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sloanesallow · 1 year

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Endgame

Sloane is worried about her future, and Sebastian can’t imagine a future without her. The two discuss what lies ahead for their relationship, and decide to focus on the present instead. Alternatively, Sloane and Sebastian’s first time.

Notes: I had to get this out of my system, and for that I have no apologies. Hopefully this is as tasteful and stupidly romantic as I think it is. This can be read as a stand-alone, or as something that happens in the distant future, after the events of "So It Goes."

Tags: Aged-Up Characters, Sexual Content, Minors DNI, more tags on AO3

Available on Ao3 OR wattpad

The end of term was quickly approaching, and for seventh years this meant that they’d soon sit for the N.E.W.T.s that would determine their futures. Despite his penchant for adventure and occasional trouble-making, Sebastian had always been an excellent student with high marks, but even he had been taking time to study for the impending exams. That evening, he had skipped dinner to make use of the library while it was at its quietest, tucked away in an upstairs alcove with his nose buried in a textbook. It wasn’t until Madam Scribner’s scolding pulled him out of his concentration that he realized he had lost track of time and was about to miss curfew. Not that it really mattered—how much of his time at Hogwarts had been spent exploring the castle after hours when everyone else was asleep?

Nevertheless, he packed up his books and hurried along so as to not give the librarian another opportunity to send him to detention—he was already close to beating his previous year’s record. On the way to the Slytherin common-room, he recounted the day in his head, reminding himself of all the upcoming assignments he still needed to complete: thirty inches on Occlumency for Professor Hecat, another twenty on antiderivatives for Arithmancy, and…he was forgetting something. Was the potions work due tomorrow, or the following week? Perhaps Sloane could refresh his memory.

Sebastian suddenly stopped in his tracks, realizing very suddenly that he had gone the entire day without seeing her. They (regrettably) only shared one class that semester, and Professor Sharp had been keen enough to separate them as soon as he became privy to their relationship, not wanting ‘young love’ to distract them from their studies. He did not recall seeing her that morning at the potions station with her house-mate Poppy Sweeting, but had been distracted by another one of Garreth Weasley’s experiments gone wrong. Come to think of it, Sloane had not met him for their usual lunch rendezvous on the flying field either—he had chalked it up to her being equally busy with preparing for the N.E.W.T.s.

He cursed his preoccupied mind, disappointed he hadn’t noticed her absence earlier. Was she sick? Maybe he could sneak up to the Hospital Wing and check. He hoped she was not off on another adventure, without him. The more likely scenario was that she was already tucked in bed, safe and sound within the Hufflepuff common-room, a place in which he was absolutely prohibited from entering. Or maybe she was elsewhere—the greenhouse? The Undercroft? The problem with living in a castle was that it was a maze of never-ending and ever-changing corridors. There were literally a million different places Sloane could be. Sebastian pondered her whereabouts for another moment before deciding to listen to his gut, and made for the Astronomy tower.

Once in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, Sebastian closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking only of finding Sloane. He thought about the Room of Requirement in which she had shared with him the previous year, and how much quality time they had spent there ever since. He paced in one direction, smiling at the memory of when she had kissed his cheek for the first time in front of the mallowsweet plants. Turning on his heel, he crossed back in front of the dancing trolls and thought about when one of her many Nifflers stole his pocket-watch, never to be seen again. On his last pass along the corridor, he remembered when he confessed to Sloane that he loved her, and how the room around her changed in reaction to her emotions.

The door appeared, taking up space on the otherwise empty wall as if it had been there all along. Sebastian wasted no time, the entrance disappearing behind him as soon as he crossed the threshold. He expected Deek to greet him at the end of the short hall, but the house-elf was nowhere to be found. He craned his neck to look up at the somewhat infinite sky of the main room, somewhat surprised by the change in ambiance. It was usually sunny and bright, the sound of songbirds echoing throughout—it fit Sloane’s personality perfectly. Tonight, however, the room was dark, moonlight spilling through floating clouds and casting long shadows across the walls and floor. Even though it was late-spring, there was a chill to the air, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine.

He called out for her as he moved slowly through the long hallway. “Sloane?”

It was just as dark in that part of the Room, a flickering fireplace the only lightsource. Sebastian peered behind the tall screen that divided the area to investigate, only to discover a pile of mismatched blankets and pillows spread out in front of the hearth. In the center, curled up on her side with just her head poking out, was Sloane.

He grinned at the sight, as if she were a bird in its nest. “Sweetheart, is that you?”

“Sebastian?” she tilted her chin, rolling her eyes back in an effort to look in his direction. He circled around her form, crouching down so they could better see each other. His delight faded when he noticed her bloodshot eyes and flushed face—she was crying. Her lips were shaky as she attempted a smile. “You found me.”

“That I did,” he replied, reaching out to brush the wild hair from her face. He traced his thumb across her cheek to wipe away the tears. One of her hands emerged from the blanket to rest against his, and he flinched at how cold her skin was. He wanted to ask what was troubling her, but instead of saying something sweet, his brain and mouth betrayed him. “Room for one more?”

He would not have taken it personally if she denied him, understanding it was not entirely proper. Even though they had been formally courting for the last year, they hardly ever had the opportunity to be truly alone, without the fear of being discovered. They held hands while walking through the castle, and exchanged chaste kisses before departing to their respective classes. Ominis had discovered them snuggling in the Undercroft on several occasions. Not that there weren’t more amorous activities occurring in darkened alcoves and restricted sections, but Sebastian had been careful to maintain at least some decorum in regards to his relationship with Sloane. As much as he wanted to find a way to sneak into her dorm room and have his way with her, his parents (if they were still alive) would be disappointed if he did not behave like the utmost gentleman. Her virtue would remain intact, and his more baser desires would have to wait until they were properly wed.

Sebastian cleared his throat, hoping his expression did nothing to betray his thoughts. “Or, if we’re quiet, I can escort you back—”

“No,” Sloane said with a bashful smile. “Please, stay.”

Before she could change her mind, he moved, clumsily discarding his boots and jacket so he’d be more comfortable. Sloane shifted, lifting the thick duvet from around her shoulders so he could tuck himself in beside her. Sebastian was immediately surrounded by her warmth, and it could have lulled him into a fast and deep sleep if it were not for the worry he felt about her tearful demeanor. Rolling onto his side so he could face her, he gathered her icy hands between his own. He cast a non-verbal warming spell and softly kissed the pads of her fingers.

“Have you been here all day?”

She silently nodded, scooting herself closer. Sebastian took the hint, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and waist as he tucked her close. She rested her head against his chest, and he combed his fingers through her soft hair, tilting his head to press a kiss against her crown. Sloane idly toyed with the fabric of his tie, sniffling as her tears finally subsided.

“I had a meeting with Professor Weasley this morning,” she started to explain. “She wanted to discuss my plans for the future. Even though she’s confident that I’ll score well on my N.E.W.T.s, I’m not so sure. Even if I do earn a passing grade, I’m uncertain of what comes next.”

“You don’t want to teach?” Sebastian asked. Sloane had expressed interest in it before, when he finally declared a Professor’s track before the start of their seventh year. It was only natural that he would be a scholar like his parents before him, and he was proud to continue the Sallow legacy. Even Hecat had started to notice his aptitude, offering him a position as her assistant after graduation.

“How am I supposed to know what I want to do with my life when I’m barely eighteen? I was not born into this world, and I’ve had to adjust to so much change—I’m not entirely sure if I’m ready to fully embrace it. There’s still so much I want to see, to learn…”

Sebastian frowned. He had been so selfishly wrapped up in his own future that he had not stopped to consider if Sloane wanted to be a part of it. There was always a quiet fear that he hid in the back of his mind, that they would fall out of love and drift apart.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Do you…not want to be…with me?”

Sloane leaned back with a startled breath, tilting her head to look directly at him. “Sebastian that—that is not what I said!”

“I only thought—” he was unable to hold back his words. “I thought we might live together, after we graduate.”

“Would that not be considered inappropriate?”

“Not if we got married.”

Had he really just said that? She was blinking at him, speechless and agape. He smirked, despite the heat rising to his cheeks. “We could live in sin, if that is what you prefer.”

“Be serious,” she whispered.

He brought a hand up to tuck a loose strand of ashy-blonde hair behind her ear, and rested his palm against her cheek. “I am being serious.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Sloane hesitated before fluttering her eyes closed, humming slightly when he kissed her forehead. He kept his lips pressed there as he quietly spoke, “I want you to imagine it with me. We own a tiny little cottage with a large garden for you to grow as much mallowsweet as you want. There’s a window in the kitchen where you can watch me as I struggle with the livestock and chop wood with a proper axe. We’ll keep a floo open for visitors, and entertain our friends every Christmas. And when the time comes, I’ll transfigure an extra room or two for our children.”

Beneath his hand, Sloane’s cheeks flushed with color, but she did not protest. When he glanced down, she was smiling. Sebastian’s heart was racing, in disbelief that he was revealing all that he desired for their future. It was more than he had ever dared to admit to her before—she knew how much he loved her, but this was a different kind of devotion. He rested his head against hers, and stroked his thumb across her cheek, down to her chin.

“But first, we’ll travel. Paris, Cairo…even America, if that’s what you want. We can impress them with our fancy accents and see what the fuss about Ilvermorny is all about. Only when we’re bored and homesick will we retire to the countryside to live out the rest of our well-earned, quiet lives.”

Sloane was silent for a long time, her tiny smile the only indication he had not completely terrified her with his fantasy. When she slowly opened her eyes, they were shining with fresh, happy tears. “What about your offer to teach with Professor Hecat?”

“None of that matters if I cannot be by your side,” he said. “I know we’re still young, and this wasn’t exactly how I planned on proposing but—”

She cut him off with a kiss, still grinning against his mouth as she spoke, “If this is you asking, then yes.”

Sebastian kissed her back, unable to suppress his joy. “Yes?”

“Yes,” her laughter nearly drowned out the answer. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated, whispering the words into her mouth as they embraced.

Sloane cupped his face between her hands, soft giggles morphing into quiet sighs as their kiss intensified, spurred on by his heartfelt confession. He pulled her as close as possible, and before he knew it, she had pushed him flat onto his back, her knees straddling his thighs as she peered down at him. For a split second, their eyes met, and he was sure his pupils were blown just as wide as hers, fascinated and excited by what was happening. Sebastian threaded his hands in her hair again before tugging her back down, eagerly kissing and licking into her mouth as a moan caught in her throat. These weren’t foreign sounds to his ears, but still rare enough that it caused a heat to spread throughout his body, encouraging him to move.

He leaned forward, looping one arm around her waist to scoot her closer as he sat up. The blankets fell around them as she easily slid forward into his lap, the two breaking away with equally startled gasps when their hips brushed. Sloane reflexively bore down, causing him to flinch and hiss—he was already well and properly aroused. He tried not to think about how so many of his dreams had started out just like tonight, innocently enough, before his overactive imagination turned the situation into something much more tawdry and indecent. This was not what he had anticipated, even after their happy engagement.

He pulled away from her slightly. “We—we should stop.”

Sloane swallowed thickly, and he was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of her throat. “We should?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“You…” her eyes were scanning his face. “You don’t want to…?”

“Stop?” he clarified, gulping down his anxiety. He told the truth, “...no.”

He tentatively kissed her lips, brushing his nose against hers as he pressed his forehead against hers to meet her gaze. “I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

“Sebastian,” she breathed his name, not helping with his wild thoughts. One of her hands trailed up to thread into the hair at the back of his neck. “I’ve just agreed, in not so many words, to be your wife. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not wait for the marital bed.”

All Sebastian could hear was the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears. “You want…this? You want me?”

“Yes.”

When he thought about what his first time with Sloane might be like, he envisioned a certain kind of hastiness, desperate hands and sloppy kisses as they shed their clothes in a frenzied race to the metaphorical finish line. Instead, their kisses were much more languid, tender and passionate as their hands slowly roamed. It was better this way, he silently concluded, so that they could take their time. It seemed she was just as content not to rush. He blindly reached for the buttons of her waistcoat, deftly undoing them one-by-one before pulling the fabric away and tossing it to the side.

“My clothes won’t remove themselves,” he teased against her lips, fingers already moving to untie the silk bow tucked beneath her shirt collar. Sloane quietly snickered, rolling her eyes before sliding her hands to his front, making short work of his vest and tie. She inspected the fabric, a glint in her eye telling him it was unlikely he’d be getting it back after tonight.

They leaned back from one another to make it easier for them to undo the buttons of their shirts in tandem, Sloane’s breathing increasing as his fingers brushed against the skin of her clavicle. Sebastian felt his own breath hitch when she pushed back the cotton fabric, hands smoothing across his bare shoulders as she removed it completely. She smiled, fingers tracing over the ever-present silk tie he wore around his right wrist, a good-luck charm she’d gifted so long ago now. Sloane stared at him then, stormy-colored eyes dancing across his chest, focusing for a long while on his toned muscle before flicking her gaze up.

“Sebastian, you’re covered in freckles,” she said, with a certain kind of delight that made him blush. Before he could properly remove her blouse she had moved forward, pressing her lips against the slope of where his neck met shoulder. Her tongue darted out, tracing up to the shell of his ear. “Where else are you hiding them?”

He bit back a groan. “Oh, that’s not fair.”

“Now you know how I feel everytime you’d whisper naughty things to me before we parted in the evenings,” she kissed his cheek. “You have no idea the sort of state you repeatedly left me in.”

“You’ll have to show me,” he replied, imagining the sight of her in bed, woefully frustrated.

He was finally able to discard her shirt, adding it to the growing pile of clothes nearby. He took his time with her stays, lazily pulling at the ribbons. If Sloane was growing impatient, she didn’t say. As soon as the garment was removed, he descended upon her neck, grinning against her skin as she moaned.

“Be careful,” she hissed as he nipped her with his teeth. “Your little love bites are difficult to hide.”

“Then don’t hide them,” he replied, soothing his tongue over the mark, only to form another along the jut of her collarbone. He trailed away, pushing the thin strap of her chemise with his nose. She watched him, lips parted and swollen from their kisses, as he gradually pulled at the silky fabric until it pooled around her waist.

At first, Sloane attempted to shield her nudity, but Sebastian caught her hands, lifting them to kiss along her knuckles and the inside of her wrist. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She allowed him to move her arms to the side, the tint to her cheeks turning a deeper shade of scarlet. Her chest heaved up and down with every shaky breath, enticing him even more. He slid his hands up along her bare waist, barely able to meet her eyes again. “Can I touch you?”

“—yes.”

Sebastian tentatively cupped her breasts, rolling the small weight of them in his hands and repeating the action when it elicited another moan. He arched down, replacing one of his hands with his mouth, licking at her nipple until it peaked against his tongue.

“Sebastian…”

What he wouldn’t do to have her say his name like that again, needy and breathless with an unspoken ask for more. He hummed, moving his lips to wrap around her other nipple. He hushed against her skin, “what is it darling?”

Sloane’s answer came in the way of her hips, slowly rolling against his own, pressing firm against his clothed erection. There was no hiding his want for her, with the way her skirt had bunched up around her legs, and the friction only made it worse. She looked at him with half-hooded eyes, her fingers tracing down the lines of his abdomen before resting along the hem of his trousers.

“I think,” she managed between a whimper as he continued to idly fondle her chest. “We are still wearing far too many clothes.”

Sebastian agreed. He guided her so she was laying back against the nest of blankets, her arms bent at the elbows and framing her face. Her blonde hair spread out wildly against the pillow, as if she were a portrait of a divine goddess come alive. She was beautiful, and even though he could scarcely believe it, she was his. Sitting back on his haunches, he watched as gooseflesh appeared wherever he touched along her skin. He tugged at the waistband of her skirt, dragging her chemise down along with it over the curve of her hips before removing the garments completely. A groan escaped Sebastian’s throat as he drank in the sight of her naked form, eyes roaming from the peaks of her breasts down across her flat abdomen and belly button until he focused on the thatch of wispy hair at the crux of her thighs.

“You’re staring,” she whispered, a pink flush covering her entire body.

“There’s a lot for me to look at,” he smirked, lifting one of her legs so he could inspect her more carefully. “You are…exquisite. I want to taste every last inch of you.”

He accentuated each word with just that, a feather-light kiss that started from her ankle, trailed up her calf and behind her knee and the inside of her thigh before he kissed down the length of her other leg. Beneath him, Sloane was trembling, biting down on her bottom lip to contain her whimpering. It was thrilling to know he was causing such a reaction with his touch alone. He ghosted his hands back up, watching as her eyes fluttered shut as he tentatively grazed his fingers across her centere.

“Sebastian, please,” she canted, and he gently grasped her free hand in his, moving it back to her heat.

“Show me,” he instructed, moaning with her as she guided him, encouraging his fingers to press through her folds to find her entrance. He swallowed a curse, gasping at the slick feeling and the heat that surrounded his digit as he slowly pushed inside. “Like this?”

Sloane offered no coherent response, just nodded enthusiastically as she adjusted his hand so he could more easily penetrate her, pressing his thumb against a bundle of nerves that caused her to flinch with a short gasp. “Right there.”

It was a good thing Sebastian was a quick learner. He copied the movements she so graciously taught him, glancing up to watch as her expression shifted, brows tightly furrowed and eyes shut as she chased the pleasure he was giving. He’d never wanted anything more than to see her through it. Tentatively, he pushed further in, curling upwards before withdrawing. This time, he added a second finger, groaning at how impossibly wet she was.

“Is this all for me, sweetheart?” he brushed the pad of his thumb across where she’d shown him, amazed by the way her body writhed in reaction. He had an idea, one he hoped she’d enjoy. As he shifted, Sloane peeked her eyes open to look down at him, inhaling sharply at his new position between her thighs. Despite her hesitant expression, she moved her legs to accommodate the width of his shoulders, one of her hands snapping to grip his shoulder.

“What—” she stumbled over the word as he continued to move his fingers in and out, gradually picking up the pace. Her voice was barely audible. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert…yet,” he softly chuckled, making sure his breath landed against the soft skin of her thigh. “But there is some very interesting literature on the subject in the restricted section. We’ll have to put my research to the test.”

Whatever Sloane planned on saying was drowned out by a sharp yelp of surprise as he replaced his thumb with his mouth, and dragged the flat of his tongue from where his fingers were pressed inside to swirl around her clit. He was only encouraged by her wanton sounds, arousal straining against his trousers as he refrained from simply devouring her.

“I—God, Sebastian,” she whimpered. “I’m so close.”

Sebastian responded immediately, quickening the trust of his fingers and the movement of his mouth against her core. Sloane’s fingers found purchase in his hair, tugging him closer as a spasm rocked her hips upward. That’s it, he realized, focusing on the way the ecstasy shook through her body. Only when she slumped back against the blankets did he pull away and rested his head against her thigh. The mesmerizing sight of the mess he’d made of her had him in a trance.

“You’re so perfect,” he didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, raspy and breathless from his excursion. When he craned his neck up, he found she was already gazing down at him with a new kind of want shining in her eyes. Still, he had to ask. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” she slowly nodded, watching as he steadily lifted himself to sit back on his knees. He was already so dizzy, drunk on the taste of her. Sloane followed suit, soft hands caressing his shoulders and arms before resting along the waistband of his pants. She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Show me, please.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to feel flustered, suddenly self-conscious about revealing himself to her. For all the wild confidence he’d had before, he could feel it wavering under her watchful eye as he undid the clasp of his trousers, letting the fabric fall open to expose his drawers. Sloane’s eyes widened a little as she inspected the outline of his manhood, straining against the fabric and just aching to be touched.

“Can I?” she reached out, and Sebastian grasped her hand, guiding her just as she had before.

“Care—ful,” his breath hitched as her fingers traced the length, able to feel the warmth of her palm through the thin cotton. In a desperate need for more, he pushed at his clothing until both his pants and underclothes were bunched along his thighs, exposing him completely. He tried not to think too much about the way her lips parted with a startled gasp at the sight.

“It’s—” she swallowed a gasp, and he did the same as her fingers tentatively grasped him again, this time with no fabric to separate his touch. It was almost too much for him already. “You’re…big.”

Sebastian’s chest swelled with male pride, but he at least tried to be humble. “You sure know how to inflate a man’s ego—ohh…”

He moaned as her thumb brushed against the sensitive head of his cock, and he grasped her forearm to stop her movements, if only for a moment.

“Is this okay?” her voice was so sweet, fingers flexing around him as she asked. He hunched forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he nodded. Sloane seemed to understand the need to be gentle, but any slight movement of her fingers caused him to spasm. It was an overpowering sensation, one he had never managed to produce while alone. He wondered if Sloane knew the power she held over him.

Sebastian gripped her tightly, panting against her neck. “I—fuck,” he hissed, bucking up into her hand. “Sloane, please. I need to be inside of you. Please.”

She eagerly nodded her approval, hands snapping up to cradle his face as he kissed her fervently, frantically tugging at his trousers and socks, wiggling his toes as he kicked them off his feet. Their bodies fell back into the soft blankets, Sebastian adjusting her so she was comfortably resting against the pillows. Sloane bent her knees so he could situate himself between her legs, both gasping out as his erection brushed against her folds, still soaked from his earlier ministrations. He nearly collapsed, catching his weight on his elbow as he sought the delicate skin of her neck again, uncaring with how his lips and tongue would surely leave a bruise to be discovered in the morning.

When he finally found the strength to pull away and look down at her, she was staring up at him in silent wonder, the fire from the hearth reflecting in her shining eyes. She rested her hands along his shoulders, sliding one to tenderly hold the side of his face. He leaned into her touch, turning to kiss the inside of her wrist.

“I love you,” he breathed. More than anything else in this world, he added, too overcome with emotion to say the words. “Siobhan.”

She widened her eyes—he hardly ever used her given name, alerting her to the sincerity of his words. He nervously licked his lips, in utter disbelief this was actually happening. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure you want—”

“More than anything, Sebastian. I love you,” she replied, as if she had read his mind, craning her neck to kiss his lips. “I’m ready.”

Sebastian shakily reached between them, grasping his length and pressed against her entrance. Sloane’s breath hitched, and he was unable to hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped his throat. As much as he felt the need to plunge himself forward, he held back, the voice in the back of his mind reminding him to move slowly for her sake. He gradually pushed forward, kissing her again as she whimpered.

“Shh…just relax,” he muttered against her lips, smoothing his hand across her waist. Inch by inch he closed the distance, shuddering at the impossible heat that surrounded him. When he was fully sheathed inside, his mind went blank. He understood with amazing clarity why wars were waged, and why men drove themselves mad in the pursuit of a woman’s touch.

Moments passed before one of Sloane’s hands trailed down to grasp his hip. “Don’t stop.”

Sebastian complied, pulling back only slightly before advancing again, repeating the small movements as they both acclimated to the feeling. He clenched his jaw, struggling already—he was desperate to make the moment last, to see her completely undone and satisfied. They continued to kiss passionately as he fell into a steady rhythm, canting his hips so he could grind against her. He curled around her, pressing his lips to whatever skin he could find—her neck, shoulder, and breasts—murmuring incoherently about how he couldn’t believe love could ever feel this way, so dizzying and euphoric, and wonderful.

“My—Sloane,” he rasped, hooking one arm under her knee to spread her further, allowing him to thrust deeper still. She arched up, neck craned back as she cried out in ecstasy. He withdrew completely before diving forward, quickening his pace. He continued whispering against her skin, “You’re doing so well, I can feel you—”

“Sebastian, I—” she choked, eyes glazed over as a new wave of pleasure began to wash over her.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, shifting the arm he had been bracing his weight on to wrap around her shoulders, hand grasping at her hair. He faltered as he tried to keep momentum. It wasn’t a lie—he could feel her clenching around him, and with every shallow thrust it was getting harder to hold back. “I—Sloane, I’m going to—” he couldn’t think straight. “Where should I—”

“Inside,” she answered, as if there was no doubt. He wavered again, but she silently encouraged him, fingers digging into the flesh at his hip, her other hand grasping at the curled hair at the nape of his neck. “Sebastian, please.”

With an almost possessive growl he held her, pressing his body impossibly close as he thrust harder, unstopping as he hushed against the shell of her ear to come with him. She was already trembling beneath him, legs spasming as they hooked around his waist to hold him close. Sloane pulled his face to hers and he greedily captured her lips, grunting as he snapped his hips forward one last time, shaking with her as he spilled deep within her pulsing heat.

Sebastian was sure he had died, with the way his vision blurred with a blinding white light before fading completely. Feeling boneless, he collapsed, his arm unable to keep the weight of his shaky limbs propped up any longer.

He was unsure how much time passed before Sloane was gently pushing at his shoulder, breathlessly chuckling as she kissed his temple. “Sebastian, you’re crushing me.”

“Sorry,” he gasped, reluctantly pulling himself away, suppressing the way his male mind reacted to the sight of the mess they’d made. He rolled onto his back, and stared up at the enchanted ceiling, breathless. Surely, his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He turned his head to glance at Sloane, grinning when he found she was already staring at him with a bashful smile. “We really just—”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “We did.”

Sebastian grasped her hand, lacing their fingers. Somewhere in the delirium of his mind, he thought to conjure a warm towel, which Sloane gratefully took to clean herself off. She sighed, “I’ll need a bath.”

“I’ll join you,” he eagerly responded. Sloane raised an eyebrow.

“If you thought I was insufferable before,” he joked, finally able to catch his breath. “It’s going to be impossible, keeping my hands off of you.”

Sebastian would have been glad to fall into her again, but the sound of his grumbling stomach interpreted his thoughts. Sloane heartily laughed, covering her mouth as she shook her head at him.

“Did you skip dinner again?” she chided. He shrugged, rolling towards her to attempt a kiss. She allowed him, but held him at arm’s length. “Food first—youthful energy only gets you so far.”

“Aren’t you glad I never stopped stashing items from the kitchen?” he smirked, ghosting his fingers across the silky expanse of her thigh. “After food, a bath?”

