#I've just always lived in the major cities

[ladyofdecember]

Oh my god so when I was on vacation in bum fuck nowhere Texas I accidentally discovered a TV show about Chucky???? 😅 There was absolutely nothing to watch in our hotel room or at least I thought until I saw one of these episodes and was immediately enthralled by the crazy great writing, characters, interesting plot?? About the White House?? 😮

Anyway now I'm back home and got my Peacock access back I'm watching the series from the beginning and my god, it is so good!! 😂🤷‍♀️ Hear me out, I know it sounds stupid and unbelievable but this show is A++ quality y'all! Very good 😁 Go watch it!

[fitzrove]

Its ok maybe if you look up the lyrics to was für ein grausames leben and read them in english you will be okj<3

[ririblogsss]

what if Danny give no fu-ks

Ok hear me out, Dannys obsession has never truest been confirmed by the show itself (that I remember) I've seen a lot of people say his obsession comes from wanting to help / protect people. But what if he feels as though that he is now doing more damage than good, after all there are a lot of people getting hurt as colateral damage from the chases he has to go on. Or simply when he has to run away from getting captured.

What if one night he was up late and saw a post about a tragedy that happened because he slipped up (it wasn't even his fault, but he still blames himself for everything). And then he starts looking at all the bad comments against him ignoring all the good ones saying how much Danny Phantom has helped Amity. Because Danny is still human and confirmation bias is real. Imagine how he felt the moment he realized that he was causing people to get hurt instead of keeping them save.

Image the desperation clawing at him with the realization that he has never been able to fully manage his obsession. it makes him sad, desperate, angry.

His entire self is filled with too many emotions at the sametime he isn't even able to identify them and catalogue them properly like Jazz taught him.

and then everything stops and he feels nothing.

Completely and utterly numb.

Like his whole reason to keep going suddenly disappears.

And it has.

He gave up on his obsession and now he has to make / get a new one.

But it's not that easy.

This drastic change could've ended any ghost as they run on (live off) emotions.

Luckily because he's a Halfa, so that has given him the upper hand. Unfortunately it makes it so that he is completely devoid of any emotion.

Months go by and people immediately notice changes, the more drastic one is that Phantom went missing, and eventually a lot of ghost that where coming in looking for him stop. Amity Park is no longer populated by ghosts, and slowly the GIW started to retreat from Amity going to another place following a lead that says there are more ghost activities up north.

But those changes aren't the only ones noticeable. Dannys classmates and teachers can vouch that Danny has changed. Most say he was always quite , and others say he looked down right depressed. Danny didn't do much in classes not that he paid attention before. Its just this time it seems that its not out of being sleepy or anxious about another ghost attacking the school instead Danny looks like he coundn't give less of a fu-k about anything.

He never smiles anymore not even when his favorite subjects (mechanics and space) are brought up. Not even a quirk of a smile. The school decided to contact his parents about Dannys new behaviors. That includes skipping classes, not handing in work, not doing the assigned work in class ect....

And its not like his parents havent noticed, they've had more time in their hands since they aren't using hours of the day/night going out hunting anymore. and they have witnessed their son become a shell of himself. They don't know what to do, and they don't want to worry Jazz about it because she's at collage and needs to focus on her studies.

So when the school contact them and told them that the behavior is the same in school they decided major changes needed to happen. Starting with a change of environment.

Maddie and Jack decided that Amity park was too big of a city with too many people. They could nearly see the stars at night because of the light pollution, hence they decided to move next door to Alicia, Maddie sister, home in SmallVille.

They decided it was the best choice, Danny would be surrounded by nature and he could do online classes that would go the pace he wanted. The move was immediate, the day off they packed everything sold the house and moved.

They only stopped to say goodbye to Danny's friends. A small bye and hug later they were on a 7 hour road trip to their new home.

When they got there the old resident handed them the keys of the home and told them to ignore the their neighbors 'The Kents' as they often made a lot of noice and had group gatherings every month.

The one thing Jack and Maddie forgot to double check was if the house was an actual house or a farm house. Sounds similar, but completely different as they now had 2 cows, 16 chickens, 1 rooster, and 3 pigs to take care off.

Danny was put on duty of taking care of the animals, such as feeding them on time and making sure they were healthy. Jack and Maddie made more of the heavy weight as to re building broken fences and fixing the questionable roof.

(The first thing Danny did when meeting all the animals was name them. After all this was about all the interaction he was going to do.)

Danny didn't have time to think about his lost obsession or his lack of emotions as he was now too busy making sure each animal was taken care off.

Marcy and linda (the cows) were danny's favorite they were very gentle and he felt that they could understand him when he spoke to them the stories of his vigilante past.

On the other hand The Chickens were a nightmare, Glinda was cool as she never chased him down. But Matilda and Bethany were a nightmarish duo spiteful too when he was seconds late to the finding time. Mark the rooster was chill he mainly acted as of he was part of the group that needed protection.

Marice, Betty, and Miss Piggy were the chillest of the bunch never gave Danny any trouble when feeding them and always made a point that they loved their new mudbath installation that Danny made for them on his first 2 days on the farm.

A month after arriving at the farm house Danny noticed that mark was missing. Danny looked everywhere around the property and saw him from afar, at the road. So Danny did the sensible thing anyone would do when spotting a run away pet, and that is call their name at the top of your lungs whilst running after them.

naturally Mark the escape artist run the opposite direction. By the time Danny caught up to him Danny didn't recognize the house he was infant off. So with Mark comfortably in his arms He swears he can see a smug look on marks face. Danny turned away from the house to start his walk back to the farm, but he was met with a kid his age looking at him with distrust.

"Ehhh look kid Im sorry to have crossed the properties border but Mark here" Danny made a point to acentuate Mark in his arms "Runaway from me this morning and I've been trying to catch him ever since, anyways I need to go feed the girls"

The kid starred at him for a second "OMG your from the new family in Mr.duncans farm right? in Aver ST.?" and wow the kid was like a ray of sunshine.

"Yea-" Danny could even finish his sentence before the kid cut him off by starting to talk a mile a minute about how he was so exited to meet people his age that lived near by and how farm chores were harder that normal house chores.

"Jon, give him time to respond. Im Damian this is Jon" Danny jumped he hadn't noticed the second kid at all

"Oh yeah... sorry about that what's your name?" The kid (Jon) slightly less enthusiasm, a bit embarrassed if his tone of voice was anything to get by.

"Danny, Im 15" he responded before he started walking away after all he did need to get in time to feed the chickens unless he wants to suffer their furry. Danny shuddered at the memory that popped up in his head.

"Wait!!! I just thought we could be friends cause we live close by u know" Jon said catching up with Dannys steps. Damian was following from behind.

"Sure kid I don't care" Dannys voice was monotone much like it had been for months.

"Hey were not kids for your information, Im 14 and Damians 16 soon to be 17, so if anything you night be the actual kid!" Danny chuckled slightly it was more similar to releasing air from his lips than a laugh.

Soon a quite and enjoyable science encompassed the group as they went to Dannys home.

"Hmm... you're hold on Mark is adequate and the your determination for getting home in time for feeding is acceptable" Damian spoke up after a while of the passive silence.

"yeah and what is It to you" Danny was slightly urked by Damians default setting speach. He told him as such.

Jon blanched before erupting into giggles that sent him to lay down on the grass uncontrollably laughing. Damians right eyebrow quirked up in what Danny assumed was amusement.

Thus a new friendship grew that day.

They often gathered at Dannys or Jons yard to have picnic in the weekends (as Damian and Jon has school in Metropolis on week days) and hangout with the animals. Danny found out that Damian was a vegetarian and that he had various animals at home. One time he brought his Great Dane Titus, who bodied Danny on sight to give him kisses.

Also Damian was Damian Wayne as in bruce Wayne, Batman sugar daddy. When he said that, Jons milk flew out of his nose and Damian choked on his cucumber wrap. Even Titus gave him a judgemental stare.

Slowly Danny started to smile more, laugh every so often. And things were feeling so much better after not being able to feel anything for a while.

Jazz, Aunt Alicia and especially Maddie and Jack felt so relived to see that Danny was slowly coming back to them.

Danny to this day backs the fact that Mark knew something and planned the whole thing.

[ftmtftm]

Work anecdote I've talked a bit about before, but feel a little more comfortable talking about in more detail now that I'm not working that job and not in that city anymore.

When I was living in Seattle I was working a retail job where the majority of the staff under 30 was queer - mostly nonbinary - and the majority of the staff over 30 was cishet - mostly married women in their 40's + 50's as second household incomes - just to sort of paint the picture of my workplace environment. We only had one cis guy on the staff who wasn't the manager and he was less than a year younger than me (26).

Our one cis guy was the most recent full time hire for awhile, and he got paid more than all of us, starting wage. My coworker who was the longest standing employee at our location - but was nonbinary, more fem presenting, and alternative - got paid less than him. My coworker and I had the same wage after we both got raises. My manager liked me enough that I jumped a few raises to get paid as much as them.

Professionally I was relatively binary presenting + gender conforming at the time - though I was open about being trans and it was always more in a "I could pass as cis queer on a good day" and "People who know what trans people look like can clock me" way. Having a very "traditionally masculine name" and he/him pronouns is definitely a safety measure, but it only does so much when you're out, kind of clocky, and unwilling to fully compromise queer self expression.

Which is all to say - shit like this is complicated. I got paid less than the newer cis guy, the same as my fellow senior staff nonbinary coworker / other full time staff, and more than my coworkers who were my juniors and/or part time. My masculinity + work ethic carried me into my managers good graces and a raise - but not enough to be on the level as the cis man. Literally. He got hired before my raise.

Gender dynamics like this are almost never going to be clean and cut and dry but queer folks - especially openly queer folks - are almost always all going to be ostracized in some capacity in the workplace like this. And we all talked about it together, because even if it impacted us all differently it still impacted us all and that much was obvious enough to us to advocate for each other. It was a moment of solidarity not division.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Errors, "Errors," and Sci Fi: The Nail Gun Gray Zone

I have more thoughts on errors in sci fi, specifically what does and does not count as an error. So I made a graph.

I'm a firm believer that at some point, your story will just be better if you bend certain rules of reality. A story with 100% realistic gun battles will be impossible for audiences to follow. One with ultra-realistic dialog will be boring and impossible to follow.

HOWEVER. Ice floats in water. Residents of now-Phoenix in the 1700s might've not known that, but it's hard to imagine anyone alive today who hasn't at minimum seen an image of a drink with ice in it. So GI Joe (2009) hinging a major plot point on a block of ice sinking in liquid water is widely regarded as silly and world-breaking. Same goes for The Strangers (2008) making a character unable to use her phone while it's plugged in and charging. Even in 2008, a solid majority of U.S. moviegoers owned cell phones and regularly used them as they were plugged in. Errors. Firmly.

But on the opposite end of the spectrum, you have "errors" that only bug a small subset of your audience with relevant expertise. You can always count on some of that subset to take to Reddit and whine pedantically about a 10-round gun firing 11 rounds, but I doubt those count as errors. My personal example is the lack of a character named Surprise in Inside Out — I've studied and taught Paul Ekman's theories, so to me the fact that they included only 5 of his 6 "universal" affects is always going to look weird. But I know that's less an error than a pet peeve, because there wouldn't be much for the character Surprise to do that isn't taken up by Fear or Joy. (The sequel also has a Surprise-ish and a Contempt-ish character, so there's that.) Same goes for the water main not being pressurized correctly in Batman Begins — I'll take city planners' word for it that Scarecrow's plan wouldn't work, but COME ON. It's a sci fi movie about a furry who makes a living punching aliens. If you want realism, watch a documentary.

That said. There's also that middle zone. What I call the Nail Gun Gray Zone, because it really is hard to tell how much some errors are obscure and piddly, how much they're mainstream and obvious. Because. Nail guns can't shoot nails. They're not projectile weapons. Not unless the story takes the time to show a character modifying the tool to override the fact that it has to be pressed flush against a board before it will fire. BUT. If you told me "99% of modern Americans know that!" I'd believe you. If you told me "only professional contractors know that!" I'd believe you. That poll clarified basically nothing — roughly 25% of respondents had used a nail gun, ~25% didn't know much about them, and ~50% had only seen one used. (I didn't ask "do you know that a nail gun can't be used as a projectile weapon" because then anyone who read the question should by definition answer "yes.")

Anyway, I think that a lot of online arguments about errors/"errors" in sci fi can be captured by the Nail Gun Gray Zone. Most of us can agree that only pedantic blowhards would say that the lack of Surprise ruins Inside Out, and most of us can agree that it'd be nice if The Strangers had simply broken Kristen's phone. Nail guns? One person's "oh come on, that looks ridiculous!" is another person's "it's called a nail gun, right? so why not use it like a gun?" and I don't think doing more polls will resolve it one way or another.

[beomiracles]

sex with a ghost ft yeonjun

─ dark lustful eyes pierce yours, "still think I'm not real, angel?", he taunts as he moves in and out of you slowly.

A/N ─ heh, hey :3 I've been working on this all evening but I sorta gave up on the proofreading part... it's 1am ok. My longest one part fic yet, coming in at 7.3k words exactly >_< I am DESPERATE to know your thoughts on it !!!!

pairings: ghost!taehyun x psychic!afab!reader warnings: major character death, slight descriptions of character death, ANGST, cheating???, eventual smut, fingering, oral (f rec), vaginal penetration, slight degradation but also praise, multiple love interests if you close your eyes squint and believe.

A screeching sound can be heard echoing through the quiet neighbourhood as your car comes to a stop. You really needed to invest in a new one soon.

Gathering your supplies, you step out to be faced with a large apartment complex. The neighbourhood was foreign to you, though the houses looked to be well maintained.

Climbing the stairs to the entrance you curse yourself for choosing heels today. The doorbell rings, once, twice, you're greeted by an elderly woman's voice through the small speaker. "Hello ma'am, it's y/l/n, from-"

"Oh! Yes of course I know where you're from, come on in!", the doors swing open and you make your way through the entrance. The elevator makes a noise as the doors open on the seventh floor and you walk out.

The elderly lady whose voice you'd heard on the speaker is already standing in the doorway, waving you over. As you reach her you bow, "miss, y/l/n y/n, ma'am". The woman smiles as she introduces herself as Mrs Kang.

Mrs Kang leads you through the small hallway into a spacious living room with a marvellous view of the city. "Tea, coffee?", she asks as she takes place behind the counter in the joint kitchen space. "Just water will do fine, anything else tends to mess with my work", you say as you sit down by the dining table.

Taking out a wax candle you place it in the centre of the table. Around it you lay various dried herbs, the whole thing is finished off with a ring of salt around it. Mrs Kang returns with two glasses of water as she places one in front of you. You thank her and take a sip.

As Mrs Kang takes a seat in front of you she eyes the candle. You bring out a box of matches, "before I start, would you mind telling me about your son?".

The woman nods as she clears her throat, "I...well he passed just two months ago", she says, fingers picking at her cuticles in an anxious manner. "May I ask how?", your voice is soft as you keep your gaze on her.

Mrs Kang swallows, "it was a car accident, he...it was his friend who was behind the wheel", she shakes her head, "my Taehyunnie, he wasn't...he wasn't irresponsible like that he...", tears fill her eyes as she continuously shakes her head.

You offer her a tissue to which she silently thanks you. Wiping her eyes with shaking hands before she finally meets your gaze again. "It's wrong", she states, "I should not have to bury my child...". She holds back a sob as she continues, "I should witness him fall in love, g-get married and...", a sob escapes her throat, "a-and start a family of his own".

"He was so young", she cries, burrowing her face in the tissue. You extend your hand to caress hers. "I know, and I am so incredibly sorry for your loss".

Despite doing this for a living you still felt rather stale in situations like these. It felt as if you were invading a very private and personal part of her life.

As Mrs Kang's breathing slowly returns to normal you try and shift the direction of the conversation. "Why don't you tell me about how Taehyun was?" you give your most kindhearted smile. "What did he enjoy, was he afraid of something, did he have any dreams?"

Mrs Kang smiles, "he wanted to become a singer". She scoffs as she leans back in her chair, "I always told him he would do good as a model, he was very beautiful you know", she says and you nod, "I'm sure he was".

Mrs Kang shakes her head, "but there was no changing his mind, music was his sole passion". "The hours he would spend cooped up in his room, writing his heart away".

So he liked music? "And what about friends? A girlfriend?" Mrs Kang is silent for a moment, "he didn't have many friends growing up", she admits, "he wasn't very social...", a troubled look presents itself on her face, "perhaps I could've done more I.."

"You did an amazing job raising him, I'm sure", you say as your hand gives hers a squeeze. Mrs Kang gives you a thankful smile, "he did find a few friends through music", she frowns, "but he never brought a girl home".

She shakes her head, "but what do I know? he moved out years ago... I just, could never bring myself to do anything with his room...he's my only baby". Her bottom lip quivers slightly as her voice cracks, "and now...now it's all I have left of him.."

"I completely understand, and I appreciate you sharing all of this with me, I know it isn't easy for you". Mrs Kang nods as she blows her nose with the tissue before discarding it. "Whatever helps you maybe get in contact with him, I'm willing to do anything", she says, a hopeful look on her face.

"Then shall we get started?" you bring out a match, lighting it as you place it next to the wax candle. As the flame takes to life you blow out the match and place it down on the table.

You close your eyes as you take both of Mrs Kang's hands in your own. It doesn't take long before a familiar feeling fills your chest. It's sharp, pushing at your ribs, it feels as if they're about to crack, but it doesn't hurt.

That's how you know that there's something else present, someone else. "Kang Taehyun?" you ask and the surge in your chest grows tighter, you smile. "My name is y/n, I'm here with your mother", you can feel Mrs. Kang's grip on your hands tighten.

"He's here", you say as you open your eyes, "do you have any questions for him? anything you want him to know?". Mrs Kang nods, "I want to tell him that I love him..", she whispers, almost pleadingly. You nod.

"Your mother tells you that she loves you, Taehyun", you await his answer. The spirits never spoke verbally, but would send off different auras, they each held different emotions.

The surge in your chest suddenly felt warm, you smile, "he loves you too". Tears once again fill Mrs. Kang's eyes as she lets out a small sob, "ask him if he's happy, please, I need to know that my baby is alright".

You refocus your attention to the surge in your chest, "your mother asks if you're happy, Taehyun". You're unable to hide the surprise on your face as the pull on your chest immediately darkens, it's almost painful, you've never felt something quite like it before.

Mrs Kang is quick to notice the change in your expression, "what? what's wrong?", she asks worriedly. You shake your head as you close your eyes. The intensity of the surge grows with each second, "he's not happy", you admit and Mrs Kang lets out a small cry.

A soul lingers between the living and the dead for one of two reasons, it can stay behind to watch over loved ones, or it is unable to move on. Judging by the dark pull on your chest you would assume the latter. "Taehyun, why do you linger?", you ask, eyes closed.

