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#and this was all over 3 intertwined fates mind you

euphoricfilter · 4 months

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the silent ‘i love you’

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au

summary: sometimes you don’t need words

word count: 1.1k

tags/ warnings: fluff!!!! just very soft and nice and easy to read for tonight. intensional lowercase. sort of sleepy thoughts about love <3

where you can find my other works :D

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

some days jungkook simply felt like those three words weren’t enough. that the warm glow of his fragile soul couldn’t scream loud enough for your own precious existence to know how much he truly loved you.

that the whispered words of love as the both of you woke, or a gentle kiss before you both slept and met in your dreams— it simply was only the surface of how he felt. that the silent ‘i love you’ the both of you shared each day was somehow louder than the words themselves.

tender souls touching in a whimsical dance between your existence.

tangled so tight, unmoving, seeping out of you with that fluttery sort of love.

the kind of love that pulls a smile onto your lips at the mere thought of them. gentle touch enough to have your skin alight. obsessive, itching greed consuming every fibre of your being, needing them closer than humanly possible. bodies pressed together and heart beats in sync, tied together by a string of fate and life times you shared before this one.

and some days neither of you had to say ‘i love you’ but that didn’t mean the love wasn’t there. that either of you loved the other any less than you had the day before. or more than you would tomorrow. because it was ever-growing. blooming in both your chests, a flower that would live through all of eternity.

it would be him waking before you, purple and blue toothbrushes sat beside one another in the cup on the sink. or how on some days he’d pick your shower gel over his own. for no other particular reason that he loved everything about your existence, that he felt that little bit closer to you in the hours you had to part.

or remembering to tuck one of your hairties in one of his pockets, just in case.

the same hair tie you’ll find in the washing machine days later, smile tugging at your lips. because as much as you remind him to take everything out his pockets before putting them into the washing machine, there were things you could never get mad over. not when he thinks of you, even when you’re not there. a silent show of care that you never bring up because that was his secret to keep, dissolved into the back of your mind for safe keeping.

he likes to hold your hand as you cross the road, fingers interlaced. because he knows sometimes you get too caught up in your own head, unaware of the wider world around you. so he keeps you glued to the pavement before tugging you across the road. fingers squeezing yours when he knows the both of you are back to safety and you’ll let him pull you around, blind trust in him to take you where you need to go

you like picking him up from work, sat outside on a bench with a box of treats for the walk home. and he would indulge you, even if he had the car parked a block away. not caring if it would mean he had to walk the next morning. because he would never abandon those gentle moments with you, shoulders knocking as you kiss sweet cream from his lips, desperate to hear about his day just as much as you want to share yours

you liked to say ‘i love you’ through the stars. tugging him to the roof of the apartment building, legs tangled as you lay on a blanket.

you both look up at the sky.

so many questions slipping off your tongue. where you talk of fate and destiny and how you loved to believe that two souls so intricately intertwined like your own was probably crafted by something as beautiful as the stars, or another celestial being that just knew what the future held. speckles of fine stardust crafted and moulded, so, when you found a mortal body there would be no doubt he was the one for you, just as you were the one for him.

he likes sending you photos of cats. adopting the habit of carrying a small bag of treats around with him; though neither of you have a pet.

he remembers the frown that would tug on your face each time you’d come across a stray. and he’d stand there for as long as you like as your fingers pet over fluffy heads and behind furry ears. another silent vow of love to a lonely creature.

you liked to pack him lunches, hours spent in the kitchen of a nighttime experimenting, because you never wanted him to have a dull meal. and he’d sit there at the table, reading as a piano piece plays over your phone. not a word spoken between the both of you, and some nights you scuttle his way with a fork-full of something for him to try.

there was love in the tv shows you watched together, the music you shared, the space you both lived in. the closet was a muddle of clothes and accessories that he liked to steal from you just like you steal from him. racks of both your shoes line the entry way of the apartment, collection of mugs a sudden birthday tradition that will go on for as long as you’re alive.

you lived in his mind like you lived in the plants around the house. or the posters you’d put on the walls. and he lived in your mind with gaming consoles and photos of you hung up that he had taken, loved and forever cherished; thriving in the memory of you and how much he loved you then and how much he loves you now.

jungkook had tried to find a better word.

hours spent laying in bed, with your head on his chest, moon spilling into the room as he mulls over the thought of you.

how he likes how warm you are, how he likes sharing this space with you. that he’s glad he’s found you, grateful that you exist within the same time line as him.

your silly little stories of a wonderful sweet sort of love filling his own mind— because maybe you really were crafted for one another. and even if he forgets three simple words, the both of you know love lives within the sphere of your existence.

because maybe that’s what the both of you are when you’re together. maybe even in those moments you’re apart. perhaps you’re the epitome of the word love and that’s why all the silent ‘i love yous’ equal more than words ever will

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts non idol au

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nxuvillette · 4 months

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“BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE!”

SPENDING CHRISTMAS W/ TR MEN

synopsis: spending the holidays with your boyfriend is like a dream come true.

❥- including : baji keisuke, kazutora hanemiya, chifuyu matsuno

❥- note : decided to write something sweet for christmas coming up !! also new theme.. so new post colors :> ! i hope you guys enjoy, reblogs are appreciated <;3.

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, fluff, christmas activities, mentions of food (baji + chifuyu), use of pet names (babe , baby , princess), tooth rotting fluff.

♡ BAJI KEISUKE

you were honestly super excited that baji suggested building gingerbread houses together for christmas. you had seen many couples partake in the activity and now that you were in a relationship, you wanted to try it out.

baji came over with all of the supplies you needed. he even suggested that you two make little gingerbread men to live in your little houses together. he honestly thought it was super fun decorating their faces with different gumdrops and drawing on their smiles with delicious frosting. it was fun. both of you were having such a fun time doing it that you made multiple gingerbread men and you had even made them girlfriends to have. baji thought it was a cute addition.

it was all fun and games until you and baji got to the house making part.

neither of you expected it to be so complicated and so.. messy. there was frosting all over your fingers and the parts of the houses kept collapsing or caving in whenever you moved your fingers away. there were a few times that he thought it would stick together, but in the end, he was met with the same fate of the pieces falling apart and onto the placemat on the table.

although it wasn’t you thought it would be, you two were still having fun. you would both laugh whenever a piece of the houses would rip over or when the pieces of candy wouldn’t stick long enough. it was hilarious to both of you, so that’s why you continued trying to perfect the houses. baji kept making the same comment that the gingerbread men can’t be homeless and even if the house was falling apart they needed a roof over their heads. you had to agree with him on that.

after almost two hours of working, you both got your houses into decent condition. it was messy and didn’t look anything like the picture on the box, but you still had so much fun regardless. you two were honestly proud that you didn’t give up halfway through and throw them away.

“well, we did our best!” baji exclaimed, popping one of the many gumdrops into his mouth.

you couldn’t help but laugh at how they looked, but what he said was true. “i agree!” you then came over beside him to take a photo of the houses.

baji snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. he dragged his thumb along the corner of your lip to wipe off the excess frosting. “had a little somethin’ there..” he smiled, pressing a soft kiss onto you.

you couldn’t hide your grin, brushing your fingers through his hair. he honestly loved when you did that. your fingers always felt so nice threaded through his locks, brushing against his scalp. he could fall asleep like that if he wanted to. “i love you..” you whispered, looking into his chocolate brown eyes.

he squeezed your body against him, bringing you closer. “i love you more, baby, don’t you forget that.” he intertwined his fingers with yours, spreading his warmth onto your hand.

♡ KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

it was actually your idea to go out and see christmas lights with kazutora. there was a festival that was planning a lighting ceremony and you decided to go with him. both of you were really excited, considering it was your first christmas together as a couple.

you bundled up in your winter clothes. it was going to be a chilly night, but neither of you minded the cold if it meant you got to be together when you saw the lights. it wasn’t a far drive at all and there were a lot of people who were waiting to see the christmas tree shine. the sheer winter wind nipped at your exposed skin, which brought you closer to your boyfriend. kazutora had a tight hold on your body, making sure that you weren’t shivering. he’d hate to see you feeling any kind of cold.

soon enough, the tree was lit. multicolored lights were laced around the trees branches, making them twinkle in your eyes. kazutora couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you gleaming like a small child at the pretty tree. you looked so cute. he just couldn’t help but admire you in the glow of the lights.

you then walked along the sidewalks, pointing at the different trees and bushes that had lights strung along their leaves. you and kazutora had even taken a few photos along the way. he loved nothing more than to spend time with you, even if that meant his toes were numb. you never failed to make him happy and that’s why spending holidays with you felt so special. you made them just a little more exciting than it usually would be.

kazutora held your hand as you both viewed the different houses in the neighborhood. some people had decorated their houses beautifully. “baby, look! that snowman is adorable!” you pointed at the glowing decor with a smile on your face.

he chuckled when his eyes focused on it. he had an image flow into his head. it was of you and him together in the future when you had your own house together. you’d be decorating the front yard with too many lights to count and you would have the brightest house on the block. he could never say no to you.

“looks cute, princess, just like you.” he kissed your cheek, making your face turn warm from the sudden contact.

you shivered at the sudden gust of wind that danced through the air. the temperature had dropped even lower than it had originally started at during the beginning of the evening. “i don’t mean to c-cut it short but can we go home? i-i’m freezing!” you looked at your boyfriend apologetically.

kazutora draped his arm around your shoulder, pecking your lips in the process. “of course, babe. maybe we can make some hot chocolate when we get home, yeah?” he nodded, to which you agreed eagerly.

♡ CHIFUYU MATSUNO

you were excited that evening to spend time with your boyfriend for a little christmas date. he had been talking about it for weeks. chifuyu planned every little thing and he was so ecstatic to have you come over and be with him. he had even gotten you both matching pajamas to snuggle up in.

when you arrived, you were hit with the aroma of food and you saw what your boyfriend had done for you.

chifuyu had bought an abundance of snacks and drinks for you two. he had quite literally gone all out for you and it made you so happy. there hadn’t been a single man in your life that would do something like that for you. it honestly made you fall for chifuyu even harder than you already had before. he had this smile on his face and he looked so handsome in his pajamas.. even if there was a snowman on the shirt.

the two of you cuddled up on the couch with many blankets and watched classic christmas movies together. the food he brought was honestly great too. pizza, cookies, candy canes, he had even made hot chocolate with those extra large marshmallows that could hardly fit in the mug. it was absolutely perfect.

with the food and how late it was, you found yourself becoming sleepy. you had quite the busy day and relaxing with chifuyu was only making you want to drift off and sleep for as long as you could. he could sense by your hums and droopy eyes that you were indeed exhausted, so he decided to take you upstairs to his room so you could both retire for the evening in there.

“tired, huh?” chifuyu asked, lying down beside you in bed.

you had your eyes closed, but you nodded in response. “yeah.. i was so busy today..” you scooched closer to your boyfriend to feel his arms wrap around your body.

he pecked the top of your head, tucking you underneath his chin so you were resting against his chest. he smiled to himself at your sleepy form. you were so cute. there were so many reasons for him to love you, and this was just one of them. “goodnight, baby.. i love you.” he rested his chin atop the crown of your head.

a light snore came from your lips, making him laugh through his nose. he couldn’t imagine spending christmas with anyone else but you by his side.

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work !#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x you #baji keisuke x reader #baji x reader #baji fluff #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora fluff #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu fluff

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fshigur0 · 6 months

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heartburn — suguru geto x fem!reader

synopsis: suguru geto has left, that happened many years ago. but when all of a sudden he texts you back, hinting to an urgent matter you have to discuss, you accept out of curiosity. but we all know the story of how curiosity killed the cat.

warnings: MDNI! basically smut with a bit of plot, angst in the beginning, mentions of death, suguru is sadistic, praise kink, begging kink, use of pet names (such as love, dove, sweetheart, princess, etc.), manipulation, unprotected sex, teasing, vaginal penetration, slapping, creampie, dirty talk, suguru is just cruel, angst at the end. it might have left space for a part two? who knows

a/n: this is a repost! hope u like it hehe <3<3

The sheer lightness of being was something extremely unfamiliar for a sorcerer. Your existence was inexorably intertwined with a fate that was, to say the least, cruel, and at the mere age of sixteen — in the very spring of one’s life, it all felt excessively tragic.

You couldn’t really retrace the rapidity of how it happened, but although death should have been a gradual concept to learn for a group of teenagers, it loomed over you; watching from afar like a predator does with its prey, and when you least expected it, it would engulf you like a cruel serpent, completely stealing your breath away.

As soon as the spring of your youth was abruptly shattered – reduced to ashes by an uncontrollable fire – you realized you had lost Suguru as well.

Perhaps out of denial or maybe as a form of protection, you had always told yourself that noticing the pain Suguru was going through had been impossible: after all, you were suffering too. In fact, everyone was suffering, but none of you shared the experience of pain with each other.

You suffered in silence in the darkness of your rooms, in the emptiness of a classroom, but you couldn’t show weakness for fear of weakening each other as a result. Yet, you realized – now almost ten years since the events that had mercilessly changed your life – that all that “care” would amount to nothing. You and Suguru had already lost from the start. When he had decided to leave your life completely, he himself had said that ’it was going to happen anyway, eventually’.

It was at that particular moment that you focused on the details of his face: purplish dark circles dominated the lower part of his eyes, which you had always admired before as they were brimming with love, now devoid of any emotion.

You loved him and, truly, you had loved him ever since you sat next to him in class. His stature and expression might have seemed intimidating to everyone, but having him beside you conveyed a sense of… safety; the first time he cracked a small, soft smile at you, your cheeks ignited and your heart drummed in your chest so hard you feared it might burst from your ribcage. Suguru was kind, and always addressed you in a low but delicate tone, as if he feared that raising it even a little would shatter you.

Sure, you had fallen in love, but Suguru had fallen harder. He loved the way your eyes would slowly trace the pages of your favourite book, their intense colour lit by a ray of nomadic sunshine. He loved the tenderness of your fingertips on his scalp and the way you could send shivers down his spine just by running your hand through his hair. He loved the way your voice syllabled his name, it was pure music to his ears. Suguru loved you, but you both knew it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, because the world he so yearned to create was much more valuable than you.

The stabs that his words had inflicted soon gave way to a disturbing sense of guilt: if you had realised this earlier, could you have changed the course of the story? Could you have prevented his transformation into a mass murderer? Could you have saved the Suguru Geto you knew? The questions plagued your mind, never to be answered.

And just as the first love of your youth walked out of your life, his silhouette growing smaller, that sense of guilt which tormented you morphed into disgust. Spring had come to an end, making way for a long winter.

〔From Suguru Geto〕 : there are some urgent matters we have to discuss. i’ll come to your place.

He’s sitting on your couch, manspreading. His arms crossed over his chest and his head slightly tilted back, eyes firmly glued on you; his gaze is unbearable, and that mocking grin on his face does not help your cause.

You want to punch him so badly, to scream and yell at him, to ask him why on earth he has decided walk back into your life after so long: but it was you who had allowed him to do it, who had opened the front door for him despite your hands shaking — your mind trying in vain to stop you, to warn you that what you were about to do was morally wrong.

Surely, you won’t be able to look the others in the face any more, not after you have welcomed a criminal into your home, a murderer whom everyone wants dead.

“So, cat’s got ya tongue?”

You take in the last drag of your cigarette, now consumed, savoring the remnants of nicotine tingling your brain. You want to snap back at him for asking such a dumb question, what are you supposed to say? Welcome him back like nothing happened? Throw a party?

“I have nothing to tell you, Suguru. Rather, it was you who texted me out of nowhere,” You acknowledge that you have raised your voice slightly, as if just hearing him speak irritates you to your core, “So speak.”

“Mhmh, you really haven’t changed much, have ya?” His smirk only grows bigger, like he is getting amused at that sight of you. “You still get heated up pretty quickly, I see.”

You scoff, an expression of sheer disbelief on your face. “Seriously, Suguru?” It hadn’t even been ten minutes and he was already taunting you; you hated him, hated that he was treating you like that after breaking your heart, hated that he was breaking it once more right after you had managed to glue the pieces back together. “Listen here, Geto,” and he raises an eyebrow, the smirk slowly vanishing, as if your use of his surname had wounded his pride, “What on earth do you want from me? You don’t show up for years and now you’re here, acting like nothing’s wrong and, and…”

“… And that hurts your feelings, love?”

A stab in the chest would have hurt less, you think. But right now all the suffering you’ve gone through erupts into an anger that blinds you. “You better not fuck with me or I’ll make you regret coming here.”

Silence suddenly drops in your living room, and for a moment the black-haired man remains stunned, blinking. Then, much to your surprise, he starts laughing: it’s that kind of laugh that pierces right through you and rumbles in your chest. However, you don’t understand why a part of you doesn’t mind.

You sit still, unable to utter a single word, an overwhelming feeling of shame washing over you.

You are currently sitting on two different sides of the room, however you now realise that you are actually extremely close. He shakes his head and leans forward slightly until one of his hands rests on your knee. The cool skin of his palm makes direct contact with yours. You quiver. Dammit, you think, did I really have to wear shorts today?

“Oh my, who thought you threatening me would be so cute?”

“Cut it out, Suguru, or else-”

“Or what, sweetheart? Will you snap my neck?” Suguru grabs your wrist, completely disregarding the strenght he does that with, and brings your hand to his neck, wrapping your palm around it. He applies some pressure, and it looks like he’s enjoying that.

“Or will you pierce my chest?” He then leads your hand to his chest, pushing it right over his heart, so hard that you feel his heartbeat vibrate on your skin. “Scream at me that I’m a jerk, that you have every reason to hate me — because you fucking do, Y/N.”

He pulls you in, so close the points of your noses are almost touching, and you feel his minty breath on your face. You should push him away, you really should, but you don’t want to.

“I really do.” You’re barely able to breathe out, lips chapped up.

You are essentially sitting on his lap, Suguru’s hand finding a way to the back of your thigh, squeezing your flesh. You let out a surprised squeal, and he knows he has you wrapped around his finger.

“I can see that” He responds, deep-brown eyes locked on you. “My sweet, sweet, little dove.”

Before you know it, Suguru closes the gap between the two of you, mouths clasping together. The kiss you share isn’t in any way chaste, and it doesn’t take long for you to start feeling breathless.

His hand caresses the abused spot he has just grasped, before cupping the curve of your ass, boldly ignoring the pink fabric of your shorts. The action makes your cunt throb, and you feel ashamed that not wearing a bra underneath your shirt had caused your hardened nipples to be so exposed.

“Suguru, please…” You beg, yet at this point you’re not sure what you’re begging for.

“Mhmh, I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart. Can you repeat that for me?”

You know this has to stop, you are perfectly aware of that and the situation on its own is seriously unbelievable. Have you lost your mind? You have to tell him before it’s too late, you have to…

Smack.

The impact of his palm on your butt is sudden, but it takes your breath away for a second. Your mouth slightly parts, yet there is no sound coming out of it. You’re taken aback.

“I think I asked you to repeat yourself, haven’t I?”

He sticks his tongue out, tracing a vertical line along your neck, viciously nibbling on your sensitive skin as his hand rubs circles on your aching butt. His teeth then reach your earlobe, sending inebriating vibrations throughout your core.

You hesitate, and he slaps you again, this time it stings so much you bury your face into the crook of his neck. You bite the bottom of your lip, exhaling.

“P-Please, Suguru…” Stop it, let go of me, “Please, fuck me.”

He chuckles, and gently grabs you by the back of your neck, only to connect your mouths again. “You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs in a husky voice before sucking on your lower lip, releasing it with a light pop, “I missed you so fuckin’ much.”

As he pulls away, a thin thread of saliva separates you. Suguru’s hands grab the hems of your Kuromi shirt, uncovering your breasts, and he wastes no time as he starts sucking on the hardened buds.

“S-Suguru, mhhh…”

Your hands firmly grip his shoulders, head tilted back in pure bliss. You are drenched, and Suguru is quick to notice that: with a swift movement - which produces yet another squeal from you - he has you laying down, back against the soft cushions of the sofa.

You feel extremely defenseless as he positions himself above you, arms secured at the sides of your waist. You take a moment to admire how his long hair gracefully drops down, perfectly framing his face.

“I forgot how pretty you looked underneath me.”

He hums, and this has you clench your thighs together, yearning for some so much needed friction. Suguru then leans forward and places a soft kiss to your temple, and at the same time, his hands roughly grasp your legs to separate them exposing your drenched shorts.

“Would you look at that, already so wet for me, aren’t ya.”

You glance away for a mere second, your eyes scanning your surroundings just not to look at him. However, before you can tilt your head back in place, his mouth is on your clothed pussy: the warmth of his breath makes you throb in anticipation, as he taunts you, sucking on the fabric of your pyjamas.

Suguru adores the way you whimper, hips moving relentlessly as you attempt to grind against his mouth — needing more than what he is giving you. Yet, seeing you struggle for his attention makes his cock twitch. He pulls down your shorts, playing a little with your lace panties before leaving you completely naked.

“You’re so wet, princess, so fucking needy. You want my cock so bad?”

You let out a loud moan as he slides his fingers through your slick, coating them in your sweet juices. You don’t respond, and that seems to displease him, because he suddenly stops.

You’re about to protest when a stinging pain vibrates throughout your cunt, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your first instinct is to close your legs. But Suguru slaps you across your pussy again, a stern look on his face, eyes entirely darkened.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes!” You whimper, the pain fading away all too quickly.

“Yes, what, mh?”

“Yes, yes I want your cock- please…”

“What do you want, again?”

He was tormenting you, knowing to be the only one in control of the situation. But you were a mess already, and you really wanted him, no, you needed him.

You stretched out your arm, hand groping his bulge making Suguru inhale through gritted teeth.

“I-I want your cock to fill me up, Suguru.”

Normally, you would wish you could wipe off the grin that had formed on his face. Yet, as he starts rubbing his tip against your folds, you forget about all that. Your ankles are positioned on his shoulders and his hands grasp your waist tightly, probably leaving marks as a result. He then pushes you into him without any warning, leaving you breathless, and speechless once more.

“F-Fuck, Y/N, you feel so fucking amazing, princess.” He grunts, taking a moment to feel your plush walls embrace his cock perfectly. “Haven’t felt this perfect pussy in a while.”

“S-Sugu…-”

His thrusts are rough, hips relentless as he fucks deep into you, your walls clenching at his words. It feels so fucking good, and it doesn’t take long before you’re a babbling mess, moaning his name and earning even more mean thrusts from him.

It makes no sense, you should hate him. You should hate the man who abandoned you, who turned his back on you when…

Suguru squeezes your cheeks together, forcing you to look directly at him, eyes locked with his. “Don’t think, you always think too much, pretty,” He then bends your knees with both his arms, literally squeezing you against the couch and his body, angling his cock so deeply that your eyes roll back.

“Look at that, I’m fucking you dumb. You’re such a good girl letting me fuck you dumb like this, huh? I bet you touched yourself thinkin’ about- mmh, fuck!- about me all these years.”

You try your best to nod, incoherent words leaving your lips as your eyes start getting glossy. The lewd squelching sounds his cock makes as he goes in and out of your pussy combined with your sweet mewls are driving Suguru crazy.

He slows down watching the creamy ring formed around his cock, a mixture of his pre-cum and your delicious juices. Then he lifts his gaze to look at you: tongue slightly stuck out, saliva on your chin, tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

“Aren’t you precious? Mhh- fuck, baby, I think I’m close.”

Your walls clench once again as he begins stretching you out once more, steady thrusts slapping against your cunt. The stimulation the friction gives you, and his cock constantly hitting the spot you love most is enough to make you arch your back, shock waves of pure bliss and pleasure making you scream his name.

“Sugu- Suguru… mhhh'love this, love you so much-”

Suguru can’t take it anymore, the sight of you being subdued by him, your body melting into his own as his pace slows down, but the thrusts get harder. Only you can look so heavenly underneath him, and only he can manipulate you however he wants.

He finally reaches his high, throwing his head back as he fills you up with his warm seed, making you reach your second orgasm. His breath is hitched as he pulls out of you, his cum leaking out of your over-stimulated pussy. Your forehead is sweaty, and some strands of hair are attached to it, yet you don’t seem to care.

There are no other words exchanged between the two of you, and the silence yet again fills up the room. Your eyes are fixated on the ceiling, and although you can’t see him, you hear him standing up.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah,” he responds without a hint of hesitation in his voice, the tiniest inclination of sympathy, “I have to.”

“So you got what you wanted.” You try your best not to sound hurt, but you can’t hide the piercing pain in your chest. “Is this why you came here, just because you wanted someone to fuck? Was that the urgent matter to discuss?”

A low chuckle, that’s when you sit up on the couch. He’s looking directly at you, the glimpse of a smile you once loved depicted on his lips.

“Not just someone, Y/N.” He corrects you, but it doesn’t make it any better. No, in fact, it hurts even more.

“I didn’t mean it,” you utter, voice only a whisper as you ponder whether it’s worth it or not, to hurt him like he hurts you. “I didn’t mean it when I said that I love you.”

Checkmate, you think. Only, it is not pain that you see morphing on Suguru’s face once your gaze focuses on him again. In return, you receive nothing: his gaze seems to be devoid of all emotion, and that only magnifies the void formed in your chest.

“I can see that.” You look down, fully aware that you have just made a very dangerous mistake. You swallow the knot that has formed in your throat.

“But you see, Y/N, the big difference between you and me…” Suguru crouches down, lifting your chin with his index finger, lips a breath away from yours. “It’s that I don’t care.”

And with that he is gone, once again casting the enormous weight of his absence on your shoulders.

©fshigur0

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jungkookschin · 2 months

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demigod trials: fates intertwined

synopsis: you met jungkook at camp half-blood when you were 10 years old. since then, your fates have been infinitely intertwined.

word count: 20k

pairing: son of ares!jungkook x daughter of hephaestus!reader

genre: camp half blood au, percy jackson au, demigod au, childhood friends to lovers, exes to lovers , enemies to lovers, jungkook is sooo in love, jungkook is emotionally constipated, THEY FALL INTO TARTARUS TOGETHERR, jk and y/n are supposed to be reminiscent of percabeth, y/n can wield fire 😳 , ANGSTYY, taehyung as a son of poseidon, namjoon son of athena, mingyu son of jupiter, mina daughter of venus,

warnings: death, angst, blood, kinda gruesome, SMUT (not explicit at all- it's told more in a poetic way), v card loss, many percy jackson references, character death (she comes back to life)

author's note

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 3.5 | chapter four

“Missed me, inferno princess?”

Jungkook stands in the entranceway of your hotel room, soft strands of fringe falling into his piercing brown eyes like the delicate curtains of a war chariot. He stares at you smugly, the most classic Jungkook smile etched across his lips.

Jungkook is a demigod, meaning that one of his parents is a Greek god while the other is a mortal. In Jungkook’s case, his celestial father is Ares, the god of war- also associated with brutality and chaos.

Those vaguely familiar with Jungkook would argue that he is the poster child for everything his father represents:

A ruthless warrior on the battlefield, his every step echoes the thunderous march of Ares, causing monsters and enemies alike to flee like waves of the Red Sea. Thick and muscular biceps you can’t even wrap both hands around, a sleeve of tattoos running around the circumference of his arm, and natural affinity to any weapon- effortless wielding a spatha, spear, javelin, or knife with precision and ease.

Jungkook also rides a Harley-Davidson motorcycle and has had the occasional fling with a daughter of Aphrodite- all echoing behaviors of his father.

You beg to differ.

To you, Jungkook is love. Jungkook is your spring solace after a grueling winter, Jungkook churns the gears in your brain and heart that stop functioning. Jungkook is your serenity after war- countless wars by which you both narrowly escaped the clutches of death.

His presence fills your heart with the warmest, most nostalgic sensation. Endorphins fill the hotel hallway, and suddenly you’re 14, savoring the fragrance of strawberry fields with Jungkook’s large hands on your waist as you soar on a pegasus over the harbor of Long Island.

You met Jungkook at Camp Half-Blood when you were ten years old. After your fifth grade volleyball coach turned into a giant cyclops and tried to eat you, you found yourself at Camp Half-Blood, a summer camp for children of Greek gods and goddesses.

Nestled within Camp Half-Blood's grounds are the children of around 20 Greek gods, including the 12 Olympians and various minor deities. The enchanting aroma of strawberry fields wafts through the entire camp. As you explore, you'll find an amphitheater, Pegasus stables, a sword-fighting arena, and even magical cups and plates that intuitively read your mind, materializing the food of your desires. Don't forget the ever-so thrilling challenge of scaling the lava wall, which almost killed you, like, ten times.

It took you a while to adjust to the bustling life in Camp Half-Blood.

Despite being a volleyball player, your athleticism waned in comparison to the other demigods. You sucked at archery, struggled with sparring, and could barely stand under the weight of armor.

However, you quickly discovered that you excelled in the forge.

Before Hephaestus even claimed you as his, you spent hours cooped up in the forge, constructing jewelry, engineering random gadgets and gizmos, and printing 3-D sculptures of your favorite anime characters.

One day, when you were scaling up the climbing/lava wall, your left foot slipped from one of the ledges and a wave of lava washed over you. Gasps ripple through the crowd of demigods, and you swore you heard the Hades kids sigh because they had the unfortunate obligation of preparing burials for campers.

Once the wave washed over, absolutely nothing happened. You were still hanging onto the climbing wall with both hands, and your feet found solace back on the stone ledges.

You heard more gasps, and everybody began pointing at something above your head. When you looked up you saw a red fiery hammer, the symbol of Hephaestus, the god of metalworking, volcanoes, and fire.

Jungkook was only ten years old, but his voice resonated louder than anybody else’s.

“By the blade of Ares,” Jungkook muttered, an awestruck look morphing into an amused grin gracing his lips, “our little warrior is Hephaestus’s kid!”

Before inferno princess, he coined the nickname little warrior when you failed to even lift a Celestial Bronze sword. At ten years old, Jungkook always teased you and found the best ways to get under your skin.

You have a stupid theory that you’re genetically inclined to dislike Jungkook. After all, his father was one half of a millenia long affair with Hephaestus’s wife and your stepmom (?) Aphrodite.

Jungkook, on the other hand, might actually be genetically predisposed to picking on you for how easily his dad bitched yours.

Anyways, what made you even more special was that you wielded the ability to control fire.

The last child of Hephaestus who had the ability to do so died in the 1700s, meaning that you were a prodigy, an anomaly. You immediately met with the camp director Chiron to discuss your special abilities, placing you in elite training classes with none other than the Ares cabin and your favorite person Jungkook.

The head counselor in the Hephaestus cabin, Atticus Gonzales (he is dead now), personally trained you in the forge, instructing you to engineer and construct contraptions that were lightyears above the proficiency of a ten-year-old.

One morning, as you get out of bed, you spot a toolbelt resting on your bedside.

From H

A gift from your father.

Ten year old you marveled at the toolbelt before wrapping it around your waist. You quickly discovered its celestial magic, capable of summoning any tool you desired or envisioned. However, it had its constraints. It couldn't magically produce enchanted weapons; its abilities were limited to mortal tools like screwdrivers and mallets.

Your first task was to forge a Celestial Bronze knife for none other than the boy who miffed you like no other, Jungkook.

Celestial bronze is a special metal forged on Mount Olympus, the home of the gods. According to Greek mythology, it is the one of the only metals that is capable of vanquishing monsters, meaning that demigods would have to wield Celestial Bronze weapons.

As a ten year old, forging a Celestial Bronze knife was not an easy feat, and it was even more painful with a ten year old Jungkook over your shoulder the entire time. You wanted to strangle him the entire time.

You first had to invoke the blessing of Hephaestus, offering a sacrifice to your father to guide you through the forging process. Getting Jungkook to just sit still was a quest on its own; he wouldn’t stop bouncing around the forge and you were horrified that he would knock something over or set the place on fire.

Next, you had to heat and melt the celestial bronze, a task you were instructed to complete with your own fire.

Though it was established that you wielded flame manipulation, it was difficult to spark your own flame without the assistance of gas or a lighter. You must have sat in the forge for an entire day, grunting and groaning as you willed yourself to spark a flame from your fingers.

Jungkook was absolutely no help at all. He was the least encouraging person and kept asking to place the Celestial Bronze in a preheated fire.

