#he literally HAD to think about crawling in there

[pajarinwrites]

中秋节 | Wen Junhui x Reader

➳ fem!reader x jun

➳ wc: 6.1k

➳ TAGS: idol!au, established relationship

➳ WARNINGS: omg um, cunnilingus, jun is a SIMP, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it, my dudes), praise, just general adorable lovey dovey softness, but like medium rough sex? ig, not really rough?, i never know how to write warnings, just like i don't know how to write smut woops sorry

➳ AN: HAPPY MID AUTUMN FESTIVAL BITCHES and 女王们; this is only moderately edited bc i actually meant to publish smt for 中秋节 last year but i didn't finish it in time so here it is now (I’m sure it’s still autumn festival somewhere in the world…)! I LOVE WEN JUNHUI

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE SMUT I HATED THIS AHHHH i don't think i'll ever be able to write any smut in which the man isn't a simpering, whimpering, submissive, cowering, crawling, obsequious little simping piece of trash; it's just how i like my men, but i kinda wanna challenge myself some time, not this time though :P also i'm low-key proud of this smut? i used miraclewoozi as an inspiration bc their smut is literal art...

also, literally three pieces in one week??? WHO AM I??? this is more than in the entire year before combined, i fear lmao. sorry. i'm off to return to hibernate in my bog for another six months now thx bye, RIN OUT *drops mic

masterlist

Jun stepped out of the airport into the sweltering heat, but had to find that merely knowing the weather conditions was quite different from being prepared for them. Luckily, he had left enough space in his carry-on to take off the jacket and sweater that he had needed in chilly Seoul and during the flight – airplane ACs were notoriously unpredictable. Despite this, Hong Kong never seized to amaze him with its constant warmth. At least the eternal sunshine gave him a good excuse to wear a cap and sunglasses at all times.

He flagged down a cross-border cab because, frankly, he didn’t feel like taking the crowded metro all the way home. This way he saved himself from a lot of heat, hassle, and the potential of being recognised, even if it delayed him. As expected, the traffic in the city was a nightmare and he did make it home later than strictly necessary. He paid the fee, dodging the driver’s interested gaze, and mumbling a small “mh gōi” before dashing into his building.

When he was finally standing in front of his apartment door, Jun felt ready to just lock himself in his room for the rest of the night. That was, until the door opened to reveal his parents and little brother. Immediately, his frown softened and he dropped his bags to engulf them in one enormous hug.

“I missed you guys so much,” he exclaimed to groans from his little brother and a soft smile from his mother.

This was most likely going to be the last chance he got to spend more than a day or two with them. With their world tour and his busy filming schedule just around the corner, he wouldn’t have time for months.

Jun had spent years of Zhōngqiūjié apart from them. It wasn’t easy to watch most of his members be able to visit their homes and spend Chuseok with their loved ones. Some years it was only him, Minghao, and Joshua in the dorms. But he wasn’t going to dwell on that. Not when he could finally hold the people he loved the most in his arms. Well, most of them at any rate. He would never get used to having to choose between his biological and his chosen family.

His mother peeled herself away from him, squeezing his cheek and insisting that he had grown even more handsome over the last few weeks.  His step father clapped him on the shoulder and asked him about the flight; his brother asked if he had brought him anything cool. Unable to stop smiling for even a second, Jun assented to both questions. He was led to the living room by his mother to sit and relax after the ‘strenuous journey’, giving him a moment to fish the presents out of his luggage, handing one off to his little brother.

“Thanks, gē!” YangYang exclaimed and bounded off to his room to open it in peace. Their mother called after him, “Don’t forget to do your homework before playing! Dinner will be ready in an hour!” Jun smiled, handing his parents the other one.

“You shouldn’t have! I keep telling you we don’t need anything.”

“But I want to get you guys nice things, mā.”

She looked trapped half-way between smitten and resigned, but accepted the present gracefully. With a kiss on the top of his head she stated, “You can rest a little before I call you boys for dinner. I’m making your favourite.”

He thanked her, foregoing the idea of retiring to his room in favour of joining his mother in the kitchen. Most of the ingredients were already laid out on the counter, but when she bent down to pick up something from the bottom shelf, she gasped, “I can’t believe it! Where did all of our rice noodles go? I don’t think this is enough. And I also forgot to buy bamboo shoots earlier!”

She turned around, apologetically, and murmured about having to go to the market real quick to get some. Jun held out his hand to stop her in her tracks.

“Don’t worry, mā. I’ll go get the missing ingredients, and you can get started on the other dishes.”

“No let me go, Jun. You’ve just had a taxing flight and—“ His step-father tried to intervene.

“It’s absolutely no problem!” Jun insisted, not paying his parents’ protests any mind. He grabbed his sunglasses from the side table by the entrance and was out the door before either of them could stop him.

Jun had missed their shèqū, its homely atmosphere, the bustling of the people on the street, and hence didn’t mind the opportunity for a late-night stroll. The closest super market was just down the short road at the main square, and he stopped by quickly before continuing on his way to the live market.

There was a certain nostalgia in going to the market like this, just the way he used to with his mother when he was younger. The stalls didn’t even seem to have changed at all. There was the same group of old ladies dancing in the small park to the side, and a little further down the road, a small group of children was taking turns, performing on a gǔzhēng. Jun watched the windows of his old piano school pass by, still partially lit as students practiced inside. At the corner of the next street was the second-hand book store they had often visited, next to the pharmacy in which he used to sit on the kiddie rides for ages, singing along to jiātíng chēnghu or liǎng zhī lǎohǔ.

Still lost in nostalgia, he stopped by one of the vegetable vendors to acquire the bamboo shoots. Jun enjoyed strolling the aisles leisurely, taking a look at all the things that were being sold. As he rounded one of the displays, someone else was cutting the corner in the opposite direction. Jun barely managed to dance out of the trajectory of them, murmuring an immediate, “Sorry, are you okay?”

He pulled down his sunglasses and looked at the person in front of him in worry. They looked up, locked eyes with him and whisper-screamed, “Oh my god! Wen Junhui?”

Jun was taken aback for only a split second, which he spent worrying he had been recognised, before he could place your face. He hadn’t seen you properly in years, just another name on the long list of people he had to leave behind. The last time you had run into each other had been during Rock With You promotions, when Minghao and he had taken time for their own schedules in China. His eyes crinkled in the corners but he still didn’t dare to take off his mask.

“It’s been so long!” He said instead. You had pulled him into your arms within a second, just a quick squeeze before remembering where you were. You pulled away, pouting, “You didn’t tell me you’d be back.”

“Sorry, it slipped my mind. I also didn’t think I’d have enough time to meet you. Not properly…”

You wiggled your eyebrows, “What does that mean?” Jun blushed, making you laugh. “I’m kidding, A-Jun. But I’m glad we ran into each other. I mean, what are the odds!”

“I didn’t even know whether you still lived here,” he admitted, sheepishly. But Jun wished profoundly that you could feel how earnest he was being. You didn’t actually seem to mind his failure to alert you of his arrival, despite your history. Instead, you continued in your usual chirpy manner, “Yeah, I managed to find work close by so I could stay here. But I’m here here just for the holiday. Staying at my parents, you know.” Jun nodded, accompanying you to the register under more animated chatter.

“Do you have to get anything else?” You asked after you had stepped out the open market. He negated, returning the question.

“Me neither,” you replied, hesitating shortly before continuing, “I guess that means we’ll have to part ways again…”

The way your voice trailed off and your eyebrows knitted together made Jun reply before thinking better of it, “Actually, I think my mā can wait for these bamboo shoots a little longer…” You face lit up with such intensity and immediacy that Jun had to chuckle.

“In that case let’s take a stroll through the park. I’ve been keeping up with Seventeen obviously, but I want to hear from you, personally, how you’ve been doing.”

Falling into step beside you felt so easy. Together, you walked the same paths you did when you were teenagers, talking about everything and anything – back before he had to leave for Korea. He talked a lot about the shoots, dorm fights and misunderstandings, and how much he had missed his mother’s cooking. You winked, asking whether he hadn’t missed you at all, and he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence in reply. Instead he sputtered for a few seconds before you let him off the hook.

“It’s fine. I was joking, Jun. Oh, look!” Jun was glad for the distraction as he watched you hurry of to the pavilion down the path. If you hadn’t changed the subject he might’ve said something stupid. But when you spun around to face him under the colourful roof, with the small pond and the bamboo in the background, he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t say something stupid yet.

He was sitting next to you, listening to you rant about your catty co-workers, absent boss, and the general annoyances of adulthood, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot at the familiarity, the ease of the whole situation. At some point he shot his mom a text to let her know that he ran into you and to eat without him. She simply replied that he should take his time, but he felt like she was secretly glad to have the two of you reconnect. Your conversations veered from family to old memories together until eventually, when the sun had set almost completely, you got up abruptly.

“I should get back. My mom wasn’t expecting me back immediately but at this point she’s probably wondering if I’ve gotten lost.” Jun nodded, getting up with you and stepping out of the pavilion. You threw one look back over your shoulder before smiling down at your shoes.

“I don’t know if you remember but… this is where you said goodbye…” Jun blinked slowly before the memory registered. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t immediately thought of the day he went to Korea, the last day he spent with you, the day he missed his chance to say so many things he had wanted to say.

“Oh,” he breathes softly, “yeah, I remember. But it’s not a very fun memory.”

Jun decides to look anywhere but you, at the trees lining the road home to his apartment building, the birds flying overhead, the children playing across the street.

“I have to agree. But I’m glad to have you back now. Even if it’s just for an afternoon.”

“Actually, you should visit tomorrow! If you want, of course. I don’t think my family would mind seeing you again after such a long time, and…”

He stops in his tracks. The two of you have reached the intersection at which your ways part. Jun turned to face you. The words were still stuck in his throat, just like all those years ago, just like every time he’s seen you since. But this time, with your hopeful eyes looking up at him, he takes a deep breath. This time will be different. He takes the leap.

“… and I’d also love to spend more time with you.”

You smile in reply, and agree to visit tomorrow. To say goodbye, you hug him again, and he feels like he’s floating all the way home. Maybe tomorrow he’ll gain the courage to tell you everything that he’s been keeping in his heart.

Their dorms were quiet, the shared living areas swallowed in darkness as Jun excited his room. He had been talking to his family via video call for the past hour or two, catching up and trying their best to celebrate Zhōngqiūjié together, even when they were physically apart. You had initially planned on joining the call, but there had been last minute plans that had kept you from it. Even though Jun understood, he had been able to help feeling a little crestfallen when you had told him about it. The two of you had made it work since he confessed to you a year ago, talking almost weekly on the phone because both his and your commitments kept you from visiting all too often. And since this year he couldn’t visit home because of the impeding comeback, he would’ve at least enjoyed talking to you on the holiday proper, instead of just during one of your regularly scheduled calls. Especially with how long it had been since he’d last seen you in person in June. To him, an eternity.

Vernon, Dokyeom, and Chan had returned to their families for the evening to celebrate Chuseok together, leaving the dorm deserted, save Jun himself. They’d all met up for lunch as a celebration before most left to go home. It was an effort by the Korean members to ease the homesickness of those that wouldn’t be able to see their families over the holiday. Seungkwan had ended up accompanying Vernon, while Joshua and Minghao decided to simply celebrate with each other, even though they hadn’t been lacking in invitations either. Jun had made the same decision. They had let him know they’d be out until the night but that he could join them at their apartment later.

Especially Dokyeom had had a hard time simply leaving Jun behind, but the older man had insisted that he was going to be fine, and that it would give him a chance to call his family in China. But coming out of his room and being greeted with a cold, dark apartment, made Jun question his decision. He sighed, contemplating for a second whether he should simply return to his room instead of feeling the hollow emptiness of their shared dorm. But before he could make a decision, the doorbell rang.