The pull on your chest starts thumping rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. It's quick, harsh, angry. Your eyes snap open, and your hand grips the collar of your shirt.

Mrs Kang immediately stops crying as she looks at you with a horrified expression, "what's wrong dear?" she exclaims. You shake your head, "I've never felt anything like this before", you admit as you take a deep breath.

The thumping is so loud that you fear your eardrums might burst. Quickly leaning forward you blow out the candle and everything comes to an abrupt stop.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself as your breathing returns to normal. When it finally does you look up at Mrs Kang, "may I see his room?".

Taehyun's room is neat, it feels almost melancholic, frozen in time. Your hands graze along the the shelves filled with albums of different artists. His closet was empty, to be expected. Your gaze lingers on a piece of paper discarded on his desk.

Picking it up you study the words scribbled on it, the handwriting is neat but most of the words have been erased or drawn over. It looks to be lyrics, was it a song he worked on?

"That one was no good", a voice speaks. You shriek, immediately dropping the paper. As you turn around you're met with a young man, possibly in his early twenties. His short black hair lay messily atop his head, his eyes are dark as they study you. Hands digging deep into the pockets of his denim jeans.

"What the fu...who are you?", you ask as you take a step back, your legs hitting the desk behind you. The man raises an eyebrow, "thought we met already".

It takes a moment for you to piece together his words and his comment about the paper in your hand. The way he was standing so causally... as if it were his own room.

"Kang Taehyun?"

He smirks, "in the flesh, well not really". Your jaw goes slack as you stare at the man in front of you. "But...that's not possible, you're...you're",─"dead?", he asks to which you nod.

He shrugs as he takes a step toward you, "your black magic seems to have done a lot more than you expected it to". His dark eyes pierce yours as his brow twitches slightly, "I'll give you that though, I never really believed in the supernatural".

Your mind is still in shambles as you try and make sense of the situation, "how are you here? it makes no sense..". You blink, once, twice, but he remains. You close your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before peeking them open. "You're strange", Taehyun comments and you feel as if your legs are about to give out.

"This can't be happening", your hands claps around your head, "I must be going crazy, yeah that's it, I'm hallucinating". You let out a short laugh, "I really need to get more sleep, I'll take a nap as soon as I come home, yes, that'll solve it".

"Do all psychics talk to themselves?", he asks as he tilts his head. You breathe in, then out, "you're not real", it's a statement not a question. And just like that Taehyun vanishes, the tension in the room slowly lifts and you feel yourself relax as you blink a few times.

Then he suddenly appears again, closer, so close that you could touch him. "Then what am I?" he inquires. His pale hand reaches out to graze yours and you jump, knocking the decorations on his desk.

"Is that not real?", he asks to which you shake your head. Taehyun frowns, he looks almost as if he's about to say something but stops himself. He vanishes, but in less than a second he reappears, now sitting on his bed.

You're about to speak again but the sound of the bedroom door opening has you snapping your head in said direction. Mrs Kang enters, "is everything alright? I heard a noise..."

"I'm fine but I...", you begin as you turn toward the bed, it's empty. Taehyun was gone again.

Mrs. Kang thanks you over and over as she promises to treat you to dinner whenever you wished. You too, thanked her immensely for her hospitality and made sure that you would let her know should anything happen.

You didn't tell her about Taehyun, you were sure it had all been a hallucination. It was true, you were sleeping a lot less these days. You didn't know why, you had never had a problem with insomnia before but you suppose that surrounding yourself with the dead had a certain effect on people.

Still, it didn't explain the fact that you had felt his touch. His hand had been cold, hard as if made out of steel. It was like his whole body was frozen in time. Lucid hallucinations were not something you'd heard of so how...

Thinking that all you needed was a good nights sleep, you made your way home. The keys jingle in the lock as you twist them around in your hand. Kicking your damned heels off, you stumble into the kitchen.

Your hands still had a slight tremble to them as you poured yourself a glass of wine. Drinking on weekdays, alone, wasn't usually your forte but you figured that you needed it if you wanted to get any sleep tonight.

Bringing the glass to your lips you take a sip. "Didn't take you for a drinker", Taehyun's voice is loud, it feels as if its coming from within you. It startles you and the glass slips out of your hands and shatters onto the floor. Red liquor coating the wooden planks.

"Fuck", you look up to be met with Taehyun's figure on the other side of the countertop. "You followed me?". Taehyun shrugs, "if that's what you can call it".

You frown, this was way out of your level of knowledge. You had never heard of a spirit taking a physical form, even less clinging to a host. Were you the only one that could see him? Was that why he vanished when Mrs Kang entered the room?

"I don't understand...", you study his face, unable to read it. "I wish I did but it seems I am as clueless as you are", he says as he leans his forearms on the counter.

"I...I did nothing different today", you mumble as your mind retraces the events of the day. "Then how are you able to take on a physical form? granted I'm not going crazy of course".

"I couldn't, not before at least", he drawls, "then you came along", he smirks, "and suddenly I could". You thought you might've officially lost it now.

You cross your arms, "it doesn't explain why you're following me of all". He frowns, "you're the only one who will listen", he leans closer over the countertop, "I thought you knew that already".

I'm the only one who will listen? He had to imply that others did not see nor hear him. You chew on your bottom lip nervously, "you have to excuse my manners earlier", he grins, "it's been ages since I last had human interaction".

His words make your eyes snap back to him. That's right, he wasn't human, not anymore. He was a ghost, and the only reason he was still here was because he's either watching over someone, or he's unable to move on.

"Why don't you let your soul continue? Why do you still cling to this world?" you ask. Taehyun's expression visibly darkens to the point where he almost looks demonic. "I've got unfinished business here", his words are almost inaudible.

"Unfinished business? what kind?" you press for answers but Taehyun remains quiet. "Does it have anything to do with your mom? your friends? your music?". Every question has his muscles tensing further until he slams his fist down on the countertop, "quiet, please".

You gulp, his knuckles leave a small dent in the marble stone but his hand remains untainted. Despite his harsh outburst another question bubbles at the surface that is your mind. You can't help but ask it.

"Was...was your death not an accident?"

Taehyun's dark eyes find yours as he locks them in place. It feels as if the room temperature dropped at least ten degrees and a shiver creeps up your spine. Yet you stand your ground as you refuse to break eye contact with the ghost.

It's quiet for what feels like forever until the soft rattling of keys from somewhere in the hallway grabs your attention. "Babe, 'm home", a voice calls out and soon Yeonjun comes into vision.

He's carrying two bags of groceries as he sets them down on the countertop. "Hey, you okay? you look like you've seen a ghost", he says as he makes his way around the counter to you.

"I...", you eyes flicker between your boyfriend and the now empty spot where Taehyun had previously been. "Shit, what happened here?", he asks as he bends down to pick up the remains of the wine glass. You had completely forgot about that.

"Oh, right I...I'm just tired I, I was going to clean it up", you rush to help him but a hand on your wrist stops you. "Go rest, babe", Yeonjun smiles as he gives your forehead a kiss, "I'll make us dinner, yeah?".

After the two of you have eaten you offer to do the dishes since Yeonjun had been nice enough to cook for the two of you. Yet you felt your hands trembling as you turned the plates over in your hands.

The whole day had put your body in a state of constant unease and you felt watched at all times. Lean arms wrap around your waist causing you to jump in surprise, the plate falls out of your hands and down in the sink again. Luckily it doesn't break.

"What's wrong, babe?" Yeonjun asks against your neck as he presses a soft kiss to it. You shake your head, "it's just been a long day", you say, and it's partly the truth. Your boyfriend hums as he turns the sink off, "I'll finish it up, do you want me to stay the night?".

Not even thirty minutes later you're laid in bed, your boyfriend's arm draped across your waist as the comforting sounds of his snores fill the room.

Though you hadn't seen Taehyun since earlier that evening you still felt that he was there. You didn't know why but it put you on edge and it wasn't until the early morning hours when you finally fell asleep.

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, as you make your way into the kitchen the dishes are done for you. A small note is placed on the fridge, "leftovers packed in the fridge for lunch, don't forget to eat, ─ love Yeonjun".

You smile as your fingers trace the outline of the small note. Glancing over at the oven clock confirms the fact that you had indeed slept in. Though your next client wasn't until this afternoon, it gave you plenty of time to get ready.

You don't see Taehyun, not when you shower, blow dry your hair, eat your breakfast or do your makeup. Leaving your supplies in the car the day before meant that it was only for you to get going. One last look in the mirror and you're off.

The google maps on your car glitches a couple times making your way to the client's house a huge detour. Nonetheless you still manage to make it in time.

When you arrive you're greeted by the younger man who'd called. He looked your age, perhaps even younger. He led you through the small hallway and kitchen into a cute living room.

The house spoke to you in many ways and you found yourself admiring the paintings on the walls as you waited whilst he brought the two of you some water.

He sits on the sofa across from you, wiping his hands nervously on his pants. You smile, "I understand that you have called me regarding your late grandfather, correct?", he nods.

"He passed almost four years ago...", he says as he looks down at his hands. "May I ask how?", your voice is soft as you place your hands on your lap. "Cancer", he says and you nod, "I am incredibly sorry for your loss", you reach a hand out to grab his.

His eyes widen as they travel between yours and the way your hands interlinked. "If you trust me, I will be happy to reach out to him for you", you say and the man nods.

"I will require both of your hands", you say as you extend your other hand, he quickly takes it. His hands feel sweaty against your own, probably nerves you thought.

Closing your eyes you search for that familiar pull on your chest. When you find it you instantly smile, the pull is soft and gentle, like that of an old person.

"Mr Park, my name is y/n, I'm here with your grandson", you say. The pull on your chest instantly blooms into warmth. "He's here", you smile.

As you blow out the small candle the pull on your chest seizes. The man is quick to thank you over and over. You notice how his hands still haven't let go of yours.

"He likes you".

Taehyun's voice is a stark contrast to that of the man in front of you as he sits on the sofa next to him. If you were surprised by his appearance the man in front of you hadn't seemed to notice.

You frown toward Taehyun, but his gaze is fixated on the man next to him. "I uhm, I wanted to say that I really admire the work you do.." he says shyly and you smile.

"What an ass kisser", Taehyun comments in a disgusted tone, "he just wants to get you in bed, it's written all over him", he grimaces. You ignore him as you offer the man a smile. "Thank you", you say as you squeeze his hands in an attempt to make him let go.

He lets go as he nervously begins to fiddle with his fingers, "I was hoping...no, wanting to ask if...", he clears his throat nervously, "if maybe I could see you again?" You nod, "if you would like to request my services again that's completely fine just-"

"No I...I was wondering if I could see you...", he says as his face flushes with color. Oh. Taehyun scoffs and averts his gaze, arms folding over his chest.

"I'm uh, I'm afraid that's not possible", you say as you rub your wrist awkwardly. He quickly nods and clears his throat, "right, of course, it's quite alright", he reassures as he stands up. "I'll see you out?", you give him an awkward smile as you nod. "That would be nice".

Despite having had a shower that same morning your body yearned for a second one. The sweat of that man felt as if It clung to you and the whole situation had been so awkward that you just wanted to get in the shower and wash it all off.

The warm water cascaded down your body and your ran your fingers through your hair. For some reason you found your mind wandering to Taehyun and you didn't like it. He made you feel an unexplainable way.

He had pestered you all way home, dodging all your questions about him and somehow always managing to turn the conversation around on you. Only for him to disappear once the car parked outside your apartment.

"He was practically fucking you with his eyes the whole time", he said as he leaned back against the leather of the passenger seat. You roll your eyes, "he wasn't".

Taehyun snorts, "how would you know, you kept your eyes shut the majority of it". Your hands grip the steering wheel tighter, "what's it to you anyway?".

He looks you up and down as he grins, "nothing really". You sigh, "then why bring it up in the first place", you mumble as you keep your eyes on the road ahead. Taehyun doesn't answer.

The warm water did little to ease the tension in your muscles and you turned the shower off and got out. Wrapping a towel around your body you begin running your hands through your wet hair.

A cool sensation against your neck has you spinning around only to be met with nothing but air. You frown as you turn back to the mirror, grabbing the blow dryer as you plug it in.

A cold hand on your shoulder makes you jump and you turn around to come face to face with Taehyun. "What the fuck!" you shriek as you pull the towel closer around yourself.

"Just because you can appear at your own will doesn't give you the right to invade my privacy", you retort as you cross your arms over your chest tightly.

A smirk creeps its way up on his face, "this is the least I've invaded your privacy so far", he says as he takes a step toward you. "You think?" you snap back.

Taehyun tilts his head to the side before vanishing. His voice echoes through your mind, "would you rather I stay up here?". The sensation has your head pounding and you press a palm against your forehead. "No, get out", you order and to your surprise he complies.

A fragment of a second later he's in front of you again, a smirk on his face. He reaches a pale hand up to trace your jawline and neck. His fingers are cold as they leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"What are you.."

"I like you".

His words have your eyes widening but Taehyun's expression is indifferent. "What?" Your tone does little to hide your disbelief.

Taehyun's thumb grazes your bottom lip, and you let him. Why? you didn't have an answer. "I said I like you", he repeats as his hand falls back to his side.

You shake your head, "you don't, you're confused, it's normal your soul is in a transitional state". He chuckles, "you think you got me all figured out huh?". You frown, "what are you implying?".

He takes a step closer, cold chest almost touching your warm one. "I'm...drawn to you", he speaks slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. You sigh, "because I'm the first person you've interacted with since your death, it'll pass", you assure.

"Really?" he asks, a playful grin on his face. "What am I to do until then?" his lips form into a slight pout. You were sure he could hear your heart literally pounding out of your chest.

The sharp ring of your doorbell has him gone in a second. You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. Remembering that you had ordered takeout before your shower quickly has your mind shifting. Pulling on a robe you make your way to the door as you retrieve your food. Sitting down on the sofa, you pull out your phone to text Yeonjun.

"Come over tonight."

The bed squeaks in rhythm to the deep thrusts of your boyfriend as he pounds you into the mattress. Bare legs wrapped around his waist your long nails claw at his back.

His hand grips onto the headboard as the other gently caresses your cheek. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous tonight, babe", he groans as his face contorts into one of pleasure.

Your lips part in a soft moan as your back arches off the bed. Sex with Yeonjun was bliss. It always seemed to get your mind off things and relax you.

His head dips down to kiss and suck at your neck and your eyes flutter closed in pleasure. When they open again your heart almost stops as you find Taehyun's eyes staring right back at your own.

Hands in his pockets he leans against the wall as he looks at you. Only you, it's as if he's not even registering that Yeonjun is present. His gaze moves from your fucked out face, down your naked body. It stops at your core, as Yeonjun's cock slides in and out of your throbbing cunt. He stares shamelessly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Your grip on your boyfriends hair grow painfully harsh earning a soft groan from Yeonjun, "need more?", he asks. You nod, your eyes locked with Taehyun's as you speak, "yes, need it so bad".

The night Taehyun had watched you get fucked out by your boyfriend had been the last time you saw him. Four days had passed without as much as a peep from him.

You were relieved, ready to put it all behind you. Writing it off as a weird hallucination of sort. It must've all been in your head. Though a part of you, a very small part, felt weird.

It wasn't that you missed him, you thought. But something was gnawing away at you every moment spent without even feeling the presence of his soul, tugging at your chest.

You had even for a split moment considered to bring out your supplies and summon him yourself. Thought you quickly discarded the idea again.

Your days were slow, uneventful and almost boring. Yeonjun was away on a business trip and you had spent the past nights alone in your dark bedroom. He wouldn't be home for another three days, you groaned at the thought.

Scrolling mindlessly on your phone as the late evening turns into early night. You didn't have any clients tomorrow so you didn't see an issue with staying up.

By 2am your eyes finally began to feel heavy. Putting your phone away you pulled the blanket over yourself as you got comfortable. You had almost drifted off into a deep sleep when the light squeak of the floorboards made your eyes snap open.

Sitting up, you pulled the covers closer to your chest as you squinted in the darkness. It was quiet, but you knew that you weren't alone. The tugging sensation in your chest had returned, he had returned.

"Taehyun..?" your voice is barely above a whisper but a soft hum coming from somewhere in the room confirms your suspicions. Carefully reaching over, you flick on the lamp on the bedside table.

The room is immediately cast in a dim light as Taehyun's figure comes into vision. He's standing exactly where he had been, four days ago.

Was it bad that you were relieved to see him? Probably. Yet you couldn't hide the smile etching its way to your face.

Something was different about him, you couldn't pin point it until your gaze met his. Dark eyes were piercing yours much like they had the first time you met, but this time they held something else, lust.

You barely have time to blink and he's by your side. Standing next to the bed he towers over you from where you're sitting. Cold fingers slide under your chin as he turns your face up.

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen, "T-Taehyun..?". His thumb pulls at your bottom lip before he lets it go. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he takes a few steps back.

Left confused you shift awkwardly on the bed. "What's going on...?", you whisper, he doesn't reply. It's strange, you hadn't seen or heard from him for four days and now, he just shows up acting all strange without even speaking to you.

"Listen Taehyun, I..", your words get stuck in your throat as he suddenly appears in front of you. Your back is pushed against the headboard as Taehyun cages you against it. Arms on either side of your head, his hands grip the headboard tightly. His knees hit the soft mattress as he straddles you.

"You what?", he asks, his voice is low, rumbling from deep in his chest. You swallow, "I...uhm...I...", your eyes shift from his own to his lips. Your tongue subconsciously darts out to wet your lips as your gaze travels back up to his eyes.

Taehyun lets out a frustrated groan as he mumbles something under his breath. You can't make the words out and before you know it his lips are on yours.

Your eyes widen but only for a moment before they flutter closed. His lips are cool against yours, but it's not unpleasant. The kiss is tender but it's full of desire. A sense of longing and yearning emits from him as his lips move softly against yours.

Though Taehyun is quick to pull back, he studies your face for a reaction. You bite your bottom lip softly as your gaze falls on his lips. "One more", he breathes out before crashing his lips against yours once again.

This time he doesn't hold back as his tongue forces its way inside your mouth. You happily comply as your lips part, your hands find their way to his hair, tugging softly at the ends.

Teeth clash together as Taehyun presses himself impossibly closer to you. His hands move from the headboard to gently cup your cheeks. His touch is electrifying.

But is it right? Your mind goes to Yeonjun, your boyfriend. You had a boyfriend for christ's sake, yet here you are making out with...with a ghost.

Could it count as cheating if he wasn't even a real person? You didn't know, and in that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Taehyun is first to pull away as you chase after his lips, a soft whine emitting at the loss of him. He smirks, "so eager", he coos as his thumb massages your saliva coated lips.

