuck his hoodies into your closet just so he could see you wear them

But as soon as you brought it up

He'd refuse to give any answer on the matter

“What are you talking about? You must have stolen them yourself, thief”.

“Alright, I'll give them back, then”.

“No no, you stole them, so you must keep them”

“... Right” 

The first time he said 'I love you’ resembled your first kiss 

He had thought about it and planned it out 

The plan didn't really work

He'd meant to cook something for you

And watch your favourite movie 

And surprise you by just saying ‘I love you’ casually

But he messed up dinner

Accidentally spilled too much salt into the dish

So instead ordered takeout from your favourite place

Then 

Just because the universe was against him, for some unknown reason, the movie wouldn't work

So you ended up watching something else

And he was about to give up and plan for another day

But it just kinda slipped out?

“I'm sorry I couldn't make this a perfect night”, he said, dejected. “I wish I could just... easily show you how much I love you...” 

Sort of panicked after he said it

He started stuttering while trying to explain himself

Until you kissed him to shut him up

Telling him that you loved him too

And that's how he had a happiness heart attack

This bean will go public after a couple of years

He posted a photo of you smiling brightly in a cafe

With a simple caption: 'Love you so much’ 

Now naturally the internet is gonna die because hello?

Little baby Jeongin is dating?! 

But after a few hours of commotion there's gonna be something unexpected

People will recognise you 

From clips in SK TALKER

They'd seen the two of you

Just barely within the view of the camera 

Messing around and playing a bunch of games to pass the time

Some had naturally insisted that you two were dating

But you were mostly just written off as Jeongin’s best friend who had come to see him a few times backstage

But now that he had officially announced your relationship

There were A LOT of people saying 'I told you so’ on the internet

Whoops

Low-key, kpop fandoms area group of mini Sherlock Holmes’

He becomes so happy at the very mention of your name

Low-key hopes in every convo that someone will bring you up

Just so that he can talk about you nonstop

He talks a lot about you

SKZ always get a real earful

Especially when they’re away

He'll never stop talking about you which pisses pretty much everyone off

His coping mechanism for being away from you is just to recap a bunch of his favourite moments with you

So naturally anyone within earshot of him will hear a bunch of cute stories about you two

Right up until the moment he sees you again

Thank heavens the rest of SKZ will say as they watch the Maknae crush you in a hug, giggling excitedly

All in all, you two have a soft af relationship

With lots of giggles, cuddles surprisingly, and a lot of love

Can I please just get a Jeongin?? 

There we go! That concludes my soft-ass day! 

Now, I’m going away on holiday (sooner than I thought I would), but that’s not gonna stop me from writing! There’ll just be a few posts that won’t be on the Masterlist for a while. But as soon as I get access to any computer, I’ll update the Masterlist :) 

[smallcowplant]

I was tagged by @viiavi! <33

Rules: Post 57 facts about yourself and tag at least ten people. When posting include the tag “57 facts” in order for people to find out more about you and perhaps find a kindred spirit to talk to.

I used to pretend that I was Stevie Nicks when I was a kid. I’d take my mom’s scarves and necklaces and twirl around like a maniac mouthing the words to Timespace.

I didn’t leave the island I grew up on for twenty years (not even for vacations or trips). When I left, I didn’t have any intention of ever going back. 

My brother and I are seven years apart and he is my closest friend. Coincidentally, we are both libras (my mom used to joke that we balance the family out).

Drinking coffee is a huge part of my creative process. 

I’m right handed and definitely right-brained.

I tend to form better relationships with people who are older than me. As a adult, all of my irl friendships/relationships have been with people who are slightly-to-significantly older than me. 

I get lost in daydreams often. 

I’m 5′ 6′‘.

I can’t drive and never wanted to learn. It’s a legitimate problem.

I’m slowly learning to cook and I really enjoy it.

I hate the taste of alcohol. If I drink, it has to be something sugary + frozen or wine-----otherwise I’ll probably vomit.

My lucky numbers are 4 and 6. I don’t really know why? I just associate those numbers with good things. 

Proud Hufflepuff. 

My little brother and I were once being stupid at home (I was probably around 10 or 11) and thought it would be hilarious to “pretend to call 911″. My dumbass accidentally did (and hung up quickly after that). Two cops showed up. They asked a couple questions and left after a few minutes of sussing us out. Not even five minutes after they left, my mom pulled into the parking lot. Close call. 

I’m a romantic and thrive on affection and love.

I’m the kind of person who will spend an hour on my makeup and virtually none on my hair. 

My first fictional crush was on Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Both animated and in the live-action movies, lmao.

I thought that I was a cat person until I adopted my dog! Now, I definitely consider myself a dog person (who still loves cats).

My circulation is shit. I get cold super easily.

I love rainy weather and storms. 

My favorite food is spaghetti.

I’m a very sentimental person and put a lot of value on gifts/cards/personal objects.

Christmas and Halloween are my two favorite holidays! With an emphasis on Christmas, lol.

I had a truly amazing experience when I took shrooms. Not trying to endorse drug use, but psychedelics are fascinating. 

I love movies so much. Film-making and cinematography are such incredible things to me. I would love to be part of that creative process.

If I could have lunch with one famous person, I would definitely choose Lana del Rey. She’s been such a massive inspiration for my writing and personal aesthetic....I would love to meet her and have a conversation.

Tied to that last fact, LDR has been the only artist I’ve seen live! I went back in February and I’m still not over it!

I haven’t had any close IRL friends in years. I only vibe with certain types of people and am very picky when it comes to who I let in.

I used to write fanfiction. Big yikes.

My middle name is Ray.

I love pretty clothes but I hate wearing them because I feel like I’m going to ruin them.

I really love the vibe of airports. Not flying, getting through check-in, the stress around it, or any of that, though! Just the feeling of walking to your terminal, of the air conditioning, the smell of black coffee in the air......it just really ticks something for me?

Aliens are real and so is magic.

I desperately want to meet and hang out with an alpaca.

I’ve never been to a wedding.

I almost drowned in the ocean and it was the single most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me. 

I saw Wicked in NYC at the Gershwin Theater and it was magical.

