#and the whole thing of them all living between the underworld and mortal realm... you know what else is there??? the land of dreams

[pinksilvace]

ROTATING HIM IN MY HEAD AT AN ACCELERATING VELOCITY

[genericpuff]

ok i know it's a webtoon you can read online for free but Rachel/Inklore really did just spoil every twist and plot beat within the plot summary of volume 8 huh

this is literally the next volume they just announced and it's going to be releasing after LO goes behind daily pass and yet they're not even trying to keep things even somewhat interesting for the trad pub market that they're trying to expand through, jesus christ lmao this is yet another lesson in "what not to do" courtesy of LO 💀

your plot summary is supposed to be a HOOK. NOT A WHOLE ASS SYNOPSIS THAT GIVES AWAY EVERY TWIST AND PLOT BEAT. By comparison, LO's Volume 8 "summary" isn't a plot summary, it's a goddamned Cliff's Notes 😭 like ... this feels like they accidentally included the extended pitch notes in the summary, like is there seriously not a single person at Random House going "um, isn't this a little too much?"

I'm not even joking when I say you can deadass just read this summary and understand the gist of the S2 finale. The actual episodes do not contain anything else of substance beyond this summary. All the 'twists' are given away, and anything else that might be 'interesting' is literally dropped or forgotten about by the end of S2 anyways so it winds up not mattering (cough Eris cough)

Literally the first two paragraphs would have sufficed, with the additional removal of the Apollo lineage reveal because again, THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A TWIST. IT'S A DUMB TWIST, BUT IT'S STILL WRITTEN AS A TWIST LMAO everything in that third paragraph and beyond is WAY TOO MUCH and it's not even making any efforts in its prose to pull you in with enticing set-up, it's just clinically saying "this happens and then this happens and then this happens".

Compare it to the Volume 1 description, it's like night and day:

"Persephone, young goddess of spring, is new to Olympus. Her mother, Demeter, has raised her in the mortal realm, but after Persephone promises to train as a sacred virgin, she’s allowed to live in the fast-moving, glamorous world of the gods. When her roommate, Artemis, takes her to a party, her entire life changes: she ends up meeting Hades and feels an immediate spark with the charming yet misunderstood ruler of the Underworld. Now Persephone must navigate the confusing politics and relationships that rule Olympus, while also figuring out her own place—and her own power."

Short, sweet, to the point, gives us enough setup to understand what we're going into but not enough details to spoil the whole frigging thing, and it ends perfectly with a hook that gets you interested in both Persephone and Hades as characters.

Y'know what, Inklore, here's a freebie on me, for Volume 8:

"Court is in session, the witnesses have spoken, and now it's Persephone's turn to take the stand. Torn between her loyalty to her mother, Demeter, and her blooming love for Hades, Persephone reveals to all her true motives for the Underworld - but shocking revelations are brought to light by the scheming Apollo that may determine Zeus' verdict and Persephone's fate once and for all.

Meanwhile, deep within Tartarus, a long-forgotten threat from Hades' past has re-awakened, and has set his sights on Persephone as his new wellspring of power...

Will Persephone and Hades finally find their peace? Or will fate tear them apart for eternity? Find out in this visually stunning and climactic conclusion to Lore Olympus' second season."

[alephskoteinos]

The binding power of chthonic gods

Something I keep noticing in chthonic gods is that they often tend to be associated with the power of binding. By "chthonic gods", I tend to mean either gods of the underworld, gods who dwell beneath the earth, or god who are associated with some vital power or mystery associated with the underworld. I often kind of joke about it in relation to BDSM, but it's kind of worth discussing on its own.

I think I'll start with Odin, because that's usually where this theme starts for me. Even though Odin is not popular understood as a chthonic deity, owing to his status as the ruler of Aasgard and leader of the Aesir, many traits point to a very chthonic character. He was called the "lord of the gallows", and sometimes received hanged men as sacrificial offerings to the ravens. His many epithets included Valdrgalga ("ruler of the gallows"), Farmrgalga ("burden of the gallows"), Draugadrottin ("lord of the Draugr/undead"), and Foldardrottin ("lord of the earth"), all denoting his sovereignty via the chthonic realm. His horse Sleipnir allowed Odin as well as other deities to travel between worlds and particularly to the underworld. In some interpretations, even Valhalla may have been an underground place, or a kind of underworld in itself.

Anyways, the main connection to binding comes from the Valknut, a mysterious Germanic symbol likely associated with Odin. No one really knows its meaning, but the fact that it almost solely seems to appear in connection with the cult of the dead suggests that the symbol is tied to death in some way. The other major theory about the valknut is that it represented Odin's power to, in the others of Hilda Ellis Davidson, "lay bonds upon the mind, so that men became helpless in battle, and he could also loosen the tensions of fear and strain by his gifts of battle-madness, intoxication, and inspiration". In this understanding, the valknut represents Odin's power to bind and unbind the human mind, or more specifically those of his enemies and allies respectively, as well as the cycles of transition between death and rebirth.

The binding and liberating aspect of chthonic power is also reflected in Kronos, or Saturn, one of the many chthonic gods seen in Greek and Roman polytheism. Throughout the Greek Magical Papyri, the "chains of Kronos" are apparently invoked as a binding force. In the "Prayer to Selene", within the Greek Magical Papyri, the goddess Hecate, as Selene, wears the chains of Kronos upon her body, as well as wielding a scepter made by Kronos, which gives her power over even the primordial chaos itself. The influence of Saturn has often been believed to involve binding in some way. At the same time, Saturn was also undoubtedly a god of liberation, honoured in festivals such as Saturnalia where the whole order of Roman society was temporarily inverted.

In Vedic India, two chthonic gods, Varuna and Yama, share the attribute of binding sinners or wrongdoers with a rope for judgement. In Varuna's case this is by way of the nagapasa, his weapon and instrument of justice. Varuna himself lived in the underworld, his "stone house" where the waters of his night sky also dwelled and into which the sun withdrew after dusk. Yama, as the first mortal who upon death became the lord of the departed, also dwells in the underworld, and presides over it as the judge of the souls of the deceased. Yama's rope was an instrument by which to "capture" the souls of people who are about to die so that he can deliver them to death. In the Brahma Purana, Yama attempts to capture Markandeya with that rope, but is saved by the intervention of the god Shiva.

Varuna's and Yama's binding power is perhaps reflected in the Japanese Buddhist figure of Fudo Myo-O, one of the Vidyaraja (Wisdom Kings). Fudo Myo-O uses his rope to, depending on who you ask, bind each thing to its "nature", bind the ignorant, or capture demons. Fudo Myo-O, in his own way, has his own chthonian persona. Bernard Faure notes in Gods of Medieval Japan that Fudo was identified with the earth and thus positioned at the centre (or rather honzon) of earth-quelling rituals and identified with another earth deity named Kenro Jijin, as well as linked to a complex quasi-demonic deity named Kojin.

I won't go much further than I already have for this post, mostly to maintain to some sense of brevity for a Tumblr infodump. To round this out, though, I don't have that good an idea of why the chthonic powers are often tied to binding. But, if Odin and Saturn are any indication, maybe it's just a central part of the duality and polarity embodied by the chthonic realm, wherein the bondage of the chthonic powers is inseparable from a larger liberating power that, as I think Frater Archer said, is an essential part of the underworld, and the experience of mystery to which the underworld is central.

[josnhoes]

I do not know if you are still doing Hades Self Aware AU requests, but I'll ask. Can I request a Hades Self Aware AU where the reader goes missing suddenly (probably from wondering off, but it's up to you) and ALL the Greek gods are thrown into complete chaos and worry as they scour the earth to find you; in hopes that you haven't left them? Again if you are not taking requests I am sorry, I did not know. Have a nice day!

You disappear from their lives as quickly as you came into it. Only the once happy chaos had turned to panicked desperation. The gods as a whole couldn't believe you would leave them, had they not worshipped you well enough? Had they angered or upset you? As a whole they believed they all had given you everything you could have wanted and more. Which why wouldn't they when you gave them your love and created everything for them. You were a light and now they were plunged into darkness.

It had been a few days most and yet havoc was reigning and even the mortals were effected. Their once benevolent gods turned to monsters as they tore the world apart looking for you. Though the mortals always knew the gods had as much cruelty in them as kindness.

Zagreus felt powerless, he couldn't leave the underworld to hunt for you. All he could do was pray to you and beg for you to return to him to all of them.

Nyx hunted from the sky the darkness of night seeing all and Apollo followed suit in the day. All of the gods big and small seek you out combing through their lands and godly domains for a sign.

It's Hypnos that finds you, or at least you mind in slumber. You hadn't left them no far far worse, you had been taken. A replay of Sisyphus and his twin Thanatos. You're unending kindness had gotten you trapped and locked away like a prize to a greedy mortal king.

The news spreads fast and the king and his poor innocent people are unprepared for the fury of *all* the gods as it rained down on them. Some where spared, those who truly knew nothing and had clean souls. But the wicked and fools who knew now knew only suffering.

Freed and wrapped in the arms of the God who saved you from the prison, they shielded you from the destruction all of them had caused. They scoffed but simmered in rage and the sight of the marks left on your poor skin from the shackles.

If you weren't babied before you were definitely babied now. No longer where you allowed to wander the mortal realm with out a guard. Someday they may relent but for the sake of innocent lives and the gods stress levels you are best just going with it. Besides you get to pick your gaurd and it is a meet them half way thing as both Zeus and Hades had originally called for you to remain only in the realms of Gods, handed between the Underworld and Olympus like Persephone. A thing that was heavily considered and would have happened if you hadn't put down your foot.

[absentia-if]

What are some of your other ideas? I always love when people share their ideas even when they’re not going to do anything with them.

I’ll share them below the cut for people who aren’t interested (I apologize in advance for my horrible ideas)…

There are eight below the cut.

Divided We Fall: You play as the President of the United States only child; wherein you’ve been receiving threats and are sent to a different country (one of my own design). As you try to figure out what you’re supposed to do now with your life. Especially when said madman follows you to said country. (ROs range from the heir of the country to your bodyguard.)

Caught In Between: You died. However, instead of going to Heaven or Hell, you’re sent to a place commonly referred to as Purgatory. Where you’re given the opportunity to go back in time— one year exactly before your death— as you try to figure out what happened that night. The only catch? The closer you get to the date the more you start to forget its significance. Will you find out if it was truly an accident that killed you? Or something so much darker? (The ROs range from someone you thought hated you to your manager.)

Life After Death: More of a Greek/Roman mythology type story; where you play as a fallen warrior/scholar/diplomat that finds themselves within the realm of the Underworld. However, your soul is widely sought after by all the Gods. You need to figure out where you belong and where you wish to be. (The ROs range from Hades to an Amazonian Warrior.)

A Thousand Years: It’s your final year of college and all you want to do is pass. Of course, not everything goes your way when a whole slew of new students enter your sleepy little town. With a few faces that have appeared in your dreams— and sometimes your nightmares— before. You just hope that the voice that whispers to you doesn’t turn out to be real either. (The ROs range from a bitter vampire to an adoring werewolf.)

Divinity Falling: You’re one of the Eight Guardians (beings chosen to look after the mortal realm); deemed as Life. Everything is going smoothly within your home but a succession of events causes you to get cast to the mortal plane. Wherein you’re trapped within a mortal body— without your body or any way to get back home until they return— and you have many things you need to get used to because of it. Fortunately, you’re not alone for too long as help soon arrives in a variety of forms. (The ROs range from Death to a fairly confused human.)

Swan Song: Based off of The Swan Princess; you play as an heir to a beautiful country that has been missing for over ten years. Trapped in a curse that causes you to be imprisoned in the form of a swan until moonlight touches the waters of your lake. Will you ever find true love that will break the curse? Or will you forever be trapped within your feathery form? (The ROs range from another heir of a different country to your childhood best friend.)

Duplicity: Based off of the show Chuck. You’re nothing special; you live with your older brother and his girlfriend in the beautiful city of Santa Barbara, California. You have a dead-end job— that you share with your childhood best friend— that you’re way too qualified for… your life wasn’t truly going anywhere. That is until you get an email from your old rival from college; wherein your life changes forever as it’s filled with government secrets (otherwise known as the Intersect). Launching you, along with your two new handlers and best friend, into a life you never expected for yourself. (ROs range from your CIA Handler to your rival that changed your life.)

Notorious: You’re an FBI Agent on the hunt for one of the most elusive art thieves in the world. Only your job takes you in a different direction as you end up teaming up with said criminal to catch an even bigger one; a criminal that you wouldn’t be able to catch without them. Your partner— when they finally catch up with you— is going to have choice words for you. It’s all in the name of justice though… right? (The ROs range from your partner to one of the two criminals.)

[elazrielbook]

ELRIEL HADES/PERSEPHONE FORESHADOWING

i don't think sjm with follow the myth exactly, she'll switch it up like authors always do with retellings, but i'll explain the similarities first and at the end i'll tell you how i think she'll change the story!

ELAIN - PERSEPHONE

godess of spring and flowers, constantly compared to innocence and light. gets taken from her home to the night court. falls for the god of death.

AZRIEL - HADES

god of death/the underworld. azriels name literally translate to 'angel of death' and how many times is he compared to death and darkness? falls in love with persephone from afar, but demeter(rhys) tries to keep them apart.

GWYN - MINTHE

both are a red haired river nymph(naiad). minthe tries to make persephone jealous and ends up getting turned into a mint leaf. (i personally don't think itll go that way but i'll explain at the end) in the myths she dwelled in the river Cocytys, that flows into the river Acheron, the river that the archerons just happen to be named after.

GRAYSEN - ADONIS

a mortal boy that persephone fell in love with. when he had to split his time between aphrodite and persephone he chose to spent most with aphrodite. (this could represent graysen choosing the humans over elain when she turned fae).

RHYS/LUCIEN - DEMETER

demeter was persephones mother whos main role in the myth was trying to keep hades and persephone apart. like how rhys forbid elriel. demeter also forced persephone to split her time between the mortal world and the underworld (the human realm and nightcourt). and lucien currently lives in the human realm...

----

everyone and their grandma sees how elriel give the hades and persephone vibes but if you actually look into it, theres so many specific things that allude to it

the only thing im not sure about is where the whole dynaminc of lucien would fit in. but authors add new characters to retellings all the time so i suppose thats fine.

so, rhys has already played demeter and set up the whole forbidden love thing. in the myth its well known that hades kidnaps persephone to marry him, but i don't see azriel abducting elain anytime soon so dont worry about that lmao.

in mythology persephone is forced to spend spend half the year with hades and half with demeter back up in the real world. maybe this represents her being forced to spend time with lucien in the next book? and then going back and forth to the night court? either rhys or lucien could demand this of her since they would be in the role of demeter.

in the end of course hades and persephone get married, and minthe starts boasting about how shes more beautiful and how hades will choose her in the end as they are past lovers. sjm definitely wont make azriel a cheater so i wouldn't worry about the past lovers part, but gwyn seems too nice to boast like that so maybe its a misunderstanding that causes trouble. the biggest candidate for this is the necklace! some jealousy is caused but not a big fight or anything. i really dont think she'll get turned into a plant though💀elains not the type to do things out of spite so i imagine gwyn will be fine.

rhys being demeter is likely. he's kind of her guardian in a way. demeter wanted persephone to stay in the mortal world to provide the harvest for everyone even though persephone wanted to be in the underworld with hades. elain has the burden of political alliances on her shoulder because of her mate bond with lucien. this could again hint to rhys making her spend time with lucien in the human lands (mortal world)when she really wants to go back to azriel in the night court(underworld).

i think that lucien is going to have more of demeters role however. rhys loves azriel and cares for elain so he'll accept their relationship in the end, lucien however may not as hes her mate. i think its more likely to be lucien than rhys that demands that elain spends time with him in the human lands and the rest in the night court. i feel like this would lead to her hating him the way persephone hated demeter. this could end in the blood dual(that's definitely happening btw)

PSA i do not think this will be the plot of the book!! but with all the hades and persephone foreshadowing i feel like these will just be some things that happen in it. but not the actual plot, that will have more to do with elain powers and koschei etc. and even if my theory is correct and its a hades and persephone retelling, it wont follow the myth exactly, some parts will be changed and go differently!

i think the next book will be a mix of the hades and persephone myth and the tale of blodeuwedd, which i will do a post on next!

[k1-b0kuma]

Complete List of My Works

Currently Writing (Fanfic)

🩸🖤Flesh and Blood🖤🩸 (My Hero Academia)

Are monsters born, or made? Is Toga Himiko a monster, for having natural urges? Is Midoriya Izumi a monster, for needing to eat?

This is the story of two monsters, driven into the shadows of society by circumstances beyond their control. This is the story of how a vampire and a ghoul found solace in one another, and the story of how it was torn away.

👁Midoriya Izuku, The Ceaseless Watcher👁 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Midoriya Izuku is a creepy kid.

He wasn't always like that: for the first decade of his life he was just a regular Quirkless kid. But something happened, and it changed him. Now people are made uneasy by his very gaze, he knows things he shouldn't, and his scores in English are perfect.

For his part, Izuku tries to be friendly, but people are always put off by his eyes. Aside from Hatsume Mei, the dubiously sane inventor, and Nedzu, the principal of the greatest Heroics school in Japan, that is.

Honestly? Izuku just wanted to go into hero analysis. But the Dread Powers very rarely care about the desires of humans.

🧪The Quirk Doctor🧪 (My Hero Academia)

A spate of disappearances, culminating in the death of a Pro Hero, leave Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa and Shouta Aizawa scrambling to keep up as the destruction grows and the bodies pile higher and higher.

Meanwhile, a Quirkless teen works for the Boogieman of the Underworld, using his grim experiments to get revenge on a world that shunned him.

All For One, Destro, The Peerless Thief - the greatest supervillains in history. Midoriya Izuku will stop at nothing to ensure that his own name is among them. Hero society will learn to fear The Quirk Doctor.

💫Portraits Hung in Empty Halls💫 (My Hero Academia)

The suicide of Midoriya Izuku, and the consequences thereof.

💀He Kindly Stopped For Me💀 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Ruminations on death with one who has seen too much of it, too young.

🐍A Serpentine Twist of Fate🐍 (The Owl House)

In one universe, a teenage Luz Noceda would find her way to the Boiling Isles, meeting the Owl Lady Eda, and living in the Owl House.

This is not that universe.

In this universe, Eda Clawthorne, an intelligent but unmotivated student of Gravesfield Middle School, winds up in the Demon Realm after following a strange purple snake through a portal. There, she meets the Snake Lady, Luz Noceda, self-proclaimed most powerful witch of the Boiling Isles, her roommate, King, and the demon inhabiting their house, Hissy. From the Snake House, they find adventure and trouble, all in the name of rebelling against the Emperor Belos and the head of his personal coven, Amity Blight.

🕸Master of Puppets🕸 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

A Web connects heroes, villains, and civilians alike. Midoriya Izuku sits at the centre of it all.

💚Paths That Cross💚 (My Hero Academia)

They say one bad day can change anyone's life. For Midoriya Izumi, this is demonstrably true. In one day she lost both the last remnants of her dreams, and her mother. The one good part of the day was meeting Kan Himito, a handsome young UA student, and the first person in years to show her genuine kindness.

Himito had a rough upbringing as the scion of the Toga family. But with his adopted father behind him, he has stepped into a brighter future as a UA student. That is, until an overly obsessed face from his past turns up when he least expects her to, sending them into a twisting, turning plot.

Caught between hero and villain, will they be able to make it through intact?

💥For the Love of Explosions!💥 (My Hero Academia, Konosuba)

Tremble in awe, mortal, for you stand in the presence of the greatest hero and mage in existence, Midoriya Izumi!

At least, that's how Izumi always introduces herself. But when she arrives at UA with a Quirk that wipes her out for the whole day if she uses it to its fullest extent, she finds that she may be more of a liability than an asset. With Vlad King and the rest of 1-B on her side, can she learn to overcome her self-imposed boundaries, or will she be forced to hang up her staff and eyepatch before she can even start her career?

⏳A Slip in Time for Nine⏳ (My Hero Academia)

UA really was different than Midoriya Izuku thought. There were so many heroes he didn't recognise, the exam was different to what he'd expected, and they didn't even have him down to take the exam!

Fortunately, he felt he passed with flying colours. But when he returns home to find his apartment block is still under construction, Izuku may find that he is in a completely different time entirely!

Will he be able to return to his own time? And after he makes friends with Shirakumo Oboro, Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi, wiill he even want to?

🐈The Nine Lives of Midoriya Izumi🐈 (My Hero Academia)

Midoriya Izumi is something of an odd child. Unreactive, unbothered by most stimuli, and seemingly constantly calm. But Izumi has a secret. While, on paper, her Quirk, Cat, simply gives her feline trait, it is actually a little more involved than that.

Because Izumi is not a human. She is a cat with a Quirk, one that allows her to turn into a human.

With One for All, Izumi will strive to do the most human thing of all: become a hero!

��Taking Back The Crown👑 (My Hero Academia)

Midoriya Izuku, born to the greatest villain in history, dubs himself Successor, and intends to reclaim his father's crumbling empire, and no one will stand in his way.

The USJ Incident; a shot heard around the world, one which kickstarts a terrible butterfly effect. The heroes scramble to prevent Successor's ascent to his throne, but will they succeed? Or will All for One's shadow dynasty continue?

Completed Works (Fanfic)

Electric (Camp Buddy)

Three years after their first summer together, Keitaro brings Hunter back to Camp Buddy, with a burning question.

🖤Don't Forget (The Feeling of Blood on Your Face)🖤 (My Hero Academia)

Izuku was a little confused by this training camp - why did they put his hands in this giant block? Why can't he use his Quirk? Why are there guns on him at all times? Still, he's going to try and do his best!

Or

5 times Izuku gets a visitor in Tartarus, and 1 time he remembers why he's there.

🖤Dragging the Skeleton Out of the Closet🖤 (My Hero Academia)

Midoriya Izuku was a strange child, always preferring the feminine over the masculine. Of course, in a society such as this, that type of thing could hardly be encouraged.

Izumi had known who she was for years, and wasn't going to give it up for anyone. Not even her friends.

🖤The Despair of Kyoko Kirigiri🖤 (Danganronpa)

Kyoko Kirigiri has been missing for a month. Now, the Future Foundation has been given a clue to her location. Will Makoto Naegi make it in time?

🖤Youth🖤 (My Hero Academia)

The IzuCrew have been bugging Aizawa-sensei to let them go to the mall for weeks, and finally, he's relented. This going to be a great day!

