#JUST POSEIDON'S BEATEN BODY IN THE END | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jarienn972 · 4 years ago

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La Sirena

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020

Posting day is here at last! I have been looking forward to sharing this new @cssns tale with everyone. The past 2 events have allowed me to experiment and stretch my creativity out of my comfort zone, inspiring me to create the world for this story.

This is the story of a disillusioned and lonely siren who chooses to defy her nature and rescue the sole survivor of a shipwreck, providing him shelter while he recovers. The two come from very different worlds but they find a kinship through`their similar failed expectations. My interpretation of the Greek mythology here has not been taken literally. In this story, sirens are shape-shifting sea creatures. Also, please note that the version of Killian written here is the young Lieutenant Jones so he does not have a hook. I know that there are some readers out there who prefer him to have the hook in CS fics so I wanted to make that clear if it is an issue for anyone.

I have to thanks @kmomof4 for being an amazing beta and I also want to thank @courtorderedcake for the absolutely stunning watercolor artwork she created for this story! (Edited to add artwork)

If all goes as planned, I’m hoping to update weekly. I’ll also be posting updates on AO3 and FF.net.

And here he go!

The Siren

For as far back as she could remember, this craggy spit of sand at the southernmost end of a narrow isthmus had been hers and hers alone. She had a nearly unobstructed view of the rock strewn bay as it blended into the deep blue sea at the horizon. Each dawn, she watched the sun rise to the east, basking in its glow until it sank beneath the waves at sunset, rarely encountering others of her kind - which was fine with her.

She'd separated herself from them decades ago, no longer content with doing Poseidon's bidding. She'd tired of using her song as a weapon, enchanting unsuspecting sailors until they leapt to their watery deaths as their ships were crushed against the boulders, their spoils lost to the depths. She'd long been told that it was merely what she'd been created to do, her beautiful voice simply a tool to serve the god of the sea. Her duty to Poseidon to rid the seas of the scourge of humanity.

Some time ago, she'd grown weary of her meager existence, gradually distancing herself from the pack. Her solitude had been her own choice, the years of loneliness easing the conscience that she wasn't supposed to have. These turquoise waters surrounding her cove provided all she needed - all except the one thing her heart desired most.

This day had begun like so many before it, low grayish clouds hugging the glassy surface of the bay. With scarcely a breeze, she knew these clouds would linger until the early morning sun rose high enough into the sky for its rays to dissipate them.

The water calm and clear, she'd decided to take a sunrise swim, wading into the gentle surf until she was deep enough for her land legs to transform into her muscular tail. The metamorphosis began at her waist, shimmering scales replacing her ivory skin as she dove beneath the surface with a flick of her fins. She was grateful for the unique physiology of her species which allowed her to breathe as freely in the depths of the sea as she could on land as it had allowed her the freedom to explore the hidden caves and reefs below the land she called home. She'd become familiar with every detail. Every pebble. Every blade of kelp. Every colorful fish that lived here amongst the coral. These were her friends, her confidants. Today, however, she sensed something out of place.

As she skimmed above the reef, her gaze was drawn upward to the streams of light that filtered through the ocean's surface, discovering a sight that didn't belong - a dark void blocking the light. The anomaly seemed too large to be any sea life from this bay and the shape unlike any ocean creature she'd seen - oddly rectangular but with two shorter and narrower protrusions sticking out from one side. It was also remaining strangely close to the surface… Whatever might this mysterious thing be?

Curious, she gave her tail fin a powerful kick to propel herself upward, poking her head above the waves a safe distance from the floating object. It may have been eons since she'd last used her voice to scuttle a ship into its grave but she could still recognize the long wooden planks as having belonged to such a vessel. Such wreckage was commonplace along these shores but what drew her attention was the human engaged in a desperate struggle to retain his grip on those still-buoyant planks.

She'd witnessed many a man plunge willingly into the depths under the hypnotic spell of the siren song but never had she seen one this close - and never had she seen one fighting to stay alive! She was transfixed by the human's struggle. Such an unusual sight - the flailing and raw instinct to save itself. She found it fascinating to watch - at least until the human's eyes met hers.

In that fraction of a second, she saw the fear in his stare transform into a glimpse of hope and now she was the one who was terrified. No human had ever seen her before, her nature screaming at her to drown this human and put him out of his misery. The problem was, her intuition was telling her to do the opposite.

It was becoming obvious that the man's strength was failing. There was no telling how long he'd been in the water but as his eyes fell closed and his grip went slack, she sprang into motion. She twisted and twirled her body towards the mysterious human, her fins and tail separating into six lithe tentacles, one of which encircled his midsection, raising his torso above the surf as she maneuvered them both to the shore.

She lowered him gently onto the white sand then drew her tentacle back into the sea as she regained her humanlike legs. Splashing her way out of the shallows, she made her way up the beach and dropped to her knees beside him although she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Tentatively, she extended a hand to touch the strange creature, oddly fearful that it might surge to life and bite her fingers off. When her fingertips at last made contact with the human's arm, they brushed against the tattered remnants of the cloth garments the man wore. He made no movement at her touch, boosting her confidence to proceed.

The majority of her kind were female and although there were a few exceptions, she'd rarely had the opportunity to be in close proximity of a male. This one lacked the long flowing locks of the males of her species, sporting dark hair cropped close to his scalp. She traced her fingers along his hairline and down across the exposed side of his face, bristling at the prickly whiskers that lined his jaw. Save for Poseidon himself, facial hair was unheard of, as was body hair. This human possessed a broad patch of wiry, dark hair across the exposed sections of his torso and a similar, though lighter coating covered other sections of visible skin on the man's arms and legs.

There was little doubt that he was the strangest creature she'd ever laid eyes upon.

But there was so much more that she could also see. The man was obviously injured. A trickle of crimson spilled over his forehead from what appeared to be a deep laceration along his hairline and she noticed dark purplish splotches dotting his pallid skin, the most prominent extending from his brow to the hollow of his cheek. The bruises showed only traces of yellowing, indicating that they were recent. His wrists were ringed with angry abrasions and she held no doubts that invisible wounds lay unseen. Whatever had this man suffered?

She hopped backwards as the human lurched awake, curling onto his side while choking and spewing seawater and bile. She'd not intended to flinch, but his unexpected movement startled her. She remained perched just beyond his reach as his fit settled and he dropped listlessly back to the sand, all the while staring at her with his haunting, intense blue eyes. He uttered but a single word before fading back into unconsciousness.

"Angel."

The Sailor

He'd been a bloody, damned fool to allow himself to be captured. The mission plans had been perfect. Liam had drawn them up himself and yet they'd still failed. Most of his landing expedition had been lost in the battle and the rest who'd survived had been captured along with him. All because His Majesty, King George, had insisted that they scout and survey a previously uncharted island that he'd now coined Neverland. The island may have been uncharted but it had been far from undiscovered as his team had found it teeming with bloodthirsty pirates - pirates who had been using the land's numerous craggy coves to stash their treasures.

On their second day after landing the skiff on the deceptively calm shore, they'd run afoul of a band of rapscallions, ill-prepared for the skirmish that followed. That had been his fault. He should have done more reconnaissance. He should never have blindly trusted the vague map and initial scouting report provided, even if they had come with his brother's blessing. As their lieutenant, it was his mission. His to lead and his alone to fail, not that any of it mattered right now…

He believed it to have been a week since he'd been taken prisoner, but in truth, he'd lost track of time. He'd spent most of his captivity bound, beaten and locked away in a foul smelling hole adjacent to the ship's cargo hold. He'd not laid eyes on his remaining crew in days, wondering whether they were in a similar predicament, were they even still alive. His captors had kept him isolated, perhaps because he was an officer in His Majesty's Royal Navy. He might fetch a ransom, should the king show favor upon him. If not, he feared he'd be executed without a second thought.

As each day passed, he was slowly losing hope that he might be rescued. Surely Liam would have learned by now that the expedition team had not returned to the rendezvous point. Would they have dispatched a search team? Did anyone even know he'd been taken prisoner? His dreams of one day captaining a ship himself taunted him as he wallowed here in this dank prison.

But as he did each day, he clenched his jaw and swallowed back the pain as he struggled to wriggle free of the ropes binding his wrists behind his back. His skin might be raw and the hemp bindings soaked with his blood, but he was Killian Jones and he'd be damned if he didn't at least attempt an escape.

The crew of this vessel had clearly been ordered to keep him alive, as evidenced by the swill they brought him as sustenance. The mangy pirates would show up periodically with a bowl of slop, untying his hands only long enough to gag it down. They cackled as he drank it, the contents never identifiable but he didn't dare think about that. He focused solely on the sustaining water it contained, avoiding thoughts of contracting dysentery or whatever other foul disease might be present.

On this day, he'd barely a minute to swallow their putrid offerings before the bowl was snatched away and his arms were yanked behind his back once again. He'd expected them to bind his wrists tighter as they typically did yet for some reason, the ropes didn't feel quite as restrictive. He wasn't sure what may have transpired, whether his captors may have been distracted, but he was certain that he'd not heard them secure the hatch either.

If he could find a way to get free… Find a sword and perchance - a way off of this miserable vessel… There were so many ifs but he had little to lose. At least were he to die fighting, he'd die with honor.

He'd not expected the sudden lurch that came next, his aching body slammed into the chamber wall as the ship's forward motion abruptly ceased. A boom reminiscent of a loud thunder crack echoed through the hull followed by the gushing of water into the void.

They'd struck something.

Was this what had distracted the pirates? Had they run aground on a sandbar or veered into the shallows in error? Oddly, he heard no voices resounding on the decks above. No orders shouted. No fearful pleas for aid. All his ears could hear was the creaking of failing wood and the pounding of his own heart.

It was life or death now for certain. This ship was sinking; he could feel the list to port and there was absolutely no way he was going to be dragged down to Davy Jones' locker on this heap. He felt along the cell walls for anything he might use to free his hands - a protruding nail or even a splintering board would help. As luck would have it, he chanced upon a bent nail which provided just enough leverage to hold the rope taut while he wriggled and contorted his hands until he could pull them free.

He shook his arms out of the bindings, grimacing as his muscles protested but he couldn't spare a moment to dwell on aching bones. While it hadn't reached the cargo hold yet, it was only a matter of time before it filled with seawater so his first priority was to get to the upper deck. He leaned his hip into the hatch, whispering a silent prayer that he'd been correct and it hadn't been fully secured.

The hatch fortuitously swung open as another violent tremor shook the ship, knocking him off of his bare feet. He was certain that the hull was fully breached as he crawled on hands and knees through the tight confines of the cargo hold in search of the spiraling steps that would lead up to the crew deck. He'd remembered to count his paces when they'd led him blindfolded to the tiny chamber so even in the darkness of the hold, he knew they must be around here somewhere.

Killian scrambled to his feet as his hand found the staircase and he scurried upward to the seemingly vacant crew deck. It was strange not to encounter another soul as he ascended through the open hatch. It was eerily quiet but nevertheless, he pressed on toward the midship staircase that would open onto the main deck. At least this deck had lanterns to illuminate his way as he dodged empty hammocks and hurried past the unoccupied bunks to get topside.

The late afternoon sun assaulted his vision as he emerged onto the abandoned deck. There wasn't a single man visible as his eyes swept his surroundings. He spied no one manning the riggings, no one in the crow's nest and most disturbing - no one at the helm. So these cowardly pirates had all abandoned ship, including their captain? So much for the captain going down with his ship…

He crossed the deck and vaulted up the steps to the bow, trying to get his bearings and determine the ship's position. He was only vaguely familiar with this expanse of the sea but there seemed to be a landmass on the horizon off of the starboard side. It was likely where the pirates had set off for although he saw no dinghies in the water. Something didn't seem to add up here.

From the bow, he was able to get a glance of the rocky outcrop they'd struck. It extended well above the surface and in broad daylight, should have been quite visible to the navigator. Experienced sailors would have known to steer away. Everything about this situation was confounding his brain but he had to concern himself with escaping this ship.

The ship shuddered beneath him as it began to slide free of the rocks. He slipped, bare feet unable to find purchase on the slick teak planks as he fell, driven into the side rail as the vessel leaned more to port. He clung to the still-sturdy posts separating him from the sea as his mind went into overdrive. Even if the pirates had left a skiff behind, he doubted he could launch it himself. And then there would be the problem of encountering these deviants again should he reach land but it seemed preferable at this moment to take his chances with the pirates rather than ride this sinking ship into the depths.

He needed to locate something that would float, not daring to attempt swimming that far in his weakened state. Maybe there was an empty barrel? A hatch he could pry loose? And he'd need a way to debark… Where would they keep their rope ladder?

He forced himself back upright using the railing for support. On Liam's ship, the rope ladder was dispatched from the aft deck and as this ship was of similar design to the Royal Navy schooners, he knew he was on the wrong end of the ship - and his good fortune had run out.

Too much water had now entered the ship's hull and she was beginning to break apart. The weight of the water tore the ship free of the boulder that had ripped through the hull and as it slipped deeper into the waves, a crack split the deck apart. Killian grasped wildly to the closest rigging lines he could find as the stern broke loose. The time for plans was gone.

He swung out of control in the tangle of ropes and pulleys, teetering precariously above the deep blue ocean. Damnit, Jones - what the hell have you gotten yourself into? He'd trained for dangers like this - for how to survive a sinking ship… He'd just never figured he'd be without a crew…

And out of nowhere, his chances of survival took a turn for the worst. A steel pulley swinging in tandem with him smacked into his forehead and he lost his grip on the rope. Stunned from the blow, he couldn't coordinate his limbs to reach for anything that would stop his fall, splashing awkwardly into the sea.

That sudden impact jolted him back to consciousness as sheer instinct took over. He was a strong swimmer under normal circumstances, but this certainly was not and to make matters more complicated, the sun would soon set. He could tread water in the dark all night…

There! his weary brain called out to him. There's a board… It will serve as a raft. Get yourself to it! His gaze caught sight of the planks floating a short distance from him. Hampered by the sting of salt water in his wounds, angry muscles that had been abused for too long and a steady stream of blood pouring from the fresh cut above his brow, the swim was arduous. He was near ready to faint by the time he reached the panel of three boards still somehow holding together. He used every remaining bit of his strength to drag himself atop it and collapsed.

Killian was thankful for calm seas as he drifted through the night although less thankful that the current had carried him away from the land he'd hoped to reach. By the time the first golden rays of morning sun crested over the eastern horizon, he found himself enveloped amidst a thin layer of marine clouds. He could no longer see any traces of the ill-fated pirate ship nor any visible land masses.

He'd fought valiantly to remain alert throughout the evening, fearful of losing his perch on the narrow planks but fatigue and injury were taking their toll. He struggled to raise his head as he succumbed to the blissful call of unconsciousness. As a man of the sea, he'd always expected that his death would come at the mercy of the sea. Perhaps he hadn't thought it would come so soon…

I'm sorry, Liam… I've failed you yet again… was the last thought he remembered as he gave in to the blackness.

He wouldn't recall slipping from the planks or the momentary struggle to pull himself back atop of his makeshift raft. The next time his eyes opened, he was certain he'd crossed over into the afterlife. An expanse of azure sky loomed above him and he felt the security of land beneath his back. He wouldn't have expected the aches and pains of his life tragically cut short would have accompanied him into the next life, but he'd never died before…

Of course, this could be but a dream. Exhaustion still weighed heavily upon him so this could all be a mere hallucination of a dying man - more so when he saw her. Killian couldn't make out the details of her face but there she was, cutting a figure akin to a goddess with tresses like the sun tumbling over her porcelain shoulders and bared bosoms. Such beauty could only be…

The words formed in his head: Are you an… Only one would cross his lips - "Angel?"

#cssns #cssns20 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff\#cs au ff #siren emma #lieutenant jones #la sirena #edit to add art

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guardianofjunmyeon · 5 years ago

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Finding Atlantis (part 2)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: Here’s pt2 i have up to like...8 written but i’m gonna upload from here on out like weekly probably while i work to finish writing the rest of the story

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

You’ve known Byun Baekhyun for two years less than you've had your ship. You met him in Arae, a well known pirate city in the west, when you were 21 and he was 22. He was fairly well-known around the city. People knew him as a charming and witty pirate in training. He worked on different crews mainly as sailing master to whoever was willing to pay the most. If you needed information, he would most likely have it or know where to get it.

Junmyeon had gone off with Yixing to post “Help Wanted” posters in places around the city. You had snuck off for a drink in a bar. You were tired, and the three of you had been looking for more crewmen for days.

He’d slid up to your side with his best smile and a gleam in his eye that drew you into him. That and the eye patch he sported. He was possibly one of the most handsome men you had ever initially seen, with his white teeth, the sneaky look in his eye, and the earrings and jewelry adorning his body.

“You must be new around here,” he observed.

You downed the rest of your drink. He watched in silence. “Is it obvious?”

He motioned for the bartender and ordered two more of the drink you had been drinking. “Kind of. I usually know all the pretty people that frequent Arae.” The drinks were placed in front of you both. You took the one he nudged your way with a snort.

“That line work on everyone you hit on at a bar?”

He laughed around a sip of his drink. “I don’t know. Is it working with you?”

You paused in bringing the cup back to your lips to really get a look at the man next to you. He was handsome, sure. And yeah you guessed he was kind of charming with his bright smile and pretty fingers wrapped around his own drink. His hair looked soft, and the mole above his lip was kind of cute. But boy, did he have some big ass ears.

Fuck it, it had been a couple of weeks since you’d had sex. Who were you to turn down an offer like this? You didn’t even need to work for it. “Yeah I think it might be working,” you told him. His eye widened at your admission. “So, you got a place around here or what?”

He smiled fully again then, finished off his drink, stood up from his chair and held out a hand for you to take.

The moment you put your hand in his sealed your fates together.

He fucked you, against the hotel mirror, cracked in the middle when he slammed you too roughly against it. You fucked him, in the dirty motel shower when he had gone to clean himself off and you left painful bites along his wet skin and pushed him under the spray of the water and pulled another orgasm out of him with nothing but your hand and kisses hard enough to make his lip bleed. You fucked each other, one last time on the bed, arms pinned above your head as he marked your own skin with sucks and bites that stung for days after.

You lay on your back, chest heaving as he put on his boots. You had called it quits because you needed to leave soon. To find Junmyeon and Yixing. They wouldn’t be worried, but they would ask questions. Questions you didn’t have the energy to answer.

A click of metal on your wrist shocked you out of your fucked-out stupor.

“What the-” You yanked against the metal and heard it clang against the bed frame.

He stood up, straightened out his shirt and pushed back his hair, looked down at you in satisfaction. Covered in marks, cuffed to the bed, and naked as the day you were born. “Sorry, it’s nothing personal sweetheart. I had a good time, but…” he jingled the pouch of money that was in your discarded trousers on the ground.

You stared in disbelief. A bit impressed, but more pissed off. You couldn’t really be that upset since you’d let your own guard down. “If you’re going to rob me and ditch me chained to this bed, the least you can do is kiss me goodbye, you dick.” You sat up the best you could and pulled the sheet up to cover yourself with your free arm.

He held your money pouch out of reach as he leaned down to press a rough kiss against your lips. You bit his hard enough to draw blood. When he pulled away and brushed the blood off his bottom lip with a clipped laugh, you bared your teeth. “Cute.”

You licked the blood off your own lip and spat it on the sheet at your side. He tossed your money in the air and caught it with a smirk. “Thanks for the pouch, and the sex. You’re not bad, kid,” he said appreciatively. “Good luck getting out!” He wiggled his fingers and disappeared from the room with a bounce in his step. You nodded to yourself and laughed sourly at the situation you’d been left in.

“Bastard…” you muttered as you pulled your free hand back from under your sheet. The hand you’d snuck into his pocket with the pouch of money you pulled off him as you bit his lip. “Dumbass,” you said with a smile. The money he had on him is more than what you were carrying around, you could tell from its weight. If he was going to rob you, you could rob him right back. Fuck him and his handcuffs.

It took half an hour before someone came to help you out of your cuffs. That’s how you met Seulgi. She was a maid at the hotel, and came to clean when she found you bruising your own wrist trying to yank your arm free. She used a pin in her hair to uncuff you and you offered her a job on your ship on the spot. Maybe you could thank him for that at the very least.

Every encounter you've had with Baekhyun since then has ended with one of you bleeding, beaten, or abandoned in some location with no way home. You don’t think that you’re someone who really hates anyone. You understand people usually have their reasons for doing things, and there are times when people need to die for particularly horrid crimes.

It’s never personal for you.

But Byun Baekhyun? You loathe him. You cannot fucking stand that sorry excuse for a pirate and you’re glad to know he feels the same. The hatred you feel for him, oh it’s personal. Any pain you want to inflict on him, is entirely for your own pleasure.

He smiles, all teeth, at you from behind bars. “Long time no see. Glad to see you’re in good health.” He scans you from top to bottom. “You look much better than you did the last time we met, sweetheart.”

“That’s Captain to you,” you correct. He raises his hands in mock apology. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re just your average stowaways Captain. Nothing less, nothing more.” His response in relaxed, comes out too easily.

“Bullshit,” you bite out. “Give me a real reason why you’re aboard my ship or I’ll kill you and your little friend, right here.” He raises his eyebrows but his earlier smile melts into a smirk. “I’m waiting.”

He shrugs innocently. Fuck it. You pull out your gun and shoot it once right above his head without warning. He jumps and the prisoner in the other cell lets out a surprised yelp at the noise.

“Spill it,” you growl. Your ears ring from the sound of the gun firing in such a small space, but as much as it hurt you, it had to hurt him more.

“Fuck.” He winces and digs a finger into his ear. His expression finally turns serious when he brings his attention back to your face. He looks you dead in the eye. “I know you’ve got the Princess of Atlantis aboard this ship.”

It feels as though time stops. You try to keep your expression neutral, but he must find some kind of break in your facade because he brightens immediately. The excitement in his eye makes his smile look wild. “You do, don’t you?” he asks with barely concealed mirth.

You raise your gun between his eyes. “What do you want?” You can feel the panic rising in your veins. You close your eyes for a second and try to hold in your anger. “If you don’t give me a reason not to fucking kill you both right here in the next 5 seconds-”

“I know how to find Atlantis,” he starts. You open your eyes to properly judge the words coming from his mouth. “I know how to get the princess back home. She’s been lost for years, everyone knows that. I don’t know how long she’s been aboard your ship but I know that it’s been long enough that you’ve stopped actively looking for the city.” He sounds serious enough in his explanation.

But then again, he would say anything to save his own life.

“How do you know that I’ve been looking for ways to find Atlantis?” You and your crew gave up trying to find it almost 3 years ago. Every man and his mother has been looking for the Princess of Atlantis since news broke out of her going missing 20 years ago. You didn't think that anyone had caught on to your ship looking for the lost city itself and not its lost princess.

Baekhyun rolls his neck slowly, you cock your gun impatiently. “Hold on, hold on. Give me a second!” he exclaims. “Itchy trigger finger,” he mutters under his breath. He clears his throat and settles back into seriousness. “I have my sources okay. Nearly everyone on Arae knows that she vanished and that there’s a hefty reward for her capture. Everyone has been looking for her for years, but not you. Not your ship. You’ve been looking for clues to the city itself. It doesn’t take a genius to put together the pieces that you must already know of her whereabouts.

“It was honestly a shot in the dark…assuming that she’s on the ship, but you’ve already told me everything I needed to know.” He smiles devilishly.

“I haven’t told you shit.”

“You and I both know that you’re wrong about that.” His eyebrow quirks quickly. You exhale angrily. “It’s only a matter of time before a lesser man puts together the same pieces that I did.” He tilts his head cockily. You lower your gun but keep your eyes trained on him.

Cocky bastard.

You've come to know Baekhyun as a captain known for his wits, craftiness, and unpredictability. You’ve crossed paths many a times in the past, and as much as you hate to admit it, he may be one of the smartest pirates around. Because of his reputation you are willing to believe that he gathered this information on his own and hasn’t gone around spreading it to just anyone. If he’s got a hunch about a prize, he goes after it on his own.

He may have gotten the information from real sources, but that doesn't mean that you trust him. You put your gun in its holster and decide to end your questioning there. You don’t want him to get any information out of you accidently before you get a chance to talk to your crew.

Fuck. “Don’t you have any more questions!?” he calls out after you. “I’d be more than happy to answer them!”

