#it's the cool breeze that means it's time to dress warm and layer with fluff and fuzz

[fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-liar]

Anne Shirley was right I am glad to live in a world with Octobers

[catsidhesilvie]

Cat-Trapped

FMiqoWol/Themis fluff, 6.2 spoilers. I wrote this while trapped under a cat because of course I did.

Wyra let out a heavy sigh as she sunk to the ground. Her back was pressed against a massive tree, the sun-soaked bark warming her skin pleasantly through the thin fabric of her robe.

While she generally preferred clothing that was less bulky in appearance, she had to admit that the ancients had found a way to make their staple fashion items comfortable. The robes, pants, and shoes seemed to be made of the highest-quality leather she had ever seen, resistant to staining and tough enough to prevent tearing – and yet they were somehow still lightweight and breathable. 

As her thoughts began to meander, she mused how strange it was that, sitting under a blue-leafed tree on a floating island thousands of years in the past, it would be the magicks of the ancients’ clothing she found herself pondering. If she was honest to herself, she wasn't sure if she really wanted to think about the other things too hard. Having too much time to ponder the marvels of Elpis was likely to either leave her sad at the place's future destruction, or otherwise with a headache from trying to understand creation magicks beyond her ken.

Elpis itself was a wonder. While the facility had zones which put creations to the test in arid or frozen environments, Wyra had yet to see anything beyond beautiful, temperate weather in the greater sections. It was always akin to the nicest day of spring, with a cool breeze that wasn't too cold but also didn't allow those working there to overheat. Despite days spent fighting off various beastly creations and chasing around a bird girl who was a master of hide and seek, Wyra had never felt as though she needed to take a breather just to cool down. 

That said, mental exhaustion as well as physical aches were enough to make her want to take the opportunity at hand to rest for a moment.

Wyra had come to Elpis this time to check in on Themis and Erichthonios to see how work towards restoring Pandaemonium had progressed, as well as to see if she could learn anything more about the beasts which awaited them in lower levels.

Pandemonium was… less pleasant than Elpis, if still a magical marvel. The air had been stagnant there, as though it, too, were fixed in stasis, alongside its many imprisoned creations. The temperature was generally uncomfortable, ranging from cold and damp when she fought the hippokampos to miserably hot when she faced the phoinix. Things had improved slightly on the first layer after her defeat of Hesperos, but the knowledge that the other levels were in equal disarray made her dread their inevitable descent. Wyra knew getting to the root of the issue was necessary to protect the ancient and future star, but it didn’t mean she had to enjoy fulfilling her duty every time.

Before checking in with Themis and Erichthonios in Pandaemonium itself, she had decided to journey to the buildings that the researchers lived and worked out of to see if she could locate any material about Pandaemonium herself. Luck was on her side, it seemed, as she shortly located someone who said that she believed she had some logs on the subject. Unfortunately, though, the researcher was in the middle of something or another involving a stack of paperwork which didn’t require the help of a “familiar,” as most people assumed Wyra was. She didn’t blame them, as her miqo’te features and comparatively thin aether were inconvenient to hide in a world where the mandatory dress code didn’t allow for hats and the individuals she worked with were particularly gifted in recognizing aetheric density. It was actually rather fortuitous that things aligned in a way that Wyra could claim to be Azem’s familiar – Azem was apparently eccentric enough that this explanation was plenty to buy Wyra leeway to make social faux pas in a world so different from hers in the future.

In this case, though, her deception had left her lowest on the researcher’s list of priorities. The woman had waved her off, telling her to return in an hour or so. 

With no one else around looking like they needed help, for once, Wyra decided to summon her mount to carry her to one of the smaller floating islands nearby so that she could escape the other researchers’ curious gazes for a time.

She was used to being stared at – while being a miqo’te wasn’t hugely unusual in the modern era, she had done enough to become fairly famous in the news and tabloids, and she had a fairly distinctive style of dress that lent itself to being recognized. While most people tended to give her space if they recognized her as the Warrior of Light, she still struggled to deal with the constant feeling of being watched when in a crowd. Being stared at by researchers was quite worse, particularly researchers from an extinct world thousands of years in the past. She didn’t think they would raise a hand to the familiar of a member of their precious Convocation, but she could do without the constant stream of questions about how her aether looked about to fade away. She also wasn’t partial to the patronizing tone many took when speaking to her, though it was better than the demanding voice others used.

Ultimately, Wyra found herself sitting in the wildflowers under the blue tree, staring sleepily into the glittering sky. Other floating islands were scattered amongst the idyllic cloudscape, but they were distant enough she was certain that she was safely out of view of anyone else. With a last glance about, Wyra muffled a yawn with the back of her hand and then pulled her robe’s hood over her eyes. The thin fabric somehow blocked out light entirely, and she closed her eyes appreciatively.

Just for a few minutes. Then I’ll go back and check on those documents, then head down to see Themis and Erich.

Wyra’s eyes felt as though they’d been closed for just seconds before she was startled awake by the feeling of someone plopping down next to her.

“When I told you to take your time to rest for a while before returning to us, I did expect you to do it indoors… not that there is anything wrong with doing it here, I guess.” 

Wyra bolted upright in an instant, scrambling to push her hood from her eyes.

Themis sat beside her with his back against the same tree, eyebrow raised and a small grin playing at the corner of his mouth. 

"I think this island is being used exclusively to research some new flower concepts, so it is about as safe a place for a midday nap as any."

Wyra looked away sheepishly, her cheeks tinged red. “I was… designed to be crepuscular,” she explained, borrowing a term she had heard used by the scholars in Labyrinthos.

Perhaps it was due to her nature as the child of a Moon Keeper mother and Sun Seeker father, but she always tended to find herself most awake at dusk and dawn and then struggling to focus at midday and midnight. Her eyes, too, struggled with pure darkness or harsh light. With most other people she worked with keeping a day schedule, Wyra tended to try to do most of her work early in the morning and then after a quick midday nap. Most of the scions had noticed, and had long since stopped inviting her to lunch, which she appreciated. Amongst world-ending events like those of the present, though, she had found herself working through her tiredness more often than not.

It seemed like today she would have to, as well.

Themis tilted his head thoughtfully. “You are a fascinating falling star, indeed.” He smiled at the quirk in Wyra’s mouth before motioning to the book sitting to his side.

“Actually, it seems like we had the same idea. I went to speak to some of the researchers to see if I could find more about what other creatures might exist in Pandaemonium, only for one woman to say a violet-haired feline familiar had requested this but a bell earlier and not yet come to claim it.” 

“Ugh, I must have actually fallen asleep, then…” Wyra buried her face in her hands, her tail wrapping around her tensely. While she could usually wake up quickly from her naps on her own, her pure exhaustion coupled with the comfortable temperature and darkness of the robe’s hood must have prevented her from sensing the change in time. Now she could clearly see that the sun had shifted its position above by at least a half-hour, and she had little hope she would have awoken anytime soon had Themis not disturbed her.

Themis chuckled quietly and put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “Fear not, my friend. She had only just finished the assignment that she had been working on when I arrived.” The tension in Wyra’s shoulders and tail eased slightly as he continued. “And in any case, it is good that you are actually resting. If what I skimmed in this thus far is any indication, you shall need to be at your fighting best to defeat what awaits us.” 

Wyra glanced and saw that his teasing smile had turned to a gentle frown. She sat up straight again, stretching her spine and wincing before sighing.