I love the idea of getting a tattoo but I also can’t commit to any tattoo concept, so I’m not sure if I’ll ever get one. 

However, if I was to get a tattoo, I think I’d get a portrait of my dog and a sleeve featuring different cryptids!

My least favorite foods are oranges and purple grapes (yes, I think there’s a distinction between purple and green grapes, and YES, I prefer green grapes).

I want to have a duck once I own a house.

^^This is because I used to be an Aquatics Specialist at a pet store and I had one client come in often to buy crickets. She’d bring her pet duck (I think his name was Percy) in and I’d give him little scratches and head pats. I LOVED HIM. He’d wiggle his lil butt when he’d see me and...……..wow, what a guy.

I think my handwriting is horrendous but other people seem to like it.

I’m very observant and detail oriented. 

In elementary school, I used to be a JPO (Junior Police Officer), which is basically a mini-traffic director. 

This is the only social media platform I have. You won’t find me on Facebook/Instagram/Twitter....they kind of squick me out.

I got my CPR + First Aid certification twice----only to never use it for a job. It has long since expired. RIP.

I have a large oval brown birthmark on my upper leg.

I love red lipstick but I haven’t found my perfect shade yet.

I’ve never broken any of my bones. I am sincerely surprised, tbh.

My favorite color is pastel pink.

I wish there were more opportunities to wear costumes/fancy clothes because I love looking Extra Af.

I used to collect Pullip dolls and BPAL perfumes. 

When I’m sick, I will marathon Twilight Zone episodes until I fall asleep.

I can be extremely stubborn and set in my ways. 

I turn 22 next week Wednesday. 

I’m 110% positive that my dog is my soulmate.

Not tagging anyone bc this is pretty intense and I don’t want anyone to murder me lmao!! 

[ipaniceverywherenotjustthedisco]

Even Though You Promised

Word count: 1,767

Paring: Romantic Logince Romantic Analogical Platonic Moxiety

Warnings: Death, guns, cheating

A/N: hey guys, let me know if you want to be on the tag-list-of-two-people. Lol. Also give me some prompts for future fics! Let me know if you see any typos! I made myself cry writing this so, prepare your tissues. Also this is a human AU

Logan glances down at the cacoon af blankets that was cuddling him tightly. Virgil smiled at him and Logan’s cheeks blushed a dark pink. Looking back at the movie, Logan could sense that Virgil was still watching him.

“Yes, Virge?” Logan asked.

“Nothing.” He replied calmly. Logan shook his head, smiling.

“Okay.”

Virgil sat up next to Logan and draped his arm around his shoulders. Logan leaned into him and sighed heavily. Virgil ran his fingers through Logan’s soft hair absentmindedly.

“Logan,” Virgil said nervously. Logan sat up and locked eyes with him. “Can I ask you something?”

Virgil already knew the answer but he felt the need to ask anyways.

“Of course!”

Virgil hesitated.

“Logan,” he was nearing tears. “One day, you’ll leave me. You can deny it, but I know it’s true. Everyone I ever loved left. They promised they wouldn’t, but they still did. Can you promise me, that this time will be different. That no matter what I say and believe, you’ll be here?”

“Of course Virgil,” he said softly. “I would never hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. I will be different. I won’t leave you. I love you, Virgil. And I promise I will always be here.”

Virgil’s face turned a deep shade of red and he smiled, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I love you too, Logan.”

Logan took the remove and shut off the TV. He got up off the couch and took Virgil’s hand in his. Smiling, Virgil got up off the couch. They walked upstairs to their bedroom and got under the covers. Virgil curled up in a ball and rested his head in the crook of Logan’s neck. Logan wrapped his arms around Virgil and they fell asleep peacefully.

They were woken up in the morning by Logan’s alarm clock. Pressing the off button, he began to get out of bed.

“No...” Virgil whined, not removing himself from the warm hug of the comforter. “Can’t you like, skip work today and just stay in bed forever?”

“Unfortunately,” Logan replied, “I cannot. Sorry, Virge.”

Kissing the top of Virgil’s head, he went over to the closet and got dressed into his usual attire. He said goodbye to Virgil and walked out the door.

Virgil gave a heavy sigh as he heard the garage door opening.

Virgil walked downstairs, dragging his many blankets behind him.

He poured himself a bowl of Fruit Loops and sat on the couch. Pulling out his phone, Virgil scrolled through his Tumblr. He laughed Roman’s latest post.

“What do you get when you cross an elephant with a pool? Swimming trunks.”

After reblogging this, he went to his best friends Patton’s page and scrolled through the endless pictures of puppies.

After playing on his phone for an hour or two, Virgil turned on TV to watch the news. There was another shooting.

Great.

Wait a second. The shooting took place at....Patton’s Puppy Palace.

No. No no no no no.

Virgil jumped up from the couch and grabbed his phone, quickly dialing Patton’s number. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. No answer. He tried again. Nothing. Virgil’s eyes stung with tears. He ran to get his keys and jumped into his car, not caring that his was in pajamas. He sped down the road to Patton’s Puppy Palace and his car skidded to a halt. There were police cars and ambulances everywhere. He saw somebody being put into the back of a police car, and knew that must be the shooter.

“You!” He shouted, pointing at the criminal, “ If you hurt my best friend, I will find you!”

He sprinted towards the woman in black but was grabbed from behind. He turned around and saw two policemen holding his arms.

“No!” He shouted. “Patton! Where’s Patton? Did she hurt him?”

He was growing increasingly worried.

“Where is Patton?” He screamed. Everyone fell silent.

He saw people pulling a stretcher out of the building and ripped his arm from the police’s grasp.

Running to the stretcher, he saw what he feared. Patton was lying down, his light blue shirt almost entirely turned to a hideous, deep scarlet color. His eyes were closed.

“No.” Virgil said, almost in a whisper. “No. No no no no no. Not Patton. No. This isn’t right. Why Patton?”

Virgil collapsed to the ground, his hands shaking. His eyes were watering and he let out a heavy sob. He hated crying. It made him look weak. But he cried, and didn’t care who saw. That women hurt his best friend. He might go into that hospital and not come out. And it was her fault.