You continue your way out of the room, but not before tossing back a, “Shut up Byun” and leaving them entirely.

~~~

You call your first mate and navigator to your quarters for a meeting. You leave the ship in Yixing’s capable hands while you all have this dire discussion.

Fingers tap nervously on the table top as Yeri and Junmyeon settle in across from you. There’s no plan to ease into this conversation, so you bite the bullet and get right to the chase.

“Byun knows how to find Atlantis.” You hear an intake of breath but close your eyes rather than meet the looks on their faces. “I know we said that we would give up on this wild goose chase years ago. I know that. The clues back then were always dead ends, useless, or wastes of time…if not all three.” You exhale tiredly, in disbelief at the words coming from your mouth. “But I think that Byun could be telling the truth…and I may be willing to try one last time to find Atlantis…for the princess.”

You lift your eyes from the table to gauge their expressions. Junmyeon looks at you pensively, a bit of disappointment in his eyes while Yeri avoids your eyes and instead focuses on the table.

“Captain…haven’t you…had run ins with him in the past? How could you trust him?” Junmyeon asks carefully.

“Do you mean the time he locked me in the brig of his ship, tried to kill me, and then left me for dead on a deserted island? Or maybe the time he shot me in the arm at that bar in Arae because I bought the last pint of his favorite beer? Oh! Or perhaps you mean the time he tried to turn me in for a bounty on my head and I had to handcuff him to a sink and knock him unconscious just to get away?” You list a few of your encounters off the top of your head and Junmyeon winces. “Yeah, don’t worry I haven’t fucking forgotten.”

You can also remember all of the bounties that you lost to him and his crew. Your ship could be the first notified, but somehow he would manage to get there first and claim the reward that you were hired for. The information was getting slipped to him by members on your crew that he’d bribed.

Let’s just say you had to do some pest extermination and reevaluating the so-called loyalty of your crewmen.

“I don’t trust him,” you tell them simply. “But I’m willing to follow his information, if it seems trustworthy, just one last time.”

“One last time?” Junmyeon asks hopefully. Since the first days of Storm Chaser, Junmyeon has been here at your side. He’s seen you run yourself ragged trying to find the lost city in your early days as captain.

You place your hand on his. “One last time,” you assure him. You look over to Yeri who hasn’t said a word since the conversation began and can feel how tense she is. “It’ll be fine Yeri. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then we kill Byun and the princess will stay here on the ship with the crew. We’re all a family, remember?” She smiles a bit and relaxes at your words. “Either way I win, so I just need you two to be on my side when I bring this before the rest of the crew.”

Yeri finally nods and places a hand on your shoulder. “Okay Captain,” she says with a squeeze.

“I’m in Cap’n,” Junmyeon says assuredly. “One last time.” He warns.

You smile sadly. “One last time, I promise…” you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. “I guess we should call off this other bounty hun-”

A gunner bursts into your room. “Captain, the prisoners escaped.”

You groan and stand up from the table. “Did anyone search the prisoners before we locked them up?” The gunner looks sheepish.

“We took away their swords, knives, and guns…” he starts.

You storm out of the room. “ATTENTION! I WANT EVERYONE’S ATTENTION RIGHT FUCKING NOW.” You wait a total of 30 seconds for the attention of anyone around. “I want ALL men to look for the prisoners. If you catch sight of them and they try to run…you have my explicit permission to shoot them in their fucking kneecaps. Byun is an expert lock picker so I want him brought straight to me before he’s taken back to the brig!” No one moves. “GO ON!”

~~~

Baekhyun is thrown at your feet on the main deck not long after setting everyone on the crew to find him and his accomplice.

His kneecaps are still fully intact (much to your dismay).

You look towards Minseok. “Search him thoroughly.” You glance at Baekhyun who looks all too smug about finding his way out of your brig once. “I want him striped, and searched thoroughly,” you emphasize, leaning closer to Minseok pointedly.

Minseok smirks happily. Baekhyun finally looks a bit nervous. You smile gratuitously and leave Minseok to it. You know that Minseok will get the job done and make Baekhyun regret every second of it.

“Yeri!” Blonde hair bounds over to you. “Chart a course for the closest port. We need to make a stop before we make any hasty moves.”

“Ay, Cap’n,” she says happily. You watch proudly as she ties up her hair and heads to the maps that she knows like the back of her hand. In your periphery you catch Baekhyun being dragged back below deck, but his gaze is fixed on Yeri. You frown and make a mental note to, personally, check that he’s sufficiently locked up.

He’s fucking up to something. You can feel it as clearly as you can the beginning of a storm.

~~~

A week passes on the sea with no issues. The weather has been kind, and has sped up your arrival time to Glacia, a large island close by that your ship can use to restock and prepare for its next course.

The prisoners have been quiet and fairly respectful (in the best way that prisoners can) and have caused minimal issues. You’ve sent Yixing down to try and pull information from either of them about the whereabouts of Atlantis, but he hasn’t gotten anywhere fruitful. You’re planning on waiting until getting to port and dragging the information out of Baekhyun even if it kills him.

Much to your annoyance, his presence has awoken the curiosity and gossipy side of your crewmen. It's slowly driving you absolutely batshit crazy.

You go down to the food storage to refill your canteen with drinking water, and to sneak a bottle of rum to your room (hopefully without being caught by your first mate). You crouch down among the secured bottles when whispering catches your attention. You freeze where you are in fear of Yixing or Junmyeon shaming you for stealing liquor from the storage, but you quickly recognize the voices of other crewmen as they get closer.

You strain to hear the conversation, but they start talking louder once they assume the room is empty. Mark, your junior gunner, whispers, “I heard he lost his eye fighting a baby kraken single-handedly.” You immediately know they’re talking about Baekhyun and the urge to reveal yourself and cut the conversation off is only slightly less than your desire to eavesdrop.

“I heard he slept with the eldest son of the King of Jekyll and was shot in the eye for ruining the Prince’s engagement.” Wendy, a boatswain whispers back excitedly.

“I heard that ever since he lost his eye, his fighting has only gotten better.” Taeyong, a junior sailing master says.

“That's true! He practiced fighting with one eye closed as a child and then took his own eye out to prove that he can still fight just as well and beat any other swordsman with just one eye.” Wendy says. You resist the urge to snort.

“Wow…he’s fucking crazy,” Taeyong says in shock. “The eye patch…is kind of sexy though. I have to give it to him.”

“He’s kind of amazing don't you think? He even dared try and kill the Captain multiple times…” You pick out the voice of Kun, your cook. If you’d planned on interrupting before you definitely aren’t going to now. They’re talking about you now too?

Mark gasps. “Who do you think would win in a sword fight? Have they ever fought one on one like that? I think Byun would win, the one eye thing probably makes all his other senses stronger…”

“Nah, she’s the best swordsman alive. There’s no way she’d lose a fight like that with him.” You smile as you pick out Minseok’s voice. Damn right.

“Didn’t they fuck? Did he ditch her after they had sex? Isn’t that why she hates him so much? That and the fact that he’s like…tried to murder her.” Wendy inquires. You hear a giggle.

“They definitely fucked; she would have killed him long ago if she wasn’t in love with him. They say the line between love and hate is super thin,” Taeyong says as if it's a well-known fact.

“Don’t you all have work to be doing?” You ask after hearing enough. You stand up from your spot, rum in one hand, your water in the other and your deadliest glare on your face. “Or would you all like to continue to discuss my sex life and rumored love of the son of a bitch locked in the prison of my ship?”

Everyone straightens and Mark lets out a noise of surprise.

“Sorry Captain!” Wendy, Kun, Mark, and Taeyong say in unison before scurrying from the storage room.

Minseok walks up to you with a smile on his face, and nudges your arm holding the rum with his elbow. “You planning on telling your husband about this?”

You grimace. “Don’t call him that. And don’t tell him about this,” you hiss. He laughs. “I’m still angry with you…gossiping about me on my own ship.”

“There’s nothing else to do these days, and we’ve got the ‘famed’ Captain Byun Baekyun aboard. Of course people are gonna gossip, you know it’s all in good fun.” He grabs the rum from your hand, uncorks it with his teeth and takes a huge swig. “If you were actually angry, you would have stopped them earlier. You can still scare the newer members but I know you’re not going to do anything about it.” He holds the bottle out towards you. “You were eavesdropping as if you were interested in the topic at hand,” he says smugly.

You grab the bottle with a frown. “Oh shut up…” you take a swig and hand it back to him. You point a finger at him threateningly. “Seriously, don’t tell Junmyeon or Yixing about this Minseok. I’m serious. They give me enough shit about not drinking while I’m supposed to be on duty.”

Minseok laughs around another swallow of the liquor. “Ay, ay, Captain.” His voice is nothing but playful, and you know that later tonight you’re going to get an earful from either your first mate or quartermaster based off of something they heard from an “anonymous source”.

You leave the bottle with him, a promise of “keeping this between you two and finishing off the evidence on his own” on his lips as you sulk to the kitchen for dinner and then to bed.

As expected, Junmyeon bites your ear off at dinner about drinking down in the food storage and you apologize profusely. Yeri laughs at your side and Minseok peaks his head in the kitchen with a smile and thumbs up before vanishing again.

Mutineer.

~~~

Your door slams open at the early hours of the morning startling you out of your sleep. You groan and sit up in your bed tiredly. “Listen, I said I was sorry Junmyeon. You already ripped me a new one I’m not going to drink again…” You rub your eyes and finally recognize the face in your doorway.

Yixing looks frantic and not at all bothered by your sleep driven rumbling. “There’s a ship in the distance off of starboard. A couple of our men are down, knocked out but alive and-”

“And let me guess,” you interrupt and your mind immediately switches awake. Sleep long forgotten as you begin putting on your boots. “The prisoners escaped.”

Yixing swallows, his expression turning grim. “And they’ve taken Yeri.”

Fuck.

#exo #exo imagines #exo stories #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun pirate au #exo pirate au

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soyforramen · 5 years ago

Text

BHDC - Round 3 - Pirates

(Thanks to @satelliteinasupernova for helping me pick a historical era for this!)

Weak in the Knees

The sea was a harsh mistress - fickle, stormy, and deadly if you weren’t careful. She would take your life as quickly as she took your heart. Never could man tame her, nor could he understand her, he could only pray that he stayed on her good side. She was also the best thing that had ever happened to Forsythe Jones the Third.

Employed at ten on a small trading sloop, sent to man the crows nest and work the rigging, he’d lost his heart to the open skies and lawless waves. By fifteen he’d learned enough to become a crewman, his gangly body’s reach a boon during rough storms. In his sixteenth year he, along with the rest of The Intrepid, had been pressed into British service for a war they neither knew nor cared about. And by eighteen he’d traded the British Naval Fleet’s canon and tack for the crew of The Whyte Wyrm. His shares were one one-hundredth of what it should have been, but Jones would have gladly worked for rum and plantains to get away from Admiral St. Clair’s savage rule.

The Captain of the Wyrm took a strange liking to Jones, partially because they shared the same strange name and partially because Jones was a quick, eager study. An old, wizened drunkard too fond of the stories of his youth, F.P. had taken Jones under his wing and trained him in the manner of a second mate to the ire of the older crew. Yet none complained for F.P. fostered a camaraderie that the British Navy, despite all their ineffectual pomp and circumstance, could never hope to rival.

Among the younger crew Jones found camaraderie of his own. Each had lived on the sea longer than they ever had on land and knew a ship better than themselves. So when the Wyrm sank due to the Captain’s error off the lagoon reefs of Bermuda, the younger crew staked a claim in their own future.

Four years of hard work, scraping together their funds doing jobs for smugglers, merchants, and the occasional naive Lord who wanted the true ‘Treasure Island’ experience, had led to this moment. They’d managed to save enough to trade for an old merchant ship, tried and true, one that had weathered many a storm. Mr. Lodge had promised that this was a ship worthy of any seafaring man worth his salt. It was an offer too good to pass up for the quartet, and so Fangs had readily negotiated for her.

“Doesn’t it make ye want to weep?” Fangs asked.

He clapped Jones on the shoulder and slid an arm around Toni’s waist. Sweet Pea grunted, but even he couldn’t hide his excitement. Standing on the dock the quartet gazed in marvel at the run down ship, it’s hide tattered by hastily filled canon holes and barnacles six inches deep, the sails eaten through by rats, and the mast standing only through a feat of tar, rope, and a strange aversion to gravity.

Weep was perhaps too strong a word, but despite its tattered disposition, The Iconoclast was theirs. For once in their short, miserable lives they had something to their names. Their future was their own. To pirate or pillage, to trade or travel; the decision was theirs and theirs alone.

And the thought made Jones weak in the knees.

A brisk sea wind tickled the back of Elizabeth’s neck and she ran a hand across it to disperse the strange vulnerability she felt. Necessity required her hair to be shorn almost to her scalp, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel a pain of regret. The loss of her hair made her feel naked in a way the harsh wool of the trouser should have. The trousers, at least, facilitated her movement and helped her hide in plain sight.

She walked down the docks to the next ship in port and was greeted by a leather faced man with a missing eye, the empty socket puckered and black. Elizabeth swallowed her revulsion and stepped up to the man with her chin high despite the shaking of her hands. The man chuckled at her bravado. He made an awful retching noise and spat up a glob at her feet.

“Lookin’ fer werk?” he drawled, amused by her if his grin was anything to go by.

“Yes.” She winced at how high her voice sounded. She cleared her throat and did her best to flatten the pitch to a gravel that itched her throat. “Yes, I am.”

The man guffawed and winked lewdly as if he knew her secret. “We’re dry docked until the captain sobers up. Try the tavern off the square. Ask fer Fangs.”

She nodded a thanks and turned back towards the town. The man’s voice slowed her step and she turned back to him.

“They’re bastards, the whole lotta them,” he said. “I’d be careful around those curs if I were you, sir.”

Elizabeth scurried away, the man’s hacking laughter haunting her. She burrowed further into her coat. If she weren’t able to blend in as a man she’d be found out quickly and sold to the highest bidder, pressed into service at the local bar or brothel, or worse. Brought back to her mother and pressed into marriage.

It was easy enough to find the square in the bustling town. Finding the tavern containing a ‘Fangs’, however, was much harder. Almost every building around the square housed a tavern full of brawling, drunken men stinking of sweat, dirt, and rum, their companions ladies whose hard lives were etched in the lines around their eyes, skirts cut short above the knee. These were the places her peers whispered about, aghast at the sheer depravity and jealous of the unrestrained revelry. In all her life, Elizabeth never could have foretold this sort of people could be her saving grace.

It wasn’t until the fifth tavern that she had any luck. Behind the bar was a rough looking woman, her leather skin beaten by the sun and highlighted with rouge and tattoos. Elizabeth shouted above the din and the bartender nodded.

“But you din’t want a thing to do with them, laddie. Only greenhorns looking fer an early grave,” the woman cautioned.

Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from pleading. This was the third coastal town she’d been to and the first she’d found any hope of leaving Bermuda. With a sigh, the barkeep nodded towards the back corner of the room where a pair were holding court at a wooden table by the fireplace. Elizabeth nodded her thanks and picked her way through the rank crowd.

The large one of the pair, dark complected and scowling, gave her pause. He towered over his companion even while seated, his arms coursed through with muscles borne of fighting the sea. A black and blue sea snake coursed through waves drawn on his arms, its tail propelling the creature from one wrist to the other. Next to him sat a petite woman, her long, sun kissed hair strewn through with pink and purple ribbons. Kohl outlined her dark eyes and brightened her smile. They made an odd pair in this tavern full of old, sun-beaten men and women, both too young and new to have much experience.

She swallowed down her fear; Elizabeth hadn’t made it this far to let her own prejudices hold her back. It didn’t matter if they were young or old, experienced or not. All she needed was a ship that could take her away from this island as quickly as possible.

“Fangs?” she asked in a wavering voice when she drew near.

The tall man sneered at her and crossed his arms, a threat that made the sea snake writhe along the inked sea. The woman peered at her in curiosity. Elizabeth drew her fingers into her palms to keep from rearranging the ill fitting clothes. Without the gloves she normally wore her nails bit into her skin and the pain reminded her why she was there.

“I heard you were looking to take on crew.”

The man snorted and waved her on, as dismissive a gesture as she’d ever seen at any of Lord Mantle’s dances. Elizabeth held her ground.

“Are you Fangs?” she repeated.

The woman, taking pity on her, shook her head. The ribbons danced, a hypnotic wave of color that rivaled any fashionable trend from London.

“You just missed him. But I don’t think this is the crew for you,” she said kindly.

Elizabeth was stunned. Never before had she been denied anything; the daughter of a landed Baron - former Baron - she’d grown up with all manner of worldly creations at her feet. Anything her hearts desire had been done at once, unless it went against her mother’s wishes.

“And why not?”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever been asea? Have you ever held on for your life while Poseidon crashed down around you, determined to take you for his own? Have you ever sat on deck for days on end while Helios does his best to make you believe you’re in a Maharaja’s palace? Have you ever -“ she glanced down at Elizabeth’s hands, pale and unblemished “-worked a day in your life?”

Fury ran up Elizabeth’s chest into her face; no one dared to speak to her in this way, especially not some commoner. Her nails bit deeper, drawing a bit of blood. She squeezed harder until the fury ebbed. That wasn’t her place anymore. She was, if nothing else, lower in status than the two in front of her and if she didn’t act with the proper etiquette she would quickly be found out.

“I’m willing to do whatever work you require.”

The tall man snorted and purposefully looked away from her. “Keep walking.”

“Are you Fangs?” Elizabeth challenged again.

“If I’m not?”

“I was told Fangs was hiring. If you aren’t Fangs -“

An arm was thrown over her shoulders and she stiffened at the overly familiar touch. The smell of rum, pomade, and a day spent in the sun overwhelmed her.

“You were looking fer me?”

Elizabeth turned her head a fraction to find a man with close cropped hair crowding her. “Fangs, I presume?”

He grinned. “Aye. And you are?”

“Eli-“ she caught herself, though not quick enough at the woman’s interested glance. “zar. Elizar Smith.”

“Well then Eli, what fate brings you our way?” Fangs said as he sat down at the table. He sloshed out a bottle of amber liquid into three waiting cups and pushed one towards her. Forgoing a cup, he drank deeply from the bottle.

Elizabeth - Elizar now, she supposed - pursed her lips. A farce done once was theater; a farce done twice was folly.

“Work.”

Fangs looked her up and down, a mirror to what had just concluded. “Can you climb?”

“Yes. My father couldn’t keep me out of the cork trees he kept.”

“Can you follow orders?”

“I’ve been doing it all my life, I don’t see why I should stop now,” she said sourly, remembrances of all her mother’s chastising coming to mind.

Fangs and the woman laughed at her cheek.

“Can you cook?”

Her mouth went dry. A woman of her station always had someone to cook for them, to clean and launder for them, but how hard could manual labor be? A bit of water, a bit of heat, and you have a meal; a bit of elbow grease, thread, and cloth and you have a sail.

A lie, though, could not fall from her tongue. Regardless of her urgency, she’d heard too many stories from her brother of pirates killing their own, hanging them off the side of the deck and watching for sport as the sharks and eels and piranhas leapt to eat their crew. How easily they’d eat their own companions when food ran low, or how quick they were to draw guns over an insult.

“No. I’m afraid I’ve never had the privilege.”

Fangs nodded at her honesty. He raised his glass in a toast that no one else joined. “We push off at dawn in two days. You’ll be paid a hundredth of anything we make, minus provisions.”

He held out his hand and Elizabeth shook it, ignoring his companions. Business concluded, Elizabeth stood and made a shaky exit. She escaped into the alley behind the tavern to catch her breath. Without lies or deception she managed to make her way in the world. Though she’d never had to do anything more taxing than a waltz with a suitor, she was determined to make this work.

She had to, if she wanted to be free of this island she’d been brought to as a babe. The prospect of leaving the broken mess of her mother’s dreams behind; the shame of her sister; the anger of her father. It was almost too much to be denied it now.

The reality of it made her weak in the knees.

(Cross posted on Ao3)

#bughead drabble challenge #bughead fiction #arrrrr

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thinkyoureholy · 5 years ago

Text

Opposites Attract [14]

Pairing : Park Jimin / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Enemies to Lovers! AU, Fantasy! AU

Words : 2.8k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I looked around the room curiously, “I can’t believe your mother had a separate house…”

Jimin smiled, digging through some drawers, “It belonged to my grandparents, they left it to her when they passed. We didn’t really use it much when she was alive but I’ve kinda turned it into a space to train over the years.”

He pulled out a pair of clothes and handed them to me, “Hopefully they fit...my mom was a bit shorter than you so I don’t know how well the pants will fit your legs…”

I said nothing as I held up a pair of pants that were obviously too short. I held it up, tilting my head to the side, “Is it okay for me to tweak these a little?”

“Yeah...go ahead. I’ll leave you to get dressed then.”

He turned on his heel and began to walk away but I stopped before he could get too far. I pulled him towards me, capturing his lips in a quick but passionate kiss. The blush that coated his cheeks pulled at my heartstrings, the smile that played on his lips mirrored my own.

"After all this is over...let's--let's talk about us yeah?"

He grinned at my words then placed a chaste kiss on my cheek, nodding his head, "We can talk all you want, love."

And with that he turned to leave. I couldn't fight back the grin that pulled at my lips, looking down at the clothes in my hands. Okay...we just had to get through all of this first then we can start thinking of other trivial things.

I pulled on the sleeves of the shirt, pulling them up to my elbows as I walked over to where the guys were waiting. The pants had been turned into shorts, the garment exposing my legs. I could hear them talking as I walked up but as soon as I was right in front of them they went silent. I looked up to see them all staring at me, my brows furrowed at the look on their faces. I looked down at my attire, frowning.

"Does it look weird?"

"No!" They all shouted in unison...well all but Namjoon who simply rolled his eyes at the others.

"Alright before you all drill holes into her with your staring let's get back to business." Namjoon said, diverting their attention over to him.

I looked over at them curiously before shrugging my shoulders, going to stand in between Namjoon and Gai. I looked down at the map they had laid out on the table, inspecting the formation they had come up with. We knew Seokjin had taken up residence in the Poseidon faction so it makes sense to have all the soldiers we had at our disposal facing Poseidon but the formation felt off. Without a word, I reached out and grabbed two knight pieces they were using to represent the soldiers, having four in total, and moved one facing the Gaia faction and the other facing the Zephyrus faction.

"I don't think we should have our backsides completely open like this. We should have five thousand facing Gaia and another five thousand facing Zephyrus. I know Gaia is against Seokjin but he could easily storm through there with most of their army here...and Zephyrus is siding with him so there's that."

"I think you're underestimating my people a bit there don't you think?"

I looked up from the table at Namjoon, "You're here Namjoon, you're the strongest one they have-"

"My brothers and Inori are just as strong if not stronger, they can hold their own against him I'm sure of it."

"Your brothers? Namjoon...your two older brothers are considerably weaker than you are, you were put in charge over those two. And your three younger brothers? They're children, the oldest isn't a day over twelve. Inori is the only one that can even be considered to be on par with you and even then she's not enough." I said, turning to face him completely, "I mean no offense with my words but you have to take into consideration that Gaia can fall-"

"Just as easily as Poseidon fell?" He asked sharply, cutting through my sentence.

I set my jaw at his words, glaring into his eyes, "Just as easily as Poseidon fell," I repeated through my teeth, seeing his eyes widen the slightest bit at my response, "I didn't say Gaia would fall to insult you but it's something we must take into account. My own brother was no match for Seokjin...you think yours will fare any better? I'm only trying to cover all of our bases so we have a bigger chance at success."

"Joon...she has a point...just calm down okay? We don't need any of us turning on each other."

"I'm not turning on her. I'm just saying she needs to have a little faith in us, Taehyung. Our factions aren't as weak-"

"Aren't as weak as who? Finish that sentence Namjoon and I'll end you right now," Yoongi cut him off, both him and Hoseok glaring daggers into Namjoon.

Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, his hands clenched at his sides as he tried to keep his composure, "I'm just saying she shouldn't underestimate my people."

"She's not underestimating anyone, she's simply saying that Seokjin's power is just that great." Hoseok said.

"Well how do we know we can't beat him! We don't know until we try and I have hope that my own people won't lose so easily against-"

"Put your damn pride aside Namjoon and open your eyes! It took everything in me to stop two of his attacks, I would have died if he decided to strike another time! He’s not someone we can beat with sheer willpower, we need the strength to back it up! And right now…” I trailed off, my voice breaking as I thought of the ending that could ruin us all, “we are so unbelievably weak…”

Silence fell over us all, every single one of them rendered speechless by the emotion in my voice. I wanted to avoid that ending at all costs and if it meant I had to hurt a few egos along the way then so be it.

“Do you not have an ounce of trust in our power?” Namjoon asked, his voice barely audible but we were able to hear it loud and clear.

“I do...I trust you all with my life…”

“Then why do you not believe we can do this? Why are you assuming that we’ll fall so easily? I’ll admit willpower and spirit doesn’t win wars but sometimes it’s all we have,” He let out, his voice so full of emotion I could hardly bear it, “And it is all we have…”

I bowed my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek as I clenched my hands at my side. I was looking at things all wrong. They weren’t over confident in their strength, on the contrary, they were well aware that they were fighting a war they knew wasn’t in their favor but still they kept fighting. Sheer willpower and spirit was all they had and they were clinging onto it so desperately yet here I was crushing it with my own hands. I thought I was helping them by being so brutally honest but in reality I was making things worse. I was crushing the only thing that was keeping them going. I opened my mouth to try and back track, make them feel better about all this but was stopped before I could get anything out by the ground rumbling beneath our feet. I lost my balance when it got stronger, Gai reaching out to steady me.

