#god there are so many unanswered questions

[wearethesensum]

i like how there’s just communities of HABITs out in the slenderverse side of tumblr, like fuckin superb you funky little whatever-the-hell-you-guys-are.

[cursezoroark]

afterthoughts

[truethes]

so, um, does this mean that everyone who fancies someone from fontaine is a monster fucker ...

[linusbenjamin]

"On the March 11, 2010 podcast, Lindelof and Cuse confirmed Juliet was intended to be a proxy for his (Benjamin) relationship with Annie. This would explain Ben's obsession with Juliet, that is later unexplored. "

[acescorazon]

After forcing myself through writing block, i was almost done with writing my Mishanks fic when Google docs suddenly went "Oop can't save your fic, bitch." and ?????? Girl me too, anything involving Shanks makes me short circuit too. OOP.

[rubys-domain]

holy jesus christ...

fontaine's act 4 is by far the most stressful act of any archon quest ever

[genderkoolaid]

(Source)

On February 8th, this nonbinary child was violently beaten by three cis girls. The school did not call them an ambulance after the beating was stopped, and they later died in the hospital from head trauma. They have also been deadnamed and misgendered in their obituary and in the news. As the author of the article puts it:

How is that not national news? A 16 year old beaten to death in a public school bathroom? By other students. All these unanswered seemingly obvious questions about what transpired, and how the adults involved acted. That should be every headline. In fact, almost every local outlet covering the story misgender and deadnames Nex, using their same assigned at birth. The indignities pile on. We don’t yet know if Nex’s nonbinary identity is directly tied to this incident. But, my God, it sure matters to me that this would happen to any child. A nonbinary kid assaulted in a girl’s bathroom. That outcome from the narrative of anti-trans rhetoric these past years. Still why wasn’t this story breaking news? It involves a nonbinary student in a public school. And school violence and school police resource officers. It involves the deep fear so many trans youth have shared with me about their schools.

[bumblingbabooshka]

https://www.tumblr.com/bumblingbabooshka/730193581408763904

Ohhh it's a wig! I thought this was like. A Tuvix situation, only... Tuway

Now that's a way to give Chakotay a crisis!

(esp since he'd probably be responsible for deciding Tuway's fate)

Hehehe yes it's a wig - but I have doodled a Janevok situation before~!!

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[funforahermit]

this is so completely ridiculous when you think about it, he hasn't even said anything about what he's gonna do on stage, like is it gonna be the same as last year?? which was technically the same as the last 15 years? but none of us even care, he's just there and we're falling over ourselves to be there too.

[choco-bloop]

Kingohger Episode 6 moments :)

Somehow its back to Gira and Yanma again (I have realised I should've included Rita in their room BUT NEVER MIND-)

anyway, time to angst Himeno bye :)

[tevinter]

Veilguard fails to realise that for those who believe, faith is stronger than anything, even facts.

Right in the beginning of Veilguard all the Dalish/veil jumpers are so nonchalant and against their gods returning, as if they were convinced offscreen that their whole faith was based on a lie (even though they all still wear vallaslin) and their gods were Evil™. This, again, fails to consider that the vast majority of the Dalish would either not believe or not care because it's their religion, their faith.

Morally ambiguous gods exist in real life religions too and it didn't stop people from believing in them. Divine morality transcends mortal understanding, so their actions are always rightful. This also leads to the concept of a 'god-fearing' person - even the term used (θεοσεβής) can mean both respect and fear. Mortals are humbled by the gods' power and greatness, and willfully submit to their divine authority.

You needn't go further than the goddamn Bible itself to see countless examples of unethical things that God did/supported including legitimization of slavery and punishment (Exodus 21:20-21 “Anyone who beats their male or female slave with a rod must be punished if the slave dies as a direct result, but they are not to be punished if the slave recovers after a day or two, since the slave is their property." is one unhinged example), cannibalism, many kinds of violence, war, and of course, genocide, one of which was literally the deliberate destruction of nearly all humanity and living creatures on earth. The god of the most widely practiced religion in the world for millenia. Ask a devout Christian if they would stop believing in God just because 'um actually he is bad'.

Mystery is also a great aspect of religion, which also makes it an excellent worldbuilding element for writers. Mystery adds to the immersion because just like the characters, we don’t know everything except the beliefs and unanswered questions. And we're not supposed to, because this is how religion works in real life, where faith is about belief rather than what’s fully understood. It makes the story feel more real and engaging. Professional writers - of a AAA title no less - should know this.

Religion was one of the greatest themes in all previous games, especially Andrastianism and the Elven pantheon. Reducing it all to 'the Evanuris did it' is disappointing to say the least, and even if it was the truth that only the writers knew, they should have kept it that way, or at least some of the mystery. It adds immersion, drama, nuance, it encourages thought and discussion. For all Veilguard failed in the 'show, don't tell' rule, in this case this is too much exposure, and not even done in a good way. ''Religion is fake, so now everyone's atheist or unfazed. Oh, except for one (1) person who is mildly upset'' is not how faith works, especially in a setting so religious as Thedas.

[stylesispunk]

'Merry christmas, please call me' day 1/3

no outbreak! Joel Miller x f! reader

summary: one year after your breakup, joel is pleading to his phone for a call from you. 🌲

w.c: 6k>

warnings: age gap (joel is fifteen years older than reader) angst as usual and fluff with a happy ending like in the Christmas movies.

a/n: welcome to the first day of my joel's fic christmas version event. I want to remind you that i'm from south america and my christmas has always been hot because of summer, so i'm feeding my dreams. I hope you like this one and see you again on the second day of my mini event! Happy reading 💌

The smell of burn cookies made Joel nauseous. The lights of the Christmas tree in the corner of these four walls seemed to gave him a migraine.

A night like this where everyone was celebrating around a table full of food and loved ones. He was lonely with his thoughts drifting away to you. You were on his mind, day and night for the last 365 days that he had been without you.

It was his fault.

He recalled, this exact same night a year ago when he broke up with you out of the blue, due to poor excuses nor even him believed.

Your age gap, that you were childish, that you deserved someone better, he’d said. Someone whole. A ridiculous justification that even he couldn’t stomach now. At the time, he’d convinced himself it was for the best. He had no right to drag you into his mess of doubts and guilt, into his constant battle with the ghosts of his past. But it didn’t stop the ache from settling in his bones, lingering there like a wound that refused to heal.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts. It had been a year since you left, a year since the fight that had left him standing alone in the doorway, watching you walk out with tears in your eyes and a suitcase in your hand. He hadn’t dared delete your number, which now stared back at him, mocking him in the silence. How many times had he replayed that night in his head, hoping he’d wake up and find that it was nothing more than a cruel nightmare?

Call her, the voice in his head whispered.

But what could he say? What words could possibly undo the damage he’d caused?

A sigh escaped him as his head dropped back against the old couch, the springs groaning in protest. The soft hum of a Christmas song playing from a neighbor’s apartment felt like salt in the wound, each note a reminder of what he’d lost.

You were his person. You’d been his anchor through the storms, the one who never let him drown, even when he tried to push you away. And he had pushed you, hard enough to make you leave for good.

But Joel still hoped. Pathetically, desperately. Every buzz of his phone made his heart lurch, only to drop moments later when it wasn’t you. He hated himself for it, for waiting on a miracle he didn’t deserve.

Finally, with trembling hands, he let his thumb tap against your name. The call button loomed there, so simple and yet so heavy. He stared at it, his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, voice rough. The silence of the house swallowed his words. “Please call me... God, just call me.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his palms to his face. You were out there somewhere, probably laughing, surrounded by family or friends. Did you even think about him? Did you miss him the way he missed you? The unanswered questions gnawed at him, the kind of pain he’d learned to carry in his bones over the last twelve months.

When he finally looked at the phone again, he couldn’t stop himself. He typed out a message, the words simple but raw:

Merry Christmas. Please call me.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, the soft whoosh of the message sending feeling louder than it should have. Now, all he could do was wait.

You won’t reply, he thought bitterly. Why would you?

But just as he began to put the phone down, it buzzed in his hand.

The sound of laughter echoed around the room, your cousin telling some exaggerated story about their vacation as everyone leaned in, caught up in the humor of it all. You tried to smile, to focus on the holiday warmth and cheer, but it all felt distant, like you were watching it from behind a thick pane of glass.

For the last four Christmas you had had someone by your side, holding your hand and making you feel a whole in the room.

Now he wasn’t here.

Now it had been a year since he pushed you away from his life.

You excused yourself for a moment, slipping out to the porch where the cold December air stung your skin. It was quieter out here, the twinkle of Christmas lights from neighboring houses reflecting off the snow. You wrapped your arms around yourself, breathing out slowly, your breath a cloud in the chill.

And then you felt it. The buzz of your phone in your pocket.

Sliding it out, your heart stopped when you saw the name.

 Joel.

The message was simple, just four words Merry Christmas. Please call me.

You stared at the screen, your mind racing. You hadn't heard from him in months. The last time had been his birthday three months ago, a tentative text you’d sent just to say you hoped he was doing well. He’d thanked you, but the conversation died before it could have started. You thought that was the end of it, that Joel had moved on, just like everyone told you he would.

But now... this.

You sank onto the porch steps, your fingers tightening around the phone. The memories came flooding back: The past Christmas, when he’d held you in his arms by the fire, murmuring promises you’d believed in so completely. And the fight that tore it all apart, the anger in his voice masking the vulnerability he was so terrified to show.

You swiped at your screen, opening the message again.

Call him, a voice in your head urged. Just call him.

But another voice whispered fearfully

 What if he’s just lonely?

For a moment, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts. Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the button. The phone rang once, twice, each second stretching into eternity.

“Hello?” His voice was low, rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You closed your eyes, the sound of him unraveling something inside you. “Joel,”

….

You’d spent hours making everything perfect. The table was set with Joel’s favorite dishes, the candles were lit, and soft Christmas music floated through the air. The snow outside created a picturesque view through the windows, and for the first time in days, you were excited. Joel had been distant lately, his long hours at work bleeding into your evenings, but tonight would be different. It had to be.

“Joel, you’re late,” you said softly as he walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his face tired.

He barely glanced at the table as he shrugged off his jacket. “Got caught up at work.”

“I made dinner.” You gave him a small smile, trying to meet his eyes. “I thought maybe tonight—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut you off, his voice sharper than it needed to be.

Something in his tone made you flinch. You watched him sink onto the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. The weariness in his face didn’t feel like exhaustion; it felt like resignation.

You walked over to him carefully, sitting on the edge of the coffee table so you could face him. “But it’s christmas eve.”

“I know.” he muttered, but his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t the man who used to pull you into his lap and kiss your worries away. This was someone locked behind a wall you couldn’t reach. “You’ve been different lately. Talk to me. Please.”

He let out a long breath, his hands running through his hair. “I don’t know what we’re doin’ here.”

The words slammed into you like a physical blow. “What?”

Joel looked up at you finally, his expression hard, guarded. “Us. This. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”

Your heart pounded. “What are you talking about?”

He stood up abruptly, pacing the room like he needed to get away from you, as if your presence burned his skin. “You’re too young for this—”

“Don’t.” Your voice trembled, but you stood too, following him. “Don’t do that. You’ve never cared about the age gap before.”

“You should be with someone who can give you what you want, not some old man who can’t figure his shit out.” He turned, finally meeting your eyes, and his were cold, deliberately so. “Someone who isn’t afraid for what people say.”

The words hit like ice water, sharp and cruel. You took a step back, shaking your head. “Joel, that’s not fair. I don’t care about any of that. I love you.”

“Don’t,” he said again, his voice a low growl. “You’re just sayin’ that because you don’t know any better.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the truth.” He swallowed hard, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t be what you need. And you deserve better than what I can give.”

It wasn’t the words themselves that hurt the most, it was the way he said them, like he’d already decided this for you, like he’d been carrying it around for weeks, months, without telling you.

“Don’t you dare decide what I deserve,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you, and for just a moment, you saw it: the regret, the pain, the fear he was trying so desperately to hide. But then he turned his back to you, his shoulders rigid.

“Go,” he said quietly.

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I said you should go.”

The room went deathly silent except for the sound of your soft, choked breaths. Joel didn’t move, didn’t turn around as you stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, to take it back. But he didn’t.