Virgil screamed, beating the ground with his fists. He was being lifted off the ground by strong arms but he didn’t care. He didn’t fight them. They put up caution tape around the shop and Virgil was placed on the other side of it, next to his car. He felt the gravel beneath his rumble and another car pulled in. He heard the door slam and the person who stepped out slid to the ground next to him. He felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder. Logan.

Virgil looked up and saw that Logan had definitely been crying too.

“I was worried sick about you, Virgil!” He said, “Promise me you’ll never go running off to a crime scene alone ever again, okay?”

Logan pulled him into a tight hug and he sobbed into the teacher’s shoulder. Logan didn’t seem to care. When Virgil was all out of tears, he got up and went to his car. He drove behind the ambulance to the hospital, Logan right behind him. When he got to the lobby, they told him he wouldn’t be able to see Patton until 6. It was only 2. He didn’t care. He wasn’t moving.

“Virge, I have to get back to work.” The last thing Virgil wanted was for Logan to leave, but he nodded. Logan kisses his head and walked out the door slowly. Virgil picked up a magazine and started reading. This was going to be a long four hours.

“Mr. Picani?” Virgil perked up.

“Yes?”

“Patton can see you now. Room 314.”

Virgil hurriedly stood up and practically ran to Patton’s room.

When he came in, Patton was still asleep. He grabbed his hand.

“Patton, Patton oh my god. Patton. Jeez. You scared me there. I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’ll be okay. I promise. I promise I promise I promise.” Virgil wiped his eyes, determined not to start crying again. He didn’t know what to say. He heard the sounds of the hospital. The whispers. The shuffling feet. Patton’s heart rate monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeep. Beeeep. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep.

People rushed into the room, yelling. A nurse with a kind face ushered his out. Virgil hadn’t even registered what was happening. But there was nothing he could do. He sat outside room 314 for what seemed like, and what may have actually been, hours. Until he heard one frightening sound.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Silence. Nothing. No whispers. No shuffling feet. No beeping. Nothing except Virgil’s scream that filled the halls.

Virgil banged on Patton’s door.

“Let me in! He’s okay! He has to be okay! Let me see him! Let me in! He’s not gone! He can’t be gone! I need to see him!” Virgil yelled, but to no avail. He sank to the ground. His legs could no longer hold his weight. The door opened and he doctors and nurses all walked out slowly. Some had faces like stone. Others wiped their now-wet eyes.

Virgil was in denial. There was no way. No way he was gone. And yet, he was.

Virgil walked down the halls of the hospital and out the front door. The cool breeze blew his bangs and the sky was dark. He walked to his car and drove home.

When he got inside, Logan was on the couch. As soon as he saw Virgil, he jumped up.

“Hey Virge,” he said, “How’s Patton?”

He clearly didn’t know. Hearing his name sent Virgil over the edge. He burst into tears. It seemed like all the emotion, all the feelings he’d ever bottled up in his life, were being poured out. Released. A huge weight came off his shoulders as he leaned into Logan. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell Logan what had happened. Saying Patton was.....gone. It would make it real. Saying it would mean it actually happened. It wasn’t a dream. A nightmare, actually. It happened.

“He’s,” Virgil started, his voice shaking. “There was a beep. And there were people. And then they made me go. Then I was on the floor then the beep then they came out then they looked at me then no morethwn the people and the beeping and then the silence and the doctors-”

He knew it was gibberish. But he couldn’t put it into words.

“He’s gone, Logan.”

Logan’s face dropped and he sighed, holding Virgil tighter. He lead Virgil up the stair into the bed. Virgil was still in his pajamas so he climbed right in. Logan changed and joined him.

Virgil didn’t sleep well. He lost count of how many times he had woken up.

When he did wake up in the morning, he pulled out the laptop they shared to play some games. When he opened it, he put his hand to his mouth and resisted the urge to scream. Logan hadn’t closed his email yesterday. And the latest one was from Roman.

Roman: Hey, are you coming over tonight?😘

Logan: Yeah, I just have to tell him I’m working again. 😘

Roman: Okay. Can’t wait to see you 😘😍

A kissy face.....

Virgil slammed the laptop shut and ran downstairs to where Logan was sitting on the couch.

“You said you loved me!” He screamed. He was furious at Logan. “You said you’d never leave! You said it’d be different! You promised! You promised me Logan! Does that mean nothing to you?”

“What are you talking about, Virgil?” He asked

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, you horrible, lying, betraying, two faced, cheating jerk! Roman. Yesterday? I just have to tell him I’m working again? Kissy faces? You don’t even send those to me!”

Logan’s jaw dropped, but then his face became hard as stone. He didn’t say anything. But Virgil did.

“Get out.” He said calmly. “Pack your things, and leave. Don’t come back. Go live with your new boyfriend. You won’t have to lie to me in order to see him.

Logan packed a box and walked calmly out the door without so much as a goodbye.

@thatsthat24 @butterydolphin22

[sidewritings]

From Me To You

Prompt: Ummm… can I get some LAMP set right after accepting anxiety with the sides finding little presents from Virgil who’s trying to say thanks for caring enough to bring him back. The others decide to show him just how much they want him there.  @bubblycricket

Additional request: fluffy af please. If there happens to be a moment where Virgil thinks he's in trouble for it and then is wholesomely surprised when it turns out hes not, who would complain? @irrelevantbutfabulous

Pairings: LAMP Polysides

Genres: Fluff, romance, comfort 

Warnings: None come to mind, let me know if any are needed, will add

Word Count: 2808 (It ran away with me, I’m sorry)

Author’s Note: I am sick as heck and decided to use my time stuck in bed to write this. Special thank you to @tinysidestrashcaptain for coming up with the gift for Logan. I was super stumped by that.  I apologize if this doesn’t fit the prompt exactly.  There’s something about ‘little presents’ that didn’t translate to me.

Logan found them first.  He woke up promptly at 7:00am, cleaned and dressed himself, and was down in the kitchen for his coffee at 7:15am.  Once he'd finished his first cup of coffee and was preparing the second (black with five teaspoons of sugar), he finally noticed some oddly shaped packages on the coffee table in the living room. 

