#thanks for reading! Brain week is coming!!

[sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack]

Impulsivity

Modern Viktor x Fem! Reader

Your chronic pain has you at the end of your rope as you hopelessly search for something to relieve your pain. Help comes from the most unexpected of places: a walgreens at 9:45 pm.

Reader is mentioned to be an art/theater kid and is also disabled like Viktor and suffers from chronic pain. No use of y/n. Also not proofread we die like redacted

Word count: 4.6K

High key inspired by @meownotgood and @gaybybirth because reading their writing made me want to write again. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written and I'm terrified to post it. But I'm being brave! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I may make a part 2 depending on how this does. I hope you enjoy!

Pain makes it incredibly hard to think. Even though you're used to it and it's something you feel every day of your life, the burden is still quite heavy. But there is no pity for Atlas, and his shoulders will ache for the rest of time as he holds up the sky without the relief of Tylenol.

So now, you're standing in a Walgreens at 9:42 pm in the pain management aisle, shifting your weight from foot to foot to relieve the pain radiating from your hips to your ankles, trying to pick a topical pain relief gel that will actually work. You've tried most of them here; Bengay, Aspercreme, Biofreeze, Icy Hot, and nothing. Sure, they work for a few weeks but your fucking mutated joke of a body adapts and grows accustomed to whatever you use. The brace you wear on your left knee is itchy and pokes into you through your fleece-lined tights and it's not helping matters.

Giving up on reading the box of Voltaren you're holding, you crouch down to put it back and pick up something else. Your pain-addled brain is piss-poor at making decisions it seems, as the moment you bend, your knee cracks in such a way that a painful heat spreads through your entire body. It was loud too, you know it was. Eyes are staring at you, burning a hole in your head as you wince and grit your teeth against the waves of pain hell-bent on knocking you down.

You feel the urge to collapse, just sit on the floor, and read the labels and boxes there without having to stand, despite how utterly ridiculous you'd look.

"Are you alright?" Your right knee hits the floor as you shift into a kneeling position to look up at the person speaking to you. A long tweed overcoat, a thick red scarf, a cane, nice Oxford shoes, pale skin, worried amber eyes, and tousled brown hair meet your gaze. A man, a very beautiful man is standing a mere three feet from you, eyebrows pinched in concern. You blink a few times, willing yourself to remember how to act like a normal person and not a gobsmacked fool.

"Oh, yeah I uh…" You swallow and gesture wildly to the wall of products, and then visibly deflate "…no there's no way to make a joke out of this. " A laugh slips out, pitiful. You look back up at the man and the corners of his mouth are quirked up at the sides. Thank god, maybe he finds your misfortune endearing.

"They do tend to keep the best products just out of reach, don't they? Nothing at eye level ever seems to be worth your time. Just another cruel joke the health industry plays on the less abled." He looks between the wall of lotions and pills and you, his smile widening.

You smile too, less self-deprecative now and more understanding, "Ah, a fellow health industry hater, amazing. Damn straight, they bleed us dry and expect us to thank them. Greedy schmucks." With one hand on the metal shelf and the strength of your good (better?) knee, you manage to pull yourself into an upright position, even with every nerve in your body screaming at you and your left hip wanting to jump ship, leaving you alone in this sea of agony.

"Just trying to find something that doesn't stop working after a few weeks and also not develop an opioid addiction at the same time." Ah, maybe you could make a few cute jokes that this cuter man will appreciate.

"As one does." He leans both hands on his cane and nods his head conspiratorially. You giggle, you can't help it. Maybe it's the pain-induced delirium or maybe it's because you find the man in front of you incredibly attractive. But who's to say?

"Might I make a recommendation?" His accent is lilting and thick and it feels like every word out of his mouth is wrapped in a velvetine cloth. That metaphor makes no sense, your brain thinks. Shut up, chimes your heart.

"Please. I was about to start considering just chopping off my leg and being done with it." He laughs out loud at that.

"Ah, we've all been there." His attention is pulled back to the shelves and his fingers twitch as he looks for something. He's focused, insanely so, and it makes you feel important, seen. This random stranger, looking for something that will help you with such fervor.

God, it's been a while.

He bends at the waist to grab something off of the second shelf from the bottom and you definitely don't fixate on the way his long fingers curl around a box.

"This is Arnicare. The main ingredient was only legalized here a mere decade ago, it's never failed me thus far." He hands it over to you with a smile. You take it, a little awestruck and make a sincere effort to not freak out over the fact that your fingers brush his own. They're warm, good god.

"Thank you. This is invaluable insider information." You hold the box to your chest in gratitude.

"Of course. Tiger Balm is my favorite but they don't typically sell it in-store due to popular demand. I usually, unfortunately, turn to Amazon to buy it when it's in stock." he continues, putting one hand in his pocket and leaning onto his cane. You nod, making mental notes as you go.

"You are saving my life and my sanity right now. Truly." You pause, and then, with bravery that you didn't know you had-

"I'm (name)." You stick out your right hand, so that way if he chooses to take it, it won't be with the hand using his cane. He stalls for a moment and you fear you've made a horrible fool of yourself, but then he chuckles and shakes your hand gently. You can't get over how warm his hand is, skin soft save for the callouses on his palm and fingertips.

"Viktor. It is nice to meet you." His eyes crinkle as the gentle smile he wears widens.

There's a charged beat where your hands linger a moment longer than what is expected and you laugh it off before letting go. "Sorry, I uh…have been running on far less than the recommended amount of sleep and have been eating meals that do not classify as meals."

"I don't think I have ever gotten the recommended hours of sleep a day in my life."

Your eyebrows shoot up, "Really?"

"Really. I think my blood is 60% espresso at this point. Such is the life of academia." He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

You look down at the product in your hands, and then back up to him, mind racing in a thousand different directions that all leave you terrified but at the same decision.

"You know, there's a really nice late-night coffee shop in this same shopping complex. Their coffee is the only coffee I confidently drink after 4 pm. Which, is arguably not healthy but, what can you do?" You blurt out, rather impulsively. He's a little shocked, it's clear on his face, but there is still a smile there.

"Are you asking me if I'd like to accompany you to grab coffee at…9:45 pm?" He tilts his head quizzically after checking his watch.

You nod a few times, "Absolutely I am. And maybe it's the fact that my hip hurts so bad and it's prohibiting me from feeling fear but…yeah. Wanna get coffee at 9:45 pm?" He's staring at you incredulously, but it's sweet and amused.

He laughs again, and it's a low, rumbling sound, "I was already planning on getting some kind of caffeine. Sure. I would love to." He's looking at you so intensely, almost like he's studying you. Self-consciousness washes over you suddenly as you realize you've sort of completely derailed whatever he'd been doing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your shopping or your night…"

He shakes his head as if it were impossible to interrupt, "Interrupt my night? My night full of no plans other than grading papers until my eyes bleed? Alone and without the company of a pretty girl? Ah yes, how dare you come between me and those plans." his tone is playful, sarcastic and the nervousness fades from you as quickly as it came. Your eyes narrow.

"Oh, so he thinks I'm pretty?" You grab your purse from off the ground and start to move backward toward the register, and he follows, adjusting his cane and bag sheepishly.

"He does."

"Good because she thinks he's pretty too." You venture quickly before your brain can catch up with your mouth. It only takes a second for him to catch up with you, strolling through the aisles of a near-desolate Walgreens.

"Lucky him."

The cashier at the counter looks as though they'll fall asleep as they bag your items: the Arnicare and a bottle of dark green nail polish. "I swear I'm not typically this impulsive." You call over your shoulder as the cashier hands you the receipt and you stuff your things into your purse. Viktor walks up and puts his items on the counter - allergy medication and a pack of multicolored pens, presumably for grading - and turns to you while fishing out his wallet.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that." He pauses, thinking over his next words, "Not that being impulsive is a bad thing. I could stand to be more impulsive." It's an apology where there doesn't need to be one.

You shrug, "No offense taken, because you're right. I was...just trying to save face."

"Why?"

"Well…" Why were you trying to save face? "I feel, maybe a professor wouldn't be so inclined to hang out with someone so uninhibited? Some people call me childish." As he takes the small bag from the cashier, you find his eyes again, and they are full of mirth.

"Firstly, not a professor. I'm a PhD student at the University not far from here. We, as TA's, usually get saddled with grading assignments and papers." He walks forward with you, letting you walk through the automated doors first, probably so you can lead the way to the coffee shop.

"Secondly, I disagree. Impulsivity does not automatically equate to childishness. Some people say impulsive, I say driven, or passionate. Spontaneity is life." You stare at him unabashedly as you walk. This man, Viktor, waxing poetic about the benefits of impulsivity on your behalf. He's smart, obviously, but not in a haughty I'm Better Than You way. It's refreshing. And while you may not be a traditional academic, you understand to some level.

The cold bites at your skin, and you regret your decision to forgo a jacket, so you shiver when you tell him, "You're incredibly good at making me feel better about myself. I bet your students love you." He laughs at that - you're noticing that you seem to be quite good at making him laugh - and shakes his head disapprovingly

Then, guilty, "Not when I'm assigning pop quizzes after returning from winter break and calling them out for using AI."

"Ok the AI thing I completely understand, but assigning a pop quiz after a break is just cold on so many levels." College wasn't that cruel to you, but there had been many a quiz that you bombed simply because you hadn't been prepared for them. One or two that immediately followed a break.

The coffee shop comes up quickly and you move to open the door, but he's faster, shifting his bag to his elbow and grabbing the door for you as he quips, "Ah, so I see you would've been one of the students who failed that quiz." He's teasing you, and it's working.

"I can neither confirm nor deny. Although don't look at my freshman year grades. They force the art kids to take two semesters of stats and…it was just a fucking torpedo into my GPA."

"Fair enough." His laugh is quickly starting to become one of your favorite sounds.

The warmth of the dimly lit shop is nice, especially after just being out in the cold. It seeps into your bones and mercifully leeches out some of the pain in your hip.

The shop is small, quaint, and its setup reminds you of a library. Secluded booths and tables with individual lamps on them, bookshelves lining the walls, and everything made out of dark wood. Viktor looks around in awe for a moment, then, "How have I never stumbled onto this place before?"

You mentally pat yourself on the back. It had been a few years ago that you'd found this place. After a bit of an insane night out cut short by a friend getting you kicked out of the bar, you frantically searched for food places open late. This place immediately popped up leading you and your friends to feast on pastries and sandwiches washed down by the most delicious coffee you'd ever had.

"I was just lucky. When you're drunk and hungry, you can find anything." You walk towards the back of the shop, picking out a booth in the corner, "Is this ok?"

Viktor nods, hanging his cane off the table and shrugging out of his jacket. There is a moment where you feel you might keel over right there, but it is through sheer power of will that you remain standing, because holy hell this man is attractive. He's wearing a three-quarter sleeve black turtleneck that clings to his body in a way that's not loose, nor is it skin-tight. You can see the barest hint of something underneath, perhaps a back brace to help with stability. Sitting down in the booth, you try to avert your eyes to no avail, as they roam over the dark brown slacks sitting high on his waist. It's a miracle you're not drooling. Staring down at the red, long sleeve sweater you'd paired with a deep brown skirt, you can't help but think we match.

He sits down slowly, and you recognize the strategy to minimize pain, then folds his hands in front of him. "So, freshman year statistics? I believe you called it a 'fucking torpedo'?"

"Of course you picked up on that."

"Well, you were rather emphatic about it." The smugness is radiating off of him in waves and it stokes the fire in your gut.

Huffing, "Not everyone can be a whiz at math and science. I mean, what are you getting your PhD in?"

It looks like he's biting back a shit eating grin, "Biomedical engineering."

"Oh fuck off."

He releases the hold over the grin he was hiding and you're blinded by it. It absolutely makes sense, in retrospect. His analytical gaze, as if taking things apart in his mind and putting them back together, even just the way he speaks, so sure and confident. Your mouth opens to say something but a waitress decides that moment is a prime opportunity to get your drink orders.

Viktor orders a Turkish coffee and you order a French vanilla iced latte with cinnamon. As the waitress leaves, he wrinkles his nose.

"You call that coffee? It is just sugar. And iced? It's freezing out."

"Oh so first you critique my grade in stats, and now you attack my coffee order? You hate me and want me dead." Your arms fold in front of your chest as you stare at him in mock challenge. His hands shift to rest on his biceps, fingers spreading over the evidently lean muscle there and you fight to keep your breathing steady.

"I retract my statement, I bare you no ill will."

"Yeah you better, me and my sugar coffee will beat the shit out of your boiled coffee grounds." Now it's his turn to raise his eyebrows.

"You mock my drink, a traditional drink from my home country? Now you hate me and want me dead."

A warmth pours over your cheeks and you feel it heat the tips of your ears, all the way down to your shoulders. Something flashes in his gaze that tells you he definitely noticed.

"Touche." It's only a minute more before the waitress returns with your orders, said minute filled with meaningful glances and sitting adjustments on your part, your hip still aches slightly, but it's easier to ignore at this point.

You're mid sip when he fixes you with a stare, hands wrapped around his own drink, and asks, "So I can rule out anything to do with statistics, but what do you do, miss (name)? I believe you referred to yourself as an 'art kid'?"

Ah, the tricky part of explaining what you do to an academic. Not to say you weren't an academic yourself, just…a very different flavor of it.

"Yeah. In college I dual majored in Psychology and Theatre Arts. So I feel like I play both sides of the field, despite how many of the other scientists refuse to recognize psychology as a science." You spit the word as if it were a dagger, still holding a vendetta against your 11th-grade physics teacher who called it a pseudo-science.

"But my real love is Theatre. Whether it be Musicals or Shakespeare, it's my passion. I dialect coach on the side to make extra money, but mostly I love performing." There it was, out in the open. Would he call you foolish? Tell you to get a real career? Get up and leave? Probably not, but anxiety can lead you to places you wouldn't dare venture with a gun.

Pensive, he sits, staring at you with renewed interest, "Your impulsivity must suit you well in that career path, always having to think on ones feet and remain immersed in the moment." You instantly smile again.

"Exactly! There have been so many times when people have forgotten their lines and I've had to come up with something on the fly. It's…exhilarating." There's a certain sparkle that lights up your face whenever you talk about theatre, it's your passion, you can't help it. You only hope it translates.

"I know it must seem silly, pursuing the arts. Hell you're probably going to go on to change the world in a field like 'biomedical engineering'." You muse, leaning your cheek into your hand as you meet his eyes. It flatters him, you can tell, as he shifts in his seat, puffing his chest out slightly in pride.

"While I thank you for your vote of enthusiasm, I do not find it silly to pursue the arts at all."

"You don't?"

"No. I find it inspiring that you are pursuing your dream. I am pursuing mine. We should all chase after what we want." His eyes are thoughtful, kind, and you want to swim in them forever.

A beat, then, "A lot of people have called me stupid. But I can't see myself doing anything else. I know it's cheesy to say, but it feels fated. Like, I'm supposed to be doing this. It's what my atoms traveled billions of years to do." Staring into your cup, you're hit with the intensity of this confession. It's not something you tell to most people.

"And…" he clears his throat, "I think it is the most admirable thing one can do, to follow what you believe your destiny to be." Good god you like this man, you like Viktor. Not just as an infatuation or a crush, you want to get to know him.

"Thank you, Viktor." Another sip of your drink and the sugar spurs you onward, "Do you happen to like theatre? I'm sure an English lit class somewhere forced you to read at least one Shakespeare play. They did always seem to make the STEM kids suffer through classic literature as some sort of revenge for putting us art kids through math." His gaze fixes you to your spot and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to pull away from it. It's hypnotizing and has you pinned with the sheer force of it. You were learning that above all else, Viktor had a quiet intensity to him.

"I have read my fair share of Shakespeare as well as a few greek plays, but I admit, I read them mostly from an analytical standpoint, and not for mere enjoyment or to marvel in the artistry. My favorite would probably have to be Macbeth, though." He takes another sip of his coffee that still has steam curling off the top of it.

You nod approvingly, "A splendid choice. Your aesthetic certainly fits the more tragic, macabre, dramatic plays. Though I could see you enjoying Much Ado About Nothing."

"I…thank you?" Eyebrows pinched in confusion, he laughs.

"No, no it's a compliment! You just have a very…dark acedmia, gothic vibe to you. it…it tracks."

He leans back in his seat, "Gothic?"

"Yeah. it's incredibly attractive don't worry."

…

Wait-

"Incredibly attractive you say?" And he's sipping on his coffee again, watching as that all too familiar flush spreads over your skin again. Damn your mouth.

"You…I…hell-" You sip your coffee in an effort to keep yourself quiet. He's making you bolder, making you feel comfortable, loosening your tongue, beckoning you into the sea like a siren and you're not sure if you'll be able to tread water.

"Hey," his voice is soft, coaxing, "for what it is worth, I too find you incredibly attractive. I'm sorry, I did not mean to make you so flustered." The sincerity in his voice has you reeling. Placing your coffee down, you rubs at your cheeks with your hands.

"Somehow, I find it hard to believe you're that sorry when you seem so pleased with yourself watching me flush." You accuse, somewhat parroting what he said about you denying your impulsivity. Now it's his turn to flush, his pale cheeks turning rosey at having being caught.

A comfortable silence washes over the both of you momentarily as you sit with the confessions that have just been made. Well…it's nice to know that the attraction is mutual. Both of your coffee's were near finished by this point, and there was a part of you that regretted how fast you drank it.

"How is your leg?" He breaks the silence after the waitress returns to take away your empty glasses. You roll your hips slightly, testing the tension and how far the pain radiates.

"Mm, better. Could be worse, it's starting to ebb finally, but I'm still planning on slathering that Arnicare you recommended all over my leg and laying in my bed until the pain finally goes away." You conclude, hoping to God that the Arnicare works as well as he's hyping it up. "Maybe go crazy and light a lavender candle."

He's digging something out of his bag as he responds, "I'm glad it is feeling slightly better. I fully endorse the Arnicare, it has helped me immensely over the years and I trust it will help you too." The waitress returns to drop off the check and it's too late that you realize Viktor had been looking for his wallet as he places money in the little booklet and hands it back to her with a soft, "Keep the change."

You stare at him in mock offense.

"What?"

"Don't what me, you didn't even let me attempt-"

"There was no universe in which I was going to let you pay, so why even entertain it?"

"Let me pay? You are evil." But you're smiling as you slide out of the booth.

"Maybe so." Is all he says as he stands up, readjusting his shirt and grabbing for his coat. Checking your watch, you realize it's 10:45 and you've spent nearly an hour with this man, and yet it feels as though it's only been minutes. Bidding goodnight to the workers, you bothexit the shop and are hit with a blast of cold air.

