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writefinch · 4 years

Text

Family-Owned Small Business

(CN: incest, sex work, mentions of sexual assault & suicidal ideation)

The worst part of my job is administration. Last-minute rescheduling when a client flakes on us. Chasing up payments. Booking accommodation at short notice. Answering messages! Jesus, every time in the last year when I've slumped, sighed, and thought to myself "fuck working, I need a break from all this" it's been when I've opened my messages and seen thirty different texts that need a reply. Some people are fine with it I guess, but for me it's boring, time consuming, and stressful.

Big deal though, right, I mean nobody loves doing admin, why even bring it up? Well, if I tell someone that for work last night I ate a client's cum out of my mom's pussy, I'd expect that they'd get fixated on the sex work and the incest. I'd expect them to freak out and not pay attention to the specifics of what I'm saying. So, first, I'd like that person to know that the thing I hate about my job is probably the same thing that *they* hate about *their* job. I would rather lick my mom's asshole for five minutes than answer emails for five minutes, and I answer a lot of emails.

Do we have to worry about violence, danger, cops, and legal trouble? Yeah, we do. Am I scared of these things? Yeah, sometimes, but I had to worry about all of those things before I started doing sex work. At least now we've got the money to buy our way out of the worst of it.

I'm not saying that what I do with mom is an objectively healthy relationship, let alone a perfect one. If you took me back in time and told me I could pick a completely different life for me and my mom, I'm sure there's a bunch of choices I'd pick over this one. But I never had that choice. I got hurt a lot growing up. I feel like I've finally escaped the things that hurt me, but I know that I've barely started to recover from them.

That's why I'm writing this. We've saved enough money to afford some therapy and my first session is next week. I want help with the fear, the nightmares, the mood swings and insomnia, I want to stop the rush of rage and terror that flows through me every time I see the word 'dad,' I want help untangling the stuff that came out of being told I was a pansy when I was growing up, then figuring out I'm gay, then figuring out I'm a girl, then figuring out I'm all three of those things while I was living in a place that kept trying to kill me for it. What I don't want is for the psych to pin it all on the two least harmful and least fucked-up things about my life, and worse, I don't want them to make me believe it. This journal is a prophylactic, an assessment of my job, my relationships and my life that I can refer back to if and when someone sticks their fingers in my brain and swirls them around.

I'll start with a problem statement: my dad. The memories that hurt the most are the ones where he almost appeared human, the flickers of joy, curiosity and humor that stood out from the bland cruelty that made up the rest of his personality. I'll remember him buying me ice cream or talking about a book or a movie with me, I'll doubt myself and wonder if I just went crazy and cut him out of my life for no reason, and then my brain will hook onto a random act of sadism he inflicted on me.

The physical abuse was bad all on its own, real psycho shit like driving me out into the woods and making me pick through the brush for a switch he could hit me with and a whole lot more I won't go into, but the emotional abuse was worse. When I was eleven, I forgot to feed my cat one day. He gave her away to my uncle, but told me that she'd developed malnutrition and had to be put down. I didn't find out the truth for another two years, when he just let it slip at Easter. He bragged about it, even, like he'd invented a really smart child-rearing technique. I don't want to write too much down here because I don't need to, if anything I want therapy to *stop* everything he did from running through my head. He's a punishment-obsessed sadist, a Baptist, and he works as a judge. Did he ever sexually abuse me? No. Parent of the year, right? He kicked me out for being a fag the day I turned eighteen, so it's ironic that my biggest fear is that he comes looking for me. He doesn't even know I'm a girl.

On the other hand, my mom has had an interesting life. She's kind of a fuck up. When I was one year old, mom and dad split and dad got full custody--being a judge helped with that--while mom left the state. She spent a decade trying to kick a heroin habit and a year and a half in prison for related stuff, got banned from even entering the state I lived in on account of her parole--again, dad being a judge helped with that--illegally emigrated to Canada for a while, and went to Oregon by mistake, doing a mixture of bartending, delivery driving, MDMA dealing and whoring to stay afloat.

The only reason we met again is that I was in the same city staying with friends, also whoring. I don't remember the first time I saw her, but the first time we talked was in a mutual friend's tiny studio apartment with a few other hooker friends. We ended up comparing our Pest Lists, shared a few drinks, and swapped numbers. A week later we fucked, and a month after *that* we realized that we'd Oedipus'd ourselves. It seems funnier now than it did at the time.

That was an emotional time. We cried with joy that we'd found each other, we started tip-toeing around the ideas of rebuilding our lives together, and we agreed to pretend that the sex had never happened. Of course, we got drunk together a week later and fucked again. She's hot! I have a thing for older women, I have a thing for breaking taboos, and I have a thing for being mommied in bed. Blame dad for raising me like this, I dunno.

We started doing sex work as a team after she got a dental abscess. The bill for the hospital stay and the tooth removal was insane, and the dentist straight-up told her that she'd end up with another in a different tooth within a year if she didn't get two root canals. Even when she was recovering, we could only afford fish antibiotics off of Amazon. We crunched some numbers and made some inquiries, and figured out that we could pull in two week's worth of our combined income with one night of mother-daughter stuff.

Our first joint session was with a real estate pervert I'll call Stan, a chubby balding powerlifter in his fifties who we'd both had as a client before. Mom took me over her knees and switched between spanking me and fingering me while he watched. I sucked him off while mom made out with him, made out with my mom with his cock between our lips, licked his balls as mom licked my ass, then let him fuck my ass while mom sat on my face. That was the first half hour. He came six more times before we passed out in the early hours of the morning, and I drifted off nursing his finally-limp cock in my mouth. He paid us the price of a used Volkswagen for our trouble, and I blew him one last time before we left as a thank-you.

Six months later, mom's teeth were fixed, I was on spiro, and we had just under a dozen clients for our "doubles sessions." Only a few of our appointments are ones with me and mom together, three or four a month, we mostly work alone. That's not out of a deliberate choice, it's just that we've got a strict criteria for who we'll double up on.

Trust is one thing: depending on the lawyers we can afford, what we're doing is either kinda illegal or extremely illegal. Since my dad is presumably still a judge, I don't want him to ever find out about this. He'd put us in a prison or a mental institution. We won't do a double session with a client unless we've both had individual sessions with them.

Money is the other thing. Getting your dick sucked by a hot mom while her daughter sucks your balls costs a week's wages for the average person. Hiring us for the night is more like a month's wages. Even in a city like this, there's only a few thousand people that can drop that kind of money on hookers. Then, they've got to *want* to fuck a trans girl and her mom together. Don't get me wrong, more people are into mother-daughter incest than you'd expect, but it's not a universal thing.

Clients are, on average, annoying. It's a fact of life. The thing that all clients have in common is a ton of disposable income and a fondness for fucking hookers. They're not necessarily bad people, but there’s a heavy ‘What can a banana cost, ten dollars?’ vibe to them. It’s not that they’re adrenochrome-drinkers who don’t see regular people as human, it’s more that they don’t have an intuitive awareness that other people don’t have savings accounts, health insurance, an investment property, and four figures of walking-around money at any given time. I guess I'd feel differently if I was like, a concierge or a PA, but there's a lot more pillow talk in my job.

I've had bad and dangerous clients before, there's been at least two occasions where I was pretty sure I was going to die--one where the hospital afterwards stay wiped out four months of income, not counting the month where I couldn’t work--but they were all before I met mom, when I couldn't be so careful about screening prospective clients and dropping them if they threw up red flags. I'm sure we'll get bad clients in the future, but we're in a better place to deal with them safely.

I also wanna write down what a "normal day" is like. Friday was a good example. I woke up early at 9am and cooked breakfast for mom. She was up already doing the laundry. We entertain some clients in our apartment, so we go through a lot of clothes and a lot of sheets. You can't fuck a guy on top of another guy's cum stains, that's rude. Some of the job is Housework But More. We don't really use the main bedroom or the sitting room because we treat them like bed and breakfast guest rooms. It's annoying but every time we have a session without getting an actual hotel or motel room we save like $50 minimum.

After breakfast I epilated, showered, and went for a run. Personal grooming isn't that big a deal in terms of time, I'm not saying I don't spend a lot of time on it, I do, but I'd be spending that time even if I worked in a bar or an office or something. Look: I'm hot. I might have been a weird-looking spotty nerd when I thought I was a boy, but as a girl I'm a fucking dime. I could get like, 25% uglier before it had any impact on my earnings. The only part of personal grooming that's necessary for sex work and I wouldn't do all the time anyway is power-washing my guts an hour before every session.

After lunch, mom went to see some friends and I played Magic for a few hours. At two pm, the actual work started. I picked up the work phone for the first time that day and began answering texts. An hour later I'd cancelled the 6pm appointment, blocked out all of Sunday evening, checked in with a few regulars, and provisionally moved three guys to the 'Time Wasters' list.

I spent a while sexting with a good prospect. He was a good prospect because he paid up-front for the sexting instead of treating it like a free samples platter at Costco. We scheduled a tentative appointment for next Tuesday, when his wife would be out of town on a business trip. Most of the guys I fuck have kinks, and I swear that 'cheating on your wife with a sex worker' is the most common one there is. Do I feel bad about it? At my hourly rate, absolutely not.

Mom got back at half four, so I took a break. We made tacos for lunch together and ate while watching Billions. She nudged me and told me that I need to do my injection, and, well, we have a little ritual for that. I'm scatterbrained and I'm not great with needles, but mom has been incredibly supportive with my HRT, and when I told her I was having problems taking them on time, she came up with a way to make me as comfortable as possible. As soon as the needle is ready, I laid down in her lap and she cradled my head in her arms, pressing her bare chest against my face. I took a nipple into my mouth and nursed it softly while she stroked my hair. She called me a good girl, telling me how proud she is of her daughter, how much she loves me, and asked if I was going to take my medicine like a big girl. On good days I inject myself while she pets me and coos over me, and on bad days she takes the needle and does it for me. As soon as I dropped the needle in the sharps container, mom pressed a Hitachi against my cock and took one of my nipples into her mouth, called me her big brave girl, and asked if I was gonna cum for mommy.

As usual, the answer was yes.

Late afternoon and early evening is when the messages start flowing in, especially on Fridays, when the kinds of people with hooker money have either left work early and thinking about getting laid, or are still held up at work and are desperately thinking about getting laid. This kind of messaging gets trickier, because it comes down to what I'm providing. Like, setting up a session is the kind of normal administrative stuff that's baked into the price of a session. It's also partly a sales job, so I'm naturally flirty and solicitous, and because I do sex work I talk openly about sex.