“Yes,” Sloane nodded, smiling bright. Her eyes shined mischievously, exciting him. “Then…more. I’m curious to know what exactly you’ve been reading in the restricted section without me.”

He was all too happy to oblige.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #hufflepuff oc #smut

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winns-stuff · 2 years

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LO RANT:

The way that the actual villain of Lore Olympus is actually Hades and Apollo of course because of what he did, but I genuinely do not believe that Hades is a good person. He’s one of the most disturbing depictions of a love interest I have ever had to come across, and I know about how bad the greek mythologies can get for anyone talking about how worser things happened in the actual myths, I’m aware of that. The thing with Lore Olympus is that Rachel tries to make it seem like he’s actually a good guy! Like every single terrible and disturbing thing he’s done never gets addressed and he gets off scot-free. I’m sure everyone will say that he’s traumatized or neglected by everyone and okay, that’s valid but I don’t like that that’s an excuse. Him being traumatized or neglected should not be a pass for him being a bad person, and I’m tired of people babying him for those reasons because his trauma and neglect are only ever going to be an explanation for his behavior but it should not just allow him to be able to treat anyone any kind of way. It’s wrong and I wish everyone would stop treating him like he can’t do any wrong.

I will say this, I found this comic when I was around 11 years old. When I saw Hades and saw how he treated Persephone I truly believed that he was amazing, I wished and hoped that I would be in a relationship like that because in my life I’m not surrounded by the best men. The men in my life set no example for me or the other women in my family for how we’re supposed to be treated, they don’t respect us, they rather us suffer alone than trying to empathize with us, they neglect us, and some even do far worse. Around that time, at such a young age too, I was aware of that and I yearned to break the cycle, I wanted nothing more than a man who really saw me and appreciated me, I wanted a man who would protect and defend me, who would truly respect me when I was was looked down upon by everyone. And reading that comic, seeing how Hades treated Persephone, which was in my eyes how you truly respected your partner and cared for them, made me idolize those two. I loved and adored Hades and I always hoped I would find someone like him when I was younger.

Now I only said that because I understand why people enjoy and love Hades, I can understand why they have a crush on him and why they see him as “husband material” because I once did too. The comic is so sugary and makes it seem like he’s such a great man and that he’s a gentleman because it shows us things we’d think we’d want in a relationship. This is only just one factor of why everyone believes he’s a good person because the comic frames him to be just a perfect man, and then compared to all the other male characters in here no one can be as better as him. He treats everyone around him like they’re lesser than but it’s excused because he’s stressed, he pursued Persephone knowing he had Minthe but it’s okay because she was a bad person, he literally cut ties between Olympus and the Underworld and made life worse for everyone but it’s okay because he’s just hurting. He has an excuse for everything and he will never be seen as a bad person because of how the story wrote him.

Stepping away from Lore Olympus has really showed me just how sugary this comic is. When I first read it I didn’t even notice the age gap or Hecate and Hera’s comments about Persephone’s age because I was too focused on “Persades Moments”, I wasn’t concerned that Persephone didn’t have anyone else to depend on in this world she didn’t know because I was too worried about when she would meet Hades again, I wasn’t even worried about Hades firing people left and right and putting unrealistic deadlines and mountains on mountains of stress and pressure on his employees because I was too happy about him thinking about Persephone 24/7.

Anyways, this is the end of the rant. I can only speak from my experience with this comic like I always do and this was exactly it, so if you’ve never felt this way about it then I completely understand and I get it we won’t read the comic the same ways and we have different brains. But as I always say these are just my opinions and thoughts on the matter and if you do or don’t agree with me that’s completely fine, these are meaningless rants that I just come up with at random parts of the day, I don’t mean to discourage or shame people who do read lore olympus because I read it too (mostly for Demeter’s storyline but yeah) and that’s really the last thing I want to do with these rants is to influence someone to put down the comic, if you enjoy it then read it to your hearts content! And if you don’t, you don’t. Either way is fine.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo

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ssparksflyy · 2 months

Note

Hiii I hope you are having a great day!! I was wondering if you could make another percy jackson x daughter of Hecate reader? If you don’t/ can’t do it that’s fine I just though i would ask.

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: percy jackson x latina!daughter of hecate!reader warning(s): swearin an: dw i got ur 2nd request that u wanted reader to be latina :)) i just added in some little things that tie in ♡♡ srry if these are short btw </3

in the dead of night, your eyes so greennnnnnnn

you and percy tend to stay up later than most of camp

your always up and out after curfew

you js function better at night okay

me asf

the day is reserved for lake dates and the night is reserved for sky watching dates ♡♡

youre literally attached by the hip if you couldnt tell

as they say in waitress, i love you means your never ever getting rid of me ♡

you usually watch from the roof of cabin 3, just cuddled up and sharing a blanket

but once percy suggested you watch from the docks

and you were like oh!

not actually but you looked really hesitant

he was like whats wrong??

so you told him about la llorona !! #coquette

it was so preppy

but now youre both scared to go to the lake at night

even though yk shes not real

and youve literally been through tartarus

and back

and you face unimaginable horrors every day

and percy's literally the son of the sea god

mexican folklore is scary ok yall

idc if it didnt scare you as a kid / you like horror

I DONT

IM TRAUMATIZED

MY GRANDMA PUT ON LA LEYENDA DE LA LLORONA WHEN I WAS FIVE AND I HAVENT KNOWN A DAY OF PEACE SINCE

sorry for trauma dumping yall

kinda silly how some story about a lady who drowned her kids is enough to make 2 of camp half blood's strongest soldiers shake in their boots

so u stick to rooftops ♡

you and hazel are bestiessss

shes a honorary member of cabin 20 of course

you exchange tips and tricks, hazel telling you about the things she saw hecate do and the things she said to her

and you tell her about the things youve picked up over the years :))

percy cant help but smile whenever he sees you two together

he sees hazel as a sister

(yall remember in son when he was ready to fight somebody for her or something like that i dont remember exactly what he said but i do know he was ready to fight)

and ur his fav girl ever ♡

his heart just feels warmed

same way he feels when he sees you playing with estelle

you show her a bit of ur powers and she flips outtttt

she asks sally to be a witch for halloween because "i want to be just like (y/n)!!!"

dont know about yall but if i went home and my family found out i was involved with ~brujeria~ i would not be accepted at home (please read as if youre white and cant say shit in spanish)

thats just the mad religious side talking dont worry yall

but sally and paul would literally let you in with open arms

the jackson's apartment is your second home

percy has a drawer reserved for your clothes in his room ♡♡

he loves it when you sleepover, at home or at camp

he absolutely adores kissing your hands

he doesnt care about the dangers you can produce from them, he'll kiss em allllll he wants

you could be cuddled up together, ur reading to him and he just grabs one of your hands and begins to leave a trail of kisses up your arm, shoulder, neck, cheek, and eventually leaving one on your temple

it just gets you like 😵‍💫

he loves his badass girlfriend, okay?

literally your #1 fan

would beat up anybody who talks shit !!!

tea is your holy ground ♡

because you cant drink coffee

cause ya know, adhd, youll just end up knocking out

though you do drink it when you cant fall asleep at night

its me, hi

and hot chocolate is strickly an only-in-december drink, because then it wont hit in december, since you had it earlier in the year

(my mom does that with gorditas and tamales broooo its painful)

so ya drink tea!

i dont drink tea, so im not even gonna try to tell you what his favorite is

he likes whatever you like

but you try a bunch of different teas and stuff together :)

youd probably adopt a black cat together when youre older

youre never gonna beat your neighbor's witch allegations

(probably because theyre true but youll obviously never say that)

i feel like percy would be more of a dog person but lets be real, he likes horses.

fuckin horse girl smh

but that does not mean he wouldnt love and care for the cat

he'd so let you stop to pet any stray cat you see on the street

takes pictures of the cat anytime you do ♡

you cook together !!

you teach percy a bunch of different recipes and stuff :)

has a 'kiss the cook' apron 100%

and what can ya say, you gotta kiss the cook

man you guys manage to stay silly throughout the horrors, we love

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #child of hecate #percy jackson x you #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

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damiano-mylove · 3 years

Text

The ever lovely members of Måneskin, with a witchy S/O

It's short but tell me if anything is wrong or isn't proper, and I'll fix it right up for you *Masterlist*

Vic

When you first told Vic that you practiced witchcraft, she was so totally love struck in that moment

She was incredibly interested in your rituals and alters, asking you every now and again what you were doing, but with absolutely no malice or judgement

Would absolutely be onboard to start practicing with you

You would have to explain to her why you so intently watched the flame of the candle on your alter

Vic would melt every single time you read her tarot cards, read her palm or did anything like that for her because she felt so weirdly connected to you every time

Quaintly, Vic would be so open to learn anything you'd be willing to teach her about your craft, and she would support you no matter what (even with the weirder aspects of things like deity work)

Thomas

Thomas would be pretty confused when you first told him, honestly

Not a bad confusion, he just thought that witchcraft died out so he didn't know why you still practiced

You kindly explained to him that modern witchcraft was really starting to take flight again, then once he got used to it, he was all over having a witch S/O

Anytime you'd give him a crystal, he would keep them close at all times, and if they were jewelry, Thomas would rarely take them off

It was actually moldavite that brought you two together in the first place (Thomas accidentally referred to it as 'the funky Moldova crystal' when he was telling someone about how you first met)

Thomas never asked for a reading, but when you offered to read his tarot cards or palm, he would never say no

Would fully call his mother just to ask about his birth time so he could know his birth chart to impress you (and it did, until he told you that story)

After a little while, Thomas would be all over your witchiness, and he loved every bit of it

Ethan

'Like a Hocus Pocus witch or American Horror Story witch?' 'Misty Day from AHS' 'Cool'

Would literally be in awe anytime you did anything remotely witchy; eyes lit up anytime you put an offering on your alter, smile on his face while you gathered herbs and bound them

Ethan would manifest with you - but would never tell you what he manifested because 'the universe won't let it come true if I tell you'

The day before a full moon, Ethan would always remind you, whether you had remembered or not, but you always appreciated his efforts of keeping up with the moon cycle

If someone on the street ever asked him to empty his pockets at anytime, about 3 crystals you had given him would fall out and there would be a Citrine in his wallet as well, which always made you laugh when he'd take out his wallet to pay and put the crystal on the counter before the money

Ethan would always be down to go crystal shopping, herb gathering, meditating with you, anything. He was your biggest support, especially in your craft which he respected immensely

Damiano

As soon as you told him, Damiano wanted to learn

I don't mean he just wanted to understand what you were doing, he wanted to start practicing with you

Of course, you taught him everything you knew, and after that you both learnt new things together and shared new knowledge with each other

Every time Damiano came home what he brought home was always a gamble; groceries, a new Siouxsie and the Banshees record, more crystals, a new book on deities, a new bottle of nail polish

Damiano was heavily interested in deity work, which sort of shocked you and his main deities were Hades and Hecate

After almost any meal you two shared at home, Damiano would suggest a short meditation, which you loved, but it shocked you a little at first - and you're the witch, you should be shocking

Your love for Damiano only blossomed every time you would do witch-y things together, and the same went for him to the point where he had thought you were a gift from Aphrodite, herself

For our resident witch, @faye-chi

#måneskin #manskin #victoria de angelis #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi #thomas maneskin #thomas raggi x reader #ethan torchio #ethan maneskin #ethan torchio x reader #damiano david #damiano #damiano maneskin #damiano david x reader #x reader #maneskin fanfiction

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Fate

Summary: The Abduction of Persephone or how Levi couldn’t get you of his head.

Pairing: Hades!Levi x Persephone!Reader

Warnings & Content: nsfw, mentions of rape & incest (cause, you know, Zeus is a fucking entitled asshole and nobody fucking likes him), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, language, loss of virginity

Word Count: 5.1 k

A/N: literally the only thing I have to say is that for the purpose of this fic, Hanji has she/her pronouns, and the first few paragraphs are written in third person xD happy reading!

Help me...

Please...

Help... me...

Sweat drips from his forehead and his eyes shoot open. That damned dream again. That sweet voice again. Levi Hades can't comprehend why he was dreaming. Gods don'tdream. His bed seems empty, but he never needed anyone in it. For some reason, now he feels like someone is missing. He gets up, naked body and blank eyes watching over his realm from the balcony of his castle. Empty. Other than the souls of the dead that quietly dance around like little flames, it's empty. Other than Cerberus sleeping peacefully, it's empty. And so damn cold. Mortals mistaken the Underworld for a scorching hot place, but in reality, it's as cold as Levi Hades' heart. If he even has a heart.

He wraps his toga around his sculpted body, a wreath of laurels on his coal-black hair, donning his arms with silver bracelets and rings. Time doesn't exist in the world of the dead, but Levi Hades sticks to a strict schedule. He waves his hand and a scroll and quill magically appear on his marble desk. He can't trust Hermes with this message, and so he gives it to one of his dogs to deliver it to Hanji Hecate. Who better to interpret the meaning of his dream than the goddess of witchcraft herself? LeviHades surrounds himself in thick, grey smoke before he disappears from his bedroom.

Somewhere on Earth, Y/N Persephone is being watched by Zeus. The powerful god cannot resist such a beauty, and he is known for having his way with anyone, even his own daughter. But it's not her time, he thinks, not just yet. She knows this, she knows what will happen to her when she reaches the age of marriage, and at night, when not a soul is awake, she sobs and prays that someone will find her and help her. She is willing to do anything to escape her father's clutches and her dark future. And every night she cries, it rains — it pours.

At the outskirts of the Underworld, Hanji Hecate receives a message. She reads it carefully, and a knot forms in her stomach. The goddess heard the pleas of a girl, whom she believed to be a mortal, but if Levi Hades heard her, too, then it could only be another deity. HanjiHecate closes her eyes and performs a spell in the hopes of locating the desperate girl. It doesn't work. It doesn't work because, unbeknownst to her, Demeter is hiding her daughter from the preying eyes of Zeus.

They searched for weeks, mortal weeks, for the crying goddess, but none of them had any luck. Y/N Persephone is somewhere in the shadows of Demeter, but even she knows her mother can't protect her forever. Zeus gets what Zeus wants eventually. The sun rises over the meadow, but Y/N Persephone doesn't know that because she's stuck weaving in a cave, sweat dripping down her forehead, hairs sticking to her face. The drakons Demeter placed at the entrance of the cave followed Y/N Persephone outside, guarding her as she washes herself in a nearby stream. He isn't supposed to be there. Levi Hades isn't supposed to peer at her naked body and the way she splashes the crystal-clear water. He was supposed to meet with Hanji Hecate and take a walk. He was supposed to go back to the Underworld after that. Yet here he is, spellbound by her gestures, her face, her eyes. And then, she sings. Y/N Persephone begins to sing and all the flowers around him bloom. Levi Hades goes into a shocked state, eyes wide open, brows raised. He knows that voice. He knows it because he's been dreaming it. His scent is picked up by the drakons and he disappears, leaving behind a trail of smoke.

"I found her, Hecate. I found her, but I can't get close to her."

"What do you mean you found her? Just like that?" Hanji Hecate's fingers trace the bark of a tree.

"It was fate. It must be." Levi Hades is desperate now.

"Calm down, Hades. I've never seen you so... twitchy." She laughs, kneeling in the grass. The witch plays with some fallen leaves, brown hair flowing in the wind.

"That's because you didn't see what I did. She started singing and flowers bloomed! I don't know what kind of nymph she is, but she is beautiful. Nothing like I've ever seen before."

"Oh, I never thought I'd live to see the day Hades falls in love." Hanji Hecate laughs again. "So why didn't you approach her?"

"Tch, because she was surrounded by drakons. I don't understand why a mere nymph would need so much protection."

The goddess gasps, all traces of happiness gone from her face, replaced by disappointment and anxiety. Levi Hades takes notice of this and places his cold hand on the witch's shoulder, but she flinches.

"You can't have her."

"You knowher?" His voice is condescending, offended that his good friend hid something like this from him.

"Hades, she's Demeter's daughter, Persephone. She's not just some nymph, but the goddess of spring." Hanji Hecate brings her palms together, forming a triangle. "We can't talk here."

Levi Hades nods and lets himself transported to the Underworld, back to the familiar souls lingering in the air.

"Talk, Hecate." He is impatient and demanding, arms folded across his chest.

"Zeus wants her, and Demeter and I are keeping her hidden." The deity explains with pain in her voice.

"Yes, well, you're not doing a very good job, now, are you?"

"Oi, the drakons noticed you. You don't think they would notice Zeus?" She snaps back, traces of arrogance in her voice.

"Hecate... it's Zeus. What would stop that brat from turning into a drakon fool her?"

The goddess shivers, shifting her weight from side to side.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I do, actually. I'll bring Persephone here." LeviHades proudly states, but his face is still blank, not once betraying his true feelings.

"You'll... what?" Her mouth is slightly open, bewildered by the god.

"It's the only place Zeus doesn't have access without an invitation. Face it, Hecate, it's a good plan. Better than yours, anyway."

Hanji Hecate is speechless, completely at a loss for words. She ponders over the idea, a hand brought to her chin to think better.

"Alright, but what makes you think she'll just stroll through the gates of the Underworld without a complaint?"

"Oh, you've mistaken my words. I'll forcefully bring her here." He tilts his head, a semblance of a smirk on his lips.

"For fuck's sake, Hades, she's not what you'd expect. And what about me? I promised Demeter I would protect her!" HanjiHecate throws her hands in the air, her shadow taking the form of a raging dog.

"Do notchallenge me, witch. You know I can destroy you in the blink of an eye." LeviHades growls and her shadow restores itself to its natural shape. "Besides, you would still protect her. The Underworld is where you abide."

She knows she shouldn't carelessly be out in the open one hour before her coming of age. But Y/N Persephone, with tears streaming down her beautiful face, embraced her future. She knows Zeus will come for her, and so she willingly gives herself to him. With poppy seeds, she put the drakons to sleep and left the cave, clad in a sheer toga, her body visible through the transparent fabric.

"If you want me, come and get me, father!" Y/N Persephone screams at the skies, the flora surrounding her slowly turning a dark shade of brown and dying, just like her innocence would die tonight. The earth shatters behind her, marigold flames and ashy smoke cracking open the soil. Shadowy figures emerge, grasping the young goddess' limbs and they drag her down, down, down to the Underworld. She is afraid, her heart beats faster as the moonlight disappears, and all she can see is darkness.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be gentler, but I didn't want Zeus to get the wrong idea."

"You're Hades, aren't you?"

"Yes, but please, call me Levi. Persephone, I presume." Levi doesn't smile, but his voice is warm, contrasting the cold that surrounded your body.

"Don't call me that." You spit back, confused as to why you were in his realm in the first place.

"You should be a little more grateful that I saved you, brat." He narrows his eyes down at you.

"Saved me? You abductedme. You're no better than him."

Hanji Hecate was right, you had fire in your soul, and an attitude that would drive Levi over the edge.

"Tch, don't compare me to that pretentious cock." The god scoffs and your expression softens.

"Zeus is a... cock? With a beak and feathers?" You giggle and he almost wants punch himself. How could he forget how innocent you are? Clearly, he's been spending too much time with Minthe.

"That's one way to put it."

"Is there another way?" You ask with your index finger brought to your lips, pure curiosity in your eyes.

"Forget that, you said you didn't want me to call you Persephone. How else should I address you?"

"Y/N." You tell him, eyes peering to the balcony of his castle and you skip to it. "Oh, this place is huge! What are those?" You point at the colourful flames dancing in the air.

"Souls." Levi joins you, resting his arms on the marble railing.

"They're beautiful!" You are in awe, and he is just as mesmerised by your beauty. Not one sane god or goddess would consider the souls of the dead beautiful.

"Look, Y/N, I heard you. In my dreams, I mean. I'm not going to hurt you, I brought you here to rescue you." He lies through his teeth. Levi did want to save you, he still does, but he can't deny the fact that he wanted you all to himself. "I'm gonna mind my own business, you mind yours. Try not to break anything. And don't, under any circumstances, make a mess out of my castle, or my realm."

You lean on the railing, nose scrunched and a hand on your hip.

"What am I supposed to do, then? And what about my mother? What about when spring comes and I have to bring it? What about Zeus?"

Levi grits his teeth, almost regretting his decision of saving you.

"Tch, I'll deal with Demeter. I'll tell Zeus I'm marrying you. You can go bring spring when it's due. Happy?" He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"And you won't taint my innocence?"

Oh, he will taint it, alright. But not just yet.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

"You still didn't answer my first question. What am I supposed to do?" You shift your weight from one leg to the other, impatiently waiting for a proper answer from your captor.

"Anything you want, just don't get in my way when I'm dealing with the dead."

"You're an aggressive little man, you know that?"

Levi can feel a blood vessel bursting on his forehead. You were truly annoying, but he couldn't just sit around and wait for Zeus to have his way with you.

"Anyway, I suppose it is safer to be here." You rolled your eyes. "Got any books?"

"What, you read?" He snorts, a condescending brow arched.

"Don't patronise me. You're the one who abducted me, you could at least try to be nice to me."

Levi sighs. This wasn't how he imagined things would go. He imagined you'd make the perfect housewife and keep him some company.

"First floor. Just stay out of the restricted section."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. Zeus' beard, are you always this irritating?"

"Are you?" You chuckle, a hand hiding your smile.

With another sigh, Levi disappears, leaving you alone. "Great job, Y/N, you made the only person who took a crumb of pity on you to go away." You say to yourself, a pout on your lips.

The Underworld wasn't as bad as you thought. Sure, there was the occasional fire popping from the ground here and there, and you had to be careful not to burn yourself, but overall, it was serene. Some parts of it were scorching hot, but mostly it was cold, and you always brought an extra cloak with you when exploring the realm. Levi wasn't always with you, in fact you haven't seen him in days, but you met his three-headed puppy. Well, puppy wasn't the best word to describe the creature, and it did try to eat you the first time, but you stood your ground and tamed the beast with your singing and eager belly rubs.

"This is a sight I never thought I'd live to see." Levi is shocked, watching his raging dog so calm. "Cerberus never lets anyone but me touch him." He gives the dog a few pats on his back.

"Well, Cerberus likes me better, don't you? Who's a good boy? You are, yes, you are!" You kiss all three muzzles and hug the gigantic beast, the heat of its fuzzy body warming you up.

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself. Come here, Cerberus." Levi extends his arms and the creature is confused. "I said, come here."

The dog stops wagging its tail and plops next to you with a groan, one head resting in your arms. The shit-eating grin on your face is enough to make Levi sigh.

"See? I told you he likes me better." You poke your tongue out in triumph. You wave your hands and the god watches how you place three daffodil wreaths on each of Cerberus' heads. "Much better!"

"Y/N, he looks silly."

"No, he looks adorable! Here, I made you one, too."

Levi takes the flower crown and inspects it, careful not to crumble the petals.

"What is this?" He asks, marvelling at the beauty of the ice-blue colour of the plant.

"Uh, a flower crown?"

"Yeah, no shit. I meant what flower is this?"

"Oh, it's a blue poppy. One of the rarest plants in the world." You smile. "I think it suits you."

"You're an oddball."

You sit in a lavish chair, all kinds of foods displayed on the table in front of you. Saliva pools in your mouth, but you decide to wait for Levi anyway. It's bad manners to start eating without the host, Demeter taught you that. Gods and goddess don't eat mortal foods, but sometimes they indulge in it, and tonight was one of those nights.

"Here, try this." Levi offers you a strange fruit, something humans have on earth, but different.

"What is it?" You poke your finger at the juicy fruit, sucking the sweetness from your digit.

"It's a pomegranate that only grows in the Underworld."

You pick at the seeds, popping one in your mouth. You couldn't believe something so good could grow in a cold place like this.

"So, what's the occasion?" You ask Levi as you eat three more seeds, the crimson juice staining your lips.

"Our wedding."

You accidentally swallow, choking on saliva and the pomegranate seeds, your fist hammering your chest as you gasp for air.

"What?"

"I told Zeus I'm marrying you and now he wants proof." Levi bluntly states, a chalice of nectar in his hand.

"No."

"You don't have a choice, unfortunately."

"But… I'm supposed to be a virgin. Marriage implies consumption of it." You slam your fists on the table. "My mother-"

"Your mother lied to you. You're a goddess of fertility for fuck's sake." He shrugs and you're shocked by how chilling his voice sounds. Sure, Levi was always brooding and silent, but now he was just inconsiderate. "However, I'm not a man who breaks his promises. I told you I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"Oh, how niceof you. I'm leaving." You stand up, pushing the chair away.

"And go where? Demeter can't protect you forever, and you don't stand a chance against Zeus."

"You know why I hate my name so much, Levi?" You growl, fingernails digging into the wooden table.

"Do, tell."

"Because it means destruction. A fitting name for a goddess of ‘fertility’, don't you think?" The table splits open and all the plates fall to the ground. Your normal, bubbly aura changes suddenly and there's a hint of red in your Y/E/C eyes. "You think I don't stand a chance against Zeus? I'm his offspring." You snap, and instead of flowers falling out of your hair, there's thorns, spikes and rusty leaves all over the place. The uglies, most poisonous plants sprout from the ground and you're no longer the goddess of spring, but the bringer of slaughter, and Levi is impressed. Now he really knows it was faith that brought you together, he knows your place is with him — with the dead.

"Marry me." He says, unmoved by your little show. Unmoved on the outside, because on the inside he wants to bend you over and fuck you silly. His words shouldfuel your rage, but you're too surprised by the fact that he still wants to marry you, despite your outburst.

"Why? Because Zeus wants that?" Vines protrude from your skin and your fingernails turn black. You were completely different than the helpless little girl he rescued that night. You were terrifying. But not to Levi — to him you were fascinating.

"Because I want that."