"Why are you…you did not bring a jacket?" Viktor stares at you as if you've grown another head. "Are you…it is below freezing out!"

You pause, and breathe in the crisp cold air, "I like the cold, it's not so bad, I promise I'm ok." But he's already moving to grab the scarf from around his neck and balance his cane on his arm.

"Viktor-"

"Shush." Your mouth shuts and you let him wind the red scarf around your neck. It smells like him, woody and warm and you know you'll be breathing it in later.

"Bláznivá žena." He murmurs in what you can only assume is his mother tongue.

"Well, that didn't sound very nice." You chide. His hands still as he finishes securing the scarf. Whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he stares down at you. Despite the freezing air swirling around you, everything suddenly feels warm. And you know how cliche it sounds, but truly, it feels as though the world melts away and you are stuck in this little circle of warmth.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, "Can I-"

"Absolutely." You answer far too quickly. He laughs again, and its lighter than the others, as if a weight has been taken off of his chest and the laugh had been filled with air, just waiting to escape.

He wastes no time in bringing his hands up to your wind bitten cheeks and pulling your lips to his. They're slightly chapped, but warm and sure and soft as he kisses you. Your breath is gone and you realize every cheesy thing you've ever read about kisses is true. It is all encompassing and earth-shattering. If you knew anything about physics you would say that it feels like atoms colliding.

Seconds, minutes, hours, you don't know how long it is before you finally detach. You leave your eyes closed for a few seconds more, basking in the feeling.

"Wow." It's barely a whisper when you finally speak, opening your eyes to find him staring down at you, smiling unabashedly.

"My thoughts, exactly." His hands slips down your shoulders before one of them finds your hand, the other taking his cane as he leads you back to the parking lot. It's nice, just walking hand in hand with him to your cars.

"This is me." You murmur sadly as you come upon your car, parked in the handicapped parking spot. He stops and looks at you in disbelief, and you furrow your brows in confusion. His hand detaches from yours, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his car keys, clicking the unlock button. The car parked directly next to your beeps and unlocks. You'd parked right next to one another and you absolutely lose it, doubling over in laughter.

"Oh my god that is crazy."

"Well, given the fact that we both have handicapped stickers-"

"Nope, shush, let me have this." You turn back to him after catching your breath and hold out your hand, "Let me see your phone."

He obliges, even unlocking it for you before dropping it into your waiting hand. With half numb fingers, you input your phone number and contact info before returning it to him.

"To let you know how well your recommendation works." You smile as you head toward your drivers side door, unlocking it and sliding into the seat so quickly, you leave Viktor stunned. He shakes his head in mock annoyance and walks over to your window, tapping on it until you roll it down.

"Yes?" But he's leaning in and kissing you again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs. When he pulls away, you're left just as stunned as he was.

"Nothing, just wanted to say Goodnight." He walks off, gets into his own car, right next to you, and drives off, all while you're sitting in your car, window still down, and processing what just happened as the cold blasts you.

Wordlessly, you roll up your window and smile uncontrollably.

For the first time in your life, you are thankful for your chronic pain.

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chapter 4

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13

Word count - 17.5K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut, fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up! Warnings below the cut

Previous chapter

Chapter summary - As many truths come forth, life on camp as you know it begins to change. After living a life which was never your choice, you now had to choose between family and love. But more importantly, would they choose you?

A/n - I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! This is yet another heavy chapter, I tried to put as much as I could to make up for all the time this took :( I'm so sorry and I hope you have fun reading <3

Thanks again to the loml @monamipencil for all the time she so sweetly takes out for me T.T

Warnings - as usual, to be added after a week.

“Please….” 

It was the only thing ringing in your head, your fingers tightening their grip in Seungcheol’s dark mane as his mouth refused to leave yours, like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

Why now? What changed? 

The thought ran in the back of your mind as Seungcheol let out a soft groan, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he pulled back just a little, just enough to breathe but you lurched for his mouth again. It didn’t matter why, all that mattered was that this was finally happening and you didn’t want it to stop. 

Mirroring your desperation, he sat you on the hood of his car, freeing his hands to push the hair away from your face and hold it surprisingly delicately, like he couldn’t believe he was really kissing you. It felt like he was conflicted between wanting to look at you and wanting to devour you but when you wrapped your legs around his waist, he chose the latter. 

At least it seemed like it until your hand slipped between your bodies, reaching for the button of his pants and Seungcheol pulled back with a jerk, like he had been electrocuted. 

“Oh…” You drew your hands back quickly. “I thought you wanted to….” 

“I uh…” He looked around, pushing his hair back. “Y/n, we are out in the open…” 

Yeah but in the middle of fucking nowhere, with not a soul in sight. 

But of course. 

It wasn’t the location that was the problem, it was him. You should have seen this coming, you should have known that with every step Seungcheol took forward, he took two back. 

Scoffing, you slid off the car, tucking your hair behind your ears, trying not to let how disappointed you were show on your face. Seungcheol glanced at you, gulping audibly. 

“Y/n I…” 

“I don’t even know why I keep falling for this-” 

“Please…” 

“What does that word even mean anymore Seungcheol?” You raised your hands in defeat, ready to walk away. “I don’t want to know, I don’t want to hear it-”

Grabbing the back of your neck, Seungcheol pulled you up against him again, mouth hot on yours. When you tried to push him away, he didn’t let go, pressing his forehead against yours, breathing in all that tension between the two of you. 

“Let me go.” You tried to free yourself. “Choi Seungcheol-” 

“I don’t think you can even begin to fathom just how much I want you…. how much I want this.” He groaned. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to hold you like this.” 

You frowned, pulling back. “Why, because of the force field?” 

Seungcheol shook his head, “No- I mean yeah, that was one reason, I still don’t know you’re unaffected but thank heavens-” He looked at you intently. “- staying away from you has been excruciatingly painful.” 

“Then why?” You wrapped your hands around his wrists, hoping he wouldn’t let go like always. “Why are you staying away from me Cheol? Why can’t we-” 

“Do you want this?” He whispered like he was unsure and you blinked at him, just a little surprised. “Right here, right now, do you-” 

“Choi Seungcheol, for a man this big, your brain really is the size of a pea.” Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. “I’ve wanted this since the moment I set foot in camp and my eyes on you-” 

“Then fuck everything else,” With a swift movement he spun you around, the shriek of surprise lost in your throat, your palms finding the hood of the car. Seungcheol did not wait for you to even process what was happening - pushing your hair over your shoulder, his hands quickly worked the strings of your armor behind, mouth by your ear. “I want you and I don’t care who’s watching.” 

Before you can ask him who the fuck could possibly be watching the two of you, he let out what seemed to be a frustrated groan at the complexity of the lace. You were just about to undo it yourself when he reached for the dagger strapped to your waist and with a swift movement, ran it across the strings, slicing them open. 

“Cheol what-” You whined. “How am I supposed to wear this again?” 

“Armour is for protection.” He slid the bronze plates off your torso, dropping them to the ground as you turned to face him again. “And that’s what I’m here for. I got you.” 

Grinning, you grabbed its twin blade and mirrored his actions, undoing the knotted strings on his shoulders, freeing him of his gear. Taking a momentary step back, the two of you quickly got rid of the various metallic appendages and weapons lodged everywhere, dropping them onto the forest floor and you were barely done when Seungcheol pulled you towards him, kissing you again. 

It was different now, slower, deeper, more relieved but somehow more electrifying - you could feel your boobs up against the hard muscles of his chest, his fingers found the sliver of skin between your top and pants, pressing into it and your hands gripped around his biceps, nails digging in.

For some reason you suddenly realised, that though in the last 3 days you had been with 3 different men, Seungcheol was the first one that it genuinely felt intimate with, the first one you had even kissed, nevermind with such passion. And god did you want to keep kissing him but the memory of Dionysus's dildo ran in your mind and hell could empty all its devils here and you wouldn't care. You just wanted him deep inside you. 

This time, when your hand found the button of his pants again, Seungcheol didn’t stop you, moaning into your mouth instead. Just as you unzipped it, he quickly slid them off, the fabric pooling at his feet and your hands moved to their next target, his shirt. 

“Wanna see you too.” He kissed you along your jawline, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You laughed softly, working the buttons, “Then take it off.” 

“Then I'll have to stop this.” He continued the trail of kisses down to your neck. “And I don't want to.” 

Smiling to yourself you undid the last button, pushing the fabric aside, thanking the universe that today Seungcheol went commando in his pants. As his lips found your shoulder, your eyes caught Seungcheol’s dick, already familiar with exactly how it looked but the real one was so much better. He was unbearably hard, hissing when you wrapped your hand around the base.

“Better than you imagined?” He sounded cocky when you began stroking his length, letting out a soft sigh. 

“What makes you think I imagined it?”  

Seungcheol chuckled. “Baby, there's only a wall between our rooms which mind you, is really thin. I've heard you take my name before.”

You froze as his hands gripped your waist tighter. 

“Faster cheol, harder cheol, Right there cheol…. I heard it all.” 

Okay yeah, there were days you had indeed slid your fingers in and out, imagining it was him ravaging you but why didn't your stupid ass ever doubt if he could hear it??

‘You sounded like I was doing a good job.” He smiled against your skin. 

“You mean I was doing a job.” 

Getting yourself off was not new to you. You didn't really have any boyfriends but the handful of people you had slept with in your life were disappointing to say the least, devastatingly incapable of making you feel any pleasure. Of course after Soonyoung revealed that demigods could not be satisfied by mortals, it made sense why your own hands and toys were the only ones that could make you cum. You had to admit though, getting off to the thought of Seungcheol fucking you into his large white bed gave you some of the best orgasms you ever had. He didn't need to know that. The way he was smiling at the memory of you moaning his name had inflated his ego enough. 

“Oh you were doing a good job?” He detached his mouth from you at last, drawing back, eyes scouring your face. “Why don't you let me see this time?” 

As he kicked his pants off and took a step back then another, you looked at him in disbelief. 

“You want me to imagine you fucking me when you're standing right in front of me-” You ran your eyes down his body covered only by his shirt hanging off his shoulders. “-looking like that?” 

Seungcheol nodded. “Lean against the car and spread your legs for me baby.” 

“Cheol-” 

“Do it Y/n.”

“But-”

“That's a command soldier.’ 

This asshole. Of course Choi Seungcheol made use of hierarchy during sex. 

“Yes Chief.” 

Rolling your eyes you pulled your pants down your legs, tossing them to join your gear on the forest floor. Your panties were slick with arousal, uncomfortably sticking to you, the dark wet spot only getting larger. Eyes flickering down between your legs, Seungcheol clasped his hands behind his back standing at ease, the way he did when he oversaw morning training. 

“So you're just going to watch?” You licked your drying lips. “Are you not even going to touch yourself?” 

If you did, it was only fair that he did too.

But Seungcheol shook his head. “I'm yours to do whatever.” 

God did you want to throw your arms around him and pull him into another kiss but he seemed so damn insistent that you put on a show. Fine, if that's what he wants, you'll give it to him. 

You ran your fingers over your wet panties, sighing at the way a sudden jolt ran down your body when they grazed your clit. You were only just about to push the fabric to the side and slide your fingers into your pretty wet hole when you felt a familiar twist in the pits of your stomach. Surprised, you found yourself almost buckling forward, hands quickly gripped the car behind you trying to find balance as the coil tightened, building the feeling inside. Legs shaking, you attempted to squeeze them and chase the feeling when in a flash Seungcheol was inches away from you, his hand holding your legs apart, shaking his head. 

Shutting your eyes, you threw your head back, your entire being almost convulsing as your organsm hit you hard and you came with a not so soft moan. 

As you tried to catch the breath you hadn't taken all this while, Seungcheol leaned closed, whispering in your ear. 

“Still think it was you who did a good job?” 

Eyes widening, you looked at him, lips parted in shock. 

“You mean that was… that you…” 

Seungcheol chuckled, moving his hand closer to your core, letting his fingers graze your even more wet panties. 

“An orgasm is caused by nerves and nerves carry electric impulses.” Given your frown, he continued. “I'm the Son of Zeus, anything with electric tendencies is under my control.” 

That meant all those days, sitting on the other side of the wall, Seungcheol had made you cum untouched. 

‘Did that feel good?” He whispered as your breath slowly came back to normal, his hand pushing the fabric of your underwear, his finger running between your folds, feeling how wet you were. “Looks like it did.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Now it's my turn.” And without a warning, he slipped two fingers into your hole, as your hands flew to grip his biceps. “but I'll need to prep you first baby.”

Oh you knew.

While his fingers pumped in and out of you, you pulled Seungcheol closer by the collar of his shirt, kissing him, hands trailing up into his thick hair. You didn't know obscenely kissing someone like this out in the open while his fingers stretched you open could feel this arousing. You didn't think it could get any better until Seungcheol broke away, whispering into your ear, “I'm going to fuck you now.”

A shudder ran down your body and a shriek left your mouth as Seungcheol spun you around once again, your palms finding the hood of the car the balance over but this time, you could feel his erection against your ass. Wasting no time, he lined his tip against your hole, slowly sinking in, both of your moans matching with the same relief, the same arousal. Choi Seungcheol was fucking you at last. 

Pushing all the way till the hilt, Seungcheol pulled back, gripping your wrist tight but thrusting into you slowly. You couldn't tell if he was being gentle or savoring it - you just needed him up in your guts. 

“Cheol.” You breathed, making him lean over to hear you. “Didn't you hear me in your house? I like hard and fast.” 

Chuckling, Seungcheol picked up the pace, snapping his hip into yours, the impact surely bruising where your skin grazed the car. You could tell he was still controlling himself, holding back like he was afraid of breaking you. 

“And rough.” You added and that seemed to do the trick. 

Letting out a groan, his hand immediately found the nape of your neck, pushing you down onto the hood, devoid of all the prior gentleness. Despite your whole upper body being pressed against cold metal, you smiled to yourself and as if he could not get enough, Seungcheol gathered both your wrists with his free hand and pinned them to your lower back, fucking you like an animal in the jungle. 

Hell yes. God yes you wanted this and the way he felt was so much better than you thought, his dick eventually finding all the right spots, making you feel so full of him. Oh you couldn't wait to have him fill you but before that, you felt your orgasm approaching, everything in your stomach tightening again. 

“Fuck, I'm….” You struggled to speak with the way your cheek was pressed against the hood. “I…”

Sliding his hand from the nape to wrap your neck, Seungcheol pulled you back up against him, hips not stopping their thrusts even for a moment. 

“What is it baby? Gonna cum for me?” 

You nodded, feeling your walls fluttering around his length, hands desperately trying to hold on to anything.

“Good girl.” He whispered, bringing the hand on your waist to your clit and almost instantly you could feel yourself coming, tightening around him like a vice. 

“That's it.” Seungcheol groaned, slowing down his pace as your walls clamped around him. “That's it baby, you did so good.” 

“Cheol….” You whispered, finding your breath again, barely down from your high, legs still trembling. “I wanna feel full of you.” 

Clearly he was just as desperate to come inside you because all of a sudden, the man who seemed like he had unending stamina was losing his rhythm. You tightened your walls around him, squeezing his length when it was deep inside you, arching your back to help him reach further in. He had just about given you what you were dying to have when out of no fucking where, you heard Jeonghan saying Seungcheol’s name. 

The latter instantly halted his actions, looking around just as panicked as you until the call of his name again made him realise where it was coming from. The looking glass. 

Whispering a sorry against your ear, Seungcheol pulled out slowly, leaving you unclenching around  nothing as you felt your arousal leak down your thigh filthily. 

What the hell?? 

Seungcheol rummaged through the discarded gear, pulling his looking glass, being careful to show only his face given neck down, he was an absolute mess. 

“Han.” 

“Cheol, what's your status quo?”

Groaning you pulled your panties back into place. Evidently this was not going to be a short conversation.

“We uh, just reached the forest.” 

“Just? Shouldn't you have reached an hour ago?” 

Seungcheol looked at you guiltily but continued nevertheless. “Y/n messed up reading the map so we had to take a longer route.” 

You raised your eyebrows. Oh, he was playing dirty. Then you could too. 

Walking up to him, you dropped to your knees, taking Seungcheol’s pretty cock in your hands, his eyes widening. On the other hand Jeonghan, oblivious to it all, went on. 

“Okay, Jihoon and Hansol scoured their woods already, there's no traces of the monster there. Negative for Joshua and I too. We haven't heard from Seokmin and Chan though, I assume Min's pegasus is giving him a tough time. What about you?” 

You had no idea if Seungcheol was listening to him or pretending to, because all this while, you had been very silently and very skillfully,  sucking his dick. 

“Cheol?” 

“Yeah.” He tore his eyes away from you with much difficulty, turning to his friend. “I uh… I don't know yet, I mean, we haven't tried to track it yet, w-we just r-reached.” 

You smiled at his stuttering words, knowing he was close. 

“Okay but be careful. My gut feeling is that it's in the Nyx forest. What better place for a monster to thrive right?” 

“Fuck-” Cheol muttered as your teeth grazed him accidently, as you quickly pulled back, looking apologetic. 

“Cheol, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah just Y/n ....almost fell.” He gulped, turning to Jeonghan. “Yeah I got it, we'll be careful and I'll let you know if there's any developments.” 

“Alright and-” 

Before he could complete, Seungcheol tossed the glass onto the gear pile and gripped your chin, holding it as he pushed his length further into your mouth. 

“What a brat.” He groaned, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. “What if Jeonghan found out?”

You couldn't care less. All you cared about was how deep could you possibly take Seungcheol, relaxing your throat as he pushed in. 

“F-fuck.” He muttered, quickly pulling out, jerking off his length. “Open wide.” 

And you did, sticking your tongue out just in time to feel spurts of his cum coat it messily, spilling onto your lips and out of the corner of your mouth. 

Without waiting for you to swallow, Seungcheol pulled you up to your feet, kissing you again, unbothered about tasting himself. 

“I'll get you some water.” He dropped a kiss on your forehead before quickly going to the car and reaching for the bottle. As you drank, mouth and throat dry and sore, Seungcheol hurriedly began buttoning his shirt again. 

Wait, that's it? 

“Cheol.” He glanced at you questioningly. “What are you…” 

“Jeonghan thinks the Chimaera is most definitely here.” He held your pants out by your feet, prompting you to put your feet in. You complied, still confused. “We should try to track it as soon as possible.” 