Sipping at his coffee, he walked over to examine them.  There was a manila envelope with his name on it closest to his spot by the hallway when they made videos. There was a large box about the size of a human torso lying horizontally nearest Roman's spot wrapped in red paper and the royal's name scrawled in one corner. A slightly smaller box stood on its end by Patton's spot near the window.  The box was wrapped in pale blue paper with rubber duckies printed on it. A series of small, neat holes in the top of the box spelled Patton's name.

They appeared to be gifts, but Logan was cautious.  New things that appeared in the mind-scape were often Roman's doing, and anything Roman did was highly unpredictable. The absence of a gift for Virgil could mean any number of things, but the presence of a gift for Roman meant it was unlikely the packages were left by Princey.  Deciding it was too early in the morning to try to solve mysteries that would eventually solve themselves, Logan took a seat in his favorite spot and waited for the others.  

Patton was the next to arrive, coming downstairs cheerfully humming with a little spring in his step none of the other sides could manage (or would want to) so early. A cheerful 'good morning, Logan!' was followed by much excitement over the gifts.

“Presents!  Awww, how sweet. We should open them...”

“Inadvisable.  We don't know where they came from or why they're here.”

“Oh, we should wait for Roman! He has a gift too. But there's none for Virgil, maybe I can make something for him before he wakes up!”

“That's a possibility, but there are still too many unknown variables,”

“Good morning, did I hear something about gifts?”

“Good day, Roman.”

“Hey, good morning Roman! Yeah, someone left us presents.  Logan doesn't think we should open them though.  Something about unknown vegetables.”

“Unknown variables, Patton.”

There was a short bout of bickering, ended temporarily by Roman's stomach growling. An agreement was reached to come back to the argument once they'd eaten. Patton went to the kitchen to make them all breakfast, Logan following to make more coffee for Roman and Virgil when he woke up (Patton did not require caffeination like the rest of them).  Roman stayed in the living room, looking over the packages, lifting them, and looking for clues.  Aside from the fact that Logan's gift seemed to be some kind of paper thing (the envelope read DO NOT BEND) on the back), and Roman's was not only larger but significantly heavier than the other gifts, and Patton's did not seem to be alive, despite the holes in the top, there was little he could figure out.

They ate their Mickey Mouse pancakes that Patton made (it was just three little pancakes connected, but it was a huge improvement in his cooking skill) and discussed what to do.  Logan was easily overruled by Patton and Roman who hurried through breakfast to go open their gifts as soon as possible.

Moments later they were kneeling around the coffee table in front of their gifts. Patton tore his open with wild abandon, ripping off the ducky paper and rending the box. Seeing the contents his eyes went wide and he squealed with joy, lovingly plucking the stuffed Winnie the Pooh from the box and giving it a hug.

“I love you, Dad” came a sweet, small voice from the bear.

Patton's eyes opened impossibly wider, welling with tears as he emitted a shriek of pure joy and squeezed the bear again.

“You're a good man, Patton-cake!”

A single tear slid down Patton's cheek, “I will love you forever,” he whispered, holding the bear loosely and reverently in his arms.

“My turn!” Roman said, digging into his box with almost as much enthusiasm as Patton.  His eyes shown with wonderment as he carefully lifted out the medieval torso armor from the box.  The steel was polished to a high shine and in the center section of the chest was a decorative gold lion.

“Oh, you received a cuirass. That should come in handy on your adventures.” Logan said, admiring the practicality of the gift.

“This is... the Most EPIC THING!” Roman proclaimed, “And it matches my outfit!”

Logan rolled his eyes as Patton helped Roman into his new armor.  Ignoring their struggle, Logan carefully lifted the envelope with his name on it and produced a letter opener, carefully slicing open the paper flap.  There was indeed, just a piece of paper inside, and neither Patton's nor Roman's gifts had proved dangerous, so Logan reached in and took out his gift.

It was a beautifully accurate and detailed star chart.  According to the information at the bottom (and his own understanding of astronomy), it showed the stars as they had looked from Thomas's home at the date and approximate time of Logan beating Princey in that rap battle. A slow, inexorable smile lit his face.

“This is... a most thoughtful, if not practical gift.  Who could be responsible?”

“Yes!  We must discover who is responsible for this incredible masterpiece,”  Roman announced, theatrically gesturing to the detailed lion adorning his chest.

“You guys don't already know?”

Roman and Logan looked at a grinning Patton quizzically.

“It was Virgil!  He's the only one who didn't get a gift and each of the gifts is something unique to us and our interests.”

Logan nodded, “He is the most likely culprit, and he's the one with the best motive.”

“What motive?” Roman looked between Logan and Patton, still confused.

“Gratitude.  He's saying thank you for bringing him back when Thomas needed him.”

There was a moment of silence while the three sides contemplated their gifts in this new light.

“We need to do something for him!”  Roman declared, rising from the floor and pulling the others with him.  “We're going to thank him as well!”

Virgil rolled out of bed around noon and shuffled to the shower.  There was some commotion in the commons below, but he ignored it.  If it was that important he would have been called down already. He'd been up until early that morning finishing their gifts; checking and rechecking the accuracy of the star chart, figuring out the right compliments for Patton's bear to say, and the metal work on Princey's cuirass had been excruciatingly detailed, taking him hours to perfect.

Virgil showered, brushed his teeth, did his makeup, and got dressed, finished with the all-important hoodie, before heading downstairs. If they wanted to scold him for leaving Thomas so unprotected, he was as ready as he could be, and if they chose to ignore him, he was prepared for that too.

Walking down the stairs with a yawn, he wasn't prepared for the comfortable dimness of the room. Normally the lights were almost aggressively bright, but someone had closed the window shades, turned off the overhead light, and put light fabric covers over a couple of lamps that were on. It made the room, cozy. 

The kitchen was also in a cozy state of dim lighting, and standing by the counter were Logan, Roman, and Patton.  Virgil figured it was probably an intervention of some kind. At least they hadn't been stupid enough to come into his room this time.  Roman pulling out his chair at the table had to be a power play of some kind. Fine, he'd play along.  Logan handing him his coffee fixed to his personal preference (lots of milk, a little sugar) was probably to ensure he was awake and responsive during this.  Patton placing a plate of delicious looking breakfast food in front of him... well, it's Patton.  Being impossibly kind and feeding his 'kiddos' were what he did best.