It was safe to say you had fallen in love with Levi in those nine months since you came to the Underworld. He accepted you the way you were, he accepted your darkness, something not even your mother could do, and that's what triggered your feelings for the god of the dead. You still didn't allow him to call you Persephone, because you still hadn't fully embraced that part of you. Spring was almost due, but you promised Levi you'd go to earth after your wedding. Everyone would be there, including Demeter, which you haven't seen in a long time.

A soft knock interrupts your thoughts.

"Y/N, are you ready?"

"In a second, Hanji!"

"Oh, thank the gods for calling me that. I keep telling everyone I'm tired of Hecate but they don't care." The witch scoffs from the other side of the door.

"Has my mother arrived?" You ask, concern visible in your voice.

"Yes. And she's not happy."

"Hey," you open the door, "thanks for taking the blame and explaining things to her." You hug the goddess and she holds you tight.

"Don't worry about it, kid. It's me who should thank you. I don't know what you did to Levi, but he seems happier. He won't show it because he's a prick, but I can feel it."

You flash Hanji a genuine smile and ask her to fix your veil, to which she gladly accepts before escorting you to the castle grounds. Your mother should do this, but she hated her future groom, or your father, but he was a sick man who only decided to leave you alone because he respected Levi.

Every god and goddess of Olympus is here, even your uncle Poseidon. You emerge from the castle, arm looped around Hanji's and you smirk at Levi's shock. He never thought you could be more beautiful, yet here you are, dressed in silk, flowers on your hand and a thin veil clinging from the peony crown on your head. You catch a glimpse of Demeter before drifting your eyes to your future husband.

"Ladies and gentlemen, gods and goddesses, we have gathered here today to witness and bless the union between Levi, god of the Underworld, and Y/N, goddess of spring." Hanji proudly declares. The ceremony doesn't last too long, and when Levi's lips crush yours in what is your first kiss, thousands upon thousands of plants sprout from the soil, colourful flowers blooming and letting out the sweetest smells known to mankind. Love, he thinks, that's what love smells like.

You're tired from the party, tired from all the talking and mingling, tired from your mother's lecture, and tired from avoiding your father. At least Hera was nice enough to wish you a happy marriage. You pace around your bedroom, sitting on the bed, then standing up again. Levi went to his chamber after the party, but you were expecting, no, you wanted to consume the marriage. You walk to his room, a toga lazily draped over your shoulders, and open the door without a single knock. He's in bed, the only light source being the colourful souls levitating outside his windows. You carefully push the covers and climb into the bed, gently scooching closer to him.

"Psst, husband, are you sleeping?" You poke his shoulder.

"Tch, not anymore." He sighs, not bothering to open his eyes and look at you. "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked! Seeing as we're married now, I thought it's only natural for a wife to sleep with her husband." You roll on your side, propping yourself on your elbow. Tentatively, you tug on the fabric of the toga, exposing your shoulders and part of your breasts.

"So sleep." Levi finally lolls his head to the side, facing you. He did not expect to see you sprawled on his bed like that, in a lewd position and a playful smile on your soft lips. "You don't have to do this just because we're married.

"I'm doing it because I want to. And I know you want it, too, Levi." You purr, your fingers grazing over your collarbone.

"It's going to hurt." He warns you, but his hand is already on your thigh.

"I know. But you'll take good care of me, won't you?"

Levi has no idea which one of you is talking — Y/N, goddess of spring, or Y/N, goddess of destruction — and frankly he doesn't even care at this point. As long as he has your approval, he knows he can do whatever he wants. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, obviously inexperienced, but he likes it that way. He likes that you have no idea what you're doing because he can be in control. His hand runs up and down your thigh and you can feel heat building in your core.

"Tingles..." You mumble in his lips with a hazy smile.

"Have you ever touched yourself?" Levi pulls away and you nod. "Show me."

You feel embarrassed and small, but obey nonetheless. Your hand travels between your legs and your fingers touch your already swollen clit, rubbing it in circular motions. Levi watches you with hungry eyes, wanting very hard to abstain, but he can't, and so he takes your nipple in his hot mouth. You whimper at the new sensation, electricity shooting through your body as he snakes a hand between your thighs, two fingers diving into your cunt.

"Ah! L-Levi! So big!" You mewl and he throws his head back, releasing your poor nipple.

"That's nothing compared to what you'll get, you needy brat." He curls his fingers, hitting that sweet spot, and you buck your hips. Despite being a virgin, your body naturally knows what to do. Your spongy walls clench around his digits and Levi can already feel how tight you'll be around his cock. "You're so wet."

"Is t-that a good thing?" You're innocent and pure and you rock your hips back and forth, pathetic moans escaping your lips.

"Fuck, yes." Levi kisses you, and it's nothing like the kiss from your wedding. It's desperate and greedy, and he wants you all to himself. The pace quickens, he's pumping his fingers in and out of you faster and you don't know what to do, so you keep rubbing your clit and the familiar heat of your orgasm flushes through your body. You come undone on his hand, the sinful, squelching sound echoing in the bedroom.

"It didn't hurt at all!" You look at your husband, but there's a hint of mischief in your voice, a playful glisten in your eyes. Levi clicks his tongue, because the worst — and best — is yet to come, and you know it — you're no saint.

"Come here." Levi orders and yanks you by the hair, his aggressive gesture sending a shiver down your spine and into your cunt. "Be a good girl and open that pretty mouth for me."

You obey and part your luscious lips and then you see his cock for the first time — thick and veiny, it slaps your face as it pops out of his undergarments, the tip grazing over your cheeks.

"Levi that's... that's too big." You chew your lower lip and lean back.

"You'll be fine. You said it yourself, I'll take good care of you." He cups your face with one hand, thumb caressing your chin. "Now suck it. Make sure to use lots of spit."

You feel your cheeks hot and test the waters by giving the glistening tip a few licks, tongue swirling around it. It tastes salty, and you find yourself liking this. Levi pats your head, but you feel him tensing with each movement of your tongue.

"Shit." He curses under his breath and when you look up at him with doe eyes, his heart pounds into his chest. You courageously take the tip into your mouth, and with hollowed cheeks, you move further. "Yeah, just like that. Take it all."

Bobbing your head up and down, you try to take it all, but the girth and length is just too much, and tears pool at your eyes from the lack of air, but also from how good it feels to have a fat cock in your mouth. Muffled moans reverberate in your throat, and Levi can feel the vibrations tickling him. He firmly grabs your nape and holds your head in place.

"Trust me and relax, can you do that for me?"

You half-nod, anxious and somewhat excited for what is about to happen. Your husband rocks his hips back and forth slowly before aggressively fucking your poor throat, and you feel the arousal building in your core again. So much for promising your mother you'd always stay a virgin. You want to touch yourself again, but Levi slaps your hand away and thrusts into your mouth, holding your head still until you choke, your fingernails digging into his arm. The god pulls out and you gasp for air, and he almost feels sorry when he sees your pathetic state.

"A-again!" You flash him your pearls in a sultry smile, spit dripping down your chin. Who knew you liked asphyxiation?

"Needy brat."

"Please!"

"Tch, later. Right now, I want to fuck you." Levi growls and he already has you pinned on the bed, arms above your head and legs spread open for him. His cock presses against your slick slit and you brace yourself for the incoming pain. "If you want me to stop, tell me."

You don't have the time to nod when you feel a burning sensation between your legs. Squeezing your eyes shut, you bury the back of your head into the pillow and grip the sheets so tight your knuckles begin to lose their colour. Levi slowly pushes further, another inch buried in your cunt, and you bite on your lower lip. But you don't tell him to stop, instead your spongy walls clench around his cock and another inch gets lost in you.

You never thought gods could feel such immense pain, yet here you are, with a bloody lip from digging your teeth into it and a sore pussy. But the worst thing faded bit by bit when Levi bottomed out into your cunt. The two of you sit still, your husband allowing you to get used to his girth.

"Do you think I bled?" You ask, eyes filled with tears.

"Probably, but I promise it will never hurt like this from now on." He comforts you before licking the blood from your lips. The gesture makes your cunt flutter and Levi takes it as a sign to go on. Slowly, he rocks his hips back and forth, and the molten pain is replaced by tingles and arousal.

"You good?"

"Y-yes, oh, f- yes!"

"You can say fuck, you know?" Levi thrusts once, and it's so deep you feel his cock brush over your cervix.

"Fuck!" You cry out, legs wrapping around his waist to make sure he doesn't pull out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Good girl."

There's no more room for gentle touches and soothing words when your husband fucks you raw. Your hips buck against his to feel that sweet pressure you never knew you longed for. In and out, his cock makes you feel sore and hazy, and you want more. The sound of his balls slapping your ass makes your mouth water and your eyes glossy, and Levi feels selfish. He pulls out, turns you over and takes you from behind, like a rabid dog fucking a bitch in heat. And you are in heat — you love the way his thrusts make you feel dumb, the way his cock stretches you, the way he uses and abuses your tight little cunt. Everything is so new to you and you adore every bit of it.

"Shit, I'm close." Levi warns you, his fingers digging into your hips, and you want to be good for him, so you drag your hand between your thighs and rub your swollen clit in frantic motions.

"L-Leeevi! I think I'm-"

"Fuck!"

When you feel a hot liquid shooting into you, your legs begin to tremble and you come on his cock, head falling onto the pillow with a heavy sigh. He pulls out and you already miss the feeling of being full, your juices mixed with his own dripping down out of you, down your thigh. You curl up next to your husband, hand holding his arm before you drift to sleep.

A sweet smell fills Levi's nostrils and when he looks at your tired body, there’s flowers in your messy hair. He still can't get used to the way your divine, disorganised powers work, but at least now he knows what's been missing from his life, and the corners of his mouth slightly twist upwards into a genuine smile. The god of the dead, in love with and married to the goddess of spring. Order and chaos blending together in one beautiful, perfectly arranged mess.

It’s fate. It must be fate that brought you together — but it’s love that will keep you together.

tagging @starrynightlys @stolemyheart12

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emmettblack · 3 years

Photo

He’s home alone when he gets the call. Vida’s out running errands as Emmett waits for her, watching TV with Bart and Gilly resting beside him. He doesn’t answer the first call, the screen showing his uncle's name. It’s probably nothing he thinks to himself until the second call. From his father. Something is wrong and they need him.

He answers but doesn’t get the chance to say anything. His father’s words stopped him from doing so. The phone call lasts for only thirty seconds before his father hangs up, leaving Emmett to just sit there with a tight jaw and expressionless eyes. Even with his two cats meowing and trying to get his attention, he doesn’t hear a single thing. All he can hear is his father’s words.

“We need you, Ji-Hun. It’s time for you to leave.”

tw: death (ish), violence, kashia’s bullshit

Emmett and Vida do live peacefully together! Okay, they do have their ups and downs every once in a while but they’re strong and continue dating. He’s happy, they’re both happy.

Unfortunately Polo dies in December of 2021. Emmett is heartbroken and doesn’t get another fish afterwards. No one can replace his favorite fishboy.

Treats Bart and Gilly as his actual children, probably loves them more than he loves Vida ( which is saying a lot ).

Three years into being a spy and Emmett finds himself no longer loving the job as much. It’s nice and all but it doesn’t… feel right. The only person to know of this is his grandfather who visits alongside Emmett’s grandmother. The two go out for lunch to talk about life and Emmett reveals this to the older man. His grandfather asks him the question “ are you sure this is what you want to do? “ Emmett is unable to answer him, his grandfather doesn’t push him. They move on from the topic and it’s never brought up again.

If you don’t think Emmett is considering proposing to Vida then you’re dead wrong! It’s on his mind but he just doesn’t have the courage to ask her. He’s waiting for the perfect moment to ask her, he just doesn’t know when.

So that phone call? Yeah, he gets it on August 24th, 2027. After that his entire vibe is just off. He doesn’t tell Vida about it, he can’t even though he wants to. Everything within him wants to tell her but he can’t do that.

It takes him a month to get everything ready. He puts in his two weeks notice with MI6 and asks them to keep it a secret. He doesn’t pack any clothes, leaves behind all electronics and cards as he disappears when Vida isn’t home. He has to cover all of his tracks so that no one is able to track him, mainly his girlfriend. His family gives him a new phone with a new number, a plane ticket, and a new identity. Emmett Blackthorne is gone.

BEFORE YOU CONTINUE READING!!!! This part of Emmett’s life will be roleplayed ( idk where aigaojgao ) so it might not be exactly like this rip. But either way, here’s a basic summary of what I want to happen. So please enjoy!!

He moves to South Korea and goes by a new name Yoon Woo-Jin. His parents suggested that he goes by his Korean name and mother’s maiden name, Cho Ji-Hun. However, he goes against it only because he knew that Vida would find him like that. He gets a place to himself and immediately starts working.

His mission? To help an old family friend destroy a new gang from the inside out. While new, the group is stronger than others and growing at a rapid rate. Said gang has been starting problems, doing everything in their power to take control of everyone within their vicinity. Emmett is to not only take down this gang by creating a rapport with them but to put the group into their place. Remind them to stay in their lanes and not to disrespect those older than them.

It’s not too bad, the mission. The worst part is the lack of communication. He’s not allowed to reach out to any of his friends, only his parents, his mother’s family, and those within the gang. He knows Vida’s number better than he knows his own. Almost texts and calls her throughout his entire stay. Drunk him can’t be trusted, he legit almost called her to confess everything. Stops himself every single time.

On Vida’s end, she’s going crazy. Ever since his disappearance, she’s been trying to find him. From asking around at work, reaching out to their friends, and even his family. The Blackthornes say nothing despite knowing where he is. No matter what she does or tries to look for, she can’t find him. For six months, she tries to find him, using every single one of her resources until there’s nothing left. It’s when she comes to a stop still that someone does reach out to her, Sunbin Blackthorne. Emmett’s mother.

During those six months, Emmett has risen in his ranks. He makes himself a useful and valuable asset. He poses as a dedicated member who will do anything for the leader, a man without a family, that’s Yoon Woo-Jin. The complete opposite of the family originated and fun loving Emmett Blackthorne. This new persona is quiet, keeps to himself, and does what he’s told. The leader likes that a lot about him, Woo-Jin is the man for him.

The only problem with him climbing the ranks so quickly is that people grow suspicious of him. They try to look into him, they watch him closely, and follow him wherever he goes. Emmett is forced to be even more careful and cautious of what he does and where he goes. Besides, at this rate, the gang will be destroyed within a few more months. He just has to hold off until then.

But not everything goes like he wants it to when Vida Torres arrives. He gets back to his apartment after a fight with another group where he sees her. Still as beautiful as ever, even as she glares at him with red eyes. He doesn’t give her a chance to talk before he pulls her in for a hug. He cries, she cries, they go inside his apartment. Unknown to the two are the peering eyes that watch the pair walk into the apartment.

Comes to find out that it was his mother who told Vida everything, the older woman giving in because she felt bad. To be left out of the loop about your partner’s whereabouts and mission, it was unfair and she didn’t deserve that. Apologies and a lot of yelling later, he tells her everything. “Just a month or two and I’ll be done. I’ll go back to you, I promise,” is what he tells her as he holds onto her tight. He only needed one more month and he’ll be fine.

Word about him having a girl got out, the other members teasing him about it. He can take petty and dumb teasing but he does not tolerate disgusting comments about the love of his life. One guy tries it, another member at the same ranking as Emmett. He doesn’t appreciate it, he attacks the guy. The two come out of the fight with bruises, a busted lip, and a black eye on the other guy. To the gang, Woo-Jin is always calm and doesn’t bother listening to any of them. Yet here he is, attacking one of them because of something they said about his girl. It’s called he’s in love you fuckers! This doesn’t go well, the other guy is pissed and he’s holding a grudge. Remember him everyone.

As for Emmett and Vida, well, he doesn’t tell her to leave. Honestly, he loves her company. Nor does he tell her to be careful, she’s a spy. If anyone tries to come for her, she’ll take care of them. He takes Vida to meet his mother’s side of the family. The Cho’s own a small restaurant, it’s really cute and homey. They’re a bunch of civilians who aren’t aware of the Blackthorne's true profession but they do know that the family is rich. It’s nice, the two feel normal being with them.

Unknown to the couple, the man that Emmett attacked is known as Lee Sang-Woo is already planning his revenge. He’s not a fan of this newbie climbing the rankings so quickly. Instead of attacking Emmett directly, he tries to find out who he is. By that, he wants to know where he came from and if he’s actually loyal to the group. Ends up finding a trace to the man that Emmett is really working for. Nam Do-Hun, the leader of a well established mafia with ties in the political world in South Korea and minor influences in the entertainment business. The Nam family are a group that had issues with this gang constantly entering their terrority. Using Emmett to destroy them from the inside is just a lot easier and cleaner to do than having them all killed.

But because of this small trace, it gets bad for Emmett and now Vida who’s staying with him. Instead of attacking the two, Sang-Woo and the gang leader set up a plan. The plan is to give Emmett a reason to contact the Nam family and have them meet him somewhere. Probably has him escort or watch over the gang leader. He falls for the bait because he’s been waiting for this moment.

The Nam family arrives but waiting for them is the gang. Big bad, a fight breaks out. Emmett, who is usually a king when fighting, is getting JUMPED by the gang leadr and Sang-Woo. But guess who comes to his rescue? You guessed it, the love of his life Vida <3. They’re literally kicking ass together because they’re SOULMATES.

During the middle of this big ol’ fight, Emmett sees Vida just kicking ass and he just blurts how much he loves her. And asks her to marry him. While people are fighting around them. While gunshots are being fired. She says yes. They kiss, they then go back to fighting.

The mission successfully ends but with casualties. Many were injured, some to the point where they were to be hospitalized. But either way, Emmett’s mission to destroy said gang comes to an end and he’s able to return home with Vida.

They get married :) It’s really cute, they’re both so happy, everyone is happy for them.

Emmett stops being a spy and goes down the route of assassination. Years later he becomes the new Blackthorne head. He loves it here <3

I KNOW THAT DEANNA AND HECATE WANT SATOMI AND TOMMY TO REOPEN BLACKTHORNE AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW!!!! EMMETT AGREES AND HELPS WITH REBUILDING THE SCHOOL. I can’t say much about it because I don’t know anything <3 Just know that he’s happy

Him and Vida have a lot kids! Most are children that they adopt, idk how many pls ask strud. The torthorne kids get to decide on if they want to become spies, assassins, or just civilians.

Very happy with his wife and children. Simply refuses to die and leave them behind so he works extra hard during each mission ( sometimes he comes back a mess but who cares <3 He’s alive )

Dies of old age <3

I love my son.

#about #self para #ft. venividavici #WE FUCKING DID IT #okay now i gotta do replies

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 4 years

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how would you do a percy jackson adaptaion?

okay, so I know this is a controversial opinion right off the bat: I really don’t think it should be an animated series.

A large part of the appeal of the series is that it’s a fantasy series set very very firmly in reality. Literally, apart from the camps, you could go to every location hit in the books. Riordan mentions specific streets, buildings and landmarks, and that was cool when I first read them. I remember being a kid and waiting for him to set a scene in a place near where I lived! I remember trips to New York and being able to envision an epic war happening in the streets. So I think any adaption needs to be live action just to keep that same feeling alive, while I’m not knocking on animation, I just feel like taking the story out of real life would make it loose a little of the charm. Like, the scene where Manhattan is completely frozen in time? It would be haunting to see that in real life, but I feel like it would be less impactful if it didn’t…you know…look real? The series should be done in a way that makes you truly feel like you could just turn a corner and walk straight into a snake woman going about her day.

Now: another large part of the appeal of the series is how funny it is, but a lot of that…is Percy’s inner monologue. He doesn’t actually voice most of it, there was even a book where Annabeth described him as being quiet. So, I think the best way to work around this: make it Interview With A Demigod.

Imagine it’s got an interview with a vampire-esque setup- and this even works because within the riordanverse, the books canonically exist because Percy sat down with a ‘camp scribe’ and had his quests recorded. So, like, this isn’t even entirely out of left field. But just imagine, a college-aged, maybe a little older Percy, I can see it so clearly in my head, he’s wearing a sweatshirt that at first glance looks like it says NYU but a trained eye will see it actually says NRU for a camp jupiter easter egg, he’s sitting in some dinky little diner (maybe it can even be a monster donut or something with a clever greek myth related name) with a guy who’s recording the conversation on some old-ass tape recorder that keeps acting up but they can’t record on a phone because of the whole technology thing. Every now and then it’ll cut back to them to get some great Percy thoughts out there. They open with older Percy saying the ‘look, I didn’t wanna be a halfblood’ and then explaining where he was when the whole mess started. Once he get’s to “was I a troubled kid?” the screen fades from older Percy to 12 year old Percy getting in a fight with Nancy and her gang, and the voice over says the ‘Yeah, you could say that’ part as we see him get threatened by the principal to behave on the field trip. Boom, we’ve got an opening. Lowkey….I’m seeing Jordan Fisher as older Percy, but I’m not 100% married to the idea.

And before anyone tries to argue that showing an older Percy would spoil he’s not gonna die in last olympian- like, reading the books, we all knew he wasn’t going to die. It was a first person narrative and he was consistently speaking in past tense lmao like we Knew he was gonna make it. We still enjoyed the series. It won’t ruin anything.

I want part of the score of the adaptation to be instrumental versions of songs from the musical, I think that could be a sweet nod to that team.

They really need to nail camp halfblood. I know that goes without saying, but in order to keep the pacing of the story decent we can’t spend as much time falling in love with it like we got to with the book. The book is like, 24 chapters and the quest starts at chapter 12- for a movie or tv show, that’s just gonna feel like it’s dragging. So, the insanity of the camp needs to smack you in the face right away, and then it needs to endear itself to the viewers quickly after that. Don’t try to ease the viewers (or Percy) into the mythology is real thing, rip it off like a bandaid. He’s on his way to meet Chiron and Mr. D for the first time and even if he’s not comprehending what he’s seeing, there’s nature spirits and harpies all around going about their day. Hestia waves at him and then disappears into the flames. Hecate kids can be seen casting a spell on the porch of the Hermes cabin. The Stolls are seen pranking some Aphrodite kids. He sees someone surely die on the climbing wall but then you hear a faint ‘I’m okay!’. The Apollo kids put a rhyming curse on another cabin. Pure chaos all before he gets the ‘so, gods are real’ speech. And then after that…show how warm Luke is to him at the cabin and at dinner. Show the kids all goofing off at the campfire and really make it clear that they’re children. Show the strawberry fields rolling in the wind and Percy sitting on the beach. The whole couple weeks where he’s searching for powers and learning greek and latin with Annabeth can be a montage. Make it clear how hurt and scared he is when he finds out he needs to leave.

It needs to really get you feeling how Percy’s feeling, every laugh, every tear, every moment of fear or confusion needs to shine clear through. Like…think of Spider-Man Homecoming, the Washington monument scene. All things considered, it’s not the most high-stakes scene we’ve ever seen in that franchise, and when it cuts to the kids in the elevator, they’re worried but not quite freaking out, but that scene feels very high stress to watch because the movie is good at getting the viewers to feel what Peter feels. A Percy Jackson adaptation needs a touch like that, because Percy’s a very emotional kid and that’s what a lot of the scenes hinge on.

Lowkey- I’d love it if the casts of both the previous movies and the musical had cameos or bit parts (the movie cast did Nothing Wrong, it was the rest of that team). It’d be hilarious to see, like, Jake Abel as the owner of the poodle, or Logan Lerman as Older Percy and the reporter’s waiter that keeps trying to get in on the conversation, or Brandon T. Jackson as a satyr who’s still stuck grooving out in the Lotus Hotel and Casino. Kristen Stokes as a nature spirit, Chris as one of the ghosts stuck in the waiting room of DOA Records, just like any of those casts having small parts would be fun and sweet.

There should be a lot of easter eggs for the bigger riordanverse. Promotions in the background for the new Tristan McLean movie. Gabe’s got a true crime documentary about the missing Grace children playing during his poker game. Mr. D is reading a paper about Rachel Dare’s father’s newest project. At some point while they’re still in New York they pass the Kane family’s mansion or whatever it was called. Annabeth keeps a picture of little her and Magnus on her nightstand. The barest of hints about the Triumvirate. Seeing kids in camp jupiter gear in some background shots, just out of notice of our main characters but implying the camps are going through similar problems (BITCH….if we got a titan’s curse adaptation…and we had a shot of Thalia in the foreground….but in the background we saw a blond boy in purple with a golden sword….well I would simply loose my Goddamn mind).

And show us how easily the mist lets things blend in, too- like, everyone thinks ‘Monster Donuts’ is just a normal chain, it’s just on an average street block, but if Percy looks through the window he can see who’s behind the counter. Show someone swindling some guys in a park and you have to look twice to realize he’s a gegeines. Like…how people are still trying to find all the background ghosts in haunting of hill house. I would LOVE to see a bunch of background monsters and mythical beings just going about their day as much as the mortals are while the gang’s questing.

The effects need to be fun. The whole story needs to be fun, but one weird thing about the past movies are that like…in their attempt to make it gritty, none of the fantastical things happening on screen actually felt that exciting. We need bright colors and interesting choices, consistently cool action shots, a liveliness that makes you feel like you’re in the center of the action. I have absolutely no doubt Disney easily has enough funds to pull off great effects.

The characters need to be….in character lmao. Annabeth needs to be cocky and bratty with the skill set to justify it. Percy needs to be a sweetheart who pretends to be hardened because that’s what people assume he’s like. Grover needs to have dry humor and a Too Old For This Shit attitude whenever percabeth start bickering. Luke needs to be nice and friendly but in a specific way that you can look back after the betrayal and see he was trying to groom everyone. Sally needs to be loving, protective and strong. Chiron needs to feel defeated and determined at the same time. Mr. D needs to….be Stanley Tucci lmao

Also, I’d love if the adaptation could expand more on things that got brushed along in the books- Percy and Beckendorf’s friendship, Silena and Clarisse’s dynamic, make Nico’s crush on Percy a little more obvious, give Rachel some more development. One thing that haunts me about the books is Sally never found out that Gabe hit Percy. Absolutely they don’t need to make the abuse explicit, but I also personally feel like a lot of Percy’s mindsets throughout the series are somewhat a result of Gabe, and I’d like if that got, you know, acknowledged. Maybe in the scene where he figures out Gabe abuses Sally he could say ‘does he hit you too?’ or something to that effect. They could also go more into detail about Annabeth’s family, give Zoe some more depth….like the possibilities I’m screaming.