She really hadn’t spent much time resting, in all actuality. Shortly after their last adventures in Elpis, she ended up traveling to the Void, meeting – and fighting – several members of the Twelve, and had spent some time training with her new friend Zero to improve her melee combat skills. Any free moment she had lately, she spent helping people in Thavnair or Garlemald, studying with Y’shtola, or helping Krile and G’raha do further research on the Twelve. She had most recently returned to Old Sharlayan after visiting Alphinaud and Alisaie, only to be immediately flagged down by Claudien’s assistant researchers of the Aetherial Sea. They had made some progress with the memory stone, apparently, but nothing worth showing her. Still, she thought it would be a good time to check in on the past, since there was nothing immediately requiring her attention elsewhere for the moment.

“Well, I’m glad that I didn’t leave her waiting too long, in any case.” Wyra smiled at Themis, trying to shake off her residual embarrassment at being caught asleep. “And I guess I am glad it was you who found me here as opposed to a frightening creation.” She frowned. “How did you know where to find me?” 

Themis raised an eyebrow slightly. “By sensing your aether, of course. I may not be as skilled as the honorable Emet-Selch with soul sight, but I do recognize Azem’s aether well enough. I sensed that I would find her or you here, and either would be a pleasant surprise.” 

Wyra fought to keep her ears from lowering at the mention of Azem. While the reason she was so similar to Azem was obvious to her, it was still uncomfortable to be reminded that something so uniquely hers as an aetheric signature belonged to someone else first. It also reminded her that Themis, too, likely believed that she was just Azem’s familiar – a creation to be judged, or one to be told to do the work none of the ancients wanted to do. Not that she didn’t always do the latter, regardless. It made her feel similar to how she had felt when talking to the Ascians – belittled, patronized, dehumanized, viewed as lesser. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her when she knew that Themis was the same man as the Elidibus of her future. Still, he and Erichthonios had been some of the only ancients to treat her as though she were a real person, so it was an annoying reminder that they probably didn’t believe it.

Themis’s expression was unreadable as he turned back to the book he had brought. 

“I will admit, I had hoped you would return soon. I was beginning to worry that Erichthonios and I would need to proceed alone once we finally unraveled the wards on the gate to Abyssos.” His warm smile had returned, and Wyra tried to shrug off her internal turmoil. 

“Do forgive my extended absence, other duties have kept me away. Full glad am I that it doesn’t seem I missed anything of grave importance,” she said, eyeing the book herself. It was a handwritten journal, and the page Themis had opened to had an illustration of the hippokampos she had already fought. She grimaced. That had most certainly not been her favorite fight. She could still bring to mind the nauseating smell of the filthy water that had been continually sprayed and splashed onto her before the creature was defeated.

Seeing her interest, Themis shifted himself closer, moving the journal to rest between them on his thigh. “I suppose you had sought this reading material before I did. It is only fair that I share.” 

Still somewhat dazed by his initial proximity when she awoke, Wyra’s cheeks flushed slightly. Her tail rested on the grass between them, and she resisted the urge to tighten it against her own body to avoid touching his leg. 

Would that I ever knew I would be within arm’s reach of Elidibus himself under friendly circumstances. 

 Wyra wasn’t particularly abhorrent to the idea of being in close proximity with others, regularly sitting this close to or even hugging the other scions after they became close friends. Themis, though, was still essentially a stranger – despite whatever the feeling in her stomach said. If they really had only known each other through shared duty for a few months, like her head argued, she had no reason to feel so comfortable around him. She had grown to trust him organically to a degree – clearly her prior incarnation had been especially close to him, and Azem’s friends in the time of Elpis had so far not led her wrong. In fact, her own track record was less pristine, if you considered her fondness toward Meteion and Hermes. If Themis had wanted to do her harm, there had been plenty of opportunity while they fought their way through Asphodelos. The way he had talked to Erichthonios when the warder had been freed from his frenzy also demonstrated his friendliness and genuine dedication to the duty of protecting the star. Not that she had ever doubted the latter – the future Elidibus was nothing if not loyal to his perceived duty. It was fortunate indeed that they found themselves on the same side of that duty this time.

Unaware of her internal musings, Themis looked to her expectantly, lifting the edge of the page.

Wyra blinked, then nodded. She hadn’t read a word of it, but was sure that whatever he had would be enough to help them if there was anything of value. Judging by his expression, there wasn’t anything overly revealing on page one.

Themis turned to the next page, and Wyra bit her lip apprehensively. She really couldn’t read the researcher’s excited scrawl from that angle. Despite napping for longer than she had intended, her eyes were still dry and her mind slightly fogged. Curse this beautiful place. She breathed out quietly and blinked a few more times, only improving things slightly. It didn’t help that the side her companion had joined her from was the same side as her damaged eye. While her vision had improved enough over the years that she could once again wield a bow with practiced accuracy, it did struggle when she was already strained and at a weird angle.

Pushing the awkwardness from her mind, she broke the silence.

“I have to readjust, sorry…” Themis nodded confusedly and leaned away with his book, watching as Wyra leaned forward, shifting her tail behind her to rest alongside her other leg. A hint of understanding and mild amusement crossed his face as she settled back down a few inches closer and busied herself by smoothing her tail. He placidly shifted himself to make up the remaining few inches of distance, lowering the book back down to their laps once their hips and shoulders were touching. 

Wyra’s face felt like it was on fire, but it was admittedly much easier to read the inelegant handwriting within the journal this way. Fortunately, it seemed that Themis was busy actually reading, or else graciously didn’t choose that opportunity to tease her. 

Shifting her focus to said journal, Wyra skimmed quickly to ensure that he wasn’t left waiting. The journal was clearly written by a researcher of high authority in Elpis who oversaw water-based creations such as the hippokampos. This particular entry discussed the decision they had made to send the beast to Pandaemonium after it had flooded an entire research facility. It went on to discuss the process required to have a creation interred within Pandaemonium, which seemed to amount to unending stacks of paperwork.

As Themis flipped through the pages at an easy pace, Wyra found her eyes blinking slower than usual; more than once, she hadn’t actually absorbed anything from the second half of the page before her companion lifted the corner and paused quizzically. The warmth she could feel from his arm and leg against hers, even through their robes, had shifted from unnerving to comforting, and the sleepiness that had caused her to nod off before had returned. I really must have overdone it, lately, she mused.

A low half-chuckle escaped Themis’s breath, and she distantly wondered if what she was supposed to be reading had been humorous. She couldn’t really remember the latest section.

“You know, this is how Azem and I spent many an evening when she joined the convocation. We were both quite young at the time, and I believe Mistress Venat surprised her when she decided to vacate the seat of Azem.”

Wyra’s ears perked up a bit, and she tilted her head to peer at Themis’s expression. He was still staring at the book, and turned the page. She guiltily noted that he didn’t bother to ask her if she had finished it yet this time. She looked at the next page, seeing the illustration of a monstrous beast with shark-like teeth and a serrated fin that the author had noted as “knife-like.” 

“Azem spent day and night for weeks after Venat’s announcement, studying the Convocation’s guidelines and rules, to ensure that she knew them forwards and backwards. Not that she follows them strictly, mind you,” he chuckled again. “No, when prompted, she says that she learned them so that she could memorize the loopholes, or at least would know what to expect when she broke them.” He smiled fondly at the page. “And that, she does, without hesitation or remorse. Arguably, things often turn out better that way in most situations. She has quite the refreshing perspective.”