Logan sat to his right, Patton on his left, and Princey sat across from him at the table.  

“Hey, Verge, did you sleep okay?” Patton asked.

“Yeah, fine.” He wasn't about to tell them how late he'd stayed up working on their gifts.

“Glad to hear it, kiddo! Do you have any plans today?”  

It was a good thing he didn't because it seems like they would've been interrupted anyway.

“No.  I was just gonna listen to my music.”

“Well, we were thinking of taking a relaxing day too. Why don't you join us for a movie?” Roman asked, somehow hopeful and apprehensive.

“Uh, sure,” Virgil responded, looking around at everyone else in confusion. If they wanted to talk to him, a movie wasn't really the best way.  Oh crap, he'd said yes. Now he was going to have to listen to them arguing over which movie to watch and then sit through whichever movie they chose.

“Great!” Virgil turned to stare at Logan who had just exclaimed so loudly, “Uh, I mean, that is acceptable.”

Virgil finished his, well, not breakfast, more like lunch, and, surprisingly, Logan grabbed the dishes and offered to watch them while they set up the movie.  The anxious side braced himself for the bickering he expected to follow, but instead, Princey went to the TV and turned it on, grabbing a DVD case on the way.  Patton held Virgil's arm and pulled him to sit next to him on the couch.

“I got the nicest gift today! Someone, they didn't leave their name, gave me a Winnie the Pooh bear!  And he compliments me when I give him a hug!”  Patton picked up the bear from its seat on the back of the couch and held him out to Virgil. “Isn't he the best thing!”

Virgil smiled one of his tiny, closed mouth one-side-lifting-slightly smiles. He was glad Patton liked it, and he'd be relieved that the other sides hadn't figured out the gifts were from him, if not for the mischievous twinkle in Patton's eyes.

“Yeah Patton, that's... that's a great bear.”

Patton beamed and held the bear gently to his chest. He leaned over and rested his head on Virgil's shoulder.

“Is this okay kiddo?”

Virgil froze. Patton had been casually physical with Roman and Logan since just before Valentine's day but hadn't done this almost snuggling with him before.

“Sure... you can make yourself comfortable... if you want.”  He was pretty sure he was blushing through his makeup.

Patton scootched a little closer and rested his hand on Virgil's knee, sighing as he relaxed into Virgil's side. The feeling of the moral side relaxing against him made him relax a bit too.  Maybe interventions wouldn't be so bad if they included food and movies and cuddling Patton like this.

Roman finished with the tv and flopped onto the couch on Virgil's other side.

“You almost finished out there Sherlock?  It's movie time!”  the royal called to the kitchen.

“Done!” Logan came into the living room moments later, sitting on the other side of Roman.

A press of the remote and the Black Cauldron started to play. Verge looked over at Roman, but he was already engrossed in the movie.  He looked at Logan who was openly looking back at him quizzically as if to say, is this not to your liking?  Virgil shrugged the shoulder not occupied by Patton and started watching the movie.

While Taran met Gurgi in the forest on screen, Princey was squirming in his seat beside Virgil.  

“You okay, Princey?” Virgil asked, eying Roman with concern and curiosity.

“Just a tad uncomfortable. Can't seem to find a good position.” Roman replied, still shifting about.

“Then find a comfortable position and stop moving. You're being a distraction,” Logan hissed quietly.

Roman huffed quietly with a dramatic eye roll and flopped over, putting his head in Virgil's lap and swinging his legs across Logan's. Logan rested his arms on Princey's legs and continued watching, he had been slowly acclimating to this sort of physical contact.  Virgil froze until he felt Patton squeeze his knee and nuzzle his shoulder.

So that was their game.  This wasn't an elaborate intervention to tell him off for leaving (or, if it was, they were taking their sweet time).  They were making an effort to include him and make him feel comfortable with them. Virgil relaxed and began paying attention to the movie again as Hen Wen ran from the Horn King's dragons.

Logan got up to get drinks and make popcorn right after Taran, the princess, and the bard escaped the castle.  Virgil thought it a rather odd time to do so, since it was about the half-way point of the movie, but he was trying, in his own way.  What stumped the heck out of him was when Logan came back, placing popcorn and beverages on the coffee table, sat on the floor in front of Virgil, close to but not touching him.

Roman grumbled about Logan blocking his view and sat up again, this time putting his arm on the back of the couch around Virgil's shoulders. A light push from Patton had Virgil leaning into Roman, and Roman's arm draped over his shoulders instead.  Patton himself laid his head on Virgil's lap, his hand reaching over the edge of the couch where, Virgil presumed, he held Logan's hand.

No one moved to grab their drink or grab a handful of popcorn.

As the credits began to roll, Patton sat up and stretched, Logan reached for the remote, and Roman moved his arm. Virgil was a bit disappointed. He had really enjoyed the physical closeness and feeling so, well, included with everyone. He moved away from Roman a bit as Logan got up to take out the DVD.  Patton stood up and stretched with an adorable yawn.  Roman got up and offered a hand to Virgil, who took it, not wanting this physical intimacy to end just yet.

“Okay, I need a break after that one,” Patton said.

Virgil nodded, yeah, he got the message, party over.

“How about 15 minutes so I change into my cat onesie and we can all stretch and maybe use the bathroom before the next movie?”

Virgil stared at Patton.  He, wanted to keep doing this?  What about the others? Logan had already put away Black Cauldron and was opening The Nightmare Before Christmas DVD box.  Roman was just smiling at him, still holding his hand even though they'd both been standing for a while now.  Virgil felt another blush spread on his cheeks and creep down his neck to his chest.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Virgil said, a bit hesitantly but genuinely.

“Epic! I'm changing into my pajamas then.” Roman squeezed his hand before releasing it and heading to his room to change.

“Acceptable parameters, though I have no intentions of changing,” Logan said from in front of the tv.

“Fine, more onesie for me!”  Patton sank out to go change, with Roman calling after him, “That's not how it works!”