“Namjoon are you-”

“No, this isn’t me. The only other person that could do this is…” He trailed off, his eyes going wide before he whispered out her name under his breath, “Inori.”

And just as he said her name we witnessed a wall sprouting out from the ground, the ice covering the wall had my face going pale. Before I could stop myself I took a step in the direction of the wall, breaking out into a run seconds later. I could hear the others following after me, Namjoon running faster than the rest of us but about a block away we stopped in our tracks at what we saw above the wall. Seokjin waltzed out into view with Mana at his side, four of his people coming up behind him. He wore a smirk when his people stopped just at the edge of the wall, dropping the people they were dragging. There was a chill in the air as our eyes met with those of our respective loved ones. Taehyung and Jungkook stumbled forward, their eyes on Taehyung’s father. Namjoon’s knees buckled as he stared up at Inori, his eyes taking in her beaten state. Yoongi, Hoseok, and I stared up at Levi who was in the worst shape, my eyes filling with tears at seeing the blood stains on his shirt. Jimin...he fell to his knees, Gai trying to keep him up but even he was having a hard time standing on his own two feet as they both looked up at the young boy. I could only assume it was his beloved younger brother and I was right when he called out to him.

“Jimin! I-I’m scared!”

Jimin got up, his legs still weak but he managed to take a step forward, “I-It’s okay Jisoo...you’re big brother is going to get you down from there okay?!”

Seokjin chuckled under his breath, taking a step forward, “You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“Seokjin you bastard he’s just a child!” Gai yelled out, fire already beginning to emit from his body.

“He wouldn’t be the first child I kill...isn’t that right, Inori?”

Namjoon let his shoulders sag as he figured out exactly what Seokjin meant within seconds. He stared up into Inori’s eyes only to have her shake her head, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m s-sorry! I-I couldn’t protect them I tried, N-Namjoon I swear to you I did everything I could...but--but it wasn’t enough!” She cried out, Namjoon falling to his knees, his fingers digging into the ground underneath him.

His shoulders began to shake as he began to cry. His family, his brothers, all five of them were dead, even the youngest one who had just turned six a month ago, all of them were gone. I could feel the anguish coming off of his body, my own heart breaking at the sight but I couldn’t do anything to alleviate his pain, I was too focused on Levi and why he was the only one up there. I stared into his eyes, silently asking the question that was burning in the back of my mind, where was our mother? I got my answer when he shook his head, a single tear cascading down his cheek. My heart completely shattered at his response, the tears falling as I stumbled back into Hoseok as he held me from falling to my knees like the others. Just how far was Seokjin willing to go? How much was he going to take from us? I got my answer as I looked up into his grinning face, watching his eyes light up like they did that day.

-Seokjin’s P.O.V-

“Now who goes first?” I asked aloud, mostly to myself as I looked over the four in front of me.

“S-Seokjin please I agreed to help you. W-Why are you-”

I cut him off, kicking at his back and forcing him to lay flat on his stomach, “Because that useless son of yours picked the wrong side and when one of you betrays me...you all betray me,” I spat out through clenched teeth.

I looked over at the others, my attention being drawn to Taehyung as he fought against Jungkook's hold. I grinned at the look in his eyes, anger on full display but that desperation of his shined brighter. The only way I was going to get them to bow and become complacent like before is if I forced them into it by taking their loved ones...it's what I did to Levi and boy did it work like a charm. Once his mother was gone he was like putty in the palm of my hand.

I knelt down beside Taehyung's father, my fingers grasping onto the back of his shirt as I lifted his face off the ground, "I guess your time has finally come. Don't worry though, I'll send your son straight to you once I'm done with him."

Those words must've finally made something within him snap. I couldn’t help but grin at watching him set his jaw, the anger clear in his eyes. My eyes began to glow as I pushed him away, sparks of lightning at my fingertips. I looked at the other three, their eyes on their loved one down below. The kid was crying his eyes out, his words incoherent as he cried out for his brother. Inori had tears streaming down her face as she mumbled out apology after apology and Levi...I stared at him in shock once I saw his expression. The man had the gall to have a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes gazing at his sister warmly. I clenched my fists at the sight. Here they were about to die and all they cared about was the people down below. I felt jealousy bubbling up the longer I looked at them, comparing them to my own family...that is if I can even call those people my family. As much as I hated to admit it I envied them. The only family I had was Mana...and I won't let anyone take her from me. I had to kill them all here to stop the future that I saw from happening.

Y/N's powers awakening had thrown out the future I had seen out of whack. I knew she was going to be his chosen one but not at this time. She's just as if not more dangerous than the Jimin I saw in my vision. I feared that she'd wipe out my entire faction and I knew she had the power to do so. Truthfully those people could burn for all I cared but Mana...she had to stay alive and I was going to make sure of that even if it cost me my own life.

With that thought my eyes began to glow brighter than ever before. I raised my hand up slowly, my open palm facing the sky, “Screw it you’re all going at the same time.”

-Y/N's P.O.V-

I stumbled forward at seeing his eyes glow like that, watching him raise his hand up to the skies, "Seokjin wait!"

He paused at the sound of my voice, staring down at me with a raised brow.

"W-Wait please. Your problem is with us...let--let them go. T-They have nothing to do with this. Jimin's brother is just a child for fuck's sake…" I trailed off, trying to keep my voice steady but it broke halfway through, "P-Please. Seokjin...Levi is all I have…"

Seokjin smirked, lowering his hand the slightest bit, "You're wrong. They have everything to do with this. This is how I make you all complacent."

And with that he raised his arm up high, the sound of thunder filling our ears seconds before we saw a flash of lightning. I cried out for him to stop, begged him, we all did but our cries fell on deaf ears. I looked to Levi desperately, wanting to save him but I knew I'd never be able to each him in time. The look he had on his face completely shattered my heart. I shook my head as he nodded, a soft smile on his face as he gazed at me warmly, his love for me as his sister shining through once more before it happened. It happened so quickly. The lightning was so bright I had to look away and shield my eyes but the moment it was gone I wished I didn't look back. What I saw was horrific, a sight I didn't wish upon anyone. A sob wracked my body as a scream of pure agony wormed its way out of my throat. Levi, along with the others were burnt so badly by the lightning they were almost unrecognizable. They stayed kneeling for a second before they fell forward, dead. I cried out, hearing the others' let out wails of sorrow and pain. I stumbled back, tripping over my own two feet as I shook my head not believing the sight before me. But as that disbelief took place in my heart another emotion was starting to build up in my system. I clenched my hands and set my jaw in anger, my whole body shaking with rage as my eyes began to glow. He's going to pay for this…I'll make sure to give him a slow and painful death.

Tags : @rjsmochii @namflix

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devolympian · 5 years ago

Text

Argo, chapter 1

As the bright blue sky began to give way to the soft orange light of dusk a cold ocean breeze ran across Jasons neck.

Sweet dripped down the young mans head and soaked the wool shirt that was under his bright gold armor. The blood seeping out of the cut on his forehead blinded his left eye, while the poison in his right leg made it extremely difficult to stand properly.

Before him, resting in a tall oak tree, was the item he had sailed across the world to obtain. The golden flees; the skin of a ram, born by the god Poseidon who had taken the form of a ram him self in order to lay with the nymph Theophane.

Jason had gone through hell and back for that fleece. He had fought storms, monsters, and even gods just to have a chance to claim the golden ram skin as his own. To show it before his home of Iolcus, and prove to them that he was the right full king. The king they deserved and the one who would lead them to prosperity.

However, before him was his last challenge.

Wrapped around the tree, its violet scales glistening in the sunset, was a long serpentine creature. A black tongue pocked out of its mouth, which was lined with dagger like teeth dripping with venom, and its orange eyes glared at Jason. Its upper-body rested on the ground, with its long, razor sharp claws digging into the grass.

The dragon was ready to end this farce of a battle, clearly having grown tired of Jasons endless attempts to steal the flee away from it.

The feeling was mutual, and with a heavy sigh, Jason prepared him self to deliver the finishing blow.

He clutched his sword firmly in his hand, and from his hip, drew a bronze dagger decorated with rare gems.

“The gift which my beloved Medea has bestowed upon me shall be your undoing beast!”

And with those words, the captain of the Argonauts charge at the dragon who responded by launching its self right back.

However, Jason was ready and, after dipping the tip of his dagger into the wound on his forehead, flung his own blood in the monsters direction.

The taste of warm blood was to much for the dragon to resist and it tilted its body ever so slightly, just to feel the drops on its long, black tongue.

Jason took the opening, and plunged his blades into the dragons neck.

He ignored the pain coming from his leg and forced himself forward even farther, screaming as he ran his weapons along the serpents entire upper body.

Blood and entrails spilled from the monster, staining Jasons hands and body a deep red and decorating the ground in gore.

With one last grunt, Jason pulled his long sword from the creatures body, and swung it down, lopping its head clean off.

For a long while, the dragons body shook and slithered on the ground, its blood still spilling out of its body as it lay dying.

Jason watched as it suffered, not wanting to be taken by surprise by the monster. However, it did not rise from the ground and eventually, it stopped moving all together, finally succumbing to its death.

With a heavy sigh, Jason proceeded to limp towards his prize.

He was beaten and bleeding. His whole body acted with pain, and he could no longer see out of his left eye, the blood forcing him to close it.

Jason knew he looked nothing like a king, no one had to tell him this. However, how he looked right now didn’t matter. All that mattered, was the fleece.

He stood at the foot of the tree, his eyes growing wide as he beheld the golden skin he had fought so hard for.

Dropping his weapons to the ground and with hands shacking, the prince reached up towards the fleece and-

“Boo!”

I let out a loud yelp as I fell forward onto the pile of books I was suppose to be stacking, the copy of Jason and the Argonauts being thrown out of my hands.

Trying my best to look less like an idiot then I already did, I turned around on the floor and looked up at Zee flashing an ear to ear grin at me.

“What’s wrong blondie” he said, his playful smile still glued to his face, “reading a ghost story?”

“N-no” I stammered, “I’m, uh. . . reading a golds story.”

Dang it, that sounded way better in my head.

“Come backs work better when the other person knows what your talking about dude.”

Taking my hand, Zee helped pull me off the ground as I wiped the dust off my skirt and sweater.

“It was Jason and the Argonauts” I told him, while picking up an arm full of books to put on the shelf, “the version where Medeas dagger is charmed by her.”

“Oh yeah”, he said, picking up the book I head been reading, “a fearless prince sets sail on the great Argonaut, determined to claim the item which will seal his destiny as king. You do know the real one screwed over Medea and his friends right?”

“Well, yeah, but that version’s super depressing.”

“Fair enough.” He flipped the book neatly onto the shelf, and began to do the same with the others that had been strewn across the floor.

“O-oh, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, the sooner this is done, the sooner we can hang out.”

And with that, Zee jumped up, grabbed the shelf, and shoved a copy of the hunch back of Notre Dame between our copy of Victor Hugos other books, Hernani and Les Miserables.

“Just think of me like your fairy godmother” he said, hanging off the shelf, “but instead of living in a rodent infested house with a step mom who should probably arrested for child abuse at the very least, you’re working at a library with some guy calling himself a fairy godmother.”

I let out a small giggle with out really meaning to.

“If you’re my fairy godmother shouldn't you be in a pretty blue dress?”

“Blondie, you know I’d rock that dress. I’ve got the legs for it.”

He then reached up and tossed another book into its place. Which caused the book shelf he was hanging on to fall forward and bury my fairy godmother in a pile of old books.

After about an hour or so of us stacking books and telling, extremely lame, jokes to each other, we made our way to the front of the library.

While I personally wouldn’t say our library was big, it wasn't small either. With two floors, a large child section and computer room, as well as five study halls on the second floor, I’d say it was about the size of your average public library.

At the center of the library were two large desk, curved into a circle and with an opening between them so as to allow us to get in and out as we pleased.

My boss, Matilda, sat at the desk facing into the library, her brown hair tied into a neat little bun while the computer screen reflected in her olive eyes. She was busy typing up all the fees and check outs for the day and hadn’t noticed us yet.

A small knot formed in my tummy as I prepared to speak.

I had thought she’d be done with her work by now but she was still working so diligently. It seemed wrong to interrupt her by asking to leave.

My brain began to rock back and forth with words that I couldn’t seem to get out and I began to debate on how to approach the situation.

Should I just ask her to leave? But, she said I could go as soon as the work was done.

It’s possible she just meant my work, but what if she had meant her work as well? What is she still needed me to stay a little longer and assist with other things that need to be done before anybody left?

Oh, I know, I’ll ask if there was anything else that needed to be done. If she said no, I’ll be able to leave. Simple, right?

I swallowed heavily, and prepared to speak. It was the moment of truth.

“i-is there anything else you need done?”

There, I asked. But, it didn’t exactly come out as words. It was more like a squeak. Like, the squeak a mouse makes. In other words, to quite to hear and Matilda continued on, not noticing me in the slightest.

“Yo, Matty” Zee basically screamed, “Works done!”

That got her attention, and my boss looked up from her computer.

“Oh” she said, finally registering that we were in front of her, “heading home then Skye?”

There was a small pause as it took me a second to remember my own name.

“Oh” I stuttered out, hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt, “y-yes. . . if, there’s nothing else you need done.”

“Nope, you’re free to go.”

“Freedom” Zee cheered, as he raised out the door.

“O-okay” I said, fallowing after him, “sorry.”

“No reason to apologies Skye” she reminded me for the umpteenth time, “have a nice night.”

“Right. . . sorry.”

Unsurprisingly, outside the marble floored building which served as my place of work, and personal stash of awesome books, the streets were filled with people either rushing on home or simply to their next destination.

Zee wasted no time in getting into a festive mood and began swinging around on a nearby street light, his spiky black hair casting a surprisingly large shadow as the summer sun hit it.

“Ah” he exclaimed in a rather over dramatic fashion, “the fresh air, the freedom, the realization that you have no money to do anything. Don’t you just love summer?”

“I’m fairly certain you’re not hurting for money” I told him, pointing to the obviously expensive motorcycle which he had parked next to the curb.

“Skye, I’m hurt. Just because I make lots of money, have great health, a cool ride, and several game consuls doesn’t mean that I don’t suffer. It means I have terrible spending habits.”

He then picked up the extra red helmet, which we had decorated with cat stickers and a picture of Squirtle from Pokemon, and threw it in my direction.

I, did my best to catch it, but the helmet just sort of landed at my feet.

“. . .really glad I never joined a sports team.”

“Hey, on the bright side, if you had joined foot ball, you’d get the record for how many fumbles a person could get in one game.”

“Well” I responded as I picked the helmet up, “I’m very glad my poor athletic ability can be acknowledged in a hypothetical situation. When should I expect my award?”

“Sorry” He said, scooting up to give me room to sit, “the school district can’t afford to buy plastic any more, budget cuts and the principle trying to support their gambling habit by taking out of the funding and selling sports equipment and plastic trophies meant for crappy football players. How about Dinner instead?”

“You put way to much thought into what a fictional principle would be doing if she had a gambling problem.”

“I personally think I put very little thought into that hypothetical and just said the first stupid thing that popped into my head. For example, alligators make terrible house pets.”

“Very insightful buddy” I told him, finally managing to get my unnecessarily long hair to go under my sweater, and strapped the pretty red helmet on my head, “let’s go ghost rider.”

With a quick rev of the engine we zoomed away from the curb and into the heart of downtown.

It wasn’t really a long drive, about ten minutes if that, but the extra traffic made it a little more difficult to navigate the street.

I didn’t particularly mind the slightly longer drive, I really liked riding on Zees motorcycle. Even though I couldn’t drive to save my life, last time I tried my moms car ended up in a tree, but simply riding side saddle on this motorized bike was enough for me.

It gave me an odd feeling of independence. Like me and my friend could go any where and do what ever we’d like with being looked at as strange or judged for what we enjoyed.

Plus, the engine made my voice all vibraty, so I kind of sounded like a robot whenever I talked.

What I didn’t exactly care for was. . .

“Hey Zee” Someone called out over on the side walk.

Within seconds, a group of at least five people had gathered onto the other side of the street, all calling Zees name and waving at him. a lot of them pulled out their phones and took pictures or started recording videos.

Like always, Zee glued a big grin to his face and waved back to his fans.

I, tried to wave as well, but no one really cared.

Once the light turned green, Zee made sure to loudly rev the engine before shooting forward, making the small crowd cheer with excitement, and forcing me to cling to him out of fear of falling off.

We stopped a few more times after that, with a different crowed developing at each stop.

Some were smaller then the first, some where three times the size, but they were all pretty happy to see Zee.

And, with each stop, Zee made sure to put on a show with his bike. Along with wasting more then half his tank of gas.

Now, with my heart permanently relocated to my lower intestines, we pulled up to the best restaurant in our town.

Burger Boy!

Just the thought of their juicy warm meat paddies, stacked delicately on top of one another with a piece of melted cheese adorning both of them. They would both be settled between two soft buns with the perfect balance of mustard, ketchup, and mayonnaise guarding the enticing beef.

On their right would be a large blue and red container, which would hold a golden treasure. Fries, cooked to perfection, with a crunchy outside, but a soft tasty inside made of the best potatoes in the world.

To their left would be another treasure box containing ten bronze chicken nuggets. I could just picture the steam flowing out of them, and the chicken meat warming my mouth as I gobbled them up.

Tying all of them together was the heart of this quartet. A large cup with little droplets of water slowly creeping down it, which you could endlessly fill with the drink only gods should be allowed to consume. Cola!

The image of this culinary combination made my heart race with excitement and my stomach scream with hunger.

And the best part?

For the past two years they have had a deal where, for just ten dollars, you can get a 50 burger big boy meal. Small coke included.

I am personally proud to admit that I have had the honor of enjoying this noble privilege on more then one occasion. I just wish they'd put more burgers in the bag.

With my memories held safely in my heart, I armed myself with the mental image I had just painted, and boldly charged for the glass door of the fast food joint.

Unfortunately, the fates have deemed it necessary to only allow the worthy into this holly domain and have sent a challenger to test me and Zee.

"Excuse me" a deep voice boomed out behind us, "are you Zee?"

We both turned around to find a large being looming over us.

They stood several heads taller then us with bright orange hair covering their eyes, while also casting a shadow over their green skin.

I could see four long fangs sticking out of either side of his mouth, and two small horns resting on the sides of their head.

Even with out being able to see his eyes, I knew the troll was looking at us. Mostly because he was standing right in front of us and had more or less yelled Zees name, but still.

I felt a large lump form in my throat as my brain began to recognize the situation we were in and form a strategy that we most insure our survival.

We couldn't ignore this opponent, however it would be impossible to take him on head on.

It was also impossible to pretend we hadn't heard his challenge do to our poor choice of turning around.

I came up with twenty four more possibilities when Zee, with no concern for his own safety, stepped forward and bravely spoke to the troll.

"Well I ain't Ab Lincoln, or the dude on the penny" he said, smiling happily at our challenger, "what's up ma dude?"

There was silence after that.

A deathly silence which consumes your soul and can drive one to madness if they were to drown in it to long.

Then, the troll reached his massive hand into its pants pocket and drew from it, his phone.

"Can I have a picture with you?"

"Heck yeah!"

The little boys green face became covered with an ear to ear grin of joy as he nervously positioned himself around Zee.

To mach the kids height, Zee floated off the ground and hoovered so that they were shoulder to shoulder together and he happily held the phone for the nervous troll who’s joyful smile seemed to grow with every second.

Their goofy grins glued to their faces, the two of them took several pictures together

Most of which were just them being goof balls.

It looked like a lot of fun.

Eventually the little kids mom called for him, a green woman with chocolate brown hair and who was twice the height as her son.

Reluctantly, the troll said goodbye to his personal hero, but not before Zee handed him a small scrap of paper with his signature on it.

With tears of joy streaming down his face, the little boy wrapped Zee in a bone crushing hug and ran to his mom with his new prized possession in hand.

Zee gladly waved goodbye to the family as they drove off, his award winning smile never leaving his face.

"Nice kid" he said before floating back down to the ground and turning in my direction, "now, shall we dine at this fine establishment filled with grease and several health violations."

"Yes" I responded, as I felt my stomach begin to devour its self out of hunger, "let's eat, right now. Like, right now, right now."

“Dude, you’re talking like you haven’t ate in days.”

“I’m a growing girl. I need my burgers.”

“Well, you’re growing in some places.”

“Thank you. . . hey!”

“To the fast food!”

With his playful smile still glued on, and avoiding my annoyed glare, Zee pushed the door open and the aroma of deliciousness that filled the air made my mouth water, and my eyes tear up from the beauty. That, or it was the pollen in the air.

In a few minutes we managed to place our orders, with Zee paying for it because working at a library didn’t net me much in the way of money, and we made our way to the booth we’d always sit at.

It sat snugly in the corner where there were no windows and was kind of unnoticeable. All things considered, it was rather small and cramped and a little far away from the exit. Still, it was our little slice of heaven.

We plopped our selves into the plastic seats and sat our number onto the table. The restaurant was noticeably busier then usual with several, now high school graduates, taking up most of the booths and tables.

The poor over worked elves and demon who regularly ran the registers looked ready to faint out of stress.

I slumped onto the table. impatiently waiting for our meals to get to us.

“Why did they have to be busy today?”

“Cause it’s the second day of summer and the need business.”

“Yeah. . . but does that really mean that so many people need to be here?”

The more I looked around, the more I realized just how packed it was, and the more I just wanted to hide under the table so that nobody could see me.

It didn’t help that, about every ten seconds, someone would come up to Zee and talk to him. And, every time, I didn’t know what to say or do with my self.

Once, I managed to squeak out a hello. . . which sounded more like a catatonic kitty cat dying of hunger.

Shoot, I just made my self sad with that. Poor kitty.

Eventually, the amount of people dyed down, and Zees fans seemed to leave us alone.

“Hanging in there alright blondie?”

“No” I responded to his teasing, feeling physically and socially drained, “it’s been hours, where’s our food?”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Still, that’s a long wait.”

My eyes lit up as I suddenly remembered something important and I sat straight in my seat.

“You remembered to get Clair something right?”

“Apple pie and a chicken sandwich. She should be here soon by the way.”

I sighed with relief and slumped back into my seat as the guilt I felt was somewhat lessened.

We had originally made this plan without talking with Clairabell, and just kind of assumed that she would be to busy. Turns out, she had already been out for summer and had just been waiting for us to call her.

“So” Zee said, pulling his phone out for a second, “how much you wanna bet she’s gonna talk to you about what classes you should take together?”

With that, another wave of guilt washed over me as I remembered the application Clair had given me for the college she was transferring to up in Europe. And, how I had to hide it from my mom who was already telling me how great the local schools were.

“Oh, well, I’m sure she’s not that serious about it.”

I tried to let out a giggle to ease my conscience. It didn’t work, I was still a trash human being.

Zee responded with a confused look.

“. . .We’re talking about the same vampire right? The one who has spent almost every waking moment finding us a place to live that’s near campus?”

“Yeah, but still.”

I tried to find the best words that would justify what I had said, but nothing came to me.

There wasn’t really a right way to tell him that I probably wouldn’t be going to the same school as him and Clair. Not with how excited she had been when she told us that we could all go to the school together again.

Almost on cue, the door to burger boy opened and in stepped a tall young woman with caramel brown hair, and violet colored eyes. She looked around, almost as if she were a wild animal searching for her pray.

Soon, her eyes fell onto our booth and. . .

“Guys” she cheered before running towards us and leaping into the booth.

Not wasting any time, Clair promptly wrapped her arms around Zees and planted her lips against his.

“H-hi Clair” I managed to stammer out, feeling kind of like I should give them some space.

“Hi Skee-skee” she said with a warm smile, “so, what have you two been up to?”

“Oh you know” Zee said, apparently not bothered by Clair pressing her body against him, “driving around, fighting evil, summoning giant monsters, talking like batman.”

“You know ” I added, “the usual stuff.”

“You two really need to work on your comedy act” she responded, still smiling, “oh, by the way.”

She let go of Zee for a bit and reached into her tan purse.

“Ta-da” she said, proudly holding out some papers to me, “I managed to get the class list for next semester.”

“Oh” I said, the guilt settling in again, “th-thanks.”

“. . .what’s wrong?”

I lifted my head, and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Nothing. Just super hungry.”

“Gods” she said, a little disappointed, “they are always so slow here.”

“Hey” Zee said, “it takes time to fry up horse hooves and pig guts.”

“You know” I said, “if they hear you talking like that, they’ll probably spit in your food.”

“Ooh, yum, spit.”

This continued for awhile. Each joke becoming worse then the last, until, finally, our food had found its way to our table.

Before me was the delicious meal I had awaited a half an hour for.

The burger, fries, and chicken nuggets were all so tantalizing, with the sweat sent of each of them teasing my nostrils so much so that I had no idea which to bite into first.

Clapping my hands together and unable to get rid of the smile on my face, I thanked which ever god had blessed me for this delectable gift and dived into the feast.

Two minutes later, I was downing my soda to wash down the remainder of my meal.

Meanwhile, both Clair and Zee had barely touched their food. It was fine, they've always been slow eaters.