Wyra mustered an affirmative “hmm” as Themis turned another page. The words were scrawled almost illegibly as the author was describing yet another iteration of monster-shark with great excitement. Her companion’s low voice and warmth were enough to cause her mind to drift further.

“We both have duties that keep us apart the majority of the time, but she is always sure to send me letters of her adventures, and I keep her up-to-date with the decisions made in the meetings she misses.” 

He paused thoughtfully, glancing at the miqo’te girl who was now leaning more of her weight against his shoulder than before. His eyes narrowed mirthfully as he saw her eyes half-lidded and her ears drooping backwards. Her tail, which had been rigid against her side after she repositioned, curled across her lap like a blanket. Long strands of violet hair fell over her shoulders messily, having been disturbed from their usual waves by the hood she had worn when he first found her. The gentle breeze had caused some to blow across her cheek and his shoulder, but she didn’t seem to care, or maybe she wasn’t aware. He couldn’t help but notice that it was not only violet in color, but also smelled lightly of the flower. 

“Azem does always say that knowing when to rest is a great boon, for one who travels and relies upon her own body for so much. Working oneself to exhaustion is not like to win more fights cleanly than if one took an extra few bells before jumping into duty.”

Wyra didn’t respond, but her head slumped forward slightly. Asleep again. 

Themis laughed quietly and brushed the hair that had fallen into her face back lightly, his finger touching the scar across her cheek. Where had she earned it, he wondered, and why had it healed with such a mark, when she was so skilled with magic? Clearly she had faced many a foe before coming to Elpis, but she had offered no story other than the bold lie that she was Azem’s familiar. Knowing that to be false instantly thanks to a prior discussion with Azem herself, Themis still avoided asking for fear that Wyra would recoil. Azem had been entertained endlessly by the stories of her “familiar” running about in Elpis with Hythlodaeus, Emet-Selch, and Venat, and made no move to correct anyone. If she claims to be mine and is helpful, then whyever would I mind? She had responded when Themis thought to ask. All the better that she caused any annoyance to Emet.

In his limited time with Wyra thus far, he couldn’t help but agree. While Wyra was quite different than Azem in some ways – she was quieter and less confident, for one, and had a tail, for another – it was clear they must be related. Maybe she’s my great-great grandchild!! Azem had been particularly tickled by that idea, though Themis had doubts. Azem having children was something Themis placed particularly low on his list of predictions for the future. He couldn’t imagine her slowing down long enough to raise one, though he had been wrong about her capabilities in the past. He had begun to wonder who the father would be before cutting his line of thought abruptly.

No, Themis thought, it was far more likely that Wyra was a reincarnation of Azem, in some shape. Now that he was close enough to look at her clearly, his soul sight made it obvious that, despite lacking a fair portion of it, Wyra’s intrinsic aether was purely Azem’s, with no one else’s tinging the color to suggest Wyra was her traditional descendant.

What would change the world so severely that his dear friend would be reborn with furry ears, he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

He also hadn’t the faintest idea why she would appear then in Elpis, though she had yielded the fact that she was aware of Pandaemonium and had a memory crystal warning of danger surrounding the place. Perhaps she, too, held a role that led her to travel and solve problems for others. Why should this travel be restricted to space and not time?

Wyra sighed in her sleep, leaning further onto him so that his arm was effectively pinned. Holding his own breath, Themis pulled his shoulder back slightly, unsurprised when the girl’s weight shifted and she slumped forward harder at what looked to be an uncomfortable angle. Putting the journal to the side, he braced his free hand against her shoulder gently as he pulled his trapped arm fully free. 

“Mhhm…” she mumbled, rolling slightly on her hip towards him. Her tail twitched slightly. Frozen momentarily, he then gently lowered the arm holding her shoulders up, and she responded by curling up with her head in his lap. Her tail promptly curled across her and his legs. 

Not what he had intended, but perhaps not the worst thing that could happen, he mused. She quieted in her sleep again, clearly needing the rest, and the only sound left was of her slow breathing and that of the wind through the azure branches above.

Themis smiled. For how long had he wished to do something like this with Azem again? To spend time alone, and relax.

Their duties would never allow it, of course; he was as committed to his as she, hers, and hers required her to travel the star for months at a time while his required him to stay in Amaurot almost always, present circumstances aside. She often would reappear in the city for one day, invite him to help her on an adventure, and they would spend the time inseparable. Then, she would be gone the next day. Her melodious voice would be traded for a scribbly script on letters delivered by one of her flying creations.

He didn’t mind this format of relationship, though he would have liked to go with her more often, if he had the option. Their care for one another was unspoken, but he trusted in it fully. He did find himself alone far more nights than he spent with her, but it gave him more time to focus on his duties as Elidibus and helped him to try to think impartially when Azem herself drew the Convocation's ire. Still, on some of those nights, he found himself daydreaming of how things would be when they both had completed their callings, and could be free from obligation. He fantasized of the possibility of them both returning to the star together, someday in the infinitesimally distant future, so that they could rest in the underworld together before beginning a new adventure in the next life.

Such youthful, romantic fantasies were not for the Emissary at present, though; unbeholden to anyone regarding personal matters, Azem never bothered to deny anyone who assumed they were a couple, but neither did she claim him as more than her dearest friend, nor ask that he not court another. In fact, she had nearly encouraged it herself through her letters to him, poorly illustrating disgustingly cute or even teasingly obscene scenes of him with other people she had befriended through her travels. He was bemused by these letters, of course; he had perhaps less free time than she due to his role on the Convocation, and never yet had interest in another. He was committed to his duty over all else. He did wonder at times, though, if she acted so because she was equally duty-bound, if she had foreseen him with another, or if it was that she truly did value freedom over any kind of binding.

He hesitated a moment before brushing his fingers gently across Wyra’s forehead and ear, moving another loose strand of hair that the wind had dislodged. He reveled in the fact that he had at least been able to quench the curiosity he harbored concerning the softness of her fur. 

She sighed lightly at his touch and nuzzled closer, her fingers loosely gripping the fabric of his robe. His hand stroked her hair more confidently this time, and he had to suppress a laugh when he felt a gentle vibration from her weight on his lap. Purring.

Wyra may indeed be somehow related to Azem, he thought, but he doubted that he would ever see the latter bind him in such a way as to make him feel guilty at the very thought of moving. 

Themis’s eyes widened suddenly as a thought crossed his mind. Maybe that is why she would incarnate as a cat…

“What a strange guiding star you are,” he whispered, to no reaction. His left hand continued to pet her as he grabbed the journal up again with his right. “Well, then, I guess this is what we shall do until I glean from the book whatever it may have to offer.”

__

Wyra’s consciousness returned slowly as the sun began to set. The warm, golden light shone under the tree’s branches onto her face, causing her to stir, and she moved an arm to cover her eyes. Her tail stretched behind her as she tensed her spine, her fingers gripping the fabric in her hands tighter as the stretch reached all the way up to her ears. 

“Ah, good evening, my friend…”

Wyra’s body flew backwards with enough force that it startled the book out of Themis’s hand. His other hand was still in the air above where it had rested on her head. His robe was wrinkled where her fingers had gripped it, though she was certain the marks would disappear instantly once he stood. 

Her face turned as red as a tomato before she ducked it apologetically, and her bushy tail lashed behind her.

“I’m so, so, so sorry!!” Her carefully glamoured fingernails dug desperately into the dirt as she bowed forward on her knees. “That was horrendously rude of me and I promise it will never happen again!!”