Okay this is already long and I’m getting tired but I can so clearly see a great adaptation in my mind….Disney please come through….It’s what we deserve….

#percy jackson #disney #rick riordan #pjo #hoo #toa #asks #molly mumbles

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the unseen one - 04

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: you guys have been leaving such nice messages, it literally makes my day and it’s just so so sweet that i decided to post two chapters today to thank you for it. i’m so glad you guys are enjoying this. thank you so so much, i can never thank you enough. enjoy xx

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Y/N was definitely an interesting person for James. Compared to who he spent his times with recently, she was one of the most caring. She was probably in her mid 20s, he daren’t ask as his mother had taught him better than to ask for a woman’s age, living alone in her parents’ flat and worked in a kindergarten downtown as a teacher assistant.

If asked to, he could’ve talked with her all night. She was just that magnetic, with her aura of complete life as if death was something that never worried her, something that was alien to her. He almost forgot his occupation whenever she mentioned how she loved seeing the sun set every night and the moon takes it place as for her it always signified a new beginning, a new opportunity.

- I should probably get going. - he noticed the night sky getting lighter and lighter sooner than earlier. Disadvantages of summer, he thought.

- You sure you don’t wanna stay? It’s gonna be a beautiful sunrise. - there she was again with that characteristic sunny smile of his that made him wanna fight titans if she asked. However, he had to return less Apollo snitch on him to Zeus who was constantly displeased with him.

- Not today, Y/N. However, I’d love if you’d allowed me to take you home. Just in case.

- Alright but you have to promise to watch the sunrise with me someday, James. - she took a right turn to her flat. She lived nearby what James called the circle of trees back when he was younger. To be completely honest he still did not believe they had kept it up after all those years. - Wait, I have something to give you.

- I really should get going. - he scratched the back of his head, eyes still in the sky as if he was a modern age Cinderella. If Zeus knew he spent all his nights in the mortal realm, he’d never allow him to come back anymore and that was something that hurt more than any tartarus punishment.

- It’ll be just two seconds. - she rushed inside her flat while James waited for her outside, eyes still stuck onto the sky. Y/N returned, a small pot with a flourishing sunflower on her hands which she extended to him. - House warming present.

- A sunflower? - he cocked his head at her, holding the little plant in his hands. He had no green thumbs whatsoever, every single plant he’d ever owned had eventually died.

- Warms the heart, warms the soul. - she smiled, interlacing her right fingers with her left ones and resting it against her stomach. - Thank you for coming, James. It meant a lot.

- Right, have the rest of a nice day, Y/N. I’ll see you around.

She waved him goodbye, closing the door behind her. She felt giddy, almost like what she felt after her first day as she climbed the stairs to her flat, getting ready to sleep the whole rest of the noon. As she entered her flat, she found Anne sat in the couch, a small smirk on her face which fell when she saw her alone.

- Where’s tall, dark and handsome? - she questioned.

- Anne, you gotta stop entering my home without my permission.

- That doesn’t answer my question, where is the future father of your children?

- Don’t you think that’s a bit precocious to call him the future father of my children? He didn’t even want to watch the sun rise.

- You should’ve asked him if he wanted to see your top rise, not the sun rise that’s annoying.

Y/N rolled her eyes, walking to her fridge to grab the bottle of raspberry lemonade, pouring herself and her friend a glass. Anne rolled her eyes, taking the glass from her friend, watching her sit in one of the chairs in front of her.

�� - C’mon Y/N, he was so into you. Did you at least get his number?

- He was not into me. - Y/N blushed thinking about a man of that calibre being into her. She was not the most datable in her head, due to her job at kindergarten she was always in a mess. One time she came home with two big hand prints on her favourite pair of jeans, another time someone stuck a piece of gum to her hair and other time a kid cut a slit up her skirt while she was putting the young ones to sleep. With that being said, she couldn’t imagine James being remotely interested in her. - You should go back to your flat so I can go to sleep.

- Not to worry, I shall get tall, dark and handsome’s phone number.

- His name is James, Anne. You cannot call him tall, dark and handsome that’s objectification.

- We get objectified all the time. - she groaned. - Besides, it is not like he isn’t tall, dark and handsome.

- Objectification is wrong.

- Yes, mum. - she mocked her tone. - This conversation is not over, Y/N. I shall pair you up with your James.

- He’s not my James. - Y/N opened the window of her flat pointing to the fire escape stairs as if telling her to leave. Anne took the clue climbing through the window, glass still in hand. Y/N didn’t even complain, she was 100% sure Anne had most of her cutlery and porcelain in her house.

James on the other hand had made a clean entrance into the Underworld. He didn’t know how but he managed to avoid every single deity into his office. Once he was there, he snapped his fingers, changing into clothing that his fellow gods and goddesses deemed appropriate. James noticed the sunflower in his hand, a smile on his lips as he placed it on top of his desk. Kind reminder of Y/N.

- HADES! - his kind reminder quickly turned into bitterness as he saw Hecate march into his office so fast, flames could probably create from the friction of her feet against the ground. - Where were you? We had three ties in the court of judgment, the faiths are running wild and the furies ... well the furies are doing what they always do.

- I don’t work nights. - James shrugged.

- I don’t even have time to tell you ho ... Is that a sunflower? - her gaze turned to the sunflower, torch pointing at it. - Who the fuck are you now? Persephone?

- We do have flowers in the underworld.

- Yes, in the Elysium not in your office. Have you finally found a bride or are you gonna make a woman from that sunflower?

- Do you need anything, Hecate? - James sat on his desk, looking at the goddess with eyes that could kill someone without the assistance of Thanatos.

- Yes, it’s the Elysium. You probably should sit down.

- I am sat down.

- It’s the Groves of Persephone.

- What’s wrong with them?

- They’re destroying themselves.

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inviouswriting · 3 years

Text

Wings of black and white.

Characters - Kivera (mine) Estinien, Alphinaud, and Shuri ( @snow-covered-moon )

I had this in my drafts for a while, decided to finish it today.

Kivera could feel the question before it was asked. She had been lingering around the Scion’s, long enough for her to want her wings out just a breath. She thought she had been alone, but the prickling at the back of her mind felt eyes on her. An awareness she had developed over time.

A turn of her head and she caught Alphinaud staring. He had known she is another being entirely, it was still something to see it first hand.

“Why are they different?” Kivera felt the question in her core, it pained her in ways she is certain others might not ever know. Her markings, her stained wing, the visual reminder of her falling. Yet the white one was a testament, if she followed the right ways she can resume what she lost. A gift from Kronos.

“Why do you ask that question.” Kivera regards him with her own question. She wanted to know if it is truly curiosity, she took into account he is still young and knows she can’t answer all of his questions to the nature of her past.

“I heard that you are an angel, but don’t they have white wings?” Kivera understood the question now, and turned to face him, she flutters her black wing.

“That’s because I am a fallen angel.” Kivera runs a hand through her black feathers, watching them shine a blue tint under the light.

“Forgive my manner of questions, I heard Estinien and Shuri refer you as a reaper.” Alphinaud is more confused.

“That’s just a title. What I am is a demon. Or in your tongue voidsent. It’s complicated. Reaper is the title I was given, fallen is my class of demon. Not your normal what you would think.” Kivera folds her arms flaring her wings once.

“How did you become one?”

“That is a bit personal.” Kivera dismisses telling him how she became like this.

“Is there an easy way to tell without going into details?” Kivera thinks it over.

“In short, I did something that was a transgression or taboo to the above. I am a unique case.” This confuses him more, and he wonders how she stands so sure of herself with shoulders like that.

“How do you do it then? Keep going when the world wants to condemn you.” Alphinaud still harbors his feelings from the recent events. He saw her in action, he felt useless after the fight around Bahamut.

Kivera thinks about his question carefully. Her eyes closed even as she mulls her responses she could say. What could get him to quit asking her things, she settles on answering honestly.

“It’s not my nature to give up, and let the opinions of others weigh or take root in my head. They do not know the hardships. If they did know, I’d only see their pity.” Kivera waves her wings away. Preferring to keep them viewable to those she likes.

“You don’t regret your choices at all?” Kivera gives him a smirk.

“I’ve done nothing wrong in my eyes.” Alphinaud begins to understand how well liked she is by Estinien and her close net of loved ones. A certain charm to her, but sure of herself.

Alphinaud is confused, she is too proud of herself when she speaks of her past, where he has heard from others how mournful she appears talking about them. Before he can speak, Kivera eyes him.

“I do not regret the people I fell in love with. Every single one of them. I would turn the world inside and out before I thought to return to my former home. I have souls I am protecting from ever experiencing a great sorrow to befall them again. There is one side I can tell you, is those like me, are born of tragedy. I promised them no one would ever face what we endured.” Kivera still sees confusion.

“Perhaps I will tell you when Estinien thinks you are ready for that kind of truth. You are still young, though you have seen and endured alot. There are some things you should never witness. Listen to the lessons your elders teach you, and learn from the past ones of the mistakes to never do, and the memories to keep moving forward with from Haurchefant and Ysayle. Those two impacted you the most, for great reason too. Never forget their lessons. One taught humility, while the other taught to keep going even unto your death for what is right.” Kivera stands upon seeing Estinien entering the area, she had been waiting for him and Shuri to return.

Estinien sees Kivera and can tell the air has a tension to it. He disregards it upon her stare not to pry into the conversation just had. Kivera glances back over to Alphinaud.

“To whichever deity in this world you praise, have faith in your convictions.” A hand at the small of her back guiding her away from the scion’s. Estinien and Shuri well done with things there.

“Come on, I want to leave. Before they make me go on more of their quests!” Estinien ushers the two women out announcing their leave. Outside in Mor Dhona, Kivera glances up seeing the gloom haze overhead, she has come to enjoy this areas unique beauty with crystals and almost prismatic glows.

Shuri takes notice of Kivera quieter than her normal.

“Did someone ask about you again?” A hand seeking Kivera’s and she takes it.

“Alphinaud. Nothing I can’t handle, all I did was stretch my wings a bit.” She reassures her, They begin their walk to the airships, admiring the light refracted in different ways.

Kivera thinks of her life, in how far she has come from a simple scared servant girl to a powerful spirit. If only she could tell her young self of all the things she would accomplish, that the eventual death meant freedom from those castle walls. How she would literally soar above all those who had condemned her. Nothing braced her for the love she would have found, the one she lost and bent the heavens and time to get him back only to be forced to watch him live a happy life without her. How she had to let go, mourn and go about her life, knowing he was safe from the dangers she faces on a normal.

Kivera feels warmth from in front of herself, drawing her out of her thoughts. The fallen shakes her head out, she realizes she had been crying, a hand brushing her tears off her face. Shuri hugs her tight while Estinien has them both from behind. Shuri took notice when Kivera walked slower, her mind drifting in the way she is sure, the reaper is unaware of. Noticing the first signs of tears when the green eyes shift blue.

There is a warmth in the two that Kivera found, that meant more than any of the people she had grown to love in her travels. A soft love from Shuri. It keeps her coming back, not to abandon them. She remembers her soul as it flit pass her when she was in charge of Amurot’s destruction. While she cared for Hecate’s spirit herself, melding that one to her very existence to change it. What she never expected was the change the auri had on her.

Shuri reminds her that she should never regret her choices. Almost the same way Damien had her learn to follow her heart.

“I won’t ever give this up to go back..” Kivera earns an odd look from Estinien.

“Where would you go?” Estinien sees her point upwards, understanding she still can return there.

“Well.. we don’t want you to go back. We’d have to drag you back by your tail.” Kivera is amused, Estinien grabs both Shuri and Kivera holding the fallen under an arm, Shuri over his shoulder so they don’t miss their airship.

“My tail?” Kivera reaches her hands out to grab at Shuri’s as it waves closer to her face.

“You think you can come into our lives and leave to go where they threw you out? For falling in love? No, we will be the first to figure out how to get into heaven and drag you out by that black tail of yours. or wings.” Estinien mentions, and Shuri reaches down to grasp Kivera’s tail when she feels the angel grab hers, she messes with the soft tuft of the pom.

“I would never go back unless it is for your lives.” Kivera closes her eyes in thought again, thinking further of all of those she loves now.

“I am happy this way. I wouldn’t go back. Not unless they allow me to keep all my power and lovers.” Estinien sets both of them down to sit together on the airship. Kivera running fingers through Shuri’s shorter hair and rubbing her cheek to one of her horns. Doing her best to show her the love language of her race as an auri xaela.

“Good.” Kivera feels a chill in her spine at Shuri’s voice, understanding that she would BE the one that drags her out.

“We love you too much to ever let you go.”

“I love you too.” Kivera looks out over Mor Dhona, she has zero regrets of her choices.

#Kivera Siverstein #kivera x shuri #estinien wyrmblood #shuri fontaye

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magaprima · 3 years

Text

Episode 4 liveblog

I love that Zelda is stroking Vinegar Tom and I love it. Also she gave an honest yet brutal review of Sabrina’s speech. Loving all the witches hanging out but wish Lilith was one of them

And harvey getting judgey over witch things with roz just like he did with Sabrina. I mean harvey does try but witch Hunter is in his blood so all his instincts say ‘no’

Harvey saying ‘who does every woman I go out with turn out to be a witch?’ Had such xander ‘why does everyone I date turn out to be a demon?’ Vibes. But yep he’s getting bitchy with roz over witchcraft just as he did with Sabrina

New terror ahoy?

Ooh liking that outfit, Prue

Nooooo here comes Faustus changing the entire world into some nazi-esque nightmare

Sabrina is saying ‘oh no’ a lot this season

Omg I am loving sabrina’s glamour to hide!! She looks so freaking different. And choosing the name Samantha feels like a potential nod to bewitched

Omg wardwell in this world apparently has no need for glasses but also looks more like Michelle’s role in Bad Education haha

Omg the witch propaganda being used here is lifted right out of history. Perfect. And gets me as angry as ever. I love that they’ve used it for this

Omg this whole episode is the burning times coming alive verbatim and behaviour exactly and the fact they’re using nazi imagery tied in works well considering nazi used a lot of techniques created by German witch hunters, including the use of ovens. It’s horrifying me but it’s working well, so narratively I approve, but personally I’m sat here enraged remembering and thinking. I have family members who changed their names to Christian names to avoid persecution centuries ago and watching this is watching a world where that never changed where we continued to be killed for worshipping differently and knowing old ways etc.

Omg what’s happened to the mortuary in this world?????? And the academy is marked too?? Noooo Faustus statue in the centre???

I wish Sabrina had given the surname stevens haha

Omg has Faustus ripped out the memory of Sabrina being a Spellman???? Not even Zelda is remembering her

Omg did Zelda just say GOD IN HEAVEN????? Omg Zelda fucking slapped Sabrina!!! Ooh now her memories are being returned. I hate that this world means Zelda is back under Blackwood’s thumb

Wait they’ve been hearing cries; Lilith’s baby!? Do we get to see this? Or is this another episode where Lilith isn’t involved at all?

Omg Sabrina saving Nick. I am kinda loving these two this season.

Wait is Sabrina using the memory of Vinegar tom to bring her back? The memory of vinegar tom makes Zelda cry sometimes????

Oh another OUAT reference with Ambrose having memory issues once he leaves the border of the town

I am loving this tinker, with all his curiosities. I love these sorts of characters I wish we could have more of him.

Ooh Robin to the rescue!

Omg Hilda in this world has no colour on her arghhhh I hate it hilda should be colourful! And sugar rations being reminiscent of the war and therefore nazis again.

Hilda is running the resistance and better yet;

YES LILITH IS PART OF THE RESISTANCE AND HAS BABY ADAM WITH HER!!! YESSSSSS I didn’t watch this episode in my Lilith scenes because as an alternate reality I didn’t count it and I’m so pleased she’s in it! And she’s on team resistance! YES MY REBEL QUEEN!!! And she looks so fucking cute in that outfit and holding Adam but can’t she have some fucking lines???? Why are we not letting Lilith have more lines?? Is it because she steals scenes? But at least Lilith is on the right side, and not being painted as the bad guy. A reviewer said ‘Lilith does no wrong’ and I entirely agree

Stone soup for everyone!

Me in literally every scene; where the fuck is Lilith? Stop under using the powerful badass first witch

Honouring poor Giles Corey

Omg she fucked through the stone of reality at his head!!

YES LILITH BEING PART OF THE BATTLE AGAINST EMPEROR BLACKWOOD!!!! USING HER MAGIC JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE COVEN I AM JUST LIVING FOR LILITH BEING AT HOME IN THE ORDER OF HECATE

Lovely pup pups being the answer to returning things back to normal

The mortals don’t seem to remember things changing back though I don’t think but I think it’s implied the witches can which is good because I’d like to have Lilith remember being part of the resistance

I do like Sabrina’s ‘what a witch can ALSO mean’ speech on feminism and ah co-president Walker not Vice President

#caos p4 spoilers #caos p4 liveblog

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spacedoutbunny · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1

She was perched on the rooftop like a bird would perch if birds perched on this particular rooftop. Except they didn`t. Birds avoided this particular rooftop because they knew she perched there. It was almost out of respect for her two leggedness of perching.

She stared into the street before a crowd of people had begun to form. Soon there would be too many. And so, she betook herself off from perching to sliding down the roof and then to the gutter and then to falling off. She had to fall just right and so she waited.

Two nights previously the Abegaineo Family had sat down to have a conference. It was to discuss who, if anyone wanted the job would become head of the family.

It was an annual discussion, that generally ended up with a vacant chair.

Mostly it was an opportunity to come together to discuss what had happend during the past year and have a rather nice party. Introductions for marriage were also discussed where necessary for family continuity was paramount. Each branch carefully chosen. But bloodlines always from outside the family. No one who was not family could attend. And this meant no one who was not family usually had no clue they were under discussion.

If rejected then the rejected one would never see or hear from his or her potential mate every again. There were rules in place for a reason.

Everyone took the name Abegaineo once chosen. No one ever left the family. Death was the only exit, but at this point even Death knew better than to take any within their ranks.

They all just took up positions “Elsewhere” it was just how it worked.

Those who had known when the chair had been filled had long since gone “elsewhere”. No one was here who remembered at this particular gathering.

There was light music coming from the ballroom. It had a slightly eerie edge as though something was a little off kilter. Listen too long and it could set your teeth on edge. Listen longer and the need to start a fight grew. After that it was too late and usually involved rubber rooms.

Chapter 2

Two days later and outside, the percher was close to falling. And so she did. The person who caught her however, was not who she was expecting to catch her.

One step back and two streets over the intended catcher walked on oblivious. She had been redirected by a series of events that did not seem contrived, but in fact were.

The recipient of the falling girl was surprised and not delighted. He had been carrying a painting at arms length so as not to bend or break it. So his arms had been extended in the correct position for falling into. The girl did not yet know it was the wrong person.

The painting fell out of his hands at the exact moment she hit. And a bunch of expletives followed after. The girls pride was a little hurt. The mans anger and concern for the painting over the person, put her back up. She stood up quickly enough and was about to lay into him when she really noticed his eyes, and then his hands which once again were holding the painting.

“She apologised. She actually apologised”

Across the street hidden in shadow Hecate stood talking to her companion, a sparrow. The bird perched on Hecate`s shoulder. “But it was the wrong one” he shrilled. “Where has Nona got to?Nona was supposed to catch her! This took bloody weeks to set up and it`s all but banjaxed, I`m going to check up on Nona” and the sparrow flew off.

Nona had wandered into a Cafe she sat looking out at the people walking past as she sipped her coffee. they all had the same bored expression. “Ruddy Robots”. She sighed and got up after finishing and continued down the street.

A sparrow flew past her head and hit a window, it fell to the ground.

Nona had not seen it. She was walking without really paying attention the projects in her head were outweighing the noises surround her, the people were a blur.

A sparrow flew right past her and it a window, it fell to the ground.

She did not see it.

The third time it happened and Nona ignored it the sparrow flew off muttering.

“Did you just say `for fucks sake?`”

The sparrow came back round and hit a window right in front of her face, and landed on the ground at her feet. She nearly trod on it but instead bent down to pick it up. “Bloody suicidal birds.” she placed it gently on a table. It fluttered its wings pathetically. “Good God you want me to take you home?” Flutter “Ah what the heck. People think I`m nuts anyway” and she picked the sparrow up. “Better find you a box or something.”

She rooted around in an recycling bin and found an empty box and put the sparrow inside. She continued to root around inside the bin. She found a bit of wood, some bubble wrap and an orange that was close to going mouldy and there was a painting just thrown to one side. The picture intrigued her and the rest she could find a use for. She carried it all along till she found a spare poly bag floating down the street, then placed most of the items into the bag.

The box with the sparrow in contained it and the bubble wrap, but no air holes. The sparrow was comfy but pissed off at the lack of air.

Nona finally made it back to her flat/studio. she opened the box. The sparrow fluttered weakly. “I bet you need water” she said. The sparrow was thinking it could do with a gin sling right about now.

Nona found a pipette. The sparrow was really hopeful when it saw the clear liquid and nearly choked when water went past its beak.

Chapter 3

Meanwhile Hecate was watching her main charge walk along with the man with the painting still held at arms length.

Arabat-Lile,better known as Lily, kept pace with the man and his painting. Still apologising, it fell on deaf ears. This man was a nightmare. He tripped over stuff and nearly fell, he bumped into people and got banged a lot. It was only because Lily steered him, that he made it to his destination. A museum. He almost tripped up the stairs but made it inside and down to the store room where he gingerly placed the painting on the floor against a wall.

He looked around and finally noticed Lily, and almost jumped out of his skin, falling backward. He might at that point, have crushed the painting, but Lily grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, so he fell into her. Once again their eyes met. She saw a flash of light, literally a flash, then it vanished. He saw her face and realised it was symmetrical. Both said “Wow”

Hecate still hiding in the shadows just said “shit” it was very deep.

Hecate needed information and quickly. Everything that could have gone wrong “had” gone wrong and she knew nothing about `Calamity` as she had begun to call him. Not his name, nor his purpose, not a damn thing except he couldn't function well at all. As human males went he was ... well ... clumsy.

Lily had managed to get them out of the storeroom and into a cafe on site at the museum.

“You mean you had no idea you were coming here?” Lily asked

“No, none at all. One minute I was rooting around in an antique shop and the next I found that painting and I knew I had to take it here directly.

Lily stared at him “It`s a Blue you know.” Calamity raised an eyebrow.

“Blue as in Ambrose Blue?. There were no known Ambrose Blue paintings left to be discovered unless perhaps it was in a private collection.” Lily said echoing what the curator had said.

The curator who had been passed the painting had been sceptical about its origin. “There are NO Ambrose Blue paintings left around” he snorted at the idea. And then on closer inspection he had nearly choked and having left a photograph and a paper of ownership with Calamity had whisked it off to be authenticated.

“if it is a Blue” Lily continued “then it would appear you may be quite well off”

Calamity sipped his coffee carefully “You think?” he asked. “You knew it could be a Blue but to be honest I know very little about art as a rule, I`m more a collector of old Games and consoles. I was rummaging around for an old Nintendo when I found the painting.”

“Games?” Lily asked. The blank look on her face spoke volumes

“You know PS4, Xbox, Nintendo, Game Cube.” He searched her face for signs of her taking the mickey.

“I`ve played Poker before does that count? Only I wasn`t very good at it and lost to be honest”

“Where have you been hiding all these years?” Calamity was thunderstruck. “The Moon?”

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hovercraft79 · 4 years

Text

There She Goes

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 7,173

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: doubts about self-worth, body-image issues

Summary: The start of a new school year brings a host of new challenges. One challenge Hecate never imagined comes in the form of the vivacious Miss Goodcast – a supply witch with more on her mind than chanting.

Notes: This fic covers the Week prompt ‘Accidentally Married.’

The title comes the song by Sixpence None the Richer (originally by The La’s). Is it about heroin? Ada? Could go either way.

Sparky is still doing her best to make me sound literate. I appreciate the great effort that takes.

Ada schooled her face into a neutral, vaguely interested expression. Rusty cauldrons, but her mother could drone on… I’ll never be that way, she told herself. Idly scanning the room, her eyes jerked to a stop when they crossed Miss Hardbroom’s. The younger witch was staring pointedly at her. As Ada looked back at her, Hecate opened her eyes wider and arched one slender eyebrow.

Clearly, she hadn’t been as subtle about her boredom as she thought.

At last, her mother finished her traditional ‘back-to-school’ speech and dismissed them for lunch. Ada waited for Hecate at the door.

“If any of the girls displayed your level of attentiveness…” Hecate teased, “you’d have them in detention.”

“Let’s hope my lessons are a bit more stimulating than Mother’s speech. Promise me you’ll never let me drone on like that.”

Hecate snorted. “Sounds like Headmistress’s prerogative.” She bumped Ada with her shoulder. “Or a Cackle family trait.”

“Not the only one I’m hoping to avoid.” Ada adjusted the too-tight waistband of her navy slacks. The summer had brought a few extra pounds along with the warmer temperatures. More and more often, when she looked in the mirror, Ada saw her mother staring back. “I refuse to cast an enlargement spell on my trousers.”

“It’s just the effects of a lazy summer. Once term begins, you’ll be active enough. Either way, you needn’t worry about your appearance.” Hecate tried to hide her wince but didn’t manage it. She wanted to tell Ada that she was beautiful – no matter an extra ten pounds or so, but… the one time she’d tried to say it, the whole conversation had disintegrated into an awkward silence.