However, *sexting* is not normal administrative stuff. If I'm sending you messages for jerking-off purposes, I can charge by the hour or by the text but I will insist on charging for it. Also, it's not just sex that me and mom provide. There's a reason that 'companionship' is an old euphemism for whoring, it's because whores are good company. I'm a good listener and I don't judge, which means I'm like the fun parts of a therapist but without all the homework and self-improvement. I'm (unsurprisingly) friendly with all of my clients, and I have more than a few clients and former clients who I'd consider good friends and vice versa. I talk to a bunch of them outside of a business context, especially the ones I met outside of my job, and that's a normal part of maintaining a pool of clients for any sales job, but on the other hand... it's a demand on my time and it's a part of my services. I can and have bluntly told guys that they're wasting my time when it comes to uncompensated sexting, but the platonic stuff requires a lighter touch.

One of my regulars, Fintech Pete, sent me a message. Two messages later, he sent me $100, and we're off. Describing in gratuitous detail exactly how I'm going to suck his cock, begging him to fuck me until my clit is drooling all over the sheets, sending him feet pics, things of that nature. Pete is great for sexting because he barely jerks off while he's doing it, he saves all the messages and pictures and jerks off to them later, because he's got some biohacking routine where he only cums once a week. He said once that part of the reason he hires sex workers is that he takes each nut a lot more seriously if he's paying three digits minimum for the privilege. He does this teleconferencing report with the board of directors at his company four times a year, and every time he hires me to kneel under the desk in his home office and suck him off while he makes his presentation.

Anyway, while we were going back and forth like that, he mentioned that I'd made a joke one time about doing a joint session with my mom. I told him it wasn't a joke, and to cut a long story short, half an hour later I was asking mom if she was up for an overnight session starting at 9pm. She agreed, Pete confirmed, so we both got ready--think getting dolled up for a night out but with a more thorough enema--and drove to his place. He lived outside of town in a two-bedroom suburban home, alone with his two dogs.

As soon as we were parked in his garage I did the safety call in front of him: I rang a friend of mine, told her we were visiting a friend, told her it was at the address I sent her earlier, and told her we'd call her again tomorrow morning. Was it really necessary to do that with someone like Fintech Pete? No, but practice makes permanent. If you let these things slip when there's no danger, eventually they'll slip when there is danger.

Now, I don't want to imply that I'm in a lot of danger! There's a reason that most of the faces you'll see on the Trans Day of Remembrance are of poor black and brown women, because real danger comes when you can't turn skeevy jobs, when you can't afford to take precautions, when you have to make the choice over and over between maybe starving and maybe getting murdered. I'm white, I've got a good support network, and I've been relatively lucky in that I can do all these things to minimize my risks. I've still got to do them, though! Things like safety calls are a good habit to get into and it helps all sex workers if there's an expectation that they've all got someone looking out for them.

...I get that there is some bravado creeping into this journal. I start off saying that admin is the worst part of the job and a page later I flippantly mention that the job has put me in the hospital. On a day to day basis yeah, the admin is the bit that sucks the most, but if you offered me a deal where the admin is twice as bad but I never took that session, I’d take it in a heartbeat. This job has left me with some scars. Any time something cold touches my wrist I get a vivid flash of the first time I had my hands zip-tied behind my back in a cop car. I've had nightmares all my life, and more than a few of my nightmares are about stuff that's happened since I got into sex work.

If it seems like I’m downplaying it, it’s because the harrowing stuff is where the job has gone wrong, it’s not baked into the everyday stuff, and most importantly it has nothing to do with my mom. The work I've done with her is some of the least stressful and dangerous I've had since I started this job, and whatever wounds I have, she's not the one who caused them.

On a more positive note, a cool thing about doing sessions with my mom is that we can dress pretty conservatively and still have it come off as insanely lewd. Mom wore a black cocktail dress with an imitation pearl necklace and her hair up in a bun, I was in a white blouse under a lambswool sweater, a pleated short skirt, cheap dark tights--Pete has a thing for tearing them--and patent leather shoes. When you're going to suck a guy's world entirely off alongside your mom, the more modestly you're dressed, the more perverted it looks. Out in the suburbs it also means you get to avoid the microskirts and fishnets look which screams to the neighbors 'I've just hired a pair of hookers' or the mid-range raincoat over microskirts and fishnets look which screams 'I've just hired a pair of pricey hookers."

Pete's living room looks like the back room of a Radio Shack, computer guts everywhere, every surface turned into a makeshift workbench. It's not a suitable place for lovemaking; I don't want to have to pull shards of a soundcard out of my perineum. His bedroom is a lot neater, with a king-sized bed to sit on, a ton of pillows to lounge up against, and a TV mounted on the wall. Mom poured out some wine, a mid-range red zinfandel that we'd picked up on the way, Pete brought out some imported dark chocolate that costs like $40/kg, and I swung my legs over his lap and turned on the Food Network. I took a bite of chocolate, mom took a sip of wine, and before either of us swallowed she pulled me into a deep kiss, mixing the wine and the chocolate. It's a good combination, and Pete enjoyed the show.

The night started off with chatting. None of us were in any rush, not with an overnight session, and since Pete has been a client for each of us for a while it was a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Pete's fingers danced over my thighs, absent-mindedly plucking ladders into the fabric as we talked baseball, business, sex work, the difference between the gentrified fag bar downtown and the really gentrified fag bar downtown, programming and other nerd shit, local politics, the contestants on Cutthroat Kitchen, just normal stuff. Mom and Pete started talking about fancy cooking stuff so I started annoying them both by claiming that sardines are just fully-grown anchovies, that DOP labels are all fake, and that instant grits are better than the regular ones until mom jabbed me with a finger and told me that my mouth should be put to better use elsewhere.

You know how some people say "Cilantro tastes like soap, that's why it's good?" Same thing for how weird it feels to go down on my mom. The first time I ever jerked off, watching a 144p clip of Rocco Sifreddi fucking a girl in the ass while flushing her head down a toilet bowl, knowing that this meant I was going to go to Hell unless I begged God for forgiveness and never did it again, I came so hard I passed out. It feels good, it feels wrong that it feels so good, and it feels even better because it feels so wrong.

She was already wet when I got between her legs. I kissed her clit and started licking, her bush tickling my nose and her thighs squeezing my ears. Fabric rasped over my head as she hiked her dress up to run her hand through my hair. Everything was muffled but I could hear kissing and clinking, and I knew that mom was undoing Pete's belt and jeans to give him a Catholic-quality handjob.

I got mom worked up, bucking her hips and getting all breathy, until she asked me to get up here and give her some help. I crawled up to his groin and winked up at him. He blushed and grinned back. Pete's not a bad-looking guy. I mean, I don't care about looks in general, I guess I can look at someone and say that objectively they're ugly, and if someone is beautiful it adds something to the experience, but like... it doesn't really figure into it. Obviously most johns don't look like supermodels but they're not uniformly ugly, as I said before the thing that johns have in common is being horny guys with a lot of disposable income. Still, Pete is towards the better-looking side of that scale.

...Okay there is one thing about him that's weirdly common for my clients, I call it 'John Balding:' where a guy is losing his hair but in a slow, uneven, and kinda weird pattern, so that even when they cross into being more bald than not, they never bite the bullet and shave it all off. Pete is only like 30% of the way through that process so it doesn't look terrible yet, but he's on that track.

Anyway, back to the sex. A fun thing about double blowjobs is that you can take them a whole lot slower than solo blowjobs. Me and mom have had a lot of practice so we go at about 1/4th speed and it feels twice as good. She started off by wrapping her hand around the shaft, slowly stroking it while she softly kissed the tip, and I licked his balls, gently lapping at one, then the other, cleaning away the day's sweat and musk, carefully taking both of them into my mouth at once. Mom swallowed half his length, and I started kissing my way up his shaft as she pulled back up, my lips touching the head as hers reached the very tip. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into a deep French kiss with his cock in the middle, precum mixing with spit, moaning as we felt him twitch and grunt, mom's hand on his balls and my hand on his shaft. We broke the kiss and repeated it in reverse, taking his cock in my throat as mom kissed her way down to his balls. He came after five minutes of gentle little schoolgirl kisses on each side of his cock from the pair of us. The first rope caught mom on her cheek, the second hit her hair, but I wrapped my lips tight around the head and sucked him dry before he could spill another drop.

You can't give a client a mother-daughter blowjob and not snowball the cum back and forth in front of him. We've done it enough times to get the timing down: wait until he sits up straight, because if you don't he'll be too dazed from nutting in your mouth to really appreciate it. Make sure he's looking at you, move your hair out of the way so it doesn't obstruct his view, open your lips so that a trickle of jizz almost sloshes out, move in close to your mom so that your noses are touching and it's clear that you're about to kiss, sink a palm into her tits as she grabs your ass, and then you gotta really go for it: wide-mouthed, feral, energetic, like you're trying to reach each other's sinuses. If a little bit of cum spills out because you're being so sloppy, that's a sign that you're doing it right. You're going to lick it up afterwards anyway.

We broke the kiss, I licked mom's face clean, and we took a break. We drank some more wine, he offered us cigarettes--the coolest clients are the ones that let you smoke indoors--and we cuddled and relaxed for a while with Guy's Grocery Games playing on the TV. Pete went to get some water, and returned with three bottles and a strip of Cialis. He downed two pills, we both stripped off--it was sweltering by that point--and got ready for the next round.

Mom played with his nipples and I got between his legs again, this time going lower than his balls to eat his ass out. Rimming is a trusted client privilege like the mom-daughter stuff is, except it's less about trusting them in the legal sense and more about trusting that it won't be grainy down there. I like it when a client is clean enough to rim, because I'm extremely good at it. Mom says she's better, she claims she once made a guy no-touch cum with a rimjob, but I don't fucking believe her.

He got hard after a minute of digging my tongue into his ass, but his cock was still super-sensitive so we figured we'd tease him for a while longer. We swapped places, mom ate his ass while he made out with me, squeezing my tits and playing with my cock. I like it when guys touch my tits, my cock is... fine, I guess? I don't viscerally dislike people touching it but it doesn't do much for me. After a minute of that he reaches around and works a finger into my asshole, which is much more my speed.

By the time he was two knuckles deep I looked down and saw his cock twitching, leaking precum onto his stomach. He seemed pretty worked up. I kissed his neck, nipped at his ear, and whispered, "Do you wanna breed me, Mister?"

He sure did.

I use condoms unless I've got an extremely compelling reason not to, and mom has a cool trick for getting them on. She grasped Pete's cock around the base, placed her lips around the tip, deepthroated the entire thing in a single stroke, and as she slowly lifted her head back up, his cock was neatly fitted with a condom.

As soon as I lubed up he put me on my back, pushed my ankles up to my ears, pressed his cock against my hole and sunk into me inch by inch. He muffled my moans with a kiss and rutted me into the bed. I gotta give it to him, all that biohacking and cardio is doing something right because he railed me at a fast, steady pace until my dick was leaking all over my tummy and I couldn't form sentences in my head any more. Mom made out with him as he finished, and at that point I was just babbling nonsense. He was gentle and cautious as he pulled out of me, stroking my hair as I reached down to take off his condom. I poured the contents out over my tits, slumping back against the headboard as mom licked them clean.