“We had been together for five years, Joel” you sobbed “Are you throwing away?”

Joel's jaw tightened, his back still turned to you as if he couldn't bear to face what he was doing, what he had already done. His hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white as if he were holding himself together by sheer force. The dim light from the Christmas tree glowed faintly in the reflection of the window, mocking the warmth and love that should've filled this night.

“I’m tired.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t keep the crack out of your voice as you pleaded. “Tired of what? Of me?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice breaking, his shoulders drawing tight. “It ain’t just that,” he muttered, the words coming out strained. “It’s everythin’, me, us—” He finally turned to face you, his eyes dark and distant, as though he’d already started pulling himself away long before tonight. “You deserve better.”

“Don’t do that,” you snapped through the sobs, pointing at him, your whole-body trembling. “Don’t you dare try to make this about me, Joel. This is about you. You’re the one running away, you’re the one who—” You swallowed hard, the pain rising in your throat like a wave. “Who’s giving up.”

Joel's face crumpled for just a second, but he smoothed it out quickly, replacing it with that familiar mask of stubbornness. “I am tired,” he admitted, his voice low, hoarse. “Of fightin’ every damn day with the parts of myself you don’t see. I can’t—I can’t drag you into that. Not anymore.”

You shook your head, your tears falling faster now. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose you, Joel. I chose you! Over and over for five years. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t handle it, or you.”

His gaze flickered toward the floor, like he couldn’t stand to look at you. “It ain’t enough.”

Those words cut deeper than anything else he’d said. “What’s not enough?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you stepped closer. “Me? Or us?”

Joel looked back at you then, and for a moment, you thought you saw his resolve crack. You thought he might say he was sorry, that he’d been lying, that he still loved you the way you loved him.

But all he said was, “You need to go.”

Your heart shattered.

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head violently, refusing to believe this was happening. “I’m not leaving. I’m not walking away from you.”

Joel’s face hardened, though his eyes betrayed the storm inside him. He took a step back, deliberately creating distance between you both. “I already did, darlin’.”

A sob escaped you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached; your lungs empty despite the cold air filling the room. It felt surreal, like you were living a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“Fine,” you whispered, your voice ragged. You wiped angrily at your tears, glaring at him through the blur. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“I hope you know what you’re losing.”

Joel didn’t respond. He didn’t move. And when you finally stepped out into the cold December night, suitcase in hand, the sound of the door closing behind you felt like the final nail in the coffin of everything you had built together.

It wasn’t until you were gone—until the silence swallowed the room whole—that Joel let his mask fall. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as tears slipped through his fingers.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly what he was losing.

And he left you walk away with nowhere to go.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “I—I wasn’t sure if you’d...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish.

There was a pause, and then you spoke. “I wasn’t sure either.”

His heart clenched. He wanted to say a hundred things, to tell you how much he missed you, how every day without you had been a slow, aching torture. But all he managed was: “Thanks for calling.”

“I wasn’t sure I should,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “Joel, why?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because it’s Christmas. And because...” He ran a hand over his face, forcing the words out. “Because I’ve been a damn fool. I didn’t fight for us when I should’ve. And not a day’s gone by where I don’t regret it.”

The silence on the other end felt unbearable. “I know I don’t deserve this,” he added quickly. “But I just needed to hear your voice. Even if it’s just this once.”

His words cut through the cold night air, stirring something deep inside you. Joel had never been good at talking about his feelings, and hearing him now, his voice raw and unsteady, you realized just how much this call meant to him.

“You hurt me, Joel,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I gave you everything, and you... you pushed me away.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick. “I know I did. I was scared, alright? Scared of messing up, of losing you... and I ended up doin’ just that.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes stinging. “And now? What’s changed?”

“I have,” he said without hesitation. “I’ve had a year to think about every mistake I made, every time I let my pride get in the way. I’m not sayin’ I’ve got it all figured out, but... I know I can’t go another year without you, darlin’.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

“Joel,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Just tell me if there’s a chance,” he said, his voice breaking. “Even the smallest one. I’ll do whatever it takes, I swear it.”

“Are you alone?” you asked, feeling your voice trembling.

Joel froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. He exhaled softly, his breath shaky. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “It’s just me and some burnt cookies.”

Your heart ached at his words, but a small, broken laugh escaped you at his words. Burnt cookies. Joel had never been much of a baker. That was your thing. And yet, every Christmas, he’d insist on helping or more accurately, on getting in the way, while you made batch after batch of cookies.

“You burned them?” you asked softly, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips through the tears.

“‘Course I did,” Joel grumbled, though there was no bite to it. “Turns out, I’m no better at bakin’ now than I was then.” He hesitated before adding, almost shyly, “Guess it’s not as fun when you’re not here to yell at me for sneakin’ the dough.”

“Joel, I swear to God, if you eat one more spoonful of that dough—”

He grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, before scooping up another bite and popping it into his mouth. “What? I’m just makin’ sure it’s good, darlin’. Quality control.”

It was like that every single time, you’d roll your eyes, only for him to pull you into his arms and press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, tasting of sugar and butter.

You’d tried to scold him, but he always made you laugh instead, his hands sneaking around your waist to pull you close. The cookies always took twice as long as they should’ve, and more flour ended up on the two of you than in the dough. But those moments had been yours—sweet, simple, and full of a kind of love you didn’t realize you’d taken for granted until it was gone.

“Do you remember?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Joel’s breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Every second of it,” he admitted softly. “I remember how you’d get that little crease in your brow when you were concentratin’, tryin’ to make everything perfect. And how I’d ruin it all just to get you to look at me instead.”

You smiled through your tears, the memories making your chest ache. “You never helped. You just kissed me the whole time.”

“Well,” Joel said, his voice thick but warmer now, “you didn’t seem to mind too much.”

You swallowed hard, pressing your hand to your chest as if it could stop the way your heart ached for him. For all of it. “I didn’t,” you admitted quietly. “I loved that.”

There was a pause, heavy and delicate all at once.

“I miss you,” Joel said finally, his voice low and rough. “I’ve missed us. Not just the cookies, or the traditions... but you, darlin’. I miss seein’ you smile. I miss hearin’ your laugh when I did somethin’ dumb. I miss... kissin’ you in the middle of a mess we made together.”

Your throat tightened, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. How was it that Joel always managed to say the exact words you’d been afraid to admit to yourself?

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you whispered. “It makes it harder.”

“What?” he asked, hopeful somehow.

"To hate you" you said, bluntly.

Joel went quiet on the other end of the line. The soft crackle of the connection was the only sound between you, filling the heavy silence where words struggled to exist. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, as though he was afraid saying it out loud might break you both.

“I don’t want you to hate me, darlin’.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead to stop the tears. “Well, it would’ve been easier if you’d stayed away.”

“I tried,” Joel admitted.

You could picture him sitting there, in the same living room where you’d spent so many nights living together. You imagined the empty house around him, quiet and cold, without the warmth the two of you used to fill it with.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence on the line felt heavier now, like it was holding both your hearts in its grip.

“I thought—” you started, then stopped, the words catching in your throat. I thought you’d moved on, you wanted to say. But you couldn’t. You weren’t ready to admit that fear aloud, not yet.

Joel seemed to understand anyway. “There’s no one else,” he said softly. “There never could be. I—I didn’t want to make you think I was waitin’, like I was hopin’ for somethin’ I didn’t deserve. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t bring myself to move on. You’re it for me.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up as his words sank in. You’re it for me. Joel Miller, stubborn and guarded as he’d always been, was laying himself bare in a way he never had before.

“Why now, Joel?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Why tonight?”

He let out a heavy breath. “Because i'm in love with you” he said, leaving no room for doubting “And because I couldn’t let another month pass without tellin’ you what’s in my heart. Even if it’s too late... I needed you to know.”

The line went quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt heavy with regret. It felt different—like a small flicker of something you weren’t ready to name just yet.

“Get some sleep, Joel,” you murmured softly, surprising even yourself.

He chuckled lightly, a sound you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. “Alright, baby. I will. You too.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” Joel replied, his voice soft and warm.

You hung up the phone and let it rest against your chest as you lay back on the couch, tears still wet on your cheeks.

You stood up to go back inside the house and the room felt still, like the world had paused just for you to breathe, to take in everything that had happened. The faint glow of the Christmas lights cast soft, colorful patterns on the walls. It felt bittersweet, like the warmth of a memory that wouldn’t quite let go.

Your chest ached with the weight of it all. Joel’s voice still lingered in your mind, the way he’d said baby, soft, familiar, like it belonged to you and no one else. It had been so long since you’d heard it, and it stirred something in you you’d tried to bury. Something tender and raw, something that reminded you of stolen kisses in the kitchen, of his arms wrapped around you on cold nights, of the way he used to make you feel like home wasn’t a place but a person.

You wiped at your cheeks, sniffling quietly. “Damn you, Joel Miller,” you whispered to the empty room, but your voice lacked conviction. The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Relieved? Hopeful?

“Are you okay?” your mother’s voice broke through the stillness, soft but laced with concern.

You startled slightly, turning toward the sound. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the hall light, her face etched with the quiet worry only a mother could carry.

You tried to smile, to brush it off like you always did, but the tears still wet on your cheeks betrayed you. “Yeah,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from the emotion threatening to spill over. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head, unconvinced, and took a slow step closer. “Sweetheart...”

The way she said it made your composure wobble. You looked away, blinking rapidly as if that would erase the evidence of the storm swirling inside you. “It’s nothing, Mom. Just... Christmas stuff.”

She didn’t say anything right away, just moved to sit beside you on the couch. Her warmth and presence were enough to break something loose inside you, and for a moment, you just sat there in silence.

After a long, heavy pause, you finally spoke, your voice trembling. “I have to go.”

Your mother turned to you, her brows knitting together in quiet confusion. “Go? Where?”

You swallowed hard, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I... I don’t know…home?”

Her expression softened, and she gave a small, knowing nod. “To Joel?”

You glanced at her, startled that she understood so quickly, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. Mothers always knew. “I just-” You broke off, your voice faltering.

She studied you for a long moment, then reached out to gently clasp your hand. “Then go,” she said quietly, squeezing it in encouragement. “But go for the right reasons, sweetheart. Not because it’s Christmas, or because you feel like you owe him something. Go if you think it’s what your heart needs.”

You blinked at her, your throat tight. “What if I regret it?”

She smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And what if you don’t?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, one that settled deep in your chest.

You exhaled shakily, then stood, your movements unsteady but resolute. “I’ll be back soon,” you said, though you weren’t sure if it was more for her benefit or your own.

She gave you a gentle smile and stayed seated, as if she knew this was something you had to do on your own. “Take a coat,” she reminded you softly.

You nodded, grabbing your coat and scarf off the rack by the door. The cold air outside hit you immediately as you stepped out, but it didn’t slow your steps as you headed to your car. Your heart pounded, nerves swirling in your stomach as you turned the ignition and pulled out onto the quiet, dark road.

Joel sat slouched on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the Christmas tree he’d half-heartedly decorated earlier that day. The glow of the lights cast soft, uneven patterns on the floor, but he wasn’t really seeing them. His mind was stuck somewhere else—on the sound of your voice, on the quiet goodnight that hung heavier than he could have imagined.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tired in a way that sleep wouldn’t fix. It was the kind of weariness that came from missing someone so deeply it felt like it hollowed you out.

A sudden knock at the door startled him. He frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, grumbling under his breath as he trudged toward the door. “Tommy, I swear I’m fi—”

He pulled the door open mid-sentence, the complaint dying on his lips when he saw who it was.

You.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there on his doorstep, wrapped in your coat and scarf, your cheeks pink from the cold, your breath visible in the freezing air. Your wide eyes met his, filled with something he couldn’t name—surprise, maybe, or uncertainty.

Joel froze, his hand still on the doorknob, his heart thudding hard against his chest. He blinked, like he was trying to make sure you were real. “Baby?”

“Hi,” you said softly, the single word carrying so much weight it nearly knocked the air out of him.

Joel let out a shaky breath, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “What... what’re you doin’ here?”

You shifted the bag in your hands, your fingers clutching the handles tightly, like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I, uh... I brought some things to bake cookies,” you said quietly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions you were trying to hold back.