Themis smiled diplomatically and shook his head. “Worry not, my friend. I believe you may have already been asleep at that point, but I did tell you that you should get some rest before we descend. I cannot say I expected to be your pillow, but it was not a negative experience.” 

Wyra’s blush continued to burn, but she rose back up to her knees and then sat back, her arms placed rigidly in her lap. She struggled with a response before settling on one she thought would be most appropriate. 

“Ah, well, thank you, then. I do feel quite a lot better…”

She cleared her throat nervously before motioning to the book, which was still where it had landed when Wyra startled awake. “As you might imagine, I think I missed… all of… the journal,” she grimaced, the fading pink of her blush intensifying again momentarily. “Was there aught of value within?” 

Themis frowned for a moment before nodding. “Ah, yes, but only in how some of the spells to capture them were cast. It should improve my rate of success in interring those creations you run into going forward. It was certainly worth the time it took to read it, and I only just finished before you woke up,” he lied cheerfully.

In my house, we have a rule that if anyone asks you to do something, but there is a cat on your lap, you are allowed to claim "cat exemption" and be free from whatever is asked.

Being a kitty fosterer, we get away with not doing a lot ahaha

[phynsmutstravaganza]

TMA One-Shot!

While I toil over my TMA longfic, I threw together one of the softest smut pieces I've written. First TMA fic up on ao3 let's gooooo

Takes place post-canon, Jon/Martin, trans Jon, a bit angsty but mostly fluff. (non-sexual kink) Check out ao3 for full tags!

The subway car isn't that full for a Friday night in Glasgow, but Jon still feels the eyes. 

He pulls anxiously at his shirt, feeling the odd rub of the cotton against the layer of latex underneath. It's easier to get dressed at home than at the club, with how long it takes to get into the damn gimp suit, but it means taking the SPT all the way to the club already sweating in the unbreathable layers. The terror that someone will know beats through him: an awkward, thrilling paranoia that feeds his patron as much as it discomfits him.

Jon adjusts his shirt cuff for the umpteenth time, stopping only when Martin's fingers press gently over his.

"No one can see," Martin murmurs. He smiles, soft encouragement and glittering enjoyment all at once. It's alright for him, of course–he's wearing a normal t-shirt and trousers under his leather jacket, and he won't change much even at their destination.

Of course, Jon looks normal on the surface, too– button-down shirt, slacks, collar buttoned to hide the latex that comes up to his neck–but surely people can just tell, by the way he's sitting or the sweat beading down his face or–

Martin picks up his hand and kisses the tips of his fingers. Jon winces at the almost inaudible squeak of the latex, and then again at the subtle glances they receive for their innocent PDA.

"We could–" Martin begins, in a gentle tone of voice Jon knows all too well. We could go back. It's okay if it's too much for you. You're dealing with so much. You're just a sad little wet sack of a man who can't handle being in crowds. Okay, so Martin never says that last bit, but Jon certainly feels it every time he has to cut their dates short, or calls Martin to pick him up from errands that should be simple. He shakes his head.

"No, it's fine," he says, his voice steady and dry and not at all betraying how fast his heart is beating. "I'm just warm."

Martin raises his eyebrows but doesn't speak his disbelief, which Jon is grateful for. He's not trying to be convincing to Martin, anyway. He's convincing the other people on the subway who might be watching, who might be wondering, who seem to care only for their own business but who could be subtly judging him, and–

It's their stop. Jon doesn't stand until the doors are squeaking and other people are standing. He can feel the sweat pooling, awful, under his hair on the back of his neck and soaking through his collar. He ignores Martin's offered hand because he just needs to get out of the station, and away from all of these eyes.

If he takes Martin's hand they'll look, and they'll wonder, and they'll guess because why would the two of them be getting off here if not for the club two streets down? Why would two men who seem to have nothing in common, one in leather, for godssake, be so physically close unless–?

Jon gulps down the cool night air as soon as they emerge from the escalator. It's not exactly fresh, but it seems like there's more of it, at least. The breeze doesn't penetrate the latex, but it at least cools his face.

"Hey," Martin says, taking his elbow. Jon lets him, this time. "Are you alright?"

Jon nods. It's doing something to him–the anxiety, the pressure of being noticed, the relief of escape, all bound up in the tightness of latex against his skin. He takes a few breaths, as deep as he can make them. His head swims. Martin smiles again.

"Already, hm?" he says, and he sounds pleased and amused.

Jon nods, and then says, "yes," because he needs to make sure he can still speak. He can. It's a bit of a relief. Martin's smile doesn't widen, exactly, but there's a change in it nonetheless. Jon suppresses a shiver.

"Come on, then," Martin invites, and Jon catches up to him with another thrill of fear that's a lot closer to excitement.

There's a couple people queuing outside the nondescript door that leads into the club, but Martin flashes a membership card and they're waved in. Jon volunteers, sometimes–it was an easier welcome to the club than play–and Martin has started to, as well. As expected, Martin is already friendlier with the staff than Jon is.

Jon had teased him about it–an avatar of the Lonely, making easy friends–until Martin pointed out that he'd been friendly with the Institute staff, too, and that hadn't stopped him from being marked. Furthermore, Martin said, if Jon was jealous enough to be making comments he could put some effort into actually making friends instead of complaining–and unfortunately that was too close to the truth for Jon to have any properly sniping comebacks.

Now, there's an instant comfort that comes from entering the dim-lit club. A reception desk blocks entrance to the narrow hallway that funnels guests to the lockers and playrooms, but already Jon is feeling more conspicuous for the button-down than the latex underneath. He refused to dress up the first time he agreed to come with Martin, and spent the whole time feeling obvious and painfully vanilla. There's a satisfying anonymity in the black latex, skintight though it is.

They make awkward small talk with the receptionist–another volunteer, like most of the "staff"--before finally being ushered back to the lockers. Jon strips off his street clothes with relief and tucks them away, while Martin simply takes off his shirt under the jacket and changes to shorts instead of trousers. He unzips his duffel and hands Jon a folded, latex hood.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, his brown eyes warm and solemn. Jon takes the hood. He can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

"I'm sure," he says. He wants to put it on right away. He wants to leave.

"Your hands are shaking," Martin observes.

"So they are."

"If you want to wait–"

"Martin."

"Okay, okay! Just checking!" Martin raises his hands in surrender. "Gloves, too?"

Jon nods. His palms are sweating, which will make putting the fingerless gloves on a pain, but just thinking about it makes him feel lightheaded with want.

"Okay," Martin says, and his voice has taken on the breathy, excited quality that tells Jon that yes, that feeling is an altered state of awareness. He's already slipping under, and Martin can tell. "Let's go over things. You won't be able to see with the hood on, but you'll be able to talk."

Jon nods, forces himself to speak.

"Right," he says.

"You'll be able to hear me, but it'll be muffled. If I need to get your attention, I'll tap three times on your arm, like this." Martin demonstrates with two fingers, each tap firm and deliberate. Jon closes his eyes automatically, as if it will feel different if he can't see. The air feels much thicker, all of a sudden.

"Got it," he says. It's the right thing to say, and he feels a small sense of satisfaction that he knows this. He can't make mistakes in this conversation; or at least he has no urge to say any of the wrong things.

"If it's too much, I need you to let me know right away. The hood will take a couple moments to unlace, and it's better to be cautious. You don't want to panic in this. And there will be plenty of time to experiment, okay?" Martin fixes Jon with a firm look, warm brown irises taking on an iced chill like permafrost. "Don't push it, Jon. I know you."