It wasn't yet midnight by then, and we went on like that through the night. Licking his feet, mom-daughter 69, him sucking my cock while mom rode his dick like a Sorority cowgirl champion, more wine, more double-blowjobs, tacking an extra $200 onto the fee for the privilege of pissing in my mouth instead of having to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole buffet of fun whore stuff.

We woke up at around ten in the morning, stayed for breakfast, then said our goodbyes. Me and mom thanked him for his custom, and he thanked us for a good time. By midday we were at home, we both showered, checked our calendars, messaged our evening clients to confirm that they were still on, and then... well, the rest of the day kinda evaporated. I played Demons' Souls until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, passed out in bed, and woke up when my alarm went off in the evening.

That's one of the things I don't like about overnight sessions: you're technically only spending like, ten to twelve hours with a client, and for some of that time you're either not fucking or actively asleep, but it kinda feels like it destroys two days. By the time it's scheduled, everything in the rest of the day is either preparing for it or doing it, and when you get back it takes the rest of the day just to recover. I don't like that part of my job, and if I sit down I can probably go through a whole bunch of things I don't like about my job. I still know that my job isn't a *bad* job, because the last time I had a bad job it was at a chicken processing plant. Know how I know that the chicken job was bad? Because I excused myself for a bathroom break four hours into the shift, walked off site, and never came back.

You know what, there's another reason I know that this isn't a bad job and that mom isn't a bad mom, and I guess it's part of the reason I've written all this down in the first place. I was seven years old when I first wanted to die. By the time I got to high school, suicidal thoughts were just the radio static in my brain. I can't remember any point after like, grade school where I didn't daydream about suicide every single day.

Now? I sometimes go for weeks without thinking about killing myself. It hasn't gone away completely, it still pops up when I'm upset or stressed out or tired or really hungry, but what I do is I talk to mom about it, and she talks me out of it. I feel guilty sometimes about putting that pressure on her, and taking that pressure off is part of the reason I'm going to therapy I guess.

I hope it works out.

I really think it will.

#story #stories

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

Text

Our local mafia dads meeting their childrens’ parents!!

Okay, I’ve gotten A LOT of asks about Bruno + Abba meeting Dio and I’ve also gotten an ask or two about them meeting the gang’s parents so they all kind of correlate together so I decided to make one post about it!

For the sake of Polnareff’s sanity, I have to keep all the crusaders alive or else things will end up messy hehehe

*someone asked for Diego but like,,,I haven’t read that much of SBR yet so I don’t think I can do it solely because of lack of character knowledge. I'm sorry anon :(*

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I got a shit ton of asks specificically for a post like this so I hope y’all enjoy <3:

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Giorno

Our boy Giogio has a very complicated family tree, but let's just start with the elephant in the room. Or should I say, the literal fucking vampire.

-Dio would be...interesting, for sure. But he wouldn’t exactly look out of place in their household, considering they’re all wearing ridiculous outfits.

-Depending on how Dio actually acts, Bucciarati would probably invite him in for tea and Abba would sit there silently admiring his green lipstick which he’s 99% sure he saw at Sephora earlier

-You know how fucking extra the man is. The moment he sees Giorno this man literally bursts into dramatic tears with mascara rolling down his face and everything and Giorno is just like “????”

-They would have never guessed that Gio and Dio were related by personality alone. They contradict each other so much its almost funny

-They DO know where our boy got his sense of style from, though,,,and that fucking hair,, :’)

-Even if Dio is absolutely fucking pretty feral, I could see all of them having a pretty civil conversation about everything

-If Giorno wanted to go live with him, he was free to, (but he doesn’t have to)

-Dio learns about Giorno’s previous home life and it takes like 6 people to hold him down for him to not go and march down to his old house to commit vampire crimes

-Dio is scared of shit like tvs and the microwaves and they pay no mind to how weird he is and don’t pick up on the fact that he’s a vampire at all

-Until Polnareff emerges from the turtle, takes one look and him and GOES FUCKING OFF-

-Dio Brando is no longer welcome in the Bucci household

-Though he can see Giorno on weekends if he’s good :3

-Abbacchio can and will sneak out to go shopping with him because Dio always manages to have way too much fucking money and no one knows where it comes from

-Once Bruno finds out, (which he does from the empty Versace and Louis Vuitton bags stashed under his bed) the fun is over >:(

Giorno’s mama and step-dad...yeesh...

-you’ve seen how I made them react to those two if you read The Storm a few months back, and I still stand to the fact that if Giorno didn’t talk about his parents, they would just assume that he just had a weird relationship with them and didn’t want to talk about it

-Once they find everything out, though…*cracks knuckles*

-Bucciarati is the type of person to pick his battles. Would he have tea with Giorno’s mother just to learn her weaknesses and then slowly deteriorate her? Would he civilly promise Giorno’s step-father money only for an assassination team to show up at his door once he gives Bruno his address?

-Yes.

-Abba will go straight for the kill once he’s pissed. Don’t tell me otherwise. Man is ready to throw hands at all times and he’s not afraid to beat the shit out of some shitty middle-aged people

Narancia

Narancia’s mom, like any other sweet mama, would probably sit down to lunch with Bruno and thank him for looking after her son :)

-It would be sweet, very nice and wholesome

-Like literally if the two of them ever met they would probably just sit down together and talk about Narancia and that’s literally it

-Abba claims that he “doesn't pick favourites” (because all the fucking gremlins drive him crazy) but he secretly does favour Nara over any of the other kids

-Knowing everything Nara’s gone through, he would only treat Mela with respect if he ever had the chance to meet her

His dad on the other hand...

-Bruno wants absolutely nothing to do with the man

-He knows that it isn’t entirely his fault for everything that happened with Narancia throughout his childhood, but he wasn’t there when he should have been

-People that simply don’t care to the point of neglect absolutely infuriate Abbacchio because he was like that once too and he’s seen the damage that it does firsthand

-Abba knows if he ever ran into the guy, there’d be hell to pay

-But that’s how he feels about most of his “kids’” parents (considering most of them are absolute assholes)

Trish

-I feel like how they would react to her father is pretty self-explanatory,,,

-but Oh MY GOD Donatella Una and Bucciarati going on shopping sprees together? Being fucking bougie as shit together??? Can I say gucci and mineral water dream team????

-I can bring her back to life if I want to >:(

-She’s the kind of person who’s really great to go out with—like to bars, clubs, restaurants, etc,,,and is willing to do absolutely anything as long as she gets the social rush

-Trish is pretty quiet but her mama’s atmosphere is fucking CONTAGIOUS

-Abba and Dona would do each other’s makeup and she’s the kind of lady that shows up at his door with a pile of DVDs and those fucking cucumber face masks

-Also she collects those expensive-ass collector’s edition barbie dolls and Bruno and Abba always give her the latest holiday barbie for Christmas :)))))

Mista

-Honestly, I kinda see Mista’s parents as pretty ordinary people with nothing really defining their personalities

-They both work a lot and were never really around that much, but once Mista went to jail they pretty much just never reconnected with him and don’t really plan to

-Bruno isn’t particularly angry at Mista’s parents; the kid fucked up pretty bad and even Mista knows that he can’t really blame his family for not wanting to reconnect with a murderer

-It would be pretty mutual if he ever met them; probably a dull greeting over lunch and then they would get back to work

-Abbacchio wouldn’t even bother. He has no tolerance for people that don’t want to interact with them (although if Mista really wanted him to meet them he would suck it up and be decent)

-They seem like the kind of stiff people who would freak out if they were talking to a gang member or someone who lives rougher so their interaction wouldn’t exactly be a long one lol

Fugo

-Fugo doesn’t hate his parents

-In his heart, he still really just wants approval from them even after all they did

-I’m not sure how Bruno and Leone would possibly meet them, but if they did, Bucciarati would probably be pretty civil about it

-They wouldn’t want to talk about their son at all, which would make Bruno pretty irritated and Abbacchio infuriated

-When they do talk about him, they just talk about his anger issues and the fact that he failed their family in both the education department and the social aspect and it takes everything in both of them not to flip the fucking table over

-Because obviously his “parents” never spent any time with him or else they would know how intelligent he is and how much he loves playing piano and helping Bucciarati bake bread and how much he cares about everyone around him

-Surprisingly though, Bruno is the one who holds a grudge about it. If they hadn’t put him in college as young as they did, maybe things would have been different and he wouldn’t be working for the Italian mafia >:( (but he still feels more than blessed to have Fugo in his life) :)

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

I have so many posts now that I feel like my headcanons might get lost within my sea of all my other stuff as the time passes,,,I’m thinking of just making a fic/headcanon masterlist and keeping it constantly pinned! (I would link it in my bio but that shit isn’t working no matter how many times I try sjhdkjgfd I hate Tumblr)

If you’ve got an ask, request, or headcanon, hit me up! (I do just enjoy y’alls immaculate vibes, too) <3

#jjba headcanons #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #giorno giovanna #leone abbacchio #guido mista #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #trish una #pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga #ask-c-c-cherry

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suganovakawa · 4 years

Note

My birthdays coming up 👉👈 and I was wondering if I could request some birthday headcanons with oikawa, bokuto and akaashi? If that makes sense ^^

omg yess !! and early happy birthday anonnie 🥺💓

birthday shenanigans!

— oikawa, bokuto, and akaashi give you a birthday to remember!

— gen masterlist.

gen taglist ( open! )

a / n : hehe this is my first request , i feel kinda giddy , actually 🥺 my writing requests will be open for a while , so don’t be afraid to request anytime !

tooru oikawa.

✧｡ this boy has your birthday written down on every calandar he owns

✧｡ there is no doubt in my mind he is the type to stay up until midnight to make sure he is the first person to wish you a happy birthday

✧｡ he’ll call you , too — he’s not afraid of getting an earful from you , as long as you know that he cares about you so so much

✧｡ “ tooru ??? what time is it ??? ”

✧｡ “ Y/N ITS MIDNIIIIIIIIIIIGHT HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEET ”

✧｡ “ TOORU WHY ARENT YOU SLEEPING COULDNT YOU HAVE JUST WAITED UNTIL TOMORROW MORNING ”

✧｡ “ well i needed to make sure i was the first person to wish you a happy birthday before going to bed . you sleep well now , my dear . i’ll be picking you up tomorrow . ”

✧｡ now , if your birthday happens to fall on a weekday , he’s going to make sure everyone on the volleyball team wishes you well

✧｡ well , he doesn’t really have to force them , since they all like you enough to do that on their own

✧｡ he’ll skip practice to take you out for dinner , he doesn’t want to hear your complaints about his actions

✧｡ “ i can’t let you skip practice tooru ! volleyball is important to you , it would be selfish of me to take you away from practice ”

✧｡ “ you forget that you’re important to me as well , y/n . and besides ! your birthday comes once a year , i’m not gonna miss a chance to celebrate that . ”

✧｡ he takes you to your favorite place , and you two of you enjoy dinner together

✧｡ he waits until you get to your place to come inside and give you a present

✧｡ tooru would be the type to gift you jewelry , so expect something like a very special necklace and matching earrings to go with it !