He wasn’t expecting anyone, so the sudden shrill of the bell surprised him. Maybe it was one of the members, back early. Maybe Minghao and Joshua had decided to surprise him at the apartment. But when he looked at the screen of the camera system, he was greeted with a sight wholly unexpected. His breath hitched as he looked at you, your eyes staring straight at the camera, a warm smile on your face. Jun buzzed you in, jittery with nerves as he worried you might disappear or he might wake up. You had been talking about your crazy workload and extra assignments for the past few weeks, how on earth were you here?

This has to be a dream, he thought, standing in the open door and waiting for the tell-tale ping of the elevator. When he heard it, he couldn’t even wait for you to round the corner. In slippers, he sprinted down the hallway to the lift, coming face to face with you as you were trying to heave your luggage out. Jun cast it aside, picking you up and spinning you around. He buried his face in the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume and your skin.

“How are you here?” He whispered after a good few seconds of spinning and listening to your tinkling laugh.

“Well, you know, I bought a plane ticket, went to the airport in Hong Kong, I got on a plane—“ Jun interrupted you by picking you up again, proclaiming his happiness while you insisted that he finally put you down. If he had been a better man, he might’ve listened immediately. As it stood, it took the two of you several minutes to make it the short way from the elevator to his apartment door, Jun stopping every few seconds to give you another spin or a kiss.

Once you had finally made it safely inside, he brought your luggage to his room, before returning to the shared space and staring at you in fascination. There you were, right in front of him, leaning onto the counters of his dorm’s kitchen as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“How did you know I’d be home?” He asked and you giggled, presumably at his flabbergasted expression.

“I kind of asked the members for help…”

“What? Who?”

In hindsight, he thought he should’ve expected this. There had been a curious lack of invitations extended to him this year. Especially considering that Joshua and Minghao were still invited everywhere. And, thinking about it now, the fact that the two of them had insisted on spending the evening ‘outside’ without Jun had also been more than a little suspicious.

“Almost all of them helped coordinate it, actually. They all had to be in on it to some extent.”

“When did you start planning this?” He asked, making his way over to you. One last time, he picked you up, setting you down softly on the counter. This time you let him do as he pleased without protest, choosing to answer his question instead, “Like a month ago or so. When it started becoming clear that you’d have no chance to make it home this year.” Jun hummed in response, stepping closer to stand between your legs. His arms found their place around your waist.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmured, resting his head on your shoulder and sighing deeply when he felt you wrap your arms around him. He wished you could stay like this forever, or at least for a very, very long time. You turned your head, whispering that you had brought yuèbǐng from Shenzhen with you and he nodded automatically. Mentally, he was still focused only on your presence, the fact that he got to hold you in his arms and use his thumbs to draw absentminded circles on your waist. If he hadn’t been so focused on your body, he would’ve missed the small hitch of your breath as he exhaled against the column of your throat. He smirked lightly, murmuring something along the lines of ‘we can eat them later’ before attaching his lips to the place where your shoulder and neck met. You gasped, more audibly this time as he sucked on the sensitive skin, following the line of your collarbone. You tugged at his t-shirt, whispering that you should move to his bedroom but Jun smirked against your skin, slowly pushing up your shirt. As he tossed it over your head, he whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ve got the apartment to ourselves all night.”

He smoothed his hands under your thighs, grabbing onto your plush flesh and cursing the layer of your pants for stopping him from feeling your skin. Jun pulled you closer, to the edge of the counter, so that he could finally feel you pressed to him again, making his hands wander back up. He placed them on your waist, gingerly at first, as if you were going to vanish into thin air if he didn’t handle you with enough care. He still wasn’t sure you weren’t a figment of his imagination how you were sitting in front of him, hair and clothes messy from your flight, but your eyes shining so brightly he thought you were the most ethereal being on this planet. But when you bucked your hips forward against his, all that restrain flew out the window. He slid his hands lower from your waist, relishing in every inch of skin he got to touch along the way, before he settled them on your ass, encouraging your motions even further. Your arms tightened around him, one hand finding its way into his hair, the other toying with the collar of his t-shirt before slipping downwards and below the fabric to caress his back. He groaned, moving one hand - albeit reluctantly – away from your hips to tilt your head to the side. He was overwhelmed with your nearness, the swell of your breasts pressed against him, the smell of your skin filling his senses, spreading through him, expanding into every corner of his consciousness until all he could perceive was your presence, your breath, your skin on his.

You kissed him with so much vigour that he felt light-headed, the sparkle of your eyes encapsulated him, as if he was floating in space, surrounded by innumerable stars, twinkling around him. In his weightlessness, your hands were caressing him, still. You dropped them to the hem of his t-shirt, tracing along the exposed skin there as the rhythm of your hips never faltered.

You broke away, Jun following your lips with a whine. He wasn’t yet ready to leave your cosmos, but you pressed a soft hand against his chest, tugging his shirt off. Jun, personally, would have preferred to resume kissing you breathless right away, but you had other plans. Your hands returned to his chest, covering the expanse of his pectorals, gliding over the ridge of his shoulder, caressing every centimetre of skin while tracing the muscles across his torso. Every touch left a tingling feeling, pulling him deeper and deeper into your gravitation. His head was thrown back in pleasure, his eyes screwed shut while he tried (and failed) to even out his breathing under your attentive ministrations. When your hands returned to his chest and you flicked against his nipples tentatively, his head dropped forward in defeat, colliding with your shoulder.

He was breathing more heavily than he’d like to admit, as if he really was slowly rising through the atmosphere, the air becoming thinner and thinner. His cock was painfully hard, you grinding against it deliciously with every roll of your hips. Separated by way too many layers, Jun thought dimly before tapping against your ass, signalling for you to lift your hips off the counter.

You complied easily, leaning back in a way that allowed him to strip you of your comfy leggings. He watched you shudder at the feeling of cool marble under your skin, goosebumps forming at the sensation. Reverently, he let his hands glide up and down your legs, watching you shiver again, just from his touch. He hadn’t even realised that he had lowered himself down until one of your hands grabbed for his hair and tilted his head back.

Ripped out of his reverie, Jun stared up at you, towering over him, backlit by the kitchen lights. If it hadn’t meant leaving your reach, Jun would have fallen to his knees right this second. In this light, you looked like a higher being, come to cast divine judgement on him, a final reckoning. Jun found he would have taken any verdict, as long as it meant preserving your attention. He would have obliged any command, taken any punishment with equanimity. He would have taken Prometheus’ place, if it meant he could bask in your presence for another moment. He would suffer any acrimony, any scorn, any tribulation, if it meant your gaze would continue to rest on him like this – zeroed in on his face, your expression soft with adoration. He didn’t have to fear any judgment. The only thing written on your face was love. It was mirroring his own, he was sure, from where he was pleading for you attention from between your legs. You wouldn’t let him out of your sight, your fingers tugging at his hair with purpose. He angled his head, a miniscule movement, just enough to allow him to breathe a kiss against the inside of your thigh, a fluttering promise of continuation. If you let him. You loosened your grip, and Jun took it as the invitation that it was. His path mapped over the fat of your thigh, spilling over his kitchen counters, up one leg, down the other. All the while, he didn’t break eye contact, watching your expression crackle and slip, pleasure and frustration mixing in even measures as you breathed a plea, “Qīn'ài de, you’re teasing.”

His breathing became uneven, for just a second, at the term of endearment. You didn’t need to spell out your request. He could see it in the rise and fall of your chest, the sounds sneaking their way past your lips, the shifting of your hips – almost involuntary. The vision of you before him blurred as he tried to hear the rest of your declaration over the rushing in his ears. Your legs twitched under his hands; he didn’t remember when he had moved them there. But now they were here, holding your legs apart, leaving imprints in your flesh where they pressed against you. Jun searched your face for any sign of hesitance, any doubt, but he found none. All he could find was a sense of desperation clawing its way up your throat, leaving a blooming blush in its wake.

He still continued holding your gaze when he pressed his mouth to your core, pushing his tongue against the wet spot on your underwear. You gasped a little, hands twisting in his hair, the slight pain grounding him in this moment. His hands continued kneading your flesh, wandering, in feverish haste, across every expanse of skin they could cover. Above him, you writhed and moaned, his name leaving your lips as if you were now the one praying. Your head had tilted back slightly, breaking eye contact. But Jun’s gaze never left your face, drinking in every expression as he pushed your panties to the side to gain proper access to your sopping core.

“OhmygodJun,” you breathed, head lolling to the side when his tongue swirled around your most sensitive spot. One hand moved from your ass to your core, probing at your entrance just to feel you clench around him, hear the sharp intake of your breath. You tipped backwards, resting on your elbows as his name continued to tumble off your lips into the still air of the apartment. Jun’s other hand moved upwards, taking no care in pushing your sports bra out the way to grab at your breasts, pinching your nipples intermittently. He watched your chest heave as he slipped two fingers past your entrance at once, his tongue lapping between them, desperate to taste as much of you as possible. Your hands kept pushing him closer and closer, until his every sense was filled with you. Your taste on his tongue, your panting breath in his ears, the plush feeling of your thighs around his head. He moaned against your core.

Jun felt your high approach, maybe knew it was coming before you yourself even did, the way he could read your body in this moment, with how every fibre of his being was honed in on you and your pleasure.

“Jun, bǎobèi, I’m…”

His hand slid down to your waist, squeezing reassuringly. Jun felt you constrict around his digits, your moans growing louder and more desperate. He kept pressing his fingers into that spot that had you squeeze around him, kept his mouth sucking on your clit, humming at the flavour of you, until you peaked. You came with a cry of his name that made his chest swell with pride. Your thighs shut around his head like a vice, your hand evidently torn between wanting to pull him away and push him closer. Jun remained pressed to your core, lazily lapping at your release until your legs relaxed and he gained enough freedom of movement to lean back and search for your gaze.

Even though he had spent minutes staring at the ethereal picture of you earlier, he was still taken aback by your beauty: your hair even messier, your face blushed, your eyes glazed over in the hazy afterglow. He pressed another kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

It took you a few moments to answer him, calming your breath. A moment of which he took advantage to return to his full height, leaving kisses up your body on his way there. Once he was face to face with you, he brushed your hair out of your face, looking at you with devotion. You smiled back, softly, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and immediately causing a warm shiver to run down the length of his body. There you were, in his arms, gazing at him with love, bestowing him with whatever divine favour slumbered in your presence.

You leaned in closer, letting your breath ghost over his skin for a second before whispering, “I need you.”

Jun was sure he was about to malfunction. The way his body reacted instantly, unbidden, must have been proof of your power. He couldn’t suppress the groan that rose to the surface, betraying his helplessness in the face of you. But you only smiled, sliding off the counter, tossing your bra to the side, and leaning into him.

“I know you need me too, baby,” you susurrated against the shell of his ear, your hand falling to his crotch, smoothing over the outline of his cock against his sweatpants. Jun gasped when you gave his balls a squeeze, trailing your fingers back up, pressing them into his slit, already oozing with precum and staining his pants. He felt like melting, like he was Icarus and you were the sun, with the notable exception that your radiance was warm and welcoming. It didn’t burn him, it only made him feel soft, welcome, malleable. He melted at your touch, moulded himself to the shape of you.

Although Jun felt it was very much stating the obvious, he conceded, “I want you so bad.”

You smiled, discarding your panties in a swift motion, before turning around and bending over the surface.

“Then come get me.”

He only stared, transfixed by the way your muscles moved under your skin, how the warm kitchen light of his home cascaded over you, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you turned around to smirk at him. Jun’s mind was still fighting with the fact that you were real, you were here, and you were his. You cocked an eyebrow, watching him like a cat watched its supper. When he still continued to stare, your eyes darkened, beckoning him with intensity. You wiggled your ass at him, pushing it back so it grazed his throbbing dick. As you threatened to pull away again, Jun’s hands flew to your hips. You yelped at the sudden strength with which he gripped you, pulling you back against him once more, grinding down against your ass with such verve that your head dropped forward. A long groan escaped you as Jun crowded you against the counter, pushing you down and leaning over your back.

“You need me, huh?”

