#double post again today sorry folks

[be-my-ally]

Do you mind?

This is pure, meet-cute, fluff where literally nothing happens. For the prompt - “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people.” 

thanks to @whositmcwhatsit for the game + @thatbanditqueen for the prompt + @ellie-24 , @vintageshanny , @missmaywemeetagain + @from-memphis-with-love for the fun!!

I super stupidly got a lil bit confused with scheduling this post so ... it's uhh.... by my attempts at scheduling the post 13 hours early, but actually 11 hours late. many apologies folks.

It’s overwhelming - the noise, the people, the conversations. You just need five minutes to yourself, time to take a breather, and try and get yourself back together. You hadn’t known everyone was going to be bringing a partner, or a date, to this party; you’d managed to forgive Nancy for it, because she was the one picking you up (or rather Paul,  her date, was driving) but you had felt blindsided when the group was waiting outside, double the size you had expected since everyone had their plus ones. It was meant to be casual, the birthday party of Sharon’s brother - the perfect excuse for a get-together of people who were now all busy with their own lives. It was meant to have been a chance for you and your friends to catch up and have some fun; you’d all agreed to attend as a group - no partners. Worse than being blindsided as the only girl solo was how left-out you were feeling, it was just making you feel lonely. 

You make your way across the lobby, desperate to find somewhere quiet - away from the other event rooms, or guests. Build yourself back up to going in, stay for the toasts and leave politely after another half hour. You check the time on the large clock above the reception desk as you wander past; half past eleven. A pitiful time to be wanting to leave a party. You want to roll your eyes, internally berating yourself for being so overdramatic. You cringe as you think about how much you’re now looking forward to being tucked up in bed, cup of tea in hand, with perhaps one of the gossip magazines you’d picked up earlier in the week and how much you wished you could just skip this whole party.  It’s quite a large hotel, and there’s several reception and event rooms but eventually, on the other side of the lobby, you stumble into an empty and dark space; seemingly some sort of library/games room situation, judging from the bookshelves surrounding the walls.

You look around, seeing, in the barely-there dim light from the hallway that allowed the objects in the room to be just visible, a little couch nestled in a corner. You practically throw yourself onto it, burrowing your head into the cushion. Ugh, it had been frustrating, and ultimately overwhelming to have to continue to answer the exact same questions again and again from the other people at the party - the same two worded responses coming out of your mouth. 

Where was your boyfriend? Not here. Did you come with a date? Not today. Are you still ‘going’ with Daniel? Not anymore. Sorry to hear about your dad. Thank You. They almost all responded with a similar politely sad but evidently morbidly curious face; clearly desiring to know if your break-up had occurred before or after your father’s funeral, or wanting to know more details in general. It had almost been worse when the questions had ended and small-talk had resumed; relief at the chance to not have to explain your life, but annoyance that it was clearly only because word had spread about your situation. You kick your feet against the sofa cushions still feeling your upset rise again at the memory of being stood in your group of friends while everyone around you laughed about their wedding plans with no regard for the fact that most of them knew that you and Daniel had broken up almost a month ago. 

You reach out, fingertips knocking against something, before your fingers curl under the cushion. 

You scream into it, muffling the noise - as frustrated as you were it would be mortifying to be found like this. You relax for a second as you lose your breath, for some, potentially insane reason you can feel your annoyance lessening and your body starting to release the tension it had been holding. You ready yourself for another, 

But you’re distracted when you take another breath, ready to go again, by a faint cough in the opposite corner. 

“Do you mind?” Your head whirls around, noticing for the first time, a man sat in an armchair on the other side. You push the cushion you’d been screaming into back into its place as surreptitiously as possible, blushing at the idea that someone had just witnessed your behaviour. 

“I came here to get away from other people.” He says it in such a tone that you’re immediately annoyed again, who was he to speak to you like that? You scoff, nose wrinkling; 

“Huh? Well yeah, me too.” He makes a wordless harrumphing noise and you roll your eyes. “I have just as much of a right to be here as you do.”  He doesn’t respond - standing up and starting to walk over to the sofa. He walks through the streak of light shining across the floor from the window in the door and you quickly realise why his voice had seemed familiar. You blink, slightly dazed at seeing Elvis walking towards you, frantically sitting up and smoothing out your skirt; panicked voice in your head telling you to be calm, it’s ok, he’s just a man, don’t panic.

He plops himself down beside you, for a man claiming he was out here to get away from people he had clearly been desperate for company, leaning back against the cushions. He angles himself sideways to get a better look at you, and you tuck your legs up - deciding there was little point in pretending to be all prim and proper when he had just witnessed your miniature breakdown. It means you can sit sideways on the couch - examining his side profile. His hair is coiffed within an inch of its life and it immediately makes you want to muss it up, you wonder if he feels the relief you do when you can finally brush out your Elnett. You sit in silence for a moment, but you can’t resist for much longer than a couple of minutes. 

“What - What are you doing out here?” You glance at his fancy looking suit and tie, “You, uh, here for a party?” He shakes his head at your tentative questions, glancing over at you, 

“it’s a- uh benefit thing but it’s really just an excuse for everyone to hound me for somethin’ or other, half of the producers are in there… they want me to do more movies, I don’t know - I, I,  shouldn’t tell you this but I’m not happy with them at the moment and I-I want to go back to the music but…I don’t know.” You frown, having no idea how to respond to that, hesitating briefly before patting his arm gently. 

“Oh, that sounds awful - you should be able to do whatever you want to do.” He huffs a little laugh at that, staring across the room before turning back to you, 

“Anyway honey, what’s got you all screamin’ into that little pillow - what’d it ever do to you?” He smiles as you blush, you were still hoping that by some miracle he might not have noticed that - although you suppose a screaming girl flinging herself onto a sofa was pretty obvious. 

It sounds trivial and childish when you try to explain, especially in the face of his own, clearly much larger and important problems; “‘s just - I’ve had this difficult break up recently, and all my friends were gonna come to this party solo but they’ve, they’ve actually all brought their partners and I’m just, all on my own. I just, I didn’t want to come anyway but I definitely wouldn’t have agreed to come if I’d known!” 

“Pretty thing like you couldn’t get a date?” You blink at him, he’s turned the charm on full force and it feels almost a bit much to have his bright eyes focussed on you. 

“No-no it wasn’t like that,” You’re quick to deny that it was something you’d failed to do, “I didn’t know! They all told me we were coming together!” He laughs, a little cruelly, 

“And you believed ‘em?” You frowned, squirming a little - you had believed them, perhaps in sheer desperation to make it worthwhile leaving your house, or from the belief that they also wanted to spend time with you. You shrug, unsure what else to say, you wish you weren’t going home to an empty house, you wish you’d at least been able to have fun this evening, but it wasn’t like you’d be able to do anything about it now. You change the subject, 

“Tell me more about the movies, do you not like making them?” You tried to remember if you’d even been to see his latest release, but couldn’t even remember the name to suggest it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He looks pleased that you’re interested, and starts to chat away - explaining his reservations with the soundtracks, and filming methods. You are listening, but there’s something about his voice, and while you’re interested in what he’s telling you, fascinated by the glimpse into an industry so removed from your everyday life as he starts to go into the intricacies of his studio contracts you can feel your attention beginning to wane. Your eyes starting to drift close, and your head dipping towards his shoulder. A moment later his hand, somehow simultaneously heavy and delicate, brushes your shoulder, startling you out of your relaxed almost-asleep state. 

“C’mon honey, who’s gonna take you home? You got a car?” You blink, shaking your head, 

“No, no I’m uh, No, I got a ride here - It’s not far though,” You shrug, “I can get a cab, or walk.” He frowns at you, 

“You’re dead on your feet,” He looks at you sideways, as if assessing you for something, “I got a room upstairs, you can join me if you like?” You blink properly awake at that, a surge of anxiety rippling through you - as much as you’d want to you’re not ready for anything intimate again, too fragile. The idea of having to turn down Elvis though is sending your heart racing. 

“I don’t, I don’t know if I can, I haven’t, not with just anyone and my, my, boy-my ex-boyfriend he was uh, no I think I really ought to go home.” He nods, a little sadly, 

“Well that’s alright sweetheart, if you want, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea - just, just offering to, uh, sleep mama, that’s all.” He looks back at you, completely earnest, eyes wide, and you can feel yourself caving in, 

“Well alright then. But, no funny business.” He does a scout salute as he beams at you, and you giggle - relaxing again; you know you shouldn’t trust him, he’s still a man you’ve just met and yet he just gives off an air, that you somehow know you’ll be safe with him. 

Your nerves skyrocket as he pulls you by the hand into the elevator, you hope he can’t feel your anxiety through your clammy hands, and you wonder how it is that he was just able to sneak away so easily. He starts to talk in the confined space, you wonder if he can tell you were getting nervous, telling you,

“I’m not sure if it’s the same thing,” Looking a little nervous himself, “Because I haven’t - haven’t uh had a split, but I, I get lonely too. I just, just like having someone ‘round to uh, take care of… or take care of me.” He whispers it like a secret and your heart aches a little for him, but before you can respond the doors are opening and he’s pulling you down the hallway. It’s not that late so you don’t expect for him to immediately be directing you through to the bathroom, instructing you to get ready for bed, but you also can’t find the energy to protest. 

You’re glad, now you’re thinking about it, that you didn’t bother with too-much make up, as you inspect your face, hopeful that keeping it on throughout the night won’t make you break out too much. His voice though chimes in through the door - almost as if he could hear your thoughts; 

“There’s cold cream on the side there, honey.” You’re pleased, but also a little disconcerted - was that how many women he had over? Your eyes rove over the counter, seeing the little jar on the side, and you reach for it - before noticing the little stack of eyeliners and mascaras, oh, it’s for him. You hate that that makes you feel better - you shouldn’t be feeling jealous, he’d invited you up here to sleep, because it was convenient. Nothing else. 

You leave the bathroom, having taken the pins out of your hair and brushed it out, and face fresh from being washed to find him waiting for you. He had already gotten himself changed - monogrammed silk-satin pyjamas that looked almost too similar to something your father might have worn, it made you smile to yourself. You still couldn’t believe you were getting to see him like this. He motions you forward, 

“Let me take care of you, honey,” You frown, a little confused, until he’s turning you around to undo the waistband on your party dress, his fingers light over the zipper down your back. You clutch the dress to your chest as it starts to open down your back, still shy about showing off too much to him. You can’t help but shiver as you feel his hands on your bare skin; perhaps you’ve been touch starved since your break-up, it feels like an age since you’ve even had a fingertip brush across your body. You yelp a little when he tugs the dress down, pulling it off of your arms and away from your torso, pooling at your feet. He chuckles when you wrap an arm around yourself, embarrassed at your boring, old, bra slip and underwear, 

“S’ok baby, here put these on.” He hands you a soft cotton shirt, and you nibble your lip looking at him for a moment, before he playfully huffs and putting a hand over his eyes, “I won’t look, go on.” You hastily pull the slip off, quickly shrugging the shirt on.

“Ok, you can open your eyes again.” He looks over at you, smiling, clearly pleased with however you look. You feel like a child, but you honestly couldn’t care less. Instead you make the subconscious decision to lean into the warmth and coziness he was providing, clambering under the bedsheets he pulled back, fingering the EP adorned on your breast while you waited for him to come back from the bathroom. You’d only known him two hours and now you were feeling owned. It wasn’t, however, an unwelcome feeling, alarmingly domestic perhaps, worryingly forward but not unwelcome. 

When he returns he turns off the lights, climbing in behind you. You know you should be more reserved, more reluctant but you can’t find it in yourself to be instead curling into his body, his arms automatically coming around you. You can't help but hope that this might happen again as outlandish as it might seem. But if nothing else ever comes from it at least you can sleep happy that it had been worth your while leaving the house tonight, if only for the feel of his warm body against yours, and the knowledge of how his hair looks before he goes to bed.

…

[yourbelgianthings]

taz november celebration fic four: prompt bakery au

sorry this is a day late but i'm also kind of not because of how long it is it evens out, i went with modern taakitz (feat. some other balance peeps) and may or may not have gotten a bit carried away, but i hope y'all enjoy the fluff! ~3.8k words @taznovembercelebration (in fact it's so long i will have to post in multiple parts oops)

Before the sun had even begun to dawn in the sky, Taako was starting all the different doughs and batters for the day and preheating the large double oven. He loved working in the early morning quiet and solitude, every measurement memorized and every movement second nature. His bakery was called Sweeten It Up with Taako, and it had become a popular fixture in the city. In the beginning, he just made things for his friends, then had a stand at the farmer's market, and finally saved enough to buy a brick and mortar shop. On either side was a dog training school and a combination plant/metaphysical/book store. A big buff guy with reddish hair and a beard named Magnus who was a bit younger than Taako ran the dog store, and a short, older white-haired gentleman with medium brown skin named Merle was the proprietor of…whatever the deal at his store was. Taako himself was tall and slim with long platinum blonde hair and sandy brown skin, he always thought the three of them must look straight out of a goofy buddy comedy on the days they took their lunch breaks together. They were pretty funny, and he didn't mind the company sometimes, but he was there to work and hone his craft, not make friends.

That morning, like every other, Taako made sure the display case was set up perfectly before flipping over the open sign. Croissants, muffins, éclairs, lemon bars, his signature elderflower macarons, and every other enticing treat imaginable were arranged in layers on cake stands and in trays. "Once again, perfect," he said to himself with a smile, now open for a day of business. The first customer to arrive, opening the door with a little jingle of the bell, was Lucretia, the curator of the city's art museum. She had dark skin, and her gray natural hair was cut very short. Even wearing just the museum uniform polo shirt, nametag, and khakis, she exuded a sense of elegance and grace. "Morning, Lucretia!" Taako greeted her cheerily. "Let me go grab your order, one sec," and he was gone before she could reply. She gasped when she saw the box of cutout cookies frosted to look like watercolor paintings. "Taako, these are gorgeous! I don't know if you can make it to the opening we're serving these at, but there's a ticket for the exhibit with your name on it at the front desk whenever you're free." Taako and Lucretia weren't necessarily close personal friends, but they talked a lot about art whenever they got the chance, and that can tell you a lot about someone. They thanked each other and he promised to be over soon. After Lucretia left, the rest of the morning passed normally, with a steady stream of business people, parents and children, and retired folks.

Around noon, though, a customer he had never seen before caught his eye as soon as he entered. He was a little shorter than Taako, dark-skinned with cool undertones, his locs up in a ponytail and wearing a long black coat. Taako was stunned, but he quickly blinked and snapped out of it. "What brings you in today?" he asked. "This is a bakery, yeah? Presumably I'm buying some of your baked goods," the stranger replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "Yes, yep, it definitely is!" Taako was not used to feeling flustered, let alone at work, where he was at charge and could do what he was best at. All of a sudden, it seemed much warmer, and he quickly freed his hair from the braid down his back and swept it up into a bun with a purple scrunchie. The stranger asked which muffin was best, paid in cash (and tipped!), and left, but waved as he turned to go at the door. Taako waved back dumbfoundedly, kicking himself for not having thought of anything witty to say as he watched the door close. What on earth was that, anyway? He saw plenty of hot guys every day, there was no reason to waste time thinking that this might be anything different. Still, his mind kept wandering back to the stranger the rest of the day.

After he locked up, he called Lup, and she picked up right away. "Hey, Taako! Are you off?" "Yep, just heading out. Your place or mine tonight? I will have you know I don't feel like cooking, so don't let that influence you." Lup laughed. "No worries, carryout is fine, but we're redoing the bathroom, so yours is probably better." "Got it, see you at 7." click Taako didn't want to cook?! There's another point for the list of reasons she'd been worrying about him lately. She sighed as she headed to her car from the studio, brushing dust and bits of dried clay from her hands and clothes as she went. Lup looked a lot like Taako, except her hair wasn't as long, and she dyed it starting at the top of her ears red, and then orange halfway down. She often wore it in two Dutch braids so it was neatly out of her face while she was working.