“Seungcheol we just….” You sighed, dropping the bottle on the forest floor. “We just had sex after days of behaving like we cannot bear each other, don't you think we need to talk?” 

“We do.” He nodded seriously, doing your button. “And we will. Just not now, at the right time-” 

“What right time?!” You stepped away from him, anger coursing through you. “After leaving me confused for days, after fucking me in the middle of nowhere, you don't think I deserve an explanation?” 

“You do Y/n and I will tell you everything but we just need to find the monster first. It's dangerous-” 

“Did you not realise that when you had your dick inside me??” You looked at him incredulously. “How is that we had the time to have sex, but not to have a discussion-”

“Enough.” Seungcheol’s voice was hard and urgent. ‘I cannot keep repeating the same thing again Y/n. Yes, you deserve an explanation and yes we will talk, just. not. now. Now, we need to find the monster.” 

“But Cheol-” 

“Y/n stop.”

“I just want to-” 

“That's a command, soldier.” 

Taken aback you blinked at him, processing his words.  

“Yes chief.” 

And with that you turned and walked away into the woods, ignoring his voice calling out to you and letting the darkness of the forest consume you.

You had no idea how long or how deep into the forest you had ventured - you just needed to get away from Seungcheol as soon as possible. You knew he would have followed if he had managed to get his pants on in time but you had disappeared into the darkness before he could. In hindsight maybe that wasn't the best idea because the forest was barely visible despite your extremely sharp eyesight, and though you had your energy reader on you, hanging around your neck, you couldn't use it. You didn't feel warmth. 

“This isn't the kind of forest you roam alone in, sweet summer child.”

Holding back a shriek you turned around, shocked by a presence in this dark forest. All you could see was the silhouette of a tall lanky man, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree, only half his face illuminated by the small fire burning by his feet. His features looked royal, as though even without the light, he'd still shine all the same. You couldn’t see his eyes though - they were hidden behind black sunglasses which seemed rather unnecessary given the surroundings. The theme of black continued in his attire - a soft black fur jacket thrown over a black shirt and black slacks, accents of white, green and gold, littered all over. The most noticeable thing about him was perhaps his hair - streaks of red and grey in spiky black hair. Strangely he looked both old and young at the same time, almost timeless. 

“You’re alone.” You pointed out. 

“I’m an adult.”

“More like ancient.” You muttered to yourself but the man seemed to have heard it somehow. 

“Ancient?” He chuckled. “I suppose I should be offended but that's an understatement.” 

You frowned, not quite understanding. 

“Don't rack your brain sweetheart. I've already figured out that you're not too bright considering, you know, the little show you put up earlier.”

You felt your jaw hang, cheeks burning up. What the fuck- 

“And before you ask, ew no, I wasn't watching - I'd rather burn in Tartarus than watch that tragedy.” He rolled his eyes, looking disgusted. “But this is Nyx's forest and everything here talks….”

A whole damn forest was watching you and Seungcheol have sex?? You wanted to throw up, throw a fit and throw something at this man, all at once. Overwhelmed by everything, you held your head, trying to sort out the overload of information.

“First of all, who the hell are you…..” 

“Goodness be damned, you're really dumber than I thought.” He walked up, closer to the fire, his features much more clear in the light. “I’m what you’re looking for.” 

You looked him up and down. 

“I’m not looking for a boomer with a fashion crisis.” 

The man burst out laughing, looking away, shoulders shaking. “You’re funny darling, not everyone can joke in the face of danger.” 

“I’m not joking.” You rolled your eyes. “And clearly, you’re not dangerous. If you were, you wouldn’t be wasting your time with a conversation, darling.” 

He smiled. 

“The conversation is courtesy of the fact that you are also what I am looking for.” Taking a step forward, he inched closer. “I'm Chimaera.” 

You blinked at him once. 

Then twice.

Then snickered. 

What bullshit. 

You had read up about the monster on your way here - it was supposedly a weird mix of a lion, a goat and a snake that also happened to breathe fire. This… this was a man? And a man who was clearly fooling you for whatever reason.

“Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms. “Then I'm actually Zeus, King of the Gods-”

“I forget how little you know about this world sweetheart.” He scoffed, taking the glasses off and tucking them inside his jacket. 

You felt your whole body freeze. His eyes….they had slits, like a snake. 

“Did you really think I could live amongst mortals looking like a genetic experiment gone catastrophically wrong? Obviously I have a human form.” 

You hesitated, gulping, realising that regardless of whether this man was indeed the Chimaera, you, like an idiot, were both unarmed and unprotected. 

“What? Still don’t believe me?” He cocked his head. “Oh sweetheart.” 

He waved his hand and the flames of the campfire rose, dancing and wrapping around him. You watched as he smiled at you, the fire not leaving a single mark on his skin, as though it didn’t burn him at all. Finally, the glowing bright orange ran up his neck and disappeared into his mouth. 

The fire breather. You took a step back and then another. Fuck, fuck, fuck- 

“Don't tell me you're also stupid enough to run.” He clicked his tongue. “You may be powerful but you’re no match for me. Besides,” He walked up, taking the help of a dapper looking walking stick that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “I only want to talk.” 

“W-with me?” You stuttered. “About what?” 

“Do you really not know?” 

You did. A tiny voice in your head spoke for you - Fire. 

Your fire. He knew about it. 

“How do you know?” 

“Why wouldn’t I know darling?” He smiled at you in a way that was both sweet and sinister. “Daddy knows everything.” 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“That didn’t come out right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as you looked at him with a mix of confusion, fear and disgust. “What I meant is, I know your fire because it’s mine Y/n….. I’m your father.”

Somewhere far off, thunder rumbled across the sky, filling the silence. There was a storm coming but it was no match for the one already going on inside you. The time for humour was over.

You had already been on the edge of tolerance with Hestia ignoring you all these days and now, to hear such a vile joke about your parentage from a monster was just plain evil. You knew Jeonghan said you weren’t to face the creature on your own but god were you ready to annihilate it. 

“Shut up.” You spoke between gritted teeth. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do but-” 

“You don’t believe me.” The Chimaera chuckled. “Sit down Y/n, you are in terrible need of a crash course.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sit.” 

“No.” You crossed your arms, repeating your question. “What, do you mean?” 

The man sighed, leaning against a nearby tree. 

“Did you think gods are the only ones who can mate with mortals?” He shook his head. “Monsters can too, darling. In fact, most mortals are our children.” 

You felt a chill run down your spine. 

“Of course unlike you god spawn they don’t carry our powers but our nature? Oh the desire to wreak havoc, to cause chaos, they do inherit that. Every thief, every killer, every arsonist,” He smiled at you but it didn’t reach his eyes. “They’re all our offspring.” 

The flames of the campfire rose higher, burning brighter, drawing out a memory you had been trying your best to forget. 

“I cannot be your child.” You muttered, heart racing in your chest. “That’s not possible…” 

“Is it that difficult to believe?” He raised an eyebrow. “You could always tell you were different. You never felt like you belonged. Your powers, they’re unlike the others, so brilliant.” His eyes gleamed. “It’s because you’re mine.” 

You felt your guts twist. A half monster. That’s what he was calling you. 

“Look at us Y/n.” He stuck his hand out, the flames coming to life in his hand. “Look at me and tell me we aren’t the same-” 

“No we’re not.” You looked at him defiantly. “I may be hostile and unwelcoming and guarded and a lot of other things but I’m not a bad person….. I’m not evil.” 

“Really?” He chuckled. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” 

You glared at him. 

“Denying the truth and suppressing the memories - they won’t change what happened Y/n.” He stepped forward, the slits in his eyes narrowing. “They won’t change the fact that you almost killed someone.” 

No.

No. 

No. 

“And not just anyone, a five year old child, a child a family entrusted you to look after.”

“Enough.” You spoke between gritted teeth. 

“All because he spoke a few harsh truths to your face-” 

“I said enough.” 

But he didn’t stop. 

“You got so angry, you unleashed your powers, burnt down the house and nearly killed that child.” 

“That’s not true-” 

“But it is!” He snarled, raising his voice as the fire around him rose to life, crawling towards you on the forest floor. The amusement in his voice was replaced with something darker, something more menacing. “If the firefighters hadn’t come on time, that child would have died…. All because you didn’t like what he said.” 

“He said I deserved to be alone!” You finally snapped, something hot searing through your veins. “He said my parents abandoned me because I was not good enough for them!” 

The memory finally flashed in your head again, fresh as day. 

For almost a year now, you had been taking on a side job of babysitting kids for rich parents who needed to get away for their late night dates and parties. Usually it was a piece of cake - most kids were already tired from playing the whole day so all you had to do was ensure they finished their food and went to sleep. After that you simply worked on your assignments or flipped through the book collections on the shelves or the channels on the tv, waiting to be relieved of your duties. 

It was just another night like that, another rich family, another big house in the suburb but this time, it was the most uncooperative child you had ever encountered. You had a buttload of work to do that day, your pencils and papers scattered all over the dining table once that little devil had gone to his room to sleep but for some fucking reason, he kept waking up. You could tell he was spoilt, demanding to eat candy at freaking 10pm, secretly drinking soft drinks from the fridge, throwing his toys all over. You had been patient with him for a long time, much beyond your capacity really but when he spilled a bottle full of sauce on a project you had spent hours working on, you raised your voice. 

You expected him to cry and that you’d have to apologise, calm him and put him to sleep, instead, he sneered at you.

He simply shrugged and asked why you were being such a pain in the ass. As though it wasn’t shocking enough to hear such a statement from a child, he went on to ask how your parents handled someone as uptight as you. When you retorted that you didn’t have any parents, he said two words that still haunted you - “No wonder.”

By now you had already reached your limit but when he added that they must have left you because you were so insufferable, something inside you snapped. One minute you were the angriest you had ever been and in the next, there was fire and screams everywhere. 

His cries rang in your ears as you shut them hard trying to block it. The Chimaera’s snickers were what took over instead. 

“Stop trying to run away from what you did-” 

“That was an accident.” You shook your head hard. “That wasn’t on purpose, I didn’t want to hurt him-” 

“Is it?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then why does no one in your precious camp know this story Y/n? The parents sued you, you spent a few nights in jail for arson, in a few days time you are to appear in front of a jury to plead your case yet your lawyer doesn't know a thing that happened - no one can figure out how the fire started and you won’t tell them. You don’t want to tell them because that would mean admitting that you’re different, that you’re not one of them, that you always were and are a loner.” 

You wanted to deny it, just like when Wonwoo was exposing you like this. You wanted to scream and shout and tell this horrible creature it was wrong but words couldn’t leave your mouth - in the face of truth, one often fell silent. 

“But you don’t have to be alone Y/n.” The Chimaera stepped forward, his demeanor suddenly switching from accusatory to sympathetic. “From the moment I sensed your power that night, I’ve been looking for you. I’ve been trying to meet you and tell you who you, to bring you home, where you belong-” 

“You….” You looked at him, lips parting in surprise. “You want to take me home?” 

He nodded. “The mortals are anyways too unworthy to understand your power but so are the demigods. Even if you are half god, the fact that you are half monster is all they will see. With them, you’ll always have to hide but with us? You’ll be free. Free to be yourself, free to unleash your powers, free to be unafraid.” 

Your mouth moved but no words left you. 

“Tell me anything but that you’re thinking about the Son of Zeus.” He narrowed his eyes. “That you’ve set your heart on him.”

Stuttering, you looked away. “I..I’m….”

“You mortals and your love,” He rolled his eyes. “The man because of whom you’re so hesitant, do you think he’ll accept you once he learns what you really are? He brought you to his camp to save you from danger but what do you think will happen when he learns that you in fact are the real danger? Do you think he’ll choose you over his boys?” 

You let out a shaky breath as he neared, the flames following him. 

“Come with me Y/n, let’s go to Tartarus, to our family. To those who will truly love and accept you.” You could smell the fire as he stood inches away from you. “All these part-mortals will die one day, will leave you behind, but we won’t. We’ll always be there for you.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Monsters are immortal too Y/n, we never die.” He smiled as the flames encircled you fully and strangely, you could feel the warmth of it. “Killing a monster simply means weakening us and sending us back to Tartarus, our realm. It’s only a matter of time before we gain our strength and come back to the human world. You can never truly kill a monster.”

A family forever. A home forever. That’s what he was offering you. What you had been looking for your whole life. 

“So come with me Y/n.” He held his hand out. “Come where you truly belong-”

“Y/n!” 

You turned at the sound of a frantic voice, spotting Seungcheol far away, between the trees, looking at you terrified. Thunder clapped across the sky as he ran towards you.

“Get away from him, he’s dangerous-” 

“Yes, when all I’ve done is have a conversation.” The man before you rolled his eyes, extending his hand further. “This is what these demigods do, villainize us for no reason.”

At the loud sound of Seungcheol falling you turned around worried, “Cheol careful-”

“Listen to me Y/n.” Your father drew your attention as Seungcheol got up, making his way towards you again. “They’ll do the same to you, they’ll label you a monster either ways, so come with me and we can go home now.” 

“Y/n step back-”

“Y/n come with me-”

“Y/n please don't-”

“Y/n please-”

You shut your eyes, unable to process both their voices, unable to make a choice. The fire around you intensified, burning with a darker orange - flames streamed out of your hands, joining the already raging fire, towering over the two of you. Panicking you tried to stop them but they just wouldn't - it was like that fateful night all over again. You couldn't control it. 

The Chimaera's eyes gleamed victoriously as he watched your fire burn around him. He looked astounded, like he was enthralled by it. 

“You're brilliant Y/n, you're simply brilliant. They don't deserve you-” 

“Y/n can you hear me?” You couldn't see him but his silhouette told you that Seungcheol had neared. “Don't worry, I'll save you, I got you-” 

“She doesn't need you.” Your father snarled, waving his hand, and the fire followed, striking Seungcheol right in his chest, the sheer force sending him hurling back. 

“No!” You screamed, rushing towards him when the Chimaera's hand wrapped around your wrist holding you back. 

“Y/n we need to go-” 

“No.” You muttered, voice shaking. “No, Cheol, no….”

“It doesn't matter, he doesn't matter, let him die. If we don't get out of your fire, it will…..” 

You can't really hear what he's saying anymore. Let him die. 

You would never let someone die. You didn't let that child die, you won't let Seungcheol die, you weren't one of the monsters. You just weren't. 

Freeing your hand from his with a jerk, you pushed him back, sending the tall man stumbling behind. 

“How could you?” You shook your head. “How could you think I'd join you?”

“I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” He cracked his neck, straightening up. “If you're not going to come on your own, then I'll drag you to hell by myself.” 

Your throat dried as you watched his face morph, his limbs changing into an animal's, the gruesome image of him you had seen in the scrolls coming to life before you - part lion, part goat, part snake. It made your soul tremble. 

“No.” Lower lip quivering, you stepped back. “You're going to hell alone.” 

And you're not really sure what overcame you or how you knew what to do but suddenly the fire around you roared to life, streaks of the flames charging towards the monster, wrapping it in its grip. You watched as its expression went from amusement to disbelief to pure fear and ended with a mocking smile on its face. When the fire fully engulfed him, it exploded, leaving behind only black ash, fluttering in the wind. 

You stumbled, losing your footing, feeling suddenly drained as you fell to your knees, vision blurring. Pain seared through your head, immaculate pain that you had never felt before but somehow it wasn't worse than the one in your chest. The one you felt as you looked at Seungcheol lying on the forest floor in a pool of blood. Getting it together you quickly got up and rushed to him, pulling him into your lap, calling out to him. 

“Cheol, can you hear me?” Tears stung your eyes. “Please please please be okay.” 

He wasn't okay. The impact of the Chimaera's attack sent him straight into the trunk of the tree, his back and his head was severely wounded but the most noticeable thing was the large burn mark right in the middle of his chest. 

“Help.” You whispered, looking around even though you knew it was pointless. There was no one around. “Please help.” 

But the only response you got is the sound of hooves, galloping across the forest floor. Unsure, you pulled Seungcheol closer to you, looking out into the fog between the trees. Whoever it was, whatever it was, if it meant any more harm to Seungcheol you'll fight it. You'll die fighting it but you'll save this man. 

But that wasn't necessary. 

As the sound neared, a familiar looking winged horse jumped out of the mist, neighing at the sight of you. 

Pegasus. Seokmin's horse. 

Finally, finally allowing yourself to breathe, you shut your eyes in relief. Maybe Seungcheol could be saved after all. 

Everything that happened from the moment you came to camp was still a blur. 

The minute Pegasus entered the grounds, all the members rushed towards the two of you, faces filled with terror. Some members carried Seungcheol towards the Great Hall. Someone had wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, someone else handed you some strange concoction and told you to drink up. It was all a flurry of motion as everyone made their way to the infirmary, a hall you hadn't seen before, putting Seungcheol down on the bed as Jihoon grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his shirt open. You nearly threw up.

The wound was so much worse than you had thought, red and angry on his skin. The members scurried around, grabbing the different things Jihoon was ordering them to get as you stood in between it all, frozen. It was only when Jihoon smeared a green paste all over Seungcheol's chest and the latter screamed in agony that you snapped out of the trance. He was in so much pain-

“Y/n!” Minghao shook your shoulders, making you turn to him. “I'm asking you something.” 

“W….what?” 

“How did this happen?” His gaze was piercing. “Did you guys find the Chimaera?”

Slowly, you nodded.

“And Seungcheol fought it?” He looked stunned. “Why aren't either of you in your gear, what the hell happened-” 

“Minghao.” Jeonghan's voice echoed through the room like the crack of a whip. “Enough.”

“But we need to know-” 

“No, we don't.” He neared you, pulling you away from Minghao’s grip. “Not right now. She's hurt too.”

You glanced down at your legs, noticing the gashes and wounds all over. You didn't even realise. And why would you? This pain was nothing before what Seungcheol was going through. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” Jun stepped up and quickly sat you on the neighbouring bed, reaching for the iodine and cotton, cleaning you up. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jeonghan turn to Joshua. 

“Take her away from here.” He instructed. “Don't let her step foot in the infirmary till Cheol is fine.” 

You opened your mouth in disbelief. You wanted to argue, you wanted to protest but you couldn't bring yourself to. Not with the way your head was spinning. Minghao's worried face was the last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you. 

—

When you opened your eyes, all you could see was the white of the ceiling. 

You glanced at the camp outside the window. It was submerged in the black of the night, only the usual scattered torches burning around. You looked away - the sight of fire was unbearable.

Groaning you sat up, body sore all over, as you kicked the covers off. The wounds seemed to have fully disappeared, you're guessing courtesy of Jihoon's herbal ointment but the pain in your chest was ever present. 