Eventually, you willed yourself to ignite a spark, and the fire spread over the entire sheet of metal. You and Jungkook were so thrilled that you actually hugged before staring at each other uncomfortably and backing away.

Next, you shaped and formed the blade in accordance with Jungkook's wishes, which wasn’t so easy because he kept changing his mind about the shape of the blade. Afterwards, you quenched the blade in water before enchanting the knife with a protective spell.

15 years later, three wars, countless battles, a plethora of dead monsters, and yours and Jungkook’s lives are still forever intertwined.

You and Jungkook are 25, and you have been to hell and back together, literally.

The answer is yes. You did miss Jungkook and your face dissolves with utter relief as you run into his arms and melt into the safety of his embrace.

You hadn’t seen Jungkook in an entire year. Last year, your father Hephaestus asked if you wanted to spend a year with him in the forge of Mount Olympus, working on a top secret engineering project.

You had just returned, requesting that your father open a direct portal to Camp Jupiter, the camp for Roman demigods.

Camp Jupiter stands as a training ground for Roman demigods on the West Coast, offering a structured and disciplined environment akin to the Roman legions. Adjacent to this formidable camp, New Rome emerges as a concealed city, a testament to ancient Roman architecture combined with modern amenities.

Camp Jupiter differs from Camp Half-Blood because New Rome is a fully operational city where former members of the Roman legion, upon completing their service, could choose to reside. Graduated members of the Roman legion had the options of going to university, building a family, and seeking employment within the city, which also provided a barrier against Roman monsters.

Currently, you and Jungkook are in Camp Jupiter for a special gathering with fellow demigods in your generation and the Praetors of the Roman Legion. The Praetors Mina and Mingyu are essentially the commanders of the Roman army, overseeing operations and making crucial decisions for the camp's well-being.

Yours and Jungkook’s generation of demigods is deemed particularly special because yours is the first generation of demigods to live beyond your teens. Typically, demigods were monster bait and were either eaten or murdered before they reached their 20’s.

Yours and Jungkook’s generation changed the tide, with almost 100 demigods reaching their mid 20’s, dubbing this the beginning of the Golden Era of the Demigods.

For you and your friends to be called to a meeting with the Praetors- it concerned you slightly. But after all you had been through, nothing seemed to scare you. Instead, all you’re thinking about is how much you missed Jeon Jungkook.

You haven’t seen Jungkook in a year, and you take a moment to relish the man who’s been to Tartarus and back with you.

Jungkook’s in ripped jeans, combat boots, and a seemingly brand new orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. He looks the same, except a little leaner, and maybe a little taller.

“Missed you a lot, Jungkook the Relentless,” you muse in return.

Jungkook’s features crumble in disgust, before he, in his dramatic nature, theatrically flicks his head back, soft and wispy strands falling back onto his head to reveal his handsome forehead.

“Inferno princess is cute,” he claims, a grin peeking from the frown he just could never maintain around you, “Whatever you said,” he pauses, “It lacks creativity, it’s not clever, it’s not smart. I give it an F.”

You scoff amusedly, nudging his chest with your left shoulder before marching past him.

“Whatever, stupid.”

“Wait up, inferno princess,” he calls from behind, speedily catching up in a single stride, “Why didn’t you answer any of my Iris messages? Didn’t miss me at all over the past year?”

You shrug, pressing the down button on the elevator as you and Jungkook step in. “My dad probably blocked you from calling. You know how he feels about you.”

Muzak fills the elevator, and Jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Just say you didn’t want to see me, inferno princess. Hephaestus loves me, personally thanked me for keeping you safe all these years.”

The noise that leaves your mouth falls in between a scoff and a gag. “You? Kept me safe? You would’ve been dead in seventh grade if it weren’t for me,” you tease.

“Gotta give it to you there, inferno princess. This knife has killed more monsters than you’ve ever seen in your life,” he teases, unsheathing the Celestial Bronze knife you forged for him when you were ten years old. He always keeps it on him, and it makes you happy because it means he still cares

You lean against the elevator railing and raise a brow at him. “Is that so?”

He smiles smugly at you, the same stupid Jungkook smile that never changed after all these years. “It definitely is so.”

He smiles at you, toying with his lip as his eyes shamelessly glaze over you. His features fall into a pout. He opens his arms again, and you waddle over for another hug. “Gods inferno princess, I missed you,” he whispers,” You ignored me for a year-”

The elevator door swings open, and you’re greeted by a greatly amused Namjoon and Taehyung.

Taehyung whistles. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

You gently shove Jungkook away with your forearm and greet Taehyung and Namjoon with a huge hug, each arm encircling one of their necks.

Just as it’s been a year since you’ve seen Jungkook, it’s also been a year since you’ve seen Taehyung and Namjoon. You met Taehyung, son of Poseidon, when you were 12 years old and he stumbled into Camp Half-Blood after single handedly bringing down the Minotaur.

Namjoon, son of Athena, came to Camp Half-Blood a couple years after Jungkook. After devising the strategy to defeat Kronos in the Battle of Manhattan, he was given the honor of redesigning Mount Olympus in accordance to his architectural preferences.

Being in Olympus for a year, you really were able to relish in Namjoon’s creations. The Greek-style temples maintained their traditional charm with innovative twists. You had the opportunity to walk through the most beautiful of gardens, special flowers bred by Namjoon specifically for Mount Olympus.

You’ve known them for so long that they’re practically your brothers. Both are wearing Camp Half-Blood shirts- Namjoon’s is a little tight and tattered so you reckon it’s the same shirt he adorned in high school.

Everyone’s back together. A warm wave of nostalgia washes over you, and you feel at home.

“So little Ms. Olympus is finally back to the mortal world?” Taehyung teases, meandering around playfully as he lazily swings an arm around your shoulder.

“Oh? What about Mr. Olympus over here? I ran into him all the time up there,” you gesticulate towards Namjoon who scoffs playfully and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You worked with Namjoon occasionally on Mount Olympus to construct his architectural plans for the godly city, so it hadn’t been that long since you’ve run into him.

“Didn’t get the chance to live there like you did. Gods, was I envious of you when I heard you were moving! The gods all know I would be the better option.”

You shoot Namjoon a theatrically annoyed glance, rolling your eyes the same way Jungkook does.

“I’m kidding,” Namjoon asserts, “I’m infinitely proud of you and all your accomplishments.”

You smile, pressing the friendliest of kisses on Namjoon’s cheeks. “Thanks Joon, love you the most.”

“Yea, well,” Taehyung begins, “You’re bearing witness to the only demigod to ever take up residence in Tartarus and Mount Olympus, so you better put some respect on her name.”

You grin, rolling your eyes as you press another kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Tae.”

You momentarily pause, shifting your gaze from Namjoon and Taehyung to Jungkook. “What? You guys aren’t gonna say hi to him?”

Taehyung makes a psh sound with his lips, “I see this guy everyday.” He skips over to Jungkook, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You want a kiss too?” Taehyung teases, about to press a kiss to his cheeks to which Jungkook pushes Taehyung away with his infinite strength.“Gross, dude.”

Taehyung smiles, his combat boots skipping against the gravel of New Rome. “Gods, I feel like we’re 17 again- discovering all this Camp Jupiter shit, meeting the Romans- doesn’t it all bring you nostalgia?” Taehyung continues, carelessly skipping through the gravel with you.

“Remember when we were 14?” you add, “And you, me, and Joon had to go through that Labyrinth?” you recall, chills running down your spine at the very memory.

“Gods, that was the worst,” Namjoon adds, “And you broke your ankle so I had to carry you through the labyrinth? Yea, I remember that.”

“Hey, at least, you got the laptop of Daedalus,” you add, “I mean, that thing even had an international credit card programmed onto it, and gods remember the fake ID’s? We got so drunk on your 18th birthday- the party ponies came and everything. That was ridiculous.”

Jungkook cheekily smiles at the memory, and Taehyung detects it immediately. “What, Jeon? Smiling because you remember how shitfaced you were? You could’ve gotten a DUI on a pegasus if it weren’t for me.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile, “Gods Taehyung, you’re dumb.”

Taehyung shrugs, “But I’m your favorite.”

Reunited with your friends, you’re home.

Over the years, you’ve observed the multifaceted aspects of Jungkook’s character.

There were special occasions by which he became rigidly serious- his pupils morphing into flames, a feature he clearly adopted from his father.

You witnessed this firsthand when you were 13 when you and Jungkook were on a quest now dubbed the Quest of the Eternal Night.

Los Angeles, the city of Angels home to all the glittering allure of Hollywood became shrouded in darkness. The mortals all assumed the famine was attributed to an extended solar eclipse when in reality it was the Greek monster Lamia who intended to conceal the entire world with darkness, starting with Los Angeles.

Once a beloved queen of Zeus, Lamia’s life went to shit when Hera, out of jealousy, mercilessly murdered Lamia’s children. Overwhelmed with grief, Lamia transformed into a child-devouring monster with a snake-like lower body. From the waist up, Lamia was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever encountered. Lamia resembled the little mermaid, her long orange hair reminiscent of warmth from the sun, perfectly framing her face and enhancing her mesmerizing glow.

At the time, nobody in Camp Half-Blood was aware of the true nature of the threat, just that it was most likely a monster.

Given the prevailing uncertainty, the Oracle presented herself at the daily campfire, revealing the prophecy to the entirety of Camp Half-Blood:

In shadows' grasp, the forge's child shall dance,

Beside the warrior, fire's fierce advance.

Through the endless night, a tandem in step they weave as one,

A celestial key, by blood begun.

Within shadows, echoes of a tragic tale,

Redemption blooms as darkness lifts its veil

In an instant, everyone's gaze shifted to you.

“In shadows' grasp, the forge's child shall dance,

Beside the warrior, fire's fierce advance.”

Not a single camper could contest that this was about you. Forge’s daughter, fire’s fierce advance- it dawned on you that the weight was on your shoulders, and you may be heading towards your impending doom.

A fight broke out between Jungkook, Namjoon, and Jinyoung son of Hermes over who would accompany you on the quest. Beside the warrior, fire’s fierce advance, indicating that the quest called for a warrior to your side.

Through the endless night, a tandem in step they weave as one,

What made you feel especially at unease was that the prophecy explicitly called for two demigods as opposed to three. In Greek mythology, the number three was associated with balance and completeness. Three celestial spheres governed the world- Zeus ruled the sky, Poseidon ruled the sea, and Hades presided over the underworld. There were three fates that determined the destinies of mortals and deities. The guard dog of the underworld Cerberus, had three heads.

Three was a lucky number in Greek mythology, so why did this quest call for two?

“You fucking kidding me?” Jungkook mocked, crossing his arms as he stared at Jinyoung in disdain. He pointed at Jinyoung, singling him out in front of the entire camp. “This guy is a candidate for the quest? He’s a son of Hermes. All he does is send letters and shit.”

Thirteen year old Jungkook was a menace to society.

Chiron, the camp activities director who was also a centaur (horse from the waist down and human from the waist up), cleared his throat and cast Jungkook a look that screamed boy, sit down.

Jungkook clenched his jaw, acquiescing nonetheless, sitting on a log while glaring bitterly into the campfire.

The night sky stretched above, adorned with a myriad of constellations depicting Greek heroes such as Hercules, Perseus, and Achilles. It was like the stars were mocking him, casting doubt that he would be selected for this quest.

But he had to be chosen. He was positive he was the only demigod equipped with the skills to keep you safe on your quest. Jinyoung and Namjoon didn’t hold a candle to him.

The prophecy called for a warrior, and he was a warrior. He was the most talented offspring of his father, the literal god of warriors. It had to be him.

Namjoon pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “With all due respect,” he begins, “We’re not going to send Jungkook’s dumbass on a quest alone with Y/N. He’d get both of them killed with his recklessness.”

Jungkook didn’t take that well. “I won’t,” he sneers, gesticulating with his hands dramatically, “None of you guys know Y/N like I do. I’m a warrior, and I’m going to protect her.” he states matter-a-factly.

Namjoon was probably one of the only demigods unphased by Jungkook’s abrasion.

“Jeon, you might be a warrior, but there’s absolutely nothing in that head of yours. Sure, the prophecy calls for a warrior, but not a complete imbecile like you,” Namjoon spits, rising to his feet. “This quest needs someone with the capacity for strategic warfare, which my mother is the goddess of,” he declares, “The city is covered in darkness, so we’ll have to move around strategically. Your dumbass would walk straight to the enemy.”

Jungkook stands at that, immediately squaring Namjoon up, hardened pupils daring Namjoon to back up his words with action.

“He’s right, Jungkook,” Jinyoung adds, “You want to go on the quest because you want to protect Y/N. I want to go on this quest because I know our assets are compatible and that we work well together.”

“Y/N and I have the best chemistry out of everyone in the camp.” A bold claim by Jungkook, eliciting a few gasps from the gallery, and you tilt your head because you don’t believe that to necessarily be true.

Jinyoung stands, “You know what Jeon? You think you’re the shit because your dad’s the god of war. Even as a Hermes kid, I guarantee I can beat you in sword to sword combat,” Jinyoung unsheathes his Celestial Bronze sword, and Jungkook’s pupils glitter against its shine.

“Winner goes on the quest,” Jungkook obliges, unsheathing his own Celestial Bronze sword, a wave of conviction clouding his aura.

Chiron stomps his hooves on the terrain, demanding the attention of the camp.

“That’s enough,” he declares sternly, “There will be no fighting. It will be Y/N’s choice. She gets to choose.”

All eyes drift towards you, putting you on the spot.

You open and close your mouth repeatedly like a dying fish, not having a single clue how to respond. You wish Chiron would decide for you. You see yourself being fine with all three candidates, but you don’t even have the courage to consider making a decision.

Jungkook cuts you off.

“I swear on the River Styx that I will complete this quest successfully, protect Y/N, and return safely.”

Jungkook’s sudden declaration elicits a collective gasp from the campers.

Swearing on the River Styx meant making a promise so serious it couldn't be broken. The River Styx was a sacred river in the Underworld, considered to be a boundary between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. Oaths sworn by the river were binding and unbreakable.

Swearing on the River Styx was incredibly wreckless of Jungkook, and he suffered severe reprimanding from Chiron for doing something so callous.

And that was basically it. Jungkook already swore on the River Styx so he had to go through with the quest. That made your choice a lot easier, since you were pretty much indifferent to choosing your partner.

Jungkook didn’t lie. He most certainly kept his binding oath.

After navigating through the mazes of Los Angeles, scaling the Hollywood sign, and coursing through the animatronics of Disneyland, you and Jungkook encountered your final foe, Lamia.

Lamia had the ability to psychologically torture her victims, eventually revealing that Jungkook was the perfect candidate for the quest because the psychological torture had no effect on him.

You liked to joke that it was because he didn’t have a brain.

Lamia cast a curse upon you, plunging you into a trance of your most haunting memories. You were transported into the scene of your mother's murder the previous year, forced to relive the moment a million times over.

The flame you sparked from your fingers as a makeshift torch immediately went out, and you were rendered a screaming crying mess as you rolled on the floor with your fingernails scraping against the pavement.

The only light you perceived was the light reflected off Jungkook’s Celestial Bronze knife, the same one you forged years before when you were ten years old.

Seeing you like that, Jungkook became so angry, his pupils exploded into flames and he immediately decapitated Lamia, returning light to sunny Los Angeles and sending Lamia into the depths of Tartarus.

When you were 19, the Earth mother Gaia, a primordial deity and the very essence of the Earth awakened from her slumber. Her goal was to overthrow the gods, wipe out humanity, and destroy Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood so that she and her offspring, the giants and monsters, would reign over the world.

Obviously, that wasn’t good so you and six other demigods ventured on a quest to the homelands Rome and Greece to incapacitate Gaia. You were responsible for engineering a flying magical warship to transport said group of seven demigods to Rome and Greece- and it was arguably the largest project you’ve ever taken on.

You still remember when the Oracle presented herself and read the prophecy aloud to the entire camp.

"In realms of ancient twilight, seven shall heed the call,

To storm or fire, the Earth shall fall.

Forge’s armor, a shield against fate,

Through the ancient homelands, they navigate.

A choice profound, in shadows deep,

To banish Gaia's wrath in fiery sweep.

In storm's embrace or fire's light,

Seven demigods shall rewrite the ancient night."

After the Oracle announced the prophecy, you felt personally victimized and were ready to throw the towel in to drown yourself in the Atlantic Ocean.

To storm or fire the Earth shall fall?

Nothing was definitive, but that basically meant a child of Zeus or Hephaestus would be designated to vanquish Gaia, and since you’re the only child of Hephaestus who can wield fire, you were left in a sheer state of terror.

Forge’s armor?

There was no doubt in your mind that it had something to do with you- and your intuition was accurate.

You would soon be embarking solo into the depths of the Hephaestion (temple of Hephaestus) to recover the armor your father forged for the Olympians in the original war against the Titans. You needed this armor to defeat Gaia’s offspring, the giants, because the armor bestowed its wearer with the divine capabilities of their demigod parent.

That was great and all, but you didn’t understand why you had to travel solo to retrieve it. You didn’t know what perils lay ahead, and to your luck, there was another prophecy- just for you. The fates consistently chose you for perilous quests- you were obviously their favorite.

"In forge's embrace, beneath Hephaestion's grace,

A child of fire seeks the lost, a sacred trace.

Through tunnels deep, where riddles guard the way,

Guardians forged in flame demand a price to pay.

The armor forged for gods, in shadows it lay.

Alone she tread, the quest's weight to bear,

A solitary journey through trials and despair."

A solitary journey through trials and despair- how exciting!

You wanted nothing more than to be with Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook, and all your friends. If you had it your way, you would bring the other six demigods with you, but the prophecy made it clear: Alone she tread, the quest’s weight to bear.

Your final moments may very well be under the ruins of the Hephaestion, and no matter how you screamed and cried, there would be nobody to save you, just miles and miles of dirt and terrain.

By this time, it had been a year since Jungkook started riding his Harley Davidson motorcycle.

The motorcycle was a gift from his father, and was presented to Jungkook in the form of a Rolex watch. With a press of a button, the watch unfurled and morphed into a sleek Harley Davidson motorcycle.

Jungkook was a talented rider, maneuvering swiftly through the hills and slopes of Athens, gripping the handles so tightly that his knuckles became white and the wounds on his hands reopened.

You clung tightly to his waist, finding solace as you rested your cheek against the back of his leather jacket, reveling in the warmth of his body while you had the chance.

You were scared out of your mind.

Jungkook evidently feels the same way, the look of apprehension on his face something you will never forget. He grimaces, utter trepidation enveloping his features as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes reflect a sense of unease. His hands, once steady, now betray a subtle tremor, and the air seems to thicken with the weight of his anxiety.

Braking abruptly at the entrance of the Hephaestion, the motorcycle veers sharply, casting dirt onto the ancient ruins. It's his way of telling Hephaestus to go fuk himself for having his nineteen-year-old daughter tread through the temple’s ruins to her potential doom. With a spiteful glare at the ruins, he mounts his vehicle and helps you off the motorcycle, watching as it folds back into a Rolex watch on his wrist.

His heart melts when he sees how glossy your eyes are. Jungkook hates the gods- nothing but deadbeat parents who fucked and reproduced like animals. He hates this stupid quest.

For a very brief moment, Jungkook dares to imagine life as a normal person. A luxury he would never experience in his life: normalcy, and he knows it’s pointless to covet for what he doesn’t have but he can’t help but desperately delude himself into thinking that he’s dropping you off at class, your first day of work, to hang out with your friends, and not on a dangerous quest.

In an alternative universe, University Y/N and Jungkook would be a campus couple. Gods, if the circumstances were different he would have confessed years ago. He just hasn’t because the very act of loving is selfish when you’re a demigod.

Jungkook can’t confess to you and then die the very next day. And assuming that you do feel the same way and choose to become his girlfriend- he just doesn’t know if he’ll randomly drop off the face of the Earth and he can’t bear to think of you just waiting for him, sobbing on your knees by the barriers of Camp Half-Blood.

Perhaps he’s projecting his deep-rooted fears onto you. If Jungkook ever gets a taste of you then loses you- he knows he would never be the same.

Gods, it’s cynical, but it’s true.

He pulls himself out of his little trance.

“Y/N.”

Jungkook looks at you, sees that you’re trembling- scared shitless.

“Take this.” He slides off wristwatch and puts it onto yours.

The gesture has you tearing up, and once a single tear falls from your lashes, Jungkook’s brows furrow thoroughly. “Y/N. You’re one of the strongest demigods I’ve ever fucking met. You’re going to make it through. You’re going to find the armor, and once you’re done, we’re going to take care of it.”

Jungkook sounds confident in his conviction, and it almost rubs off on you.

You pout. “I-I I have to fight too.”

“No. No you don’t. I’m going to fight for you. Look. If you’re not safe, take the watch off. It’ll magically appear on my wrist, so I’m going to assume that you’re not okay and go in there if it comes back to me.”

“Except you can’t do that,” Namjoon points out from above. A glorious, beautiful white pegasus lands adjacent to you, neighing and rearing on its hind legs. Its two passengers dismount the pegasus and intervene between you and Jungkook.

“You can’t interfere with the prophecy, Jungkook. That’s going to make things worse.”

Jungkook’s body uncomfortably stiffens, and his jaw clenches. “So you’re going to let Y/N in there alone? We have to do something about it.”

Taehyung sighs, joining the conversation. “Kook, if something happens, we’ll know. We’ll sense if something happens to her. You’re going to make things worse if you follow her. You can’t.”

You nod in agreement. “I’m gonna keep the watch. It’s the same thing as bringing a weapon in there. It’s fine- and who knows- I might have to ride the motorcycle over a volcano or some stupid shit like that,” you mutter, “But Jungkook, you can’t come after me. If I die, then it’ll be by the gods’ will, but I swear on the River Styx that I’l get you that armor, even if that means my life is at risk.”

Jungkook’s expression hardens at that.

“Don’t say that,” Namjoon mutters, “You’re going to jinx it.”

Taehyung sighs, pulling you in for a hug. He rests his head against your neck, and you can feel his hot breath tickling your skin. “Good luck Y/N. You got this. You’re the most capable demigod I know. You got your tool belt?” He asks, pulling away and checking your waist.

Sure enough, your tool belt was wrapped securely around your hips, just like it always was. You nod.

“Then you’re going to succeed,” Taehyung declares, “You got that thing strapped on you? Nobody can do shit to you,” his gentle smirk comforts you.

Namjoon hugs you next, pulling away to place his glasses on the bridge of your nose. Namjoon’s glasses, a gift from his mother that allows the user to see the most successful strategy for any situation.

You scowl. “Aren’t you going to need this?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I have my brain and that’s all I need. You need this.”

You smile and face Jungkook. No words could convey the emotions on his face. He approaches you and hugs you tightly, eyes squeezing shut in anxiety and anguish once you melt in his embrace. “You got this, inferno princess. Let’s give hell to those stupid giants.”

You nod at them, running off into the ruins of the temple of Hephaestus.

You face countless trials, mechanical automatrons, and fire obstacles that only you could have ever survived. And you were right- you did have to ride Jungkook’s motorcycle over a volcano. Crazy.

With the armor in your hands, you throw off the wristwatch, knowing that Jungkook would appear in minutes. Since the quest was complete, you had every right to call on your friends, and you knew they would arrive without fail.

Anyway, had you known that just beneath the thin layer of dirt lay a pit straight to Tartarus, you wouldn't have called for him. The magical warship you engineered appears above you, and Jungkook plummets onto the dirt like a meteor.

Mingyu son of Jupiter, Mina daughter of Venus, Rose daughter of Apollo, Namjoon, and Taehyung secure the armor and load it onto the ship. Its celestial glow was nearly too much for the interior of the warship to handle.

Although the armor was safely loaded onto the ship, you weren't as fortunate.

The ground underneath you cracked, and you plummeted into a pit that led straight to Tartarus, the deepest pit of the Underworld where monsters, titans, and giants are imprisoned. Jungkook almost immediately jumps in after you, prompting the others to meet you guys at the Doors of Death.

You both fell for what seemed like hours, Jungkook’s strong arms securely wrapped around you, holding you tightly. You don’t know if it was days or hours, but you plummeted for what felt like forever.

He refuses to let you go no matter how weak his arms become, and despite how fast you plummet, Jungkook tells you that it’s going to be okay every 1000 feet of your rapid descent.

The atmosphere in Tartarus is noxious, causing boils to erupt on your skin, burns to sear, and intense headaches to course through your body- even before you slam into the terrain of Tartarus.

Given that you survive falling into an infinity high pit, you and Jungkook are likely to die from the toxicity in the air.

After what feels like a millenia, you perceive the ground from thousands of feet in the air.

“Jungkook!” you scream, “Wrap your arms around my waist!”

He obliges, maneuvering your body so your back is pressed against his chest.

Then, you get the work.

Retrieving nylon fabric and sturdy rope from your toolbelt, you intertwine the rope around the fabric, fashioning the parachute's framework with the added support of metal tubing. Handing Jungkook a specially crafted two-person harness, he allows you to slip into the loops before he follows suit.

You attach the harness to the metal framework and deploy the parachute,allowing you and Jungkook to drift to the ground.

Upon landing, you stumble on your knees, hyperventilating as the adrenaline courses through your body. Jungkook joins you, also dropping to his knees as he gently cradles your face. He appears just as disoriented, resting his forehead against yours. “You good?” he asks, chest rising up and down.

You nod before you fall into his arms, sobbing.

“Thank gods I’m with you,” he murmurs into your skin.Jungkook embraces you tightly, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back. Once you've calmed down, he assists you in getting back on your feet. “We’ll be okay,” he states, holding you by the crook of your arm. “I’m here. I got you.”

Tartarus is an ominous realm with a combination of shadowy chasms and rugged terrains. Heavy clouds loom overhead, casting a dark veil across the landscape. The ground is uneven, marked by deep crevices that seemingly stretch into infinity. Unsettling sounds permeate the air, forming an eerie symphony of the cries and moans of monsters.

You and Jungkook quickly fall ill to the noxious atmosphere in Tartarus.

Jungkook’s handsome face erects boils, and he appears more ill with each passing moment.

“Kook,” you nudge him with your body, “You alright?”

He nods, gulping. “‘m good, inferno princess. Worry about yourself.”

You pause. “You’re clearly not okay.” On cue, Jungkook stumbles to his knees, and you fall to yours as he rests his head on your shoulder. You’re not sure why you’re not as affected, but you always knew that it was relative to your immunity to fire.

Suddenly, an idea appears in your head.

The River Phlegethon.

The River Phlegethon is a river coursing through Tartarus, made entirely of molten lava.

It is said to consist of healing properties that keep monsters alive. It may work on demigods too.

You rush to the River Phlegethon, submerging your metal water bottle beneath its fiery surface before rushing back to Jungkook. “Drink this.”

“What the fuck-”

You force it to his lips and down his throat. He gazes at you with despondency, like you’ve betrayed him horribly. He clutches his throat, retching and coughing at the sensation of molten lava down his throat. You eye him back like an insane person, bringing the bottle to your lips before you gulp down the rest of the lava.

The only way to describe drinking molten lava is painful, excruciatingly horribly painful, even with your immunity to fire. But after a moment of torture, you feel good as new.

It must have had the same effect on Jungkook because the boils vanish, and the familiar youthful glow returns to his face.

“Gods inferno princess. Thought you were trying to kill me,” Jungkook jokes.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe it actually worked!” you exclaim to which Jungkook scowls. “So you shoved that down my throat when you weren’t even sure-”

“Well, well, well. Demigods in Tartarus. Now that’s a sight I didn’t think I’d ever see. And it just so happens to be the same demigods who banished me down to this pit.”

You and Jungkook whip your heads to the direction of the voice. Lamia, the same monster you encountered on the Quest of the Eternal Night.

Seeing Lamia again for the first time in years makes your knees buckle. There was no doubt in your mind that her abilities would be enhanced within the depths of Tartarus.

She still adopts the appearance of a monster with the grotesque combination of human and serpent, her coiled, snake-like body merging seamlessly with a distorted human upper torso.

Jungkook, reckless as ever, doesn’t hold back. “Lamia, you tried to kill Y/N! You committed a sin, and you’re reaping the consequences! Now leave, or I’ll kill you again!” Jungkook roars, causing Lamia to scoff as she slithers.

“A grandson of Zeus,” she sneers, “Just like your grandfather. Stupid. Reckless. Selfish. Demigods are no different from gods. Hera murdered my children, and I will murder every single one of her descendants in return.”

Jungkook grimaces, instinctively stepping in front of you to shield you with his larger frame. “Then take it out on her. Believe me when I say I’m not the biggest fan of Hera either. We are not her allies. Just go on your way, and we won’t have a problem.”

Jungkook is especially talented at bluffing. He knows he doesn’t have the advantage on Lamia’s home court, and you can tell how terrified he is by the way his body trembles.

Lamia cackles, a Grinch-like smirk spreading across her lips as she goes for Jungkook’s weak spot: You.

Her red eyes look straight into yours and you begin trembling uncontrollably.

She compels your mind with millions of

distressing and heart-wrenching visions, flooding your hippocampus with agonizing memories that aren’t even yours. The overload is so intense, and you feel the barriers of your brain expanding, threatening to implode.

The intensified influence of Tartarus seems to be amplifying Lamia's powers.

She no longer simply wield the ability to psychologically torture with the victim’s own memories, she can harness the most agonizing memories of the history of the world to lead you to your demise.

Gruesome visions from World War 2 relentlessly flow into your mind.

Your brain synchronizes its rhythm with your heartbeat – thump, thump, thump. Each beat sends a jolt through your body, and your breath hitches in your throat when your mind drifts to a vision of the Allied and Axis Powers marching towards one another.

The memories relentlessly infiltrate your mind, and you find yourself understanding the ruthless mindset of soldiers who were not merely bent on killing but also on torturing and annihilating- annihilating everything.

Victims of chemical warfare desperately tear at their skin, their heads exploded by gunshots. Gradually, you start feeling the effects of chemical warfare creeping over you, prompting an agonizing scream as you instinctively claw at your own face.

Suddenly, a gun magically materializes itself a few yards from you.

With tears relentlessly running down your face and hives protruding from your skin, you crawl towards it, not minding that your fingernails are digging into poisonous terrain because you’re hellbent on ending this agony.

Jungkook quickly engages Lamia in combat with his sword. Jungkook bitterly laughsl in amusement when Lamia unfurls wings from her sides, soaring around him. Of course she can fly.

Flying around Jungkook, Lamia claws and slashes, leaving a deep cut on his bicep. Grimacing in pain, he falls to his knees, clutching the wound. His expression contorts into agony, the pain becoming so excruciating that sensation from his arm starts slipping away. He tries to wiggle his fingers, but he can’t.

His ears ring, prompting a groan as he bites his lip, striving to mentally overcome the pain. Lamia's maniacal laughter echoes in his mind, but the throbbing in Jungkook's arm drowns it into a dull background noise.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you in the midst of your psychological torment, crawling towards a nearby gun.

His face falls when he realizes the scenario Lamia is attempting to placate.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, immediately rising to his knees and kicking the gun into the River Phlegethon.

Regret immediately washes over him as he watches the gun fall into the depths of the River Phlegethon. Your hysterical trance may actually compel you to jump into the river to go after it.

You were immune to fire, but Jungkook isn’t so sure that you’ll survive a bath in the river of fire.

He winces, trying to mentally overcome the intensifying throbbing in his arm so he can finally finish things.

Jungkook hurts so much seeing you like this: sobbing, ripping your hair out, writhing in agony at Lamia’s infliction.

Lamia had already taken a part of you when you were 14, leaving you shivering and trembling in the eternal darkness of Los Angeles. Jungkook would be damned if he let it happen again.

When Jungkook was 14 years old, he sent Lamia to Tartarus by decapitating her. He thinks this time, he’ll get rid of her for good by shredding her into dust, leaving no mercy.

He’ll make her death the most painful one he’s ever inflicted.

With flames in his pupils, he charges towards Lamia, slashing up with his sword to cut off the bottom of her snake tail. Before it hits the ground, he slashes it for what must have been a hundred times, cutting her tail into such tiny pieces that the wind carries her remains away.

She howls in pain and Jungkook takes that as an opportunity to leap up and tackle her to the ground. He holds her down with his good arm, his strength easily overpowering hers.