✧｡ you will absolutely not leave his side if your birthday falls on the weekend

✧｡ he’ll tell you to text him when you wake up , and when you do , he’ll be at your door even before you get dressed

✧｡ like the weekday , he’ll still take you out to dinner when the sun sets , but until then your guys’ agenda is completely your choice

✧｡ so , you decide stay at home with him , and bake a cake together to celebrate the occasion

✧｡ i would say he’s a decent baker ?? i see tooru as a better chef than baker but he’s not pitiful when it comes to pastries

✧｡ after you two come back from dinner you stay up watching movies and cuddling until you fall asleep in each other’s snuggles

✧｡ you’ll probably fall asleep first , tooru will notice and smile , kissing your forehead gently and shutting off the tv before falling asleep shortly after

✧｡ “ happy birthday , my love . ”

koutarou bokuto.

✧｡ this boy is going to treat your birthday like a national holiday and nothing less

✧｡ he’s going to 👏🏼 spoil 👏🏼 you 👏🏼

✧｡ you better expect the most bokuto-type greeting when he lays his eyes on you on your special day

✧｡ “ BABY !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY OMG IVE BEEN WANTING TO SEE YOU !!! ”

✧｡ “ thank you , kou — kOUTAROU YOURE SMOTHERING ME I CANT BREATHE AKAASHI PLEASE HELP — ”

✧｡ yes keiji is going to be watching over him today even though he always does on a daily basis lmao

✧｡ if your birthday falls on a weekday , bokuto is going to force all of his teammates to wait for you so all of them can give you their best birthday wishes the moment you arrive

✧｡ they complain but secretly they don’t mind , they have respect for someone who can handle someone as crazy as bokuto

✧｡ after practice he’s headed straight for your house , and holy shit are those presents in his arms

✧｡ “ kou !!! how was practice ?? ”

✧｡ “ great ! everyone let me leave early for you , so i had enough time to get dressed and surprise ! these are all for you ”

✧｡ “ KOUTAROU HOW MUCH MONEY DID YOU SPEND ON THESE ”

✧｡ idc how many times you demand him to tell you , the monetary value will not leave his mouth

✧｡ each gift bag has something different , from your favorite snacks to clothes to jewelry

i told you you were gonna get spoiled

✧｡ you , my friend , are royalty ; and he WILL treat you as such

✧｡ if your birthday falls on the weekend , expect a shit ton more from koutarou

✧｡ not only are you going to get those presents , but this guy also planned a whole surprise party for you too

✧｡ say thank you to akaashi , he did most of the planning because bokuto had no idea how to plan a party

✧｡ the fukurodani players were invited , your friends were invited , and even your family was in on the plan

✧｡ bokuto will stop at nothing to make sure you feel nothing but love on your birthday

✧｡ “ happy birthday baby ! you deserve nothing but the best today . ”

keiji akaashi.

✧｡ though keiji won’t be as flashy as bokuto when it comes to your birthday , boy is he going to make you feel loved on your special day

✧｡ he makes sure to call you when you wake up , wishing you a happy birthday before you start your day

✧｡ AND HE SINGS FOR YOU TOO

✧｡ he is a singer and you can’t change my mind

✧｡ so already this mf has made you swoon literally bare minutes into your day

✧｡ but honey , it gets better from here

✧｡ if your birthday happens on a weekday , still expect a wondrous bokuto greeting

✧｡ he secretly tells you akaashi has been worrying about what to get you for your birthday and what to do but you’re not supposed to know

✧｡ KOU HIDE KEIJI IS COMING

✧｡ “ baby , what did bokuto tell you ? ”

✧｡ “ huh ? nothing , he just asked what i was gonna do for my birthday . ”

✧｡ “ oh , okay . you’re a bad liar , by the way . ”

✧｡ KFJJSJFJDJ he knows you like the back of his hand don’t even try hiding anything from him

✧｡ he asks for you to wait for him after school , while he asks for permission to miss practice for the day

✧｡ once he takes you out of school , he takes you back to his place , where this one man wonder cooks you a birthday dinner

✧｡ keiji akaashi is complete husband material wbk

✧｡ i see akaashi as the type of person who takes mental notes when you notably express a desire to have something

✧｡ like you could just be shopping with him and you’ll see something you like “ omg that’s so pretty ! i really need to get that someday ”

✧｡ uh no you’re not getting it for yourself , he’s gonna buy it for you

✧｡ hahahaha you’re funny if you think you’re gonna get keiji to confess the amount of money he spent for you

✧｡ if your birthday is on the weekend , he’s gonna pick you up and take you to your favorite places to shop

✧｡ you two have to compromise because akaashi originally wanted to pay for everything you laid eyes but hell no that’s way too much

✧｡ after a bunch of begging and persuading he finally let you use your own wallet , he wouldn’t buy anything for you unless it was under any price equivalent to $15

✧｡ you’re gonna be out all day with him sis , but he’s still gonna cook you dinner like the good hubby he is

✧｡ no matter what , he’s gonna make sure he treats you and make you feel loved and appreciated because his love for you knows no limits

✧｡ “ i hope you enjoyed your birthday , my darling . i love you . ”

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gabbysdawsons · 3 years

Note

I wanna know about dead lucy's wedding if she could have one and josh too

oooo boy this is gonna be a long ask because I have so many wedding ideas for Lucy sjdjdj

okay so, assuming she had stayed alive, she would have married Ryan

i mean they were head over heels in love; like the forever kind of love

Lucy has been planning her wedding since she was like five, okay. Full Caroline Forbes energy from her here.

it can’t really be too expensive though because her family doesn’t have a ton of money, and uh, Ryan probably got disowned for getting engaged to her in the first place lets be real

but this doesn’t stop her from going all out

they don’t have a venue or anything, but Derek volunteers to spruce up the property near the Hale house for their wedding.

Lucy buys like a boatload of those fairy lights, and ribbons and it just looks stunning at night.

the best way I can describe it is like a fairy tale garden, but also kinda like Bella and Edward’s wedding

Josh is the best man, Carolyn is the maid of honour

Lucy’s dress is so pretty, I can’t. what money they didn’t spend on decorations or food they spent on her dress and you can tell.

its just long enough to cover her ankles but not touch the ground because dirt. it has this faint floral pattern on it, and an illusion neckline with lace.

her hair is half up half down, and she’s got the whole small delicate flower crown thing going on.

point is, Lucy looks stunning.

ryan’s still got some fancy suits left over so he wears one of those.

the way he looks at her when she walks down the aisle though… damn.

they have like… 10 guests they actually invited and then everyone else is just the Hale Family cause they’re on their property.

damn now I get the whole being sad over a wedding that will never happen…

and onto Josh we go.

If you think Josh doesn’t marry Scott you are Wrong.

they have been through too much crazy shit together to not stay together forever

once again, not super fancy because Josh has never dressed up a day in his life and they really just don’t want something over the top.

they do rent an actual venue though. It’s this old mansion that Josh is certain is haunted, which weirdly enough, is almost comforting to him.

Lydia took the planning upon herself and neither really bothered arguing with her,

The whole damn pack was invited, the party after was insane.

they actually somehow managed to con Derek into giving a speech and it’s surprisingly heartfelt.

Stiles goes in for so long that Josh has to lead him away from the mic.

in my head this is all happening while Home II by Dotan is playing.

#ask: Lucy #lucy x ryan #lucy sable #fic: dead lucy #ask: josh #josh sable #josh x scott #answer #fandomqueenlove #my babies!!!#thank you so much for asking!!

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

from eden | myg + jhs

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

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clearly,” You spit.

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

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

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

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

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

Please.

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

This one sounds hopeful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who the hell are you?"

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

"Am I dead?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he can’t stay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean, he won’t help?”

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

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

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

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

“Which is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

Come out, little flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Found you, little flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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rainey-staerie-daize · 4 years

Text

A multi-day journal entry because it’s been a few: 03.10.21

Went for a nice walk around the neighborhood on Saturday because I felt like being outside and not at home. Found out where exactly Xan’s school is and how to get to it because I may or may not have to drop him off if Mom is scheduled extra days this month. Passed lots of houses and found out how all the nearby streets connect. Would've taken artsy pics except I forgot to take a phone with me. Met two or three tiny dogs and two big dogs at two different houses, and they all barked at me as I said hello. Oh, and one guy in a truck with tons of oranges in the back asked me if I wanted to buy some, but I declined. COVID-19, no money on me, and I don’t really like oranges all that much anyway because of the texture. Also passed by a house that was for sale with a kitchen sink that faces the front yard. There was a faucet zip-tied in its box in one side of it, and it’s the same faucet we have: Glacier Something, that detaches as a sprayer.

Getting to Xan’s school was kinda rocky for me because I was wearing my bad, thin-soled flats and I didn’t realize that there was a paved path on the other side of the wash until I got to the end at the school. Partway, I went to take off the mask because nobody was around and I needed all my depth perception, but one side broke as I did, so I spent a few minutes awkwardly standing at the end of the path as I retied my mask. Also tied my flannel shut because it’s too small to button, and it looked just a little odd with my AMBITION shirt and leggings.

Being at the school was kinda nostalgic, even though I never attended that specific one. Enough things were the same though: sun-faded signs, bike cage, playground equipment, fenced in area for the kindergarteners, portables in the back, a huge yellow field, clinking chains on the tetherball poles, and the silence of nobody else there but me.

Except, I wasn’t waiting for a parent to pick me up for once. I was there on my own free will. Other things that didn’t match my childhood include the entrance to the playground being nicely framed by four or so trees, a nice round gathering area painted like the sun around the flag pole, “welcome back” spelled out in blue Solo cups shoved into the bike cage fence, and one of the “no parking” signs by the drop-off area being scribbled out so it said “park here.” It was nice, and I yearn to be ten or younger again.

Partway through my little campus tour, it got a little windy, and I briefly thought about going home, but I ultimately decided to keep walking the same direction and circle my way back home. There’s a big dirt lot right next to the field fenced off, and then I could see the intersection that I’ve walked to the other way around before, so I headed over that way. Came across a shopping center with a bunch of stores, and looked at each one as I passed them. Was able to see inside of a dry cleaner place and look at the machines inside, but after the guy at the counter acknowledged my presence like I was a potential customer, I told him I had never seen inside one before and was just taking a walk, and kinda just... quickly walked away. The shopping center also had a Walmart Neighborhood Market, and I spotted a wild dark-haired Karen with no mask, that I felt was way to close to me. Probably three or four feet away, I don’t know. My depth perception sucks.