His other hand finds the end of your blanket as he pulls it down. You're wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, it barely reaches your upper thighs. Perked nipples prominent through the thin fabric.

"Don't tell me you've been getting this dolled up every night", he mumbles as cold fingers trail along your collarbone, down the centre of your chest.

You shiver as you squirm under him, "you wear this for him too?", he glances up toward you. You bite your lip as you shake your head no. You usually wore something more comfortable to bed, but the past four days had been affecting you greatly. Perhaps it was the absence of your boyfriend, or maybe it was the absence of the soul you had grown so accustomed to in such a short time.

Taehyun hums in approval as he pushes the thin gown over your hips, revealing the white lace concealing your aching core from him. Index finger finds the hem of your panties as he pulls it up, "and these?".

Your face flushes all shades of red as your eyes meet his, "they're new..", you whisper. Taehyun lets go of the fabric wrapped around his finger, it snaps back against your skin.

"A shame for them to get ruined on their first wear", he says as he presses his thumb against your clothed clit. A soft gasp escapes your lips as your thighs twitch slightly. "But you don't mind do you, angel?"

The nickname catches you off guard, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. His other hand rubs small circles on your hip as his fingers on your clit move your panties to the side.

"Knew you'd be fucking perfect", he slides two fingers inside of you without much struggle and you arch off the bed with a whimper. The hand on your hip holds you back down against the mattress as Taehyun watches his fingers slide in and out of your dripping pussy.

"That boyfriend of yours aint enough?" he tilts his head as he looks at you, your lips parted as soft moans spill from your mouth. "Greedy fucking bitch", his fingers curl inside of you making you cry out in pleasure, "one guy aint enough for you?"

You shake your head, "n...need you", you whimper. Taehyun hums softly, "you will". He retracts his fingers making you whine at the loss of contact, "let me taste you first, dollface".

His fingers are quickly replaced by his soft breath as he inhales the scent of you. "Smell like fucking heaven, angel", he groans, "bet you taste like it too".

Your thighs clench around his head as he presses his tongue flat against your clit. Hands in his hair, you force his face closer to your throbbing cunt. Soft whines and moans leave your lips and when he inserts his tongue you swear you see stars.

Air wasn't a necessity for Taehyun and he used it to his advantage as he devoures your cunt like it was his last meal, ironically enough it could've been.

Cold hands caresses your plush thighs as they tremble under his ministrations. A familiar feeling fills your stomach as your climax approaches. Taehyun looks up from between your legs and you swear that the way he looked at you almost made you orgasm on the spot.

"Gonna give me a taste of your heaven, angel?"

You whimper as your orgasm cruises through you, Taehyun is quick to greedily lick and feast on your high, his nose stimulating your clit as he does in an almost taunting way.

Once your legs stop trembling he finally sits up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. You're left a panting mess as you lock eyes with him. "Can you give me one more, dollface?" he asks as one of his hands palms himself through his jeans. You eagerly nod.

His smirk is the last thing you see before he grabs you by your thighs, pulling you down so that you lay flat on your back. Propping himself up on one arm Taehyun leans over you, fingers brushing a strand of hair out of your face as the tip of his cock prods at your cunt.

He leans down to connect your lips with his as he slides himself inside. Thick cock stretching you out in a blissful way, you moan against his lips.

"Greedy fucking pussy sucking me in like it's been starved", he says as his lips move down your neck and collarbone. He moves slowly, filling you out with each thrust. "Bet it has", he says as he teeth graze the flesh of your breast.

"Your boyfriend is sloppy", he grunts as he thrusts back inside of you, "doesn't know that he's got heaven right in front of him". His mouth finds your nipple through the thin material of your nightgown, twisting and pulling it between his teeth.

You whimper and feel yourself clench around him, pulling a groan from Taehyun as he sucks marks onto your chest and neck. One of his hands travels down your thighs, pushing it up, allowing him to sink deeper into you as you both moan in union.

"Shit angel, you were made for me", he breathes out as your lips find each other in a messy exchange of kisses. Pulling away for a short moment, his dark lustful eyes pierce yours, "still think I'm not real, angel?", he taunts as he moves in and out of you slowly.

"Just shut up and kiss me", you moan as you pull his lips back down on yours again. You can feel his smirk against your lips as he snaps his hips against yours, earning a loud cry from you.

Your breath grows short and ragged as you feel your second orgasm of the night approach. Taehyun's thumb finds your abused clit as he rubs it teasingly. "Gonna cum for me a second time, angel?"

Your cunt throbs around him as you release all over his cock, hands pulling at his hair as a soft whimper escapes your lips. Taehyun's teeth graze your skin as he buries his face in your neck, a low groan leaving his lips as he finishes deep inside of you.

The sensation is unlike anything you've felt with anyone before, not even with Yeonjun. Taehyun rests his forehead against your as he waits for you to catch your breath, the perks of being dead you suppose.

His gaze remains lustful as he studies your face but there's something else too. The back of his hand gently caresses your cheek as he speaks, "my room, on the desk, top drawer to the right, there's a blue USB stick, take it".

His words confuse you, but he doesn't let you overthink it as he reconnects your lips in a soft kiss.

When you wake up the next morning Taehyun is gone. At first you think that the previous night might've just been a feverish dream, but the mess that were your bedsheets and your missing panties told you otherwise.

A warm shower later you're sat by the TV. Taehyun's words from the night before still ringing in your ears. "USB stick, desk, top right drawer", what did significance did the small device hold? There was only one way to find out.

You still knew the way to Mrs. Kang's apartment, she greeted you with a smile. After a rather long moment of small talk you find yourself in Taehyun's room.

Heading straight for his desk you pull out the top drawer to the right. And just like he said there it was, a small blue USB stick, you take it.

When you arrive back home you rush to your computer, as you plug it in a small set of files pop up. Curious you click the first one, at first it's dark, you frown, was it broken?

Then an image floods the screen, no a video, your eyes widen, it's a dash cam. More specifically it's the dash cam of the car that had taken Taehyun's life.

Anxiously you skip ahead, it's not until a few days later when the event actually takes place. Taehyun passes by the front of the car as he makes his way to the passenger seat.

While in the car you can only make out their voices, the engine roars to life as the car starts moving. They drive for a good thirty minutes, their conversation shifting between ordinary subjects.

It's not until they make it out on the highway that things start going wrong.

"Hey, slow down", Taehyun says. The car is visibly moving faster than the ones surrounding them. "I'm trying!" his friend then exclaims, his voice slightly panicked.

"What the fuck do you mean? Just slow down!", Taehyun's voice rises, and his friend curses under his breath. "I fucking told you I'm trying, it's not working the brakes..."

You close your laptop. You don't want to see what you already know is bound to happen. Though it's clear that someone messed with the car beforehand.

Taking a deep breath you reopen your laptop, clicking off the file you go back in time. It takes you a couple of hours to go through all the footage but then you find it.

Almost five days earlier, a man you don't recognise comes into frame. He walks around the car a few times, slowly, cautiously as he scans the area.

Then he gets inside, so he had a key? You don't exactly know what he's doing but you know enough to be certain that he's not fixing the oil. After a mere five minutes he exits the car and leaves.

That's what Taehyun wanted you to see. It wasn't a car accident, it was murder. And the person guilty was yet to be caught. It would explain why he wasn't able to move on.

You had to get this USB stick in the right hands. And that's exactly what you did.

The footage proved to be crucial evidence directly linking the man to the crime. He had turned out to be a direct family member of Taehyun's friend.

When Mrs Kang found out she was heartbroken. Though she thanked you immensely for finding out the truth behind her son's passing. You continued to visit her regularly after that.

You never saw Taehyun again, but every now and then a warm pull at your chest would remind you of his gratitude toward you and that he was forever indebted to you.

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[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

[mother-above]

All the Time in the World

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and his family are reminded that even fae don't have all the time in the world.

*I've made some edits! (nothing major)

Warnings: fluff, angst, death, swearing, grief (this is my formal apology to you all)

*masterlist*

Everything happens for a reason.

Those are five words people say to cope and rationalize why bad or good things happen. Azriel, Rhysand, Cassian, Morrigan, and Amren are no strangers to those five words. They thought about it daily, sometimes it was their first thought after waking up. You were always in their dreams, sometimes frolicking in a meadow, they wouldn’t see your face, but they knew your body, how your hair blew in the wind, how your arms lifted to feel the sun's warmth. Sometimes you were the main character of their dreams. So vibrant and full of life while tugging their hands to make them hurry and keep up with you whether it was running errands in Velaris or on a mission.

Sometimes, they would whisper, “Everything happens for a reason” before they slept. They would go about their day and even if it were filled with love, happiness, and laughter there was always a missing piece, a void that could never be filled. 

You were an enigma. So powerful, so enchanting, the nobles in Hewn City knew to keep you hidden away. But someone like you could never go unnoticed, especially when you could manipulate the elements. You’d been surrounded by earth and rock all your life. You just knew there was something more, you felt it when you touched the granite walls, the stone told you of the sun beating down, of the wind and water that battered the outer layers of the mountain. 

Fae with your powers could never be contained for too long, the Court of Nightmares was a prison you were bound to escape. The nobles trained you like a warrior, Keir hoped to use you to usurp the High Lord, but he acted too late, your power had grown.

When Rhysand became High Lord, he caught wind of your presence, a flourishing beacon of power trapped underground. Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian took it upon themselves to investigate where this power was coming from. When they landed on the mountain, they were met by a female who paid no attention to the Illyrian warriors. 

Your head was thrown back as you savored the hot kiss of the sun for the first time. Around you was granite rubble, and when they looked fifty feet to the right, a gaping hole came straight from the mountain's depths. You had dug yourself out and the Illyrians had no idea how.

Finally acknowledging the three brothers, you eyed the male with violet irises. “They told me your name is Rhysand. That I have to kill you.”

Azriel and Cassian’s siphons flared as they drew their weapons and pointed them menacingly toward you.

That was the first time you met the young High Lord and his brothers. All it took was for Rhysand to read your unguarded mind to see what you are and how you’ve been raised. To Azriel and Cassian’s surprise, Rhysand invited you to live with them. Shortly after that, you were acquainted with Morrigan who you’ve seen around before, and this ancient creature named Amren. The six of you became a family that supported each other through thick and thin. Under their care, you developed your powers and could manipulate nature's elements in any way you could imagine. 

Your type of power has never been seen before and you were dangerous only when you needed to be. Despite your rough upbringing, you were good, you were the sunshine that graced every room you entered. The only unstable part of you was how your moods could sway the environment around you, like the time that idiotic male cheated on you, and landslides affected the mountains around Illyria. On your 250th birthday, the inner circle threw you a surprise party and you were so happy, the next few days were unusually warm and sunny for the middle of winter. There was also that time Cassian pissed you off during training for pushing you too hard, a bolt of lightning and thunder cracked right above the House of Wind’s training ring. You don’t think you’ve heard Cassian scream like that before.

One would think the High Lords of the other courts hated you, but they didn’t. Yes, you were a threat because you were another powerful individual who was loyal to Rhysand, but they couldn’t hate you, it was impossible to. Amren credited you for being the reason the other courts haven’t waged war on the Night Court, your presence was soothing, and you had a way to compromise like no other. You were such a good courtier that Beron tolerated you. It also didn’t help that your laughter was infectious, Thesan and Helion made sure you were invited to every big event.

You were accomplished, sociable, and a capable elemental manipulator but you always thought your greatest achievement was bringing Azriel out of his shell. At first, the shadowsinger was apprehensive about you living with them but that quickly changed, his shadows found you interesting and you coaxed him out of the shadows. In a way, he felt obligated to help you, all your life was spent in Hewn City and even then, you were more isolated than Morrigan. He knew you were stuck in the darkness, and he wanted to show you the light. At the time, he didn’t know he needed you more.

Azriel loved to replay the memory of taking you on your first flight tour of Velaris, you gripped his neck and shoulders as you shrieked in glee. He would never be able to forget how your scent overwhelmed him that day, pine and cherry blossoms forever embedded in his consciousness. He landed by the Sidra, and you leaped from his arms and headed straight to the water. You slipped the sandals off and dipped your toes into the cool water and a wide grin spread across your face. 

“Azriel! Come here!”

He obliged, he found it difficult to say no to you. He stood by the bank and found comfort from the sound of rushing water. All was calm until water splashed his shirt, and his eyes snapped open to see you with a mischievous smile, perfect spheres of water floated above your hands. With a flick of your wrist, they collided with his body, the water sticking his black shirt onto his muscular torso. You had approximately 2 seconds to admire him before a large splash headed your way. Azriel grinned as he watched you stand there in shock. 

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” smirked Azriel. 

Then the water fight started and the two of you never gave up, it was elemental magic versus a strapping warrior. You called a truce and both of you walked to the townhouse soaking wet, Mor wouldn’t let you into the house till you stopped dripping so you and Azriel sat on the front steps and watched faeries of all kinds pass by. Azriel caught himself smiling at you whenever you talked, he felt safe with you, like you would never judge him for his scars or dark past. He found it easy to talk to you, you never pressured him to talk like his brothers and Mor would do. Over time, one glance was all it took for you to understand what he needed.

The two of you danced around each other for decades, neither of you brave enough to take the next step. You saw Rhysand and Cassian as your brothers but when it came to Azriel, it felt different, there was unspoken tension, a different love that ran deep and made you blush. Every time he brought a female home, jealousy filled you and the clouds became grey and stormy. Azriel felt the same way when you started dating. No one ever stuck for more than a few months, but he hated every one of the males, they would never be good enough for you. What stung the most was Azriel didn’t think he was good enough for you either. 

One day, you and Morrigan were sitting at the table having breakfast. She remembers this day so clearly because she had never seen you blush that color red. Azriel stopped by to eat a banana before training, Morrigan watched you not so discreetly check Azriel out in his Illyrian leathers. When he was done eating, Azriel threw you a wink before he bounded up the stairs to the training ring.

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

You choked on the yogurt causing you to have a coughing fit. “Mor!” you hissed. “Why would you ask that?”

“The two of you work well together, you understand each other.”

You shrugged as you drank water. “He’s my best friend, how else am I supposed to act around him?”

Mor looked at you incredulously. “Do best friends check each other out? Give each other massages after a long mission? Lay their heads on each other’s laps when they read? Kiss each other on the cheek constantly? Fall asleep together on the couch? Do they-”

“Okay!” you exclaimed. “You’ve made your point!”

Your cheeks and ears were cherry red, they burned as you stared at your breakfast.

“The two of you are single right now. I think you should tell him how you feel. Azriel… is Azriel, I think he’s too scared to make the first move, he’s always been more insecure,” said Mor. 

“What if he says no and I ruin our entire relationship?”

Mor looked at your beautiful features and softly laughed. “He would be lying to himself.”

A week later, you finally dared to talk to Azriel about your feelings. He was standing on the balcony nursing a glass of whiskey, staring at the distant storm clouds. You leaned against the railing and looked at him, your heart pounding.

“Are you okay?” Azriel focused on you, his eyes scanning for anything amiss. 

You breathed deeply and fully turned to him. “Azriel… you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t want to change a thing, but I want more and… I think you do too.”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes wide as he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream. 

“Oh, gods. You don’t feel the same way and I just ruined everything, haven’t I?” Your hands covered your face as you spun around to make a run for it.

Scarred hands clamped down on your shoulders and moved you to face him. Gently peeling your hands away from your cherry-red face, he smiled as his hands cupped your cheek. “You didn’t give me time to process.” 

Your lips parted in shock. “So you want more?”

Azriel leaned closer to you, his breath blowing across your face. “I want to be with you.”

Going on your toes, you met him halfway. He remembered how soft your lips were, how you tasted like the wine you had been drinking to gather your courage. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him in closer, his large hands grabbed your waist and lifted you to sit on the railing.

A giggle stopped him from kissing you. “I might fall!”

Azriel’s arms wrapped around your body. “Then I’ll catch you.”

You beamed at him and Azriel’s heart felt full, you were the light he had been chasing all his life. He pressed his lips against yours and you melted against him, a small moan of contentment escaped your lips and Azriel grinned. He needed to hear that sound from you again.

“Ahem.”

You leaned to the side to see Amren smirking at the two of you. “Fucking finally. I thought we’d have to wait two hundred more years for this to happen.”

Azriel growled. “Is there a reason why you’re interrupting us?”

“High Lord Kallias sent out a distress message, I don’t know what kind of emergency so be prepared for anything. We leave in 5 minutes.”

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh and laid his head on your shoulder. “Such bad timing.”

Your fingers went to stroke the hairs on the nape of his neck. “I know,” you purred. “We can finish this when we get back. We’ll talk more about our future and what we want.”

Azriel lifted himself and looked in your gaze, so warm and full of life. The pad of his thumb ran over your bottom lip and that’s when he felt it. That golden thread unraveled itself and snapped into place. He was startled as he looked at you, your features oblivious to the mate bond.

He blinked as he realized it had yet to snap for you. You looked at him with so much adoration that for once in his life, he didn’t doubt your feelings. Your eyebrows scrunched when you noticed a shift within Azriel.

“Nothing,” he said as he pecked your cheek and helped you down from the railing. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay, we have all the time in the world,” you said as you tugged his arm to get ready. 

How the enemy was able to transport a Middengard worm to Winter Court still made faeries scratch their heads to this day. There were also enemy soldiers to worry about, but Rhysand ordered you to help with the monster. According to Rhysand, it was the largest he had ever seen, and its skin was thick and impenetrable. It was getting closer to the city and no matter what the courts shot at it, it never faltered. You joined Kallias and the other fae with ice-manipulation powers to do anything to get the worm away from the city. You slammed a foot down onto the ground and the frozen earth shot upwards hundreds of feet into the sky, creating a barrier for the city. 

Kallias grinned at you, and you threw him a wink, you loved using your powers. Running full force toward the worm, you conjured large razor-sharp spears from the snow and made them jut out in the ground in hopes the Middengard would impale itself. It turned out you all severely underestimated the creature, it grew in height and then slammed itself onto the earth allowing it to burrow and move underground. Your jaw dropped in horror as it quickly made its way to the city, the wall you built would not be able to withstand its power. You looked at the gleaming lights of the city and your heart dropped. There were millions of faeries in danger. 

Your mind whirred as you looked at all your options and the only thing you could think of didn’t look too good for you.

Rhysand could still remember the panic he felt when his Daemati talons slammed against your thoughts. You were so concentrated; your mental walls were halfway down. 

Please don’t do that! It’s too dangerous, there must be another way.

Rhysand’s fae sight let him see your soft smile, your eyes already lined with silver tears.

That’s a whole city, Rhys. you would do the same. Thank you for everything. Tell Azriel I love him.

Rhysand started screaming your name but that didn’t stop you from sprinting toward the Middengard and getting as close as you could. The moment you could detect the worm underneath you, you let out a strangled scream as you used every ounce of your power. Your arms were lifted and when your hands tightened into fists, the earth around you and the worm caved inwards. The giant earth wall that blocked the city crumbled down as you used all the materials available to bury yourself and the Middengard into the depths of Hel. 