You nodded your head enthusiastically while meeting his thrusts, moaning his name again and again, and growing more breathless by the second. Jun wanted to tease you, he really did. He wanted to ask you how bad you needed him. He wanted to force you to be more specific, to hear you say how you needed to feel his cock inside you, hitting that spot over and over again. He wanted to make your pretty lips form all those filthy words, say his name, beg for him. But it had been months since he had seen you in person, it felt like an eternity had passed since his skin was last allowed to touch yours, a lifetime since he heard you whimper and moan and pant for him like this. So, he forewent any more teasing. Instead, Jun simply shoved his sweatpants and underwear down his legs, freeing his cock.

You whined at the sound of it hitting his abs, wiggling your ass again and breathing out his name in that way he would never grow tired of. He grinned, sliding his dick through your slick, nipping its tip against your clit, once, twice, three times. So many times that you whimpered, an indistinguishable string of supplications, whines of baby, please please please leaving your lips. Your forehead was pressed against the counter now, as if the cold, hard surface helped ground you in reality while Jun had his way with you.

When, finally, he slipped into you, both of you sighed. You voices mixing in the air of the kitchen that seemed to have been growing thinner by the second. Jun’s breathing was growing ragged, and he could tell you weren’t faring much better than him. He started moving, slowly at first, testing the waters and, yes, possibly also to rile you up a little more. But when you clenched around him, any self-control was thrown out the window. His hands on your lower back were shoving you down against the ice-cold surface, making you hiss. His hips snapping against your ass as he searched for that spot that would make you drool over the marble countertops.

“Fuck… yes! Baby, right there,” you groaned when he found it.

Jun leaned back down over you, his front pressed against your back, his hot breath by your ear, whispered prayers of your name escaping him. He drove into that spot relentlessly, repeatedly until you lost all function of speech, reduced only to swears and his name. Jun mirrored your vocabulary, one hand sneaking around your body to find your clit again and rub punishing circles. With the added stimulation of his hand, the pressure of his weight, and the way his cock was hitting that spongy part inside you again and again, you felt your pleasure crest alarmingly fast.

“Junjunjunjunjun,” you breathed, but, again, he somehow had known before you what was coming. His groans surrounded you, your perception narrowed to just the feeling and sound of him.

“Hold on a little longer, baby,” he breathed, and you barely registered it. Just nodding for the sake of nodding, praying his own release would find him fast.

“Doing so well, baby. So good for me,” he continued, almost to himself, baiting your release even more.

A few agonising, timeless moments passed until, “That’s it, let go. Come for me, baby. Come with me.”

Immediately, you released a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, you head falling forward again as your whole body tensed up. Jun followed your example, his head dropping against your shoulder as he drove his cock into you, prolonging both of your releases as much as possible, until the sensitivity forced him to pull out. He remained folded over you, so close that he could feel his cum drip out of you, landing on the kitchen floor with a small splat. The air felt too thin for any movement, so he remained draped over you, his thumb drew circles on your lower back until you returned to him, mumbling his name.

“Are you alright, qīn'ài de?”

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your hair sticking to the nape of your neck. Jun brushed it to the side, leaving a small peck where it had been.

“Nooo,” you whined, “I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” he replied, matter-of-factly, smoothing his hand down your back one last time before peeling himself off you to get some tissue. His heart tore a little at the weak whine you let out in response to his absence.

“Don’t worry, I’m just trying to take care of you.”

You only whined more when he wiped the rest of your combined release from between your legs before also cleaning the floor. He caught your eyes from over your shoulder, smiling softly, and leaving another kiss on your back. After getting rid of the tissue, he pulled you off the counter, wrapping you up in his arms.

“You were amazing. I love you.”

He could hear the smile in your voice when you replied, “So were you, bǎobèi.”

“I can’t believe you’re really here…”

“I missed you something fierce,” you said by way of explanation.

“Me too. I miss you every day. Every hour.”

To his confusion, you smiled warmly at his pout, one hand caressing along the side of his face until it came to rest on his collarbone. You leaned in, lips ghosting against his in a silent promise, “Then let’s make the most of right now.”

Jun grinned, bending down to pick you up, laughing at the surprised yelp you let out.

“What on earth are you doing, Wen Junhui!”

“I think it’s time for a bath.”

“That is not what I was trying to insinuate!”

He wiggled his eyebrows, feeling his heart sore at your scandalised expression. Resting his forehead against yours, his eyes searched for yours, holding their stare for a few moments. With a smile on his lips and in his voice he murmured, “I don’t care what exactly we do in the bath, as long as we do it together.”

[sceletaflores]

any nasty down bad breeding kink art musings love of my life?

viciously yanked me out of my mini challengers rut with this one because yes. yes i do have some thoughts on that.

for some reason the first thing that came to mind was virgin!art....in a universe where he somehow didn't get laid before stanford lol

like auurgggghhh virgin!art and his deep seated breeding kink. it's literally ingrained in him even before he has sex for the first time.

you're his first real girlfriend, met when you needed a tutor in accounting and art's professor suggested him.

the two of you have been dating for two months and he already knows that he loves you despite what patrick says about "playing the field a little man, you're not married to the chick."

but the thing is that art would marry you. he'd up and marry you tomorrow if that's what you wanted. he doesn’t care how crazy it sounds.

he loves you and he wants you to be his first.

maybe he wasn't entirely expecting it when you laid on your back on the mattress of his dorm, peering up at him through your lashes as you announced that you were "ready to take our relationship to the next level..."

he was hard before you finished talking.

art could barely think straight, his body reacting faster than his mind. he swallowed hard, trying to steady his hands, which had started trembling the moment you laid back on the navy blue comforter of his bed.

“are you...are you sure?" his voice came out more breathless than he intended, his brain scrambling to keep up despite all the blood rushing to his dick.

your gentle nod, paired with a soft smile that made his heart stutter in his chest was all it took for him to lose any lingering doubts.

he crawled up the mattress, leaning down to kiss you with more tenderness than urgency, his heart thudding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape his chest.

he fumbled his way through fingering you, his hands shaking with nerves even though you've done this part countless times.

it wasn't until the two of you shed all clothes, art settling himself between your legs before you were speaking, thighs twitching to close around his hips.

"you'll have to pull out, i'm off the pill."

fuck.

art's heard of that before, pulling out. usually the punchline of some jokes the guys like to tell in the locker room, or from patrick recapping his own hook-up stories.

the dirtiness of it makes his cheeks burn, and he hopes to god you can't see the embarrassing red blush he knows is there.

he takes a deep breath, steeling his resolve as he presses the leaking head of his dick to your slick hole.

"okay." his voice sounded pained, his hold on your hip probably a little too tight as he held his throbbing dick steady and nudged his hips forward until just the tip slipped inside your fluttering hole.

"oh fuck."

art’s brain short-circuits for a moment, his entire body freezing as the tight heat of you grips the head of his dick. he sucks in a shaky breath, trying to keep his cool, but every nerve in his body is screaming at him to move, to take more. to bury himself so deep he wouldn’t know where he ends and you begin.

he lets out a low groan, fingers digging into your skin, knuckles turning white with it. he wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming it would feel, like his entire life had been leading up to this exact moment.

"jesus...you're so—" he can’t even finish the sentence, his voice breaking.

"art," your hips shift beneath him, making him jolt forward, sinking just a little deeper inside you. his mind goes blank, a vast space of nothingness but the tight heat wrapped around his dick.

there's only you, your soft skin, your quiet gasps, the feeling of being wrapped in the most sinful warmth.

for a while art gets lost in the feeling. in the way you pant into his open mouth, to overwhelmed to kiss him properly. in the way your hands grip his shoulders harder with every inch he gives you. in the way you pussy shakes around him like it can hardly wait any longer.

but soon enough, art knows he's getting close, that he probably needs to pull out soon. but you're just so soft and you smell so good and your pussy is sucking his dick in so wet and warm like it never wants him to leave again.

"i can't," he grits out against your collarbone, shaking his head frantically. "i can't do it."

"don't stop," you whine, manicured nails digging into the toned muscle of his shoulders, "don't stop, baby. fuck, give it to me harder, harder please-ah!"

art screws his eyes shut as tightly as he can, brows pinched together as he presses his forehead against the sweaty skin of your shoulder. to ground himself. his hips speed up to punch out more high whines of his name from your slick lips.

there's an odd feeling working it's way through his body as he ponders his options, a wrongness flashing in the back of his mind each time he reminds himself of pulling out to spill over your stomach.

despite the fact that he's never done this before, his gut tells him no.

you deserve his come inside you, painted along your insides as he claims you for the first time.

"i can't pull out," he whines through clenched teeth, big hands tightening their hold on your waist. his voice is pinched and high in a way it's never been before, desperation leaking through his tone.

your lips fall open on a gasp, your head shaking back and forth dazedly, but he feels the way you clench around him. the way your pussy tightens up like it's trying to milk the load directly out of his aching balls.

"fuck! please don't make me baby," he begs, self restraint snapping in two as he buries his face in your neck. "lemme come in you, it'll be okay. we'll be fine, nothing gonna happen if it's only this once."

"no..." you moan, "art don't, gotta pull out..." but your hips start rising of the bed to meet his thrusts, the dirty smack of skin on skin filling his tiny single. you're dripping around him, coating his dick with a slick layer of shiny wetness.

"i can't," art repeats breathlessly, dick twitching inside you warningly.

"i need it…need you, need to come in you so fucking bad," his voice is strained and cracking, hips trembling with the effort, but you’re so tight around him, every squeeze pulling him deeper.

it's too much and not enough all at once—the heat, the wetness, the overwhelming need. it has pure kerosene burning in his veins.

"art," your legs stay wrapped snug around his hips, ankles locked over his lower back. "m'close, gonna come, fuck! i'm coming—!"

so is art. the added squeeze of you're pussy coming around shattering the last of his resolve and sending him careening him over the edge.

"fuck," your name falls from his lips in a tight groan as he unloads inside of you. flooding your pussy with warm come as his hips keep up the punishing pace he set.

art doesn't stop thrusting even as he comes so hard his vision whites out. he can't stop, like you've got some sort of magnetic field that keeps pulling him in over and over and over.

your too-loud moans and cries dissolving into sharp keens and gasps as he fucks you into over-stimulation, his hips pumping in in in as the image of his come getting fucked deeper and deeper inside of you plays on a loop in his mind.

when his arms finally give out and he collapses on top of you in a sweaty heap of limbs, your arms immediately come up to wrap around his shoulders. a pleased hum rumbling through your chest as you scratch your nails along his scalp soothingly, smug smile hidden in the sweaty halo of his hair.

art's out like a light in five minutes, falls asleep right there with his head resting on your bare-chest and his dick kept safe inside you.

patrick buys a plan-b for art the next morning when he's too nervous to face the cashier at walgreens.

[the-goo-goo-muck]

NOW PLAYING

CLUB: LEGAL ADVICE

Hiromi is just so overworked, & it's never as good when he's by himself, but you're so kind, of course you'll help him. . .

Starring: Hiromi Higuruma <3

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You’d thought long & hard, of course, about what on earth “massage therapy” might mean. It’s the only note Shiu had left under Hiromi’s name, like an asshole. You had the idea to ask him what he meant, but there was no way you were gonna come crawling to him for sex advice, especially considering he’d probably left that note there to purposely confuse you. No, you’d have to figure this one out solo. It could mean a couple of things, but you’d decided on a hand job. Keep things simple, right? You had been worried about the time limit; Choso had reserved you for an hour, which had made you anxious, but time had flown by. You could milk a hand job for an hour, literally. But maybe Hiromi would be different than your previous encounter; maybe he’d walk right in & tell you exactly what he wanted. You sure hoped so. You’d make sure to make him tell you, regardless of whether or not he wanted to. 

You repressed a scoff when passing Toji on your way past the bar as he gave you his signature shit-eating grin. “Where you headed in such a hurry, doll?” he smiles, letting the beauty of it paint his features. Fuck, you think, if only he wasn’t so goddamn hot. But that’s not just it; Toji knows you well, too well, knows things about you that nobody else does, things you wish he didn’t know, things that drive you crazy. “Oh that’s right, you’re off to fuck one of Shiu’s clients.” You could hardly call them that. “Fuckin’ sorcerers. You’re wastin’ your time with them, sweet thing.”