He starts by cutting off her arms, shredding her arms into nothing but dust. He finishes the job, leaving nothing but her head. It’s bloody and gruesome, but it’s everything Jungkook is used to.

He makes sure to slice off her fangs as he picks her up from her long orange hair.

Practically drenched in Lamia’s blood, Jungkook turns his head and sees you lying like a dead sack of potatoes by the River Phlegethon. The tips of your fingers are lying in the river, meaning he killed Lamia just in time.

He runs over to you and immediately fishes a canteen of nectar from his backpack, setting your head on his thigh as he puts the nectar to your lips, feeling thankful as you respond by weakly sipping on it.

Putting a hand on your forehead, he feels that you’re absolutely burning up. After weakly sipping on the nectar, you gasp like you’ve breathed your first breath.

Jungkook immediately pulls you into his embrace, his eyes full of so much relief. “Gods, inferno princess. I’m so happy that you’re okay.”

You sob into his shirt. “I was so useless, I’m sorry. You saved me. Thank you so much.”

Jungkook holds you even tighter, allowing you to sob into his shirt as he savors the sensation of having you in his arms, alive and okay.

Jungkook pulls back, fingers combing through your hair and tucking a strand behind your ear. He hands cradle your jaw, his thumbs wiping your tears away, until he realizes that he actually smeared Lamia’s blood on your face.

“Oops- sorry, I got blood on you,” he sheepishly mutters, biting his lip.

You giggle at that, wiping the blood away with your sleeve before your eyes drift towards that large gash on Jungkook’s arm.

“Gods Jungkook!” you exclaim, reaching into your magic toolbelt to pull out some healing properties. Your magic toolbelt always materializes what you need just in time.

“Oh this?” Jungkook looks down at the gash on his arm that is now foaming, bloody, and turning a shade of green, “This papercut? Don’t even worry about it.”

You scoff, quickly cleaning the wound and wrapping his arm in bandages. Jungkook always pretends like he doesn’t feel any pain, but you don’t miss the way he winces in pain when you begin to apply pressure on his wound.

Once the task is complete, your gaze shifts to the decapitated head of Lamia. Her eyes are void of life and color. Without a doubt, Jungkook had completed his duty successfully.

You narrow your eyes, examining her head, devoid of the snake's lower body, claws, and fangs.

Your chest aches as you exhale shakily.

Lamia was the most strikingly beautiful being you’ve ever encountered. You’ve met the goddess of beauty Aphrodite multiple times, and you dare to entertain the idea that Lamia surpasses her beauty.

Aphrodite has the kind of beauty that was glamorous and attention-commanding.

Lamia, on the other hand, was naturally radiant. Her look could not be easily imitated by artificial means. She was a sculpture, a form of art that would never be replicated.

No wonder the queen of the gods was so envious. No wonder the king of the gods was so utterly obsessed and smitten with her.

Her beauty is a reminder that at her core, Lamia was a human being. A tragic soul whose children met a ruthless end by none other than the gods you served. Her long, soft, and luscious orange hair cascaded across Tartarus's harsh terrain, comfortingly beautiful against its vile surroundings.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to weep for her as much as you wanted to kill her.

Eyes lifting towards Jungkook, you force a slight smile. “Ready to finish the deal?”

Jungkook looks at you and nods, unsheathing the knife on his waist, offering you the very celestial bronze knife you forged for him when you were ten years old.

You find yourself torn between tears and laughter. For some reason he always kept that stupid knife with him. You would never tell him, but it made you so emotional- like the knife was a symbol for yours and his unbreakable bond.

“You got this, inferno princess.”

You nod, gulping nervously as your fingertips brush against his, your fist closing over the handle of the knife.

You’re on the verge of bringing Jungkook’s knife down on her head, your features harden as you prepare to end Lamia for good, seeking retribution for the torment she’s inflicted and the lives she’s taken.

With a scream you will yourself to bring the knife down.

Until you don’t.

Your features soften, and the celestial knife falls with a thud.

You cast a glance at Jungkook, and he responds with a nod, seemingly grasping your thoughts.

His right hand entwines with your left, and he closes his eyes. "Oh gods, I implore your mercy upon her soul. May the fates consider her past, the loss of her children, and the wrath from the queen of the gods. I offer her head as a solemn sacrifice."

As he speaks, your fingers tighten around his, clinging onto his every word, sobbing in relief that he shares your sentiments of grief for her poor soul, even after she tried to kill you both.

With a shaky exhale, you continue. “Kindly extend your compassion to her spirit and reunite her with her offspring in the Fields of Asphodel. Anywhere but the Fields of Punishment would suffice. Please, shower your mercy upon her.”

And with that, you hold the celestial bronze knife up and bring her millenia long suffering to an end.

Following your encounter with Lamia, you and Jungkook continue your journey, navigating through the rugged terrain, weaving between jagged rocks and hiding in concealed potholes.

Unfortunately, monsters are literally built to sense demigods so it isn’t long until you encounter another monster.

The next monster you encountered is Cheimarrhus. Cheimarrhus is less of a monster and more of an elemental force: the essence of coldness in Tartarus.

When she assumes humanoid form, her skin becomes icy blue with silver hues. Her hair cascades like frozen tendrils, and her eyes gleam with an otherworldly coldness.

The aura surrounding her is so frozen cold that your flame is nothing but a mere candle.

You aren’t able to construct anything with your tool belt because Cheimarrhus simply morphed into an elemental force when you attacked. What is a hammer going to do against a snowflake?

It isn’t just that. Her mere presence is enough to extinguish your flames, physically weakening you to your knees.

On the earthly realm, Khione is the goddess of snow and winter. Cheimarrhus seems to be the Tartarus version over her.

After hours of treading away from Lamia, you and Jungkook sit in a concealed pothole, warming yourselves with a makeshift fire sparked by your finger. Jungkook sits closely by you, wrapping an arm around you while you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you Jungkook,” you murmur, “Thank you for saving me from Lamia. Gods, I was about to jump in the River Phlegethon- I could have died.” You burn your eyes into the lively flame, finding solace in its orange and red hues.

Jungkook looks at you incredulously. “Inferno princess,” he expresses dumbfoundedly, “We’re in this together. We’re a team. I would give my life for you to survive. You’re key to defeating Gaia. The others can’t do it without you.”

Your gaze remains fixed on the fire. You shake your head. “Don’t talk about losing your life so easily. I would give my life for you to survive, Kook. I already played my part by retrieving the armor from the Hephaestion. I’m not needed anymore.”

Your declaration is solemn, but you truly do mean it. You’ve played your role in accordance with the prophecy. Jungkook, Mingyu, Rose, Mina, Taehyung, and Namjoon would fare well without you.

Jungkook’s features harden. “Then I’ll make sure we both make it.”

A smile adorns your lips, and Jungkook thinks that the loveliness of your smile would bring life to flowers even in the heart of Tartarus. You nudge him softly with your body. “That’s true. We’re both going to make it.”

“That’s right, inferno princess. Atta girl. None of this death talk anymore. It’s depressing.”

You snuggle into the warmth of Jungkook’s body, enjoying the brevity of peace in the deepest pit of hell- until something feels off. You immediately jerk away from him, eliciting a look of concern from Jungkook.

“Would she mind that we’re -like- cuddling right now?” you ask.

Jungkook frowns. “Who?”

“Seraphina. I mean- you haven’t mentioned her once this entire time. Don’t you miss her?”

Seraphina is Jungkook’s special friend, or talking stage, or something like that. In your opinion, she’s easily the most beautiful girl at camp, even amongst her siblings in the Aphrodite cabin.

Before you left on the voyage to Greece, you’d seen Jungkook and Seraphina meandering around camp, holding hands, making out behind the Ares cabin.

He blinks at you with a sense of disbelief. “Inferno princess,” he deadpans, “We’re literally freezing our asses off in Tartarus. She’ll be fine.”

You shake your head. “Even in Tartarus, it doesn’t feel right. Seraphina’s my friend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jungkook cuts you off.

“But I saw you-”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re just messing around. She’s about to break things off with me anyways. It’s a rite of passage in the Aphrodite cabin- breaking a boy’s heart. Bonus points if it’s an Ares kid. She thinks she’s playing me but I’m playing her.”

You frown. “Oh.”

Typical of an Aphrodite kid. Aphrodite cheated on your dad with Jungkook’s dad, and you can’t help but feel scorn for her. You thought Seraphina was better than that.

Jungkook playing along with it is kinda icky too. You decide to call him out for it once you return to the mortal world.

As a Hephaestus kid, it’s definitely in your nature to judge the antics of Ares and Aphrodite kids.

“Are you sure you’re not just bringing it up because of Jaehyun?” he raises a brow at you and pulls you from your judgemental trance.

You scoff. “Seriously? How much longer are you going to bring that up?”

Last summer, you kissed Jaehyun, son of Apollo after the daily campfire ceremony. He had just returned on a quest to retrieve the Pythian bow. The Pythian bow is a golden bow with arrows that never miss their mark. The very existence of the Pythian bow guaranteed the precision and accuracy of all archers.

When news came out that it was stolen, Jaehyun, Namjoon, and Nayeon, a hunter of Artemis, were sent on a quest to Yellowstone National Park to get it back.

When they returned, Jaehyun announced that the Pythian bow was stolen by a giant and offspring of Gaia, Tityos.

Tityos was said to have lusted after Leto, Artemis and Apollo’s mother, and attempted to violate Leto during her pregnancy. Apollo and Artemis who were still in their mother’s womb were not pleased by this and slew Tityos with their arrows once they were born.

When Jaehyun announced to the camp that Tityos, the offspring of Gaia, had returned from Tartarus, a bone chilling unease dispersed through the assembly of demigod campers. With hindsight, you realize that this was only the beginning of Gaia’s revival.

Back then, you were so relieved to see that he returned safely so you ran into his arms and kissed his cheek. It was a heat-in-the-moment thing, and when Jaehyun turned his head- well, that was your first kiss.

The weight of it settled uncomfortably in your stomach when you realized that Jaehyun was all in for you. Letting him down was heart-wrenching, and you still feel terrible for breaking the guy’s heart.

Crazily enough, Jungkook witnessed the entire thing during a walk back from the woods. Once you pulled away from Jaehyun, Jungkook approached you both, slow-clapping like an evil villain. Jaehyun glared intensely at Jungkook, who scoffed in disdain before sauntering back to the Ares cabin.

He made you feel like shit and you were still pissed about it.

“Gods Y/N, I had to bleach my eyes out after witnessing that. I deserve to be compensated,” he sasses.

You shake your head in disbelief. “That was my first kiss, Kook. And now I have to think of my first kiss with your deplorable face in mind.”

Jungkook’s lips curl smugly. “Good.”

You glare at him. “Is that all you have to say? Asshole.”

He shrugs. “Just give me a hug, inferno princess. We should get back on our feet soon.” He opens his arms, prompting a disdainful expression from you.

Your eyes drift towards the bandaged wound on his bicep, and your features soften. “Does it still hurt?”

Just looking at the thing made your arm throb. Disgusting shades of green and purple peeked through the sheer bandages. “Hold up, let me clean it.”

You reach into your tool belt, the materials in mind magically appearing.

As you undo his bandages, Jungkook’s features curl in agony, wincing at the re-exposure. You use sterile gauze to wipe the wound before dabbing it with petroleum jelly.

Jungkook’s arms are thick, but you treat his skin as if it’s the most delicate substance. Gently cleaning the wound with an antiseptic solution, you rewrap it with a sterile bandage, ensuring a snug fit.

“It should have been me.”

You lift your head, staring at him with a look of curiosity, your eyes flickering around his features to detect any insincerity.

You know what he’s talking about, but you still feel the need to ask. “What?”

“Your first kiss,” he replies, flexing and extending his arm in comfort now that it was freshly bandaged. “It should have been me.”

He looks right at you, his expression hardened- perhaps to mask his vulnerability or to convey the sincerity of his confession.

With his features so stoic, you take a second to admire how handsome he is.

Even with his face battered and bloody, he resembles a sculpture. Every feature aligns to create the most handsome person you've ever seen.

Your breath catches in your throat. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

He relents on his stoic expression, a subtle warmth enveloping his features as he releases a light-hearted laughter. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know,” he looks around and rubs the nape of his neck, “Tartarus isn’t the best place to make a confession, eh?”

You laugh in disbelief, “That was very Jungkook of you,” you comment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He smiles, dusting his pants off to stand up, offering you a hand. You take his hand, standing, and at that moment, your makeshift fire extinguishes. The temperature plummets, and the night becomes impossibly dark.

Jungkook immediately unsheathes his celestial bronze knife, assuming defensive stance as he conducts a 360 degree scan of his surroundings.

There is a clear threat, but he can’t detect any presence.

You stand back to back with Jungkook, hair rapidly whipping against the fierce winds. The plummeting temperature sends chills through your skin, nearly freezing you solid.

You will yourself to blaze a fire from your fingertips, but to no avail. You exert more magical energy into at least sparking a flame, but the force of the frigid winds snuffs your flame out every time.

Suddenly, an evil cackle echoes throughout the atmosphere.

“Foolish demigods, entering Tartarus unprepared," the voice resonates with an eerie chill. "In the realm of perpetual cold, your feeble flames are but futile flickers. These days, Tartarus really likes cooling down." The freezing air intensifies, making it harder for you to even draw breath.

You attempt once more to summon a flame from your fingertips, determined to defy the numbing cold. However, the frigid winds persistently resist your efforts, extinguishing any spark you manage to conjure.

“Reveal yourself,” Jungkook utters lowly.

“Isn’t the cold to your liking?” As she speaks, she becomes louder, her voice ringing in your ears and making you wince.

Particles of snow begin whirling around in tornado formation ahead of you, the tornado becoming thinner and thinner until it morphs into humanoid form. The woman who appears has icy blue skin, hair cascading in frozen tendrils, and a glacial aura that crystallizes the air within a three foot vicinity.

Taking in her humanoid form, you finally realize who she is, and you gasp. “Cheimarrhus.”

You don’t realize how much your lips are trembling until you hear your own voice- the way you said her name sounded nothing more than a chatter.

She smirks. “Well done, young demigod. I applaud you for recognizing me. The power-hungry Olympians have practically wiped my name from existence. The gods all know that Khione is threatened by me.”

The face of Khione, the goddess of snow and winter on the earthly realm appears in your mind.

Jungkook eyes you before lying straight through his teeth. “That’s not true. You’re in our curriculum at Camp Half-Blood: Tartarus Monsters 202. They don’t even teach you in 101 because you’re too advanced and powerful.”

Cheimarrhus seems to be pleased by that, satisfaction enveloping her features before she sneers. “The giants must be the center of the 101 course. I swear they get all the attention.”

You nod in agreement. “Of course. But you understand that’s standard, right? They don’t dare let the younger demigods know about you because they would have too many nightmares.”

Cheimarrhus cackles, licking her lips.

You and Jungkook eye each other, awkwardly laughing along with her to hopefully appease the blizzard.

“SILENCE.”

You flinch, taking a step back, Jungkook reaching for your hand to stabilize you.

“Do you take me for a fool? You demigods and your lies. Typical,” she spits, her anger causing the temperature to plummet even more. “Now demigods, suffer. I will win Tartarus’s favor by freezing you to death.”

“Hey! We were just trying to be nice!-”

Her body morphs into snow particles, whirling around before it disperses throughout the atmosphere.

You look at Jungkook, ice crystallizing around strands of his hair, his skin an unhealthy hue of blue, and his lips trembling. You’re sure you don’t look much better because his features morph into horror when he looks at you.

“Y-Y/N. L-let’s take the motorcycle and get the outta here.”

“What about th-the monsters?”

“Fuck that, we’ll freeze to death first.”

You nod in agreement, and Jungkook presses a button on his watch, watching as it unfolds into a Celestial Bronze Harley Davidson motorcycle. You zoom off on the motorcycle, arms locked around Jungkook’s waist. Gods, getting on the motorcycle was probably a worse idea, the frigid air rushing against your face as the motorcycle accelerated.

Cheimarrhus is relentless, trailing on you as rapidly as she matches the motorcycle’s speed.

“Jungkook!” You call out, “This isn’t working!”

The motorcycle comes to an abrupt stop and you both tumble onto the ground as the watch returns to Jungkook’s wrist.

You crawl around the ground, sobbing and looking for Jungkook. “Jungkook, where are you? Please Jungkook, please!”

You hear him shuffle towards you before he helps you up from both armpits. You both tread to a nearby pothole, settling into it while you cling onto each other, desperately clinging to each other’s body heat.

The side effects of frostbite can be fatal. In highly severe instances, the freezing cold penetrates human tissue, causing body parts like toes, fingers, and noses to freeze and eventually fall off.

You close your eyes, nestling in Jungkook’s embrace as you prepare to welcome your final moments.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

“I had a crush on you from -like- 12 to 15. I thought I should let you know in case, you know.”

“Gods inferno princess, didn’t we agree to not talk about death? It’s just an average day for us demigods. Frostbite, freezing to death? What does that even mean? It would never happen to us,” he muses, blue lips curling up into a teasing smile.

You push your face into the now sopping fabric of Jungkook’s shirt, laughing. Who would even laugh in a situation like this?

“So what’d I do to make you stop liking me?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Nothing, you just didn’t like me back,” you shrug, your shoulders barely moving in the freezing cold.

“That’s not true. I liked you the moment I laid eyes on you. That’s why I was such an asshole. It was the only way 10-year-old me knew how to flirt.”

You cease your motions, your frosty eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “You always had a thing for Aphrodite girls. I didn’t know.”

“It was only because you never batted an eye at me. Had me heartbroken.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Gods, I think that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, even in Tartarus.”

“What do you say? Do you have it in your heart to give me another chance? I want you for real. I want us for real.”

After the incident last summer, you swore you wouldn’t ever make any spur-in-the-moment decisions, until your frosty fingers cup Jungkook’s cheeks, and you kiss him.

Jungkook seems a bit taken aback, but reciprocates your kiss with equal fervor, placing his hands on the small of your back to stabilize you. The ice on your lips melts, and at that moment, everything seems okay.

Gods, you feel so warm on the inside that the temperature outside seems to gradually rise.

You pull back, eyes flickering around your surroundings. The blizzard is gone. Cheimarrhus is gone. Somehow the warmth returned, making even Tartarus feel like a tropical paradise.

In relief, you pull Jungkook in for another kiss. He holds your cheeks with his rugged palms, practically drinking from your lips in reprieve.

The sound of thundering footsteps pull you away from each other.

Yours and Jungkook’s heads whip towards the sounds of the footsteps, and there stands a thirty foot giant.

The giant is colossal in stature, the stony texture of his skin giving him an appearance as if built from the very rocks that surrounded him. The monster has a horrifying and booming presence, its malevolent aura casting an ominous feeling in your gut.

The giant blinks at you and Jungkook, the most nonchalant look cloaking his rugged features.

Momentarily, you consider the idea that the giant might not see you- but no he does- because he dismisses your mere existence with a wave before sauntering back to a hut a kilometer away.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook mutters.

Every footstep the giant takes induces vibrations through the terrain, making yours and Jungkook’s teeth chatter just as much as Cheimarrhus’s blizzard did.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir! Can you help us?!” Jungkook’s voice echoes throughout the atmosphere and your heart drops into your ass.

Giants were the direct offspring of Gaia, the Earthmother you were on a quest to kill.

If Cheimarrhus didn’t kill you, then this giant would surely be the one to finish the deal.

The giant slowly turns around, eyes narrowing at you like you’re the scum of the Earth. You shudder in anticipation.

“Follow me to my hut,” is all he says, turning back around and walking steadily towards his hut.

You and Jungkook quickly scramble to your feet, fingers intertwined as you trail behind the giant, leaving a few meters in between you and the giant.

The giant turns around again, and it’s like the whole earth rumbles. “What are you doing? Hurry up!” You and Jungkook cast questionable glances at each other, but nonetheless scramble to the giant’s side.

After a few odd moments of walking, the giant speaks up. “So, how’d you two get to Tartarus? I’ve never seen any demigods around here before.”

A giant starting a casual conversation with you in Tartarus was not on your bingo card for this year.

Jungkook told the giant the entire story eliciting a deep sigh from the monster. “That’s my mother, always insistent on wreaking havoc. She banished me and disowned me, her son for the same reason- because I refused to fight your father.” He looks right at Jungkook, and at that moment, a lightbulb appears above your head.

The giant you were addressing was Damasen.

Damasen was originally a giant created by the Earth goddess Gaea to serve her in her plans to overthrow the Olympian gods.

He was designed to be the bane of Ares, Jungkook’s father. Damasen was quite literally created to embody the antithesis of the war god’s essence, the only being designed to incapacitate Ares.

Ultimately, this backfired on Gaia. While many giants were naturally hostile towards the gods, Damasen differed in nature. Damasen rejected war, with a gentle heart that rejected the brutality often associated with Ares.

“You’re Damasen” you exhale breathlessly.

“Correct, daughter of Hephaestus. Come in my hut and have soup, then I’ll send you both on your way.”

Damasen the Friendly poured you and Jungkook bowls of drakon soup, chunks of drakon meat floating in the broth.

“What about you, Mr. Damasen? Why don’t you tell us your story?” you implore, heartily sipping down the soup.

Damasen smiles. “It’s just as I said. I rejected war, resulting in abandonment from my mother. Instead, I chose to live a peaceful life on Earth as a farmer. I befriended other mortal farmers, and we lived in harmony planting wheat and barley,” he shrugs, lifting his mug in a fatherly way as he takes a sip of hot water.

You and Jungkook exchange dumbfounded glances. A giant living peacefully among mortals was absolutely unheard of.

“It was a peaceful millenia,” he continues, “Until a drakon escaped into the mortal realm and began ravaging all the farms. I couldn’t let it be. I slayed it. My mother banished me to Tartarus, cursing me to slay the drakon everyday for the rest of my life.”

On cue, a drakon roar reverberates between the walls. Damasen casts a dark look to the outside of the hut and immediately springs into action.

You and Jungkook watch dumbfoundedly as Damasen slays the enormous creature and walks to the hut like returning from a walk in the park.

“Damasen, you’re amazing,” you express in awe, to which Damasen shrugs.

“You demigods may rest on the hammock. You both look awful. We can continue this conversation once you wake,” he says, pointing towards a hammock made from drakon skin in the corner.

Jungkook wants to protest, feeling unsafe about sleeping vulnerable in the presence of a giant, but he’s too tired to process anything.

He plops onto the hammock, welcoming you with open arms as you both sink into the sheets, falling into a restful slumber after the most difficult hours of your life.

Jungkook wakes first, eyes blinking groggily as his eyes venture towards you, sleeping peacefully in the crook of his armpit. Careful not to wake you up, he gently lifts your head with his palm and gently places it against a pillow before standing from the hammock.

Damasen sits on the kitchen table, structured from Drakon bone, reading a Guide to the Underworld by Persephone and Demeter, a book that must have blown into the pit of Tartarus.

He takes a seat by Damasen. “Sir, we need you to lead us towards the Doors of Death.”

The Doors of Death stood as the sole gateway to the mortal realm. Gaia and her giants had seized control of these doors, enabling monsters to surge back into the mortal world with alarming speed. You and Jungkook had to enter the mortal realm through the Doors of Death, sealing it off from Tartarus’s side while the rest of the crew would work on closing the doors from the Earthly side.

Damasen shakes his head, and Jungkook becomes slightly intimidated. This giant was designed to kill his father, the most fierce warrior amongst the Olympians. Though Damasen claimed a life of peace, what if he changed his mind? Damasen could crush Jungkook with his bare fists.

“Son of Ares, I already told you that I chose to leave a life of peace. I do not wish to involve myself with pointless affairs.”

Jungkook grimaces, taking a knee on the concrete floor, a sign of respect for the Greeks “Sir, please. I’d do anything. We won’t survive without your guidance.”

Damasen lifts his gaze from the book to Jungkook, seemingly trapped in intense contemplation. “There is one thing you can do.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll try my best to do it for you,” Jungkook implores.

“My pocket knife,” Damasen responds, “It was the only belonging I carried from the mortal realm. The drakon knocked it into the River Phlegethon, and it’s been sitting at the bottom since. The child of Hephaestus can retrieve it for me.”

“No-”

“I’ll do it,” you declare, sitting up from the hammock.

Jungkook cuts you off immediately. “Sir, is there anything else I can do? I don’t want to put her in danger.”

Damasen shrugs, “That’s all I can think of. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything else.”

You shake your head, joining Jungkook and Damasen at the kitchen table, sitting on one of the drakon bone chairs. “I can do it. I’m immune to fire.”

Jungkook glares at you, and you respond with an even more fierce glare. Damasen, studying the dynamic between you and Jungkook, releases a sigh. “Child, does your father know about your relationship with this son of Ares? I imagine Hephaestus won’t find that very favorable.”

You stick out your hand, partially ignoring Damasen’s comment about Jungkook. Damasen uses his pointer finger and thumb to shake your hand.

“Call me Y/N. If I retrieve the pocket knife from the River Phlegethon, join us on our quest. You can return to the mortal world and work as a farmer on Camp Half-Blood. We’re looking for a manager for our strawberry fields.”

Damasen shakes his head, “Your efforts would be futile. Even if I tried to leave, we would walk endlessly until returning to this hut.”

“Damasen,” you implore, “You deserve so much more than this. You deserve to see the stars, the sky, the moon. We need you.”

“If you retrieve the knife, I will guide you towards the Doors of Death. I will not be able to provide assistance beyond that,” he stubbornly responds, refusing to change his stance.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you exhale. “Okay. Where’s the knife?”

Jungkook scowls deeply at you. “Y/N. It’s dangerous. We can do this a different way.” He redirects his attention towards Damasen. “Anything else. Just let me know, anything that a son of Ares can do, I will do.”

“You already killed Lamia. At the very least, I can do this. I’m immune to fire, I’ll be able to survive at least 5 minutes in the river, and I can come back up to the surface if I need to.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No. You’re not doing it.”

You frown deeply at him. “What, so you think I’m too weak to contribute to the quest?”

“What? No- that’s not what I’m saying. I just want you to be safe.”

You place both palms on his shoulders, looking at him straight in the eyes. “Jungkook,” you declare firmly, “Drop the Prince Charming complex. We’re in Tartarus. I wouldn’t try if I knew I couldn’t do it.”

Leaving him dumbfounded, you face Damasen. “Lead the way. I’m ready to jump in when you are.”

Jungkook clears his throat. “Damasen, give us a moment to discuss. Please.” He pulls you by your wrist to a corner of the drakon bone hut. You’re not necessarily secluded and Damasen catches heed to every word.

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. “You’re sure you can do it? You’ve never walked into a fire, let alone swam in one.”

You dismiss the notion with a wave. “I have. I saved some mortals from a house fire last summer. At the very least I can do five minutes- maybe ten if I try hard enough.”

Jungkook eyes you suspiciously, but you refuse to relent on your stoicism. Of course, you’re lying, but Jungkook doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine,” Jungkook relents, “But you’re making a silicone harness, with a fire-proof string, and I’m pulling you out after three minutes,” he compromises, features hardening.

That’s all you’re getting, and you are going to take it if it means getting this over with more quickly.

“Damasen, if you give us a minute, I’m going to construct a makeshift breathing apparatus. Jungkook, I won’t make a harness, but I can tie a string around my waist. Pull me out after three minutes.”

You begin pulling things from your toolbelt, leaving Damasen to marvel at it. “Hephaestus technology, huh?” he beckons, “Your father must love you a lot to provide you with something like this.”

You shrug, “I guess. Man doesn’t talk to me much. It’s whatever,” you respond, quickly brushing off the topic as your hands quickly assemble a makeshift breathing apparatus from titanium alloys, ceramic composites, and rubber seals.

Anyways, without delving too much into the details of yours and Jungkook’s excursion to Tartarus, you can safely claim you and Jungkook soundly escaped Tartarus.

Damasen was not so lucky.

That didn’t mean, however, that you and Jungkook weren’t on the brink of death when you narrowly escaped Tartarus through the Doors of Death.

Writhing on the floor, you vaguely remember Taehyung whisking you in his arms, willing the water from the surrounding lakes to form a wave, carrying himself back to the ship.

Meanwhile, Mingyu, son of Jupiter, soared through the air carrying an unconscious Jungkook from the crooks of his armpits.

You and Jungkook must have laid idle for quite a while in the ship’s corridors, and your friends, in their infinitely loyal nature, sat by your bedside for the entire time.

Rose, daughter of Apollo and one of the demigods on the quest, remained by your side throughout, using her most powerful healing properties to save you from returning to the Underworld as a dead spirit.

Her voice was the very first thing you heard when you woke up.

“Gods Taehyung, you fucking idiot, don’t pour more than half of a cup of nectar into the canteen! It needs to stay refrigerated!”

“Damn doctor- I’m trying my best here!”

You blink groggily, closing your eyes shut at the sunlight seeping through your eyelids like you have a sun allergy.

“Rosie?” you breathlessly express.

Rose drops nearly spills the canteen of nectar onto her pretty dress and whips her head towards you.

“Praise the gods, Y/N!” she squeals, reaching out to embrace you before she rapidly recoils her arms, “Oh shit, I don’t want to hurt you, but Gods Y/N, I’m so fucking happy you’re awake!”

You shake your head, sitting up on the bed, allowing Rose to cup your cheeks and rest her forehead on yours.

“‘m fine Rosie, I feel brand new,” you mumble, and she finally reaches her arms out to tightly embrace you, tears of relief streaming down her face, soiling the fabric of your T-shirt.

“Gods Rosie, are you crying?” you express, a teasing giggle leaving your lips.

She playfully swats at your shoulder, “Yes Y/N, I’m fucking crying! I was worried sick! You fell into freaking Tartarus for Gods’ sake! We were so worried that you wouldn’t make it back, and to just-to just- to just see that you and Jungkook are okay- Gods, I’m so happy!”

The sounds of more cries echo across the walls, and you lift your head from Rose’s shoulder, blinking like you might be hallucinating because Taehyung is sobbing, like actual tears streaming down his face.

You don’t think you’ve seen him cry since you were 14, during the Battle of the Labyrinth.

And as much as you want to make a teasing comment, you know you shouldn’t encourage his toxic masculinity any further.

He’s using his large palms to wipe the snot seeping out of his nostrils, and you and Rose simply look at each other, not knowing what to do or say.

Should you comfort him? Should you say something?

“I need to pee,” is all you muster in response.

Rose laughs, rising up, wiping her palms on her jeans. “Want me to come along?”

“Duh.”

At that moment, you feel a large palm wrap around the circumference of your wrist.

“Don’t go,” is all Jungkook mumbles, resting his forearm on his eyes to shield himself from the sun. He opens a single eye, and you feel your heart skip a beat- the sun is perfectly reflecting off Jungkook’s skin, making his brown irises appear the prettiest shade of hazel, and he’s looking at you so needily you wish you could stay with him forever.

He tightens his hold on your wrist, pulling you towards him- you resist slightly so he doesn’t pull you on top of him in front of everyone. “Shit baby, we made it. It’s you and me inferno princess, the only demigods to survive Tartarus.”

And with that, the hand on your wrist moves to the back of your head, and he pulls your lips toward his, kissing you deeply like you were made of the sweetest nectar. You’re a bit taken aback, but you kiss him back just as passionately, eyes shutting in relief because Jungkook is okay.

He almost died several times in Tartarus protecting you. He laid his life down to save yours, and Gods, you hate to admit it but Jungkook is your handsome warrior, your Prince Charming, your man.

You would do anything for him.

You only pull away from each other when the sound of a canteen clatters on the floor.

“Apollo’s Arrows!” Rosie backs away, nearly toppling over a nearby chair, a palm clasped over her mouth, “What happened in Tartarus?”

“What the fuck, Jeon!!” Mingyu gasps.

Your head whips to your left, and the rest of the crew is standing in the doorway. Namjoon, Mina, and Mingyu are gaping at you, meaning that the entire crew witnessed the kiss.

“Surprise..?” you squeak.

Mina, daughter of the Roman goddess Venus, quite literally leaps onto the bed, enveloping you in the tightest hug she’s ever bestowed. “I knew it! I swear, my mom told me you two were designed for each other in a dream! Gods, is Jungkook the first guy you didn’t reject?”