Ada gave her a sidelong look, taking in her thin form. Hecate had returned from Darkwood Cottage and Mistress Broomhead alarmingly thin. Over the course of the last few months she’d put some of the weight back on, but not all. Ada knew part of her own added weight came from bringing sweets or savory snacks to their evening teas. She’d never say such a thing to Hecate, however.

“Mind if we make a stop before lunch?” Ada steered Hecate towards her quarters. “I have something for you.”

“Would that happen to be the timetables for the First-Years?” Hecate had been waiting for Ada to finish those since Selection Day. “Or is that too much to ask?” Even though this was to be Ada’s first year as Deputy Head and her transition into running the school, her best friend from childhood’s oldest daughter would be entering Cackle’s this year. Ada had asked to be able to teach Mavis Spellbody’s first year of potions. Since Hecate still worried that she might be too harsh for the youngest students, she’d gladly agreed.

She also looked forward to spending another year teaching with Ada, even for only one class.

“Definitely too much,” Ada said with a chuckle. “I promise I’ll have them before the start of term.” She opened the door to her quarters with a wave of her hand. “Not that you haven’t already created your own set.”

“A good witch is always prepared.”

“And you, dear Hecate, are an excellent witch.” Ada summoned a small box. “I know I’ve thrown a bit of a spanner in the works for your first year of teaching, but I wanted to mark the start of your first official year on staff.”

Hecate took the box with slightly shaking hands. “You needn’t have…”

“But I wanted to…”

Eyes glistening, Hecate carefully pulled the ribbon loose and lifted the lid, gasping when she revealed a gleaming pocket watch inside. “Ada… it’s beautiful…” She lifted it out of the box, the chain sliding through slender fingers. “Oh! A necklace!”

Ada vanished the box away. “May I?” Nodding shyly, Hecate handed the watch over. Ada slipped it over her head, carefully avoiding her bun. “It suits you,” she said, stepping back to get a better look.

Hecate pulled it away from her chest, opening it to check the time. “I don’t know what to say… thank you.” She squeezed Ada in a tight hug, careful to let go quickly.

“You’re quite welcome. It’s spelled to always keep the correct time and never to need winding. I thought you could use it when you’re working on your own potions.”

“And when we’re preparing the kitten potions during the summer, and when it’s my turn to do rounds and… I’m sure I’ll find all sorts of uses for it.” She clicked it closed and let it hang.

“I’ve no doubt about that.” Ada cocked her head before magicking a few more links in the chain, adding an inch or two in length. “Better.” Ada held out an elbow. “To lunch?”

Hecate smoothed the watch against her chest and nodded. Slipping her arm through Ada’s, she followed her into the corridor, enjoying the closeness Ada offered her. She still struggled around people. Though she told herself that it had only been a few months since she’d escaped Broomhead’s abuses, she feared that this would be a lasting effect – one more mistake resulting in one more lifetime punishment. She could let those fears go with Ada, though, a little at least. Ada made her feel as close to normal as she had ever felt – as normal as she’d felt during her last two years of school. She prayed Ada never found out how much she craved her company. Or how off-balance she felt when she wasn’t with Ada. Either one was likely to drive Ada away, and Hecate knew she wouldn’t survive losing Ada the way she’d lost Pippa all those years ago.

They arrived in the Dining Hall and Hecate dropped Ada’s arm, missing the warmth immediately. It wouldn’t do to seem overly familiar, though. Cackle’s was a small place. One comment from Miss Swoop implying that Ada and Hecate might be more than friends had been enough to send Hecate into a tailspin for days. Ada had simply waved the comment away, but she’d been understanding of Hecate’s feelings.

As usual, the seat next to Alma had been left empty for Ada. Also, as usual, the seat next to Ada had been left empty for Hecate. At some point over the last term, it had become generally accepted that, no matter the occasion, the seat next to Ada belonged to Hecate. Most of the staff smiled indulgently, or smirked knowingly, and kept any comments to themselves. Save for Miss Gullet, of course. She regularly had an eye roll or huff of annoyance to add whenever it came to seating arrangements.

“She’s hardly the senior staff she thinks she is,” Geraldine grumbled as they approached.

“Who? Miss Hardbroom? Senior staff or no, she’s the preferred company,” Gwen stated. “It’s lovely to be able to work with good friends, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Geraldine muttered as she moved to another table, delighting Miss Bat.

“What’s wrong with her?” Ada asked as she took her seat.

“Just realized she’s Geraldine Gullet, I imagine,” Gwen drawled. She smiled at Hecate as she took her place between them, leaning around the younger woman to speak to Ada. “I heard back from the Witching Academy Network about the supply witch. A Miss Prudence Goodcast will arrive just before I leave. I should have a few days to get her into the routine of things before I leave for my tour.”

Ada looked at the ceiling as she tried to place the name. “I’ve heard that name before. I believe she may have been a student at Amulet’s when I started there. If that’s the same girl I remember, you shouldn’t have any worries about leaving your classes in her hands.”

“That’s a relief.” Gwen focused on Hecate. “You might enjoy having someone about your own age in the faculty lounge for a change.”

Hecate thought back to her childhood experiences with people her own age. “Delightful.”

A few weeks later and Prudence Goodcast touched down at Cackle’s Academy. When Miss Bat brought her ‘round to the faculty lounge, she was nothing like Hecate expected. Bubbly, blonde and bright, Hecate’s heart had clenched on their first meeting, fearing she was to be reminded of Pippa every single day for the next two months. It only took Hecate a few minutes to realize she was wrong.

“And well met, indeed, Miss Hardbroom!” Prudence’s eyes took in Hecate’s form fitting dress. “You must call me Prudie. I think if I’d had a potions teacher as enchanting as you, I’d have done better on my exams!”

“T-thank you?” Hecate looked down at her dress. It was form fitting, yes, but only because she’d felt she needed a change after the second student set her looser skirts on fire. “Call me Hecate.” She held out a hand and Prudie took it, squeezing gently and holding it just a tad past proper.

“I’m sure we’ll be great friends, Hecate.” Prudie grinned impishly and let Miss Bat lead her away.

At first, Hecate was sure that Prudie would prove to be a special sort of tribulation. Instead, she found her quite charming. Quick with a compliment, but not fawning. She asked thoughtful questions about Cackle’s and the Academy’s traditions as well as of Hecate herself, but never seemed to pry. She had a keen intellect and a healthy respect for traditions and the Code – a fact that surprised Hecate. She also made it abundantly clear that she would be open to being more than simply friends during her stay at Cackle’s – a fact that stunned Hecate.

After the second night of Prudie’s flirtations, Hecate had excused herself early from dinner, retiring to her rooms just to have a chance to breathe. She couldn’t deny that she felt a certain attraction to the woman. Who wouldn’t? With wavy blonde hair, hazel eyes and a trim, fit body, Prudence Goodcast no doubt turned heads everywhere she went. And somehow, she was interested in Hecate.

No strings attached, Prudie had said. Hecate hardly even knew what that meant. Everything came with strings or conditions or consequences. As much as her skin tingled whenever Prudie touched it, Hecate was terrified of the inevitable fallout that would come, whatever it may be. A soft knock on the door nearly caused her to jump out of her skin. The thought that it might be Prudie both thrilled and frightened her. Hecate hoped that it was Ada just so she could feel a sense of calm. Ada always brought calm.

When she opened the door, she found neither Ada nor Prudie. Instead, Gwen Bat stood there, smiling serenely up at her. “Good evening, Hecate. Might I trouble you for a moment?”

“Of course.” Hecate stepped aside, allowing Gwen to sweep into the room. “Please, have a seat.” Hecate watched as Gwen made herself at home on her sofa.

Gwen studied Hecate for a moment before she spoke. “Miss Goodcast has taken quite the shine to you. Dare I say the feelings seem mutual?”

Hecate hugged herself and stared at the floor. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s probably true.” Gwen patted the seat next to her and waited for Hecate to sit down. “It’s clear that Miss Goodcast is interested in pursuing a relationship with you. It’s not quite as clear, but I think you might be interested in that as well?”

“I’m not sure what your point is, Miss Bat. We’re here to provide an education for our students.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Of course, we are, but you’re also here to live your life. I suppose what I’m saying is that you should allow yourself to have a good time. You’re too serious for such a young woman, Hecate. Allow yourself a bit of pleasure. Indulge. Have an extra slice of cake, or a lie-in on a Sunday morning. Indulge yourself in a bit of romance. If nothing else, indulge in enjoying the company of another witch your own age here.”

“Miss Gullet is the same age as—"

“For Merlin’s sake, Hecate. You’ve been punished enough.”

Hecate gasped, stricken eyes finally meeting Gwen’s. “That’s not funny.”

Gwen took Hecate’s hand between her own. “It wasn’t meant to be. You have been punished beyond all measure for your supposed crimes.”

“What I did— “

“I know what you did, Hecate. I was here, remember?”

“I know...”

“Well, let me tell you something you may not know. The day Indigo Moon turned to stone, two little girls winked out of existence, not one. We lost both Indigo and Joy. Now, sad as it was about Indigo, I didn’t know her, but believe me when I tell you that I grieved for Joy Hardbroom. I still grieve for the loss of that girl. But things have been different since you struck up your friendship with Ada. Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of Joy again and I can’t tell you how happy that has made me.”

“I’m sorry… but I can’t ever be that girl again.”

“No. Nor should you be. I would grieve the loss of Hecate Hardbroom far more than I ever did Joy.” She smiled sadly and patted Hecate’s cheek. “But you deserve a bit of Joy every now and then.”

“And you think I may find this Joy you speak of with Prudie?”

Gwen lifted an indifferent shoulder. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Sometimes a thing can be all the sweeter because it’s fleeting.”

Hecate thought about it. “You think I should… indulge myself with Prudie?” The words tasted strange on her tongue.

“Not necessarily. Not everyone is cut out to enjoy a brief romantic fling. Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. If you aren’t, that’s perfectly fine. What I’m saying is this: if the only thing holding you back is the belief that you don’t deserve any happiness it might bring, you’re wrong. You do deserve it. Is there something else holding you back? Or someone, perhaps?”

“No,” Hecate said quickly. Too quickly. Ada’s face blossomed in her mind’s eye, but she tried to push it away. Despite the warm feelings Ada brought to her chest, Ada had never been more than a friend. She’d never expressed an interest in Hecate beyond friendship. Even if she had… the risks were too high. Neither could leave the Academy if things didn’t work out. Giving in to any sort of feelings for Ada could be disastrous. But someone only here for a few weeks? “Did you have these...flings?”

Gwen grinned fondly at the memories. “I’d been known to have an occasional dalliance before I met my Algie. How do you think I was able to know for certain that he was the one for me? Think on it, dear.” Without another word Gwen patted her knee and transferred away.

And Hecate did think on it. For the rest of the night and all the way into the morning. She was still thinking about it when she accepted Prudie’s invitation to join her for a picnic dinner. The butterflies in her stomach only stopped fluttering when she thought about telling Ada.

She’d hoped to catch Ada between classes, but she’d been delayed when Ivy Watercress had mixed up her lacewing and mayfly eggs in her Color-Changing potion, causing her to turn blue and swell horribly. Three other girls had begun chanting something about oompa-loompas that Hecate didn’t understand. She made a mental note to ask Ada about it later.

She finally caught up with Ada in Mrs. Cackle’s office. “Ada!” She smiled as Ada turned, lighting up and smiling herself. Her heart fluttered, but she reminded herself that the risk was too great. “I ummm… I wanted to let you know that I won’t be at dinner tonight.”

“Oh?” Ada’s expression changed to something unreadable. Behind her, Alma suddenly found something fascinating in the report she was reading.

“Miss Goodcast has invited me on… a picnic… supper.” Her smile faltered as she trailed off.

“Oh. Well. That does sound lovely. Where are you going?”

“The clearing south of the cottage.” Hecate had chosen the location – somewhere that had no history for her or for Ada.

“Okay.” Ada nodded, a bit too forcefully. “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.”

“Thank you.” Confused, Hecate started to close the door when Ada called out.

“Hecate? I know Miss Goodcast is only here for a short time. Please… don’t worry yourself with me. Have a good time with your… your friend.”

Hecate studied Ada’s face for a moment. The smile never left it, but… “Thank you, Ada. Goodnight. And goodnight to you, Mrs. Cackle.”

Ada slumped against her mother’s desk as soon as the door closed. Alma studied her daughter for several long minutes before moving over to lean next to her.

“That was a very generous thing you did, daughter. And difficult, considering your feelings.”

“We’re only friends, Mother. Nothing more.” I don’t even know if she’s interested in anything more, she thought. “You said she needed to be free. You were right. She needs to live her own life.” Even if it hurts.

Hecate watched as Prudie explored the clearing.

“It’s lovely,” she called over her shoulder. “You must come here all the time!”

“No… not really,” Hecate answered as she spread the blanket over the grass. “There aren’t many useful potion ingredients in this part of the forest, at least none that aren’t everywhere else as well.”

Prudie waltzed over to stand next to Hecate. “I’ll bet you can name every one of them, can’t you?”

Hecate felt the tingling warning of an old, old trap. Don’t be smarter than the other girls, she reminded herself. “I don’t—”

“Oh, come on, Hec,” she raced to a tree at the edge of the clearing. “What’s this one?”

Rolling her eyes, Hecate deadpanned, “It’s an oak tree. The most common tree in Britain.”

“I know it’s an oak tree, silly. What’s it also called?”

“Quercus robur,” she sighed.

Prudie scanned the clearing and ran to a different sort of tree on the other side. “And this one?” She held up a finger. “And before you say it, I know it’s a hawthorn.”

“Crataegus laevigata. And before you ask, the little tree leaning towards the light is Acer campestre, also known as?”

“A maple tree,” Prudie answered laughing. “I should have known you’d turn it back ‘round to me. I’m being too easy on you.” She pointed to a cluster of plants on the ground. “How about these?”

“Fennel, corn mint and dandelions.” Prudie stuck her hands on her hips, cocking her head in expectation. “Very well. Foeniculum vulgare, Mentha arvensis, and Taraxacum officinale. Surely you don’t want to spend the evening doing this.”

“Actually, I could. I love watching the way your eyes light up when you talk about plants and potions.” She walked slowly up to Hecate, not stopping until she was close enough to place her hands on Hecate’s hips. “I’d like to kiss you now, if you’d like that as well.”

“I think… I think I’d like that very much.”

The kiss was soft, but sure. Prudie held back, letting Hecate take the lead as she figured out what to do, their picnic forgotten.

-----

The next few weeks seemed a whirlwind to Hecate as she tried to juggle her classes, evenings spent with Prudie and finding time for Ada. She was ashamed to say that Ada got short shrift, but Ada never seemed to mind, always greeting her with a smile and a lemon drop. She’d ask how Hecate was enjoying her time with Prudie, but Hecate could tell that hearing the answer bothered her. She just didn’t understand why. Hecate kept her answers brief.

At last, the day came when Miss Bat returned, trunk full of gifts for the staff. “I’m sure you’re not so excited to see me return,” she whispered to Hecate as she hugged her hello.

“Quite the contrary,” Hecate whispered back, knowing in her heart that it was true. “As you said, sometimes things are all the better because they are fleeting. Welcome home, Miss Bat.”

“Why don’t you come ‘round for tea later? I’d love to hear all about your adventures.”

Hecate nodded. “I’d like that.” She looked over Gwen’s shoulder at Prudie who was looking back at her fondly.

Gwen followed Hecate’s eyes, smiling gently. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” she said before transferring to her rooms.

“Well,” Prudie said, softly. “It seems our interlude has come to an end. Any regrets?”

“No, no regrets.” Hecate leaned against the wall. She reached for Prudie’s hand before changing her mind, dropping her hand back to her side. “At least now I won’t have to answer to that ridiculous ‘Hec’ that you insist on calling me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind hearing it in certain… circumstances.”

“Prudence.”

Prudie threw her head back and laughed. “That’s the Hecate we all know and love.” She crossed her arms and matched Hecate’s pose. “You know you’re going to miss me.”

Would she? Hecate wasn’t sure if that was the case. “I will always think of you fondly.” That much she knew to be true. “Will you come back, do you think?”

“Well, you never know which way the wind blows, do you?” She leaned forward and kissed Hecate’s cheek. “Even if I do… I don’t think we have any other… interludes… in our future, do you?”

“Did I… was I… Was I not good enough?” Hecate knew that saying she’d been inexperienced was a gaping understatement, but… she’d tried.

“You’ve been nothing but delightful, Hec. Hecate. You can’t imagine I’ve had any complaints.”

Pleased to hear it, Hecate felt her cheeks flush, nonetheless. “Then… why?” She knew Prudie was right. As much as she’d enjoyed their time together, she had to admit that she didn’t feel any great pangs at its ending.

“Do you remember that first night? The picnic in the woods?”

“The first night you kissed me.”

“Mmm… Do you remember I told you that I could listen to you talk about plants forever, because of the way you lit up whenever you did?”

“A very generous lie,” Hecate said, with a soft chuckle.

“Well, perhaps an exaggeration, but not a lie. Probably. The thing is, what I said about the way you… light up… whenever you talk about something you love… Well, there’s only one other thing I’ve ever seen that makes you shine the same way. And it isn’t me.” Prudie took Hecate’s hand. “It’s Ada. Whenever you see her or talk about her. It’s her.”

It’s always been her, Hecate thought. “It’s… complicated,” she said.

“I’m sure. But… If I meet someone who makes me feel the way Ada obviously makes you feel… I’d hope I’d be brave enough to tell her. I hope I’ve helped you be brave.” She squeezed Hecate’s hand before letting it go. Letting her go. “Be brave, Hecate.”

Later that afternoon, Hecate knocked before opening Ada’s door, intending to invite herself in for tea. “Mind if I join you?” Prudie’s words echoed in Hecate’s head when she saw how delighted Ada was to see her.

“Hecate!” Ada waved her inside. “Not at all.” Her enthusiasm wavered. “I thought you’d be spending this last evening with Miss Goodcast.”

Hecate waved the idea away. “We’ve said our goodbyes. I’d rather spend the evening with you, if you haven’t decided you prefer less of my company.”

Ada slowly folded a newspaper into her lap. “Never.” Ada magicked away her tea set and replaced it with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I’d never begrudge you a moment spent… pursuing your own… interests.” She poured the wine. “However, I will confess that I’ve missed my friend.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Hecate took her glass, not sure if she trusted herself to drink it. “I fear I wasn’t very good at balancing…”

“No matter, dear. I’m sure next time you’ll manage.” The tension in the set of Ada’s jaw belied the lightness of her tone.

“I don’t think there’ll be a next time. I don’t regret my… relationship with Prudie, but… well,” Hecate took a gulp of courage from her glass. “Prudie was appealing because I knew I had no future with her. There wasn’t any risk.”

“Oh…” Again, Ada looked at her with an unreadable expression.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, unsure where to go from here. Hecate took another sip of wine as she searched the room for anything to talk about. There were no assignments being graded, there’d been no incidents in class lately… even Pendle was nowhere in sight. Finally, her eyes lit on the newspaper in Ada’s lap.

“Beret.”

“What?” Ada looked up at her, confused. She lifted her hand to her head, finding it just as beret-free as it had been… well, all her life, really.

“Beret.” Hecate tapped Ada’s copy of Witching Weekly with her finger. “The word in the Jumble you haven’t solved. It’s beret.”

Blinking, Ada looked at the paper. “Brilliant!” She summoned her pen and filled in the blanks. “That makes the final puzzle…” She rearranged the letters. “The cauldron maker wanted to expand his business but decided it was too much… TOIL AND TROUBLE! Lovely!” She grinned up at Hecate. “Now, you pour us another glass of wine – I’ve got a puzzle from last week that’s been driving me batty.”

Ada hurried to her bedroom to fetch the other puzzle. Hecate waited, feeling something loosen in her chest. Feeling like she was the one coming home, rather than Miss Bat.

-----

Alma sat in her office chair, staring at the still empty boxes on the floor in front of the fireplace. Her life’s work would soon be reduced to little more than trinkets and mementos packed into cardboard boxes. No matter how often she told herself that the school and the girls were her legacy, it all still came down to a few cardboard boxes. Boxes that she just couldn’t make herself fill.

“Come on, you old fool, you can’t keep putting it off,” she told herself sternly. She still didn’t move. Had her own mother harbored these doubts about retirement? No, she humpfed to herself. Her mother had been eager to retire, passing the reigns to Alma while she was still in her thirties. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t do that to Ada – that Ada would have a chance to live her own life while she was young.

Now she feared she’d erred too much in the other direction. Alma had always known and accepted that her place was at Cackle’s. She’d never given her mother cause to have any misgivings about leaving the school in her hands. She herself hadn’t been so fortunate. Agatha’s constant Code-breaking as a child had finally erupted during their teen years. At the time, she’d felt she had no choice but to send Agatha to Wormwood’s – and not just for her own sanity. Agatha’s influence over Ada had reached a tipping point. It wasn’t until Ada’s retreat from Cackle’s immediately upon her graduation that Alma realized she’d waited too long. As fine a woman as Ada had grown into, Agatha still had the ability to bully, guilt or manipulate Ada into almost any situation.

And that was the heart of it.

Alma feared handing over the school to Ada because Ada still believed she and her sister could run Cackle’s together. She’d begged, debated, raged… but Ada wouldn’t be persuaded. If Agatha wanted to return to Cackle’s, she would be welcome. The very idea shook Alma to her core.

A brisk knock at the door disturbed her melancholy. Not a moment too soon, she thought. She waved her hand and the door opened to reveal Miss Hardbroom, standing broomstick straight, a slim catalog in her hands. Alma smiled. Her unexpected daughter – though she’d never embarrass Hecate by referring to her as such. Yet. “Hecate, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m not sure you’ll consider it a pleasure once you’ve heard my request.”

“Och,” Alma groused, good-naturedly. “You want me to spend money on that lab of yours, no doubt.” She gestured to the sofa and conjured up a pot of tea. “Show me what you’ve found that we just can’t live without.”

Ignoring her tea for the moment, Hecate laid out the catalog showing the latest in student potions materials. “I’d like to replace our current cauldrons with these.” She tapped a photograph of a clear cauldron with her finger.

“A bit on the modern side, aren’t they?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But the fact that they’re clear will allow me to monitor the students more accurately, thus creating a safer learning environment. Perhaps they could prevent another ‘human blueberry’ incident like the one earlier this term.”

“Health and safety? Now you sound like Miss Gullet.” Alma’s eyes widened when she looked at the cost. “My goodness, they’re proud of these, aren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hecate said, sinking back into the sofa. “We’d need twenty to replace enough for a class.”

Alma nodded. She’d already done the math. There was no way they could afford that, and she knew Hecate likely knew that as well. Alma knew Hecate probably already had a plan – likely the same one Alma herself had. “There’s not money in the budget for that many.”

“I didn’t expect there would be.” Hecate reached for her cup and took a sip. “If we could afford five this year and for the next four years, we could do it.” She looked hopefully at Mrs. Cackle.

Alma shook her head. “I’m getting soft in my old age, I am. Order ten; I’ve got a donation I’ve kept tucked aside for a rainy day.”

Hecate thanked her profusely; she’d not expected to get ten. She hadn’t expected to get any. She finished her tea and excused herself before Mrs. Cackle could change her mind. She opened the office door to a surprised Ada.

“Hecate!” Ada’s expression lit up in delight. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “This isn’t about the incident with the enlarging potion, is it? I swear that both Mavis and her familiar are fine.”

Rolling her eyes, Hecate stepped out of the way. “No – you can deal with that yourself. Why are you here? Is it because I have Tabitha Tallow in detention again? She’s purposely wasting ingredients.”

Behind them, Alma cleared her throat. Loudly. “Perhaps you should just ask me rather than spill all your dirty robes in my doorway.” She glanced at Hecate. “You may as well stay, Hecate. I’m sure Ada will rope you into it anyway.” Though she’d never admit it, Alma was thrilled that Hecate and her daughter had put themselves back to rights. They’d certainly had a bit of a wobble after Miss Goodcast’s tenure here – weeks of being careful, almost shy with one another. But they’d managed to find themselves again. Just in time, too, she thought. Ada would need Hecate’s steadying influence once she took over as Headmistress.

Alma pointed up the short flight of steps to the reading area. “I need you to go through those shelves. Pack anything that doesn’t belong to Cackle’s into one of these boxes.” She floated a cardboard box into the middle of the nook. “I’ll be going through the files down here.”

Ada sighed. She shouldn’t have expected a ‘please’ or a ‘would you’ but somehow, she did. “You don’t need to give up your Saturday, Hecate. I’ll help Mother and catch up with you for tea,” she looked at the shelves stuffed with books and all sorts of odds and ends. “Or maybe this evening.”

Hecate followed Ada’s gaze. It wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her day, but… “Nonsense. With both of us working we’ll be done quick as a wink.” She squeezed Ada’s elbow and slid past her, climbing the stairs and getting straight to work.

The morning passed slowly. The upstairs library seemed to be something of a Cackle family time capsule. Time and again they had to ask Alma what she wanted to do with some personal memento of a long-lost Cackle. Each question resulted in a story or an anecdote about the item or its owner. Teatime had long since passed and they’d only managed the first bookcase.

Ada’s stomach growled – loud enough to pull Hecate’s attention from her own work. “Sorry…”

Hecate graced her with an indulgent eye roll. “Perhaps a break is in order?”

“Unless you want to keep getting serenaded by my stomach.” Ada pulled a box into her lap and took off the lid. “Help me sort this first?”

Nodding, Hecate pushed the book she was about to go through back onto the shelf. The box looked more interesting. “Are they personal items?” She kept her voice low, lest they catch Alma’s attention and be forced to endure another trip down memory lane.

“Looks like it… an old post card from Paris,” she flipped it over, “that was never even written on.” She passed it over along with a few pressed flowers and faded receipts. “Chuck those into the bin.”

Hecate vanished them at once. “What’s that scroll? It looks official.”

Ada pulled it out of the box and unrolled it. “I’ve never seen it before. It looks like an incantation of sorts, but I’ve never heard it.”