Limping out of the room, you glanced around, wondering where you were. The abnormal amount of mirrors gave you your answer - House of Aphrodite, Joshua's residence. You walked around, catching sight of the silhouettes of the furniture - you always assumed Joshua would have the prettiest house of them all and that seemed true. At least from the little you could see in the moonlight streaming in. 

The soft snores of the residence owner were what pulled you towards his bedroom. You meant to glance, to see if he was properly asleep and sneak out but the sound of your feet awakened him. 

“Y/n…” He called out to you groggily, raising himself on his elbows. “Why aren't you asleep?” 

How could you sleep with Seungcheol lying in the infirmary like that? When you didn't have a clue how he was doing?

Joshua read your mind. 

“Cheol is fine.” He mumbled, clearing his throat. “He's better.”

“I want to see him-” 

“I know.” He sighed. “But Jihoon has strictly asked no one to go to the infirmary. He doesn't want to he disturbed.”

“Will….” You gulped, stepping onto his room. “Will he be okay?” 

“He will. He has to. For all of us.” 

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking around with a sigh. “I don't know what to do. I won't be able to do anything till he's fine-”

“Come here.” Joshua beckoned you, scooting over in his bed, making space for you. You blinked at him confused. “Come Y/n.”

Letting out a deep breath, you complied, slipping under his covers. 

“Look up.” 

And you did, eyes meeting the fascinating sight of the sky, stars blinking behind the dark clouds, the moonlight scattered between them. It looked so calming. 

“Didn't you say you liked camping with your father when you were a child?”

You had told him that. A few days after you came to camp, given Joshua was your only confidant, you had told him about the earliest memory you had. It was when you were around 6 years old, on one of the rare days your father was particularly happy, insisting that the two of you drive to the edge of the city and set up a little tent. Of course he was silly to choose a really windy day to camp and also more than incapable of setting up a tent so you simply watched as it flew away and burst out laughing. That night your father rolled out two sleeping bags side by side as the two of you talked about the stars while the campfire burnt away. 

Somehow now, it made sense why the flames didn't extinguish in the wind. It was you. Your power over fire, a power you got from your real father, not the man who's love, attention and validation you craves for twenty five years of your life. That man wasn't your father. 

Joshua turned at the sound of you letting out a deep breath, finding your eyes shut tight. You didn't want to see the stars anymore. 

“Y/n,” He turned towards you. “Are you okay?” 

“I'm fine.” You mumbled. “I should probably sleep….” 

The lack of response told you that Joshua didn't believe you. You turned to glance at him, noticing his worried expression.

“Okay, I'm not fine,” You confessed. “But I will be.” 

“And I will be there for you.” He reassured, taking your hand. Sighing softly you scooted closer to him, burying your face at the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around you. 

“Thank you Shua.” You whispered. “Thank you.” 

But before you could hear what he had to say in return, you drifted away, falling asleep.

Although you couldn't ever bring yourself to wake up for training at the crack of dawn, you somehow found yourself wide awake today. Joshua hadn't moved an inch in his sleep, still holding on to you. As much as you found his arms warm and welcoming, you had to go see Seungcheol. You had to see if he was fine.

Slowly slipping out of his embrace, you slid out of Joshua's bed, glancing at him one last time before grabbing his jacket and silently stepping out. 

The morning dew had made the grass all wet and squelchy, your footsteps very apparent in the silence but thankfully there was no one in an audible radius. The flames of the torch continued to burn low which meant training hadn't started yet, or maybe there was none today, you didn't know. Quickening your pace you walked over to the Great Hall, locating the infirmary beside it. 

Through the window you glanced in the dimness, recognising the silhouette of Seungcheol asleep on the bed and another someone sitting on the couch beside him, his head rolled back and mouth slightly parted in his sleep - Jeonghan. 

You wanted to step in, to sit beside Seungcheol, to see how he was but somehow you couldn't move, not with all that weight in your chest. 

“You shouldn't be here.” 

You covered your mouth, preventing the shriek from leaving your being as you turned, spotting Jihoon behind you, a tray of herbs in his hand. “Jeonghan was very clear about not allowing you to go near Seungcheol.”

“And since when does Jeonghan tell everyone what to do?” 

“He's interim leader.” Jihoon sighed. “In the absence of Cheol, his word is the rule.”

“It's not like Cheol's gone.” You rolled your eyes but when they fell on Jihoon's grim expression you gulped. “Joshua said he was better.” 

“Better than before, yes.” Jihoon agreed. “I've fixed his bruises and mended his bones and everything else is healing but…” 

“But?” 

“That burn on his chest.” He sighed. “I don't know how to fix it.”

“Y-you can't fix the burn?” 

He shook his head. “Certain things cause damage beyond repair. Zeus’s lightning, Ares's sword, Chimaera's fire, these are nearly impossible to heal from.”

“Nearly? That means there's some way.” 

“There is.” He nodded slowly. “The Chimaera hasn't been heard of in ages so most healers don't bother to learn the remedies for his fire but luckily I did.” 

“So you can fix him.” You looked at the man before you, eyes shimmering with hope. 

But Jihoon shook his head. “I would've been able to if that was the Chimaera's fire, but….. it's not.” 

It felt like the ground had been pulled from under you. 

“Every fire is different, every fire has its own pattern, its own signature. One can tell by the burn, who's fire caused the injury and Seungcheol’s wound is not from the Chimaera's fire. It’s someone else's.” 

You took a few stumbling steps back, sweat running down your neck. 

You. 

Your fire. 

It was your fire which hurt Seungcheol.

This was all your fault. 

Jihoon frowned. “Y/n, do you know anything about-”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

With that you left behind a baffled Jihoon, turning on your heel and running out of the Great Hall, straight into the forest. 

And for a long time, you didn't stop running. 

By the time you returned to camp, it was nearly noon. 

You could tell that the members had been looking for you because the moment you stepped into the dining hall, Soonyoung nearly knocked you over with a bone crushing hug. 

“Fuck, Y/n, where have you been?” He held you tighter. “We were worried sick.” 

“Someone call Hansol and his hounds back.” Minghao spoke from across the room. “Tell him she's here and she's fine.” 

Seungkwan muttered that he would do so before shooting you a concerned look, and leaving the hall. Joshua stepped up as Soonyoung finally let you go. 

“I was worried when I woke up and you weren't there.” 

“Is that where you're crashing now?” Mingyu wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Don't worry, not for long, your new residence is coming along really well, it should be ready in a few days.” 

You scoffed inwardly. What was the point?

“Thanks.” You muttered as Chan walked up to you with a glass of water in his hands, looking down pointedly. 

“Your feet are injured again.” 

“I went for a run.” You confessed. “Had to clear my mind.” 

“Are you that used to punishment rounds first thing in the morning?” Seokmin chuckled. “I'm going to have to find a different punishment for you if you're enjoying it.” 

A small smile grew on your face as the boys began to argue, talking one over the other. From across the room Wonwoo, who was the only one who hadn't approached you, looked at you expressionlessly, his eyes hooded. Gulping you turned away, just in time for Jun to drag you to the table, putting down a plate of food, insisting you eat. The rest of the boys too scattered around, grabbing their own plates, serving themselves, settling in one by one. At the same time, Seungkwan walked in with a tired, dirt clad and unamused Hansol. 

“Don't ever do that again.” Hansol, who hadn't spoken a word to you all these days, mumbled, walking in. 

“Don't worry.” You took a bite of Jun's delicious bibimbap, mind at undeniable peace now that you had made a decision. “I won't trouble anyone anymore.” 

You spent the rest of the day in the Great Hall with the boys. You had asked for their company, mumbling under your breath and without asking why, they complied immediately. Of course Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Jihoon were still in the infirmary but the rest of the boys were scattered around the hall all day. 

At most times it was quiet, everyone doing their own thing in the silence. Some of them were reading, some were working, Minghao was cleaning his weapons, Jun and Mingyu were consistently cooking, Wonwoo was just looking out of the window. 

It was only after dinner that everyone finally dispersed, retreating to their cabins. Joshua offered his residence for you to crash again and you agreed, stating you needed to grab your clothes, shower and you'll be there. Nodding he left with the rest, as you made your way to Seungcheol's house. 

For the longest time, this place had been your safe haven but stepping into the empty space today only further broke your heart. You had made the right choice. 

Heading to your room, you grabbed a duffel bag and stuffed some of your essentials - clothes, laptop, books etc. Throwing on a hoodie, you gave your room one last longing look before closing the door behind you. It was only as you stepped out of the large entrance that you felt the soft fur caressing your leg. 

Natalie.

Bending down, you rubbed her fondly as she looked up at you with her big cute eyes. 

“I'm going Nat.” You softly muttered, “As much as I hoped, I don't belong here. I've done nothing but be a menace, attract trouble and worse, put lives in danger. I can't do that to these boys anymore, I just can't….you understand that right? 

She looked at you like she did.

“I would bring you along, but you're a creature of Olympus, of the heavens and I,” You let out a shaky breath. “I'm on my way to hell.” 

Dropping a small kiss on its crown, you smiled at it sadly.

“You'll be happy here, there's Jun’s farm, you can follow Wonwoo all day, you can play with Daisy and the hounds too. You'll be fine without me.”

She whined, louder than usual and it hurt but you knew this was for the best. You had to go and you had to go alone. 

Throwing your duffel bag over your shoulder, you set out towards the camp entrance, ready to leave it all behind, ready to go. You had people here who loved you, people who were annoyed with you, people who were sick of you, peepple who ignored you, but no one hated you, not yet at least. And you wanted to leave before that happened. Because you were sure if they found out it was you who injured Seungcheol, they wouldn't forgive you. 

Taking a deep resolved breath, you took a step forward - it was time to head to hell. 

But before you could take another step, the voice of hell itself stopped you. 

“Going already?”

You turned at the sound of his voice, looking around, chills running down your spine when you didn't spot anyone. 

“I did say you'd look for the first chance to go but I didn't think it would be so soon.” 

You turned again, spotting him right by the last torch of the path, the glow of the torch illuminating his sharp features. He most definitely wasn't there a second ago. 

“Wonwoo.” 

“Y/n.” He stepped forward. “As the Son of Underworld, I'm here to give you a quick briefing before you decide to make hell your new home - it's very hot and very, very stuffy.” 

Eyes widening, you stuttered. “H-how did you know that I was…that I wanted to-” 

“Do something utterly stupid?” He raised his eyebrow. 

And suddenly, he vanished. Straight into thin air. One second you were looking at him and the next, he was gone. And just like that, he appeared again, like he never left. 

Oh.

Of course.

Wonwoo, Son of Hades, had the power of invisibility. Of course he knew - he was always watching. 

Your mind raced back to every instance you had been alone - the library doors randomly opening, the crackling sound of the fallen leaves near the campfire, as though someone was walking, the strange feeling of someone constantly watching. It was all him and that meant there was a lot he saw and a lot more he knew. 

“If things take a turn and you're forced to face it, do whatever it takes to fight it. Don't think, don't analyse, just do it.” 

Wonwoo knew about your fire.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew?” You looked at him, tone unnecessarily accusatory. “Why didn't you say anything?” 

“This was yours to tell.” He shrugged. “I happened to find out by chance.” 

“You mean by stalking.” You spoke between gritted teeth. “You had no right to-”

“I didn't mean to.” He emphasized again.”I wasn't aware you knew your powers or that you were hiding them.”

“Does anyone else know?” 

Wonwoo shook his head. “I told you, it's not mine to tell.”

Sighing, you relaxed your shoulders. Although you were glad that no one else knew, somehow Wonwoo knowing felt like a relief. 

“Why not though?” You glanced at him curiously. “Why would you keep someone as dangerous as me on camp?”

“You're not dangerous Y/n, just different.” 

“Just? Wonwoo….” You took a deep shaky breath. “It was my fire that injured Seungcheol.” 

For a second, he was quiet. “How?” 

“It was an accident-” You mumbled, scared. “I didn't know the Chimaera would be able to use it like that-” 

“So that makes the monster dangerous.” He justified. “You're untrained, that's all.” 

That's all? 

“It's not that simple.” You threw your hands in the air. “You have no idea-” 

“No I don't.” He interjected. “No one does because there's never been a demigod like you but that doesn't make you worthy of going to hell.” 

“You think I'm going to hell to punish myself?” You raised an eyebrow. “Wonwoo, I belong there, perhaps more than you do.” 

For the first time you saw an expression on his face, one of confusion. 

“The Chimaera wasn't hunting me Wonwoo, it was trying to bring me home.” Shutting your eyes, you let out a breath. “The Chimaera is my father.”.

You expected the man before you to look shocked or at least a little scared but his expression turned impassive again. 

“So?” Wonwoo crossed his arms. “Hades is my father.”

“It's not the same-”

“But it is.” Wonwoo exhaled. “My father isn't an Olympian Y/n, he's not one of those gods, he's not worshiped like the rest. Children of Hades do not live on camps, yet here I am.”

Oh. 

You had no idea. 

“It doesn't matter what your parentage is, the problem is you don't consider this place as home, you don't consider these people as yours-” 

“That's not true-”

“If it wasn't, then instead of running away you'd have been in the infirmary, telling Jihoon about your fire.” He snapped. “So he can figure out how to heal Seungcheol.” 

You blinked at him at a loss of words. 

“I didn't think….” 

“That's the problem Y/n, you don't think.” Wonwoo looked away, sighing. “You do the first thing that comes to your mind, regardless of the consequences.” 

He was right. You always were impulsive but this time you were also wrong. You should've thought of Seungcheol first, everything else be damned. 

“If I tell Jihoon about….me, can he save Cheol?” 

“If he studies your fire, he might be able to figure out how-” 

“Let's go to the infirmary.” You interrupted him, determined. Even if saving Seungcheol meant exposing yourself, you'd do it. You'd do anything. 

But your feet stood rooted to the ground, like the fear of truth coming out hadn't left your being.

“C-can you come with me…” You looked at the man before you. “Please?” 

For the first time as you walked, Wonwoo followed, staying by your side. 

“Y/n.” Jihoon looked at you as you stepped into the infirmary. “You shouldn't be here…”

Behind him Jeonghan, who was sitting on the edge of Seungcheol’s bed, stood up. 

“I know but-” 

“Please.” Jihoon whispered urgently. “You don't want to mess with Jeonghan now. Not with Cheol not getting any better-” 

“She's here to help.” Wonwoo spoke from behind, leaning against the entrance. “At least listen to her first.” 

“Go on.” Jeonghan spoke from behind, stepping up. “What is it?”

“You said it was someone else’s fire that hurt Cheol right?”

Jihoon frowned. “Yeah, do you know who?” 

Stretching your hand out, you held it before him. His eyes flickered between you and your empty hand, expression utterly confused. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your palm and like always, flames suddenly burned to life in your hand. Gasping, Jihoon took a terrified step back, eyes widened. 

“You… you can…”

“I can.” You finally admitted, even to yourself. “I can make fire.” 

“How is that possible….” Jihoon stared at your hand lost in thought. 

Your eyes though, drifted towards Jeonghan who looked unaffected. No shock, no surprise, no fear. Like he already knew. Like he always knew. 

You looked over your shoulder at Wonwoo. “You told him? You said you didn't-” 

“How pathetic do you deem my intellect Y/n?” Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “He didn't have to say anything, it was obvious.” 

“What do you mean obvious?” You lowered your hand, the flames dying out. 

“Your lawsuit.” He cocked his head. “We claimed the fire was an accident, like you had said but the defense argued that there was no way the fire could have spread so fast unless it was pre planned. At that point, I suspected you might be a fire bender. Of course, most fire benders are the children of Hephaestus but there weren't many Hestia children to rule out the possibility but when the house was examined, there was no identifiable source of the fire. Which meant it started out of thin air, that meant you weren't just a fire bender, you were making it too. Given your history of having an untraceable aura, I thought something was not aligning - something was different about you.” 

You gulped, unsure about verifying his theory. From the corner of your eye, you caught Wonwoo nodding at you encouragingly. 

“I am different.” Your eyes flickered between the men before you. “At the Nyx forest, the Chimaera spoke to me. He told me I was his daughter.”

A thick silence descended upon the room. So quiet you could practically hear your heartbeat. Yet again Jihoon looked stunned while Jeonghan looked like the cogwheels in his brain were spinning at full speed. 

“I've never heard about a half god, half monster.” You winced at the term as Jihoon looked far off, lost in thought. “I'm not sure what that would even look like-” 

“Me.” You sighed. “It would look like me.”

“What else?” Jeonghan chimed in. “What else did the Chimaera say?” 

“N-nothing much, he just kept insisting that I go with him to Tartarus, that it's where I belong-”

“You belong here.” Jeonghan interjected, features molding into slight anger. “Whatever it claims the other half of you is, you are half god. You were identified by the oracle, you pledged to be a part of camp seventeen and we swore to protect you as one of us so if there's anywhere you are meant to be, it's here.” 

Tears pricked your eyes hearing the conviction in his voice. Never before had someone been so insistent that you belonged. 

“I will look into what the Chimaera said means for you being part of the camp but nothing will change the fact that you are one of us.”

Beside him Jihoon nodded. You didn't see but behind you, Wonwoo nodded too.

“Jeonghan I…” You balled your hands into fists. You had thought a lot before making this choice. You knew it was the right one. “I appreciate you saying that but I just want to help Cheol however I can. Once he’s better, I will be heading to Tartarus.” 

“Why?” Jihoon looked at you questioningly. “Why would you choose to go there?” 

“Because….” You felt your voice get stuck in your throat. “Because I…”

“You think you’re meant to be there but you’re not.” Jeonghan crossed his arms. “Y/n, whether we turn out to be good or bad, it's a choice. It's always our choice. Whether you choose to go or choose to stay I want you to know that camp seventeen chose you, we always will. It's up to you to choose us.” 

“I….” 

“You don't have to decide now.” Jeonghan shook his head. “Let Jihoon study your fire first. Let us save Cheol. Once he comes around, you can tell us your decision. Whatever it is, we'll all accept it.” 

Staring at the ground, you nodded. Seungcheol first, everything else came later. 

The next few days passed a lot slower than usual. 

Under Jeonghan's instructions, all camp training had been suspended indefinitely. While some members were added to the shift roster to increase the security of the camp, others were sent out with missions to procure the ingredients Jihoon asked for. Apparently some of them were so rare, members wouldn't return home for days but no one ever complained. Everyone silently followed orders and did what they were instructed to do. 