Taako was secretly disappointed he was hosting. He always felt bad that his apartment didn't live up to Barry and Lup's cozy little house that actually felt like a home. His apartment was just where he crashed when he wasn't at work, the only room with any effort actually put into it was the kitchen. Even though it had been a while now, it was still hard to get used to the idea that he wasn't going to have to leave soon. He loved that he and Lup and Barry regularly spent time together though, so it was worth it to have them over.

"Barry?" Lup called as soon as she walked in the front door. "One second, honey, let me just get off the ladder!" A pale chubby man with light brown hair and a beard wearing glasses and paint stained jeans and a tshirt emerged with his arms outstretched for a hug. As they embraced, Lup exclaimed, "You didn't need to work on the bathroom after school, care bear!" "I don't mind. Really anything quiet after the day I had with those middle schoolers is fine by me, and of course, they still don't even understand the weather cycle!" They laughed and headed to their room to get changed for Taako's. Barry pressed the buzzer in the lobby, the speaker crackled and then projected Taako's voice: "Welcome to Chez Taako, darlings, let yourselves in." His apartment was on the third floor so Barry and Lup took the stairs, opening the door to see Taako flopped on an armchair reading a book. He put iit down as soon as he heard the door and ran over to hug them.

"Ooh, whatcha reading?" asked Barry. "Some book Merle gave me, I don't really get what it's about. Most of the stuff at his shop is weird, but all the plants are somehow always in perfect condition." "That reminds me," said Lup, "I was going to ask if you wanted to invite Magnus and Merle to hang out with us sometime. They seem pretty cool, and we have more spots open in our video game tournaments." Taako bristled and glared at her. "Fuck no!" he snapped. "They're two guys that happen to work next to me that I eat lunch with sometimes. Hardly the same category as my sister and my brother in law, don't you think?" "Jesus, Taako, you could just say you don't want to, calm down." He collapsed onto the armchair again. "I'm sorry, Lulu. I guess I'm just a bit on edge."

Lup went to sit criss cross on the floor next to the chair, and Barry sat on the futon. "Why, what's up, bud?" she asked gently. "Why not?" He gave her a tired smile. "Shit, I was supposed to order food for us already, wasn't I? Sorry, guys." Barry stood up and grabbed his phone. "No worries, Taako," he reassured. "We all have those days, I'll do it. How's Chinese?" The twins nodded gratefully, as much as the three of them were a family and Barry and Lup were a couple, Barry was good at reading when they needed their own moments as well. "Hairbrush, Taako?" "Should be on the dresser."

Returning with it, Lup scooted Taako off the chair onto the floor right in front of it, and she sat in the chair, putting her legs around him. She silently began to brush his hair, and when it was perfectly soft and smooth, she braided it too. They had done this a million times, it almost always worked to help Taako relax. When Lup needed the same, her and Taako sat across from each other on the floor and held each other's hands, and he instinctively knew how much pressure he needed to squeeze with. But Lup was helping him right now, so he got up, still without a word, and sat on her lap. They held each other until Barry said the food was good to go and asked if they wanted to play Mario Kart. The rest of the evening passed like it always did: easy, comfortable, and filled with laughter. The next day at the bakery, the stranger returned, and did so for the rest of the week. He and Taako chatted every time; Taako learned that his name was Kravitz and he worked at some kind of therapy place nearby. On Friday, he slipped a business card in the paper bag, but it had his own phone number written on the back.

"Have a good weekend, Kravitz! Hopefully I'll see you again!" he called as his new favorite customer opened the door to leave. Kravitz smiled. "You too, Taako. I'm sure you will." As soon as he left, Taako ran into the freezer and screamed. "I'm sure you will"?! What did that mean? Was it good? He thought so, but he wasn't quite sure, and now he had all weekend to worry about it. Or not, honestly, this was ridiculous. He wasn't a middle schooler with a silly crush, he was just providing good service at his job and a new regular said he would be back, that was all it was. Definitely just that for sure. He took a deep breath, realized he was still in the freezer, and quickly left it to warm up and continue his day. When the bakery closed, Taako texted Lucretia: exhibit tonight? always more fun when you can show me around <3 We already have an event booked tonight :( Tomorrow at noon? sure thing, thx lucretia!

Well, that was something for tomorrow, but he was left with no plans for tonight. He thought back to what Lup said, maybe it would be a good idea to hang out with Magnus and Merle more. It wasn't like he had to tell them his life story, but the amount of time he spent alone probably wasn't great, as much as he liked to try and convince himself otherwise. Did he even have their numbers? That could be a goal for next week Taako, and apparently tonight Taako was going to get drunk alone. A classic Friday night activity. He just needed to get home and make it to tomorrow. You'd be surprised how hard that could be. However, to his surprise, after his first glass of wine, he got a text from an unknown number. It read: Do I have Taako? This is Kravitz "Holy shit, that actually worked," he thought. yep it's me ✨ You know you could have just asked for my number i figured a little surprise would be more fun! Taako couldn't believe this was happening, he pushed the bottle of wine aside and laid down on the futon. He definitely did not want to end up drunk texting right now. His instinct was to tell Lup right away, but he decided to wait and see where things went. You're right, I think you're very interesting, Taako um thanks?? Yes, it's a compliment, I don't get to choose who I talk to all day at my job, so I'm quite selective outside of it huh well that's something in common i don't talk to a lot of people either but idk if we're coming from the same place on that one…anyway what's your job like, what happens at a therapy place? Well, I'm actually specialized in grief counseling, so I help people through a lot of heavy stuff dude how do you deal with that i could never You just have to be able to leave work at work, it was hard at the beginning but I've had a lot of practice impressive that makes sense though you seem like a good listener hey i need to go make dinner ttyl? Yes, I'll be here, this was nice

Success!! Texting wasn't the same as real life interaction, but this was a good start for sure. Taako suddenly felt full of energy, he practically skipped around the kitchen getting everything out for beef stroganoff. In his apartment, several blocks away, Kravitz was in a similarly good mood. His roommate, Lucas, saw him looking down at his phone and smiling and asked, "Talking to someone, are we?" with a knowing smile. "None of your business," he retorted, and jokingly stuck his tongue out at him. Taako's text reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet either, but he honestly hadn't even been thinking of that. All day, as soon as he had seen the card left in his bag, he had just been waiting to be able to get home and send that first message. He was rarely so distracted, especially with his line of work, but there was just something about Taako that stuck in his mind and stayed there. His reverie was interrupted by Lucas's voice from the kitchen: "I made stuff for tacos, but if you don't get in here, there won't be any left!"

The next morning, Taako woke up excited to go see the exhibit with Lucretia. He had actually forgotten what it was even of, but that would just get to be a surprise! Once he had selected his museum outfit (a pastel pink fuzzy sweater with a long swishy pleated skirt in an eggplant color with heeled boots and several gold necklaces) and gotten dressed, he sent a picture to Lup, as they often did with their fashion choices. lulu, fit check! ooh love it 🤩 you're up early for your day off though what's up? museum with lucretia yay that's great! have fun tell her i said hi :3 "Taako, you look gorgeous!" exclaimed Lucretia when he arrived at the front desk. "And perfect timing, things aren't too busy yet. Let's go!" They strolled through the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibition, marveling at bones, flowers, and desert landscapes, all painted in bright colors and blue strokes. "Which one is your favorite, Lucretia?" "I like the bone paintings the best, I know the flowers are her most popular works, but I love how she also found beauty in the morbid and unconventional. Most people would consider an old bone too boring to even give it a chance as their subject. What about you?" Taako paused to think.

"Probably The Sky Above The Clouds. The different perspective is oddly peaceful." Lucretia nodded. "So much of her work has a sense of solitude, but not loneliness," she observed, and he knew what she meant, but not what the feeling was actually like. When they reached the end of the gallery, Lucretia had to go give a talk, but Taako had nothing else planned, so he wandered to the sculpture garden and sat at one of the small tables. He absentmindedly pulled out his phone to check his messages, and then decided to text Kravitz. hey handsome are you free at all today? Ten or fifteen minutes later, a reply came. Oh, handsome? Thank you very much, and I'm going to a concert later tonight if you want to come? yeah i'm down! who is it? My friend Johann's band, they're called Voidfish and he's the violinist oh, i've never heard of them but that sounds cool Kravitz sent him a location and time to meet, and he figured this was probably enough to tell Lup about now.

luuuppp guess whatttt what taako? i think i'm going on a date? i'm not sure if it's a date but this guy i've been talking to invited me to a concert tonight! omg! you didn't even tell me you were interested in someone, rude, but i'm so happy for you 🩷 hey now! i was waiting to see where it went and it still might not be anything that's true, but taako, you deserve to have fun with someone you like, it's been a long time, so try to just stay in the moment and take it as it comes, okay? what are you lulu, our mom? oh wait lmao haha very funny, seriously though i'll try, love you love you Not sure what to do with the rest of his time before meeting for the concert, Taako took the long way back to his apartment, enjoying the feel of the air and taking in his surroundings in a way he never really had before. When he got back, he decided to take a nap so he would be ready for the potential late night out.

At his apartment, Kravitz was also carefully selecting his outfit for the evening. He wore the same thing to work every day: black pants, a white button down, and a red tie, so he never had to worry about it getting ready in the mornings, but this was a weekend and a special occasion at that. He settled on a band shirt Johann had given him at the last concert and his dark blue denim jacket covered in a large collection of raven patches and pins. The dark and eerie birds had always fascinated him. Sitting on his bed, Kravitz took a deep breath. Normally, he wouldn't make plans like this so spontaneously, but there was something about Taako that oddly put him more at ease. It was certainly a new and strange feeling, but not an unwelcome one. He quickly texted Lucas saying that he would probably be out late, and headed for Bumbershoots to meet Taako. Since Kravitz lived closer, he arrived first, but he only had to wait about five minutes for his companion.

"Hey, Kravitz!" Taako called. "You look stunning!" "I could say the same for you," Kravitz replied as he took Taako's hand and they entered the bar together. Voidfish played a great show, and Johann was amazing on the violin, but the baker and the therapist spent most of the evening simply focused on each other. They sat at a table in the back drinking cocktails (old fashioned for Kravitz, blackberry bramble for Taako) and talking for the whole show. Kravitz told Taako the names of the different songs as they were played, and Taako critiqued the band's outfits like he was a famous fashion designer, which made Kravitz laugh more than he had in a while. When the show ended, they paused outside the building, unsure what to say and neither one wanting to leave. Taako looked at Kravitz and asked, "Was this a date?" "I think so," Kravitz smiled as he replied. They both started laughing and pulled each other into a hug. As he continued to visit Taako at the bakery, Kravitz started to find extra items in his bag, usually new recipes being tested out. No matter how wild something sounded, it always ended up being delicious. He recommended Sweeten It Up with Taako to all his clients and Coworkers. One Friday afternoon, he got an unusual text from Taako.

hey krav, do you want to come over? my place is nothing much, so don't get your hopes up, but i'd love to have you It would be my pleasure, Taako, and don't worry about any of it okay? Taako sighed with relief. He still hadn't had anyone but Barry and Lup over to this apartment, but this could be the chance to make what he really wanted of it. Some of the decorations from his last place were still in a box, and he decided to get them back out; stringing the fairy lights up around the living room, hanging the pride flag on the wall, and putting the vase of fake flowers on the coffee table. It almost looked like someone lived here now, and like someone else would want to visit. He smiled and went to the kitchen to start getting dinner ready. When Kravitz arrived, he brought a fancy bottle of champagne with him, which he offered to Taako upon opening the door. "Kravitz! You didn't have to do that! This stuff is really nice too, oh my gosh…but since we have it, I think it'll go perfect with dinner. Since I forgot to ask what you wanted, I hope pizza is good." "That's excellent, yes." They had a delicious meal of Taako's signature homemade pizza, including dough made by hand (of course) and fresh mozzarella cheese, and glasses of sweet, refreshing champagne. Afterwards, they watched some terrible movie that was on TV, cuddling and making fun of it the entire time. As the credits finally rolled and Taako reached for the remote, Kravitz stopped him, taking both of his hands and staring into his warm brown eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he asked in a low voice, serious and sincere. "Yeah," Taako whispered without hesitation, surprising himself. The kiss was perfect, tender yet intense, warm and hungry. It wasn't just one either, they pulled away, smiled at each other and agreed with just their eyes, and then they were making out the best either of them had ever experienced. Being in one another's arms and pressed into each other's bodies was such a comfort that it more than made up for the old futon they were on. For a moment, there were no clients or macarons or roommates or sisters or anything else in the world but Kravitz and Taako and their hearts and bodies. Finally, Taako rested his head on Kravitz's shoulder, lazily looking up in his direction. "So, are you my boyfriend now or what?" Kravitz just smiled and pulled him in for another kiss, and they both understood that meaning perfectly.

[bureauofoverbalence]

Not to be confused with a Coffee shop AU. Sorry no update today on ao3. the server's down for maintenance. I'll post to fanfiction.net as normal, and try again tomorrow. If not, Sunday will be an double update chapters 30+ 31.

Also would anyone like full chapters being posted here on tumblr too? I personally not a fan cos tumblr eats my notifcations but I know some folks find it easier so i can if required.

Cheers dears!

[Image id. a pen drawing of a middle aged stout havling woman, Mrs Cosie, Angus McDonalds boss, from the knees up. She is smiling out at the veiwer hand on one hip waving a mixing spoon with the other. she has slightly pointed ears ang her curly hair is tied up. here sleeves are rolled up. she's wearing a Matrons watch and pinny over her clothes that reads Old mill, with the o beind a water wheel. the only colour is an orange sun behind her. the text reads 'Hark! News from Mrs Cosies Tea Room!" . end Id]

[aristocratic-otter]

Woohoo, I'm down to five WIPs again! (Ok, at least two are waiting in the wings. But I officially haven't started writing those yet, so they don't count.) It's late, but I haven't posted in forever, so I'm determined to do that today.

It's been a long time since I posted, and so much glorious work has gone up in that time. Friends, your talent humbles me, and at the same time makes me so proud of the brilliancy of this fandom. Thank you to @cutestkilla, @palimpsessed, @blackberrysummerblog, @nightimedreamersghost, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @shemakesmeforget, @artsyunderstudy

Snippets and tags under the cut

From: To Heal a Broken Mind (House AU):

“I regret…I regret so many things. But, most of all, I regret pushing you away. Making you think I hated you. Making you feel less.”

He looks surprised. “Making me think you hated me? You didn’t hate me?”

I shake my head. “I never did. I just…there were so many outside influences in my life, people I desperately wanted to please or impress, and being friendly with Mage’s chosen one would have made those people very unhappy. I’m sorry. I should have made my own decisions about how to act. But I was young, and stupid.”

“We both were, Baz,” Simon says, and he reaches out a hand and lays it over mine. It’s warm and soft. It’s clearly been years since he used it in the kind of manual labour and exercise that used to make his skin hard and calloused. I stare at it. “I was a prat to you, too. I gave as good as I got, honestly. We were both immature brats. I stopped blaming you for that years ago, Baz.”

“I—” I clear my throat, trying to pull back the tears that burn my eyes at his forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. But I’ll take it. I try again. “I want to try again, Snow. Try to be friends, I mean. If you’re willing to give me another chance.”

Simon smiles broadly, and this time there’s no hint of sadness in his face. “I’d love to, Baz.”

If my heart wants to hear those words as “I love you, Baz,” I’ll never tell. 

From: Raising Dragons

I’m desperate enough that I’ve even asked Shepard Bunce for advice. He was the least comforting of all. “I don’t know too many hybrids,” he told me. “And they were all creature/normal hybrids, not creature/mage hybrids. But I do know that the creature powers and instincts were reduced in the hybrid offspring. Like the Jersey devil’s two kids can only make folk anxious with their screams, not out-of-their-mind-with-terror like the screams of their monster parent.”

From: Double Your Pleasure (EGF 2023, posting next week)

Suddenly, I need to see his beautiful eyes. “Baz…” I whisper.