High Lord Kallias will never forget the sounds of your family screaming for you, he could still hear it in his nightmares. He remembered Morrigan throwing up and the spymaster dumbfoundedly staring into the soil you disappeared in. 

*** 

Your death shattered the inner circle’s life, they were never able to recover your body making them feel even worse. It was too deep into the earth; the High Lords couldn’t even sense the Middengard worm.  Amren had stayed behind to guard Velaris, so she was the last one to find out. No one had ever seen Amren cry but when her family winnowed in without you, looking shaken and pale, she crumpled onto the floor and let out a wail that shook the townhouse. Rhysand built a beautiful memorial for you by the edge of the city, and upon Azriel’s request, it was placed near the Sidra. 

Everything had turned upside down. It rained for a whole month, and it certainly helped no one's mood. The day you died became a court holiday, the people of Velaris mourned you, even some in Illyria and Hewn City. Every year on your death anniversary, the High Lords came to visit your memorial, they brought flowers or expensive bottles of wine that you liked. Tamlin never showed up, but he always sent a courtier to deliver an extravagant wreath made of spring flowers bursting with color. You had once complimented the peonies that lined his estate and he never forgot about it. 

Every time Azriel opened his eyes in the morning, he wished for sleep because, in his dreams, you were still alive. Your favorite phrase in the world was “Everything happens for a reason”, it helped you cope with your childhood and the inner circle had adopted it as their mantra. Azriel hated it. He refused to believe that what happened to you was written in the stars. He hated that you had to sacrifice yourself. Why you? Why his mate? He had loved you for so long yet so much time was wasted on others when you could have been together. The pain he felt when the golden thread disappeared was unlike anything he had felt before. Azriel thought he was dead until he saw the earth cave in with you in the middle of it. His shadows were screaming but he was numb, he couldn’t believe you were gone just like that.

Azriel swore the birds had stopped singing in Velaris, his family thought he was crazy but then they noticed it too. There were these songbirds that sang every morning and if you heard it, you whistled back and they’d respond. It was like the natural world knew you were gone. Life without you was dull, the stars didn’t shine as bright, and the sky wasn’t as blue as it used to be. 

Like most things, time was the only remedy. With each year that passed, the pain slowly became bearable. Azriel was encouraged to see other people after a hundred years had gone by but nothing went past the first date, no one was ever going to compare to you. He couldn’t touch another female without feeling sick.

The inner circle had gone through so much since you died, and like clockwork, Cassian went to your memorial to sit and give you updates every week.

 ‘Rhys is stuck Under The Mountain. Azriel is being a pain in the ass about going to Illyria. Rhys came back from Under The Mountain. Azriel misses you. Rhys found his mate but she’s with Tamlin. Feyre threw a shoe at Rhysand. He met Feyre’s sisters. We miss you. A war with Hybern was coming. I have a suspicion my mate is Nesta Archeron. The High Lords are having a meeting and we all wish you could be there to contain everyone. I was forced to see Bryaxis, again.’

Sometimes Cassian came with other members of the family but most of the time, it was just him talking to you. 

One day, Rhysand brought Feyre to your memorial, and she gasped at how beautiful it was. Using his Daemati powers, he showed his mate his most precious memories of you. You had befriended a beast in the mountains of Illyria. It was a horned creature and Rhysand had almost obliterated the monster but your delighted laugh stopped him. Yes, the beast was running at you but Rhys failed to notice your outstretched arms and bright grin. You were never scared. 

Feyre squeezed Rhy’s hand as she admired the fresh flowers and gifts that were placed around.

“She was so beautiful and so kind-hearted. I wish I met her.”

“Me too,” he whispered. “You would have loved her.”

The war with Hybern was brutal. If you were still there, you would have tipped the scale and Prythian would have been winning from the get-go. Amren had to unbind herself from her body to save everyone, she was scared in her last few moments but then remembered how selfless and brave you were. The war was over but then Rhysand passed as well, sacrificing himself for the greater good, your last words to him ringing in his ears. 

Feyre begged the High Lords to revive her mate and they did, her anguish reminding them of the loss they all felt when a certain Night Court member had passed. With Rhysand alive, he nodded toward the Cauldron, telling them that Amren was there too. Morrigan and Varian fished her out and Amren came out sputtering and desperately trying to gain control of her body. She kept coughing up water, so she furiously pointed to the Cauldron. 

“What is it?” cried out Morrigan.

Silver tears started streaming down Amren’s face as she attempted to crawl. “I saw her, she’s in there!” she said desperately. “Get her out before she drowns!”

Every faerie looked at her like she was crazy. Who else would be in there? 

Her head swiveled around until she locked into Azriel’s gaze. “She is in there.”

Azriel’s legs carried him toward the Cauldron and not a second later, Morrigan joined him as they blindly reached in. Morrigan started swearing as she felt a limp arm in there, finding the torso, Azriel helped heave the body out of the Cauldron. The female's body thrashed as she coughed out all the water she had swallowed. The High Lords and their courts burst into chaos when Azriel brushed the female’s hair off her face.

Still dressed in Illyrian leathers, there you lay sprawled and gasping for air.

a/n: thank you for reading! please let me know what thought in the comments! xoxo

Part 2

[uvobreakmylegs]

Dark Light Within

part two of Lamp of the Body

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 1

Warnings: trauma, mentions of death, mentions of murder, manipulation. unhealthy relationships, smut, oral (male receiving), choking

Word Count: 12.1k

In the days that followed the compromise you and Chrollo had come to, you found that you were doing well. Over that period, the nightmares stopped and you actually got a few full nights of sleep for the first time in a long while. Finally you had mornings where you woke up feeling completely refreshed and ready for the day, and you had the energy to do more around the apartment as well, happy to no longer be stuck doing one or two tasks you'd set for yourself before you inevitably needed to take a break and recharge.

Admittedly, it was a bit performative as you were trying your hardest to prove that you were okay. That the days of you feeling exhausted from a restless night were over with and had only ever been a temporary problem, one that had solved itself. That Chrollo didn't need to move away from the city for your sake and that the both of you could continue to live here as you had been.

Soon enough, you'd be able to go out again, you were sure of it.

Chrollo obviously noticed your change in mood as he commented on it one evening while you were rinsing off the plate you had used for dinner.

“You seem a bit better recently,” he said.

“I've been feeling better,” you answered.

“That's a relief,” he replied, smiling as he added “maybe I was a bit hasty in my suggestion to move.”

“Maybe,” you repeated, “it's a good thing we held off on that. We saved ourselves from a lot of hassle.”

“So it seems,” he agreed.

You went to bed that night feeling good about yourself.

The fact that the nightmares started up again that very night was ironic. Or it would've been, were it not for the fact that they now felt worse than ever. The new constant was the figure being on top of you, their hands around your throat, squeezing and letting go only to repeat the process over and over again. You always woke up in the middle of the night now, feeling worn out and terrified.

During the times that Chrollo would wake up after you and asked what was wrong, you came up with excuses, mostly claiming that you were feeling restless and joking about how your internal clock was wired wrong since you could no longer get any sleep at night. The look in his eyes told you that he didn't believe you, but he would accept your explanation regardless, even if it seemed to be reluctant.

You just wanted to be okay again.

You were in a good place now; there was no reason for these attacks from your subconscious to continue as they did. They needed to stop so you'd be better, so you could go back to the way things had been before.

Get over it already

But as much as you tried to will yourself into better health, it just wasn't happening. Not on its own. And it was clear that Chrollo could see that. Even without his ability to be as insanely perceptive as he was, no doubt anyone could see that you were tired.

He'd held off on any major discussion of it, but there were comments made here and there that let you know what he thought: that you should stop being so stubborn and putting yourself through unnecessary stress, though you doubted he would ever use such wording. The next time the two of you sat down to actually talk about the issue, you knew you would lose. He had a million reasons as to why his decision was correct and there wouldn't be anything you could do to prove otherwise.

That was what drove you to an impulsive decision.

It came on a day where Chrollo was away running errands; nothing that would last too long, so he had no need to call in any more favors from his friends. And no one else being around you meant that there was no one that would keep you from going out.

It wouldn't be anything major. You were just stepping outside of the building. In your mind, being able to do that without any negative affects would prove that things were okay.

Nothing bad would happen, you told yourself. It was killing two birds with one stone, actually. You would prove that you were doing okay by leaving the apartment while also getting a much needed breath of fresh air. Of course, Chrollo would have argued on the second point that you could've gotten that by going out onto the deck outside your apartment. But that wasn't the same as walking around freely. That was probably part of your problem; that he'd essentially kept you under house arrest out of concern for your safety. Although his concern was appreciated, it felt like that was probably part of why you weren't doing well. Being locked inside had left you feeling stir-crazy, which didn't do any good for your mental state during a time that you were supposed to be recovering.

Dreams and nightmares have meanings, you remembered hearing. Maybe you being paralyzed and the figure that watched you was a representation of your deteriorating health while being kept trapped.

…. It probably wasn't that deep. Your mind was just running with random thoughts because it didn't have anything better to do. Again, another sign that staying cooped up was bad for you, regardless of what Chrollo told you.

It didn't feel good to sneak around him, but surely if you did this, he might ease up a little.

That thought had you feeling pretty good as you made your way down to the apartment lobby, pushing the button for the ground floor of the elevator and absentmindedly humming to yourself to pass the time as the elevator began made its descent. The last time you'd been out was when you were returning from the Dentora Region in Padokea, and you hadn't seen any of it as Chrollo wanted you to keep a bandage over your eyes until it was safe to remove, which was, of course, after you were back home.

There were two others present when you entered the lobby: a woman you didn't recognize who seemed to be a resident like yourself and a receptionist stationed at the desk. They were chatting with one another and didn't pay much attention to you when you walked past them. Heading towards the main doors of the building, you only glanced at them for a moment longer before bringing your attention to what was in front of you. Through the glass doors, you saw the street outside, the people who were walking along the sidewalk and the traffic in the streets.

Perfectly normal, nothing to be worried about.

But when you grasped the handlebar of the door was when you froze, and you stayed in place as you fully took in the sight before you.

The sad part was that nothing had really happened.

There was no dramatic scene outside that made you pause, no recreation of your accident with you being a bystander this time – it was simply a normal day outside in the city streets that were teeming with traffic.

And yet after that sight had set in, you stopped in your tracks.

Why? Nothing bad had happened. You'd been out before. Very briefly and while you were being transported to and from different hospitals and airports with Chrollo at your side, but still, dread filled you when you looked upon that street. Your hand gripped the handlebar so hard that your knuckles paled and your breathing got heavier.

Maybe it was because you were alone, because Chrollo wasn't here.

From behind, you heard the woman at the counter saying something that seemed to be directed at you. You couldn't hear it clearly. Then she got closer, and she said something else when she stood next to you. By that point, her words were background noise.

You weren't able to focus.

Suddenly you were in the backseat of that taxi, checking the weather forecast on your phone while some advertisement played on the car's radio. The driver was chatting with you about something mundane and unimportant while you half-listened to him, adding in some commentary of your own from time to time. Everything was fine.

Then the driver made a left turn and you heard him shout.

You looked up in time to see an oncoming car hit the taxi head on.

Then nothing.

Just the feeling of waking up with a curtain of darkness over your eyes that refused to lift.

This was a bad idea

Go back upstairs, you told yourself. Go back up and if you need to have a breakdown, do it in the comfort of your own home. Go back up.

Those thoughts ran through your head as you continued to look at the scene outside, unable to move.

Go back up.

“What's wrong with your eyes?”

You didn't really understand the question at first; all you knew was that someone was talking to you and you looked over to find that the woman was standing next to you. Better to apologize if she thought you were behaving strangely and to explain what had happened to you a year ago. Surely she and the receptionist would understand, and they would encourage you to go back up so you could recover in private.

But when you looked to the woman, you found that her expressions wasn't one of worry, but that of being disturbed, or even fearful, and she took a step back when you looked at her. When you glanced over to the receptionist who was still seated at their desk, they seemed confused until you made eye contact, and then their expression mirrored that of the woman.

They both looked at you like there was something wrong with you.

“Seriously,” the woman said, “what the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

You heard the question, but again, it didn't register. All you saw were the disturbed gazes of the two before you, and all you wanted in that moment was to get away from them.

Without saying anything, you made your way back to the elevator, pushing the button to summon it and hoping it would come down quick.

It didn't.

And with the two still staring at you for a few more agonizing moments and you feeling like you could tear and claw at your own skin as you desperately wanted them to stop fucking looking at you, you opted to take the stairs back up to your level. Before the door closed behind you, you heard them talking in hushed whispers almost immediately after you were out of sight.

You felt your heart rate increase on hearing that.

You were lucky enough to not run into anyone else on your way back to your unit, though you didn't feel that way when you slammed the door shut and leaned against it after, supporting yourself while you tried to level out your breathing. What just happened? Why did you freak out? How could you still be so unprepared for life outside these walls?

Why did those two look at you like that?

You had no clue. What was that woman even talking about?

Still no clue. Your throat felt dry, though.

Pushing yourself off the door, you made your way to the kitchen. A glass of water should fix that. And maybe getting some fluids into you would help you feel better after that ordeal.

On your way to the kitchen you caught sight of something strange in the reflection of a decorative mirror that hung on the wall as you passed by. Something that looked red.

You paused after you passed it, then took a step back and looked into the mirror.

Your heart could've stopped in that moment.

Where you should've seen two gray eyes in your skull looking back at you, the color you saw in the irises was red. Two violent, bloody red eyes staring back at you, and you saw clearly when your expression grew distraught as you backed away from the mirror.

Why?

In an effort to tell whether or not you were dreaming, you dug your nails into the skin of your arm, just enough to cause you pain. If this was just a dream, the pain would be enough to snap you out of it and bring you back to reality. But as the minor amount of pain made itself known in the flesh of your arms, the image before you stayed the same: you, looking back at yourself in the mirror, and a pair of red eyes in your skull.

Why?

Not convinced that what you were seeing was real, you ran to the bathroom, wanting to see if those eyes would appear in the mirror in that one, too.

They did.

Why?

Desperate to be wrong, you went to the bedroom and pulled out a hand mirror, wanting to believe that somehow, the other mirrors had been tampered with and that this one would show you the truth.

The same bloody red eyes stared back at you a third time.

Why?

Panic overtook you. Your heartbeat was thundering in your ears and you felt so light-headed that you ended up on the floor, sinking your fingers into your scalp while you breathed hard in and out through your mouth. Why was this happening?

What happened in the moments after that point was hard to remember exactly. You were so wrapped up in your panic that you didn't notice when time passed or when someone entered the room.

Chrollo found you on the floor of your bedroom, still staring at the image in the hand mirror that lay in front of you while you cried. He spoke your name as he placed both hands on your shoulders, and that snapped you out of it, looking up at him as you finally realized that you weren't alone anymore.

He stared at you for a moment before saying “it's alright now,” and pulling you against his chest. Without another thought you grabbed at him, holding onto him while you continued to cry. How long he held you like that was also unclear, but once you felt a bit more calm, you noticed that the sun was lower in the sky now than it had been when you first ventured out. Eventually your sobs quieted and your breathing became more regular.

Sensing that you were doing better, Chrollo gently pulled you away, caressing your cheek as he asked “what happened?”

After taking a few breaths, you spoke.

“I'm sorry,” you began, “I wanted to go out. I thought I'd be okay, but when I got down there…. I don't know, I freaked out.”

That wasn't the issue, you remembered. It was your eyes.

Your eyes. That he clearly saw.

You felt stupid. It would've been the first thing he noticed. You were looking right at him, and currently, his expression was neutral. Had it not hit him yet how strange it was? Would he have a similar reaction to the two downstairs? The thought of Chrollo looking at you like that almost sent you into an entirely new panic. But you shoved that down as you forced yourself to speak.

“You can see them, right?” you asked, “my eyes.”

He nodded slowly, but said nothing.

That only made your panic worse.

“I don't – I don't know why this is happening,” you stammered, “I don't know why this happened, what could've caused it. I swear this hasn't-”

Chrollo brought a hand up, and you stopped talking.

“First things first; we should get off the floor,” he told you.

Taking both of your hands into his, he pulled you to your feet and kept his grip firm on you when you stumbled. Once you were steady, he led you out of the bedroom and took you to the kitchen, where he sat you down at the table before pouring you a glass of water and urging you to drink it. You did as he told you, and as you downed the glass, he pulled up a chair to sit closer to you, keeping a hand on your shoulder as he watched your expressions. The water and his touch had you feeling more at ease.

When you placed the glass back down, he asked “are you feeling better?”

“Sort of.”

You reached up to touch the area beneath your eye, asking “but I don't understand why this is happening.”

Upon hearing that, Chrollo's hand that had been softly rubbing your shoulder stilled, and you looked back to find a resigned look on his face.

“Chrollo?”

“It's alright, love,” he said, “you were going to find out sooner or later.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you asked “find out what?”

Chrollo considered you for a moment before he spoke again, saying “I'm afraid I have a confession to make.”

“Confession?” you repeated.

“About the origins of your current eyes.”

You weren't sure where this was going, so you stayed quiet and waited for him to explain further. But instead, he asked you a question.

“Have you ever heard of the Kurta clan?”

Your eyebrows furrowed again as you shook your head.

“That isn't too surprising. They were a very small, secluded group of people that lived on the other side of the world,” Chrollo explained, “there isn't much known about them due to the way they isolated themselves, but the main thing that was known was what would happen to their eyes once they became agitated or upset in some way.”

What he was saying clicked for you as you asked “they turned red?”

He nodded.

Part of you wanted to feel relieved. Technically speaking, it wasn't so bad. Sure, it would be inconvenient for your eyes to turn red whenever you become upset, and learning to manage that would be difficult, but it could be worse. At the same time, however, you didn't understand why Chrollo had kept this from you. Since he had labeled this as a 'confession', there was no way for him to claim ignorance about the eyes. Maybe keeping this from you for the first few weeks was somewhat reasonable, but to stay silent for all this time? What reason could there be?

“…. So my eyes came from a donor from that clan?” you asked.

You didn't like the way he frowned after you said that, and the sinking feeling you were having only got worse.

“I'm afraid that the story is far more gruesome, love,” he began.

“How?”

“The scarlet eyes were considered by many to be a wonder of sorts, and the way the Kurta hid away from the outside world only made those people want to see them even more.”

You said nothing, but you couldn't help but note that he had referred to the Kurta in the past tense this entire time.

“It ended with the Kurta being massacred several years ago, and the eyes of those that had stayed red after death were harvested and sold on the black market.”

“Black market – people buy them?” you asked, incredulous and not sure what point you should address first.