Joel just stared at you, completely still, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. The words sank in slowly, and something in his chest tightened—hard and sudden—until he felt like he might break right there on the spot.

“You... you brought stuff to bake cookies?” he repeated, his voice so low it was barely a whisper.

You nodded, a small, almost shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I figured... if it’s just you and some burnt cookies this year, maybe you could use a little help.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a shaky breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He turned his face slightly, as if trying to gather himself, but there was no hiding the way his eyes shone in the soft light spilling from the doorway.

For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, he just looked at you, like you were something fragile and precious, something he couldn’t believe was right in front of him. Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped back, his voice rough as he spoke. “C’mon in, baby. It’s too damn cold out there.”

You stepped inside, the warmth of home enveloping you, after being away for a year, this house still carried the faint scent of pine, Joel and something a little burnt, probably the remnants of his earlier baking disaster. Joel shut the door behind you, lingering for a moment before turning to face you again.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, his voice uneven, like he was fighting to hold something back.

“I know,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, the weight of your words sinking into him like a balm to every ache he’d carried for far too long. “You always know how to fix my messes,” he said, his lips curling into a small, almost wistful smile.

You gave him a look, a teasing edge to your voice despite the tension still lingering between you. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t burn down the kitchen.”

Joel let out a quiet laugh, gruff and hoarse, but real. It sounded like the kind of laugh that had been buried for too long, and the sound of it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, watching you with that same unreadable expression. “Guess someone does.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with unspoken words and years of memories. Then Joel sniffed, scrubbing a hand down his face as if to steady himself. “You still use that same recipe?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, your voice light but steady. “You’re gonna help me this time, though. And I mean actually help.”

Joel watched you for another long moment before he turned toward the kitchen, clearing his throat again. “Alright, then,” he said, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t quite hide. “Let’s make some cookies.”

The kitchen was filled with the warm, sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. A few floury handprints stained the counter, mixing bowls were stacked haphazardly in the sink, and a couple of slightly misshapen cookies sat cooling on the tray. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but it felt like you. Like him. Like the pieces of something familiar were falling back into place.

You set the final cookie down on the tray, brushing a bit of flour from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Well,” you said, stepping back to admire the messy success, “I think we did it.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. When you turned to look at him, you found him leaning against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. There was something soft in the way he looked at you, something so Joel,it made your breath hitch.

“What?” you asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

He shook his head slowly, that smile growing just a little. “Nothin’,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Just…you look even more beautiful than I remember.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping away all the uncertainty you’d been holding onto. Your heart skipped in your chest, and your breath caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily speechless. You hadn't expected that—hadn’t expected him to say that, especially after all this time.

You glanced away for a moment, suddenly unsure of yourself. The kitchen suddenly felt warmer, the space between you two too close, and yet it felt like everything was finally falling into place, as if you’d both been waiting for this moment without knowing it.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. You met his gaze again, and this time, there was something different there—a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.

He stepped forward, slowly, as if giving you the space to decide what came next. But you didn’t pull away. You stood there, rooted in the moment, caught somewhere between the past and the present, unsure of what the future held but certain that, for once, you wanted to face it with him.

“I mean it,” Joel added, his voice soft but unwavering. “You always did have a way of lightin’ up a room, darlin’. But right now… you’re more than I remember.”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t hold back the emotion that swelled within you. It was like he had reached right into the depths of what you’d been afraid to feel and pulled it all to the surface. You reached out instinctively, your hand brushing his arm, the warmth of his skin making everything feel so real again.

“Joel, I—” Your voice broke, and you paused, unsure of the words.

Joel didn't let you finish your sentence. Before you could gather your thoughts, before the words could fall into place, he closed the gap between you. His hand found your cheek, his thumb grazing the soft skin there, as if he needed to feel you, to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. His lips met yours, soft at first, hesitant, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

You kissed him back, your hands coming up to tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer as the familiar taste of him flooded your senses. It was like stepping into a memory, one you’d been holding on to without even realizing it. All the years, the distance, the pain—all of it seemed to melt away in the warmth of his embrace.

The kiss deepened, slow and tender, and you let yourself lose in it, in him, in the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be all along. There were no questions, no doubts, only the comforting certainty of him being right there, of the connection you had never truly lost.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, you gazing the floor instead of his eyes.

His hands were still on your face, his fingers brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every part of you again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Joel murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Are you going to push me away again?” you asked, meeting his eyes with some fear dancing on them.

Joel’s expression faltered for a moment, his gaze flickering with a mix of fear and hope. He searched your face, as if trying to understand what you were really asking, what you really meant.

“No. I will never do that again.” he answered, “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of not bein’ enough for you. Scared of how people talked about us. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you deserved better.”

“I never thought that,” you said softly, finally meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. “I was a damn fool for pushin’ you away. And if I could go back and fix it, I would. But I know I can’t. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking. “I just needed you to know how sorry I am.”

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if we can go back to what we had. But…maybe we can start somewhere new.”

Joel’s breath caught, hope blooming in his chest. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

The silence that followed felt different than before. It wasn’t filled with regret or confusion, but with a shared understanding—a quiet acknowledgment of what had been lost and what was still possible. You stayed close, your hands gently resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Joel finally let out a shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, like he was memorizing the feel of you again. "I’m not askin' for all of it back. Just... a chance. To show you that I can be the man you deserve. The man I should’ve been all along."

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy but hopeful. “I’m not sure what this looks like, Joel. But we can figure it out, right? Together?”

A soft, sincere smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Joel pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your face as he looked at you with love and something more vulnerable, but what was more vulnerable than love? He took a slow breath, and then his gaze shifted toward the window, the quiet fall of snowflakes beginning to collect on the sill outside.

His voice was soft, almost reverent. "Look at that," he murmured, his eyes tracing the peaceful scene outside. "First snow of the year."

You turned to look out the window, your heart fluttering as you watched the snow gently blanket the world in white, the quiet stillness of the moment wrapping around you both like a cozy blanket. It felt surreal, almost like something out of a dream, a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

Being this close to the man you loved felt like a dream.

Joel stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close again. His chin rested on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, his voice full of raw tenderness, the words wrapped in the kind of love that had been buried for too long but never truly gone.

Before you could respond, he turned you gently, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your waist as he kissed you again, soft and slow, like this moment was meant for both of you, like it was always meant to be this way. The world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of your heartbeat and the warmth of his touch, the promise of something new blooming between you two.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like home again.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 & 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ luke & kieran x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 1

tags : pwp (without plot), (or very little plot ig), threesome, somnophilia, cnc, heavy petting, marking, biting, vaginal fingering, slight clit play, nipple play, overstimulation, vaginal sex, anal fingering, unprotected sex, pulling out, cumshot, it gets preeettyyyy messy, dirty talk, praise, cursing, use of pet names "baby" "sunshine" “pretty girl”. lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 4.9k (yeah…)

an : starting off the month with my favorite boys! <3 and i guess… it is luke and kieran… so this ended up a LOT longer than i intended it to be HAHSJKFHSKDNF

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @love-and-deepstrays @theanbitchless @m2ichaelis @keioxo (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

After missing a date, Luke and Kieran make it up to you… kind of.

↳ Are you going to be done soon?

That was the last text you’d sent, approximately half an hour ago.

And there had been nothing since.

The late reply of “↳ Yep, sorry, we’ll be there in ten!” remained unread on Luke’s phone, calls left unanswered—and no matter how many times Kieran would pester him about it, nothing else seemed to warrant a response. Truthfully, they almost had to wonder if this last-minute errand they’d been sent on was on purpose, but they had little mind to truly question their own boss. After all, they were more than willing to carry out his orders, in the end… It was only the timing that had been unfortunate.

Kieran eyed his brother as they padded across the living room to your bedroom door; “It’s your fault, you know. You should’ve stopped messing around, then we’d be done sooner.”

His voice was a lot calmer than Luke’s, who was more visibly disturbed by the fact that you hadn’t been responding to them. 

“Well, shit, but—where’s the fun in leaving just like that? Y’think she’s mad at us…? We told her we’d be late, though!”

“If she is, I don’t think we can blame her for it. We made a promise.”

The door to your bedroom was slightly ajar, and Kieran gently pushed it open. Two heads poked into the doorway.

“Ah, she’s adorable…”

Moonlight streamed in through the window, open just a little bit to let the nighttime breeze slip through. It was a lot different in Linkon than the N109 zone. A lot more peaceful, in a sense, and less dreary. The twins had taken some time to get used to being in the city more often, but they could understand why you were never too keen to spend time at the base. If you’d really gotten used to a place like this, then… The N109 zone really would be a shock.

And Kieran figured, too, that it was why you always tended to sleep better when you were here.

Small steps forward—it was Luke who approached your sleeping figure first, turned to your side facing towards the door and hugging one of your pillows between your legs. His hand reached out, a deft brush of his fingertips against your hair. “ God, she’s really beautiful. Look at how peaceful her smile is…”

Kieran sat down behind you, leaning over to peer at your expression. He looked as if he were to say something, but he turned his head to glance at the clock on your wall.

Past midnight.

“See, I told you we pushed it too long. No wonder she’s asleep.”

“But at least she isn’t mad at us…!”

“How would you know that?”

“Well, she could have just fallen asleep! She didn’t say she was mad at us!”

A pause, and a roll of eyes.

“Fine, then if she wakes up and scolds us, you’re doing what I say for a week.”

“Yeah?! Then if she doesn’t scold us, you’re doing what I say!”

You stirred slightly at that.

It was almost as if on cue, and the twins’ attention snapped immediately back to you. They’d been a little loud, that was certain. They were half expecting you to open your eyes…

But you didn’t.

They’d both let out a sigh of relief at that.

Nevertheless, Kieran took to following his brother’s earlier actions, reaching over to stroke your hair. Soft, gentle movements, trailing a finger down the side of your face for a moment before moving a lock of hair behind your ear. A fleeting kiss was placed over your eyelids, and for a moment, there was silence.

“...We should let her sleep, though,” he mumbled then. This time he spoke lower so as to keep you from stirring from your dreams as you had earlier.

Luke, however, had other ideas.

“What? After making that bet with me?! You’re just trying to get out of it now!”

“I’m not! Just, if she’s tired, then should we really be waking her up…?”

Luke huffed, pushing Kieran’s hand away from your face, and giving him a pointed look. “Relax! You know she’s already given us permission to do things like this, anyway!” Slowly, a grin spread across his face. “Hey… first one to wake her up gets to dish out orders for an extra week.”

“Luke—!”

Yet Kieran’s protest fell on deaf ears.

Without wasting a second, Luke rested his hand on your cheek and leaned in, a soft kiss placed upon your lips. The motion was slow and smooth, taking his time. And it was gentle. The flutter of his eyelashes tickled your skin as his eyes closed. There was always something so sweet in the way that Luke kissed you—now was not an exception. The feeling of it would linger, make you want more of it. Had you been awake, you wouldn’t have allowed him to pull away.

But he did.

Kieran almost seemed to be holding his breath, and both of them looked at you, once again, expectantly.

Another grin spread on Luke’s face. “Hmm, what do you know? Pretty girl sleeps soundly!” he chuckled.

With a click of his tongue, Kieran, this time, took to wrapping his arms around your figure as if to tug you closer to him. “As if you didn’t know! It took way more than a kiss to wake her up the last time we did this.”

“Ha! And as if you didn’t doubt it for a moment, too!”

“...Whatever. It’s my turn.”

Kieran scoffed at his brother before burying his face into your neck, easily attaching his lips to your skin. And unlike Luke, there wasn’t any gentleness laced into it. He suckled at your flesh in a more purposeful manner, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. His moves were calculated. Sure. If they were going to play this game, he intended not to lose.

In response, Luke let out a low whistle, sliding the pillow out of your grasp. “Y’know, sometimes, the resemblance is so uncanny,” he joked. “Sylus of you much?”

But those words only prompted the younger twin to slide his hand over your waist, moving downwards to lift up your nightgown. His insistence on leaving marks over your neck remained; he would shift from one spot to the next as if to leave proof of tonight’s activities. And slowly, his hand began to move up and down your thigh. He left light caresses, meant to soothe the graze of his teeth on your neck. He was silent, mostly. Allowing his mouth and his touch to do the work, suckling wet noises filling the room that made Luke let out a huff of indignance.