Mysterium (The Magnus Archives)

Case #9461008

Statement of Anastasia Solovyova, regarding the first and only performance of Alexander Scriabin’s "Mysterium". Original statement given August 10th, 1946. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

💫🖤Starry, Starry Night🖤💫 (My Hero Academia)

Izuku always loved the night sky.

It loved him too.

Even when the terrible thoughts started to tear their way into his head.

🖤Binary Apotheosis🖤 (My Hero Academia)

Midoriya Izuku is a failure at life. He lives in a crappy apartment, he works at a dead-end job and every time he finds a better opportunity he is turned away because of the big red QUIRKLESS on his documents.

With a life like that, who wouldn't jump at the opportunity to escape, to become like a god?

When You're Just Memory (My Hero Academia)

And I know, I know that I'm wrong That when you're gone, you're gone and I can't bring you home But I want, I want to believe That you'll remember me when you're just memory

Midoriya Izuku has had only his mom for most of his life. He has a lot of memories of her, and she of him.

All For One's Christmas Carol (My Hero Academia)

Christmas. A time of peace, love and hope.

For the Symbol of Evil, however, it was merely an excuse for citizens to celebrate, trying to ignore the looming threat of villains.

However, when the ghost of his dead brother walks into his study, he is taken on a journey that will forever change him.

🖤Go On Back to Bed, My Love (That’s Where Dreams Are Supposed to Be)🖤 (My Hero Academia)

Kyouka loved Izuku with her entire being. He was the perfect man, the sweet to her sour, not to mention built like a Greek statue. She wanted to be intimate with him, to show him just how much he means to her.

Except... she couldn’t. Every time they tried, she just couldn’t.

It wasn’t him. So it must have been her.

What was wrong with her?

The Masochism Tango (My Hero Academia)

Midoriya Izuku was an upstanding hero, a paragon of virtue, the shining beacon of his class.

Toga Himiko was a bloodthirsty, deranged villain, hell bent on carving a path of destruction and murder.

And yet, when they clashed, it was like a beautiful, deadly dance, one that no one else could see, for they would not understand.

🖤Cancer; or, Goodbye🖤 (My Hero Academia)

After a doctor's visit reveals he has months to live, Izuku realises just how many loose ends he has to tie up. This is the story of a dying man, told in a series of conversations held with those closest to his heart.

💀Terminus💀  (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

After the disastrous USJ incident, Detective Tsukauchi has some questions for the strange teenager that seemed to be working with the villains.

💀Be Not Proud💀 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Izuku and Nedzu meet for the first time, and discuss their pasts and their future together.

If You Need Me, I Will Be There (My Hero Academia)

When Himiko hears a knock at the door late one night, she hadn't expected her true love to be behind it, covered in someone else's blood and begging for her help.

But she would do anything for her Izukkun.

Don’t Worry, You and Me Won’t Be Alone No More (My Hero Academia)

Izuku would never have considered himself a lonely person. Sure, the closest person he had to a friend was his mother, and his own childhood friend had turned on him years ago, but he never really felt alone.

Until, that is, he met Toga Himiko, and realised how alone they both were.

Together, they will face adversity, always supporting one another, and come out on top.

False Friend (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

In times of trouble, people will take any help offered to them, even if it's from someone as strange as Izuku. But such bargains very rarely go well, and even if someone such as him has showed you kindness before, it does not mean you should let your guard down around him.

This is a lesson UA does not learn until it is too late.

Awakening (My Hero Academia)

Izuku was rather accident prone. This is a fact known by anyone who has spent more than five minutes around him. It seemed like he couldn't go outside without running into some kind of trouble. So when he comes back after a trip out, having been hit by a Quirk that changed his body, it was rather par for the course.

But ever since it wore off, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right, and that nothing will be the same again.

Or, Izuku accidentally transes his gender and finds out something interesting about herself

💀Nevermore💀 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

In the wake of the attack on Hosu, Izuku and Nedzu meet to discuss the fallout.

🕸Panopticon🕸 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Midoriya Izuku was many things to many people.

To Nedzu, however, he was a bright, if shy, student, one who he felt a kinship with. And one who fed into his worst instincts.

🕸Isolation🕸 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Shinsou Hitoshi wasn't at UA to make friends.

When he takes Midoriya Izuku's invitation to train for the sports festival, however, that changes slightly.

Perhaps Shinsou has one friend.

🕸How Eri Found Her Friends🕸 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Eri is such a lonely girl. She has never, ever had friends before!

Mr. Midoriya promises to change that, however, with the help of some very special insects.

The Call of the Prismatic Void (The Mechanisms, My Hero Academia)

The Bifrost Incident. Any schoolchild could tell you about it.

80 years ago, the Ratatosk Express set off on its maiden voyage through the swirling rainbow wormhole of the Bifrost, carrying with it the entire nobility of Asgard. It never arrived at its destination.

But now it has returned, and it falls upon Inspector 2nd class Aizawa Shouta to dig into the events surrounding the incident, and uncover the truth. But has he bit off more than he can chew? And when the secrets of the Bifrost are revealed to him, will he be able to cope?

Once and Future King (The Mechanisms, My Hero Academia)

High Noon Over Camelot, and the Midoriya gang rides into town. They claim the town for themselves and, for a while, all is well. But when a wandering preacher man warns them all of their imminent firey destruction, they must journey to find the GRAIL. As trouble brews at home, will Izuku be able to hold his people together? Or will they all fall into the flames?

💫Eyes That Know The Darkness In My Soul💫 (My Hero Academia)

Bakugou Katsuki has a secret. It’s one he’ll take to his grave, one that would destroy him if it ever came out.

After all, no hero would have driven their childhood friend to suicide.

🕸Nocturnal🕸 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Aizawa Shouta never wanted to leave Eri alone. But he was needed elsewhere, and Midoriya Izuku stepped in to help.

But maybe Eri wasn't the only one affected by his presence.

Deceitful Reflections (My Hero Academia)

There is a reflection in Izumi's mirror. It is not her own.

Planned Works (Longfics)

(NB: All descriptions here subject to change)

🎲Placeholder Name: The Gamemaster🎲 (My Hero Academia)

UA’s Class 1-A is kidnapped by a mysterious criminal calling themselves “The Gamemaster”. Not too long after, the first invitations are sent out to the players. Will they be able to rescue the class by playing the Gamemaster’s twisted games?

☣Placeholder Name: The Engineer☣ (My Hero Academia)

Izuku loved Quirks. They were amazing, truly.

He also hated them, hated how they twisted people’s minds and society’s views.

Working with likeminded people, he will rectify that.

🔪Untitled Danganronpa Crossover🔪 (My Hero Academia, Danganronpa)

UA is a beacon of hope to the world, a light for the future attracting the best and brightest of a generation and turning them into the next greatest heroes.

So when its newly accepted Class 1-A awakens in a sealed building with no memory of how they arrived there, that hope will be pushed to its limits. Will it prevail? Or will the world fall to despair?

💻The AI Hero: IZUKU💻 (My Hero Academia)

Whatever Nedzu had expected from the new school year, it was not for a representative of one of the biggest support companies in the world to approach him, requesting that he finish Midoriya Inko’s final project: an AI that she named IZUKU.

Well, this should be interesting.

🌲Placeholder Name: Disgraced Hero AU🌲 (My Hero Academia)

Izuku was the Number One Hero.

Emphasis on the was.

After a series of controversies, he had retired to live a solitary life in the woods. But now a new threat looms, one which his old classmates need his help to defeat. But will they be able to convince him to don the mantle of Deku once more?

💣Placeholder Name: JDzuku💣 (My Hero Academia, Heathers)

UA really was everything Ochako dreamed it would be. Classes were hard, sure, but learning to be a hero was what she had always wanted. And she had even made a friend, Midoriya in Gen Ed!

And not even a suicide could ruin that. But when things escalate, she will find herself forced to choose between her morals, and her budding romance.

💰Placeholder Name: Phantom Thief Izuku💰 (My Hero Academia)

Despite his Quirklessness, Izuku had given his all to get to UA. But it wasn’t good enough.

A chance encounter after a disastrous entrance exam leads Izuku down a rather unexpected, not-entirely-legal path of heroism.

After all, you don’t need a Quirk to be a phantom thief, or a gentle criminal.

🃏Untitled Persona 5 Crossover🃏 (My Hero Academia, Persona 5)

Izuku was Quirkless. Everyone knew it. He knew it, the school knew it, even Boss knew it.

So he couldn’t possibly be the mysterious Phantom Thief of Hearts, could he?

🎉Make Them Laugh🎉 (My Hero Academia)

Fukukado.

When Shouta saw that name on the entrance exam’s examinee list, he nearly tendered his resignation there and then. Unfortunately, he could not and, sure enough, Fukukado Izuku, the green-haired menace, ended up in his class.

This was going to be a long three years.

🔧Placeholder Name: Mechadoriya🔧 (My Hero Academia)

UA’s Support Course students were well known for having... a screw loose, to say the least.

They hadn’t seen the likes of Midoriya Izuku yet.

He would be a hero, even if he had to rely on support gear, such as grappling hooks, capture weapons.... oh, and a 10 foot tall mech.

🗝A Hero’s Heart🗝 (My Hero Academia, Kingdom Hearts)

Izuku was Quirkless. That had been confirmed when he was 4.

And yet, here he was, swinging around a giant key that had just appeared in his hands. That had to be a Quirk, right?

Maybe it was the Quirk of that guy who looked like a mouse?

❤If I Killed Someone For You❤ (My Hero Academia)

Izuku wanted to be a hero. He always had, and he had achieved what seemed to be an impossible goal.

Toga Himiko was a villain. She was the kind of person Izuku was supposed to catch.

And yet... why does being with her make him feel so much better than he does at UA?

👻Placeholder Name: Say My Name👻 (My Hero Academia, Beetlejuice)

Shouto was at the end of his rope. He couldn’t handle another minute of the bastard that called himself his father. Fuyumi and Natsuo tried, but even they couldn’t help. He was ready to end it all.

So who’s this green-haired kid, why is he calling himself a demon, and why does he think he can get rid of Endeavor for good?

🐝Placeholder Name: Woe, Bees Be Upon Ye🐝 (My Hero Academia)

Unbeknownst to everyone, one of Queen Bee’s bees managed to escape the efforts of the Naruhata Vigilantes. Weakened and lost after the fall of the Villain Factory, she stumbles across a small, green-haired child.

She wouldn’t normally take a male host, but sometimes needs must. And besides, perhaps this time, she could play a longer game.

Her hive would rise again.

☠Memento Mortem☠ (My Hero Academia, Return of the Obra Dinn)

Naomasa was a detective. One of the best in Tokyo, in fact. But when a series of mysterious murders stumps him, he has to admit that he can’t solve this one alone.

Fortunately, Midoriya, one of the rookies, has an ideal Quirk for this situation.

🦊Untitled Kitsune Izuku Fic🦊 (My Hero Academia)

(NB: Concept inspired heavily by @deusvervewrites​‘ Tamama No Mom AU)

Izuku was reasonably sure he was going to be the first Yōkai to be a hero. Not that anyone was going to know, of course. His mom had spent enough time teaching him to hide his presence.

Still, he’d know.

🛸Placeholder Name: The Earth’s Hero: Izuku🛸 (My Hero Academia, Doctor Who)

When he was four, Izuku was diagnosed as Quirkless. Unable to see her son so dejected, Inko called up an old friend of hers: a traveller known as the Doctor.

With his brain and his heart, Izuku will become a hero, Quirk or no. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll save the universe along the way.

❔Composite Character❔ (My Hero Academia)

Even in a world as diverse as theirs, Midoriya Izu had a unique Quirk. One that connected them to countless other versions of themselves, spread out across the multiverse. For as long as they could remember, they’d been using it to solve just about any problem. With the help of their other selves, they could become an expert in any science, fighting style and various other random skills.

But just who was Izu themself, besides a mere conduit? 

🔫Untitled Parental Nagant Fic🔫 (My Hero Academia)

Midoriya Izuku lost both his parents in a fire that consumed their home when he was only 5.

Tsutsumi Kaina was a hero, whatever that meant anymore, and was having the worst day of her life. She was ready to do something drastic.

When a chance meeting brings these two people together, a new path opens for both of them. And while Izuku proves that all you need to be a hero is a deadly aim, Kaina will show the world that, perhaps, Lady Nagant still has a part to play in the light.

♥♦♠♣Izuku in Borderland♣♠♦♥ (My Hero Academia, Alice in Borderland)

Midoriya Izuku was having a normal day; chasing hero fights, avoiding his classmates, the usual. As he crossed the Shibuya Crossing, however, his world went dark.

He awoke in a deserted Tokyo, where he will have to play deadly games to survive and, hopefully, return to his normal life.

🕳Placeholder Name: Warpzuku🕳 (My Hero Academia)

Izuku’s Quirk had always been odd. The ability to make objects appear out of thin air was a useful one, even though he’d never quite figured out how it worked.

Once he gets into UA, however, he begins to experiment, and accidentally embarks on a journey across the multiverse, meeting countless versions of himself in his quest to return to his own universe.

🍀Placeholder Name: Faezuku🍀 (My Hero Academia)

As a child, Midoriya Izuku wandered into the forests near his home, and disappeared.

Now, a decade later, he returns on the eve of UA’s entrance exam with a number of new powers, and a very strange idea of social etiquette.

Even an outsider could tell that Izuku wasn’t exactly all-human. But can a half-fae still become a hero?

🌌Placeholder Name: Vastzuku🌌 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Nedzu was widely considered to be one of the smartest beings in Japan. This meant he knew when his paws were tied.

After the unmitigated disaster of the USJ Incident, he realises just how unprepared he and his staff are for dealing with the coming darkness. But how far will he go to protect his school?

Far enough to strike a deal with a centuries-old servant of a primordial god of fear, it seems.

🔥Placeholder Name: Desolationzuku🔥 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Of all the things Nedzu expected to turn up at UA one night, a desperate teenager fleeing from a cult was not one of them. Midoriya Izuku may be... unique, to say the least, but what kind of heroes would they be if they did not help those who asked?

Or, Izuku is born to be the Messiah of the Lightless Flame. He is not on board with this destiny.

🗡Placeholder Name: Slaughterzuku🗡 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

Midoriya Izuku was an angry person.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance; he hid it well, pushing his rage down deep inside of him. But with every taunt, every jeer, every push, his anger grew, and it was getting harder to keep it down.

And when a voice in his head starts telling him exactly what he could do with it, he may not be strong enough to hold himself back.

🐺Placeholder Name: Huntzuku🐺 (My Hero Academia, The Magnus Archives)

For Izuku, inheriting All Might’s Quirk was a dream come true.

Sure, it came with weird dreams and urges, but he could still be a hero, right?

When Izuku’s new Quirk fills him with the urge to hunt, he meets a strange girl, who introduces him to the life of a Hunter. Together, they will defeat nightmares, and run from a society that seems only to want to suppress their desires.

💓Placeholder Name: Cultzuku💓 (My Hero Academia)

When Uravity announced her sudden break from heroics, barely a year after she began, Shouta was suspicious.

Those suspicions increased when she revealed she was to be staying in an isolated forest community.

Upon initial inspection, it was an idyllic haven away from the bustle of modern life. But was there a darker undercurrent, or was Shouta’s suspicions getting too ahead of him? 

🧟Placeholder Name: Zombie Hero Team🧟 (My Hero Academia, Zombie Land Saga)

Despite being Quirkless, 15-year-old Midoriya Izuku had been accepted to UA! In the General Education course, admittedly, but there were ways to get into Heroics from there! This was the first step in his path to being a hero!

And then, on his first day, he was run over by a truck, killing him instantly.

He wakes up nearly a decade later, dazed and confused. He meets Nedzu, Mr. Principal, who explains that he is a zombie, and that he, along with six others, must unite to become the greatest hero team Japan has ever seen!

How hard can it be?

Planned Works (One-Shots)

(NB: All descriptions here subject to change)

I Didn’t Lose It (I Set It Free) (My Hero Academia)

Himiko was tired of being normal. She had pretended her whole life, but now, she wanted to shed the mask. She wanted to be herself.

Lord Knows I’ve Said Awful Things ‘Round This House (My Hero Academia)

To a man such as Sasaki Mirai, the world was rigid, unmoving. The past and future were both set in stone. All that was left was to focus on making the present as good as possible.

When We Find Out What’s Wrong With Me (Could You Tell Me How I’m Right For You?) (My Hero Academia)

Shouta was clearly the worst choice to take care of a child. Hell, he could barely take care of himself. But, Centipeder had insisted that he was the only choice, and he was damned if he failed Eri like the world already had. So, he’d give it his best shot.

How hard could parenting be, anyway?

Social Climb (My Hero Academia)

Momo had been raised in high society. She had known proper etiquette and poise for years, and knew that, one day, she’d inherit the Yaoyorozu empire. She had to make a good impression now. And she was happy with her lot in life. She was.

So why did Izuku make her feel more alive than ever before?

💫The Ragged Men in Ragged Clothes💫 (My Hero Academia)

When Yagi Toshinori was asked if a Quirkless person could be a hero, he was struck by a vision of his own past. He gave the boy the answer he had been told all his life, too lost in his own memories to realise the impact of his words.

When that boy turned up dead that night, he knew exactly the mistake he had made.

💫Perhaps They’ll Listen Now💫 (My Hero Academia)

When she heard the news of her beloved son’s suicide, Inko thought she would shatter. She almost did, but slowly, and surely, she managed to pick up the pieces of herself.

Now, she had a mission: make sure no mother would ever have to feel her pain again.

When You Feel Embarrassed, I’ll Be Your Pride (My Hero Academia)

Izuku had been interested in Quirks ever since he was a kid. He had spent hours analysing them, picking them apart and seeing how they ticked. He’d never expected it to be any more than a hobby.

When he noticed how Kaminari-kun struggled with his own Quirk, however, he couldn’t help but offer his services.

Every Word I Say is Kindling (The Smoke Clears When You’re Around) (My Hero Academia)

Izuku was never an angry person. No, that was Kacchan’s role. He, on the other hand, was the sweet one, the kind one, the one who would always turn the other cheek.

And yet, when he heard what Endeavor put his family through, he felt true rage for the first time.

Je Peux Pas Te Dire Adieu (My Hero Academia)

Kacchan was Izuku’s friend!

It didn’t matter that he hurt him occasionally, or that he belittled him. That was just his way of showing affection, after all.

It was Kacchan and Izuku, to the end!

Planned Works (Original)

The Faust Series

Orphaned as a child and isolated by his peers, Faust only had books to keep him company. One day, he discovered an old book, describing techniques that were the stuff of legend.

Having turned 18, Faust uses his magic to investigate matters of a supernatural and paranormal nature.

Tales From the Cafe Between Worlds

A mysterious door, appearing in out-of-the-way places on countless worlds. It grants entry to a place beyond any individual universe - the Cafe Between Worlds.

Here you will find a collection of stories of the Cafe, its mysterious Owner, and the patrons that come and go as they please.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 6

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - This Venerable One's Shizun

Xue Meng had lived on Life-Death Peak since he was a child. He was familiar with shortcuts and terrain so he had no problem catching up with Mo Ran

He escorted him all the way to the back of the mountain. The back mountain of Life-Death Peak was the closest place to the ghost realm in the whole world, separated by an enchantment, behind it is the netherworld.

Looking at the miserable situation in the back mountain, Mo Ran immediately understood why that person was clearly at home, but still needed Madam Wang to treat guests in the front hall.

It wasn't that the man didn’t want to help, but he couldn’t step away--

The barrier of the ghost world was broken.

At this moment, the entire back mountain was filled with a heavy spiritual resentment. The ghosts that hadn't taken on a body howled and hovered bitterly in the air. At the entrance of the mountain gate, there was a giant breach ripping through the sky. Behind the breach was the ghost realm, and a tall, bluestone staircase stretching thousand of steps escaped from the barrier cracks. Seeing out from the staircase, the fierce spirits that had regained a flesh body were climbing down this step disorderly and chaotically, rushing from the underworld to the human world.

Any ordinary person would be terrified at the scene unfolding. The first time Mo Ran saw it, he was shocked to the bone, but he was used to it now.

The barrier between the human and ghost realms was set by Emperor Fuxi in ancient times. Today, it was very weak. It would grow weak spots every now and again, which need to be repaired by immortal cultivators. However, this kind of thing not only does little to improve one's cultivation but is thankless with how much spiritual energy it consumes. It was a real drudgery, so few immortals in the upper cultivation world were willing to take this job.

When a fierce spirit was born, the people of the Lower Cultivation Realm were the first to come under attack. As the protectors of the Lower Cultivation Realm, Life-Death Peak was forced to undertake the task of repairing the barrier. The back mountains of the sect faced the weakest point in the barrier all to ensure they could be repaired swiftly.

There would be breaks in the barrier about four or five times a year. It was just like an old, chipped pot; useless.

Now, at the entrance of the ghost world, on the long bluestone stairs, a man stood there with snow-coloured clothes and wide sleeves flowing in the wind. He was surrounded by the aura of his sword, the golden light shimmering. Using his own power to clear out the evil spirits and ghosts, he repaired the small holes appearing in the barrier.

The man had a slender waist and an elegant appearance, with a holy aura and a handsome face. From a distance, it was easy to imagine he was a scholar reading an ancient scroll under a flowering tree. However, looking closely, he had sharp eyebrows, phoenix eyes slanted upwards, and the bridge of his nose was straight and narrow. While he seemed to be gentle and elegant, his eyes were mean and seemingly unkind.

Mo Ran glanced at him from a distance. Although he thought he had prepared himself, when he saw this man appear in front of him alive and healthy again, it made him tremble down to his smallest bones.

Half fear, half. . . excitement.

His Shizun.

Chu Wanning.

This was the person that Xue Meng had cried and begged to see when he arrived at Wushan Hall in the previous life.

It was this man that ruined Mo Ran's ambition, ruined his plans, and was finally imprisoned and tortured to death by Mo Ran because of it.

Logically speaking, if Mo Ran had the chance to avenge himself and defeat the enemy that had blocked his progress.

The sea is wide and free for fish to swim in, the sky is high and the birds could fly endlessly, no one could reign him back anymore. At least, that's what Mo Ran thought.

However, that doesn't seem to be the case.

After his Shizun died, something else seemed to have been buried along with his hatred.

Mo Ran was not a man of culture and didn't recognize any other feeling than being evenly matched with a worthy opponent.

He only knows that here on out, he had no archenemies.