“They're considered to be a collector's item,” Chrollo explained, “and their value tends to be high, given that there are only thirty six pairs in existence.”

Then he added “although now the number of eyes that one can buy has dropped to thirty five.”

It all clicked into place in that moment, and no words could escape you. All you could do was stare at Chrollo in shock.

He didn't fault you for that as he continued to speak.

“I'm sorry, love. I knew you wouldn't be happy once you learned the history behind them, but after realizing that you may never be able to see again, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

You didn't know what to say, and your hand returned to your cheek as you processed what he'd just said. Things made sense now. Why he didn't want you going out. Why he made sure you weren't alone for any long periods of time. Why he wanted you to leave the city with him. All it would take was one really bad moment out in public and you would become a spectacle. Like what had happened downstairs in the lobby.

Just how long was he planning on keeping this from you?

Fuck

None of what he'd just told you could've been legal. He said that the eyes were sold on the black market, right? How many crimes had Chrollo committed to help you?

He must have sensed that your thinking at that moment was something along those lines, as he made a point to assure you that nothing bad would come from any of it, that he'd been thorough in making sure nothing would lead back to either of you. That no one knew he'd gotten the eyes aside from the specialist in Padokea, and that they'd been paid to not talk about it. Everything would be fine as long as the two of you were careful.

Everything would be fine.

He'd said that a lot during the past few months, and him telling you that had done a lot to keep you calm. Your thoughts went back to the many, many times he had his hand in yours as he said that, and how at peace you felt when you heard him say that.

And as for right now…. You still wanted that. Chrollo brought about a certain sense of security with him, and as you weren't sure how to take in this new information, it would've made you feel better to feel his touch and have his arms around you again as you decided what would've been the best way to react to all of this.

It didn't feel like you could do that right now as another question was on your lips.

“You bought the eyes of a murder victim off the black market?” you asked.

He was quick to respond.

“I know it sounds nasty, but it was for the best, love,” he answered, “there's nothing that can be done for that person who died, but their eyes can be put to good use for your sake.”

….. You didn't know how to reply to that. And despite his attempts to continue to talk to you, you weren't able to say anything else.

This was all too overwhelming.

You needed some time alone.

When you began to stand up and pull out of his grip, he spoke your name. But you didn't let him get any further as you interrupted him.

“I'm not leaving or doing anything stupid. I just need some time to process this on my own,” you told him.

He didn't seem happy about it, but he let you go and didn't follow after when you walked back to the bedroom and shut the door behind you, though he watched you the entire time. Once you entered, your gaze immediately went to the hand mirror that you had left behind on the floor earlier, and you approached it tentatively, scared of the sight you might find in it again.

Relief hit you when you looked into the mirror and found that the red color had dulled. It wasn't gone completely, but it wasn't as vibrant as before. Hopefully it'd be gone completely soon.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, and you settled down onto the edge of the bed.

….. The room felt stuffy.

Being on your own wasn't enough. After spending who knows how long in here freaking out, you needed out of this room completely.

The door that opened up to the balcony slid open and you stepped out. Taking in a deep breath as you got the fresh air you'd failed to get earlier, you sat down on the balcony flooring and wrapped your arms around your legs before resting your chin on your knees as you collected your thoughts.

How the fuck had you ended up in this situation?

In the span of a single conversation, you'd found out that your boyfriend of several years had done dealings on the black market by buying the eyes of someone who had been murdered. You'd learned of a clan who seemed to have been driven into extinction because people decided it was better to cut out and pickle their eyes like collectibles, and then that your boyfriend had essentially used one of those pairs of eyes as spare parts so you could go back to the way you'd been before the accident.

Where do you even begin to unpack all of that?

Legally, all of this was wrong. Buying body parts was illegal, and getting involved with the black market and possibly the mafia would be opening up a whole world of potential trouble. How much had all of that cost? The eyes along with whatever he had paid that specialist in Padokea – how much had you drained him financially? You knew Chrollo did well with his job, but would there be any resentment on his part for how much you had cost him?

You hadn't noticed anything off about him, but then again, Chrollo was good at hiding things. This revelation was proof of that.

And then the eyes themselves. Or rather, where they had come from. You'd assumed that they had come from someone who'd been in an accident and had signed up for organ donation. That had made you a bit more comfortable with the idea, that the eyes had belonged to someone who didn't want them to go to waste. Now that you knew what had really happened, it felt morally wrong that you were using them. Someone had died for something as silly as preserving an eye color, and now their eyes had been used just so you could see again.

Spare parts.

Those words came to mind again and you felt guilt for it.

If only that accident hadn't happened. If only you hadn't gone out that day. If only, if only.

You pressed your head against your knees while wrapping your arms tighter. Fat lot of good that kind of thinking did.

The door to the balcony slid open, and you turned your head to find Chrollo standing outside. He had one of your hoodies in hand which he held out to you.

“It's cold out, love,” he said, “wear this.”

You didn't feel that cold, but you accepted the hoodie anyway and gave him a soft “thank you” in response.

He seemed pensive as he watched you pull the hoodie on.

“Do you still need to be alone?” he asked.

It hadn't been that long since you separated yourself from him – it was a few minutes at best – yet you answered “I don't know.”

He hummed as he shut the door behind him and took a place next to you on the balcony, both of you sitting on the floor while you looked out at the buildings across the way. You glanced over at him a few times, only to find that you couldn't really read him in that moment. Your worry from earlier reared its head again – was he mad at you? Did he feel like he'd spent so much time, effort and money only for you to turn out to be an ingrate? What would happen if that was the case?

“Are you angry with me?” you asked. Your nails were digging into the skin of your leg, scared of what his answer might be.

“Of course not, love.”

Chrollo pulled your hand away from your leg and held it, clearly not wanting to see you hurt yourself.

“I should be the one asking if you're upset with me,” he then said.

He kept his eyes on you while your gaze stayed on the city as you thought over what he'd said.

Were you upset?

Yeah.

But how much of that was directed at him?

“I don't think so,” you answered.

“You don't think so?”

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts before you were able to get the words out.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm really happy that I got my eyesight back, and it also makes me really happy that you would do so much just for me, that I matter enough for you to go that far,” you began.

“But it's really scary that you would involve yourself with criminals.”

He stayed quiet as you continued.

“I don't want you to get involved with dangerous people and get hurt for my sake. It would kill me if someone went after you because you bought the eyes just so I could see again. If I had known that was what you were going to do to help me, I would've told you not to go through with it.”

Chrollo seemed thoughtful as he considered your words.

“I suppose I wasn't thinking about that,” he told you, “all I could think about was how I could help you.”

That was sweet, you had to admit. And it made you feel guilty for pulling away from him earlier. He was just trying to help, right?

“What made you go that far?” you asked.

“That's a silly question, don't you think? Why wouldn't I do everything in my power for your sake?”

…. That also made sense. And you knew that if the positions were reversed, you would want to do everything you could to help him if he needed it.

The whole issue of the eyes themselves was still strange, however.

“Why didn't you tell me that the eyes would change color?” you asked.

“I wasn't sure they would change at first,” he said, “when they were preserved, they were permanently stuck in their red form. It was quite surprising when you first opened your eyes and I saw that they were gray.”

Had he seemed surprised when you took off the bandages? You couldn't recall; being able to see again had been too overwhelming for you to remember much of how he'd been acting during that time.

“Did you ever realize before this point that they could still turn red?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

For once, your boyfriend didn't seem to know how to respond. An unusual sight to see, for sure.

“I was going to once we left the city,” he eventually said, “I thought it'd be good to do it then once we were in an environment that was better for you.”

“I think I would've preferred you told me before this.”

“That's understandable. And for that, I'm sorry.”

Chrollo squeezed your hand gently as he added “thinking on it now, I was using that as an excuse to put off telling you about it. I couldn't think of any way to ease you into revealing the truth.”

He had a point there. As hard as you tried, you couldn't think of any way to open up a conversation like that.

He still should have told you, though.

But there wasn't much you could do about it, so all you said was “at least I know now.”

Chrollo was oddly quiet once again.

“Can I ask you about something else?” you added.

“Of course.”

“Was the specialist you took me to also involved with criminal stuff?” you asked.

“There were no legal avenues I could take to restore your vision, love.”

That made sense. It explained why the doctors at the hospital you'd gone to told you there was nothing that could be done. It was also scary; Chrollo had entrusted everything to some shady individual who operated outside of the legal limits. What if something had gone horribly wrong? What if they'd done something to you and you were left off worse than you were after the accident?

But Chrollo wouldn't have let that happen.

You needed to believe that.

The two of you remained quiet. Your brain couldn't come up with any other questions at that moment, and Chrollo was waiting for you to speak.

Not long after he took the initiative to ask a question of his own.

“What else is bothering you?” he asked.

“…. I feel guilty,” you said.

“Because of how the scarlet eyes came to be available?”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn't,” he said, “after all, you didn't have anything to do with what happened to those people.

“I know that,” you began, “but I just feel like the person who had the eyes originally would be mad that I was using them. They died because of their eyes, and then I end up using them like they're spare parts for a car.”

“That's quite a pessimistic view.”

“Doesn't mean it's wrong.”

“True, but think of it this way, love,” he continued, “instead of leaving their eyes floating in jars to be gawked at, you're putting them to good use. I'm sure that, whoever they were, the Kurta Clan member would have preferred that someone actually use their eyes as opposed to allowing them to gather dust while they sat on someone's shelf as a decoration.”

…. It did make it sound a bit better, but it wasn't like the guilt could be pushed aside just like that.

That would likely be something else you'd need to learn to live with.

“Are you sure you're not mad at me?” you asked.

“Not at all,” he told you, “I know that the steps I took to help you are ones most consider to be wrong, and I understand the guilt you feel after finding out where the eyes came from. But I hope that you also understand that I did what I did because I wanted to help you.”

“I do. And I really am grateful.”

You sighed, adding “I just wish that accident had never happened. Then we wouldn't even need to have this discussion.”

“I know.”

With that, Chrollo squeezed your hand softly again, just like he had during those long days from before. That made you feel a bit better.

“Can you just promise me something?”

“Promise you what, love?” Chrollo asked.

“That you won't buy human body parts off the black market again. Or anything similar to that. Even if you're just trying to help me,” you said.

To that, he smiled, and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss it.

“I promise I'll never buy body parts off the black market for any reason,” he said after.

You let out a sigh.

“Never thought I'd need to ask you something like that,” you said.

“Life is full of surprises,” said Chrollo.

“That's one way to put it,” you answered.

Sunset was quickly approaching, given the golden hue in the sky. Nightfall would come soon after, and accompanying that would be a drop in the temperature. It probably wouldn't be the greatest idea to be sitting on the floor for too much longer.

Chrollo certainly realized that as he squeezed your hand again and said “we should go back inside, love.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

With that, he stood back up and pulled you up after. One of his hands went to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly at your skin.

“I think it's time we got started on dinner, don't you?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“And after if you'd like, we can watch one of those terrible horror movies that you enjoy so much.”

At that, you couldn't help but let out a little of a laugh.

“You must be desperate to make me feel better if you're willing to sit through one of those with me,” you said.

“Whatever it takes to make you happy,” he answered, jokingly adding “even if I feel my brain cells slowly shriveling up while I sit through the trash you make me watch.”

“Rude.”

“It's the truth, love.”

You laughed again as he led you inside. This felt good. The normal, playful banter between you two that signified that things were fine. As questionable as everything he'd revealed had been, you didn't want to think about it much right now. It was easier to push it to the side and focus on other things. Like the intentionally awful movie you'd pick for him to roll his eyes at.

But as you were considering that, another thought came to mind.

“Actually….”

Chrollo turned to you after shutting the balcony door, tilting his head in question.

“After dinner, would you read to me?” you asked.

He smiled.

“Of course, love.”

After dinner, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, with you resting your head against Chrollo's shoulder while he read aloud to you, his free hand in your own and your fingers intertwined with his.

After the accident, when you'd been brought home but your leg was still in a cast, Chrollo would read to you often. With you being largely confined to the bed, he would settle down next to you as he read to you, holding out his hand so you could take it in yours. More often than not you would wrap both of your arms around his, your cheek resting on his shoulder while his hand would hold yours firmly. Those moments on their own made the days while your leg healed more bearable.

The feeling of Chrollo's hand holding yours had become a familiar one during that time. It helped a lot more than you would've anticipated – with sound alone, you weren't always sure of where he was around you, but the feeling of his hand in yours while he talked with you or read aloud to you helped you to know for certain that he was by your side.

That he really wouldn't leave you.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of his reading, and you looked up to find his gaze on you.

“What's wrong?” you asked.

“I have to admit, I was worried,” he said, “after learning everything, I thought you may want to leave me.”

“Me? Leave you?”

That thought hadn't crossed your mind even once. While you'd been shocked and incredibly worried when it came to the black market dealings in particular, you couldn't envision any sort of future where you packed up your things and left him behind. Certain things he'd said still scared you, and maybe for some people, those admissions might be enough to make them leave. But everything that had happened, you couldn't imagine spitting in his face like that.

Even if some of what he said was scary, it wasn't like his actions had directly hurt anyone, you told yourself.

You shook your head as you said “I don't think I could live without you, Chrollo.”

The second you uttered those words he kissed you.

It was far more forceful than you'd experienced in months and the pure passion of it surprised you, leaving you slightly stunned. He held you after he pulled away, and again you were surprised, this time by how firmly he held you.

Chrollo had been that worried that your response would be to leave?

You reciprocated his hug, silently communicating that you wouldn't do that.

You sensed the way he smiled against your hair.

He understood.

The day you learned the truth about the scarlet eyes had been a hectic one, yet it had managed to end calmly. Despite that, however, a majority of the days that followed were more in line with what had happened down in the lobby: out of nowhere, something would come over you and leave you unable to function properly as you struggled to control your emotions. Sometimes it was triggered by a phobia that suddenly made itself known, other times you were once again left confused as to why it happened at all.

Maybe it was all because you knew now what would happen once you became upset and how you'd see similar reactions from others like the two downstairs. It could be really bad for you if you freaked out in public and someone from the group that killed the Kurta found out and think that they'd missed one.

It was safe to say that your desire to go back out had died completely.

Even if the chances of those killers finding out about you were slim, you decided that it was too dangerous to risk it. Especially with how out-of-control your emotions were right now. You didn't want people to know – to look at you like that again.

The only one you could depend on was Chrollo.

Your boyfriend was always quick to rush to your side when he saw you weren't doing well – now easier to tell than ever due to the mood ring quality your eyes possessed. Despite this new bought of helplessness you were now displaying, you still got no sense that he was annoyed with you over it. He was just as understanding and calm as he'd been prior.

He stared at your eyes a lot, though.

It took you a few times of it happening before you realized just how often he would stare, his gaze on the blood red color in your eyes. There was always some reason he had to pull away from you, be it to grab you something to drink or to cup your cheek and caress it softly. With that latter action, there was always the silent encouragement to turn your face up towards him, his hand ever so slightly angling your jaw so you would look at him. And when his gray eyes met your scarlet ones, you felt as though you could see something strange moving within them. Some emotion of his being betrayed despite the expression on his face showing something different.

There was some manner of fascination he had with them, you came to realize, and you wondered how long he had known of the scarlet eyes before your accident even happened.

…. At least he wasn't disgusted with you. The faces of those two in the lobby frequently came to mind, especially during those moments of duress. At least Chrollo wasn't looking at you like they had. And even if the way Chrollo would at times treat you as though you were made of glass, you knew it came from a desire to protect you, perhaps born out of whatever feelings of helplessness he had felt once he finally received word that you had been in that accident, that you had been hurt so badly while he happened to be gone.

Chrollo looking at the scarlet eyes the way he did wasn't a big deal, you told yourself.

The fact that he cared about you so deeply was more important.

The other upside during that period of time was the fact that your nightmares had stopped. Maybe that was because you were simply too exhausted from the stress to have the energy to dream. Regardless, you preferred it that way, even if your days weren't all that better.

When Chrollo broached the topic of moving again, you didn't fight him on it. There were too many stresses that came with living in the city. The last few days had made that clear. If you wanted to live a healthy life, you couldn't continue on like this, and while you were sad to leave the life the two of you had made together here, Chrollo encouraged you to think on it positively. It wouldn't be the same, but it would be better for you.

You agreed.

After that point, the panics that took over you almost daily slowly died down as you began moving preparations.

In your mind, that was because you were being moved to a place that would be better for your mental health, with less things that would stress you out. While a part of you would always be sad that you likely wouldn't be back here, the fact that your panic died down cemented to yourself that this was the right decision.

The days were filled with moving boxes and packaging. Monotonous work that left you tired and sweaty after moving around heavy boxes. Today had largely consisted of packing away a majority of Chrollo's book collection, so you were more tired than usual. After a shower, you were standing in front of the bathroom sink in the middle of your bedtime routine, ready for another dreamless sleep.

When Chrollo entered the bathroom and came up behind you, the way he wrapped his arms around you after wasn't entirely unexpected, looking at you through the mirror as he held you close to him.

You leaned into his touch, placing a hand on top of one of his as you asked “everything okay?”

He nodded.

“I'm just grateful we can still have moments like this,” he told you.

You smiled and lightly squeezed his hand as you said “me too.”

Chrollo smiled back at you.

He turned you around and placed a kiss on your lips. You returned the gesture, placing your hands on his chest as you leaned against him.

Then one of Chrollo's hands reached up to cup the back of your head while his tongue pressed against your lips in a not so subtle way of asking that you open up for him. You obliged, and his tongue was then moving against your own while his free hand wandered down and squeezed your ass. The noise of surprise you made was muffled by the kiss.

Ah.

It'd been a while for both of you, hadn't it?

With all that had been going on since your accident, with your broken leg healing up and your recovery after getting the eyes, sex had been one of the furthest things on your mind. But now that you had Chrollo's body pressed up against you and his lips on yours, you realized just how much you needed him. To have that skin on skin contact and that ache in your legs afterwards.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while your teeth nipped at his tongue that was still in your mouth. Chrollo's hands immediately went down so he could hoist you up onto the counter, opening your legs after so he could slot himself between them.

He must've been pent up as well, but had held off until he was certain that you were better.

Always looking out for you and your well-being.

You pulled away from the kiss to whisper “I love you, Chrollo.”

“I love you too,” was the response he gave before he pressed his mouth against yours once more. He seemed needier than you were used to – no doubt a result of him putting his needs aside for you. You decided then that tonight you would do whatever he wanted.

A strand of saliva kept you connected when he pulled his mouth away from yours before it broke as he stood up straight. His hands went to the hem of your shirt with the intent of pulling over your head as he looked back to you-

And then he froze.

Chrollo blinked at you, as if he was surprised. You, on the other hand, were confused by why things had stopped.

“What is it?” you asked, still a bit breathless.

“Have I upset you?”