“Hey, no fair!”

Except, with both of them, the fact was that neither was keen on playing… “fair”.

Almost as if riled up by Kieran’s actions, he slotted himself between your arms, and subconsciously, the both of them could feel the way your neck craned, a leg moving upwards over Luke’s waist as if to hug him tighter. He’d taken your pillow, after all—and at the moment, unbeknownst to you yourself, he was serving as its replacement.

Not that he minded.

He treasured the momentary flash of envy that gleamed in Kieran’s eyes, clearly having wanted to receive the same attention from you. He grinned, and it was  almost triumphant. Enough for Kieran to narrow his eyes, deftly reaching to cup your mound into his hand.

“Aw, don’t be like that~” Luke continued to tease, lifting your nightgown high enough to bunch up over your breasts.

At this point, they had rendered you mostly exposed to them, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Eyes remained on each other, gauging the other’s reaction, almost as if waiting for the right moment to move.

It happened slowly.

Kieran was the first to move this time, dragging his middle finger from your clothed slit upwards. The motion repeated. Simple, unhurried strokes with the intention of getting you wet enough… and there was a pleased smile on his face when it did .

Wetness began to pool at your entrance, each touch causing the damp on the fabric to grow larger.

Yet, Luke was not one to leave all the satisfaction to his brother.

With a scoff, he leaned down to take your nipple into his mouth, circling it lightly with his tongue. His hand moved from your waist to cup the other, index and thumb reaching to give it a little brush. It was easy to have them pebble under his actions, and it was a reaction that served enough to keep that triumph in his eyes.

And then—

“M-mm…”

Both boys’ eyes shot up to your face.

The sound was breathy; thick with sleep.

Your lips were slightly parted, breathing a little quicker than usual.

But aside from that, you showed no other signs from stirring. Your eyes were closed. Still mostly unaware, you could feel a blossoming warmth settling somewhere into your stomach, their light touches familiar enough to coax out an involuntary response from your body despite your lack of consciousness—but it still not enough to wake you.

Again, the twins shared a look.

And, this time, it felt less like a competition… and more like a shared desire to pleasure you out of your sleep.

Perhaps, they thought, the bet would fall to null in the end.

Satisfied with the wetness that had pooled in your panties, Kieran pushed the fabric aside and circled a finger at your entrance. The movement gathered the slick of your arousal onto his finger, unmistakable wet noises even further proof of it. Leaning over your shoulder to watch, he slowly pushed it inside.

“She’s really warm.”

It was an objective comment.

“And she’s pretty like this,” Luke emphasized, always keen to shower you with compliments every moment he got. “Always so welcoming of whatever we do to her… She’s something else, huh?”

“She’s our pretty girl, after all.”

With a sigh against your neck and a nuzzle into your skin, his finger began to move inside you at a steady rhythm.

And this time, Luke let out a smirk.

While his lips moved back to suckling at your nipples in a fond manner, his hand slowly slid down your body to pause right next to Kieran’s. A brief moment of respite, anticipation somehow casting itself into the air, before his finger slid right in.

It was this intrusion that had you drawing in a breath, body jolting slightly in an instinctive response.

Yet you didn’t quite push them away, nor were you conscious enough to try to.

Instead, you welcomed the feeling.

It stirred deep in your consciousness; barely aware of what they were doing, yet aware of the vague pooling of pleasure that shifted around inside of you. Your hips moved. Slight, tiny jerks that felt more like jumps every time one of their fingers grazed against your sweet spot.

“Damn,” Luke let out a laugh under his breath. He placed a thumb to your clit, rubbing in light, teasing circles. “Kieran, look. She’s so cute!”

The younger twin let out a grin in response, this time fondly watching the slight twitches in your expression. His eyes were half-lidded, never quite leaving your own closed ones, and a soft sigh left his lips.

“Mhm,” he muttered. “I like it when she’s like this.”

A look of love—one that, if only you could have seen it, would have had you keening.

Their fingers moved in a cyclical pattern: slow rubs on your clit, plunging in and out of your heat in a steady rhythm, before switching to alternating in a level of synchronicity that they were quite proud they could pull off. Eventually, your chest heaved in response to the pleasure, a slight tremor settling into your thighs. Your eyebrows knitted together, and it was a display of pleasure the twins knew more than well, elated to witness such familiar reactions even in your current state. It almost seemed as if a rush of pleasure hazed over the three of you in that moment, so much that Kieran reached over to take out his cock to rub directly against your ass, Luke seizing the opportunity to add another finger into your hole as his tongue once again flicked at your nipples.

Your bodies had found a rhythm.

A little push and pull, hips rocking to meet the thrust of their fingers as if, despite your obvious haze of sleep, you simply couldn’t help but react to them.

And then for the first time that night, Kieran’s lips found yours.

His kisses were different.

If Luke’s had always been sweet, and slow, and smooth, Kieran’s were breathtaking. He could breathe you in just as you would him, deeper and deeper, as if your body could only melt into his mouth at the fervor with which he would move. He would kiss you, and kiss you, and kiss you—such a stark contrast to the manner with which he carried himself, always a more passionate display of his affections that you wouldn't get from him otherwise.

Their fingers picked up the pace.

Kieran continued to rut against you, pushing their fingers deeper and deeper with each rock of his hips. Luke began to suck at your nipples in a harsher manner, pulling and tugging at them with more insistence. And, at this point, the pleasure more rapidly registering in your mind had you squirming in their hold.

It was getting harder to stay in a blissful state of ignorance.

Now, with Kieran pulling away from you to catch his breath, your mouth fell open in a groan, eyes moving in an almost confused manner behind your eyelids, too heavy to open them yet whirring your brain steadily more awake.

“Ooh, she’s about to wake up~” came Luke’s voice, a musical trill to it that let you know that he was pleased. Having since released your breasts with a wet ‘pop!’ , you could feel him lean in to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. “C’mon, c’mon… Wake up, baby, wake up…”

Their fingers curled, and with a cry you jolted awake, eyes blinking wide open as you reached out to latch onto Luke’s arm. Pleasure washed over you in crashing peaks, soothing whispers from both boys cooing into your ears.

Your vision was hazy, chest heaving in shock, and you felt lightheaded.

Yet you recognized the kisses that peppered the side of your face.

“Mngh… K- Kieran…?”

You barely had the energy to move, and yet, as if in retaliation to you mentioning only one of them, a thumb flicked once again over your puffy clit and you heard a scoff.

It made you jolt, and sleepily, you let out a smile and tried to blink yourself into focus, breath catching from your earlier orgasm.

“Hi,” you giggled a little. Your hand moved from his arm to his cheek, and his expression softened.

“Hi,” Luke murmured. “Mornin’, sunshine.”

With a sigh, you tilted your head back a little to nuzzle at Kieran’s cheek, before feeling your eyes fall back closed. “M’sleepy… You’re late, you guys…” you muttered.

“It was Luke’s fault.”

“Hey!”

“I told him to—”

You shook your head a little, effectively getting them to stop before a potential argument ensued. And in response, you felt a finger gently pull at your bottom lip, pushing inside your mouth when you’d happily obliged.

“Here, taste yourself,” came Kieran’s voice. “You were really wet. Did it feel good? Did we make it up to you?”

You sucked his finger clean before he pulled it back out, and you offered a little chuckle. You didn’t say anything in return, but instead pushed yourself against his erection, your hand sliding down to palm Luke through his pants.

“Shit— baby—”

You could have laughed at that immediate reaction, and the same sharp intake of breath from his twin. But instead, you found yourself letting out a yawn. “Mm, you did, sure… But I’m still sleepy. What about the problem you made for yourselves?”

“So you do want us to fuck you, after all.”

Kieran’s words, as straight-to-the-point as always, had you opening your eyes in mild embarrassment.

“Oh… I mean… Aren’t you?” you looked between both of them with a sheepish smile.

For a moment there was a pause, and both the boys shared a look.

You watched as a slow smile spread on both their faces.

“Well, yeah, we’ll fuck you—”

“—like you want us to, clearly—”

“—but you’re only going to have—”

“—one of us for tonight.”

Kieran’s hand moved to grasp at the supple flesh of your ass, kneading it in a gentle, soothing motion. “ Since you’re sleepy, and we haven’t prepped you enough,” he added, for good measure. “We can be nice, too, you know?”

Another smile made its way to your face then, and you snuggled back into your pillow, gladly wrapping your arms around Luke as if to snuggle close to him.

“You know I always let you do whatever.”

You felt Kieran twitch behind you in response, and Luke rested a palm over your head to ruffle your hair. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed.

Kieran scoffed. “But I won, you know. She did scold us.”

“Aww, but you’ve already been grinding against her anyway! Let me have this!”

“We could switch…”

“ Nuh- uh. This wasn’t part of the bet! And we didn’t say the orders had to start now, right?”

The younger twin huffed. And while you had made yourself comfortable in their embrace, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “I’ll just have you in the morning then, Kie. Won’t it be better that way?”

Your words were met with a sigh and a kiss on the corner of your lips, causing you to smile.

“Hard to say no to a pretty girl.”

His words had you shivering involuntarily—the praise, the sound of his voice so close to your ear... You couldn’t help but whine as you felt him buck into you once more, and the low chuckle that he let out nearly had you burying your face further into the pillow.

“What?” you could hear the grin in Kieran’s voice. “All riled up already?”

You didn’t quite answer, only letting out a squeak as you felt the other twin shift beside you until something brushed directly against your clit.

“Stop distracting her, Kieran!” Luke let out a huff, and then there was a little kiss against your lips before Kieran pulled away from you.

It was at that moment you opened your eyes again, turning your head slightly with a pout.

“Wait, huh…? Where’re you going?”

Kieran smiled. “Do you trust me?”

“Well, yes…”

“Good. Then don’t worry about it. Just focus on Luke.”

As if on cue, the twin in question slowly guided you back to face him. And there was that sweet, loving, adoring smile on his face that made you melt. You would never get over how sharp the contrast always was between how he normally was and how he would treat you, always a comfort to be all wrapped up in his arms like this.

A finger to your lips, and he slowly raised your leg higher to wrap around his waist, languid movements to slide his dick between your folds. Every so often he would graze over your sensitive nub, the contact had you jolting, feeling the friction between you two in an instant that it was enough to have you biting your lip.

“Shhh,” he gave you a little wink. His finger trailed your jawline and over the marks that Kieran had left on you, before ultimately wrapping his arms back around your torso. The position had you shifting to rest your head against his chest, the scent of his cologne more obvious to you now. “C’mere, sunshine, I’ll take care of you. Go back to sleep, ‘kay?”

I’ll take care of you.

The words made you smile.

And it was easy enough for him to distract you from the noise of your drawer being opened, your cheeks flushing pink as he pulled you into another one of those sweet, sweet kisses of his. Every time, you could swear you tasted candy on his tongue—automatically you felt your eyes fall shut, taking in the delicate movements of his lips as he finally slid inside of you.

Slowly, slowly.

They always took their time with you. They always took care of you.

He eased himself into your cunt, inch by inch. It was the first full thrust that had you gasping into his mouth; the stretch of his cock was still something that caught you off-guard. But he would soothe you. Little whispers, little kisses, little caresses… in truth, he was just as lost in it as you were. Every so often he would pull away from his kisses to grunt into your ear, his voice breathy and trembling.

Yet the rock of his hips stayed gentle.

Rhythmic.

Almost as if waves on a shore.

It didn’t take long for you to match him, eyes still closed, panting into his chest as you moved to grip his collar. Your bodies moved languidly together, and he pushed himself deep enough for you to let out a quiet groan.

Luke wasn’t often good with consistency, but even you could tell that he was keeping up the effort this time—quite obviously working to lull you into this suspended state of near-sleep, half awake, yet certainly still conscious enough to register those little jolts of pleasure.

“Like that? Is that good? C’mon, baby, it’s okay, just keep your eyes closed…”

Words of reassurance, that sweetness in his voice…

Muffled moans would escape your lips every now and then, but at this point, you had barely the consciousness to register the weight of the mattress shift behind you. Your walls fluttered around his cock, gripping him tightly as a cool liquid dripped down the curve of your ass. It caused him to twitch—and behind you came that familiar, familiar low chuckle, a hand placed back to massage at your supple flesh.