Your cheeks flush at that.

The goddess of love herself claimed that you and Jungkook were designed for each other? Did the fates also weave this into their tapestries?

Jungkook raises a brow. “How many other guys did you reject?”

Mina squeals, “Jeon you wouldn’t believe it- I’ve got a whole list right here, lemme just pull it out-”

Namjoon walks over, placing a soft hand on Mina’s back. He looks up, addressing you and Jungkook. “I’m happy for you lovebirds, but if you’re all healed, we need you guys back up on the deck. We’re sailing into the Sea of Monsters.”

Taehyung stands, the sclera of his eyes fading from a bloodshot red to a crimson pink. He and Jungkook exchange knowing glances, and Taehyung approaches, offering Jungkook a handshake, (or a dap?), to which Jungkook obliges before Taehyung reaches into his pocket for his pen.

He puts it on display, holding it between his pointer and thumb, biting his lower lip in jubilation, a smirk spreading across his lips.

He pushes past everybody, shoots up the stairs, leaving the rest of the crew to only perceive the sound of Taehyung’s pen clicking and transforming into a sexy Celestial Bronze sword.

Jungkook stands, twisting his neck around to ease tension before he leans down to place a brief, but sweet kiss on your lips. “Gotta go babe, get some more rest.”

And with that, Jungkook disappears into the corridors, Namjoon following his lead.

Mina and Rose join you on the bed, the three of you sitting in bestie formation.

“Firstly,” Mina begins, “Are you okay? Gods Y/N, you survived fucking Tartarus.”

You nod, recalling everything that had happened in the pit, from your experiences with Lamia to deep diving into the River Phlegethon. “It hasn’t hit me yet,” you murmur, “but I guess that’ll have to wait until after we finally get rid of Gaia.”

Rose and Mina wrap you in a hug, their love and friendship seeping into you, and the feeling is tangible, so you allow yourself to melt into their embrace. A hug. A hug from your best girl friends is all you need right now.

They pull away, and with a giggle, Rose asks “So what happened with you and Jeon? Don’t tell me you lost your virginity in Tartarus-”

The sound of someone clearing their throat cuts Rosie off, and the three of you immediately whip your heads towards Mingyu, son of Jupiter, who had apparently been there the entire time.

He’s leaning against the doorway, the hilt of his Imperial Gold sword sticking up from the scabbard hooked to his belt.

“He’s been here the whole time?” Mina deadpans to which Mingyu scoffs and shakes his head, taking a seat on the wheely chair by the bed.

“Daughters of Venus, Apollo, and Hephaestus, and none of you could detect the presence of another demigod?” he teases.

“Ugh whatever,” Mina muses, “It’s just because your energy is too weak. Not much to detect anyways”.

Looks like it’s just Mingyu and the girlies.

Or one Greek demigod with three Roman demigods,

Or just four distant relatives through their godly parents just hanging around (except godly DNA wasn’t really a thing).

Mingyu dismisses her claim with a wave of his hand before rolling over to give you a side hug, “I’m glad you’re safe Y/N, and I’m happy you and Jungkook found each other. At least one good thing came from this.”

You blush, thanking Mingyu.

“That guy is like head over heels for you, he looks like he could take a giant on by himself for you,” he teases, to which Mina nods enthusiastically.��

“Oh yea Y/N, anybody could tell that Jungkook had a thing for you- you were probably the only one who didn’t know,” Rose agrees.

That makes you redden. You rewind all your previous interactions with Jungkook like a cassette, regurgitating anything that could possibly be interpreted as romantic, but nope, nothing arises.

You pause, thinking back to your quest with Lamia at 14.

Jungkook was so adamant to go on that quest, and you always assumed it was because of his obsession with winning. He wanted to claim the fame and glory that came with completing a quest. He had the time of his life killing ferocious monsters and he could make his dad proud while stroking his own ego.

Quite honestly, it never occurred to you that he accompanied you on all these quests because he liked you.

You open your mouth to say something, but the wretched growls and howls of a sea monster cut you off. The upper deck shakes, rubble from the roof falling onto the ground.

You four give each other knowing looks and bolt up the stairs.

The next two weeks on ships were the most cathartic weeks of Jungkook’s life.

He takes every chance he can romance you, savoring what could have been the past five years. Needless to say, Jungkook is madly in love.

It was the middle of the night, and the sound of your alarm blared in your ears. That meant you were needed for duty on the upper deck.

All members of the crew took turns guarding the upper deck to protect the ship against sea monsters, wind spirits, and any other murder-inducing apparatuses. With a yawn you stumble towards the bathroom, quickling washing up before heading towards the stairs.

Mingyu and Namjoon are leaning against the railings of the ship, appearing like literal death after being on guard for eight hours. You nod at both of them and Namjoon gives you a brief hug before disappearing down the stairs.

You head towards the figurehead, peering at the endless sea and the large crescent moon as you let the wind blow in your face like Rose from Titanic.

Lost in your thoughts, you squeal when a hoodie-clad Jungkook sneaks up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, making the gesture to sniff deeply, which gets him an elbow in the abs.

“Such a barbarian, Kook,” you murmur.

“What? I love your B.O,” he teases.

Disgusting. He’s so gross. So disgusting, and you are disgustingly in love with him.

You swirl around, leaning on the edge of the ship to face him so you can cup his face and sweetly kiss him. You love the texture of his tan skin- much more keratinized than yours- the calluses on his hands and the rough texture on his face somehow makes you feel safe in a weird dermatologist way.

This time, Jungkook doesn’t kiss back, just keeps his eyes open so he can admire you, laughing a bit when you pull away from him.

You bite your lip, crimsoning to the shade of Cupid’s bum. “What?” you pout.

Jungkook shrugs, eyes never averting from yours. “Nothing,” he replies nonchalantly, “You’re particularly lovely tonight.” And he means it.

Under the moonlight, you become more mesmerizing. The night sky and chilly breeze sets the ambiance perfectly. If Jungkook could, he would park the ship by a nearby island and take you on a picnic date by the shore.

You don’t feel lovely- you’re exhausted and quite honestly you kinda want to die but Jungkook never fails to see the beauty in your impurities.

“You should get some rest. You were on guard for like eight hours today” you respond softly. His eyes, though filled with love, are tired with dark circles beneath, and you immediately become concerned for the well being of the man.

He grins, his pupils following your every movement and you don’t realize that Jungkook is slowly inching towards you. You look worried out of your mind and he can’t even take you seriously, thinking you’re the most precious thing in the world. “Did you even sleep? And you’re on guard next,” you beckon.

He looks at you like you’re crazy, scoffing playfully with a hand on his heart. “Babygirl thinks I can’t handle being up for more than twenty four hours? ‘m not a boy anymore, I’m a grown ass man.”

“A grown ass man that needs to sleep,” you point out, gaze hardening.

Jungkook pouts at that, arms sneaking around you as he pulls you closer. “I wanna be with my girl. Send me back to Tartarus if that’s so evil.”

You rake your fingertips through his hair, shaking your head while you laugh at his comment. “And I want my handsome boyfriend to get sleep so he can be his best when he’s on guard duty.”

He lowers his head and whines into the crook of your neck, nibbling on the skin in retaliation.

“After your guard duty today,” you whisper, “Come by my room. We can spend the night together,” your voice in itself makes Jungkook freeze. You sound so alluring, and Jungkook can’t help but fall victim to your seduction.

Greek heroes were known to have fatal flaws: tragic downfalls that led to their bitter demise in all the classics. Hercules’ fatal flaw was impulsivity. Achilles' fatal flaw was his arrogance. Jungkook thinks that his fatal flaw is you. He’d burn the whole world if it meant you were okay.

He pulls away, somewhat surprised while he scans your face for any hint of unseriousness. “Okay,” Jungkook acquiesces, “But call me if you need anything.” With another brief kiss, he turns around and stalks back to his cabin.

For the past five minutes, you’ve been sitting at your desk. A sewing machine from your tool belt is placed in front of you, and you must be out of your mind because you’re actually sewing black lace lingerie.

Of course a daughter of Hephaestus can engineer and sew.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you compare the fabric with your body to ensure the lingerie looks as appealing as possible.

You think you look good but you can’t help the self conscious thoughts seeping into your mind, and thus you resist the urge to smash your head into the sewing machine.

You briefly consider throwing the scraps of fabric into the trash can and pretending this never happened, but at the very least, you should see the lingerie through before deciding to go through with it.

You don’t know what it is, but you are aware that you have some twisted fantasy in the deepest trenches of your heart about seducing your man, a sultry look in your eyes as you beckon him towards you before smothering your body in every crevice of his.

You want him to be enamored with you; you want him to be mesmerized beyond comprehension, and you want to give yourself to him completely.

Gods, this was a dark thought but you and Jungkook were on a dangerous, life-threatening quest. Who knows when either of you will meet your treacherous demise? You might as well adopt the whole fuck it, we’re going to die anyway philosophy and carry out the little silly adventures you’ve dreamt of, especially while you’re alive.

You slide the lingerie and look at yourself in the mirror- you don’t even recognize yourself.

You must be out of your mind.

Jungkook suffers through a long eight hours of waiting around on the upper deck, slaughtering sea monsters, negotiating with Greek guardians, and killing the occasional goddess.

He knows he shouldn’t be distracted during a quest, but he can’t help but visualize your face every time he closes his eyes. Jungkook’s had a crush on you ever since you were 10 and a decade later it stubbornly refused to fade.

He is alright with that.

If anything, he should be thanking Aphrodite for finally letting you and him happen because he has more of a reason to fight- more of a reason to conquer.

For you. It was all for you.

He’s pulled from his trance by the footsteps of Mina and Taehyung, meaning that it was their turn for guard duty and his shift was up. Jungkook bites his lips to hide the smile of ecstasy threatening to swallow his entire face, and he realizes he must be ass at hiding his expression because Mina eyes him with pure suspicion.

He doesn’t care.

He zooms down the stairs, whizzing through the hallways before stopping at your door. He takes a deep breath, wiping off the dust from his clothes. He probably smells, but that’s okay. What nerd even has time to shower on a quest to save the world?

Opening the door, the softest gasp leaves his lips.

His hands fumble the Celestial Bronze knife in his grasp, and it falls to the ground with a clack clack clack.

Jungkook is starstruck, and he inhales shakily before he kicks the celestial knife to the side before swiveling around, ensuring no one was peering through the cracks before he closes the door behind him.

The room is decorated with candles, and no matter how the ship heaves and hoes, the candles remain in place, their flames still shining brightly and swaying with the movement of the shop.

Thank gods he’s dating a Hephaestus girl who can do freaky things like mechanically engineer non-flammable, non-movable candles that still retain the sultry ambiance of a normal candle.

He licks his lips.

In the middle of the bed, surrounded by rose petals sits you, in sheer black lace lingerie, staring at him innocently like you haven’t a clue how you’re twisting and turning his insides.

The lingerie fits you perfectly, accentuating every line and curve on your body and Jungkook truly truly thinks that you’re more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.

“Hey, Kook,” you whisper and Jungkook thinks he’s going to have a heart attack because he’s heard your voice millions of times but still thinks it sounds so sweet, beckoning him over to you.

He gulps.

What a woman you are.

“And before you ask, I engineered the door to only open for you,” you giggle, watching Jungkook as his fingers tousle with the upper hem of his shirt, throwing it off to reveal his Greek-god build. Before he gets to the bed, he tumbles out of his sweatpants, leaving them on the floor- not even thinking. His mind is only on you.

He doesn’t say anything, and he knows damn well that a stupid door isn’t what he’s thinking about. He reaches the bed, crawls to you, and with his knees on the bed, he lifts you like you’re nothing as he holds your body from your waist as he kisses you.

He kiss kisses you, his tongue in your mouth, moaning because you taste sweeter than you usually do- and he’s not sure if it’s because of the show you’ve put on for him, or because he’s falling more in love with you everyday.

The skin to skin contact is more real than ever. You’re so close that there isn’t a gap between your stomachs. All he can feel is you and the texture of your lace lingerie, and he absolutely melts into the feeling of you.

He groans.

That night, he gives himself to you completely because he belongs to you.

He remembers the whole thing so vividly.

On top of you, his eyes were lidded and his vision was blurred from the pleasure seeping throughout his body, sending chills down his spine, but he still refused to look away from you.

He remembers how beautiful you were underneath him, moaning his name and telling him you loved him.

With every thrust of his hips, his vision became more blurred- perhaps from the pleasure or because he was crying, vision clouded by tears because he’s so in love, and he never wants to lose you. The fire from the candles seems to burn more intensely, and when he reaches climax, the dreamy haze of you- your body and face- beneath the glow of the candles is all he sees.

While the fire from that night set his heart ablaze, it was also your very flames that charred his heart to a crisp, leaving Jungkook as nothing but an empty shell of his former self.

Exactly one week later, you died.

You, Jungkook, and Mingyu soared thousands of feet above Camp Half-Blood. The claws of your mechanical dragon Pulchra tousled with the physical form of the evil Earth mother herself: Gaia. You sat on your dragon, directing her to ascend higher and higher.

Mingyu, son of Jupiter, who was equipped with handy dandy flying skills, held Jungkook as he followed in pursuit of your dragon. As he darted through the clouds, Jungkook delivered fatal blows to the Earth mother.

Since Jungkook returned from Tartarus, he and Mingyu had been preparing a strategy to kill Gaia for good.

Gaia was the mother of the Earth, so taking away from her playing field and to the skies provided Jungkook and Mingyu with an advantage.

Mingyu, harnessing the power of the tempests, would conjure a storm, disorienting Gaia with lightning and wind. Jungkook would deliver the final blow with the spear of Ares- the same spear you retrieved from the Hephaestion, and the same spear Ares used to kill Alcyeoneus in the original Titan war.

But before Mingyu had the chance to summon a gust of wind, you used your flame manipulation to morph into a ball of fire to incinerate Gaia to death, engulfing Gaia and yourself in fire before blasting away like a meteor, leaving a trail of fiery residue in your wake.

That marked the final glimpse Jungkook saw of you.

Gaia’s death meant the successful completion of the quest, and Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter erupted into cheers at the demise of the evil Earth mother. Mingyu and Jungkook, on the other hand, were in shock as they remained stagnant in the atmosphere, watching the fiery residue simmer into nothingness.

Mingyu touches down softly on the earth, and Jungkook stumbles on the ground, falling to his knees. Campers from both Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter roar with excitement, welcoming both men with jubilation.

Jungkook is unable to move, palms and knees still planted onto the ground, grappling with the weight of what he just witnessed. The cheers seem distant, drowned out by the echo of your fiery departure. Jungkook, typically fierce and resilient, allows panic to infiltrate his being, and it isn’t until Rose pushes past the crowd and falls to her knees, her palms desperately shaking Jungkook’s shoulders. “Where’s Y/N? Jungkook?! Where the fuck is Y/N?”

Unable to conjure a response, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, desperately scanning Rosie’s face for a hint of jest- like Oh! Just kidding! Y/N is right here!- but she’s not kidding, her hardened features indicative that nothing could ever be more serious.

Jungkook's agony manifests in a heart-wrenching scream, tears streaming down his face as he bangs his fists into the ground.

Rosie’s face drops and she clasps a palm over her lips. At that moment, Taehyung, Mina, and Namjoon push through the crowd, frantically scanning through the waves of people for you. Taehyung’s face turns grim at the sight of Jungkook sobbing into the ground, and Namjoon starts crying.

The cheers from the campers dwindle into silence.

"Legions, to the West! Each camper is to conduct a thorough search for Y/N. Mobilize all pegasi, airplanes, and flying apparatuses immediately!" Mingyu roars, and the camps erupt into a panic, fleeing into different directions to prepare for a comprehensive search.

After 24 hours of hunting, you never appear.

Jennie, daughter of Hades, confirms your death, and Jungkook’s heart plummets to his stomach.

The atmosphere at Camp Half-Blood is heavy with sorrow as campers of both Roman and Greek gather at the foot of Half-Blood Hill.

In the center of a clearing, a makeshift altar is erected, adorned with offerings and mementos that speak of the adventures and camaraderie you share with the camp. Symbols are scattered for each quest you successfully complete. Copies of your favorite books litter the ground, along with your favorite foods, figurines of your favorite anime characters, and prototypes of weapons and trinkets you engineer.

Each camper is presented a red bead adorned with the emblem of a flame to celebrate the daughter of Hephaestus that shines so brightly. The bead is intended to be threaded onto the necklaces worn by all Camp Half-Blood members, each bead representing a year spent at camp.

“Today, we gather not only to mourn the loss of a brave demigod but to celebrate a hero whose legacy will forever echo through the boundaries of this camp,” Chiron’s voice resonates with a mix of sadness and reverence.

As Chiron speaks, campers take turns sharing anecdotes of your courage, weaving a tapestry of memories that paint a vivid impact you have on those around you.

In Mingyu's embrace, Rose weeps openly, her tears flowing freely as Mina recollects the adventures the three girls embarked upon the quest to defeat Gaia. Tales unfold—of mastering swordplay, battling sea monsters, concocting healing potions, and dedicating free time to handcraft makeup and serums.

Mingyu is next, clearing his throat before he awkwardly retells stories of meeting you for the first time. Mingyu, son of the Roman god Jupiter, appeared at Camp Half-Blood randomly after having his memory wiped.

Most approached Mingyu with hostility while you and Namjoon welcomed him with kindness, showing him around camp and becoming his friend. Mingyu shares the tale of your and his encounter with Hercules on an island before entering Greece—a confrontation that angered Hercules and ended with him buried under a mound of macaroni (a lengthy tale). Mingyu sheds a tear before closing off, and to be quite honest, he still bears the weight of witnessing your death and not intervening. It would haunt him forever.

Jaehyun, son of Apollo and your first kiss, is up next. In a heartfelt moment, he openly declares his love for you in front of everyone, and while he has every right to mourn and grieve in a way that works for him, the few that know about you and Jungkook shift in discomfort.

No one utters a word about your blooming relationship with Jungkook, and unless Jungkook explicitly tells them to, their lips remain sealed.

Love is a beautiful thing. At times, some find themselves so enamored with another that they become compelled to openly declare and proclaim their love to the whole world. Arguably, an intimate, more private love is even more ideal. Loving someone discreetly creates an intimate connection known only to someone and their love, completely unburdened by the need for external validation, and that’s the type of love Jungkook intends to share with you.

Once Jaehyun sits down, the echo of Taehyung’s stomp captures the attention of all the campers.

“Y/N’s not dead,” Taehyung claims, “and I know she’s not.”

Namjoon eyes his friend with daggers in his pupils, but Taehyung refuses to relent.

“I’ve been best friends with Y/N since we were 12,” he seethes, “I would sense it if she were dead- so respectfully, we need to stop moping around and we have to find her.”

“Tae,” Jennie, daughter of Hades, rises and places a soothing hand on his back, “I sensed her death. I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

Taehyung shakes his head and brushes Jennie’s hand away. “I don’t give a fuck. Y/N is alive.”

In a rage of anger, Namjoon stands up and strikes Taehyung in the face. “Taehyung! Sit down. You’re tarnishing Y/N’s image and causing more pain for everyone here with your delusions. Y/N is in Elysium, and she’s at peace. Let her rest in peace.”

Chiron clears his throat and approaches the boys. “That’s true. She served well. Y/N has been on quests since she was 11. She was a diligent soldier. She deserves rest.”

Taehyung, clutching his face where Namjoon hit him, remains calm and shakes his head. “I would agree if she were actually dead, but she’s not. Isn’t that right Jungkook? Don’t you feel it?”

Jungkook, who has maintained a solemn silence until this moment, lifts his head from his hands. His gaze sweeps over the assembly of campers, then shifts to the shrine erected in your memory, finally locking eyes with Taehyung. Despite his swollen and puffy eyes, Jungkook stands, drawing his sword. "One hour. In sixty minutes, I’m leaving on a quest to find Y/N. Join me if you want or stay if you genuinely believe she's gone. We'll reconvene here. Pack your shit. This journey may take a while."

And you would think that a quest involving the strongest Roman and Greek demigods would lead to something, but it was like you never existed- every trace of you was gone.

The crew had a small glimmer of hope when they came across a piece of scrap metal from your mechanical dragon, Pulchra, drifting in the Atlantic ocean, but it led to nothing.

Jungkook scoured the entire world, yet you were gone, gone without a trace.

In the aftermath of the tragedy, Jungkook secludes himself, grappling with the guilt and pain of not being able to save you.

He leaves Camp Half-Blood for good, moving halfway across the world to Korea to live with his mother and pursue mortal education.

Typically, the whole mantra is Demigods have to stay in Camp Half-Blood to protect themselves from monsters!1!! But Jungkook, 20 years old and the strongest Greek demigod alive, doesn’t have any issue with that. Without a moment's hesitation, he ruthlessly eliminates any monster, adversary, or demon that dares to approach him.

Once, while Jungkook is hanging up his mother’s wet clothes on a clothing line, a hydra approaches the granny neighbors living below him. He doesn’t know what the mortals see - maybe a gigantic husky - but his granny neighbors living below him are scared nonetheless, screaming while the hydra squares them up.

Jungkook encountered a hydra on the quest of the Eternal Night when he was 14 - the key was to not cut off any of the hydra’s heads because it would only grow more. Instead, he hopped down a whole story and used his celestial bronze knife, the same one you crafted, to cut the hydra from its lower calf, causing the monster to crumble into dust.

Following that incident, his granny neighbors were likely even more frightened of him than the hydra, but he truly, truly could not bring himself to care.

He no longer even enjoys killing monsters; his fiery soul and obsession with combat faded into nothing but emptiness.

Jungkook is empty. So, so empty. He hates the gods and refuses to speak to his father, despite countless attempts from Ares to reach out to him.

Instead, he immerses himself in a hedonistic mortal lifestyle. His Harley-Davidson motorcycle is still a familiar sight, roaring through the streets to bars in Seoul, clubs in Itaewon, and occasionally cruising along the coastal beaches of Busan.

It takes him some time to fully embrace the hookup culture, but one drunken night at a bar leads him down the path of one-night-stands and sneaking away in the middle of the night. The first girl, whose name he can't recall, is attractive and makes the first move. With nothing to lose, and alcohol in his system, he goes to hers.

It's okay. It isn’t anything special, but he finds himself unable to finish, and on the journey home, a sense of self-disgust washes over him.

On a chilly December night, Jungkook finds himself at Cakeshop, a nightclub in Itaewon. Around winter, Mina, who is visiting family in Japan, decides to pay Jungkook a visit and accompanies him to the club for a few drinks and a night out.

Of course, Jungkook is delighted to see an old friend, no matter how horrible his condition was the last time he saw her. He takes her out to a few meals and rents out the neighboring flat for her.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter, the duo enjoys a few drinks, exchanging stories and catching up on the time they spent apart. As the night unfolds, they explore the different sections of the club, from the energetic dance floor to the cozy lounges, where they sit continuing their conversation.

Mina tells Jungkook stories from Camp Jupiter — how she has risen through the ranks and been promoted as Praetor of the Roman legion, and Jungkook is genuinely happy to hear it.

Gasps resonate throughout the lounge, and when Mina and Jungkook turn their heads in the direction of the commotion, their faces drop. The most facially aesthetic woman he’s ever seen gracefully maneuvers through the crowd, prompting the masses to part like the Red Sea.

Her gaze fixes on Mina and Jungkook, and without any invitation, she assertively joins them in the lounge. Seating herself directly across from them, her presence transforms the lounge into an exclusive VIP area. Security personnel, clad in sleek black suits, swiftly cordon off the lounge from public access, blocking away any crazy men and women who try to leap at her.

“Hello Mina, dear. You look lovely tonight,” the woman says, pulling lip gloss from her clutch purse and reapplying it to her lips. Mina sneers at the woman, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care because the woman immediately redirects her attention to Jungkook.

Aphrodite.

“Jungkook, dear, I need to talk to you,” she states, voice becoming rigidly serious.

Jungkook and Mina exchange looks, the disdain in her eyes appearing like she wants to leave and Jungkook nearly obliges because he certainly isn’t the biggest fan of the goddess either.

“You need to talk to your father,” she solicits, not even having the decency to look at Jungkook while she addresses him, her eyes focused on the compact mirror in her manicured hands.

Aphrodite was arguably one of the cruelest goddesses, even more so than Jungkook's father, Ares. Love and war work in tandem, but love is the subtle dagger concealed in a silk glove. Aphrodite's influence wasn't just about the sweet intoxication of romance; it was a weapon, a potent brew of desire that she skillfully wielded to manipulate the hearts of both gods and mortals.

And she won. Jungkook let Aphrodite win because he was so tired, so defeated.She allowed Jungkook to be with his love for three mere weeks before ripping her from him in the most horrific way.

“Respectfully, fuck you.” Jungkook stands, preparing to leave when a piercing glare from Aphrodite halts him in his tracks, instantly enveloping the entire room in an eerie stillness, stopping time.

“Jungkook, dear,” she repeats, her voice more menacing, "You're well aware of the consequences when demigods show disrespect to gods. It weakens us, and the delicate balance of the world hangs in jeopardy. Considering that your father, a god, is desperately trying to connect with you, you currently hold a position of advantage. I recommend you take a seat and engage in a conversation before that advantage slips away."

Jungkook grimaces, exchanging worried glances with Mina before sitting down and placing his palms on the table.

“What is it?”

“Your father wants to speak with you,” she begins, “and he’s heartbroken that you won’t give him the chance for a conversation. I can’t deal with a heartbroken boyfriend, it’s affecting our relationship.”

“Mom, that’s selfish,” Mina intervenes, “Jungkook’s been through enough, and you came all the way here just for that?”

Aphrodite’s features soften, and she looks at her daughter sadly. “That’s not all. Jungkook needs to return to Camp Half-Blood,” she adds, to which Jungkook shakes his head.

“I’ll talk to Ares, but I’m not ready to return- not yet,” he grimaces.

“Jungkook,” Aphrodite places a palm on top of Jungkook’s, “I understand how you feel. I truly do. You loved Y/N, and the way you felt for her- it was of the utmost honor. But Jungkook, your friends need you. Though Gaia is deceased, the battle isn’t over. Remnants of her children remain, and Flame Warden has overtaken my husband Hephaestus’s forge in Mount Olympus.”

Hephaestus.

Jungkook inwardly recoils at the mention of your father, Hephaestus, and he cringes that Aphrodite is claiming Hephaestus as her husband, even after her ongoing affair with Jungkook’s own father.

“Hephaestus,” Jungkook says, “Does he- does he even care that Y/N is dead?” Jungkook whispers, eyes reflecting despondency.

Aphrodite softens infinitely. “Of course he does, sweetie. As you're aware, it goes beyond the cosmic structure for gods to nurture connections with their demigod offspring. Hephaestus bears numerous regrets, and even rescuing Y/N was beyond his capacity. His disheartenment led to the infiltration of his ember forge- he hasn’t been the same since Y/N died.”

Jungkook glowers at that, pulling his hand from Aphrodite’s. “So the forge you’re referring to- is it the same forge where Celestial Bronze is created?”

Aphrodite nods. “Now that the Ember Forge has been breached, the Hermes Express faces a disruption in delivering celestial bronze to Camp Half-Blood and the Cyclops' forges. The demigods at Camp Half-Blood are currently unable to craft weapons. As we enter the Golden Era of Demigods, celestial bronze is crucial for arming ourselves and defending against the threat of monsters. As you're aware, the collaboration of a god and a demigod is essential to defeating a giant. Jungkook, your assistance is paramount; we need you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow. “The Golden Era of Demigods?”

Aphrodite acknowledges with a nod. "Your generation, my daughter Mina, and your companions are on the brink of their 20s. In Greek and Roman history, this is an extraordinary development. Typically, demigods meet their fate in their teens, yet now, the significant strength of demigods in their 20s is unprecedented. Jungkook, we stand at a unique opportunity to eradicate the menace of monsters once and for all."

Jungkook looks down, his lip caught between his teeth. "You vowed to change your ways. The gods made promises to recognize their children and to at least talk to them," Jungkook seethes, frustration evident. "Mina’s right here, and barely a word has been spoken to her. Progress won't be made unless the gods acknowledge and take responsibility for their shortcomings."

Aphrodite frowns, “Mina doesn’t want to talk to me! Isn’t it good parenting to leave your teenage daughter alone? The gods are trying their best, Jungkook. Your father is trying his best.”

Mina places a soothing hand over Jungkook’s fist.

“Jungkook, you should go,” she expresses gently, “The Ember forge…” she trails off, “Y/N would want you to do this. Her siblings in the Hephaestus cabin need the celestial bronze. Do it for her.”

Her words plunge Jungkook into a whirlwind of memories: the moments you spent forging his Celestial Bronze knife, the way he annoyed you to hide his colossal crush on you, and how he has carried that same Celestial Bronze knife ever since.

Aphrodite nods in agreement. “Do it for Y/N-”

Jungkook slams his fists on the table. “Don’t speak of her.”

Jungkook knows very well that Aphrodite could have obliterated him on the spot, but she showed mercy by smiling and nodding at Jungkook.

“Fuck it. I’m doing it. Fuck it,” Jungkook murmurs, much to Aphrodite’s delight and Mina’s satisfaction.

The quest now dubbed the Quest of the Ember Forge was triumphant, and it marked the beginning of Jungkook’s return to Camp Half-Blood.

He reimmersed himself in the camaraderie of camp life, and now that he and his friends were of age, they spent hours in the Big House drinking, reveling in their newfound adulthood.

It brought Jungkook so much joy to see Namjoon loosen up, laughing at the stupidest jokes Taehyung made while they downed shots of soju and played Mythomagic, an old card game from their childhood.

The laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the spirited discussions about the recent quest, reminiscences of past adventures, and plans for the future. They toasted to their victories and shared stories of their individual journeys during the time apart.

Even Chiron, the wise centaur, couldn't resist joining in the festivities, regaling them with tales of ancient mythology and imparting wisdom in his own humorous way.

The once-burdened weight on Jungkook's shoulders lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and connection.

For the first time in two years, Jungkook felt at peace, at home, and disallowed the plague of guilt to overwhelm him as he laughed with his friends.

Jungkook resumes sword fighting in the dueling ground, becoming the sword fighting teacher for all the cabins.

Out of all the campers, there is one kid he absolutely adores: a 13-year-old Jungwon, another sibling of Jungkook’s.

Jungkook finds himself observing Jungwon from a distance, the spark in his eyes reminiscent of a younger Jungkook. Soot covers the younger boy's face, and sweat drips from his armor like he’s been out there for hours.

“Kid!” Jungkook approaches, unsheathing his sword. He tilts his head and grins. “Care for a duel?”

Jungwon grins, raising his brows before licking his lips. If anything, Jungwon 100% emits the fiery, combat-crazed aura Jungkook is renowned for. There is no doubt in Jungkook’s mind that this kid is going to be a beast.

The dueling ground buzzes with anticipation as other campers gather to watch the showdown between the seasoned warrior and his spirited protégé. Jungkook and Jungwon circle each other, their swords catching glints of sunlight.

With a sudden burst of energy, Jungkook lunges forward, his movements swift and precise. Jungwon, fueled by determination, meets each strike with resilience beyond his years.

In a final, calculated move, Jungkook disarms Jungwon, ending the duel with a victorious flourish. The onlookers erupt into cheers, acknowledging the mastery of their esteemed sword-fighting teacher.

Jungkook stalks over to Jungwon and helps him up before tousling his hair. “They gotta send you on a quest soon. You’re more than ready.”

Jungwon’s eyes sparkle as he addresses Jungkook. “Seriously? Can you put in a good word for me to Chiron?”

Jungkook nods, but a sudden realization overtakes him.

He doesn’t want to send Jungwon on a quest.

Jungkook's not keen on the idea of sending Jungwon on a quest, at all. Quests are rough, life-altering, and there's a chance Jungwon might not make it back in one piece. The thought of putting his younger sibling through all that hardship and potential danger sews seeds of peril into his consciousness.

On one side, there's a deep desire to shield his younger brother from harm - no way in hell would he let any monsters or giants destroy the innocent twinkle in his eyes. On the other hand, he understands that quests are an inevitable part of a demigod’s journey - it’s not like he wants Jungwon to get soft.

While Jungkook is frozen at that dawning realization, he follows Jungwon’s train of vision to a familiar face in the distance.