Rounding about the other end of the shopping center after looking at Panda Express, Denny’s, and a pizza place, I heard a familiar couple of notes come from one of the vehicles in the parking lot. The beginning notes of She’s a Beauty by The Tubes, which I almost never hear play on the radio or anything because it’s from the early 80s. Despite not being born until 2000, I know a few of their songs because my uncle is the bass player and I’ve been to a few of their concerts when I was younger.

So I started singing a bit as I was walking, and as it started getting more faint, I stopped walking, turned around, and cupped my right ear with my hand to keep listening. Pretty sure one guy looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t care. After it ended, or at least, I think it did, I continued on my way, the same route I use when I’m returning home from that street’s bus stop.

When I got home, Mom was out cold on her bed after the facial she did earlier. Skye later told me she never even noticed I left because she went straight to bed for an afternoon nap when she was done, never leaving her room.

I finally reset my sleep schedule enough to wake up at 4 AM on Sunday, which is good enough for me because I used to wake up then in high school anyway. I spent a while just waking up on the toilet, and then decided to do some light cleaning and picking up around the house to surprise Mom when she woke up. She never notices, but I didn’t care about that then.

After tidying up Kare’s hair accessories on the counter and finding her toothbrush still with toothpaste on it from the night before, I decided to rinse out her unicorn wash cloth sitting on the counter, and maybe clean up the toothpaste on the counter with it, but then Mom woke up from the couch. I got scared that she’d be mad I was doing stuff in her bathroom, so I snuck out to the other one. Was a little bored waiting for her to be busy with something so I could finish her counter, so I wiped down the counter of the bathroom I was in.

She tried to come in to get laundry, which startled me because I was right next to the door, and immediately spotted the unicorn cloth. She went off on me for using “something that she uses on her FACE” on the counters of all things. Briefly mentioned wiping the toilet, as if she thought that’s what I did before I walked in.

I didn’t even try explaining myself. Just stood there and let her yell. I know I got a little carried away with cleaning stuff, but like, it was soapy. It’s like Mom complaining that I used the dish sponge with antibacterial dish detergent on Roxie’s food bowls. It doesn’t make sense, but I was too tired and down on myself to care about her seeing my side.

During the visit, Skye and I stayed home and talked in our room, and I looked up that house I saw for sale. Not that nice, and currently off the market, but I found two others that I absolutely love. Kinda wish I’d had a job this entire time. Then maybe I could have enough money to put down a down payment and get one of them. Oh well.

Mom came home while the littles were still at the visit, and Skye and I both pretended to be asleep so we didn’t have to interact with her. Some of her behavior has seemed kinda... sus. I ended up falling asleep for real though, on the carpet, woke up briefly a few times, and finally got up at 1 AM.

Mom was still up, and told me how one of my old friends was trying to contact me but couldn’t because my phone was off, so I turned it back on and we talked for a while. I gave her my Google number in case my actual phone wasn’t working, and wished her a happy birthday, but she fell asleep before she saw the birthday message. Don’t remember much else of the day, except I turned in a Japanese quiz early and cleaned Roxie and her crate. Like always, cleaning took a while because I am very thorough, and because she pooped in the crate when I was washing her bowls. I had to rewash her and the crate floor, which, after last time, I now know slides TF out.

Ended it all with a hot bath for myself, which I fell asleep in. Woke up cold because half the water drained out through the faulty plug, so I ran it again, and fell asleep again. Woke up cold again, refilled it, and finally washed myself. Got out and was relieved to find Roxie and her “room” still clean, and I finished it off with her blankets and one of her beds from the dryer. I tried a new thing with the blanket where I tie one end (two corners) to the crate ceiling to almost make a tent, and she seems to like it.

Not counting the bath naps, I stayed up for over 24 hours, but didn’t realize why I was so damn tired until late Tuesday morning. Ended up falling asleep for a couple hours that afternoon, woke up for a while, and then went back to sleep at a decent time time at night, but I was woken up around 2:30 AM by Mom looking for her keys. She was panicking because March has blackout days and she’s already near her point limit, so being late could literally get her fired. She kept asking where I put them, since her purse and dealer apron were moved off of the crate by me to clean it, but I told her I hadn’t even seen them. I don’t think she believed me, because she still sounded like she was blaming me for not being able to find them.

Not my fault that you said “stop putting things on the dog crate,” and then you kept putting your own stuff on top of the dog crate, and then wanted me to clean it. Where the Hell was I supposed to put her stuff while I was cleaning it?

Skye eventually found her keys in the unlocked car, and she finally left, but was back by 4 AM because she signed the EO list. She tried to prank us when she came in by telling us she was fired, but I didn’t buy it because she wasn’t crying. Trust me, she’d be bawling her eyes out if that had actually happened.

Bringing us to Wednesday, I was a tired mess who’d done Duolingo all morning when I showed us to my Japanese lecture. I only remembered to do it because I heard Mom doing it. She’s apparently gonna learn Spanish.

I still have a few things to make up for that class, but at least I’ve finally organized my worksheets into homework packets. I’ve gone this long before remembering we own a stapler.

#Raine's daize #the tubes

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phoenotopia · 5 years

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2019 December Update

The game is officially playable from beginning to end!

That battle has concluded...

Soon begins the war! But first, a brief reprieve for the holidays.

And I must throw in the usual caveats. We're still playtesting, we're still polishing, we still gotta get age ratings, more red tape, etc etc. And most importantly, we need to figure out the launch strategy. Think Megaman, charging his shot for 5 and a half years... We're not allowed to miss at this point. It has to HIT.

Luckily, we're in a relatively stable position where we don't have to rush the game out immediately. It's not LAUNCH or STARVE - it's... take some time to aim a little. We don't want to launch in the shadow of a bigger behemoth game, and we don't want to launch completely unknown either. We have to build up the game's media presence, which has been neglected so far. I know it's annoying to have to continue to wait... but please bear with us a little longer!

Here's what we've been doing for the past couple months.

---------- THE SCRIPT ----------

The script sits at over 80,000 words. I didn't realize the significance until a teammate told me that that's actually as long as a novel! I looked it up, and sure enough, it's a little longer than the first Harry Potter. But unlike Harry Potter, hardly any of these words are wasted on, pffft, narration. It's all juicy dialogue!

(Some of the game's golden nuggets of dialogue)

There was actually a lot of mundanity getting to the end. Pirate, acting as my editor, caught tons of errors and inconsistencies. One of the most recurring issues had to do with capitalization. I like to capitalize things, often inconsistently. Some common questions that arose:

Why is this text highlighted yellow, and this one highlighted blue?

Why is this monster name capitalized, but this monster not?

Why is this item capitalized, and this one not?

... and so on!

All very mundane issues, but all very necessary to tackle. And there was a TON of 'em. (em vs 'em was another thing we had to make consistent). I actually did some research to see what capitalization rules Zelda had. From what I could tell, when it comes to animals and monsters in the Zelda universe:

All monsters are capitalized

All regular animals are not capitalized

The Cuccos are special, and ARE capitalized

(a collage of Zelda pictures I assembled to study)

In the Zelda universe, all regular items are lowercase, but highlighted blue when mentioned in a quest context (e.g. "butter", "hylian wheat"). Items can be uppercase, if they are special named items (e.g. "Sheikah Slate"). We adopted similar rules as Zelda in some cases, and deviated in others. For instance, in the Phoenotopia universe, there isn't a clear distinction between animals and monsters - that fish monster is really just an animal that happens to be the alpha predator in its natural habitat. So most entities are lowercase, but "big deal" entities can be uppercase.

(we made a formal document to consult whenever a question regarding capitalization arises)

---------- A SAMPLING of QUEST AND CHARACTERS ----------

A lot of new quests have arisen in our great writing effort extending over the past several months. And with it, new characters, big and small. I'll tease a sampling of some of them here (warning: some light spoilers ahead):

My favorite new quest is undoubtedly our game's new "Trading Quest". This one takes inspiration from the Zelda series - the trading quest similarly has you roaming the world and its towns in search of needy people who desire a particular item. Deliver them the item they desire, and get a new item. Do this 10 times, and the ultimate weapon awaits you at the end.

I tried some things to vary up the formula. Some NPCs don't reveal what they need right away - steps have to be taken to get them there. It's also possible to go down the wrong route in the sequence, and have to double-back. We try to keep it interesting.

---------- LOOT PLACEMENTS & GAME BALANCING ----------

A great effort was also spent towards balancing the game this past 2 months. Because even one good healing item, easily obtained, can throw the game's whole difficulty off-kilter. And this same principle applies to other areas, like the money economy and player powerup options. Altogether, they form a very delicate ecosystem for enjoyment.

One of the recent things I did for this game was put down exactly where each heart ruby, energy gem, and moonstone could be found. And this was actually a rather involved process because you have a limited number of rewards to distribute (you wouldn't want the final max HP count to be a weird number like 297). Put too many rewards in the beginning, and the late dungeons would have no rewards to offer. Put too much in the end, and the inverse happens.

I found myself going back into earlier areas and plundering their rewards to fill the later areas. And then to ensure a relatively even spread of rewards within each area themselves, I drew crude maps of the dungeons & their reward spots, so that they could be studied from a bird's eye perspective.

But it was still not enough. With NPC quests and towns also taking up their own allotment of the rewards, I found myself running low on things to distribute. So I went back to the books and upped the number of rewards across the board. Before there were 44 Heart Rubies to collect - there are now 55. Before each Heart Ruby boosted your max HP by 5, but now each one now boosts your max HP by 4, so your final max HP count would still end up the same. It's kinda similar to what happened with Twilight Princess, where they broke with tradition and made 5 heart containers required to gain a new heart instead of the usual 4. Overall, the final tally for treasure to find is:

55 heart pieces

30 energy gems

108 moon stones

Who's crazy enough to collect them all?

---------- BADGES / ACHIEVEMENTS ----------

As one of the game's finishing touches, there's a menu for BADGES - they're this game's version of achievements. This is an ongoing task that we hope to stamp out this December. A few favorites of mine from the original flash game will return ("Pillow Connoisseur" is among them).

(The menu looks like this before any badges are earned)

I allocated slots for just 33 badges, so we're selecting the badges very carefully. We got rid of most of the fluffy ones that appeared in the flash game - we wanted to reduce the number of badges that you would earn automatically for just playing the game (so no more "1st boss", "2nd boss", "3rd boss" achievements). We're aiming for a healthy mix of easily earned badges, hard earned badges, collectathon badges, secret fun badges, and so on.

The badges have another twist - they bear miniaturized portraits of characters from the game! In the initial brainstorm mockup phase, I wasn't really fond of the badge designs. You got a medal of a heart because you collected some hearts, and you got the medal of a moonstone for collecting moonstones, etc. It just seemed so... expected.

(various badge mockups)

How could we engage the players on a more fun and deep level? The idea came - what if we attached pictures of the people you meet on your journey? And these people's stories and character would have a connection with the achievement? That could keep the player guessing which character would come attached with an achievement, or even reveal a hidden detail about the character you didn't know.