“Ugh— haah —c’mon… Barely even—nnh—five minutes—!” Luke raised his head to give Kieran an indignant huff, but his hips continued to fuck up into you.

And Kieran only shrugged.

“I said I’d have my fun, too.”

You felt trapped, in a sense, as he, too, caged you into his arms, but the warmth was comforting. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Shit—”

It was at the same time that Kieran’s finger edged closer to your hole, causing you to involuntarily clench around the cock inside of you yet again. A soft “mm…” fell from your lips, the same finger circling around and prodding the ring of muscle, gathering the lube that he had just poured out onto you.

“Shhhh, shh. It’s just me, pretty girl.”

The shushing again, this time from a lower voice.

Kieran attached his lips to the shell of your ear, giving a tentative kitten lick.

“Oh, fuck— fuck, she’s so tight—” Luke’s moans grew louder, and by this point, the well-kept rhythm of his thrusts had faltered. His hips stuttered, trying to control his breathing through his nose.

When your eyes opened again, the image of his flushed expression and the desperate tears that pricked at his eyes nearly made you gasp.

“Luke…” you whispered, eyes still drooping sleepily, yet the sensations they were both giving you made it harder to truly just… sleep.

“Ugh— nngh— baby, just… Shit,  y-you’re so good, such a p-pretty little pussy…” 

He was panting, thrusting up into you, his hand moving to grip your thigh to allow him to do it harder.

Only, his movements seemed to spread your cheeks open just a little more, and you could practically feel Kieran’s smile against your ear.

“Oh, you wanna be awake for this, baby?” he murmured. He continued to massage at your little hole, still nice enough to ease you into it despite how many times you had done this with them anyway. 

“Mm… mhm…” you nod breathlessly, only able to find solace in the way you tightened your hold over Luke’s arms.

You were already sensitive.

Luke’s gentle thrusts were bearable; they felt nice and cozy and warm, enough to build the pleasure back up and have you panting into him. But the faster and harder he went, the more awake you felt. Too distracted by the pleasure to speak, too distracted by the anticipation of being filled, somehow, in both holes like you knew you always ended up with the both of them.

“Please…” a quiet, needy moan fell from your lips, head trying to tilt back up to look at the twin behind you. “Please, please, please, Kie…”

The nickname again.

You heard him hiss into your ear, and though you’d been distracted by the way Luke’s motions would cause your bed to rock, you were made equally as aware of the way Kieran had been rutting into his hand, trying to ease the aching of his cock.

You couldn’t see it, but the image in your head nearly made your throat close up.

Your walls fluttered, and he took the chance—done with teasing you, his finger pushed slowly inside, a louder, drawn-out moan ripping from your throat as your head threw back against him in pleasure.

“There we go. That’s a gooodd fucking girl…”

The stretch and that low grunt in your ear had you mewling, clawing at Luke’s back as if to ground yourself in the moment despite your vision already beginning to swim with stars.

“Another one, baby, okay?”

“W-wai—wait—!”

There was no more waiting.

You squealed as his index finger pushed right in next to his middle, your tight ring of muscle nearly sucking him in.

“See? You’re already used to it,” he chuckled.

It was as if the both of them were simply done with being gentle with you, immediately assuming a pace that had them pushing and pulling your hips as they pleased. 

In and out, in and out.

Every thrust—Luke, and then Kieran, and then Luke—a pattern that had you crying out their names in an almost nonsensical babble, this time having tears prick at your eyes enough for Luke to let out another curse.

“Holy f- ffuuckinggg shit — so pretty… So pretty like th-tha— haah —” His eyes rolled back into his head, hips never stopping. “Ngh, baby, baby, relax, you’re—sq- squeezing so hard, shit—”

“Yeah, is she? Fuck— take a deep breath, c’mon, pretty girl, c’mon…”

They would build it up so easily, you were going insane.

“Wai-w-wait—! I’m gonna— gonna cum plea—please! Ple—”

Cries tore from your lips the moment Luke brought his hand down to play with your clit, eyes squeezing shut—

You crashed.

It came with such an intensity you hadn’t felt for so long, every inch of your body shaking and jolting, practically screaming with pleasure.

And neither of their movements come at all to a halt.

Sometimes, you couldn’t tell if they were doing it to spite you. The dazed grin on Luke’s face and the way Kieran sunk his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder caused you to let out a choked sob.

And then it was messy.

They didn’t so much as give you even a second of warning before painting a stupidly sticky white mess all over your body, all over the sheets . Having pulled out of you, Luke slid himself over your stomach, ropes of cum catching on your bunched-up nightgown—a thick mess slid down your thighs from Kieran’s release, the tip of his cock nudging you ever so slightly and causing his hips to jolt up every so often.

Your chest heaved, vision hazy.

“Idiots…” you whined, weakly. “Look at the mess you made…”

For a while, there was no reply.

You half had to wonder if they had fallen asleep, but you knew them well enough—

When you shifted to look at them, you let out a huff at the way their eyes seemed to latch onto you and you alone, raking over your body with a sense of pride.

“You guuyyysss…” 

Another whine.

And then it was Luke who spoke first.

That stupid grin on his face wouldn’t leave, and he had the audacity to send you another one of those winks to you.

“Luke!”

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, you know?”

You should have expected how giddy his voice sounded.

“Like, shit. You’re such a pretty pretty little thing… God, if I could, I’d be fucking you all day—”

“Luke!!!!”

You nearly sat up to give him a smack to the face, but Kieran cut you off with another quick kiss.

It started with one, on your lips, and then tiny, feather-light kisses all over the rest of your face.

Two pecks over your eyelids caused them to close once more, and you let out a little huff.

“Kieran…”

“Luke’s right. You’re pretty like this.”

“Hey! But seriously—”

“It’s okay. We’ll clean you up, I promise. Stay here and I’ll heat up a bath for us?”

You pouted. “...Okay… Then cuddles, yeah? And you owe me a movie night…”

You couldn’t see, but you could certainly more than feel that they were smiling.

With both twins each leaving another little kiss on either side of your cheek, you heard them speak—

“O’course, pretty girl.”

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[jeoncopi]

[2] EAGER DAYS | JJK

are you ready to witness what's like to have a very yearning, domestically soft, vulnerable, silly yet playful and hot military boyfriend?

welcome to military jungkook's episodes!

—this entire series are based during jungkook's current state. as I'll be writing with each irl update. so this series might last until jungkook's finally free (Imao).

IMPORTANT: each episode won't be necessarily correlated to one another but some episodes could have light references to previous actions, feelings or situations.

BE AWARE OF: 18+ CONTENT.

pair: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.1k

what's in here?: a little bit of inside of their relationship, memories and flashbacks (jungkook’s pov). cute and a little bit of tension if you really squint lol.

[more episodes]

EPISODE 2. “short hair..”

freshly cut.

trimming his hair little by little has been jungkook’s plan for a while now. something about not wanting to get shocked or insecure if he ever looked bad being bald. ‘it’s best to get used to it like this, right?’ checking himself out at the salon, ‘I don’t look too bad.’ he mutters to himself.

‘I wonder what does y/n think..’ crosses his mind next.

—.•*•.—

“ta-da~”

boy-ish smile. you’re met with a brand new jungkook as soon as you open the door. a soft gasp escapes your lips when you scan his new haircut and you can’t help but drag his body inside your apartment just to glance at him in better lightning.

“oh my god.”

jungkook’s tone is playful when he chuckles and playfully asks with a semi smirk on his lips. “what? what?” walking you backwards as both of his hands are placed on your shoulders.

your hands gently resting on his firm chest. “why do you look so good?”

jungkook’s eyes already glistening with your answer. ‘that’s a relief’.

“so you like it?” he genuinely asks.

“are you serious?” you answer in complete bewilderment.

jungkook immediately nods his head many times. very cutely. “yes.” and so serious.

“I ffucking love it.” you emphasize the F which makes jungkook laugh very softly.

feeling extremely relaxed now knowing that his girl is totally into him all over again. — not that you weren’t before, but he just enjoys showing you new sides of him since for jungkook, to be able to maintain such a good and healthy relationship is to be able to keep things alive by doing new, different things.

you see, jungkook is a super active boyfriend. yeah, he does get tremendously lazy, because he is. and sometimes is very hard for him to even start something, but he also pushes himself and tries his best in moving around..

once he finds things that he likes, he just want to share it all with you and it’s been like that since the first day he met you. up to when you two became friends at eunwoo’s house, then the moment he acknowledged his feelings for you.. down to when he couldn’t resist it anymore, admitting to himself how badly he really wanted you.

for his good luck, you were also having quite a hurricane of unanswered questions and feelings on your mind around that time..

each time he thinks about it he can’t help but internally smile, if not physically.

— memory —

it had already passed two years since you two met and there you were, standing there with a cup of glass on your hands.. looking all pretty talking with a group of friends.

when jungkook really thinks about it, it all seems to always happen at his best friend’s events..

he’s walking towards you, making his mind to excuse you from them. you softly placed your empty cup at the side near to where you were standing.

“yes?” walking towards him.

jungkook swears he can feel everyone’s eyes on you both. but as always, all of it didn’t mattered as soon as his eyes met yours.

you were so pretty that night. wearing one of his favorite things ever..

a mini skirt.

he liked to imagine it was because of him each time you wore that.. and it’s all because of a past conversation you all were having between friends one day.

he even recalls the topic so well.

‘what’s an item someone can wear that you’ll say is definitely hot?’

— flashback —

jaeun asked, and it was already jungkook’s time to answer.

“yeah, I like when girls wear mini skirts. that definitely will do it for me.” he chuckles when everyone laughs and some others agree with him.

“oh.. so that’s something that turns you on?“ y/n sort of teases him. a cheeky smirk to her lips.

jungkook tries to humorously not roll his eyes. “eung.” answering with a nod towards you. “but not just with anybody though..” manspreading back into his seat. “..if they want to turn me on, I really do have to like them first.” and his gaze is so intense towards you.

hopefully nobody notices in the room.

eunwoo is the first to respond, “ahh, I get what you mean.”

“me too. actually,”

jungkook can sense some sort of intensity back on your gaze towards him when you respond,

“I’m the complete same. I can’t get turned on with a total stranger, you know?” with a smile on her face, also chuckling about it. “but now, if there’s someone I already know and I’m actually into them.. then that’s a whole different story.”

and there’s something about the way you act that it’s quite intriguing to jungkook. making him wanting to know if what you said was lowkey directed to him..

— end flashback —

..so it isn’t that wrong for him to think about it that way, right?

ever since that day.. he swears you started using more mini skirts from time to time.

or was it that it’s always whenever there’s a meeting with him?

just like a little pattern, he can be one hundred percent sure that you just knew where and when you needed to wear one at the right time and places.

as if you knew whenever he could attend an event or not, how come each time he saw you in pictures of dates he couldn’t make it, at all times, you were just as pretty but using those nice jeans or loose clothes he also loved so much.

never a mini skirt.

he can even picture the first time he saw you wearing one so perfectly. like a brand new painting being freshly made before his eyes,

he specifically remembers you going down the stairs, slowly but surely, still haven’t finished getting ready with the way you were fixing your earrings but he swears he has never seen someone to be so effortlessly stunning before.

his heart almost dropping, pushing and breaking out of his chest.. he didn’t even noticed how he wasn’t even breathing. holding his breath the entire time with that little sequence.

it’s not so much different from how you were feeling now, standing in front of her. “can you come upstairs with me for a sec?” he wished to not sound too creepy.

“um, sure.” even when he can tell you’re a bit confused, you still give him a comfort smile. you know she trusted you and you’re very glad that she does, because you definitely wouldn’t want her to do things she won’t like or even feel uncomfortable with.

—.•*•.—

“there’s something going on?” y/n asked when I slowly guided her to the currently empty, second living room.

“no—yes, actually.” I correct myself as nervous as I try not sound and my fingers slowly fidget with each other.

your face is rather more of concern when you notices my strange behavior. “..what’s wrong?”

but I chuckle a little when I glance at your reaction. “it’s nothing bad or sad, I promise. you can chill a little.”

making you chuckle back, “oh, was my face looking too worried?” cupping your own face as you speak. and I thought that was so cute.