You, on the other hand, had nothing to do. Jeonghan simply told you to be available as and when Jihoon required you. Apollo's son had been spending all his time nose deep in books and ancient texts, scribbling away and brewing all kinds of potions and concoctions. Whenever any of his remedies didn't work, he'd call for you and ask to see your fire again. Sometimes he told you to burn something, sometimes he told you to just hold the flame as long as you could. Sometimes he just wanted you to sit by him. Maybe he didn't like to be as alone as he came across.

On the other side of the room, Jeonghan didn't leave Seungcheol even for a second. All day and all night, he sat on that couch, right next to him - he ate there, he slept there, he went through his case files there, he was eternally glued to his friends side. Somewhere deep down, you felt a little jealous. You'd never seen friendship like theirs and you didn't know if you could ever have something like that in your life. 

But sometimes, a part of you said maybe you could. 

When you weren't required in the infirmary and were tired of breathing the camp air, you'd set off, going deeper into the woods, finding a log and sitting all by yourself. But you were never alone. The rustling sound of the leaves or the soft sounds of breath in the pin drop silence told you you weren't alone, he was always there. 

Wonwoo. 

You couldn't see him but you knew he was around, watching over you and somehow it didn't feel intrusive - There was a solace his presence offered that you couldn't explain. It was funny though, how you went from being completely ignored by him to being constantly looked after - in hindsight maybe he always cared for you. 

Clearly they all cared for you. Although Mingyu, Chan and Soonyoung were the ones who were sent away to missions, the first thing they did after enquiring about Cheol was come looking for you - they wanted to make sure you were fine too. Jun and Minghao always made sure you ate, Seokmin, Hansol and Seungkwan had taken over with the building of your house and Joshua was your constant companion all night - after every long, tiring and unsuccessful day, it was in his arms that you found yourself dozing off. Although the rest of the members did not know about your parentage yet, again thanks to Jeonghan's instructions, a part of you now felt that they would accept you, regardless of what your father claimed. 

But the big question was, what was the right choice? With you in camp, was it safe? Sure you had managed to send your father back to Tartarus but it was only a matter of time before he got stronger and came looking for you again. He had already sent his minions once and clearly he didn't care about any collateral damage. You were still very much a threat to everyone, you'd always be one. Maybe, after Cheol regained consciousness, it was best you left. 

You told yourself you'd leave but one look at the way the boys bickered and laughed around the dining hall and you'd find your resolve wavering. You didn't want to leave them, you didn't want to go. But the gnawing feeling of what might happen to them in your company always brought you back to square one - it was a never ending loop of indecision. 

And it was that loop that was going on in your mind as you watched Jeonghan flipping through the multiple files he had laid out on the bed beside Seungcheol’s. 

“Look, the case appears simple but it isn't so straightforward,” Jeonghan looked up, tucking the pencil over his ear. The two of you were finally going over the details of the lawsuit. “The Parks, the family that is suing you, is doing so for two reasons - damage of personal property and attempting to harm their son.”

You glanced at the papers he was looking at.

“That's where it becomes interesting. Even though you caused considerable trouble and more importantly, endangered their child, they aren't trying to get you prosecuted as a criminal,” Jeonghan's eyes gleamed. “They filed a civil lawsuit.” 

“Yes, they want me to compensate them monetarily. ”  

“Think about it, if you had a child-” You didn't want to think about that at all actually. “-and if someone tried to hurt her or him, what would be your response? Asking for money or asking for justice?” 

“I would've gone berserk.” You muttered. “I'd want them punished.”

“Precisely, instead, they're trying to get money out of a broke architecture student.” Jeonghan pointed out. “Doesn't make sense right?” 

You shook your head. 

“Usually in cases of property damage, most people seek insurance payouts but the Parks didn't and this is why.” He pushed a paper towards you. “Wonwoo managed to get his hands on the police report-”

“How?”

“The man does some secret government job, he's got his hands everywhere.” 

“Huh.” You looked around, wondering if he was listening. 

“He's not here.” Jeonghan brushed off, pointing at the paper again. “The point is, the police report mentions two things of major importance - One, they have no idea how the fire even started. Two, the Parks household did not implement any fire safety measures in their residence.” 

“So…. they're not eligible for an insurance payout, right?” 

Jeonghan nodded. “That is why they are pressing civil charges against you, so they can get the money from you, by labelling you as an arsonist.”

“But I am an arsonist.” 

Jeonghan sighed. “Okay you are, but they don't have any proof and that's what our argument will focus on. We will first insist that the police identify the source of fire and then we will add that you had no motive. You didn't know the family before all this, you had no personal connections, and you had no motive to harm.” 

“But the child….” You thought about that night again. “Jeonghan, he saw me start the fire.” 

“He won't remember.” Jeonghan sat back down on his chair. “The Demigod Union took care of that.” 

“The what?” 

“There's a body in every city that handles all demigod related issues called the Demigod Union. Luckily Mingyu was one of the firefighters at the scene so when he sensed the high levels of Aura, he alerted the DU. The senior members gave the child a memory potion while he was hospitalized and it replaced his memories - he only remembers sleeping and waking up to a room full of fire.” 

“If that's the case, he couldn’t have told the Parks anything so why would they think I was trying to harm their child?” 

“Sympathy.” Jeonghan stated like it was obvious. “They're trying to sway the jury by showing their five year old child as a victim. Hence we need to be careful and make the right moves, then we should be able to win this case.” 

You nodded, leaning back against your chair. One battle hadn't even ended and another had begun. You glanced at Jeonghan who seemed lost in his stack of papers again. There was scribbles everywhere, notes in the margins, yellow highlights marking points. Evidently he had done all his research thoroughly. 

“When did you even do all this?” 

“I take my job seriously.” He muttered without looking up. 

“Even the pro bono ones?”

“A case is a case.” He shrugged. “Besides, you are one of us.” 

There he was, hitting you with words that was only making choosing harder. 

You looked at the sleeping Seungcheol. His chest rose and fell with every breath he took, the bandages covering his wound, moving with it. A few days ago you wondered if you would ever get to see him again, but here you were today, right by his side.

“When you saw Seungcheol, did you know it was my fire that hurt him?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “Not at first, but when Jihoon said the fire didn’t seem like the Chimaera’s, I suspected it might have been yours.”

“If you didn't know, then why did you send me away that day?”

‘Because you were untrained and emotional.” He turned to you. “It takes a lot of training for demigods to gain control over their powers. Extreme emotion, be it happiness, sadness, anger…. They tend to make you unstable. I knew you were upset about Cheol so I didn’t want his condition to make you feel worse.”

“So you sent me away for….me?” 

“For everyone’s safety.” He corrected. 

“But when you realised it was my fault, why didn’t you tell Jihoon?” You looked at him curiously. “Why didn’t you confront me?”

Jeonghan sat on the couch, looking far off, growing silent.

“Jeonghan…?”

“I asked Jihoon to mention the unknown fire if you came asking for updates. I also asked Wonwoo to stop you from leaving.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “I wanted to know what you would choose to do.” 

“You were testing me?” You raised an eyebrow. “What if I ran away? What if Wonwoo couldn't stop me?” 

“Then I would have hunted you down no matter where on Earth you were and… “ He sighed. “And would have begged you to help me. Begged you to save him.”

You blinked at him, just a little stunned. “He really is important to you, isn’t he?” 

Jeonghan nodded. “He saved my life in more ways than one, you won’t understand. No one does.” 

“Jeonghan I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner-”

“I don’t blame you for your choices.” He sighed. “So I hope you won't hold mine against me.” 

“I…” You gulped, not quite sure if he was still talking about prioritising saving his friend over keeping your secret. “I don't mind that you chose him over me.” 

Jeonghan stared at you for just a little longer than usual before he nodded and turned away. “I need my afternoon nap.”

And with that, he turned away, snuggling into the couch and shutting his eyes. Within a few seconds, the soft sounds of his deep breaths filled the room. 

The conversation was over. 

Seungcheol wasn't getting any better. 

Though tension was palpable in the whole camp, perhaps the members chose to look at the bright side - he wasn't getting worse. 

Then the day came when Jihoon said he had exhausted all options, that he didn't know what to try anymore. Everyone had just about given up hope when he called for you one more time - 

“What colour is your fire when you're in pain?” 

You had no idea.

You spent half an hour after that trying your best to remember, and when nothing could jog your memory, you curled your fingers into a fist and slammed the glass pane of the nearby window, blood furiously trickling down your knuckles. When Jeonghan took a worried step forward, you raised your injured hand to stop him before it spontaneously burst into flames….Blue ones. 

Jihoon scribbled a quick note of it before tending to your wound, removing each glass piece embedded in your skin slowly. As you winced, he handed you a potion that he claimed would help with the pain and you gulped it down quickly remembering how bitter it tasted last time. Surprisingly, you noticed it wasn't too bad, nor was it the same colour as before. Though you didn't notice that Jihoon had visibly frozen, like a realisation had dawned upon him. 

The moment he was done dressing your wound he got to work, preparing what he called his final remedy. He said if this didn't work, then nothing could wake Seungcheol up anymore. 

That night, the whole camp waited with bated breath. You were lying on Joshua's bed with your back pressed against his chest and his arms around you but neither of you were asleep. Sleep was unimaginable now. Everyone just wanted to hear the news. And at around 8am in the morning, just as everyone was headed towards the dining hall, it came.

Zephyr, who hadn't stopped patrolling the skies all these days, suddenly flew down, over the heads of the strolling members, a gust of wind left behind in its wake as it made its way towards the infirmary. 

There was only one thing that could make it do that. 

Seungcheol's call. 

He was awake.

Cheering, all the boys rushed towards the Great Hall, running as fast as they could. You felt your knees buckle and hit the ground as you held your chest in relief.

He was fine.

Seungcheol was fine. 

.

.

.

That meant it was time to go. 

“Your name was the first thing he took.” Joshua spoke from behind you as you shoved a spoon of cereal in your mouth, sitting at the dining table. “He's been awake for days, why won't you go see him Y/n?” 

It had been nearly a week since Seungcheol gained consciousness in the infirmary. Since then, the dining hall had been unsurprisingly empty - all the members began to camp at the infirmary first then at his house where he was moved after a few days. You hadn't visited him in either place. 

“I will.” You munched slowly. “I'm just waiting for him to get better.” 

“He is better.” 

“But not as good as before, right?” 

“It's a matter of time.” Joshua slid onto the bench, sitting beside you. “Jihoon said he'll be walking in a day or two.” 

You nodded, humming. “That's good.”

“Hey.” Hand below your chin, Joshua turned your face towards him. “What's wrong, love? You were so worried all these days and now….”

“I don't know.” You whispered, voicing your fear. “I don't know how to face him. I don't know what he'll think of me when he learns it's all my fault-”

“If you don't know, then ask him.” 

Every cell in your body froze at the familiar voice you hadn't heard in a long time.

Seungcheol. 

“Chief.” Joshua quickly got up and bowed. “You're….are you okay?”

Seungcheol didn't answer, so you figured he nodded. As you heard his footsteps near, you turned, shutting your eyes and bowing, not looking at him. 

“Shua, ask Chan to start the car. Y/n and I have to go somewhere.” 

Taken aback, you looked up but Seungcheol had walked out already, Joshua following behind, throwing you an apologetic look. 

Did he know? Had he decided to drop you to Tartarus by himself? 

You had meant to leave the day Seungcheol opened his eyes. You had even packed all your things again but the boys claimed he wasn’t entirely fine yet. So you told yourself you’ll leave the next day and then the next and then the next and now here you were, with him finally well enough. 

You didn't know what to do, at least until the sound of Chan's taxi horn resounded in the camp - then you quickly put your bowl in the sink and rushed out. When you reached the car, Seungcheol was already sitting in the passenger seat while surprisingly Seungkwan sat at the back, scooting over to make space for you. No sooner than you got in Seungcheol instructed Chan to go and he did, setting off into the forest at full speed. 

The whole of the ride you looked down at the hands on your lap, fingers fiddling with each other nervously. When you began to pick at the skin beside your nails, Seungkwan's hand wrapped around yours, stopping you. You were grateful for that, especially with lightning consistently flashing across the sky, his hand over yours was a comforting weight. But he didn't need to hold on for long, not with the car stopping before a very familiar landmark tree. Getting out of the car, Seungcheol opened the door on your side, instructing both of you to get out and Seungkwan to go sit in front. Puzzled, the two of you complied and Seungcheol went over to Chan, 

“Both of you head back to camp.” 

Chan looked confused. “But what about you and Y/n?”

“My range rover is still here. I'll bring it back.” He stepped back. “You two should leave.” 

Without questioning any further, Chan nodded, reversing the car as Seungkwan shot you a worried look. As they left, disappearing at the end of the road, Seungcheol began to walk into the darkness of the forest while you stood rooted to the ground, unsure about what was happening. It was only when lightning furiously struck the olive tree and it burst into flames that you took a terrified step away, following him. 

By the time your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you found Seungcheol’s silhouette standing by his car that had been left here abandoned for days now. Pulling his keys from his pants, he unlocked it, getting into the driver's seat before turning on the engine, the car and the headlights roaring to life. 

“Get in.” 

You heard his voice over the soft humming of the engine and obeyed, not wanting to fuel his already intensified anger. Seungcheol stared far off at the trees illuminated by the white lights of the car, lost in thought. You didn't dare look at him. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, though it had been barely a minute, he let out a sigh and turned to you. Wordlessly, he tugged you towards him, hand gripping your thigh as he pulled you into his lap. Although surprised, you didn't resist, letting him wrap his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Overwhelmed, you hugged him back, as tight as you could, like you never want to let him go. You could feel Seungcheol’s lips curl into a smile against your skin.

“I missed you.” He whispered, nuzzling his nose against your neck. 

Letting out a breath of relief, you finally smiled after days. “I…. I missed you too.” 

It turned out astronomy student Seungcheol was a resourceful young man.

After nearly fifteen minutes, when the two of you finally broke from the embrace, he headed to the boot of his car and pulled out a tent and a couple of camping supplies - apparently he spent a lot of nights out in the middle of nowhere, studying the stars. You sat and watched as he skillfully erected the tent, gathered some wood and started a campfire. You stared at the flames, thoughts racing in your mind. Camping had once been a very bittersweet memory for you, and you didn't know how today was going to turn out. 

When Seungcheol beckoned you to sit next to him by the campfire, you walked over and sat across him instead. It was high time for a conversation; for both of you to tell your truths. 

Seungcheol sighed, “I suppose it's time we talked.”  

You nodded. 

“I know my behaviour over the past many days must be confusing for you.”

You nodded again.

“Before I explain myself I just want to make one thing clear.” He took a deep breath. “I really like you Y/n.” 

Your lips parted in surprise. You didn't see that coming. 

“I have since the day you stepped into camp, and I saw the way you looked at me, I knew you liked me too.” 

“Then why….”

“Do you know why it's always dark in Nyx forest?” 

You blinked at the sudden switch of topic. 

“Because she's the goddess of the night?” 

“Yes, but she's also the goddess of darkness - the trees of her forest are so dense, they don't even allow light in.” 

“Okay….” 

“Which means other than the Underworld, this is the only place that cannot be seen from the skies, the only place my father has no eyes.” 

Zeus?

“You mean…” And you finally realised. “The reason behind everything you were doing is…..your father?” 

“I admit at first I didn't make a move on you because I didn't know if you truly liked me or if it was the….” 

“....usual attraction women have towards you?” 

Seungcheol gulped. “Yeah that, but when your feelings remained consistent after my initial rejection that day in my house, I figured it was real.” 

“Then why didn't you kiss me when I came back?” You remembered the lightning in the sky when the two of you were giggling away in the arch of the House of Zeus. Seungcheol's power was thunder, but when you were around him, it had always been lightning. It had always been Zeus. “Was it because of your father?”

Seungcheol nodded slowly, “Ever since your discovery, Olympus has been disturbed. An undetectable aura…. Everyone knew something was different about you.” Oh you knew what was different. “My father wasn't happy that I took you into my camp, so he made it very clear that I stay away from you. Otherwise he… would do what was necessary to keep you away.” 

“Zeus… threatened me?”

Seungcheol nodded. “Ever since then I have been on the edge around you, always guarded, always alert, always nervous…” Oh. His force field.  No wonder. “That's why I was surprised you could touch me without being electrocuted. But now that I think about it, maybe the force field wasn't active to begin with. Perhaps I was selfish, perhaps I wasn't antagonised enough and my desire to have you was greater than my desire to protect you.”

“Cheol….” You sighed, getting up and sitting beside him, taking his hand in yours. You had no idea he felt this deeply about you - all this while you assumed he didn't care. “I don't understand, why does your father care so much about….us? We're grown adults, we can make our own choices.” 

Seungcheol grew silent. Then he took a deep breath, 

“Olympus is…dying.” You frowned as he continued. “Yes the Gods are immortal but they've lived for too long, they've ruled for too long. After the Titans, they had been undefeated, ruling for centuries and now they're looking to step down on their own. They're looking for heirs and… Zeus wants me to be his.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears. Seungcheol….King of Olympus? Of course Zeus didn't want him to have anything to do with you, you were an anomaly, part monster. 

“Do you want to be…. I mean, is that what you want?” 

“Being King of Gods? I don't know, I was never asked if it's what I wanted. For as long as I remember, ever since I was a little boy, Zeus only told me to train hard, to become worthy.” He sighed. “I don't know about being King but I do want to be branded as his heir - having Zeus's blessing would make winning the quests a lot easier. I want that for my boys.” 

You scoffed disbelievingly. “Is winning a sparring competition really worth it?” 

Seungcheol’s expression was incredulous. “Winning the quest isn't just winning a title Y/n. The camp which wins is set free - it is disbanded and the members are allowed to return to the mortal world, to live their own lives, have careers and friends and families. Winning the quest means winning freedom.”

Oh. 

“The boys have been working hard for years yet we haven't been able to win a season. If I'm branded Heir of Zeus, it will be easier to make alliances, to gain favors. His Mark would change the whole game.” 

“His Mark?”

“His heir would carry some sort of identifiable symbol of Zeus called His Mark, I don't know what exactly, he hasn't officially branded me yet.” 

“Why not?”

“He still doesn't feel I'm worthy enough, he thinks I can do better. Train harder, lead the team better, choose my partner better….”

The two of you fell in a painful silence. 

“Y/n as much as I want His Mark, I want you too-” 

“But you can't have both can you?”

Seungcheol slowly shook his head. 

“You can't have both anywhere but here…” You slowly added. “Zeus isn't watching you here right?”