“Skee skee” Clair said, “at least enjoy the food before you gobble it up.”

“Huh” I looked at her with confusion, “but I did enjoy it. . . hey, how much do they charge for seconds.”

Clairabell then promptly slumped her head in defeat.

“Ah, it’s not fair. How can someone look so cute but be such a huge glutton at the same time?”

“Simple” Zee said, “her stomachs a black hole.”

“Some say it can teleport you to another dimension” I chimed, “but in truth all it does is devour any surrounding matter into its empty void.”

“Hey” she demanded, “you know i can’t keep up with your science mumbo jumbo.”

It was really easy science though.

With a huff, Clairabell threw her hair back and proudly picked up her sandwich.

“Alright then, black hole stomach awaken!”

She then took a big bite out of her chicken and chewed it all up.

Then her lips recoiled and her eyes got a pained look.

I offered her my drink and she quickly used it to wash down the terrible flavor that, I’m assuming, was garlic.

“Ew” she proclaimed, “when’d they start putting garlic on these things.”

“It might be an attempt to keep you from coming here” Zee said, “that, or they screwed up our order.”

She chugged some more of my soda before and Zee cracked a few more jokes while I was reminded of how out of place these two looked here.

With her make up perfectly placed on her face, and her tan shirt and black skinny jeans hugging her body, Clair looked like a super model who had just wondered in to wait for her manager.

Zee meanwhile, with his strong jaw and muscular build and v-neck that emphasized his collarbone, looked as though he had just got done staring in a super hero movie.

In short, they looked cool.

Personally, I'd like to describe our as similar to Neapolitan ice cream.

Zee was chocolate, the one everyone goes to and loves. He's a hit at parties, goes great with everything, and is always there for you.

Clairabell's strawberry, the better second. She's sweet, pretty to look at, and has a slight tang to her that makes her endearing to everybody who meats her.

I, meanwhile, was vanilla. Not necessarily a bad flavor, just one that doesn't stand out without the other two. I'm boring to look at, only taste well for a short while, and would probably make chocolate and strawberry look better if I wasn't part of the dessert in general.

Any who, Zee and Clair headed over to get her chicken sandwich changed out, while I went to refill my sody pop.

As I watched the fizzy, dark brown liquid fill the cup, I contemplated how I would explain to them that I couldn't leave the town. How it would tear my mom apart if I went to a college were she wouldn't be able to see me.

Then, I tried to think about how I could bring up Europe to mom. My dad knew my friends wanted me to go, but we both knew how much mom wanted me to stay in town. How the community college has, more or less, every class I could possibly excel in.

Then, I thought about how my soda was over flowing and spilling out.

"Oh no, no, no, no."

I pulled the cup away, splashing soda all over my hands and the counter.

With a heavy sigh, I turned to grab some napkins and clean this mess up. That's, when I noticed the person staring at me.

They were standing by the door, directly infront of the trash can to be precise. They were wearing a large, baggy, gray hoodie that seemd to conceal their physical appearance. I wasn't even able to tell what their face looked like because it was concealed by the giant hood they wore.

The only thing I could make of them was that they were rather short.

I'm sorry for how that might sound but it was the only thing I could think of that could describe them.

For a while, we both just stood there not saying anything.

I tried to think of a way to approach the sittuation. How I should great this total stranger who was just staring at me.

My heart began to raise and a giant not started forming in my stomich.

I wanted this to end. To crawl into a hole and wait until this person stopped looking at me like some strange anomaly which didn't belong in this world.

"Skye?"

I turned around so fast to meet Clairs voice that I tripped over my own feet a fell flat on my butt.

"Are you okay" Clair asked, kneeling down to make sure I wasn't hurt.

"Y-yeah" I stuttered out, "I'm f-fine."

She continued to look at me with concern clearly not believing what I said.

"S-so, what are we doing after this?"

". . .we were going to go to the arcade. But, we could just call it a night-."

"Let's go."

I hoisted my self off the ground, hoping that I didn't look as freaked out as I actually was.

In doing so I accidentally placed my hands in the sticky soda mess I had made. So, there was also that.

"Oh, okay."

She kept looking at me with a worried look even as we made our way outside.

"Alright" Zee said, "who's driving, who's riding, and who's drinking? I'm doing all three."

He then promptly pulled out a flask and started chugging.

"Zee!"

"No worries, it's sprite. I ain't an alcoholic just yet."

I was about to step forward and hop onto Zees bike, but Clair quickly grabbed my shoulder and turned me in the direction of her bright red corvet.

#book #urban fantasy #argo

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codevassie · 6 years ago

Text

CV: An extension of my Camp Half-Blood AU from a couple weeks ago for @monthlyklance because this AU has taken over my life. I'm so excited that I got this done today and managed to get a bunch of schoolwork done too. I feel powerful! Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Also, this takes place after Sea of Monsters.

It was toward the end of summer and things at camp were already starting to wind down. Many campers had already left, while the rest were packing and saying their goodbyes. A lot of campers were making last-minute decisions, contemplating if they even wanted to go home, or if it was a good idea.

Keith didn’t have that luxury. He didn’t have any family to go home to. For the first time out of all his summers he’d been at camp, though, a family to go home to wasn’t what was on his mind. It was the other kids who were leaving. It was all the faces that he wouldn’t see for the year, and the ones he might not see again. Some kids would be going to college, too old to return. Some wouldn’t make it back. Leaving camp was always a risk for demigods.

Besides, Keith was a bit done thinking about family for the time being. There were plenty of summers where he would look up at Half-Blood Hill and see the world beyond, imagine a rundown apartment in Texas or a weather-beaten shack in the desert. He would think about his dad and wish with all his being he were still alive.

Then, he would think of his mom. He would imagine the feeling of having a family again when he was claimed. He’d have brothers and sisters. Maybe a cabin where he could feel like he belonged. Ever since he was claimed, though, he’d decide not to dwell on the family thing all that much. He got some brothers and sisters, and that was great. He didn’t get a cabin, but that didn’t bother him too much.

For some reason, though, finally being claimed just didn’t make Keith as happy as he’d thought.

Nemesis still hadn’t wanted him for eight years. And that still ate at him.

So, Keith didn’t think about it a lot. Instead, he watched as campers said their goodbyes, as the Hermes cabin became more of a mess than usual, as kids tried to find their things and pack them away. Most year-rounders stayed out of the cabins, and Keith, once awaking to the commotion, decided to do the same. Still in his pajamas, he got through it all to the door, then walked to the pavilion.

The pavilion was a mess too. Campers ate their last camp meals of the year, crowding the Hermes table to the rim. How was it possible that so many kids were here when the cabin itself was so packed?

Keith decided that he would sit at that table over his dead body, so he grabbed a granola bar from one of the dryads and left the mess hall, deciding to wander camp instead. It was a cloudy day, and it would most likely rain. The border, however, would keep it out now that it was healthy and fixed. Looking down at his necklace, Keith thumbed at the tiny bead with a golden fleece.

He continued on his way, chewing his granola and chuckling at kids who ran from cabin to cabin, armory to arts and crafts, wherever they may have left something. For a second, he noticed Allura bolt out of the Athena cabin lugging a whip and a broadsword. A pang went through Keith’s chest as he realized she would be leaving. He wouldn’t see her for almost a year.

It was funny. Keith was horrible with making friends, but two years ago, when she had first arrived in tow of Coran, he’d been put in charge of showing her around. Since then, they’d team up often in camp activities when Shiro, or, more recently, Romelle, weren’t available.

“Allura!” he called, and she turned around suddenly, hair poofing up in its disarray. She looked tense and hurried, but she relaxed once she saw who it was that was calling her.

“Keith,” she greeted. “How are you?”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Are you heading home soon?”

“Oh, not until the day after tomorrow, actually,” she said.

“Nice,” Keith replied. “Then I don’t have to say goodbye just yet.”

“No, no,” Allura said, shaking her head. “Though perhaps for now. I am in a hurry.”

“Oh,” Keith said, then felt guilty. She was obviously in a rush. “Sorry about that.”

“Not at all,” she said, tossing her whip over her shoulder. “I’ll definitely see you before I leave, though, okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, then watched as she waved and went on her way. Keith turned and continued on his own, wandering toward the dock now.

Once he got there, he took off his shoes and day-old socks and dangled his feet into the water. It felt nice, on this warm day. The temperature was regulated again because of the fleece. Keith had always been a little hot-blooded though.

“Hey, dude!” a sudden voice made him jump. Whipping around, Keith knew it couldn’t have been anyone else.

“Gods damn it, Lance!” he exclaimed, swatting at the other boy’s leg where he stood next to him on the dock. For a brief second, he contemplated knocking Lance into the water. Lance sat down, however, and ruined his chances.

“Did you just say ‘gods damn it’?” Lance asked, taking off his flip-flops so he could put his feet in the water too. “Lame.”

“You’re right. There’s only one god in charge of damning you to hell. I’m appealing to all the wrong people.”

At this, Lance kicked water at him, pouting severely. “That’s so mean!”

“You’re lucky the Big Three made that pact. I could be appealing to a Hades kid right now,” Keith teased, kicking water back, and Lance, much to his delight, laughed.

“I can’t believe Hades is the only one right now without a kid here,” he said, shaking his head. Keith shrugged.

“I guess that thing with the fleece was pretty wild,” he said, and they left it at that. With the looming threat of war now on the horizon, it wasn’t a topic that a lot of people liked to dwell on at camp.

Keith looked out toward where the sky met the sea, perhaps another reminder of Zeus’ and Poseidon's domains. He sighed, looking away and to the trees along one of the beaches instead. He imagined their branches bare in a few months, camp all but deserted. He thought of lonely campfires among the hand full of other campers who would stay, capture the flag without the challenge, the dining pavilion without Lance's laugh-

Keith sucked in a breath and coughed. Lance looked over at him, concerned, but Keith sat up and pretended like it hadn't happened. Or that he hadn't been thinking what he'd been thinking.

“So,” he spoke up, trying to redirect. “Are you all packed?”

“Me?” Lance asked, like he found the notion humorous. Keith rolled his eyes. How could he have thought any different? “Nah. I'm staying a little longer.”

“Longer?” Keith asked, sitting up straight. “How much longer?”

Lance toed the water, making swirls and patterns and humming in contemplation. Keith noticed his own breath stop, held in his lungs in anticipation.

A part of him wanted Lance to stay. He hated saying goodbye to his friends at the end of summer, and he was going to miss Lance so much more than he'd ever admit to anyone. Because… they might have bickered, and maybe they didn't “hang out”, but they were friends, right?

...right?

Then, there was the part of him that feared if Lance stayed. Because Lance had a family of his own to go back to. He could pull off a normal life. Keith would never want him to stick back when Lance could have that. Or experience the lonely months of camp, training, trying to learn things from SAT practice books if you planned on going to college after this all. Squinting and brain hurting as you tried to learn the concepts by yourself.

They had study groups during the school year at camp, and Keith wasn't completely alone. He had Shiro. But he couldn't even imagine it all with Lance.

“Just a few days,” Lance said, shaking Keith out of his thoughts. Keith looked back. “I got permission to stay because my sister is coming to visit.”

“Really? You mean Veronica?” Keith asked, and Lance nodded, looking excited.

“She's always off with the hunters, never in the same place for long or keeping track of time. I mean, they're immortal,” Lance said. “It'll be good to see her.”

“Definitely,” Keith agreed. He felt happy for Lance and, looking back at the horizon, he forgot about all the other stuff. For a moment, he forgot about the gods and the war and just focused on the beauty of it all.

“Which brings me to my question,” Lance said, and Keith looked back.

“A question?” Keith asked. Lance, who also looked at the horizon, nodded his head, looking determined. It was cute.

Damn it. Stop that, Keith.

“She's actually coming for our birthday,” he said, and Keith blinked. “I've asked a couple other people to stay for a few days, which won't be a problem because the cleaning harpies won't start chowing down campers for another week-”

“That's a myth,” Keith interrupted, ignoring the irony of the statement, and Lance ignoring him.

“Because I'm having a little get together for it. It's not much. I really just wanted to see everyone before we part for the year and all, but Pidge said they would break into the kitchen and Hunk is gonna make a cake. I'm thinking of using the Big House's old-ass computer to print out a picture of a pegasus and we can pin the tail with bow and arrow or something,” Lance shrugged, swinging his legs more in the water.

“That sounds fun,” Keith commented, imagining it. He had seen Lance in archery before and he was really good. He'd definitely win that contest.

“Yeah, it does,” Lance said, looking determinedly down at his feet. “And I was wondering if you would want to come.”

And, here’s the thing. Keith knew he heard it. He heard every word. He heard them all in the correct order. He knew what Lance was asking.

But it didn’t make sense.

“What?” he asked, head turning to watch Lance full-on. Lance scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the water.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

Keith’s eyes widened. “No! No, yeah! I’d like to come,” he said, and he was almost out of breath despite the complete lack of effort a couple of words cost him. But the situation was still a little unreal to him, and Keith had no idea what he was agreeing to. He’d never been invited to anything.

Much less by Lance.

They had been at camp for almost entirely the same amount of time. Because of that, Keith felt like he knew Lance better than most. But better than most still didn’t mean jack shit coming from Keith. The closest people to him were Shiro, Allura, and maybe Pidge. He’d gotten to know Matt a bit more lately because of Shiro too.

But it was proximity that Keith “knew” most people at camp. He knew that girl’s name because she’d been here for years. He knew that guy had two younger brothers at home because it was all he talked about at dinners. He knew Lance because that was just the way it was.

Other than the fact that they’d been scurrying around camp since the same summer, the same amount of beads on their necklaces, but they shared a cabin, and participated in many of the same activities because of it. They were matched up in sparring a lot because of their similar age and, of course, there had been that whole ‘rivalry’ thing for a while back there.

And now. Now, Keith could never keep his eyes of Lance. He wasn’t sure when it had begun, but, some time in the past few years, Keith had started to notice just how good Lance was at archery, how much he enjoyed sparring against him or teaming up with him during capture the flag. He noticed when his hair got all windswept after pegasus riding, or how perfectly his eyes reflected off the water during canoe racing.

Keith knew Lance. Maybe a lot more than other people at camp. But that didn’t mean a thing when it came to Lance knowing him.

Keith wondered again if they were friends. Probably not, but… going to Lance’s birthday… that could make them friends, right?

“I don’t think I have anything to give you,” Keith realized, then glared down at his hand on the dock. Maybe he could find something at the camp store. Deodorant? No. Maybe he could make something at the arts and crafts building. Keith was terrible at that stuff though…

But Lance was shaking his head. “Don’t get me anything. Just come and have a good time. Like I said, it’s more to get with friends that celebrate my birthday.”

“Okay…” Keith reluctantly agreed, still not sure of the proper etiquette for something like this. He’d have to ask Shiro. “So, when is it?”

“Tomorrow around 2 at the amphitheatre,” Lance said, lifting his feet out of the water and putting his flip flops back on. Keith looked up, suddenly afraid he had said something wrong. “I got to go,” Lance explained, getting to his feet. “Just because I don’t need to pack, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t clean. I’m not giving my sister any ammo for teasing. She already has enough.”

“Oh,” Keith said, nodding as he averted his gaze again. He felt silly, thinking that. “Have fun.”

Lance laughed at that. “I’ll certainly try,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you. Probably before the party since we share a cabin, plus, the dining pavilion isn’t going to have a lot of people tonight and-” Lance cut himself off. “Erm, yeah. So, see yah.”

Then, he scrambled off, Keith staring incredulously after. He shook his head and chuckled a bit.

“Alright,” he said, moreso speaking to himself. “See you then.”

-/-

It was 2 o’clock. Keith had gotten a pack of candy from the Stoll brothers’ illegal trade in the Hermes cabin, which he had no idea if Lance would even like or not, but oh well. Now he was in the amphitheatre where a handful of others had already gathered. Weird, because Keith was literally right on time.

It looked like a lot of them had arrived earlier to help set up though. Keith felt bad that he hadn’t thought of doing that, but then remembered his complete lack of people skills and decided there probably wouldn’t have been much he could do anyway.

“Keith! Hello!” a familiar voice greeted, and Keith turned to see Allura walking his way. Ah, so that was why she was waiting to go home.

“Hey, Allura,” he said, waving with the hand where he clutched the bag of candy. When he realized, he lowered it, face turning just a bit pink. Allura had that twinkle in her eye now. Great.

“You’ve come for Lance’s birthday, I see,” she remarked, having mercy on the lame gift he had brought, and Keith nodded. She smiled. “Alright, well, would you mind coming to help with some of the blankets?”

“Blankets?” he asked, now taking a better look around. Sure enough, there was a red wagon full of blankets off to the side. “Why blankets?”

“We decided sitting on the logs by an unlit fire was boring, so we brought blankets to lay out on the steps. It’s a lot more comfortable, I think,” she said, walking toward the wagon. Keith followed, nodding along to the logic, then helped set them out.

As they were doing that, he looked around to see who else had arrived. Pidge and Hunk, true to Lance’s word, had handled food. There were chips and sodas, apparently from the kitchen and not the Stoll brothers, as Pidge was a dryad and knew the ins and outs of the Big House’s kitchen. Then, there was a modest, but delicious-looking cake, courtesy of Hunk. The two were currently over there setting the goods out on a stone table, identical to those in the pavilion, that had somehow magically appeared.

Matt and Shiro, not too far away from where Allura and him were putting out the blankets, were setting up some sort of sound system, which, to be honest, looked ancient. Keith was no expert on technology, not having left the camp, which was overall devoid of most tech, since he was six, but he could tell the old radio was beyond any of their times. He could also tell by the look on Matt’s face. How a dryad, who probably hadn’t left camp for much longer than Keith had, knew anything about technology himself, though, was beyond Keith.

Then, there were the birthday twins themselves. Lance and Veronica were making a target with a pegasus brandishing its tail-less butt at them, attaching tails to an array of arrows for the game. They laughed together, Veronica hitting her brother in the arm for some stupid joke or another. The sight made Keith smile.

He remembered Veronica. It was hard not to, really, when she had been there for so long herself before joining the hunters of Artemis. The two McClain twins had arrived to camp at the same time, or so Keith was told, and had both been claimed on their first birthday at camp by Hermes. Keith remembered their claiming, and he remembered how inseparable the two had been for a while. Then, two years ago, Veronica had left.

Now, despite the short time she had been away, her immortality had already affected their difference in appearance so much. While they used to look almost identical, now Veronica, stopped just at the cusp of puberty, still looked like a kid, like Lance’s younger sister, instead of his twin. Lance, in comparison, looked like a teenager, jaw becoming more defined and shoulders broader. It was slightly jarring to see, the blatant change in the years like this. It made him sad, in a way, to see how far apart the twins had come.

But that feeling couldn’t stay for long when he noticed how happy the two looked to be together again, and how natural they fell back into their inseparable sibling dynamic. Keith watched as Lance made a quip, causing Veronica’s face to go red as she sputtered. She dished out what she got, though, and, soon, Lance’s face was changing the same. Keith laughed to himself, then focused on straightening the next blanket.

-/-

It was a little odd, hanging out with other campers. Realizing this, Keith found it odd that he would think it odd. But he’d never done something like this before. Whenever he talked with other campers, it was at dinner, or at training or activities. Now, Keith realized how truly lame he was for never actually hanging out in all the years he’d attended camp.

But it was nice too. They all lounged about on the blankets, once they were set out. Hunk played on a DS he had smuggled into camp, Pidge squished in beside him and watching as he mashed buttons and swayed with the motion of his character on the screen. Pidge kept shouting advice and swears. It was funny to watch.

Next to them, Lance was going back and forth from watching the game and talking to his sister, sitting criss-cross beside him, and Romelle and Allura, laying on their bellies and giggling beside each other. Romelle, Keith noticed, practically had sparkles in her eyes as she watched Allura speak.

Then, there was him, Matt, and Shiro off to the side. Matt, looking a bit irked, was threatening to strangle the radio with plants he conjured, while Shiro, sitting back, leaning on his hands planted on the blanket behind him, was calmly talking him out of it. He, too, seemed to have a bit of sparklage going on. Keith, sitting awkwardly on his folded legs, simply watched them, pretending to be apart of their conversation.

Distracted with watching Shiro and Matt talk with one another, Matt making a couple saplings from the ground dance dangerously close to the radio system and Shiro raising an unamused (or trying to be unamused, at least) eyebrow at him, Keith didn’t notice someone approach until they had sat down beside him.

For a moment, Keith’s heart leaped into his throat, imagining Lance had come over for some reason or another. Keith would give him the candy, which he still held in his hand and couldn’t stop fidgeting with, and wish him happy birthday. Then, he noticed it was not, in fact, Lance.

It was, surprisingly, Romelle.

“Oh,” Keith said with a certain amount of surprise, but no disappointment. Sure, he had wished it was Lance, but he liked Romelle. She was nice. What he couldn’t figure out was: what was she doing with Keith when Allura was over there? “Hey,” he greeted.

“Is it alright if I sit over here for a while?” she asked, looking a lot… different, than he’d seen her just minutes before. She still smiled, and he could tell she was trying to look cheerful, but her shoulders were down and the sparkle had left her eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, and she sent him a grateful smile.

“So, how are you?” Romelle asked, flattening her camp tee, and getting more comfortable on the blanket.

Keith shrugged. “Alright. You?”

“Oh, you know,” she shrugged, but it was obvious she didn’t want to talk about it. Keith could understand. So, instead, they talked about nothing in general, finding idle topics and elaborating their butts off about them. It was an uninteresting conversation, but, for once, Keith didn’t mind talking about the stupid things. As they carried on, he could tell it helped Romelle get her mind off whatever was bothering her.

However, stupid topics couldn’t ever hold Keith’s attention for long. As they were talking, he didn’t notice it, but he had started to look across their group, right at Lance.

“So, Lance,” Romelle commented, and Keith jumped. When he looked back over, she looked amused. “Did you get those for him?” she asked, nodding toward the pack of candy. For a moment, she seemed all-knowing - like Allura - but she didn’t look teasing. She looked curious. “You should go over and give it to him.”

Keith shook his head. “He’s busy.”

“Pssh,” Romelle rolled her eyes. “Of course he is. He’s surrounded by his friends.”

“Yeah, which means I’d be interrupting,” Keith said, but Romelle was already standing up. His eyes widened. “Romelle, what are you doing?” he asked, dread filling his voice, but she was already stepping away from him.

“Not all of us need to luck out today,” she said, then she was gone. Keith watched as she approached Lance and sat down with that group again. He also noticed that, the more she had drawn closer, the more she had avoided Allura’s eye.

Oh.

Gods, poor Romelle.

Not all of us need to luck out today.

But then, Keith started to panic for his own sake. As he looked back to what Romelle was doing, he noticed Lance standing up.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

So, when Lance walked over and sat down next to him, Keith panicked further and pretended he didn’t notice he was there. Smart.

“Hey,” Lance said after a few seconds. Keith jumped because of nerves, but it probably helped with his ridiculous pretending.

Keith looked over nervously. “Hey.” Then he looked away. He saw Romelle watching and narrowed his eyes. She turned to talk to Hunk and Pidge, looking delighted with the game they were playing.

“Sorry I haven’t been over yet,” Lance said. “I may have gotten a little excited to see my sister.”

“That’s no problem,” Keith said, shaking his head. “You can go back over. You didn’t have come over here just for me.”

“Nah, dude. I invited you for a reason,” Lance laughed, like something about that was obvious. None of it was. “So let’s talk. I hope you haven’t been too bored.”

Keith shook his head. “I’ve been talking to Matt and Shiro. And Romelle.” Then, remembering, he looked down at the candy in his hand. “By the way,” he said. Suddenly, it was quite difficult to get the words out. “These. Are. For you?”

He lifted the candy. Lance’s eyes lit up and Keith could have sworn he heard him gasp. “Keith, I told you not to get me anything.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s not much.” It was just a pack of candy. Last birthday Shiro had given him some money that he hadn’t seen much point spending until now. This was totally worth it, in Keith’s eyes. He handed it over. “I hope you like sour things.”

“I love sour candy,” Lance gushed, the plastic crinkling in his hand, and, at this, Keith finally looked up again. He smiled a bit, pleased.

“Me too,” he agreed.

“Wanna share?” Lance asked, ripping open the candy. Keith’s eyes went wide.

“I got them for you,” he said, falling into panic again. This wasn’t norm, was it? Sharing your birthday present?

“Yeah, and I wanna share them,” Lance declared, tone leaving no room for argument. Keith shifted awkwardly, but stayed silent. Lance picked a gummy out, popped it in his own mouth, then offered the bag for Keith to take one. Tentatively, Keith did.

Then, because when Keith did open his mouth, he said something stupid.

“Is it weird sharing a birthday with someone who doesn’t age?”

Lance stopped, eyes widening, and Keith felt that familiar panic well up, before Lance smiled.

“I used to think so, yeah,” Lance answered truthfully. “Not so much anymore. I think it still means something to us even if it’s not the passage of time. It’s a celebration of the both of us, and it’s something we still share.”

“That. Makes sense,” Keith said, nodding. He sucks on the gummy worm a bit. Lance reaches for another worm.