It's Isabella, a daughter of Hephaestus, casually strolling with her friends near the dueling arena.

He doesn’t miss the twinkle in Jungwon’s eyes and the blush flushing his cheeks as he turns his head to keep his eyes on Isabella.

Jungkook throws up that night.

One year later, Jungkook visits Mina, Rose, and Mingyu at Camp Jupiter to aid the Roman legion with dueling lessons.

There, a budding romance blooms with a descendant of Apollo, Sofia.

It’s not like Jungkook means for it to happen; he had sworn off love for the rest of his life. Yet, he couldn't ignore the way Sofia's eyes lingered on him. And when she found her way into his hotel room at night, Jungkook couldn't bring himself to ask her to leave.

After that trip, Sofia visits Jungkook at Camp Half-Blood.

Sofia is now Jungkook’s girlfriend and he feels content.

Night after night, Jungkook pays a visit to the shrine dedicated to you, a ritual of remembrance and honor. Sofia, understanding and respecting his feelings, never presses him to share the details of his relationship with you.

Over time, as Jungkook finds solace in their growing connection, he starts bringing Sofia to join him in leaving offerings at your shrine. In those moments, a sense of closure and the gentle warmth of moving forward envelops Jungkook's heart. It’s time to move forward.

That is, until he runs into you.

#demigod!jungkook #demigod!bts #camp half blood au #demigod au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff #heroes of olympus au #pjo au #percy jackson fanfiction #bts fanfic #demigod!enhypen

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hwaightme · 8 months

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🍃 pairing: bf!seonghwa x gn!reader 🍃 genre: heart-melting fluff, slight crack, established long-term relationship 🍃 summary: "i love the way that you're designed, love the way we intertwine, still don't need a reason why, you're beautiful and now you're mine" - you're beautiful by the rose 🍃 wordcount: 2.3k 🍃 taglist: at the end 🍃 warnings/tags: half edited half on the wings of hope, hugs kisses and cuddling, heart might hurt because of the love levels, quiet early mornings, rain, tickling, slightly suggestive, corny jokes and slang, dorky and sleepy couple with stars in their eyes, ode to hwa (simping) 🍃 a/n: i hope this provides some comfort <3 you're beautiful, adored, and shine brighter than the stars. notes, reblogs, comments always appreciated. much love!

Clouds of cotton and linen, a feathery warmth under the faint light of the early morning. If there was one word that you could choose to describe the light grey haze that pleasantly suppressed the vibrant colours of the world around you, waiting until you were to blink away the last inklings of sleep, it would be ‘fragile’. Somewhere between dream and reality was this translucent paradise, so easily missed, and yet, if you were to find yourself in it by a stroke of good fortune, you would want it to last forever. A moment suspended on a single shared breath, under a blanket of a lazy dawn. For the first time in a while, time was on your side.

No rush, no catastrophic cycle hurrying to sweep you up into its monstrous arms, carrying you away from your humble comfort. Both by fate and by extensive planning, you had a long weekend to look forward to, and could spend it exactly how you personally wished - the rain assured you of it. The soft pitter patter against the windows, the rooftop, the brick walls that protected you was music to your ears. Thanks to the awning that covered the windows to the left of the bed - on your side of choice, one of them could be left open a sliver, letting the enticing, lulling aroma of petrichor twirl through the air and caress you. A rustling of the leaves - an unforgettable performance by the huddle of trees, the crowns of which were just outside of your apartment. And you had all the time in this fast-moving world to pace yourself and listen, enjoy the sweetest music.

Your body was still drowsy, enjoying the cosiness of the bedsheets - not that you would even dare attempt to move, considering the gentle, loving arm that had crept onto and over you at some point during the night, and the head of its owner resting on your chest, dark tresses occupying your vision as soon as you looked down. Carefully, you moved a strand away from your boyfriend’s face, biting back a foolish grin when his onyx lashes fluttered at the sensation. His hair was getting longer, the observation passed through your mind as you continued to gingerly brush it with your fingers. In silence, you were able to regard change for what it was, and thanked the sun, moon, stars for letting you stay with the same person through them all.

As the raindrops continued falling, so did your absent-minded touches, in part, because you felt your partner hug you even closer, giving you an adorable grunt of approval even in the midst of sleep, but also, because you wanted to make sure that all of this was real. Grounding yourself in the tender embrace, you found peace and clarity. How did your life lead you to this heaven? So many memories intertwined to build to this moment, how many droplets of rain could that equate to? Would it be a lake? A sea? An ocean? Perhaps you would never find an answer, nor did you want to, because this was a trickling timescale you prayed would never halt. You did not notice that your hand had frozen in the air while you were caught up in your thoughts until a deep voice, laden with a befitting somnolent raspiness, led you back.

“Why’d you stop?”

You looked down again to see a mischievous side eye from none other than your boyfriend who, judging by the question, had been awake for some time.

“Good morning, Hwa. Since when is sleeping beauty not sleeping?” you quipped with a smirk, amused by the scrunching of his nose and a shy smile while he shuffled upwards, until his head was level with yours.

“I’d think you would know when you woke up,” he countered, leaning onto one arm to use his other hand to cup your chin, guiding you closer to him and stopping a mere couple of centimetres away. You inhaled sharply, pretending to be exasperated.

“No fair, I rizzed you first!”

“And I’m just making observations,” before you could answer, you felt his plush lips capture yours, his victorious smile consuming the whine that left you, “good morning, angel.”

“‘Morning, lovely,” you whispered, gaze taking in his eyes, his nose, his lips, cheeks, eyebrows - every detail that made Seonghwa who he was was priceless to you.

His bare face, so stunning that no artist could ever fully depict it, but instead they would be contained in an eternal state of inspiration, having found their muse - selfless, starry-eyed, adoring. A universe contained in every expression, the light coating of blush on his cheeks, be it from the intensity of your observation or due to the mere minutes that passed since he had woken up, a perfect shade of love. Seonghwa; to become a star, indeed; he always shined the brightest. In his eyes was a purity unlike any other, both a reflection of his soul and how he perceived the rollercoaster life around him, even the simplest things turning into miracles. Heart to heart, it was easy for you to feel that in every beat was something greater, a blooming wonder. You fell quiet, instead choosing to stretch your arms wide and invite him impossibly close to you, a gesture that earned pure glee from him.

You felt a hand snake under your body, stopping at your side, meeting his other hand that returned to its position on top of you, and pushing you towards him. Breath running over your neck and collarbone, Seonghwa sighed at the warmth and nuzzled closer, peppering a couple of stray kisses over any skin he could reach. Your arm, which ended up serving as a support and rest for your boyfriend, wrapped around him, and you traced abstract shapes on his shoulder, exposed because of the black sleeveless tee he had chosen to wear, foregoing his usual glossy chrome silver attire. It was so natural, how you tilted your head to rest on top of his. How your left hand and his right intertwined, but not before hovering in midair, palm to palm, fingers flush against each other, reminding you of a day some time ago, back when you were not even officially dating but Seonghwa, overtaken by a sudden boldness, though of the endearing and boyish kind, had expressed a pressing curiosity of how the size of your hand compared to his. Now, you were pretty sure the only answer was: just right to be held by him since from that day on, Seonghwa had never really let go. Be it in a stray touch of the elbow, or a brush of the pinkies, or his leg moving to be right against yours, he was always making sure that you would not forget that he was there. Not that you particularly needed the reminders since Seonghwa would either way be at the forefront of your mind, but the closeness was an unimaginable, instant comfort.

"It's raining," he mumbled, half to himself, tiredly regarding the vista.

"Mhm," you hummed back in agreement, not resisting the temptation to kiss the top of his forehead, making him look up at you, perfect dark orbs that reminded you of a certain brown sugar treat melting away even the smallest hint at a desire to get up.

"...wonder if worms go on dates," he pondered out loud, training his attention back to the maple and beech. You suppressed a snort, never failing to be amused by your boyfriend's unfiltered streams of consciousness, instead squeezing out a response between low chuckles:

"Are you about to ask me if I would still love you if you were a worm?"

"I know you would. You'd be the best worm wife," he shot back, sporting a cheeky grin as he squeezed you tighter. Ignoring how your heart accelerated at his choice of words, planting a seed of curiosity in your mind, you lightly slapped his shoulder.

"Yah, who says?"

"I'd annoy you until you do,"

"Hm… fair, fair," you pretended to consider, "but I won't be able to hug you like this," to prove a point, you curled into him.

“True, and I…” Still keeping a mischievous, enigmatic grin, Seonghwa wriggled out of his position, leaning towards you until you could feel his mouth right by your ear. Involuntarily, a shiver ran over you, making your boyfriend exhale sharply, satisfied. "I doubt I would be able to do this…" he planted a kiss right below your earlobe, and another, trailing downwards. Your flittering on his shoulder turned into a grasp for stability against his unwarranted, albeit alluring forwardness. “Or this,” he continued, using your temporary pliability to twist and tug you towards him until your back hit his broad chest and he could lock his arms around you, “Or-”

“Park Seonghwa, if you dare tickle me right now, I am not to be held resp-”

“Too slow-”

You yelped as you felt your boyfriend’s fingers attack your sides, making you break into a fit of giggles and swat at him, careful to avoid his face. He did not continue for long however, pausing as soon as a yawn disrupted him and instead choosing to embrace you once more and plant one noisy kiss on your cheek, their flushed state igniting an even stronger adoration. He rested his head on his hand with the elbow finding purchase on a white pillow, choosing to allow himself some space for simply acknowledging you.

He always had loving words to say about you - as time went by, he swore that this ability was innate, and that was the only way he could respond to you or describe you, but sometimes, even they fell short of encapsulating the emotional landscape shared, and just how you made him feel. From an ecstatic rush to a divine tranquillity, Seonghwa had found everything with you, and with you, even the biggest challenges turned into tiny setbacks. You balanced each other out. One could offer logic in a sensitive time for another, or provide a space in which to experience the lowest lows with no judgement, only unprecedented empathy. In the same way, both of you were each other's unwavering supporters, always there, always the loudest, always proud. Ready to celebrate success and small joys, be it a major event or an exciting moment in a video game, you simply fit together.

Seonghwa loved the way that you were designed, and the way that you two intertwined. Every day was an opportunity to be better, and he was glad that he could do it with you. In loving you, he found that he started to love himself more too, and it was thanks to this safety of the soul that had been discovered in your unity that he could play games, crack jokes, fully be himself. He noticed that you blossomed too - a freer, happier angel of light to grace this little blue planet, one who, with initial reassurance, had now taken flight and was now living the life that manifested hopes and wishes into a beautiful every day. Both as individuals, and as a couple, you grew to new heights, and that made minutes, hours like this even sweeter.

Now, it was your turn to roll back to spot an enamoured stare. Bashful, despite it having been quite a number of years since you had felt his gaze like this for the first time, you rolled forwards, trying to hide your face, to which you heard a click of the tongue in response, and a firm hold of your wrist. Seonghwa kept your arm in place, resting his own over your waist, and once certain that you would not block him, tangled his fingers between your own.

Dawn.

Rain.

Time.

Seonghwa’s chest right against your back, his inhale, exhale lulling you back into a daze while the sky’s silver tears continued to transform your neighbourhood into a glimmering paradise. You wanted to be like this forever, snuggled close while in the middle of the storm that marked a transition from a fatigued summer to a chilly autumn. But even then, you knew you would be with your own sunshine.

“Already napping?” he teased, noticing how you had closed your eyes, and were progressively sinking further into your pillow. Not that he was doing something different, having collapsed behind you, disregarding the greenery outside, preferring to inhale the scent of your shampoo and forget the hours that the colour of the sky outside would hint at soon enough.

“Mm…” you were not bothered to give a proper response, nor were you particularly worried about your boyfriend not understanding you. He always did. Just like you understood him when he poked at the leg you were lying on to let him hook onto you - something of a habit, turned tradition, turned necessity.

Hearts beating in time, connected in mind, body and soul. Like rain, you had fallen for one another, and soon enough, one droplet turned into two, into one thousand, into an ocean that spanned all of your favourite places. Neither of you were afraid of the occasional gloomy day, because as soon as you were to glance at one another, you would see a brightness previously deemed either inaccessible, or downright nonexistent. You relaxed fully into the feeling of Seonghwa’s arms around you. Safe, devoted, just so Seonghwa. He was a name, a noun, a verb, an adjective. Syllables, characters, letters that morphed into the synonym for love, and with every fibre of your being, you hoped would also mean ‘forever’.

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enjoyed? consider leaving a reblog, i'd love to chat <3

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bewitchedleague · 7 months

Text

"Baldur's Gate 3" - Gortash

pairing: lord enver gortash x reader

a/n: wrote this in an hour, not proof-read. english isn't my first language, might have mistakes. spoilers?

word count: 900.

Had anyone foreseen this as your life's fate, you'd have laughed in disbelief.

The Netherstone within your grasp stood as testament to your role, your newfound cruelty evident. The object capable of unsettling realms, sowing seeds of war and chaos, now answered to you, although partially. The other three Netherstones had their rightful masters, each guarded by potent deities, except for you. Your own deity had forsaken you, swiftly punishing your audacity with excruciating agony, only saved from death by the intervention of the other deities shielding you with their might. But such was the toll of greatness, the sacrifice of frailty and weakness.

Devoid of your Crying God's influence, there was no force guiding you toward the path of kindness, no impetus to nurture and care for others. Your past was cruel, marked by childhood slavery. The deity had gifted you with just enough strength to secure your freedom, only requesting one modest repayment in return: benevolence.

But this… this was far from it.

The power you wielded did not derive from kindness or respect, but from pain, schemes, and cruelty above them all. Once a gentle breeze, now a tempest's cruel embrace.

You had no choice; the offer was too alluring to resist, presented so effortlessly, and Gortash ensured you stood by his side, sharing in his glory. As Bane's favored, he held slightly dominion over the rest, unwilling to compromise, determined to include you, even though your God had forsaken you. The others acquiesced begrudgingly, knowing you posed no threat, their power enough to extinguish you if necessary. They doubted you'd act foolishly, for this was, undeniably, the best you could ever get in your pathetic life.

Neither of the other two took you seriously; Orin would prowl around you, whispering sinister threats with a smirk as she passed, while Ketheric nearly ignored your existence, his gaze occasionally tinged with hints of pity and distaste. Gortash, on the other hand, seemed to glimpse himself in you – powerless, misunderstood, and abused since his youth. He vividly recalled the days when he'd wished death upon his parents for selling him to that merciless warlock. The memory of meeting you among the other child slaves remained etched in his mind, your paths intertwined for days, months, and eventually, years.

The way you bestowed kindness upon him, even amidst the dire circumstances you both endured, was remarkable. Comforting each other with your best abilities as young children – surviving.

Gortash would never admit it, but breaking free from his 'master's' grip and leaving you behind never sat well with him. An unrelenting guilt clawed at his conscience, gradually giving birth to an obsession when he ascended to power. A yearning to find you, hoping and praying that you were alive.

And when he did, he didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

He made sure to show you he cared, even after all these years spent apart. Even when the both of you changed so much. He was still the Gortash you knew, the young boy who tried his best to appear strong and cunning – the one who used his abilities to learn how to survive in a cruel world. By being cruel to it back.

He held you, comforted you, laid you in his bed and ravished you just the way you deserved it.

You absolutely deserved this treatment, considering all the agony, tears, and paralyzing fear you've endured. The prospect of never having to suffer again, of securing your place by accepting his proposal and proving your loyalty as his ally – it's irresistible. Remember, who could empathize with your past more intimately than the one who shared it with you? He'd never betray you, never leave you hanging. You were the very first friend he'd ever had, the one person he truly felt on par with.

You had everything you'd ever yearned for, didn't you? The assurance that suffering would never return. The Steel Watch shielded you, and Gortash vowed to safeguard you no matter what—he made sure you were fully aware of it. He remained steadfast by your side, ensuring your well-being, offering guidance, and aiding you in those tough decisions you struggled to make. After all, who better to help you than a future Archduke?

You needn't fret about a thing, my dear, not as long as he’s around.

Gortash, in a gesture of trust, would bestow upon you a fraction of his powers, an extension of Bane's might. With this, you were assured of protection should any danger arise. He harbored no trust for the others, acutely aware of Orin's burgeoning resentment and her unsettling fixation on you. But with you beneath his watchful protection, you wouldn’t be harmed. No one could ever, ever take you away from him.

Not even yourself.

But you wouldn’t want such a thing, would you?

A part of you seems to have forgotten.

Did you think this was a love story? A sweet, sweet tale where a prince falls in love, rescues their beloved, bestows freedom and affection?

No, granting you freedom would risk those unwelcome tendrils of weakness creeping into your mind. But love? You are loved. The sole obsession plaguing his thoughts, apart from the accursed crown and his grand designs, is you—no one else. How he yearns to imprison you in his chamber indefinitely, with the vigilant Steel Watch guarding the door. His possession—forever.

Such notions fill him with giddiness, a flutter of butterflies. For isn't this love? To desire nothing more and nothing less than to be with that person, irrespective of the cost. To guide their choices, safeguard them beneath your vigilant gaze, nurture them into what you know they should become, not what they desire to be. You know this.

The power you clutch to protect yourself is his. The Netherstone that secures your role in his schemes is his. The place where you reside is his. You are his. Aren’t you, pet?

#gortash x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 gortash #enver gortash #baldurs gate x reader #enver gortash x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

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valentine-writes · 9 months

Note

Hello hello! Been downright dying over how much I love your AtSV work!! So I thought I would feed into it >:) If you're feeling up to it, whats been brewing in your mind about The Spot x reader? Take it platonic or romantic, either has so much potential for fun in my opinion and I guess I'm just interested in what ideas you might have?? Not a lot to work off of from what I'm asking but I hope you're able to have fun with it anyways ^^; Whether youre able to get to this request or not, thanks for reading! Love what you do :)

collision.

「 tws + notes: possibly ooc, unedited, he's kind of pathetic little meow meowified im sorry, first bit inspired by @//submurged-into-clouds !! <3 」

↳ ft. the spot

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

author's note: first, AUWJHEJSBS thank u so much!!!! im glad u like what i've written so far– and i am SUPER excited to write for the spot becuz im gon b real,,, there was a momentary lapse of insanity where i was scouring for any content of him at all. SO TY 4 UR REQ!!!! ( /)u(\ ) i hope this is ok!!! i got carried away and stuff so,, i hope this is at the Very Least coherent! leaned for platonic stuff with romantic undertones that intensify throughout so,, read it how u like ^_^

▸ we're going to start this by establishing that bro has literally No Friends anymore. you met him after the collider incident and by some miracle, some sort of mercy from a higher power in the multiverse– you ended up becoming friends with him

really, meeting him was an accident. wasn't supposed to be anything more– just him messing around with his new abilities and slipping into a random universe with no idea where he was.

and there was you.

just you. out, alone at night. just taking a walk– disrupted by someone falling out of a weird portal from the sky.

this is the day your paths crossed, the day your fates intertwined, the moment that your world collided into his.

to put more literally: the day he crashed into you very unceremoniously.

im now re-reading the title and remembering his backstory and giggling at my unintentional joke. he is not catching a break. even from me.

▸ after recovering from a random stranger from another universe tumbling into your own, you began to talk.

now– you don't remember how the conversation started, but you were glad to listen. the way which he rambled to you, words tumbling out of his mouth like they'd been on his mind for a while– you felt like he needed someone to hear him.

he's surprised. you're not bothered. not frightened. not even weirded out. but you're not indifferent. you nod along, you comment on things here and there– but you listen. you actually listen to him.

eventually, when he leaves, you're sat there for a moment. just frozen– processing whether that had really happened or not. you see the indent his body left in the grass where the two of you sat. it's evidence enough for you.

a few weeks pass and you're certain that you were just fated to meet once and never again. you were fine with this.

▸ until he randomly popped up in your living room one day.

yes, he had been actively trying to find your universe again– and as casually as he can be, is now peeking from out the portal he created, head leaning in to get a better look at you.

you're not sure how you can tell considering he has no face,,, but he's definitely smiling.

he waves to you, awkwardly, (noticing that you're just staring at him while not saying a word), "thought i would say hi, so– ...hi."

you blink at him tiredly. "dude, it's 6:30 in the morning–"

he's treating this like it's normal for people to just show up in your house. he missed you– and it's very evident.

▸ no matter what type of relationship you're in with him: you GOTTA set boundaries. being one of the only people who cares to hang around him anymore means that you're gonna be seeing a lot of him.

while he certainly hasn't completely lost grasp on the concept of privacy, it's definitely been altered by the fact he's got powers that allow him to pop up wherever he wants. he's just a teeny bit invasive.

"hello!" he'll greet, randomly poking his head through a portal he made to your bedroom.

on instinct, you throw the closest thing to you. he's just glad you reached for the pillow and not the alarm clock also at your arms reach on the bedside table.

definitely a good idea to remind him that if he wants to hang out, he should probably message you, and if he wants to show up at your house for whatever reason, he should give you a heads up.

he has nearly walked in on you changing. and has apologized a million times every time it's brought up. it fr keeps him up at night.

▸ everyone in his life leaving him def messed him up a bit. he can deny it all he wants, but he's terribly anxious that you're gonna grow tired of him and leave.

constantly like "oh my god what if they leave for someone who has a face" and itz like,,, boy,,,, stfu itz 3am

he needs reassurance, even if he never explicitly says. but you're kind to him. patient. you're pretty much an angel in his eyes.

which is why he feels comfortable texting u in the dead of night like:

(im gonna b real i dont even know why i have this image)

▸ he's dismissed by most people around him– but you've given him your time. you've shown him that you care. he's doing everything he can to be certain you'll still care for him.

the random waves of "oh no but what if they hate me" hit him HARD. especially if he hasn't seen you in a while, if you take longer to respond to his messages, if you haven't been answering his calls– bro will jump to a conclusion

"hypothesis: they dont love me anymore :("

☝️🤓 SORRY HAKJWOENDOEND he would NOT say that. im just clowning on him itz a part of my luv 4 him </3

needs to be needed. wants to be wanted.

eventually you have a long talk about this. he's got a bit of an ego after realizing how much power he truly possessed– but you gently encourage him to let it down. a simple heart to heart. and while you're certain these things aren't going to dissipate with a single conversation, you've let him know he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

▸ physical contact is a need for him. bro's touch starved. he likes linking his pinky with yours or just intertwining your fingers together. if you ever let him rest his head on your shoulder or hugged him he'd actually have to fight tears. he hasn't been given affection in a while :(

▸ he doesn't really feel like he has to hide anything around you. he really doesn't have much of a filter when you're talking to him which makes for some amusing conversation. he finds your laughter the sweetest sound in the world– he likes making you laugh :] it makes him feel like he's accomplished something

▸ the alterations to his body have caused some weird little changes that most people don't notice. one of them most noticeably to you– he'd cold. not frigid or like icy, but a lot colder than normal people tend to be.

you first notice this when you're hanging out in your bedroom. you're sitting on your bed, while he paces back and forth, rambling about another failed villainous act

(you haven't questioned his whole obsession with villainy considering that he seems pretty harmless with what he's been attempting– no matter how much he tries)

"and then– ohh, and tHEN THEY JUST—" you notice how he's gesturing frantically, exasperated, annoyed– and out of instinct to provide some sort of comfort (or at least calm him down) your hand grasps his wrist

there's a moment of silence.

his voice dwindles into a more soft, subdued tone, watching as your fingers wrap around his wrist. "wh– if you wanted me to stop talking, you could've just... just said or...."

his mind is going blank, trailing off at your touch. he doesn't remember the last time someone has held his hand or even brushed up against him without freaking out.

"you're cold." you comment, now taking his hand between both of yours, as if you were trying to heat him back up. you don't meet his eyes, simply staring at his hand.

"oh– yeah, yeah, it's just– a thing with now. came with the holes–"

the sensation of your hands gently squeezing his shuts him up. you raise his hand to your lips and gently blow hot air onto it.

your brow furrows, nose scrunching up. "you're still cold..." you mutter, more to yourself than to him. quietly, your gaze returns to his face.

"does that bother you?" you ask him, after a beat of silence.

he shakes his head. your hands let go of his– but he quietly reaches back to hold it again.

"hold on a second. why don't you try again?" he suggests. you laugh softly, knowing it's obviously just an excuse. still, you humor him.

#the spot atsv #the spot #atsv x reader #the spot x reader #the spot x y/n #jonathan ohnn #jonathon ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader #jonathon ohnn x reader #BRO ITZ SO HARD TO TAG FOR HIM IM GONNA ANWKJWEIJE?!!]^{>]*]%#ok im normal again

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kaedahana · 11 months

Text

the great war.

art by @ izeichan on Twitter

late night thought; have you ever missed someone you don't... know? i do. yes, inspired by the great war by T.S <3

CHARACTER : Kaedehara Kazuha - Reader

fluff? angst?

-UNEDITED-

You and Kazuha have never been happier to spend your whole spring and summer together until that one night.

ART NOT MINE

It was summer when Kazuha and you shared a long kiss under the vast night sky. The leaves were lively green and crickets were playing both of you a lullaby. Every day that summer you wished on every star that your name and his are etched together forever in the ether. Laying on the soft blanket that you made over the spring season as you stare into each other’s eyes. Mesmerized by one another. You can see eternity in his eyes. You closed your eyes, fingers intertwined with his. You thanked the archons to be blessed with this moment. Kazuha is in your arms, safe and sound.

But of course, fate plays a cruel game and flips your whole world in a matter of days. Standing in the doorway Kazuha looked at you grimly, as he held the letter crushing it and letting it fall onto the floor.

"You can't go," you whispered. Your being brimming with resentment, sadness and fear. They threaten to take over your body and wreck everything.

"I have to, they're calling me."

"You can't go!" you run a frustrated comb through your hair with your fingers, biting your lip trying not to cry. Looking away, hoping and hoping that this is all just a dream. That when the morning comes, you're gonna wake up to Kazuha lovingly kissing you. Spinning you in his arms. There’s no war to fight in. No bloodshed. No fear.

"I have no choice"

You walked to him, "What about me? You're going to leave me behind? You expect me to be okay?!" you shouted unable to hold it any longer, you fell to his legs and broke down. You sobbed harder when you can feel the never ending tears trailing down your face. You hugged his legs and begged for your future together.

"Darling, please don't. I-I can't live like this" you said between sobs, struggling to catch your breath.

Kazuha squat down to your level and embraced you. His heartbeat speaking to you in words he can't muster.

He only held a pinkie finger. linking it with yours. He brought your head close to his heart, hearing it go faster and louder. He kissed the crown of your head, smoothing your hair with his hand.

"I'll be back, it's a promise dear. I'll fight for you, I'll live for you and if I have to… I'd die for you"

Slowly the same green vibrant leaves turned into shades of red and orange as autumn rolls around. You stared at the maple orange leaf that landed on your hand, tracing the outlines of it. Your mind goes back to Kazuha, missing the pillow soft feeling of his lips, his slightly red cheeks, and the eyes that you love. You feel an unpleasant feeling in your stomach and continue to walk around the festival so you could distract yourself. Anything to get rid of the thoughts that maybe… he's gone.

"Darling!" a voice shouted from behind you.

Immediately, you looked back. Disappointment fills you up when you didn’t see him. You run a hand across your face, missing him terribly now. The poems. The teasing. The cute names he calls you. Him.

You recalled the last letter you got from him a month ago;

My dove,

I hope this letter finds you well. You've been on my mind and never left. You're the only shining star I need in this dark world, your glow is enough to illuminate my whole world .This room is silent but I can still hear your enchanting laugh. I close my eyes yet all I see is you my darling. I'm sorry it has to be this way, I miss you a lot. I would do anything in my power to close this dreadful gap of ours and be in your arms. The fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut. I love you with my whole heart, soul and mind.

-yours.

Children rushed past you with huge grins across their faces, daughters and sons dancing in the streets, lanterns illuminating the path ahead of you as darkness falls into the world. Even with people around you, you feel more lonely than ever.

You walked to the forestry area, shivering as the breeze blows past you. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat. You find yourself humming the song Kazuha hummed the day he comforted you when he got the letter that took him away to war.

You spotted a pond away from the town and decided to dip your legs into the water.

The water was cold and the fishes were glowing in vibrant colours. Leaves swaying across the water. Your eyes stuck to the reflection of the moon in the water. Then you talked to the stars.

“Where are you? Are you safe? What did you eat? Today... the lantern festival in town is nothing without you. I need you back, please.” you pleaded with your whole heart, wringing every bit of hope into wishes.

Then warmth wrapped you up from behind, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The scent you inhaled, it’s ever so familiar it relaxes your body

“Just as I promised, darling” a voice whispered into your ear. Your heart going fast, is this a dream?

You turned your head and there he is, Kazuha. Your star-crossed lover. Your forever. Your eternity and beyond.

Tears spilt from your eyes as you squealed and wrapped your arms around his torso. He laughed wholeheartedly as both of you fell onto the ground with you on top of him. You took in the view of your lover. Handsome as ever with his abdomen tightly wrapped in bandages while his hanten hangs loosely on his shoulder. He offered you a reassuring smile.

"Am I going crazy or are you here?" You asked unable to believe that he's here. You can feel his warm breath fanning your cheeks. You can feel his soft skin against yours. You can hear his heart beating, yearning for yours. You lay beside him, resting your head on his bandaged arm. "Are you okay?" you whispered. He just nods, staring at you with so much love and bliss.

"You're beautiful," he said under his breath before pressing his lips against yours. His lips... soft on yours as he gently places his hands on your waist pulling you closer to his body. You glide your hands across his bare chest, letting it travel freely over his abs. He tugged on your hair as you withdraw to catch your breath. He hovered on top of you with his arms trapping you. He inhaled your scent from your neck and sighed in contentment.

"I almost forgot what you feel like"

He raised his eyebrow at this, his eyes averting to your lips.

"Then let me remind you again"

So yes, fate is a cruel game but you couldn't care less because your destiny is him and with him is your destination.

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greetingfromthedead · 29 days

Text

Shepherd Story 2 (God!Knives x F!Reader)

Plot: In a world where fallen gods live among you, there is the god of winter and death who is also eternally bound to you with body and soul. The time has come for him to visit you again.

Series: Shepherd. Check out Story 1 and Story 3!

Pairing: God!Knives x F!Reader

Raiting: NSFW!! 18+!! R!! Explicit!! Minors DNI

Tags: fantasy!AU, god!AU, no use of "y/n", smut (I just got carried away in the beginning), established relationship, gods, feathery plant, fated love, romance, legends, nature magic, reunion, intimacy, possessive behavior, tenderness, some fluff, body worship, light bondage, vaginal fingering, oral f receiving, hand job, p in v sex

Word count: 4k

Author's Note: This is a continuation of Shepherd. This story is inspired by @triplesilverstar's god!AU. There isn't much lore here, but I already have ideas for a 3rd installment. This AU will rot my brain out.

The cycle is nearly complete again. The summer heat caressed your cheeks, and the trees took on a yellow hue. This body had not felt the heat of midsummer or seen the different colors of nature. Despite living in the south, the creeping winter lasting 50 years still left its mark. But you remember from all your past lives the changing seasons that seemed to last forever. You don't miss the sunny days or the shades of spring. You welcome the falling leaves and the chilly northern winds, for they are brought on by something more precious.

The song of your heart has gotten louder and louder as the weeks have passed, and the familiar restlessness of your ancient soul has been tugging you towards the dark forests surrounding your home. But you know there is no need to go; you are found, and the melody echoing from your chest will always guide him back to you without fault.

You look up from your workbench as the silent whine of ice forming touches your ears. He is here. The god of winter and death has arrived, greeting you with breathtaking bouquets of frosted flowers covering your windows. They glimmer in the last rays of daylight as you set aside your book and rise to meet him.

You open your front door into the frigid evening air. It is snowing again, just like last time, and once again, you see him approaching from the edge of the forest. This time he isn't frozen over, his beautiful feathery wings trailing behind him with soft rustling. His ice cold eyes are on you, but tonight they don't nail you to your spot with terror. In them, you recognize the hundreds of lifetimes you've lived, your love reaching back to times so old that even the stories from it have died.

"I've been waiting for you, Beloved," you say as you step off your doorstep onto the freezing pathway. The frost brought on by his presence melts under your bare feet, and it gets colder with every step you take towards him.