“He isn't but all that lightning earlier…. those were warnings. I suppose he suspects.” Seungcheol looked up, eyes meeting the trees instead of the sky. “I hoped this would seem like an attempt to get the car back but I guess not.” 

“Does that mean this is the first and last time we're going to be civil with each other?” You chuckled sadly. “Are we going to go back to the Cold War?”

“Y/n,” Seungcheol turned to you, gripping your hands tighter. “Let me just become his heir, officially that is, receive His Mark, win the quest and then we can do whatever - he can't stop me.”

“So you…you want us to work?”

He nodded. “Of course I do. Y/n I mean it, I really do like you and I want us to at least have a chance - that is if…. if you want me too.” 

You did want him. Of course you wanted him, but the fact still remained - you were part monster. Would Seungcheol, the leader who put his boys above all, the man who was to rule the heavens, still want you if he knew? It was only right to tell him the truth but…

Perhaps you took a little too long to muse. You were drawn out of your thoughts as Seungcheol retracted his hand.

“It's completely okay if you don't…” 

You gripped his fingers, looking at him determined. Seungcheol seemed confused by your mismatching actions but he waited for you to say something. Instead, you showed him.

Leaning forward you pressed your lips against his, softly at first before he tilted his head further capturing your mouth in a frenzy. 

The two of you kissed like teenagers in the heat, licking, sucking, moaning into each other's mouths. Lips swollen, neck almost catching a cramp from the angle, but you continued, sliding into his lap, your legs across his, whimpering when he squeezed your thighs. Instinctively, you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and lifted it, pulling it over your head and tossing it on the floor after which you realised….. the forest was watching. 

“What's wrong?” Seungcheol looked at you concerned, trying his best not to ogle at your breasts. 

“Feels like we're being watched.” You muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him so you didn't feel so exposed. 

Laughing, Seungcheol looked up at you fondly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Everything in the Nyx forest embodies her, she's present everywhere.” 

“So we're going to have sex in…in front of a goddess?” 

“Oh we're going to have sex?” He grinned at you teasingly. 

“Cheol…” You whined. “Yes, yes we are,  but I just don't know about here…” 

“Nyx isn't just any goddess, she's a primordial. Unlike the gods, she doesn't have a human form. She's just an entity, spread through her realm.” 

“So she just… exists?” 

He nodded. “She doesn't come under the rules that govern the Gods - she's above and beyond the inhabitants of Olympus.”

“Does that mean she won't tattle on Zeus about us?”

Seungcheol laughed, placing a butterfly kiss on your nose, like you were too cute for him to handle. “She is the one god Zeus is terrified of so no, he won't ask and she won't tell.”  

“Thank fuck.” You muttered and kissed him again, your urgency nearly knocking him over. Balancing your weight over him, Seungcheol chuckled, pulling you closer, tongue slipping into your mouth. You wanted to take his shirt off too but when you tried to reach for the hem, Seungcheol drew back, glancing at your hand. 

“What?” You raised your eyebrows, curious but not worried. You had finally learnt that Seungcheol really wanted you. Something else was bothering him.

He shook his head and before you could ask him again, he hooked his arm under your knees and with absolutely zero effort, lifted you, carrying you to the tent. Somehow, after all that happened between the two of you, it was only when he glanced at your face so lovingly that you felt shy, looking away with a smile. Laughing Seungcheol set you down on the sleeping bag before zipping up the entrance, the faint light of the campfire illuminating the inside. You pulled your legs together, hugging your knees and Seungcheol's expression turned amused. 

“Didn't take you to be a shy one.”

“I'm not.” You mumbled, “but I don't know. I suddenly feel like a teenager who's out with her boyfriend, about to do it for the first time.” 

Seungcheol crouched, his eyes at you level, suppressing a smile. “Boyfriend?”

“Don't get ahead of yourself.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I'm just observing.” He laughed. “You like the forbidden.” 

“I don't mind the unconventional.” You corrected him. 

“Even if it means pretending like we don't want to have anything to do with each other when I like you so damn much?”

You nodded, trying not to blush. 

Seungcheol tugged your arms, pulling them away from you. “Even if we have to come to the middle of nowhere every time we want to have sex?” 

“Most definitely.” 

“And what if I never want to leave this place?” He leaned over, prompting you to lean away, your back hitting the ground as he hovered over you. “What if I want to be inside you and never leave?” 

“Works for me.” You grinned, pulling him down by his shirt, kissing him yet again. You couldn't remember the last time you enjoyed making out with someone this much. Maybe it was how soft his lips were, or how eager he was to kiss you back or just how much you craved this, the moment he broke away to kiss your neck, you whined at the loss. 

“I've been dying to get my hands on you like this.” He groaned, grabbing a tit with a hand and the other with his mouth, the swirl of his tongue making your back arch. Taking advantage of your raised hips, Seungcheol hooked his fingers along the waistband of your shorts, pulling it down along with your underwear. As he dragged it down your legs, he sat on his heels, looking at you like you were a miracle, causing you to blush all over again. Before you could ask to see him too he descended upon your chest again, trailing down this, mapping your skin with his lips as his fingers teased your folds. Of course you were drenched between your legs, your hands threading his thick tresses as he kissed you at the dip of your waistline, looking up to see you tense in anticipation. 

Fuck. 

He looked so hot like that, gauging your reactions, eager to please, asking inaudible if he could. When you gave him a soft nod, he wasted no time, throwing your legs over his shoulders, running his tongue deliberately slowly between your folds. The moan that left you was unholy to say the least, grip in his hair tightening as he didn't give you even a second to register it all, tongue slipping into your hole. Your thighs involuntarily squeezed together, trying to chase the feeling though your tried your best to not crush him between your legs, but Seungcheol seemed to be rather enjoying it all, sucking on your clit, coaxing it just the right way. In no time, he had a shiver run down your body, everything tightening in the pits of your being as you came on his tongue and he hummed against his skin, tasting you. 

“You taste fucking good.”

“You are fucking good.” You huffed, catching your breath, pulling your legs off his shoulders. “Where did you learn to do that?” 

Seungcheol shrugged, straightening himself. “Being the Son of Zeus is not all too bad.” 

You rolled your eyes as he undid his pants and leaned down to kiss you, caging you between his arms. His erection pressed against you, causing you to grind your hips, pulling a groan out of him. 

“Take your shirt off.” You whispered as he met your hips with his, not reacting. “Let me see you Cheol.” 

And when he continued to kiss down your neck without listening, you knew something was wrong. 

“Cheol….” Hands on his chest, you pushed him back, putting some distance between the two of you so you could see his face when he winced, like it hurt. 

Swearing under your breath, you apologised, sitting up as he did, face contorted in pain. Your hands moved to undo his buttons, when he shook his head, putting his hand in between. 

“Cheol let me see.” And when he seemed stubborn as ever, you added. “Are you still going to keep hiding things from me?” 

Those words make him lower his guard, allowing you to quickly work his buttons, eyes falling in the centre of his chest. There was a large wound right in the middle, the lesion scabbed, bleeding at places, looking red and devastatingly painful. It was the mark of your fire. 

“It’s my fault.” You whispered, terrified to run your fingers all over it. “It's all my fault-”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to…” Seungcheol sighed. “It’s not your fault Y/n, we both were foolish to not wear gear when we ventured off.”

He still thought you were blaming yourself for leading him to the Chimaera. He deserved to know that it was your fire that hurt him, he deserved the truth, just like he had given you. 

“Cheol I need to tell you something-”

“I know. I know the Chimaera was talking to you, that it told you something.” His expression wasn't as grim as you thought it would be. “But whatever it is, it can wait-”

“No it really can’t.”

“Haven’t you had enough of everything around us pulling us apart?” Seungcheol sighed. “There’s always something or the other trying to come between us when all we want is just to be with each other.”

“I know but-”

“Whatever it is can wait till we are done.” He looked at you expectantly. “Unless you insist I need to know right now.” 

You should have insisted. You should have told him the truth, but as much as it made you a hypocrite, your resolve faltered, and you shook your head. You were fully naked and halfway through things - it was already too late. If this was the last time you could have Seungcheol then you wanted to savor it. 

Relieved, Seungcheol stripped out of his shirt, trying his best to not show the pain in his face. “I’m fine, everything is fine.”

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, as his lips found yours, your bodies reaching for the ground again, Seungcheol holding his weight from crushing you. Giving his length a few pumps, you watched as he rubbed it against your folds, ignoring your pleas before he finally pushed it into your needy hole and your walls sucked him in immediately. 

“Fuck you’re tight.” He groaned, thrusting his hips slowly. A part of you wanted him to gently make love to you like this, but another just wanted to bring that animal out of him again, the one that railed you into oblivion on the hood of his car. All parts of you though, only wanted one thing. 

“Don’t….” And from your expression, Seungcheol knew what you were asking for. You didn’t want to cum fast or cum over and over again. You just wanted him. “Please, just let me feel you.” 

And he did. Bending your knee, he wrapped your leg around his waist and you immediately followed suit with the other one, locking your ankles behind him. He moved his hips, thrusting to a rhythm of his own - sometimes it was fast, hips snapping away as his eyes were fixed on your face twisted in pleasure. Sometimes it was slow and deep, kissing you on one hand, hitting all the right spots on the other. Either way, you came around him twice, your arousal leaking out, hole sore but you didn’t ask him to stop and neither did he offer to, like he was intoxicated by being inside you. It wasn’t until he frantically asked where you wanted him to come and you tightened your legs around him that he finally stopped, coming inside you, ropes of white coating your walls and filling you up. As he came down from his high, he rolled off you, lying on his back, his chest heaving, catching its lost breath. You snuggled into his arms, careful not to touch his wounds, realising it was finally time to tell him the truth. 

But you couldn’t. Not when he wrapped his arms around you, dropping a soft kiss on your forehead, muttering something you didn’t quite hear. 

Seungcheol’s truth had fixed what was broken, but your truth would only break the two of you again….

Maybe the truth could wait. 

Maybe some things really were better left unsaid. 

By the time the two of you returned to camp, the sun began setting behind the horizon. 

After the two of you cleaned up, packed the tent and other camping essentials, Seungcheol pulled you into his lap again, tangling his hands in your hair, kissing you. All sense of time lost, the two of you simply made out lazily, kisses interjected by laughter, laughter interjected by more kissing. Although you didn't want to part, he pressed his forehead against yours, sadly whispering, “We should go.” 

Throughout the two hour drive, neither of you spoke. You could tell he was itching to hold your hand and you longed to lean on him too but you were not in Nyx's domain anymore, you were under Zeus's skies. If two hours of distance was so difficult you wondered how the two of you would navigate the upcoming days, until Zeus decided to impart his Mark on him. But you'd do it. For him, for what was between the two of you, you'd do it. 

But the moment Seungcheol’s car entered the camp, you felt your guts twist. You couldn't place your finger on it all that well but something was very similar to the last time the two of you returned from the Forest of Nyx - all the members rushed towards the car immediately, faces looking both worried and confused. 

Seokmin rushed up to Seungcheol whispering something in his ear, the latter glancing at you concerned before asking you to follow him. Immediately, all of you headed towards the temple, murmuring amongst each other, finding Jihoon standing before the altar, two indistinguishable objects in his hand. 

“I didn't approach the Oracle.” Seungcheol frowned at Jihoon, puzzled. “How did these arrive….” 

“Well,” The Son of Apollo raised the contents in his hand. “They arrived nevertheless, one for you and one for her.”

Everyone turned to you. 

“For me?” You pointed at yourself. “What came for me?”

“Scroll of Sacrifice.” He held out a rolled piece of paper to you. “A deal, for one meeting with Goddess Hestia.” 

Stunned, you blinked at him.  

“And for you,” He turned to his chief. “A deal to receive the Mark of Zeus.”

Seungcheol and you turned to each other surprised - What was going on?

Stretching your hands out unsure, both of you reached for your respective scrolls, the paper immediately unravelling at your touch.

Written right in the middle of your paper, scribbled away in black ink was just one word, a name, one that felt like a knife was plunged into your heart - Seungcheol. 

Beside you, Seungcheol had dawned an equally painful expression on his face and over on his paper was a name too. 

Yours. 

A/n - Phew, what a chapter, this was such a challenge to write but we finally got some cheol action hehe and the ending, yeah, I know, what can I say, its impossible for me to function without a cliffhanger :') Anyways, thank you for reading, please feel free to leave your thoughts and screams and emotions in the comments or the tags - see you in chapter 5!

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics. 

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two. 

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid. 

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid. 

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium. 

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not. 

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him. 

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona. 

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad. 

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide. 

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck. 

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender. 

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster. 

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode. 

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit. 

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than. 

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something. 

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them. 

“You okay?” Terry asked. 

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly. 

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly. 

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top. 

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit. 

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room. 

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding. 

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu. 

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you. 

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said. 

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile. 

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage? 

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties. 

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace. 

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him. 

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow. 

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you. 

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam. 

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other. 

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him. 

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people. 

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger. 

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously. 

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive. 

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence. 

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody. 

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore. 

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline. 

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting. 

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products. 

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out. 

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy. 

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.” 

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found. 

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else. 

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone? 

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave? 

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds. 

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you? 

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you. 

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this. 

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right. 

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door? 

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity. 

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man. 

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run. 

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right? 

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you. 

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free. 

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt. 

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room. 

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation. 

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up. 

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone. 

“Terry!” You yelled. 

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you. 

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries. 

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy. 

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room. 

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said. 

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable. 

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again. 

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck? 

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing. 

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.  

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off. 

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep. 

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier? 

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived. 

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now? 

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off. 

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out. 

But why didn’t Terry take you with him? 

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone. 

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go? 

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?” 

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer. 

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said. 

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived. 

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it. 

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened. 

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with. 

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser? 

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said. 

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security. 

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door. 

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.” 

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked. 

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned. 

“Hey,” Terry said. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?” 

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said. 

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said. 

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time. 

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,” he said. His jaw flexed after he said that. 

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did. 

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words. 

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment. 

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly. 

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said. 

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod. 

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others. 

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right. 

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile. 

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around. 

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.” 

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom. 

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked. 

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.” 

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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[rubylovessharks]

Hii!! I saw your post asking for ideas of what to write for Idia’s birthday and I just had to say something! (Feel free to ignore this ofc)

The whole crush trope is one of my obsessions along with Idia so I would love to see how you write Idia realizing that he has a crush on reader who is yuu. Like reader has also their otaku side (way more chill that Idia ofc) and they are patient with him so they got to form a pretty frienship with him and also helped him a lot after his overblot

You can omit this part if you want but im thinking of a really kind and sweet reader who besides Idia has befriended most of the twst cast, but they can act pretty shy if the situation is too overwhelming(?

Idk if that makes sense and sorry for the request and thank you for your time :)

of course i'll take on your request! i really like it too :3 so i'll try my best to write it, and write it well!!

Idia Shroud x Yuu(who is the reader)

no warnings! it's all gonna be fluff :333 but like it has hints of angst but ya know- that's idia for ya :/

It's been quite a long time since you and Idia have become friends, you still remember how you first got to know each other. Idia's brother, Ortho, has found out about your shared interest for gaming and anime and thought that you'd make a great first irl friend for Idia. And the very first moment you got introduced to him you knew that you two really are similar, and it wasn't just Ortho's exaggerated view point.

You both were shy and afraid of social interactions, you both enjoy video games and let's not forget that whenever you got the chance you'd talk Ace's and Deuce's ears off about the various animes you've watched. So you two really do have a lot in common. It's just that Idia seems to distant himself from others, never wanting to leave his room and only going out if he really needed to. And how could you call yourself his good friend if you don't try to make an effort to make his sad life a little better?

And that effort has worked too well. Because now everytime you are even mentioned Idia's heart feels heavy. If before he was just shy yet kind of willing to let you into his life now he feels as if something is totally wrong! Everytime you two hang out he feels as if there's a tugging feeling inside his chest, telling him to get closer and hug you.

The tips of his hair turn a light pink as his face reddens, he chokes a for a moment on nothing as he stares at your form. You were playing games at the moment and Idia couldn't help but think that you are the most beautiful thing in the world. Yet like always Idia tends to go towards the negative outlook on life instead of a positive one, and that leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembers that day, or rather specifically that fight.

"Why do you still come hang out with me?" you hear him ask with that soft voice of his. What a stupid question you think to yourself, doesn't he know that you come here to have fun? "What do you mean?" "do you just not remember a week ago?" you put down the controller you held and turned to fully look at him "ya know... When I went berserk and tried to unleash a bunch of monsters out to the world????" "you mean when you overbloted? Yeah I remember. It doesn't change the way I feel about you." Somehow these words pulled harder at his heart, as if you were pulling his very soul closer and closer towards you.

"Ever since I met you you were always showing signs of mental problems, and I still decided to become friends with you." now that Idia thinks about it, he did act like he had no real purpose. And now there's a nagging part in his brain that thinks otherwise.. why did feelings have to be so confusing and weird!? Is what he thinks.

"Well I don't get feelings either...." you say as if you read his mind, "but I'd like to ask, since you brought up the subject," "brought up the subject?" Idia whispers "what do you feel?" Now Idia is completely pink. From his hair to his face, if he could get redder he would! "Did I say that outloud!?" he panics. "Did you not mean to? Shouldn't friends tell eachother their problems and try to help eachother out?" Something about you saying that he's ''just a friend'' makes his heart sink. As if he's falling down after his overblot again, down and down until he hits rock bottom.

"Idia please...." you reach out for him, like you're trying to pull him up, to stop him from falling. "tell me what's wrong." Maybe he should explain the way he feels. Maybe he should try to understand that weird tugging feeling he has. Maybe it's something he just never felt before, and you are the cause of it, the reason he's been feeling more happy than what he's past self has felt on a regular basis.

There's no way it is romantic love...Right?

And he reaches out, holding your hand in his, letting you help him from the endless falling. Getting him out of that pit of dark thoughts. "I love you." You tell him, and he never hit rock bottom once you said that.

All of the sudden he's pink again, and as these words loop through his brain he gets it. That tugging, pulling feeling on his chest, his heart, was his love for you. His yearning to be with you. The want to make you happy as he keeps you by his side to maintain his happiness too.

But he's not deserving..

Is what his old self would've said. But now he knows that if he wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with him, saying no will just harm you. Saying no will just push you away and make you feel as if doesn't want that as well. So he does something he would've never thought he'll do in his life.

"I-I love you too!"

He says shakily as he leans forward to peck your lips, and you too, lean into it making his birthday a happy memory in his eyes again.