When Shizun was alive, he had been afraid, paranoid, and anxious. When he saw the willow vine in Shizun's hand, the hair on the back of his neck stood on up. He became just like a beaten mutt, just the sound of a wooden club slap caused his teeth to ache and legs to give out. Even his calf muscles would spasm from fear.

Later, when Shizun died, the person Mo Ran had feared the most was finally gone. Mo Ran felt that he had grown and matured, being able to finally commit this act of murdering his teacher.

Afterwards, when looking at the mortal realm, no one dared force him to kneel down, and no longer slapped himself in the face.

To celebrate, he opened the pear blossom white wine, sat on the roof, and drank wine all night.

That night, under the influence of alcohol, the scars that Shizun had inflicted on his back when he was a teenager seemed to feel hot and painful again.

At this moment, when he saw Shizun reappear in front of him, Mo Ran started, filled with hate and anger, but there was also a slight twinge of ecstasy.

Such an opponent, lost and now regained, how can he not please?

Chu Wanning ignored the two apprentices who broke into the back mountains and continued concentrating on fighting the scattered undead.

His facial features were elegant, his eyebrows are evenly long. His phoenix eyes were cast downwards, his cool demeanour powerful. Amidst the demonic air and blood rain, his expression had not changed. His face remained calm, as though he might sit down and burn incense or play the guqin at the moment.

However, such a gentle and beautiful man, at that moment, was holding an icy exorcism long sword dripping with red blood droplets. With a flick of his wide sleeve, the sword's energy sliced through the bluestone steps in an explosion. Crushed stones and bricks rolled down, cracking an immeasurable chasm from the gate all the way to the bottom of the mountain, splitting the staircase and its thousands of steps!

So ferocious.

How many years had it been since he had seen his Shizun's power?

This familiar and powerful dominance made Mo Ran lose all his strength. Shakily, he fell onto his knees with a thump.

It didn't take long for Chu Wanning to kill all the ghosts, and neatly fill in the holes in the barrier to the ghost world. After doing all this, he fell from mid-air and went over to Mo Ran and Xue Meng.

He first glanced at Mo Ran kneeling on the ground, and then raised his eyes to look at Xue Meng, his phoenix eyes holding a powerful chill.

"Causing trouble again?"

Mo Ran sucked in a breath.

Shizun had the ability to always correctly assume any situation.

Xue Meng: "Shizun, Mo Ran went down the mountain, committing the two crimes of stealing and prostitution. Please punish him accordingly, Shizun."

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, expressionless. He coldly remarked: "I know."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Xue Meng: ". . ."

Both of them were a little confused. Then? Is that it?

However, just when Mo Ran thought tat he had gotten off lucky, he looked up at Chu Wanning and caught a a glimpse of a sharp golden light suddenly cutting through the air. There was a lightening-like crackling sound that slashed across Mo Ran's cheek!!

Drops of blood splashed everywhere!

The speed of that golden light was so fast, Mo Ran didn't even have a moment to close his eyes, let alone dodge it. The skin on his face was flayed open with a fierce pain.

Chu Wanning stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing coldly in the chilling breeze of teh night air. The air was still filled with the foul aura of fierce spirits and ghosts mixed with the smell of human blood. It made the forbidden area of the back mountains appear even more eerie and terrifying.

In Chu Wanning's hand was a willow vine that had whipped Mo Ran. The vine was narrow and long, with green leaves sprouting from it, hanging down near the edge of his boots.

It was clearly sucha graceful object. Looking at it would have made people think of poems such as "Pliant is the the willow branch I gift to my beloved".

It's a pity that Chu Wanning was neither pliant or had a beloved.

The willow vine in his hand was actually a magic weapon named Tianwen. At this moment, Tianwen was glimmering with golden red light, piercing through the surrounding darkness, and also reflecting in the bottomless depths of Chu Wanning's eyes.

Chu Wanning pursed his lips, and said sensibly: "Mo Weiyu, you are so bold. Should I really not do something to discipline you?"

If this really was the fifteen-year old Mo Ran, he might not have taken this exclamation seriously, thinking that Shizun was just trying to scare him.

But after being reborn, Mo Weiyu had thoroughly experienced Shizun’s "control" with his blood in his previous life. He immediately felt the roots of his teeth ache and blood rushing to his head. His mouth was already moving, ready to deny everything and clear his name

"Shizun. . ." His cheek still bleeding, Mo Ran raised his eyes, staining them with a thin veil of tears. He knew that his current appearance must look extremely pitiful. "This disciple has never stolen. . . has never laid with a prostitute. . . why did Shizun listen to Xue Meng's words and strike me without even listening to my side of the story?"

". . ."

Mo Ran had two tricks to get out of trouble with his uncle. First, act cute. Second, pretend to be pitiful. Now he tried these out on Chu Wanning, trying to look so pitiful that tears almost fell from his eyes: "Is the disciple really so worthless in your eyes? Why doesn't Shizun even give me a chance to defend myself?"

Xue Meng stomped angrily next to him: "Mo Ran! You, you piece of shit! You truly are shameless! Sizun, don't listen to him, don't be fooled by this bastard! He really did steal! All the stolen goods are still on him!"

Chu Wanning looked through his eyelashes, his expression cold: "Mo Ran, you truly never stole?"

"Never."

". . . You should know the consequences of lying to me."

Mo Ran's arms were covered in goosebumps. How could he not know? But he still foolishly persisted: "Shizun, please!"

Chu Wanning raised his hand, and the shiny golden vine waved again, but this time he did not draw it on the face of Mo Ran. Instead, he used it to tightly bind Mo Ran.

This feeling was all too familiar. In addition to whipping people on the regular, the willow vine "Tianwen" has another function——

Chu Wanning stared at Mo Ran, who was held tightly in Tianwen's grasp, and asked again: "Have you never stolen?"

Suddenly, there was a familiar stabbing pain straight in Mo Ran's heart, as if a sharp fanged small snake had slid its way into his chest and was playing with his organs.

Accompanied by the severe pain was an irresistible temptation. Mo Ran couldn't help but open his mouth, his voice hoarse: "I. . . never. . . ah. . . !!!"

Tianwen's golden light seemed to pick up on his lies, glowing harder. The pain caused Mo Ran to break out in a cold sweat, but he still desperately resisted such torture.

This was Tianwen's second function: interrogation.

Once tied up by Tianwen, no one could lie. Whether it was a person or a ghost, dead or alive, Tianwen had a way of forcing them to speak and reveal the answer that Chu Wanning wanted to know.

In his last life, by relying on a strong cultivation base, there was only one person who had finally managed to keep a secret under Tianwen's influence.

That person was the person who had become the emperor of the mortal realm, Mo Weiyu.

After being reborn, Mo Ran had hoped he'd have a bit of luck, thinking that he would still be able to resist the forced interrogation of Tianwen. But after biting his lip for what felt like forever, with big beads of sweat dripping down over his dark eyebrows and full-body trembles, he finally bowed before Chu Wanning's boots in pain, gasping for breath.

"I. . . I. . . stole. . ."

The pain abruptly disappeared.

Mo Ran hadn't even caught his breath before Chu Wanning asked another question, his voice even colder than before.

"Did you commit debauchery?"

Smart people don't do stupid things. Since he hadn't been able to resist before, it was even more impossible now. This time, Mo Ran didn't even resist, and when the pain struck, he went so far to even shout: "Yes yes I did!!!! Shizun please! No more!"

Xue Meng's face turned blue at his side. He exclaimed with shock: "You, how can you. . . That Rong Jiu is a man, you actually. . ."

No one paid attention to him. As the golden light of Tianwen slowly dimmed, Mo Ran gasped for breath, his whole body was drenched as if he had just been fished from the water. His face was as white as paper, his lips still trembling, and he collapsed on the ground, unable to move.

Through sweaty eyelashes, he looked up at Chu Wanning's elegant figure, wearing a green jade crown and wide sleeves that fell to the floor.

A strong hatred suddenly surged into his heart - Chu Wanning! This Venerable One wasn't wrong in is treatment of you in his past life, that much is true!! Even after being reborn, the hatred still burns strong! Fuck all eighteen generations of your ancestors!!

Chu Wanning didn't know that this crafty disciple was going to fuck all eighteen generations of his ancestors. He stood there for a while with a sullen expression, and then said.

"Xue Meng."

Although Xue Meng knows that men were the popular choice among rich businessmen and wealthy households, and many people play with male prostitutes just for something new and not really because they liked men, he still couldn't digest it. After a while, he said: "Shizun, this disciple is here."

"Mo Ran went against the three mandates on corruption, debauchery, and deception. Take him to the Yan Luo Hall so he can repent. Bring him to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil tomorrow morning so that he receive a public punishment."

Xue Meng was startled: "What. . .? Public punishment?"

Public punishment means taking the disciples who have committed severe transgressions in front of the disciples of the whole school, in front of everyone, even the ladies in the dining hall, and punishing them for the crowd.

Utterly shameful.

It should be known that Mo Ran was a disciple of Life-Death Peak. Although the disciplinary measures in the school were strict, because of Mo Ran's special status - his uncle pitied him for losing his parents so young and was scavenging outside for fourteen years - he couldn't bear to punish Mo Ran. No matter what Mo Ran did, he would just get a small lecture in private, and he would be beaten.

But Shizun wouldn't even save the face of the sect leader. He wanted to take his precious nephew to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil and publicly punish and shame Young Master Mo in front of the entire sect. This was something even Xue Meng hadn't expected.

Mo Ran, however, wasn't surprised.

He lay on the ground with a sneer at the corner of his mouth.

How great and selfless his Shizun was.

Chu Wanning was truly cold-blooded. In his previous life, when Shi Mei died in front of him, Mo Ran cried and pleading, pulling on his clothes, kneeling on the ground and begging him for help.

But Chu Wanning turned a deaf ear.

And so his disciple had breathed his last breath before him, and even with Mo Ran crying his heart out next to him, Chu Wanning simply stood there and ignored his sobs.

Now all he was doing was putting him on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to be dealt with before the public. There was nothing strange about this.

Mo Ran could only resent how weak his cultivation base was now. He couldn't peel off Chu Wanning's skin, rip out his nerves, drink his blood, can’t pull his hair back, can't insult him, can’t torture him and destroy his dignity, make him desire nothing but death. . .

He hadn't been able to hide the beast-like hatred in his eyes, and Chu Wanning picked up on it.

He faintly glanced at Mo Ran's face, a stoic expression on a gentle and elegant face.

"What are you thinking about?"

Fuck!

Tianwen hadn't been removed yet!

Mo Ran once again felt the vines tying him up, and his internal organs felt like they were about to be squeezed into mush. He yelled in pain, panting and roaring out the thoughts in his head——

"Chu Wanning, you think you're so refined! Watch me fuck you to death!"

No one made a sound.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Even Xue Meng was stunned: ". . ."

Tianwen suddenly retracted Chu Wanning's palm, turning into a small speck of golden light before disappearing altogether. Tianwen was made from the bones and blood of Chu Wanning and could appear when summoned and vanished at will.

Xue Meng's face was pale and he stuttered: "Shi-Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning didn't say a word. His delicate black and slender eyelashes lowered, examining his palms for a while. Then, he raised his eyes, his face even, but his complexion even colder. He glared at Mo Ran with a gaze saying "this disciple deserves death", then said in a low voice:

"Tianwen is broken, I am going to go fix it."

Chu Wanning threw down these words, turned and left.

Xue Meng was kind of slow: "How could an immortal weapon like Tianwen be broken?"

Chu Wanning heard it, and glanced back at him with a look of "this disciple deserves death" as well. Xue Meng shuddered.

Mo Ran lay on the ground, half-dead, with a blank expression.

What he had been thinking really was looking for a way to fuck Chu Wanning to death. He knew that the Master Chu, who held titles like "Yuheng of the Night Sky, Beidou Immortal", had always paid attention to elegance and correctness, and he couldn't stand being stepped on by others, defiling him.

But he didn't want Chu Wanning to know that he was thinking that!

Mo Ran whimpered like a stray dog, covering his face.

Thinking of the look in Chu Wanning's eyes when he was leaving, he felt that he probably did not have long to wait until his death.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Fic: Wayward Souls pt.2

Read Part 1 Here

Weeks later, Wirt didn’t feel any more at ease.  It was slow, but the gap between when fusion fighters revived and when they regained consciousness only grew until a handful of them simply wouldn’t wake up at all.  

Not that they were dead: It was more like a coma.  At first, people wondered if the Resurrect ‘Ems had somehow broken, saving the body while leaving the soul behind.  It was so severe that even Grim got involved.  However, further investigation revealed that the soul was still present, just... hard to reach.

It didn’t make sense.  Every fusion fighter’s soul was bound to the Resurrect ‘Ems via magical contract.  Wirt remembered having to sign one himself, how the foreign ‘ink’ seemingly burned his name into the paper and how it felt as though something tugged at his chest when he finished writing it.  It wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could break easily.  The problem was that that wasn’t impossible either.  For example, while the contracts made it more difficult, there was still a chance that beings like Demongo and his fusion could still steal souls.  Which meant that monster likely could as well...  

He still wasn’t sure whether or not everything about the Unknown was something his oxygen-deprived mind had made up, but he couldn’t shake away the memory of the soldier who knew the Beast’s song.  The timing was too perfect: It was too big of a coincidence.  And it ate away at his mind every day on the job.  If the Beast was somehow involved, then countless people were in danger.

None of them knew that though, not like he did.  Wirt had tried prodding other fusion fighters to see if any of them shared memories of a place similar to the Unknown before they regained consciousness, but hadn’t had any luck with their answers.  They seemed confused when asked, as if trying to recall something from a dream.

He really didn’t want to pry more than that, knowing it would only lead to trouble, but Wirt didn’t think he had a choice.  So, with a foreboding feeling clenching at his heart, he approached the cloaked skeleton inspecting the area’s Resurrect ‘Em.  

Normally, Wirt avoided every kind of supernatural being; he even shirked runs to Grim Gardens to keep from interacting with the Underworlders that worked there.  Having the Reaper himself come and inspect their Resurrect ‘Em--out of the worse ones--was a chance that shouldn’t be passed up.  He felt a lump form in his throat as eyeless sockets peered back at him after a tap on the shoulder.

“H-h-hi, uh...!  E-excuse me, Mr. Reaper?  Do I call you that...?” his voice cracked and he he cleared his throat, “I work here, and I might have an idea of what’s wrong--”

Those sockets narrowed.  He couldn’t stammer out his explanation before a boney hand waved him aside, “Not now, child!  Can’t ya see I’ve got me work cut out for me here?”

That alone was almost enough to make Wirt give up.  He knew Grim wasn’t being rude: He was just as frustrated as everyone else--if not more--about the recent events.  The real issue was that Grim didn’t have to even try to be terrifying to make the young man’s blood run cold. 

Ok! I’m not as used to the supernatural as I thought!

He tried to pull himself together, turning away for just a second to take a deep breath and work out his nerves.  He flexed his fingers, hoping that would quickly drain the anxious energy that made him want to wring his hands.  He couldn’t stay this way if he was going get the Underworlder to listen.  

You’re being stupid! Think of Pottsfield: Ignore the scythe and he’s not much different than those guys... You can do this: Lives are on the line.  

That was right... If what he knew was important and he kept it to himself, people could actually die.  He wasn’t a soldier, but he was a field aid: It was his job to save them.  Reminding himself of that once again gave Wirt the last bit of strength he needed. 

“It’s really important!” He turned back around, this time able to keep both his voice and expression steady.  

The firmness in his tone, that told the reaper he wasn’t going anywhere until he heard what he had to say, brought Grim’s unamused, doubtful gaze back onto him.

“Look, I’ll admit, I don’t know the first thing about souls or magic or... whatever kind of occult power you use to make those,” he pointed to the Resurrect ‘Em, “but I’ve helped take care of the people here since the war started.  I caught one of the soldiers singing something that I’ve only heard once, when I was close to death myself.

“Have you ever heard of the Beast?  Or the Unknown?  It was his song!  I know it!”

Grim didn’t have to answer.  His ‘eyes’ widened knowingly.  After his initial surprise, rather than speak, the reaper looked away and tapped his chin in thought.  

Only after a minute did Wirt hear him murmur under his breath, “...yes, I suppose dat could be it.  Dat parasite, if he’s breakin’ da rules now, of all times...”

“You know him?!” Wirt couldn’t hide his disbelief, but even he didn’t know whether he came more from the fact that Grim understood exactly what he had implied or that his theory had apparently been completely on-point. 

“Of course I do!  I reap souls: He’s one of da creatures dat takes dem,” Grim almost seemed offended that he even asked.  Nevertheless, the anger in his voice was directed at another, distant someone. “And I know de Unknown as well.  For most mortals, it’s a subconscious realm ya can only enter in dreams or at da brink of death.  However, if ya make it out, most of your memories of de place don’t typically come back wit ya.”  Here, he gave the field aid a curious glance,��“If dey did, it’d probably be because you’ve already been exposed to supernatural forces.”

Considering that he’d lived what he considered to be a pretty normal life up until that fateful Halloween, that confused Wirt.  Rather than question it though, he let it slide to focus on the matter at hand.  “I didn’t think the Beast would still be around...” He didn’t know what happened after he left the Unknown and returned home with his brother, but he thought the Woodsman would somehow deal with him.  Looking back, what if he’d made a mistake, giving back the lantern and leaving the old man by himself? 

“He went quiet some time ago, but if he is the cause of dis, den we need to act as soon as possible.  We’ll gather a team.  I can open a portal to dat place, and you can search for the souls of the unconscious fusion fighters.”

Although he didn’t understand how that worked, Wirt nodded.  At least now they had some kind of plan.  Still, it took him a second longer to digest the full of the reaper’s words.  We... You...

His voice cracked again, nearly rising a whole octave, “...what?”

((Quick note, since I know some people who’ve watched OTGW might probably know the references to Dante’s Inferno and understand that the Unknown is supposed to be based on a kind of limbo/purgatory: I 100% agree for the show’s canon, but I wrote it as a place overlapping with the subconscious due to how the Unknown is presented in the comics.  In them, we not only have the context of Anna--the Woodsman’s daughter--being born in the Unknown and her family having an entire history there, but we also see Greg, his frog, Wirt, and even possibly Sarah there post-show on another series of adventures through dreams.  That considered, there may be more to the various inhabitants of the Unknown outside of just lost spirits and I wanted to leave that more open.))   

[jincherie]

mystery gang; unsolved | PT. 1

☾ — pairing: taehyung x reader ☾ — genre: demon au, supernatural/paranormal au, buzzfeed unsolved au/inspired, smut (oncoming), f2l ☾ — words: 8.1k ☾ — rating: adult! this one is sfw, but future part/s will be nsfw ☾ — warnings: demons and haunted houses, supernatural & paranormal themes! some slight dark themes too. ☾ — notes: part one of 2! or maybe three. depends how the next parts go. I’m finishing this over the next few days-- it was meant to be done completely by now, but a combination of life and my usual “accidentally giving the story too much meat” antics have resulted in this! I wanted to stay at least a little true to my word, so here’s the first part! 

ever since you met taehyung in one of your first year classes at university, you seemed to click and you hadn’t parted from each other’s side since. you’ve been his friend for a few years now, and your mutual interest in the supernatural and taehyung’s propensity for finding the spotlight wherever he goes led to the two of you starting up your very own supernatural investigation vlog series. friends isnt the only thing you want to be, and one night close to hallow’s eve when the two of you get a little in over your heads in a way you never have been before, you find out that maybe it’s not only you that feels that way.

— posted; 01.11.2019 // masterlist | next⇥

MYSTERY GANG; UNSOLVED — PART ONE

Every creature, past or present, had one true weakness. This weakness was cut from the same cloth of creation as them, complimentary in every sense of the word and a match so perfect and natural it shook even the most corrupt of creatures to their very core. The universe moved to reunite a creature with their weakness only every so often, and when it did there was no question, no refusing it.

Centuries he’d lived, walking the planes of the mortal realm, the underworld, and the space between. He was young, for a demon, and had spent most of his youth chasing pleasures of the flesh and wreaking havoc in the mortal world. He’d had a riot doing so, too, until the fateful day the universe shifted and he met you. A weakness, his weakness. He was thousands of years too young to ever have considered the possibility of such a rare occurrence happening for him, and as such wholly unprepared for what the future held for him. Try as he might he was unable to resist the strings puppeteering him so, and it was with great reluctance that he resigned himself to the remainder of his time spent guarding, protecting, shielding this weakness.

He never imagined he’d end up enjoying it so much.

– x – x – x – 

“Can you pass me the lens, Tae? I need to clean it before we pack it all up ready to go.”

Instead of the heavy weight of the camera lens you were expecting, it is a ticklish sensation against the palm of your outstretched hand that greets you. Unimpressed, you look over to see Taehyung tickling your palm with his fingertips, a large grin tugging his lips. When you shift, preparing to smack him, he ceases his movements with a loud laugh. The requested camera lens is quickly placed into your palm to appease you before you get too violent.

“Thank you,” you emphasise, shooting him a sarcastic grin despite the fact you admittedly found his antics a little funny.

“You love it when I tease you,” he scoots closer, huffing and blowing silvery strands out of his eyes so he can nail you with a smouldering look without hindrance. His next words escape on a low breath that has shivers running down your spine that you do your best to hide and ignore. “Admit it.”

“Hmm, don’t think so,” you offer a rebuttal, shooting him a sly look before returning your attention to the lens and cloth in your hold. “But keep trying, maybe one day it will work.”

Taehyung snorts, leaning back on his hands with his legs crossed before him as he lets out another loud laugh at your response. You can feel his eyes on you still, and do your best to ignore it despite how it makes heat crawl and trickle like lava down the column of your spine, dripping slowly into your gut. Year three, month two of pretending the male you befriended so quickly and easily in your first year of university doesn’t have such a powerful, swaying effect on you, and it isn’t getting any easier. His stare alone has the little hairs along your skin raising to attention, body constantly on high alert. If only, if only you had the same effect on him—then perhaps there wouldn’t be such power imbalance in that regard. 

As mentioned, you’d met Taehyung around halfway through your first year of university, when the first semester ticked over into the second and you were dealt a whole bunch of new classes, new people, and new seatmates. The second you saw him enter the large lecture theatre your next class was to be held in, you registered that he was far too attractive and therefore painfully out of your league, and made a note to avoid him at all costs to save yourself any future embarrassment. Like any respectable individual who was actively attempting to avoid someone, you shrunk into your seat and focused on scribbling nonsense onto the back cover of your notebook, allowing your hair to fall from its style and shield your face somewhat for maximum sleuth as the walking Adonis began to climb the steps of the aisle. 