“As opposed to spending it with you? No thanks. Besides, you only fuck free whores. You want a night with me, you better be ready to cough it up, & last I checked, you’re broke.” You breezed past him, but he caught your arm & murmured in your ear with that gravelly voice that sent vibrations straight down to your cunt, “Not broke enough for you, doll. Don’t worry, I’m coughing it up, alright.”

Okay? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? But you scampered away before you could dwell on it. Getting into any kind of relationship with Toji, even some janky friends-with-benefits, work/fuck buddies situationship was a terrible idea. What was worse than that, though? You didn’t want those things with Toji. . .you wouldn’t dare admit it to yourself, but you wanted something real. 

You shook your head vehemently, though there was no one around to see you do it. You had a job to do, a job you were rather excited about, & you weren’t gonna let Toji distract you from that.

Shiu—or rather one of his assistants—prepared a similar room for tonight; small, secluded, mostly dark with music playing faintly in the background, & a chair reserved for the night’s activities. When you thought about it, it was almost a little awkward. However, you had had the same thoughts about Choso last night & it had been anything but awkward for you. 

So you kept your cool when you heard the soft click of the door a couple moments later. You were already facing him, & you could’ve sworn he had almost reached out to. . .shake your hand? But pulled himself back quickly. “Hello. My name is Hiromi. I assume you’re. . .Sugar?” The false name was purely sinful spilling out of his mouth, but his face betrayed nothing, the picture of sheer innocence.

You took a couple of calculated steps back & he followed, legs bumping against the chair. “Sure am. Now I’ve got a couple questions for you, Hiromi. There weren’t very clear notes left on my agenda; so what is it that I can do for you?” 

He clears his throat, obviously a little embarrassed by the question, but he gains a bit of confidence, meeting your eyes, saying, “Want you to jerk me off.” Okay, maybe he doesn’t gain that much confidence because he all but whispers his request, his plea. 

“What was that, Hiromi?” He shivers at the name, the way your tongue caresses it. “You want me to what?”

His face is all red, his tongue is all tied, his fingers are fidgeting with themselves, & he can’t meet your eyes when he says again, “Want you to r-rub my cock, jerk me off.” 

“Don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, sweetheart. Acting like I don’t want to.” You smile at him, saccharine & teasing, excited for the half-baked plan already forming in your head. Oh yeah, you’re gonna jerk him off alright, jerk him off ‘til he can’t take it anymore. The clock was ticking, & you were chomping at the bit to get a taste. “Can I kiss you?”

He nods, but makes no move to reciprocate, not until you’re pressing your lips against his, running your palms against the nape of his neck, down his chest, moving to loosen his tie, slide of his suit coat, unbutton his pants, palm his already stiffening cock, & he’s groaning into your mouth. 

“Can’t jerk off yourself, Hiromi? Gotta have some stranger do it?” you mock, sucking his bottom lip in between your teeth, biting. 

“N-never feels as good, can’t make myself cum as hard,” he babbles, fast, hoping his answer will please you enough to continue palming his cock through his underwear. You push him down into the chair, taking your sweet time to slip down onto your knees. If you were gonna be on your knees, night after night, you were gonna have to make Shiu put a bed in one of these rooms; a chair & the just wasn’t gonna cut it. But you'd make it work for tonight. You'd make Hiromi work tonight.

"Aww, s'so sad, don't you ever get yourself off?" You pause at the waistband of his underwear, a silent request, & he slides them down eagerly, helping you in any way he can.

"N-not like this," he pants, excited & worn already, though nothing's really happened quite yet. His pants & boxers came off quickly, & you're salivating by the time they do. He's all pretty & hard for you, & his dick is huge; not a surprise by how large he'd looked through his boxers, but a little shocking nonetheless. He all but yelps when you fist him at the base of his cock, hard, pushing all the precum from his weeping tip.

"Your tip is so sensitive, huh?" you coo, pressing your thumb hard into his slit until he’s attempting to run away from the pleasure. His eyes lock on yours, his mouth agape. 

“S-so sensitive, feels so good,” he whines, hips jerking to meet the lazy thrusts of your hand. 

How is he going to crawl back home to his fist, or even a pocket pussy, each night after this? After the tips of your nails scratch against his foreskin, after you trace each individual vein up & then down, after you squeeze the base of his cock, after your ghost your fingertips over his taint, after your grip your hand against his meaty thigh, holding him down so he can’t escape the pleasure you’re so intent on giving him? 

"Does that feel good, Hiromi? You're so wet down here,” you tease. He groans at your words, too focused on cumming to think of any sort of response, teasing & snarky or not. 

"Fuck, w-wait, please," he cries, the muscles in his thighs flexing & shaking as he tried not to get lost in his own sensitivity. You were just jerking him so fast; Hiromi was a methodical man in every way possible, including when he masturbated. He thought waiting for the high, edging himself for as long as possible, made the experience more enjoyable, but you weren’t taking it slow by any means. This might be the fastest he’s ever been able to finish. 

"God your hand feels so good, s’good,” he’s slurring his words, groaning as you keep your attention on his red, leaky tip, rubbing your thumb against the soft skin just under the head of his cock. “Gonna cum, gonna make me cum too fast.” 

“You can come, honey. Wanna make you cum, for me, please?”you encouraged,  & he’s shooting white, hot spurts of seed in your grasp before you even finish your sentence. 

Wow, he thinks to himself. I’ll definitely have to come back here again, see her again. The silly boy. . .he thinks you’re done. 

But you start stroking his softening cock again, bringing him back to attention disturbingly quickly. “H-hey wait, what’re you—what’re you doing? I just came, can’t—can’t come again!” But you ignore him because of course he can come again!

The sinful squelch echoes in his ears, his poor leaky cock is red & overstimulated & your hands aren’t helping;; if you didn’t stop, slow down soon, he was going to blow his load again, for the second time so quickly. helping echoing in his ears did very little to help him from blowing his load for the second time in five minutes. Your pretty, delicate, perfect hands were furiously stroking his cock, both of them wrapped around his length while you jerked him off using a screwing, twisting motion that made his legs shake & jerk. You made sure to pay extra special attention to his tip, rubbing your fingers down his frenulum each time you stroked him, making his body jolt & writhe in your soft grip. He’s truly putty in your hands. 

He moans helplessly, trying to process the unimaginable pleasure. He doesn’t usually mix his pleasure with this kind of pain, so maybe that’s why he’s cumming again, vulnerable & unable to stop himself. 

“it’s so much, oh my god it’s too much—hnggghhh—”

But you don’t stop, & why isn’t his cock getting soft, why does it feel so good, how are making him feel this way, why aren’t you stopping. . .

He can’t figure out what to do with his hands; maybe if he thought about it a little harder he could figure it out, but he can’t seem to focus on anything but the painfully sweet sensation of your hands, your lips on the tip of his cock, your fingers squeezing his balls, his cum coating everything, the twitching of his dick. He’s pulling his own hair with them, running them down his unbuttoned dress shirt, gripping the chair ‘til his knuckles turn white, holding on to your wrists for dear life, which does little to cease your ministrations with his pathetically weak grip on them. 

“Feels good, honey?” & you’re a real minx for that; of course it feels good, too good. Your voice is syrupy sweet, only adding to the deep ache in his balls. 

“N-no, no, s’too much, gotta stop it, can’t take anymore, gonna cum again, cummin’” he whines so pitifully, he’s shaking his head furiously, unable to form something coherent to say to you, anything to explain how fucking good your milking him. 

& at his complaints of “too much,” you’re squeezing him tighter in your hand, speeding up your stroking, he’s bucking up into your grip, lost in the feeling of it, unable to control the movements of his hips, trying to escape the pleasure, but he wants it so bad. 

“Ngh–no, m’gonna cum if you keep doin’ that, can’t cum again, c-can’t!”

“Can’t you? Don’t you want to? M’supposed to be makin’ you feel good, Hiromi. Don’t you wanna feel good?” If he had the ability to, he’d get you back for that, but there’s not a single thought running through his mind except for “feels good, feels good, feels good.” 

He can’t respond, only nods his head vigorously. He was leaking so much it’s difficult to say whether or not he’s cumming again, his body jolting around, face permanently twisted in sheer pleasure, sweet dripping down his temples, blushy red cheeks that match his angry tip. He’s just so pretty. He was previously trying to hold back in an attempt to. . .what? Impress you? Regardless, any ability to hold back is long gone

He was close, closer than you thought he was, & you really are impressed when he cums again for the third time, releasing a long whine of pain as his cum shoots into your hands again. 

When his cum finally slows down, you bring your finger up to his slit & start tracing it, coaxing more cum out of him, & he’s crying & whimpering, begging you stop, cock jumping into your hold begging you to continue; he grabs your wrists, hard this time, stopping you completely. 

“Aww, you’re all done? Can’t go another round for me?” Those eyes, he thinks, those eyes are going to be the death of him, if your hands don’t kill him first.

Night 2, complete.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

PART 3: BUSINESSMAN | coming soon to a theatre near you <3

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-six | everything in its right place

It wasn’t a real spider. Not completely. But it moved like one over your hands, and so you’d thrown it so far away with one almighty shriek that the spider jumped—a tiny automaton thing, built by Hephaestus himself.

The whole thing felt like one, big joke on you.

It begun as a silver chain previously in Eurytion’s possession. He said he didn’t need it, and had no need to go into the Labyrinth or make contact with Hephaestus. If you needed to find the god, this would lead you right to him. At first, turning it over in your hands, you felt grateful that finally somebody was helping you properly. Until you pressed down on the tiny button in the middle, and it turned into a spider.

The good news: it led you straight to him. Right to Hephaestus’s doorstep. Or, entryway, for a better word. The spider had been scuttling and crawling along the tunnels for a good distance, enough so that you were starting to get tired. Percy had been nearly bouncing in place, both with anticipation for what you might find, and eagerness to get this over with; he wanted out as much as you and Grover.

If you weren’t so good at running, you might have lost the creepy little thing. By the time it finally stopped, all eight legs perched like broken wires, you were hot on its trail and pretty breathless. Grover slowed to a pace at your side, raising his hands to run over his sweaty t-zone from the exertion that was chasing the mechanical spider. Percy slid into your back, and brushed himself off like nothing happened.

You could have described it as developing a funny feeling that something was about to happen.

You stopped only because of one thing.

The giant cave, a spectacular hole in the ground inches away from the tips of your Converse. You watched from the corner of your eye Grover settling back from the jagged edge, and became aware of Percy’s fingers winding round your backpack. Human nature or stupid curiosity, you dug for your flashlight in your pocket, and leaned forward over the abyss. Percy tugged violently on your strap.

“Hey, come on, dont.” He sighed. “If you fall down there—”

“I’m not gonna fall down there!” You protest.

“Do you see with your own eyes right now? You’re literally leaning over a cavern.”

“I’m not gonna fall. But if I did I’d just take you down with me. For company ‘n all.” You drawl, turning to face him with a sly smile. Your brows jump, and Percy huffs, giving your bag one last tug until you avail, and step back.

“How kind,” he deadpans.

“I try my hardest.” You shrug.

“I think we have bigger problems than falling right now,” croaked Grover. He raised his flashlight and flicked it on and off to highlight the problem: a series of metal bars strung up to the ceiling, half-corroded.

You bark a sudden laugh at your luck. “Hope everyone’s had their tetanus shots!”

Between the rotting bars jammed into the cave roof, the tiny spider was swinging across with its strange silky webs, and crawling with its sticky feet across the ceiling. Unless you wanted to stay stuck down here at this junction, you’d have to follow it. And heights were not your speciality.

You clap your hands together; it echoes in the vast space. “So, any first takers” Neither boy answers you. “Brilliant. So, the thing is, I’d rather die than do the monkey bars. Do you guys see my arms? They weren’t made for this shit.”

“Have a little faith,” gulped Grover. “If a mechanical spider with no physical brain can do it, we totally can!”