I try to hide my face as I feel my cheeks burn in red, sort of looking down at the floor. engaging to the thought that I was lucky enough that you actually could not see it given to the poor lightning.

“mm just a little.” I paused. “actually? yes.” my tone still shy as I joke around and you laugh about it. but then I start rubbing one hand through the back of my neck when silence arrives and you start to speak,

“so..” taking one step near me. “um,” you stop. “I can’t see you very well from here.. do you mind if I get closer to you?”

and my heart jumped. “mm-yeah.. I mean, yeah. it’s fine.” trying to act cool, I only lean back on what it seems to be like a marbled table.

you chuckle when you get comfortable beside me.

“you’re very cute sometimes,” y/n mutters with a smile in between her teeth, almost as if you were admitting that more to yourself than me.

and you playfully push my shoulder with your upper body when you ask, “so, why are we here?”

with a smile too, I feel my heart beating hard when my face that it’s now facing yours, is very heed of how close you are.

“I.. I wanted to make you a question..”

“sure, what is it?” your eyes so attentive.

I gain courage to stand in front of you. sighing to myself when both of my hands are at each side of your body resting at the table instead of actually touching you. but you’re oh, so close that it’s almost as If I was trapping you against me.

still.. as careful as I am, you don’t show any sign of discomfort more than just give him glistening eyes that seem to be full of curiosity.

must be a great sign, right?

“I want to know..” I paused. “what do you think about me?”

and there’s a couple seconds of silence.

“..a-about you?” your voice rather feathery.

“romantic wise.” and I don’t even think of playing. it was now or never.

“romanticall-“

“yes, y/n.” interrupting her softly, “I want to know what’d you think of me.” I’m determined.

“why?” you genuinely ask.

“isn’t it obvious why i’m asking?”

you softly nod your head to the sides and I can’t help but tsk as I lower my head with a grin before directly pierce my eyes into yours.

“I think it’s very much clear that i’m interested, y/n. I’m interested in you.” I confess. pausing with a soft and shy smile. “I like you and I think I’ve been doing it for quite some time now.”

your expression, rather surprised. “s-since.. when?”

“I think it’s been over two years now.”

you slightly rise your eyebrows, shocked. “that’s literally the time we’ve been knowing each other-“

“exactly.” and my lips are slightly pouting when I answer.

you don’t say nothing else other than just stare at him with a shocked expression.

given to your silence, all I can think about is how this is such a bad sign. so I take a step back or at least try, since you grabbed my right arm when you say,

“wait.”

so I stand there, only staring at you.

“I’ve been hiding my feelings towards you for way too long.”

I blink several times, feeling my heart rise up all over again.

maybe there might be hope.

“aren’t you saying this to make me feel good?” I really wanted you to be more direct.

“do I seem like someone who’ll play with your feelings, jungkook?” and you sort of tease me, but I don’t mind.

“not really.. but again, you’ll never know.” joking back at you when you punch my shoulder. “ouch!”

“I do like you.” you pause. “a lot, actually.” playing with my fingers when you give me a shy smile. “maybe no longer than you but..” sigh. “it’s been a while.”

…that night, despite you two being incredibly happy of mutually liking each other, you really didn’t kiss or did anything else rather than still being friends during a few days.

reason why?

simply because we wanted to make things right. I wanted to ask her out properly, have a few official dates here and there and then.. get to it. didn’t lasted too long when I was already asking her to be mine though. being too way into her.. it was pretty clear I wasn’t gonna keep counting down days after all this years.

— end memory —

“I’m glad you like it, baby.” jungkook smiles, embracing your body into a hug. “I was so nervous you’ll tease me about it..”

“hey!” you softly punch his shoulders. “why would I do that?” cupping his cheeks. yes, it was your favorite thing to do. “I know how you feel about it babe, I could never.” kissing his pouty lips.

“but if l didn’t feel this way, would you think about it?” he raises an eyebrow.

it makes you laugh. “no, silly.”

“why?”

“because you’ll look handsome anyways.”

but then jungkook furrowed his eyebrows into a fake angry face. “just handsome?”

making you roll your eyes as you laugh. “and sexy..” leaving a kiss on his lips with each word.

“and pretty..”

kiss,

“and cute..”

kiss,

“and hot..”

kiss,

and all jungkook does is smile and blush as you do so.

“that’s what I wanted to hear..”

a/n: hope you liked this one! just wanted to add a little bit more to how their relationship was born ^^. to give you a hint of how things will go.. episode 3, it’s fun to read imo, ep. 4 is when the real thing really starts ;)

as always, let me know what you think about these series so far !! I love talking to you and reading your thoughts 🫶🏼.

— TAGLIST: @purplebtsmagic @looneybleus @eyesforjungkook @leah-rose03 @jungkooks21 @kookiescutie

[crsssie]

every time i look at you, i keep turning red

word count: 7.0k || inspo: The Dismemberment of Zagreus

warnings: nsfw, smut

summary: shade or not shade? minor goddess or goddess?

Past the gates of Hades and the river Styx, Elysium sits. An endless paradise of homes and greenery in a seemingly desolate land. It was always Zagreus' third stop. He hadn't paid much attention there, Asphodel previously wearing him out. Zagreus wonders not much about the land itself. The prince needed to get past it, avoiding traps he's lived through too many times to count and fighting past foes. He stops occasionally at safe spaces of people he's talked to and always leaves nectar behind as he knows he's going to return. He never makes it that far into the temple. It takes trials through hell and back to escape. It takes time, he finds. So sometimes, he rests in the fields, in a place he knows is far away from whatever traps of death within the realm of Hades himself may await him. A place where no dirt can cut into his skin and damage it.

It was a strange place. The shades wound him, though they didn't pierce the skin of the shades. Skin? The body. The souls, perhaps. The realm of Elysium was never meant to reside in as a godling for long. Though, he had seen multiple souls retain their human form here. It was amusing to him. It had been the closest he had ever been to talking to living people. He wonders if there are any new ones. It was weary, meeting the same people over and over again in the realm. He seldom sees people end up here anymore.

A sigh slips past his lips as he lays down in the green.

He resides in a paradise built for only the best of the best; people whom the gods favored heavily. Since the first three times he had visited his mother, he hadn't stopped to breathe in order to get back up. He fought, raced, and hurled in order to get to where he needed to be. He had to see his mother once more. She hadn't returned with him, and he had unanswered questions he needed answers to. Yet, as he finished with Asphodel, he supposes a quick rest in the grass could not kill him. Well, he wasn't exactly alive either. And, if failed, he would simply return to where he started. It was a cycle he had grown used to, though he fought tooth and nail to make it upward each time.

Zagreus is not expecting to meet someone new on the fourth.

He spots you in the distance, white chiton draping over your shoulders, wrapping snugly around your figure.

A young maiden. You looked no older than him.

He wonders by whom you were favored, but he pauses at the sight of the familiar color. It seemed you had received a blessing in the form of your hair. The streaks of color remind him of his own mother, and he wonders just what you've done to please the Queen of the Underworld so much. You don't notice his stare, but you notice the sword stuck to the dirt, reaching to pull one out of the ground. He wonders if you'll get cut by one. His eyes trail over your hands, and he takes note of how rough your hands seemed to be. They resemble those of his mother's. Perhaps you had been a farmer who worshipped his mother especially much.

The blade doesn't cut you, but you fail to pull it out. He watches newfound determination paint over your features, and his lips part at the sight. You pull the weapon out in two tugs, falling onto the ground as you do. The red on the surface of the blade cracks into green as you pry the sword out with your bare hands. Zagreus can only observe in a mixture of fear and awe. You, a dainty maiden, had pried a weapon out of the sod as though it were a pomegranate. You sat there, staring at the craftsmanship, enthralled by its beauty as he were enthralled with yours. You hear him shuffle, and he leans back into the grass.

Zagreus doesn't understand why you don't approach him nor run away, but he takes it as a greeting. He might see you more often. Perhaps he'll see you on his next quest upward. When he hears you shuffle out of range, he stands up, the wounds on his body healed to some extent. His exhaustion is rested, and he sets off to meet his mother again. Perhaps he'd ask her about you. It was strange to see hair that reminded him so much of his own mother. He wondered if the color had the same texture as his mother's. Ah, but it wouldn't be so kind to compare you to his mother, now would it? Perhaps he missed his mother. That's why he had stayed a little longer to pay attention to you. It would leave him with his next death. There was no other reason.

When Zagreus reaches the surface, his mother shakes her head at his questions. She had no favored child. There must've been something wrong. Perhaps he had seen things while hurt from battle. As Zagreus falls back into the Styx, he wonders if you really had been a desperate hallucination. It had been years since his father had ruled anyone into Elysium. If not blessed, then what was it? Perhaps you had done something during the time that you were alive.

You were a mortal goddess. One of healing, he supposes. He closes his eyes and hears someone shuffle toward him, pressing cold hands onto his skin, and a cooling sensation flowing through his body. When he opens his eyes again, the figure is gone, the wounds on his body mended. There's no ache in his body, and he notices the ambrosia left next to him. It was strange. Had you really been a goddess, you wouldn't be able to die. Perhaps you had fallen out of worship and grown forgotten by the people who once served you.

Zagreus keeps the ambrosia in his pockets. Maybe he'll give you one once he returns.

The fifth time he lies in the field, he doesn't have as many wounds, but he closes his eyes anyways. Perhaps he could catch you. When he feels as though he's waiting an eternity, he hears the grass rustle. Once the footsteps stop next to him, he grabs the hand that's pressed to his back. "Got you," He smiles. You struggle in his grip, and he can feel you grow warmer. "I won't hurt you," He sits up, keeping your wrist in his hand, taking note of how dainty you were compared to him. Your wrist seems small in comparison to his hand.

You blink at him owlishly, fear visible in your eyes. "Prince. M-my apologies. I didn't want to wake you, though I was worried the wounds would cause problems if left alone. Please don't send me to Tartarus..."

Zagreus sputters. "I assure you, fair maiden, that is not the case. I simply wanted to meet my savior. Perhaps you are a godling as I?"

You shake your head. "I am not. The blessing of Apollo's healing was simply placed on me. I am but a minor deity compared to the Olympians."

"So you fell out of worship?" Zagreus loosens his grip on your wrist. You don't seem like you'll leave if he does.

"No," You shake your head. "My mortal body was destroyed in a fit of rage from my father... My prince, how is it that you're able to touch me? I thought shades could not be touched."

"Elysium is a little different from such rules," He mumbles. "Thank you, for the ambrosia, fair maiden."

"It was but something expected," You mumble, standing back up. "My apologies for holding you back, my prince. I heard you are on your way to Olympus."

"That's not entirely correct," He stands up with you, towering over you almost. "But thank you for your healing, fair goddess."

"The Olympians wouldn't be happy with that title you call me," You mumble shyly as he presses a kiss to your hand. "Go on, my prince. May you continue on your journey with the blessing of a minor deity such as I."

Zagreus smiles gently. "I thank you for the blessing, little goddess."

Zagreus climbs back to the overworld for the fifth time.

On the sixth, he has no injury. He's growing better at climbing, yet he still stops by the meadow where you reside. He wants to see you again. Of the few shades that could touch him, he seemed to like you the best. Your fingers were cool against his skin, and he liked the way you warmed when he complimented you. He likes the way you turn dark from his touch. You were tiny compared to him. He was already short compared to both his parents, but you were even smaller. It seemed you were an even lesser goddess compared to him. He liked the feeling of your hand in his. Ah. He'd have to ask mother what that feeling was. His chest was warmer than the gates of the underworld.

"Lovely maiden," Zagreus presses your hand to his cheek, relishing in the cold of your fingers. You feel divine on his skin. As though Nyx herself had blessed you, your skin was cold as his foster mother's. He liked the feeling of your skin on his.

"My prince," you mumble. "What time is this? I feel as though you've climbed for centuries by now."

"Maiden," He whispers. "That is simply because there is no morning here."

"Ah," you mumble. "The days feel long, even in a paradise such as Elysium."

"I can see that," Zagreus smiles. "Well, I shall be on my way now."