His long, thick black eyelashes quiver, and his pale pink tongue peeks out of his mouth long enough to glide wetly over his lips. Slowly, so slowly, he tilts his head towards me and, when he’s finally facing me, his eyes flicker open. They’re misty with pleasure and so dilated I can only see a ring of pewter around the black irises, but I feel my heart settle into a more contented rhythm once I can see them. 

“I love you,” I whisper.

From: Westward Son (COTTA 2021)

Penelope’s alive and that’s the most important thing, I tell myself as we make the last few short crossings, from island to island and island to shore. I don’t tell Simon that. I know he’d agree with me, but he loved those animals. He’d given them all names and he’d cared for them and babied their every hurt. His face has been drenched with tears on top of river water ever since he realized.

From: Saving Simon Snow

Simon

Two days ago, I was certain I’d be dead of deliberate starvation by now. Two hours ago, I was certain that Baz’s plan had no chance of working, that he’d doomed himself along with me.

Now? I’m certain of nothing. 

I just know that Baz’s life rests on me convincing him to go through with this. I know he hates me. I know that being married to me is probably revolting to him. But I noticed what Baz apparently did not. I am magically cursed to not be able to be unfaithful to him. Baz is not under any compulsion at all. 

Even if I’ll never be happy, even if Baz is forced to keep me hanging around, a perpetual roommate, he can still find love in someone else’s arms. 

From: A secret project, gift fic for members of the discord valentine's exchange (will be posted on AO3 once everyone has gotten their valentines:

“Whoa,” Simon breathes. “D’you think it was real dragons? And are they still there?”

“Not likely,” I answer him. “This city has been settled for far too long for any dragon to be comfortable near it, I think. But they may have been here in the distant past. It was in this region where St. George reputedly slew a dragon. Though those old Christian priests were infamous exaggerators. Probably George fought a crocodile or a monitor lizard.”

Tagging for Wednesday, or just passing along a belated happy Valentine's day to you all, everyone above as well as

@annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @basiltonbutliketheherb, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @excalisbury, @fight-surrender, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @giishu, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @johnwgrey, @jbrrring, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @messofthejess, @moodandmist, @martsonmars, @mostlymaudlin, @nightimedreamersghost, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @raenestee, @theearlgreymage, @technetiumai, @tea-brigade, @whogaveyoupermission, @whatevertheweather, @yellobb-old, @yeonjunenby

[lillyorlyracat]

Revamped intro post

What's up sweet bippies it's me autism cat

My name is Lilly, or Lyra, or Lilac, or Cat, or April. I am audhd(autistic and ADHD), I'm fictionkin, I have a shit ton of interests so my posts will be varied and inconsistent (if you only follow me for one fandom that's still cool idc)

Sometimes I'll post my art, sometimes I'll just yell into my keyboard and wait for people to press buttons on it. Mostly I just reblog posts I like, sorry folks

Update: decided to make an art tag! Just to organize stuff :P it'll be #🐱drawn by yours truly

Also, about that fictionkin thing? Yeah so I'm Ember Lumen from Elemental in the realz. I don't have any source memories or anything but I'm 100% her :P 🔥

Update (1/4/24): I'm also Ruby Gillman Teenage Kraken in the realz!! Again no source mems as far as I can tell, but my mom irl is definitely also Agatha in the movie >u< 🌊

F/O list here ⬇️⬇️

Dni list & boundaries uwu

Pro_sh/ppers/com_sh/ppers/pro_f/c etc bitches please don't interact, just, please,,

No z00ph+les either get outta here

I am a minor so please don't like,, be weird,,, or anything

Homophobes, transphobes, xeno/neophobes etc get outta here

OH ABLEISTS! YEAH YOU GUYS GTFO TOO, I AINT DISEASED >:D

Aggressive anti furries.. like. People who think furry = z00ph+le.. get outta here you’re not welcome ^^

Please don't dm me with like "hey wanna be friends" or anything like that out of nowhere.. if you wanna be friends with me, try asking about common interests maybe? Idk? I'm cool with making friends, that's just,, not the way to do it,,, y'know

Doubles are awesome, other Elemental kinnies are super cool! Buuuut if any Wades have like romantic Ember memories maaaybe don't interact? I'm 17 and already have a bf, and although I'm poly I'm uncomfortable with the idea of another partner right now. I'll be friends with a Wade tho, hi friend Wades 👋🔥

Ruby update: doubles are okay here too! But no Connors with romantic mems please. I...don't feel very romantically connected to Connor tbh. I'll be friends with y'all tho! Hi Connors!! 👋💦

I'll uh update this periodically cuz I'm probably forgetting a lot

Links to my other socials!

Youtube ⬇️

Instagram ⬇️

AO3 ⬇️

Picsart ⬇️

"You might think that this is the end...

Well it is!"

[lornahansonforbes]

This is for one of my favorite TikTok folks.

The other day you talked about being weak and backsliding and the smell of whiskey on his breath (referencing Piper Laurie).

In 1986/87, after my foster son was born and when my foster children came into my life, I was in the middle of a blizzard (referencing Columbian/Bolivian product) I stopped cold turkey. I vowed not to have my foster children see that side of me and I didn’t want to remind myself or them the reason because they came in my world was due to those things. I’ve fallen off the wagon and I got back on that horse just so I could pull that wagon of emotional luggage with no handles forward. Years have passed and I didn’t drink. Yes sir I’ve had a few drink since then. I usually have a few sips and I’ll let it sit there and ignore it. It may be glaring me in the face but 9 out 10 times, it’ll go to waste. The perfunctory sips, yeppers, they’ll let me know why I don’t drink like I used to back when. One story out of many. I went to the bar where my now Ex worked. I got there at about 9pm and drank all night long. I clearly remember the lights came on in the club and I heard the words, “It’s time to go home, gentlemen.” I’d never seen the harsh lights and the messiness/aftermath of an empty gay nightclub. Fucking scary. Anyway, my Ex’s apartment was a 15 minute walk. That night, it took me an hour to get there because I was that drunk. Fast forward to today, I fight. Whether it’s my food addiction or if I’m in my head, or something else that’s a puzzle piece of my various addiction issues, I feel like I’ve won a gold medal in this Olympics of Sobriety because I was able to get out of bed without any assistance and even more impressive, I woke up. I’m okay. I’m not having the double ickies. It’s a brand new day. Whew! I’m ready to begin again. When I do have those few sips, I will beat myself up but I’m also thinking about those who are less fortunate. Back in the day, there weren’t any resources available like we have today. Then there’s the other one, after having surgery. I had OxyContin & Vicodin & something else. I had a full on breakdown. I lost my shit. I had a fight with my husband and my sister in law. Even though I was in excruciating pain, I called my sponsor and he helped me figure it out. I gave the pills to my sister in law and told her to hide them or get rid of them. This only 48 hours after my surgery. I still find myself getting into my head and I’m on the verge of a breakdown in order to take an Advil. Now I snort, chuckle and guffaw as I hear Lisa Mineola telling me about how her girlfriend rented rooms by the hour. Rowan, brother. I’m sorry about this mess but I can compare and relate. Take a moment. Lastly, like Regina Belle once said, “If I could…” You may be in a circle of one, but it’s the journey and I’m cheering you on as you take steps towards the marathon in this thing we call life. A post script: I remember a Bible verse, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.” Yeah, fuck you, Peggy Lee and your is that all there is bullshit. Motherfucker, bring it. I’m still here. Sending you hugs, Rowan.

[coralsgrimes]

Okie whoever send me the ‘Not again 💀’ link. I won’t post it hun, sorry. It’s another attention seeking bullshite and the account posting it is a very creepy minion of the Head Priestess of the Bessie Church of Twitter. If me being honest I looked through it and there is like 50% chance it’s not only a minion but someone's sock puppet as well cuz they mostly seem to comment on tweets of certain icons ;c also I'm tired of that shite, it's all obvious attention seeking.

NOW! service note to the muffins sending me screenshots from ig/tt about the twin flame account. I do appreciate but I will not engage with any of this bullshite. Why? Well it's none of ma fucking business, and me and tons of folks would never even seen it, if not for the twitter protection squad fighting back and giving them trolls more encouragement and attention. It's their choice, their problem. Not the nicest to Jessie, agree on that, but it hurt fans feelings more than her probably cuz I doubt she even seen that. Them fragile crowds had no problem using similar rhetoric towards twin flame soooo they should survive this one too. They will be fine without our input. I understand the frustration but I was serious, this is just trolling and it really will only take up our energy. It's also why I'm not posting the big hoodie tweet responses ye sending me. They are burner accounts and obvi trolls, or just some fandom folks too scared to share their mind on main. Why ye want to share it all so badly? Let it die, cuz it's nothing pleasant to look at anyway

Sad to say that but most of them crybabies probably think us and that bulianne account as the same peeps soooo ;c

OH and about that account. Idk who is behind it or what their end game is. I messaged them couple of times months ago, and they never got back to me x.x I honestly thought they gave up some time after the spiritual healing guy showed up

The last thing ya all are talking about! The suspiciously large number of tourists, primarily Italian folks, in Budapest... off season... Not sure why they choose Hungary but maybe it’s the beautiful architecture? all the anti-LGBT laws? the rich history and beautiful culture? pro-russian government? parents money? gulyás? Ye know, just tourists. Walking around specific locations only, in hopes of accidentally meeting certain folks... 

Stalkers, glorified stalkers is who I mean. We been through this before waaaay too many times. They post cast photos for everyone's benefit accompanied by besties clapping, and make long ass threads about how grateful they are to meet their angel faves, and listing all the steps ye shall follow to also accidentally meet yer angel faves 💓💓💓 now for only 9.99! only 9.99!! special offer! today only! 💓💓💓 It’s all the same constantly, expert stalking chainmail x.x 

Soooo according to what ye showed me, them peeps who caught grandpa Benny are the most accomplished to date - I seen at least 7 peeps mentioned by them. They are experts and if Shadow and Bone me Daddy cast were Pokemons, they could say they caught them all. But ye know it's just fandom thing and we probably fail to understand the deepness of such REAL fans devotion. They bring content with them so it's finnnnnne, they said it was a chance meeting! stop asking questions! /ssssssnake

It's the same with lying for attention and creating fiction to life relationship ✨AS A JOKE✨ all while preaching about not getting involved in Benny's private life. We are just not evolved enough to understand that :c *touching grass*

Not that I'm such a holy being lol Imma a fucking cunt after all, I just don't like them. Both twitter fandom and overeager trolls x.x I’m tired of them both really x.x they are worth each other. Both so incredibly similar, it's hilarious. Both taunting each other with passive-aggressive responses, it’s fucking stupid. Both living it off of double standards too lol Soooo yep it's their dramas not mine. It's the let's make fun of Benny's midlife grandpa crisis blog here x.x

With that, I'm gonna shut down the entire coral corp fandom things department. I don't wanna talk about them, it's bad for ma skin and deff not worth the rush 🙊 so please stop sending the shite to me, this time for real. Thaaaaaanks 🧚🏻‍♀️

[pencilscratchins]

early in my parents relationship, my dad tried to impress my grandmother by speaking some italian but his accent was so bad she made him repeat it over the phone to all her sisters. in this allusion, boba is my grandmother [ID in alt text]

[kryptidkhaos]

Disabled Trans Man Off His Hormones

I’ve been off my hormones for the past three months now because the local LGBT clinic (which only happens once a month) keeps fucking me over.

TLDR; I need around $200 so I can get back on my HRT. If you want to hear about the nightmare I've been dealing with and why I'm in this situation, hit the read more. This is an e-begging post and I'm trying not to feel shitty about it. p@ypal.me/chaosqueer

v3nmo: @chaosqueer

c@shapp: @chaosqueer

In November, even though I had an appointment made weeks in advance, they overbooked themselves and had to tell me they were full for the night and couldn’t see me, but reassured me I could go to any of the other clinic nights that month to get my hormones filled. That was a lie. I went to multiple other clinic nights, after calling their main office several times to double-check this information multiple times as well, only to either be sent home straight away after being told they “weren’t qualified to treat my needs” OR sitting through their entire process of waiting, going through the intake, getting an exam, talking to a doctor, etc (a process that takes at least 4 hours minimum), only to be told at the very end “no, actually, we’re so sorry, that’s not something we’re allowed to do here. you need to go to the LGBT clinic for that”.

So I threw up my hands and supposed my only option was to wait for the upcoming LGBT night in December. So that’s exactly what I did. I made an appointment weeks in advance, just like I did last time. I resolved to get there extra early so I could be the first in line. I stood outside in the cold with a half dozen other trans folk who were waiting to be seen for about an hour, only to have a car pull in front of the building and nurse lean out to say, “clinic’s closed for the holidays, sorry!” and drive away, even though all of us had appointments and their online calendar hadn’t shown any holiday hours.

So once again, I’d been completely fucked over and had to wait two weeks for the clinic offices to reopen at all for me to even be able to call them and ask when the hell they would be open again. I called and called and called as soon as New Year’s was over and finally got a call back about a week later and was able to make another appointment for the LGBT clinic for January. That was supposed to be today. I got two different phone calls this morning reminding me that my appointment was today.

I just got home, after driving 20mins there and back on a nearly empty gas tank I’m scrapping pennies together to try and keep something in, and after once again standing in the cold for almost an hour, got sent away from a shutdown clinic. They only ever have one security guard on staff for these nights. The one scheduled for tonight got sick, called out, and there was no one to replace him.

So the entire clinic had to be shut down because they’re not allowed to legally operate without one. Me and over a dozen other people who had been standing there had our information taken down (after there were several complaints all around about how last months clinic had also been closed without notice) and told that we would be rescheduled “as soon as possible” and just....turned away.

This is AFTER the absolute SHITSHOW they pulled on @renthony last week while we were trying to get our antidepressants. 

I can’t keep fucking doing this. I can’t keep relying on a bunch of student volunteers who treat us like homework assignments and guinea pigs.

There’s another clinic in town we’re going to try and get into, but it’s sliding scale we’re going to need to apply for and while “cheap” is good, it’s still more expensive than “free”, which is the only reason we’ve been tolerating getting fucked over like this for so long. But that’s still not going to get my hormones covered. I need to make an appointment with the local Planned Parenthood, who only just started offering HRT services at the end of last year, and that’s going to run approximately $200 I do. not. have. I had been holding on to $25 of my birthday money specifically so I knew I would be able to afford to fill my prescription first thing after my appointment today

So yeah, if you made it this far, then I’m sure you’ve guess this is an e-begging post, and I appreciate you getting this far. I’m tired of having to do this, I’m especially tired of my family constantly being accused of making up all of the shit we go through like scam artists, but what other choice do I have at this point?

Please. I’m so exhausted.

[junghelioseok]

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you��re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

[omegasamwilson]

I literally had a panic attack when I watched Ayo take off Bucky's arm. I was born without my left arm and see a lot of myself in Bucky. I have a prosthetic and had to stop the episode and watch it later. And it really hurt me to see your completely disregard that and say I have no right to be upset. It really pisses me off. I'm fully acknowledging that Bucky did a terrible thing, and he needed to be stopped. But she didn't have to remove his arm. He wouldn't have hurt her. To see you refer to his arm in the tags as a weapon further hurt me. It's not a fucking weapon, it's his fucking arm. You're trying to twist this into a race issue when it's about fucking ableism. I'm brown not black so I don't know if you'll accept my concerns with your post

Hi, one, I apologize for what is sure to be a very long and very frustrated statement. But I’m dealing with a lot of shit rn (actually related to race and ableism specifically) but I wanted to respond because my ADHD ass will forget otherwise.

Okay. One, you say “he wouldn’t have hurt her.”

We, the audience, knows that. Ayo did not. What she knows is that the man before her was an assassin and sniper, even before he was captured and forced to kill by HYDRA. He was a WWII sniper and seemed to be quite skilled (I’m going to assume that’s one of the reasons HYDRA tried to experiment on him and picked him to he the winter soldier.) In any case, this newly reformed (and at the time, just barely reformed. As in, he was healed a month, maybe two months before the events of infinity war. So he’s been healed for a whopping seven months.) This newly reformed assassin, who had been the victim of either chemical or otherwise mental subjugation freed a terrorist from prison.