Your efforts were for null, however, as you’d caught his attention the second he stepped foot into the room. A scent so divine it bordered on sinful brushed his senses upon entry, and he was suddenly aware of one distinct heartbeat amongst the eighty-odd others in the room. His gaze was drawn to a seat in the far middle of the theatre, besides the windows and pushing the title of a back row. There, it was you. The source of the intoxicating scent, the owner of the heart beginning to race in what he pinned to be a mixture of excitement and anxiety, and the most captivating human he’d ever laid eyes on. He made a beeline straight for you.

Of course, you would never be privy to any of that. You just knew that one second you were scribbling aimlessly, waiting for him to pass, and the next you were jerking your head up at the sound of chairs nearby squeaking as people pulled out of the way and—oh god he didn’t go past he was walking straight for you. While you aren’t proud of the flustered, discombobulated manner in which you’d handled the situation and introduced yourself, you are proud to say that after that initial interaction you were quick to develop a resistance, a filter of sorts. You aren’t immune to his wiles and charms, his odd flirtatious remark and heavy-lidded gaze, oh no, no, no. You aren’t immune, but you’ve gotten better at handling it, hiding it. And for that, you’re pretty proud of yourself. Kim Taehyung is a hard man to resist.

You were pleased to find, upon engaging in that initial conversation, that Taehyung wasn’t just a pretty face—he had many interests and hobbies, most if not all of which aligned with your own. The most notable of these, was an interest in the paranormal. When you’d first mentioned it casually, feeling gingerly for how your keen interest would be received before opening yourself up about it, you’d been surprised at the more than eager response you’d received. His eyes had lit up, and something curled and gleamed behind them but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what—a sense like he was smiling to himself registered in your mind but you dismissed it quickly. The more extroverted of the two of you, he’d had no problem diving deep into the topic and dragging you with him. 

You can’t really remember any of the finer details of how exactly you’d gotten from point A to point B, but by the end of the semester you were closer friends than you’d ever anticipated and recording the first episode of many to come of your very own paranormal investigation vlog series. 

Admittedly, investigating paranormal hot spots and haunted places is something you’ve always thought about and an idea you’ve always toyed with, ever since you were younger, but you’ve always been too much of a… well, too much of a pussy. Something about Taehyung, though, had you changing your mind and agreeing to go through with it. You don’t want to be sappy and say that you feel safer around him, or any of that garbage… except you kind of do. Perhaps it’s less that you feel safer, because some of the locations you’ve been have definitely made you feel anything but—perhaps it’s more so that you feel even if things go haywire, Taehyung is capable of protecting you.

That sounds even sappier than what you were trying to avoid, damn it.

All of that aside, the two of you managed to establish yourselves pretty early on as a strong paranormal investigation team on a few different streaming sites—aptly and humourously called Mystery Gang; Unsolved, after a night spent drinking where you lost a bet to Taehyung and he got naming rights. Despite the odd name, over the years you’ve been doing this, you’ve managed to build up quite an impressive fanbase. A part of you likes to think it’s because you’re so damn funny, but really you know that it’s because Taehyung is drop-dead gorgeous and there’s a solid ratio of about eighty-twenty of females to males that watch your vlogs—and you know Taehyung has all the females and about half the males in the bag as well. Not good odds for you for finding a partner in either gender, really. It’s fine. You’re content with the odd comment directed to you among thousands. You’re fine. Really.

It’d be a bit hypocritical of you to be upset about the sheer amount of individuals attracted to Taehyung since you, too, happen to be sitting quite decisively in his bag as well. Sue you. 

“Are you gonna clean the camera or sit there staring into space for a while longer? I know we’re kind of freelance, but we still have a window we gotta grab, you know. The witching hour isn’t at ten in the morning.”

Jerked from your reminiscing, you immediately slide Taehyung the stink-eye. He’s awfully rude for someone so attractive, you can’t help but note and grumble internally.

“How about you clean the cameras? Ever since we’ve arrived you’ve been sitting around doing nothing!”

There’s not an ounce of bite in your tone, and you feel like even if there was it would have rolled right off Taehyung’s shoulders as he shrugs, grinning lazily. His pose on the hotel bed has shifted, now his long form is draped indolently across the surface, elbow propped on the mattress and hand cupping his cheek. His long lashes brush his cheeks as he blinks slowly at you. 

“I don’t need to stress-clean, I know we have this in the bag,” he says, lips curling as he speaks in his usual low drawl. “You were so nervous the second we got here that I thought if I tried touching anything you’d simply burst into smoke or something.”

The male’s reference to your odd cleaning habits irks you, but only slightly and only because it’s true. The rest of what he said is true, too. As much as you’d like to complain, cleaning your equipment meticulously and probably more than needed has been doing wonders for your nerves. You always tend to have a healthy, respectful dose of fear with every location you visit, but for some reason your nerves seem to be off the charts, tonight. 

Perhaps it’s because you’re visiting a church. You always hate it when the haunted location is a church. Something about somewhere meant to be so holy becoming so desecrated that evil spirits haunt it… you don’t like it. 

You sit for a moment, feeling your face contort as you assess the nauseous feeling beginning to churn in your stomach. Instead of answering his previous comment, you allow your thoughts to spill from your lips, somewhat distractedly. “I don’t… have a good feeling about tonight.”

Your words must be somewhat unexpected, as silence follows for a few moments after they enter the air. You regain control of your gaze where it had been centred on nothing, directing it towards the male on the bed. Taehyung’s eyes are on you, and you swear you catch something akin to a flicker of concern flitting across his features, before the tension leaves his face and he slaps on a silly grin. 

"If ghosts and ghouls were real, y/n, you'd almost be begging them to haunt you," he quips, brows quirking in a sly manner. "Them's invitin' words, darlin'."

You're not sure what weird-ass accent he just pulled out of his rectum, but you're definitely sure your body shouldn't have reacted as shamefully into it as it just did. You throw a glare his way to mask the way you just shivered, at a damn pet name of all things, and turn back to cleaning your lens. He laughs, and you resign yourself for the millionth time to the fact that you'll probably never stop being so affected by him. 

"Oh yeah? Well it really sounds like you're inviting a smack right now, mister. Don't make me break out the sandal."

At that, Taehyung bursts into loud laughter, flopping back onto the bed to let out his howling cackles unhindered. You can only sit and shake your head as you continue to rub your equipment clean, fighting a smile but allowing the fondness of the moment to sink in and cover the weight in your stomach. 

Taehyung isn't worried, so you probably shouldn't be either. 

X    x    x    x 

"You're a monster."

Your gaze is petulantly pointed out the window, but you can feel Taehyung fighting a smile from the driver's seat. It's almost silent in the cabin, aside from the low hum of the car beneath you and the smooth sound of slow r'n'b thrumming from the speakers. You do like that about Taehyung's choice in cars; he always managed to find some with excellent speakers for the bass-y songs the two of you enjoy listening to.

"You said you didn't want them!" Taehyung protests, a slight whine to his voice. Oh, he thinks he can get out of trouble by acting cutesy? The absolute nerve.

“No! I didn’t!” You’re affronted, unable to help the way you turn in your seat to pin him with an incredulous glare. “I said I was going to give them a break while I had some of my thickshake! I didn’t say you could have them!”

“You left your fries alone for more than a minute, what was I supposed to do? Let them go cold?”

“It wasn’t an invitation! Honestly, how could you… after all we’ve been through?”

Taehyung makes a choking noise, and you presume it’s because he’s trying not to laugh. You haven’t broken character yet—despite the fact you’re genuinely a little miffed that he finished off your fries while your back was turned earlier—so if he does before you, then he loses. The two of you are far too competitive for this to be anything but normal in your friendship. 

"I can't help it," Taehyung says at last, apparently having managed to squash his laughter for a while longer. "They looked so good sitting there, so tempting... I was only going to take one, but you know I can't help myself when I see something I want."

As your eyes train on the scenery beyond the window as it blurs past, you snort, unable to help but quip playfully, "Glutton."

Taehyung finally lets a laugh loose, the sound rich and low, an almost indecipherable smile curling his lips at the corners. "Not the only sin I'm guilty of, but definitely the big hitter."

You roll your eyes, deciding you don't need to add anything more to that since it's definitely true. Sometimes you find it a little odd, how the two of you managed to become friends when you're both so different in subtle but significant ways. It isn't unusual to be unable to reach Taehyung some weekends, which you'd found out through a mutual friend (Yoongi, his roommate and an absolute tattletale whose loyalty is easily bought with wine and lamb skewers) was due to the fact he either didn't come home or brought someone else home. That knife had hurt when it entered your back, but you weren't, and still aren't, in any position to actually be upset about it. Taehyung's often extracurricular activities are probably one of the biggest differences between the two of you; not because you've never gone out or done things, no, but you've never been one to be comfortable with a stranger in your bed every other night. You're not so much into flings and one night stands, as Taehyung seems to be. 

Another difference is probably the fact that despite the fact you're a definite ambivert and not one to shy from social situations, you've never actually met anyone as blatantly extroverted as Taehyung. His aura and presence are truly something else; all he has to do is step into a room for all attention to be drawn immediately to him, and for it to stick for the entirety of the time he's there. His confidence is unshakeable, and you think that probably has a lot to do with it. It's as though he has this sense of assurance in himself that no matter what a situation could throw at him, no matter which way it could turn and end up, he can get through it and come out right on top. It's impressive, you admire him for it, but also in a way... it's a little bit unnerving. Slightly intimidating. You can't put your finger on it, but sometimes it feels like there's something more to that confidence, something you're not quite aware of but lingers just under the surface of what he shows you. 

He's a bit of an enigma, your Taehyung. You've known him for what feels like so long, and you know enough about him to fill about three encyclopedias, but at the same time... it feels like there's so much you don't know, an ocean behind each page you file away in your mind. It's like the difference between possessing a painting or a photograph of the sea, and actually standing on the shore with your feet in the sand, basking in the beauty of it in person. 

Now that you think about it, the ocean is probably the best metaphor you could've chosen for describing Taehyung. 

"You still nervous?"

Taehyung's inquiry, somewhat softly spoken but unmissable with how primed you are to hear him, is what pulls you from your light reverie. Blinking and interrupting your gaze where it was staring into the darkness beyond the window, you turn to the male and allow yourself a moment to analyse his features. 

Taehyung is one tough cookie to read, you have to admit. He's expressive, sure, but sometimes you feel he has a bit more to offer in terms of what he's thinking and feeling at the moment. You've yet to crack that code but you'll get it one day, you know it. 

Currently, his eyes are directed forward (as they should be-- he's been threatened many times with a smack whenever he lets his eyes stray even an millimetre while driving), but what you can observe of his side profile is a somewhat neutral expression. You're used to looking a little closer though, and when you do you find the barest creases of concern at the corner of his eye, brows drawn together just slightly. Aw, he's actually a little concerned for you. How sweet. 

"Well, yeah," you answer after a moment, forcing your eyes away from his face and averting them back out the window as you lift a hand to rub the back of your neck. "But I mean, when aren't I? I don't think we'd have a show if both of us were skeptics."

The male hums, shaking his head to dislodge a silvery lock of hair that has fallen across his forehead. "That's true. I guess then we'd really be relying on my face for viewers, huh?"

Somewhat outraged, you let out an angry noise and hit his arm— just the reaction he was looking for. He snickers, still distracted as he watches the road and takes in the signs as he passes them. Sooner than you expect, he's flicking on the indicator and taking a left, down a road that is more dirt than tarmac and feels like it's leading nowhere good. The nerves that had left you momentarily, courtesy of the good mood eating put you in, return now in full force— twisting and writhing and tightening in the pit of your stomach. You take in a deep breath, the exhale a little shaky. Taehyung's eyes flick to you for the barest moment before they return to the front. 

Trees line each side of the road, the twenty-plus minute drive having taken you a slight ways out of town. Beyond the trees at the edge of the road, you know there are miles and miles of fields; the odd house is scattered around, of course, but you know that the locals are far too wary of this little area to want anything to do with it, despite the acreage on offer. 

The road twists and winds just barely, before Taehyung pulls the car into a partially obscured driveway on the right and you gulp, feeling more nervous than ever. The headlights drill holes of illumination into the pitch black, casting across blurred greenery and bushes for a moment before finally falling upon something lighter and firmer. Stone basks in the ray of the headlights, and gleaming glass windows just barely beyond the light's edge. 

"We're here," Taehyung announces in a singsong manner, seeming entirely too happy about your arrival at what you consider to be one of the most cursed destinations you've included in your travels. The car rolls to a stop, Taehyung's large hand pulling the handbrake up and deciding your fate. You feel the weight in your stomach sink further. 

Well, no time like the present. If you're gonna die in here, you may as well go on and get it over with. 

x x x

The first ever haunted house that you explored with Taehyung, was probably the scariest.

Before becoming friends with him, and subsequently being roped into forming a paranormal investigation duo, you’d never stepped foot in a haunted or otherwise allegedly supernaturally afflicted building. Of course, you’d read your fair share of online accounts and retellings, and watched more investigative programs than is probably healthy, but even you are capable of telling what has been dramatically exaggerated and digitally edited. Before that first house, you’d sort of teetered on the edge of scepticism and being a believer. You were open to the idea, but weren’t cemented in your beliefs. That first house pushed you decisively from the middle and into one of those sides.

Your biggest regret is that you didn’t have the proper equipment to record what you witnessed that night. Since you were just starting out, all you really had was a crummy recording device and a handheld camera, in addition to your phones. Kind of humiliating, in hindsight. How on Earth had people taken you seriously back then?

Everything had gone fine, up until the point where the two of you decided it would be a neat idea to spend a few minutes alone in the most ‘haunted’ room of the house. Before then you were having fun, but you weren’t exactly convinced anything paranormal inhabited the place. In the middle, you remained. Taehyung had been somewhat distracted as you went, but not so much that he didn’t manage to slip in the odd witty quip. Sometimes, you’d turned and caught him staring into space for a few moments longer than expected, before he was once more moving on. You’d figured he was just deep in his thoughts. 

As you’d ventured through the house, there were a few little things you both observed, but they were also easily dismissible things; items falling as you moved past them, creaking sounds, windows and curtains moving, shadows out of the corner of your eye. Nothing solid and material, and some to be expected when you were moving about an old, creaky abandoned building with no light save for some battery-powered torches and the flashlights on your phones. 

Nothing that would hold up as evidence—at least, nothing until you entered that room alone. 

The basement, said to have been where the most activity was and where some not-so-nice things went down while the house was still occupied, was the final stop of your little investigative tour. You’d originally planned to go in there together, but a small argument about jelly beans led to the proposal of going in there one at a time, and spending a few minutes in there alone in an attempt to get some interaction from any spirits that might be there. 

From the very second you set foot on the first step, you’d known intrinsically that the experience you were about to have wasn’t going to be a good one. Your skin had crawled even then; it was as though you’d stepped into a freezer instead of a basement, immediately chilled to the bone with the air weighing so heavy against your body that each step was an effortful struggle. You’d been nervous before going down, yes, but this… it was different. Before you could have even turned to act on your second thoughts, the basement door had closed behind you with a final, resounding thud.

“Go down to the bottom! Your five minutes starts now.”

You’d felt disproportionately scared as you reluctantly continued your trek to the bottom, as you’d originally intended. It was colder at the foot of the stairs, if possible, and the small torch in your hand had started to flicker. It smelt rotten, too, and the further into the room you went the stronger the smell. For the first time since entering the house, you felt unsettled, for reasons almost indiscernible.  

Some of them became clear to you as soon as the beam of your torch illuminated over the walls. 

Deep scratches in the cement and brick, sigils and symbols drawn across the expanse of the wall. Something akin to black sludge was smudged intermittently across places, dripping from cracks and oozing from gaps in the ceiling. There was a disrupted circle on the floor, dark maroon flakes and drops of wax scattered and highlighting more smudged symbols and lines. A copper bowl lay turned over and discarded, its apparent contents scattered across the floor; bones, dried leaves and flowers, rocks, a tooth. You hadn’t even realised how your breath had begun to speed up, chest tightening. Of course, you’d tried to calm yourself and rationalise— someone just did this for a prank, they planted these things to feed the stories. 

But then you’d felt a gust of hot air against the back of your neck, so stark in contrast to the chill of the room. Alarmed, you’d jerked, and your torchlight had moved with the flinch of your arm. It whipped over shapes veiled objects in the room, angles creating deep shadows that seemed to have no end, and you’d managed to look up just in time to catch sight of something as it was illuminated in the corner; a long shape, a silhouette, present in the light just long enough for you to see the gleam of two eyes staring right at you—

The torchlight flickered off in tandem with the sensation of your heart dropping through your stomach; something hot and sharp dragged across your sternum, and driven by nothing but fear and instinct you threw yourself back—or had you been thrown? A voice, disembodied in the pitch black, had grated the outskirts of your ears, warped and distorted and registering in your senses in such a way that even now, you can’t be sure whether you’d really heard it or not. 

“A human girl walking right into my den… And you smell so good too. Won’t you stay, girl? I hunger.”

You don’t recall screaming, but as you would be informed later, apparently you did. You’d stumbled backwards, crashing into a number of items and feeling something grip your arm. It burned, and of course you’d jerked away once more. 

Whether it was the ruckus or your own sounds that concerned your companion, the basement door had quickly been thrown open and Taehyung had bolted down the stairs. Disoriented, you weren’t even aware of where you’d stumbled in the room once your torch had gone out, but when you’d looked up to see Taehyung darting over to you, the room now illuminated, you’d been several metres from where you’d first stopped. 

As Taehyung would tell you later, you were shaking as you sat there, partially curled into a ball on the floor. Your torchlight had been all the way on the other side of the room, and your phone a few feet away. He says that when he asked you what had happened, you’d only babbled incoherently, somehow simultaneously telling him off and yet clinging to him in distress. 

Your memory of events after that scare is a little hazy, but you do recall that he’d surveyed your form, freezing as his eyes fell upon your arm. When you’d looked down, you’d caught blood trickling down from three irregular lesions across your bicep, the entire flesh of your upper arm red and inflamed and sore, yet in the cold of the room somehow still numb. Despite the horrified look on Taehyung’s face, and the way he’d fussed over your wound from that point onward, he was quick to dismiss it. 

“You must have cut it on something when you were tripping about,” he’d said later, once you were out of the house with all your things packed away, back in the safety of the hotel room. His touch had been nothing short of tender as he cleaned and dressed the cuts that just would not stop oozing blood. Perhaps that night, is when you’d really first begun developing feelings for Taehyung. That hadn’t stopped you being secretly frustrated at his words, though. “There were a lot of sharp things down there, I’m not surprised you managed to cut yourself on one of them.”

Even as, days later, the red welts on your arm developed into bruises—long and thin, like imprints of spindly fingers that had wrapped around your arm— and the cuts didn’t heal quite as they should, Taehyung stuck with that story. He insisted on being the one to take care of the wound and still insisted you’d just bumped into something lying about down there in the basement. Once, you’d gone to tell him exactly what you’d seen and heard, but thought better of it. You’d just be annoyed when his sceptical ass tried to dismiss and rationalise it. It didn’t help that the recording you had of the experience had somehow corrupted on your phone. 

Oddly enough, ever since that first house you’ve never gotten as scared, or witnessed anything quite like it. It kind of makes you wonder—did you hallucinate it? Was your brain just overactive and scared, and making you see and hear things that weren’t there? You think about it a lot, an especially every time you venture into a new location. Like now, as you’re in the entry of the church and preparing to film the introduction segment of your little vlog. 

“Lot on your mind, babygirl?”

Flinching and feeling your cheeks heat as they usually do whenever Taehyung hits you playfully with that particular pet name, you break from your thoughts to send him a glare. 

“Only the usual amount,” you answer, a hand coming to unconsciously rub your arm where those cuts had first appeared. They’d never quite healed as expected, didn’t scar as things usually do on your skin. Normally you heal pretty seamlessly, but those scratches had healed in three pink lines, not raised but stark on your skin. Sometimes you think you feel them ache and sting, but it’s just a phantom pain. More often than not, they’re just a bit itchy. 

“Camera is ready to go, are you?” Taehyung inquires, holding up the hand-held and leaning around it to flash you a cheeky smile. He has a torch attached to his headband, and combined with the light of the torch attached to the strap over your chest and the torches attached to each camera, the entrance of the building where you stand is somewhat illuminated. It is, admittedly, in a poor state. Cement and brick are in various states of disrepair, the odd piece crumbling whenever you move past. You’re actually more worried about a part of the ceiling falling on you tonight than anything paranormal. Although, you suppose you’d developed a bit of a stronger resistance over the years. These days, as Taehyung says, your bravado is through the roof.

You hold your thumb up for him, waiting for his subsequent nod and the blinking of the light above the camera lens that tells you it’s on and running. As soon as you get the signal, you slip a smile onto your face.

“Hello and welcome to another episode of Mystery Gang; Unsolved,” you launch right into the introduction, the name of your little duo coming easier every time you say it. At this point, there’s almost no resistance at all; you’re barely embarrassed by it these days. “Today we’re here in a small town on the East Coast, and we’re investigating the abandoned and allegedly ‘haunted’ grounds of FigTree Church.”

Taehyung has a small smile on his lips as he watches you talk, something you catch as you glance down at your phone for the notes you have prepared. Awfully cheeky he is, as always. 

“Now, you might be thinking—that’s quite an odd name for a church, right? Doesn’t it have an official name, something a little bit more proper? Well, no, actually.” You shift, taking a few steps to your left and bringing your arm up to gesture to the rest of the church. It’s pitch black, and you ignore the way the hairs on your arm begin to stand. “This church, nestled in the corner of FigTree Pocket and hidden away from the rest of the world, was never given a name. And when we investigated further, we found that there was never actually any record of this church in any registry or archive for this region.”

“For our research, we had to turn to the townsfolk and some ledgers hidden deep in the town library to unearth just what this church is and what happened that earned it the reputation as one of the most haunted locations on the East Coast.” You pause briefly, glancing to your notes. “As it turns out, the reason there are no records of this church and no name ever given to it, is because this church… was technically never meant to exist.”

Taehyung makes a surprised face, and you sense a question oncoming. “Allegedly, this church, built in the late 1800s, was formed in secret by a small faction that split from the branch residing in the nearby capitol. There is no consensus as to whether the original branch is Catholic or Christian, or something else, and a lot of the lore surrounding it is more hearsay than actual recorded facts. What is known for sure, though, is that this church was formed and built in secret, operating under forged papers and fostering a religion that didn’t quite fit any preconceived ideologies that were around at the time.”