“What are you even doing to that poor thing?” Lance asked, pointing at the now half-sour worm in Keith’s hand. Then, somehow, naturally, like they were regular friends talking about regular things, they fell into an innocent squabble about the barbarous treatment he was putting his gummy worm through, and, in Keith’s opinion, the equally horrible murder of Lance’s worms as he bit through half of their body. That led into a conversation about how worms regenerate their bodies, depending on how they are severed.

Somehow, Keith lost track of time, and all sense of panic that he’d had before, talking with Lance. It wasn’t until Veronica sat down next to them, waggling her eyebrows at Lance for some reason, and started to talk to Keith that Keith realized he had forgotten just where they were.

It was somewhat awkward, but it wasn’t as though he didn’t know Veronica, so, when she asked him questions, he didn’t see any reason to feel too awkward about answering. Then, as this carried on, more and more people from their group seemed to gravitate toward them, chiming in about stories told or their own experiences. Romelle and Hunk joined and bounced jokes off each other seemlessly. Pidge dragged their brother away from the radio, and Shiro and Allura scooted over too. Soon, they were playing truth or dare, which quickly changed to duck duck goose, somehow, and everyone was laughing as Lance chased his quick sister around the circle.

And Keith found that he was having fun. More fun than he had ever had before, honestly. And, somehow, even when everyone switched up around the circle because of the game, he found himself next to Lance again as he and his sister were presented with a cake and a spattering of lit candles.

After the cake was done, the sun was setting and Veronica challenged Lance to their pin the tail on the pegasus game. Keith watched as everyone migrated away from the blankets. However, something held him back. He sat, an easy smile on his face as he watched Lance line up his first shot.

“Did Lance like his present?” Romelle asked as she sat down next to him, and Keith nodded yes without breaking his gaze.

“Thanks for that,” Keith said, and, funny enough, he found that he meant it. As awkward as it had been that she’d gone and gotten Lance for him, it had turned out great.

“No problem,” Romelle answered, and she sounded cheery, despite her earlier mood. He looked over at her.

“You doing okay?”

Romelle, still looking down at the others, shrugged. “I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry for whatever happened,” he offered, then turned his own gaze back. Lance, tremendous archer he was, made a bulls-eye. Veronica was next. Being a hunter of Artemis, it was going to be a close match.

“Did you know Allura and Lotor are dating?” Romelle said suddenly, and it was so shocking that Keith had to turn back.

“What? Seriously?”

But Romelle just nodded calmly. “Yep.”

“Wow,” was all Keith could say, and turned away again. Then, and he wasn’t sure why, Keith said, “I’m sure that sucks for Lance to hear too.”

This, however, seemed to shock Romelle. “Lance?”

“Yeah. You guys can find solidarity in each other for that at least.”

“I…don’t think Lance likes Allura,” Romelle said carefully, sounding slightly confused. Keith just shook his head.

“He’s flirted with her for two years,” Keith said, and he’s not sure why he’s noticed that. “He definitely likes her.”

“I don’t know, Keith. That’s not the vibe I’ve gotten off him,” Romelle replied, sounding doubtful.

Keith shrugged. “Well, whatever the case,” he said.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, watching the games below. Veronica had gotten a bulls-eye as well, and the two siblings had bickered for a while over who had the better shot. Now, though, Allura was up.

“You don’t go home for the year, right?” Romelle asked, and Keith shook his head.

“Nope,” he replied. “Nowhere to go.”

“Me neither,” she replied, and, somehow, Keith found solidarity in that. Then, she started to get up, moving to join the others down by the target. For a moment, though, she paused and turned back. “I think we’re going to become great friends.”

She smiled, and Keith smiled back. A true and real smile.

“I’d like that.”

Then, she hopped down the steps until she came to the ampitheatre floor, hurrying up to Allura and making some kind of joke to the girl. Allura laughed and Romelle’s eyes glowed. The sparkle didn’t come back and Romelle still hurt, but she seemed determined not to lose the friend she had in Allura and Keith felt proud of her for that.

Keith didn’t move from his spot on the stairs of the ampitheatre, criss-cross on a blanket and gazing down at his friends, but he didn’t feel lonely for it. Even if many of them would be leaving tomorrow, Keith didn’t feel like it was goodbye just yet.

In fact, the end of this summer felt more of a beginning than anything.

#klance #vld #voltron #klance au month #chb au #i really love romelle and keith's friendship vhbdkwmmdkjkfbh #that true gay solidarity #ive noticed my pacing sucks when i dont let myself revise #please forgive my atrocious writing

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jflashandclash · 6 years ago

Text

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Warning: Child abuse themes. Graphic depictions of violence.

Thirty-Six: Maari

Things are NOT Fun and Fancy Free

Pain stung her cheek.

Merry found herself staring out the window. The spotted blackness outside wasn’t what she saw.

For a split second, Merry was in her room back in Virginia, nine-years-old, with Fairy Odd Parents and Teen Titans posters on the wall. The weekend had been exciting. Scary, but exciting—Merry and her mother had gone out to purchase her first trainer bra. Without thinking, when Merry went to her father’s house for the week, she’d tossed it into the laundry hamper.

Her father had hit her before, but she had always told herself that she deserved it, because she had acted out.

That was the first time he’d beaten her.

He’d stumbled into her room, drunk, shoving the bra into her face. “What the fuck is this?”

She stepped backwards, already shaking in anticipation of the strike. “A—a—a trainer bra, Appa. I—I’m sorry. I promise I’ll wash it on my own—”

“Lingerie. Already with the lingerie.”

Merry didn’t understand. The bra and underwear set had ducklings on it. She and Am’ma thought it was cute.

He slapped her across the face with a bottle of Kingfisher.

The reek of beer from the bottle and his breath was overwhelming.

When the pain spread across her jaw, she said nothing. She learned that protest could earn a second slap.

But, when she felt her lip bust open under the third strike, she covered her head. The bottle switched to a fist as he screamed, “Whore! Just like your mother! Whore like your mother!”

She cried all she could remember how to say, “Mannikkavum! Baba, Nil! Ennai taniyaka vitu! En?! [1]

But he was too drunk and too far gone to hear Merry or to even think that he was calling his nine-year-old daughter a whore for something she couldn’t control.

That was the first time Merry had identified madness and mania, the first time she’d learned how to lie so cheerfully. That was when she vowed never to do that to another, never to make them feel like that, never to hurt someone physically.

But she was going to do much worse than that to Hiro.

Merry embraced the mania, her panic, her fear, her delirium.

A tugging sensation hit her gut. Before she let it overtake her, Merry focused her thoughts.

Stick to the plan. Remember the steps. Still trying things the easy-peasy way. Keep Hiro calm. One last try.

Merry looked down from the window, away from the smattering of store lights, back to Hiro. He still held the pistol, scowling at her. He looked tense, ready to defend himself if she struck back.

She clucked her tongue, feeling blood dribble from a busted lip. Her voice shook. “That was unnecessary, Hiro. We’re here to talk. Aunti Merry wants to be your friend. I want to help you—“

Hiro cocked his head to one side. A thought struck him, and his eyes widened with glee. Although her lip-reading was definitely on the rusty to nonexistent side of her skill set, she thought he mouthed, “Pacifist,” while spelling something out with his other hand. Then, “won’t fight back.”

With his empty hand, he slapped her, almost experimentally.

The sensation of panic welled in Merry’s stomach, rising to her chest, twisting her gut. She may have been a full foot taller than Hiro, but she suddenly felt very small.

Hiro giggled in curious delight. A toy. A toy that doesn’t hit back.

He slapped her again.

And again.

Her mouth tasted like iron.

Easy-peasy way had failed.

And Merry thought what she’d want to say every time to her father, Enough.

She reached out, gently, and touched Hiro’s temple. She had never done this before, so needed the proximity to assure it would work. As Merry touched him, she exhaled, feeling the horrific tugging sensation in her gut transfer, feeling the years of panic, paranoia, mania, and terror drain out of her fingertips.

For a moment, nothing seemed to change. Hiro took a step backwards from her, swatting her hand away.

She gave him a sad smile, glancing up at the ceiling, then back down to him.

Hiro stumbled another step backwards, almost knocking over his altar. His breathing accelerated. His eyes dilated.

“A group of pirates once rescued Dionysus in disguise from an island and offered to take him home. However, all but one secretly agreed they should sell him as a slave,” Merry said. Her voice had stopped shaking. Instead, her tone felt slow, almost slurred. Her whole body felt warm, despite the cold and her lack of clothing. “Do you know what the oars turned into for those meanie pirates?”

Hiro twitched violently. He swatted himself, like he felt a bug bite. There were no bugs. His eyes wildly searched around the rafters, like he sensed something was up there.

The whirl of cars and noises of the city warped. They raised pitch and seemed to accelerate into a consistent sibilation.

His eyes darted suspiciously to her, but he aimed the gun upward.

From his reactions, Merry could tell he’d completely forgotten about baby Jackson.

“Snakes,” she said. “They turned into snakes. Tufted Ears told me that you don’t like snakes very much.”

The sounds solidified into a chorus of hissing.

Snakes dangled from the rafters like streams for a party. Colorful ones, with red, black, and yellow stripes. Brilliant yellow vipers with prongs jutting out above either eye. Some were brown, with diamond patterns down their backs and a single horn protruding from the ends of their faces. Merry had never seen them before, so didn’t have more to work off of than Axel’s descriptions. But that didn’t matter. Her mind wasn’t doing most of the work to create the madness.

Hiro’s was.

He screamed, his voice coming out hoarse, like a record player forced to play for the first time in years.

The twelve-year-old dropped the gun.

Merry winced, waiting for the revolver to fire. Instead, it clattered onto the floor, harmless other than creating a cacophony with Hiro’s shriek. It was loud enough to make baby Jackson cry.

At least Hiro put the safety lock on before he beat someone with his gun.

He scrambled backwards, smashing into the mirror. The glass shattered, exploding all over his back. As he glanced back at what he hit, the mirror shards morphed to thin-legged black spiders with red blotches, fuzzy, massive, fat ones, furry flies with stingers the size of their bodies, and long, creeping scorpions.

Violently, Hiro swatted at his back, his fingers returning bloody from their “stings.” Really, from the glass.

Merry’s breath was ragged. Step three: corral Hiro to a corner of the room. Use his own fears, paranoia, and terror to make him create one of his fancy talisman bubbles. Trap him with his own mind.

Merry felt the tug in her stomach increase. Her body tingled like it was on fire. The madness was flaring and she struggled to restrain a nauseating sense of euphoria. She understood now—why her real father, her biological father, always laughed when he retold the tales of how he punished people.

Hiro tore off his dart suspenders and shoulder holster, ripping his burgundy shirt away to stomp on it. The spiders and scorpions crunched with the same tune of glass.

By now, baby Jackson was sobbing and squealing too.

“Hiro, little honey cakes, you can be safe if you just go in that corner,” Merry said. She took a careful step towards him, her body feeling light and wobbly. “It’s like that lava game. All you have to do is step in that corner.”

She tried to clear a small segment of his mind, to lull him there, but the hiss of the snakes grew louder. A rattler dropped from the ceiling and fell onto Hiro’s arm.

He sobbed and slapped the viper off, retreating beyond his tumbled altar table, closer to the outer wall.

Merry couldn’t sort through it. She couldn’t understand Hiro’s mind, only see his madness.

Vital addendum to step three: don’t lose control.

Merry was quickly losing control of the situation.

Rapid creation of step four: catch this little, crazy shit and sit on him until the cops—that her most Epic of Bystanders must have called--showed up. Then figure out how to explain how Merry was the victim, when she was mostly undressed, crushing a sobbing, apparently helpless, crazed twelve-year-old.

Merry took another step closer to Hiro, reaching towards him. “Hey, Hiro honey—”

Hiro saw something else above her. His screaming abruptly halted, despite another snake dropping down to rest across his shoulders. His jaw dropped open.

Merry didn’t dare look up at the rafters to see what scared him so much, what horror his mind had manufactured. She needed him to look at her. She needed him to focus. She needed to focus, so she didn’t get lost in his madness, so she didn’t begin to believe these creepy crawlies were real, so she could gain back control or at least give him a bear hug that he couldn’t escape.

But Hiro’s eyes had gone wide and blank. He took two more absent steps backwards, straight towards the drafty breeze from the broken window.

Then it was Merry’s turn to scream.

As Hiro slipped on the shattered, stained glass—

--and she reached to catch him—

And missed.

The hissing disappeared.

Spiders and scorpions flickered back into glass shards.

The blare of a cop siren whirred outside as the city panicked in the sudden blackness. Baby Jackson shrieked and screamed.

Merry’s limbs no longer felt on fire. She felt cold and numb.

Trying to keep her breathing even, Merry glanced around the room. The communication mirror was shattered, so she couldn’t tell Percy his little sister was safe. If she had to guess, the others wouldn’t have time to pick up a phone call from her or check a text, Unit Poseidon, cleared for action.

Weakness and queasiness sapped the hum out of her. With the industrial din of the city, she did the one thing that she felt like she shouldn’t: she stumbled to the window to look down.

In the glow of the headlights and flickered-on street lamps, she could see Hiro’s broken body mangled around one of the pinnacles a dozen feet down.

He made sputtering, horrifying noises.

Merry took a step backwards.

The whole time she robotically dressed, picked up the sobbing Jackson, used a mix of Mist-work, lying, and Dionysus-play to direct the EMTs and cops that Sam Datta called up to save Hiro’s life, she wondered how else that could have ended.

The thought stole the song from her until she was in Sam Datta’s taxi van, and he gently put a hand over hers—still gripping a crying baby Jackson—and said, “Hey. I don’t know what it was, but you did what you had to do to save this baby.” He swallowed and continued, “Let’s get her home safely, and let’s get you back to camp.”

Merry didn’t realize she was crying until she blinked away tears. Her cheek burned and felt four times larger than it should have. She probably looked half-chipmunk. “Yea,” she croaked, clicking the music on her parka on. “We have another party we need to crash.”

Written to/inspired by Arai Tasuku’s Alice (Full EP) with the majority coming from Speak Roughly To your Little Boy and Jackal, Don’t Come Near Me; I am a Monster.

Thank you for reading! Don’t worry. Merry gets a much better resolution in the epilogue. I would not leave out bodacious girl hanging. <3

[1] I’m sorry! Wait—stop! Leave me alone! Why?!

#Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Traitors of Olympus #TOO #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #looooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnng week and weekend

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littlemisskookie · 7 years ago

Text

Hades

Hades Prologue Poseidon Aphrodite Ares Artemis Interlude Hades Hermes Zeus Ship: Yoongi | Reader Description: You meet a rather dreamy- albeit annoying, new kid who sweeps you off your feet. Too bad it’s in the middle of a series of murders around town. Warnings: Daddy Kink, Spanking, Anal, Ass-Play, Degrading, Intercourse, Blowjob, Handjob, Dirty Talk, D/S themes, Fingering, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Violence, Death, Angst, Horror Word Count: 9,487 A/N: Yay! Finally finished!

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Restarting...

"I can't believe that another one was killed last night," your friend Rosé shuddered, scrolling through the latest news. "I mean, how could they have not caught them yet? It's insane."

"Mhm," you groggily mumbled along, eyes firmly shut, and your head leaning against your hand, propped up by the elbow against the desk. God, you were so tired. When was this class going to end? You'd be at home sleeping if attendance wasn't a 15% part of your semester average.

"Listen to this- the latest victim is a girl our age. The first one an old man, the second a little boy, the third a middle-aged woman, and on and on- but this is the first one with a college student!" Rosé gasped. "God, I know they're going for literally anyone they could get their hands on, but this just gets me more scared. Doesn't it? Aviva? Aviva, are you even listening to me?"

"Mhm," you murmur again. Honestly, what was the point of coming to this 7 AM class when you were too tired to learn anything, and Rosé was always too busy chattering in your ear?

Rosé rolled her eyes. "You know, I don't see why you don't get any sleep. You haven't gotten a wink it seems. You're too pent up on coffee?"

"No," you say, not daring to open your eyes. "I'm just scared."

"Because of the killer?" She scoffed. "They only come out at night, with their victims in the street. I mean, sure, I wouldn't put it past them to break in- but even I'm able to rest easier behind locked doors."

"Sure," you hum again, feeling the impending drowsiness come over you. There were murders going around town, true. Rather gruesome, actually. Sometimes the body was beaten with a bat, otherwise stabbed in the face numerous times. But each time they'd have their veins halfway ripped from their forearms, dangling out. That, and they'd also have their finger and toenails ripped out, scattered around their corpse. More times than not the eyes would be dangling out of their sockets, still attached. Almost as though someone stuck their finger in there, dug it around, and popped it out. You didn't like thinking about it.

"Are you talking about the murders?" a new voice emerges. It sounded like one you didn't recognize.

"Yeah," your friend answers. "Say, aren't you the new kid? Min Yoongi, right? Sorry you had to transfer here in the middle of these murders. Must make you want to go back home, huh?"

Yoongi shrugs. "Home's kinda depressing. Besides, there's death everywhere, I suppose."

"I guess that's true," Rosé nods but has a pout on her face. She looks at you with annoyance, your snoring being heard.

Yoongi swiped your elbow off the desk but places his palm on the desk for your forehead to bounce off of. You snap up, awake, staring up at the stranger.

"Fucking hell, what's your problem, asshole?" you exclaim, infuriated.

"It's rude to fall asleep during a conversation," he smirked slightly. "Besides, class is almost over."

You see your friend laughing, to which you return a glare. Looking back at the man, you give him a once over. "Well, I certainly didn't need your help. A nice tap on the shoulder would've sufficed."

"That wouldn't have worked," he says. "Trust me, I know."

"Aren't you that new kid?" you ask him.

"The name's Yoongi. I suggest you learn it," he smiles, cocking his head to the side. Fuck, he was hot. Annoyingly so. You wanted to slap the stupid grin off his face. Well, maybe you also wanted to make out with it. What if you kissed him then slapped him? It's not like he would see it coming.

You shook the thoughts from your head, unsure about this smoldering attraction you had to the man. "Dickwad suits you better, fuckface."

"Which is it?" Yoongi questions, amused by your hot-tempered attitude.

"Whatever the hell I want it to be," you countered.

"Would you two who are arguing please leave the classroom? You're causing a disturbance," your teacher yelled, causing your cheeks to burn with embarrassment.

Rosé snickers, giving a falsely sympathetic smile. "I'll see you after class," she whispers as you begrudgingly get your stuff. You glare back, giving a huff. At least class was almost over.

Yoongi gets his stuff as well, cocking his arm out as though to escort you. You roll your eyes, shoving past him and marching out. The minute you were out the door you tossed your bag against the wall and sat down. Yoongi soon exited as well, sitting beside you.

"Why're you waiting outside the classroom?" Yoongi asks you as he sinks down.

"Rosé is my ride," you huff, glaring at him. "What do you want?"

"Well, I feel bad for getting you kicked out of class," he admits quietly, a calm, serene expression on his face. You were surprised by his genuine expression, and how he genuinely seemed to be sorry for his actions. His eyes were pretty, you noted. Dark. Kind of like little black holes you could see yourself diving into to escape this universe. If only. "Though it was kinda your fault for screaming so much."

And then it was gone.

You rolled your eyes. "You're the one who knocked my head off."

"You were the one sleeping in class- if you were caught snoring you would've embarrassed yourself further. You're lucky I took the fall with you."

"I do not snore!" you defend, gawking at him.

He gave you a gummy smile, and despite how rude and cocky he seemed, butterflies flew in your stomach. Fuck this dreamy and obnoxious new kid for being so damn attractive but not having the personality to make you willingly head over heels. "Oh, you definitely do."

"Well then, thank you for being my knight in shining armor," you sputter sarcastically, oozing with the venom you intended it to have. "But I don't need rescuing."

"I know," he says softly. There's a moment of silence that hung between the two of you, and you felt awkward, simply staring down at your feet.

You hear the air conditioner in the hallway turn on, and soon enough goosebumps begin to prickle along your arms. You rub them, cursing yourself for not wearing long sleeves. Yoongi begins to tug off his hoodie, and you look at him in alarm.

"What are you doing? It's freezing," you say.

"Exactly," he notes. "I'm giving you my hoodie."

"What? No! You don't have to do that," you assure him.

"I'm just being polite," he rolls his eyes. "Do you want the hoodie or not?"

You pause for a moment, thinking it over. You hang your head low, not daring to look him in those dazzling eyes as you hold your hand out reluctantly. "Yes, please."

You were sure he was wearing a grin, and you feel his cold hand touch yours as he hands you the hoodie. You look up at him, startled. "Oh my god, your hands are freezing!" They seriously felt as though they were made of ice.

"Yeah, they are," he says.

"Are you sure you're not the one who needs a hoodie?" you ask him.

"Don't worry about me. My hands are cold no matter what I do," he assures you. You stare at him for a moment, but decide to slip on the hoodie. There was always something comforting about wearing guy clothes. How it would smell like their cologne and it was many sizes too big for you. Yoongi's hoodie oddly reminded you of pomegranates, and you tried to resist the urge to smell it while he was right next to you.

"Thank you," you say quietly.

"Mhm," he hums, tapping his foot as he looks off to the other side. You swore, his cheeks looked rosy. Maybe it was just the lighting.

The door swings open, and your classmates spill out, and soon enough you saw your friend Rosé in front of you, looking rather cheeky to see you two sitting together. "Are you wearing his hoodie?" she asked you, raising a suspicious brow.

"Oh, yeah, I am," you cough. You begin to slip it off, "I'll give it back-"

"Keep it," he says. "You can give it back to me next time you have an opportunity." You're about to protest, but soon enough your friend is dragging you away, clearly not wanting you to give up the present the dreamy new kid got you.

"I knew you guys were flirting!" Rosé exclaimed in the car, her grin wide.

"What?" you exclaim. "Absolutely not! He's a dick."

"Why're you wearing his hoodie then? Doesn't seem like a dick move to me," she giggled in response.

"You're just too much of a romantic," you roll your eyes. "Look, he just... I guess..."

"You're blushing!" she accuses.

"I'm not!" you protest. "Ok, so he gave me his hoodie, so what? Even fuck faces like him have manners."

"You're totally into him," Rosé gushes. "God, with you two bickering like an old married couple-"

"If any couple bickers like that, they need to get some counseling," you interject.

"C'mon, there are many types of flirting, and yours was clearly the one of well- how do I put this? Elementary schoolers."

You deadpan. "What."

"You know... The guy acts stupid and bugs the girl for her attention, and she gets all mad at him because she doesn't want him to know how she feels," your friend giggles. "It's totally obvious."

"No, no, no! He might be the hottest guy I've ever seen, and absolutely dreamy, but he's a total tool!"

"Did you just call him dreamy?" Rosé squeals. "God, if he wasn't already into you, I'd totally nab him! Lucky."

"Excuse me? He's not into me! He's a grown man, they don't act like that." Now you knew you were blushing. You could feel your face burn.

"Have you seen the way he looked at you?" she gushed. "I mean... People look at the ones they love as though it's the first time. It seemed as though he looked at you like you were in every lifetime together."

"What romcom's ass did you pull that out of?" you roll your eyes.

"Stop being a total dick, I made it up myself," Rosé responded.

"Just admit you're trying to put something there that's not," you deadpan.

She rolls her eyes. "Insiders just can't see it the same way we can. You're surrounded by that cloud of love, that's what I think. Makes you blind to the possibilities."

You woke up, blinking up at the ceiling and taking in your surroundings. Your head hurt. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. Definition of the year. You blinked slowly, rubbing your head with your arm, but then you feel the bandage on your hand. You stare at it and finally look around your room.

Well, for one, it wasn't your room, per say.

You shot up, pain prickling towards your forehead. "Fuck," you muttered, hunching over to try to calm down, the overwhelming pain having your mind spinning. This wasn't a hangover. Something definitely happened last night- a no-brainer. But as for what...

The door opened, and you were shocked to see none other than Yoongi.

"Before you ask, nothing sexual happened between us last night. We ran into each other in the street- you said you couldn't sleep and went for a walk. But during it, we got attacked- and your head hit the wall from the assailant. Even cut your hand with the blade they had. They ran before I could catch them, so I took you to my place and treated you. I take it you don't remember anything that happened last night?"

You stared at him. "You're lucky I feel half dead because I'm so close to strangling you right now."

Yoongi shrugged. "I figured."

"Was the person who attacked me... was it the killer?" Your heart dropped at the thought that you could've died had Yoongi not been with you.

"It could be anyone's guess, but I'll say yes," Yoongi sighed. "I went through the explanations- it's the most reasonable one."

You feel your heart rate quicken, and you're short of breath. "Oh god, oh god! I-I can't believe I could've been killed! How could I be so stupid as to go out on nights like these? I can't believe I'd be so... dumb!"

"You did seem pretty out of it," Yoongi noted. "I told you that you should be catching up on sleep."