"I won't," Jon says, and winces when Martin doubles down on his glare. "Really! I don't want to push things too far. I promise I won't–not on purpose, at least."

"Okay," Martin says grudgingly. He leans in and presses a kiss to Jon's mouth, startling him. Jon catches himself in time to kiss Martin back, and Martin responds at once, holding his head to kiss him deeper. There's a strange sterility to it, the latex keeping away Martin's body heat, but it still makes Jon feel dizzy. He lets out a shaky exhale when Martin pulls away.

"Anything else you want to go over?" Martin asks, leaning their foreheads together and keeping his hand on the back of Jon's.

It gets a bit more explicit from here-- read the rest on AO3

[phynoma]

TMA One-Shot!

While I toil over my TMA longfic, I threw together one of the softest smut pieces I've written. First TMA fic up on ao3 let's gooooo

(tumblr keeps eating my posts so let's see if this one works!!!)

Takes place post-canon, Jon/Martin, trans Jon, a bit angsty but mostly fluff. Check out ao3 for full tags!

A taste:

The subway car isn't that full for a Friday night in Glasgow, but Jon still feels the eyes. 

He pulls anxiously at his shirt, feeling the odd rub of the cotton against the layer of latex underneath. It's easier to get dressed at home than at the club, with how long it takes to get into the damn gimp suit, but it means taking the SPT all the way to the club already sweating in the unbreathable layers. The terror that someone will know beats through him: an awkward, thrilling paranoia that feeds his patron as much as it discomfits him.

Jon adjusts his shirt cuff for the umpteenth time, stopping only when Martin's fingers press gently over his.

"No one can see," Martin murmurs. He smiles, soft encouragement and glittering enjoyment all at once. It's alright for him, of course–he's wearing a normal t-shirt and trousers under his leather jacket, and he won't change much even at their destination.

Of course, Jon looks normal on the surface, too– button-down shirt, slacks, collar buttoned to hide the latex that comes up to his neck–but surely people can just tell, by the way he's sitting or the sweat beading down his face or–

Martin picks up his hand and kisses the tips of his fingers. Jon winces at the almost inaudible squeak of the latex, and then again at the subtle glances they receive for their innocent PDA.

"We could–" Martin begins, in a gentle tone of voice Jon knows all too well. We could go back. It's okay if it's too much for you. You're dealing with so much. You're just a sad little wet sack of a man who can't handle being in crowds. Okay, so Martin never says that last bit, but Jon certainly feels it every time he has to cut their dates short, or calls Martin to pick him up from errands that should be simple. He shakes his head.

"No, it's fine," he says, his voice steady and dry and not at all betraying how fast his heart is beating. "I'm just warm."

Martin raises his eyebrows but doesn't speak his disbelief, which Jon is grateful for. He's not trying to be convincing to Martin, anyway. He's convincing the other people on the subway who might be watching, who might be wondering, who seem to care only for their own business but who could be subtly judging him, and–

It's their stop. Jon doesn't stand until the doors are squeaking and other people are standing. He can feel the sweat pooling, awful, under his hair on the back of his neck and soaking through his collar. He ignores Martin's offered hand because he just needs to get out of the station, and away from all of these eyes.

If he takes Martin's hand they'll look, and they'll wonder, and they'll guess because why would the two of them be getting off here if not for the club two streets down? Why would two men who seem to have nothing in common, one in leather, for godssake, be so physically close unless–?

Jon gulps down the cool night air as soon as they emerge from the escalator. It's not exactly fresh, but it seems like there's more of it, at least. The breeze doesn't penetrate the latex, but it at least cools his face.

"Hey," Martin says, taking his elbow. Jon lets him, this time. "Are you alright?"

Jon nods. It's doing something to him–the anxiety, the pressure of being noticed, the relief of escape, all bound up in the tightness of latex against his skin. He takes a few breaths, as deep as he can make them. His head swims. Martin smiles again.

"Already, hm?" he says, and he sounds pleased and amused.

Jon nods, and then says, "yes," because he needs to make sure he can still speak. He can. It's a bit of a relief. Martin's smile doesn't widen, exactly, but there's a change in it nonetheless. Jon suppresses a shiver.

"Come on, then," Martin invites, and Jon catches up to him with another thrill of fear that's a lot closer to excitement.

There's a couple people queuing outside the nondescript door that leads into the club, but Martin flashes a membership card and they're waved in. Jon volunteers, sometimes–it was an easier welcome to the club than play–and Martin has started to, as well. As expected, Martin is already friendlier with the staff than Jon is.

Jon had teased him about it–an avatar of the Lonely, making easy friends–until Martin pointed out that he'd been friendly with the Institute staff, too, and that hadn't stopped him from being marked. Furthermore, Martin said, if Jon was jealous enough to be making comments he could put some effort into actually making friends instead of complaining–and unfortunately that was too close to the truth for Jon to have any properly sniping comebacks.

Now, there's an instant comfort that comes from entering the dim-lit club. A reception desk blocks entrance to the narrow hallway that funnels guests to the lockers and playrooms, but already Jon is feeling more conspicuous for the button-down than the latex underneath. He refused to dress up the first time he agreed to come with Martin, and spent the whole time feeling obvious and painfully vanilla. There's a satisfying anonymity in the black latex, skintight though it is.

They make awkward small talk with the receptionist–another volunteer, like most of the "staff"--before finally being ushered back to the lockers. Jon strips off his street clothes with relief and tucks them away, while Martin simply takes off his shirt under the jacket and changes to shorts instead of trousers. He unzips his duffel and hands Jon a folded, latex hood.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, his brown eyes warm and solemn. Jon takes the hood. He can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

"I'm sure," he says. He wants to put it on right away. He wants to leave.

"Your hands are shaking," Martin observes.

"So they are."

"If you want to wait–"

"Martin."

"Okay, okay! Just checking!" Martin raises his hands in surrender. "Gloves, too?"

Jon nods. His palms are sweating, which will make putting the fingerless gloves on a pain, but just thinking about it makes him feel lightheaded with want.

"Okay," Martin says, and his voice has taken on the breathy, excited quality that tells Jon that yes, that feeling is an altered state of awareness. He's already slipping under, and Martin can tell. "Let's go over things. You won't be able to see with the hood on, but you'll be able to talk."

Jon nods, forces himself to speak.

"Right," he says.

"You'll be able to hear me, but it'll be muffled. If I need to get your attention, I'll tap three times on your arm, like this." Martin demonstrates with two fingers, each tap firm and deliberate. Jon closes his eyes automatically, as if it will feel different if he can't see. The air feels much thicker, all of a sudden.

"Got it," he says. It's the right thing to say, and he feels a small sense of satisfaction that he knows this. He can't make mistakes in this conversation; or at least he has no urge to say any of the wrong things.

"If it's too much, I need you to let me know right away. The hood will take a couple moments to unlace, and it's better to be cautious. You don't want to panic in this. And there will be plenty of time to experiment, okay?" Martin fixes Jon with a firm look, warm brown irises taking on an iced chill like permafrost. "Don't push it, Jon. I know you."

"I won't," Jon says, and winces when Martin doubles down on his glare. "Really! I don't want to push things too far. I promise I won't–not on purpose, at least."