“So this was, like, an extremist sort of situation? They didn’t quite agree with the workings of their original church so they went and made their own?” Taehyung speaks as soon as you leave him a gap, looking at you with intrigued eyes and a shit-eating grin from behind the camera. “Exactly what kind of things did they get up to in here that they needed the place to stay a secret?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you say, referring to your notes for a brief moment before continuing. “Apparently, according to stories passed down through generations in this town and some accounts in the town history books, some pretty dark shit went down in here.”

Taehyung tilted his head, sweeping the camera over the rest of the room before centring it back on you with a shrug. “I could see it. What kind of sins are we speaking here?”

“Well, some stories are more believable than others,” you offer. “The less popular ones say that this was less of a church and more of a cannibalistic cult. Others—”

“Cannibalistic cult?!” Taehyung sputters, lowering the camera slightly so he can meet your eyes over the top of it. “Are you for real—?!”

“Yup,” you affirm, fighting a smile. “The next best one after that says that this wasn’t a real church, but a cover for a satanic cult that operated in the night time hours. Apparently they performed their rituals either in the basement, the attic, or a secret room behind the altar.”

Taehyung chortles at that, the denim jacket he has on over a dark hoodie making a loud scuffle as he slaps a hand to his stomach in his laughter. You’re glad he’s amused by what you’re saying, as usual. “This is great. I wonder whether we’ll find skulls or pentagrams.”

“I don’t know which is worse,” you admit, rolling your eyes when he laughs again. “Anyway, those are just outliers. The consensus on the history of this place is a bit of a different tale, actually. Still kind of dramatic, though.”

Taehyung hums to urge you on, gaze flicking to the side for a moment at a particularly loud chirp of a cricket. You shift where you stand, retreating closer to the wall—you don’t like the feeling of having your back to the expanse of darkness. 

“From what I was able to gather, most people say this operated as a normal church for a few years. They held mass, you know, did the usual church things. The common thread that everyone mentioned, though, is kind of in line with what you said earlier. In a sense, the principles of this church were kind of extremist, and very misogynistic, moreso than you usually see from the old days. The women that were part of this church were apparently treated no better than property, in-home slaves expected to sit and be pretty, cook, clean and bear children.”

Taehyung winces, apparently noticing the unimpressed tone to your voice. “So if the ghost of one of the pastors is here, you’re gonna beat him up?”

“Maybe so,” you utter, shooting him a sly smile. “But don’t you wanna know what the big happening was? What really gave this place a name—well, I guess it didn’t give it a name, but it did give it a reputation.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, silvery strands of hair flicking from the motion of his head. “Of course, why else do you think I do these little investigations.”

“For the ghouls?” you suggest, grinning in anticipation for the face you know he’s going to make in response. He doesn’t fail to deliver, and you let out a laugh before continuing your initial spiel. 

“Like I was saying, for a while this operated like a normal church. There were pastors and priests, and proceedings as normal. But before long, their operations were brought to a screeching halt.” A glance to your notes, then a somewhat nervous glance over your shoulder. “In what would unknowingly be its final year, the church was to hold a wedding. Meena Law, the daughter of two dedicated churchgoers, was to be wed on November 1st, 1899— to a man her parents chose, who was twice her age and, according to accounts of the time, quite an unsavoury character, but someone of a high standing within the church.”

“Oh yuck,” Taehyung utters, almost making you break character and smile.

“Unlike her parents, Meena wasn’t content and complicit with the rules and principles of the church. She was against the wedding from the beginning and fought it with everything she could. It was no use, however, and by the time the eve of her wedding arrived, she was desperate.”

Your thumb scrolls across your notes, and you take a breath. You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think the air feels a little colder suddenly; you have to fight a shiver from rolling down your spine. “Here is where the stories diverge a little. One account says that what happened in this chapel was nothing but a tragic accident. As she walked up the aisle in her wedding dress and arrived at the altar to stand beside her would-be husband, the heavily embellished wrought-iron chandelier came loose above them and fell, crushing the two of them and the minister officiating the marriage—who happened to be head of the church at the time, Lui Fonset.”

“The chandelier is actually still over there on the floor, glass shards and rusty metal and all,” you supply, pointing your flashlight in the direction of the altar. You don’t like the way it gleams beneath the torchlight. 

“Wait, they never cleaned it up?” Taehyung joined you in shining his torch in that direction. He let out a soft noise of interest. “They just decided that’s it? They’re gonna leave it there?”

You snort. “Actually, this incident seemed to be the beginning of the end for them. Understandably, the tragedy of three deaths within their church, their head included, was quite a blow. It took a while before they gathered themselves and attempted to fix the place up.”

Taehyung shoots you a curious if somewhat confused look. “But they didn’t…?”

You shine your torch in his face to be annoying, and he levels you with a glare. The harshness of the light makes the dark brown of his irises gleam reddish-brown. You ignore the way your neck tenses as a result. 

“They didn’t,” you confirmed, “But it wasn’t for lack of trying. This church sat in disrepair for a short while, vacated and momentarily abandoned, but the remaining churchgoers returned to fix it up. No one ever managed to, though, because ever since that fatal incident, it would seem that any activities within the church walls would be met with the most unfortunate, awful luck.”

“To paraphrase an account from one of the townspeople, it was like the building had obtained a life of its own and was hellbent on fighting back against anyone that stepped on the grounds. Windows shattered right as people walked beneath them, pews fell and chunks of statues weakened at just the right times. Some people also reported hearing things, seeing things, feeling things that made them feel so uncomfortable they left and refused to return to the site.”

“Is it the ghosts of Meena and the two that died with her?” Taehyung queries, going for a quick pan of the room beyond the little entrance nook. Rotting pews lined the large space, some reduced to splinters and others weak and sagging. None were in neat order and a few of them were sprinkled with glass and stone and dust—oh, the dust.

“That’s what some say.” You shrug. “But there is another version of the events that happened here. It’s a little more interesting but since we are here tonight, I think I like it a little less.”

Your companion was curious now. “What is it?”

“The night before her wedding, Meena was desperate. So desperate, in fact, that she would have done absolutely anything to stop the marriage—and some say that, in her darkest hours that night, she was driven to do the unspeakable.” You pause, because you know that Taehyung is about to take the piss out of what you’re about to say. “Some say, that on Hallows Eve, the night before she was to be wed, Meena performed a ritual to summon a demon, and then made a deal with him to ensure that the wedding wouldn’t go through.”

Your eyes flick to Taehyung’s face but surprisingly, he doesn’t seem like he’s about to make fun of you. Instead, he seems deep in thought, staring blankly for a moment as he’s consumed by whatever is on his mind. Odd. Usually he’s well on his way to making fun of you by now. He knows you’re especially scared of demons. 

“Of course, as is usually the case in stories like these, it seems that Meena wasn’t aware of the little loophole she provided,” you say, preparing to continue before Taehyung speaks suddenly and cuts you off.

“She left it too open,” Taehyung says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “I mean, the wedding was stopped, but at what price? Amateur.”

“Don’t insult the ghosts,” you say, more of an automated, habitual utterance than anything at this point. “And yeah, that’s how the story goes. The unfortunate nature of her death and the despair of her last moments allegedly caused her to linger, whatever soul she had left attached to this place. It’s said that the spirits of the priest and the groom are here too—different sort of entities, apparently. People report a range of weird occurrences in this building, some antagonistic and some merely… supernatural. But they’re not the only presence rumoured to be here that gives this place such a foreboding reputation.”

Taehyung’s head tilts, before his eyes light up in realisation. “Oh, the demon? But how would he be here? Aren’t they meant to be unable to enter holy places such as this?”

For some reason, you swear you detect the slightest bit of humour in Taehyung’s tone. You raise your brows at him, but answer his question anyway. “Yeah, that’s usually the case, I guess. There are a few theories as to why a demon could enter here. First, some people propose that it’s because this was never a legitimate church. Which… I think makes a bit of sense. The second theory that floats around is that when she summoned the demon, she actually did it within the church walls. I mean, I’d think that wouldn’t work, but hey, maybe it did.”

Taehyung purses his lips in thought. “Hmm, I think it could work. Maybe it’s a big boss demon.”

You roll your eyes, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket. “If that’s the case, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t need to be thinking about high level demons lingering in the halls as I walk through a haunted church, thank you very much.”

Taehyung lets out a laugh, passing you your own camera. You turn to the one currently in his hold, offering a smile that you can feel has somewhat of a nervous tinge this time around.

“Alright, lets go catch some ghosts!” you cheer, feeling like you’re painting a target on your own back, as you usually do. Taehyung nods, smiling to himself as he cuts the camera for a break before you both begin recording and venturing through the church.

“I hate this,” you murmur into the sudden silence, rubbing your arms as a wash of cold air touches your skin. “Why do we always have to film at night? Late at night? In the dark and cold?”

Taehyung snorts, stepping over and slinging an arm over your shoulder somewhat distractedly as he fiddles with settings on his camera, hand rubbing your arm. The action brings out a wave of butterflies in your stomach that you don’t even bother to quell.

“Everyone knows ghouls only come out at night,” he chuckles, flicking wavy strands out of his face. “Demons too.”

You groaned, already feeling much worse than earlier about the night ahead of you. This wasn’t going to be fun in the least for you. Before you’d entered the church, the crickets in the forestry outside had been loud, almost as though they were screaming at you to leave, attempting to ward you away (maybe you’re reading a little too much into it). In here, though, you can barely hear them. Only softly, subtly; whispers of the living world outside slipping in through the broken glass and crumbling stone. In contrast, it’s very still in here—and very cold. Probably from the stone and brick. You slip your arm around Taehyung’s waist for warmth, grinning at the way he jumps and looks to you in surprise.

“Bold of you,” Taehyung wags his eyebrows. “How am I supposed to seduce the ghosts if they think I’m taken?”

“Dirty ghostfucker,” you utter, instantly annoyed enough that you don’t feel like using him for body heat anymore. You pinch his side and withdraw, turning your camera on and moving towards the large room beyond the entrance. Taehyung laughs when you stumble over a piece of rotten wood. Great.

If you don’t end up dying in here tonight, then you just might end up killing Taehyung instead.

Taehyung fires up his cameras once more, his torchlights aiding in illuminating your path as he follows behind you. Right, on with the tour you go.

a/n: pls let me know what u think and pls heart or rb if u read and liked it!!! it helps me know how many people have interacted and enjoyed it!! 

masterlist | next⇥

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 1: Her Morning Takes a Turn

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 6217

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous Prologue: The Gods Live

The sun was golden against your skin, filling it with warmth and color you rarely ever got. Birds chirped, filling the air with song, and people chatted warmly all around you. You could hear laughter, squealing, sounds of joy and happiness. It was so different from what you were used to.

You exhaled sharply as you opened your eyes, turning your head on a swivel to observe your surroundings.

The open-aired cafe was nestled in a quaint corner of Olympus. Minor gods occupied the tables around you, some accompanied by nymphs or other sprites, others by children, and others still alone. No matter their social situation, everyone looked happy and content. Small children ran between the tables, playing tag and laughing, while their mothers talked and chatted over brunch. You recognized some of the gods and goddesses around.

Peter, a dryad, was at a table with some of his friends. They were all crowded around a phone and laughing to themselves. They seemed to be watching a funny video. If you had to guess, it was probably a silly trend or meme from the Mortal World.

Hope, the goddess of victory, was chatting with her friend Scott, the god of the home and hearth. Both of them had a sandwich and a cup of coffee straight from the Mortal World in front of them, though the food was almost completely forgotten as they talked to each other, deeply engrossed in their conversation.

Small children, nymphs and naiads, ran between the tables in games of tag, squealing as one was dubbed “it” and began to chase the others. They laughed with childish ecstasy, displaying the joy they had in abundance.

The whole area was just alive and warm. It was so foreign to you, but you had to admit that you didn’t mind it. 

The sound of bickering voices drew you from your observations, and you turned your head to the two women before you.

The blonde, your beloved youngest sister, goddess of the sky and queen of the gods, Carol, was sitting up straight, her shoulders rolled back proudly. She had a smug smile on her face; she was obviously winning the argument—something about a dress she said she was going to wear to the Winter Solstice Gala that was coming up in a few months.

The redhead, your younger sister and goddess of the sea, Natasha, was a little more agitated, though it was a sort of playful frustration. She was hunched over with her eyes narrowed at her sister as she insisted, “Carol, that’s my dress.” 

Carol shook her head, her smile only widening. “No, it’s mine. I bought it from a noble lady in London. I remember it as clear as if it was a century ago.”

Nat arched an eyebrow, her lips curling down in a sour frown. “Are you sure you remember it correctly? I could’ve sworn that I bought that dress a couple centuries ago. No, I know I bought it from Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1160.”

You scrunched up your nose. Twelfth-century English fashion? Definitely not your cup of tea. But you remembered the dress vividly. It was a green thing that really complimented Nat’s eyes and hair but with a style that did not meet your preferences.

Your sisters continued to argue about whose dress it was.

You, meanwhile, watched them with amused eyes, shaking your head as they bickered. Your sisters were always ones to fight constantly, though it was always in good nature. They argued about the silliest things that happened millennia ago—who a goat sacrifice was meant for, who got the sea and who got the sky, who got to be the patron goddess of this city-state or that one—and now, they argued about whose clothes were whose. It was comforting to see that some things never changed over the centuries. Every brunch consistently ended with them bickering over the smallest things. Their sandwiches and mugs of their favorite coffees were long forgotten as they got into it. You’d learned to live with it and just let them duke it out; so long as they didn’t actually kill anyone that is.

But listening to them bicker eventually grew boring and tedious and you’d had enough. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, shrugging off your black blazer which had grown sweltering hot in the sun as you went. Now just in a dark grey tank top, your pleated black pants, and a pair of black flats, you felt much cooler and were ready to end the arguing and your misery. “Come on, both of you,” you called, cutting them off. 

They paused their argument and turned towards you, their gazes questioning and demanding as to why you had interrupted them.

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? Guys, this is like the only time I can see you for the next month and you want to fight about something stupid and childish?” You grinned at them, your eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “I wonder why I let you two pretend to be older when you’re so damn immature.”

Carol gasped with mock offense. “You’re only older than us by a decade or two.”

“A decade or two is all it takes, my dear youngest sister. Don’t let the power of your queenship go to your head; I’ll always have sibling superiority over you. And, as the eldest, I say no more bickering.”

“But—”

“It’s Nat’s dress. She did buy it from the queen. There, argument over and you can stop bickering now.”

Nat laughed with an elated “Ha!”

Carol huffed, the breath from her mouth ruffling the hair that framed her face, and gave you an exasperated smile. “Fine, it’s Nat’s. I’ll give it back. We’ll stop bickering. What do you want to talk about since you’re so opposed to hearing our arguing?”

You simply shrugged. Ninety percent of the time you were cool with any topic of conversation, even if it meant listening to their banter, but not today. 

It was one of the few times you dared to venture out of your realm. Being the Queen of the Underworld gave you little to no time to leave. There were always so many things to do and duties to attend to that you rarely made it out for brunch with your sisters on Olympus. Occasions like this were supposed to be a time for you three to catch up, gossip, and bond, not to bicker endlessly about pointless things.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admitted.

Carol opened her mouth to respond, probably with a snarky remark about how you ought to know what you want to talk about before interrupting an already started conversation, but Natasha beat her to the punch.

“Hey, how’s Mom doing?” she asked, her eyes curious and her posture hunched in to listen. “You saw her last weekend, right? She doing well?”

You nodded, a fond smile pulling at your lips. Out of all your siblings, you were probably the closest to your mother, Rhea. She made a trip downstairs to see you almost every weekend for brunch and to catch up. You’d say she liked coming down so often because it was out of the way and far quieter and calmer than either the Mortal World or Olympus, but you knew it was because she loved your dog. “She’s doing fine.”

Carol leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table, suddenly very interested in this new topic of conversation. As the youngest of you three, she probably had the least amount of time with your mother. But, then again, she was the only one who didn’t get digested and got to see Mom the most in the early years. “Is she still working in that mortal hospital?” Carol asked.

You nodded. “Still in the labor ward. She’s the ‘best labor and delivery nurse they’ve ever had’ last I heard.”

“Well of course she is. She is the titaness of motherhood and ease, among other things,” Nat remarked. She shook her head. “I just wish she’d spend more time up here rather than with the mortals.”

“You know that some of the gods don’t like her,” you murmured. “She’s a titan. They don’t trust her. She’d rather be among the mortals who don’t know her for who she is and help them out.” You shrugged. “Anyways, Carol, how’re your queenly duties going?” You wanted to change the topic away from your mother. While you loved talking to her, it was always weird talking about her with your sisters. They didn’t know her like you did; they didn’t know her in the beginning.

Carol hummed. “Oh, you know, they’re going fine. I have to deal with people’s shit all day every day. You’d think that we gods, being as old as we are, would’ve already worked out our problems by now. I mean, Wanda and Pietro still bicker about who’s the better archer, Loki still plays rude pranks, I can barely keep the newer gods in line. I swear, once they find out they’re immortal, it’s a shit-show. They take on the most daring dares and wreak havoc on the Mortal World any chance they get. I know they don’t always mean to be a pain in my ass, but it happens. Oh! But did you hear? The Muses are planning a concert. They’ve got music from…”

And that was about the point when you tuned her out. You didn’t always care about what responsibilities came with ruling Olympus, but you did enjoy seeing her getting excited about the things in her life. She might’ve been a queen, but she was still your baby sister. 

As Carol continued to rant and rave about the concert, you failed to notice Natasha sliding her chair closer to you until she was right on top of you.

“So, (y/n).”

You jumped in your seat. She’d snuck up on you, quiet as the gentle sea she ruled over. You glanced sideways at her, your lips curling back in a sneer. You knew that look on her face and you didn’t like it one bit. “Nat… Don’t you even think about it.”

Natasha smirked, her outward expression cool and collected, but her green eyes roaring like waves on a stormy night with devious plans. “Oh? Think about what, my dearest sister?” Her voice was sickly sweet and practically dripping with honey. 

You narrowed your eyes, your heart dropping in your chest as it steeled itself against what was coming. “You look like you’re trying to play matchmaker and thinking about setting me up with someone again,” you spat. “Well my answer is what it’s been for the past two thousand years: no.”

Carol had stopped talking about the Muses and was now looking at you with pitiful and sad eyes. “(y/n)...”

“Don’t ‘(y/n)’ me, Care. I’ve told you time and time again, I’m fine. I don’t need to go out on a date, I don’t need a boyfriend or a girlfriend, I’m perfectly happy alone.” You didn’t need any of the trouble that came with a steady relationship. You’d had your fill of that over the years. Hands running down your body, lips kissing your mouth, flesh pressed against flesh… You shuddered.

“We know,” Nat said as she tried to placate you, “and we admire you for your strength. ‘You’re a strong independent woman who don’t need no man’ and all, but we think it might be good for you to go out and try to meet someone. That way you wouldn’t have to be so alone down in the Underworld.”

You frowned. “But I’m not alone down there. I have Cerber—” 

“Cerberus,” they finished in unison.

“We know,” Natasha continued. “But we think you’d benefit from some human contact once in a while. We know you still see Mom, and that Clint and Pierce visit you on their errands, but most of the time… You’re all alone down there and we just think you’d be happier if you had someone. I know I’d have already lost my mind underwater if I didn’t have Bruce to keep me company, and Carol wouldn’t be able to stay sane if Maria wasn’t with her.”

Carol nodded in silent agreement, her eyes pleading. “We just want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You could feel small bits of agitation rising up in you as you stared them down. The world began to tint red in your sight.

Natasha bit at her lip as she stared you down. “(y/n),” she said, her voice taut and stiff with caution. “Your eyes.”

You turned towards her. 

Her body was rigid and alert, almost as if she was preparing to defend herself. She only took that stance when something made her nervous.

And that something was you.

You sighed and mumbled, “Sorry,” before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in through your nose. 

In, out. In, out. In, out.

When you opened your eyes again, the world had returned to its normal color and you were a little calmer. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your head dipping down in a nod. You heaved a sigh and pursed your lips. “Guys, look, I really appreciate you thinking about me and my happiness, but seriously, butt out of my love life. I don't need anybody; I’m perfectly capable of ruling the Underworld on my own.” You shifted in your seat and averted your eyes. “Besides, I don’t think anyone could really handle me right now.” Also, you had the feeling that no one could give you the long-lasting love you craved.

Both your sisters went quiet, their eyes downcast and solemn. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for telling them off again. You knew that they just wanted what was best for you, but at the same time, you knew yourself better than anyone. You knew you didn’t need to be set up and that, when you were ready, you’d find someone yourself.

You cleared your throat and began to pull your blazer back on. “I should probably get going now,” you said, grabbing a black handbag that was sitting beside your chair and pulling the strap onto your shoulder. “Lots of things to attend to down under. It’s time for the weekly check on Tartarus.” You inhaled sharply and rolled your eyes, hoping to convey a feeling of exasperation to them. You had no intention of letting them know that you were over godly contact and ready to go home to peace and solitude.

Natasha chuckled. “I don’t know why you don’t send Pierce to do it. He’s capable.”

“Yeah, he’s capable, but you know how persuasive our father can be if he gets into somebody’s head. And, although Alexander is a great god of death, I don’t necessarily trust his mental strength against him. It’s just best if I do it. I know his tricks, I know his lies, I know how to resist him.” You gave your sisters a small smile. “Take care, you two. Tell Maria and Bruce I said ‘hi,’ and don’t go burning down the world before our next brunch. The Underworld is full enough; we don’t need any early arrivals.” You stood up and pushed in your chair.

Carol stood up and made quick strides across the table to your side. With one fluid motion, she reached for you, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into a hug. She held you tight. “We miss you up here, (y/n). Please, don’t be a stranger, and come back more often.”

You hugged her back tightly. “I’ll try. When things start calming down again, I’ll come back.”

“Just make sure it’s before another half-decade has passed!” Nat called from her spot off to the side.

You pulled away from Carol and shot your other sister a teasing glare. “Then tell the Fates to stop throwing me curve balls and fucking up my life!” You slid over to her and hugged her as well. “Don’t forget, you can always come down to see me instead. I know it’s dark and gloomy down there, but I’ve remodeled my house and I think it’s really nice.”

“So you’re out of your gothic phase?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. “Gods, I thought we agreed to never speak about that again. I liked the architecture!”

“Mhmm, and the black clothes, and the heavy eyeliner,” Carol began to list, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh, shut up! The castle’s gone. No more gothic. Now it’s more modern. Have you ever seen those American houses where they’re an open concept, all sleek and box-like?”

Both your sisters nodded.

“It’s kinda like that.”