“I like your enthusiasm!” Percy snapped his fingers. “It’s just the kind of leadership style we need!” He leaned forward and clapped Grover on the shoulder. “Onward, my friend!”

Grover tittered on the spot, and a nervous belch boasted loudly in the air. All the while he argued back and forth with Percy over how he should go first, you decided that it was best to shove down your nerves for the sake of the ever-furthering spider, and stepped back twice. The boys hardly noticed, caught up in their silly back-and-forth debate. You made your choice, and decided to make a run and jump for it.

The second your hands touched the first metal rung, they stung from the impact. You couldn’t prevent the shriek escaping your throat, but everything after that was blocked out. The brain has a funny way of focusing when it senses danger; it blocks out everything it deems unneeded. In this case, you knew though you couldn’t hear them that the boys were probably yelling something. You focussed on the strain in your shoulders, reaching forward for the next bar with halfway decent momentum. Halfway across, your palms started to sweat, and the panic set in even further.

“Guys—” you swallowed, choking on it. “What are the chances I die on impact? Don’t answer that—I already know the answer. It was in this book I read a while ago. It was 31,000 people in 2000. That’s the last time they looked at the statistics. They’ll probably go up—”. Your hand slipped from the bar, and you wiped your palm on your pants before reaching for the next one. You take deep breaths as your body is suddenly hit with panicked sweating and heat, and you know you’re not too far from a panic attack. There’s nothing anybody can do to help you here—it’s all on you. And it’s a horrible feeling knowing that.

It’s hard to move when your fingers start to tingle and grow stiff, another oncoming sign that your body has had enough, it’s working too hard. The brain works in tandem with the limbs—the control centre tells everything else what to do. If it says calm down, it’s going to calm down everything else; even hundreds of feet above a plunging cavern.

When you touch the ground again, you feel rather shaky. But there’s no proper time for rest, or to wait for the boys. The spider is scuttling further away, and it’s literally a race against time to catch up to it. With legs like jelly, you bolt as fast as you can after the spider, the tiny clicking of its mechanical legs sounding through the narrowing tunnel. It’s dark and damp, and your flashlight is beginning to flicker as the batteries run out. You lose all sight and sound of Percy and Grover, and your chest screams with the exertion of holding yourself above ground for so long and then moving instantly into a sprint.

The spider really doesn’t care, though.

You run and run, until something crunches under your feet. You ignore it until you can’t anymore, and gradually slow down, as the crunching becomes too loud. You bend down to inspect the pieces: wood chips, like from…pencils? There’s a shard of lead from the end of one just laying around, and another a bit away from it. Who the hell needs pencils down here? Is somebody else lost, too? The pieces slip through your fingers as you get to your feet, falling back down.

You pick up your flashlight from between your neck and shoulder where you’d been holding it, and twist it in your hand. The light still flickers, except this time it has enough of a glow to show you just who left the pencil scrapings.

Skeletons. Dead, very dead skeletons.

And they look a little different to the ones in gothic movies.

Some are white, like they’ve been bleached, but mainly they’re a weird yellow-brown and mottled, rotting away. They don’t smell, weirdly. They could almost be props. You’re not naive enough to believe that though.

A set of footsteps is growing louder nearing your position. It’s Percy, calling your name. And when he falls to step next to you, a hand on your shoulder, you can’t help but nodding grimly to the skeletons he hasn’t seen yet. You flash your light on them, and he gags.

“Let’s keep going,” you say, and nod to the literal light at the end of the tunnel. You can already see it opens into a big room. “I don’t wanna meet the thing that left those.”

You wait for Grover to catch up before you move on towards the bright light at the end of the tunnel. It feels weirdly intimate, all quiet and settled as you near it.

But…yeah, you take that back. Because you meet the thing that left those skeletons pretty quickly. Just when you thought things couldn’t get weirder down here.

You stop short, and can’t help your jaw dropping in disgust at the creature perched on the glittering dais on the far side of the room. With the body of a lion and the head of a woman, you quite honestly feel like vomming. She wore makeup like a clown, and her stringy hair was tied back way too tightly—how the hell did she even do her hair, with paws?

Grover gagged. It echoed. “Sphinx.”

You scrunch your nose in response. “Ooooh, are we talkin’ that weird thing that does riddles?”

“Funny way of putting it, but yes.”

You want to reply to Grover, but you’ve lost sight of the spider, your only way forward. You can hear it in the quiet, tapping away down the only exit: right next to the Sphinx.

You try your luck; you suck in a deep breath and make a run for it, but the creature is quicker than you are, and it dives down to block your path, roaring in your face with such ferocity that you’re left only with shock. Your face stings with the heat. You gag, and step back. Metal bars slammed down across the exit, and the way you’d come in, blocking your way out indefinitely. Looking longingly through the bars, you lost sight and sound of the spider, heart sinking.

When the bars were settled, the creature smiled. Somewhat horrifying, the voice to leave its mouth was on par. “Welcome, lucky contestants! Are you ready to play…GUESS THE RIDDLE?!”

Spotlights cranked into place and blinded Grover, who slapped a hand over his eyes. Canned applause blasted like there were a dozen soundbars in the room. Something popped from the ceiling, and glittering rained down, sparkling purple, pink and silver in the spotlight.

The Sphinx prowled the room and flicked back her head like you would tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Pass the test, demigods, and you get to advance! Fail, and I eat you for dinner! So! Who will be our contestant tonight?”

“Grover,” you point instantly, and then feel terrible because he looked rather sick. Coincidentally, both boys looked at you. “What, you think I’m smart enough for this shit?” You hiss.

“Absolutely!” Percy encouraged. “And we’ll be right here to fight for you!”

“Totally!” Nodded Grover. He reached into his pocket and produced a stick, and began munching on it instantly. A nervous habit, you’ve come to realise.

“How romantic,” you roll your eyes to Percy, but inside your stomach says SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! You deflated at the shoulders, and squeezed your flashlight between your fingers. Approaching the CONTESTANT podium, it wasn’t difficult to notice the dusty skeleton in a school uniform still leaning over the platform, jaw hanging open.

Holding your flashlight by the very end, you gave the skeleton a shove, and then a kick for good measure. It toppled off the side and clattered to the ground, bones rattling. You side-eyed it and quickly looked away. “So sorry, man.”

“Welcome, daughter of Athena!” The Sphinx cried in a cheesy, televised tone. “Are you ready for your questions?”

You point your flashlight at her. “Uhhhh—no.”

“I need an answer!”

“Sure, yeah. Give me the question, then.” At the side of the room, Percy sends you what is supposed to be an encouraging set of a thumbs-up, and a large smile, nodding his head.

“Riddles, actually, get it right dear. Anywho! Twenty riddles coming your way!” A drumroll sounded overhead, rattling your organs the bass was so deep. There may as well have been a band up in the ceiling. Hell, maybe there was. “What is…the Capital of Bulgaria?”

Embarrassingly, you almost fall flat. “Pffttt, I know this.”

“You know this!” Encouraged Percy from his place, except when you turned to look at him, he was leaning against the wall and sweating. Very encouraging. “You’ve got this, B!”

“Isn’t it, like Sofia, or something? And that isn’t even a riddle, that’s just basic knowledge—”

Applause screamed above. The Sphinx smiled too sweetly, and her sharp canines showed. “Correct! Now, mark down your answers in the booklet with the yellow pencil.”

You eye your empty hands. “What pencil—?” With a solid POP! the pencil, sharpened to a point, appeared on top of the little booklet like magic.

“Now,” said the Sphinx. “If you need to erase an answer, be sure to do it COMPLETELY! Or else the machine is unable to read the answers.” She smiled with closed eyes. A horrible sight, really. The nightmares will be anticipated, when you’re out of here.

Waving around your pencil, and growing slightly annoyed with the creature, you huff. “What machine?”

With a large paw, the Sphinx made a pointing movement to the giant bronze thing situation to the side. It had appeared under a spotlight, and was covered in the Greek letter Êta. If you weren’t wrong, that was Hephaestus’s mark.

Another nail in the coffin of life being a total joke.

“Now!” The Sphinx clapped her paws. “Next question!”

“Shit question,” you mumbled. You set your hands on either side of the podium and waited.

“I beg your pardon?” The Sphinx grew still instantly, clearly annoyed.

“Nothing. Continue.”

“What is the square root of sixteen?”

“Oh. I cant do math. Uhm…”

“Ten seconds on the clock!”

A loud and irritating ticking began with an audible countdown from invisible voices, making your eyes ring. Suddenly uncomfortable, you dip your head and discreetly look at Percy, whose hand moves at his side.

“Four?” You frown.

A bell rang off. “Correct! Which United States president signed the Civil Rights Act?”

“Lyndon. B. Johnson? I th—”

“Correct! Which planet spins clockwise?”

“Venus?”

“Which part of the human body is incapable of healing itself?”

“I think it’s your teeth?” You shift on your feet, feeling way too under pressure.

“Need a definite answer!” The Sphinx pointed to the ceiling with a paw, and the countdown began.

Tiredly, you drawl, “It’s your teeth.”

“Correct again! What comes into the world with more bones than the adult human?”

“A baby?”

“Correct!”

The questions go on, and on until your mind feels like a battered sieve, bent out of shape and a little corroded. You passed twenty questions, and stared at Percy, unimpressed, as a dozen layers of glitter and confetti rained down upon you. A techno electric song began blasting over the invisible speakers in celebration. Grover was taking deep breaths, mumbling under his breath, probably thanking the gods. When you found your place next to Percy, he huffed a laugh, and glitter shifted from your face as he did.

“Oh, you did great!” He offered. The metal bars ground out a horrid noise as they rose back to where they came from. “I knew you could do it.”

“You offered me up like paint at an artist’s house.”

Grover, still praying, took off with his eyes closed, doing a little jig. The Sphinx took a seat at dais, eyes closed. She looked somewhat frozen, barely breathing. When Grover passed on by, it was as if she’d never moved at all.

Clapping a hand down on your head, Percy shook the confetti and glitter like dust from your hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he said so with a humoured smile. “I’ll never do it again. Friends?”

“Suppose so,” you shrug, and glitter dances to the ground.

“Let’s go, disco ball. We need to find that spider.”

You skedaddled past the Sphinx whom paid you no mind, and out the tunnel way, leaving a trail of glitter. After a few wrong turns, and following Grover’s voice, and finally managed to locate your friend and the spider, which threw itself at a metal door, a little bit of light spilling out underneath it. In the middle of the door, old and creaking despite not touching it, was nailed a big sign, wilting like it had been melted, dashed with the same sign as the answering machine ten minutes ago: the Greek Êta.

“Are we ready to meet Hephaestus?” Grover asked nervously.

“I’m ready to ask why he spends his time down here,” you grumbled. “Why not somewhere nice?”

Deciding you’d done enough today, Percy reached out around you for the door handle, and gave it a good push. The door screamed, slowly opening, revealing all inside.

The room was bigger than words could describe. It was filled to the brim with machines and makings, some working, some not. There were cars, half-built just lying around, and bits of mechanical animals waiting to be put together. A fire burned in the corner of the room, not tended to though. A dozen tools hung from the walls and were splashed across work tables.

Nobody noticed him until the door slammed shut, you screamed, and he shifted out from underneath a car. A giant man in dirty work pants, and a leg in a metal brace.

“Well, what do we have here?” He boomed. Maybe it was wrong to be so terrified, but you were, and you found yourself shifting slowly, subtly, taking your place beside Percy.

Unfortunately, your slinking act didn’t last for long. When Hephaestus stood properly, he towered way over the three of you.

“I didn’t make you demigods, did I?”

Percy coughed. “No, sir.”

He was tall, and his beard was smoking. The metal spider perched on his head.

“Good. Terrible workmanship.”

“We’ve met, sir,” said Percy.

“Have we, now?” His tone indicated that he couldn’t care less. “Well, if I didn’t get rid of you the first time I won’t need to now, I suppose. And a Satyr. Wow. You’re all far from home. There better be a good reason for disturbing me.”