---------- MUSIC ----------

Will has just one more task to do. And that's to recut the song for the trailer. One of our other goals for this December is to make a really good trailer... again. There's actually 2 other trailers we cut and never made public for reasons. Maybe I'll talk about them one day in the post-mortem.

Since this may be the last conventional update, we wondered with which song to best leave the audience. And we decided that the most suitable song is "Sanctuary". It's a song that the player will often encounter often when they happen upon a quiet resting place in the world.

There's a little story behind this song. Two and a half years ago, I linked Will the Earthbound song, "Buzz buzz's prophecy", and told him, make a song like that!

In response, Will made "Sanctuary".

Give it a listen HERE. What do you think? Did Will hit close to the greats?

---------- FAN ART ----------

Three fan arts have come in the last couple months. I display them here proudly:

Another submission by Cody G! Gale looking shy as she flashes the V sign for the camera. I like how Cody G's art is continually evolving. Note the additional detail on her eye, and how her hair is drawn extra fluffy. Very nice!

Shafiyahh is another consistent contributor, and made one in the spirit of Halloween. I really like their costumes! Gale as an angel, and Lisa as a demon, fittingly captures their relationship, since Gale is the responsible one and Lisa is the troublemaker. So cute!

A contribution from a new artist, Negativus Core! Wow, Gale looks so bada-- here! We often forget about Gale's tough side due to the cutesy graphics. This is probably how her enemies see her. And the gummy (slime) is a cute touch!

---------- FINAL NOTES ----------

Similar to last year, this will be the last update for a while. If things run too slow, I'll post a status update come end of February 2020.

It's possible, and this is a BIG IF, that something notable happens sooner than expected - like we're going to a con or we have reason to drop the trailer sooner than later. If so, this blog will update earlier than expected. BIG IF. Otherwise, it's end of February till next you hear of us.

The game's development has reached a new uncharted territory. We're going to take the time and figure out exactly what our next steps are. In addition, we'll still be doing some playtesting and script polishing. And we'll be taking a break too. It is the holiday season, things move kind of slow around this time of year. We'll enjoy the company of our family and friends.

Until then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

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evanstanhoney · 5 years

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Priorities//Badboy!Shawn

a/n: this is a new concept i’m playing around with. let me know if you want more of this universe? i kinda like it, it’s right up my peaky blinders alley lol. also sorry for the title.

summary: you're having a mini emergency, and shawn lets you know that no matter how crazy his life is, you will always be his number one.

⚠️warnings: fluff, mentions of illegal activity

word count: 1.3k

You and Shawn were pretty independent in your relationship. You each had your own separate lives (Shawn's far more exciting than yours) and you respected that. There was no checking up on each other, or checking the other phone when one of you got home late. Your relationship was built on nothing but trust and respect for one other. That's not to say you didn’t worry, because of course, you did, but you never let that get the best of you or get in between your relationship. As long as he came back to you at the end of the day, you were fine.

But you had a shitty day. A really shitty day, and for the first time in the entire time you’ve been together you were blowing up his phone waiting for him to call. You were a little needy and wanted your big bad boyfriend to make it all better. After call number three, on the second ring, he finally picked up.

“Honey is everything okay, I’m working?”

You instantly felt guilty. Shawn working and another person's idea of working were two different things entirely. When Shawn was ‘working’ that meant he needed to focus, and whatever it was he was doing needed his undivided attention or someone could get hurt.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry -” you ramble, ready to hang up the phone. You can hear him excuse himself before he’s back on the phone with you.

“No, you’re not. You never call me like this.”

“It’s nothing, you’re working Brian probably -”

“Honey.” he’s got that tone in his voice. The one that makes you weak in the knees and has your heart pounding out of your chest.

God everything about him screamed danger, but fuck did you love him for it.

“I just had a shitty day and I hadn’t seen you and...just - I want to see you.”

“Did someone do something?” He nearly growls into the phone.

Even if someone did do something, you wouldn’t tell him. You’d made that excuse once and you swore you’d never do it again. Although part of you enjoyed knowing he’d do anything to protect you, even if it wasn’t necessarily socially acceptable.

“What, no! Everything is fine, it’s just stupid school stuff.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll wrap things up here and then I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure? I can wait until you’re done.”

“I’ll be home in about twenty minutes, okay?” you nod your head forgetting that he can’t see you “Honey?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you.”

The moment you hang up the phone you instantly feel a weight lifted off of your chest. You feel so silly for it and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out just why you were feeling particularly needy today but knowing that Shawn was on his way to you calmed you down.

Having him home always calms you down. So often you didn’t know where he was, all you knew was that it was dangerous if you ever knew which only meant it was dangerous for him.

You’re at the refrigerator, looking at the contents as if you’d be able to get inspiration and make a meal out of eggs and a few cups of greek yogurt. You felt two strong arms around your waist and you jumped, but instantly relaxed when you smelled the familiar scent of cologne and leather.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” he lets out a little chuckle but behind his eyes, it’s all business. When it came to you and your happiness, he was always business. “What’s going on?”

You open up the freezer and opt for a pint of ice cream, taking a spoon from the drawer and hopping onto the kitchen counter. “You’re going to laugh when I tell you.”

He moves towards you on the other side of the kitchen, standing between your legs, hands resting on your thighs, “No I won’t. I promise.”

“I went to register for classes today and uh...the one class I need to graduate is full. I went to my advisor but she said there's nothing she can do.” You go on to explain the rest of the fiasco that was your time spent in the advising office, and how everything would be pushed back. You were working yourself up into a huge frenzy and when you finally stopped to look away from your ice cream at Shawn you see the exact opposite of what you expected splashed across his face.

“Why are you smiling, Shawn this isn’t good.” You ask around another spoonful of ice cream, and he only lets out another chuckle “this isn’t funny. My life is falling apart here.”

“Your life's not falling apart.” he shakes his head. He looks down at the pint of ice cream in your hands, opening his mouth and you feed him a scoop of his own.

“I just love hearing you talk about school. You're so smart you know that? Makes me wonder what you’re doing with the likes of me.”

“I’m going through a phase.” you quote, your mother rolling your eyes. It’s meant to be light-hearted but you see his shoulders slouch a little. “Hey, I’m kidding. I love you. You know that.”

And he does, its just that it's hard for him to believe it sometimes when he’s reminded that he’s nowhere near where you are in life. He’s never gotten a formal education past high school, he has no other real talents, aside from guitar and singing (which, how far can that really get anyone), all he knows how to do is outlaw. But at least he’s damn good at it.

“What is it that I pulled you away from anyway?” you quip genuinely curious.

“How much do you want to know this time?” He asks with a sigh, signaling for another scoop of ice cream and you spoon it to him.

“Ummm….20%.”

“It was mainly just a fight. We were discussing how we’re going to clean some of the money from the last job. We’ve got a shit ton of jewelry that we’ve got to get rid of, but none of our connections are buying. Too ‘risky’ they said.” He rolls his eyes, gritting his teeth “I told them we should find another job in the first place.”

The last job he and the boys pulled was pretty public. You never heard about the jobs, if anything there would be a small segment on the news, but it would be for one night and then it would be over. The last one though was a media circus, for nearly a week. Nothing was ever able to come back to them and everything turned out to be okay. The police got an anonymous tip and a generous donation and they looked the other way.

That was the first time you were ever really scared for Shawn.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t realize things were that bad, you have bigger things to worry about then my schedule.”

“No. Of course, I’m here. You're always going to be my number one.”

“Even when things are going to shit?”

“Especially when things are going to shit.” he smiles, cradling your face in his large hands, “if I didn’t have you I’d be going absolutely mental.” he stops for a moment, really taking in every inch of your face, “You’re my everything babe.”

“My badass outlaw boyfriend really got it bad for me. The guys know you’re this soft?”

“Shut up.” he giggles bringing you in for a sticky kiss that tastes like caramel and chocolate.

masterlist // tell me what you think? // requests? // wattpad // ao3

#my writing #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes prompts #shawn mendes concepts #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes aus #badboy!shawn #outlaw!shawn #gang!shawn #kinda #more organized crime than anything

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b-afterhours · 5 years

Text

Avenue of Sins (part eight)

summary: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.

warnings: adult content, mature readers only.

if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.

series playlist

authors note: thank you so much for being so patient! i can’t thank you all enough that anyone would even care so much for a new chapter. i am so grateful for you all. thank being said the series is coming to a close soon but thanks for staying on the ride!

moodboard: @bohemianfortunes thank you so much its perfect!

Days had passed yet neither of them could find significant time alone. There was no time to sneak off during club hours. And most disappointingly they didn’t have the time nor the energy at home. They would both plop into bed exhausted from the late nights and the little hours of sleep. There were times Alma would find Bill’s hand under her skirt teasing her or she would pin him to his office chair in the loft leaving small bruises on his neck with her teeth teasing each other – building up hope for something more but once home either one was too drunk to get it up or the other was too drunk to stay awake to get to that grand slam ending they desperately wanted. Effectively leaving each other sexually frustrated. The fast lifestyle of debauchery came with tons of endless fun but it did have its drawbacks and it so happened to be cutting into their nonexistent sex life at the moment.

Alma spent her work shift that evening nauseous from a hangover, trying to reach that drunken state she was at last night so that she could forget about her churning belly. Ever the clever alcoholic she thought she was, she chugged down Moscow Mule’s believing the ginger beer would help settle her stomach as she chased the buzz she craved for.

“Bundy?” She called for him. “Wanna take a shot with me?”

“Jeff,” He corrected. “But, sure what’re we having?” He said peering down the other side of the bar, eagerly rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“I don’t know what does a killer like to drink?” She giggled feeling the drinks finally giving her a satisfyingly playful buzz.

“Oh don’t fuckin’ start Echo,” he couldn’t help but laugh just a little.

“I’ll tell you what! Tequila!” She sang sliding his shot towards him. “Cheers!” A shiver ran up her spine when the shot passed her tongue and down her throat.

Bundy sneered at the taste as he slammed the empty shot glass down. “What’s up with him?” He pointed while wiping his lips dry.

Alma didn’t bother turning to see who he was referring to because she knew he was talking about Craig. “He’s in a mood, he’s always like that,” she shrugged.

“So he usually cries?”

“What?” She whipped her head back and faced the glistening of tears brimming in his eyes as he dried drinking glasses. “Craig?” He shook his head upon hearing his name pulling him from his depressed daze as he sniffled, squaring his shoulders. “Dude, take a break you’re gonna bum everyone out looking like that out here.”

“Sorry, it’s just,” his voice cracked and his hand snapped up into a fist to hold back a sob.

“Just, go take a break,” she said gently pushing him towards the back.

Alma shook her head pouring herself another shot and shooting it back just as fast as she poured it. “I-” she frowned a bit contemplating. “That was kinda mean huh?”

“A little…” Bundy digressed.