[goodluckclove]

clove my kind comrade. i have a very emotional writing advice question for you. this turned kinda long, i apologize

i've been working on college applications these last few months, with the majority of that time taking the form of essay writing. and in these months it has been discovered that, at least to my dad's standards, my normal nonfiction prose writing skills are absolutely abysmal. i would write a draft, think i had everything pretty much shiny and complete, only to have everything i had worked so hard to finish absolutely picked to shreds by my dad and told i needed to start over. and there's nuance to this; i do quite literally forget a lot of writing tips and processes that worked for me, and it took last week's adhd diagnosis 17 years too late for me to stop hating myself for not being able to write a 300 word essay in a week. but this has left deep scars on my psyche and sent me for the most intense mental heath loop ive had in years.

that all contributed to a very intense anxiety ive developed about writing. i'll open a wip (or hell start writing an ask) and i will feel such a sense of dread. it's like i'm reaching into an oven that i know i've burned myself on so many times before. i can barely write a sentence before i start overthinking things too much and give up. this is specifically talking about my own personal writing. five minutes ago i opened my most self-indulgent wip that only four people on earth would ever be allowed to see and felt such an overwhelming fear of "what if it's bad". "what if it doesn't read this way to people". i've never had that before. i write what i write, and it's generally pretty damn good. but the anxiety i have about these stupid college essays has bled into MY work, MY own fun projects.

essentially, what i'm asking you is if you can offer any advice of how to conquer this anxiety. i know that an essay and a gay little fanfiction are fundamentally different things that cannot be equated with each other, and i know that other people's opinion on what is ultimately a self indulgent project can be easily and happily disregarded. but i can't have a self indulgent project if i can't even bring myself to physically write it.

this turned into a vent lmao. i hope you and Wife and the cats are doing splendidly.

Hi Bas! This ask made me deeply angry when I read it last night! Shame from artists, especially young artists just starting out in life and in their craft, apparently provokes a pretty deep rage in my soul.

I'm fine now. I'm at a coffee shop. Thank you for a pretty vulnerable and heartfelt insight into your brain-space, and I'm going to give it a pretty long and ramble-y response because that's what it deserves - and honestly, you've known me for long enough that I'm sure you kind of assume this is what's coming. Before that, though, I get the sense you're pretty anxious and drained. In the name of meeting your sincerity I would like to offer a look at the drawing my surrogate child demanded I draw for them after they saw the terrible Sonic the Hedgehog I drew from memory last night. Their prompt was "T4T Sonic/Shadow"

What do you think? I gave Shadow a wallet chain. I've never drawn fan art before but I do think going forward I'm going to give most, if not every famous IP I draw a wallet chain. This made me grin a lot because it's so fucking weird. Also it's not canon. Canonically Shadow would not smoke a blunt. Canonically Shadow the Hedgehog vapes.

Okay I made myself properly silly time for business. Come follow me into a hypothetical situation so I can talk to you (and anyone in your position - which is a lot of people your age) more intimately.

Okay, so I'm at a new coffee shop. It's open concept, fairly minimal an industrial in decor. I'm in this seated nook in the back at a bench by a large round table. The lighting is soft. There's a lot of plants and the baristas are like kind of anti-social which usually means the coffee is going to be great or pretty bad. Luckily it's the former - I got this iced maple cardamom latte. They have other drinks too. Tea. Your usual coffee varieties. They have a rosemary syrup you can put in lattes that I might try if I feel like I want another coffee later. Take my card and order something. I'll wait here.

You're back? What'd you get?

Mm. Fuck. I should've gotten that too. Nevermind, it's fine. I'll probably come back here again.

Okay, so college essays. I'm going to go ahead and just open by saying that college essays are absolutely not the same as nonfiction prose. Flat out, end of sentence. They're aren't apples and oranges - it's like comparing an apple and a used 2007 Honda Accord.

Good nonfiction means different things to different people. I personally enjoy a bit of humor and love for a subject, even if it's mundane to most of society. My wife prefers a Wikipedia-level of dry Academia. Different strokes.

College admission essays, however, are not good. They're really not. From a vague amount of research it seems this has been an issue for decades now.

You can still write like a bad college essay, don't get me wrong. Something riddled with typos or dribbled out by a generative AI. But if you look a little bit at what the people who actually check applications are, it seems the spectrum isn't "bad to great" as much as it is "bad to fine". My own college essay was some bullshit about how I learned about myself and the world around me by going to the grocery store before school and buying a baguette to have for lunch. It was stupendously mediocre. I got into college.

There's a lot of reasons for this. It could be because the average 17-18 year old isn't given the tools or opportunity to write really solid nonfiction - probably because the society we live in doesn't expect them to have anything to contribute in that way, but that's beside the point. You're taught essays. Ways to format papers that, from what I gather, only really apply in academic settings. When I was in high school the average essay had pretty stark parameters students were expected to follow, and from what I've heard those parameters have only gotten more specific.

With all that in mind, I understand why you're freaked out. If you look up tips on solid college essays the advice is like just comically vague. Be authentic! Focus on deeper themes! Pose a philosophical question! That last one actually made me laugh out loud when I read it, because it's so insanely discordant compared to how I've seen people you're age be treated. To go straight from people assuming you need your hand held on nearly anything to having a person say "Hey solve nihilism in 450 words " is baffling.

There's real advice in this odd, clickbait-y quips. You shouldn't feel like you have to play a character or pretend to be something you don't want to do, because that comes across in the text pretty easily. You should consider exploring a topic, because it reveals more about you as a person and that's valuable to the application as a whole. You - I'm going to go out and say you don't need to pose any sort of philosophical quandary at all, actually. That's a pretty wild thing to ask a huge portion of New Adults to be able to do.

So this isn't nonfiction. This isn't a think piece or a memoir, even though people might compare it to both. This is closer to a cover letter. You should still try, but do so knowing this is separate from your skills as a writer. Once you do that, you'll hopefully be able to relax enough to actually let your character slip into the work. What you mainly want to do is express a sense of your voice and sort of imply an idea of the type of presence you would be as a student at your school of choice. That's the point of the application as a whole. It's not going to win a Pulitzer. It would be truly, very weird if an admissions essay won a Pulitzer.

The other thing that I think might be making you and people in your shoes feel crazy is that you're in the period of your life when a lot of adults around you are going to say just the wackest nonsense. Oh this application determines the rest of your life! The stakes have never been higher! This is your future! You're setting the entire course of the rest of your life right now, somehow!

That obviously is also not true. Next year will be a decade since I graduate high school, and I still actually have no idea why some people had that level of intensity. It strikes me as incredibly counter-productive. I explained this to my kid, and they were shocked when I told them how many paths there are to get a higher education. You can get your first few years at a community college and then go to a university. You can go to a polytech school (They make them for the arts too! my brother went to Cogswell and it was such a cool campus) and get straight into industry experience. You might get into a university and transfer to a different one because it has a better program or opportunity.

All of these are cool. Not going to college is also cool, although it comes with other pitfalls. You can also go to college later on down the line. If you haven't figured it out yet, existing in the world is actually really flexible and open in terms of life choices. A college application, essay included, is not likely to play a huge part in the grand scheme of your life. The results of this will give you a sort of better understanding of your options for a plan for the next - like - year, maybe? It won't even determine it. It's more of a cool, maybe or a cool, I guess not right now situation.

It's also way harder for most people to work with a smaller word count. Less words mean less margin for error. That's stressful. You aren't a failure for struggling to write 300 words in a week when you can't choose the parameters of the writing, can't change the deadline, and probably have a bunch of people saying how crazy important all this is. Those are batshit work conditions for someone who doesn't have ADHD.

For someone who does, I can see how easily this would warp the perspective you have on everything else you do. Being picked apart by someone who hasn't been where you are in like 20+ years but still expects you to take their words as gospel? Confusing! Maybe feeling the inexplicable need to compare yourself to any published nonfiction you've read and loved, even though this isn't even nonfiction - and if it was, those writers have definitely been working in the genre longer than just goddamned now.

I think I've told a few people your age that this is the point where you kind of have to pick and choose how often you listen to the adults in your life. That feels irresponsible for me to say, but I do stand by it. When it comes to the transition between high school and college, most established adults are just crazy biased. Maybe because they raised you. Maybe because they're blinded by nostalgia and think that high school was the best part of their lives. Maybe they aren't familiar with the work you want to go into and what's needed to get a start in it. Or they could just straight up not understand how the college system works now.

It is such bullshit that you eventually have to craft a sense of internal intuition out of essentially nothing but it is a thing. It takes time, though. I won't pretend like you can make it happen immediately right now.

What matters is that you're okay. I promise you that - you're okay. Looking you straight in the eye, Bas, you're a good writer. Not "good for your age", I have read enough of your actual writing to know that you're pretty solid already. I've also read enough of your posts and had conversations with you to know for certain that if you wanted to pursue nonfiction you'd be pretty good at it right off the bat. This would be under the usual standards of a nonfiction writer, of course - meaning you get to pick the length, subject, and when you finish it.

You are in the unfortunate period of going through multiple transitions at once. It's hard enough to navigate the way relationships change when people decide (or struggle to process) how you're an "adult" now (also not really true in a lot of ways, but that's another ramble). But going so long under the assumption of having a Default Brain Experience and then realizing that all of the struggles you assumed were normal are actually an imbalance of chemicals is jarring.

It's treatable, yes. Once you get on a medication that helps with the dopamine everything is immeasurably easier, holy shit. But even then it's still painful at times because the difference is so palpable you sometimes stop and think why did it take so long for me to be able to have this? Why did no one see I was struggling? That was my experience, at least.

This is a crucial point in life where you have to be extra kind to yourself however you can. Once you get on stimulants, if you go that way, drink a lot of water and remember to eat (Some of them can make appetite wonky and I think they all dehydrate you). Be careful with caffeine because they do make you more sensitive to that. Maybe like just stop thinking about whether or not your writing is bad or doesn't work in certain ways because I am a Professional Writer and those kinds of thoughts have literally never been helpful to me. When they pop up in my brain I literally say "no" and force myself to think about something else.

Whether your writing is "good" is not an actual question. Is it coherent and does it contain a noticeable and unique voice? Yes. Is it what you want? I can't answer that, but if you say no the way to fix that is usually read more/write more/think more/share with other more.

Also does it read the way it should to other people? Stop it. Don't worry about that yet. You have to finish the damn thing or else it won't read any way to anyone. So much of writing is Second Draft You's problem.

Anyways that's all I have to say. My heart goes out to you for being pulled in so many directions. From my own experience it gets slightly easier once you submit the apps, but people do continue saying dumb nonsense until like midway into your first year in college. And if you end up leaving college for some reason or another people will keep occasionally saying dumb nonsense. But usually by then you're more equipped to ignore them.

You're going to be okay. You are an intelligent, insightful, artistically capable and deeply kind individual. Whether you share your thoughts and make your stories, true or not, through text or art or a mix of both, you have so much to offer. Just remember that.

Also I'm hungry. I've been writing this for a while and I didn't get any work done on the painting for my wife, but it's almost noon and I didn't have breakfast. There's an American Chinese place near here and they have pretty cheap lunch specials. Come on, get your stuff and let's take a break.

Mongolian beef yum yum.

[theonethatyaks93]

Finally Talking About Dark Pinky (Day 7 of Pinky Week)

Guess who showed up finally!

Yep, you read that title correctly. No, this isn't some belated April Fool's Day prank. Happy Dark Pinky Thursday to all my fellow evil mice enjoyers and welcome to the final installment of Pinky Week!! This has completely gone off the rails and I apologize for the extensive delays and unkept promises; I was just so tired and I required a lot of breaks. So, to thank everyone who's been with me, I decided to make my last post for Pinky Week a tribute to the fans! Get ready, because things are going to get interesting.

4/6/23- Dark Pinky Discussion/Analysis: A popular fandom character, Dark Pinky is the character you go to if you're looking for the Animaniacs/Pinky and the Brain fandom's official Tumblr sexyman. Gaining popularity in 2020 due to Dark Pinky Thursdays popping up as a meme, the homicidal and delightfully malevolent mouse has made his presence very well known on a variety of sites. And yes, I definitely have fallen to all the art and fanfiction I've seen of him. He's a great character, has a lot of potential for fanfiction, and is delightfully evil with a dark, twisted sense of humor (at least that's what I've taken from him). He's a recent obsession of mine and I'm glad to finally admit that I really do like him. I'm also glad to be contributing to his every growing fanbase. This essay will trace Dark Pinky's history, how he became so popular, and what he brings to the overall Pinky and The Brain community. And yes, I'll be mentioning Future Brain a few times since that is part of the story.

Humble Origins (Pinky and The Brain Comic Issues #1 and #24):

You might be surprised to realize but originally, Dark Pinky was more of a comedic villain rather than an outright malicious one. In fact, his plans were often times very silly and his tendency to break into evil laughter was more funny than menacing. He'd make his grand debut in Issue #1 of the Pinky and The Brain comics, being the one who ruled the alternate superhero universe Pinky and Brain find themselves in. At first, he doesn't reveal himself, rather he uses Dark Brain as a cover-up. But from the moment he appears, we get a sense of how different he is when compared to the original Pinky. Dark Pinky wears purple armor with gloves and pretty awesome spikes on his shoulders; he also has a long purple cape. The tufts of fur on his head are more straight and less curled, he has fangs, and wears a metal headpiece that (I believe) allows him to read minds. He still retains the iconic verbal tics that Pinky has and he also does an evil laugh after nearly everything he says. His personality is similar to Pinky, but with a slightly more villainous side. He finds pleasure in creating dastardly plans, showing the power and control he has, and relinquishes in the suffering he brings to others. However, he remains excitable, gets distracted by inane things, and his plans are more comical when compared to how the fandom would shape him to be. Dark Pinky does plan on murdering both Pinky and Brain but is defeated after he reads Pinky's mind and finds "horrifying imagery." He eventually returns in Issue #24 where he ends up trying to take over via public broadcasting. He's now bent on revenge and has a group of minions (in hilarious purple costumes) at his behest. He even calls upon the help of Poison Billie (another semi-popular character from this universe), and the two look like they may succeed. Eventually, Brain and Pinky do manage to defeat Dark Pinky and Poison Billie once again, this time seemingly for good. Dark Pinky's plan in this issue is very ridiculous and isn't scary in the slightest. It's almost intriguing on how he started out as such a comical villain before a few people decided to make him a little more unique. Dark Pinky remains to this day a comic exclusive character, never appearing in any of the T.V shows or even getting a mention in the series. The comics have also been questioned for the canonicity due to a few factors. However, Dark Pinky wouldn't be forgotten for long. Things only get weirder from here.

Dark Pinky and the Tumblr Sexyman Trope:

Now we're getting to the point where we must discuss the fandom. But before we do that, let's talk about the thing that made him famous in the first place: the Tumblr Sexyman craze. In the early 2010's after the release of the film The Lorax, a group of adolescent girls became attached to the character of The Once-ler, but not for his personality, rather for his appearance. The trend started up on Tumblr and began to grow in popularity to massive degrees. And this fandom was weird to say the least. People shipped the Once-ler with himself or alternate versions of himself and he became known as the first official Tumblr sexyman. However, as the years passed, more and more characters were added to the collection of Tumblr sexymen. Most of them had a common theme: tall, white, baddie/emo, often seen in suits. Others such as Sans from Undertale were a little different but still contained a few typical tropes. To be considered a sexyman, a character needed to showcase at least one or two of these traits plus have a dedicated following with a lot of fanart and/or fanfiction. They also can be considered conventionally unattractive or non-human. After the introduction of the Tumblr sexyman, many fandoms tried their best to find a perfect match for the rising phenomenon. And luckily, the Animaniacs/PaTB fandom had their candidate. While Pinky Suavo also caught on very quickly and was more well-known for his episode, Dark Pinky seemed to be the most accurate to the previously established tropes, being tall, white, evil, wearing purple armor, having a mysterious past, and sporting a super cool design. The potential for him was rabid and he seemed to check off all the boxes perfectly. It did take a while for people to find him, considering the comics are so obscure, but eventually Dark Pinky would hit the fandom in a way previously not though of before. Nobody would realize the impact this character would have. Until it was too late.

Dark Pinky is a Sensation (And how the fandom changed him):

Art featured below is by the incredibly talented @wimsiecal And if you're perchance reading this, I just want to tell you that your art is amazing and you have made me obsessed with Dark Pinky to an unhealthy degree!!! :) Seriously please go follow them if you haven't already, I'm begging you!!

After the fandom discovered Dark Pinky from the depths of the comic book series, his popularity skyrocketed, especially after the 2020 fandom revival. He quickly became known as the Pinky and The Brain Tumblr sexyman and that hasn't changed since, though Pinky Suavo has joined him. Dark Pinky fanart, fanfiction, and various other forms of media became extremely sought after and many posts would get thousands upon thousands of views/likes. Despite never appearing in the series, fans of Dark Pinky's would often point out moments where Pinky acted like his evil counterpart, some even editing screenshots to have Pinky appear like him. However, since Dark Pinky only appeared in two comics, the fans naturally had to get creative with him. Many fans have completely changed his character, altering his appearance every so slightly, or expanding on his past and personality. Dark Pinky's fan design was only a tad bit different. He was given sharper edges, different outfits in various shades of purple and black, a more detailed helmet, and he even appeared without the whole getup. Dark Pinky's design without armor or the helmet was entirely made up by fans. Here, he has the same body as Pinky but with scars (including a super cool one over his eye), dark eye shadow, and black painted nails. Dark Pinky's personality was also altered, making him a legitimate threat and an actual evil villain. He kills, his grip on the world is ruthless, he treats his servants like crap, and he shows no mercy to anyone. His comical plots from the comics are no more as he's become kind of scary and menacing. You don't want to mess with him. Yes he does have a sense of humor, but it's often twisted or at the expense of others. Dark Pinky still on occasion does an evil laugh or has a verbal tic but it's usually when he's upset. Some fans have given him a soft side; some of which include his feminine urges remaining intact and that he has a fondness for cheese. But be careful. In a few variations from people in the community, Brain is mysteriously absent. Mentioning Brain to Dark Pinky in those universes will often cause him to go into an insane rage. These fun and interesting pieces that were added to Dark Pinky not only make him more interesting, but add to his status as a Tumblr sexyman. These changes aren't technically canon, but they're arguably better since they make Dark Pinky stand out. It is quite strange to see him change from a comical antagonist to a semi-serious villain worth being feared, but it was much appreciated.