“We’re looking for Daedalus—”

The god’s beard flickered ten times brighter, and he seemed to get taller. “Daedalus?” He roared.

“Yes, sir, please.” Grover pleaded nervously.

“You’re wasting your time.” He stomped over to the corner of the room, and began to tinker with some pieces of metal. “I understand you met my mother.”

“Yes, sir,” Percy nodded.

“What did you think of her, daughter of Athena?” You jolt at your place, and wish the ground would open up and take you. Side-stepping, you remain half behind Percy, grimacing. “She’ll smile to your face and talk about important values, family values. Didn’t stop her pitching me off of Olympus.”

Why me? You wish you could ask. Why are you asking me?

“I thought that was Zeus?” Percy tries to deflect.

Hephaestus spun on his feet like a top, facing you. “She likes telling that version. Makes her more likeable doesn’t it? The truth is, my mother loves families, but only certain types of families. She influences, and she lobbies. She likes to get involved.”

Finally, he looked up from the metal in his large hands, and focused on Percy. “Oh, this one doesn’t like me. I’ll bite, demigod—what do you want?”

“We told you,” Percy snapped. “We need to find Daedalus. It’s important. There’s this guy, a son of Hermes, and he’s working with Kronos. They’re trying to find a way to navigate this maze to take over everywhere. If we don’t get to Daedalus first—”

“And I told you, son of Poseidon—you’re wasting your time. He won’t help you.”

Hephaestus shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Some of us are thrown off of cliffs and some of us learn not to trust people. Ask me for gold, or a new sword. I can grant you those things. But a way to Daedalus? Well, that’s an expensive favour.”

“So you know where he is?” Asked Grover. “He’s down here at least?”

“It isn’t wise to go looking.”

But isn’t looking the nature of wisdom?

Hephaestus made a deep, rumbling sigh. “If I help you, there will be a price. I need a favour, too.”

“Name it,” demanded Percy.

“You heroes! You like making your promises. How very…refreshing.” The god reached out with a giant hand to push a button in the wall, and it instantly changed. The concrete and metal combined twisted and glowed until it became a television screen, showing mountains, and a forest. Smoke bellowed from the background.

“One of my forges gone, but this used to be my favourite.”

“But that’s Mount St. Helens!” Pointed out Grover. “But you said it used to be your favourite?”

“Well, the monster, Typhon, is trapped there.”

“What do you want us to do? Fight him for you?” Ah, Percy; ever the brave.

Hephaestus snorted meanly. “Well that’s suicide. Someone or something is using my forges there. They sense me coming, and they go, when I try to search it. There is something ancient and evil waiting there, and I want to know who has invaded my territory.”

“You want us to find out who it is.”

“Correct!” Your brain aches, thinking back to the Sphinx. “Find what you can and report back to me, and then I’ll tell you everything I know. Promise.”

“Fine,” Percy nodded. “How do we get there?”

Hephaestus clapped his hands together, and the mechanical spider fell from the rafters, right at your feet. You jumped about ten feet in the air, and screamed so loud it was bolstered by the metal walls. “My creation will show the way. Try to stay alive, young ones. Humans are much more fragile than automatons.”

For a while, you followed the spider without any trouble. The paths seemed unusually normal, just straightforward tunnels of concrete, or metal park slides the whole way down. But the ground began to change to dirt, and trees sprouted in the darkness, and a singular tunnel led away from the original path—Grover was headed straight for it, as if in a trance. He slowed, and slowed and stopped, just before the entrance.

“Come on,” you groaned. “Let’s go, man, It’s not far.”

“This is the way, guys!” Grover mumbled. “This is it! I can feel it!”

“What way?” Probed Percy. “You don’t mean…you know he’s there? Pan? Really?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, suddenly reinvigorated. “This is it, guys!”

You followed after the spider, intent on not losing it, but held back when neither Grover or Percy followed.

“I have to follow this. I won’t get this chance ever again. You know that, right?”

On the one hand, you wanted to tell Grover to not be selfish. This was the original quest and it was important. But on the other, saying that would mean you were being selfish, holding Grover back from the only thing he wanted. He’d gone along with your plan for a while now, and outwardly telling him that he shouldn’t be doing the one thing he’d ever wanted would feel like stabbing him.

“Percy,” said Grover, “we will find each other again. We have the empathy link, remember? I have to do this. I have to; he’s…so close!”

Because, at the end of the day, this was all Grover had wanted for so long. Really, it felt cruel to tell him no.

Percy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I hope you’re right.”

“I swear it, I am.”

“Just be careful, yeah? And find us, afterwards.”

Maybe it was to be your last sight of Grover. Perhaps you’d never see him again, although you really didn’t want to think so. You looked after him, as he wandered into the tunnel surrounded by darkness and tree roots winding from the ground until finally he’d gone completely.

It left a strange feeling that something was going to happen.

“We shouldn’t have split up,” you shake your head. “This is a horrible idea!”

“We’ll see him again…” Percy tried to sound confident, but even he fell a little short. He chewed his cheek, still looking at the tunnel Grover had left through. “Don’t worry. Come on, let’s catch up with that spider. It won’t wait for us.”

And it didn’t. The tiny spider scuttled through tunnels and tunnels, down slopes and up them. They grew tighter, and hotter, until your face dripped with sweat. The flashlight slipped in your hand, and you’d been forced to put away your dagger for fear of it slipping away.

More than once you had to stop in place and wipe the sweat dripping into your eyes, sticky and slippy. Your hair grew damp, uncomfortable around your face.

Percy seemed to be struggling the same way. When you turned back to him, his cheeks were bright red like cherries, highlighting the green in his eyes. Somehow, he managed a smile, nodding encouragingly. You swallowed hard, throat as dry as anything.

“Keep going!” He urged. “It’s not far, now, I know it.”

You didn’t want to tell him that he was a little too optimistic for it to be true, but who were you to burst his bubble?

It realistically didnt take a long time, but it certainly felt like it did. Eventually, the spider stopped short and curled into a ball, rolling down a little decline before it popped back open, and crawled a small distance. At last it waited for you and Percy.

The room before you now was the size of a large football stadium, times two thousand. It was so big you could scarcely see each end. The worst part, when you pushed aside the fact that you couldn’t really see properly, was the fact the floor was not floor at all but a plaza of bubbling lava, and your only way to get across should the need arise was two lengths of metal bridges, which ultimately, if the pool of lava was anything to go by, would be too hot to walk across for human beings. Here and there on little platforms were machines bigger than you, rumbling, whirring. Perhaps they weren’t the weird things though—the creatures, dark and shapeless and moving around the solid concrete platform around the lava, paid you no mind. Maybe they’d yet to see you.

“Let’s go, while they’re not looking,” hissed Percy. He snatched up your hand and pulled you along, despite how sweaty you were.

“Hold up!” You pulled back on him, but he persevered. “Percy, wait! We need a plan.”

“We don’t need a plan. We just need to get some information and get out of here.”

“Exactly why we need a plan!”

Your eyes began to burn from the heat of the lava, and your lungs ached from the smoke. It became difficult to even see, so it didn’t take long at all for something to go wrong.

“Agh!” Percy screamed, and you reached out blindly in the smoky haze to slap your hand over his mouth—you missed, and your palm found his eyes instead. “Ow!”

“Shut up, idiot!” You couldn’t help but laugh. “What did you do?”

“Kicked a cart by accident. I can’t see a damn thing with all this smoke.”

Near enough four years ago, when you met Percy, you wouldn’t have thought you’d be creeping around a pit filled with lava and carrying a deadly weapon in your backpack. At most, you’d believed you’d go through high school and eventually Percy would find other friends. You would see each other in hallways in brief glances and walk on by. Maybe in another life. In a normal life, if you’d been born to both mortal parents. You might have even had a dog in the mix. It was strange to think about, as he pulled you down behind a crate, not caring even a little bit about your sweaty palm, or the fact that you’d accidentally slapped him in the face. Life worked in funny ways. The Fates certainly chose you two for a reason, though you couldn’t be sure what that reason was, yet. Maybe, when you’d asked to be born again, the Judges in the Underworld decided you needed some more excitement in your life. Or maybe they hated you, and you’d done wrong before, whoever you were before, because to be here now you’d have to have been here once—after seeing the Underworld with your own eyes, there was no more questioning life after death. Did you reach Elysium? Were you a nice person?

Being a demigod had its pros, its cons, and its questions. It enabled deep thinking.

“Come on, just go around it,” you nodded to the sight up ahead. Percy went to climb to his feet…

That was when you heard the voices.

“Shit! Get in the cart!”

Pulling back the tarp, stinging your fingers, Percy clambered over the edge and into the pile of metal pieces, flat and smooth between the hot cart. He raised his hands, holding up the tarp as you shot a hasty look in the direction of the voices; shadows were growing bigger on the wall. You flopped into the cart in an uncomfortable position of squashed-up legs, Percy’s longer set digging into your side. You tried to move over as far as you could to make room for him but really there wasn’t much point. He flipped the tarp over your heads, and together you held your breath.

It turned red. With the tarp now covering the pair of you, light from the flowing lava pit illuminated the red tarp, casting an amber glow.

Riptide? you mouthed to Percy. Your dagger sat in your backpack, crushed under your weight and between the cart.

He raised his hand ever so slightly, and twirled the pen in response.

“Bring it in?” One voice asked. It was deep.

“Yeah, movie’s just finished.”

Lowering your gaze from the side of the cart, you meet Percy’s. Movie?

Suddenly, the cart jerked, and tipped forward. You jostled into Percy, and thrust your hands out to either side of the cart. The metal was warm. You slammed your mouth shut, hoping nobody heard the surprised squeak.

“Hey! Thought you said this was a small load? Thing weighs a ton!”

Rude.

“It’s celestial bronze, idiot,” the other voice laughed. “What did you think, it’d be light? Hurry up and set it in the back, for crying out load. Hey, younglings! Watch the damn movie. I’ll answer your questions later.”

Had you found some secret school? Were people living here? Younglings didn’t sound very human, however. Nobody in their right mind would use that language.

But a movie did play. You strained your ears, trying to make some sort of sense of where you were. Growth spurts, and hygiene working in the forges.

“And lastly, don’t neglect your flipper hygiene!” The soapy voice rang over speakers. “Good flippers equal good mind!”

Percy spun Riptide between his fingers, dashing back and forth and swapping hands. His dark brows furrowed in concentration, tired eyes pinned on nothing in particular. They seemed brighter in here, somehow. More ‘calm before the storm’ rather than their usual ‘storm’.

“So, younglings, what is the correct name of our particular species? You, at the back!”

“Sea demons!” A voice cried.

“No,” the ‘teacher’ flatlined. “You?”

“Telekhines!” Another voice grumbled.

“Brill! And why are we here, guys?”

“Revenge! Revenge against the Greek god Zeus, for casting us down to Tartarus!”

“Indeed! And only after we created their weapons, might I add!”

So, you were dealing with a bunch of salty monsters. Great.

“Zeus cast us away,” the teacher continued in a mocking, sad voice. “Down to Tartarus. We had no control in this, young ones, no choice! Which is why now is our perfect time for a takeover! We will start here, in the very forges of Hephaestus! And soon after, the undersea furnaces, too!”

There was a huge uproar of applause and yells, some barking, some screaming. Terrible noise, honestly. And that was only the very tip of the iceberg.

You’d done your research after being at camp for so long. You’d come across their names, the Telekhines, but the gross result of the previous Titan takeover remained a subject to be avoided. To you, even reading about the ugliness of that period was enough, never mind looking at pictures of the creatures produced then. Maybe Ares was right, so long ago—you valued prettiness and vanity so much that you may as well have been a daughter of Aphrodite rather than Athena. Is that why your mother wouldn’t connect with you? Did she see her sister, rather than her daughter? Brains and beauty go hand-in-hand, but the Gods have their own set of values and expectations. You didn’t live up to too many of them. Maybe you were vain—perhaps a little too much. Probably ignorant, too.

On your head it was, then, that you had clue what you were up against.