Not only did he free a terrorist from prison, he freed a terrorist that was obsessed with HYDRA. If any terrorist knew a back door to unlock the winter soldier again, it would be Baron Zemo, who knew each and every one of HYDRA’s secrets.

While Shuri is definitely brilliant, it’s entirely possible that HYDRA buried a safety within their “asset” just in case he was able to break his programming. It’s entirely possible that it was so well buried amongst the labyrinth that is the brain that even Shuri couldn’t find it. After all, Shuri isn’t a neuroscientist, and the brain is largely regarded as the final frontier. So it’s entirely possible that she missed buried programming.

So, we have a person that got rid of HYDRA’s programming seven months ago that just freed one of the only people on the planet that could have the information that could potentially reactivate the winter soldier. And THEN, we have a video of this man “acting” as the winter soldier in madripoor. This was uploaded on the internet and I’m assuming that Ayo saw it.

What proof does Ayo have that he won’t hurt her? That she won’t weaponize his arm and hurt her? What proof does she have that he’s not under Zemo’s control, that Zemo can’t control him in a second. The only thing she knows are that Bucky Barnes freed a terrorist that had access to all of HYDRA’s information, the terrorist appeared to control the winter soldier in madripoor, and it is entirely possible that there is buried programming designed to deactivate the winter soldier.

She deactivates it, realizes he’s fully in control of himself and says, “bast damn you, James.” As in, “fuck you for freeing a terrorist and acting like it isn’t a big deal. You are clearly acting on your own accord in this.”

And yes, it’s different being Black vs. being Brown. It isn’t to say that racism and ableism don’t intersect with Brown folks because obviously it does.

But l specifically asked for Black opinions bc of the demonization of Black folks, especially the trope of “big scary Black women” or “big scary Black men.”

It’s ironic I see this today when I have a story that is so relevant and anger inducing.

I work with white parents of Black children, usually through adoption since I work primarily with lgbt parents, but I do have some cis het white parents raising Black biological kids. One of the parents and friends got into it today because her autistic Black child got into it with their sibling (also disabled). The sibling intentionally triggered their older sibling and punched them and it escalated to the point where the bigger sibling finally reacted and shoved the younger sibling. It broke the younger kid’s glasses. The youngest is legally blind and needs very expensive and specific prescription classes to even have 20/40 vision.

The mom called the police on her child and the kid was arrested and charged. She is 15. Mom described the kid as aggressive and awful and terrible and all sorts of names. A ww called the police on her Black 15 year old child having a meltdown. And she played into stereotypes that Black people, Black women, are aggressive/scary/angry. A ww could’ve gotten her child killed for having a meltdown because she broke a white child’s disability aid.)

A ww couldve gotten her child killed because she played into anti-Black stereotypes. That white people need protection from them. Even when the white child was initially the aggressor in the scenario.

Sure, it’s different, but it plays to the same stereotypes. Poor white disabled person needs protection from the aggressive scary Black person, and we’re just going to assume that the Black person was being unnecessarily aggressive because it plays into all of the stereotypes about Black people. No, there’s no way that this Black person was making a decision based on a series of evidence that could point to them genuinely being harmed.

(By the way, in the scenario of the two kids, I think they both needed help and support, and that the police shouldn’t have been called period.)

Nope, it’s just an aggressive Black person being ableist.

The same systems that have everyone seeing Bucky as a cute little uwu cinnamon roll in need of protection are what caused everyone to see Ayo as an aggressive ableist Black woman. White people usually get the benefit of the doubt. The best intentions are believed even when the evidence clearly says otherwise.

The evidence Ayo had indicated that she had no idea whether the winter soldier could’ve been reactivated and whether or not Bucky could’ve been under zemo’s control. She had no idea. None. She made a decision based off that information. And the fact that Bucky didn’t react strongly indicated that he was acting on his own accord.

Mayhaps, Ayo might even have been trying to trigger the winter soldier. I just thought of this but it makes sense. That the WS would react very defensively and even potentially deadly to that level of fighting, even if his previous orders were different.

In any case, this situation isn’t comparable to every day disabled people because our disability aids to not double as weapons. Most people can’t do more harm with a prosthetic limb than they can with a regular limb. Bucky can. Bucky’s arm is also a weapon and that fact complicates matters considerably. If bucky’s arm were simply a regular arm with typical strength, it’d be a no brainer situation. But it’s not. We don’t know the wakanda enhancements of his arms, but we know in the comics, he could kill with a single punch using his arm. He uses his arm tactically to map his surroundings. He uses his arm to send off EMPs that can disabled weaponry. It even has a retractable blade for close combat. It is a disability aid that it also a weapon. It was designed to be a weapon. The normal conversations around disability aids don’t fit it because no one today has a disability aid that could kill someone in seconds and even cause larger scale damage with a targeted EMP.

And finally, I want to say this, I am truly sorry that you had a panic attack while watching the episode. That is never fair and it’s never fun to be triggered by television shows.

I do hope this helped to better explain and clarify my perspective.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Short Stack

Okay, so I recently started a series called Saving Her Sanity, and I had only gotten one part posted. But the more I reread it, the more I really hated the way I’d written it. So I’m postponing that and starting a different series. It’s gonna be a real rollercoaster ride of emotions, so buckle up.

Pro Hero! KiriBaku x ProHero! Fem! Reader

**18+ Fic**

Warnings: Angst, fluff, habitual self-harm, dissociation, swearing from obvious sources, alcohol. Coming up in later parts: smexy times, biting kink, double penetration, unprotected sex, more angst, traumatic past (but not super detailed cuz I can’t handle that shit my heart hurts already)

Word Count: 6.9k

Author’s Note: Alright folks, the reader is a fucking savage and stronger than the fucking hulk cause why the fuck not? Tbh body type isn’t discussed, the only thing is that she’s short af and the angry pomeranian and redhead boulder are freaking giants. Also, everyone’s in their mid-late twenties here. 

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy the read!

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You dove out of the way of chunks of concrete, barely making it behind the corner of the alleyway. You took off sprinting, hopefully drawing the villain away from civilian activity. Thankfully he chased after you, onto an abandoned street, out in the open where you had the upper hand. Twirling around, you materialized a scythe and swung it straight at the enormous arm coming at you, nearly chopping off the villain’s fist completely. 

He stopped in his tracks and howled in pain, giving you the opening you needed. You charged him and dropped to the ground, taking his legs out as you slid under him. A chain materialized in place of the scythe and you wrapped it around his ankles and his undamaged hand, hog tying him in place. You’d only been fighting the villain for about five minutes, and backup wasn’t going to be there for at least another two, so you put a quirk cancelling cuff on him and began to wrap his bleeding wrist to keep him from bleeding out. 

As you waited for backup, you sat down and leaned against the villain, who’d passed out from blood loss, and tended to your own wounds from the encounter. Backup arrived, but it wasn’t what you expected. Instead of police, stomping toward you was none other than the number two hero Ground Zero. His vermillion eyes glanced between you and the villain that was quite literally twice your size, and the expression on his face looked ever so slightly confused at the scene he was witnessing. 

He stopped at your feet, glaring down at you for a few seconds, looked back at the villain, then back at you, and when he opened his mouth to speak the most absurd thing you’d ever heard came from his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated at the implication behind the question. Without a word, you stood up and dusted the dirt off your butt. You walked a few yards away, pulled out your phone and dialed the police, making sure they came with a vehicle that could fit the huge villain. When you turned back around to face Ground Zero, you didn’t expect him to be so close to you. He leaned down so you were face to face, narrowing his eyes at you and letting out what sounded like a growl. “I don’t like being ignored, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes and glared right back at him. “Well I don’t like to be undermined, Ground Zero. I may be small but I can handle myself in a fight.” And it was true. You were very small, at a whopping 5 feet tall (152 cm). His eye twitched and jaw clenched, and you could almost see the steam coming from his ears. Before he could retort, you saw something being launched from behind him. You swung your leg under him and pinned him to the ground just in time to dodge a manhole cover as it whizzed above your heads.

Without hesitation you launched toward the second villain that appeared and quickly had him immobilized and cuffed on the ground next to the first. You turned back to the number two hero, who was still on the ground watching you with wide eyes. You walked over and held your hand out to him, offering to help him up. To your surprise he actually grabbed your hand and let you pull him to stand. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead looking at it, bewildered. 

“Can I have my hand back?” you looked at him blankly. He blinked a few times before releasing his grip. Soon the police arrived to take the villains, and once they left, you began to walk back to the agency since your patrol had ended a little while ago. Ground Zero ran after you and grabbed you by the wrist, turning you around to face him.

“What’s your name?” You raised an eyebrow at the man. “My hero name is Inventory. Now If you don’t mind, I’ve got paperwork to fill out.” He let go of your arm and walked alongside you. You knew why he was walking with you, seeing as you worked as a hero at his agency. As you walked into the building he turned to you with a quizzical look. Without even glancing in his direction you gave a small sigh. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t even know I work under you?”

He seemed slightly shocked. He made it a point to know who was working for him. After all, he couldn’t have anybody screwing up his agency’s reputation. Somehow, though, you’d managed to slip under his radar. Though considering your stature, hero rank, and the fact that you hadn’t made a single mistake since your debut, he figured he’d just brushed you off.

After you filled out all your paperwork, you changed out of your hero costume and into workout clothes and hit the agency’s gym. Like you always did, you went straight to the separate room reserved for sparring, expecting to have to go back out and find a partner. Today, though, you didn’t. As you entered the room, there was a certain angry blonde and a very muscular red-haired man sitting against the wall. 

“Well if it isn’t short stack” Ground Zero called out to you. Well that’s one way to get you mad. You tilted your head sharply to one side, then the other, your neck popping loudly as you took a deep breath to calm your anger. “Hello, Ground Zero. I didn’t expect you to be in here. I’ll just leave you to it then.” The irritation seeped into your voice as you turned around to leave the room.

Of course, the jackass had to go and say something else. “What? You too scared to spar against me? Am I too big for you to handle?” God damn it. You both knew you had taken down much larger opponents than him, and you knew it wasn’t very smart to fight your boss, but at this point you were pissed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose.

He stood up and began stalking towards you, his heavy footsteps ringing in your ears. You dropped your duffel and whirled around, walking to him and meeting him in the middle of the room. At least sparring was only hand-to-hand combat, because you knew he’d easily overpower you if he could use his quirk. But you trained almost exclusively in hand-to-hand, because your quirk wasn’t combat related.

As you dropped into your fighting stance, he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly confused at the odd stance you were in. In all your years of training, you had developed your very own fighting style. He quickly shrugged off his confusion and put his arms up in front of his face, ready for whatever you were about to throw at him. The two of you stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. As predicted, his patience ran out and you easily ducked and dodged the first few quick jabs he threw.

He kept throwing punches, each one a little more intense, and you could see he was getting irritated from how you were dodging every single one. Soon enough he was lunging at you with each punch he threw, his anger getting the best of him. Five minutes of him punching and you dodging had him fuming. You hadn’t even thrown a single punch. Still, it was a game of cat and mouse with you dodging everything he threw.

The whole time he’d been aiming at your face and shoulders, keeping his strikes high. But suddenly he launched at you and his right fist aimed straight for your stomach. Got him. You planted your right foot and spun counter-clockwise, grabbed his wrist with your left hand, grabbed his shoulder with your right, and used his own momentum to fling him over your head. He landed on his back with a thud, all the air pushed out of his lungs from the impact. 

You knew he’d have to take a few seconds to get up from that, and that meant you won the match in a single move. You stood over his head, smirking down at him. He glared up at you with eyes wide as saucers, wheezing from the throw, and the redhead cackled from his spot against the wall. You kneeled down and hunched over, your noses inches apart, and said, “Still think you’re too big for me to handle?”

Staring down at him, you stood again and walked over to the redhead. “Hi, I’m (y/l/n) (y/n), hero name Inventory.” You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake. He took it and introduced himself as Kirishima Eijirou, a.k.a. Red Riot. You walked back over to Ground Zero and once again held your hand out to help him up. This time, he slapped your hand away and got up himself. “The name’s Bakugou Katsuki,” he said, scowling at you.

Kirishima got up and came over, “Come on Bakugou, don’t be a jerk just cause you lost. Sorry about that (y/l/n), he’s just prideful.” You chuckled lightly, waving it off, “It’s fine. I’ve heard ALL about Ground Zero’s friendly personality and peppy attitude. Anyway, It’s been fun, but I should get going.” Kirishima stopped you before you could walk away. “Hey, (y/l/n), we were gonna go out for drinks after this, you wanna join us?” You looked over to Bakugou, who didn’t give any input, choosing instead to glare at the corner. “Sure I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

You picked up your duffel and went back to the locker room to change into your civilian clothes. The bar was only a couple blocks away, so you all left your stuff in your cars and walked over. Bakugou didn’t say anything the whole way there, still wallowing in his humiliating defeat. You, being the smartass you are, decided to poke the bear.

“Stop sulking Bakugou, I haven’t lost a sparring match since high school. Besides, if we were to use our quirks you’d most likely win the match. You don’t gotta be all depressed about it.” His head snapped toward you and his hands popped and crackled at his sides. It was probably meant to scare you, but you only put your hands up in mock surrender. 

When you got to the bar you all ordered your drinks and sat down at a booth. Kirishima looked at you and started asking questions. “So, (y/l/n), if you’re so sure you’d lose to Bakugou’s quirk, what’s yours?” You answered him like you answered everyone else who’d asked you the same question. “Basically, it’s like an inventory in a video game, hence the hero name. I can “store” things in a pocket of space and materialize them whenever I need them,” then you held out your hand and materialized your car keys and cell phone.

His eyes went wide and he started gushing about how cool and convenient that is. Meanwhile, Bakugou just rolled his eyes and mumbled “showoff” under his breath. Kirishima elbowed him and told him to behave, making you giggle at the dynamic of the two. Despite being at a bar, the only one that drank any alcohol was Kirishima. What really shocked you was that he was a terrible lightweight, and getting him to walk back to the agency was proving extremely difficult, because he was leaning nearly all his weight on you and Bakugou didn’t bother to help.

In fact, Bakugou was busy snickering at the sight of you trying to keep Kirishima from stumbling out onto the road and taking you with him. You’d be lying if you said Kirishima wasn’t heavy, but years of weight training and hero work pays off cause you could easily squat over 200 lbs even if you were tiny. So about a block from the agency, you’d had enough of trying to keep Kirishima from falling over and you just stopped walking.

Kirishima was too out of it to notice. But Bakugou turned and started teasing you for not being able to handle the weight. You just rolled your eyes at him. Before Bakugou could move and take him off your hands, you took a deep breath, and hauled Kirishima onto your shoulders in a fireman carry. Bakugou’s jaw dropped, and he froze in place, just staring at the scene in front of him. That both annoyed you and made you extremely proud, cause you just impressed the number two hero. You were sure the scene was at least a little funny, a giant hanging off your tiny frame, but you ignored it.

Once you had Kirishima secured on your shoulders, you started the trek to the agency. Again, Bakugou was completely silent, but you could tell it wasn’t because he was sulking. Once you were back at the agency, Bakugo led you to his car and got Kirishima settled in the back seat while you stretched out your arms, popping your shoulders and neck. You were about to say bye and head back to your car when Bakugou stopped you. 

“Thanks for carrying him. It was impressive. Unexpected,” he said, not making eye contact, “And the match earlier…You did good. I haven’t been beat that bad in a while.” It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was so subtle you couldn’t tell. You smiled softly at the compliments. “Thanks, Bakugou. I had fun. I’ll be going now.” You turned to walk to your car, but he stopped you again. “Oi, short stack!” You froze at the name, and turned around with a sickly sweet smile on your face, “Yes, Bakugou?” “What’s your number?” It was your turn to be shocked. But you got over it and recited your number to him as he punched it into his phone.