Virgil ducked his head to hide a grin, not that anyone was looking anyway. As he began climbing the stairs, Logan cleared his throat.

“That was a very thoughtful gift I received this morning.  I hope the bestower knows that I value it greatly.”

Yeah, they totally knew he was responsible for their gifts, and instead of calling him out on it and making him uncomfortable, they'd chosen to acknowledge it indirectly and still show him that they care. Virgil's chest swelled and he felt warm all over.

“I'm sure they do.” He said and continued up the stairs to his room to change.

Several hours later found the four of them on the couch fast asleep in various states of undress, cuddled up to each other as the credits from Fantasia played.  Logan was in sleep pants and a softer button down, necktie slightly askew and glasses on the coffee table.  He was curled around a sleeping Patton in his cat onesie, looking peaceful with a tiny smile on his lips and a Pooh bear in his arms. Virgil was in a different tee shirt and sleep pants, forgoing the hoodie just this once. He was holding onto and held tight by Roman who wore only sleep pants, a blanket from the back of the couch draped over them both.   It was a peaceful night's rest for all.

Additional Author’s Note: I literally watched The Black Cauldron for the first time ever today because of this fic.  Now that I have finally finished, I’m going to watch Winnie The Pooh: Boo to You Too, my favorite Halloween movie.

[mcmansionhell]

McMansion Hell Does Arch Theory Part 2: The Ancients vs The Moderns

Howdy folks! Today in architectural theory we’re going to get to one of the first examples of serious beef between two guys who wore the 17th Century equivalents of coke-bottle glasses and black turtlenecks. (I’m gonna guess it was powdered wigs.)

The beef, later canonized in theory as the “Ancients vs the Moderns” occurred between two dead French dudes: Nicolas-Francois Blondel and Claude Perrault. 

Way less steamy than Team Edward vs Team Jacob, but we’ll work with it. 

Player 1: Blondel

Francois Blondel (b. c.1618, d.1686) was a military leader, engineer, mathematician, diplomat and architect. He was appointed by Louis XIV to become the first director of the newly formed Royal Academy of Architecture in Paris. His main task as director was to design the school’s curriculum and pen a textbook. 

The incredibly French frontispiece of the of said textbook (Blondel’s Cours d’Architecture, c.1674) Public Domain. 

Architectural thought at the time revolved around the theory of Vitruvius as far as the role of the architect and further established the three Vitruvian qualities (firmness, commodity, and delight) as the main criteria for great architecture. However, theorists, especially Blondel, turned to Renaissance concepts of beauty as being something universal and absolute, and the idea (after Alberti) of “harmonic proportions.”

An academic at heart and a traditionalist to a fault, Blondel believed in the absolute perfection of the work of the Ancients, as exemplified by the temples of the Greeks and Romans. He was, you know, that guy.

Player 2: Perrault

Claude Perrault (b.1613, d.1688), was a guy who, for most of his life, was not the type to start architecture slap fights. He spent the majority of his career working as a surgeon and anatomist - not as an architect. 

Perrault got roped into architecture through Jean-Baptiste Colbert, Louis XIV’s Minister of Finance and Superintendent of Building, whose secretary (Charles Perrault, famous for being the father of the fairy tale) was Claude Perrault’s younger, more handsome brother. 

In 1666, Colbert, acting on behalf of the king, asked Perrault to do a new French translation of Vitruvius for use as one of the textbooks for the newly formed Royal Academy of Architecture. In 1667, Perrault was appointed (by Colbert) to a three-person committee responsible for preparing a different design for the East Wing of the Louvre, which had been suspended after the design prepared by the Italian architect Bernini got dumped for not being French enough. 

When a building’s Wikipedia page looks something like this, you know some serious sh*t went down. 

Perrault’s concept for the East Wing was totally different than the architectural canon of the time: 

Drawing from Blondel’s (a different one) Architecture françoise, 1756. Public Domain. 

Looks like just another old building, right? *leans into mic* Wrong.

Perrault’s design choices were unprecedented in French classical architecture, and even though his design (he took credit for the work of his colleagues almost immediately) was one of sophistication and visual lightness, the use of unusually thin visual proportions was basically taboo af. 

And where did Perrault think it was a great idea to explain his design choices? In the gosh dang footnotes of his 1673 translation of Vitruvius, which was to be used by the kiddos at Blondel’s school. 

Perrault’s Footnotes

This smug asshole opened up his defense with what seems to be two sentences formulated specifically to piss off Blondel the most:

Gothic architecture, which left behind little primary source documents (dark ages and all that), was totally refuted by the French academy as being ugly, overindulgent and grotesque. 

(Photo taken by me!)

Perrault went on to justify his decision by appealing to Vitruvius’ description of the temple of Dionysus by the Greek architect Hermogenes, who devised for it a flexible system of proportions using the diameter of a column as a unit of measurement. Basically, argued Perrault, proportions were relative, and not absolute. 

Perrault added (throwing some serious shade) that because the Ancients didn’t harp on Hermogenes for doing something different from the then-canon of architecture, Perrault himself shouldn’t be harped on for the same reason. (Also because his cool new engineer stuff expanded the structural capabilities of architecture but whatevs.) 

Blondel’s Response

Blondel’s response to Perrault’s argument in his 1683 Cours d’Architecture textbook (that’s right: all this fighting was done in footnotes and textbooks instead of face to face like normal people) was:

Which was basically 17th century academic speak for:

(yes this is still in my drafts)

Perrault’s Response to Blondel’s Response

Perrault in the &#&@ing footnotes of the second edition (1684) of his translation of Vitruvius, offered these counterarguments to Blondel’s criticism:

It is FAKE NEWS that we’re not “allowed” to deviate from what the Ancients did and that by doing so we’d only invite “””””disaster”””” also btw the Ancients were new in their time. (checkmate atheists traditionalists)

It’s dumber to close the door on good invention than it is to open it “to those who are so ridiculous that they will destroy themselves.”

If the Ancients were perfect and architecture is perfect, are all those other arts and sciences that have improved upon the past totally wrong???

Just bc the goths did some tacky crap, they still created spaces that were open and full of light and we should’t hate them for it. 