His question confused you as you answered “what? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Your eyes.”

“Huh?”

You turned your head so you could look at the mirror and see what he was talking about.

Oh no.

Your irises had turned red.

But why? You weren't angry or upset – you wanted this. Why had they changed color when you were fine?

Then you felt Chrollo begin to take his hands off of you, and you quickly turned your attention back to him, grabbing onto his shirt as you said “Chrollo, I'm not upset. Really. I want this, too. I promise.”

One of his hands came up to caress your cheek as he gazed into your eyes.

Then after a moment, he nodded as he said “I believe you.”

Relief filled you, and you glanced back at the mirror again, taking in the red of the irises.

“I don't know why they turned red, though,” you mumbled.

Chrollo hummed as he moved your head so he could look into your eyes again.

“Perhaps,” he began, “the Kurta eyes don't change color just from anger.”

“Wait, you mean they also turn red from….?”

You trailed off, for some reason finding yourself too embarrassed to finish the sentence. But he decided to finish it for you.

“Arousal, yes,” he confirmed.

“…. Did you know about that?” you asked.

“It's new information to me,” he answered, “I doubt that the Kurta clan would have wanted to advertise such a thing.”

“Ah, yeah. That makes sense.”

He was still staring at your eyes, not saying anything. And the longer things stayed like that, the more awkward you felt. Until he'd approached you, you weren't aware of how much you wanted him, the tiredness you'd felt moments earlier gone completely. Now that he'd stopped you desperately wanted to continue where you left off just a few moments earlier.

Did he not want to now? You'd realized that he had a fascination with them, but was adding sex into the mix too off-putting for him?

“… Does it bother you?” you asked after another beat of silence.

He smiled at you.

“On the contrary,” Chrollo said, pulling you off the counter and turning you around once again, making you squeak as he did so.

“You were upset those times before, so it seemed inappropriate to say anything about it-”His hand gripped your jaw as he made you look back at your reflection.

“-but it is a beautiful color, don't you think?”

With little other choice, you looked to the reflection of your eyes in the mirror.

The vibrant scarlet was still present, but now that you were made to really look at them, you found that the color was darkest around the outer circle of the iris, with bits of lighter shades of red speckled around going up towards your pupils. The blood red color itself was so vivid that it almost looked as though it was glowing. Your pupils dilated the longer you looked, and then you noticed another quality they had: an odd shimmer within the scarlet, like a halo that surrounded your pupil that almost seemed to have an iridescent quality to it. All of those things were odd, to say the least, yet you found that you couldn't disagree with your boyfriend's opinion.

You looked back to Chrollo through the mirror and found that he was waiting for a response from you.

“…. It is,” you agreed softly.

He smiled at you before leaning in to kiss you on the cheek.

“It really-” you were cut off when he buried his face in your neck, sucking at your skin with the intent of leaving marks. Looking at the mirror during that felt strange, so you looked to the side while you gripped at the counter.

“It really doesn't bother you?” you managed to get out when you composed yourself.

“I promise you; it doesn't.”

His free hand snaked down beneath the waistband of your pants as he said that, and you let out another squeak when his fingers began to play with your clit.

“Chrollo-”

“Keep looking, love.”

Those fingers continued playing with your clit while his other hand re-positioned itself on your jaw, making you look back at the mirror. While you did try a few times to move your jaw out of his hand, you were forced to give up as his grip was scarily strong. And when you shut your eyes as you felt Chrollo's fingers slip into your cunt, a nip on your neck forced them back open, and he whispered as he once again told you to keep looking. Remembering what you told yourself of doing what he wanted, you followed that instruction.

You saw how your fingers held tight onto the edge of the counter, unable to find purchase anywhere else. You saw how you bit your lip in frustration when Chrollo began to tease you by pushing his fingers in before immediately pulling them of you in favor of caressing the lips of your pussy. You saw how his arm moved as he delved into you again with the intent of scissoring you open. And you saw the way his eyes flashed over to look at you through the mirror when he heard the noise that escaped your mouth.

Through all of that, you found yourself always looking back to the red reflection of your eyes that only seemed to grow more vibrant.

It felt embarrassing, to be made to watch a reflection of yourself becoming a flustered mess from the way your boyfriend toyed with you while he kept you pressed against the counter. Every time his fingers brushed over a part of you that was sensitive would have you jolt against his firm chest, and every time you felt his teeth biting ever so softly into the skin of your neck had you moaning.

By now you could feel how hard he was as his erection pressed up against your ass.

His fingers were gliding out of you even easier now and your underwear was a wet mess. The heat inside of you was building up as you moved your hips against his hand, trying to get him in deeper.

Chrollo glanced up at you again through the mirror and your eyes met.

And then he stopped.

You managed to keep a frustrated whine contained within you as he pulled his hands away from you, leaning them against the counter as he remained on top of you.

“Would you do something for me?” he asked breathlessly.

“D-do what?” you asked in response that was just as breathless.

“Turn around and get on your knees for me.”

“Ah…”

He pulled away from you as you understood what it was he wanted, and though you were immediately missing the way he touched you, you told yourself not to be selfish.

The fibers of the bathroom mat protected your legs from the cool tiles of the floor as you knelt down before him. Though your hands were shaky, you went to undo his zipper before you pulled the material of his pants and underwear out of the way, allowing his cock to spring free of those confines.

You let out a soft breath as one hand went up to stroke him, fingers gliding over his length with a feather light touch. When you gripped him fully was when you felt him twitch in your hand. You continued like that, hand running along his dick while you leaned in to place a kiss at the head, licking the tip after. You heard his sharp intake of breath and saw from your peripheral vision the way his hand clenched into a fist. Remembering once again of how pent up Chrollo must've been spurred you to not waste time with teasing him and in moments you had his length in your mouth, your tongue moving against the underside of his dick and your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

The appreciative groan that came from his lips and the gentle hand that settled in your hair after told you that you were doing good, and you closed your eyes as you continued to bob up and down his dick.

“Don't do that.”

Those words surprised you, and you stopped suddenly to look up to him, uncertain of what you'd done wrong. The intensity of his stare caught you off-guard and you pulled off of him. Or you would have had it not been for the hand that kept your head from moving any further. Within a moment, that same hand moved to caress your cheek just beneath your eye.

“Keep looking at me, love,” he said, “just like that.”

You made a noise of affirmation before you continued as you had been, keeping your eyes open this time. It felt a little awkward for you to stare at him the whole time, but if that was what he wanted, you would do it.

You wanted him to be happy with you.

His cheeks became more flushed and his breathing was getting harsher, all the while those gray eyes bore into you. Chrollo always had an odd way of seeming to look right through you, and that was no exception now. Though never had there been such an intense look of fascination and awe until now, as his eyes gazed into yours.

You would be lying if you said it wasn't slightly unsettling.

It won't always be like that, you told yourself.

It's only because it's been so long since you did this for him.

Both of Chrollo's hands ended up tangled in your hair, and he stopped your movements completely as he forced himself down your throat. A soft groan from above and the clenching of his thighs served as the signs that he was about to cum, and soon you felt his release running down your throat, forcing you to gulp as you swallowed it since he still held you in place.

When you felt him begin to soften he finally let go, pulling out of your mouth and leaning against the sink counter as he collected his breath. You watched him from your spot on the bathroom floor, your thighs pressing together while you bit your lip. Your pussy was dripping and you were desperate for him to do something about was the frustrating ache inside of you. Remembering the way Chrollo had his fingers inside of you for that brief period only made it worse, and all you wanted was for him to continue where he left off.

He noticed, smiling at you as he asked “shall I take care of you as well?”

“Yes,” you answered without any hesitation.

He laughed.

“Eager, aren't we?”

“I was a little worried you weren't going to,” you admitted.

“When have I ever been that cruel to you, love?”

He said that while holding a hand out for you, one that you took and allowed him to haul you up to your feet. You ended up leaning against his chest, wide eyes staring up at him.

Out of curiosity, you glanced over to the mirror. Your eyes were still red. What a surprise. At least you were getting used to the sight. Chrollo then turned your jaw once more so you would face him as he leaned in for a kiss.

A weird pain suddenly shot through your chest once you saw his face.

You should hate him

…. Why would you ever hate Chrollo?

You weren't given anymore time to think on that as your lips met his and your arms wrapped around his neck while you pressed yourself against him. That weird feeling was pushed down into the depths of your chest; this was all you cared about right now.

Chrollo was on top of you, his arms caging you in on the bed while he thrust his hips against yours. You were squirming beneath him, one of your hands insistent on holding onto one of his own while you did your best to minimize the amount of pained noises coming from your mouth. He knew he was being too rough; you hadn't had sex in months and he should've been more gentle. But the sight of you laying beneath him and the red Kurta eyes staring up at him so lovingly caused Chrollo to simply not care as much at the moment – as long as he didn't hurt you beyond some bruising, you would be fine. And even that could be soothed in the moment. Whenever those noises of discomfort did become too loud, Chrollo would lean back down to place tender kisses on your lips or suck on your neck, and the feeling of his lips against your skin had you mewling while you squeezed his hand.

The marks on your neck, shoulders and chest tallied up while you forgave him easily, likely in part because of the past few months and how much of a burden you must've felt like during that time, as well as because of the sheer gratitude you had towards him, that he had done so much to give you back your sight.

He could get away with being a little rough.

And as he pushed himself back up so he could stare down at you again, he once more brought his gaze to the sight of the scarlet eyes that he admired so much.

It was a surreal sight, one he had never anticipated.

Nor had he planned on using the scarlet eyes for you. Not at first.

It began after bringing you home. Determined to keep the promise he'd made to you at the hospital, he had tracked down a transmuter who had the skills to replace your old eyes with ones that worked – a pity he couldn't steal their abilities for himself – and once you were well enough to travel again, Chrollo had looked about the area where the two of you lived to find a suitable replacement. At that point his goal had been to find a pair of eyes that looked close to yours, spending a considerably long time trying to find the correct shade of your original color while you recovered under the supervision of other members of the troupe.

He thought he knew what he wanted when he found a woman who had the color you once had, and after learning her schedule and when she would be alone, he'd gathered up what he needed for the job: the blade he would use to slice her throat so he could kill without her crying out, the tools that he would use to extract her eyes from her skull without damaging them, and the jars filled with fluids that would keep the eyes preserved until they could be transferred to you.

Chrollo was moments away from ending that woman's life when he remembered that job from years prior, when he and the troupe had attacked the Kurta Clan. Handling the jars had brought the memories back, as they had brought over a hundred of them for the heist; yet most had ended up unused as they hadn't been able to kill enough of the clan members when their eyes had been in the scarlet state.

While the massacre of the Kurta Clan had been a success in the troupe's book, he had always been personally unsatisfied with the final results of that heist. There was something lacking in the end result for him, as the eyes in the jars didn't look the same as when they did in the heads of those Kurta members who had died by his hand. The vibrance that had been present in living eyes that held emotion – that was gone. After the deed was done, all he saw in the dead eyes that floated in those jars was a waste of effort.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

That was when the thought struck him: what if he gave you one of the pairs of scarlet eyes?

… It was impractical, he thought after. For one, it would require him to track down someone who had a pair of the eyes, and once he found them, he'd need to steal them and more than likely kill the owner in the process. And going through all of that would cause you to wait longer. It was much less trouble to go with what he had planned initially and settle for the eyes he had already picked for you.

There was no need to go that extra mile when you would be grateful either way.

But now that the idea had come to him, it itched in his brain. The thought of not only being able to see the scarlet eyes as they were meant to be seen, but also that you might have them.

That mental image was all he could think in that moment, and it was then that Chrollo knew that he wouldn't be satisfied with anything else. So he walked away from his would-be victim's apartment, the woman within completely unaware that a passing thought of his had saved her life.

It was more for him than it was for you. He was well aware of that. And during the time he spent tracking down one of the thirty six pairs, he was aware of the disappointment you felt at how often he was gone, though you kept those thoughts to yourself. He could tell even without Pakunoda informing him that you were desperately terrified at the thought of him leaving you. The relief you felt when he always returned was evident in your voice, your body language and the way you gripped his hand.

The stress he was putting you through his search and retrieval of the eyes was wholly unnecessary.

But he pursued it regardless, intent on making the vision in his mind a reality.

And within a relatively short amount of time, he did just that. Now not only did he have you, but he also had the sight of the scarlet eyes with the life brought back into them.

Your pussy walls fluttered around his cock and he heard you moan. This time it sounded far more pleasurable and he sensed you were getting close. Without missing a beat Chrollo moved his hand so he could rub your clit with his thumb.

That was enough to make you cum on his cock, and the legs you had wrapped around his hips clenched hard onto him while your grasping fingers intertwined with his and you rode out your high beneath him.

That shade of red truly was mesmerizing, Chrollo thought to himself, his eyes focused on yours. Everything he'd done had all been worth it just to get to this moment right now.

He reached down once your orgasm had subsided, softly petting your cheek while you breathed through your mouth. You leaned into his touch immediately, smiling up at him.

“Love,” he began, “may I finish?”

As expected, you agreed. You didn't say anything when he resumed his harsh pace from earlier; you only readjusted your grip on his hand. With another love-bite left on your neck, Chrollo pushed himself back up with his arm, staring down at you while he continued to thrust his hips and fucked you into the bed.

“You're perfect.”

He breathed those words out and you smiled, somehow managing to seem embarrassed by the compliment despite everything he'd done to you tonight, as you glanced away. Chrollo cupped your cheek, bringing your gaze back on him.

When the scarlet eyes looked up at him again he began moving faster.

This surprise you both learned about the Kurta Clan eyeballs was a welcome one. Now he didn't need to force you into a panic to see them again. No more need to use any stolen ability to get your adrenaline to rush during the day while you were left inconsolable. No more need to interrupt your sleep schedule to gaze at them during the night while you silently cried. Now if he wanted a view of those eyes all he needed to do was force you onto your knees and push his cock in your mouth.

He'd be doing that more often. Definitely.

And you would be eager and willing to do so, jumping at any chance you could to show your appreciation for all that he had done.

As Chrollo looked into your eyes, he felt as his hands moved to your throat, grabbing you and holding you just hard enough to cut off the circulation. He'd done it without thinking, continuing the habit he'd picked up from those nights he spent watching you. There was something about the way you looked up at him while he had you like this. How helpless and at his mercy you were.

Your reaction was let out a soft gasp in surprise and to move to place your own hand on his forearm. There was no attempt to pull him off.

Once more, he was fascinated by the sight. And once more, he had to wonder if those eyes had looked at him like that before when they'd been in the possession of their previous owner. If this particular set was one that he himself had collected and bottled up.

If the eyes that now gazed up at him so lovingly had once done so in hate.

His grip on your throat must have gotten too hard, as the hold you had on his forearm tightened ever so slightly while you whined. Hazy scarlet eyes stared up at him, looking up in a mixture of arousal and fear.

He fully lost control then, stopping as he pressed himself as deep as he was able while he came, his hot release spilling into you and making you whimper as you felt his cum dribbling out of you.

That was long overdue.

With that, he released his grip on your throat and relaxed, falling onto the bed next to you as he pulled himself out of your sore pussy. Your eyes were still that shade of vibrant red, and they would remain that way until your heart rate returned to normal.

As relaxed as he felt, he noticed how tense you had become, your eyebrows furrowed as though you were thinking about something unpleasant.

“Is something wrong, love?"

You blinked as you looked over to him in response to his question, looking blank for a moment before forcing a smile on your face and shaking your head. Chrollo brought his hand back up to cup your cheek, asking “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you answered.

The way your eyes moved about told him that you weren't being entirely truthful, and he wondered for a moment just how much you were able to remember of those nights he spent gazing at you.

But before he could begin to do any sort of damage control, you spoke again, asking “Chrollo, could you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he answered.

Your smile seemed more genuine as you softly asked “will you hold me?”

Within an instant Chrollo had pulled you against his chest, cupping the back of your head with his hand as he said “you never need to ask for that.”

You hummed happily, nuzzling your face against his chest. The tenseness of your muscles melted away shortly after.

He'd been far too greedy tonight. He was so focused on the eyes and the newfound knowledge of the color also being linked to arousal that he'd wanted to drink in the sight at every moment. So much so that he'd held you down to keep you in place, something he'd never really done before the accident.

He would need to do a better job of controlling himself in the future if he wanted to keep you happy and complacent. While the chances were slim, there was always a possibility that you could learn the truth about everything: about him, about the troupe, and about who really was responsible for the death of the Kurtas.

Even with his efforts to ensure that you were heavily dependent on him, you wouldn't want to stay if you learned all of that. You might not even want those eyes in your skull anymore.

Better to not put you in situations where you could remember something unpleasant involving him and begin to put the pieces together. Keeping you happy while he kept you away from the rest of the world would be better for you, even if the alternative possibly gave him more opportunities to see that red color he admired so much. Losing the way you so eagerly clung to him wasn't worth it.

“I think we sabotaged ourselves,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Hm?”

“It's so late, and we still need to do so much. We're going to be exhausted tomorrow,” you continued.

“We'll manage,” he said, “just like we always do. Right?”

You smiled against his skin as you nodded, and Chrollo took the opportunity to place a kiss on top of your head.

“Getting some sleep is a good idea, though,” he added.

You hummed in agreement as Chrollo turned to flip the light switch, and held you once more as the room was shrouded in darkness. Moments passed before you spoke once more.

“Chrollo?”

“What is it, love?”

“Things will be better now, right?”

Chrollo smiled to himself as he answered “of course they will, love. You can trust me on that.”

[beatrixstonehill2]

Vince walked around his town's annual Oktoberfest celebration, catching sight of someone he hadn't seen in years, his high school crush, Natalie. Only not quite how he remembered her. "Wow, Natalie! Get a load of you.... looking better than ever!"

"Oh my god, Vince! I'm soooo happy to see you! And thanks.... I'm getting that a lot." She giggled, giving her belly a few good slaps as she guzzled her beer, wiping her lips afterward.

"Damn, you're putting those things away, huh? I remember you used to be all straight-edge, education comes first. You were cute, but not a whole lot of fun."

"Gee, thanks. I know, I know, I was so stuck up. But that's all changed now, and for the record this is my fifth beer already! Which, mmmm, reminds me!" Natalie slightly spread her bare legs and feet, pissing without a hint of embarrassment. "Mmmmm, that feels so good! I hope you don't mind." She bit her lip, talking as she pissed shamelessly in front of everyone.

"Not at all, a girl your size probably can barely control it, I bet."

She shook her head, still going, taking a big sip of her beer. "Just barely. I'm such breeder now, I'm getting used to just pissing myself if I need to. My womb is gigantic most of the time, my poor bladder's crushed. All the beer I drink probably doesn't help either. Mmmmm...."

"I can't believe how much you've changed. Last I heard you were a big shot in going to University in the city, about to get your Bachelor's. I still remember you tutoring me in English and I felt like a moron talking to you. Everyone knew you were the smartest girl in class."