"I've been yearning for you, my love," he replies, his steely gaze looking through this mortal body of yours and only seeing the soul he fell in love with millennia ago. "I patiently waited for the day to lay my eyes on you once again."

"Come now; I have something of yours." You reach out your hand with a smile to invite him to take it. He closes the distance and traces his digits along the lines of your open palm. His cold touch chills the blood in your veins, but just for a moment. His fingers find the spaces between yours, intertwining effortlessly as if they were always meant to be there. With that, the markings covering his body light up with a dim blue light. The sight only lasts for a few seconds before the patterns disappear again.

"As always, I thank you, sweet Shepherd, for keeping it safe." His voice is quiet and soothing, painting images of snow covered meadows and peaceful forests in your mind. He presses your hand to the middle of his chest, where you feel his heart awakening. The beat hastens as he holds your gaze. "You consume me. I dream of you every hour of every day."

His fingers let go of yours to trace along your bare forearms. You don't even notice the cold anymore as his touch leaves burning trails in its wake. You lean in closer, unable to resist the pull of his soul.

"For tonight, I am not a mere dream. I am yours to hold, and we have a lot of time to make up for, darling." You reach out your free hand to touch his sharp jaw line and feel the warmth emanating from his skin. The god bows his head to you as his lips find yours. It fills you with euphoria, reaching into the farthest corners of your being. Your heart beats like a wardrum, echoing the sounds of times past. His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him as he leans you back. His kiss acting as a wordless prayer.

The snowflakes gently falling from the heavens land on your face like delicate touches, and the feeling of them melting on your skin lingers for long after they are gone. His stiff hands clutch tightly at your waist and lift you up from the ground. Your palms find balance on his broad shoulders. His sharp gaze looks up into your dumbfounded face as he carries you back to your cottage. A familiar feathery tendril slinks out from between his mass of wings and gently brushes against your cheek, drying up the wetness left there by the thawing snow. You lift one arm from his body to touch the tendril and let it slip through your fingers.

He sets you down as he reaches the doorway and lets you guide him inside, where his presence fills the small room with shadows. The door can barely shut behind him as you feel more soft touches trail along your skin. You recognize them as the slim helping limbs, and you feel two of them trying to slink their way under your blouse. His large hands land on your hips as you feel him press against your back. He leans down and whispers in your ear, "You fill me with desire and make me lose my mind. I am nothing more than a pathetic and weak man in your presence. My thoughts focused on every way to please you. I crave your touch and long for the warmth of your body."

His hands travel around you, pushing the thin fabric of your top with them, baring your skin around your waist. You feel the contour of his muscles against you and the warmth of his cheek pressing into yours. His fingers start to undo the buttons as a hand slithers underneath to dance along your bare skin.

"I come like a rabid dog to your doorstep, a starved animal desperate for the smallest particle of your affection. I come with my teeth bared and my chest full of longing. You have me crawling in desperate devotion for you." His voice cuts like a knife into your hazing thoughts.

"You're a god," you remind him as he opens the front of your blouse.

"And I am powerless in your glory." His hot breath touches your skin at the base of your neck, and his lips trail down your shoulder.

Both of his hands travel along your figure, exploring every curve and crevice with hunger. A few of his tendrils sneak under your skirts, caressing along your legs up to your thighs. Your hands cover his as his long fingers press into the supple flesh of your breasts. The creeping feathers lick over the hot core between your legs. Your breathing gets heavier as his hands get rougher, and his kisses are replaced by sharp teeth trailing over your skin. A shiver runs along your spine as he makes his way up your neck.

He whispers into your ear as the tip of his nose digs into your helix. "Will you allow me to be reminded of your sweetness? So it can turn to bitter longing when we are apart?"

You swallow hard, and he doesn't wait for your response. He turns you around, and his lips find yours in a searing kiss. His hands push off the garment, still trapping your arms, and the tendrils pull down your underwear. He guides you backwards, and you can only take a few strides across the little room until the edge of your workbench digs into the back of your thighs. He effortlessly lifts you onto the edge and settles between your legs. His fingers frame your face as he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. Your hands travel along his body to undo the clasp of his robe on his shoulder and let it fall between your bodies. Your fingers trail down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. As he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck, you feel a shiver run down your spine. The anticipation builds as he whispers his desires in your ear, sending a hot wave into our belly.

Your arms reach around him, and your digits find where the wings meet his back. Your fingers are grabbing onto the mighty and soft bases as his kisses move along your neck, leaving you softly moaning as his hands caress you. Some of his tendrils have moved on to peel back the layers of your skirts, carefully bunching them up onto your lap and holding them there. The god's tender hand runs along your thigh, and two more tendrils appear to weave around your ankles and calves. His touch moves closer to the heat emanating from your longing sex.

The little helping limbs pull your legs apart for him to run his thumb along your wet slit. His fingers expertly tease your folds. With each gentle stroke, you feel yourself surrendering to the pleasure he effortlessly evokes. More tendrils appear that wrap themselves tenderly around your form. They hold you securely in place as the god's touch becomes more intense, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can't help but arch your back and moan softly as he continues. His lips move down from your collarbone and skip over the tendril making its way to your neck. He focuses on the space between your breasts before picking one and lapping at the hardening bud in the center. The feathers tickle you gently and help to keep you up as his looming form forces you backward. A finger presses its way through your entrance, and the juices gush onto his hand. The god groans against your skin, and you can feel the vibration all throughout your body. His digit is quickly followed by a second one as they start to stretch and explore your inner walls, seeking out every sensitive spot within you. The sensation of his fingers moving inside you, combined with the soft feathers caressing your skin, sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you breathless and wanting more. His kisses move down along your sternum, and two tendrils make you release the wings on his back that you had held on to with all your might. Finally free from your grip, he can lower himself to the floor. He looks up at you from between your legs before turning to brush his lips along your inner thigh.

His mouth finds its way to your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking and circling with precision. The sensation is overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The tendrils tighten their grip further as your body jerks, and your belly contracts in anticipation. His tongue buries into your folds as he laps up your desire for him. Strangled cries and whimpers escape your throat as he keeps you teetering on the edge of climax, prolonging the exquisite torture. The little feathery limbs around your wrists let go to allow you to lace your fingers into his pale blonde hair and pull on it. The fingers of his free hand dig into your hip with enough fierceness to leave marks. The other hand pumps into you with curled digits. With a final flick of his tongue, you shatter into a million pieces, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride the waves of climax.

He doesn't stop yet, his tongue replacing the fingers he pulled from you, drinking up every spilled drop like a dying man presented with the fountain of immortality. Both his hands hold on to your hips, pulling you closer as you slowly come down from the initial high, but his actions still cloud your mind with pleasure.

His face pulls away from you, and you get to see his adoring eyes look up at you. This gaze is yours alone; no other soul is privy to it. His one. His only. Despite the soft nature of his expression, his lips aren't graced with a smile; an iciness fit for the god of winter lingers there. You know this face too well; it's nothing more than a mask, trying to hide his inpatient intentions. As he rises up to stand before you, the distance grows enough for you to bask in the glory of his form. You see the sparse little feathers growing by the collarbones, his wide and muscular chest, now bare for you since his flowy white robe hangs from his hips. Yet the layers of fabric are not able to hide his desire for you.

As he steps closer, he relieves his body from the garment and lifts you up from the wooden surface with the tendrils to remove your skirts leaving you as naked as the day you were born. He presses himself between your legs as he lowers you down again and you wrap yourself around him, your feet locking together on his ass. His cheek presses against yours, his warm breath tickling your neck as his hands stroke your sides. You enjoy his closeness, and the slight tickling makes you look down. You feel his hard length press against you, but as you look, you see the tip poke out between your bellies. It leaves a wet spot on your skin. You scoot your ass back enough to fit your hand between your bodies.

You touch your own dripping sex first, collecting some of the slick on your digits before capturing his shaft and starting to run your palm along the length of it before wrapping your fingers around it. You continue to stroke him firmly, feeling him twitch in your hand. With every pass, your thumb strokes over the tip, and his heavy breath caresses your ear as silent moans threaten to escape him. Your other hand holds on to his hair as you continue your steady pace. He arches his back and lets out a low groan of pleasure as you twist your hand around him, and the sound turns into a growl as he nips at your ear. You know he is at his wit's end, unable to control himself any longer. You release the vice like grip of your legs, and he knows to lean back. You run his sensitive tip through your folds before lining him up at your entrance. You are dripping in anticipation, and he can slowly sink into your heat as the walls clamp down around him. You let out a soft moan as he fills you completely.

His hips start to move in shallow thrusts as your fingers grip his hair and feathers. His panting lips move to your throat, forcing your head back, but the pleasure is too much to keep your eyes open anyway. You let yourself enjoy the overwhelming sensation. He grinds himself to the bottom of your well, hitting that spot inside you that makes you tighten your legs around him. You feel the tendrils around you come to life again with new vigor as they strangle your torso and opening your legs wider for him. You are too bound by him to do much of anything except moan with overwhelming pleasure towards the heavens. You are completely lost in the moment, surrendering yourself to his every touch. Your mind is consumed with desire, and your body aches for more.

As if sensing your despair, he increases the intensity of his movements—no longer shallow thrusts but deep, powerful strokes that send waves of delight through every fiber of your being. His teeth graze your skin as his lips move hungrily against the skin of your neck. He relishes the vibrations escaping your throat, his hands grabbing you tight and pulling you closer to him.

You quiver around him as your body tightens in pleasure, every nerve ending on fire with lust. His pace has turned into a frantic pounding as he drives deep into you. The small room is filled with a symphony of your voices, moaning in unison to the building crescendo of ecstasy.

The coil that has been tightening with every thrust of your lover finally releases, sending you over the edge into a state of pure bliss. You call out his name as your body convulses around him, tripping him too over the verge of climax. He fills you with warmth as your pulsing milks him. You feel yourself spilling over as your hands release their tight grip on him. You go boneless as the last of the intense pleasure washes over and retreats. You are kept up by his strong arms and tendrils wrapped around you. His lips move down to your chest, where he leaves more of his burning kisses as you still feel him panting against your skin. You are so entangled in him, you aren't sure where he ends and you start.

The tendril that has been around your neck like a necklace slithers away and is replaced by the god of death's long fingers. He squeezes just enough to slightly restrict your airway, making your heavy breath hitch in your throat. He kisses the edge of your jaw, and you turn your burning gaze on him. What you wouldn't give to crawl out of this mortal body and return to the time where you had no need for it. You curse the gods who turned you this way, forcing the two of you to hold back every step of the way. Your love transcends the limitations set by this meek form. You don't want him to be vigilant about your weak body; you want the love you make to thunder across the land with the strength of a thousand storms. You want him to stay. Yet he will bring death even to you if he lingers too long. You grab hold of his chin and move his lips to yours so your tongue can taste the sweetness of his mouth. A groan escapes him as his other hand pulls on your lower back, pressing you even closer to him. You are left gasping and desperate for more.

His fingers release you again, and he grabs hold of your hips. There is no chance of you sliding away from his grasp, as he holds you both with his strong arms and the tendrils woven around you. He picks you up from the workbench and heads to where he knows your bed to be. You can still feel him inside you, as he never pulled away far enough from your body to break that bond. As he steps into the shimmering moonlight, he stops. Long shadows are painted on his skin, and his pale blue eyes glimmer, reminding you of ice crystals, making him appear otherworldly.

"My gorgeous nymph, beautiful as the day I first saw you," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You know his calm demeanor hides a raging fire just beneath the surface. You know you are the moth to his flame, and you cannot resist being drawn closer to him, even though you know it will eventually consume you.

"My Beloved." You whisper back, your hands cradling his face.

He doesn't linger by the window any longer but continues onward to your bed. He turns and stretches out his enormous wings before sitting down and situating you on his lap, your legs kneeling to either side of his thighs as you are spread out for him again.

He looks up at your face, the ancient fire you share burning in both of your gazes. The storming of your soul against the confines of your human body is a tempest, spilling over into his soul.

"I want to lay waist to their domain, to set fire to their realm, where they look down upon us, until their marble stairs melt away. I want to make them grovel and beg for forgiveness at your feet for the shackles they have placed upon you. Let me seek justice the only way I know how. Tell me to go to war, Shepherd!"

"You will lose without your heart, and I refuse to give it back," you say with a tone that won't allow him to argue. Instead, you put your hands on his shoulders and grind your hips into his lap.

You feel his breath shudder for a moment before his hands run up your body, cupping your breasts as you lean back. The need grows again, fed by the flames of your love, as you roll your hips against his, feeling the heat between you intensify. His lips find yours, and you lose yourself in the passion of the moment. You feel him hardening inside you again, aching for more. His fingers dance over your sensitive skin as the tendrils retreat, and he gives you full control over your body again. Your movements grow bolder as he swells inside you. Soon enough, you find yourself feverishly riding him, unable to hold back any longer. He uses the tendrils to move the both of you further onto the bed without disturbing your bouncing. You force him onto his back as you continue to rock your hips against his with a passion that consumes you both. Any attempt to prolong the moment is futile, as the sight of him relishing in your beauty is intoxicating. His fingers dig into your thighs as he starts to buck up into you with an urgency that matches your own. A tendril pushes against the tender bundle of nerves to brush against it. There is time for tenderness later. For now, you are a wildebeest in heat, desperate for his touch and his seed. You are lost in the moment, consumed by the age-old desire between you.

As your bodies move in perfect synchronization, the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in a whirlwind of passion. The intensity builds until it reaches its peak, leaving you breathless and completely enraptured by him. As you collide into him, he pulls you in for a breathless and passionate kiss that leaves you wanting more. He wraps you in his wings as he turns and pins you underneath him. The god still looks ravenous as he pulls away from you and continues to grind his hips against yours. He kisses the deepest part of you, and it makes you whine out his name until you're begging for him to never stop.

Chasing one release after the other, you are soon spent, your body exhausted and limp, yet your soul begs him to keep going. The night goes by with him mapping your body with his blazing lips and exploring every inch of your skin with his fingertips, leaving you breathless and thinking you might die in the arms of the god of winter and death.

As the sun begins to kiss the tops of the trees, you find yourself tangled in his embrace, feeling a sense of completeness and contentment. You know the time has come again for him to leave your side, but for a little bit, the yearning in the pit of your stomach has found its fill. You know you will see him again as another cycle of nature reaches its end, and until then, you have a job to do.

The bittersweet goodbye stings your heart as his lips linger on yours for longer than they need, his fingers gripping your waist tightly, a rigidity in his body betraying the calm facade he's trying to maintain. As he pulls away, your loving gaze meets his stern eyes. Your thumb trails over the beauty mark on his cheek, a moment of silent understanding passing between you. You know he has no desire to leave, yet he must rip himself from the beautiful dream that is your embrace.

"I will wait for you, my darling," you whisper into his ear before placing a last kiss on his cheek.

"And I will return to you, forever and always," he promises before turning away from you with sorrow in his eyes. "Keep it safe for me, sweetling."

Check out Story 1 and Story 3!

"Foolish man, that's why I don't give it back." You chuckle lightly and watch him silently walk across the frosted yard to disappear before daylight floods his path.

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let-them-read-fics · 1 year

Text

Midnight Mercy

Pairing: Gahyeon x Fem!Reader

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut, Somnophilia, Slight Degradation

Word Count: 2,607

Summary: The term "wet dream" takes on a whole new meaning in the middle of the night, nestled between the sheets of your bed.

Gahyeon needs your help in finishing what she unconsciously started.

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m sorry for not uploading sooner; life just got in the way a bit. Buuuuut, I’m back now, and I’ve got a few writings already finished that I just have to edit and post for all of you to enjoy :) I hope you like this piece <3 Handong’s story will be posted soon, also, so keep an eye out for that!

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

“Y/N,” a sleepy mumble came from behind you, paired with a bit of shuffling beneath the sheets.

“I’m here, Gah,” you responded, equally as tired and fully aware that she was away in dreamland somewhere and incapable of actually hearing you.

“Y/N/N,” she spoke again, this time a little louder – a little more forceful.

You rolled over, intertwining your legs with hers and laying an arm across her midriff to offer her some reassurance. Perhaps she’d feel it and fall back into a restful slumber again.

“Shhh,” you soothed, the noise slightly altered from the way your cheek pressed against your pillow.

When your fingertips lightly stroked her side in a gentle, mindless pattern, she seemed to relax and settle down. Whatever was bothering her stopped, and you lazily smiled, falling back into the rhythm of sleep right behind her.

- 20 Minutes Later -

Unconscious, unintentional stimulation. That’s all Gahyeon’s mind cared about as it prompted her body to continue the slow grind that it had begun a few minutes prior, aiming to relieve the pressure that plagued her core.

Her hips wound in sensual circles and strokes, causing her clit to rub just right against something firm and warm that just so happened to be nearby.

Only when the rocking became more forceful did she begin to wake up, and only then did she realize what she had been doing. Her pulse was quicker than normal, pumping harder in her chest, and her breathing was faster, too.

Aided by what light the moon had to offer, she peeked down at where your bodies were joined. The covers had fallen – or been pushed – away, exposing both of you to the night air.

Both of her legs were wrapped around one of yours, and as she moved to reposition them, her mouth fell open instead.

A large wet spot glistened on your thigh, darkening the leg of your grey sweatpants in a way that both embarrassed Gahyeon and aroused her.

Though she hadn’t meant to, she had nearly gotten herself off on you.

Her eyes tracked up to your face, where she found blissful ignorance etched into your features.

You were laid out on your back, breathing softly. The neckline of your tank top had ridden lower than it was meant to, due to your drowsy tossing and turning from before. She couldn't help but focus her attention there, admiring the way that your nipples were peaked beneath the thin material, just out of view.

She bit her lip, needing to busy her mouth.

The waistband of your sweats had long ago fallen below its proper place as well; your hip bones peeked out above it, and it was all her fault. Her grinding had slowly worked your pants down, pulling them little by little.

Crimson blush crept up the back of her neck, working up to her cheeks the longer she admired you.

Did you have any idea how beautiful you were?

While thousands of people threw themselves at her on the daily, all vying for any miniscule amount of attention she'd pay to them, here she was giving every bit of it to you – wholly and undivided.

She was simply a pawn in your unconscious game. And yet, for a fate that sounded so taxing, she lived for it.

Her bout of adoration was interrupted as you shifted, sensing some sort of change despite still being asleep.

Ignorant to the situation at hand, you scooted closer, returning your body to its previous position next to hers as you unconsciously sought out the warmth that she provided so well.

Your arm wrapped around her abdomen as you pulled her in, and your leg shifted back between her thighs; the motion of your readjustments reached her clit, sending a wave of pleasure washing over her again.

It reminded her of just how sensitive she was. How close.

Your cheek pressed to her chest, nuzzling there comfortably.

“Y-Y/N, baby,” she addressed, though her voice betrayed her. What she intended to sound firm was anything but; it classified more so as a broken moan than anything else.

“Mmm,” you hummed, still blissfully unaware of what was happening. Sleep played on the edge of your mind, cradling you there.

She gave into the selfish urge to grind again, just a little. No harm, no foul… right?

Her head pressed back into the pillow when your lips brushed against her breast, settling dangerously close to her nipple. Your breath fanned out across her exposed skin, exploiting how sensitive it was; her thin crop top was practically useless as a barrier. If anything, it only heightened what she was feeling.

It was almost too much to handle; her head spun, dizzied by everything that came along with having you so close.

“Y/N, wake up,” she tried again, voice still airy.

You muttered a low protest and drew her closer, not listening.

“You feel so good,” you complimented through a sleepy, blissful sigh, your lips ghosting across her skin with the words. Your hand skimmed down further, meeting the curve of her side, before coming to rest above the line of her thong.

The pulse between her thighs grew stronger with everything you did. Shame pervaded her mind at the idea of using you like this to get off, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted it. Wanted to take advantage of such a perfect opportunity – of you, and your flawless body. It made her feel dirty, but turned on all the same.

“Gah,” you uttered, beginning to wake up and break through the haze of sleep. “What’s wrong?” She was tense in your arms, and doing everything she could to keep some distance between you.

You blinked a few times, adjusting to the dark before propping up on your elbow to look at her.

With her head turned away, you couldn’t see the helpless way her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, or the furrow of her brows as she focused hard on refraining from riding your thigh.

Your grip on her waist tightened as you shifted close enough to peek at her face; the subtle move made her moan, and it was then that you began to piece things together. You glanced down between your bodies, finding her two thighs trapping one of yours in precious need. A gentle smile showed on your face, full of curious wonder.

She was absolutely ruinous.

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner, baby?”

“I tried,” she said. “You were out like a light.”

Two half-truths that conveniently enabled her to forego explaining her deeper desires. Admitting just how much she had enjoyed the thrill of using you in your altered state wasn’t an option in her mind.

The slight undertone of annoyance in the unsteady waves of her voice made your smile deepen. She really must have been suffering.

“Use me now, then,” you resolved simply. “Finish what you started.”

She turned her face to look at you – finally – allowing you to see her rosy cheeks and the want in her eyes. Her hair was mussed, a bit disheveled as it splayed across the pillow in multiple directions. Still, she was breathtaking.

“Y-you don’t mind?” She asked smally.

You let out a little laugh at that. “Of course not. Why would I?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be in the mood. Since you’ve been so busy lately, I didn’t want to bother–

“Gahyeon, look at me,” you interrupted her rambling, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. “I will always be in the mood for you, okay?” You raised your brows expectantly.

She nodded, taking your words of reassurance to heart.

“Making you feel good makes me feel good. So come here,” you coaxed, settling back against the pillows behind you. “...I want to watch you ride me.”

Her heart skipped a beat, both in part from your sweetness and also from your request. She wasn’t often plagued by shyness, but you had the mysterious ability of bringing it out in her at times like this.

A timid smile reached her lips as she rolled over, obediently moving to straddle you. Her wet shorts made contact with your exposed stomach, making you draw in a breath. She laid down atop you, aligning her body with yours; she was practically humming with need.

“You’re so good to me,” she praised, musing gratefully.

You smiled as her lips grazed your cheek, pressing a few soft kisses to it before she buried her face in the safety of your neck. You wrapped your arms around her, letting her settle comfortably between them and find her confidence again.

Her hips began to move in small strokes, still reserved, like she was testing the waters. Your hands gained purchase on the small of her back, guiding her to move freely and release her inhibitions.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Don’t hold back.”

The reassurance in your sweet voice successfully spurred her on, and she began to own her desire, slowly but surely.

In time with her grinding, her pillowy lips drug across your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses in their wake.

She gave into the urge to mark you when you moaned her name under your breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Is this what you wanted to do while I was asleep?” You asked, tilting your head to the side to give her better ease of access. “Too much of a slut to be patient… Just wanted to use me to get off, huh?”

She nodded, humping faster. The degradation in your tone made her clit throb harder than before, and the humiliation of being found out made her heart pound.

She should’ve known you’d put the pieces together eventually.

“Didn’t wanna wait…” she mumbled between kisses, fessing up, “...felt too good to stop.”

She allowed her hands to wander over your body, ghosting her nails across your skin just enough to leave goosebumps as she trailed them towards your chest. She kneaded one of your breasts through your tank top, groping it like she’d been dying to ever since waking up.

You whimpered, and the sound of it made her hips jerk and stutter briefly.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” she cursed under her breath. Her shorts rubbed against your stomach and pelvis, spreading her slick everywhere, making a mess on you. The heady scent of her arousal filled the space between you, igniting something within you with every inhale you drew in.

In one motion, she pulled your top down, fully exposing your chest to her eager eyes. The thin straps of it fell down your arms, hanging loosely.

Under her heavy gaze, it was your turn to be shy; she sat up to take in the full sight of you, still straddling your waist.

Her hands splayed across your stomach as she continued to grind, reveling in the friction that her clit received. The force of her thrusts moved you as well, causing your breasts to bounce.

The image of you like that only made her wetter, and she made it a point to etch it into her mind to remember later.

Your fingertips skated to the edge of her shirt, which you promptly pulled off of her and tossed elsewhere into the surrounding darkness.

You sat up and kissed her exposed skin, encouraged by her poorly-suppressed sounds of pleasure.

She was a work of art, and as you nipped and licked everywhere your mouth could reach, you attempted to paint a hundred different odes to her. Little tributes, all reminders of your devotion to her that she could discover later. Every mark was a splash of color, growing a deeper shade as you fell even more in love.

With your bodies intertwined and her writhing insatiably within your arms, you felt invigorated.

Your lips enveloped her nipple as you took it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the hardened peak. She melted into you at the feeling, pushing herself closer and closer to give you as much access as possible.

On their own accord, your hips began to wind.

Your own clit throbbed, having been completely ignored the entire time. But now it brushed against the bunched up crotch of your sweatpants as you moved, attaining a taste of relief.

Erratically, Gahyeon’s muscles jumped against you. You could feel her impending orgasm beginning to take over; her moans grew louder, and her movements less controlled.

They were stuttered and messy, even causing the headboard to collide with the wall a few times. But you couldn't have cared less; you simply smiled triumphantly and met her with the same level of intensity, encouraging her to chase after her high and use you however she needed to.

"Y/N/N, baby" she warned, voice whiny and strained with effort, "I'm gonna…"

You released her nipple with a wet pop and brought a hand up to the nape of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She submitted immediately and gave you control, welcoming your tongue into her mouth as she teetered on the edge.

You threaded your fingers into her hair, tightening your grip without warning. The sensation – paired with one final, perfectly timed grind – sent her over the edge.

A slew of whiny moans came out of her, high pitched and breathless. Stars erupted behind her eyelids, and her mind raced with thoughts of you. She held tightly to them, hanging onto the glorious feeling for as long as possible, never wanting it to end.

As you coaxed her through the aftershocks, she suckled on your lower lip, languidly riding out every last one of them. She jerked a few times, clinging to you like her life depended on it.

She was especially sensitive when you reached into her shorts and circled her swollen clit with your thumb.

"How about another, baby? Since you did so well for me." You offered against her lips, enjoying the way she trembled.

Her resulting, sheepish nod inspired a smile to form on your face.

“Oh and, for the record,” you added, brushing the tip of your nose against hers, “you can do whatever you want with me, anytime; even if I’m sleeping. I don’t mind.”

You felt the way that she clenched at that, her walls responding to the mere future promise of it alone, and your grin only deepened.

She shook like a leaf as you moved even closer, allowing your lips to hover next to her ear.

“I know you want to, jagi. It's cute."

An embarrassed groan left her, but you were only encouraged by it.

"Maybe I should pretend," you teased, shutting your eyes as you laid back down onto the pillows. "This better?"

When you let out a fake snore, she whined in protest and smacked your shoulder.

"Yah! Cut it out!"

You chuckled and pulled her down, pressing a kiss to her cheek to smooth things over again and win her back. Your fingertips swirled across her clit again, like an unspoken apology to ease her anger.

Despite the pouting she was doing, she leant in to kiss you anyway.

It didn't take long for her to melt into it, either – giving herself up to you again like the good girl she was.

Moonlight fell across her features, highlighting all of the ways they scrunched together in pleasure when you quickened your movements in her shorts. You eased two fingers into her and curled them, inspiring a loud moan to slip out of her mouth.

With a smirk, you accepted what fate had in store:

Neither one of you would be getting any more sleep tonight.

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osleeplessflowero · 28 days

Text

this is my one day to meme. time to take advantage of it <3 cursed content up ahead :33 i've actually had this idea in my head for months but wasn't sure when the appropriate time would be to work on it - gender neutral. he'll call you babygirl no matter what gender you are

You thought it was Sans. You could've sworn it was when you first spoke with it. But that THING..it scares you.

It unraveled its form in phases, the final being something truly nightmarish.. something you will never unsee again.

Its taunting laughter echoes through the forest as you run, eyes widened in fear and your hand over where your soul would be. Why? Why you? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE YOU?! This is the WORST encounter you've had to date!

His thundering footsteps echo as he moves, Sans' iconic laughter coming from its mouth.

"you can't hide from me forever, b a b y g i r l..running is pointless."

You vaguely see his silhouette in the distance, a tall MASSIVE form..

"Get the FUCK away from me and go back to 2017 WHERE YOU BELONG-"

"oh no.. they've had plenty of time with you..now it's MY turn." He pushes two trees apart with his bulky arms, beginning to walk towards you menacingly. "did you really think you could escape from me?.. i will always linger in the back of your mind."

"Stop this, just leave me be! I don't want you!" You shout, continuing to run. His bulky body's bones shine under the moonlight, his body morphing and twisting in ways it really shouldn't.

"just give it up. come to me-" "SHUT THE FUCK-" "you know, you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."

You've tried everything. You've tried shooting it, that didn't work. You tried slashing at it, that didn't work either. You tried calling the police, they laughed and hung up on you. What are you supposed to do?

"it's okay to be a little cringe, babygirl..just embrace it. embrace me. you know you've missed me."

"It's okay to be a little cringe, but not THIS FAR BACK. I don't even know how you got here!" You hold up your phone, trying to call whoever you can.

"c'mon..aren't you lonely? wouldn't you like to be embraced by my big, strong arms?" He holds his arms out, the space now open for them since he's pushed quite a few trees out of the way.

"Hell no???" You groan when they hang up on you again. "Just go away! Go find someone else to bother!"

"oh no..i couldn't do that. you're the one for me, and i'm the one for you, whether you like it or not. just accept your fate."

You feel a strange sensation in your chest, looking down to see your..now blue soul. Oh god oh fuck oh g-

He begins to drag you towards him unsettlingly slowly, the glowing heart shaped eyelights of his all you can see. You claw desperately at the ground, digging your nails into the dirt and screaming.

"NONONONONO-"

A bone is hurled down from the sky, hitting the creature and distracting him enough for him to let go of you.

"who DARES to-"

"okay, i've seen my fair share of mischaracterizations, but this is ridiculous." Sans sits atop a floating bone, pointing at the creature.

"Sans!" You shout, relieved that he's here and running over once he lands, standing behind him. "That thing pretended to be you and it was really weird and-" Your face resembles a crying cat for a few seconds.

"it's alright, i'm here. and whatever.. that is has gotta go." He twirls a bone in his hand as the creature stands back up, cracking its knuckles and shifting forms.

It now stands before the two of you with a form that's almost identical to Sans, but with slightly incorrect features like his teeth slanting upwards, heart shaped eyelights, and..his head vaguely resembles a peanut from certain angles.

"..you believed this thing was me?" "I DIDN'T SEE THE SIGNS AT FIRST." :C

"everybody knows i am the one they want." "..denial is a river in egypt-"

The two begin fighting, a cartoony cloud of smoke surrounding them accompanied by bonks and squeaky toy sound effects. You hold your hands together, intertwined as you pray that Sans defeats this monster.

Eventually the smoke clears, leaving one skeleton standing above the other and dusting off his hands, walking back over to you.

"y'know, despite all those muscles he was weak as hell. you okay? he didn't do anything, did he?" "No, just kinda dragged my soul a bit but that was right before you got here." "okay, at least you weren't hurt. how about i treat you to some nice cream to make up for this?" He puts his arm around your shoulders. Unless you're taller than him, then he'll settle for your waist.

"yeah, that sounds nice, thanks sans." You smile, walking with him. "anytime.." He finds himself cracking up. "babygirl-" "Call me that again and I will fucking end you-"

He bursts out into laughter as you both exit the scene.

A figure sits up from the ground, putting his hand on his skull. Oh no..you're not getting away that easily.

#peanut sans x reader #peanut sans #happy april fools day #this is obviously a joke #sans x reader

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Note

[A small paper that is tied with a homemade charm bracelet, with teal treads and 3 gold beads, in the letter are the words:]

To my dearest Xiao,

Your eyes, the likeness of the stars,

Made me believe my wish could come true,

Your arms, I wish would welcome,

All the things I'll offer to you,

You are a distant dream,

And my arms can may never be your home,

You belong where lanterns shine,

And golden fields to roam,

Maybe there will never be a right time,

But perhaps fate will be kind,

For us to meet, for you to take my hand,

In a reality where our fingers intertwine.