Natasha whistled. “Nice. Is it still black?”

“Of course.” You chuckled. “Could you imagine a bright yellow house in the middle of the Underworld?”

“It does sound ridiculous,” Carol admitted. 

“Exactly. The black is there to stay.” You smiled softly and took a small step away from your family. “I’ll see you both later.”

Carol’s lips twitched up in a sad smile as she brought a hand up to wave at you. “See you soon.”

Natasha simply nodded at you, a tiny smile of her own on her face.

And then you turned your back and walked away from them. You made your way to the cafe’s gate and pushed it open, making your exit.

It was a short walk back to the main road of Olympus. It was easy to know when you’d arrived because street vendors crowded the sides and people filled the streets. Gods, goddesses, nymphs, naiads, satyrs, and all other sorts of creatures bustled around, darting in and out from stall to stall. Families with children stopped to chit chat with each other, couples held hands as they browsed, and singular people shopped with a purpose. Everyone had a smile on their face, everyone was happy. For a normal person, the path would be almost impossible to navigate. 

But not for you.

The second you got within five feet of a nymph or naiad, they stiffened and the hairs on the back of their neck stood up. They sensed the death that surrounded you and instinctively inched away. Their heads were put on a swivel as they searched for the source of their discomfort and, when they saw you, they prickled further and took a step out of your way, clearing your path.

It used to bother you how they’d avoid you like the plague but now you’d come to accept it. You reeked like death; they sensed it; they didn’t like it. You learned almost two thousand years ago to not take it personally. They didn’t hate you, they just hated what you were and what you stood for. Besides, you never had to be stuck in foot traffic. 

You sauntered down the opening in the road, going as quick as you could so as not to disturb them any longer, but not in a rush. Though you knew you weren’t welcome by most of Olympus’ citizens, you quite enjoyed the feeling of the sun on your skin whenever you came. The feeling was alien to you, but it was pleasant enough to make you want to bask in it for as long as possible. 

You made your way up the road, slowly climbing closer and closer to the golden palace of the gods where your youngest sister lived. It was in her front yard where you could safely make your way home without pissing anybody off.

After all, the quickest way back to the Underworld was to have the ground swallow you up. The journey didn’t leave any gaping hole behind you—the ground always closed up after you sank in—but it did leave an Asphodel flower in your stead. 

Carol didn’t mind having the flowers dot the lawn of her palace. Most Olympians hated the sight of them and saw them only as a bad omen, but Carol knew there was nothing really wrong with the flower. The reason they got such a bad reputation was that they were linked to you. 

Asphodel flowers only grew in the Asphodel Meadows in the Underworld. Mortals believed they had a positive role in the Greek afterlife, but not the Olympians. To them, the immortals, anything related to the Underworld was taboo, almost like it was death itself. Things touched by death and the Underworld were considered dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. You learned a long time ago that if you let the ground swallow you up and plant a flower in your place, the area where you left would be avoided for decades even after the flower had died. It caused a lot of inconveniences for the Olympian people, so you just decided to avoid public places and go to your sister’s yard instead. It was cleaner and less of a nuisance for others that way.

You strolled into the palace’s yard, treading down towards the furthermost corner of the area. There, a small garden of Asphodel flowers lays perfectly still and undisturbed. They’d grown to be as tall as your waist and they shuffled as you moved about them. You tried to keep the garden as small as possible so as to not “contaminate” a large area. You stopped in the center of the garden and dug into your pocket. Your skin hit tiny seeds—Asphodel seeds—and you plucked one out before dropping it onto the grass. 

The seed sank into the dirt, disappearing almost immediately, and the ground rumbled beneath you as it began to tear itself apart. It caved in, carving out a tunnel for you to sink into.

You simply crossed your arms, closed your eyes, and rolled your neck to stretch. You’d made this journey so many times that the fall hardly phased you anymore. You remembered doing it the first couple of times and panicking as you fell. Now, it was as easy as taking a step. 

You dropped through layers upon layers of rock, finally breaking out into a chasm. Your feet hit the ground and you bent your knees to absorb the impact, straightening up when you were steady. You rose to your full height and stood tall, gazing down a mountain at the whole of the Underworld.

You’d been deposited right on the front stoop of your mansion. Perched on the top of a small mountain, you could see everything from the front door.

At the far reaches of your kingdom, you could see the place where the Cocytus, the River of Wailing fed into the Acheron, the River of Woe, which stood as the border between the Mortal World and the Underworld. The far bank of the Acheron was crowded with souls waiting for passage over the water and the near bank was organized with lines leading up to and disappearing into the judgment pavilion. From the pavilion, three lines branched out and led to the three sections of the Underworld: the Asphodel Meadows, Elysium, and Tartarus.

The Asphodel Meadows spanned the majority of the large chasm that was your domain. The flowers swayed without a breeze, instead moved by spirits who wandered aimlessly. It was a place for those who had led ordinary lives, not good enough to achieve Elysium, but not evil enough to deserve Tartarus. The Meadows were as calm as calm could be, perfect for walking your dog or lazing around on a rare free day. Billions of spirits resided there, all of them calm, gentle, and ordinary.

Elysium, with its warm atmosphere, beautiful gardens, and elaborate homes sat just off to the side of the Meadows, its entrance near the base of your mountain. Sanctioned off by towering gates and walls, it lay separate from the rest of the Underworld. It was the place where the best of the best lived after death, filled with kind, generous, and beautiful souls. The souls that had been reborn and achieved Elysium three times lived on the Isles of the Blessed which were three little islands that sat in the middle of a lake in the heart of Elysium. You loved walking down the streets in Elysium. Everyone was so friendly and not a soul shied away from you. They had no reason to fear death; after all, they were already dead. Some of the spirits that had been there long enough were friendly enough to invite you for dinner on the occasional evening when they’d catch you patrolling the streets or walking Cerberus. Those were the nights you enjoyed the most. Mrs. Thomas made a fantastic roast chicken. It was truly a good place to be.

And then there was Tartarus; the “pit”. You shuddered just thinking about that place. It was where the evil souls went when they died, a place of torture, punishment, misery, and pain. It was mainly managed by three of your lieutenants known as “the Furies.” When they weren’t pursuing the wicked in the Mortal World, they were overseeing the torture of the worst of the worst deep in the pit. It lay just beyond the main body of your realm, accessible only through a cave that carved a hole in the outermost wall of the chasm that was the Underworld. The Phlegethon, the River of Fire, with its angry red flames that leaped out at anybody who dared get close to it, flowed into the tunnel taking up half of its opening. The river flowed deep until the point when the tunnel opened up to a cave. Dark, sharp stalactites hung from the cave’s ceiling, ready to fall at any second and impale those beneath them. There was a hole in the middle of the ground that seemed endless, but really, it fed into the real Tartarus. The river flowed into the pit, turning into a waterfall as it roared down. It was a long way down, said to be “as far beneath Hades as heaven is above earth” if you read that epic The Iliad from some Greek guy named Homer. It was about a nine days’ fall to reach the bottom of the pit where the souls were tortured and the worst beings were imprisoned.

You’d only been down there once, millennia ago, when you locked up the bastard you called “Father” and his brothers Crius, Iapetus, Coeus, and Hyperion, and you never wanted to go down again. It was nothing but red and angry. The Phlegethon was even more violent down there than it was in the main Underworld as it tore through the terrain. Tartarus itself was like a whole new world. It was seemingly endless, but it only had the one exit. One could get lost and be trapped there for eternity if they weren’t careful.

It was at the far reaches of the pit, farther than any soul or spirit dared to venture, that you imprisoned your father and uncles, binding them with the strongest chains you could make and sealing them with every spell, curse, and enchantment that you could think of. Layer upon layer of protection was placed upon them, making it nearly impossible for them to escape. You separated the five of them and placed them as far apart from each other as you could so that they could not feed on each other’s strength and escape. Your uncles, as formidable of foes as they were, were no threat to you anymore. They’d gone dormant after the first thousand years or so, reserved to their fates; but not your father.

Kronos continued to fight against his restraints, trying every day to escape, spending as much strength as he could muster to fight your barriers against him. Over the centuries he had succeeded in breaking some of them, specifically the old ones you had placed when you’d first imprisoned him. He was always chipping away at them, trying to weaken them enough to break free to exact his revenge on you and your sisters.

But you’d never let that happen. That was one of the reasons you made your weekly ventures to the edge of the pit. From up above, you could cast more spells to strengthen and set more layers on his bindings. Every week you added more and more to his cage, replacing those he broke, rejuvenating those he damaged, and adding new ones as an extra precaution.

Your sisters were fair to wonder why you didn’t let your inferiors or lieutenants take care of this task for you, but you had your reasons.

For the first couple of years that you guarded his prison, you did let some underlings take care of it. Peggy, your second in command, best friend, and the goddess of magic, volunteered to take care of it while you worked to get the Underworld under control and install order. She did a good job of keeping the spells strong and watertight, but she wasn’t infallible.

Your father, the extremely powerful titan that he is, found ways to let his conscience escape and make its way up to the surface. He would get into her head and anyone else who got close and twist their thoughts around, slowly turning them to his side and against the gods.

It took you a decade to notice that Peggy was under his control. You’d had your suspicions that she wasn’t herself, but it was when she tried to pull a knife on you and slit your throat that your suspicions were confirmed. It broke your heart to have Cerberus restrain her while you reached into her head and yanked Kronos out. Her screams still haunt you to this day. 

But from that day on, while Peggy was recovering, it was you that took care of the cage. That was how it should’ve been in the beginning, but you’d let her take on that responsibility for you. Never again would you subject another being to that. You did not know what it was like to have him in your head, but you had an idea of what it was like in his, and you couldn’t bear inflicting that kind of pain again. So, in addition to making frequent check-ups on the men and women who worked for you to make sure there wasn’t any trace of his influence, you took it upon yourself to personally deal with strengthening his prison every week.

Which was what you had to do right now.

With a heavy sigh, you turned back to look at your mansion and whistled.

At once, a crash, bang, thud, and whimper broke the silence and you could see a large black mass barreling at you from inside the house. The hulking figure shot through a wide doggy door just to the side of your front door and charged at you. 

Your entire face lit up with a laugh as Cerberus attacked you, jumping up to place his paws on your chest so he could have easy access to lick your face. Thankfully he was in his small form so there was only one head trying to lovingly maul you. If he had been full-sized, you’d have an issue. 

At his full height, Cerberus was as tall as your mountain in the Underworld, with three large heads that could see almost everything. When he wasn’t around you in his small size, he’d stand at the gates of the Underworld, guarding the borders and making sure that the rogue spirits didn’t escape. He seemed ferocious and scary because he closely resembled a large black wolf with deep red eyes, but he was really a gentle giant and your metaphorical baby.

You lifted your head up to avoid his eager tongue, instead allowing him to attack your neck as your laughter rang out in the still air. “Cerberus! Down, boy! Down! Yes, it’s good to see you too.” Once you’d gotten him calmed down, you crouched so you were at his eye level and scratched him behind the ears. “Who’s a good boy?”

He barked as if to say, “Me! Me! I am!”

You simply grinned at him and leaned forward to press your forehead to his, a common gesture of affection for you with him. “I’ve gotta go make sure Father hasn’t done anything stupid in a week, you wanna come with me?”

As if it was even a question. Cerberus always accompanied you on your trips, acting as a good guard dog to protect you from some of the spirits that dwelled on the pit’s edges—not that you really needed it, you just loved his company.

“Let’s go.” You straightened up and started to walk down the mountain path.

Cerberus kept perfect pace with you. He knew the way almost as well as you did.

Down the mountain and through the Asphodel Meadows. Cross the Meadows to the Phlegethon and follow the river to the mouth of the cave. Then it was a straight shot into the pit where you could cast your spells. Simple, easy, quick.

You knew the way by heart, not even bothering to look up as you went. Asphodel flowers crunched under your flats as you crossed the Meadows and spirits parted for you to get through; not that they needed to, they were just being polite.

You and Cerberus strolled through the Meadows, coming up to the Phlegethon and following it towards Tartarus.

You had to force your feet to walk as you got closer, a sense of unparalleled dread washing over you. Shivers crept down your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Tartarus was always a daunting place, but today it almost seemed… more so. And as soon as you took one step into the entrance, you knew that something was seriously wrong.

You stopped short, your feet planted into the ground. Your stomach dropped and every warning alarm you had was going off in your head. 

Cerberus had frozen, his ears flattened against his head and his lips pulled back in a snarl. His whole body was positioned to pounce at the drop of a hat.

You rolled your shoulders back and narrowed your eyes. The world began to tint red at the edges, the color slowly creeping in to cover your entire vision. With this new sight, you could see deeper into the tunnel where you saw figures writhing closer and closer to the pit. Something was in the cave, something that didn’t belong.

You grit your teeth and nodded your head towards Cerberus. “Go get Aunt Peggy,” you commanded in a low voice.

He didn’t need to be told twice and took off running as soon as the words left your lips.

You didn’t take your eyes off the mouth of the cave as you extended your hand, calling forth into being your weapon: a sleek black bident that was as tall as you were. Forged for you by the cyclopes millennia ago when you first fought your father, your vibranium bident was a formidable weapon. It was a lot like your sister’s trident, but with two prongs instead of three that branched out from the spear at the height of your chin. Your bident was your primary weapon used for fighting. It allowed you to manipulate spirits and channel magic, morph terrain, and wield the energy of the Underworld, among other things. Plus it was good for stabbing. 

You tightened your grip around the bident’s shaft and lifted it off the ground, moving slowly into the cave. Your feet never made a sound as you stepped closer and closer to the writhing mass. As you neared the souls, your fingers began to turn white with how tight you were holding your weapon, raising it to strike at any second. You were prepared to fight off a small militia of evil souls trying to escape, but what you found when you reached them was not a coup preparing to strike. 

No, the souls were, instead, swarming around a figure.

You muscled your way in through the crowd, using your bident to shove the spirits out of the way and dissipate them. You got to the center of their swarm and looked down. But instead of seeing an animal corpse or something of the likes, you saw something far more serious: a man.

The man seemed to be about your physical age, but you could tell almost right away from the aura he radiated that, like you, he was probably much older than he looked. His short dark hair was tousled and matted, no doubt from the spirits grabbing at it, and his clothes—what once seemed to be a pristine white shirt and jeans—were torn with claw marks and black with dirt. His shocking blue eyes stared up at the ceiling of the chasm, full of despair and hopelessness. He’d obviously started to lose hope that he’d ever escape the clutches of evil that held him tight.

You didn’t have much time to register who he was or what he was doing in Tartarus. You were just in shock that this man, this very alive man, had made it into your domain without you knowing. Your grip slackened and you stared down at him, surprise rising up in you with rage boiling up behind it as the only words you could manage to speak were, “Oh fuck.”

Next 2: He Becomes a Trespasser

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 17

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: hope you guys enjoy it xx

Next Chapter >>

Y/N was somehow divided between her mind and listening to what James was telling her. Part of her just couldn’t believe it. Her parents had worked their whole lives on explaining why the Greek pantheon existed, on why the Greeks would raise architectural architectures when those gods were mere mythical beings created so that the human conscience and idea of mortality could be satisfied. Turns out they existed, they really existed and she had not only slept with one of them but was now stuck in the land of the dead due to eating pomegranate like some modern day Persephone.

James had assured her that there was no Persephone, that he was not the first person to take on the Hades mantra but she was still stuck inside her head. Anne had given her the pomegranate, how had she gotten it? She had known Anne since they were teenagers, she would never harm her. 

      - Sweetness? - Bucky took her hand in his, his other hand coming to draw imaginary circles on her palm. He had a serene facade which hid a wave of emotions he was doing his best not to show to her, understanding her predicament was worse than his. - Where did you get the pomegranates? 

      - Anne gave them to me. - his face scrunched in confusion as she mentioned her friend’s name. Sure, he wasn’t very found of her due to how she would always somehow stare at him and her with a unreadable look. His interaction with her just after he left Y/N rushed back to him. - She said she was sorry before she left.

      - She was with you when you ate the fruit? 

      - Yeah, she was acting very weird. - Y/N shrugged not being entirely sure of what she remembered before everything went dark. She just remembered Anne being there and then leaving but everything else was shrouded in the mystery of her mind. James got up from his seat, offering her his hand to take to help her get up too. - Where are we going? 

     - I have to go, but I’ll leave you with the Lampades for the time being. - he walked with a fastened pace, almost as if pulling her through the Underworld. She found the Meadows bleak and almost terrifying with the constant cries and every so often souls grabbing her feet to try and keep her from coming, but James pull and aura were much stronger than the poor unfortunate souls of the meadows. All she saw was darkness with the glimpse of shimmer from the black rocks and stones that adorned the meadows until suddenly patches of grass started to show. She looked down at her bare feet touching the small piece of grass. 

Bucky took a golden coin from his pocket, climbing onto one of the boats that were standing by the river’s bay and offered it to a clothed figure, much too similar to the faceless figure from before. She clang onto James as the boat started to move, her eyes moving side to side observing the river. She wasn’t exactly sure what river it was as her dad had once told her the Underworld had five rivers, but the sounds of the damned soon perished and the light chirping of birds could be heard. The boat docked by a bigger patch of grass then before. She was certain Bucky had said something to the clothed figure but that went unnoticed as she took in where she was standing. The greenery was tall, reaching past her ankle and the skies were the clearest shade of blue she’d ever seen. The horizons were filled with beautiful green mountains and there were trees of various fruits along with various flowers blooming from the grounds. She was almost certain she was standing in the Elysium but chose not to ask as the King of Underworld kept on moving through the grass and in direction of a particular area where various ladies dressed in white gowns were tending to the plants. 

       - Wait here ... - he let go of her wrist, the faintest memory of his touch still lingering which made her hand reach the once touched spot. She stood there watching as he walked to a woman she had seen before. Hecate had always been one of Y/N’s favourites goddesses, mainly due to how, other than Persephone, she made sure the Underworld worked by tending to its sections and guiding the new souls. However, Hecate seemed to be not that found of her. The pair turned to face her and took to reach her, the goddess looking at the mortal woman as if she were the lowest of kin. - Y/N, Hecate will take care of you while I’m gone. 

      - Where are you going? - she wrapped her hands around his hand, stopping him from leaving so soon. 

      - I have some business to tend to, sweetness but you needn’t worry, Hecate will make sure you’re alright and safe until I return. - he kissed the top of her head, faint smile on his lips. - I won’t be long, besides, there’s not much to worry in the Elysium. 

    - Alright. - Y/N declared, unwillingly letting go of him to see him walk away. If time had allowed her, she probably would mourn it for a bit but the goddess of witchcraft had already put her hands on her shoulders, turning her to face the place where her maidens were tending to various plants.

    - If someone asks, you are one of my maidens and as such you’ll stay in the Elysium and tend to the Groves of Persephone. You are not to be intimate with the God of the Underworld as not to entice any gossiping and unless told otherwise you will listen to me and my maidens. Are we in agreement? - Hecate always carried an air of dominance that contrasted with James’ cool demeanour. His command seemed to be an unspoken rule and people just did his deeds, Hecate’s, on the other hand, came from the will of what looked like both fear and attraction. People seemed to want to be in her good graces. 

She gestured towards one of the ladies taking care of a rose bush. The maiden immediately got in her feet and rushed over to them. Y/N took in her appearance, she looked exactly like the beautiful water coloured paintings of nymphs following various hunters with her light ginger hair pulled with threads of gold and light green dress. 

       - Minthe, this is Y/N. She’s a new arrival and I’m assuming you can put her in the proper garments. - she clearly meant the now blemished satin white dress Y/N was wearing. The nymph nodded and instructed Y/N to follow her into one of the white marbled buildings scattered around the grounds. 

      - So, you and the King looked rather comfortable with one another. - the nymph mentioned, a twist of malicious curiosity in her voice as she grabbed a jug of water to fill in one of the baths. - He doesn’t tend to pay favour to the maidens. Are you a minor goddess, a demigoddess maybe?

      - Not really. 

      - That’s good. Zeus has been trying to marry him off for the longest time and, well, the Queen of the Underworld has to have some value in the pantheon. 

      - You needn’t worry. - Y/N pushed a strain of her hair behind her ear, climbing into the bath trying to clear her worries.

Meanwhile, James and Thanatos had gone back to the mortal realm. He knew where Anne lived, he had figured that out from Y/N when she used to talk about how her friend would use the fire escape to come into her flat. He wasn’t entirely sure if he would doom her to the underworld, knowing how Y/N would react to that but he was mad. Thanatos was the only God allowed to enter someone’s home without permission which he why he managed to break into Anne’s flat finding her in the coach. 

She turned her head to look at the two gods, the most serene look in her face as if nothing had occurred.

      - You’re late. - she said, placing her cup of coffee on the coffee table. - You would think the God of the Underworld wouldn’t be so dense. 

      - You’re an oracle. - Thanatos interjected. 

      - An oracle? - James looked at her with confusion in his eyes. Why would an oracle be amongst mortals, besides, why would she do that to Y/N? - You stole the pomegranate didn’t you?

      - I don’t do that sort of dirty work.

      - Did you or did you not feed it to Y/N? - he was starting to lose his patient with the girl and the unmoving smirk on her lips. 

      - My job is to make sure my prophecies happen. It has nothing to do with Y/N, it’s just how things are designed.

      - You don’t wanna mess with me. - he almost growled at her, his eyes alone darkening in such fashion that even Zeus would cower before him. 

      - Now, would Y/N really enjoy if you asked for my death? 

      - Stay away from Y/N. 

      - Maybe you should stay away from her.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee​​​​​  @keithseabrook27​​​​ @inlovewith3​​​​19

[drcrushers]

so this was meant to be the next installment of the ‘wait for me’ series, but i never finished it and it’s honestly still a rough draft. it was a plot point i didn’t end up using but i also might in the future in a different setting. so enjoy this little nugget!

"I don't like it."

Persephone glanced at the reflection of her husband as she looped one of the studded gems into her earlobe. Simple diamonds - well, simple compared to the variety of gemstones and beautiful colors offered by the unlimited stock in the mines. Simple was better for that particular evening - an evening that already had her stomach turning into knots. 

"I know." She said quietly, admiring herself before she twisted in the chair to her vanity so she could see her husband properly. Hades was leaned against one of the bedposts, arms crossed with a darker than normal expression. "I don't like it either, but it's better this way."

"Don't see how." He scowled, brows knitting together in the center of his forehead. Persephone stood and crossed to him, taking his face between her hands. Her mighty man, who’d been doom and gloom all afternoon, didn’t pull away. Just gave a huffy little rumble deep in his chest.