"Those were the days! Well, I did good in college but my family talked me into dropping out and giving up on my education."

"What? For real?"

Natalie slapped her belly so hard it made a loud smacking noise. "Uh-huh! You know my family are pretty traditional, Christian types..... Sooo, they asked to talk to me and basically said that they were being quiet about how they really felt. They were proud of who I was becoming, but deep down wanted me to return to my small-town roots. They told me they always hoped I'd be barefoot and pregnant, sleeping around town, popping out kids left and right with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. They talked about how they prayed I'd come to my senses and lead a normal girl's life like God wants, or whatever. They said I should be breeding and having tons of sex with all kinds of guys, satisfying the local men, not leaving one behind. I should always be pregnant, and basically make my whole life about pleasure, to embrace being dumb, and to stop embarrassing them by being this super smarty city girl in college."

"And just like that you gave it up to make them happy, become a dumb little breeding cow?"

"Yep! Pretty much.... And I've got to say, I'm way happier living a simple life like this. I have all the sex I want with whoever, drink all I want, smoke like a chimney, show off my massive belly full of kids to entice the locals into getting out a little pent up frustration on me! I do such a wonderful service to the community now. I really feel like I'm giving back every time these men fill me with their seed and pound away at my poor, swollen pussy...." She giggled, giving her belly another slap, finishing her beer. "Oh! All done.... better get another. You want one?"

"Sure, I guess."

"That's the spirit! While we wait in line how about you bend me over, hike up my skirt, and show me how big a crush you really have on me....."

"Damn, I should've come back home way sooner I guess...." He gave Natalie a playful spank, leading her to the waiting line at the makeshift tavern nearby, his cock already anticipating getting to finally fuck his first major crush, with some added weight, a much bigger ass, and a huge belly full of kids. He knew in the coming days they would need to do a lot more catching up, while she could still walk, that is.

[artbyblastweave]

ask game; Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl aka Antares

I've always thought that Victoria's first appearance is quite the bit of deft needle-threading.

The thing about Interlude 2 is that Vicky is our first example of one of this setting's established heroes actively fighting crime- not just swooping in to vulture up the accomplishments of an up-and-comer- and a therefore a major goal of the sequence is to ensure that the audience comes away structurally unnerved by what counts as business as usual for the heroes, set the stage for the hurricane of ass-covering to come. So we have a sequence where she lords her power over a baseline criminal who has no realistic chance to fight back or get away, where she cripples and nearly kills him in a display of excessive force, where she uses her connections to other capes to duck out on the consequences of her excess once she realizes that she's crossed certain moral and optical Rubicons. All of this is gross, all of this speaks to an alarmingly cavalier attitude amongst even the most ostensibly accountable heroes. And from a protagonistic perspective, all of this serves to soften the blow of Taylor's actions at the bank in act three, because we're predisposed to see Vicky as an arrogant, overprivileged loose cannon who'd actually have a significantly higher body count than all of the Undersiders put together if not for the cushion afforded to her by her status as a superhero. A golden child up against the already put-upon underdog.

But. She also does all of that to a Neo-Nazi, who was fresh off committing a hate crime. I mean, if this was violence against a purse-snatcher, a drug-dealer- It would be very, very easy to block this sequence in a way that would set her up as a villain and nothing else for the rest of the work. In The Boys, for example, Homelander debuts by incinerating one bank robber's hand and throwing another a thousand feet into the air to land hard on a parked car, and the dissonance between that casual brutality and his chumminess with the onlookers is the thematic backbone for... basically the entire show, because he was in such total control of the situation that the only reason to do it that way is that he fundamentally doesn't care. In Super Crooks, it's made abundantly clear that the superheroes trying to arrest the titular supervillains are significantly more destructive to the city than the villains are, because their institutional backing removes any incentive to do anything but pursue the flashiest arrests possible for the sake of ratings. But Glory Girl? She's a sixteen year old putting her money where her mouth is on the unconsidered-dilettante suburban-left-ish tumblrite rallying cry of punching a Nazi. She's living out a near-boilerplate superheroic fantasy of righteous violence against an uncomplicatedly righteous target- likely a fantasy entertained at least once by the median cape fan, if we're being honest- and then, in the aftermath, blood on her hands and on the pavement, staring down the full weight of the prospect of actually having killed a person in an unconsidered spate of rage, is very much a panicked teenager about it, scrambling for a way to walk it back.

Which, independent of the specifics of whether this particular asshole had it coming, is the problematic element of this that generalizes- that superheroism in this world is a system that puts the social license to use concrete-shattering power in the hands of a kid with the judgement and attitude of someone scheming up ways to dodge curfew. She's done this before, she's gonna keep doing this, she's gonna keep being two-faced about it with her public-facing golden-girl image. But she wasn't wrong to be angry. And the fact that this is the kind of thing she gets angry about is hard to separate from later beats where she tries to do right by people, hard to separate from her willingness to put herself on the line against Endbringers and the Slaughterhouse 9. It's a bad situation, a horrible system that's guaranteed to incentivize bad behavior, they shouldn't be assigning any of this shit to a 17-year-old. But later on, when things go south for her, the seeds are planted so that she can retain audience sympathy in a way that she likely wouldn't be able to if this story was a banal hatswap, with unfairly maligned "villains" who do no real wrong against supervillains who happen to call themselves superheroes.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Miss Raven! I was reading your opinions about Leona and wanted to ask you, do you think Leona would be a better king than Falena?

[Referencing this post!]

Put simply, no--but not for the reasons you're probably thinking. Hey now, hold on! Put down your pitchforks and torches! Please at least hear what I have to say and consider it.

It's not that I think that Leona is incompetent or that I think Falena is sufficient as a king. It's that ruling (especially as a monarch that has a LOT of power and control) is very nuanced and to say that one person would be "better" than another is grossly glossing over all that goes into governance.

This post gets quite long, so I've placed all my thoughts under the cut. Again, I ask that you read the whole post before commenting.

First of all, the baseline we're comparing to is Falena so let's review what we know about him that's relevant to this discussion. Leona describes Falena as someone who has a "carefree attitude". Because of this, Leona worries that Falena will "run [their] kingdom into the ground." Now something I want to make clear: "[running their] kingdom into the ground" is very harsh wording used ONLY in EN. In JP, Leona is much more casual with his phrasing. He simply expresses that he is "worried about the country's future", not that he thinks Falena will ruin it:

In the book 2 post-OB flashback sequence, Leona implies that his older brother can sing and nap but still be guaranteed the crown because of Falena being first-born. Falena is noted as holding a ceremony in honor of his son's birth; he had commissioned for a fountain to be built (even though water is a scarce resource in their land) and unveiled in their capital—an occasion which Leona skipped. He refers to the ceremony as a "self-indulgent party where you show off your son to the people." This characterizes Falena as a jovial and excessive person who doesn't think too deeply about policies. Another example of this comes from Leona's Birthday Boy vignettes, in which Falena sends his younger brother an expensive rug. "In the time he spends sending me gifts I don't even want, he could be sending rugs to neighboring lands and bolstering our foreign relations," Leona says. "Of course, the thought never even crosses his mind." One of the Sunset Savnna’s driving philosophies is “hakuna matata”, which, as Leona describes it, means, “don’t think too hard about things”. And indeed, if Falena is anything like how Leona says he is, then he is the walking embodiment of their country and their beliefs.

One major issue that is unique to their homeland is that of unification. The Sunset Savanna boasts many different kinds of beastmen, each with their own customs and cultures--and because of that, these beastmen tend to live in settlements of just their own kind and don't always get along or see eye-to-eye with others. For example, it is said that very few bird beastmen reside in the capital city and Ruggie has implied that hyenas are low in the social hierarchy. Kifaji, the grand chamberlain, confides that the acting king Falena has struggled with this unification. The Kingscholars' father has communicated that he would like for nothing more than Leona to lend his assistance to Falena for this endeavor. (Keep this in mind, as I will be touching upon this again later!)

What I think many people tend to overlook when it comes to Falena's rule is that he has not been in power for a long time. According to Tamashina Mina, Falena has only been running the country for "the last few years", which is NOT that long. Falena has not even had that much experience as the official head of state to begin with--and yeah, you could argue that he has been preparing his whole life to eventually become the ruler, training for it and actually doing it are very different beasts. No amount of tutoring will prepare you for having the weight of an entire nation suddenly on your shoulders. I would also argue that anyone that is new to a job won't do the best right away and that experience is the best teacher. Falena is likely still learning while on the job and trying to do his best while also juggling being a parent and husband, trying to reach across the aisle to his estranged younger brother, and looking after his ill father.

This leads me to another point: a lot of what we hear about Falena is coming from Leona's perspective, which is very biased (especially in the post-OB flashback, as this was when Leona was at his most bitter). We should be aware of this while taking in the information Leona is offering. I don't doubt that Leona's telling the truth about how his brother is carefree or the things his brother has done, but at the same time we need to realize that this is a limited view of Falena. It's not the whole picture of who he is. Leona tends to focus on his brother's shortcomings and downfalls--but thinking about it, what are Falena's strengths?

Well, one of them is definitely that Falena is friendly, kind-hearted, and honest. Even Leona confesses to this. However, he frames these traits in a negative way, stating that "[Falena] could just focus on the kingdom's affairs--you know, his JOB--but nooo, he's gotta be the caring big brother who's nice to everybody," and, of his honesty, "he just makes things harder for himself." Falena also seems to be positive and insightful--admirable qualities in a leader. When Leona speaks rudely to him, Falena tries to reassure his little brother: "You may never become king, but you are still wise. There is much you could do for this country." He even pursues Leona when he leaves, trying to get his little brother to see reason. Falena sees the potential in Leona and he wants Leona to realize that potential too. If you look at this another way, this personality can be a boon. It could make it easier for Falena to smooth over tensions and get other political figures to open up to him, similar to how Kalim’s empathy helps to uplift and support his dorm mates and how those dorm mates in return give him their loyalty.

Finally, we know that Falena is cognizant of the culture and the values of the Sunset Savanna and likely works in accordance with those. If we revisit Tamashina Mina, Leona talks at length about how some areas of the country are so underdeveloped that its people are still drinking rainwater or from wells. He laments the situation and says that if only they improved their infrastructure and mined the valuable ore their country has, the people would be able to live better lives. Leona here leans pro-industrialization. From the lack of industrialization we see in large parts of the country, we can assume that Falena does not have this same stance. Rather, Falena understands that the people of the Sunset Savanna cherish living in harmony with nature and want to honor their animal ancestors by living in this way. He KNOWS that their people would be against industrialization, and so he favors slower development (Sunrise City being one of these metropolises that developed under the rule of their father) and in ways which preserve nature. As Lilia puts it, “Developing is easy. You just throw money at it. But building a city like this, while still preserving nature? That’s the real challenge, I’d say.” (That was a very quick summary but if you're interested in reading more about this topic specifically, I'd recommend this post!)

Falena cares about tradition and upholding it, and there isn’t inherently an issue with that. He values where he comes from and the practices that come with that. That’s why Falena gets upset with Leona for not doing his duties and skipping out on important meetings. It’s not purely that Falena sees these acts as disrespectful (although let’s be clear, it is disrespectful), but it also comes with the sadness of knowing that his younger brother doesn’t see the value in the same things he does—yet he still understands that Leona has his own strengths that be brings to the table.

You can see how this could translate into his ruling style too, even if it is not explicitly stated in the game. Falena is someone who is easy to approach with your problems (let's assume that this is the case both for his own people and for diplomats of other countries). He is someone who cares about tending to everyone, which would make him popular with the public--but that means he may spread himself or their resources too thin. Falena is also for slower progress in order to respect the ways of their culture and their people's values. But the point is, Falena cares, and all Leona sees in that is a bleeding heart since it doesn't produce what Leona thinks are good results.

And speaking of Leona, it's about time we get to him. What are his qualifications in a situation where he was king? What would his ruling style be like, and who would it serve his country?

Firstly, it's worthwhile to compare Leona's thinking to Falena's. Unlike his older brother, Leona is proactive--he plans ahead and considers the political power in something as simple as gifting an item. Many of the ideas he proposes for bettering his country are things that Falena either never thought of (ie gifting the rug to another country instead of to him) or would refuse to implement out of principle (speedrunning mining operations). However, it's undeniable that Leona's methods would produce results. As he demonstrates to us with his shady tactics in books 2 and 3, it does not matter to Leona what he has to do in order to achieve what he desires. His eyes are set on the goal, not on how he gets there (though he will plan the steps out meticulously as well). He's willing to tear up the environment if it means enriching the Sunset Savanna's economy and providing clean, consistent drinking water for the citizens. It's ultimately gains, but it jeopardizes maintaining harmony with nature. This would earn him genuine ire from his people (and honestly, disliking someone for blatantly disregarding your beliefs is valid; it's not blindly being petty or hating Leona for being the "lowly second born"). But!! Leona as of book 7 says he is going to intern at a mining and energy lab in his home country. This implies that he is willing to learn about the field and may use that knowledge to enact sustainable change. This is a really good start to his development and growth into a wise leader.

The brothers' personalities are also not alike at all. Leona is... admittedly far more abrasive that Falena. I'm not saying that Leona would behave so rudely to politicians or on a global stage (please, the man has more tact than that), but he would carry himself very differently than Falena. Leona can be polite and speak fancily all he wants, but he still does not have that same approachable warmth to him. Something else we should consider is that... well, Leona doesn't like stuffy occasions or putting on airs, which would basically be expect of him as king. We don't know for sure how he would act if the circumstances ask that he be cordial and yet the man himself detests such a thing. He could play the part if needed, sure. But for how long before he becomes annoyed or tired of it? Leona can also be arrogant and demanding. Do you think he would skip/sleep through meetings with advisors he deems irrelevant or unproductive? (Recall how he skips ceremonies and traditions he deems unimportant or boring, like the celebration of Cheka’s birth and tries to cheat his way out of his responsibilities as Captain of the Sunset Warriors.) How do you think he'd act with people who oppose him? Would he defy traditions? He also disregards the “hakuna matata” mantra and cynically labels it “self-serving”. I could see how tensions could rise as a result. (Reminder that I'm not saying it's for CERTAIN that Leona would do these things, I'm just posing possibilities based on what I understand of his character and whether you believe Leona would act like this or not is up to you.) Leona is 10 years younger than Falena and has never formally served in a governmental position. This means that he, too, lacks the political experience to be king. Some would say that where Leona makes up for this is in life experiences. He has been downtrodden and defeated, mingled among the common folk, etc. This means Leona is better equipped to understand the plight of his people, they argue. And I can see where people are coming from--but personally, I think Leona still lacks what he needs to be a "better" ruler. Yes, Leona has lived "out there", but the fact remains that Falena still has 10 years on him. What's more is that Leona has not actually strayed that far from his privileged life. He's dorm leader (a position of power within NRC), attends an elite magic school, and constantly has Ruggie taking care of him. I don't think this really prepares him to rule a whole country.

That's a good segway into Leona and his leadership. As I've mentioned before, Falena is having trouble with enacting national policies to unite all beastmen. Leona does not appear to have the same issue, as even though there is a variety of beastmen within Savanaclaw, they all defer to Leona the same. Therefore, Leona, as king, could easily resolve this problem in the Sunset Savanna--so the theory goes. As for me, well... In my opinion, I do think it's a show of skill that Leona can get many different beastmen rallying under his flag but I don't think this generalizes to (again) the scale of an entire nation. Not only do we have to account for WAY more people, but also people of demographics that differ wildly from Savanaclaw. The mobs under Leona follow him, yes--but thinking about it, they're all VERY similar demographics-wise. They're roughly the same age, all male, all students, and have the same goals in mind (for book 2, it was to be noticed by talent scouts). I would bet that most of them are from middle class or upper-class incomes too. Now expand the scope to a country. Do you think Leona could appeal to young and old? Male and female? Rich and poor? People of all occupations? What about parents? There are so many other factors to account for, so I don't think it's fair to generalize Leona leading a dorm of maybe 85ish (this is just a guess; NRC has ~800 total students, 600 are on-campus and split across 7 dorms so this assumes equal splitting) to a diverse kingdom of thousands.

If Falena were to abdicate the throne to Leona right this second, no, I don't think Leona would be fit to be king. Leona's ideas seem "good" on a surface level, but that's ignoring the long-term impacts and his less-than-stellar personality quirks. He has a ton that he has to learn before he can comfortably govern. At the same time, Falena isn't exactly a perfect ruler either. He, too, lacks experience and can be short-sighted and naive in spite of his good intentions and willingness to hear everyone out.

In an AU where Leona was actually the crown prince (and thus never got talked down to or treated like the “lesser” second born), maybe things would be different. But then that creates the same issue with Falena (now the scorned younger prince) being the "Leona" of the AU.

Each Kingscholar brother has his own strengths and weaknesses, perspectives, and leadership styles. THIS DOES NOT MAKE ONE SUPERIOR OR "BETTER" THAN THE OTHER. Instead, they make up for one another's deficits or flaws, creating a more well-rounded and unified view. This is, perhaps, why both Falena and their father want Leona to step in and help with ruling the country. I think they all see the benefit that Leona could provide and that they value his thoughts.

The "best" situation for the Sunset Savanna, in my opinion, would be Leona and Falena working together to see the country's future through. It does not have to be in the capacity of king and advisor; titles do not matter here. What is most important is that Leona and Falena can meet on neutral grounds and agree to put their all into improving the Sunset Savanna.

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to become a girl's step dad to troll her into blocking me and stop dragging me in a group chat ? Jenny (23F) blew up because I (24NB) said she'd be a shitty social worker bc of her specific autism symptoms + class bg. My gf (45F) said it was warranted because of how  overwhelmed i got by the wall of text with triggering details of my abuse. I never told my GF that the fight started because Jenny called me a gold digger. I also never mentioned that I ended it an hour later by posting pics of Jenny's mom in the chat, ignoring her ranting and discussing the vacancy left by her dead dad*, and how i could fill said vacancy. 😬😬😬 Might of gone too far with this one.

Backstory: I lived with Jenny when I was houseless indefinitely. She only let me stay for two weeks because it would be too "distracting" to her studies. Jenny was incredibly rich, didn't work, and her parents paid her rent for a 2 bedroom. She admitted she got rejected from every grad school she applied to except for the one her mom was in charge of. Her mom bought her a condo in the city the school was in. She kept asking me how she should decorate it, completely ignorant to how uncomfortable this made me and my other friends. Jenny was oblivious constantly to how she made others feel. She was actually the most incompetent person I've ever met in terms of comforting other, always tone deaf and completely absorbed with her own, single traumatic event. She made constant jokes about the abuser I was fleeing and even compared this stalked to a /serial killer/ documentary she watched, but never EVER showed any signs of internalizing how I almost lost my life to another person, how that might affect me or even just bum me out. Seriously, I've never met someone else who was so incapable of even being sensitive to issues that were /EXTREMELY SERIOUS/. Forget comforting, the stuff she routinely said to me and my other friends to try to cheer us up was beyond degrading. It was wearing on me a lot.