“Shit. I’ll go check on him, I guess.”

She quickly walked down the end of the bar to see him standing at the threshold in waiting, biting his lip anxiously. “Come on you’re with me,” she said ushering him along. Queenie stepped out of the walk-in fridge with prepared garnishes in hand looking startled to see Craig there.

“He’s good,” Alma said hopping atop a prep table in the very back. “He’s taking a break let the other girls know.” Queenie nodded and hurriedly walked back to the bar as fast as her tall skinny heels would allow.

“You gonna be fine? You can go home-”

“No. Sorry but I don’t want to be there right now...” he sniffled.

Alma crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “Veronica still giving you trouble?”

“I wish… there’s nothing to go back to,” his voice cracked again.

“What- um nothing to go to?” Alma felt her heart sink she knew what was coming but she had to act oblivious.

“She left me,” he said as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. “She took everything. She left me like I meant nothing...”

“Shit dude. I, I’m sorry… Did she mention where she was going?”

“No,” he said shaking his head. “N-not really she uh left me a note,” he reached into his back pocket procuring his wallet and pulling out a folded up piece of notebook paper. He handed it over Alma who had to unfold it multiple times to get it open. There wasn’t much to read but she could tell by the blurred ruled blue lines that Craig had read it over and over again with his tears raining down on the paper.

Craig, I am not happy. I have to leave this life and that means leaving you. Please, understand I do not want to be found. If you ever loved me, don’t go looking for me. I’ll miss you.

Much love and kisses, Veronica.

She signed, dotting the I in her name with a small hollow heart. Even that little stylistic choice of hers annoyed Alma. Though, giving the note another once over, her writing seemed shaky and rushed. She imagined she wrote it with a Russo henchman’s pistol pressed against her temple which leads her to wonder if all the tear stains on the paper could have also been from her.

“This is it?” She said dismissively, playing along as she handed it back.

“Yeah, that’s it, that bitch. Shit, I shouldn’t say that...” he said regretfully.

“No, you can. She is a bitch for leaving with just a slip of paper with a bullshit excuse.”

“I gave her everything when I met her she had nowhere to go. I gave her a place to sleep and a fucking job at my cousin's place after she got fired from here!”

“Whoa! That’s a lie she didn’t get fired, she walked out.”

“Are you serious? She told me Bill practically threw her out of this place.” Alma shook her head. “That’s another thing, Bill! Fucking Bill!”

“Okay, you need to be careful with how you talk about him,” she warned.

“She– you see this part?” He pointed near the end of the letter. “Much love and kisses, my ass!? Not even an ‘I love you’? It’s like she physically can’t because she’s always been hung up over Bill… No matter what, I knew she couldn’t really love me because she was still thinking about him!” He began to pace as he grew angrier. “She always blamed you for that you know? She’s so fucking jealous over that guy. And especially you, she swore I’d retaliate by getting to you...”

“There’s a lot you’re saying here and quite frankly I’m a little lost,” Alma took a deep breath trying to take full use of what was left of her sober mind. “But I get it, okay. But Blondie is crazy and selfish. You didn’t deserve that or how she treated you. Alright,” she sighed unsure want to do about the emotional and dispirited man before her. “Just chill back here for a bit and calm down.” She hopped off the table and held her arms out in a sorry invitation for a hug. “Look, I’m really bad at comforting people I don’t know what else to do?”

Craig solemnly nodded walking into her embrace. His shoulders started to quiver as he was full-on sobbing again. Alma had to push against his weight to keep herself from crumbling from it. She rolled her eyes as she awkwardly patted his back. “It’s gonna be alright Craig,” she sighed. Suddenly she felt incredibly regretful more so than she had ever been. Bill and she had been systematically fucking up his life right at the time they were supposed to end it. They were the scummiest assholes on earth. It made her feel no different than the peers who tormented them in high school. Maybe, it’s how they learned to be so good at it?

Craig straightened up, wiping his nose with the inside of his work shirt. “Thanks and sorry,” he said wiping the tears that had landed on her bare shoulder. “It’s hard when you love someone and they don’t love you back no matter what you do. You know?”

Alma frowned, “Sadly I do.” Her heart ached to admit that. “But you’re gonna be okay, I promise,” and then it cracked ever so slightly speaking comfort to a dead man.

“He’s so stupid. There’s no reason he shouldn’t love you look at you!”

“He loves me just… not like that.”

“I could.”

Alma’s eyes widened for a moment before looking away uncomfortably at his statement. “That’s nice of you Craig but-”

“Sorry, but I’m serious you’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she muttered.

Awkward tension filled the air. Alma turned her gaze up at him. His black curls falling on his forehead and his eyes were a shade of hazel surrounded by dark enviously long lashes. The longer she stood there she could feel the alcohol taking its effect on her and her sense leaving. Yet, oddly she felt seen by him in that they could commiserate in their respective unrequited love.

“You gonna go for it or?” He lifted a suggestive brow.

“Go for what,” she asked shifting between feet though there was a coy glimmer in her eye. And when he gently glided his hand on her hip she didn’t stop him. And when he had pressed her against haphazardly stacked, teetering shipment boxes she didn’t stop him. She felt like she was out of her body and out of her mind for letting him put her in this compromising position where they could be caught at any moment by anyone. Yet when he got down on his knees, his hands pushing up the sleek black dress she was wearing while he peppered kisses on her warm inner thighs she still didn’t stop him.

With his face buried between her thighs, she peered every so often through the cracks between boxes making sure no one was nearing the door. The more he delved his tongue into her she completely forgot where she was and what she was doing and who she was doing it with. Though in the back of her mind, her nagging conscious was reminding her how utterly wrong it all was yet it only served to entice her further.

Craig harshly gripped on her thighs to keep her from roughly grinding on his face and finally when his tongue flipped back to the pulsing nerve she let out an audible moan that she had been trying so hard to keep from slipping past her lips. She hooked a leg over his shoulder and gripped on to the curls on his head pushing his face closer as she neared a euphoric high that she had been missing for some time. The sexual tension she had been dealing with melting away with every flick of his tongue.

“D-don’t stop,” she muttered, breathlessly.

Craig stopped, backing his head away with a defiant smirk on his face. “Not so fast little birdie. What are you going to do for me?”

“What?”

“We’ve gotten this far?”

“I don’t… We shouldn’t even be fucking doing this,” she shook her head.

He stood up, pressing his hardness against where his tongue once was, working her to near climax before denying her of that and ruining it for a shot of a little something for himself. She shuttered desperate to reach an end she had been craving.

“I’ll let you finish on my cock?” He whispered in her ear as he snaked his hand under her dress toying with her. She didn’t respond afraid if she agreed to anything or so much say a word he’d stop his fingers like he did with his tongue. “Oh you’re a naughty, selfish thing aren’t you? You want to come first, huh?” All she could do was nod as she mewled and whimpered with his two fingers teasingly working inside her. “But I want to be inside you. Filling you up with more than just my fingers. Don’t you want that?”

There was a slight noise over by the door startling them which prompted them to quickly pull away. It would have been blatantly obvious to anyone that they had been up to something but to their relief it was only just the sound of the AC kicking on and a gust of wind, tussling the tassels of the vinyl strip door.

The very realization that they could have been caught brought Alma to her senses. She only wanted to come but she didn’t want to reciprocate it. Suddenly she felt foolish. Deep down she knew Craig was a perv’ and the fact that the whole situation could go south was a possibility. Knowing what happened to Kansas had her on edge. Yet when she suggested they should go back to work, he nodded but only under the assurance that there could be another chance with her. It was a lie but it worked for her plenty of other times and gave her enough space to successfully ghost. With Craig working with her, though, it was a bit trickier to do her classic disappearing act. But it would have to suffice for now.

“Um, you go out first,” she said patting him on the back awkwardly like some little league player at the end of a game. One whose team lost terribly.

Once she was alone she quickly adjusted her dress back to her body and then ran her hands through her hair angry with herself. She paced in the same space Craig had for a moment chewing on her lip aggravated at herself for being a, “big stupid slut”. While shaking her arms out and taking a deep breath she noticed her tequila buzz was fading and only made her want to down a whole bottle now.

As Alma was just about to step out when she saw Bill held up by a customer near the bar through the janky strip doors cracks. The fact that he wasn’t at his usual spot at the VIP booth indicated that he had noticed her absence or maybe her security, Paul and Rashad informed him, either way, it was just as bad. She paused, taking two steps back on her high heels and quickly leaned down towards a box of dusty expired bottles of grenadine where she kept her own rainy day stash of coke. It made for a good a cover, once Bill moseyed his way to the back he’d find her doing blow and suspect she had been back there going bump for bump. Needless to say, she needed one anyway.

“There you are,” he smiled sweetly with such a boyish charm that usually would make her swoon but she could hardly look him in the eyes. “I was hoping you had one busted out. I need a hit bad.” He said leaning against the wall beside him. “I forget everyone here is so loaded they’re too chatty and I need to be on their level to pretend I give a fuck what they’re saying,” he laughed.

“Imagine being the bartender?” She said sniffing a bump she scooped with her pinkie nail. “I hear it all night from drunks and coke heads.”

Bill leaned down to take a bump that Alma had prepared the nail on her little finger, inhaling sharply he tilted his head back for a moment. “I heard Craig was back here crying?” He lifted a brow.

“Uh, yeah,” Alma diverted her eyes back to the small pink baggie digging in for another bump as a way to avoid his eyes. “Didn’t you hear from Joey? She’s gone?”

“Blondie,” Bill whispered. “Really? Like gone, gone? I left my beeper in the loft so I haven’t seen if I got a page.”

“We can talk about it there later. But yeah...” She said sniffing another bump feeling the familiar satisfying tingles surging up and down the back of her neck.

“Maybe we should go to the loft now? It’s kinda slow out there?” He said with his hand grazing the same side of her hip that Craig had.

“Uh, I can’t I-I started,” she lied. There was no way she was going to let him touch her without showering off Craig’s touch from her body first.

“Your period?” She replied to him with a nod

. “Already?” He said surprised. The shitty thing about having him as a roommate is that he knew her cycle pretty well. “You know I don’t care?”

“I know. I just feel, gross?”

“It’s fine. I get it,” he digressed. “Girls,” he sighed.

…

That whole night she felt awkward tension working around Craig, trying to weave by him and avoid eye contact with him as humanly possible. She leaned on the bar near Bundy again, listening and not listening to his drunken babbling. Her main focus was on Bill just behind him in a booth speaking with a few Wall Street businessmen, sharing beers with them looking like they were talking money. She found herself enamored with him, just as she was when they first became friends and again when she first arrived in New York meeting him again. He always had an air of confidence that she admired and wish she had. Those years she spent growing into her twenties without him she mimicked his tough yet smooth exterior the best she could remember it then. She lived on her own, alone in St. Louis before moving to New York City so she didn’t need anyone to see her as a vulnerable target, someone to mess with just because she was a girl. She walked like she was six foot three when on the inside she was just a girl wanting to be seen, wanting to be someone and wanting to be loved, truly loved. But that was pussy shit she thought, that didn’t fit with the punk rock quota she lived by. But she was an adult in nearing her late twenties, punk rock – the real punk rock – died years ago with a slacked jaw, with the bloodshot whites of its eyes on show and needle stuck in the crux of its elbow just like those who pioneered it. The lifestyle was starting to feel tired and music – real music that had initially brought Alma to Bill was gone. And whatever bullshit was playing on MTV just wasn’t the same.