"Yes, my prince," You bow. "Please stay safe. May the blessings of a minor deity as I assist you along the way."

"Thank you, little goddess," He presses your fingers to his lips. "I shall see you in my next run."

Zagreus finds himself heavily wounded on his seventh run. His mother had told him to consider talking to his father properly, and he had fallen dead to the overworld again. Ah, he had forgotten to inquire about the warmth from you. He recalls the words of his mentor, though, wondering if that was how his father felt around his mother. Would he have to move you forcibly to his room? No. That would make him the same as his father. He wouldn't like it.

Neither of you speak while he's injured, and you press your palm to his skin. The cold that spreads through his abdomen stings, though it brings him comfort as well. He has grown used to the cold from your hands, and he wonders if you could press it to his hands to heal them as well. Calluses and rough patches of skin from handling weapons have long plagued his fingers and palms. It was a strange feeling, though it has grown to be welcomed. There is something about your touch specifically. His hand reaches for your face as you start pulling away.

"Goddess," He mumbles, pressing his fingers to your cheek.

"Tis your seventh run, yes?" You mumble, leaning into his touch.

"Yes," He breathes, his breath catching in his throat.

"How many more, my prince?"

"I don't know," he presses his thumb on your bottom lip, swiping across it. Your lip seems small compared to his thumb, he can only imagine how small you would be compared to his hands once he lifts you. Ah. No. He couldn't afford such thoughts. He had barely known you, yet he held such affection for you. Perhaps you had treated him just as you treated everyone else. He didn't know a dead heart could race so fast. "Until my mother returns." He purses his lips. "Though it will only be temporary rest. I don't feel as though I belong here, you see."

"Mm," you hum gently, lashes fluttering to get a better look at the prince. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my prince."

"I do," He smiles. "And I get to see you, my fair goddess, each time."

"How flirtatious of you, prince," You mumble, skin warm again.

"Only with you, my fair goddess," He smiles. "This is for you to take," He places a bottle of ambrosia in your hands. "Until I meet you next time, goddess."

Your skin warms from his ministrations. "May the blessings of a minor goddess as myself keep you safe on your journey."

"A kiss, perhaps?" He smiles, cocking his head to the side gently. "If you don't desire it, then it is fine."

"If the prince desires it," you mumble, using his shoulder as leverage to pull yourself to his cheek. You press your lips to his neck for a moment, and Zagreus finds his skin growing red. He turns to stare at you, the blush visible on his skin. You stare up at him, doe-eyed and smiling. "Then I shall fulfill it."

Zagreus wants to defile you.

The thought comes up suddenly as he stares down at you, and his heart shakes erratically in his chest. Maybe it wasn't a heart. Perhaps it was the blood rushing to his head. Yet, as he watches you fulfill whatever he desired, he couldn't help but wonder if you'd give yourself to him. His hand reaches for your lip again, brushing the bottom lip. You stare at him, staring quietly. Ah. He's been staring for too long. Hopefully, you don't mind it.

"My apologies, little goddess," Zagreus lets go of your face gently. "I shall be on my way."

"May the blessings of a minor goddess as I protect you along the way," You bow, and Zagreus heads out to his mother again.

Zagreus pauses while in the colosseum, a recurring thought plaguing his mind. It would be nice to find you after the fights, though he would have to return again. He wonders how far your healing properties can go. Perhaps he could find you once he climbs the next time. He still needed to convince his mother to return to the underworld with him. Once he does such, he'd be able to leave much easier. His father being distracted would also permit him to spend more time with you while he climbed to the surface. Perhaps he could somehow convince his mother to let you roam around the underworld with him while he traveled upward. A companion along his way would be nice. You could heal him when he needed it as well. He'll talk with mother on the matter.

While on the surface, his mother follows him with more questions. Zagreus wonders if it would be possible to remain on the surface for longer. Perhaps he'd build up an immunity to the sun, and he'd be able to stay out for longer. He should bring you up sometime. Though, it seems you didn't exactly die, so you'd undoubtedly be capable of escaping from the underworld. His father would be greatly angered at such a thought. Letting a goddess that fell out of worship escape the underworld? How foolish of a thought.

"My prince," You stare at him as he steps toward you.

"Goddess," He smiles. "I've come to seek advice, since you seem to have seen more than I."

"A lie," You hum. "But let us see if I shall be of assistance to you."

"My father's chambers," Zagreus swallows, and he pauses. Should he be telling you of such a vulnerable room? No. Even if he were to keep it a secret, he wouldn't know the answer until his mother responded to him. "Do you know of the former queen? My mother?"

"The goddess Persephone?" You tilt your head. "It had been a legend, as many of the people believed you were the son of Nyx, but I suppose you wouldn't be escaping to leave if your mother were here."

"So you do know," He mumbles. "My father has a portrait of my mother hung up in his room, still. After so many years."

You tilt your head to hear more.

"I do not understand why."

"It is love," You smile. "For one does not go so far or so to keep a fragment of someone unless they are in love."

"Is that so," Zagreus mumbles. "Would you like to meet mother?"

"My body is supposedly bound to Elysian," You smile. "Unless the prince was considering abducting me?"

"I do not see why not," He shrugs. "Tis tradition in this house." He smiles cheekily. "As my father had abducted my mother."

"But you do not love me," You watch him as he presses the back of your hand to your lips. "As your father loves your mother."

"I would move you to the office of Hades myself if I could," Zagreus nods, and you press two fingers to his head.

"May the blessings of a minor goddess as I keep you safe on your journey once more," You bow as he steps off.

"Ah," He turns around. "Before I forget." He steps over to you, handing you a bottle of ambrosia. "Would you be willing to move to my chambers if I could move you?"

"We shall talk about that once the chance of such an event occurs," You smile, and Zagreus watches the faux wind brush your hair.

"Of course. Thank you, little goddess," He returns to the arena once more.

In such a way, he supposes Asterius and Theseus have grown tired of his attempts at escaping, though they go no easier on him than they always have. The metal of his weapons clashes against theirs, and he does wonder if his proposal to you could ever go beyond a fleeting thought. Though, as he defeats the heroes once more, he stands and stares at the drops. Perhaps he could bring that up once his mother returns. His father's mood might soften if that were to occur. But alas, pointless thoughts are worth nothing until they follow through.

Zagreus talks to his mother, questioning as to why his father would even begin to keep a portrait of his mother with him. His mother's response is the same as yours, and he pauses at the realization. His mother seems to catch on, and he curses himself as he falls to the river Styx again. He's wasting his time thinking about you while on the surface. His mother is considering it, sure, but gods, he's about ready to steal you for himself. He's sure you'd look much prettier under the sun. He's nearly jealous of your worshippers. Though, he wonders how a foolish thought as such could even plague his mind.

"I have been told," You start, fiddling with your fingers. "That this is not your ninth run, but perhaps your hundredth, my prince."

"That is an overstatement," He hums. "I have lost count as death is not new to me."

"It would seem so," You mumble. "For death is foreign to me."

"You had not passed?"

"The sleep reincarnate had quite the time trying to find my name," You smile. "Hades himself had to welcome me into Elysium since he could not send me back to the overworld."

"Would you like to join me?" He traces circles on your hand. "Since you are not bound there."

"I will be of no help in the arena with Asterius and Theseus. I shall simply wait for your next climb." You shake your head.

"No warrior experience?" He finds it almost baffling. "None?"

"I have fought," You swallow. "But I do not enjoy it, my prince."

"I see," He mumbles, staring at your robes. "Then I shall come find you in my next run."

"I see," You smile. "Please convey my words to your mother. I feel as though the underworld misses their queen, my prince."

"I see," He nods.

"May the blessing of a minor goddess as I," You grab his hand, pressing your lips to his knuckles. "keep you safe on your journey once more, my prince."

Persephone entertains the idea of possibly returning to the underworld. The last words she leaves Zagreus with make his heart flutter at the possibility of his mother returning home with him. He's elated. Once he does, he's sure he'll be able to have her meet you and possibly move you around with him. The idea brings a smile to his face as he talks to Hypnos. The sleep incarnate grimaces and sends him on his way, napping once more as a result. Zagreus doesn't understand why his heart races as he opens his arms for you.

You crash into his chest gently, sighing gently at the feeling of his arms around you. Zagreus thinks you're a little cold, but it's a welcome contrast to his warm skin. His fingers press against your back, and you smile softly. It doesn't reach your eyes, but your body relaxes in his touch, and Zagreus can't help but wonder if something had occurred for you to touch him so willingly. He lets you rest on his chest, and he presses his fingers to the back of your neck. You squirm at the sensation, and he smiles. "Did you miss me, little goddess?"

"Yes," You mumble. "You took time this run, you see, my prince."

"My apologies," He presses a kiss to your hair, and you giggle.

"How was seeing your mother?" You peel yourself from him, lashes fluttering up at him.

"It was nice," He hums, letting go of you. "Are you still willing to reside with me in the main castle?"

"Perhaps once you accomplish your goal on the surface of the earth," You tap his chest mindlessly. "Will the queen return?"

"Perhaps," He closes his eyes, pulling your palm to his cheek. "Will you meet her with me this time?"

"Perhaps," You mumble. "Though, I can not return to the surface with you. It will be of no help."

"I do not mind bringing luggage with me," He lifts you from the ground, grinning as you yelp. You sit on his right shoulder as he rushes to the arena. "If you do not wish to fight, then there is no need for you to."

"I can fight," You swallow, the blade on your thigh.

"But you do not like it," He hums, pulling you to the side. "Just watch me and heal from the sidelines. Please, little goddess." He brushes your hair to the side, and your breath catches in your throat.

"If that is what you will, my prince." You mumble as he carries you off to the arena. A part of you were terrified of Hades's booming voice as the first time, yet Zagreus' arms keep you secure. He couldn't pass with you around. You hadn't passed away, and the healing you provided raised his defenses. You prayed that he would survive with you as luggage. The mere thought of having to battle on your own terrified you. The sight of blood was already a tightrope to walk on.

Your prince fights valiantly, the battle long engrained into his muscles, and he finishes his job with precision. The blood on his skin does not belong to him, but rather his opponents, and the good shade cheers. Your fingers drum against your skin nervously as the gate to the Temple of the Styx opens. The prince offers you his hand, and you follow him. You fear for your life. There were rumors that the gate to the surface was guarded by Lord Hades himself, and you did not wish to meet the god again.

Zagreus passes with you on his shoulder, and he finds that you are much lighter than he thinks. It was as though your bones could break at any moment. He didn't like it, though he was glad you hadn't complained about how quickly he was rushing through. He wanted to meet his mother. Perhaps he'd get his father's blessing along the way, though, he would most likely attempt to send you back to Elysium. He wouldn't let him. It wasn't any more of an act of defiance compared to escaping to meet his mother.

Zagreus reaches the gates to the surface with you still on his shoulder, and his father pauses at the sight. His son has a shade on his shoulder, and he contemplates letting his son out even at all. Though, he recognized the shade. It wasn't a shade, it had been a goddess who had just floated down the River Styx. He supposes letting him go would not hurt, though it would definitely cause a hit to the reputation of the underworld.

"Zagreus," Hades' voice bellows. "What is with the shade?"

"She is not a shade," Zagreus swallows, and he presses his hand to your trembling thigh. "She is a goddess."

"Goddess or not," The king of the underworld roars. "I can not let her escape."

"I am taking her to meet mother," Zagreus grumbles. "If you do not let me pass, we will fight as we always have."

You avert your eyes from the King, and Zagreus' grip on you assures you of your safety. You had not thought he would be so honest with his words. The heat creeps up your cheeks, and you attempt to tune out the King and Prince's conversation. You can feel the heat from frustration radiating off of his body, and you press your palm to the back of the prince's neck. You hope that'll calm him down to some extent. It works, and the prince starts negotiating. The heat at the gate lowers, and you whimper as Zagreus finally rushes out with you.

The overworld is much colder than the underworld. You had forgotten it was near winter, and you tap the prince for him to let you down.

"I promised father to bring you back," He mumbles, holding onto your hand instead. "So you must stay attached to me."

"Of course, my prince," You mumble, stepping onto the grass. "How long do you have?"