Hecate leaned over to get a better look, bracing herself with a hand on Ada’s shoulder. “What does it say?”

Adjusting the scroll so she could read it with her new glasses, Ada began to read.

As life’s thread is spun

Through storm and sun,

Before all we stand,

Open hearts, open hands.

Signified by this token, sacred and true,

For then, now, and always, forge one out of two.

No sooner had Ada uttered the last word when a flare of blue light filled the room, knocking Hecate off her feet.

“Ada!” Alma hurried over. “Hecate! Are you all right? What happened?”

“I – I don’t know…” Ada helped Hecate to her feet. “We were cleaning out the box—”

“What is this scroll?” Hecate pulled it from Ada’s hand and gave it to Alma.

Alma read through it. “It’s Grandmother Cackle’s marriage scroll.” The color drained from her face. “You didn’t… Did you recite the incantation?”

Ada’s face colored a mottled red. “I – I may have read the scroll…”

“Are you telling me that MY daughter, a fully grown witch about to become Headmistress of this academy, found a scroll she knew nothing about AND READ IT OUT LOUD?” She slammed the scroll onto her desk. “Like a bloody First-Year?”

“I’m not a bloody—” Ada caught herself, lowering her voice. She could see Hecate, wide-eyed and stiff beside her. “I’m not a First-Year. There has to be more to it than just saying the words.”

Alma snatched it off the desk and began reading it again. “No… there were…” She looked up at them. “Were you touching each other?”

“NO!” Ada said quickly.

“Yes,” Hecate corrected. “I was leaning on your shoulder, remember?” Ada closed her eyes and nodded.

“Well… you would have had to have given Hecate a gift, like an engagement ring in the last few months… the ‘sacred token’ it mentions. You’ve not been handing out rings have you, Ada?”

“Not rings…” Ada looked at Hecate, who stood clutching the watch around her neck, a terrified expression on her face. “It was just a gift! To start the term!”

Hecate backed herself into the corner. This couldn’t be happening. Not when she and Ada had just found their footing again after her interlude with Prudie. Not when she’d finally figured out that Ada was who she wanted.

“No. This is unacceptable!” Ada turned to Hecate, too panicked herself to notice Hecate’s distress. “We’ll get this sorted. No one is getting married today.” She turned back to her mother. “I refuse to allow this – this ridiculous situation to continue. I’ll not be forced into some unnatural union because of a mistake. Not with Hecate!”

Unacceptable… ridiculous… mistake… The words echoed in Hecate’s mind. “I’m so sorry, Ada… I didn’t mean for this to happen… I would’ve stopped you… I’m so, so sorry…” Hecate waved a hand and dematerialized.

“Hecate?” Ada dropped to her seat on the top step. “Wh- where’d she go?”

“Anywhere but here, I’d imagine. Somewhere she didn’t have to hear you go on about how being married to her was the worst thing in the world.”

Ada leapt to her feet, nearly tumbling the rest of the way down the steps. “I never said that!”

“You called it an ‘unnatural union,’ Ada. How did you expect her to react?” Alma paced the narrow space in front of her desk. “Is this how you’ll respond to a crisis once you’re Head of the school? With panic and thoughtless words?”

“This is hardly a school crisis, is it? And it is an unnatural union if neither of us had any say in it! What have you always told me, Mother? That Hecate must be given as much freedom as possible and now… now some scroll thoughtlessly tossed in a box has just taken away the most important choice someone can make. That’s what I’m upset about.” She raised her hands in surrender. “It will be a lucky person indeed that Hecate chooses to share her life with.”

“Then go explain yourself to her. I’ll mirror the Great Witch and see if we can’t get this sorted.” Ada nodded and moved towards the door. “And daughter,” Alma called just as Ada’s hand grasped the knob. “The person you choose will be lucky as well.”

Lips pressed in a thin smile, Ada hurried away. She had an idea where Hecate might be.

She found Hecate in the potion’s lab, sitting in the middle of the storeroom floor. She’d always found comfort surrounded by the familiar sights and scents of her beloved ingredients. “May I join you?”

Hecate refused to look at her. “If you can stand to be in the same room with me.”

Ada sighed. “I do so hate it when Mother’s right.” She lowered herself to the floor, sitting cross-legged next to Hecate. “I’m sorry. Please, look at me.” She placed a hand on Hecate’s knee and waited until Hecate’s anguished eyes lifted to meet hers. “I never meant to imply that it was you that I was upset about. Quite the contrary. Anyone – including me – would be lucky to have you. I’m so sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

Hecate shook her head. “You weren’t upset – you were angry. Angry because you’re tied to me.”

“No. Not angry about that. Angry with myself for doing something so stupid. Angry that a piece of magic so powerful was just… carelessly tossed in a box. And I’m certainly angry that once again, you’ve been forced to do something against your will and that this time, I’m to blame for it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I read the incantation, Hecate. I’m the one that put us in this position. You’re the one who should be angry. You’ve already been forced to spend your life here at Cackle’s. I can’t stand the thought of you being forced to spend it with a fat old crone like me.”

At that, Hecate’s head shot up. “You’re none of those things! How can you say that about yourself?”

Ada cocked her head and took a long look at her own body. “I’m hardly Prudence Goodcast. I can’t blame you for preferring someone younger… or prettier.”

“Is… is that why you encouraged me to… to have a relationship with her? Because you thought you had nothing to offer?”

Ada’s silence was all the answer Hecate needed.

“In what universe does Prudence Goodcast hold a candle to you?”

“You don’t have to…”

Once again, Hecate could hear Miss Bat’s voice in her head. Move forward. You’re allowed. She knew that she – no they – were standing at a crossroads. And it had nothing to do with that ridiculous marriage scroll. “Clearly I do.” She scooted closer, clamping a hand over Ada’s when she tried to pull it away. “You don’t think I could find you attractive? You couldn’t be more wrong. Your eyes are the perfect shade of blue – like the sky on a summer day. And when those eyes look at me, they see me, like no one else ever has. I love the way the corners crinkle when you smile and the way your smile is different when you’re smiling at me.” She watched as those eyes filled with tears.

Hecate remembered the first time she’d noticed Ada’s body. They’d been walking in the woods and Ada had spotted a raven’s feather caught in the crook of a tree. Determined to get it for the potion’s lab, she’d stood on her tiptoes, reaching overhead to grasp the feather. The movement pulled her chambray shirt tight across her chest, revealing the heavy curve of a breast as she stretched. It had only lasted a few seconds before Ada was standing in front of her, twirling the feather between agile fingers, but Hecate saw it every night for a fortnight as she lay in bed trying vainly to sleep.

She remembered the Solstice dance, where Ada’s curves and cleavage were deliciously on display.

“I love your curves and your softness. All my life I’ve only known angles and sharpness. Rigidity. Then you came along in your dark jeans and leather jacket, and you were so... alive and free – despite the fact that you felt just as trapped here as I did. Now, it’s years later and perhaps the jeans have been replaced with slacks and you wear jumpers instead of the leather jacket. Still, when you move, I can scarcely stop from staring. You make me feel safe, Ada Cackle. Safe from my fears, my shortcomings... my own hardness. I feel free when I’m with you. I always have done. I don’t know how else to say it, Ada, but you are the most beautiful thing in the world to me. And I’m terrified of losing you.”

For a second, when Ada pulled her hand free, Hecate feared she’d said too much. Then Ada’s arms were around her, nearly squeezing the breath from her lungs.

“You won’t lose me, Hecate. I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

They stayed that way for what felt like hours. Finally, Ada pulled away. “I am truly sorry for how I reacted. I just can’t stand the thought of this being something we were forced into.”

“I know. But if it had to happen, at least it’s with you.”

“True. You could be married to Geraldine Gullet.”

Hecate’s face twisted in mock-horror. “That would be… oh, that would be awful.” She leaned against Ada. “What are we going to do?”

“Mother was calling the Great Witch when I left. Hopefully, they’ll have figured something out. If not,” she lifted a shoulder. “Well, if not, then we will. Together.”

#hackle summer trope challenge #hackle #Hecate Hardbroom #Ada Cackle #moving forward

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

from eden | myg + jhs

you've been in the dark a long time, overworked and exhausted. the only bright point is your gatekeeper, hoseok, your closest friend and the man you love but can't have. you've accepted that loneliness is inevitable for you. when a voice calls to you, though, and moves you so deeply that you rip open the earth to help them, you meet a mint-haired boy that changes everything you thought you knew about your prison. | monsters and gods pt 1 (masterlist)

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

genre/warnings | greek god au, hades!reader, thanatos!hoseok, persephone!yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, mild depictions of violence, mentions of blood (well, blood equivalent, bc gods), pining, depictions of abusive parenting, v v brief panic attack (seriously, I don’t go into a ton of detail, but it’s enough, pls don’t read this if that triggers you at all), love triangle (kind of), polyamory, , mutual masturbation, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, fingering, dick-riding, double penetration, unprotected sex (gods can't get sti's but u can! Wrap it b4 u tap it!), creampie, everyone hates Zeus but what's new, demeter sucks and is the literal worst

word count | 15.6k | cross posted to ao3 monsters and gods masterlis

a/n | hello! i’ve renamed this fic at least ten times, but it’s here!! the first part of monsters and gods!!! i keep seeing hades!yoongi (who i LOVE, don’t get me wrong, seriously you should check out @/seokoloqy’s hades yoongi fics because they’re PHENOM) and while I love hades yoongs, I also keep seeing him in flower crowns and being soft and sweet and, as we know by now, I am ultimately a slut for soft bangtan. so this happened. and then i thought ‘wow this mc is dark af i need some contrast here’ and that’s how thanatos hobi happened, also i couldn’t stop thinking of his Judgement Face, which is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and how fast he switches between that and his smile, plus.....sope, I mean. c’mon. sope. and then it all kinda spiraled into a whole series of fics, only one other of which is even started tho its close to being finished whoops lmao so yeah!!!! pls tell me what u think, i’m not used to writing angst at all, so it may not be suuuuuuper prevalent in this, but i tried!!! also i really recommend listening to hozier while you read it bc i had his first album on repeat while writing it and from eden fits this pretty well imo!!!

It's dark when you open your eyes. You've spent so long down here, you're used to it, but the shadows always seem to make the air colder than it should be. Though you suppose the land of the dead isn't supposed to be warm.

You stretch and wince at the crick in your spine. Another night sitting at your desk, greek fire burning through the hours so that you can scratch away at the papers in front of you. Your siblings always enjoy doing whatever they want, using mortals and throwing them away however they please, cleaning up after each other whenever they can spare the time.

No one ever seems to think about you, nor do they remember the chaos up top only worsens your constant migraines.

No, instead they start their wars and slaughter their enemies and are absolutely oblivious about the fact that the Meadow is at 80% capacity as it is, with more souls arriving each day. Thanatos did well at his job, as did Charon, and you were always sure to be thankful to them, but you wish, not for the first time, that there was someone - anyone - to help with your work.

Your brothers have the naiads, the winds, and the lesser gods to help them with their oceans and skies. Gods of vengeance and retribution help with war, while the fertility goddesses and the muses aid the lovelorn.

And yet here you are, still alone after all these years. Millenia, you've been stuck down here, forced to live out your days in the cold darkness and manage the dead mortals. You've always been introverted, even before you drew lots with your siblings, but never like this. You've tried to leave, of course; at first making short visits to Olympus or the mortal realm, just to speak to another living soul again, someone else who understands what it's like to be trapped in your own life. It seems like every time you came back, though, the underworld had gotten smaller and smaller, nearly suffocating you in an attempt to keep its claws in your skin. And then, of course, came the curse.

You haven't felt the sun on your skin in nearly a thousand years, and while you've always been one for the shade, you miss it. You miss the smell of the flowers in the temples, you miss the sound of the river as it babbles past, you want to feel the warm summer breeze ruffle your hair as you stand in the middle of a marketplace. You're tired of the Fields, you're bored of walking the streets of Elysium with the weight of their stares at your back, sick of standing at the steps to the Isles and wondering if it is, truly, euphoric and if any mortal would ever find out. You don't wear your sandals around the palace anymore; you don't want to hear the footsteps echo. It's just a reminder that you are, truly, alone.

Even the other deities in the Underworld have stopped calling on you. The aura that surrounds you is enough to wilt most any plant, unnerve most every animal, and the gods are no exception. The only exceptions are Hecate, who makes it her personal mission to bribe you into visiting the Meadow if only for a moment, and Thanatos when he can slip away for longer than a moment to distract you from your work. They rarely succeed, but it's the thought that counts, you suppose.

You muse on this as you walk, bare feet skimming lightly over the soil of the Meadow as you make your way to the Gates. You could probably just shadow-walk, if you wanted, you do enjoy giving your Thanatos a fright, but you figure the walk would do you good. There’s no one to bother you as go, thankfully. The dead wander aimlessly around you. There's no acknowledgment as you pass; there's never any recognition of anything in the Meadow, the price mortals pay for being so utterly inconsequential and mundane.

You smile when you see that your friend is busy, and you give a silent command to Cerberus not to alert the man to your presence. The dog whines a little, but sits back on his haunches, shaking the ground as he does so. You're silent as you move up behind the judge.

"You wanted me to tell you my judgment and I have," Hoseok says firmly. "You could have gone straight to the Asphodel Meadow and existed in relative peace for eternity, and instead you request a hearing, and then have the gall to question my decision?" You grimace slightly; perhaps putting Hoseok in charge of judging the souls was not the best idea, but he has yet to be wrong about someone.

"Please, sir," The mortal whimpers. He's on his knees, suit crumpled and dirty where he sits. "I was only doing what I thought was best, please, surely that matters."

"You used children!" Hoseok says in shock. "As slaves! It's 2019 and you had nearly a hundred seven-year-olds sewing clothes together in a cramped warehouse with one bathroom. You seriously expect me to give you leniency because you thought that was best?"

"Their families would have starved without that money," The mortal says. He's on the verge of tears, which has always made you uncomfortable, so you stay hidden for now. "I kept them all fed and safe, didn't I? What would they have done without me? Gone to work in some factory, with dangerous machines and cruel managers, whipped every time they needed to eat?"

"You used children as nearly free labor, barely allowed them time to piss, fed them once every twelve hours, and you expect that to be okay because they could’ve had it worse," Hoseok says. Disgust drips from his voice and you’re inclined to agree with the sentiment. "I respect your opinion, but you are to be punished for your deeds fittingly." Hoseok snaps and two of the Bones come over. These two are in desert camo, one barely tall enough to be an adult judging by the skeletal build, but their grip is unforgiving as they cart the mortal off to the Fields. You don’t even need to mold together a punishment for him; the warehouse you sent others who’d done the same wasn’t quite crowded enough yet.

"Well, that was fun," You call, and delight at the way Hoseok jumps nearly a foot in the air. He glares at you as he turns and you don't bother to hide the smirk on your face. "Child slavery, huh? In this day and age?"

Hoseok tsks. "I know we used to allow some crazy shit back in the old days, but you'd think that people would know better by now. Using children like that, kids…” He trails off, still fuming, and you nod.

“I know.” You pull a piece of lint off his suit with a wrinkle of your nose. “You made the right decision if it helps.”

“I know I did,” He says with a smirk. “I always do.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, watching the lines of souls head through the gates to their eternal blandness. It's the best way to hide the flush he brings to your cheeks. “What brings you out here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be doing something important?”

“Don’t I wish,” You mutter. “All I’ve got to do is figure out how to expand the realm again without Zeus’ approval.”

“Wait, he didn’t approve the expansion?” You shake your head and step closer to where Cerberus is laying, all three heads focused entirely on you as you rub his middle nose. “Where does he think we’re going to put all of the souls, up your ass?”

“Clearly,” You spit.

“I know it’s not exactly great down here and that they would all rather be thrown into the Pit than visit, but they need to sometimes. If only to see what it’s like. I mean, honestly, what do they expect us to do, just toss everyone in the Meadow and call it a day until there are so many that they’re tripping into Elysium? What the f-”

“Thanatos,” You say quietly, and Hoseok stops. It’s not often that you call him by his title rather than his name, preferring the familiarity of his friendship over the detachment of your positions. “Even here, the gods have ears. You know better than to criticize them like that.”

He huffs but nods his head. You press a kiss to Cerb’s middle nose and coo at him until he starts wagging his tail. When you turn back around, Hoseok is stumbling to keep his balance on the shaking ground. You laugh, which he does not appreciate, but before he can say anything in his defense, another soul is escorted to him by a Bones. The guy is already pleading with Hoseok, who’s returned to the stony mask he usually wears. The silver aura that surrounds him always brings you comfort, reminding you of the moonlight that bathes the surface world, but it has turned colder and is as deadly as mercury. You envy the way he can switch back and forth between his professional mask and the bright, loving man you know; if only it were that easy for you. Without so much as a wave, you weave the shadows around you once more, ignoring the soul's cries to you for mercy, and let yourself disappear into the darkness.

When you emerge from the shadows, you settle at the base of your garden tree. The only living thing that would grow down here, the sole reminder of the world above. Its branches show that it should be close to the harvest soon, maybe a month away at the most. You reach up, weaving through the darkness to pluck a pomegranate from the tree. You don't even like pomegranates anymore, you think as you inspect it. Ripe, juicy, and utterly disgusting; the gods' idea of a joke. The thing that brought about your isolation, your solitude, yet it continues to be the only thing that grows in this wasteland.

You laugh bitterly before tossing the fruit up in the air, letting it fly through the shadows to land beside Hoseok, whatever he's doing. He always appreciates your little gifts, the only real thing you can do to show that you aren't cross with him and are glad for the work he does. He's long been stuck here with you, but the fruit doesn't turn to bile on his tongue the way it does yours. Perhaps the willingness he had that first time made a difference.

Please.

You glance around, looking for the voice that suddenly echoes around you. It's soft, a memory of a whisper. It's not rare for you to hear the voices of the dead in your realm, but this is different. This one strikes you to your core, for this…

This one sounds hopeful.

The prayers that make their way to you are never hopeful. They are sad or angry or scared, always filled with tears and regret and more than a little hesitancy, but never do they have any shred of hope in them.

You stand, eyes narrowed as you look through the darkness for whatever soul may be calling to you.

Please. I don't want to go back. Don't let her take me.

Without thinking, you reach into the shadows. The blackness swirls around your fingers, unsure where you're trying to go. You don't know yourself, and you wish you did. You aren't sure why you're doing this; you rarely answer prayers, least of all the ones that don't mention you specifically, but something in this voice calls to you. It resonates in your chest, shakes your very being because you remember that feeling. You remember the way it felt to be free, standing in the sun and clawing at the earth as Gaia dragged you back down to your post, tears mixing with the dirt as you pleaded, begged her not to take you back down there.

With a jerk, you pull the shadows apart, and the ground quakes above you. You watch, anxiety pooling in your gut, and it's only the intensity of your focus that lets you see it: a figure, falling limply through the earth that you've opened. The string of curses you let out would make even Ares blush, and it's with a rush you haven't felt in millennia that you weave the shadows together into a net and toss it upwards. The figure falls into it with ease, shadows wrapping around the body to glide gently downwards until they can deposit the person with ease at the roots of your tree.

Your breath catches in your throat as the darkness recedes, revealing soft mint hair with flowers woven into it, pale green robes that are sliced nearly in half at the back and caked with mud. The man is beautiful and soft and bright, every inch the antithesis to your own black and grey clothes. You hesitate to even look at him, too afraid of dulling that sun-kissed skin with the death you carry on your fingertips.

His brow furrows and he winces, though his eyes remain closed. You blink owlishly before guiding the shadows around him once more; when you're sure he's secure, you pull him along behind you until you reach the only spare room you have in the palace. You situate him on the bed there, fluffing pillows and smoothing blankets until you can almost pretend he fell asleep there of his own accord. With pursed lips, you assign three of your Bones to watch him; one just inside the door and two outside of it, just in case whatever he was running from attempts to come for him.

You don't want to leave him, but you have work to do, and the land of the dead cannot rule itself.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. There is Greek fire in the corner, and shadows dancing on the walls around it, but he cannot make out much else. When he sits up and slides his feet off what feels like a bed, he hisses. The marble is cold and unforgiving against the bare skin of his feet and he doesn't know of any feeling like it. He's too accustomed to the dirt and grass from his mother's domain, and even the white marble of Olympus was warm to the touch. This is different. Alarming. New.

He eventually works up the nerve to stand fully. Looking around, he doesn't see any kind of light sources other than the brazier in the corner, so he grips one of the coals in his palm and uses that bit of light to find the door. The fire tingles against his skin, but he's long since grown used to holding fire in his palms for his mother. The warmth is comforting for a brief moment before the image of his mother flashes through his mind. He flinches at the memory of her face, twisted with wrath, and the stone drops out of his grip before he can catch it.

The marble of the wall is cool against his back as he slides to the ground, knees brought up to his chest and his eyes screwed shut against the darkness. There's a vice around his chest and he can't breathe and he can't see and he doesn't have any idea where he is or if he's even alive or if she's stuffed him somewhere he'll never be able to escape and the thought makes his head spin as the air catches in his throat and gods don't even truly need to breathe and yet he can feel the cold claws of death tighten around his throat and all he can see in his final moments is the horrifying face of his mother's anger and he can feel the vines and roots around his ankles once more and-

"Who the hell are you?"

He looks up, pushing the sweat-covered hair out of his eyes. There's a man, in the darkness, who exudes a faint silver light around him that illuminates the walls and black marble floor. The man doesn't seem angry that he's there, or even all that surprised; just curiously resigned. There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so much he wants - needs - to know but only one makes it past the rock lodged in his windpipe.

"Am I dead?"

The man frowns and shakes his head. "I seriously doubt it, since you didn't cross the river." The man looks him over, taking in the flushed skin and sweat beads and the purple robes he donned the moment he decided to run and seems to decide something. He crouches down so he's eye level, poised on the balls of his feet with his elbows on his knees, and even in a full suit, he looks impeccably put-together. "I'm Thanatos. You can call me Hoseok. If you'll let me, I'd like to take you to someone who probably has a better idea of what you're doing here." All he can do is nod, and Hoseok extends a hand, which he uses to bring himself to a shaky stand.

"I'm Yoongi," He says, hesitant and quiet. "Um, I'm Kore. Or, Persephone. Either one."

"I think I'll stick with Yoongi," Hoseok says. His smile lights the hallway that Yoongi stands in, and it eases something inside him, though he isn't sure what. Hoseok doesn't let go of his hand as he guides Yoongi through the corridors, and talks to him the entire time. He speaks of his duties there, souls he's judged that day, ones he wished he could do more for, comforts Yoongi when a walking skeleton in Roman armor passes him and explains that those are the security force of the palace. By the time they make it to a large room, lit on each side with braziers of Greek fire that give the room an eerie glow, Yoongi has a fairly good idea of where he is, and who Hoseok is taking him to see.

The large ebony throne at the end of the room and the black-robed figure sitting atop it only confirms his fears.

When Hoseok enters the throne room, you're only slightly surprised. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to take a break from his judicial duties, and so long as there were plenty of Bones to watch the gates, you had no issues. Years would sometimes pass before Hoseok needed to return, relieving the judgment council once more and returning them to their own afterlives.

To see him shadowed by the mint-haired boy you pulled through the earth, however, is a shock.

You set the papers you'd been writing at to the side. Your robes, woven from shadows and dipped in the Styx, swirl around your bare feet as you move to sit correctly with your back straight instead of lounging as you'd been doing before. The darkness you’d brought forth to cushion your chair, plump and fat and soft underneath you, shifts as well, keeping the hard edge of the marble from digging into your skin. Hoseok stifles a smile at the sight and you narrow your eyes at him. You wish he'd say something about it, the punk.

"What can I do for you, Hoseok?" You eventually ask as he and his companion reach the steps just below your throne. Even now, you can barely bring your eyes away from the boy behind him; he's radiant, the light in the room seemingly drawn to him despite the way he's slouched into himself.

"I was just wondering if you knew how this young man came to be in the underworld, my lady," Hoseok says. Your eyes dart back to him and you can't help the way your heart softens at the soft silver shine around him. You look to the mint-haired god again; his eyes dart around nervously as if he expects something to jump out at him, and he's close enough to Hoseok that if the other were to step back, they'd both likely fall to the floor.

You lean forward in your throne, doing your best to project a calm and friendly air to the shorter of the two gods. "Do you not remember?" You ask quietly. Your eyes don't leave his big brown ones, and you can see the moment the panic sets in. "It's fine, you don't need to answer me. Just know that you're safe here."

"Yoongi?" Hoseok says quietly, drawing the boy's attention. "Hey, it's alright. We're not gonna let anything happen." It takes several minutes but eventually the boy - Yoongi, apparently - nods. He hasn't relaxed at all, but he doesn't seem like he's about to bolt out of your throne room, so you consider it a success.

"You were praying," You tell him softly. "You asked for my help, so I gave it, as best I could. I don't think you meant for your words to reach me, but they did." Yoongi frowns ever so slightly as he takes in the knowledge. There's a hint of anxiety in his face, his brow furrowed adorably, but he doesn't startle when Hoseok rests a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, though, and the two of them seem to have a silent conversation. Something settles in your stomach, seeing the ease with which Hoseok interacts with him, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. It's ridiculous to feel anything like this; Hoseok is your subordinate and friend, and you've hardly known Yoongi for five minutes.

"He can stay here, right?" Hoseok asks. You look to Yoongi, wondering if he even wants to stay, if he even wants to be here at all or if he wished someone else had answered his prayers. Hoseok calls your name softly and your gaze flicks to him. "Can he stay?"

You find that you're debating with yourself. Yoongi clearly doesn't belong here; he is soft and sweet and gentle and completely at odds with the harsh, depressive atmosphere that lingers in your palace. He looks terrified even now as he takes in the room, eyes lingering on the bones that were fused together to make your throne. And yet...you cannot escape the fear and hope that had echoed in his prayer, the sheer desperation that someone would help him. He had been running and terrified, which could only mean that he was being chased by something or someone, and you couldn't force him out if he was in danger.