She sipped on her drink pulling herself out of her own deprecating thoughts wishing for a shower and wishing Bill was the one eating her out in the back room earlier. Maybe then she would have came. In fact, she knew she would have and that part made her angry with herself. Letting Craig get a piece of her and she got nothing in return for it. When it came to transactional hookups it was against everything she stood for.

~~~

The first time Alma and Bill hooked up was strange. Strange, though they both knew it was a long time coming. Yet it still felt unexpected and afterward, she was scared she fucked up the very friendship she lived and moved her whole life for. It was a night like any old night at Trigger Finger, she had been living in the city for a full year and they were in the loft tired yet laughing about something stupid she did at a frat party her freshman year of college back home. It was just the two of them sitting on the couch next to each other when he held her hand after stubbing out the cigarette they shared. Alma didn’t think much about the gesture knowing he had been drinking but inside she felt her heart soar feeling seventeen again even with such a simple act.

“Only you could get some frat losers to kiss each other to get a chance at you.”

“A chance they never got!” She said laughing with him.

He looked at her almost with a seriousness hadn’t been for the smile still on his face. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he sighed. “It’s nice to talk to someone that actually knows me, you know?”

“Me too,” she sheepishly agreed.

“All of this,” he spun his finger in the air. “It’s nice but it’s so,” his eyes wandered scanning the ceiling for the right word, “I don’t know, repetitive? Sometimes I guess, lonely?” He shook his head feeling uncomfortably vulnerable even with his best friend. “Maybe that’s why an old broad like Myrna kept my company?”

At that time Alma had only known the surface level of his friendship with the previous owner of the club so she only replied with a simple nod. Alma had no idea that he talked constantly about her to his old friend and that she told him a day like this would come when they’d be together again. He didn’t believe it would happen but here she was. He knew better than to doubt old Myrna she was never wrong about anything. But even with her right by his side at that very moment, even though she had been there for a whole year now it was still hard for him to wrap his head around. Bill leaned into her, his head resting atop of hers.

“Are you ready to go home? Should I drive?” She asked.

“’M not drunk, just sleepy,” he yawned. “Come, I’m fine to drive,” he said swiftly rising to his feet and pulling her along with him.

The rain that had been weighing heavily in the dark clouds above the city came free-falling down halfway through their commute and was now pinging off the car's roof and streaming down the windshield in a blurry wet sheet. It was clearly not letting up anytime soon. He turned the car keys cutting the engine off but letting them sit idle in the ignition. Alma looked out the passenger window to the level she remembered their apartment stood and reached for her door handle ready to jet inside and into her warm bed until Bill gently rested his hand on her knee prompting her to wait.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said shaking his head as he looked away and out the windshield watching the rain flow down distorting and diffusing out the street lights and office lights from the skyscrapers ahead in thought. There was certainly something on his mind and she knew it had been swimming in his head since before they left loft at the club. “Remember the night before I left Strathburg?” He finally said.

“Yeah? We hung out on the school bleachers baked as hell ‘til the sun came up,” she lightly laughed.

“Yeah,” he bashfully chucked. “But after, when I took you back home?”

“When uh-”

“When I kissed you,” he said turning to look at her with his striking green-eyed gaze, how they still glowed in the minimal light. The little space between them shrunk despite them not moving an inch. Their eyes were locked gauging on what the other might do or say until Bill took it upon himself to speak. “I think about it still,” he admitted. “I think about why it took me so long to do that?”

“Really?” Alma said in disbelief. “Why did it take so long?”

“Alma,” he softly whined. “Don’t make this any cornier than it is.”

“Okay? So what are you trying to say? That you want to kiss me again?” She retorted. “If you want to kiss me then do it.”

“Just like that, huh?” He said reaching over, his single large hand holding her face in place. Lightly, he pressed her cheeks together pushing her lips into a pucker and then he leaned in firmly planting a kiss on her lips. It felt as if they were transported back to that day many years ago in his brothers' borrowed car outside her old humble home in Strathburg, Missouri. Though this time they let their hands roam as the kiss deepened no longer hindered by the adolescent bashfulness that held them back finally adding the feelings they had meant the first time their lips met. Before they had realized Alma had shimmied her way on to his lap facing him while his hands were under her shirt at the ready to unclasp her bra until she awkwardly fumbled back in the tight space causing her bottom to lay on the horn by accident. His hands snapped pulling her away as they laughed.

“Shit sorry,” she said softly. “Scoot your chair back.”

“It’s already pushed back as far as it can go… Should we go inside?” He said watching her hands work to undo his buckle.

“I don’t want to wait,” she whined kissing his neck, soft yet stubbed with hair, making him groan. “At least lean the chair all the way back?”

“But in the car?”

“We can do it how you want inside once we’re done in here,” she smirked wiggling to lift her dress over her hips eager for him to finally give in to what they both desired.

“Already thinking of round two before the first starts?” He said cocking a brow with a smirk of his own as his hand cupped her making her shudder at his touch at the most sensitive part of her. He was at first hesitant, considering what the implications would be if hooking up with his childhood friend could mean ruining that very relationship. But that thought went out the window along with his senses when his fingers pulled her panties aside and felt how wet she was for him. She sighed at his touch, needily bucking her hips for more. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“I want you inside me already,” she whispered closely to his ear. “Don’t you want to feel me already too?” Though she sounded confidently eager, her heart was pounding nervously in her chest. Coaxing him and herself to merge in one quickly before either she or he could change their mind thinking better than to muddy the lines of their friendship.

Bill leaned back fumbling with the button of his jeans with Alma’s help she pulled his briefs down enough to expose him and stroking him only a few times before she crawled up the chair into a position comfortable enough within the tight space to line herself up with him. She hovered above with her head bent pressing against the ceiling of the car.

“Holy fuck,” Bill said under his breath looking down with lust lidded eyes as she slowly inched down at first adjusting to his size until she sank down. “Oh fuck!” He said clamping his hands to her waist to keep her from moving right then afraid he might end up a two-pump chump. He held her there to keep himself distracted enough to calm himself down but raised a hand to her neck pulling her down for a passionate kiss to satiate her. A slow-building shiver went up Alma’s spine feeling full of him and feeling the twitches of his cock with every slight movement she made.

Leaning back she slowly rocked her hips as much as he would allow while trying to take his restricting hands off her waist and coax them to her breasts but he wouldn’t loosen them. She took a glance at him and began to giggle at his intensely focused expression. “Are we gonna just sit here like this?” She said playfully.

“If you move too much the cars going to start rocking...”

“Are you worried about that or that fact that you’re about to bust?” They both began to chuckle, the awkward feelings and nervousness melting away. “Would you rather go inside?”

“No! Fuck no,” he said sitting up slightly to get his feet as flat on the floorboard that he could, “not yet.” He wrapped his arms around her now and began thrusting upward causing Alma to yelp at the abrupt feeling. The car was rocking only minutes under the veil of water until. It. Stopped still.

“Did you come? Shit, I’m sorry,” he panted.

Shaking her head she said, “And you came all over my dress and, somehow shot the window kinda...” Despite the pitter patter of pouring rain, there was thick silence inside the car until they began to uproariously laugh louder than the thunder.

“Jesus Christ… I swear that doesn’t hap-”

“Make it up to me inside,” she said opening the car door, sliding off him, and darting out into the torrential rain.

Before he could even have time to dwell on how his whole mind and body reverted to being a teen boy again, Bill followed getting soaked in the rain, jogging after her as she took the lead up the five flights of stairs pretending to chase after her until closing in on her skipping steps two at a time with his long capable legs. She was laughing the whole way until he grabbed a hold of her just down the hallway from their place already tearing away at their wet clinging clothing before the door could even be unlocked. He made it up to Alma tenfold up until very early in the morning exhausting themselves. Having each other every which way, hard, fast, slow. They had every intention to go for another round when taking another break but their resting eyes had stayed closed as they slept comfortably in each other's arms.

Bill had woke long before her, had already taken a shower and was bring her a cup of coffee for her and himself to bed when he stopped at the threshold. She was still soundly asleep, sunken into the plush bed with wild hair and her naked chest exposed. He couldn’t help but think she was so beautiful and then dreadfully wondered if maybe he had fucked everything up. What if she woke up deciding that she had made a mistake being with him. That she didn’t see him the same anymore. That a line was crossed that he couldn’t take back. But worse he was worried that when she woke, the same thoughts he was having would race through her mind as well.

He quietly walked to his side of the bed and sat down gently putting his cup down on the nightstand after a sip. He took his free hand pushing her unruly hair out of her face, stirring her softly awake. She blinked her bleary eyes and the corners of her lips turned up happy to see him there presenting the coffee for her to drink. He’s still here? She thought, used to waking up alone after a romp with someone or vice versa. She had the same thoughts as he did for a moment while she slowly sat up taking the mug from his hand and then set it down next to his after a few sips and a scalded tongue. She plopped down again, her body tired, ghosts of his hands still lingering on her flesh.

“You okay?” He asked trying to read her face for regret or disappointment, anything but she kept looking at everything but him. If she would just look at him he’d know he’d have nothing to worry about. The eyes never lie.

“I am. Are you?” She said finally looking him in the eyes searching as well.

Flashes of what they did to each other’s bodies, molding and joining, biting and caressing coming forth flooding in their minds they hadn’t even realized their lips met again for more.

~~~

When Alma laid in her bed alone she kept thinking how much of an idiot she was for her incident with Craig. She hated wanting Bill more than he was willing to give her. She wanted his exclusivity yet she was going off making herself into a fool seeking validation through other men whom she knew wouldn’t ever give her that. She didn’t want that from them either yet she put herself in those situations regardless.

When she broke apart from Bill to sleep in her bed without him, he didn’t bother to convince her to join him instead like he always did. He was tired she could tell but paranoia joined her regretful thoughts. Did he know? Did he suspect? How could he? He’d never think she’d do a thing like that. Not his best friend. Not his Alma...

tags: @dreamtherapy @bskarsgardlove92 @tinygayfungi@skarswhat @nutinanutshell @xskarsgardx @reinamysterio @darling-dearest-desired@erika-beau-berika @fine-i-suppose @corlin90 @codependentcellist @loveforbillskasgard@kikilikes @twosupergayghosts @umbriellethenightfall @tigers-pat @billullabies

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#bill skarsgard #avenue of sins #aos

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