Bummer: Perrault got the last laugh because Blondel died. (RIP)

However, Perrault wasn’t done messing with architectural norms. In 1683, he published a super important treatise by the extremely catchy name of “Ordonnance for the Five Kinds of Columns after the Method of the Ancients”

Perrault’s Last Stand

Perrault, in his treatise upended two major beliefs in architecture: the myth of so-called harmonic ratios, and the idea of absolute proportions. 

Perrault, who made a career as a surgeon and studied anatomy, refuted immediately the idea that visual ratios worked the same way as musical harmony (an idea that goes back to Plato) by citing the obvious fact that the eye and the ear don’t work in the same damn way. 

Long before the beginning of neuroscience, (and tbh he was kind of pulling this out of his ass) Perrault claimed that we don’t process visual stimuli in the same way we process auditory stimuli, in that visual stimuli plays a much larger role in how we perceive and interpret the world, adding that responses to visual dissonance are much less visceral than responses to aural dissonance. 

More importantly, Perrault claimed that there were two types of beauty: positive and arbitrary.

Positive beauty consisted of things pretty much everyone could agree on: e.g. symmetry; the “magnificence” of a building, and the quality of its construction and materials. 

Arbitrary beauty introduced the idea that beauty is relative to one’s cultural customs, as well as to the fashion of the times, and the weird inner-workings of people’s taste. Perrault claimed that the idea of “correct” architectural proportions is largely influenced by one’s customs, and therefore falls within the category of arbitrary beauty. 

Well, that does it for this week’s bit o’ theory. Stay tuned for next week’s installment, as well as Wednesday’s continued trek through the 50 States of McMansion Hell, with a guaranteed awful house from Illinois. 

If you like this post, and want to see more like it, consider supporting me on Patreon! Not into small donations and sick bonus content? Check out the McMansion Hell Store - 30% goes to charity.

WAIT

I want to share with y’all this hysterical McMansion interpretation of the Vitruvian triangle from last week’s post created and sent to me by my new bff David Larsen:

Have a good week everyone! 

[alittlebitoflizi-blog]

Worth The Hype? RCMA No-Colour Powder

Firstly, Hiya, it's me again. I know it's been a while but I'm a part timing bitch who gets distracted easily. I'm back now, for real this time...maybe.

I've been going through one of those "what am I doing with my life" stages again. Im currently lying in bed in the dark, tissues stuffed up each nostril, sucking on a soother and feeling sorry for myself. I don't wanna be dramatic but I think I could actually be dying. I even got up, ready, had an argument with my lad about how "I'm not that ill"and "i'll be fine its only a 10 hour shift!" before I realised (half way to work might I add) that I actually am that ill and I need to stop being so stubborn and give myself some time to rest and recover. Does anyone else feel major guilt when they have to ring in sick to work?

So here we are again, I'm lying here thinking that if I worked from home I could be as ill as I wanted and still get the job done. I've always known I want to work for myself I just don't know what it'd be doing. When I lived with my parents my dad used to work from home, sometimes in his pyjamas, the crocs and socks would make an appearance more often than not. There was never a "business attire" dress code or any rules about eating at the desk or how much personal time he was allowed to take. You do you boo. THAT is the type of job I want. You wanna take 10 to make yourself a hot chocolate with squirty cream and marshmallows? You do that hun! Mother nature come to visit? You get your jimjams on, hot water bottle out, bit of Jezza on the telly and get comfy. I don't think that any work would actually get done, but it would be lovely wouldn't it.

So here's where the blog begins again. I've decided i'm gonna be the Nikkie Tutorials, Manny MUA or Sophdoesnails of Wordpress. I'm gonna be so famous and write some absolutely banging content that I don't need to go to work because people are just gonna pay be for being amazing. You read that here first, that's gonna happen. So yeah. Here it goes again.

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I've decided I'm going to start a new feature, a "Worth The Hype?" type thing where I'll basically just review some of the new & most sought after beauty products and let you know whether they're actually worth splashing the cash on or if they're just hyped up shite that influencers get paid to push on their naive followers (i.e. me) That's right, I'm gonna spend my hard earned money so you don't have to. I deserve more credit really.

My first blog in this series will be about the RCMA No-Color Powder because if you're a basic bitch like me then I'm sure you know theres a whole Laura Mercier vs RCMA rivalry over which powder is better. Similarly, if you know me you'll know I have no self control when it comes to makeup so obviously I just had to buy both. Maybe I'll do a comparison blog when I've had the chance to try them both properly but to be honest, I'm just gonna put it out there that personally I think all powders are pretty much the same and do the same thing. All the MUA's out there are probably pulling their sleeves up going all keyboard warrior ready to teach me a thing or two after reading those words. Sorry not sorry x

The RCMA No-Color Powder is a loose setting powder, famously used on the world of Youtube for 'baking'. If you don't know what baking is (if you've been living under a rock for the past few years) it's basically throwing on a load of powder on your face, usually on the areas you want to brighten such as the under eye area and on the lower cheek to create a more defined contour. You pack the powder on and go about your day for the next 10 or so minutes and then dust the excess powder off your face. The term 'baking' is used because the heat from your face is supposed to set the foundation/concealer in place. I don't know the science behind this or whether or not it actually works but they do it on Ru Paul and that's good enough for me.

I bought the powder on Beauty Bay for £13 and then obviously I had to buy something else because it's free delivery on purchases over £15 and it just makes sense really... Well, that's my excuse anyway and I'm sticking with it. For anyone interested I bought the Zoeva 144 as well that P.Louise buzzes off and I actually LOVE it but that story is for another day. I usually always buy my beauty products from Beauty Bay because the delivery tends to be free and pretty fast but I've noticed some goodies on Cult Beauty that I've got my eye on so I might have to transfer my loyalties over to them.

Beauty Bay describes the powder as "a lightweight, finely milled powder ideal for all skin tones." They had me at all skin tones tbf. Not that I hadn't already done all my research and watched 35854 Youtube videos to confirm that this powder would work for my colour and skin type. The product comes in a decent sized plastic tub containing 85g of powder. For those of you that don't know you, I must admit you do get a fair amount of product but I would bloody hope so for 13 quid!