"Because you need to be here." She said slowly. "Because if you go up that mountain you'll cause a war with one wrong expression. You ain't as subtle as you think, husband." She fiddled with his rolled up sleeves, fingers tracing the arm bands woven with the fine silver thread. He gave a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. 

"And you won't? You got a temper to rival your momma's." Hades replied after a moment. She tugged hard on the armband and let the elastic snap against his bicep in warning. He caught her hand in his, bringing her knuckles to his lips fondly and the expression on his face softened briefly. "I worry."

"I know. Were it for any other reason, I wouldn't go at all. Don't trust 'em. And after this - well, they'll be lucky if we don't turn them away at the gates now." Persephone glanced over to the bedsheets, where she'd tossed the letter sealed with the damn lightning bolt seal and her name and Hades' written in her daddy's own hand. "But I gotta face my music. And you know I ain't goin' unarmed. He wants to play hardball, he'll find out how much better I play. Especially given the circumstances."

"It ain't his business." Hades snarled. And he was right, Persephone knew. The underworld and it's inhabitants were not his realm. Nor any of the others. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last that the king of the gods stuck his nose where it didn't belong. To demand their appearance to answer about the songbird and Persephone's choice of temporary successor - well, things were working out just fine. Granted it had only been a few months since, but she hadn't heard bad things (except from her momma, who had already ripped her a new one - but then Persephone had used Melinoe as a bargaining chip and had immediately won that argument). 

"No. Ain't his business. But you know him - can't stand it if somethin' happens under his nose and he didn't condone it."

"He touches you at all and -"

"Hades." She warned gently. "Thanatos is comin' up with me. Momma will be there too, and she'd rip Zeus in half if he even thought of it and send you the remains in a box of ashes. Hera will deal directly to me." She leaned up to kiss the frown from his lips. "Now tell me I'm pretty."

"You're stunning, as always." He murmured, and reached up to brush an errant curl from her face. "Haven't seen you like this in a while."

She'd donned a black dress not unlike her usual underworld wardrobe, but this dress was laced with silver accents that gleamed like the diamonds Hades was so fond of comparing her to. Nothing terribly fancy, but enough to make a statement - which was half the battle up on the mountain. They all lived in damned black tie wardrobes most of the time and while Persephone was not to be outdone, she was sure as hell not gonna follow their rules. 

"I'm queen of the underworld. Gotta look the part." She smiled. "Just need my crown."

With a flick, a wreath of silver and gemstones appeared in Hades' hand. Old as their marriage, that crown. She hadn't worn it since they stopped doing official trials and having audiences and the factories had started rising up. Hades had made it for her within the first week of their marriage, a crown of silver leaves and asphodels immortalized in delicate gemstones. He nestled it atop her head in a soft gesture, sealing it with a kiss to her forehead. 

"You be careful up there." He whispered and she nodded. 

"And you take care of our girl." Persephone smiled softly, which was accompanied by the soft noise of their daughter in her bassinet by the bed - neurotic as they both were, they had yet to move her to her own nursery. Persephone turned to gather Melinoe into her arms, pressing a kiss to her nose. "Was wonderin' if you were gonna wake up to tell momma bye, chickadee." 

Melinoe blinked, and lurched forward to try and grab at the shining gems that decorated her mother. Persephone chuckled and caught a flailing hand in her own, pretending to nibble on it to the delightful squeals of laughter of her little one. Her whole world, her girl and her man. Melinoe wasn't even close to her first birthday and already she had the look of her daddy, those dark eyes all brightened with curious energy. Their winter's child. A miracle, if Persephone believed in such. 

"He'll be expecting you to bring her." Hades crossed the space between them, reaching out instinctively to catch Melinoe's other hand. “He wasn’t subtle in the invitation. As if he had the right."

"Which is why I ain't. He's expectin' you, too. But I'll handle it. One of us needs to stay with our little sprout. I'll see to our girl up top."

With a kiss to her daughter's forehead and a parting kiss from her husband, Persephone headed off for the train. The underworld was quiet and while she smiled at the shades she passed, there was a tension in her expression and her stance building the closer she got to the platform. She hadn't been up top in a while now with the new arrangement; she had imagined this trip would have been introducing Melinoe to real sunlight for the first time. Not going up the damned mountain on her daddy's whim because he was feeling bitter that she'd circumvented his original contract. Not to mention it was the first time spending any length of time away from Melinoe, which didn't sit right in her gut either. But her little girl had Hades, and would be safe in the underworld. Untouchable. One of the good things about the shadowed realm - the other gods couldn't cross the boundaries without permission, not even Zeus himself. If anything happened to her up on Olympus, Hades and Melinoe would be safe.

The train was waiting when she arrived, and so was Thanatos. Persephone was perfectly fine going up the mountain on her own, but Hades had insisted and she wasn’t about to argue. If things went sideways - well, it would be useful to have someone else on her side. Quite frankly Persephone didn’t trust her momma to pick her side over Zeus’. Much as she hated the king of the gods, Demeter could be easily swayed into doing what was best for Persephone - or what she thought was best. Especially since Demeter was unaware of why Persephone had refused for so long to go up the mountain, why Hades had forbade it. That was about to be out in the open, too.

The great machine let out a hissing billow of steam as she hopped up onto the platform. Thanatos tilted his head, eying her sharply with those endless black eyes. Her lips quirked and she gave a mock curtsy. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He murmured in a voice nearly low as Hades’, and offered out a hand to help her onto the train. Persephone snorted, but took his hand and stepped onto the train for the first time in a real long while. 

It felt strange, really. Somewhat empty. Granted she’d done plenty of runs up top without Hades, and plenty back down. The train had just been a mode of transport, nothing more or nothing less, taking her from one prison to another while she wore gilded handcuffs and drank herself half blind. The bar was still there, untouched, and Persephone briefly considered making herself something to get a bit of liquid courage to deal with her relatives. Deciding against it, she flopped unceremoniously into one of the seats and tried to lose herself in the gentle thrumming of the train beneath her feet. It lurched, and began the slow pull away from the station. 

Persephone tried not to consider worst case situations. Quite frankly she hadn’t considered consequences to her and Eurydice’s little switch - not that there was any. Not important ones. The only thing lost seemed to be her daddy’s ego, which was nothing unusual. Only annoying as hell, and the fact that he had put thinly veiled threats to her in the invitation made her all the more angry. She only worried - Eurydice now spent half the year up top, which was very much fair ground for Zeus or any of his demi-god bastards he usually got to do his bidding. Which meant she was vulnerable. She had faith that Eurydice could hold her own with the share of ancient magic Persephone had gifted her, but the idea all the same made her stomach sour more than what it had. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to swallow the bile in the back of her throat.

Maybe she should have let Hades come. Or made him go without her. But no - she’d caused the mess. Made her bed. Now she had to lie in it. Hades didn’t need to take the blame; didn’t need to be made out to more of the villain all of Olympus seemed to think he was. 

She knew when they passed from the underworld to the mortal realm, a chill running up her spine and causing the hair on her arms to stand on end. She looked away from the slowly brightening landscape beyond the window to Thanatos, but he had leaned back on another bench and drawn a hat over his face; for all appearances, he seemed asleep. She knew better of course, but didn’t bother in disturbing him. 

The train began to slow as they approached the platform she had gotten on and off at since the beginning of time. She watched it come into view, the train coming to a full stop just a few moments to allow other passengers to board. It felt strange not to be getting off. They'd barely stopped before they were off again, and the door to her private compartment opened. Persephone smiled. 

"Hey there, songbird." Persephone greeted as Eurydice stepped through, wearing her usual garments - except the red bandana at her neck. Eurydice hugged her fiercely and Persephone could smell the sunshine that radiated from her, like an inner light. It suited her; seeing the smile and the color in her face was even more of a delight. Songbirds were far better alive than dead.

"Its good to see you." She murmured. "You holding up alright?"

"Alright as ever." Persephone promised. "Though I should be askin' you."

"More than. Demeter's helped and I think I'm doing okay. I mean - everyone is happy. No one is hungry. The harvests look good - great even." Persephone noted the brightness in her face did not fade. "I'm happy."

"Good. As long as you're happy, I am too. Poet alright?"

"He is. Sends his love. Already writing a new song."

Hopefully Orpheus would still hold up, when Eurydice came back down below for those required six months. But knowing she was coming back - that was the aid. Eurydice would always come home to him. Doubt would and could not cloud Orpheus as it had Hades. Not after everything. 

Bickering tore Persephone's attention from Eurydice to the two others that had boarded and were now coming into the private car with quiet words hissing between them like two angry snakes. 

"What in hell are you two on about now?" Persephone asked. Demeter and Hermes both looked up, Hermes sweeping forward first with a bright grin. 

"Never you mind, sister. A'ight?"

"A'ight." Persephone echoed, and moved to embrace Demeter. "Hello, momma."

"Hey, girl." Demeter smoothed a few flyaways from Persephone's unruly curls, and took her face in both her hands. "Missed you."

"Missed you. Wish we were meetin' under better circumstances."

"Never you mind. Your daddy is a bag of hot gas and nothin' more. I'm on your side, and your girl's here. Much as I hated it - she's good. And you got the little one. She ain't here, is she?"

"No. I figured she's safer back below, with Hades. Just in case." Persephone murmured. "Just in case."

From there, quiet conversation filled the car. Persephone listened as Eurydice and Demeter filled her in in the things up top, and Hermes toured on about the things even further up top. No one made mention of where and why they were going, but she could feel the tension grow thicker than molasses the closer they got to the mountain. Goosebumps pimpled across her arms as they passed another barrier into the true realm of the gods. She swallowed back the bile in her throat and stared out the window.

Worst case, she'd end up dead. Hypothetically. Or stripped of her abilities. Memories erased. There were too many possibilities. Eurydice could be hurt, too. Or Orpheus. Persephone had inadvertently dragged quite a few people into her mess - but they had come willingly. And they were there as a figurative army at her back as the train once more began to slow. 

The platform at Olympus was only a part of a great train station. One gilded in gold and paintings and statues from the classical era, when the mortals had gotten how the gods had looked all wrong. Curiously, she watched Eurydice take it all in with a slightly awed expression as they disembarked. Scenes from long ago eras were portrayed in murals, paintings, and frescoes that hadn't aged a day. 

The marble statues were hidden in little alcoves along the walls between the artwork - beautiful but not at all accurate. Hades had a massive beard in his, her mother was carved far older than she should have been. Persephone had one as well, but they'd given her so much youth. Artemis looked fierce and Athena and Ares both wore matching expressions in theirs. Eurydice paused at some of them as they threaded through the grand hall of the station. Tunnels that were not labeled branched off, leading to what she knew were other platforms that led to either other realms, or other places on the mountain of Olympus. It felt strange to Persephone - there was usually at least a few demigods or muses roaming about the station to head here or there. 

Now it was empty. Nary a soul. 

"I'd give you a grand tour if I could." Hermes was saying to Eurydice, his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward a wall that instead of a tunnel, held a gleaming golden elevator. The doors opened at their approach with no prompting - Eurydice balked. 

"Tacky as hell. Used to be this was just one lush field." Persephone muttered. "Olympus used to be more green than gold. Heph's done nice work on the tile inlays, though."

Demeter snorted as they stepped into the elevator. There was no panel of buttons - the elevator doors closed once they were all piled in. Thanatos looked almost out of place, his dark aura contrasted sharply against the gold interior that reflected everything right back. Persephone studied her tinted reflection, her own dark clothes and gleaming silver crown a direct disobeyment of everything Olympus was. Demeter had not dressed up, and neither had Eurydice - good. The bitter part of her hoped it offended at least some of them. 

The elevator climbed with no noise, rising higher in a way that made Persephone's stomach swoop uncomfortably. No. Melinoe did not belong up there in such a gilded cage. A gilded hell. 

"Should we have a game plan?" Eurydice asked after a moment. Persephone reached out to grasp her hand and squeeze it. 

"Game plan is on me, chickadee." She murmured. "Whatever happens, go along as you can. If things go south, Thanatos is tasked with gettin' you right on outta here."

"And you." Thanatos rumbled lowly, which she ignored. Eurydice frowned. 

"South?"

"Gods have tempers and they get all riled up. If they do, it'd be too dangerous. You got half my magic girl, but it wouldn't be enough to keep you safe against the whole panthenon."

Eurydice opened her mouth to likely protest, but the elevator stopped quite suddenly without even a hint of warning. The doors slid open and cool air swept into the container as they stepped off. A set of double doors greeted them in a grand, gilded lobby with more stupid art - place looked more museum than anything. Displays of wealth and power that Persephone curled her nose at. The great set of wooden doors was ancient as time itself, carved with a tree of a myriad of branches. Beautiful and worn, Persephone recalled the one time she had seen it before it had looked the very same. She'd traced the inches of it with lithe fingers while Hades had held tight to her hand, the pair of them about to face her momma and Zeus in regards to their hasty marriage and Demeter's fit of ire. 

Now, she took hold of Eurydice's hand and squeezed it tightly. If Eurydice was afraid, she certainly didn't show it. With no further hesitation, she shoved open the heavy doors and stepped through.

The room itself had not changed largely since her last visit to Olympus. In mortal terms it was akin to a ballroom, but the ceiling didn’t exist; instead, it was open to the cosmos above in a beautiful array of stars - for now. As she recalled, it had a tendency to change with her daddy’s moods. On a raised half dias around the room there were gilded thrones, identical in color but carved with unique inlays to their owners. For all the modernity that the gods had, Zeus had kept the core foundations of the mountain the same. The room could be anything it wanted - a lounge, an intimate club, whatever they wanted. Clearly it was a power move being pulled; make her feel like an outsider. Nothing new.

Arranged on the thrones were, as expected, the pantheon. Her daddy in the center, perched like the king he thought he was. Hera was to his left, her face an impressive neutral mask - Persephone’s nails dug into her palms at the sight of the so called queen of the gods, and didn’t relax even as Demeter took hold of her free hand. Poseidon, Artemis, Apollo, Ares, and Athena fanned out on either side of Zeus and Hera, with Aphrodite and Hephesatus rounding things out. Three of the tacky chairs were empty - Demeter and Hermes both moved from her side then to take up two of the empty chairs. The remaining one belonged to Hades - and thus, as his wife, it also belonged to her. 

But Persephone did not sit. She stood with Eurydice, the pair of them alone in the center of the room. 

“Full regalia for this really necessary?” Persephone remarked to the otherwise silent room. “Figured we’d settle this in your back office and be done with it.”

“Your actions deserve full council.” Hera drawled, painted lips drawing into a sharp, deadly smile. “I should think you’d be happy to have a fair trial.”

“Trial?” Persephone arched a brow. “Nothin’ in that damn note of yours said trial. I’m here to say my piece, that’s all. Ain’t a reason for a trial. I’ve done nothin’ wrong. And before you open your mouth again will some utter bullshit, point me to whatever trumped up rule book you’ve invented tellin’ me I’ve done wrong by the universe.”

“Persephone.” Zeus’ voice rumbled in a way not unlike Hades’. He was older than she remembered, grayer at the temples. Nearly fully white as Hades, but not quite. Whereas her husband took after his mother, Zeus and Poseidon took after their daddy in a way that made her stomach twist itself back into knots. “You’re here as a guest. Not on trial. But you understand we naturally have . . . questions about your decision to give this human -”

“I have a name.”

Zeus’ gaze slid cooly over to Eurydice, who had spoken quite sharply. 

“A name. My name is Eurydice. And Lady Persephone saved my life.”

“No, she didn’t.” It was Hera who spoke again. Gods, Persephone wanted to rip her perfect fucking face off. “She broke the law of the underworld and returned a soul to the living without permission. Souls are not permitted to return to the aboveground in the way you have, mortal.”

“Last I checked my husband was in charge of the law of the underworld, not you.” Persephone remarked. “And he ain’t got a problem with it.”

“I can’t help but notice Hades isn’t here.” Poseidon added. “Will he be joining us at all?”

“No. He willingly remained behind to see to the realm. That a problem?”

“You mean to babysit?” Hera mused. Persephone’s vision went vaguely red.

“Forgive me, I didn’t want to expose our daughter to the bullshit on this mountain at such an early age. She’s fine, by the way. Thanks for askin’.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not like I asked for this!” Eurydice added. “I want it, more than anything. I love what Lady Persephone has given me. And - the promise of the contract is still there. I only bring the spring for six months. Then I spend winters down below. It’s the same thing as her, isn’t it? I just . . . took over her contract.”

Bold, Persephone thought. She’d expect nothing less from Eurydice and that fire burning in her. Hera looked positively livid that Eurydice had spoken without being spoken to - again - but to Persephone’s relief, Zeus looked at least amused. A decent sign. 

“Hades has given his permission.” Persephone repeated, then glanced to her momma. “And so has Demeter.”

“I have.” Demeter added. “As a firm believer in a child havin’ both her parents, I granted the contract amendment.” She gave a long side-eye to Zeus, who pretended clearly not to notice. 

“If both parties agreed, I see no true issue.” Athena’s voice was clearly flat; one of the many who seemed bored by the whole ordeal. Who thought it was a waste of time. 

“I did not give my permission.” Zeus said evenly. 

“Hades was the holder of the contract, with respect.” Hermes drawled. 

“And if you look at that contract close enough, it never mentions me by name.” Persephone pointed out. 

“It says Kore - “

“Which ain’t my name.” She cut across her father. Her hair was standing on end again - like the way it did just before a real bad thunderstorm. When lightning was in the air. Shit. “My name, as granted and given by you, is Persephone. Other than that, the contract states the seasons gotta be brought. And far as I can tell, Eurydice’s doin’ a damn fine job of it. Haven’t heard a single complaint.”

“She’s right. I looked over it myself.” Hermes spoke again. “She technically ain’t broke a single thing in that contract. And Eurydice’s doin’ a fine job as it is.”

“I did what I did for the sake of my marriage, and my daughter. I ain’t gonna abandon my girl. Eurydice and Orpheus helped repair damage done. If it weren’t for them, pretty sure you wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation. Instead you’d have mortal riots on your hands cause they’re all starvin’.” Persephone flexed her fingers, but they returned to the balled up fists at her side. It was difficult, trying to keep her temper under some normal range. The entire situation was foolish, the council a joke. Just because everyone else in the room seemed to be a shit parent, didn’t mean Persephone would ever be. 

“Are we going to really discuss the logistics of this?” Hera snapped. “She broke the laws. You cannot just decide to name someone a god because you felt sorry for them. Otherwise half the mortal realm would be gods by now!”

“As opposed to the bastard demi-gods runnin’ about?” Persephone snarled. “Not much difference. I had every right. It’s my power, and mine to do with what I damned well please.”

“Then clearly you need stripped of them because you don’t know how to handle them.”

“Like you stripped me of my children?” 

There was a quiet, tense silence that settled. Persephone was staring at Hera with every ounce of fury in her, watching as the queen of the gods seemed to internally debate how best to handle the situation presented. Perfect.

“You’ve gone delusional as well. I’ve done nothing to your child.”

“Ain’t for lack of tryin’.” Persephone continued. Without breaking her glare to Hera she fished in the front of her dress and pulled out a small, folded few notes that had certainly yellowed with age. She brandished them with a flourish. “And you did. Try. Succeeded before, too. I always thought it funny why my babies never survived in my womb. I’m the goddess of fucking life. Except where it mattered - or so I thought.” She stepped forward toward Hera’s throne, and no one made an immediate move to stop her. 

“And then I found the letters. Half a dozen. Written to lackeys in your hand. Dates line up real nice and neat. Every little life crushed before it could even thrive because the goddess of childbirth and fertility deemed it so.”

She had grown closer to Hera, enough to throw the letters at her feet. Hera had the decency to look slightly appalled. 

“You murdered my children. I ain’t got proof of it yet, but I’m pretty sure you nearly cost me my marriage, too. And for what?” Persephone could feel the anger radiating from her in waves; if anything remotely green and living within her vicinity had existed, it would surely be brown and ashen by now. Dead. “You’re a monster. And you’re lucky I don’t make you eat the ground beneath me and grind your face into the mountain from here to the bottom.”

Her gaze went sharply to Zeus, who was watching with a mixed expression. 

“Deny Eurydice, reverse my choice. Strip me of my powers. And I’ll consider these letters as a threat of war. Hades agrees. You came for us, our family, our realm. Whether you were in on it or not.” Persephone’s teeth grit together as she glared at her father. “Go against this - or even think of laying harm to her or Orpheus or anyone else I love, and consider the underworld borders closed. No one in or out. Mortals will riot as their loved ones rot and their souls wander your realm. And they’ll go from worshipping you to cursing your temples near and far.” 

Her smile was dark, wicked, an expression learned from her husband. 

“And in case you decide it’s worth the cost - just remember. Hades and I are the only protection you have from the monsters in Tartarus. I can’t promise one or two might not somehow get out should there be any sort of war. So by all means. Try. Us.”

[acequeenking]

Hadestober #6

6) Livin' it Up on Top - Hermes takes his sister back up, but her behavior worries him. (T; mention of Seph’s canon alcoholism.)

Of all his sisters, Persephone has always been his favorite. Always thick of thieves, the two of them, which seems only appropriate, given that thieves fall under Hermes' jurisdiction. Always had been, even as kids; if he dared her to do something, she would do it. If he challenged her to a race, she would run it. Thumb her nose at dad? 'Course she would. The other kids in their generation made excuses -- Persephone just set to beating whatever challenge was put in front of her. Made them quick friends, once upon a time.

Hermes used to joke that she and him  were the only ones who got a drop of daddy's wanderer blood; truthfully, they were just the two who had the most to prove, being the only two living in the mortal realm. Either way, they looked out for one another: Persephone never saw a bit of Hermes' tricks, least so far as any parental unit who might punish him for such was concerned; Hermes certainly never saw her off to the underworld for a midnight rendezvous with the biggest conquest. They've both settled down now, but Persephone, well, let's just say he still escorts her to and fro. 

Her little dalliance Hades may have been what turned her mamma's hair grey, but if she had known even half of what Persephone and her half-brother had gotten into in their travels together -- well, let's just say Miss Demeter's hair would be white if she had any left at all.

Which is, in short, to say: Hermes knows Persephone well. Knows just about everything a brother can know. So it's obvious, to him, when she ain't feeling too good. Not, he thinks, when she's mainlining three rum and cokes before the train even finishes it's first chugga up to the surface.  Barely said a word to her dearest brother before she's deep into the bar: another sign she isn't feeling too good.

"Slow down, green thang," he says, watching her slam back drinks. "Got a whole summer to drink your fill."