"Wait, how do I know you didn't do it? That you didn't hit my head or cut my hand or drug or assault me or any of that?" you accuse, eyes wide with fright. You straighten yourself up, grabbing the closest thing to you- which happened to be the lamp, preparing it as a weapon, aiming for launch. "You're still a stranger- how can I trust you? Not to mention you're a complete dick sometimes!"

"Why would I bring you to my apartment? Why wouldn't I just take advantage of you and leave you on the street? Why wouldn't I kill you, or better yet- leave you for the killer to find? I don't have any proof, but if you don't want to believe me, that's fine. But I promise you, I didn't harm you," Yoongi assured you.

"Fuck you," you spit. "I can't trust you." More pain was brought to your frontal lobe, and you wince, hissing in pain.

Yoongi brings his hand to your forehead, moving his fingers over the area that hurt the most. "I'll get you medicine. If you don't trust me, you can watch me pour the water and bring the Tylenol, to make sure I don't drug or poison you or something."

"I..." you sigh, laying back down in defeat. You didn't want to do this today. Couldn't it be on Hannakuh or something? "No, that's not necessary. At least if I die I won't have to pay my student loans."

Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief. "Fair point," he says, leaving the room. Within moments he comes back with the medicine, and you eye him warily as you take it. You looked around, spotting your phone charging on the nightstand. Picking it up, you notice an amber alert.

The killer was spotted last night.

Your blood drains. "Did you file a police report or something last night?"

"No, I was too busy taking care of you. I thought we could do it in the morning," Yoongi responds, rolling his eyes.

You look up the local news, going through the latest article. "Someone else was attacked last night," you whisper. Reading through the article, you shudder. "The girl was able to fend them off, pushing the killer against the wall. Apparently, they were attacking her, and the weapon they had was a knife. They slashed at her hip area, but she escaped. When the police got to the scene, the killer was nowhere to be found."

"Do they have any clues?"

"Well," you gulp. "There's only one thing for sure- the killer is a woman."

"Oh," Yoongi says. "Well, yes. I knew that much."

Your eyes widen, staring up at him. "Do you know who it is? Did you see her face?"

"No," he coughs awkwardly. "I didn't. She ran away in time and it was too dark for me to get a good glimpse of her. I was more focused on you."

You were quiet, shaken up over the whole thing. "Thank you," you whisper. "I... If what you're saying is true- which it has to be. There's no way you're the killer because it's a woman, and your description of the events matches my injuries... I feel silly. Thank you... for everything."

"It's the right thing to do," he states uncomfortably.

You look up at him. He looks nervous. You note how his bed head looked undeniably sexy on him, and despite the fact you just learned you could've been killed, the first thing that came to mind was morning sex.

Why the hell were you so horny?

You lick your lips, eyes scanning the man before you, and you felt the raw lust and desire clawing to be set free. "Yoongi... I know we got off on the wrong foot," you state hesitantly. That was an understatement. He was purely obnoxious, but now that you saw what good he brought to you, and how he truly was a gentleman... "But how can I make this up to you?"

He gulped. "I, that's not necessary. Any person with half a brain and a heart would've done it."

"I still want to thank you," you say. You sit up again, noting that the medication might be working already since your head didn't hurt nearly as much as before. "Sit beside me, please."

He was hesitant, quirking a brow at you before sitting next to you. You look him in the eye, your faces centimeters apart. You could really smell the pomegranate scene now. It made your mouth water. You'd have to buy some after this.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask him.

He looks blank for a second, and you wonder if you crossed the line. It's only when he nods in confirmation that you attach your lips to his, feeling his hand on your cheek as he presses you firmer against him. The two of you are making out for a few seconds, your eyes fluttered shut as you move your lips against his. Absentmindedly, you place your hand on his thigh, and he moves it off, pulling away from you.

"What's wrong?" you ask him. Did you do something wrong? What happened? It was barely getting hot and heavy.

"I... need to go to the bathroom," he says quickly, exiting.

You blink in surprise, watching as he swiftly left. You awkwardly sat in bed, running the events of what happened in your head. Why were you acting like this suddenly? Just yesterday you hated the guy. Well, before he gave you his hoodie, that is. You hated him a little less, admittedly. And it wasn't like you could deny the fact you were attracted to him since the beginning, at least physically. Not that you'd want to admit it.

Yoongi returned, and your eyes were wide when he grabbed the back of your neck, smashing your lips against yours to fiercely kiss you. You respond willingly, feeling him fall on top of you in a flurry of passion.

You unconsciously spread your legs, moaning into his kiss, and he responds by grinding against you, where you feel the prominent erection hidden beneath his sweats rub against your thigh. His lips attack your neck, and you hear him growl against the soft skin. "God, why can't I ever seem to resist you?"

You arch your back, pressing him closer, rubbing your core against him in circles, taunting him. "Want me to take care of that little problem?" you offer, panting.

"Fuck, yes," he grunts, flipping over on his back.

You feel your head throb slightly as you roll over on your hands and knees, but you ignore it, pure excitement enveloping you as you sink further down his form. You hook your fingers into the hem of his sweats and boxers, sinking them down to his knees. You look at his erection, and you wondered how you hadn't noticed it before while the two of you were making out. You were thankful he was just as horny as you were.

You place it in your hand- the one that wasn't bandaged at the moment, and lower your head to suck at his balls. From how his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and the throaty moan he emitted as he bucked into your hand, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride in your chest. This was the feeling of complete control.

You sucked on his balls for a bit longer before you came back up, licking a stripe along his length. He notably shivered. You also noted how cold his skin felt against yours- but it didn't remind you of ice this time. Now it felt more refreshing. Kind of like when you dive into a pool of water, with the sun burning the back of your neck.

"Go easy on me," you asked him. "My head still hurts- so do your best to keep your hips still."

He scoffed, smirking at you in the cocky way you were already familiar with. "Believe me, babe, I'm a master of self-control."

You glare at him, wanting to test his theory. We'll see about that, you thought to yourself. Without further ado, you sink down on his length, your nose nuzzling against the pubes. You feel him gasp as he bucks into the back of your throat, causing you to gag and slip off of him. You sputter, ignoring his apologizes.

You give your own cocky smirk, "Self-control my ass." Although, you said it whilst coughing.

He glares at you. "I didn't think you'd deep throat me just like that."

"Mhm," you chuckle.

"C'mon, stop wasting time. I want to be back in your throat," he cooed, brushing his fingers against your cheek. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his cold touch, and oblige, sucking softly at the head of his cock.

You enjoy the moans he made, though you could tell how quiet he was trying to be, only letting the occasional grunt slip out. You bobbed your head along his length, ignoring how dizzy you felt. You should rest- but first, you needed him to cum.

Finally, after your jaw was starting to feel sore from deep throating him continuously, you heard the magic words. "Can I cum in your throat?"

You only respond by sucking harder, and for a moment you imagine yourself as a perverted vacuum cleaner, and the thought has you trying not to laugh. Soon enough he's sending a hot, sticky load down your throat, which you swallow heartily, not wanting a single drop to escape your lips.

Both of you are sweaty and breathless once he's finished, and you crawl forward, collapsing in his arms, tired. "Do you want me to return the favor?" he chuckles.

"No," you laugh, your eyelids droopy. "I just want to sleep I think."

And sleep you did.

"I've been doing some research into the murders," Rosé tells you, whispering as the two of you took notes. "You know, since the last attack."

"Mhm," you mumbled, mainly doodling in your notepad. You couldn't stop thinking about your time with Yoongi. He tasted so good on your tongue. You glanced at him, seeing him typing away on his laptop. How could someone look so hot when they weren't even doing anything? You felt yourself swooning.

"She's the only one who survived- and the description she gave of the killer is definitely a woman in her young 20s. And since it's already confirmed they must live here- well, it's likely that they go to our college."

"Really?" you absentmindedly say, still staring at Yoongi.

Rosé snapped her fingers in front of you, snapping you out of your daze. She had a frustrated expression. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, yes!" you exclaim, irritated. "I'm just distracted. You're talking about the killer."

She rolls her eyes in annoyance. "The killer only comes out after sunset and before sunrise. Well, that was known. So maybe we need to be looking at young women on the streets- which is ironic since they're typically the ones who are in danger. Although there have been fewer predators on the street recently because of the murders, so that's good."

"Where are you going with this?" you ask her.

"What if you and I go investigating? Try to find the monster," she suggests.

"What? Rosé, are you insane? We're not the police. I'm sure they'll find the killer soon. If we do that... Forget it. And don't do it," you say firmly.

"Speak for yourself, but someone's got to do something. Clearly, the police don't have it under control, seeing how they haven't prevented the murders," Rosé states. "I'm going."

"You're going to get yourself killed," you huff. You return back to your current favorite activity- staring at Yoongi.

"Why're you staring at him all of the sudden?" your friend asks. "Last I checked, you hated him."

You shrugged. "He's not all that bad."

"Bullshit," Rosé says, turning you to face her. "What happened between you two?"

You avoid her eye, staring down, and she suppresses a squeal. "Oh my God, you totally had sex!" she whisper-screams.

"We didn't!" you say quickly. "We just... got to third base, that's all."

"You're kidding," she smiles. "I told you he was attracted to you."

"Shut up already," you grin, feeling your cheeks get rosy. The two of you giggle, and you look back at Yoongi, your eyes locking. He smirks at you, and you feel girly as you bury your face in Rosé's shoulder, feeling positively giddy. God, you had such a school girl crush. Weren't adults supposed to be calmer when it came to their love lives?

"Tell me what happened," she insisted. "I want to hear everything."

"It's kind of long," you say. "Well, last night I was attacked by the... you can't freak out ok? The killer attacked me, but Yoongi saved me, and we ended up spending the night at his place and... dot dot dot."

"No. Way." Her eyes get wide. "That means you saw the killer!"

"Not exactly," you mumble. You take her hand, placing it on your head for her to feel the bump.

She winces. "That must've hurt."

"Definitely did the morning I woke up," you say. "I can't remember a thing after I fell asleep."

"Well at least you're finally getting sleep," she says. "I get concerned for you."

"I know, I know," you sigh. "I guess I'm just scared to."

"Why's that?"

You didn't want to mention it to her.

"Aviva." You turn around, about to leave class when Yoongi stopped you. You felt a smile creep onto your lips, and you grin brightly to him.

"Yeah? You need something?" you question, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"Yeah, give me your phone," he says. You oblige, opening it to him and seeing him send himself a text. He hands it back to you with a small smirk. "Text me."

"Will do," you grin, biting your lower lip in delight.

You look around your room, tossing your clothes on the floor and such. "I could've sworn I went to sleep in it... or left it here... where is it?" You were having trouble finding the hoodie Yoongi lent you- which was bad, considering the fact you promised him that you'd return it.

Grunting to yourself, you go to your phone, looking at your most recent text message. Calling the contact, you hear Yoongi's voice.

"Hello, Aviva."

God, that raspy voice was sexy.

"Hey, Yoongi," you greet. "Did I by any chance leave your hoodie at your place? I promised to return it to you, but I can't seem to find it."

"Oh. You were wearing it when I found you last night. I took it and washed it when you were sleeping, I thought you knew."

You let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Thanks for letting me know."

"No problem. Bye."

"Bye," you say, hearing him hang up. Too bad, though. You wished you got to wear it longer.

When you woke up, it was probably about 10 AM. You had a good rest, you noted. You didn't have school today since it was Saturday. You felt more elated than usual and in a rather good mood. You made yourself some coffee and ate a spare muffin. They were on sale when you went grocery shopping, and definitely worth it.

You get your phone, preparing to scroll through social media, but were surprised to see that Rosé spammed you last night.

Confused, you click on her messages.

-Aviva

-Aviva pleeas stope

-im ur frind

-wht r u donig

-i wont tell i promise

-please

-im sorry

-whta did i do

-no mttr whta happns i love u

-goodb

Your eyes were wide, and you quickly went to the news.

There were two murders last night. One was a 30-something-year-old-man. The other was your best friend, Rosé.

You were sitting in your closet. You had called Rosé perhaps a million times, but each time someone seemed to decline your calls. It confused you. Did the killer have her phone? You just wanted it all to be fake, for it to not be real. You wanted her to answer and say it was just a prank, that it didn't even happen.

You knew this would happen if she went scouting for the killer. Now look at what happened to her. You felt the tears on your cheeks dry. You felt dehydrated at the moment. You felt as though your heart was caving into your chest.

This wasn't happening.

You dialed another number- not her's this time. You didn't know if you could handle it.

Yoongi's voice answered. "I guess this means you heard. I'm so sorry, Aviva."

You let out a shaky breath. "I didn't know who else to call. I-I'm... I'm scared, Yoongi. I'm really scared. Rosé... she's dead. The bastard killed her. I want to kill that son of a bitch."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Please," you sobbed, feeling more tears break out as you sobbed into your hand. How pathetic you looked, in the dark, sobbing to yourself. You only wish you had decided to come with her. Maybe you could've saved her. Guilt flooded through your veins. "I feel like I can barely function right now. I'm shaking."

"Tell me your address. I'll be right over."

You sputter it out between sobs and wait for him arrive. It wasn't long until he was knocking on your door, and you were diving into his arms, crying into his chest. He had a cold grip on you, but pet your hair, letting you cry until you ran out of tears. By the time you stopped, it was already dark.

You two were mainly silent, and you were gulping cups full of coffee.

"Why are you drinking so much coffee? You won't be able to sleep," Yoongi says.

"I don't want to sleep. Rosé is dead," you spit bitterly, irritated. "I was sleeping while she was having her nails ripped out and her veins yanked out. I'm not sleeping tonight."

"I don't think you avoiding sleep will bring her back," Yoongi mutters, narrowing his eyes at your bitter attitude. You stopped crying. Now you were angry. And admittedly you were lashing it out on him.

"Each time I sleep I get bruises on my arms and legs," you say, pulling back a sleeve to reveal five long scratches on your arm. "And I seem to scratch myself in my sleep. I don't think I can handle it right now. Not now. Not with... Not with everything that's happened."

Yoongi stares at the marks on your arms, and he holds your wrist in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the scratches. "You know you could go insane if you don't get enough sleep."

"What do you know?" you snap at him, yanking your arm from his grasp.

He glares at you. "I know you're angry- but you don't get to just lash it out on me."

"Why do you even care?" you question. "When we first met you were just an annoying fuck boy. You're not my boyfriend- why're you even here?"

"You invited me," he scowled. "I wanted to comfort you."

"I don't know why I did that. I was emotional and fucking stupid. You and I are still strangers and even fucking you was a mistake," you spit. At that, you look down at your bandaged hand and rip the bandage off with your anger. "Go home. I can take care of myself."

Yoongi looked like he was fuming. Cross that, he was livid. He snapped his fingers, glaring at you. "Come here."

"Or what?" you growl, whipping to turn to him. His stare was icy cold, and the entire room felt as though it were turning several degrees cooler. A chill ran down your spine, but you refused to let him know that.

"Or your punishment is going to be a lot worse," he threatened. He sat down in a nearby chair and pointed down at his lap. "Now, lift your skirt, pull off your panties, and bend over like the slut you are."

You felt a jolt of electricity to your core, and an undeniable wetness was already starting to form. You find your own body betraying you as you walk closer, and your legs turn to jelly as you bend over his lap, reaching back to flip over your skirt, revealing your rear. You shakily slip your underwear down, feeling it fall down to your ankles.

You suppressed a scream with your hand, biting down on your palm as you feel a sharp slap. "Yoongi!" you exclaim.

"I'm not Yoongi when you piss me off," he scolds, slapping your ass again. "Tonight you're calling me Daddy. Repeat after me: Daddy."

You never thought you'd be into that sort of thing. Calling someone Daddy. But hearing him say it made a pool between your legs. "Daddy," you whisper, barely audible.

He slaps your ass again. "What was that? Don't piss me off further." Another slap.

"Daddy!" you exclaim. You feel his fingers thread to your hair soothingly.

"Good girl," he cooed, slapping your ass again. You could only whimper and squirm as he slapped each cheek, alternating until you were crying and begging him to stop. Your ass felt bruised, as though it were on fire.

"Do you see what happens when you act like a little bitch?" he questions, hearing your whimpers and pleas with his next series of slaps. "You get punished. Are you sorry?"

"Yes Daddy," you cry, wincing as he slaps you again.

"Are you going to treat Daddy like that again?"

"No Daddy," you say, curling your hands into fists. You were sure there would be small crescents dotting along your palm by the end of this. Your ass was so red it probably looked like a rare steak- though the situation didn't seem so funny at the moment.

"Do you want Daddy to fuck you?" He stopped spanking you, this time his finger circling around a puckered rim. Your eyes widen at what he's suggesting, and you wiggle your hips back into his hand.

"Yes, Daddy," you beg, hanging your head down.

"You don't deserve it," he grunts but slips the finger in. You feel tense as he pulls it back out, slowly pushing it in again. You had done anal before- but this felt far more enticing somehow. Maybe it was just the intoxicity that was him. You push back into his hand, finding the rhythm as he pumps into you.

"Do you like this?" he questions.

"Yes, Daddy," you confirm.

"You handled your punishment well," he notes, and you feel him stretching out your hole as he inserts another finger. You bite your lip. "Do you think you learned your lesson?"

"Yes, Daddy." You nod your head eagerly, feeling how he stretched you out. You prayed that he was preparing you, at the very least.

"Why were you punished?"

"Because I was acting like an irritable brat," you blurt.

"Mhm," he confirms. "And you say I'm the annoying one. You hear him chuckle at that, resulting in you rolling your eyes. Good thing you weren't exactly facing him, otherwise you were sure you'd get punished for that too. "Be a good girl and lay down on the coffee table, now."

You eagerly push off of him, laying down on your back, pushing items off the coffee table, not caring where they land. You watch as he settles between your legs, on his knees. He hooks your bare legs around his arms, hiking them over his shoulders as he attached his lips to your own set. He didn't waste time, using calculated movements that had you moaning for him. It was as though he already knew your body, and just what had you arching your back. You swore he knew your body like the back of his hand.

"Daddy," you moaned. You tangled your fingers into his hair, threading through it as you felt his tongue lap over your clit, making your thighs quiver. "You're so good, Daddy."

"I know," he mumbles, and you feel him smirk against you. You wanted to squeeze his head between your thighs, make it pop like a watermelon. But you decided his annoyingness was worth it, especially when you were approaching your orgasm. All thanks to that magical tongue of his.

"Fuck, I'm close," you whisper to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. You tilt your head back, arching your back as he sucks on your clit, harder and faster.

And then he was pulling your legs off of his shoulders and pulling back, your orgasm beginning to die.

You look at him with alarm, watching as he smirked at you. "Asshole!" you exclaim.

"Punishment over," he said, pecking your lips with a smile. "Maybe next time I'll let you cum."

"I hate you," you muttered, crossing your arms bitterly. Now you were sitting, half-naked, on your coffee table. And all for nothing. What a fucking bastard.

"Sure you do," he chuckled.

There wasn't a murder last night, thank God. You sat at your desk, refreshing your laptop, eyes glued to the screen as you looked at the latest news. You were so pent up on coffee that you didn't sleep a wink that night, and you were so tired by early morning that you could barely keep your eyes open.

"Are you still awake?" Yoongi groggily says, having just woken up.

"Your morning voice is sexy," you tell him, noting it. "Have I told you that?"

"Countless times," he groans, falling back to the bed. You didn't remember telling him it before, but you let it slide, forgetting about it momentarily.

The lights from the blinds of your window were filling the room, making it look more iridescent than usual. It must've been somewhere between 5-6 AM.

"Why don't you just come over here and sleep? It's day. You're safe," he assures you.

"I dunno," you mumble. Shortly after you yawn, and you feel his arms creep around you, giving you a back hug as he rests his chin on your head.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed," he says.

"You're also fucking annoying, have I told you that as well?"

"Even more times," he smiles, dragging you away to the bed. "I'll keep watch if you're that paranoid. But you should really get some sleep."

You sigh, shaking your head. You knew it'd be pointless in convincing him otherwise. But you realized how nice it was to sleep in arms, and settled in what was now a familiar and very comfortable position. The last thing you remembered was hearing his heartbeat as you slowly drifted to sleep.

When you woke up, Yoongi wasn't by your side. You snapped up, startled, searching frantically for him. It wasn't until you spotted him that you felt relief flood throughout your chest.

"Thank God you're awake. I've got morning wood," he told you, crawling on the bed. You laugh at that, feeling him kiss along your neck as he yanks the covers down.

"Aren't you always?" you tease.

"I'll let you cum this time," he responded, resulting in you spreading your legs.

"Fuck yes, then," you exclaim, smiling as you push him off of you to take off your shirt and shorts, revealing nothing underneath. "C'mon, what're you waiting for?"

He's quick to strip off his clothes, his hand diving between your legs to finger you. You moan at the feeling, and his lips return to your own as his tongue swirls around your own. You push against his chest, however, coming to a realization.

"Wait, I'm not on birth control," you warn him. "And I don't have any condoms."

He slaps his own forehead. "Shit, I forgot to buy some."

"I have a suggestion," you tell him. "What if- well how do you feel about anal?" You're surprised by your own bluntness but decided 'to hell with it'.

"I'm listening," Yoongi says, eyeing you warily.

"I don't have lube or anything right now, but perhaps you can fuck my pussy for a bit before anal," you suggest. "Sound like a plan?"

He holds his hand up, offering a high five, which you gladly accept, slapping your hand against his. "Let's do it."

He continues stretching you out mid-makeout session until you feel properly prepared, the juices of your arousal already dribbling down your thighs. Soon enough he was flipped over on his back, and you were climbing on top of him. You feel him slide into you, stretching you out. You loved the feeling of being filled. Your lips are still connected as you begin to ride him, his arms wrapped securely around you, and your fists curling into the pillows beneath him.

You feel his fingers circle around that muscled rim again, slipping a single digit in as he begins to rock it at the same pace as his thrusts. You moan, loving the feeling of having both holes filled. You work hard, having his cock pump through you, brushing against your walls. You trusted that both of you could remain safe. After all- what college student wanted to get pregnant?

"I'm going to cum," he tells you. "Get on all fours."

"Yes, Daddy," you wink, climbing off of him, feeling the emptiness once he was no longer in you. Still, you got on all fours beside him, and he got on his knees, inserting two fingers into your puckered rim once again to prepare you, stretching it.

"Add another," you tell him.

"Are you sure?" he questions.

"Yes," you say, arching your back as he inserts the third one. You definitely felt the stretch there as the three digits brushed against your walls.

"I think you're good," he says finally. He pulls his fingers out, and you do your best to relax your muscles for what's to come. He slowly pushes into you, and you try not to tighten your muscles. Finally, he stretches all the way in.

You press your chest against the mattress, feeling him slowly pump against you. You moan out at the feeling. You felt so stretched out and full. Soon his chest was pressed against your back, and you shiver at the feeling of his cold skin against your own.

"Daddy," you moan, although it's muffled by the sheets.

"That's right, moan my name," he encourages you, grabbing fistfuls of your chest, gripping your breasts as he thrusts into you steadily. "God, you feel so good around my cock."

You were glad that your wetness made the stretch inside of you a bit easier, and you liked the fact that your own juices were used as the lubrication. Made you feel a bit filthier, to be honest. Soon one of his hands creeps down your stomach to swirl around your clit, rubbing at the small nub in the way that had you arch your back impossibly further.

"Fuck, Daddy," you moan. "Harder."

He obliges, rougher thrusts as he goes deeper and deeper into you. You relished the sounds of his raspy and deep grunts, spreading your legs further as though subconsciously. You feel your high approaching soon.

"I'm gonna cum," he grunts. Soon you feel the hot and sticky liquid spill into you, and though this felt rather foreign, you couldn't help but enjoy it, moaning out. He stills for a moment, balls deep into you as he empties his load into you. You pant at the feeling of his fingers, that hadn't stopped rubbing against your most sensitive area. You feel your high approaching, and Yoongi continues to thrust into you, riding out the rest of his high until you finally come undone on his cock.

Your eyes roll back, and you bury your moans into the pillows. That orgasm alone was worth the suffering Yoongi had put you through so far during your sexual experiences. He slips out of you, flipping you onto your back to lick at your core, lapping at the cum that was seeping out of your abused hole. His tongue also lapped at the sensitive bud, and you cringed from the overstimulation.

Your fingers curled into his locks. "Daddy, please, it hurts."

He hummed but stopped lapping at your clit, instead cleaning up the rest of the sticky fluid, including the rest of your own fluids from your pussy. He kissed your thighs once he was done, and came back up to press his lips firmly against yours.

He presses his forehead against your own, and you cradle his face in your hands, feeling his breath against your own.

"Yoong-"

"Shh," he shushes you. "Let me just remember this. I want to hold onto this moment."

You stay still, staring at him. His eyes were closed shut. He had pretty lashes. Up close he looked so delicate, almost fragile. As though, if you were to tap your finger against him, his skin would crack like glass, and he'd crumble.

You were staring at a sunrise that was peaking over the horizon, past the corners of the nearby buildings. A baseball bat was in your hand and a corpse with a smashed skull at your feet. You didn't know what was going on.

Yoongi was here.