"Until I pass," He smiles. "You must return from the styx with me, though."

"I can return through the gates," You follow him as he rushes through the hill to his mother's abode. The snow crunches under your feet, and you glance at the burnt grass from Zagreus' feet. You hadn't paid much attention to the prince, yet it came as a surprise that his feet left ashes in the green. Perhaps his mother had cast a spell in her garden? You try not to think much as the prince leads you to his mother's home. You were undeniably a little worried for meeting the queen of the underworld.

"Mother," Zagreus lets go of your hand, and you stand there, glancing around the garden.

You space out for much of the conversation, rocking on your heels, staring around at the overworld. It has not changed much. You wonder how your people are doing, though they are far from the gates of the underworld. Your eyes linger at the edge of the cliff, and Zagreus' voice cuts you out of your trance. "Mother, this is a minor goddess that ended up in the river Styx," Zagreus pulls you to his mother, warm hands on your shoulder as you smile awkwardly.

"It's... a pleasure to meet you, goddess," You bow.

"Well, there are no need for formalities as such," The goddess smiles. "I remember you. I had visited your temple once."

"I am honored, your highness," You bow in embarrassment. "That you had received the help of a minor goddess as I."

"There is no minor nor major," The queen helps you up, and she smiles. "For we all take care of people."

You flush with embarrassment. "Thank you, my queen."

Your skin warms as the two of them help you onto Charon's boat, and you listen curiously to the sounds of Orpheus and Euridice. The boat rocks rhythmically as you stare at the passing scenery. The green of Elysium is familiar to you, though the lands of Asphodel and Tartarus are foreign to your eyes. You note the screams, and you stare almost longingly at the ever-fading sunlight. Zagreus takes note of it, though he wonders if there were ever a chance you could remain in the overworld. Both of you know that is just foolish wishing.

As the boat stops at the gates of Hell itself, you pause to stare at the gates. They're a terrifying height to you, and as the queen of the underworld herself bellows for the opening of the gates. Zagreus squeezes your shoulder assuringly as he presses his palm to your back. You trail through the gates, next to the prince, swallowing unconsciously as Hades greets his wife and son. You reach for Zagreus' hand instinctually, shaking slightly as his hand clasps you. He rubs gentle circles on the back of your hand as you space out, thinking about your home in Elysium. Though, it seems as though Zagreus does not wish for you to return. Even as you return to the main hall with him, Zagreus does not let go of your hand.

"Goddess," He mumbles. "We shall be throwing a banquet for the olympians. Would you like to join?"

"There is no need," You mumble. "When shall I be returning to Elysium?"

"Do you wish to return to early?" The prince whispers sadly, and you whimper.

"I am worried that Lord Hades will grow angry," You try and explain yourself.

"If he does not, will you stay with me?"

"If it is my prince's will," You avert your eyes, and the prince smiles.

"Then by royal order, you are to stay next to me at all times."

"Even while my prince escapes?" You fiddle with your fingers, letting go of his hand.

"Even while I escape," He presses his hand to your hair and runs it down your back. "You are to stay with me."

"Yes, my prince," You don't know how to feel about it. Though, it seems to be an issue that only you worry about. The preparations for the party are done by Lady Persephone and you, adjusting the tablecloth and food. You help pick the wines, the queen herself growing the grapes, and the underworld quickly hurries to vitalize. It feels very alive, a place that seemed to be no more than death itself. You had never seen Hades work so much on things other than dealing with shades. You're almost impressed.

Zagreus helps his mother adjust the tables in the dining room, and the amount of preparation that goes into the welcoming of the Olympians is baffling. You help around when you can, organizing plates and tasting the food. Zagreus stops you from having a sip of ambrosia while preparing. You bat your lashes at him, and he shakes his head. "There is alcohol mixed into it, fair goddess." You listen, setting it onto the table as he rushes off to help his mother. You smile at the two; after all, he was a mother's boy. You wonder if you had parents of your own, but you brush the thought off. It did not matter.

Once the party ends, you don't complain as you clean up with the other servants, and you don't complain as you wash dishes in River Styx. You find it amusing that you were washing dishes in the river of the dead. The boon of Lady Persephone herself keeps you from decaying, and Zagreus helps you out, drying tableware as you finish the last of the mess. The rest of the castle is restored, and you collapse onto Zagreus' recliner, exhaustion worming through your body. You curl in the cushions, the exhaustion knocking you out. You could worry about other things later once you wake up.

The prince of the underworld steps back into his room, frowning when he couldn't find you after you rushed off to the kitchen. He wonders if you had been sent back to Elysium or attempted to flee. After all, you had looked sad when you boarded the boat to return. He's glad that isn't the case when he finds you on his bed. Your chest rises and falls, the fabric of your chiton barely doing anything to cover your body. It slides down your shoulder, and Zagreus bites his tongue as he shifts it back up your shoulder, covering you. He lifts you from the recliner, placing you in bed gently, as if scared you would break from his touch. Your skin is cool against his as he wraps his arms around you hesitantly, and he closes his eyes. It had been a while since he had fallen asleep.

You wake to warmth pressed against your back and a sweaty body. You don't recall Zagreus' room being so hot. Was Tartarus burning all of a sudden? Perhaps Asphodel had overflowed once more. Yet, as your eyes open and you stretch your arms, you find that you're in the arms of the prince, his head pressed into your shoulder. You pause mid-stretch, and you lower your arms, shuffling to face him. The sheets rustle as you press your ear to his chest, eyes closing again at the sound of his heart. Huh. You didn't know dead people had heartbeats in the underworld.

Zagreus wakes again, sighing at the coolness of your skin. He glances at your new position, and he lies there, staring up at the ceiling. His mind wanders as you lie on him, and he brushes your hair to the side. You look pretty in his arms, and you were all his. You stir in your rest, and you blink drowsily at the male. "Zag?"

"Good morning, goddess," He smiles. "Did you rest well?"

"Very much so," You mumble, tapping his chest gently. His eyes meet yours, and his lips pull into a grin. You look dazzling. He moves his hand to your cheek, tracing the bags of your eyes. Your lips part, leaning into his touch. You contemplate your words for a moment, the prince hanging on the apprehension. Your next words cause his smile to broaden."May... I have a kiss?"

"Yes, goddess," He whispers, lowering himself to press one to your lips lovingly. You wrap your arms around his neck, whimpering at the heat from his hands. His eyes stay half-lidded, and his tongue swipes your bottom lip. You part your lips, letting him press his tongue to yours, sticking closer to him. Zagreus leans further into you, heart ringing in his ears. He whimpers as you move your hands to press to his chest, and he pulls away, the coolness of your skin burning his. He pants, staring at you through his lashes. "What's wrong?"

"I want more," You whimper, squirming as he presses his hands to your waist. Zagreus' face lights up. You seldom asked for more. You must be tired, his pretty goddess. He'll take care of you properly. Anything for you, after all. He pulls the blanket from your shoulders and lifts you into his lap.

"On top or on the bottom, darling," He mumbles, and you reach for his wrist.

"Bottom, please, Zag."

The prince spreads you on the bed, pulling your thighs apart as you ease into the pillows. You chew your bottom lip nervously as he presses his fingers into your legs. You grow embarrassed from his actions, skin flushing.

"Don't do that," You whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"It's embarrassing," You hide your face, and the prince smiles.

"There is no embarrassment," He pulls you to his face by the thigh, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your leg. "You are the lover of the prince of the underworld. There is no shame in a place as this." He lifts the cloth from your legs, scrunching it up. "I'll make sure that you are aware of this, goddess." His fingers trace the outer lip of your labia, thumb meeting your clit to get you wet. You grip the sheets, desperate to cum not squirm. Zagreus is making it increasingly hard for you, your breath quickening as he slides a finger into you. Your thighs squirm to close, and he uses his arms to keep you open. Your struggling falls on deaf ears. He stares in curiosity at the way you coat his fingers. "You're gorgeous, darling." He mumbles, kissing your clit gently. You flush with embarrassment.

"That's embarrassing," You whine again.

"I told you, darling," Zagreus presses his lips to your pussy, pulling his fingers out to keep your legs apart forcibly. "There is no embarrassment to being my lover." He can't see you, but he drinks in the sounds you make as he goes down on you. The room fills up with your gasps, and he moans lightly as your fingers thread through his hair. He presses his tongue flat again, and you whimper as he bites on your clit. You're not sure what happens next, but as the prince goes back down on you in a blur, your legs are tightening around his head, your orgasm crashing down on you. Your lips part, a silent sob slipping past your lips as Zagreus pulls from you. He swipes his fingers across his chin, collecting the slick from your cunt.

"Still embarrassed?," His face drops, and he leans into your face.

You whimper. "N-no."

"Do you want to go all the way?" He stares at the mess on the sheets, and you whimper.

"Yes," You whisper. "I... feel as though I've made you wait long enough."

"Do not think that you are required to satisfy me," He whispers, staring into your eyes. "Never. This is about your comfort."

"I am sure, my prince," You mumble, fingers pressing onto his chest again.

Zagreus pulls his robes to the side, and he gives you one last stare, only pulling you to him as you nod. You're nervous, understandably so, and the prince eases into you, lashes fluttering to stare at you while you stare at where he was sliding into you. He's glad you're wet enough, and he pauses once he's inside of you, rubbing comforting circles onto your waist as you reach for his hand. He entwines his fingers with yours, letting you play with his fingers as you adjust to his size.

You're full. You feel yourself filled to the brim, stretched beyond how you've ever felt with your fingers alone. You fiddle with the prince's hand, the heat from his body warming yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to feel closer to him, and he leans onto you, hands caging you to keep his body weight off of you. You take the moment to stare at his arms and pecs, biting your bottom lip as he shifts himself in you. You exhale, curling upward to his collar, biting quietly. The prince cocks his neck to the side to give you more access, and you bite down, the male moaning. You suck quietly. You wonder if you could ask him to play with his chest another day. He might think it's too much for the first time.

Your lips let go of his neck, and you lower yourself back onto the mattress. "You can move now, my prince."

Zagreus moves slowly, worried that he would break you if he were to move roughly. You can feel him with every drag, sweating. "You're, hah, so dazzling, goddess," The male moans, hissing at the feeling of your nails rake down his skin. You whimper as he drags himself inside of you again, and your eyes are glazed over with tears. Zagreus finds that you look divine like this. The mixture of sweat and spit on the two of you causes your skin to glisten, and his half-lidded eyes flick over your body. You look ethereal. Ah, not even the skies of the overworld could rival your beauty. He can't believe he gets to have you like this.

You gasp and writhe under him, broken sobs cracking out of your throat as he thrusts into your repeatedly. You feel his sweat build up under your nails, yet you don't mind. Every inch of your body is on fire, and you whimper at how full you feel. You feel every inch of him drag through you at each thrust, and your toes curl behind him. It's drunkening. Your body is a mess from him, the cum staining his sheets, yet Zagreus doesn't stop. Your arms fall above your head, Zagreus entwining his hand with one of yours. You feel embarrassed, trying to muffle your voice in his pillows. "Zag... Zag... Ah, Zahg" You gasp as he presses his chest to yours, forcing your eyes to meet his. "I'm going to... hah... cum... please..."

Zagreus presses a kiss to your collar, his thumb moving down to meet your clit. You were calling his name so sweetly, how could he not comply? Your back hits the bedding again, nails digging into his shoulders. You moan and babble incoherently as he speeds up, and you cry as your orgasm hits. It jolts down your spine, your pussy clenching on him, causing the prince to curse on your skin, fucking you through your orgasm. You cry from the overstimulation, and the prince strings apologies into your ears as he chases his own orgasm. "Zahg... nn," You cry. "It feels weird... a-ah," Zagreus presses his lips to yours, finally feeling himself cum as your nails dig back into his skin. He doesn't think much as he forces himself into you deeper so that his cum stays, and you finally relax onto the pillows, tear stains visible on your cheeks.

"Sorry, darling," He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, licking the salt curiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," You whimper as he pulls out. "I'm fine. Thank you, my prince."

"Rest again, my goddess." He mumbles, kissing your forehead. "I shall take care of you."

"I'm sorry," Your eyes shut. "My prince."

"There is nothing for you to apologize for," He pulls the covers over you once more, and you drift off.