– vell

(Hopefully i did this right and did not go against any rules for this kind of ask, have a good day!)

xiao stands on the balcony at wangshu inn, face tilted to the clouds. the last dredges of night are finally beginning to wash away, and with it go the shimmering trails of the stars that had fallen.

he watches the sky with a hit of sadness, slightly unwilling to let the show of beauty and power fade. he had been busy during the night, as he was every other, but he was still able to glimpse the stars that had made their way to earth on his way between camps. as it was, he was attempting to savor the last of it before he continued with his duties, and it seemed to be worth it.

one particularly stubborn star, bright as the sky turned orange, grew and grew, until he belatedly realized it was coming for him, and stretched a hand to meet it. the spiked shell faded at the touch of his gloves, and when he brought his hand down he held a letter instead, a bracelet carefully balanced on the paper.

he read over your words unhurried, absentmindlessly rolling the beaded string between two of his fingers. your poetry was simple yet ornate, imagery shimmering in his mind like the sun across the sea.

with a gentle smile, xiao slipped your bracelet onto his wrist, just below his vision.

armed with two gifts from the divine, he finally allowed himself to vanish from the balcony, teal smoke puffing across the wood as blue just began to stretch into the sky.

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akiology · 9 months

Text

In the Dead of the Night || Part 2

You are married to two of the most infamous information brokers in Tokyo.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Word Count: 885 Pairing: Akira Kurusu x Reader x Goro Akechi Note: sorry this took so long!! thank u to everyone reading tho :) also i need to replace my keyboard switches, so tell me if there are any typos! have a nice day everyone !!

You wake up, earlier than usual. The moon is still shining in all its glory. On your left is Goro. He was sleeping on his back, with a face mask on. However, his hand is intertwined with yours. On your right is Akira, who is completely entangled with you. He is snoring a bit, and it is honestly adorable.

You turn to your right, where the bedside table was, and see that it is currently 4:35 am. Still early, and you probably have time to prepare breakfast.

You sit up, well atleast try to, but Akira keeps you on your back.

"Don't leave me..." he says, sounding as if he was about to cry if you actually did. He tightens his grip on your waist, and tries to pull you as close to him as he can. Goro, turns a bit on his side just enough to face you but not so much that his mask will be ruined, puts an arm over your stomach just below Akira's grip. He mumbled something incoherent.

"I am just gonna make breakfast," you try to comfort the men beside you. Goro grumbled, Akira whined.

You decide to accept your fate, after all it's not like this is a bad place to be stuck in. It is the best place, actually. Your husbands are always out because of various 'businesses' and meetings they have to do. While they never explain the nitty-gritty of their work, you know how dangerous it is.

Every time they go out, you always say a silent prayer. While you may not be a believer, you hope that there is someone listening. You hope that someone out there, if such person, entity, or creature exist, they protect your husbands and let them go home in one piece.

You remember, years ago, when you first met them.

/./

"You know this is the third month, right?"

"I know, I just need more time!"

"Well, I don't have it! Get out! I am running a business, and you are bankrupting me!" Your landlord shouts from behind the closed door, rattling the locked doorknob. You are visibly shaking as you try to get as many clothes and items you can get, and you can feel tears welling up behind your eyes.

CRASH! The sound of the door being forcibly opened will forever be ingrained in your memories. "GET OUT!" he grabbed your arm, and is practically shoving you outside the door.

You had nowhere to go.

You do not have contact with any of your family members, and you do not have any close friends to ask help from.

It was just you.

You walk down the street, with no destination in mind. You are hoping that something will fall from the sky, perhaps money. Money is preferred. Instead, you see a bar, and decided that the smartest thing to do with your remaining money was to drink.

When you entered, jazz music was playing. The lights were dimmed, and there were a decent amount of people. You quickly sat down in one of the tables near the entrance, a little isolated from the rest of the people.

"Ahem," you look up to see a buff man looking down at you. "Why are you alone there, you little thing?"

Another man joins him, "Why don't you let us accompany you, sweet cheeks?"

You shake your head in disagreement, "No thank you."

"Eh? You think you were giving us a choice?"

"Sorry, not happening. A pretty little thing like you should not be left alone."

They start getting too close for comfort, but paused when they felt someone grabbing them.

"They said no." And when they turned around, you were met with the most gorgeous men you have ever seen.

Who would've thought that those gorgeous men would eventually be called your husbands?

/./

You were pulled out of your thoughts with the sound of Akira's 'work' phone ringing. Goro quickly stood up and removed his face mask, while Akira just stirred as if it was the first alarm and he could sleep for five minutes more. You try to shake him, signaling to answer the phone. Goro slapped his leg, and Akira finally stood up from that.

He finally answers, and his eyes dart between you and Goro. Akira reaches for your hand and squeezes it, a silent "sorry" being passed from him to you. It seems like it is time for 'work'.

"Got it," is the only things he utters throughout the duration of the call, and finally ends it.

"My angel, I," he starts but you are quick to comfort him. You give him a quick kiss on the lips and gave him a smile. "It's alright. Just please be safe."

"Of course," he smiles, and nuzzles your nose, "I am going home to you. Always."

Goro clears his throat, "What about me bunny?"

Akira sticks his tongue out, and pulls you close to him. Goro scoffed and crawls toward you, stopping until your faces are just inches apart. You give him a kiss, as well. "Please come home safe and sound."

Goro gave a small smile, "Anything for you, my sweetheart."

After a quick change of clothes, they are out the door.

One more time, you clasp your hands together and say a silent prayer.

#goro akechi #persona 5 protagonist #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #goro akechi x reader #goro x reader #akira kurusu x reader #ren x reader #ren amamiya x reader #akira x reader #akiren x reader #fanfic #persona #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #fluff #persona fluff

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theetherealbloom · 11 months

Text

NOTRE DAME - CH. 3

Chapter 3: The Undone and The Divine

Summary: In the rafters of Clinton Church, a mysterious reader with the power of illusion manipulation silently watches over Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante known as Daredevil. As danger engulfs Hell's Kitchen, their unlikely friendship blossoms into a bond of trust and longing, intertwining their fates in a battle against darkness that tests their resolve. Will their connection illuminate a path to salvation in a city of darkness or lead them deeper into the abyss?

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt to Comfort, ANGST, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Religion, Fluff, Anxiety, PSTD, Nightmares, Catholic Guilt, Amnesia, Violence, Blood, Dark Undertones, Eventual SMUT, Shy Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Criminal Activities, Mobsters/Mafia, Character Death, Slowish Burn, Disassociation,

Word Count: 11.9k

A/N: This was lowkey tough to write with all the technicalities but I managed to push through it lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Song: Only If For A Night by Florence + The Machine

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

dividers @/saradika-graphics

A FEW DAYS LATER…

NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – MORNING

As you blink, fragments of your past weave their way into your consciousness, like threads of a tapestry unraveling in your mind. Memories unfold, revealing moments of rigorous training, ethereal wisdom, and a mentor whose guidance shaped you into the person you are today.

You remember living in a tranquil sanctuary, surrounded by ancient texts and mystical artifacts. The air hums with energy as you practice intricate movements, honing your skills under the watchful eye of a wise and enigmatic figure. The connection between you is unspoken yet profound, a bond forged through years of shared knowledge and profound teachings.

Visions of battles fought against formidable adversaries dance before your eyes. You wielded powers beyond comprehension, manipulating the very fabric of reality with finesse and precision. In those moments, you were a guardian of balance, a protector of realms unseen.

But the flashbacks recede, vanishing like whispers in the wind. You find yourself in the bustling corridors of the New York City Police Department, surrounded by the everyday realities of life. The voice of Brett Mahoney pulls you back to the present, concern etched on his face. "You good? You seem kinda out of it."

You look up from the paperwork you were filing for a domestic violence case and force a small smile. "Mhm, just a little tired," you respond, trying to shake off the remnants of the past and the previous nights of helping Matt from the sidelines. Mahoney takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, "You know, my mom has been askin’ for you. You aren't giving her cigarettes with those cookies too, are you?"

You snort, the corners of your lips curling with amusement. "Nah, I actually have a secret life as a drug dealer and deliver her cookies laced with crack," you quip, easing the tension in the room. Brett chuckles at your joke as you put down the pen and hand the file to another officer. "Why, what's up?" you ask, genuinely interested. Brett sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "Could you maybe visit her? I've been pulling a lot of shifts lately, and dealing with reports of some masked vigilante beating up a bunch of criminals has taken up a lot of my time."

You sigh, feigning concern at the news. "New York is something else," you remark. Brett hums in agreement, understanding the chaos of the city all too well. "So, could you do it? Drop by and give her more of those cocaine cookies?" he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

You nod, with your expression sincere. "Sure, I'll stop by in a bit," you promise, knowing that a visit to Brett's mother would bring a sense of joy and connection amidst the chaos of your secret battles.

MAHONEY RESIDENCE – DAY

You give a gentle knock on the door of the Mahoney residence, and a warm smile spreads across your face as it swings open to reveal Bess Mahoney, an elderly woman with a kind expression. "Hi, dear. Come inside," she welcomes you, gesturing for you to enter. Expressing your gratitude, you respond, "Thank you, Bess. I brought some of those cookies you like! Sister Maggie and Sister Catherine helped me bake them."

As you step into the cozy living room, the aroma of freshly baked cookies fills the air, creating an atmosphere of comfort and familiarity. Bess's eyes light up with delight, and she takes your hand in hers. "You're such a sweetheart, always thinking of me," she says, her voice tinged with genuine affection. "Those nuns at the church have been a blessing to this neighborhood."

You nod, a sense of warmth and purpose swelling within you. "They truly are," you reply, feeling grateful for the support and guidance the sisters have provided throughout your journey. "They've taught me so much about compassion and making a difference in people's lives."

As you sit at the kitchen table, the taste of the homemade cookies still lingering on your tongue, a sense of calm settles over you. The weight of the world and the secret battles you face momentarily fade away in the presence of Bess's warm company.

Just as you begin to bask in the comfort of the moment, Bess's voice breaks the tranquility. "I need a favor from you, honey," she says, her tone carrying a hint of concern. Your eyebrows furrow, and you lean in, attentively asking, "Is something wrong?"

Bess waves her hand dismissively. “Not with me, but with a dear friend of mine, Elena Cardenas. She's a lovely woman, and she's facing trouble. You see, she owns a rent-controlled apartment in Hell's Kitchen, but her landlord suddenly wants to evict her.”

Your frown deepens, empathizing with the injustice of the situation. Nodding in understanding, you urge Bess to continue. She smiles and explains, “I suggested she reach out to the new firm in the city, Nelson and Murdock. They have a reputation for being very good at what they do.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and realization. "Oh, yes. I've heard of them. They’re very good.” The memory of your encounter with Matt Murdock resurfaces, the card tucked safely in your pocket. It seems fate has intertwined your paths once again.

Bess's smile grows wider, her eyes gleaming with hope. "Perfect. Honey, I need you to go with Elena Cardenas to their office. She's as old as me, and it would grant me peace of mind knowing she arrives there safely."

You look into Bess's eyes, seeing the genuine concern and trust she places in you. There is no denying the importance of this favor, and deep down, you know you can't refuse. With a resolute expression, you reply, "Of course, Bess. What's her address and phone number? I'll make sure Elena gets to Nelson and Murdock's office."

A forced smile graces your lips, masking any hesitation or trepidation. At this moment, you understand that there is no avoiding this task. It is a chance to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, and honor the trust Bess has placed in you.

As Bess shares the necessary details, you commit them to memory, knowing that this journey will bring its challenges and revelations. You rise from the table, ready to fulfill your role as a guardian in the shadows, guided by the light of friendship and the pursuit of justice.

With a final nod of assurance to Bess, you bid her farewell, leaving her with the comforting knowledge that Elena Cardenas will be well taken care of. As you step out into the bustling streets of Hell's Kitchen, you carry within you the determination to stand for those who need it most.

NELSON AND MURDOCK ATTORNEY’S AT LAW – DAY

You guide Mrs. Cardenas to the address scribbled on the card provided by Matt. As you approach the designated location, a paper sign catches your attention, proudly displaying the name "Nelson and Murdock Attorney's at Law." It's the place you were directed to, and you offer Mrs. Cardenas a comforting smile before proceeding.

You raise your hand and knock on the door, with it slightly open and already spotting the people inside. “Hi, uhm, I’m looking for Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock.”

As Mrs. Cardenas follows you inside, you can't help but feel a sense of reassurance, knowing that you've brought her to a place where she will be heard and supported. With Karen's presence and the promise of Nelson and Murdock's assistance, you are hopeful that justice will prevail and that Mrs. Cardenas will find the resolution she deserves.

Matt breathes a sigh of relief as he hears you, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're okay," he states, his worry evident in his tone. You raise an eyebrow in response, a hint of curiosity lacing your words. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Though your response isn't a complete answer, it holds a semblance of truth. Deep down, you understand that recovery takes time, and your body bears the evidence of the journey you've been through. Matt's heightened senses allow him to perceive the subtle clues that reveal your ongoing healing process. The scent of cortisol and antiseptic lingers in the air around you, a testament to the challenges you've faced and the resilience you've shown.

You glance at the man standing beside Matt, presuming him to be his friend and partner, Foggy. He scrutinizes both of you with a curious expression and poses the question, "You two know each other?" Your mind races to come up with a plausible explanation, and you quickly respond, "We go to the same church."

Foggy's gaze shifts between you and Matt, seemingly skeptical of your answer. He turns to Matt, seeking confirmation. Matt simply nods, but it's evident that Foggy isn't fully convinced. He remarks with a hint of sarcasm, "So, is that what they call it now?"

A blush creeps up your cheeks, embarrassed by the implication. Before Matt can intervene, you shake your head, determined to clarify the situation. "No, seriously. I'm also Catholic, and I work at the church. I’m also a social worker at Metro-General."

You hope that this additional information will dispel any misconceptions and assure Foggy of your genuine connection to the church. He needs to understand that your involvement extends beyond deception.

Foggy raises his eyebrows, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "That sounds like a lot of work," he remarks, acknowledging the dedication required for your role. You smile, "Yeah, it can be challenging, but I’ll manage."

Matt, however, senses the underlying tension and the half-truth in your response. His heightened senses enable him to pick up on the subtleties of your emotions. You clear your throat, aware that the truth cannot be concealed from him indefinitely.

"Anyways," you continue, shifting the focus of the conversation, "you said I could come here and ask for your legal services. This is Elena Cardenas." With a nod, you introduce Elena, hoping that the urgency of her situation will capture their attention.

Foggy and Matt guide both of you to their small conference room, offering seats to discuss the pressing matter at hand. As you take your place at the table, the heaviness of the situation settles upon you. You await their guidance and expertise, knowing that their legal services might be the key to helping Mrs. Cardenas in her time of need.

"Bess Mahoney? Brett's mom?" Foggy seeks clarification as you mention Bess referring Elena to them. Elena nods in confirmation. "Sí, she referred me. Dice que le da puros."

Karen, the woman you were introduced to earlier, chuckles. "Something about cigars?" Foggy looks at Karen with surprise. "You know Spanish?" Karen shakes her head. "Oh, just what I remember from high school."

Matt, his expression serious, turns his attention to Mrs. Cardenas. "Mrs. Cardenas, please tell us what happened." Mrs. Cardenas struggles to translate her Spanish into English, doing her best to convey the details. "Mi casa es rent-control. But the landlord, Se��or Tully..."

"Armand Tully? Sleaze bag who owns buildings all over town," Foggy interjects, recognizing the name. Mrs. Cardenas nods. "Sí, y Señor Tully..." She switches back to speaking in Spanish, and Karen takes it upon herself to translate. "He wants to convert the apartments into condominiums. And he wants the residents to leave." Mrs. Cardenas continues, "Men came weeks ago. They claimed they were workers. And they destroyed the apartments with a… I don't know that last word.”

"Sledgehammer," Matt utters simultaneously, his voice aligning with your own words. The synchronized response captures the attention of everyone in the room, their focus shifting toward the shared statement. "College," Foggy adds, clarifying the source of his knowledge. As he tilts his head in curiosity, his unsteady gaze falls upon you, silently inquiring about your proficiency in Spanish. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips nervously before you respond, "Um, I learned it when I was young. Sometime around middle school."

"You ever have a client that wants to chat in Punjabi, I'm your man," Foggy says cheerfully, injecting a light-hearted comment into the conversation. You smile in response, appreciating his sense of humor. Karen, on the other hand, looks between you and Matt, slightly uncertain.

"Um... Do you want to do this?" she asks, seeking confirmation from Matt. His voice carries a flirtatious tone as he replies, "No, no. I like listening to your voice." Karen blushes in response, clearly affected by Matt's smooth and charming personality. Foggy sighs, “Go on, Mrs. Cardenas.” And your attention shifts between the three of them.

The world you once cherished loses its luster, fading into a somber tableau. Each breath becomes a shallow rhythm, failing to ground you in the swirling tempest of emotions. Jealousy, heavy as a stone, settles in the pit of your stomach, reminding you of desires that can never be fulfilled.

Hurt and longing intertwine, composing a poignant symphony within your chest. The truth resonates deep within your being: Matt will never be yours. It's a bitter pill to swallow, a gold rush of emotions crashing against the shores of the unrequited.

Yet, during this storm, you find solace in acknowledging your feelings. Envy and sadness are natural companions when faced with the undeniable connection between Matt and Karen, including the nights before with him and Claire. It serves as a stark reminder that your feelings can be elusive, slipping through your grasp like grains of sand.

You've always held a profound love for this world, cherishing its every detail. But now, it feels as though everything is slipping away, slipping beyond your grasp. The sun rises dutifully, even when unasked, illuminating the beauty around you. Most days, you wouldn't think twice about the things that go right in your life.

As the weight of your emotions threatens to consume you, Matt's heightened senses pick up on the shifting energy in the room. He turns his head towards you, his moving gaze piercing through the haze of your disquiet.

"Hey," he calls your name softly, his voice laced with concern, “Are you okay? You went sort of quiet…” Startled, you hastily put on a fake smile, hoping to mask the tumultuous thoughts and feelings that swirl within you. It's a delicate dance, maintaining the facade while grappling with the ache in your heart.

You meet his eyes behind his glasses, your eyes betraying a flicker of vulnerability before you quickly avert your gaze. Deep down, you know he senses something is amiss, but you can't bear to burden him with your inner turmoil. So, you play the part, presenting a semblance of composure despite the storm raging within.

With a subtle nod, you signal your understanding, silently acknowledging his attention and care. It's a fleeting moment, fleeting like the delicate petals of a wilting flower, but you carry on, concealing the depths of your emotions behind a practiced smile, “Mhm. I’m fine, just remembered something, my apologies.”

As Mrs. Cardenas continues to voice her concerns in Spanish, detailing the dire conditions in her building, and the absence of necessities like working sinks and pipes, a sense of despair fills the air. Her words echo with the weight of helplessness, as she recounts the failed attempts to seek assistance.

Karen steps in, fluently translating Mrs. Cardenas' words, revealing the futility of their interactions with the police. "The police couldn't help, they don’t know what to do." Karen conveys, her voice carrying the frustration and disappointment that hangs in the room. Mrs. Cardenas's voice rises with passion as she shares the police's response, emphasizing their inability to address the situation.

Matt's shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh of frustration, his expression mirroring the collective disappointment in the room. It's a shared recognition of the limitations faced by those in need, the overwhelming bureaucracy that leaves them stranded without a lifeline.

Foggy looks at one of the documents, “This says Tully offered them 10,000 to give up their rent control and vacate the premises. Maybe we can pressure him into giving a better payout.” Karen stands up and reaches for a tissue box behind the two of you and then places it on the table before sitting back down.

Mrs. Cardenas shakes her head, “No, Señor Foggy. We do no want money. We want to stay in our homes.” A glimmer of determination flickers on Matt's face, a silent promise to do what he can to rectify the injustice. Though the challenges ahead may be daunting, he refuses to let the circumstances crush their hope. With unwavering resolve, he leans forward, ready to confront the city's indifference. He begins to converse with Mrs. Cardenas in Spanish, telling her that Foggy will speak to Tully’s lawyer.

As Mrs. Cardenas expresses her gratitude with a heartfelt "Oh, gracias Senor Murdock! Muchas gracias," Matt responds with a simple "Bueno." He stands up, his hands on his hips, signaling the conclusion of the meeting. You rise from your seat alongside Mrs. Cardenas, ready to escort her out.

With the meeting finished, you follow Karen out of the conference room, expressing your gratitude for her assistance and the accommodating nature of their firm. Stepping out onto the city's bustling streets, you bid farewell to Mrs. Cardenas, reminding her to remain cautious on her way home. Your paths diverge, each heading in separate directions, carrying the weight of the day's challenges and hope for a better future.

Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself standing outside the steps of Foggy and Matt's office building, retrieving your phone from your pocket to check your next task. Suddenly, a small object collides with the heel of your shoe, drawing your attention. Matt's voice breaks the silence, apologizing for the accidental encounter.

"Oh, Matt! I'm sorry," you respond, a hint of surprise in your wide eyes. Swiftly, you step aside, allowing him to pass without any further obstruction. The brief interaction lingers in the air, a fleeting moment of shared acknowledgment before resuming your respective paths in the bustling cityscape.

However, Matt's question catches you off guard. "You're still here?" he asks, his curiosity evident. You pause for a moment, considering his words before replying, "Uh, yeah. I'm on my way to the precinct to update Officer Mahoney."

A warm smile spreads across Matt's face as he suggests, "We can go together if you want. I'm heading there as well to look for any complaints against Tully." You blink in surprise at his offer, caught off guard by his genuine willingness to accompany you. Unsure of how to respond, you stumble over your words, "Uh, well..."

Before you can come up with an excuse, Matt's grin widens, sensing your momentary hesitation. "Mind if I hold on to your arm as we walk there?" he asks, his voice filled with a playful charm. Your brain momentarily halts, caught off guard by his request, but you manage to nod and squeak out, "Mhm. Yeah, Sure."

His touch is gentle yet firm as he takes hold of your arm, leading the way through the bustling streets of New York City. Despite knowing that he doesn't need guidance, you play along, maintaining the facade of ignorance about his vigilante activities. Matt's heightened senses remain ever vigilant, attuned to your every heartbeat, breath, and blink. He focuses on your scent and the subtle notes of your perfume, a reminder of the close proximity and unspoken connection between the two of you.

You make a conscious effort to steady your heartbeat, reminding yourself that this is merely a shared journey to fulfill your respective roles. There is no need to stress or overanalyze the situation. However, when Matt squeezes your arm to gain your attention, you are brought back to the present moment.

"Why did you want to become a social worker?" Matt's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "I... um... I wanted to help people who have experienced a difficult time. I wanted to offer them a fresh start, free from judgment," you answer honestly, feeling a sense of purpose and compassion in your words.

Matt nods, seemingly appreciating the raw truth in your response. The two of you continue walking side by side, the rhythm of your steps creating a gentle harmony as you navigate the busy streets. “Why did you want to become a lawyer?” You asked as you looked up at him.

Matt's lips curve into a thoughtful smile as he considers your question. His voice carries a hint of nostalgia as he begins to share his motivations. "I wanted to become a lawyer because I believed in the power of justice. I wanted to be someone who could make a difference, who could fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves."

His words resonate with a sense of purpose and determination. As you listen, you can't help but admire his unwavering commitment to upholding the ideals of justice. The bustling city fades into the background, and for a moment, it feels as if it's just the two of you, united by a shared desire to make the world a better place.

As the conversation unfolds, you find yourself becoming more immersed in Matt's story, drawn to the passion and sincerity in his words. Together, you continue your journey, the streets of New York serving as the backdrop to your aspirations and the beginning of a deeper connection.

NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – NOON

Mahoney eyes you both curiously before making an assumption, "Oh, are you two a..." You interrupt quickly, your cheeks flushing, "No, no! We're just colleagues. I came back to pick up the signed forms, and I need to return them to the DV shelter."

Matt offers a comforting smile while you fumble with your words. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze before letting you pass by Mahoney to the police desks where the forms are kept. As you hurriedly scan the documents, you steal a glance over your shoulder and notice Matt taking a seat on one of the nearby benches.

The officer informs you that it will take a few minutes to process the forms, advising you to have a seat. Nervously, you settle next to Matt on the bench, stealing a quick glance at him. He appears slightly preoccupied, his head slightly tilted as if he's listening intently for something.

Suddenly, Matt gasps and springs up, freezing in place. The deafening sound of a gunshot echoes through the vicinity, causing you to startle. Chaos ensues as police officers react swiftly, their voices blending with the commotion.

"We've got shots fired!" one of the officers announces, sending a shiver down your spine. An unsettling feeling washes over you, confirming your suspicions that something is seriously amiss.

Matt's heightened senses hones in on the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat. He detects the unmistakable scent and taste of your surging cortisol, the stress hormone permeating the air. The subtle perspiration on your palms and the quiver in your breath are all indicators of your escalating anxiety.

He turns to your slightly shaking figure, recognizing the paralyzing effect the situation has had on you. Time seems to have come to a standstill for everyone else, but you remain trapped in your frozen moment. Matt approaches you with gentle steps, his voice a soothing whisper as he calls your name, attempting to coax you out of your daze. "Hey... Hey... I'm right here. You're with me."

Amidst the chaos around you, Matt extends his hand towards you, a lifeline of reassurance and support. Without hesitation, you feel his firm grip enveloping your trembling fingers, grounding you in the turmoil. The world may still be a blur, but his touch serves as a beacon of stability, guiding you through uncertainty.

Gradually, a sense of self returns to you, and you become aware of Matt's steady presence beside you. You realize that he had taken the lead, guiding you away from the chaotic scene and into a serene alleyway where the noise of the outside world fades into the background. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gather the courage to speak.

"I... I'm sorry," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of apology and confusion. "I should be used to this by now. I don't know why I reacted the way I did. I'm sorry."

Matt's expression softens, his gaze filled with empathy as he reaches out a hand to gently touch your arm. "There's no need to apologize," he reassures you, his voice gentle yet resolute. "It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe with me, always.”

You take a moment to collect yourself, appreciating his understanding. The weight of the moment begins to lift as you find solace in his presence. Together, you stand in the quiet alleyway, finding comfort in the shared understanding between two individuals whose lives are entwined in the extraordinary.

SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK CITY,

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SHELTER – EVENING

As you leave the vicinity of the DV shelter, your mind is filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. You reach into your pocket and retrieve your cell phone, switching it on to reconnect with the outside world. The city streets, typically bustling with activity, now exude an unusual stillness. It's as if something has shifted, causing a palpable sense of imbalance to permeate the air.

The once-familiar sounds of honking cars and bustling footsteps are replaced by an eerie silence, amplifying the weight of the moment. Your gaze scans the surroundings, searching for any signs or clues as to what may have caused this unsettling change. Is it merely a figment of your imagination, or is there a tangible disturbance in the equilibrium of the city?

Questions swirl in your mind as you continue walking, your steps measured and alert. The cool air brushes against your skin, carrying with it a sense of anticipation and apprehension. Whatever has transpired, you can't shake the feeling that it holds significance, that it's a precursor to events yet to unfold.

Your eyes are drawn to the distance, and a chill runs down your spine as you spot a column of smoke rising ominously into the air. Before you can fully process what's happening, chaos erupts near you. A nearby building explodes with a deafening blast, shattering windows and sending debris flying in all directions.

The ground shakes beneath your feet as the force of the explosion reverberates through the surrounding area. You hear the muffled panic ensuing as people scramble for safety, their cries of fear and confusion blending with the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. Time seems to slow down as you take in the destruction and the plumes of smoke billowing into the sky.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, fueling your determination to navigate the chaos and find a way to help those in need. With a deep breath, you steel yourself and take the first steps towards assisting in any way you can, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty and the urgent need to restore order during this unforeseen catastrophe.

As the smoke fills the air and sirens continue to blare, you swiftly make your way toward the DV shelter. Your heart pounds in your chest as you fear for the safety of those inside. Relief washes over you as you find everyone relatively unharmed, with only minor injuries and scratches.

With a quick assessment of the situation, you determine that the immediate needs at the shelter are being taken care of. Your attention now shifts to the nearby buildings that were directly impacted by the blast. Determination fuels your every step as you rush toward the affected area, ready to lend a helping hand.

Arriving at the scene, you're met with the devastating aftermath of the explosion. The damaged buildings stand as a somber testament to the chaos that unfolded. As you survey the area, your eyes widen in recognition—this was one of the Russian hideouts, a grim reminder of the criminal underbelly lurking in the city.

The sight of lifeless bodies and charred weapons strewn across the ground sends a chill down your spine. The realization hits you hard, deepening the gravity of the situation. This was no ordinary incident; it was part of a larger web of criminal activity.

Choosing to distance yourself from the rubble, you follow the blazing lights of police cars that race past you. Instinctively, you move toward the source of the commotion, seeking answers and hoping to find a way to help.

Amid the chaos, you come upon a scene that stops you in your tracks. Matt, fully dressed in his black attire, stands a few feet away, his fist raised as he prepares to strike down Ranskahov, seeking revenge for the harm inflicted upon you and Claire. Your heart races as you watch from behind Corbin and the police officers, realizing the complexities of the situation.

They raise their guns, pointing them at the Masked Man. The officers close in, their intentions unclear. You remain hidden, your powers shimmering as you turn yourself invisible, ready to assist Matt in his fight against these corrupt cops who are undoubtedly on Fisk's payroll.

Amidst the tension and uncertainty, you hope that Matt hasn't picked up on your presence just yet. You prepare yourself to join the fray, your determination burning strong. One of the cops yells, “Don’t you move! Don’t you freakin’ move! Interlock your fingers behind your head and get on your knees. On your knees! Do it! Do it now!”

You approach Matt with a purposeful stride, your hand lightly grazing his shoulder to signal your presence. His whispered question hangs in the air, but instead of offering a direct response, you tap into your abilities. With a melodic distortion, your voice takes on an otherworldly quality as you reply, "Someone who wants to help you."

Positioning yourself in front of the officers, you unleash your powers, manipulating their perceptions and distorting their vision. Ranskahov is shot during the scuffle, but in a dazzling display, your form glimmers and shimmers, weaving a tapestry of illusion and enchantment. The officers, caught off guard by the sudden alteration of reality, find themselves disoriented and bewildered.

The fight unfolds with a fluidity and grace that seems almost supernatural. You seamlessly blend your powers and a touch of magic to incapacitate a majority of the officers. Your movements are precise, calculated, and mesmerizing to behold.

As the chaos subsides and the last of the officers are neutralized, you stand amidst the aftermath, your power still crackling in the air. Your eyes meet Matt's figure, standing and heaving, there's a flicker of recognition mixed with intrigue. The truth of your abilities and your intentions remains shrouded, but in this pivotal moment, a connection forms between you and the masked vigilante.

As Matt's plea reaches your ears, “Stay with me.” A surge of emotions courses through you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed facade you wear. You turn away, your heart aching with unspoken words, and feel the tremor in your voice as you distort it, a painful reflection of your inner turmoil. "I wish I could," you confess, your voice quivering with regret and longing.

You quickly come to a realization, understanding that the situation calls for a strategic approach. While your instincts urge you to stay by Matt's side and offer your support, you also recognize the importance of ensuring the safety of others in the vicinity. The weight of responsibility settles upon your shoulders as you grasp the need to cover more ground.

With a determined resolve, you decide to extend your reach beyond Matt's immediate presence. You understand that there are civilians at risk, their lives hanging in the balance amidst the chaos. You know that by safeguarding the innocent and aiding those in distress, you are contributing to the overall mission of protecting the city.

Though your heart may ache at the thought of being separated from Matt, you understand the necessity of this approach. The strength of your bond and shared purpose will endure, even if you are physically apart. And as you cover ground, ensuring the safety of others, you hold onto the hope that Matt will do the same, fighting against the forces of darkness to bring justice and protect the vulnerable.

Matt's expression was filled with a mix of hope and desperation. His voice, barely above a whisper, carries a weight of vulnerability. "Will I see you again?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.

A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you meet his distant gaze through the mask, wanting to offer reassurance amidst the uncertainty. "I’ll find you," you promise, determination shining in your eyes.

At that moment, you fade away, slipping from his grasp like a whisper lost in the wind. You become a ghost, a phantom presence lingering in the recesses of his mind. Like the ephemeral glimmer of a comet in the night sky, you leave a lasting impression, a celestial spectacle he cannot forget.