“Who do we serve, Telekhines?”

“Kronos!”

“And when you all grow to full maturity, who will you serve? Whose army will you fight for?”

“Kronos!”

“Lovely. Now, at the back we have brought some scraps for you to practice making weapons with. Go ahead and take a look—but share! We don’t need any arguments today.”

You scrambled in place. Percy’s elbow kneaded into your stomach as he tried to set up Riptide early. Reflexively, your foot shot out at the feeling, and booted his knee cap. Your hand fell to his shoulder, urgently whispering, “backpack. Open my backpack!”

Alas, you both prepared too late. The tarp was thrown away by…human hands. Except the creatures they belonged to one-hundred percent were not human beings. A dozen faces looked in, with snouts like dogs, wet and slimy, and bodies of sea lions, all black and shiny.

“Demigods!” One growled.

“Eat them!” Cried another; from the back of group, there was a sound like nashers clashing.

Fortunately for you, they had also prepared too late. Riptide appeared in full form, and in one strong swoop, Percy decapitated the whole row. They disappeared in puffs of dust, sent straight back to where they came from.

“Back off!” Percy yelled, jabbing at another one.

You swung your arm back with your torch still in hand, and swatted one on the snout. It barked, but retreated, giving you the room you needed to clamber out of the cart.

You came face-to-face with a hunched over, crouching Telekhine with the features of a Doberman, snarling. Your shoes squeaked the further you backed up, right to Percy’s back. The back of his head very briefly knocked the top of yours. He had your back, and you most definitely had his. Very slyly, his free hand rose and made contact with your side, following the strap of your backpack and skimming across it blindly. What was he doing?

“New lesson, class,” said Percy. You clutched the flashlight harder, as the six-foot Telekhine began to advance, its fangs making an appearance briefly. The zipper of your bag jingled, and—ah, Percy was trying to get your dagger. “Monsters tend to vaporise when slashed with a celestial bronze sword. Just like this—!”

The Telekhines dove, driving Percy into gear. He abandoned your backpack, taking one firm swipe to the next set of monsters. They dissolved instantly, little clouds of ash and dust sending puffs in the air. The warm handle of Riptide was pressed into your palm straight after, and you dropped your flashlight. With both hands around the hilt, you swung the sword over your shoulder and back again like you would a baseball bat. The speed at which you did so enabled you to get a surprise hit on the advancing, taller monster, and you split him down the middle. Its essence went up like a bomb. The rest of the monsters were backed up, but you didn’t have long.

You threw the sword back to Percy blindly. Turning, he reached out a hand for yours. “Let’s go!” With eyes wide in anticipation and adrenaline, still furiously red in the face, he pulled you along. In tandem, you made a dive for the exit tunnel, where a door had been placed.

Bingo. Sliding into the safe space, you threw your body back against the door and held it in place while Percy’s deft hands made quick work of the wheel handle, spinning it until it locked. Monsters thudded on the other side, the sound like thunder in this winding tunnel.

Back in the open lava room, you noticed a couple of things that weren’t there before: one, four sea demons even taller than the rest, at least nine-feet; two, the statue and work of which they hammered away at in the middle of the room by the first bridge; three, the harsh language they spoke did not register in your mind. An old language, then. Old as hell.

“What are they making?” You muttered, trying to get a good look without exposing yourself. Sparks flew from the large piece of metal between them.

Percy sighed. “Whatever it is, it isn’t good. They were banished to Tartarus by Zeus for a reason. Now, I don’t like the guy, but I’m pretty sure he’d have a good enough reason for doing something like that.”

You’d nearly forgotten about the locked door at the end of the tunnel, until the creatures came falling through. Crawling over each other, they began to run towards you.

Percy grabbed you by the shoulders, sword dangerously close to your face. He’d never let it touch you, you trusted, but even the aura of it was unsettling so close to your skin. “Start running. Get a head start.”

You shook your head and scoffed. “Ha, no. We leave together.”

“We don’t have time to leave together!” He exclaimed, “I’m gonna hold them back while you get a head start. If you get to Hephaestus first, he might help us. Tell him what we found out, and I’ll be right behind. Got it?”

You liked to think, later, that the final look in Percy’s eyes was determination. It certainly seemed that way, storming bright, his mouth set firmly. You weren’t to fight a whole army with a flashlight and a dagger stuck deep in your bag with no time to grab it.

“Just go!” He ordered. You took a single step back, unsure, until he reached out with one strong hand and gave your shoulder a confident push. “I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

The army advanced and by this point, the taller, grown ones had taken notice of what was happening. More of those came out of the walls, too, and the dark shapes from earlier finally paid attention to the two of you.

In one movement, not thinking at all, you threw yourself forward, and threw your arms firmly around Percy’s neck. He smelled like sweat and boy and dirt from being down in the maze for so long, but you didn’t care one bit. He was warm and solid and sure and here, and his free hand touched your back, before tugging on your shirt. You moved away, to see something not unlike real desperation on his face.

“Now go,” he ordered, one last time.

And you listened.

You made a run for the way you’d came, and the sounds of the forge were drowned out the further you ran away. At first, it was fine—lights like the metal ones of an old Cold War bunker lit your path. Nausea reigned, until you and your heaving chest took a break against a wall just for a second. You hadn’t gone too far, but the Telekhines weren’t here yet. Percy said he’d be right behind. You’d wait here for him.

Or you could go back.

Kneeling, you slid your bag from your back and unzipped it. Percy had moved the zipper not even halfway in his mission to get your dagger for you. It sat between your jacket and your packets of food. You pulled out a water bottle and sipped slowly. Shrugging your bag back on your shoulders, you waited a second on weak legs, trying to regain some strength.

The tunnel remained silent if you excused your laboured breathing. The lights on the ceiling began to flicker, dimming and brightening again, probably trying to move you along and change itself. It wouldn’t have been unsettling if Grover and Percy were with you, but they weren’t, and you felt completely alone in this maze despite knowing they were still down here too. You laid your hand on your forehead and ran it through your sweaty hairline, trying to wipe the remains of your overheating from your face. As you did, and slowly got to your feet, the lights flickered even more intensely.

That was just before the ground began to shake. At first it was a tiny amount of trembling, and soundless, beneath your feet. Its intensity grew in size pretty quickly, from a little shaking to full-blown rumbling, like an explosion was popping off and heading your way. You stepped back once, trying to make sense of the direction, and only looked up the way you came just as the lights went out silently. It was like a bomb exploded, or some part of the tunnel had blown apart. A fierce gush of wind blew, so forceful you had no choice in being shoved to the wall, hot air hitting you square in the face. Bits of debris and dirt were blown in your eyes, gritting and painful. Just as it began, it ended, and the sound of the maze changing again came through loud and clear.

Which left you with two bouts of knowledge:

One: Percy had definitely just been killed.

and Two: you were totally, utterly lost, without even a flashlight.

Standing in the aftermath of hot, diffusing air from the direction of the forges, breathing in bits of explosion, there was absolutely no denying that your best friend had just been blown to smithereens. Nobody survived an explosion like that. Nobody.

Even so, your mind turned on autopilot. What happened after the explosion was numbed and distorted, like looking through murky water and only half-awake.

“No,” you mumbled, “no, no, no. Not happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”

Horror began to sink in, and you felt suddenly extremely, permanently wounded. Percy was, without a doubt, very, very dead. You scarcely moved, scarcely breathed. Staring at a wall replacing what you thought was where you came from, but now couldn’t be completely sure, because you’d dropped your flashlight back in the blown-up cavern, and your best friend was lying in bits and pieces of body somewhere you couldn’t reach. The mind runs rampant in panic. All you could think of was blood, and bones.

You might have screamed. You thought you did. Your throat turns sore and raw, and you figure you’ve been screaming for a while in the darkness on your own.

How strange it was that Percy had been the only thing keeping you safe this whole time. Without him, you feel exposed even when nothing can see you. They can definitely sense you. You hear something coming, like a body being dragged along the ground, and decide now would be a good time to get up and go. But your hands and feet are numb and tingling, evidence of a panic attack. Your head swims without sight, and you can’t feel the wall when you touch your fingers to it.

Your feet hurt when they take step after step until you’re running, dragging your fingers blindly along the dark tunnel as some semblance of a path finder. The walls change, and twice you fall. It’s embarrassing, scraping your chin on brick, eating dirt. You stumble up stairs, walk through cobwebs and feel things crawling up your neck, and scream now and again out of sheer annoyance, sheer exhaustion. You begin to pray, muttering insanely under your breath to anyone who will listen: first your mom, and you beg her to forgive any doubts you had. Then you beg Hermes, the patron of travellers, to at least give you direction here. And finally Ares, because the only thing fuelling your body is determination to not die down here.

Someone has your back.

Just as you’re beginning to freak out again, you feel the wall begin to curve around, and dip. And…grow…lighter? And it is, growing lighter. There’s a glow coming from a door at the end of the tunnel, and you’ve seen this door before.

You’ve made it back to Hephaestus’s workshop in one piece.

You think about knocking. And then you realise how stupid that idea is, and burst right in.

Heaving, sweating, and rubbing your sore chin, you stand wilting in the doorway of his workshop. He’s hanging from the ceiling on some sort of platform, but jumps down when he notices you.

“Ah,” he cleared his throat. “It’s you.” Hephaestus raises his hand to his beard and pats at it, putting out a great deal of fire burning there.

“Percy’s dead. And Grover is as good as.” You swallow, and kick the door shut blindly. “I want a way out of here, and you’re going to help me.”

“Look at you, making all the demands!” He laughs. It’s bellowing, and it rumbles the room. “Little demigod. Get a hold of yourself. You’re getting tears on my floor.”

You flinch in place at his cruelty. “My best friend just died!” You yell out. “Percy’s dead, because you told us to do something. This is your fault.”

Hephaestus looks up from the screwdriver in his hand, to meet your eyes head on. It’s like tiny fires are burning there. “Hold your tongue, daughter of Athena. It’s unbecoming. And I didn’t kill the other one—whatever was in there did that.”

“Telekhines,” you spat. A gritty tear rolls down your cheek. “That’s what’s in there. Or, was. It’s all blown apart now. So we went there for nothing. I hope you know they’re all against you. Kronos’s army is rising, and they’re coming for you.” And I can’t say I blame them.

He paused, raised a brow briefly, and scoffed. “Demigods don’t scare me.”

“No, but Kronos does. And he’s still coming whether you like it or not. You killed my friend. So I have a request.”

Hephaestus threw down the instrument in his hand, colliding with a metal worktop and echoing somewhat off the walls. You cringe, but refuse to back up. “Look at you, demigod, making all the requests.” He pauses for a moment. “But I cannot deny you, I suppose. You did as I asked. You want a way home.”

“Of course I want a way home,” you seethed.

He cocked his head and huffed. “Go out of here. Follow the tunnel left, and all the way down. You’ll find your way home, daughter of Athena.”

Without a ‘thank you’ you find yourself marching out of his workshop, abandoning the door. You do as he says, and it feels ridiculously easy, hand on the wall again and sliding your fingers across to follow the way it bends. Left, and all the way down. Your fingers hit a bump in the wall, and that little bump instantly begins to glow dark blue.

It makes you think of Percy, but you have no energy left to cry with.

Hephaestus wasn’t misleading you, then. Stepping away from the hole opening up over your head, dirt caves in and crumbles around your feet. A dirty ladder begins to shake its way out of the dirt wall, all the way up to the new gap in the earth.

You hear voices, as you heave up the ladder. It’s short, and doesn’t take long to reach the opening at the top, where a hand has reached down to help you up, a face peering in—Clarisse.

Her expression is one of apprehension, and it’s as serious and firm as ever. Her muddy eyes flick over your face, and you imagine you must look a state. Your chin still burns with your ground collision, cheek smarted.

For a second, as she pulls you with a strong hand from the Labyrinth, she doesn’t say anything. You barely look at Clarisse, crawling out of the hole. A distance away you can hear voices.