"If you would like to stay," You say after a moment too long, "Then you are, of course, more than welcome to do so." You rise from your throne, shadows dissipating as you do, and take a couple of tentative steps toward the pair. He doesn't shrink back in fear, which you take as a good sign. "The guest quarters will be yours to do with as you please. Hoseok can show you around the palace and grounds, so you don't get lost, and the Bones can bring you anything you require." You move to press a hand to Hoseok's arm, and you level him with a careful look.

"Of course, my lady," Hoseok says. He turns to Yoongi with a radiant smile. "And you can leave whenever you'd like."

"Of course," You agree quickly. "Hoseok can take you back and forth across the river as you wish. Charon can be quite fussy about it." Several times, your guests have been stuck on the wrong side of the river until someone brought your ferryman his payment. Yoongi looks slightly less terrified, and in the emerald glow of the fires, you notice how wide his eyes are. "Oh! You're from the surface, of course, I forgot."

With a snap of your fingers, the sconces along the walls light themselves, and the candles ringing the large chandelier in the center of your throne room surge to life as well. Yoongi startles a little, stepping closer to Hoseok.

"Ah, I forget you surfacers can't see as well down here," Hoseok mutters. "We'll get you a candlestick as well, just in case." He nods to you, Yoongi copying him in a most adorable way. They're halfway out of the room when a thought occurs to you.

"Yoongi?" You call after him. He turns, and the green halo around him makes your heart falter. "Don't eat the pomegranates. Not even the seeds." His brow furrows in confusion but he gives a hesitant nod before he turns and hurries after Hoseok.

As much as your chest aches for him, you won't subject him to this life. You watch him go and wonder how long he'll last in this hellscape.

When their shadows have long disappeared from the walls, you turn and retake your seat on the throne. With a wave, a small team of Bones appears in front of you - the same uniforms, with the same unit numbers, stamped on their dog tags, and the same haunted look where their eyes once were - and you do a quick count. Ten should do fine for what you need.

"Scour the earth. Do not speak to anyone. Find out what he was running from, and if it still searches for him. Don't let anyone see you, and don't let anyone know why you're looking. Return if you're in danger. Report to me immediately." They salute, and you watch their forms slowly disappear, becoming more and more transparent until they glide upwards and through the cracks in the ceiling.

You sit back and wonder how long it will take for you to get answers, and if it will be before or after Yoongi realizes he's too good for this place.

Yoongi is quiet. That's the first thing Hoseok notices about him. He doesn't initiate conversation, really, instead content to listen to Hoseok talk about the various souls he's judged and the occasional escape attempts someone has made. At first, when Yoongi speaks, he's quiet, like he doesn't really want - or expect - to be heard, and he always looks pleasantly surprised when Hoseok answers his question or responds to his comments.

It makes his heart ache, and he wonders what exactly Yoongi has gone through to make him so shocked that anyone would actually listen to what he has to say. It takes weeks for him to warm enough to Hoseok to start speaking more often, to ask questions about his day, to actually request specific things. The day Yoongi asked Hoseok, soft and hesitant, if he could show him the Meadow and the tree, Hoseok almost cried. Yoongi was so obviously ready to be told no, fully expectant for Hoseok to decline such a simple request, and it only reinforced Hoseok's need to give the god everything he could ever want.

"What are you doing, Yoongi?" Hoseok asks when he looks up. They're at the gates, Hoseok in the usual position, eyes roving over the lines of souls slowly shuffling forward, and Yoongi sitting nearby. Cerberus is curled up behind him, dwarfing the god with his massive body, all three heads snoring and slobbering as they sleep haphazardly on top of each other. Yoongi glances up at Hoseok as he grabs another flower from the basket beside him.

"I'm making Cerb some flower crowns," Yoongi answers as if it was obvious. Hoseok frowns.

"Flower crowns?" He echoes. "What's a flower crown?"

Yoongi gives him a disbelieving stare. "It's a bath salt. What the fuck do you think it is, Hobi? It's a crown made of flowers." Hoseok is caught off guard by the sarcasm, as he has been every time Yoongi has spouted off some kind of sass to him. He strides over and crouches beside the mint god to watch him.

Yoongi's fingers are sure and steady as he weaves the stems of the flowers together. It's already half-dozen, Hoseok thinks, the crocus blossoms blending together prettily and not straying in the slightest from where he places them. Hoseok hasn't ever seen anything like it, and he's entranced by the way Yoongi's fingers move and the way the flowers seem to just do whatever he wants without much coaxing on his part.

"I had the Bones bring me back a basket from their last excursion," Yoongi says. "Since none grow here." He stops with one last crocus and eyes it critically before apparently deciding it was good enough. Hoseok can't take his eyes off the thing, enraptured even as Yoongi sets it gently on his head. Hoseok can feel his eyes widen and his cheeks flush red.

"Thanks," He says after a second, one hand darting up to steady the crown as he shifts his weight. He smiles, unable to help himself and poses. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

"Ugh, you wish," Yoongi says. Hoseok can see the smile in his eyes and is satisfied with the mirth threatening to bubble past Yoongi's lips.

"Y'know," Hoseok says after a while, hands in his pockets as he watches Yoongi make the second crown for Cerb. "I bet if you planted some seeds near the pomegranate tree, they'd grow." Yoongi's hands stop moving, his eyes drifting up to look past Hoseok. Something similar to excitement hides behind his eyes, and Hoseok wants nothing more than to bring it out to shine. Yoongi cocks a brow as if to say 'really' and Hoseok nods.

The gummy smile he gets in return, full of hope and light that the underworld hasn't ever seen before, is well worth the potential scolding you may give him for suggesting Yoongi fiddle with the tree's courtyard. And the way he keeps the flower crown nearby, hanging off a hook on the gates long after the blossoms have wilted and died, is worth the shy smile Yoongi gets every time he sees it.

You don't see Yoongi for the first few weeks he's there. Not really. You catch glimpses when he passes through the palace halls with Hoseok, and he sits with Cerberus while you visit Hoseok at the gates, but he makes no effort to seek you out, and you respect that distance. You can't bring yourself to force your company on him. You're an acquired taste; Hoseok has been in this realm for so long that he's accustomed to the darkness that follows you, the aura of death and despair that usually surrounds you. He's been surrounded by the dead almost as long as you have, so you know he can't be affected by it. Yoongi, though…

Yoongi is life. He's the springtime blossoms in a summer breeze, he's the sound of birds chirping in the treetops, he's vibrant and fresh and lovely and you cannot ruin that. You can't watch him wither away like a winter garden, you can't watch the color drain from his skin until he's just as much a ghost as the souls that wander the Meadow, you can't let him become just as dead as everything else in this cursed place.

So you leave him be. You offer curt nods when you see him with Hoseok and polite waves because giving any more of yourself to him without letting yourself get closer would be too dangerous. Even with the distance you keep, your chest tightens with every smile that graces his lips, you ache to hear his voice even just once, and it's too much. It's too much for someone you haven't even had a real conversation with. Someone who looks at you with apprehension and anxiety, yet brings undeniable joy to the man you've always held in your heart.

It's too much for you to feel like this for someone who makes Hoseok smile as if he's seeing sunlight for the first time in thousands of years. You love Hoseok too much to stand anywhere near them.

You've been avoiding both of them for days. You can't bear to see Yoongi's gummy smile and Hoseok's adorable dimples as they gaze at each other, and you're busy enough to make a decent excuse for it. Expansion isn't difficult, but keeping it quiet is. Plus you've been on the hunt to figure out what had been after Yoongi with such ferocity that it sliced right through his robes and had him praying to anyone who would listen.

You had a few helpful leads, but nothing concrete, and it was more than a little frustrating. Which is why you find yourself stepping out of the shadows of the pomegranate tree, hopeful that it could help to ease even just part of the emotions rolling in your gut.

The sight of Yoongi surprises you, even more so when you see that he's on his knees beside the tree with dirt covering his hands and a smidge of something on his cheek. He looks absolutely wondrous, like everything you've been missing from the world above, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you let it because he's so far out of your reach.

"Hi," You say after a long debate with yourself. Yoongi's head shoots up and he fixes wide eyes on you. He reminds you of the ones who come to you with no memory of what's happened to them, scared and alone and about to get the worst news of their lives. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," He says immediately. "I didn't mean to, not really. You just said not to eat them, and I'm not, so I thought it would be okay. Hobi suggested it and you two are so close that I figured he'd know if you'd be upset."

"I'm not upset." Your voice is as gentle as you can make it. "I'm just curious. Hoseok didn't mention anything to me, and no one really comes here."

"Oh." The relief is palpable as it courses through him, and he looks back down at the ground in front of him. "I'm just planting some flowers so I can make more crowns for Hobi and Cerb. The others died so fast, and I don't want to keep sending the Bones out to get more if I don't have to."

"Oh, you made the flower crown for Hoseok?" You'd figured as much. No one else in the underworld knew how to make them, and Yoongi was the only consistently around him. "He showed me that, it was gorgeous."

"Obviously, it was made by me, after all," Yoongi spouts. You gape at him, and he gives you a contrite grimace. "I'm sorry, my lady Hades, I forgot who I was with for a moment. It won't happen again."

"It should," You say before you can stop yourself. He glances at you curiously. "I don't mind if you're relaxed and casual around me. I've never been one to enforce the rules that Olympus has. Hoseok is proof enough of that. And you can use my name, I don't mind."

The way he whispers your name, almost as if he's practicing it to himself, makes your heart flutter in your chest. It's so dangerous to be around him like this, relaxed and casual; it's so easy to forget that it's Hoseok that gets this, that deserves this small piece of sunshine.

"Well," Yoongi eventually says. "In that case, you can get to work. I've got an entire basket of seeds left to plant around this thing, and I can only work so fast. Plus I'm getting hungry."

"Oh. Okay, show me what to do." You don't hesitate to mirror his position, robes bunching under your knees in the dirt as he points at the small holes he's carved out of the dirt with the trowel and rake the Bones nabbed for him.

Yoongi is patient, you learn. Not extremely so, but he walks you through what you need to do with clear directions. The seeds are small in your hands, which amuses you to no end, and there's an odd delight in packing the soil around them and dripping water down onto them after. You're smiling for the first time in...you don't know how long, and the feeling of Yoongi's hands around yours as he shows you how to use the trowel is something akin to paradise.

His hands are rough; calloused and weathered and wonderful against the softness of your own. You start to talk freely to him, asking him about each seed you plant and what they are and how they look. He tells you about each one, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. He rolls his eyes at every joke you make, despite the way he smiles, and hits back with several quips of his own. He listens as you tell him, voice shaking, about the pomegranate tree, and how it curses anyone who eats its fruit to stay trapped in the underworld forevermore. He talks and listens and jokes and laughs and it's only after you've made a particularly ridiculous joke that you realize your mistake.

"You've spent too much time around Hobi," Yoongi says. "He made the same joke yesterday." He's looking down at the last few seeds, plotting where in the courtyard to put them, and doesn't see the way the smile dies on your face. You'd forgotten. For a brief time, you'd forgotten that this is just pretending.

You don't get to keep this. You don't get to stay here, in this courtyard, with Yoongi and his rough hands and the mint hair that falls in his eyes and his gummy smile. This isn't yours. You don't get flower crowns and jokes and soft kisses, no matter how much you want them, just like you don't get Hoseok's bright grin or his dimples or his long fingers intertwined with yours. Your heart aches for these two beautiful boys, both of them everything you could ever want in so many different ways. And yet you have neither of them, you don't get either of them. They are each other's, and there is no room there for the death you bring in your wake. You kill everything you touch; the mortals whisper about the cold grip of your hands on their neck as they pass over.

You look back over the seeds you've helped Yoongi plant and wonder how many you've killed before they even lived.

You stand and brush the dirt off your robes. "Well," You say, careful to keep your voice level. "I've got some things to do. I trust you'll be alright on your own." You can't bring yourself to look at Yoongi, can't bear to see the dirt that smudged along his cheek, can't stand to see the way the orange robes drape along him and remind you of the way the autumn leaves looked coating the grass in the meadows.

He doesn't even get a response out before you flee, but you feel his eyes on your back long after you've hidden in the shadows and sunk down onto your bed.

It's astounding, you think as you rinse the dirt off your hands later, how a single afternoon planting seeds with someone can be so detrimental to the walls you'd put around your heart. Tears blur your vision and your fingers are trembling, but you keep scrubbing until the phantom slide of his hands against yours is gone and there is no more evidence of the planting you'd done. When you finally stop, your skin is raw and throbbing, and there are tears running down your face.

You had long accepted that Hoseok could never be yours. You were in two different positions, and he was much too bright to want to be with someone like you. Your shadows would have suffocated him, so you resigned yourself to being his friend. Friend is safe. Friend is good.

You’d known the same when you met Yoongi. Bright and colorful amidst the darkness of the underworld, you wouldn’t dare to get any closer to him, too familiar with the fluttering of your chest and the jumping in your stomach every time you saw him. Just being friendly was enough, ensuring he is safe and happy is fine with you.

But this? Watching the two of them grow closer and closer, able to love each other so wholly while you stand alone in your darkness, watching their bright smiles and soft looks, all directed only at each other, for eternity? This was too much for you to bear. Being hopelessly in love with one man you can’t have is bad enough, but two of them…

You wish for the first time that you were not immortal, but a meager human upon the surface, unaware and blissful in your ignorance.

He never expected this. Not from the moment he woke up, not when he was sprinting through a forest to escape his mother, not for a single heartbeat could he ever imagined everything that has happened to him since he arrived in this cold land.

He’s been alone for so long, hidden away in his mother’s garden with only the rare visit from Artemis or Hestia as he learned how to do anything and everything his mother wished. He’s never had friends before, he’s never had the subtle inside jokes that he shares with Hoseok, familiar enough that even just a quick glance can have them both bursting with laughter. He’s never known a goddess like you, able to weave together the darkness into something tangible, something useful, something real. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen, and Hoseok’s uncanny ability to bend the environment around him and use his silvery aura to turn almost invisible to the naked eye never ceases to amaze him. The two of you are so powerful, so utterly awe-inspiring, and every single thing his mother had told him is so far from the truth that it almost hurts.

Neither you nor Hoseok is standoffish, really; he can see the hesitant friendship in every smile you send his way, and Hoseok’s primary concern at any moment is making sure he’s happy and safe. It warms Yoongi in a way he could never explain, not even in a million years, simply because he’s never felt this way. In all the books he’s read, the plays he’s seen, every mortal he’s watched, he’s seen this.

He’s seen how they turn red with just a look, how their hearts stutter when hands brush, how they smile, soft and private when they think no one is looking at them. He’s seen this feeling, the bubbling in his chest that he gets every time Hoseok laces their fingers together while walking and the moment you step into the courtyard and see the kaleidoscope of colors that you helped plant. He never would have guessed that he would feel it, though, too isolated from the rest of the world until he came here. Until you pulled apart the earth itself to help him escape, without even knowing why or who he was.

The feeling grows inside of him, thorns pricking into his every breath because he knows it can’t last. He’s seen how you and Hoseok look at each other when you think no one is watching, can feel the pull between you and the years upon years of familiarity that lie between you. The two of you are closer than he could ever get, two sides of the same coin, and more suited to each other than he would ever be.

And he can’t stay.

That’s the worst part. He knows it, knows that she will find him before long and wrap her claws around his throat and drag him back into that gilded cage she calls a greenhouse just to leave him. It’s for the best, my dear, she’ll say, it’s to keep you safe.

Yoongi doesn’t want to be safe, though. He wants to be happy and free, and he’s found that place here, surrounded by death even as he carves out his own little area of life. With Hoseok’s warm grin across from him and your own cool fondness beside him. With flower crowns atop his head and Hoseok’s, and the small buds are woven into your own crown of bones and grief as a small reminder that even in death, there is life.

But she will find him. She always does. And though he cannot bear the thought of leaving you, he will, if only to keep you safe.

Yoongi's been there almost a year when you summon Hoseok to dine with you. By the time he gets to your office - a very understated term for the sprawling library - you're already sitting at your usual desk, food pushed aside and forgotten in lieu of the papers stacked in front of you. Even with your head bent low and bags under your eyes, you're the most beautiful person Hoseok has ever seen.

He remembers the first time he met you when Zeus had assigned him to be the gatekeeper for the underworld. You were so young, so skittish and worried that you were going to be a terrible ruler as if the dead could be disappointed in you. You'd been beautiful then, too, but not in the same way. You've grown into yourself since then; you're no longer afraid of being a bad queen. You know that you're competent and capable, you know you can do this, and you frequently prove wrong any Olympian who says otherwise. You're mature now; strong and confident and brilliant, and even with the bags under your eyes and the shadows that lick lovingly against your skin, you are absolutely radiant.

Hoseok is so in love with you that it physically hurts him, and every time he looks at you, he is reminded of how you are just out of his reach.

He clears his throat and you look up. The tired smile that graces your face warms him, and he settles into a chair on your left with practiced ease. This isn't the first time you've asked him to dine with you, and it won't be the last.

"What's the occasion?" He teases, delighting in the way you roll your eyes and gesture to the food and nectar that sits in front of him.

"How is Yoongi?" You ask. It doesn't escape him that you don't answer, but you always have your reasons, so he doesn't call you on it.

"Well. He wanders around on his own and doesn't seem to jump at the slightest sound anymore. He came with me the other day when I judged and managed to pick fifteen people for Elysium in a row." An expression passes over your face that he can't decipher. He continues anyway. "He still won't talk much about what happened, but he also doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave. I imagine he'll get bored eventually, and we'll need to give Cerb extra treats when he does, but I'm not concerned just yet."

You nod and Hoseok starts to eat as you rifle through a few more papers. "You know he's Persephone?" You ask, and Hoseok nods. He'd forgotten to share that knowledge with you, but clearly, you had your own way of finding things out. "So then you're aware that his mother is Demeter."

Hoseok pauses for a minute. He swallows the food in his mouth and really looks at you for the first time since he sat down. The bags under your eyes are more prominent, and you're wearing your Hades expression. The one that stays professional and controlled and tells people nothing of your true thoughts. Well, people that haven't known you for more than a thousand years.

"Hoseok, he can't stay here forever," You eventually say. "She's been looking for him everywhere. The humans' crops are ruined, ice and snow have covered the earth, more people are dying than we can hold right now. She won't stop."

"And that means we kick him out?" Hoseok hisses. You close your eyes and he can feel the sigh you're holding back. "You said yourself that he could stay as long as he wants. You can't just rescind that because some wheat goddess is going on a rampage. We still don't know what he was running from, or if it's still out there, and I won't watch him-" He stops, frozen by the way you're pressing your tongue into the side of your cheek. It's the only tell you have and he rarely sees it, because you rarely keep things from him. "What do you know?"

You don't answer, and he repeats the question, louder this time, as he surges out of his chair.

"I was running from her," Yoongi's voice echoes through the library. You and Hoseok both turn to see him standing in the door, and Hoseok's heart swells at the sight. He's in soft, muted pink robes that Hoseok knows he made himself. His cheeks are rounder, and he's no longer curled in on himself. He looks stronger. Confident. Unafraid. "I was running from my mother. That's what you found out, right?" Hoseok looks to you, and the regret in your eyes just confirms it.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi, I was only trying to make sure you were safe, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," Yoongi says as he moves to run his hand along your cheek. "I know." He smiles at you. Hoseok looks between the two of you - Yoongi's hand resting lightly on your cheek and a soft smile on his lips while his eyes crinkle with rare happiness, your own eyes wide and full of what can only be described as pure, unadulterated love - and his stomach rolls violently. Even after all the time Hoseok has spent with you, and with Yoongi, and the times he's entered a room to find the two of you in comfortable silence, he never expected this. He should've, he realizes; the two of you are a perfect match, complementing each other to near perfection, each fault being smoothed over by the other's strengths.

How could he have thought you wouldn't fall in love with Yoongi? Soft, kind Yoongi, who had just enough snark inside of him to make every word out of his mouth an unexpected joy. Yoongi who braids flower crowns with the flowers he's started to grow in the courtyard, surrounding the pomegranate tree with the beautiful blooms. Yoongi, who encourages Hoseok to judge more and more souls, ones that don't request it, who can somehow pick the good people from the bad just by looking.

And how could he have ever expected Yoongi not to fall for you? Strong and intelligent, determined and kind. You who opened your home to him in his most vulnerable moment and never expected anything in return. You who did everything in your power to find what was chasing him, and find a way to stop it. You, with your lonely smile and your bare feet. You, who Hoseok himself has been in love with for tens of thousands of years.

How could he have expected either of you not to fall in love in the months that you have known each other when Hoseok couldn't even stop himself?

“I’ll go back to her,” Yoongi says softly, finally dropping his hand from your cheek and turning the radiant smile on Hoseok. “She’ll have no reason to continue this if I return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Yoongi,” You say immediately. ““You were desperate to get away from her, and...what she almost did to you, that’s unacceptable.”

“Let her rage,” Hoseok agrees. “You’re safe here, no one can get to you without getting through the two of us first, not to mention Cerberus and the Bones. No nature goddess will last in this place, not with our full force around you.”

“Thank you, Hobi, but no. I can’t ask you both to do that, not when it could end so badly for you. You don’t know what she can do, it’s not-”

“You aren’t asking us,” You say. Your voice is as quiet as always, but there’s a firmness there that Hoseok recognizes. It’s usually saved for the throne room when some mortal has been particularly annoying or stubborn, and it’s a shock to see it directed at Yoongi. “We are offering. Let us protect you, Yoongi. At least let me speak with Zeus about this. I may be able to convince him to intervene.”

Yoongi hesitates, the indecision is written all over his face, and Hoseok leans to lace their fingers together. It’s a familiar gesture, done so often to prevent Yoongi from getting lost that it’s second nature at this point.

“Please,” Hoseok pleads when Yoongi looks at him. “Please, Yoongi.”

The reluctant nod is all the confirmation needed. You’re already scribbling out a summons for Hermes to carry to the lord of the gods, and Hoseok is halfway through the halls to reinforce the gates and ensure Cerberus knows his task. He tries not to think about the way Yoongi lingered behind, one hand on your shoulder as he watched you write and the other caressing the flower-riddled braids he’d made earlier that day.

He doesn’t think about it, because in the end, it doesn’t matter. Hoseok is so deeply in love with the two of you, so grossly enamored, that he would go to the end of time itself if it meant keeping the two of you safe and happy. Even if that meant watching you love each other and not him.

“What do you mean, he won’t help?”

You massage your temples without looking up from the letter Zeus had sent back with Hermes. He was, unsurprisingly, not helpful. Hoseok had appeared not long after the messenger had left, and is, also unsurprisingly, irate.

“According to him, he has no dog in this fight, because Yoongi isn’t his son, he’s Demeter’s, and if he were to get involved, he’d side with her since the humans are dying so quickly, which isn’t exactly good for worship numbers.”

“Are you kidding me? He seriously said he’d take her side in this?”

“Not in so many words, but yes. And I get it, Hobi. His job is to keep the peace between everyone in Olympus, and without actually coming here to give me an audience, all he has is Demeter’s side of the story.”

“Which is?”

“That I kidnapped her son and am currently holding him captive in a dungeon down here.”

“That’s absurd. He’s not captive at all, he’s happier here than he ever was up there, and you didn’t kidnap him!” You give a slight nod to show that yes, Hoseok, you’re aware of the truth. “Does he know what she does to him? How she treats him?”

“Hoseok, please,” You mutter. The weight of Zeus’ words is like a blade against your throat and you want nothing more than to help Yoongi. Clearly, the Fates have decided against that. “You know how he is. Do you honestly think he’d care? She has a claim to him, despite what he wants, and unless we find a way to get Zeus down here or go there ourselves, our lord won’t be able to hear any other side of this story.”

“Then we’ll...we’ll go there! We’ll make them listen! You could talk sense into him, make him see that he needs to help.”

“You know I can’t do that, Hobi.” Hoseok flinches, as if just remembering that you are as captive here as the souls you keep. You’re glad, not for the first time, that Death Itself cannot be contained, so that Hoseok, at least, is free to come and go as he pleases. “And before you say it, no, we can’t ask him to go. It isn’t safe. The second he sets foot outside this realm, she’ll pull him back. We’re lucky that he hasn’t already told her where Yoongi is.”

Your statement is punctuated with a muffled thud, and the anxiety that runs through you is mirrored in the look Hoseok gives you. Another thud echoes through the palace, the ground rumbling under your feet, and you stand.

“Where is he?” You ask, already pulling the shadows around you.

“Just past the gate, walking through the Meadow. If we hurry-”

“Go.” You disappear into the blackness, never more glad that Hoseok can sense the living in your land. When you step away from the shadows, Yoongi is there, confusion written across his face and fear in his eyes. “You have to run.”

“No,” He says. “I’m not going to keep running from her. I’m staying here, she can’t take me back.”

“Yoongi, please,” You beg. He’s too vulnerable here, too open, too easily seen with his spring green robes billowing around his feet and flowers woven into a crown atop his head. He takes your hands in his and pulls you close, and you’ve never seen a fire like this in him. It burns hot and strong and it makes your chest ache for what could have been.

“I won’t let her hurt you while I hide away like a coward,” He whispers. His thumb wipes away tears you didn’t know were there, and determination floods through you.

"Please, Yoongi. Let us help you. Let me help you. I-" The words choke in your throat, but Yoongi nods as if they made it out.

"I love you, too." His voice is soft, barely audible over the shaking ground and the deafening sound of hooves slamming into your gates. You feel more than see Hoseok land beside you, and his hand rests on the small of your back without hesitation.

"Take him," You tell Hoseok. "Go to the palace. You'll be safe there. Don't let him leave."

Hoseok's eyes are fire-bright as he wraps an arm around Yoongi's waist. The god's protests fall on dead ears, even as you let your hands brush over the softness of Hoseok's ink black wings. Just one moment, that is all you want, just one single second to pretend.