Jenny herself was neurodivergent. She often said her autism prevented her from understanding the feelings others had, reading their expressions, and tolerating crying or loud noise-- she forbid her musician roommate from doing both. None of those mean shes a worthless person, but all of those things would make someone a horrible therapist or social worker. Oh my God, literally every time I talked about my recent trauma, she would talk about herself and then blame her autism when I told her it just wasn't helping.

The final piece of this was I had a nervous breakdown and screamed at her over discord that she was a shit friend and needed to give up on social work, for like an hour. NOT MY PROUDEST, but I ALMOST DIED. I was living with her because SOMEONE WAS STALKING ME. and I would have liked to not have my abuse JOKED about. HOW DID JENNY RESPOND!? She began dragging me, through the mud, in the group chat, for, dating, an, older, woman, who, paid, for, my, air bnb, because, !!!she!!! wouldn't let me live with her for more than a week. I was HOMELESS. It became all about "OP you are such a b*tch, you are with a woman twice your age and she pays for everything now but you are still a miserable and angry person. You are so blah blah blah you are an ableist, you said I can't become a social worker bc of autism blah blah blah you have major major issues, Go back your rich granny and leech off of her you useless, fucked up little gold digger."

U_U Then, she started graphically describing how I deserved my abuse, so I shrimply began to troll. And yes, I pulled out my magnum oppus like fucking playing blue eyes white dragon, oh yeah I slipped her a pristine Jenny's mom facebook photo and said "Hey you never said your mom was so cute. Maybe, I could leech off her next and become your new dad." Yes, her dad died.* She blocked me immediately. Its OK. It was knives out for Jenny as soon as my GF gifted me a pair of $700 Isabel Marant shoes** , the most EXPENSIVE thing ive ever owned in my whole life, and Jenny saw me excited and called her mom to buy her a pair. It's, absolutely OK, if I am the asshole. I wear my crown of thorns, judas that I am, but I really, really think Jenny was being cruel. *he died 18 years ago ** the shoes are no more because i fell into my gf's rich friend's koi pond

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Good Luck Charm

As a United fan, that was a hell of a game 😁

Either way, I wrote this fic for the man city girlies ❤️

Ruben is upset for getting knocked out of the ucl and blames it on Reader.

Enjoy!

You walked through the door, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Having watched the replay of the match on the plane, you anticipated what was to come. Ruben would be upset for sure. It was such and important game to him. Telling him about closing your first major deal at work would have to wait.

You stepped into the dimly lit apartment, announcing your arrival. "I'm home!"

Your voice bounced off the walls with the echo, however there was no response.

"Ruben?"

You search for him in the kitchen without any luck.

"Hello? Is anyone..."

You paused in the frame to the living room. Ruben was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed, scowling at the TV.

"Hey, babe," You said, trying to sound cheerful. "When did you get in?"

He shrugged his shoulders, not giving you a second glance. You stepped out of your heels and approached the couch. "I've missed you." You crawled over to him, planting a kiss on Ruben's cheek before settling down beside him. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No." He grunted.

"Well, do you want me to make you something, or should we just order take out?"

Ruben turned to you, eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" You chuckled. He looked a bit intimidating, but since it was unusual for him to be as grumpy as he was, your reaction was to laugh.

"Take out?" He questioned. "Since when do we order take out?"

"I dunno. I thought maybe it would cheer you up. A pizza always puts a smile on my face."

Ruben snorted. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"Hey?" You frowned.

Ruben left your side and got up from the couch.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

"Don't 'hey babe' me," He snapped. "My team lost today. And it's all your fault."

"What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep her cool. "How could it be my fault?"

"You know how," Ruben said, his voice rising. "You're my good luck charm. And when you're not there, I always lose."

You sighed, having heard this before. You had tried explaining to Ruben that you couldn't be present at every game, but he never listened. He was convinced that you had some kind of magical power that could influence the outcome of sports events.

"Look, I'm sorry, Ruben," You said, trying to placate him. "I really am. But I can't be at every game. I have a job and a life of my own."

Ruben scowled at you. "You never understand anything," he said. "You're always so fucking selfish."

You felt a sting of hurt. You had never meant to be selfish. You had always tried to be supportive of Ruben and his sports career. But it seemed like no matter what you did, it was never enough.

"I'm sorry, Ruben," you said again, your voice shaking. "I'll try to be there for you more often, okay?"

Ruben glared at you for a moment, then stormed off to your room, slamming the door behind him. You were left alone in the living room, feeling hurt and frustrated. You didn't know what to do or what to say when he got like this. Ruben was upset, and rightfully so. Perhaps giving him space was the best thing you could do.

That night, Ruben stayed in your room, leaving you enjoy the evening by yourself. You took yilour time in the shower after dinner and only then dared to enter your bedroom. The room was dark. Ruben lay on the bed with his back to you. You let your towel fall to the floor as you put lotion on your body before jumping into your pajamas, which was just one of Ruben's t-shirts that were big enough for you to sleep in. It smelled like him, which you loved. And you had a feeling that Ruben wouldn't like being near you for a while, so the smell of him would have to do.

"I'm sorry."

You were surprised.

As soon as you slipped under the bed cover, you felt movement behind you, followed by Ruben's arm snaking around your waist,  pulling you to lay closer to him.

"I'm sorry for what I said." He whispered, his lips gracing the side of your temple.

"It's okay." You nodded. "I get it. I can't imagine how...."

"No." He groand. "What I said to you was unforgivable no matter how angry I am about the game."

"Ruben." You turned to face him. You could only make out the silhoutte of his face, nevertheless your hand went to rest on his cheek. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean any of it."

"I love." He said.

"I love you too."

Ruben's hand went from your waist to the back of your head, tilting it backwards as he leaned forward and kissed you. His stubble tickled your face, the smell of him invading your space.

"I meant what I said though" He nodded.

"Oh. Well I didn't mean to be selfish,  but my job..."

"Not that."

"No? What then?"

There was a puase. You could tell that Ruben's eyes searched your face. He sighed. "You're my good luck charm, Y/N. I really mean that."

You smiled.

"I want you with me every game and I know that's selfish of me but it's what I want. It's what I need."

"You need..."

"You." He nodded. "I play better when I know you're watching."

"Ruben, that's...." The sweetest thing a person has ever told you. However, you weren't able to express your joy as Ruben leaned forward again, pressing his lips against yours. This time, he pressed you harder against him, desperate to have you close. You felt him grow stiff against you and gasped at the sensation of his hand, snaking its way under your shirt, cupping your breast.

"Ruben." You moaned. "I love you. More than anything."

"I love you too." He said, but for the moment he loved your body more, doing absolutely everything to expose it.

Your shirt got tugged over your head and tossed into a corner somewhere. Ruben had already moved to tracing kisses down your belly, not stopping until his head rested between your legs. That's where he paused, looking up at you, his eyes now clear in the night.

"What?" Your hand lay on top of his head, gripping a bundle of his hair.

Ruben smiled. "So, how was work?"

You shook your head in disbelief, "Just finish me off, you superstitious idiot."

[emilky-whim]

Folklore Legacy Challenge

Hey Ya'll! I've been working on this one for a little while and I can't wait to share it with you! It's a 16 + 1 generation legacy challenge for the Sims 4 based off of Taylor Swifts album Folklore! There aren't many solid rules for this one, I mostly just want ya'll to have fun and play it in a way that makes sense to you. That being said: - Mods and cheats are ok to use (I even encourage it). - Each Gen must have at least one child to play as the next heir. - I have used lots of packs in making this, you will need: City Living, Cats and Dogs, High School Years, Get Together, Crystal Creations, For Rent, Outdoor Retreat, Island Living, Dream Home Decorator, Parenthood, Discover University, Dine Out, Stranger Ville, Get Famous, Spa Day, Growing Together + more that I've probably forgotten. - If you do not have the required packs, feel free to change what you need to as long as it is somewhat similar to the original.

Gen 1: The One

You’re a meticulous gardener with a penchant for perfection, fiercely loyal to your craft and to your loved ones. Despite your somewhat snobbish tendencies, you dedicate yourself to finding true love, and when that journey ends, you never REALLY get over it. Yet you continue to cherish your familial bliss and vibrant social life.

Career - Gardener (Either Branch)

Traits - Perfectionist, Loyal, Snob

Aspiration - Curator 

Complete the soulmate aspiration with only one sim. Your sims permanently ‘separate’ once the aspiration is complete.

Always accept invites/calls from other sims.

Adopt at least one child.

 ‘’ = You may separate them as you choose.

Gen 2: Cardigan

You're a charismatic politician, oozing self-assurance and intellect, always in the know. As a Renaissance Sim, mastering myriad skills comes naturally to you. Amidst your political pursuits, you find time for youthful adventures, savouring bar dates, maybe one day you’ll finally settle down with a cherished companion.

Career - Politician (Charity Organiser)

Traits - Self-Assured, Genius, Insider

Aspiration - Renaissance Sim

Master all the skills needed for the politician career. 

Go on at least 5 bar dates as a young adult.

Eventually marry a childhood friend.

Gen 3: The Last Great American Dynasty 

You're a devoted stay-at-home parent, balancing material desires with a deep love for family and furry companions. Despite setbacks like a failed marriage and neighbourhood feuds, you find solace in nurturing your family and friends, building a home filled with love, even amidst domestic changes.

Career - Stay At Home Parent (You can work any career until you parent a child)

Traits - Materialistic, Dog-Lover, Family-Oriented

Aspiration - Mansion Baron

Have one failed marriage.

Become enemies with at least one neighbour.

Have your first child as a newly aged up young adult.

Move in with friends for at least one year.

Gen 4: Exile

In the world of espionage, you've always stood out. While others excel in covert ops, you thrive in building connections. Romantic at heart, yet socially awkward, you're drawn to leading, seeking solace in your club's camaraderie. After heartbreak, you relocate, shying from commitment but embracing your chosen family.

Career - Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)

Traits - Romantic, Socially Awkward, Gloomy

Aspiration - Leader Of The Pack

Create and lead your own club. Become friends with all the members.

After a major breakup, move to a different world.

Never get married or stay in a long-term relationship.

Gen 5: My Tears Ricochet

Amidst canvases and clay, you've always preferred solitude to the bustle of social affairs. As a critic, you explore the depths of creativity, while crafting jewellery and crystals on the side. Despite your artistic fervour, relationships falter, leaving you to nurture your creative progenies and seek solace in your craft.

Career - Critic (Arts Critic)

Traits - Loner, Creative, Art Lover 

Aspiration - Crystal Crafter 

Have a side business selling Jewelry and Crystals.

Get left OR leave someone at the altar.

Have at least 4 children.

Gen 6: Mirrorball

In the spotlight's embrace, you dazzle as an entertainer, with moves that mesmerise and demands that rival divas. Behind the glamour lies a heart yearning for connection, seeking solace in fleeting affairs. As you master the arts of song and stage, you flit from home to home, craving new experiences and relationships to fulfil your insatiable appetite for life.

Career - Entertainer (Musician)

Traits - Dance Machine, High Maintenance, Generous 

Aspiration - Friend Of The World 

Have a secret love affair, with whom you’ll eventually marry.

Master the singing, piano and acting skills. Never master any other skills.

Live with at least 3 different sims over your lifetime. 

Gen 7: Seven

Beneath the stars, you find your playground, a whimsical astronaut drawn to the great unknown. Childhood antics linger as you escape the mundane, running away with a friend to explore the world. Haunted houses hold no fear for you, just another adventure in your quest for outdoor thrills. With each holiday, you uncover new wonders, embracing the vastness of the universe.

Career - Astronaut (Space Ranger)

Traits - Childish, Loves Outdoors, Good

Aspiration - Outdoor Enthusiast 

Run away from home as a teenager with a friend/s

Live in a haunted house. 

Go on a holiday seven times over your lifetime. 

Gen 8: August

In the vibrant world of social media, you craft narratives with precision, driven by ambition and a hint of envy for the spotlight. Amidst beachside dreams, you seek solace in Sulani's embrace, drawn to its sun-kissed shores. An affair with a married sim sparks passion, leading to a child and an obsession, anchoring you to the idyllic island life, forsaking love for the serenity of the sea.

Career - Social Media (Public Relations)

Traits - Jealous, Ambitious, Neat

Aspiration - Beach Life

Have an affair with a married sim you meet while on vacation.

Have at least one child with the married sim.

Live in Sulani for most, if not all, of your lifetime.

Never date again after your affair ends.

Gen 9: This Is Me Trying

Driven by a desire to transform spaces, you carve your niche in the world of interior design, fueled by ambition yet shadowed by melancholy. As a youth, you flee, severing ties to forge a path of your own. Love finds you in the arms of a cheerful soul, grounding you upon your return, where you rebuild bridges and strive to be the ultimate caregiver to your children, overcoming personal demons along the way.

Career - Interior Decorator 

Traits - Ambitious, Overachiever, Gloomy 

Aspiration - Super Parent

Move away as a teenager/young adult and lose most of your sims relationships.

Get married to a Cheerful sim. 

Move back as a young adult/adult and re-make all the relationships you lost.

BONUS (Only if you have the Basemental Drugs MOD) Become addicted to at least one substance and successfully complete rehabilitation for it.

Gen 10: Illicit Affairs

In the courtroom's halls, you weave tales of justice as a private attorney. Driven by wanderlust and a fear of commitment, marriage comes swiftly, but it's the thrill of forbidden affairs that ignites your passion. Caught in multiple webs of deceit, divorce looms, leading you to Henford-on-Bagley, where you navigate the complexities of parenthood alone, seeking solace in the quiet countryside.

Career - Law (Private Attorney)

Traits - Non-Committal, Advenutrist, Clumsy

Aspiration - Serial Romantic

Get married young and have at least 4 affairs before getting caught. 

Have at least one child through an affair.

Get divorced 

Move to Henford-on-Bagley to raise all your children by yourself.

Gen 11: Invisible String

You always dreamed of sizzling pans and crafting culinary delights, a romantic at heart with a green thumb to match. Love's journey takes unexpected turns—a tumultuous romance with a mean spirit, a dance of uncertainty with a lifelong friend. As the years pass, you find your soulmate as an elder, nurturing both your restaurant empire, a family and a thriving garden.

Career - Own your own restaurant (or multiple restaurants)

Traits - Romantic, Good, Green Friend

Aspiration - Soulmate

Be in a long-term relationship with a mean sim and eventually break up.

Have a ‘will they, won’t they’ type of relationship with a life-long friend sim.

Get married as an Elder.

Have a well-maintained garden.

Have all restaurants at 5 stars.

Gen 11: Mad Woman

Betrayed in your youth by those you trusted the most, you harbour scars deep as loyalty binds you to your cause. You ascend the ranks of the criminal underworld, fueled by anger and an unyielding pursuit of justice and vengeance. Marriage offers solace, yet the thirst for retribution remains, driving you relentlessly until old age grants the serenity you seek.

Career - Criminal (Boss)

Traits - Hot-Headed, Perfectionist, Loyal 

Aspiration - Seeker of Secrets

As a teenager, have an ex friend/friend group/lover ruin your reputation/life.

Spend the rest of your adult life trying to get revenge.

Marry a friend. 

Only find peace/let go as an elder.

Gen 12: Epiphany 

Straight out of high school to the covert operations of the military, you excel, driven by duty and a longing to provide for your family. Medals adorn your chest, earned through dedication and sacrifice. Love finds you in the arms of a medical professional, but shadows linger, as memories of battle haunt your days, a silent reminder of the price of service.

Career - Military (Covert Operator)

Traits - Overachiever, Family-Oriented, Good

Aspiration - Big Happy Family

Join the military immediately after finishing highschool.

Retire/quit your job as soon as you earn all available medals.

Date and marry sim with the medical career.

Live with PTSD (you can use a mod for this)

Gen 14: Betty 

Your high school romance blossoms into marriage, yet jealousy festers, leading to a massive indiscretion that fractures the trust you’ve built. Amidst the wreckage, you strive to mend what's broken, seeking solace in weekly garden dates as you navigate the rocky terrain of love. In the digital realm, you thrive as a freelancer, coding with confidence and a hint of cringe-worthy humour.

Career - Freelancer (Programmer)

Traits - Cringe, Jealous, Self-Assured

Aspiration - Joke Star

Marry your high school sweetheart. 

Have weekly dates in your back garden.

Have an affair for an extended period of time before being caught. 

Spend the rest of your life trying to heal the connection between you and your spouse. 

Gen 15: Peace

Unable to make friends, you shed the burden of high school to focus on working toward your dream job and pursue the limelight. Amidst the glittering lights of fame, you still struggle to find your place and people in the world. Eventually, love finds you in the presence of an outgoing spirit, but as stardom ascends, so does the weight of its demands, testing your quest for inner peace amidst the chaos of stardom.

Career - Actor

Traits - Socially Awkward, Creative, Squeamish

Aspiration - Inner Peace

Dropout of high school and work a part time job to earn money.

Master the acting career.

Master the acting and wellness skills.

Marry an outgoing, good sim.

Become a Global Superstar and struggle with the price of fame.

Gen 16: Hoax

Born amidst the urban hustle of San Myshuno, your artistic soul yearns for expression amidst the city's chaos. Love's path proves rocky, a journey of unfulfilled connections and shattered dreams. Seeking solace in a fresh start, you depart the city's embrace, yet the ghost of past loves haunts your brushstrokes, forever captured in the vivid hues of your yearning canvases.

Career -  Painter (Master Of The Real)

Traits - Gloomy, Vegetarian, Generous

Aspiration - Painter Extraordinaire 

Grow up in San Myshuno.

Be in a long-term, unfilling relationship with sim you have bad compatibility with. Eventually break up.

Have a failed relationship with a family friend. 

Move out of San Myshuno to get a fresh start. 

Never get over one of your previous relationships and spend the rest of your life yearning to have it back.

(Bonus) Gen 17: The Lakes

Amidst the rustle of leaves and the whisper of pages, you find your muse as a writer, enchanted by the dance of words and the embrace of nature. Poetry flows from you, a testament to your romantic soul. Holidays are cherished escapes, moments of tranquillity by the water's edge, fueling your creative spirit. Yet, it's in solitude that your greatest works are born, a testament to your dedication to the craft.

Career - Writer (Author)

Traits - Romantic, Bookworm, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration - Bestselling Author

Only write poetry (unless specified for the aspiration)

Go on Holiday with your spouse and family often, staying as close to a body of water as you can get.

Complete the gemstone collection.

Leave the world behind for a period of time to focus on writing (completely alone)