"Okay," Martin says grudgingly. He leans in and presses a kiss to Jon's mouth, startling him. Jon catches himself in time to kiss Martin back, and Martin responds at once, holding his head to kiss him deeper. There's a strange sterility to it, the latex keeping away Martin's body heat, but it still makes Jon feel dizzy. He lets out a shaky exhale when Martin pulls away.

"Anything else you want to go over?" Martin asks, leaning their foreheads together and keeping his hand on the back of Jon's.

Read the rest on AO3

[crazyotakugal]

Soaring Hearts

Hawks/Keigo Tamaki x Reader Fluff Lemon

Authors Notes:

Thank y’all so much for all the support!! I’m so glad you enjoyed the story and like I said, here’s part Two!! I hope y’all enjoy!!

It’s been almost a month since your “encounter” with the Number Two Hero. You’ve been catching up with your family, seeing the sights, and wondering about your meet up with Hawks. Of course, you haven’t told anyone about meeting Hawks and the events that followed. However, there’s always the unexpected…

Part Two:

CHANCE ENCOUNTERS

“ Come on, y/n! You gotta check out this place next!” Your cousin, Fuyumi, waved you over to yet another sweets shop.

It was a nice day today and Fuyumi had the day off, so she decided to take your sight seeing/shopping. The district was actually really cool and had a variety of different shops, but you really didn’t have much money to spend. Since your dad ditched you, things have always been tight. If your uncle, the number one Hero, had not paid for your trip, you wouldn’t have been able to visit. However, you’d never tell your family about your financial situation.

“Oooohhh!! They have that awesome cake and milk tea!! Let’s get some!” Fuyumi grabs your hand and starts to drag you into the shop.

“Umm, Fuyumi, maybe we should slow down?” You really couldn’t afford it, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Oh no worries! Dad’s covering everything today! He insisted!” She beamed.

“Uuuuhhh…” You were at a lost for words.

You just decided to go along with it and allowed yourself to be dragged along. Despite your uncle’s attitude, he was actually a really kind person. You remember your mom calling him a monster and saying he was evil, but you just didn’t see that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Fuyumi were sitting at a table with a neon rainbow checkerboard tablecloth and a pink vase with white daisies inside. The place was really nice for being a sweets shop. It was cutesy kind of place with different kinds of teas and sweets and the atmosphere was relaxing. You just went with whatever Fuyumi ordered. She seemed to be really happy and enjoying hanging around you. To be honest, you were really having tons of fun and you were really happy you came to Japan.

Even your encounter with Hawks.

Even if it was just a fling and as much as it made your heart ache to want to see him again, you knew your best chance was on a screen versus in person. You didn’t regret spending the night with him, but you felt bad for how it ended.

~~~ FLASHBACK ~~~

It was either really late at night or very early in the morning when you had woken up. It was really dark and you were tempted to slip back into the lull of sleep. However, you had to pee really bad. Your body felt stiff and heavy. Nature calling, you rub your thighs together, feeling a sharp pain shoot between your legs, and a stickiness there.

‘Huh? Too early for my period.’

You try to shift to get up, but something was wrapped around your waist. It didn’t feel like your covers. It was warmer and heavier. As your brain slowly started to wake up, you realized the thing around your waist was connected to something heavy pressed against your back. You try to wiggle a little bit and whatever was around your waist tighten.

You felt a lump in your throat and carefully turned your head. Holding your waist was Japan’s number two pro hero! His gold locks even messier then normal and he looked absolutely breath taking asleep. You very carefully slide away from Hawks without disturbing him, gather your scattered clothing, and tippy toe into the bathroom.

After a few minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, fully clothed. You glance over at Hawks sleeping form, feeling regret for leaving like this bubbling inside you. However, you weren’t going to put yourself through that. Even though what you two had shared was amazing, you weren’t going to kid yourself into thinking that there was anything there. You wiped a few tears from your eyes and quietly left his apartment.

~~~ End F/B ~~~

“Y/n? Hey, y/n, you there?” Fuyumi is waving a hand in front of your face.

“Oh! Oh I’m sorry!” You laughed. “I guess I was spacing out.”

A waitress comes over to your table, setting down your orders and leaves with a bow. The tea smelled amazing and the cake super delicious!

“I’m sorry, Fuyumi, what were you saying?” You take a sip of the yummy tea.

She takes a bite of the cake and swallowed it, “I was saying that there’s this big charity party that dad wants us all to attend tonight and was asking you if you had a dress you could wear?!”

You choke a bit on your cake, “What?! No! Noooo! I don’t have anything to wear that fancy! I really don’t need to go, I mean I’m just his niece!”

Fuyumi makes a slight pouty face, “But you are family! It’s for the family’s of that Camino incident, so it’s for a good cause! Dad even said we could go pick out new dresses!”

You feel really uneasy about that,” That’s not necessary! Really!”

Fuyumi just smiled at you, “Really! Don’t worry about it!”

Even though you were still getting to know Fuyumi, you knew her well enough to know there was no point to arguing with her once her mind was set. You just take a bite of your cake as she beams knowing she won.

~~~~~~

After the sweets shop, you were dragged to a few clothing stores. Fuyumi found a few dresses she liked/bought, the one she finally chose for the evening was a navy blue tie back dress that had silver glitter at the hem slowly decreasing almost non existent to the waist, almost like a starburst effect. It looked amazing on her. In fact, a lot of stuff did.

You found a few things you looked for everyday wear and lingerie, which she bought you despite your protests, but nothing you felt confident in or really suited you. Finally, Fuyumi dragged you into this one store with all kinds of clothing. That’s when it caught your eye. It was an off the shoulder dress with loop sleeves, form fitting torso with lace up front. There was a satin bow at the waist, the bow resting on your hip. The skirt flared out into two layers, the top layer was sheer parted down the middle with tiny little diamonds (not real) that ruffled at the edges. The second layer was a satin material with the same diamond accents that came down to your ankles. It was your favorite color and the price wasn’t bad at all!

“Oh wow, y/n! That’s perfect! You should try it on!” Fuyumi beamed as she snatched the dress and pushed it and you towards the dressing room. A few minutes later, you came out with it on. It fit you perfectly and you couldn’t hardly believe it was you in the mirror.

“Y/n! You look beautiful!” Your cousin smiled at you, causing you to blush a little.

‘My little sparrow is so beautiful.’

You remember the last time someone called you “beautiful” and remembering that night made you turn bright red.

~~~ Later that night ~~~

Just as you thought, it was an extremely classy affair. There were ton of big time heroes there as well as a lot of influential names. You didn’t know everyone, but Fuyumi had no problem filling you in. She looked so pretty in her dress. Natsuo and Shoto of course didn’t show up. Fuyumi was squealing about all the hot and available guys at the party.

“Oh there’s dad!” Fuyumi grabs your arm and drags you over to where your uncle was.

He, of course being number one, was surrounded by a bunch of people. He looked really annoyed, but put on a front. Occasionally, shaking a hand. Once he saw Fuyumi and you heading his way, he excused himself and to meet you halfway.

“Hey, Dad! This things really great isn’t it?” Fuyumi smiles, as always, trying to be the sweet daughter.

“Fuyumi. Y/N. You’re both looking very nice this evening.” He gave a tiniest, quickest smile.

Fuyumi beamed at the compliment and gave even a little twirl. A waiter came by and offered you three a colorful drink in a tall glass with a cherry on top. Endeavor declined, but you two each took one and thanked him.

“Um, Uncle, thank you very much for the dress,” You bowed, careful not to spill your drink.

“Hey there, Number one! You sure are popular!” A familiar voice rang, making your heart stop.