"Doubt it. He was early last time," she says. "And the time before that."

Hermes frowns; that much is true enough. Been a few days earlier and earlier every year. But Persephone had greeted him with a smile each time, and he'd let them go down with the last few days of summers still hidden in her bag, because he'd thought his sister would be a bit happier with her man. Hermes hasn't been married, himself; that life was never for him, but his sister, well, wasn't a secret she loved her man, and that her man loved her.

"He'll be early again, too." She smiles sadly, adds a little ice to her drink. Probably because Hadestown has been hotter than hell lately, because he certainly can't imagine she wants to slow down her drinking. "Be early a bit more every time. Give'em a few more years and he'll be picking me up in June." 

"He ain't gonna press it that far," Hermes says; Hades is unlikely to do anything that might ruptures the world order quite so badly. Always a balance between them, even if he tips the scale a bit. Hermes, being the god of rogues, cannot quite blame the man for trying to tip the scales a bit. Lots of times you can tip the scales without it quite being considered cheating.

"He will." She doesn't say anything more, and when he tries to offer her a bit of comfort in his words, she holds her hand up.

"Don't want to argue," she says, and there's an edge to sister-girl's voice, one he hasn't heard before. "Just pour another."

And so he does.

---

By the time they get up top, Persephone's had more than a few. Which...isn't so unusual; his sister has always been prone to her drink. She was never one for moderation, not in her drink and certainly not in her love life. He's sure that it must be hard for her,  coming home, as she does, every year, to a world that relies on her more and more and more, as the human population grows and grows, and leaving a man who resents her absence more and more. An inevitable position, the one his sister has found herself in.

"HEY!" She shouts as they step off his train. She's stumbling a bit, and Hermes puts his arm protectively around her shoulders. "Let's find a party, Hermes, bound to be one somewhere!"  Her volume is far too loud - alcohol working its charms, for sure.

"Why don't we go see see your mama?" He suggests  instead. Demeter has never been one to turn down a visit, regardless of her daughter's sobriety, though it's been quite some time since she's been so soused. Probably have words to say, but odds are Demeter will say them to him, and not to Persephone, and he's willing to take that lecture. 

"Do I look like I wanna be with my momma?" Persephone spits back. "I have been in hell for six months, brother, six months!" She grabs his hand with both her hands, the look in her eyes pleading. "I have been six months at his beck and call, and I ain't going straight to six months of being at hers. C'mon." She bumps his hips with hers. "I know you know how to dance, Hermes."

And Hermes is, indeed, a fabulous dancer. Doesn't mind tooting his own horn when it comes to the smoothness of his footwork. It wouldn't be the first time they'd gone dancing together, and Hermes knows damn well he's one of the few people who could dance with Persephone without her husband showing up in a jealous huff. He and Hades have worked together long enough that the man surely knows that for all he and Persephone have gotten along, they've never quite been tempted to turn their dancing horizontal. Neither of them has ever quite leaned in such a way.

"Please," she says, soft, and that sets all his alarm bells ringing, for Persephone has never been one to beg for anything. "I just gotta let off some steam." 

"Alright, alright," he says, giving in.  She laughs too loud, claps her hands in a childlike burst of drunken joy. "Alright," he says, alarm bells ringing in his head in seventy different percussive beats, all at once. But that said: it is unusual, but not entirely unexpected that she might want to blow off steam. Maybe it's been a rougher six months than it had looked. He'd talk to her about it, once she got some of that energy out.

He tilted his ear, listened for the best environment - ah. Found it. "Come on, sister girl," he said, strolling down to a bar where the booze seemed to be sweet on tap, and the jazz was, as was always his sisters penchant, lighter than air and darker than sin in its sound. "Good cabaret down the corner."

"Yes!" She pumps her arm in victory, and it reminds him of her younger self so much that his heart aches. He realizes, in that smile, just how rarely he's seen it, dropping off letters for the underworld's mister and missus, for the last couple of years. He swallows. Maybe this conversation is a bit overdue. But she's seemed to manage every other year so much better. Always got at least a smile out of her on the train, and a couple mimosas weren't anywhere near this six-whiskey-shots-and-still-going binge.

But he doesn't say anything. Just leads her to the club, where she disappears onto the dance floor. He joins her there for a time, but his bones - ah, they're old things now. Doesn't take long for him to slow down. The same can't be said of green young thang, however; she's still got energy for days in those legs. Makes sense, given how little she's been up top. Maybe Mr. Hades hasn't taken her dancing enough down there. Certainly seemed like he's been more than a little busy with his factories. Hermes tries to think of the last time he came in to them spending time together, and finds he cannot remember when it was.

"Save me a seat at the bar, handsome," his sister purrs, reading the furrow on his brow all too clearly.

"Let's talk when you tire out, sister." He gives her a look, and for a brief moment her composure breaks: the chin wobbles, the eyes look soft and wet for -- just a moment. And if he were not so good a friend, he doubts he would have seen such. He taps his eyes, and points toward her, turning the moment into a joke. The mood breaks, and she laughs and hits his hand in a friendly fashion, and he smile as he goes back to the bar.

He chooses his seat according to what Persephone tends to favor, and waits and waits for the little shoot to make her way over.  Seem simple enough. He'll let her tire herself out, and speak about her troubles in a space too modern for her mother to frequent and too loud for her husband to snoop on them.  But it takes Persephone a long time.

For a moment, his heart beats in hope as she comes closer; she comes to the bar, orders a vodka and cranberry spritz. Drops it down her gullet in one smooth move and winks at him, hoping back into the crowd without a word. His eyes follow her.

He watches her move on the dance floor - never really interacting with another else, but dancing so hard that she's sweating, like she can exorcise demons even her husband can't get out by moving herself on the floor.

"Your friend?" The barman asks, watching Hermes watch Persephone. He sees the concern in his eyes; Hermes looks a lot older than green thang, even if she's not any less ancient.

"My baby sister," he says; when the barman looks skeptical, he turns up the charm. Always has been a charmer. "Same father. Different mothers, obviously."

Bar man whistles. "Your daddy sure was punching above his weight, to get a girl like that at such an age."

True enough, and Hermes honestly laughs. "You don't know the half of it, brother. Not the half. My daddy could charm the wimple off a nun."

The barman laughs with him, and Hermes shifts his attention to flirting with the bar man, still keeping one eye out for his sister. Persephone keeps dancing, only runs to the bar to get another drink, and then another.

He keeps waiting for the talk, but before he knows it, the bar is closing, and the bar man's number is in his pocket, and Persephone is still dancing, still drinking and dancing, and he is very, very worried about her.

"Closing time!" She shouts into his ear; he winces.

"Sure is, baby." He squeezes her hand.

"Let's find another cabaret!" That's the thing about the big cities; never do sleep. He could certainly find her one.

"What about our talk?" He asks. "Besides, got to get you to your second home." She scoffs, and he ignores the scoff. "Orpheus has to be wondering where I am. You don't want to make him worry." Persephone has always had a soft spot for his boy.

But today she wraps her arms around his neck and gives him her biggest, widest smile. "Just one more, please?"

He frowns. He doesn't like the idea of not talking about whatever bug has crawled under her skin, and he doubts more dancing is gonna shake it out for her. Still, they are gods, and they have six months to have conversations, and there are plenty of less-charged times to have them. If there is one thing Hermes has learned, it's that they have time.

So instead of insisting on talking to her about her old man, about her new pains, well, he smiles, and says, "I suppose one more won't hurt," and he holds her hand, and they go dancing.

[ddaenggtan]

from eden | myg + jhs

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

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clearly,” You spit.

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

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

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

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

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

Please.

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

This one sounds hopeful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who the hell are you?"

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

"Am I dead?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he can’t stay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean, he won’t help?”

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

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

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

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

“Which is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

Come out, little flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Found you, little flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 20

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3153

A/N: Welcome back to a new chapter of AASB! Again, sorry for taking so long with posting this, but shit happens. Am I shooting myself in the foot by posting this at noon on a Sunday? Potentially. Am I just so damn excited to release this that I can’t wait any longer? Absolutely. Feedback is always appreciated and, if you enjoyed, I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblog.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20: Word to the Wise

If you had thought the Underworld to be vast before, discovering there’s an entire cave system beneath Hell smashes your former mental blueprint to bits. At this point, nothing about the Underworld, or anything involving Michael, should surprise you, but it still manages to catch you off-guard. Michael grips your hand as you stumble down the uneven ground, eyes fixated on the crystals that seem to grow from the ceiling of the caves.

“Y’know, when you insinuated your friends weren’t Greek, I thought you were actually giving me a hint and we’d go somewhere exciting, like Norway,” you say before nearly tripping over a rock.

“And I thought you would know by now that I’m almost never going to tell you the truth when you ask me to reveal something.”

“A girl can only hope, Michael.” The cave seems as if it’s never-ending, and you strain your eyes to see in the semidarkness. “Who lives all the way down here, a hydra?”

“Yes, but not in this particular area.”

Your eyes widen. “Damn, I was joking, but that’s good to know.”

“How much do you know about the Moirai?” At the bemused look on your face, he elaborates. “The Fates?”

“They...control peoples’ fates?” you say slowly, knowing that Michael will be happy with any answer you give him, even if it’s the wrong one.

“They write out the strands of fate for everyone, mortal or god.”

“Well, guess that philosophical debate has now been solved.” Michael snickers quietly. “So, we’re going to see what they know about different ways to go about this whole immortality business?”

“I’m hoping that if I call in a couple of favors, the Fates will give us a small glimpse of your future. Just enough to know where we need to be going in order to find immortality.”

Michael stops you in front of what, at first, looks to be a dead end. You’re about to turn to him and ask where a wrong turn was made when you notice small cracks that form a square. 

“Secret door?” you can barely contain your excitement; out of all of the wild and fantastical things you’ve gotten to see and do since Michael whisked you down the Hellmouth, exploring secret doors was not one of them.

(Secret hallways, yes, but that was a disaster that you never want to relive)

“Yes, a secret door,” Michael smiles at you. “Would you like to do the honors?”

If Michael thought your wonder upon seeing the Underworld’s library was childlike, that hardly compares to the guileless surprise on your face now. 

“Seriously?” He nods, and you stifle a squeal that wouldn’t be very becoming of the future queen of this realm. 

Placing your hand on the rock, a simple push is all that it takes for the door to swing open as if it’s made of paper, revealing an entire warehouse inside of what you thought would be a small cavern. There’s shelves upon shelves of what looks to be rows of film, are stretching back for at least a mile. While it seems like an operation so large would be hectic, it’s actually quite calm. Some upbeat 80s pop music plays in the distance, and a small woman with dark skin and wild curls sits at a large desk in front of you. She’s hunched over an enlarger, forehead creased in concentration as she sifts through some film. It’s only when Michael clears his throat that she looks up, gasping in excitement.

“King Hades!” she greets, eyes flickering to you. “And you’ve brought your consort!” 

Michael begins to shake his head. “No, not yet, remem-” but the woman is in front of you in a flash, almost bouncing in excitement.

“We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, (Y/N),” she smiles widely at you.

“So long, in fact, we were beginning to worry that we were going to be wrong about something for the first time in history!” a voice chimes in from the back, the sweet soprano tone echoing through the shelves. Although you try not to laugh, Michael’s red cheeks ruin that gimmick for you.

“Clotho,” Michael calls, “always one to hide where I can’t see you when you decide to make one of your infamous comments.”

A younger girl with her curls done up in a bun, although still identical to the one gripping your hands, skips out from between the shelves of film. “Oh my, she’s even prettier than what was prophesied!” 

Now it’s your cheeks that heat up. “You flatter me, really.”

“(Y/N), these are two of the three Fates. Clotho,” he gestures to the teenage girl, “is assigned the present. Lachesis,” the one holding onto you, “works solely on the future. Where’s Atropos?”

“Hmm, she’s around here somewhere,” Clotho says, scanning the room for any sign of the missing Fate.

“Sister!” Lachesis calls out. “Sister, come say hello!”

“One moment!” A door opens off to the side of the shelves, and another girl, even younger than Clotho, beams at you. “Hello!”

“Atropos,” Michael greets the Fate, who looks to be only 10.

“So you control the past, then?” you ask, watching her curls bounce as she nods. It makes sense, then, why each girl is younger than her sister. Place the three chronologically and it’s three different stages of development: past, present, and future.

“What brings you to our domain today, Hades?” Lachesis asks.

“We were hoping you could help us with an answer we’re searching for.” Michael follows the three as they walk towards the desk, leaving you no choice but to follow with them.

“And what question are you looking to have answered?”

“You’re all probably aware that I can’t stay here for an extended period of time,” you take over the explanation.

Clotho nods. “Yes, although it was very impressive to watch you complete the Seven Wonders with so little formal training.”

“Then you know that we’re currently searching for a more permanent way for me to stay here?”

“Of course we know, we’re the ones that wrote out how this would go,” Clotho says haughtily, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be rude, sister,” Lachesis quips, “mortals don’t learn about us like they used to.” 

“Remind us, (Y/N), what methods have you already sought out?”

“Besides the Seven Wonders? Just the pomegranates that grow on the banks of the River Styx, but I worry that I’ll lose my humanity and my ability to go back Above if I eat a fruit that binds me to the Underworld.”

“You were right to be wary,” Atropos says. “We’ve seen far too many mortals eat the entire fruit, not being aware of the consequences.”

“Which are?”

“Being bound to the Underworld is a big one, but you also lose claim over your soul.”

You look at Michael with accusing eyes. “You knew, and yet you still offered that pomegranate to me!”

“I was hoping that it would affect you differently, being that you’re meant to be Queen of the Underworld,” Michael attempts to explain patiently.

“Great, so you were potentially risking my soul based solely on a hunch.”

“I figured that, if that were to occur, I could simply give your soul back to you. There’s not exactly an instruction manual for mortals coming into my kingdom and eating the fruit from one specific tree that would then keep them here.”

“Your theory doesn’t make me feel any better about possibly dying once again, Michael.” One of the Fates awkwardly clears her throat, and you can feel embarrassment welling in your stomach like a balloon. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have been fighting like that. Are...are there any other possible solutions besides the pomegranate?”

The three sisters look at each other, having a silent conversation that seems to stretch on for decades. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, we’d like to discuss this privately. There’s certain parts of a future that we cannot reveal, but we do want to help you,” Lachesis says apologetically. 

“Please, take as much time as you need,” Michael murmurs, waving off their apologies. The Fates disappear through the door the youngest sister came through minutes before, Michael’s eyes on you the moment the door shuts.

“I’m not mad at you, Michael,” you say quietly. 

“You should be. I was careless, and I got ahead of myself without thinking of the possible consequences. I put your life, your soul, at stake, simply because I was...I was…”

“You were being stupid is what you were doing.”

Michael nods. “Yes, because I was being stupid. Very stupid, in fact. I’m not used to mortals, my darling, but that is no excuse. I need to learn, especially if we are to be together and you are to retain your humanity. I apologize for my actions in tempting you to eat that fruit, without knowing of the possible effects.”

“I told you that I wasn’t mad at you. I’m just frustrated; you need to learn that we are a couple, and that there are two of us involved in whatever decisions you may make from here on out. I love you, Michael, but my life is much more fragile than yours. I don’t want to take a risk and die and lose you forever.”

“Am I forgiven, then?” Michael’s blue eyes are wide as he pleads with you to not hate him.

“Of course you’re forgiven.” Michael grips your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gratefully. “But don’t do something like this again, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Michael smirks at your unintentional pun, but nods. “Never, love.”

The door opens at that moment, and you and Michael both step apart to resume your previous positions, albeit this time holding hands. Although the eldest is able to conceal her feelings well, her younger sisters prove to not be as well-versed in this skill.

“We have reached an agreement,” Lachesis says, while at the same time Clotho gleefully notices that “you two have made up, then?”

“As if you weren’t aware that this would happen?” You quirk an eyebrow towards the sisters, although you couldn’t be mad at the smiles on their round faces.

“Sometimes there needs to be a bit of conflict in order for couples to become stronger,” Clotho proclaims cryptically. You can’t possibly question the motives of the people who dictate how your life will go, so you simply nod.

“As to the issue of alternate possibilities for immortality?” Michael asks.

“All we can advise you is to ask Hera about golden apples.”

“Golden apples?” You’re visibly confused, and Michael looks to be as well.

“Surely there is something else you can tell us about what else we can do?” Michael prods.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s not.”

“In that case, I thank you for your wisdom and advice with this matter.” The three Fates bow their heads gracefully as Michael leads you out of the cavern, knowing there’s nothing else that they can say.

“What was that even supposed to mean?” you ask incredulously after the door is closed once more and the wall goes back to looking solid. “Ask your sister about golden apples? Are they tripping on acid or something?”

“I can assure you that they are not partaking in any sort of drug usage. The rules on what they can and cannot divulge, however, are extremely strict.”

“Sort of like Back to the Future, then.” Michael looks confused. “It’s a movie, basically he goes to the past and, when he arrives back to the future, everything’s screwed up because of his actions in the past.”

“Yes, then the rules are the same as that in your movie. We must work with what we have, although I’ve never heard anything about Violet and golden apples.”

You shrug. “Let’s go ask her, then! Where does she live? Olympus?”

“No, actually. She prefers to live like a mortal in Oregon.”

“Sounds like Violet.”

Michael smiles. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Can we come and go as we please, now that Satan’s trapped in Cocytus?” Michael’s eyes twinkle with excitement, and he pulls you towards him.

“Show me the Above, beloved.”

Michael transmutes you Above, since you have no clue where in Oregon you’re supposed to be going. You’re in an alleyway, the gray overcast sky lightly sprinkling rain on you. At first, you’re not sure why you’re secluded, but then you look down and realize that you’re both still in the fine dress of the Underworld. With barely a passing thought, you change your outfit to a cozy pink sweater and a pair of light wash jeans, toes flexing comfortably in a pair of sneakers. Michael’s still dressed in all black, and looks as if he came out of a business meeting, but it’s enough of a change that nobody will cast a second glance at his attire. 

“You look cute,” Michael says with a small smile, “this style of clothing suits you.”

“Cute enough for you to relax your rules about me only wearing dresses made Below?”

Michael doesn’t say anything as he begins to walk out of the alley with you, but the glance he gives you is confirmation enough that jeans and t-shirts are in your future. Walking through the glass doors into an apartment building, you shoot a smile and a wave at the security guard, who waves back. 

“What was that?” Michael mutters, waiting as you press the button for the elevator.

“Basic human decency.”

“Ha,” Michael laughs dryly, standing awkwardly in the elevator as you look at him expectantly. “What?”

“Which floor does your sister live on?”

“Oh, yes.” He jabs at the button to the top floor, which is not at all surprising.

“Should we have called ahead? I feel a little rude just showing up unexpected.”

“Knowing Violet, she’ll be on the other side of the doors when they--” the elevator dings and the doors open, proving Michael right when you’re both faced with Violet’s sweet smile.

“What a surprise!” She nearly dislocates your shoulder as she pulls you into a hug, trying to get out a muffled greeting with her hair in your face.

“Violet, you’re going to smother her,” Michael chuckles, pulling his sister away from you so that he can hug her as well. She gives him a one-armed hug, her other hand holding her large-brimmed hat to her head. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Nonsense, it’s never a bad time for either of you to show up. Come,” she begins to walk down the hall, swinging open the door to a large, airy apartment.

The floor-length windows allow muted sunshine to fill the apartment, helping to grow the variety of plants that sit on tables and the floor. Music plays softly from a record player, and you can smell some sort of citrus wafting from the kitchen. A meow has you looking down at the ground, and you grin when a black cat with green eyes comes to rub up against your legs.

“Forgive Morrissey, he loves guests.”

You crouch down to pet the friendly animal between the ears. “I didn’t peg you as a Smiths fan, Vi.”

“I like the melancholic, angsty artists of the 70s and 80s.” The cat doesn’t offer any resistance when you go to pick him up, so you gather him in your arms and follow Violet and Michael to the living room. “So what brings you to my home today?”

“We were actually led here by the Fates,” Michael says as he accepts a cup of tea from Violet. You shake your head when she offers one to you, and she takes it for her own instead.

“Oh?”

“We went to them seeking answers about another potential alley for (Y/N)’s immortality, one that doesn’t involve her losing her humanity and also allows her to leave the Underworld for Above at her leisure. Obviously, if she ate the pomegranate that grows on the banks of the River Styx, she would most likely be bound to the Underworld forever.”

“How did I become involved in your conversation?”

“They said to ask you about golden apples, but that’s all they would say,” you speak up, Morrissey leaving your arms to curl up on Michael’s lap.

“Well, there’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a while. After young Heracles attempted to steal them from me, the world forgot about them, which is for the best.”

“Why are they so dangerous?”

“The golden apples that grow in my garden and are protected by the Hesperides give immortality to any mortal who takes a bite.” You gasp, and even Michael stiffens beside you.

“There’s no restrictions to it? It’s just...immortality?” Michael asks in disbelief, Violet nodding begrudgingly.

“Yes, but…”

“‘But’ what?”

“I’m wary of divulging the location of these to you, to anybody. People have misused and abused these apples for centuries, even leading to wars.”

“Violet, I’m your brother,” Michael hisses.

“And Heracles was my husband’s son!” The cat growls in warning, hair standing up on his back as he hops off of Michael and hides at the tension growing thick in the room. Violet breathes deeply before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but you need to understand that these apples could cause the end of humanity if they fall into the wrong hands.”

“What if,” you think out loud, “what if you were to get the apple for us, Vi? Neither Michael nor I would know the location of your garden, and you’d be doing us an immense favor.”

“It’s a good idea, sister,” Michael chimes in.

“Yes, but there’s a million things that could go wrong on your way back to the Underworld.” You frown, but Violet’s eyes suddenly widen as she gets an idea. “Hold on. What if I did get the apple, and then had Hermes deliver it to you? That way, the location remains a secret, and it’s almost guaranteed that it will be delivered safely to you in the Underworld.”

“Oh, Violet!” You can’t help yourself from throwing your arms around her. “Thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me!”

“You have no idea how much this means to us,” Michael amends.

“As I’ve said before, (Y/N) will make a wonderful queen, and a wonderful addition to our family.” You pull away from her, allowing her to stand up and drift towards her bookshelf. “It will take me a day or so to acquire the apple. I cannot transmute as you and Michael can, so it will take a combination of meditation and other methods to get the apple. The moment I do, however, I will send it with Hermes to the Underworld.”

“What will we do while we wait?” You ask, not too fond of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs as you wait.

Michael smirks. “Enjoy your last day as a mortal, of course.”

//

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