When you got home it was just after midnight, so you got ready for bed and lay down to sleep. The next few days passed relatively quickly, occasionally running into Kirishima or Bakugou. There wasn’t any villain activity in the area, and your gym time was productive. You got a couple of people to spar with you when you needed it, and spent any extra time weight training.

The next day you were off, just like every day you had off, you went straight to the agency and hit the gym. You spent a solid hour at the punching bag and went to go spar again. This time there were five others in the room, which was extremely rare. Normally the room was empty. Two pairs were already going at it, so you asked the fifth if she wanted to spar. 

You’d already worked up a sweat at the punching bag, but you needed the spar, so instead of finishing quickly you made sure to take a couple punches and throw a few before ending the match. You kept the same partner for a few matches, winning each one, and soon the others were watching as you won two more rounds.

The partner you’d been sparring with tapped out to get water, and someone else quickly took her place. You immediately jumped into another match. And then another. And another. Soon they tapped out as well, and by then there were a few more people filing into the room to watch. It confused you, because you’d never seen more than ten people in the padded room, but you ignored it and began another match with yet another partner.

After another few rounds, your new partner tapped out, and you decided it was time to get some water. But it wasn’t until you stepped back out into the center of the room that you realised nobody else was starting a match. Nobody else was sparring with anybody, all their eyes locked on you. As you looked around the room, you noticed it was getting crowded with people, all your previous opponents had already left, and a new opponent stepped out to challenge you.

Now this was strange. Even with your opponent getting into his fighting stance, you looked around the room, confused as to why there were so many people. You dodged a jab, snapping your attention back to your opponent. Well that was a dirty move. At his next swing you ducked under his arm, lunged to his side and swept his legs out from underneath him, ending the match before he could even blink. Playing dirty gets you knocked the fuck out as far as sparring goes for you.

The crowd that had gathered cheered at the quick takedown, and yet another opponent stepped out. You lost track of time, sparring dozens of different opponents, never losing a single match. If you began to tire all you did was end the match quickly to regain energy. After you went to refill your water for what must have been the 20th time, you checked the clock. It was already noon. You’d been sparring for five hours. 

When you went back into the room, another opponent waited in the middle. You apologized and said you had to leave, and the crowd dispersed within minutes. You showered and changed, and as you left the locker room you got a text from a number you didn’t recognize.

?:

Oi short stack, what are you doing right now?

Correction, you knew EXACTLY who this was.

You:

Just got out of the gym. Why?

Bakugou:

Where?

You: 

At the agency

Why?

You didn’t get a reply, but you didn’t need one, cause Bakugou was waiting for you outside the building, sitting in his car, with Kirishima in the passenger seat. “You haven’t had lunch yet right?” Bakugou asked. You shook your head no. Kirishima spoke this time, “Great! Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and told you to get in, and you chuckled as you got into the back seat.

During the ride Kirishima asked about your day, and you told him about the strange occurrence while you sparred, with a crowd forming to watch and people popping out of nowhere to challenge your winning streak. “Wow (y/l/n)! You still haven’t lost? I should spar with you and see if I can win!” You giggled at that and agreed to spar with him next time. And you kept reiterating how strange it was that there’d be so many people in the room at once, when normally there’s only a handful at a time.

They both questioned it but soon shrugged it off as Bakugou parked the car in front of the sushi restaurant. Lunch was a whirlwind of Kirishima asking you questions, you asking them questions, and Bakugou bickering at Kirishima when he ignored Bakugou entirely. It was fun seeing the two so close. Eventually the conversation rounded back to your sparring matches earlier.

“So how long were you there? If a crowd formed you had to have been at it for a while.” Kirishima asked, trying to figure out how long you’d fought people. You answered sheepishly, a bit embarrassed that you’d lost track of time so easily, “Well...when I checked the clock it’d been about five hours.” Both of them froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Your face burned and you took a sip of your water. Bakugou was the first to talk. “You’re a fucking beast.” Kirishima’s expression went from shock to concern. “Are you ok? Like, how are you not passed out right now?”

You assured him you were fine, and explained how much time you spent in the gym nearly every day, even after patrol. Your gym time only seemed to surprise them more, and after they told you about their gym schedule, you realised just how much time you spent in the gym, and the more you thought about it, the more you realised how lonely you were.

Kirishima seemed to catch on to your stress and smoothly changed the subject. After lunch, Bakugou drove you back to the agency, and Kirishima asked if you wanted to go to their place for drinks. “Sure, as long as I don’t have to carry you again,” you laughed. Kirishima turned and looked at you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair. “Wait...you carried me?”.

Bakugou barked out a laugh. “Yeah shitty hair, she threw you over her shoulders and hauled your wasted ass back to the car.” Kirishima’s face somehow burned brighter and apologized profusely, but you waved it off. “Nah, it’s fine! Besides, if Bakugou wasn’t being such an ass I wouldn’t have had to carry you. I just got sick of trying to keep you standing upright while he snickered at me being short.” Bakugo scoffed. “Well you’re definitely not tall.” “I don’t need to be to kick your sorry ass.”

At that Bakugou went silent and Kirishima exploded in a fit of laughter. “Put a sock in it shitty hair! And you!” Bakugou glared at you in the rearview mirror, “I’m gonna beat your stubby ass next time!” You looked at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Ground Zero?” He growled at the mention of his hero name. “Yeah short stack, it’s a fucking challenge.”

Soon the car parked in the parking garage, and you all went up to their shared apartment. It was spacious, and very modern. Bakugou pointed out the bathroom and went to the kitchen to grab three bottles of beer. The three of you settled into the living room and the conversation went just like lunch did. Most of the questions were directed at you, and you answered honestly. 

The questions were generic and friendly, what you like to do in your spare time (besides going to the gym), your favorite foods, colors, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves. After the first round of questioning you’d only got through one bottle of beer. “Hey, what other kinds of alcohol you got?” you questioned Bakugou. He got up and listed his menu from the kitchen. You asked him for a glass of the cream liquor, and he returned with a glass filled with the liquid. 

After hours of aimless conversation and a few more glasses, you found yourself slowing as the alcohol permeated your system. That was your signal to ask for a snack and water, and you stopped your intake of alcohol. Bakugou caught on to your self cut-off. “You don’t need to limit yourself. We’ve got a spare room if you need to stay the night, and if you need to call in tomorrow the agency has plenty of people to take over your patrol.” His statement shocked you, and you looked at him like he was crazy.

He spoke again, “If you’re cautious about sharing a place with two guys, Kiri’s nearly wasted already, he can’t do shit, and if I were stupid enough to do anything I’m sure you’d kick my ass before I got within a foot of you. As for tomorrow, both of us are off, and like I said, the agency is not short-staffed. And i’ve got meds if you’re worried about a hangover, and I don’t mind lending you clothes if you need them.”

You were stunned. Completely and utterly bewildered. But he made good points, so you decided to take up his offer to spend the night. “You know what, I’ll stay. But I'm gonna slow down with the alcohol, because hangovers are a bitch to deal with even with painkillers.” And with that, the three of you continued talking. Soon Kirishima passed out and Bakugou hauled him into his room. Surprisingly enough, when he came back out he actually engaged the conversation.

He asked about your fighting style, how you developed it, how long you trained. Most of his questioning was about your physical strength and tenacity, nothing personal. But then he asked why you spent so much of your time in the gym instead of with friends. And you answered honestly and bluntly, probably mostly because of the alcohol. “To be honest, I’m not much of a social butterfly. I don’t really have friends, because I don’t ‘make friends’ with people. In fact, you could call me antisocial. I don’t really like talking to people. I don’t speak unless spoken to or unless speaking is necessary.”

And he only dove deeper. “Why not? The world too scary from down there?” he teased. You laughed darkly at the comment, choosing to drain your glass of alcohol in favor of answering the implied question. He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You avoided the question.”

“Well it wasn’t really a question, just a jab at my height again”

“Yeah, and you didn’t jab back.”

You huff, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Just drop it Bakugou.”

“I won’t drop it. Not until you give me some kind of answer.”

“Are you always this insensitive or is it just the alcohol?”

“Spill it (y/l/n).”

“Ugh fine! But I’m not giving you any details.” You crack your knuckles, take a deep breath, and a long drink of water before you talk again. “I used to like making friends. But all the friends I made turned out to be liars and fakes. I was used. A lot. After a while I finally had enough, so I stopped approaching people. I decided if people want to be in my life they can approach me. I got good at reading people, and I shut them out fast if they weren’t good for me.” You sighed, praying that was enough to sate Bakugou’s drunken curiosity. It wasn’t.

“And if people approached you with the intention of using you? If you read them wrong?” he pried. Screw it. You already spilled this much right? Might as well get it out. “I got really good at pretty bad things. I don’t usually read wrong, because I’m suspicious of everyone that walks into my life.” Internally, you prayed that was enough for him. “What kinds of bad things?” Well that’s unfortunate.

“Things like eavesdropping. Spying. Hiding. Manipulation. Lying. Deceit. Long story short, I have trust issues. It’s easier to keep people at arm’s distance than make friends that could hurt you.” At that, Bakugou goes quiet, his eyes studying your face. And you stare back at him, waiting for the judgement that comes with opening up to people. Waiting for the ‘maybe you should openup more’ and ‘just give people a chance’. But his answer is unexpected. His face softens ever so slightly as his eyes lock onto yours, his voice low, soft and somewhat comforting. “Sounds rough.” You look away, trying to keep your breathing steady, not giving tears the chance to fall, “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Bakugou.”

Moving quickly, you disappear into the spare room and curl up into the bed sheets. Why the hell are you crying? You’d talked about this before. So why now, of all times, are you suddenly sobbing into your hoodie, clinging to it like your lifeline? You try your best to keep quiet, hoping the only other person awake doesn’t hear you. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you hear the door handle turn, and you freeze, closing your eyes and steadying your breath, going completely silent in mock-sleep. It was a technique you’d perfected long ago, turning off your emotionsin order to avoid confrontation.

You hear heavy footsteps, knowing who it is that just stepped in. He was the only other one still awake. You feel the bed behind you dip, and strong arms curl around you and turn your body, burying your face into Bakugou’s solid chest. His deep voice rumbles softly in your ear. “I know you’re not sleeping shorty. I listened through the door and heard you crying. Just let it out.” And before you can stop them, the tears you’d willed to disappear begin to pour down your face. So you sob into his chest, his arms tightening around you as your entire body shakes.

Soon you’re drifting into sleep, your body giving in to exhaustion. You’re in a deep sleep, and Bakugou stays there, holding you, until the last hiccups subside. He leans away to look down at you, and brushes strands of hair away from your face. “How long has it been since you’ve cried, princess? How long since you bottled up those emotions inside you?” He questions your sleeping figure. He presses a soft kiss into your forehead, gets up and tucks you under the blanket before silently leaving the room and going to bed.

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When you wake up, your eyelids are heavy and swollen, making it hard to open them. You tenderly massage them open, remembering the reason they’re so puffy and sore. Despite the discomfort of your eyes, you feel refreshed and light, a weight lifted off your chest that you didn’t know was there in the first place. No, it was more like it’s been there for so long you’d gotten used to the pressure. Slowly, you sit up and blink away sleep.

You check the clock and it’s 8 am, a couple hours later than you normally get up. At the foot of your bed is a set of folded clothes. You quickly change out of the clothes you slept in, and into the t-shirt and sweatpants that you assumed were Bakugou’s. As expected, they’re giant on you, but they’re comfortable, and they smell like Bakug-- NO. Stop. You shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it came and go out to see if either of the guys are up.

You quickly get your answer when you see Kirishima lounging -- freaking SHIRTLESS -- on the couch. Talk about eye candy, damn. Like sure, his hero costume doesn’t exactly hide anything, but it’s different when he’s laying across a couch in nothing but gray sweatpants. Again, you clear the thoughts before they screw you over, and greet him. “Hey (y/l/n) how’d you sleep?” “Pretty good, thanks. I’m surprised you’re up so early Kiri.” He laughs at the observation, “Yeah. Bakugou got me up a little while ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” Yeah, that makes sense. You nod and make your way into the kitchen, and as expected, Bakugo is there.

“Good morning Bakugou,” you greet him. “Morning shorty. How’d you sleep?” You answer with the same reply you gave Kirishima a few seconds ago. You lowered your voice a little and leaned slightly toward him, “Thank you, by the way. For last night. I really needed that.” He just nods, focusing his attention to the fridge to find breakfast. Satisfied with that, you turn and head back to the couch and chill with Kirishima until Bakugou calls you to the table to eat.

You ask them what they do on their days off, and today the plan was just to stay in and lounge around the house, not doing much of anything and just relaxing. So, that’s what you did. As the hours passed, you found yourself liking the company of the two men, despite their imposing size. You didn’t feel small with them. But the question lingering at the back of your mind was why? Why were you so comfortable around them?

Thoughts buzzed around in your head like a hurricane, mixing with the doubt that they were in any way comfortable with you, and the fear that they were only using you for what men always seem to want. Soon you were telling yourself all the bad scenarios that would end in them leaving you all alone again. You didn’t even know them all that well, but you had become attached and were already bracing yourself for the inevitable loss of the two. The memory of crying to Bakugou last night swirled into your mind and wouldn’t disappear.

You were spiraling into a panic like you always did when people got close. But it was hidden, suppressed, contained. Whenever you panicked it never showed, the only telltale sign being your sudden need to scratch the soft flesh on the inside of your elbow. You hadn’t scratched in so long that any previous wounds had completely healed over, the only evidence left were small patches of discoloration, only evident if you stare long enough. That was about to change as your nails dug furiously while you stared off into space.

Kirishima was the first to snap you out of your spiral, grabbing your wrists and shaking you out, calling your name frantically. Your senses began to drift back, and the next thing you noticed was the sting on your forearms and the light stain of blood on your nails and fingertips. Your eyes drifted from your wrist up to your inner elbow, and you winced at the sight of blood seeping out of the shredded welts. It looked like it should have hurt more than it did.

“Bakugou! Get the first aid kit from the bathroom! (y/l/n)’s bleeding!” Kirishima called out to him. You heard quick heavy stomps and a curse from the blonde before he came over to examine your arms. He looked at you, and you looked back at him, still dazed from your inner turmoil. He knew from that look you were out of it. Instead he questioned the redhead to ask what had happened while he was in the kitchen figuring out what to make for lunch.

“I don’t know! I was watching tv and when I turned to ask her something she was staring off into space and scratching at her arms! She was bleeding before I even turned and I grabbed her before it could get worse.” Bakugou clenched his jaw and went to get a wet washcloth to clean up the blood. You were watching this all unfold before you, still not quite attached to reality. When he returned, he put the cloth on his lap and grabbed your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with calloused thumbs. He called your voice, attempting to ground you, and didn’t stop until you finally took a few quick breaths and blinked, answering him with a small ‘sorry’.

He grabbed your wrists, which Kirishima had already released, and spoke to you in a hushed tone, but still strong and intense. “(y/l/n) I need you to listen to me. Are you allergic to anything? Anything at all?” It took a few moments for you to regain your mental balance, but you shook your head. “No. Nothing.” He let out a soft breath and with that he began to clean and dress your arms, wiping away blood and cleaning your fingers and nails in silent concentration.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, the different sensations from the sting of the alcohol wipes to the cool ointment and the soft gauze had grounded you completely. As Bakugou went to put the first aid kit away, Kirishima reached out and gripped your shoulders, looking over your face and into your eyes with tender concern. “You okay little pebble?” He moved his large hands so they rested at the sides of your neck, his thumbs gently brushing at your jaw.

You blush lightly at the endearing nickname and the new sensation of his hands. Leaning slightly into one of his palms, you nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really wanna talk about it, but I’ll be just fine. I just got distracted.” He looked at you with a face that said he didn’t believe your excuse, but he’d drop the subject because you asked him to. Letting his hand release you, he gives you a toothy, mischievous grin. He leans in closer to you and nearly whispers, like he was about to reveal the world’s biggest scandal.