You lift your head up, to see none other than Hawks standing next to your uncle, with his hand on his shoulder with his usual grin on his face. He, like the other pro heroes there, was wearing his typical attire.

“Ugh, Hawks, let me introduce you to my daughter, Fuyumi, and my niece visiting abroad, Y/N,” Endeavor holds a hand out gesturing your way causing your heart to stop.

‘Don’t be dumb, Y/N! It was a one night stand! He probably doesn’t even remember you!’

Hawks smiles at Fuyumi warmly, gently taking her hand, but there’s a split second of surprise and recognition when his eyes turn towards you. Your breath catches in your throat as he smiles, takes your hand into his, and brings it to his lips. You feel your face turn bright red.

“Nice you meet you, Y/n,” He says with a subtle hint of sarcasm. He was acting like you’d just met, but he definitely recognized you.

“Oh my God! Is that the number one and number two pro heroes together!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

Fuyumi grabbed your hand and hurried away so you two weren’t caught in the poparatzi fire. You glanced back at Hawks, who was still looking at you as you were being led away. The crowd of reporters encircled the two heroes.

~~~~~~~~~

After the craziness with the reporters, you’d lost sight of Hawks. You’d spent the rest of the evening being dragged around by your cousin, talking, eating, and drinking. It was actually lots of fun. You got to meet a lot of new people and eat a lot of delicious food.

A little tipsy, needing some air, you excused yourself from your cousin who honestly was too engrossed in talking to this guy to notice you leave. You found a quiet place in the outside garden. The cool air felt nice on your hot skin and the scent of the flowers around you was relaxing. You sat on a bench by a fountain, closed your eyes, and took a few deep breaths. As you started to cool down, the breeze was starting to make you shiver a little.

Suddenly something soft and warm is placed on your shoulders. Your eyes shoot open and you see Hawks standing there with a gentle smile on his face, he’d placed his jacket over you. Seeing him so close to you, made your heart race and you felt a ping of guilt.

“Little Sparrow a bit chilly?” He reaches and brushes a stray hair from your burning face.

Hearing him say that nickname, flustered you because images of that night came flooding back. You felt the familiar spark of desire start from just that little touch. The memory of how those hands felt touching you made you shiver slightly.

“I, um, I…” You stutter out.

He tilts his head slightly, “hmmm?”

You bow low, “I’m so sorry! About leaving like that I mean!”

Embarrassed you ramble on, “It’s just, um, I’ve never done that type of thing. Not saying I regret what happened, but…I didn’t know what to expect afterwards and panicked and…I’m so sorry I left and didn’t say anything…”

You’re afraid to look up, but a gentle hand on your chin, turned your gaze upwards to meet his. Those wonderful lips of his gently covering your own. At first it starts slow, but then gradually becomes more passionate. One hand wraps around your waist as the other cups the back of your neck, keeping you in place. His tongue sweeps over your lips and you grant him access to your mouth without hesitation. All the desire from that night reawakening as that kiss makes you melt.

When your lips finally part, both his hands cup your cheeks bringing your face forward so your forehead was resting against his. Your noses almost touching, both your eyes shut, and you both a panting for breath. Just from that kiss, you could tell that you probably were already soaked down there. Your eyes locked when you opened them. Desire burning so brightly behind his gold orbs.

You looked so beautiful to him right now. The dress you were wearing was absolutely amazing on you, your lips were red and swollen from his assault, and your cheeks were flushed. That morning, he felt sad that you had left and he hadn’t gotten your name or info. That night has been fantastic and he didn’t know what it was about you, but he just felt so drawn to you. Sure, he’d had experience with women and had some fun in his younger years. Despite the rumors about him, he didn’t go around jumping from woman to woman. That was way too risky for one, but shallow one night stands weren’t his thing.

“Y/N,” He breathed before kissing you again. His hands starting the explore your body over your dress.

“H…Hawks!” You gasp as his lips start placing kisses down your neck. Hearing your name from his lips completely overwhelmed you with need.

His arms lift you up bridal style and he flies up high onto a balcony. The door’s unlocked and Hawks carries you into the dark room. It looked like someone’s office, there were shelves with all kinds of books, a couple of couches by a fireplace, and a large wooden desk.

Hawks carries you over and gently lays you down on one of the couches, his jacket acting like a pillow, and leans over you. His lips once again taking yours captive. He uses one arm to support his weight above you as the other slides up your leg bunching the skirt of your dress higher and higher. You gasp against his mouth when you feel his fingers press against the damp cloth between your legs.

“Oh!” You toss your head back as his fingers slowly start to circle the wetness there.

“I see my lovely sparrow is still so sensitive,” he murmurs as he kisses your shoulder, his fingers dipping beyond your soaked panties.

“Keigo!” You cry out and you feel Hawks shutter above you, feeling how wet you already were for him and already crying his name.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. He gets up off of you, you hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone and the sound of rustling clothing. You give a surprise squeal as you feel your panties being pulled off you. Hawks pushes your skirt all the way up to your waist and settles himself between your legs. Before you can say anything, he sheaths himself into you with one thrust. You can feel him fill every part of you, once again stretching you.

“Ahhh!” Your body shudders as you cum just from the sensation of him utterly filling you.

“Did my sparrow just cum from me just putting it inside?” He says with a cocky tone as he starts to move, “You really are made for me! Fuck! You feel so good!”

You dig your nails into his clothed back as your rocked into ecstasy. You look up at Hawks; his face twisted with pleasure and his beautiful red wings completely spread out above the two of you. Your tangle your fingers in his blond hair and bring his lips crashing down onto yours.

The sounds of moans and slapping skin fill the room.

“You’re so hot and wet! It’s like heaven inside you!” He breaths, never halting his thrusts, “God Sparrow, you’re taking me so wonderfully. You’re just the perfect fit!”

You start to feel that wonderful familiar knot start to build again. Hawks thrusts start getting a little rougher and deeper. A film of sweat covering both your bodies. His length hitting the entrance of your womb over and over again. The pleasure is just as intense as before that you feel your mind slipping away.

“Keigo! I’m gonna…oh God! I’m gonna!” You sob out, feeling yourself about to tumble down that peak any moment.

Hawks grabs your hips in his hands and pounds into you mercilessly. He burned the vision of you in his mind. Your h/c spilled all over as your head thrashes about, you withering underneath him with absolute bliss plastered on your face, and those lovely lips of yours swollen, parted, quivering as you start to reach your peak. That lovely dress of yours bunched at your hips giving him a wonderful view of himself being swallowed by your lovely pussy.

“Y/n, cum for me! That’s it! Cum for me sparrow!” He urges, pushing his hips against that spot a few times, his cock hitting your cervix, before you finally tumble over.

“KEIGO!” You scream, tossing your head back as your orgasm hits you. You cling to the couch as it washes you over. He holds his grip on your hips as he pounds you.

Hawks loses it when he feels you clamp down onto him, cumming around his cock. Your hot fluids gushing all over him. A few sloppy thrusts later, he’s calling out your name as he fills you to the brim. Another climax hits you as feel his dick twitching and filling you. You both lay there, panting afterwards.

You both hold each other on the couch, bodies still connected. Hawks still breathless, placing occasional kisses on your shoulder. He didn’t want to leave your warmth yet. After a few more minutes of holding you, mumbling soothing words, Hawks slips from your depths. He watches as your combined fluids seep from your opening slightly and catches your soft whimper once he left you.

Hawks sits up and gathers you in his lap, holding you to his chest. You smelt amazing. Like a sweet dessert. Your h/c was soft and your skin as well. It felt so nice holding you like this. You laid your head on his chest and gave into him holding you. His fingers gently stroking your hair. You didn’t want to be parted from him yet. You wished time would freeze and you two could stay like this. He smelt like rain. His warmth radiating from his body into yours. You feel a bit of sleepiness come over you.

“We should go before someone comes in and we get in trouble for staining their expensive couch,” Hawks whispers in your ear, bringing a bright red blush to your face.

You get up on your unsteady legs and straighten yourself up. You look around, a bit panicked, for your panties that you’d been wearing, but couldn’t see where Hawks had tossed them too. Your face turned bright red thinking how horrifying it would be if someone found them.

“Looking for something?” Hawks smiles at you, holding the bunched up lace garment in his hand.

“H…hey!” You feel your face burn even hotter. “Give those back!”

You go to try to snatch your panties from his hand, but of course he’s too fast for you and easily dodges. You go to try and grab them again, but this time he catches your wrist, pulling your body against his.

He smiles down at you, giving you a playful wink,”Consider these my hostage so you don’t go disappearing on me again.”

You make a pouty face at him and playfully punch him in the chest. He simply laughs it off.

His lips brush yours as he stuffs the material into his jacket pocket and lifts you up again. He effortlessly leaps down the balcony, safely with you to the ground. He gently sets you down on your feet. You feel his hand cover yours then sliding something between your fingers. It was his card, but at the bottom was a hand written phone number. You look up at him again and he reaches to brush a hair from your face. You looked absolutely adorable at that moment, looking up at him with big, questioning eyes.

“I don’t usually give out my personal number, but I’m willing to make an exception for you my sparrow,” He grins, ” However, now that I know you’re related to the big guy, I can easily hunt you down too.”

You give him a look and mumble under your breath, “You can try.”

He’s taken aback for a moment, then bursts into laughter. You were just too cute. He couldn’t help himself, wraps an arm around your waist, and kisses you deeply before he finally steps away from you.

He flaps his wings and takes off a few feet into the air. Small red feathers raining down all around you.

“Until I see ya around, Y/N!” He grins before taking off into the air. Leaving you looking up at the night sky as he disappears.