“They’re all patrolling that way,” she grumbled. “Bit of a stupid move on our part. You’re lucky I was here, and not…” she trails off. You’re not quite short who you were lucky she wasn’t to be, because you can’t find anything in yourself to question her.

Instead, you shake your head. Clarisse pulls you to your feet, and you’re vividly aware of the smell of camp, strawberries and the smell of the trees. The air is a cold shock above ground.

Finally you look up. You meet Clarisse’s somewhat concerned look. She stares expectantly.

“Percy’s dead,” you swallow. Clarisse’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, then everything falls from her face. “Grover’s gone. And I need to talk to Chiron.”

“Wait—” you stumble past her, tearing your arm from her grip. The world feels blurred. “They’re—they’re both dead?! They’re gone?”

“That’s what I said, Clarisse!” You snap, raising your arm to wipe your eyes.

“We all thought that you’d be fine down there!” She follows after you. “You’re—capable, at the least! I don’t understand!”

You walk quickly through the woods, tearing past groups of people on guard, and some kids playing by the cabins. Up ahead is the Big House, your destination. People call your name when they see you, but there’s nothing left to answer them with.

You wished you could smiled, walking into the house. You wished Grover and Percy were right behind you, laughing at something stupid as usual. You might have been greeted by your friends with cheers, quest completed successfully.

Murphy’s Law says anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. If you have a handful of opportunities of things that can go wrong, the one most likely to cause damage will occur. You’ve deducted that Murphy’s Law is charging your life.

So, you walk the creaking, fading steps of the Big House and along the porch. You thought of Percy at the very beginning of all of this, recovering on this porch. It made you think of returning here after Bianca passed. You throw open the door, bordered by white drapes, met with silence.

“Hey,” calls Clarisse. “Hey, look, I know how you feel. But we should get you to the med bay first. You look about to pass out.”

And you feel it, too. But you can’t rest until you’ve settled this.

Chiron’s face lights up when he hears you, standing in the doorway. Brown eyes warm and welcoming sadly fade, like he knows.

You choke on a sudden flow of tears, the back of your hand flying to your mouth. “He’s dead,” you tell him outright. “Percy’s dead.”

That’s the most important thing to tell. Not that you didn’t find Daedalus, or that you insulted a god down there, nor that you abandoned Nico. After all, it is the worst thing imaginable, in your eyes. All-consuming horror, taking over every inch of you. Your best friend, your longest friend, is dead.

“He saved me,” you whisper shakily.

There’s a lot of hush on camp, after that. The daylight was already fading when you came up above ground again, and it’s nearly gone now, the sky a dull, sad shade of dark-blue. Clarisse declared the time to be six o’clock in the evening exactly when you climbed out of the Labyrinth. You spend two hours going over everything in excruciating detail, from the second you stepped foot in the maze and the meeting with Hera, the blown-up forge, and what you saw. Everything feels strange after spending, as Chiron tells you, a week in almost complete darkness, with no way to tell time, in a setting altering itself every few minutes. The distant sound of laughing campers and the kids playing by the lake are long gone, as if the whole camp knows what has happened—maybe they do know. But nobody can feel the grief you feel, the struggle to really accept what happened. Logically, Percy is very, extremely dead and gone. Your heart is beginning something to change.

You don’t sleep well that night. Chiron writes down every little thing you say, and has Clarisse bring up some food for dinner for you. It’s kind, and unusual for her. She keeps her gaze lowered the whole thing you’re there, but she isn’t mean, so that’s something.

It’s nearly nine o’clock, and you’ve washed and dressed, ready for sleep in the spare room on the third floor of the house. There’s absolutely no way you can face company tonight—you’re drained completely, and know the second you hit the pillow you’ll be out. Nursing a cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows per Chiron’s sympathy, you settle at the table, swirling around the pink and white delicacies in your mug with a teaspoon. It’s a kind thought to make it for you, but you don’t need hot chocolate; you need to scream. You need to grab the nearest bat, and smash up the kitchen. You notice a rolling pin hanging from the wall…

“We need to talk about the maze,” says Chiron in a low tone.

It’s late and you want to sleep. “We already did.” You clink the spoon against the mug.

“It’s just…my dear, nobody navigates the maze like that. The way you described, coming back in the dark… Chris Rodriguez and Clarisse were down there for weeks, separated, and neither managed to find a way out alone. Someone found them. Alone, they might have been stuck down there for a lot longer than they were. They were the last people to go down before yourself, Percy and Grover. You walked alone, and found your way not only to the workshop, but back out of the maze again in one short go.” He pauses. “How did you do it?”

You swallow and breathe in order to ebb away the annoyance you’re feeling a lot of. You shrug. “I uh…I just knew what to do. Hephaestus told me which way to go before Clarisse found me but—well, I just walked the rest. Couldn’t see a damn thing.”

“You just knew?” He repeats. Raising your head, Chiron is frowning deeply. “To me, it doesn’t seem right. Put it this way, my dear—nobody has been able to navigate the maze like that since Luke.”

You slam down the mug in an instant on the hard wood table, spilling the contents all over the table, dripping to the floor. “Alright, so you think I’m working with Luke? Because I walked a couple of tunnels alone? If you really believe after my best friend was killed by the very people Luke is working with, that I’d work with that guy, your head needs a good tap, no offence.” You stand up swiftly, knocking the chair back. He calls your name but you ignore it and stomp up the stairs to your temporary bedroom.

In there, you lock the door, get on your knees, and pray. Your tears soak your clasped hands at the side of the bed. You get on your knees, and you beg.

I’ve added the song ‘everything in its right place’ by Radiohead to the capsize playlist on Spotify if you want to give it a listen! Figured it worked well with the end of this chapter. After all, these things are Fated to unravel whether our main gal likes it or not ☺️ the song absolutely hits me in the gut. It’s the epitome of ‘oh, it didn’t go the way you planned? tough. it’s meant to be this way’ and the realisation that things are falling as they should.

taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite @randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf

[burstingsunrise]

molly hii

your tags on that pink mb made me cackle jshds and then i realized that there's something about Luke Hemmings that makes people want to cling onto him like a koala jsjdjs perhaps is the height? the overall softness of his being? who knows. but it's nice to feel understood<3

ajahshs help 😭😭😭 i think you’re into something though ana. it must be the combo of his tree-like stature and the fact he seems like he wouldn’t mind having something cuddling him at all times you know?

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

I feel bad for Starlo.

Star has a point, idk what the four were ticked off about, there is like 99% chance everyone willingly participated in the trolley problem, based on what we've seen of his behavior thus far it's not like Starlo to be that big of a jerk/drag them by force/yell at them to do it. Ed's words:

he does it because Star asks NICELY

clearly jealous

It genuinely seemed like a fun time/fun roleplay, especially since every day is the same. Like, the five are supposed to be a rowdy and adventures bunch, what exactly did Starlo do wrong, I'm genuinely confused and curious. Except taking a big liking in Clover (his posse should know that this is a big moment for him, according to Blackjack they've known each other since high school and had the same liking for westerns. So they were basically a nerd gang.) Starlo was kind, patient and considerate towards Clover the whole time, even warned Mooch about them not being bandits, taught Clover gun safety, wanted to bring his posse along for a fun time, thanked Ace for telling him about getting Clover a new hat...

Sure, at first he only liked Clover for being a human, but as Ceroba says, that changed and he grew to genuinely care about them, plus I can't help but think Star saw himself in Clover and that's part of the reason he was so proud of them all the time even when they messed up (I'll talk more about this at some point)

What exactly made Ace want to leave the gang? He even said how he doesn't mind "getting run over by the fake train"

he's so nice. says sorry for forgetting the safety goggles even when he was scatterbrained due to his excitement. I love him so much

The only real "faults" (I'll call them temporary faults) I saw in Star during the Wild East section was that he was even more enthusiastic and more proud than usual. But how couldn't he be when he met a member of the species that he has admired for so long because they have real cowboys and sheriffs on the surface (who are seen as brave heroes who deliver justice, while Star canonically feels like a nobody farmer). His posse should have realized Clover wouldn't be there forever and just let their boss enjoy himself with his "deputy who'd have to leave sooner or later anyway"(or be more patient with him/ask him why he feels this strongly towards Clover/if there's a deeper reason for that). His friends including Ceroba just turn their back on him so quickly instead. The moment he's gotten the chance to feel valued for once and put himself first and not have to take care of this whole town and everyone in it and live his dream of meeting a real human, suddenly "his personality is damaged?"

Star's literally built this whole town, organised everything, he worries about everyone, Ceroba (plus was the one to give her emotional strength before and after Clover's sacrifice), Kanako, the monsters, his family, struggles with feelings of worthlessness yet never wipes that smile off his face, always does his best to be hopeful and optimistic and make others laugh, gave his posse a nap time so they don't become exhausted, gave Ceroba a free home, didn't act upon his feelings towards her and was a 110% supportive, caring friend instead. THAT'S who he is. He's the papa bear of this friend group, the glue holding everyone together.

He was just *really* excited. Y'all know he's insecure and just wishes to escape who he is and yet y'all blame him for liking Clover so much. Yeah, the four are very clearly jealous. But why won't the four of you control your feelings for a while? As mentioned, Clover WILL HAVE TO LEAVE EVENTUALLY. They won't be Star's "deputy" forever (the kid who's just as into westerns as he is, who values justice just as much, who also values doing the right thing. Someone he clearly felt understood in the presence of, whom he loved; just look at the way he talks about Clove during Showdown). Star seems genuinely confused of what he did wrong poor guy just wanted to live his fantasy for once and feel important:

Even at the beginning Moray's like "oh no Martlet is upset" Mooch replies "don't be a buzzkill nothing exciting ever happens around here" and Ray's like "Yeah you've got a point"

If you all agreed to have a little fun with a human who will very soon leave forever why is Starlo's enthusiasm such a big problem? If the posse weren't into this after all (unless they were simply too jealous which could have been solved with a honest talk and a little patience) why are you doing this "rowdy" job with Star in the first place? Do you want your boring routine day to day life so much back? Or just for Clover to leave (which they will soon enough)? You, western enthusiasts, literally met a real human, A HUMAN FROM WESTERNS YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PASSIONATELY INTO (clearly not as passionate as Star but passionate ENOUGH to understand where he's coming from).

... okay.

[stardustinthesky]

Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman

S03E16 | Double Jeopardy

[clickityweasel]

was crossing the road w a coworker at lunch and stopped to pick a honeybee out of some random business man's collar. he was chill about it but the look i got from my coworker was unreal

[20001541]

Like yeah I want Afo's head in a stick because he hurts my two boys, he hurted Tomura giving his a curse and puts Izuku in danger and mocks about him lossing his arms, I know afo is an asshole but what kind of father you are AFO? i hope Inko take off his balls with her quirk.

not surprising behavior from afo tbh

he was willing to psychologically torture yoichi with the vault just to get him to join his side, if he's willing to do that to someone he values more than anyone else then it doesn't surprise me he would put others who he values less through complete hell

our poor boys though

[sysig]

The Sleepy Parable (Patreon)

[cozylittleartblog]

What would Val be like as a friend?

he looks out for people :) only so much of it is programming, he cares about people so much, more than anyone else in his unit did - even if he acts like he's only hanging around out of obligation or convenience. so you can imagine it's hard being friends with so many folks who do such dangerous work for a living, but he says those are the kinds of people who need someone to lean on most of all. he hates feeling unappreciated, and he'll give you a verbal beating if you need sense knocked into you, but no matter what happens his clinic doors are always open to you

also he's generally very quirky and sillygoofy, he is not a robot who tries to humanize himself. he is strange, and he thinks everyone Else is the strange one.

[meat-wentz]

addition to your collection <3

WAKE UP EVERYONE! HE’S UPSIDE DOWN AGAIN!!!

[bitegore]

:( i think i just accidentally boiled a spider to death

[theinfinitedivides]

Rishi bestest boi 🥺😔

[dxxtruction]

can I say something controversial?

[steviescrystals]

just remembered an insane interaction i had with a former coworker once and i have to share (possible tw for gun violence unfortunately)