"Aviva," he said. "Aviva, is that you?"

"What..." You stare down at the body. They're laying face down. It's some woman. You don't know her. "Oh my God." You drop the bat, dropping to your knees. You feel yourself kneeling in the pool of blood surrounding the corpse- but you don't care. You flip her over, cradling the face. She looks unrecognizable.

You don't feel anything. You feel shocked. It hasn't settled in.

"It's not your fault," Yoongi assures you. "I promise you, Aviva. If it's anyone's, it's mine."

"Did I kill her?" you ask quietly, the whisper barely audible. "Did I do this? Just now?"

"I..." Yoongi gulps. He seems almost unable to answer. You look up at him, and you notice his eyes welling up with tears.

"Am I the killer?" you ask him.

"Aviva, we need to-"

"I killed Rosé."

At that, the last thing you see is Yoongi's fist flying towards your face.

You wake up in his room again. But it's definitely different context from last time. Or was it?

You get up. Your nose hurts. It wasn't broken, but it definitely took some serious damage from Yoongi's punch. You were tied to the bed, white clothes tying your hands to either side of the bedpost.

So many questions were swimming around your head. What happened? Why didn't you remember any of the murders you committed? What led to this? Why did Yoongi punch you? What was really going on?

Yoongi entered the room, his face melancholy as he stared at you. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I... I've never punched you before. I've never gotten this far. I never had the guts to hurt you."

"Yoongi..." Your eyes start welling up with tears. "Tell me what's going on. Please. I'm... I'm a monster."

Yoongi sighed, looking at you with such a saddened expression. Tears started to slip from your own eyes now. God, you were so confused.

"What do you want to know?"

"Did I really do it?" you ask.

"Yes," he sighs. "You... you did."

"Even..."

"Even Rosé," he confirms.

"No, I don't believe it," you deny in a frenzy. "I'd never hurt her. I wouldn't!"

Yoongi sighed, standing up and pulling out a phone from his back pocket. You recognized it immediately. Rosé's phone. He clicks the home screen and hands it to you, and you quickly fumble in her password, sucking in a breath. He takes it back, going to photos, swiping through to reveal various pictures of you attacking the man who was also murdered last night. You watch in horror at the series as you slowly turn around, your eyes glowing on the screen as you stalk towards her, the pictures getting blurrier and blurrier, until the final picture. A clear shot of Rosé lying on the floor, her pretty face smeared with blood, a knife lodged into her eye socket.

You felt like you were going to puke.

"You killed her once you saw she was taking photos," he says quietly, putting away the phone. "As she was running away she was texting you trying to get you to spare her. You caught up with her soon enough."

"How do you know this?" you question, a lump in your throat.

"It's an objective to follow you around without getting caught. Once I could safely hide you away until morning and erase evidence of you committing the murders- hiding away weapons or washing your clothes of blood- you'd forget everything the moment the sun came up."

"I..." You felt a queasy feeling in your stomach. "I'm going to puke."

You felt it rising up, and you leaned over the side of the bed, the vomit spewing from your lips. You felt overwhelmed, wanting it to be over as you yanked on the cloth, trying to be set free. Yoongi ran out of the room, returning with a bucket that he handed to you. You cradled it, vomiting the rest you could, dry heaving some once no more would come out. You were puking so violently that tears were spilling out of your eyes. The smell of vomit reeked.

"Why can't I remember anything?" you asked.

Yoongi closed his eyes. "Once you fall asleep, and only when the sun's down, you become a murderer. You're possessed by a demon that can only control you under these two conditions. It was an old acquaintance who wanted to get revenge on me through you. To explain it all, it'd be too complicated. But believe it or not, to put it simply, you're my wife in another world of sorts. The demon possessed you. The only way for me to get rid of him was to kill you... but I could never do that. So instead I put you here, a place where I could visit and spend with you. Albeit, it's not exactly the most comfortable or greatest setting."

You stared at him in shock, wiping away some of the vomit dribbling down your chin. "What are you?"

"Something I don't want to be, frankly," he tells you. His eyes are soft and genuine, filled with hurt and grief. "I'd rather be nothing more than your husband, to be frank."

"Where am I, Yoongi? Where did you put me, after I became possessed?"

"You're in a video game," he breathes. "A video game called Stalker. The objective was for me to follow you around and try to save others. At the final level, I'm supposed to kill you. But I can't hurt you- even if you'd be alive and well and without any memory once I refreshed the game. I told you before I couldn't do that. So instead I helped cover your tracks a bit- though I slipped up when I let that one woman escape. The more information gets out, the easier it's supposed to be to kill you. This was the only place I could see the real you after you got possessed."

You could barely believe anything he was saying, but from the look on his face, you knew there was no way he could be making any of this up. "How many times have you played?"

"Countless times," he answered. "And each time I lost. I always lose when I let you kill me at the end. Somehow this time I delayed you until sunrise- something I didn't even know was possible in the game."

"Yoongi," you whisper. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

He smiles softly. "Because I can't live in a world without you. So I choose to come to this one."

"Win the game," you tell him. "I don't mind. You can repeat the game and we can do this over and over again. I don't care if you have to hurt me to do it. But I don't want to be the cause of your suffering anymore. Kill me already, please. I beg of you. Win the game finally, and I'll wake up to reset, and forget everything ever happened."

Tears start cascading down his face, and he wipes them away. "I know what I must do."

"Win?" you question.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Yes- but I'm also going to end the game once and for all. I can't put you through this anymore- it's agony for the both of us. And what I'm doing to you is tearing your soul apart and is hurting you even more than you and I realize. I'm sorry I've been so selfish as to put myself above you, Aviva."

"Yoongi," you whisper again, unable to say anything else.

He opens the nightstand, getting out an already bloody blade. You wince, realizing how many lives you ended with that single knife. He's sobbing so much that he crumbles into himself, and you look at him with pity. Snot and tears are running down his face by now as he shakily holds up the knife.

You spread your arms, staring him in the eye with trust, wanting to communicate without words how much you supported his decision, despite the fact that it was killing him on the inside.

"G-Goodbye, Aviva," he whispers, his voice shaky, a noticeable lump in his throat. "I love you."

The knife swung down in the air, burying hilt deep into your breast. And finally, you were free.

Congratulations! You have won Stalker. Would you like to play again?

YES or NO

Shutting down...

"Your Majesty, Hermes is here to see you."

Hades looked back at the servant, his expression wide and shocked. He gave a single nod, not daring to say a word as he stared at the blank screen. He had to do it. Now or never. The servant left, and quickly Hermes entered.

"Whaddup, Gramps?" he chuckled, entering. "Oh. Are you visiting your wife again?"

"Hermes, bring me a hammer," Hades spoke softly.

"What?" Hermes gave a perplexed expression, confused by what the God was requesting exactly.

Hades slammed his fists on the desk, tears slipping down his face it burned red. "Give me a motherfucking hammer or I swear- God or not, I'll fucking condemn you to the pits of Tartarus!"

Hermes snapped his fingers, letting a hammer pop into mid-air. "You'd better hope Hephestaus doesn't scold me for stealing one," he says, handing it to the god.

Hades picked it up, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Finally, he swung it into the screen, repeatedly and repeatedly again. Soon enough, it was just a heap of metal, sparks still flying from it. Hades opened his eyes, his lips quivering at the utter heartbreak he felt as he dropped the hammer, collapsing into himself as he wept bitterly.

"What're you doing?!" Hermes exclaimed. "You may live in the kingdom of the dead- but now you'll actually never get to see her again!"

"You think I don't know that?" Hades cried, choking on his own tears. "I'll never see the only woman I love again."

Hermes was quiet, watching the man break down. He didn't know how to console him- the only person he was ever happy with or let touch him was you, after all. Ever since you got possessed he got bitter and more cold and cynical, but at least everyone knew he got enjoyment out of his visits, even though it tore him up.

But now what would happen?

Hermes hesitantly put his hand on the god's shaking shoulder. "It'll be ok," Hermes said softly. He was on a tight schedule- he didn't even get to do what he came down to Hell for. But this was more important than errands. Anyone knew that. "You did it for a reason- and I'm sure she would've supported it."

Hades stared at the broken heap, knowing that what's done is done. But deep down, he knew that Hermes' words were right.

And at least now, somehow, someway, you were at peace.

And that was enough for him.

#hades #greek gods #yoongi #suga #min yoongi #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #smut #bts yoongi #bts suga

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macabretrees · 6 years ago

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Title: Sea Foam Summary: In the midst of a slave revolt at sea, Ulmo rescues a falling star. a/n: beware of errors, i beta’s this myself XD takes place in the late 1700's, on a ship where Africans are being transported to America due to slavery. Reblog if you liked it :D

The failed revolt had seen all hell break loose on the ship. A gruesome scene befell all decks; blood and water swept through the floors in waves, seeping through the crevices and filling the lower deck. Amare knew this, for she sat there hidden in the shadows, clutching her mother’s dead body like a life source, as if cradling her head would will the life to return to her corpse. Her mother had died in the revolt, had been one of the first ones murdered due to her role in planning it.

They’d massacred them like they were cattle. No--worse than cattle. They’d massacred them like slaves. Yet ‘Death to slavery’ had been her mother’s battle cry, months chained to the bottom of the boat inspiring her fury, igniting the fire that had caught on to others. They’d followed in suite, and the reward had been blood shed. Amare, however, had run. She was not brave like her mother, and death still shook her to her core.

She had witnessed death in many forms. Brutal beyond what any child should imagine, and gentle as a babies slumber. Yet for her all her time on this boat, toiling and surviving with the other slaves, she could not welcome it as the others had. Could not welcome it as her mother had. And she for that reason, she held her onto her mother, tiny arms around her head, looking at her for guidance and strength.

Her mourning had been short lived, however, as her sniffling from the shadows had nearly given her away. Three men, pale as dog’s teeth, glare blue as the hottest fire, and weapons attached to their sides had made their way to the lower decks, resting their eyes on her hiding spot the moment they’d heard her cries. They shouted loudly as if to startle any stowaways, their vile language foreign and unfamiliar, but unsettling nonetheless. She sniffled and stood, eyes trained on the gleam of their bayonets, glued on their boots as they stepped through the blood and water. They would find her soon. If her mother’s corpse, sticking out of the shadows didn’t give her away, than certainly, time would.

She could surrender, perhaps they would treat her well, let her live, and send her to their lands where she would no doubt be put to work. But at least she wouldn’t die. With little choice, she stood. She watched as her mother’s head rolled out of her lap and onto the wet floor. Their eyes met for the last time, and thought death had taken her, the gaze hadn’t lost its fire.

Death to slavery. She heard her mother’s words, as if the woman had been standing behind her, bending down and whispering into her ear. She gasped, loudly. The noise had given away her position, and the men had turned towards her hiding spot, whistling and clapping to get her attention. She could go with them, emerge from the shadows with her head bowed and palms outward. There would be no death by bayonets or bullets. There would be no pain, only servitute.

Death to slavery….she had repeated in her head, casting a final glance at her mother. She looked closely at the tattered body, pierced by bullets, beaten and bruised. Her mother had been beautiful, brave, and caring. Amare had loved with all her heart, and her loss had devastated the girl. If she were to go with these men, she would not honor her mother’s memory, she would not honor her mother. And who’s to say these men wouldn’t kill her either? They hadn’t just killed her mother and the other fighters, but the bystanders as well.

Amare gulped, clenched her fist, and ran. The man chased her, weapons raised and trained on her body. She climbed up the steps quickly, flinging herself into utter chaos.

It was like a war zone.

People were fighting, but it was her people who were fighting! They were still alive, fighting to the bloody end amongst the pale men. It was an all out battle on each deck, but her people had not yielded. They pushed on, her mother’s battle cry rallying throughout the decks. But perhaps death wouldn’t be the outcome, perhaps it would be life.

Her pride was short lived though, as the three demons chasing her closed in. She advanced through the decks, her speed faster than ever, small legs burning and heart thumping against her chest. She had hoped that perhaps the others had taken care of her assailants, but those still living were too occupied with the battle to turn their attention to one child, and her attackers had been too determined to kill her than to engage in the battle around them. She was on the upper deck before she knew it, the smell of the ocean filling her nostrils. There was nowhere to run but forward, nowhere to go but against the wooden rails that braced the long descent into the sea.

They came to her like rapid wolves emerging from the woods, teeth white like shells and eyes positively hungry for their prey. Only they appeared through the clashing and gunfire, stepping over dead from both sides, weapons still pointed towards her. They smirked, sadism etched into their features as they moved closer and closer. Amare turned away from them, gripping the rail until her knuckles paled. They would run her down or shoot her, and it would hurt. It would hurt badly. But the sea, she thought she looked down, she would be flung into rockless depths, the sea cradling her body just as her mother had done for her. And she would take on breath, and it would be over.

So with the men at her heels, and nowhere else to run, Amare plummeted into the sea.

----

It was scarier than she expected. She hadn’t inhaled as she had planned. Instead she held her breath, had flailed in the water, and tried to reach the surface. But every kick saw her sinking deeper into floreless waters, squeezed the life out of her lungs as she struggled to hold her breath. She looked around helplessly into the blue depths, hoping that perhaps someone would help her. Who, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t breath, she didn’t want to drown. Not alone, not like this.

It would hurt, now she knew it. The water would burn her lungs, her vision would go dark, and she would grow cold. Maybe being pierced would have been better. Certainly quicker than this. But they killed her mother, her people, and she wouldn’t let them kill her too. She may be a terrified wreck, but she still had some honor left.. She began to see dark spots, her vision going blurry as she struggled to hold her breath. She’d fight until the end, at least. Cling on to life for as long as she could, just like her people.

Then beside her the water shifted as if some unseen force moved through it, and a sheet of bubbles followed soon after. Blinding white surrounded her as the bubbles turned to foam, and through the curtain emerged two very large, very dark eyes. They seemed deeper than the bottom of the ocean, yet kinder than any she’d ever seen before. Slowly through the sheet, a face began to form, and the foam melted away into very long hair that flowed freely, and within it sea creatures of all kinds resided.

The creature revealed itself to be a young man.

He smiled sadly, form shrinking into the size of a normal man. He floated before her, arms resting gently on her sides as he suspended her in the water. His white brows furrowed as he looked intently at her.

“Do you want to live ?” The man asked, dark eyes piercing into hers.

She nodded immediately, head nearly rolling off of her shoulders.

“Then breathe.” Commanded the man.

---

He called himself Ulmo, a god of the pale men, and ruler of the sea. Though this was not the first time he’d been saddened by his people’s actions, and certainly not the last.

For her pain, he had given Amare dominion over the seas, and she had become his rage. She overturned many boats those years. Cast away the pale ones, and given her own the power Ulmo had bestowed upon her.

And Amare no longer knew fear, and no longer knew death.

This is apart of a series i’m doing (I hope to publish it one day), about combing my culture with different mythologies. Originally this was supposed to be Poseidon, and when I publish it for real, it will be. But, because i’m writing a tolkein fanfic, i wanted to post this :D

#ulmo #the silmarillion #silmarillion #tolkien #my writing

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demalore · 6 years ago

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Snake Eyes

A fanfic (i guess?) about Greek Mythology

Apollo, God of the Arts, Master of Muses, Charioteer of the Sun Itself, was helplessly into hentai.

“It's an art form!” he argued internally against the shaming voice in his head. The other gods would never let him live this one down if they found out. Not even Poseidon, although, let's be real, he had to be into some shit.

Apollo was determined, as most gods are, to see his unspeakable desires fulfilled, by any means necessary. Consulting a fellow deity was out of the question, and he didn’t know a single mortal who could keep their mouth shut. But there was one individual Apollo knew who was so wretched, so despised, and so introverted, that she couldn’t spread even the juiciest Olympian gossip. Too bad she wasn't very happy to see him.

“Haven't you dickheads humiliated me enough?” Medusa snarled at Apollo’s reflection in her full-length mirror. She had a nice collection of mirrors at this point--mementos from would-be vanquishers--and had nothing better to do with them. Despite her damnation, Medusa was far from ugly. She could no longer count her hair or eyes among her more attractive features, but should one avoid her hypnotic stare, they would be transfixed nonetheless by her kingly cheekbones and chiseled jaw. Her arms were toned nicely after centuries of battling Greece’s finest warriors and, afterwards, lugging their remains out of her cave. Even her snakes’ scales shimmered, coils of rainbows spilling over her shoulders.

A few of her snakes turned to face Apollo while he made his proposition. Medusa kept her back to him, refusing to grant him any more of her attention than necessary. When he had finished explaining herself, she answered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I kid not, fair Medusa,” Apollo crooned. His eggshell tunic dripped from his chiseled body, held up by a sun-shaped brooch and a stupid amount of god-magic. “On this fair day, your beauty been found worthy in the eyes of Olympus.”

Medusa tilted her mirror to look at the intruder’s face, but she could only see half of it clearly. Something black and reflective was covering Apollo’s eyes. “There's some...device, on your head.”

Apollo whipped the pair of sunglasses off. A second pair immediately materialized in its place. “Gotta have shades, when your other ride’s the sun. And you didn't think I’d come without protection, did you, ‘Dusey?””

Electricity darted between Medusa’s narrowed eyes. “Call me ‘’Dusey’ again,” she muttered, turning to Apollo, stepping over her throne of skeletal remains, “and I'll smite those ‘shades' from your hideous upturned nose!”

Apollo's nose rose a bit higher. “Please, love. Those pretty peepers of yours wouldn't give me anything worse than a headache. Me being a god, and all that. There's only one part of me that you can make hard.” Without warning, Apollo thrust himself at his target, eliminating any confusion as to which part he referred to.

Medusa’s grimace was nearly as deadly as her gaze. She had weathered swords, axes, and bare fists; all were more pleasant than Apollo’s insatiable groin against hers. His hands were on her left shoulder and right buttock before she could pull away. Apollo’s trouser snake squirmed unpleasantly underneath his tunic. Medusa couldn’t shake off his grip, but luckily, she had a trouser snake of her own.

Apollo’s ‘yipe!’ of pain was most unbefitting a god. A mirthless smile crept up onto Medusa’s translucent cheeks. Apollo whined as she leaned forward, claws pressing into his chest. Medusa cocked her head and fiddled with the edge of his sunglasses. With a flick of her finger, she sent the glasses to the cave floor, and relished the fear in Apollo’s eyes. The taste in her snake’s mouth was horrid, but it was well worth it.

“Is something the matter, ‘Paul?” Medusa asked in her husky, slithering voice. “Or did you need more protection after all?”

Apollo returned to Olympus like a beaten puppy, his usually fashionably-loose robes tied tightly about his waist. He almost envied Prometheus. Even he was never without his manhood.

It would take mere days for Apollo’s godflesh to heal, but his pride wasn't so quickly repaired. Back in his bachelor pad, he raised a silver chalice to his lips, collected his thoughts, then whispered into the vessel:

Medusa the Gorgon, no man will dare wed, else he meet his untimely end.

Sure, it didn’t really rhyme, but he was impatient. And he was fucking Apollo, so who could even judge his poetry?

The silver chalice reverberated, and Apollo’s prophecy traveled down to the twine tethered at its bottom. The twine led far from Olympus, traveling through sunlight and dust motes, to the residence of Apollo’s Muses. An identical chalice rang until a Muse picked it up to receive the new prophecy.

Important prophecies had to be delivered by proper gods, but Apollo outsourced his more personal tasks to the Muses. He couldn’t be expected to hand-deliver every bit of artistic inspiration, he was a busy guy! So long as the Muse delivered the prophecy to a proper Oracle, it would be fulfilled, and Medusa would be permanently cockblocked.

But the Muses (who were sick of handling Apollo’s dirty laundry) had a particular, not-quite-proper Oracle in mind.

As far as the ability to see the future went, Cassandra had received better romantic gestures. Being an Oracle did come with a cushy job at any of Apollo’s temples, and that wasn’t anything to sneeze at. Cassandra loved her some fresh grapes and velvet couches (to hide the grape juice stains), but the job itself? Not so much.

See, everyone thought she sucked at her job. But really, it was everyone else who sucked at their…uh, critical thinking. Sure, it wasn’t their fault Apollo cursed Cassandra so that no one would believe her prophecies, but part of her still thought everyone was just being stupid. ‘Such and such army will attack at such and such place’, she’d tell them, and they’d laugh and call her a moron. And then the enemy launched a surprise attack (a surprise to everyone but Cassandra, that is) and the people blamed her for not warning them.

But apart from being constantly snubbed and vilified, yeah, it wasn’t a bad gig.

When the other Oracles weren’t busy blaming Cassandra for everything, she actually got along with them pretty well. After all, she was the one who had the idea to convince the townspeople that the stuff they were constantly burning in the temple was ‘incense’, something the gods definitely requested and not at all just dank Mediterranean weed. That perk alone made Apollo’s stupid curse almost worth it. Even some lesser deities would come to light up at the temple; that’s how good their shit was. So Cassandra wasn’t surprised to wake up to a Muse knocking at her door.

Cassandra rolled out of bed, pulled a gown over her bare chest, and opened the door. The faceless figure standing there was emitting a many-hued light, hovering two inches off the floor, and seemed to be sucking the color out of the space around them. Typical Muse stuff.

“Ey, what’s up, duder?” Cassandra asked groggily. “If you’re here to blaze a few, I’m totally down, just give me like a minute to find some pants and maybe some pita-“

“I am not here to blaze a few,” the Muse interrupted. Heavenly harp music accompanied their voice whenever they spoke, and unbidden tears welled in Cassandra’s eyes. Uck. “I have come to deliver a prophecy from Blessed Apollo. Although I would not be strongly opposed to partaking in a few dank nugs afterwards.”

“Shit, I don’t wanna work today.” Cassandra complained. She scratched her head, and her hand came away greasy. It had been at least a week since she had left her room to go to the public bathhouse. She was in no state to give a prophecy.

“Why’s Apollo even giving me a prophecy,” Cassandra continued groaning, “no one’ll listen.”

The Muse’s invisible harp quieted while the Muse recited the prophecy, exactly as Apollo had stated it.

“Hit me up when you’re done,” the Muse said as they departed in a burst of divine light, “I just got some new shit that’s ‘sposed to be wild…”

Cassandra blinked at the empty hallway. “Fine,” she said to no one, “but I’ll only do the prophecy because because I was promised weed, not because Apollo said so.”

“Dish it,” Adonis ordered, pouring Melina an appropriately tall glass of wine. The fact of their friendship was, in and of itself, strange: they ran competing news blogs (scrolls that they handed out to anyone who walked by) and should’ve ostensibly been at each other’s throats. However, their shared love of gossip far outweighed their business interests, and they tended to share any particularly juicy tidbits with each other. Adonis didn’t know why Melina was being coy now.

“Adonis, you’re my friend and I love you,” Melina said, taking a few obliging sips of wine, “but you can’t be fucking trusted. Especially not with something like this.”

“Dish. It.” Adonis repeated. He was squirming in his chair. Other patrons of the gay wine bar shot them some curious glances, but no one appeared to be eavesdropping.

Melina grinned, and Adonis knew he had her. That, or the wine was finally working its magic. “Fine, but swear to me that you won’t go blabbing about it to your new boyfriend.”

Adonis froze. He dropped his eyes and became very interested in his designer sandals. “B-boyfriend?” he answered with practiced (but far from perfected) offhandedness. “I assure you I haven’t the faintest idea whom you could be referring to.”

“Hermes.”

Adonis cleared his throat. “If you mean Herman, then it was just the one night, and-“

“Oh, come, on Adonis,” Melina rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously still buying that ‘Herman’ shit? The guy has pet snakes and carries that weird curly staff. Who carries a staff anymore?”

Adonis’ face was as crimson as the wine, which Melina was now drinking with a satisfied smirk.

“Fine, if you’re still in denial about banging a god,“--Adonis squeaked in protest—"then just promise me you won’t tell ‘Herman’.”

“Promise,” Adonis answered indignantly.

Melina lowered her head, posed like a sphinx, ready to pounce. “So…there’s been talk of a new prophecy out of Troy.”

“Prophecy? Yawn,” Adonis slumped back in his chair. “If it’s another one about Zeus’ cosmic dick fucking things up for the rest of us, then hon, y’all don’t need an Oracle to know that.”

“No, this is for real,” Melina continued, “this one’s from Cassandra.”

That caught Adonis’ interest. Cassandra may have been blackballed by most of the Olympic pantheon because of her falling-out with Apollo, but that only made her more popular among mortals. Damnation was very in these days. “What’d she predict this time? Is it more dirt on Apollo?”

“Better. She said some shit about how no one should try boning Medusa.”

“Like, the gorgon Medusa?” People were definitely staring at them now, but Adonis didn’t care.

Melina nodded. “And if it’s Cassandra who predicted that-“

“-Then dudes are gonna be piling up on her doorstep,” Adonis finished the thought. He himself had a few tasteless fantasies involving various daemons and monsters (didn’t everyone?), but even he would think twice about wooing Medusa. But by Cassandra’s track record, her prophecy would be sending Medusa more suitors than she could shake a stick at.