Lost in the depths of his thoughts, Matt ponders your enigmatic presence. He remains uncertain of your identity, your purpose, and the boundaries that separate you. Yet, he can't help but believe that you are his miracle, a guardian angel sent to watch over him, even if he feels unworthy of such grace.

As you continue on your path, the echoes of his whispered plea and your promise linger in your heart. The connection forged in that fleeting encounter leaves an indelible mark on your soul. And though the journey ahead may be arduous and fraught with challenges, the hope of crossing paths with him again becomes a beacon that guides you through the darkness.

METRO-GENERAL HOSPITAL - EVENING

Sometimes, the city feels distant, like a place lost in time, where the radio stations play unfamiliar tunes and discuss a God who prefers modesty. In those moments, you find yourself caught between where you've been and the vast unknown that lies ahead.

As you rush through the doors of Metro-General, the Emergency Department buzzes with activity. The blaring sound of a television grabs your attention, broadcasting the breaking news of the devastating explosions that rocked Hell's Kitchen.

As you swiftly navigate through the chaos and devastation surrounding the hospital, your keen senses alert you to the cries of injured civilians in desperate need of help. Your heart swells with empathy as you rush to their aid, displaying both strength and compassion.

With steady hands and a reassuring voice, you guide a couple of injured civilians toward safety, providing them solace amidst the chaos. Despite the urgency of the situation, you take the time to offer comforting words and gentle reassurance, ensuring they know they are not alone in this turmoil.

Their pain becomes your own, and your determination to protect and heal emanates from your every action. With unwavering resolve, you navigate the labyrinthine hallways, instinctively seeking out the areas where medical assistance is most needed. As you tend to the injured, your presence alone provides a sense of calm and reassurance. You tirelessly work to stabilize their conditions, offering a compassionate touch and a comforting word in the face of unimaginable pain. Your selflessness is evident in every action, as you prioritize the well-being of others above all else.

In the chaos, you spot Foggy and Karen, their faces filled with worry, bringing in an injured Mrs. Cardenas. Your eyes meet Claire's from down the hall, and you hasten your steps to join their group, ready to lend a helping hand.

"Are you guys okay?" you inquire, concern evident in your voice. Foggy, Karen, and Claire exchange worried glances, their eyes lingering on the bruises and scratches that mar your skin.

"What happened to you? You're covered in bruises," Karen observes, her voice filled with genuine concern. Quick on your feet, you conjure a plausible lie, hoping to shield them from the truth.

"Oh, I was near one of the explosions, but I managed to escape unscathed," you assure them, your voice resolute, despite the smudged dirt on your skin and the disarray of your appearance. Claire's perceptive gaze meets yours, silently acknowledging that there's more to the story. Though unspoken, her understanding serves as a comforting reassurance that your secret is safe for now.

After swiftly delegating Mrs. Cardenas and attending to Foggy's wound, you are pulled aside by Claire and guided into a nearby stairwell. Concern fills your voice as you whisper, "Are we supposed to be in here?" She places a finger to her lips, urging you to keep quiet, and shows you her phone, indicating that Matt is calling. Your eyes widen in apprehension as you look up at Claire, waiting for her to answer the call. She puts it on low volume speaker, ensuring your involvement.

"I need your help. I've found someone who has crucial information about what I've been investigating, but he's been shot," Matt's gravelly voice resonates through the speaker. Claire rolls her eyes in exasperation and suggests, "Why don't you call 911?"

"I can't. The police are the ones who shot him. They'd probably like a chance to finish the job," Matt explains, prompting Claire to seek your confirmation. You nod silently, conveying your agreement. Claire sighs in resignation and questions, "You want me to come to you... in the middle of all this?"

"No, I want you to walk me through stabilizing him," Matt replies. Claire rolls her eyes once again, and you stifle a laugh at their familiar banter. Claire responds over the phone, "It's not as easy as it looks in the movies, you know?" Matt retorts playfully, "I don't really go to the movies. I like records, though.”

You can't help but roll your eyes this time, thinking to yourself how much of a flirt Matt can be. Claire sighs and relents, “All right.” Matt then continues, “There's something else you need to know. The man I'm trying to save… it's Vladimir.”

Matt continues, "There's something else you need to know. The man I'm trying to save... it's Vladimir."

Frustration washes over you, and you briefly close your eyes, looking away from the phone. Claire's voice echoes with anger, "The jerk who had me beaten up? That's who you want me to help?"

Matt sighs, pleading, “Look, you have every right to tell me to go to hell, but he's important, Claire. What he knows could bring Fisk down and save more people like you from getting hurt.”

A heavy silence hangs over the line as you stand next to Claire, offering her a sympathetic gaze. You mouth the word "please" while Matt calls out for Claire once again.

Claire's voice crackles through the phone with a sense of urgency, "Is there an exit wound?" Matt's response is barely audible, his voice filled with gratitude, "Thank you." He pauses momentarily, his throat clearing before he continues, “Uh, no. The bullet's still inside him. It's still half a degree hotter than the surrounding tissue.”

Claire then asks, “Is there any kind of first aid kit?” To which Matt replies, “I'm in a warehouse. Abandoned.” Claire looks at you and then raises her eyebrows, “Tell me what's there, anything you can use.”

"Alright, hang on," Matt's voice crackles through the phone, filled with determination. You exchange a glance with Claire, your expression a mix of concern and anxiety. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air as you prepare to guide Matt through a risky procedure.

Matt's voice comes through, listing the items he has at his disposal. “Uh, half a box of nails... broken glass... wood, duct tape, old roadside emergency kit, a lot of plastic sheeting…” Each item carries its potential, a makeshift arsenal in their desperate circumstances.

Claire's voice cuts through the tension, her focus sharp. “The kit, are there any flares in it?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise as Matt confirms, “Yeah, two.”

Claire hums, her mind working out a plan. “Alright... you're gonna cauterize the wound.” The gravity of her words sinks in, knowing the pain and risk involved.

Matt's voice carries a hint of uncertainty, "Shouldn't I dig the bullet out first?" Claire shrugs, her voice steady and experienced. You squint up at her, silently taking in her expertise. "Remember what I said about this not being a movie? You cut him open and start digging around, you'll kill him. This way, at least he has a chance of not bleeding out before you get what you need out of him... and... it'll hurt like a son of a bitch, so bonus."

A brief pause follows as Matt absorbs Claire's instructions. His determination shines through as he asks, "Alright, how do I do this?" Claire sighs, her voice soothing yet firm, "Just light the flare, hold it close to his skin until the entry wound seals." The simplicity of her instructions masks the high stakes and the immense trust placed in Matt's hands.

Silence hangs in the air, the weight of the moment palpable. You remain on the line, a silent presence of support, as Matt prepares to undertake this risky procedure that could save a life or plunge them further into peril, “Okay, I'm gonna put you on speaker.”

With a sense of urgency, you snatch the phone from Claire's hand, pressing the mute button swiftly. Concern etches across your face as you realize the importance of determining the precise location where Matt finds himself. You need to be prepared for any potential obstacles or dangers that lie ahead.

Claire's expression betrays her worry as she shakes her head, hesitant to let you venture into the unknown. She understands the risks involved and fears for your safety. But your determination shines through as you meet her gaze, emphasizing the significance of your collective mission.

You lock eyes with Claire, conveying the gravity of the situation. You know that time is of the essence, and every decision carries weight. Countless lives hang in the balance, and you can't stand idly by. Your voice carries conviction as you implore Claire to make the crucial inquiry.

"I need to know where he is, Claire," you insist, your tone filled with urgency. "We can't leave anything to chance. Lives are at stake."

Claire hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting between you and the phone. She understands the weight of your words and the responsibility that comes with them. Finally, she nods and takes back the phone, once again connecting with Matt. His voice reverberates through the line, calling out for Claire. She responds her tone steady yet laced with concern.

"Yeah... still here," Claire answers, her voice filled with determination. "But before you start, can you let me know which area you're in? Just in case."

The line falls silent for a brief moment, tension filling the air. Then, Matt's voice breaks through, his words carrying a hint of relief. "Northwest corner of 47th and 12th," he reveals, giving you a lifeline in this race against time.

You meet Claire's gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. It's a silent acknowledgment of her pivotal role in acquiring this crucial information. With a nod, you quickly formulate your next course of action, knowing that there is no time to waste.

Without further delay, you take a deep breath and quietly exit the stairwell, ready to face the challenges ahead and join Matt in his fight.

ABANDONED BUILDING, NORTHWEST CORNER OF 47TH AND 12TH – EVENING

You try your best to stay out of sight and hide between the shadows of the alleyways. There are sirens wailing and police radio chattering, multiple officers, and their K9s. Ben Urich is also discussing with the two detectives when you arrive and you have a concerned look on your face as you feel your powers pulse and vibrate as you will them to life, rendering the illusion of invisibility as you walked past the officers and climbed up a fire escape to get to where Matt is.

By the time you reached the second floor, you spot Vladimir, his bloodied and wounded form sprawled on the ground, a testament to the brutality of the situation. As you take in the scene, your eyes scan the surroundings, checking the perimeter for any signs of danger. Matt, focused and composed, is busy securing a police officer to a rusty metal pole, ensuring he remains restrained.

Vladimir's voice strained and sputtering with blood, reaches your ears. "You've been busy," he manages to say, his words laced with both exhaustion and curiosity. You position yourself near the window panes, keeping watch as Matt diligently proceeds to silence the officer with a layer of duct tape across his mouth.

Vladimir's head tilts at an odd angle as he groggily asks, "How do you know this?" You turn to witness Matt's nonchalant shrug, his response filled with an air of mystery. "Lucky guess," he casually remarks, his instincts proving sharp even in the direst of situations.

Suddenly, the sound of helicopter blades reverberates through the building, confirming the accuracy of Matt's prediction. Matt bends down to pick up a discarded pistol, skillfully unloading and disassembling it without hesitation. Vladimir's eyes widen at the sight, his voice dripping with frustration. "We could have used that."

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Matt's lips as he retrieves a sturdy metal cylinder pipe instead. "I'm not big on guns," he states with conviction, his actions speaking volumes about his principles.

In an instant, Matt is standing next to you by the window, attuned to the world outside. Together, you listen to the symphony of heartbeats, barks, and radio chatter, a cacophony of chaos that defines the battlefield surrounding the building. As Vladimir groans in pain, the effects of the cauterization evident, he musters the strength to voice his discontent. "You... burned me?" he coughs out, his disbelief palpable.

Matt's response is both matter-of-fact and compassionate. "Yeah, I had to stop the bleeding," he states, his determination to save lives shining through. Vladimir's anguished cry fills the air, a testament to the excruciating pain he is enduring as Matt drags him against a wooden crate for him to lean on.

Matt's voice remains steady, his resolve unyielding. "Bullet's still inside you. Wouldn't move around, if I were you." In the midst of their tense exchange, Vladimir musters the strength to voice his defiance. "You expect me to say thank you?" he sputters out, his words laced with a mix of bitterness and defiance.

Matt’s voice grows deeper, “If I didn't need you alive, we wouldn't be having this conversation.” Vladimir chuckles weakly and coughs, “So you just stand there and let me die, huh? But you couldn't kill me yourself. Is that where you draw the line?”

Matt kneels down, his determination etched on his face as he growls, "Tell me what I want to know about Fisk." Vladimir, blood dripping from his mouth, musters a defiant response, "You think you're different... from me? From him? But you'll get there. Sooner or later... we all do, men like us."

Moved by the intensity of the moment, you stand beside Matt, offering your support. Your hand gently rests on his shoulder, providing a silent reassurance. As your touch connects with him, you feel his body freeze, his muscles tensing. Matt cranes his neck to the side, his heightened senses acknowledging your presence. His voice, barely audible, carries a mix of surprise and relief as he whispers, "You were looking for me."

Your hand instinctively moves down to his arm, offering a comforting squeeze. You lean closer to his ear, your words a soft murmur, "I'm always looking for you."

Matt turns his head slightly, his attention briefly shifting to your presence, but he doesn't linger on it. Instead, he focuses on Vladimir, the urgency of the situation pulling him back into the moment. "A man like Fisk just took out your entire operation," Matt asserts, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "And he may not own all the cops, but he owns enough that you won't make it into a prison cell. Right now, I'm your only shot at getting out of this building alive."

Vladimir, his breathing heavy, musters the strength to share crucial information. "His lapdog came to us first. He told us his employer had taken note. He complimented... us on our business. Invited us to be part of something bigger... to expand... if we entered into an agreement."

Matt's gravelly voice cuts through the tension, his question demanding answers. "What did Fisk offer?" he asks, his focus unwavering.

Vladimir shrugs, a grimace forming on his blood-stained face. "Police looking other way... aid from politicians... and access to Chinese and their heroin."

Surprised by the revelation, Matt presses further, "He's working with the Chinese?" Vladimir's mocking tone sends a wave of frustration through Matt. "You really don't know anything, do you? Just snapping at scraps falling from the table."

Frustrated but undeterred, Matt licks his lips, determined to gather more information. "I want names. Everything you know about them and how they connect to Fisk."

Vladimir's energy wanes, his voice growing weaker. "There's only one name that matters. The man that can tie it all together." Matt's urgency rises as he implores, "Who?"

With a distant gaze, Vladimir reminisces, his voice trailing off, "We were going to rule this city... my brother and I."

Matt, sensing the opportunity slipping away, growls urgently, "Vladimir, the name!"

Struggling to form the words, Vladimir's voice fades before he utters something in Russian. Suddenly, he catches Matt off guard, headbutting him and launching a swift attack with a wooden plank. Matt groans, winded and disoriented, trying to regain his footing amidst the chaos.

Defiantly, Vladimir cries out, "This is not how I die. This is not how it happens." Matt, refusing to yield, pushes himself up from the floor, his resolve unyielding. The room becomes a blur of grunts, punches, and strikes as the two adversaries engage in a fierce battle. In a stunning turn of events, Matt gains the upper hand, bringing Vladimir down to the ground, causing the old wooden floors to splinter beneath their weight. The deafening sound of planks clattering and the heavy thump of their bodies hitting the floor below reverberate through the room, causing you to flinch.

Your heart races with panic as you witness the aftermath of the intense confrontation. Matt lies motionless, his body splayed across the fractured floor. Fear and concern grip you, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you tap into your unique abilities.

Drawing upon the illusory energy within you, you summon your powers. An ethereal shimmer envelops your form, rendering you visible once again. With a focused determination, you concentrate your energy, allowing it to manifest beneath your feet.

Gradually, you lift off the ground, defying gravity as you hover above the wreckage. Your descent through the gaping hole in the floor is guided by a combination of instinct and concern. Matt's stillness propels you forward, an invisible force compelling you to reach him.

As you gently lower yourself to the lower level, your touch meets the battered body of the man you have the urge to care for. Tenderly, you cradle his head in your hands, checking for signs of life. Matt stirs, his breath shallow but present, and relief washes over you.

With a mixture of relief and worry etched on your face, you whisper softly, "Come on, stay with me." Your voice carries a blend of encouragement and concern, urging him to regain his strength. The sounds of the dog barking and distant sirens serving as a constant reminder of the perilous situation. Time is of the essence, and you know that you must act swiftly to ensure Matt's safety and the success of their mission.

As Matt groans in pain, you lend him your support, his weight partially resting against you. He grimaces and spits out a mouthful of blood, the metallic taste lingering in the air. Your heart aches at the sight, fueling your determination to help him through this ordeal.

While maintaining your grip on Matt, he turns his head towards the motionless Vladimir, his gaze filled with a mix of pain and defiance. His voice carries a hint of a growl as he addresses his defeated adversary, "That wasn't very smart."

Vladimir's body remains still, but his eyes continue to glare at Matt with a piercing intensity. With a mocking sneer, he taunts, "But it was fun, wasn't it? Watching you bleed. And finally seeing what your little guardian angel looks like."

You swallow nervously, the weight of the situation pressing upon you. Matt's response is laced with contempt, his voice dripping with defiance and a touch of blood, "You think this is a game?"

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Vladimir's mouth as he retorts, "If it was a game, you'd be losing."

Meanwhile, you shift your focus to tending to Matt's injuries as best you can amidst the chaos. Your hands brush away the dirt and debris, offering a semblance of comfort in the midst of their harsh surroundings. Drawing upon the energy of your glamour, you channel it to alleviate some of the soreness and minor wounds, providing a small measure of relief.

As Vladimir's eyes flutter closed, Matt freezes for a moment before mustering his strength and pushing himself up. He hurriedly moves to Vladimir's side and begins performing chest compressions, his voice filled with desperation, "No... No... Come on. I'm not done with you yet. You hear me? I'm not done with you yet."

Sensing the urgency of the situation, you quickly join Matt, gently taking hold of his arms and urging him to step aside. Reluctantly, he complies and shifts his focus to your actions. You concentrate on the rhythm of your compressions, your hands applying measured pressure to Vladimir's chest.

The room is charged with tension as you continue the life-saving procedure. The sound of your hands connecting with Vladimir's chest echoes through the air. However, just as you feel a flicker of doubt, your powers surge to life, channeling a surge of magic into his body. The shock jolts Vladimir's heart, coaxing it back into a normal rhythm.

Coughing and gasping for air, Vladimir's eyes widen in confusion. He struggles to comprehend what just occurred. Unamused, you respond with a hint of annoyance in your tone, "You died. I brought you back. You're welcome."

Vladimir gazes up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and disdain. With a hint of mockery, he taunts, "You can't even stand there and let me die, even after I almost killed the one you're so eager to protect. Does he even know your name?"

Gritting your teeth, you feel Matt's presence beside you. Shaking your head, you reply, "It doesn't matter. Give us the information we need about Fisk."

However, the sudden sounds from outside the building catch your attention, causing both you and Matt to tense up. Your eyes meet his, silently communicating the urgency of the situation. Matt swiftly positions himself atop a wooden table, his palms pressed against its surface to sense the vibrations of the concrete. He cranes his neck, absorbing every piece of information from the surroundings. The rumbling of the nearby train tracks triggers an idea in his mind.

Curious, Vladimir asks, "What are you doing?" Matt responds with determination in his voice, "Finding us a way out."

Moving swiftly, Matt strides over to a corner of the room, and you follow his lead. He squats down, removing the wooden planks and debris that obstruct the way. Your eyes catch sight of a metal grate, likely leading to the sewer. Matt starts pulling at the bars, and you join him, lending your strength to the task at hand. However, just as you begin, the crackling of a radio fills the room, and a voice at the other end speaks up, "I'd like to speak to the man in the mask, please."

Your eyes shoot up to Matt, a mix of anxiety and anticipation evident in your expression, as the voice on the radio continues to speak. "Hello. Are you there? Can you hear me?" Matt's attention is drawn to the radio lying on the floor. He quickly reaches for a piece of wood, using his gloved hand to turn it over, and then picks up the device. "Who is this?" he inquires, his voice laced with caution.

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you realize the significance of this moment. "I think you know," you respond, your voice tinged with apprehension. "You've been asking about me. I thought it was time we spoke." While keeping your hands on the metal grate beneath you, you strain to listen to the conversation unfolding between Matt and the man on the other end of the line, whom you assume to be Fisk.

"Say your name," Matt demands, his tone firm and unwavering. Fisk counters, "You first." There's a brief pause before Fisk continues, "That's what I thought. You and I have a lot in common."

Matt whispers deeply, his voice filled with conviction, "We're nothing alike."

Fisk disagrees, his voice dripping with smugness, "That's what you'll tell yourself."

"You're feeding off this city... like a cancer," Matt states matter-of-factly, his words cutting through the tension.

"I want to save this city, like you... only on a scale that matters," Fisk retorts, his tone implying a twisted sense of righteousness.

"Now tell that to the people you've hurt," Matt challenges, his voice holding a blend of anger and determination.

"Young man... life is not a fairy tale. Not everyone deserves... a happy ending," Fisk responds nonchalantly, his words leaving a bitter taste in the air.

You gather the remaining strength within you, attempting to summon your powers once more, but they flicker out, leaving you frustrated and on the verge of tears.

"I'm gonna find you... and I'm gonna make you pay for what you've done," Matt threatens, his voice seething with righteous fury. Fisk doesn't miss a beat, his tone unwavering, "No, you are not. Not that I don't admire what you're trying to do... to change the world... with nothing but desire and your own two hands... secure in the knowledge that you're doing the right thing, the only thing. That's something that I do understand. But we both can't have what we want. So... your part... in this drama, by necessity, comes to an end."

"It's gonna take a lot more than a voice on a radio to stop me," Matt declares defiantly, kneeling on the floor. He can sense your fatigue and nausea, and his concern for you simmers beneath his anger.

"It's not me you need to worry about. It's the city you just blew the hell out of," Fisk says, revealing his true intentions. As you lift your head, you lock eyes with Matt, realizing that Fisk has played his cards perfectly, orchestrating the situation in his favor.

Matt stands up and moves closer to you, a knowing smirk on his face. He chuckles over the radio, "You... You think anyone's gonna believe that?"

"You're running around in a mask, holing up with a known felon in the wake of a series of bombings. There's that police officer you're holding hostage, so... yes. Actually, I do. But it doesn't have to be this way. The Russian... is he alive?" Fisk inquires. Matt turns the radio toward Vladimir, who spits back, "I'm still here, you fat shit!"

Matt's smirk widens as he presses the radio button, triumphantly saying, "Does that answer your question?"

"It's a one-time offer. You kill the Russian, and we'll call the night a push. You know what he's done... to women... to children..." Fisk presents his proposition, his voice dripping with malice. Matt's boot lands on Vladimir's hand, preventing him from grabbing a sharp piece of wood, eliciting a pained groan. Matt effortlessly grabs the wooden piece and hurls it across the room.

"To the people of this city that you claim to care about," Fisk adds, his words fueling Matt's anger.

"You just confirmed how important he is. That must worry you, what he might tell me," Matt asserts, exposing Fisk's fear. Fisk retorts, "Which means he hasn't told you anything yet."

You sense Matt's anger boiling beneath the surface as he kicks some rubble aside in frustration, causing you to flinch. Matt turns his body towards you, and you direct your attention back to the metal grate. You shake your head, attempting to muster the last ounce of energy within you, determined to replenish your magic before Fisk's men close in on all of you.

"You're a child playing at being a hero," Fisk taunts, his words intended to provoke. Matt licks his lower lip in frustration before responding, "No, no, I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm just a guy that got fed up with men like you and I decided to do something about it."

"That's what makes you dangerous. It's not the mask. It's not the skills. It's your ideology. The lone man... who thinks he can make a difference," Fisk states grimly. Disagreement knits your eyebrows together, but you can see the way Matt's lips curl downwards, haunted by a memory that quietly slips under the door of his mind. It rewinds the tapes, presenting evidence that what Fisk is saying holds a grain of truth. In that moment, your heart aches at the thought of Matt believing it.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself you've won. It'll make what I'm gonna do to you so much more satisfying," Matt says, his voice filled with determination. Fisk replies coldly, "Your part ends tonight."

"And if that's true, others will take my place. They'll see what I was trying to do, and they'll make sure..." Matt's sentence is cut short by Fisk's interruption, "No, they won't. The city will burn you in effigy. Your name, your very existence... will be met with abhorrence and disgust."

The sudden clamoring and screams from outside weigh heavily on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Matt's voice, filled with pain, resonates, "What did you do?"

"What you forced me to do. Goodbye. I'm afraid we won't speak again," Fisk declares, severing the connection. Matt pushes himself off the wall, his frustration and anger erupting in a furious yell before he hurls the radio, shattering it against the wall with a display of his strength.

Realizing that you need a few minutes to recover before attempting to tackle the stubborn metal grate once again, you find a spot on the ground to sit down. Leaning your back against the wall, you catch your breath, pushing stray strands of hair away from your face with tired fingers.

Matt, ever determined, moves towards the metal grate, ready to give it another try. However, just as he starts to exert his strength, the shrill ring of his phone interrupts his efforts. He pauses, panting, and answers with a weary tone, "It's really not a good time."

You pay little attention to who might be on the other end of the line, but you can hear fragments of Claire's voice filtering through the speaker. A brief moment passes before Matt pants out a response, "No. It was Fisk. It's all Fisk."

Feeling a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity, you observe Matt as he moves to the other side of the room, engaging in the phone conversation. His head tilts to the side, his expression grave, as he listens intently. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, his usually confident voice falters, "Claire. Um... What you said, before I left... I was..."

His words trail off, and you can sense the weight of his emotions. "No, don't be," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity. "It turns out you were... You were right... about me. I just don't want you getting caught up if it goes that way. If we don't get a chance to talk again... you take care of yourself."

It becomes apparent to you how easily Matt pushes away those he cares about, as if his hands act as barriers, closing off access to his own heart. The anger, fear, and sadness that he keeps hidden beneath the surface remain locked away in a secluded room within him. Pushing yourself up from the wall, you ignore the pain in your hands from previous attempts to claw at the grate. Squatting down, you grip the metal tightly, determination etched on your face.

Both Matt and Vladimir move to assist you, but your voice, filtered with resolve, reverberates through the room, "Stop." Their movements freeze, and you feel the surge of power within you growing. The energy manipulates the metal grate, causing it to shift and tremble under your command. A sharp cry of pain escapes your lips, and with great effort, you finally give in, collapsing to the side.

Matt acts swiftly, catching your limp figure in his arms, providing support as you struggle to catch your breath. You watch as the shimmering magic that surrounded the grate fades away, but to your surprise, the grate itself is completely gone. Your eyes widen in astonishment at the display of your newfound abilities. A snort escapes you, mingling with the pain and exhaustion, "You were right. This isn't how we die."

With Matt's help, you manage to make your way down the ladder, gripping a flashlight tightly in your hand. The stench of sewage only adds to the disorientation, but you push through, determined to keep moving forward. Matt takes on the responsibility of supporting your weight, doing his best to assist you. He guides Vladimir to a wall on the side, allowing him a moment to catch his breath.

Vladimir's voice cuts through the air, filled with confusion, "Where are we?"

"Access tunnels," Matt responds, his voice containing a hint of knowledge. "The city was built on a network of these, most of them sealed up years ago." His head tilts as he hones in on the approaching sounds of police officers, hot on your trail.

"Alright, we have to keep moving, find a way to the street," Matt declares, his determination resurfacing. With one side supporting Vladimir and the other struggling to support you, you all continue on, navigating the maze-like tunnels in search of an escape route to the surface.

As you turn your attention to the locked door, your mind races with ideas on how to open it. However, before you can offer your assistance, Matt's swift reflexes come into play. He swiftly throws Vladimir aside, propelling him away from the immediate danger. The sound of a commanding voice fills the air, yelling, "Freeze!"

Reacting on instinct, you instinctively duck, narrowly avoiding the hail of gunfire that erupts in the tunnel. Matt's finely honed senses and skills kick into high gear as he gracefully evades the bullets, his movements fluid and precise. Your powers surge within you, and you harness their energy to create ethereal spheres of shimmering illusions. With a focused intention, you launch the illusions at one of the officers, causing him to become disoriented and rendering him unconscious.

Seizing the opportunity, you spot Matt's discarded metal pipe on the ground and swiftly grab it. With a surge of energy, you infuse the pipe with power, transforming it into a formidable weapon. Expertly aiming, you hurl the energized pipe at the second officer, striking him square in the head. At the same time, you unleash a beam of projection, creating mirages and shimmers that disorient the remaining officer.

Matt's skills are unmatched as he swiftly disarms the final officer, his movements seamless and calculated. With the immediate threat neutralized, he stands by your side, both of you breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You lean against the wall, wincing at the sharp pain in your side, and take a moment to catch your breath. Meanwhile, Vladimir has managed to secure one of the rifles and points it toward the two of you.

"We need to go. There are five more coming. They're working for Fisk, probably not even real cops. We don't have time for this," Matt pants out urgently, his voice laced with concern. You frown, realizing the severity of the situation, but before you can react, Vladimir interrupts with a pained voice, "I think... maybe I stay."

Matt tries to reason with him, his voice tinged with desperation, "We can still make it out of here. You can turn evidence on Fisk, we can expose him..."

Vladimir shakes his head, his voice resolute, "He controls... all police... judges. There's only one way to stop him, you know this."

Matt firmly denies, "No. I'm not a killer."

"The moment you put on the mask... you got into a cage with animals. Animals don't stop fighting. Not until one of them is dead," Vladimir states, his words carrying the weight of bitter experience. He groans as he pushes himself up from the floor, his determination unwavering. His gaze shifts between you and Matt, and then settles on you. "And he will do it... to everyone you care about. Will you feel the same way then? Or will you be a man... and do what you know you must do?"

Vladimir's words hang heavy in the air, their impact sinking in. You close your eyes for a moment, contemplating the choices before you. The distant sound of chatter and approaching footsteps snaps your attention back to the present. Vladimir's gaze shifts between all of you, his voice filled with urgency, "Go."

Summoning the last reserves of your energy, you focus your powers once more. With a burst of golden energy, you direct a powerful surge towards the locked door. The door buckles under the force, hinges groaning and splintering, until finally, it bursts open, revealing an escape route from the turmoil, bloodshed, and the weighty decisions that lingered in the air.

Together, you and Matt rush through the newly opened passage, leaving behind the dissonance and unfortunate resolve of Vladimir.

End Notes:

Yes yes, I KNOW. Does Matt know? It’s you?? We’ll find out in the next chapter. Hehehe. Yay for the black suit :> I was supposed to split this into two parts but ehhh I couldn’t help myself.

Lowkey blacked out while writing this chonky chapter so uhhh if there are any mistakes... my bad! 😣

Okay time for the next episode! See ya 👋

TAGLIST:

@scoliobean

#matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fem!reader #notre dame etherealbloom #notre dame series #notre dame matt murdock #notre dame ethereal #matthew murdock x fem!reader

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papiala · 11 months

Note

Hiii,

Omg can we have some enemies to lovers for Jude or Kylian 😩🙏, maybe him and the reader “hate” each other but one day reader gets hurt or he hasn’t seen reader in a while and he rushes over to see her cause his worried 😩

From Rivals to Lovers

Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

Jude paced back and forth in his living room, his mind consumed by frustration and annoyance. His eyes flicked to his phone every few seconds, hoping for a message, a sign that he wasn't completely invisible to her. The girl who occupied his thoughts was none other than Y/N, a spirited and equally talented football player who had managed to get under his skin.

From the moment they first crossed paths on the pitch, it seemed as if fate had already written their story as enemies. They were constantly pitted against each other, battling fiercely for every inch of ground. Their competitive spirits clashed, fueling a deep-rooted disdain between them that grew stronger with each encounter.

But beneath the surface, hidden behind the layers of rivalry and hostility, something different was brewing. Unbeknownst to both Jude and Y/N, their constant clashes were tinged with an undeniable attraction that neither could admit or understand.

One day, the football field witnessed a different kind of battle. It was a regular match day, and Jude was in the midst of a heated exchange with an opponent. Suddenly, a sickening thud filled the air, followed by a collective gasp from the crowd. Jude's eyes darted toward the source of the noise and froze.

It was Y/N.

Lying motionless on the ground, a wave of panic surged through Jude's veins. In that instant, all animosity, all pretenses of hatred, faded away, leaving only worry and concern in their wake. Jude's heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted towards Y/N, his usual speed amplified by his mounting fear.

When he reached her side, he fell to his knees, cradling her head gently. His voice, usually filled with sarcasm, was now laced with concern.

"Y/N, are you okay? Can you hear me?" he pleaded, his eyes searching hers for any sign of consciousness.

Slowly, Y/N stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a haze of confusion. Jude let out a relieved breath, his grip on her hand tightening instinctively.

"Jude?" she murmured weakly, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied softly, relief washing over him like a warm embrace. "You scared the shit out of me, Y/N."

The realization hit them both like a speeding car. In that moment, as Y/N lay injured and Jude's front crumbled, the truth had finally emerged—they cared deeply for one another. Their shared enmity had been a mere mask, disguising the genuine connection that had been growing beneath the surface.

The hostility melted away, replaced by a mutual understanding and admiration. They spent countless hours by each other's side, nursing their injuries and supporting one another's dreams. The lines that once divided them faded into the background as their hearts intertwined.

A/N : i forgot to put the request on the post so i had to delete this and on top of that, i totally forgot i had this in my drafts for a whopping 3 days but i hope yall enjoy reading this

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic

98 notes · View notes

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