“That was the most gentle I’ve ever seen Bakugou. Thanks for bringing that side out of him,” he says, flashing another smile. You giggle a little at the thought of the explosive male being gentle, not quite believing it if you hadn’t been subject to it. Then you remembered why he’d been there, tending to the wounds you’d subconsciously inflicted on yourself. Your eyebrows knitted together lightly, remembering the spiral and being shaken out of it by a panicked Kirishima. When Bakugou came back, you grabbed one of their hands in each of yours.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you say softly. After a few moments of silence, you decided you owed them an explanation of some kind. “And thank you for catching me. The scratching is a nervous habit when I’m stressed. I thought I got rid of it, but obviously I haven’t. It’s been a long time since it happened last, and it was triggered by my own drifting thoughts. It’s purely subconscious and I don’t realize what I’m doing until the pain becomes too unbearable and snaps me back to reality.”

By the end of your explanation, the two were looking at you with concern and understanding. Kirishima gently smiled, and Bakugou’s features relaxed, when you squeezed their hands appreciatively. The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by a low growl. You laughed at the comedic timing of your stomach and glanced at the clock. It was just after 12:30, and Bakugou got up to go make lunch. After eating you asked to wash your clothes, and asked to use the shower. Kirishima got you a spare towel and plastic wrap to cover your newly dressed forearms. Five minutes under the hot water and you were already feeling suffocated. The steam clouded your lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You knew you had a problem with hot water. You always have. Jacuzzis were never relaxing for you, and you loved the cool water of the ocean the deeper you dove toward inky blackness. You turned the handle in the shower, letting the water turn cold. Your body shivered slightly from the sudden temperature change, but quickly relaxed as the cold water washed away all the stress from a few hours ago.

When you had finished up you went to go relax on the couch again, settling into the space between the two. Now with your mind clear, you began to wonder something that you probably should have wondered a while ago. How tall were they, really? They stood over a foot taller than you, so they had to be at least 6 feet tall. You looked from one to the other, your head swiveling back and forth, before you decided to just ask them.

Bakugou barked out a deep laugh, “Why you wanna know shorty? Finally realizing how scary we look from down there?” You rolled your eyes at him, but he answered anyway. “I’m 6 foot 4 (193 cm).” Kirishima looked down at you and beamed, “I’m 6 foot 6 (198 cm).” Bakugou scoffed, and you giggled at the blonde getting upset over height. Suddenly you bounced up from the couch and turned to the two, barely containing the thought that suddenly popped into your mind. Out of the two, the redhead seemed like the more likely to carry out your request, so you turned to Kirishima with wide excited eyes and a lopsided grin like a kid in a candy store.

“Can you carry me?!” you blurted out a little too loud. Kirishima blushed hard, and then you realized how ridiculous the request sounded and rushed to explain. “Sorry! That sounded weird right? I just wanna know what life looks like from that high up! I’m only 5 feet tall so…” you rambled a little before Kirishima laughed and stood up. “Sure little pebble.” He turned you around and squatted down, put his left arm around your waist and right arm against your thighs just above your knees and told you to lean back and sit on his arm. 

Once you were seated snugly, your back pressed against his chest, he stood up and you gasped a little from the new angle. The floor looked so far away, and you knew that if Kirishima decided to hold you by your armpits your feet would dangle a foot from the floor. Bakugou looked up at you from the couch and scoffed. “Alright shitty hair, put her down before you drop her and she breaks her legs from the fall.” Your hilariously rebellious brain took that as a challenge. You smirked at Bakugou, his eyes daring you to do exactly what you were thinking. But before you could move he looked at the redhead behind you, and the arm around your waist tightened as he reached to grab his right bicep. He slightly activated his quirk, locking you in place. 

“Aw, c’mon! You’re no fun! I’ve jumped from buildings before and landed perfectly fine!” You whined as you squirmed in Kirishima’s arms. Both of them laughed at your struggle, and once again, your brain instantly settled on ‘challenge accepted’. You quickly surveyed your surroundings, going about the best way to escape Red Riot without damaging any of the heroes’ property.

Before either of them could react, you materialized quirk-cancelling handcuffs and clasped one side around Kirishima's left wrist. The instant it went into effect, you brought your foot up and back down into the redhead’s stomach just hard enough for his grip on you to loosen up. When his right arm dropped to grab his abdomen, you slipped down along his body, grabbed the free cuff on your way down and snapped it around the leg of the coffee table, Kirishima landing flat on his ass with an ‘oof’.

Once again, Bakugou just stared in shock. You crossed your arms and smirked at him, “What was that about dropping me, Bakugou?” He was silent. Kirishima chuckled from his spot on the ground. “Damn, you’re a sneaky one little pebble.” You turned back around and took a deep bow. You materialized the cuff’s key and released him, storing them back in your quirk’s storage space. Finally recovering from his shock, Bakugou looked at the time and said, “Alright, short stack. Let’s go spar.” You turned to him and spoke what your brain had thought only moments before. “Challenge accepted.”

[wh6res]

taeil — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. soulmates are connected by a red string.

synopsis. taeil thinks the whole system is bullshit. he needs to take matters into his own hands.

warnings. tread cautiously. swearing, mentions of death, blood, mentions of kidnapping, violence, turning a 'lil dubcon near the end, severe stockholm syndrome, manipulation 

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life. 

thank you to. sexeh sam @yukwonghei, cutie charlie @dundun-baby, and baby rina @greenish-taro for beta-reading!

since he was a kid, he’s fantasized about meeting his soulmate. creating scenario after scenario of how he’d meet ‘the one’ as he had cheesily addressed and had absolutely freaked when he finally saw the red string tied around his right wrist on his 20th birthday—courtesy of the soulmate rules of the universe, where one will finally be able to see the string tied around their body once they’ve come of age. 

for years before he met that other soul who’s destined to be with him, taeil would stare at the red thread lying across the floor, disappearing under the gap of his door and out to the world unknown. he’d be so distracted, so aloof and in his own world as he anticipates the long-awaited day until his professor calls him out—“moon! do yourself a favor and stop daydreaming!”

until his friends snap him out of it—“thinking of them again? really?”

until his parents shake him out of his thoughts—“don’t worry, i bet they’ll love you!”

sometimes he just loved staring at the string, it was something so measly as a bunch of threads intricately woven together yet it held such a symbol in today’s world. call him lovesick or stupid but was it really wrong to feel excited? taeil’s even betting the person on the other side of this string is just as excited as he was, if not more. 

in the man’s eyes, the strings are a symbol of something more than love—it symbolized the person the universe has created especially for him and no one else. 

taeil can’t even imagine a world without these strings. how difficult it would be, to love and invest in someone who will only end up breaking your heart? no, the strings also meant reassurance. 

assurance that he won’t get hurt. 

an assurance of faithfulness. 

he had only been a wide-eyed fresh grad looking for some place to intern when it happened. like a scene right out of a cheesy romance movie—he felt the persistent tugs of the string before finally meeting his soulmate. well, using the word meet to describe the whole ordeal is a huge stretch because it was more of a holy shit, is that my soulmate? rather than a hi, i'm your soulmate, taeil!

he merely saw the back of her poised figure but taeil’s heart felt like it wanted to explode, his emotions a mess and feeling everything to the extremes. nervous. scared. anxiety. happiness. excitement—it was all coming at him like bullets. 

as taeil stared at her back, walking away, johnny kept shoving him forward, encouraging him to finally approach the person he’s been waiting for ever since that soulmate string appeared around his pinky. 

but he couldn’t—not because he was so anxious he’d accidentally vomit the 4-cheese whopper he had for lunch but due to the line of people trailing behind his soulmate like a bunch of baby ducks to their mom. the thought of coming up to his soulmate and introducing himself in front of all those people?

romantic, maybe, but taeil doesn’t have the stomach to do that. 

he remembers how much johnny had wolf whistled, unbelieving of the fact his friend managed to snag the possible heir to the company they’re attending an interview in as his soulmate. 

“lucky little asshole,” johnny muttered. 

taeil had been experiencing the post-effects of seeing his soulmate that he just weakly punched johnny’s arm for the heck of it. he probably didn’t even hear the name his younger friend had called him. taeil’s mind is clouding over, no thoughts in his head but the white polo shirt she wore, sleeves neatly rolled up, and the black pencil skirt hugging her legs and making her ass look so plump. 

focus. he needs to focus on the interview right now or else he won’t even have the chance to work here and officially meet her. everything the interviewer asked passed through his head like paper planes in a classroom, shamelessly asking the woman sitting before him to repeat the question, too busy reveling about how their soulmate story would be the cliché office-love. not that taeil minds, he’d love going to work together—

two weeks later, johnny receives an email of acceptance. taeil doesn’t.

the man nearly threw his laptop away out of sheer disbelief and anger. okay, sure, maybe he could’ve done better in the interview but he graduated with latin honors in college! and from a prestigious college at that. he shouldn’t even be applying as a mere intern with the skill set he had yet he went with it because he’d always dreamed of working there. 

and now knowing his soulmate is possibly someone who holds a high position in the company? everything just kept getting better and better for moon taeil. 

except for that fucking email—pft, or lack thereof. how can they not accept him when he’s more capable than johnny, anyway? for fuck’s sake! taeil doesn’t even ask that guy for rent and he’s so thick-skinned that he stayed up to this day and freeloaded off taeil’s food and shelter. 

the absolute unfairness of the situation makes taeil’s blood reach a fever point. he’s completely lossed it, leading him to spit “get the fuck out!” to the other male occupant in the apartment with eyes glaring and lips pulled into a nasty sneer. 

johnny’s never seen taeil this upset before and decided that he’d be better off abiding by the older man’s wishes instead of contradicting it. 

no. no. no. this can’t be happening. if taeil doesn’t work there, with her, all his sweet fantasies won’t come true and god forbid she ends up falling for another person in the company. 

anyone would be naturally drawn to taeil’s soulmate. in his eyes, she’s a goddess in the flesh. taeil doesn’t even need to see her face, from the few seconds he saw a glimpse of her, her presence and allure in itself is already eye-catching. the way her low ponytail swished from side to side as she walked, her back straight and head held high. 

taeil needs to see her again. maybe if she finds out he’s her soulmate she’ll put a good word in and he’ll get hired. 

yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan. 

“please get out of my office or i’ll call security.”

or not.

“no, wait. but i just said i’m your soulmate!” to further prove his point, he even raises up his pinky and sure enough the other end of the string is tied around hers. the incessant pull is there and if not for her sharp cold eyes anchoring him to the ground, taeil would’ve long been soaring high in cloud nine. 

“and i said i don’t care,” she snaps just as her fingers sneakily pressed a button in her phone. “i have a fiancé. the whole soulmate bullshit doesn’t apply to rich people. so for the fucking last time, get out of my office.”

“but—”

the double doors of the vice president’s office bounces off the walls when two burly guards barge in. dressed in a white long sleeves and those heavy tinted shades of glasses that taeil hates. the two men waste no time in hooking their arms underneath the smaller, frail man as he thrashes against their arms. 

“how can you not care about your soulmate?!” taeil can feel the beginning licks of the flames eating up his whole world as everything comes crashing down before his very eyes. “i’ve been—i’ve been waiting my whole life for you and this is how you treat me?!” 

he doesn’t know what hurts more, the scratch in his throat as he screamed with all his might or the stoic look written on her face as the guards haul him away. 

when johnny heard the news he’d never felt so sorry for his friend. rumors that initially circulated only between the executive board members had spread and trickled down to the common folk on the lower levels. johnny making it a mission to find out, had extracted himself from his usual cheery and extroverted self to blend in with the background. taeil has yet to talk to him after he got kicked out, so asking his friend—or ex-friend?—about what happened is out of the question. 

but like any other breed of rumor, the tale of their vice president’s soulmate barging in her office is ever changing through each mouth that tells the story. johnny doesn't know what to believe in. he’s been trying to put off a meeting with the older man ever since he started crashing in taeyong’s apartment instead. not that taeil himself even tried reaching out to johnny, anyway. 

so why should he, when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong?

but there’s a nagging voice at the back of johnny’s head. his conscience isn’t too loud but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there and it doesn’t need excessive volumes to be heard. all it takes is a second of distraction from the paperwork he does, attention straying from the task at hand, and his body will automatically be wracked with guilt. 

knowing how much taeil had waited for his soulmate to come to his life, knowing how taeil can readily give everything up for his soulmate without even meeting them yet… and now knowing taeil just got the worst ever rejection in his entire life?

johnny can’t possibly imagine the pain he’s going through. is he really going to choose now out of all times to be petty because taeil kicked him out when he didn’t even bother asking johnny for anything in return during his stay in the apartment?

so when taeil finally contacted him, the sketchyness of what he had asked for flew right over johnny’s head. rational thoughts flying out the window because taeil needs him, he should his friend after everything taeil did for him—

“hey, uhm… i need insider’s information, can you do that for me?”

you shook your head at the long story johnny told you. tuffs of your hair have escaped the intricate pigtails taeil has put your hair up in earlier before he left for work. he’s always hated having your hair messy, but at the moment you couldn’t find yourself to care. 

“i wouldn’t put it past taeil’s original soulmate…” you think aloud, mouth speaking before you can stop yourself as you stare disdainfully at the dulled string wrapped around your pinky—it lost its divine red glow after your captor had cut it off on the same day he whisked you away.

ironic, how easy it was to destroy something so important.

you backtracked, realizing the gravity of what you said before looking up at your captor’s friend. johnny doesn’t look all too impressed and he sighs at the pleading look in your eyes. please, don’t tell him.

“i guess you’re somewhat right…” he gives in, coursing his fingers through his hair. “taeil had been… very passionate on finding his soulmate. but i mean, come on, why’d you even marry someone who isn’t your soulmate? i don’t blame taeil for doing what he did to them.”

johnny ignores the way your breath hitches and your body halts all movement. “what—what did he do?”

“paid them a ‘lil visit after gathering enough resources from someone on the inside,” his face stoic, voice monotone. johnny doesn’t like talking about this one. “he studied their schedules, where they live, where they work, how they get to work, what time they sleep, what time they wake. then just one day…” 

he drags a finger across his neck.

“oh.” 

pathetically, it was all you can say. why did you even bother to ask, anyway? if taeil had been willing to exert force just to keep you in line, then he has the stomach for whatever gruesome deaths he subjected his soulmate and her fiancé to.

you nibble on your lip as you stare at the knot of thread lying on the floor. you don’t see the need to wear the collar wrapped around your neck when that knot is good enough a reminder that you’re now bound to taeil. that he’s fucked around with your destiny and decided he’ll have you out of all people. 

its hard to believe taeil once almost worshipped the soulmate bonds, not when all he’s ever done is look at it like it's the bane of his existence and calling it a curse to humanity.

“do you know that you’re—”

“that i’m the 5th? yeah, i know. i saw all the knots on his string.” you defeatedly say, a vivid image of the knots spaced across his string like tophies. “taeil doesn’t like me staring at them, though.”

and you yourself didn’t like staring at them. you never thought something so small and insignificant can mean something so sinister. the knots on his string acting like a body counter. will he get sick of you one day and you’ll just be another knot on his string?

“you’re nothing like his soulmate—i’m not insulting you or anything, i’m just saying the truth. the past girls all had at least something in common with her but you… nothing. not even your hair shines like hers, and that’s even after taeil has taken good care of you.”

this doesn’t soothe you in any sense and before you can open your mouth to retort, the familiar beeping of the code getting punched into the keypad cuts you off. 

taeil stood in the entrance as he shrugged off his coat, his polo crinkled at some areas and pieces of his hair had escaped that slicked back hairstyle. 

“you’re home early…”

your blood runs cold when he doesn’t even offer you a glance, skipping you out and immediately addressing johnny. “i thought i told you to go home already after delivering the food.”

you admire the way johnny’s eyes roll. must be nice not to be so fucking terrified of the man. “yeah, but your current sweetheart here was lonely and practically begged me to stay.”

the sting of betrayal never grows familiar. 