Dark Pinky Gets a Love Interest and an AU (Dark Future Ship/Fan-made Universes):

For the longest time, Dark Pinky didn't have a love interest of any kind. Sure, if you wanted to be shunned you could ship him with Poison Billie (please don't), but Brinky was the name of the game. The ship between Pinky and Brain was, and still is, incredibly popular among fans, after it gained popularity in the late 2000's and early 2010's. And of course when Dark Pinky got popular, he needed someone to be paired with. For a while, he would be shipped with just regular Brain or a fan-made evil version of Brain if creativity was present. Luckily, the fans finally got their perfect match when the Animaniacs reboot came out. In episode 9, the character of Future Brain was created and fans immediately compared him to Dark Pinky. Their color schemes were similar with both mice being seen in purple. Future Brain had a scar, robotic hand, and half of his face was robotic, all of which fit into Dark Pinky's universe very well. The hints that Future Brain was betrayed by Pinky also had many theorizing that he came from a future ruled by Dark Pinky, connecting the two together even more. It wasn't long before Future Brain and Dark Pinky ship fanart and fanfiction began popping up everywhere. Since the duo had very similar esthetics, they could be drawn together easily. The story potential was also very high as well. Dark Pinky and Future Brain dominated (pun intended) the fanbase and soon became seen as an alternate ship to Brinky. But while Brinky was healthy and cute, Dark Future (Often called the official ship name) was toxic and awkward. Some people portrayed them as an evil couple ruling the world together, while others painted their relationship in a negative light, where Dark Pinky was abusive and manipulative. It depended solely on what person was developing the story. Future Brain was also added to the quickly developing Dark Pinky alternate universe which has been shown via the extremely popular ask blog askdarkpinky. Featuring beautiful fanart and a darkly humorous tone, this blog is a must-view for any Dark Pinky fan. It created an expansive universe with lore, locations, and alternate versions of popular characters. Snowball remains consistent in the flashback sequences, aligning with his canon character exactly. Billie retains a majority of elements from Poison Billie minus the orange hair, including the plant themed outfit. Julia has a new look with a lab coat and goggles. She's works for Dark Pinky, making all of his technology. Brain is noticeably absent from this universe, with only hints to his possible location. It's also implied that this is in fact Future Brain and that he might be doing something. Dark Pinky goes crazy when Brain is brought up and refuses to hear anything about him. This drama and conflict is so interesting. The creation of this ship and various alternate universes only increased Dark Pinky's popularity and now, he stands as a cornerstone of the Pinky and The Brain fanbase.

Conclusion: Though Pinky himself is a beloved character, Dark Pinky stands on his own as a fandom favorite. From his design to his personality and potential, he fits the Tumblr sexyman ideology to near perfection. The fans have shaped this character and have made him stand apart from the rest. Sure, he's evil and doesn't treat things with care, but he's a good character. It's really spectacular that people in the community were able to turn Dark Pinky from a villain that existed mainly for comedy to a threatening presence with an un-hinged mindset. The fans are truly to thank for bringing Dark Pinky into greatness and there's hope that he can remain relevant and continue to entertain people (and make people question their sanity/sexuality) for a few more years to come.

OMG!! Pinky Week is finally done!! Woo hoo!! I'd like to thank all of you for sticking with me for this long period of time. You have been the thing that's kept me making these. I'll be taking a small break for the next few days and then Brain Week will begin! I can assure you guys that Brain Week will not take as long and will be better planned out. I can't wait to begin! Anyways, that's it for Pinky Week! Thank you for reading and have a great day/night! Happy (possibly belated) Dark Pinky Thursday to everyone!! Narf!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I have greatly enjoyed your comics ever since i saw them and have been quietly Iurking as ya do- thought youd want to know that i played hollow knight based on how enthusiastic u were and how fuckin cool youre art of hk/mdzs is. OH and watched dungeon meshi. Your influence is vast and i have been enriched. Keep on keepin on 🫡

You have bestowed the highest honour upon me.

[crimson-constellations]

Ok so no one could have prepared me for that last jayvik scene.

I predicted a big bunch of what would happen to them in act three, like a bit of what happened to Jayce in the arcane, Viktor’s (2) resurrection, their fight in the council room n shit too. But mostly the scene into Viktor’s hive mind (??) just Jayce last hope as he tries to find what’s left of Viktor in there. What I’m trying to say is: I thought I was prepared, key word Thought bc I did NOT expect him to actually succeed.

I was expecting him to maybe shear a tear or two then go back on his mission to kill him, maybe just anger, some yelling or whatever. I had no fucking faith in him actually getting Viktor back and that ended me right there.

It was beautiful and I loved every minute of it, I don’t have the artistic skill to draw any of it but who cares!!?! Anyway I’m going crazy they’re so fucking soft even when they’re being absorbed by void, I don’t give a shit they didn’t kiss on screen (which btw was never happening like ever) that was gayer than anything else that could’ve happened let’s be honest.

I think that last conversation was everything that Jayce wanted to say when he asked trapped in that cave or wtv prob thinking about the way things could’ve gone differently. He spent all that time reflecting and in the end he got a chance to get it out for te one person that needed to hear it. Telling Vitor that he want broken, what he though were his weaknesses where just, life. There could be other ways, to cure his illness, live better even with his leg, but in this end there was no time left for them so I think it was the best way to end everything.

I’m not gonna talk abt their arcs an how undeniably intertwined they are to each other but just know it’s true, and that’s why beyond a the crying I actually liked their ending. They’ve been so inherently tied together since the very beginning there’s o other way to go.

(Yall have no idea how much I cried fr)

[girlwiththegreenhat]

hey when they wrote "knight behind bars" and they wrote kitt helping a couple get together and they gave him the line "Some day, it will be my turn" [to find love]. did they know what they were doing. did they know that in some 40 years some gay autistic robot-obsessed little freak on tumblr would not stop thinking about it for weeks and write literal dozens of paragraphs screaming about it on discord. did they know they were going to ruin Me, Specifically, with this concept that feels like the culmination of everything kitt has gone through through the show and such a fascinating thing to think about in regards to michael and kitt's relationship,

one of the themes of knight rider is kitt developing as a Person, developing a line between the Knight Industries Two-Thousand, and Kitt. discovering humanity, his own emotions, the joys of the seemingly and logically pointless, and often through the lens of his own driver, his partner, his friend, Michael - his primary guide through all these experiences, his reference for those human things he doesn't understand. and as much as he initially claims to not be capable of experiencing emotions, of understanding feelings, he learns to. he experiences a wide range of emotions through the show even while claiming he doesn't, he even learns fear and insecurity. perhaps it's only natural a robot would learn to love, or at the very least be terribly curious about it and wonder if such a thing could ever exist for Him

the majority of people are not exactly kind to kitt. they talk about him like he's not there, they talk about him like he's a machine, a novelty, some people are even scared of or disturbed by him when all he's trying to do is make polite conversation and company. he's always Othered - there's no other cars like him (at least not anymore), but there's no other person like him either, he doesn't truly belong among humans or vehicles. some of the technicians at FLAG don't even seem to fully respect him as a person, at least they don't based on my vague recollection of how they talk about him in Junkyard Dog. when Michael asks him after KARR is destroyed if it feels good to be one of a kind again, he doesn't say yes or no - he only says it's a "familiar feeling." it may be familiar, but it's surely also isolating, and i think that's something he'd realize as he slowly picks up this curiosity about love. where could he even find it when so few people see him as an equal person to begin with?

and then there's michael. oh my god, and then there's michael. no matter what flavor you choose to read it in, the whole show is about their relationship, they're a duo, a set Not to be separated, they're Partners. they work together, they worry about and look after each other (forever insane about when kitt was a melted shell, Michael stuck around the garage for hours, waiting for any news like a worried spouse, constantly checking on him every opportunity he got... encouraging him to recover, and even helping paint back on his protective coating... kitt always looks after michael, but for once, it's michael's turn to look after Him), in a way they were Made for each other - Kitt more literally, being programmed for Michael and holding his namesake, but Michael was also made in a sense for the pilot program, hand picked and given a second life to work for the foundation and with this strange supercar. and even if they had a rocky start, michael comes to view kitt as a person - car, TV set, or computer core, Kitt is his partner, his buddy. he helps him find himself, guides him and teaches him about these things that make us human, and in a way, kitt becomes human - but his entire experience is still through the perspective of an AI in a car, it's still very unique and isolating, and I think he sort of grows into his own limitations, he's finally brushing against the walls that define him.

he learns of love, and then he learns to dream Of love. these things he sees in the movies, that michael tells him about, that he so often sees michael Partaking in that he gets so oddly jealous of, doesn't it all seem so wonderful? he's very curious. but who could ever love steel and circuitry, who could ever see him as an equal let alone a partner in a romantic sense? who would ever love a car and all the limitations That comes with? it's a problem for a hypothetical hopeful Some Day, in the meantime stuck between two worlds where he doesn't perfectly belong to either, where no car Can love him and no human seemingly Would love him...

and michael loves him anyway. before either of them really realize or talk about it, in spite of everything, in any form, regardless of the fact it wouldn't be a typical relationship by absolutely any means, michael loves him anyway. kitt is as much a person to him as bonnie or devon or RC, and that person is someone he loves and cares for deeply. the feeling is mutual, kitt's world revolves around michael, he's one of the most important people in kitt's life, and he'd do anything to protect him.

and it is michael that will finally teach him to love, and what it means to feel loved in turn, to be loved as the person he undoubtedly is.

[woah-uhuh-uhuh-uhuh]

@baccp a little bac!jerm because hes TRAPPED IN MY BRAIN rearranging my MOLECULES i love him SO MUCH

this ones also for @mountain-dew-tickledpink thank you for being an enabler

[buck2eddie]

fic moodboard inspired by and my heart beats by @henswilsons

It’s Chimney, who brings it up first. “At this point I don’t think I know how to be anything except a dad.”

Or, Christopher grows up. Eddie plants a garden.

[oh-gh0st]

we are surprisingly tired before 12........

[violetclarity]

if anyone was wondering, I still hate modern dating

[miss-wanna-draw96]

The Beginning of a Cursed Fate: Chpt 4

-Chapter 4: You Left me to Die-

[Warning, this chapter will include: -Death -Murder -Abuse -Blood -Drunk violence -Discrimination

Proceed with caution]

Carson took a deep breath as he picked up the heavy box full of antique toys from the '20s. Dust sprayed from the top of the box, gett stuck in his nose. He let out a small sneeze and regained his grip on the heavy box. Each step he took to his uncle's office was painful and exhausting, but he liked to feel this rush of pain. Carson adored pain in ways that would make an sane person scared, and how it affected everyone around him. It was the only taste of anything that he could get around here since he lived in a small house with his uncle twin brother, but at the same time he couldn't complain. Carson didn't know why he couldn't.

It was a pact, one of frightening silence. Like a collar around his neck, the threads of the collar stabbing into his flesh to bind him together, bound to a being higher than him, a god of some sort. Carson was a slave to an unspeakable and unnamed celestial. He only prayed that it was one of mercy and light.

Steps echoed through the hallways, the lights flickering as he heard the faint sizzle of old light bulbs that needed to be traded out with something fresher. Sweat was beginning to form against his palms but he pressed on, a cold determination to bring this box with no accidents. Step one, step two, step three, repeat. A cycle he knew all too well, chores that held him down like chains. Yet he held nothing against this cycle, at least he was used to it unlike his brother, Corbin.

Oh, how he hated Corbin, his own flesh and blood, his foolish brother.

He thought for a moment, surely the walk was shorter? It had taken him some time to arrive, the box within his clammy grip.

"Carson, you made it. Is that the box with the old dolls in 'em?" His uncle, Carter, questioned as he took the container of toys with little to no effort.

Carson dipped his head, his distance gaze not facing Carter but rather a small white and pale yellow tea cup set for little girls. He liked how these young girls would see these and watch as their faces lit up with such indescribable joy. Carson loved joy more than he loved pain.

"That's good to hear. Can you help your brother? He's having troubles again with setting the right items in their proper places." He found his uncle odd, truly one unusual man, collecting old trinkets and VHS tapes that restored nostalgic memories for him. Carson felt his blood starting to boil when he heard that his brother was messing up again, but he said nothing, only forcing a grin to appear on his face and fled to the sounds of his brother struggling. But something felt wrong. Horribly wrong.

Wounded struggling, like he was fighting against someone. In a flash, Carson picked up his speed and bolted to his kin. In moments, he stopped to a halt, his eyes wide as he saw Corbin bleeding a thick trail of scarlet blood from his face and bare arms. Claw marks like a bears, but too cut cleanly. Perhaps something else.

And there, he saw it.

Hovering over his brother with splashes of blood covering his face was himself, but different. Incorrect. Its face was shadowed, with long, thin limbs as well as needle-like fingers, sharper than knives. Its legs were bent at an awkward angle, the tip of its feet were pointed as well, and its neck was cracked in an unnatural way. And that's when it clicked in Carson's head. A shadow wisp had broken free from the depths of its Hell and now it seeks revenge.

Carson didn't know what to do, every thought was racing and in spite of this, he remained frozen in place, paralyzed by a sickening fear. His heart pounded heavily against his chest, almost hurting his ribs, stealing his breath.

"He fell." The creature said slowly, a shiver running down Carson's spine as ge realized that it was capable of speech and that it had his shy voice, not Corbin's cocky voice. "The boxcutter opened him up. I got his blood on me." It continued as it stepped away from Corbin, who was quaking in sheer pain and panic, and Carson didn't do anything. Carson didn't know what to do but he saw Corbin pick himself up from the ground and stumbled in the direction of their uncle.

"What in the Hell…?" The boy muttered to himself as he turned to look back at the shadow wisp. It had the aura of a gentleman, one that could bring peace to hysteria. He didn't understand. Carson wasn't gentleman-like, he was spontaneous and the life of the party, always out there and keeping the cool around events. So why was his copycat so different from him?

"Greetings Carson. I am your shadow of sin. Please, call me Sloth." It introduced itself casually, taking a small bow with its arms behind its back. In the distance, Carson heard Corbin blubber on about the shadow wisp and how he was attacked by the beast. Soon, Carson heard pounding footsteps headed towards him and he did something unthinkable. In the blink of an eye, he shoved his shadow wisp into the darkness, covering it up in a shield of pure black. The boy picked up the boxcutter and started to pry boxes open as his uncle and brother halted right beside him. He hid his fear and raised his head up, looking as dull as ever, looking past his family.

He asked them, "What's going on?"

Corbin, still frightened, spouted out, "Quit your lying! You saw me get attacked by that thing!"

Carson tilted his head. "What thing?"

Corbin widened his eyes as he shouted, "You know exactly what!"

"You ran off crying and you didn't even put the old fairytale books away. You probably saw something and left me to do everything, like usual." At least he got a chance to call him out on his bullshit. Corbin started to get angry with steam practically coming out of his ears. "Uncle, he hurt himself with the boxcutter, see the blood on the blade?" He held up the blade for his uncle to see, and lo and behold, there were traces of Corbin's blood on the blade of the boxcutter.

His uncle leaned forward and peered at the weapon before saying, "Corbin, you're in deep waters now." Before Corbin could protest, Carter took him by the ear and began to pull him away from his brother, a squeal of pain emanating from Corbin. Finally, justice had been served on a plate with a side of cold, bitter revenge. Breathing a sigh of relief, the shadow wisp revealed itself to Carson, looking more humanoid to his surprise.

The sharp fingers were gone along with the pointed feet, its neck was straightened out and so were its legs. He could also see its face properly, the only difference was the color of its eyes. His own were the color of a rich apatite gemstone, while its were the color of an amber stone. Its face lacked emotion, much like his, but it took another bow.

"I thank thee for saving me from your kin. He was quite an interesting specimen, but he is not you. Most certainly not." It says. No, that feels wrong, to call it by no name. Sloth. That is xir name, and Carson will address xem as such. Carson said nothing, xe continued, "Judging by your troubled expression, I must address the glaring issue. Yes, I did escape from my land but I did it for a reason. You see, almost two or three decades ago, a kind of mine was taken by flesh hu- Pardon me, humans. I was sent to retrieve them and return them home. I am on a mission to save our rule-breaker from the hands of mankind." The look in xir eyes showed nothing but the truth, that xe only wants to save this unnamed shadow wisp. Carson felt a stir of pity for his shadow wisp, his expression no longer conveying a terrified look. He knew, and understood, much of what xe were experiencing. To lose someone close to you.

---------

Carson was seven and so was Corbin. He was sitting on the floor of the apartment that his family resided in due to the fact that his family wasn't doing well financially. Mistakes were made. Many mistakes were made.

"Damian, you can't say that about your son!" His mother shouted at his father, both were drunk and arguing about him once again. He heard a bottle break and a loud shriek.

"That boy, Carson, is not my damn son! I don't want a son that is different." His mother was sobbing, his father was pissed, his brother was hiding under the bed and he just sat there, no response to the battle in the other room. Just recently, his mother had taken him to get tested for autism, some results came back negative, most returned positive. He was promptly diagnosed with autism while his brother was diagnosed with ADHD and his father bad turned a blind eye for his brother. But for him? He was deemed a mistake for being something that he couldn't control. It was quite unfair.

"Yes he is! Listen to me ple-." Another bottle broke and his mother cried out again, a twisted grin started to form on his face.

"Br-Brother, I'm so scared." The faint whisper of Corbin made Carson turn to look at him, small tears forming in his brother's eyes, his lip quivering. He had no response. He heard a body fall, a heavy and empty thud as his father screamed.

"Get up, you lazy Reina!" His father kicked his mother's side but there was no answer awaiting his father. "I said, get up Reina!" Once again, there was no answer.

Carson kept looking at Corbin until he finally requested, "Call the cops, Corbin. Papa killed mama." He wasn't sure if she was gone, but it made Corbin wiggle out from under the tight enclosure of the bed. Making no sound, Corbin left the room.

---------

His mother, Reina Val, was dead. His father Damian Val, had killed her. Carter Val was Damian's brother and that's when he had lost connection to everything. He had lost his mother and now, he could never see his father again. Good riddance.

Corbin sobbed in Carter's arm as the rain poured down from the sky, like tears from several angels, broken children, mourning their loss of a pure soul. Carson mumbled a quiet goodbye to his mother one last time before he looked up at his uncle.

"Mama isn't coming back, is she?"

Carter shook his head.

Corbin continued to cry.

Carson did nothing.

[A/N: The name of the chapter comes from the song 'Higanbana Milk Tea' by Vane Lily. I'm taking a week off so I can get an idea of what to do next, thanks.]

[endlessthxxghts]

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

masterlist | notifs blog

“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”