"I'll see you after, my lady," Hoseok says firmly. You don't have the heart to correct him, nor the time, so you just nod. Yoongi's screams echo in your ears even as you turn, the blackness that lingers at every corner of your realm swirling around your feet and ready to be whatever you need. You let one last year fall from your eyes as the gates crumple, and the furious eyes of Demeter fixate on you and the black-winged figure carrying her son away.

Hoseok flies faster than he ever has, determined to get Yoongi into the palace and relative safety. The god sobs in his arms, still struggling to get back to where you stand in the Meadow, the massive form of Demeter towering above you, but Hoseok doesn't relax his grip. You gave him an order; he hadn't disappointed you yet, and he isn't about to start now. Not with Yoongi caught in the middle.

He doesn't hesitate when he touches down in the palace, wings retracted and brushing ever so slightly against the black marble floor. He turns to the nearby Bones and orders them to the doors, summoning as many others as he can spare from the gates and Fields to help barricade the palace from the goddess.

"Hobi, you have to go, you have to help her," Yoongi sobs. "She's gonna...I can't, Hobi, please, you have to keep her safe."

"I have to keep you safe," Hoseok replies. He's got a vice grip around Yoongi's arm as he pulls him deeper into the palace, doing his level best to avoid any window or door to the outside. "That was the order she gave and that's the order I shall obey."

"How can you say that?! Don't you care that she could-"

"Of course I care!" Hoseok spits, rounding on the shorter god the second the words leave his lips. "Do you think this is easy for me, Yoongi? Do you think I enjoy choosing between the two of you like this? Because I don't. I want nothing more than to be helping her right now, but I can't...I can't leave you alone here. It's too dangerous."

Hoseok isn't stupid; he knows exactly how he feels about you, and Yoongi, and he's not oblivious to the way the both of you look at him. Still, the two of you are powerful deities, worshipped and loved, feared and prayed to. He's just a guardian, content to sit in the background and watch for threats. Yes, he loves you, with every fiber of his immortal soul, but he also loves Yoongi, and he knows you love Yoongi, and you gave him an order.

"Hobi," Yoongi whispers, eyes wet and red and beautiful. "Hobi, please, you have to help her. She needs you. I can manage, I can hide, but she needs you. No one else can help her."

The fact that he's even considering this shows just how easy it is for Yoongi to manipulate him. Hoseok understands now, what you meant all that time ago. Yoongi's voice is rough and lingering and fearful but it carries so much hope that it digs into Hoseok's skin like a hook. He curses and bundles Yoongi into the corner.

"Stay hidden. Don't make a noise. You can't let her find you." Hoseok hesitates for a split second before pressing a quick kiss to Yoongi's forehead. "I will see you after this."

"I know."

It's never been harder for him to turn his back on someone, but Hoseok manages, with only one last look back before he takes to the air and surges forwards to where you stand, keeping Demeter back with every piece of your power.

Yoongi runs. He runs and runs and runs, the bare skin of his feet silent on the cool marble. The braziers have long since gone out, but he stopped needing them months ago. He knows where he is, even as he tucks himself into a small, nearly invisible niche in a corner. He hardly dares to breathe, too scared that the sound will alert his mother of his location. The palace is silent, not a single sound in the entire thing, and it's deafening in the aftermath of the rumbling screams that signaled your battle with her.

He isn't sure how he managed to convince Hoseok to leave him, whether it was the obvious love the god felt for you or the sheer desperation in his own eyes, but he could only pray the two of you made it out. As gods, you're all difficult to kill, but it's not impossible. Not for other deities.

Come out, little flower.

Yoongi stifles a whimper, panic coloring his vision white for a long while before he can breathe again. Memories flash behind his eyelids and he pried them open just to stare into the darkness.

You can't hide forever, little flower. You know that.

Her voice echoes against the marble. It makes her sound like she's everywhere and nowhere at once, able to find him even as he hides. He clenches his teeth and reminds himself that you and Hoseok are the only ones that know this palace better than him.

You're making me very angry, little flower. Why do you run? I only want the best for you, and you insist on causing such a fuss.

The sound of her sandals reaches him, reverberating off the walls and telling him that she's far too close. He slips silently out of the niche and pads across the floor on the balls of his feet. He doesn't make a sound, something he perfected in his time with her, and just as she slips around the corner, he's darting down another hallway.

Look at what you've done, little flower. All this mess, and for what? Do you like it when I'm angry? Do you enjoy this game of ours?

He slips into another hall just in time. Exhaustion has made him slow. The marble of the wall is cool against his heated skin, and he wonders where you are. Where Hoseok is. If you're alright or if you're laying in the Meadow, golden ocher pooling around you. The thought enrages him, and for the first time, he can feel power at his fingertips; real power, not the simple gardening magic she taught him as a child. He's ready to use it, he thinks. He's so tired of running, so tired of being afraid, and he's so fucking angry that the people he loves have had to fight his battles for him.

Found you, little flower.

Warmth circles his ankle and pulls before he can jerk away. Her nails are sharp than before, like sickles at the end of each long finger, and he scrabbles uselessly at the smooth stone floor. She's speaking but the sound of her voice - wind whispering through a field of wheat, a brook babbling in the summer - is drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears.

"No, I won't go back, you can't make me," He hisses, kicking at her hand with his free leg. He doesn't feel the cuts on his soles, doesn't register them at all until he sees the gold dropping onto the floor; the adrenaline masks the pain. She says something else and he stops kicking, though he doesn't know what she's said. He isn't listening, too busy thinking of a way out of this.

It comes to him, all at once, and he relaxes in her grip. His chest heaves in a sob, because he knows exactly what he has to do, and you will never forgive him for it.

"Alright," He says flatly. Demeter stops in her monologue. "I'll go with you. Just leave them alone." The smile that splits her face is more grotesque than any corpse he's seen in the Styx, but the way she releases his ankle is a blessing. He keeps himself hunched and downtrodden as he pushes himself up, into her waiting arms. The hug is bruising and brings vile to his throat, but it is necessary.

It's with a flash of green as he pulls away from her that he makes his move. The flower crown previously atop his head has morphed, grown into thick, thorny vines around her arms and keeping her in place.

Yoongi is gone before she can so much as screech, sprinting as fast he can through the halls to the one thing that can help him. He feels it when she rips through his flowers, his very soul shaking at the pain that rips through him, but he's determined. He's made good ground, he only had a little further to go.

The vibrant colors of the courtyard have never felt so welcome. He's halfway through, blossoms crushed under his feet as he tears through the carefully tended flowers, when she catches up. The blade of her scythe rips through his back, but the adrenaline masks the pain. He's bleeding, he knows, but he can't bring himself to focus on anything but the way the bark feels under his grip, branches reaching down to help him reach his goal.

She tears him out of the tree violently, no longer wearing the carefully sculpted mask of love. The scream that she unleashes when she sees him shakes the entire realm, soft pebbles falling from the ceiling of the cavern miles above his head, but he doesn't care.

The pomegranate is ripe against his tongue, juice tinting his lips pink, and the weight of it against his chest has never been more welcome. Demeter screams for what could be centuries, but Yoongi does not care, because he has won, and he has never tasted anything so sweet in his entire life.

"Come to bed," Hoseok pleads, not for the first time. You look at him with a sigh. His wings are gone, hidden away until he needs them again, and his arm is free of the bandages he's been wearing. It has taken so long for him to heal, and you still aren't sure he should be up and about. There's a small, barely perceptible scar along his forearm, the faintest reminder of what the two of you survived.

"I have to finish this before he returns, Hobi," You tell him, also not for the first time. Hoseok scoffs and comes around the desk to stand behind you, eyes roving over the documents in front of you.

"It's been over six months," He whispers in your ear. "Zeus has approved your expansion requests. I'm fine. You're fine. Yoongi will be back from Olympus soon."

"Hoseok," Your tone is warning despite the way he whispers your name. You deflate, falling back in your chair and letting him rub your shoulders. "I just miss him."

"I know. I do too." You're both quiet for a while. It has been six months since Demeter crashed into your world and rampaged through the Meadow to find Yoongi. You remember it so vividly, the way you struggled against the unbridled fury she had, the way Hoseok screamed as she broke his wing, the pain in your chest as you'd crawled to him and just held him in your arms until the Bones had made it to the two of you and carried him to the palace.

You had been, and still are, vastly proud of him and Yoongi for fighting back, but that didn't change the fact that they had both put themselves in immense danger by doing so. Even with the - admittedly brilliant, if stupid - plan that Yoongi had come up with, things never really worked out for you. Hoseok had been bedridden for weeks, unable to even more because of the pain in his wing. Hermes has helped with the healing process, which you were unendingly thankful for, but Yoongi had been carted off to Olympus almost immediately for negotiations.

Zeus, benevolent leader and incompetent moron that he is, had decided on a compromise: Yoongi would stay with you in the underworld after the harvest was finished, free to do whatever he liked, but until then he had to stay in Olympus. The letter had mentioned something about reparations to the mortals for the utterly obscene amount of crops they had lost - which was ridiculous really, they were doing their level best to kill the planet and you are gods, since when do gods pay reparations to mortals? - that Yoongi was required to use his abilities to help with.

You'd sent Hermes back with several colorful threats of what exactly would happen to the billions of dead you kept here should Yoongi return in any way other than utter perfection, and you've been anxious for days to find out whether you get to follow through on them. It only worsens when you remember that you have a decision to make when Yoongi returns. You remember the way he looked when he said he loved you, returning words you couldn't bring yourself to say, and you remember the elation and subsequent depression that came after the battle at the realization that you could have had him, were he not gone for half the year.

And yet you also distinctly remember the way Hoseok looked, wings splayed over several tables to hold them in place as they healed, vulnerable and shy as he told you that he was sorry for disobeying you. You won't ever forget his face as he explained, the way his lips formed around your name when he told you he couldn't beat to see you hurt, not after so many years spent loving you. The feel of his lips against your skin is like a phantom even now; Hoseok had waited until he was healed to do anything more than press chaste kisses against your knuckles, and even still you've not felt him the way you want, but it hasn't stopped him from trying.

"Come on, my lady," Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Just for a while." You grumble under your breath - you really do have work to finish before Yoongi arrives - but you allow Hoseok to pull you from your chair and lead you down the hall to your bedroom.

So lost in your own musings, you don't notice the figure lounging on your bed until he speaks.

"Six months and I don't get even so much as a hello?"

Your eyes shoot up and your breath hitches in your throat. Pale green robes lined in the most beautiful black and silver embroidery pool around him, matching the braided crown that rests atop his head. You didn't know flowers like that existed, let alone that they could look so wonderful on someone.

"I didn't know you were back," You breathe.

"That's the point of a surprise, my love," Hoseok says from behind you, hand tightening around yours. Guilt begins to grow in your chest and Yoongi tsks at you. He rises and comes to stand in front of you, brow furrowed.

"That's no way for a queen to look, is it? What has you thinking so hard?" His thumb smooths the space between your brows and you can't help the glance to Hoseok.

"I can't...I don't want to hurt you." Your voice is barely a whisper, and the familiar sting encircles your heart once more. You couldn't choose between the two of them, not if you tried, not even if it meant getting out of this place.

"You won't," Hoseok tells you with a familiar grin. "Yoongi and I have already talked about what we feel for each other, and for you. The only question now is if you'll have us. Both of us."

Months ago, you would have called them crazy and had them exiled for fear they'd gone mad. You never imagined you could have one of them, let alone both; you had been ready to tell them both that you had been mistaken because having one by your side while your heart still yearned for the other was far more cruel than anything you could put in the Fields of Punishment.

Now? Now you know what the Isles must feel like. It is Yoongi in front of you, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek while Hoseok's warmth is steady behind you, one arm encircling your waist and keeping you steady.

"Both of you?" You echo. Yoongi nods.

"You don't have to," Hoseok says from behind you. "But we know how you feel about us, and we're sure in how we feel for each other. There are stranger pairings in the world, aren't there?"

"Only one of you could be king." You aren't sure why you say that, can't remember why it even matters when Hoseok trails his lips over the shell of your ear.

"I never have looked good on a throne," He says. Yoongi's chest rumbles in a laugh, and you could cry at the sight of that familiar gummy smile.

"Please," Yoongi eventually says. "Please say yes." You search his eyes for any hint of indecision or regret, and when you find none, you turn to Hoseok. He has a soft, encouraging smile on his face, and he holds your crown in his free hand. The cool black metal is harsh against his tanned skin, but what draws your eye isn't the way the bones are fused together or the etchings of historical scenes across each. No, it's the soft pale green blossoms woven in among the metal, a stark contrast to the harshness of the bones, and the silver thread twined around all of it, dipping in and out in various places but clearly noticeable in the light. It's a perfect representation of the three of you and it makes your chest swell.

"Yes," You breathe. They don't move, and your eyes dart between them. "Yes, absolutely. I can think of nothing I have ever wanted more."

Yoongi surges forward, capturing you in a long-awaited kiss. His lips are soft as blossoms against yours, warm and gentle as the hands that cup your jaw and draw you closer. You're aware, distantly, of the soft clink of metal on stone as Hoseok sets your crown to the side, though his arm never leaves your waist.

Hours could have passed with Yoongi kissing you. You aren't sure. Time runs together and blends, a dizzying whirlwind of slow drags of his lips across yours followed by quick, messy bursts of his tongue. You can barely focus on what is happening, mind split between the absolute euphoria of kissing him and the heat that comes from Hoseok's fingers dancing along your waist and shoulders, his breath ghosting over your neck as he watches. When Yoongi finally detaches from your lips, he ducks down to suck at the exposed skin of your collarbone, and Hoseok turns your chin so you face him.

"May I, my lady?" He asks. His voice is rough and deeper than you're used to, affected by the sight of you and Yoongi. His fingers twine with the strings holding your robes together and you give him a nod. It doesn't even take a full breath before the black material is pooling at your feet. Hoseok stifles something that sounds suspiciously like a moan behind you, and you think Yoongi actually purrs. They both run their hands along your skin, basking in the goosebumps that they raise and the shivers that crawl up your spine.

"Absolutely ethereal," Yoongi mutters. You pull him into another kiss, one hand coming up to rest against his shoulder while your other tangles in Hoseok's hair where he's doing his level-best to leave his mark on your neck.

"Please," You murmur. "I want to make you happy."

"You've already done that, my queen," He says. His smile is soft and the glint in his eye is sharp. You huff a little and tap twice at Hoseok's neck; when he pulls away, pouting but compliant, you push Yoongi until he's falling back onto your bed. He goes with no objections, one hand twining his fingers with yours and you crawl up to straddle his hips. "Let me please you, my queen. I've been waiting six months to taste you, and I don't want to waste another moment if I don't have to."

Your breath hitches as Hoseok steps up behind you. The bare skin of his chest is a shock as it presses against your back, and he slides his hands along your sides before beginning to tease your nipples. You stifle the moan, emitting more of a whine than anything, and you think you nod. All you know is the heat between your legs and the knee-deep ache to make them happy.

Yoongi's between your legs in a flash. You can't be sure how exactly he moved so quickly without jostling you, but the thought is all but shoved out of your mind as he swipes his tongue against you for the first time. You're glad Hoseok is behind you because your legs are already trembling where they're curled under you and your head drops back to rest against his shoulder. As merciless as Hoseok is in his torment of your chest, Yoongi is doubly so.

You imagine a man starving and dehydrated in a desert wouldn't be this invested in a sudden banquet laid in front of him; Yoongi worships you, circling your clit several times before dipping down to dart teasingly in and out of your hole. He laps up every single drop of your arousal, dutiful in his mission even as Hoseok begins to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The heat of his breath has you closer to the edge than you want to admit, but the sheer love that radiates from his words at the same time Yoongi rumbles out a heavenly moan straight into your folds, tongue buried inside of you, is what drives you over the edge.

You aren't surprised when neither of them stop; you get the sense Yoongi is thoroughly enjoying himself between your thighs, based on the growing tent in his robes. Hoseok grinds against your ass, and his own hardness presses against you with every painless thrust of his hips. A pang of guilt shoots through you and your hands drop. It's a bit of an awkward angle, but you make it work as you glide your hands over him. He's thick, that's for sure, and nearly as long as your forearm. How you're supposed to take that inside of you is anyone's guess, but as Yoongi brings you to yet another orgasm with his mouth, you realize that's exactly what they're preparing you for.

The whimper comes unbidden, walls clenching around nothing at the thought of them filling you, and they both shudder. "Please," You gasp, "Please, I need you. Both of you."

Yoongi graciously lets you rise off of him, and when you settle on your back, he sits up to smile at you. His lips and chin are absolutely coating in your slick, the sight erotic and exciting. The feeling is doubled as Hoseok grips Yoongi's chin, turning the mint-haired god to face him.

"How does she taste, my flower?" He purrs. You don't hear Yoongi's response, just the deep thrum of his voice, but you see the way Hoseok runs his thumb across Yoongi's lips, collecting your juices, before sliding it into his own mouth. You moan at the sight, Hoseok's eyes falling closed as he relishes in the taste of you. Yoongi strips out of his robes while he can, and he doesn't seem to miss the way your and Hoseok's eyes watch hungrily.

"Tell me what you want," Hoseok says, pulling you closer as Yoongi settles behind you. "We're here for you, my queen."

"I…" You falter. You aren't even sure what you want now; you've spent six months trying to figure out how to tell both of the men you love that you can't be with either of them and now you have both of them naked in your bed, waiting to please you. You can hardly think, can't focus beyond the feel of their skin against yours and the heat of their gaze, but you know one thing.

You need them to know how desperately you love them, and with the fire burning between your thighs, there is exactly one way you can do that.

"I need you inside me, Hobi," You tell him. "I need to feel you inside of me. Yoongi, too. Both of you." Hoseok's cock twitches and something in his jaw clicks. You don't wait for more of a response, choosing instead to slide across the sheets to straddle Hoseok's hips. His hands rest lightly on your hips, tentative now, and you smile at him. His hands are gentle now, soft as the smile he gives you in return. His cock is dripping and red, a warm heat in your palm as you guide him to your entrance.

The look in his eyes, the small moan he releases, the hitch in Yoongi's breath behind you as you slowly sink down onto Hoseok will forever be etched into your memory. You're so full that you could cry; he feels absolutely perfect inside of you, and it only gets better as he guides you carefully up and then back down onto him. Your moan is felt more than heard and it only gets louder as he speeds up. His fingers are marble against your his, unmoving and firm as he slides in and out. He doesn't look away for a second and neither do you; all the years you've spent thinking about him, the millennia you've ached to love and be loved by him, it has all led to this. Your hips moving against his, connected in a way you've never been before; if it were possible to read his thoughts, you think you could at this moment, because they must be a mirror of your own.

"I love you," You whisper. Yoongi's warmth presses against your spine as he slides a finger between the two of you to rub slow circles into your clit, and you gasp. "I love you, Hobi, so much." The words are a mantra on your lips, and you think there may be tears in his eyes but you can't be sure because you're coming again, shuddering on top of him, and Yoongi is gently pulling you off.

Hands turn you, and now it's Yoongi between your legs, cock red and throbbing where it sits against his stomach. He isn't as long as Hoseok, but he's wider, and you clench again at the sight.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a soft kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth. You slide down onto him, welcoming the slight burn that comes with the stretch. It takes two breaths for you to become impatient and begin to move, grinding your hips down against his. Yoongi isn't as loud as Hoseok, soft pants and whines where Hobi is echoing moans and groans, but it's just as attractive. He moves his hips in tandem with yours, and the muses themselves couldn't have created a better rhythm. The words fall from your lips again; it's easier, now that you've said them to someone, to let them go. They don't ball in your throat, aren't a lump to swallow down anymore, and you revel in the feeling.

"I love you," Yoongi returns, thumbs ghosting over the skin of your thighs. "So much, both of you. Saved me, can't fucking...fuck, can't tell you enough." You nod and loose another moan when Hoseok slides a finger in alongside Yoongi's cock.

"Do you think she can take us both, my flower?" Hoseok asks. His voice is raspy in your ear and you shudder as you orgasm again. There's a moment when you wonder just how many times you can come from the two of them, but it's gone the second Yoongi speaks.

"I think she could," Yoongi responds. "She's certainly wet enough. Absolutely soaked, aren't you, my queen? Do you want that? Both of us in here, filling you up?" He punctuates every word with another thrust of his hips and you nod. You don't think you've ever wanted anything more.

Hoseok is careful as he fingers you, working you open with one, then two, then three fingers as Yoongi slides in and out. You'd commend them both on their stamina if you could spare a single thought to anything but the feeling of them. Yoongi looks wrecked, covered in sweat with swollen lips, panting and desperate as he writhes beneath you.

When Hoseok finally decides you're ready, he slides his fingers out and asks you again if you're sure. You barely have the presence of mind to nod, too close to coming again, but it's enough for him. He slides in, and all three of you are moaning. You can't be sure what it feels like for them, but you're in absolute bliss. Hoseok peppers your shoulder with chaste kisses, murmuring encouragement as he sinks deeper inside. His cock drags against your walls and Yoongi's dick, and the thought makes you clench around them both. You're so full, you may explode, but it's perfection. When Hoseok bottoms out inside of you, you're all still for a while, just getting used to it.

"You're perfect," Hoseok whispers into your skin. "Both of you, you're both fucking perfect. Fuck, can I-?"

"Yes," You interrupt. You're already grinding down onto them, desperate for any kind of friction. "Please, Hobi." He grunts as he starts to move, and Yoongi does the same. They get a steady rhythm after a while, one sinking in as deep as he could get as the other drags outward, only to slam back in at the last second.

A sob builds in your throat, the sheer pleasure rolling through your body too much to handle as orgasm after orgasm slammed into you. There are hands everywhere, two on your hips keeping you steady, two roaming your body and teasing your nipples, on one Hoseok's neck to keep him close as another rests lightly against Yoongi's throat. You aren't sure which are yours, can't tell where you end and they begin, too fucked out to be able to think beyond the drag of their cocks against your walls and the growing ache inside you.

"Please," You gasp. "Please, need it. Fill me, please, need you both to fill me, make me yours, forever. Mark me. I'm yours, always, please, fill me with you." They both groan at that, and their pace speeds up. They're hitting harder and deeper and brushing against the spot inside of you that makes your vision turn white. Something gushes down your thighs as you spasm around them wildly, hips jerking of their own accord, and you feel it as they come together, hot seed spilling inside of you as you ride out your highs together.

You're panting and sweaty and hot and still, you don't think you'd trade this for even a moment of sunlight. They slide out of you and their cum seeps down your legs before you can stop it. You fall to the bed beside Yoongi, chest heaving even as he wraps you in his arms. A wave of your hand creates a small fan near the bed, shadows churning out cool air that feels like ambrosia on your skin.

Hoseok reappears with water for you both, and you thank him. Your voice is nearly gone, but it's worth it, you think. You pat the space beside you and Hoseok climbs in. His skin is hot against yours; the three of you are essentially a furnace at the moment, but you can't bring yourself to care. You can't count how many orgasms you had or how long you spent with them; it could have been minutes or hours or even days. It doesn't matter to you, really. Sprawled between an already-sleeping Yoongi and a Hoseok that's tracing invisible designs onto your skin, you have everything you could ever want.

Later you sit atop the shadows near your bed, chin in your hand as you admire the card between your fingers. Yoongi and Hoseok are wrapped around each other in your bed, lightly snoring as the sheets rise and fall against their naked chests. As you watch them, Hoseok’s brow furrows and he lazily stretches his arm to pat against the bed in search of you. He snuffles a little, and Yoongi nuzzles deeper into the crook of his neck until they’re both quiet again.

Silver foil glints in the light and you look back at the card in your hand. There’s a stack a hundred high beside you, all of them identical to the next save for the curling letters that make up the recipients, but this one is special. This one is your favorite. If you didn’t absolutely have to send it off, you would frame it and hang it above your throne; ultimately, though, you’d rather bask in the aftermath that’s sure to come.

With a small smile, you set it atop the others and wrap the bit of twine around them all. It’s gone with a wave of your hand, no doubt appearing wherever Hermes is. You wish you could see the look on his face when he realizes what they are, but he’s not the one that you really wish you could watch.

The raspy call of your name brings you back to the present, and you look up to find Yoongi watching you, lids heavy with sleep and eyes dark. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You grin and stand, letting the shadows underneath you fall away. “Just sending out a quick notice.” You slide in beside him and Hobi, the latter still asleep but turning to wrap his arms around you nonetheless. Yoongi presses kisses to your knuckles and you pull a stray flower petal from his hair.

“You’re gloating, aren’t you?” He mutters. There’s a smile behind his eyes, and it warms you.

“Maybe a bit.” You lean over and kiss him, gentle and tender and you hope that it conveys everything you can’t put into words. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No,” Yoongi answers after a long pause in which he moves to straddle Hoseok’s hips in order to get close enough to suck marks into your neck. His lips are slow against your skin, tired and lazy from sleep. “I think I enjoy this side of you, actually.” “I, for one, am very much enjoying this side of you.” You grin at Hoseok’s words, smiling down at him. He’s half-hard again, hands resting lightly on Yoongi’s hips and eyes fixed on the bruises that bloom on your neck. “I thought we were sleeping.”

“We were,” You tell him. “You can always go back to sleep if you want.”

“You wish,” He mutters. Yoongi groans against your neck and you look down to see Hoseok palming him, working him up to fullness as Yoongi fucks into his hand. You wrap one of your own around Hoseok and return the favor; the way his moan echoes through the room is better than anything the nine muses could have created.

It’s slow and tired, each of you already spent from your earlier activities, but when you eventually drop between them, chests heaving from your orgasms and already half-asleep again, you think it’s worth it.

When you wake later and find a card sitting on the flower-woven throne - a new addition to the hall, one most welcome - crumpled and half-torn with a thorn sticking out of it, you know it’s worth it.

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