The lid of the product lifts and the product is poured out through a few holes, a bit like a big pepper shaker. Fat life, soz. I think this is a bit annoying because it means you have to pour the product out onto a surface in order to use it, covering yourself, your surface and everything bloody else in white - sorry, No-Colour powder.

At first I noticed the powder looks exactly like talcum powder and upon reading the ingredients I noticed the product contains talc & silica. I did feel like RCMA had fully had my pants down and ripped me off for £13, de potting some bloody Johnsons baby powder and charging 10 times the going rate. I don't know the first thing about ingredients but those used to make the RCMA powder are verrrrry similar to those used to make Johnsons baby powder. Now I know they're not the same product, otherwise Youtube would be going crazy, John Kuchian would be shook creating "EXPOSED: RCMA TALC SCANDAL" videos and throwing shade left right and centre.

Ignore the make up all over the talc bottle, I'm a massive tramp we all know.

To compare I poured out some baby powder and some of the RCMA, the two are noticeably different in texture and appearance. The RCMA is a more finely milled, soft to the touch powder (if that makes sense) that blends out to nothing when buffed into the back of my hand whereas the baby powder has a chalky texture and leaves a white hue in colour when buffed. If you have a light skin tone and were only planning to use powder as a light dusting to set all over the face then the baby powder would probably  work just as well. I would imagine that the "No-Colour" feature of RCMA would be more inclusive to a wider variety of skin tones.

There are noticeable differences between baby powder and RCMA so if you're looking to save a few quid, be prepared to see a different finished result. In the words of my mother, you buy cheap you buy twice.

Even so, I use baby powder everyday to set my eyelids and even after adding RCMA and Laura Mercier to my collection, neither products would replace the trust cheaper alternative. Admittedly, I won't use baby powder to set the rest of my face, but it works well on my hooded eyes. It doesn't crease, doesn't move any product around and isn't heavy on the eyes. For £1 a pop in Asda you can't complain.

I naturally have really dark circles and I crease like crrrraaazzzy above and below my eyes so it is essential for me to pile on the makeup and set these areas, if I'm feeling extra then i'll bake as well to brighten my under eye but it's not necessary for an everyday look I don't think. If you've got a decent coverage concealer then that's all you need really.

For my 'out-out' makeup looks I would usually use a full coverage concealer like Nars or Kat Von D (because my pale ass can't use much else) but recently I've been using one of the new Makeup Revolution Shape Tape dupe concealers in shade C1 (the palest shade, obviously.) Usually I'd use a cheap pressed setting powder such as Collection or Rimmell and a dry beauty blender and use light pressure to apply a layer of powder to set the concealer in place to ensure that I don't crease throughout the night. I find using powder just makes your face feel less greasy and if someone was to hug you you don't have to worry about getting makeup on their clothes (guilty of this, sorry Tez x)

To test the RCMA powder I began my usual makeup routine, pretending I know what I'm doing and caking my face like a pro. Time to bake... here goes nothing. At first I tried my usual technique of applying the powder with a dry beauty blender underneath the eye, pressing the blender into the loose powder poured out all over the surface in front. From what I've seen from the vast array of videos i've watched about "how to bake" and "the best way to bake" you're supposed to generously apply the powder in the desired areas in a thick layer. The beauty blender technique that I usually swear by just doesn't seem to work. Because i have no patience I quickly give up and pick up a makeup brush and pack on the powder under my eye and below my contour. I was looking in the mirror the same way you look at yourself when you're sat in the hairdressers chair thinking wow have I always been this ugly.

Guuuurl I wish I looked this good pre and post baked. I followed this tutorial to learn where and how to bake my face.

I wait a while until I've had enough of waiting around because I'm inpatient AF and use a clean brush to dust off the excess powder. Although the powder is called No-Colour, there is a slight white hue on my skin in these areas. It's not that bad because i'm pale anyway but anybody with a darker complexion might find the powder washes the face out, leaving a skeletal, OTT brightened look.

Fast forward to the next day, hungover Lizi is on deaths door and wakes up to the nightmare of the Snapchat story of the night before. Do my eyes deceive me or do I see FLASHBACK???? In fact, majjjjjjor flashback. Admittedly, I am that pale that the unknowing eye probably wouldn't notice too much, but to me my under eye area was looking verrrrry bright. Some people will probably like this, giving them a more awake and contoured face structure. I wouldn't mind but the bloody tub itself specifically states "It will set your make up with a flawless finish that won't cause flashback." I CALL BULLSHIT.

The flashback is real

Whilst we're on the negatives, I must admit, the powder is verrrrry drying. My under eye area felt very tight after baking. This can be ideal as it ultimately means the concealer underneath is set and won't crease or budge which is perfect for a night out, but it also felt like if I was to blink my skin was going to crack. After a while (and a few drinks) I didn't notice how dry my skin felt and kept looking in the mirror at my new brightened look thinking slaaaay gurrrl! I have since used this technique again before a 10 hour shift in work and the dryness was a lot more noticeable. My eyes didn't feel sunk in but I could definitely feel them if that makes any sense. It probably doesn't but I know what I mean.

Dem bright under eyes tho

The product definitely does what it says on the tin. No creases & leaves a flawless base for the rest of my makeup. Would I use the RCMA No-Colour Powder on a daily basis? Probably not, no. In fact, thats' a lie. I would be partial to a light dusting across my T-zone and chin when I'm working a long shift as these problem areas can become a bit oily after a while. The powder is definitely ideal for oily areas because it is super drying but this is also the products down fall on other areas of the face where it can be too drying.

If you're umming and arring about this product I would say get yourself on Youtube, type in RCMA No-Colour powder on ... (dry/oily/combo/whatever bloody else) skin and watch people with the same skin type as you review the product. If you've got dry skin like myself that can be a little bit oily on occasion then i'm your girl, take my advice, if not who knows. For the sake of £13 you'd probably still use it even if it didn't work the best anyway. Waste not want not.

Packaging: 8/10

Easy to store but would prefer a lid that could be taken off to pour some of the product into maybe?

Product 7/10

Does what it says on the tin but is a little bit too drying for my skin.

Overall 8/10

Would recommend.

Anyway

Bye loves x