“i never said anything—”

“you did, have you forgotten already?” you hate the show of lust clouding in johnny’s eyes as he stares you down. this can’t be happening right now. “have you forgotten how you even came unto me? whined like a bitch about how taeil doesn’t even fuck you hard enough and you had to fake orgasms all the time?”

“that’s not true!” your frustration manifests as tears. they sting your eyes as you look at taeil. “i never said anything—”

but you pale when you realize they’re not even listening to you, the two guys fist bumping in the foyer and exchanging a few words like “thanks for telling me,” and “no problem, bro,” were heard before taeil is heatedly storming up to you. 

you feel numb as you look over taeil’s shoulder at the little smirk johnny shoots at you. have fun, he mouths mockingly and then he’s out the door, extracting himself from the mess he created. 

when taeil wordlessly drags you across the hallway, you thought he’ll make a right turn and into the bedroom but imagine your surprise when he pulls you instead towards the bathroom. he wastes no time throwing you against the cold hard tiles as he tells you only one thing. 

“strip.”

“taeil…”

“you don’t want to be replaced.” it doesn’t take a genius to know taeil had hit the nail on the head. all your movements come to a halt, looking up at him with an unreadable look in your face. “that’s your fear, isn’t it? that if you die, if i kill you, i can just look for another girl and you’d be forgotten at the snap of a finger. i’m right, aren’t i?”

you gulp, his words stinging even if he didn’t mean for it to sting. or maybe he did. taeil takes a step closer to you, studying your appearance as he brings a hand up to caress your tear-stained face. 

spots in your clothes are wet due to the splashes of water on the tiles, and the clips in your hair that once looked neat and perfect are now hanging in disarray, falling off in some places. 

“i’m sorry,” you sob. “i’m sorry, john—johnny’s lying. you—you have to—to believe me. please don’t replace me… i’ll be good, i promise…”

truly, there’s no better motivator than fear. and there’s no better way to mess with someone’s head than using their weakness against them. 

“you say you’ll be good but i tell you to strip and you couldn’t even do that?” 

taeil could never imagine replacing you. he finds it stupid, whatever that brought in this fear of yours, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be extracting every little bit he can get out of this.

he can only stare in awe when you start wiggling your way out of your pretty pink clothes, eyes drinking every bit of your skin slowly being exposed to him as he reaches behind you to open the running water, slowly filling the bathtub.

“get in,” he instructs and you waste no time. 

as he sheds his own clothes, he can practically feel the want radiating off you. he knew johnny’s lying, but he humored his friend still. there’s no way you can fake the noises you always make. plus, taeil has seen one too many times the cum dribbling out of your cunt after he’s fucked you into oblivion. he scoffs. harder? then he’ll be breaking you in half already. 

taeil swats your hand away as it reaches for his cock and he hopes you don’t notice it twitching before you when you let out a cute whine. 

“you want it?”

you nod urgently, salavitating at the thought. taeil was more of a giver to his partners, it’s rare for him to take his pleasure first but you’re far from complaining. 

“oh, i don’t know…” he pouts, fisting himself in front of you before giving it a few testing pumps. he swallows the hiss threatening to spill from his lips, chuckling instead at the intense look in your eyes as it follows his hand movements. 

you were by far the most compliant girl he’s ever had, someone who’d rather stay than escape. his methods of forcing someone into submission worked extremely well with you. so really, how can he let go of his glorified little pet?

“you’re not lying to me, aren’t you? i got hurt, you know, with what johnny said… i guess i was doing something wrong.”

“no!” your reply is immediate. “no, that’s not true—”

hands wrap around your throat like a vice. “how about you prove it to me, love? tell me everything i want to hear.”

now, this is easy. you’ve practically memorized everything you need to tell him to boost his ego. it doesn’t even take much of an effort. 

“i love your cock so much that my body hurts. it hits all the right places inside of me and i will never even dream of wanting another man because they won’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

you feel giddy when he smiles that satisfied smile, your toes curling in anticipation as he leans in to give his obedient darling a kiss—

until he shoves your face down the water. 

it doesn’t take much effort to wrestle your limbs down and insert himself into you, groaning at the feeling of your lush and moist walls sucking him in. you’re always so damn wet when he fucks you, oh how much he loves it. loves how tighter your cunt wraps around him as you squirm and fight him to get to the surface of the half-filled tub.

it was only after a few deep thrusts did he relent and pull you up, the few hair clips in your hair floating in the water around as you gasp greedy amounts of air. one look at taeil’s face pulled in ecstasy is enough for you to know it was well worth it.

maybe being rejected by his soulmate was a blessing in disguise. maybe the disobedience of every girl he took before you had been deliberately well-planned. or else he’d never would’ve met you. 

taeil was right. all the soulmate and soulmark shit is utterly useless and stupid. because you are by no means his soulmate, but fuck he’ll never let you go.

not when your destiny is to lay there underneath him, taking whatever it is that he gave you like a good little whore. 

[bechloeislegit]

My Spy - Chapter 4

The Bellas had just returned from a meeting with the Dean and members of the Collegiate A Cappella Committee regarding the "vagina-gate" fiasco that had occurred during a performance for President Obama's birthday. They were sitting about the kitchen counter, discussing what they needed to do to fix things.

"What are we going to do?" Stacie asked, looking around at the rest of the Bellas. "We can't be responsible for the Bellas being disbanded."

"We'll just have to win the World A Cappella Championship," Beca said with a shrug.

"It's not going to be easy," Jessica said.

"You're right. It's not going to be easy," Beca said. "But we've been ICCA Champs for three years in a row. That should play in our favor, right?"

"I agree," Ashley said. "And I think we should start by checking out Das Sound Machine to see what we're up against."

"That's a good idea," Stacie said. "I bet we can find some videos of them on YouTube or something."

Stacie pulled her laptop to her and started searching for videos of Das Sound Machine.

"Wow," Stacie said. "There are a lot of videos of them."

"Click the first one," Ashley said.

Beca watched as the girls surrounded Stacie to watch the videos. She looked at Lily and nodded her head to the door. Lily nodded and walked out of the kitchen; Beca followed.

"Can we talk on the porch?" Beca asked, looking back toward the kitchen to be sure none of the Bellas noticed her and Lily leave the kitchen.

Lily nodded and went out the front door of the house. Beca followed and quietly closed the door after stepping outside.

"I know this is random, but have you heard anything from Chloe?" Beca asked as she faced Lily.

"No," Lily said. "Not since that time she texted me her number to give to you. And, that was almost three years ago."

"I thought that might be the case," Beca said. "And I did try to call her once I got back from Spring Break that year, but the number was no longer in service. I can't get her out of my mind. I miss her so much and every time someone even appears interested in me, I blow them off. I feel like I'm cheating on her or something. I can't get past what we had to even think about being with someone else. I just wish I could talk to her, to see if there was a possibility of rekindling our relationship."

"Even after all this time, you'd take her back?" Lily asked.

"I know it sounds pathetic," Beca said. "But, I would take her back in a heartbeat. She's it for me."

Beca could hear her name being called from inside the house. She thanked Lily and opened the front door.

"Beca, there you are!" CR said, seeing Beca and Lily entering the house. "Stacie is looking for you."

"Thanks, CR," Beca said, as she and Lily walked back to the kitchen. "What's up, Stacie?"

"We found out that DSM will be at the Metro Mall in downtown Atlanta next week," Stacie said. "I think we should take a road trip and check out their show. The videos we found of them look too perfect. We think they must have been edited, and seeing them in person will give us a more realistic idea of what they can do."

"We can do that," Beca said. "It will give us a better idea of what we'll need to do to beat them at Worlds."

~~ My Spy ~~

The next morning, Beca was up early. She walked into the kitchen to find Jessica and Ashley each with their laptops in front of them.

"Hey, Beca," Jessica said. "We're all signed up for the Worlds. It's in Copenhagen, Denmark, so we need everyone to check their passports so anyone who has to get theirs renewed has time to do that."

"We also made airline and hotel reservations," Ashley said. "The airfare was a bit higher than we expected, so we could only afford to reserve four rooms. That means we'll be doubling up."

"That's good," Beca said. "Thank you both for doing all that."

"No problem," Jessica said. "I have to call my mom and ask her to check my passport."

"Me, too," Beca said. "I think mine's still good, but I want to be sure."

"Don't forget some of the others may have to do the same thing," Jessica said.

"I'll mention it at rehearsals today," Beca said.

"I'd also suggest they ask their folks to express mail their passports, whether they need them renewed or not," Jessica said. "We have two months before our first break when most of us go home, so having them mailed to us now will help get the renewal process started for anyone who needs the time."

"That's a good idea," Beca said. "Thanks, Jess. I'll mention that as well."

Beca left the kitchen and went back to her room.

"You're up early," Amy said as Beca entered. "Where have you been?"

"I was talking to Jessica and Ashley," Beca said. "We were talking about Worlds and what we need to do over the next several months. You'll need to check your passport to be sure it's still valid."

"I know mine's still good," Fat Amy said. "I had to renew it four years ago to come to the U.S. for school and they're usually valid for ten years."

Fat Amy grabbed her phone and put on a light jacket.

"I'm going out for a while," she said, leaving Beca alone in her room. "I'll see you later at practice."

After Amy was gone, Beca pulled out her phone and called her mother.

"Beca?" Sarah's raspy voice said into the phone. "What's wrong?"

Beca winced as she looked at the time and realized it was only five-thirty in the morning in Seattle.

"Everything's fine," Beca said quickly. "I didn't realize how early it was for you."

"That's okay, I'm up now," Sarah said, yawning into the phone. "Sorry. So, why did you call me at such an early hour?"

"The Bellas are going to Copenhagen in May to compete in the A Capella World Championship," Beca said, rushing to get everything out quickly. "I need you to get my passport and express mail it to me. I have to make sure I have time to get it renewed if I need to. I'm sorry I woke you."

"I'll get it and take it to the post office later today," Sarah said. "What else is going on? I can tell by your voice there's something else you want to say. And don't tell me everything's fine because I'm your mother and I'd know if you were lying."

"I was hoping we could talk," Beca said.

"Hold on," Sarah said, putting her pillows behind her back and sitting up against the headboard. "Okay, I'm comfy now, what did you want to talk about?"

"Um, Chloe," Beca said hesitantly.

Sarah sighed into the phone. "I thought you were done with her."

"I can't help it, mom," Beca said. "I still love her. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's true."

"It's been three years, Beca," Sarah said. "She listened to me and has stayed away from you, why can't you listen to me and forget about her?"

"What?!"

Sarah sighed again. "Nothing."

"What do you mean by she listened to you?" Beca asked tersely. "When did you even talk to her?"

"I guess enough time has passed, I can tell you now," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "She came by the house when you were here during Spring Break after your father was arrested."

"What did you say to her?"

"Beca," Sarah said, pleadingly.

"Answer the fucking question!"

"Watch your tone, young lady," Sarah admonished. "I'm still your mother and was only doing what I thought was best for you."

Beca laughed. "What was best for me? You mean, like when you shuttled me off to college so I could spend some time with my father? You know, the guy who is in Federal prison for the next fifteen years for being a drug smuggler and dealer?" Beca scoffed. "You know nothing about what is best for me."

"Your father said it was all a mistake," Sarah said. "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Wrong place at the wrong time?" Beca sneered before taking a breath and saying, "I didn't call you to talk about my father. But, I now want to talk about what you said to Chloe when she came to the house."

Sarah leaned back and closed her eyes. Sarah sighed again and took a deep breath, knowing in her heart what she was about to tell Beca may well be the thing that sends Beca running away from her and straight to Chloe. She took another moment before replying.

"I told her I didn't know what she hoped to accomplish by showing up here uninvited," Sarah said. "Then she had the nerve to ask me to have you call her because she really wanted to talk to you. As she was leaving I yelled at her to leave you alone; that she was no good for you. I told her that you were over her because you were out with an old girlfriend from High School. And calling her was the first thing you did when you got home."

"Un-fucking-believable," Beca muttered. "Do you realize what you've done? The pain and heartache you've caused me? I could have been with Chloe all this time if you hadn't stuck your nose where it didn't belong."

"I'm your mother," Sarah said. "I only-"

"Oh, for the love of God," Beca interrupted. "Give it a rest! You don't care about what is best for me, you only care about the fact that Chloe was part of the group that arrested dad. If you really want to do what's best for me, then stay out of my life!"

Beca ended the call without waiting for a response. She turned the phone off and threw it and herself down on the bed.

~~ My Spy ~~

"It's awfully quiet up there," Stacie said, looking up the stairs. "Do you think we should go check on her?"

"I think we should leave her be for now," Jessica said. "She sounded upset and may need a minute."

"Jessica's right," CR said. "Let's give her a few minutes, and then we can check on her."

Stacie nodded and remained standing at the bottom of the stairs. Just then, Emily and Flo walked into the house and immediately sensed something was off.

"What's going on?" Emily asked, looking around at the Bellas that were congregated at the bottom of the stairs.

"We just heard Beca yelling at her mom about Chloe," Jessica said.

"Chloe? Is that the girl who was a cop and arrested Beca's dad?" Flo asked.

"That's right," CR said. "Beca and Chloe were a thing when it all went down."

"A thing?" Ashley said. "Chloe was more than a 'thing' to Beca. She's the love of Beca's life. Beca loved her then, and she loves her now."

"From what we heard Beca saying," Stacie said. "Her mother said something to Chloe that made Chloe leave Beca alone. Beca didn't like whatever it was she heard from her mother."

"Is she okay?" Emily asked. "Should we check on her?"

"We were giving her some space," Jessica said and looked up the stairs. "But, it's still quiet; too quiet. I think we should go up."

"We can't all go up there," CR said. "She'll freak out on us. Stacie, you and Jessica know her best. I think you two should go up."

"I agree with CR," Flo said.

"Okay," Jessica said. "Come on, Stacie, let's do this."

~~ My Spy ~~

Stacie and Jessica stood outside Beca's door. Stacie put her ear to the door and listened.

"I think she's crying," Stacie whispered.

Jessica knocked lightly on the door.

"Beca?" Jessica said, opening the door. "It's Jessica and Stacie. We just want to make sure everything is okay."

"Come in," Beca's muffled voice called out.

Jessica and Stacie looked at each other. Stacie opened the door and the two went up the stairs. Stacie peeked around the corner when she reached the top. Beca was sitting up on her bed, staring at her.

"Hey," Stacie said, stepping closer to Beca.

"Are you okay?" Jessica asked from behind Stacie.

"I'm so pissed at my mother," Beca said, sniffling.

"We gathered that," Stacie said. "We could hear you yelling at her all the way downstairs."

"Oh," Beca said. "Sorry about that."

"Meh," Stacie said, dismissing the apology with a wave of her hand.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jessica asked.

"No," Beca said, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair. "Yes. I didn't know it, but Chloe came to see me in Seattle and my mom never told me until now that she was there. Chloe wanted to talk to me but my mother told her I was seeing an old girlfriend and to stay away from me."

"Why did your mother do that?" Jessica asked.

"She said she was doing what she thought was best for me," Beca said.

"But you don't think that's the real reason?" Stacie asked.

"No," Beca said. "I think she was mad because she believed it was Chloe's fault that my dad was arrested. He hasn't taken any responsibility for his own actions and my mom thinks he is innocent and they got the wrong guy."

Beca sighed and looked down at her fingers, twisting her thumb ring.

"I know you girls are all still mad about Chloe lying to everyone," Beca said softly. "But, I want you to know that I'm still in love with her."

Stacie and Jessica both smiled at Beca.

"Beca, I think I can speak for all of us when I tell you," Jessica said. "We've forgiven Chloe. It didn't take long for us to realize she was just doing her job. If she had told us what she was doing, it would have compromised the investigation."