“Yeah, but so far it’s only hit the temple gossip circuit, so don’t-“

“Sure, sure, I promised, didn’t I?”

“Because if the literal god of messengers finds out-“

“He’s not, and I won’t!”

Within three days, half of Greece had heard Cassandra’s prophecy. Whether it had anything to do with a certain god’s recent visit to Earth for a night of romance, and a certain blogger’s inability to walk for the week afterwards, one can only speculate.

Ironically, Medusa was one of the last people to find out. She had a blog of her own; it was primarily an Apollo hate blog with the occasional aesthetic post. But it wasn’t super popular, on account of no traveling merchant being brave enough to visit her cave and exchange scrolls. For that same reason, she wasn’t plugged in to the local gossip scene.

When she did get a visitor who wasn’t Apollo, it was some dickbag hero looking for glory, and she didn’t keep them around long enough to get any news out of them. She didn’t take them for much of conversationalists anyway.

She was curious, though, about her sudden influx of visitors. Out of the blue, she was getting dozens of men at her cave on a daily basis. Even stranger were their intentions—instead of slaying her, they were all wanted to marry her. At first, she had dismissed it as an ineffective trick to catch her off guard, and she added them to her statue collection without a second thought. When they kept coming, she thought it had to be some sick joke. She had pissed Apollo off pretty bad this time, maybe he was sending her ‘suitors’ just to taunt her. There was one way to find out, but it involved talking to men instead of killing them outright. Hardly seemed worth it, but she missed the peace and quiet.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” Medusa tried to dodge her latest gentleman caller’s advances, but it was difficult to do with her hand covering her eyes. She didn’t trust the guy not to try to stare longingly into her eyes, no matter how infamously deadly they were. That was something guys tried to do with chicks they liked, right? Medusa hadn’t given the romantic habits of men much thought.

“I seek nothing less than to make you my bride, noble Medusa!” Guy #54 professed, grappling Medusa around her waist. He didn’t seem to mind being dragged around the cave, neither did he mind Medusa’s attempts to shake him off.

“Sure, I got that bit, but why? Why all the sudden interest in getting me hitched?”

“Have you not heard, m’lady?” Guy #54 asked, continuing to sport a formal tone as he was dragged through the dirt. “The Oracle Cassandra has prophesied that the man who weds you will be met with great misfortune; but, knowing her prophecies to be wholly unreliable, I reasoned that to make you my bride would be most fortunate indeed!”

“You and everyone else,” Medusa muttered, looking over her recently expanded sculpture collection. She’d need a second cave, at this rate.

She tried prying more details from the poor sap, but he had spiraled into the same tired stream of compliments and professions of love. Yeuch. Medusa removed her hand and dealt with him as quickly as she had the others.

One more statue to deal with. But at least Medusa had a name to pin her misfortunes on: Cassandra. An Oracle, probably one of Apollo’s, prophesying for the sole purpose of tormenting her.

There was only so much Medusa could do about Apollo, but an Oracle, she could deal with.

The one upside of every man in Greece falling in love with her was that it made getting directions very easy. All Medusa had taken with her from the cave was the pair of sunglasses Apollo had left behind on his most recent visit. Turns out they worked just as well in the opposite direction. Wearing them, she could pass through towns without petrifying everyone she saw and causing a riot. It made travel a breeze, but if she was being honest, she kind of missed the riots. What good was being a monster if you didn’t get to start riots?

The temple was a breeze to find. It was on the outskirts of Troy, centered around a few smaller towns, but stood on an isolated hillside, miles from any village. Good location, in any case, although Medusa wasn’t a fan of all the elaborate columns and arches. A cave was more practical, required far less upkeep.

Word of Medusa’s quest had traveled almost as fast as the prophecy. Medusa expected the temple to be empty, but a thick wall of smoke hit her as she opened the door and walked inside. There was no one to greet her at the temple entrance—indeed, not one person in the entrance hall. But smoke was continuing to billow from a room deeper in the temple, so someone had to be home.

Two steps in and the smoke was already giving Medusa a headache. She held her nose, and called out in a nasally voice, “I’ve come for the Oracle Cassandra! Step forth and receive your due!” She had already removed her glasses, prepared to deliver sweet revenge.

Medusa paused. Half a minute passed, with no response. Just as Medusa decided that the temple was, in fact, empty, a faint answer came from the internal chamber:

“Uhh, sorry, temple’s closed today, on account of…I dunno, man, god shit.”

Medusa squinted into the chamber, but the smoke was too thick for her to make out any distinct shapes. The speaker didn’t sound formal enough to be an Oracle, but Medusa had to admit she didn’t know any Oracles. Maybe they all sounded like stoners.

“Are you the one known as Cassandra?” Medusa continued in her haughty voice, thought she was still holding her nose in a rather uh-haughty-ish manner. She continued toward the source of the voice, the smoke around her growing thicker, more potent.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Medusa heard the speaker take a deep breath in, inhaling a substance likely related to the surrounding smoke cloud, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. “You the pizza man or somethin’? Whatever a pizza is, I think I could really go for one. Didn’t think it was invented yet…”

“You of all people should know who I am,” Medusa snarled. She had to walk with her hands held out in front of her to avoid running into the prayer shrines and offerings scattered on the temple floor. “I’m the one you’ve cursed with your gift of prophecy!”

“Gift?” Cassandra chuckled, but slowly, as if it took her a second to understand her own joke. “It’s a fuckin’ curse dude. That’s the whole deal. Don’t you know? Apollo hates my guts, he ain’t givin’ me gifts.”

“Apollo?” The name of her most hated enemy stopped Medusa in her tracks. “He cursed you, too?”

“Yee-up.” Medusa heard Cassandra stand up and approach her. A stout, yet graceful silhouette began floating out of the haze.

A second before Cassandra came into focus, Medusa flung her hands over her eyes. “Wait wait wait!” she insisted. Her righteous fury had melted into embarrassment. Hands still over her eyes, she danced in place, turning this way and that, trying to figure out how to get her sunglasses back on without accidentally turning Cassandra to stone.

“You okay, m- woah.” Medusa heard Cassandra stop, just a few steps ahead of her, certainly enough to see Medusa clearly. Medusa heard a low, almost melodic sound, and realized it was Cassandra whistling. “Sorry. You’re not a man at all, huh?”

The prophecy hadn’t said anything about women. That was convenient.

Medusa had the distinct impression that she was being stared at. “Just let me- cover your eyes for a second, okay?”

Cassandra chuckled again—a deep, raspy belly laugh that made Medusa’s insides writhe like they, too, were made of snakes. Medusa softly pressed her hands forward, making sure that Cassandra’s hands were safely covering her eyes.

Medusa looked. The figure before her—Cassandra—did not only meet the temple in regards to elegance, but far surpassed it. If Medusa had stopped to imagine what an Oracle looked like beforehand, it would’ve quite nearly been this. Medusa could tell at first glance that this was no common soldier’s wife, nor a widowed washerwoman; this was a lady of wealth, intellect, and charm. Golden hair flowed lazily down Cassandra’s back. Her figure was round with opulence, glowing in a way Medusa had attributed only to the gods, until now. She was tempted to remove Cassandra’s hands, just for a glimpse at her face.

Remembering herself, Medusa put her sunglasses back on before lowering Cassandra’s hands. She took her time meeting Cassandra’s eyes, letting her eyes linger on her gown, her soft, scented flesh. Finally, she plunged herself in Cassandra’s eyes, the first mortal eyes she had seen that were not made of stone.

They’re brown, Medusa thought. Her heart fluttered desperately against her chest. I didn’t know mortal eyes could be colored.

Cassandra was, understandably, confused. She blinked a few times, making sure that, no, the lady with hair made of snakes wasn’t just a drug-induced aftereffect. The snakes weren’t as off-putting as Cassandra may have expected. Medusa was so unlike any being she had ever come into contact with—and that was saying quite a bit, for an Oracle of the gods—but the expression on Medusa’s face was all too familiar.

The two women simultaneously understood what had driven Apollo to curse the other. Who wouldn’t feel spurned, to be denied such beauty?

Medusa’s hands lingered around Cassandra’s. Cassandra waited for her to speak, but Medusa was as still as her victims. Whatever the gorgon had been threatening to do before, it now seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind. Well, if Medusa wasn’t going to move, Cassandra would move her herself.

“Hup!” Cassandra linked her hands behind Medusa’s back and lifted her off the ground. Medusa was shocked by how warm Cassandra was against her own semi-cold-blooded flesh, and instinctively wrapped herself around her. Cassandra was stronger than she looked, and effortlessly carried Medusa to her private chambers.

“Now,” Cassandra crooned seductively, “tell me more about how much you hate Apollo.”

#greek mythology but gay #(er)#i don't think i have a fic tag but i definitely did write this #putting no tags at all looks hella fishy #so does writing in the tags about how i definitely did write this and no one else

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lofitojii · 4 years ago

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Admiration VII

Summary: He’s the son of Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. He was everything as described, handsome, cunning, admirable. You, the daughter of Poseidon, god of waters, knows that it’s against the rules to fall for such a man. Demigods aren’t allowed to be romantically involved with one another. But it’s hard to stay away.

Warning: [M] Swearing.

Word Count: 3.4k

Admiration Masterlist

“CHANYEOL!” You yelled as you saw his frail body fly through the air. He hit the ground with a huge thud, lying face down in the wet grass. You looked from your friend to the man standing in front of you. He had a smirk on his face, not a single scratch anywhere on him. You ran to Chanyeol, flipping him onto his back. His face was bruised, his nose bleeding from being smacked in the face with the man's sword case.

It was just the covering.

“Y/n, he’s too strong for head-on attacks. What do we do?” Jongin screamed, trying his best to defend himself from the man’s attacks. You were frazzled, your thoughts clouded by the insanely strong force the man was giving off. Chanyeol was knocked out, unconscious from the blow he received.

“My name is Kyungsoo,” the man said, swinging the case and knocking Baekhyun back just as he did to Chanyeol. “Son of Gaia, protector of this land. I understand your mission.” He took another blow, knocking Jongin onto his back. “But that doesn’t mean I will be giving you any sort of special treatment.” He inched closer to you, you heart racing from the thought of his blow if it were to hit you.

With being a demigod, your healing factor is much more intense than a normal humans. You heal two, three times as fast depending on your current health state. You knew you would be able to take a few hits based on your training and diet and be able to be up within a matter of seconds but there also was a limit to your body.

“Y/n, he’s too strong to go up against alone,” Jongin coughed as he crawled over to you. “What do we do?” It pained you to see your friends suffer. You knew that it came along with the title and with missions but that didn’t stop you from feeling their pain. You let out a deep breath, trying your best to concentrate on your core, heightening your senses to their full potential.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of peace flowed through your body, intertwining with the course of blood through your veins. The ocean, swimming through your body. Your orb lit up the beautiful bright blue you had seen before, only this time you could feel the power within you instead of contained in the orb.

You took a stand once more, holding your father's trident in one hand, gripped tightly within your palm. “Y/n, daughter of Poseidon,” Kyungsoo smirked. “I’ve heard rumors of your power and feel honored to see them being put to action.” Kyungsoo finally took his sword from his case, warding it in your direction. It was a beautiful emerald green, rumored to be made from a water beast that used to guard Mount Fuji.

Kyungsoo’s eyes burned a bright green color, almost shining as bright as his sword. You could feel the strength increase as you let your breathing regulate. Kyungsoo was quick to spring towards you, slashing his sword into your trident. “Amazing power!” Kyungsoo screamed, pushing himself off the collided weapons. “You’re incredible Y/n! Show me what you are capable of.” The more he screamed at you, the more you wanted to knock him to the ground. No one has been able to get a clean hit off on him yet, he didn’t even have a speck of dirt on him.

“Kyungsoo, Son of Gaia,” you began to speak in a low, thundering voice. “Prepare yourself, I don’t think you’re ready.” You stabbed the end of the tridant down into the grass, causing the ground to quake. The clouds became thick, thundering loudly as the trident glowed with increasing power. “Earth Tremor,” you whispered lowly, peering up at your opponent.

Kyungsoo looked shocked, taken back by the intense force you had strung upon yourself and the others. You picked up the trident, making a fast movement towards Kyungsoo. You saw your opening, thrusting your force into the trident. Kyungsoo was knocked onto his back, his breath uneven as you approached him. You quickly stuck the trident in between his hand and his sword, your eyes locked on Kyungsoo. “One more move and I’ll rip your arm off.” You hadn’t felt this sense of power before.

You felt your body ache but you couldn’t let Kyungsoo know you were in pain. The power had taken a toll on your body, the trident feeling like it weighed 10 times more than it did before. You weren’t strong enough yet to be using such an intense weapon.

“Y/n stop,” Baekhyun gripped your shoulder, trying to pry you off of Kyungsoo. “All we had to do was knock him down once. Stop it.” You felt your body relax at his touch, his eyes filled with concern and fear.

Was Baekhyun scared because of you?

You reached a hand out for Kyungsoo who reluctantly took it. “Sorry,” you shyly said, more embarrassed on how you let yourself get out of control.

“You shouldn’t use your orb if you don’t know how to control it,” Kyungsoo snuffed, placing his sword back in its sleeve. “Well, you beat me, unfortunately.” He closed his eyes, walking in between you and Baekhyun, slightly bumping your shoulder before stopping. “Incredible power, I must say. Come on, let’s chat for a bit.” Jongin and Chanyeol slowly made their way towards the two of you, who were slowly tracking behind Kyungsoo.

Chanyeol placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Even though I was passed out for half of that, you did amazing. Just meditate when you’re increasing your power, you’ll be able to control your emotions more.” His face was beaten and scratched up, a black eye forming. Kyungsoo had barely touched him but was able to leave a few scratches and one pretty bruised eye. His smile was still charming though, his words soft and sweet, sincere.

You had been walking for what felt like forever until you finally spotted a Japanese bath house straight ahead of you. You could feel another presence coming from the small bath house.

Plum.

You looked over at Jongin who had already stopped in his tracks. He could feel the same presence as you, his body movement coming to a complete halt. “Jongin?” Baekhyun waved a hand in front of his face, no reaction was given. “Jongin, buddy? You okay?”

“Plum…” Jongin whispered as the girl caught the corner of your eye. Her long green hair cascaded beautifully down her back, her skin fair and mesmerizing. “PLUM!” She was quick to whip her head around at the call of her name. Her big purple eyes lit up, her smile growing as she took off towards your group. Her white and green dress was long, flowing behind her as she ran towards the man with open arms. He was quick to engulf her in his embrace, latching on tight. Jongin formed tears, his head being buried into the crook of her neck. “Holy fuck,” he sobbed, trying to find his breath. “I can’t believe you’re still alive. They told me you were dead.”

“I had to stay away,” she cried back, leaning Jongin back and cupping his face. “They told me they would kill me if I didn’t.” She pressed her lips to his, both people filled with so many emotions.

“A kiss of passion and love,” Baekhyun smiled. You gazed over at him, the look of admiration danced across his features. “True love.” It was barely above a whisper, Baekhyun knowing you had heard him. He looked up at you, his faint smile warming your heart.

Jongin was in love but you hadn’t had an idea of what type of love he was in. But seeing the way he held Plum, how she was so gentle with him and his wounds. Jongin seemed happy, the first time you had seen him smile like that in a long time.

“This way people!” Kyungsoo beckoned from the front sliding door of the house. “Waste my time I swear to god.” He shook his head, walking into the small house. You followed, being greeted with a simple bath house that had been turned into more of a home than anything. It reminded you of the small house you and your father would stay in during winters away from Olympia. “A journey to find Hera, huh? And for what? This?” Kyungsoo motioned towards you and Baekhyun. “A silly little love fling? Is it really worth upsetting the council like you did?”

“Excuse me?” Chanyeol frowned, getting defensive on your behalf. You pressed a hand to his chest, pushing his flustered state back.

“Brother!--” Plum scolded but was soon cut off.

“It’s more than that,” Baekhyun spoke up before you could. His voice was shaky, his body shivering in anger. “I have found love and what I believe to be true love. My mother had once told me she fell in love once, real love, and never had she experienced more peace than when she was with him. I know she doesn’t seem that way now but she talks about him a lot. That’s how I feel around Y/n. My peace, my safe space. I believe that we were meant to be together in this life, I also believe we were together in past lives and we will find each other again in the future. If finding Hera and breaking the rules is the only way I can be with Y/n, then I would do it over and over again until I couldn’t anymore.”

You stared at Baekhyun, your heart bursting at the seams. You knew your love for Baekhyun was real, you had always known this to be true. Your fears were driven by the chances of getting caught, never being able to see your father again or know who he is. Your father had told you before that if anything ever happened that would cause you to forget, he would never leave your side. So really, nothing was holding you back.

You knew you wanted to be with Baekhyun.

“That’s wonderful,” the small voice of Plum came from behind you. “You have a pure heart, as pure as the depths of the ocean.” She placed a hand on Baekhyun’s chest, a small light beaming from her hand. “You have a beautiful soul.” Her smile was so innocent, so kind. She also was a pure being, so kind, caring. “Brother, please give them the spell to add to their map.” Kyungsoo nodded, no sense of resentment at all as he took the map from Baekhyun’s hands.

“This map now has a direct path to where Hera is said to be. My mother was her keeper for a while but who knows if she is still there.” Baekhyun took the map from Kyungsoo, nodding his thanks repeatedly. “You may stay in the guest rooms, set off in the morning.”

“How about a feast then?” Plum boomed in excitement. “Jongin, would you mind helping me?”

“Anything for you, my love,” Jongin pressed his lips to her cheek. This is what it was like for him to be in love and you loved admiring from your distance.

The night was filled with food, activities, drinking games, stories. You had grown to love Plum and her brother Kyungsoo, even though he was a bit stubborn and maybe a little too honest. They were good beings, you could feel it within their aura. Their purpose was to take care of the forest and the mountain, keeping it healthy and strong, out of the hands of humans. Plum was dainty but she had her own type of power that kept the forest safe. Kyungsoo had mentioned a few of their battles and it had taken you by surprise how powerful she sounded.

You were to set off up the mountain first thing tomorrow morning and for some reason you felt so at peace, unbothered. It was uneasy to you that you had felt so calm considering the council was on your trail. What would happen if they caught you here with Kyungsoo and Plum? Would they get punished too? You know they sent out a warning about the four of you and how generous the reward was.

You looked behind you, gazing into the open room through the open sliding door. You had stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air, take a break from all the chaos behind you. “You mind if I sit out here with you?” You looked up to see Baekhyun smiling down at you, two drinks in his hand. You nodded, scooting over a bit so he could take a seat next to you. Baekhyun was quick to pull you closer to him, hand resting on the inner part of your right thigh. “You were amazing today.”

You blushed so hard you felt your face go red hot. “Thank you,” you replied under your breath.

“I’m serious Y/n. I knew you were powerful but I didn’t think you were that strong. Most demigods can’t control their orb until eight, ten years down the road after receiving it. You did that today with only having that thing for a couple days.” He was right, you hadn’t trained at all with your orb. You were told it was powerful but never had the chance to test it out before you left.

“My father told me that as long as I focus on my breathing and keep a clear mind, it becomes easier to control. He said it’s like a test of will power and confidence. Succeed and the power is yours to hold. Fail, the power can reject you, demigod or not.” Your gaze was up in the sky, your head in the clouds you could say. Your father had educated you on so much when it came to the Ocean’s Heart, but would you be able to maintain control over this much power?

“Come back to me,” Baekhyun laughed, waving a hand in front of your face. You shyly laughed, scratching the back of your head, Bakehyun never taking his eyes off you. As you sat there, just the two of you, his words replayed over and over in the back of your mind. You had been dying to ask him but had yet to get him alone. That was, until now.

“Hey Baekhyun-”

“I meant it,” he was quick to cut you off. “I know that when I said it, you were going to have questions and I had been waiting for the right moment to get you alone.” He pulled your hand in his, pressing his lips gently to the back of your hand. “I am so, unbelievably in love with you Y/n. Never have I been more sure about anything before in my life. Once we find Hera,” he leaned back a little, his own gaze focused on the stars above. “I’m sure we can get the ban lifted. We have to.”

“I love you,” you hadn’t told him since you had made your escape. You knew you meant it. The feeling was different than the last time you had told him. You were more confident.

“How touching.” You froze in your spot, your whole body feeling like it had been drained of life. Your heart was pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears. You looked up at Baekhyun who was starring in front of you, fear plastered across his face. You followed his gaze, only to meet the intense look on Junmeyon’s face. “Funny how two criminals can sit here so peacefully and think freely as if there is no care in the world.”

“How?” You asked, frozen in fear. Sehun emerged from behind him, followed by one of the council’s knights, Xiumin, also known as Minseok. “Sehun?” He shot you a glare, obviously playing a part.

“That power of yours is quite wonderful,” Junmyeon mentioned, a sinister smirk on his face. “Wasn’t long before we had Poseidon in a corner. You have a great support system Y/n, he didn’t speak until we had to force him to.” The ache in your chest flared with rage, you could feel it burning inside of you.

“What did you do to my father, Junmeyon?”

He let a small smirk creep across his face. “He’s fine, he’ll heal quickly.”

“What did you do to my father?” You asked again, getting to your feet. You clenched your fist so tight, your knuckles turned a pale white. You couldn’t control your emotions the way you would’ve liked to but you felt so enraged by Junmyeon’s words, you couldn’t hold back.

“Y/n, don’t,” Baekhyun tried to hold you back, his words ever so gentle as you let the rage take over your body. “Did you come alone Junmyeon or should we suspect something if we try to escape?”

“I don’t need the help of an army.” Junmyeon was dressed in white armor, the one his own father had passed onto him once he received his orb. That armor had seen and been through more wars than you could imagine. “You see, you can either try to escape and be captured by force, or you can surrender and receive a slightly less intense punishment for your actions.”

“Fuck off,” you spat, your anger getting the best of you. “You’ll have to kill me before I go back with you.” Junmyeon’s sinister smile grew, fueling the fire to your anger.

“If you don’t want to come willingly, then I guess I’ll just have to kill you.” You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. The feeling was too intense and you had no desire to control it anymore. You materialized a sword this time, something more lightweight that won’t drain you of your energy as the trident did. You needed more training before equipping something that big.

Your eyes burned bright blue, enhancing your senses to their full potential. You felt Baekhyun’s hand rest gently on your shoulder. “Have you ever been in love Junmyeon?” The question took you by surprise, but you let him speak. “I asked if you have ever been in love?”

“What kind of question is that?” Junmyeon asked, confused. “This is no time for small talk. Surrender or we’ll take you by force.”

“So you don’t understand,” Baekhyun whispered. “That’s fine. I can’t make you understand.” Baekhyun stepped in front of you, hiding you behind him. “But I can do this.” Baekhyun pressed is thumb and middle finger together, his eyes burning the bright pink you had seen before. He inhaled deeply before whispering “blind by love” and blowing towards the men in front of us. A pink like dust drifted from his finger towards the boys, putting them in a state of trance. Baekhyun stumbled back, falling into your arms. “It will keep them busy for a while,” he coughed, trying to regain his balance. “That move takes a lot out of me though. We… We have to...go.” Baekhyun had passed out, lying limp in your arms.

“This way,” Plum whispered, followed by Jongin. Jongin picked up Baekhyun, throwing him on his back. “We have an escape route but you have to hurry.”

“I’ll be here once they wake up and will take care of them,” Kyungsoo said, waiting for you all to squeeze through the small opening behind one of the beds in a nearby guest room. “They have to fight me by law. Son of Zues is all talk and big ego, just like his father.” You turned around before entering the opening, making eye contact with Kyungsoo.

“Good luck and thank you.” You bowed towards him, a smile forming on his face.

“It’s been an honor, Y/n. Until we meet again.”

You followed Plum through the small door, Jongin following close behind. Chanyeol stopped, looking down at his feet. “Chanyeol? What are you doing? We have to go,” you said, letting Jongin go in front of you.

“I’m staying,” he sighed. He clenched his fists, trying his best to choke back his emotions. “I’ve fought Junmyeon before. I can do this. I’ll stay and help Kyungsoo.”

“Yeol-”

“Please, Y/n,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to cup your face. “This is what I want to do to help you. Get as far away as you can. I’ll figure out a way to find you.” You wanted to cry, you wanted to beg him to come with you. He had been your closest friend, someone you held very close to your heart.

“I’ll take care of him,” Kyungsoo stepped in. “He’ll be okay. You need to go.” You didn’t like the idea but you agreed anyways. You gave Chanyeol a hug, whispering in his ear to be safe and that you loved him. He pulled away, a determined look drawn across his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, your mind racing at what had just happened. You were behind Jongin, seeing the resting body of Baekhyun.

You were more determined than ever to find Hera. You had come very close to losing your opportunity, there was no way you were about to let that happen after all you had been put through. You loved Baekhyun and you were about to do everything in your power to be with him.

“Not yet,” you whispered, choking back the threatening tears. “Not just yet.”

#byun baekhyun #baehyun x reader #byun baekhyun x reader #exo #exo fic #baekhyun fic #fan fic #chanyeol #kai #sehun #junmeyon

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