"Jessica's right," Stacie said. "We are all proud of how Chloe helped bring down a huge part of a major drug ring. That's pretty badass stuff."

"Really?" Beca asked, her brows furrowed. "You all forgive her?"

"Yep," Jessica said.

"You don't have to be afraid to talk about Chloe to us," Stacie said. "We all know how much you love her."

"Are you going to try and find her?" Jessica asked.

"I would love to," Beca said. "But I have no idea where to even start."

"I do," Jessica said, grinning at Beca.

"Really?" Beca asked. "Where?"

"Start with Lily," Jessica said. "I have a feeling she has some tricks up her sleeve and can help you."

"That's a great idea," Stacie said.

"I don't know," Beca said. "I've been talking to Lily and she hasn't mentioned anything about being able to find Chloe for me."

"She wouldn't just come out and tell you she could do it," Jessica said. "You'd have to ask her if she could find Chloe."

Beca chewed her bottom lip until she came to a decision.

"What the Hell?" Beca said. "It couldn't hurt to ask."

"That's the spirit," Stacie said. "Let's go see if everyone's ready for rehearsal."

~~ My Spy ~~

Later that night, after the Bellas had finished dinner and were settling down to watch a movie, Beca asked Lily if they could talk.

"Kitchen or front porch?" Lily asked with a smile.

"Kitchen," Beca said and started in that direction.

Lily followed and both sat at the counter.

"Is this about Chloe?" Lily asked, surprising Beca.

"Yes," Beca replied. "I was wondering if you, maybe, had any way of finding where she is? I just want to find out if she's one, okay, and two, if she still has any interest in me whatsoever."

Lily looked down at the counter and back up at Beca.

"I'll do what I can," Lily said. "I can't make any guarantees, but I'll do my best."

"Really?" Beca squealed. "Thank you. Let me know if I can do anything to help."

"I'll start looking now," Lily said, standing.

"I really appreciate this, Lily," Beca said. "If there is anything I could ever do for you, just name it."

Lily nodded and left Beca sitting alone in the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Beca got up and rejoined the girls in the living room.

"Well?" Jessica whispered as Beca sat next to her.

"She's going to see what she can do," Beca whispered.

Jessica threw an arm around Beca's shoulders and gave her a side hug. Stacie saw this and looked at them with raised eyebrows.

"Lily's going to look for Chloe," Jessica mouthed to Stacie.

Stacie smiled and gave Beca a thumbs up. Beca sat back, smiling and nodding her head. She just knew Lily was going to find Chloe.

~~ My Spy ~~

A few days later, Beca had bid everyone goodnight and went up to her room. Fat Amy was out, so Beca was alone. She was surprised by a knock on the door.

"Come in," Beca called out.

Lily came up the stairs, waving some papers as she came into Beca's view.

"I found something," Lily said.

"What did you find?" Beca asked eyes widened in surprise. "Do you know where she is?"

"It took some digging," Lily said. "I had to follow her trail around the U.S. and a few other countries. She's been busy."

"Okay," Beca said. "Do you know where she is now?"

"As of today, Chloe was in," Lily said as she looked through the papers in her hand. "Atlanta."

"Chloe's in Atlanta," Beca said, excitedly. "Oh, my God! I can't believe she's that close. Do you know where she is in Atlanta?"

"I can't pinpoint an exact location," Lily said. "I can keep trying, but I'm not confident we will know more than she is somewhere in Atlanta."

"Thank you for doing this," Beca said. "I feel so much better since I think it's safe to assume she's still alive and okay. If you find out anything more, please let me know."

"I will," Lily said, handing the papers with her notes to Beca. "Goodnight, Beca."

"Goodnight," Beca said as Lily made her way down the attic stairs.

Beca looked through the papers Lily left with her. The list of places Chloe had been was fairly extensive. Over the past three years, she has been to New York, Oregon, California, Germany, and Australia. And now, Atlanta.

"She must still be working as an undercover agent," Beca muttered. "I wonder what she's working on in Atlanta."

Beca continued reading until tiredness took over. She put the papers on the nightstand and climbed under the covers. She laid down and was asleep within minutes.

Chloe flopped back on the bed, laughing as Beca crawled her way up Chloe's body. Beca kissed every inch of Chloe's bare skin as she made her way up, finally landing on Chloe's lips. The kiss was full of passion and want.

"Ready for another round?" Beca asked in between kisses.

"I'm ready for round 3," Chloe responded, in between more kisses. "And round 4, and round 5,-"

"God, I love you," Beca whispered before fully capturing Chloe's lips.

"Wait, what?" Chloe murmured, gently pushing Beca back to look at her face. "You love me?"

"Yeah," Beca said, moving to sit on the bed and look down at Chloe. "Of course, I love you."

Tears came to Chloe's eyes as she stared at Beca.

"I love you, too," Chloe finally whispered.

A big smile came to Beca's lips as she slid back on top of Chloe and kissed her. Her smile suddenly fell when Chloe was no longer under her.

"Chloe? Come back!" Beca cried out. "I love you!"

Beca sat up with a start and looked around. She wiped both hands down her face and mumbled into the darkness, "Where exactly are you, Chloe Beale?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N (actually just a friendly reminder): Next week is BeChloe Week 2021 and I will be participating. I may or may not have the next chapter finished in time to post on Thursday. I'll have to see how the week goes.

[soundsof71]

sounds of *71* posting tswift, depthless two-note 2000s pop? wow

Wow, a classic rock fan pissing on a contemporary woman. Imagine that.

I watched clowns like you and your dad and your granddad piss on The Beatles and pretty much the entirety of the first half of the 60s as depthless, two-note, etc. nearly 60 years ago, and it was just as conventional and boring then too.

Look, I don’t expect everyone to like everything I post. Exactly the opposite. I know that very nearly 100% of what I share has somebody in my orbit saying, “Christ, not THAT shit again.” If you saw the rest of my Asks, you’d know that this is a documented fact. LOL I’m inundated with people expressing their disapproval of virtually every artist I post. 

(And bless the handful of you that send me nice Asks! I promise I’ll answer them all!)

I just find this particular take especially sad, stale, and sexist, even more so now than when I first heard it more than half a century ago. 

And if you can’t hear the roots of folklore and evermore reaching all the way back to key 1971 albums like Tapestry, Blue, Mud Slide Slim And The Blue Horizon, Songs for Beginners, John Prine (s/t), Bryter Later (and Pink Moon, recorded in ‘71), Blessed Are..., Judee Sill (s/t), Songs of Love and Hate, Tupelo Honey, and a dozen others, then you’re missing the point of alllll those records.

Honestly, other than Joni producing Blue, and Joan’s double-album (plus 3-song 7″ single) Blessed Are..., none of those folks came particularly close to attempting what Taylor has actually pulled off this year: two hour-long albums, recorded with technology that I can’t imagine ANY of those other artists(or most artists today) being comfortable with, and directing a fuckton of strong videos (the most recent of which as I write this, “willow”, is lensed by 3-time Oscar-nominated cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto, taking advantage of state-of-the-art virtual production techniques while managing crew pandemic safety), at the same time that she’s also navigating a high-profile legal minefield and taking back control of, and re-recording, her first 10 years worth of work. 

It’s staggering to contemplate, and it’s going to be a while longer before we can understand the full scope of it.

That the records are any good is almost beside the point, except that that’s exactly the point. I’m posting about them because they’re terrific. I tag all my posts on these records “new classics” because that’s what they are. The future of classic rock is happening now. It’s like a volcano creating new land before your very eyes. I’m sorry you’re missing it.

Anyway, I genuinely hope you stick around my blog for a while longer, Nonny. I’m almost ready to post my ukulele cover of “mirrorball” from folklore, and I know you won’t want to miss that. I’m still on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love, shining just for you!

~tim

[summonerscenarios]

hi juno, i just saw sugar cubes with cat motifs that could double as emergency snacks on twitter today and it's the cutest thing I've ever seen!! that being said, how would the feline transients (of your choosing ofc) would react to MC giving them those cat-shaped sugar cubes for their Valentine gift? thank you in advance! (´ ∀ ` *)

sdfghjgf yikes it’s like 1am but IT STILL COUNTS. HAPPY VALENTINES FOLKS hope ya’ll are treating yourselves with the love and appreciation you deserve!! and here’s a lil post for the day, hope ya like it~!

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Durga

With Valentines coming up, Durga wanted to be one of the first to give you a present for the holiday, which means of course she’s gotta be the first to get there and get you something to blow the rest of the competition out of the water. It looks like you had the same idea however, as the pair of you just about barge headfirst into one another right outside of the Yoyogi dorms, sending the pair of you, and your respective gifts, spilling across the floor. It’s a humorous flurry of asking why the other got there so early, apologizing for the collision as the pair of you drop to your knees and check on the packages, and in the mixup Durga ends up picking up your package instead of her own.

Thankfully, the contents haven’t spilled over but the packaging is more than a little ruffled, and as her thumbs move to smooth the wrapping back out she spots the little name scribbled into the top corner. Her name, to be precise.

Durga lifts her head up to look over at you as you hold up her package, and from the expression on your face as you look at the little attached tag that she’d scrawled your name onto, you’re just as surprised as she is. You can’t help but laugh - what are the chances that you both ended up running into each other after looking for the other? Durga finds herself laughing along too at the sight of your grinning, and once it dies down you start urging her to open up her valentines gift; you really wanna see what she thinks of it!

While Durga tries to avoid sugary stuff, she can’t really deny her sweet tooth when you’ve gone out of your way to get her something so sweet, and that, coupled with the cute little cat motifs make her cave before she even sees your face, hopeful that she’ll like them. Plus, it’s valentine's day, right? She can make an exception juuust this once...it’s a stroke of luck that they’re the perfect thing to snack on while watching you open your own valentine’s gift, hiding her face in the box seeing your expression light up once you’ve peeled the wrapping away to look at the present she got you as a show of appreciation (and maybe something more who knows…)

Tezcatlipoca

It was the little cat motifs that sold you on buying the sugar cubes - they were just too cute to pass up! And it didn’t help that as soon as you’d seen them the first person that came to mind is Tezcatlipoca, if anything it’s what convinced you to buy them just for him to enjoy with valentine’s day coming up! Wrapping them all up was fun too - it had taken a while to get the kind of paper you were looking for, along with getting it all wrapped up and looking presentable enough to impress. There was a lot of care taken into getting them all the way over to the base, including having to bribe some of the luchadores with treats to slip the box past with you (which you would have done anyways, it was fun seeing them bristling with excitement when you’d pulled out some chocolate boxes you’d got just for them), but you’re sure it would all be worth it once you actually got the gift handed off to the jaguar therian - he’s all about sacrifice, so maybe giving would be nice for a change~!

That ends up going about as well as one expects, and you realize that once you pull the gift out from behind your back and hold it out to him the moment he whirls around, flashing him a beaming smile as you present it to him. Deadass thinks it’s a trick at first - he stares down at the box like he's waiting for some kind of test as if you’ve got a hidden trick up your sleeve, which unless he’s expecting the trick to be those tiny little cubes of sugar (in which case someone spilled the beans on your gift), is completely unwarranted. In the end you have to explain that because it’s valentines day, a day where you share your affections to others in the form of gifts, you decided you’d get a little something for him, with it being a holiday and all. (that he of course knows...maybe...not.)

That’s when Texcatlipoca takes the box off of your hands, and you’re kind of anxious watching him peel away the wrapping and pull out the small container of treats. He flicks open the lid with ease, and is greeted by rows of small, finely decorated sugar cubes, with cutesy cat faces and small, paw shaped confections for good measure. Adorable is the best way to describe what you’d gifted the feline, and as his eyes flicker over the lid of the container to look at you, you find yourself giggling and sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck as you explain that when you’d seen them you’d thought of him, so who better to give it too, right? You’re quick to add that they serve as great emergency snacks in a pinch too, hoping the double use was as appealing an idea to Tez as it was to you.

He’s not one to be outdone by your gifting gesture, so be warned that upon accepting your gift Tezcatlipoca is going to see this as a chance to outdo the gesture tenfold before valentine’s day has come to a close - you’ve caught him off guard with your small gift, and he’s going to return that sentiment in abundance, excited to see how you’ll react to the surprise.

Sitri

Sitri’s opening up more to valentine's day this time around, though you still thought you’d twist up the gift from the typical chocolate that people give out and think outside the box in terms of valentine’s gifts. The only trouble was picking out what you were actually going to buy - you wanted something that would make for a nice gift, as well as something that Sitri would appreciate and enjoy, so you’d wracked your head thinking of the perfect gift for the upcoming holiday.

That’s when you’d come across the sugar cubes - you’d actually heard about them from Ryota when he’d gushed about a store specializing in cat themed treats and how they were coming out with a valentine’s line. It was the perfect place to start looking for a gift, and so as soon as you had a free moment, you’d stopped by and managed to snag yourself a box of the cute little cubes before they’d gone out of stock. You had the option to get them pre-packaged, but you’d instead opted to hand-wrap them yourself so that you could include one or two other little goodies that you’d gotten for the occasion. It took a bit longer than you thought it would have, but by the time you’ve got it packaged up and tucked neatly away in a little gift bag, it’s right in time for valentines day, so you’re eager to head out and deliver your gift to the feline transient first thing after school. 

Even though you’ve gotten him valentines gifts in the past, Sitri’s still surprised and a little flustered when you come up to him, holding out the gift bag to him with a warm smile and greeting of “Happy valentines, Sitri!” as you present him with the gift you’d picked out. That reaction is only amplified once he opens the lid and looks down at the cute cat cubes looking back up at him with adorable faces and whiskers decals to really seal the feline look the treats have got going on. Admittedly, they’re not usually the kind of thing Sitri goes for, mostly thanks to those years chasing the ‘cool cat’ ideal, but as he’s opened up more, as well as with your expression anxiously waiting for his response, he finds himself not minding the gift in the slightest. If anything, he’s more worried about the gift that he got you - you’ve put so much thought into his gifts, he hopes that your gifts can hold a candle to them as he fishes out his own gift to give to you.

Nomad

With valentine’s coming around once again, you were determined to get Nomad something this time around. Sure, you’d gotten him things in the past, but those had mostly been in the form of time spent together going out to eat places and such; this time you wanted to go out of you way to get him a gift from the heart, something that would help convey your appreciation for the gruff tiger therian. Even if it was just a small little gift, you were set on going out and getting him something, which is exactly what you do the moment the shops start setting up for the holiday in question...you just really wish you had a better idea of the kind of thing that Nomad would like to receive. 

You don’t really peg him as the chocolates for valentines kind of guy - he’s worked enough valentine’s gigs you’re sure he’d like an alternative gift for a change - so you’d sought out something you wouldn’t normally have picked. Which is what led to you finding those sugary treats, and the moment you looked at them in the little decorative boxes on the display stand, you just knew that those were the treats you were going to gift Nomad with.

You don’t end up giving Nomad his ‘gift’ face-to-face however. Something came up that pulled you away from being able to give them to him in person (because seriously, what is with you getting dragged into other people’s problems during the holidays? You need a break), so you ended up having to leave them back at his office. By the time that he finally returns to the office he finds the small, cutely decorated box perched precariously right in the middle of his desk, with a small note attached to the top. Confused, but interest peaked enough to approach, the therian plucks the note off with one hand and picks up the box as he settles into his desk chair, reading over your hastily scrawled message.

‘Sorry I couldn’t give this in person but I hope you like em! Apparently they double as emergency snacks, that’s neat,huh? - call me later and tell me what you think! xx’

Popping open the lid of the box, Nomad soon finds out what your message was talking about, and he plucks up one of the cubes between his claws as he holds it up, brows quirking as he takes in the cutesy cat motifs that have been meticulously molded with the sugar cubes to make an undeniably adorable design. He shakes his head a little at the thought of how much bother you must have put yourself through getting so worked up trying to find these little sugar cubes. With that being said he definitely ends up keeping them - after all, imagining how excited you’ll get is enough to make him pluck a few out to try as he fishes out his phone to give you a call.