~~~~~~~~~~

So that’s it for part two!! Thank y’all so much and I’ll be working on part three soon. :D

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 || you and Andy go on a trip to Greece for your birthday and discover the love you have for one another.

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 || fluffy fluff

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 || andy barber × black[birthday girl]!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 || 5.2K

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 || jealousy, some rom com cliches, divorced!andy, i used like six different dividers to match with the storyline so very sorry if that’s unusual to you!

𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 || past lives by bornes. mariposa by the peach rascals. apricot princess by rex orange country. out like a light by the honey sticks & ricky montgomery

𝒘. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 || this is a birthday gift for @areyoustchewpid!!!! happy birthday ingrid!!! everyone go wish the birthday girl the best for her special day! 💗 I hope this fic fulfills your dreams of Greece with lawyer daddy and i hope you cherubs enjoy reading this <33

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

THE GOLDEN FLICKER OF PALE PINK CANDLES CREATE A HOLY CHASTE HUE AGAINST BASHFUL SMILE BRIGHTENING YOUR FACE.

an event that you’ve been expecting all day yet while a firm chestnut table sits underneath your crossed legs cools as a sweetpea and seasalt ocean breeze blows into the dining room your expectations have somewhat been granted and changed. where only a three layer chocolate cake sits between you and Andy, both your lovestruck eyes never leaving each other despite the comet rippling starry sky glimmering from the white paneled windows.

everything is all sparkling, soft pink and golden at this moment.

from the rosy dawned blush that grazes against Andy’s cheeks to the blushy tone of your sundress and beating heart. candles sparkling to life as you and him in the very moment, wax melting in rosy dewdrops just like the fear of allowing these caged emotions to fly free. now they seemed to have been unrestrained by the gold bars of worry, aversion, and self committed rejection.

simple cursive writing made of periwinkle icing contrasts against the dark fudge confection this dearest friend of yours created. this friend who might have been something more in a life way beyond this year and century but as your heart beats in a melody casted by the Muses themselves it pirouettes with the cupid bow lights dancing in Andy’s pools of hopeless paradise. it’s all enough for you to lace your fingers with his-which you do- and wish for something else to spread against your lips besides the cake you both will cut in a minute after you blow your candles.

the words below your cupid struck glance read Happy Birthday Y/n in the divine candlelight, a squeeze of his hand only encourages the rapid pace of your heart to jump and for you to swallow your hesitance. a very same feeling floods Andy’s insides but for the past minutes just sitting directly on the table, lighting your candles and enjoying the meteor shower, he hasn’t kept his promise to himself.

a promise he made for himself since the beginning of today when he discovered how his palms sweat when you neared him and how his heart warmed when you spoke his name and how his soul just sang a different song when you took his hand.

he should say something now, he should tell you how much you mean to him in this different roseate light. maybe you’ll say the same words back and maybe with the rush of the rose glasses besides you both one thing may lead to another but what comes out of his mouth makes him bite his tongue. “I hate to break it to you but wax is getting on the cake,”

those words snap you out of your amour aura, eyes fluttering for a second and smiling afterwards when you see Andy fidgeting with the crystal glass in his large hands. cheeks reddening like ripe strawberries glowing in the warmth of spring, it radiates the space between you both and with an almost whisper to your name he has your hands in his soft palms. “what do you wish for y/n?”

the question makes you swallow the raspberry rose laced lump in your throat. the love potion for an innocent drink still glistens in your glass that rests beside your body but it would spill if you would do the simple action your heart has been caressing your mind to just pull his collar down to smash his lips against yours.

to feel the tender roughness of his bearded cheeks in your palms and his lips molded along with yours in a kiss that would put all sculptured lovers to shame. it’s making you sink and float at the same time but the sparking second that Andy leans down you oblige.

“i’m sorry for not realizing it all those years,” it makes your brows scrunch in slight confusion at the confusion, his cool apricot breath wafting and twinning with your airy exhale when his nose grazes against yours. the heat of the candles underneath your close faces, you raise your hand to cup his face.

“realizing what?” its then did the breath escape your lungs and your heart to stop beating.

seeing her open her eyes the very morning brought a different comfort than to watch her sleep- it was a normal thing to wake up but to experience her lashes fluttering to life to reveal the life in her sun speckled eyes was something for Andy. she rolled over, burying her face in the crispness of white sheets with a lazy grin.

through the honeycomb glass of the white portiéres of the hotel room, the soft sunshine of the province morning streams in and lights the bedchamber. the melodic sound of birdsong and light chatter slowly rouses her awake. Andy is seated in front of the swan feathered colored vanity, combing his hair and keeping the time on track on his watch.

the man had loads planned for you both today, a day planned for you both to be bone tired at the end but still reflecting on the memories and experiences once you laid your head to rest to sleep when it was over. the tapping rhythm of his polished tar black dress shoes fills the room, making you part open your eyelids to see who’s disrupting your peaceful second slumber.

“morning sleeping beauty, happy birthday,” he almost sing-songs, a slight whistle in his voice completely overtaking any fiber of drowsy and sleep riddance that enveloped your mind and body.

“morning Andy and thank you,” you grin with your porcelain smile, stretching your arms while simultaneously lifting your sunkissed legs. arching your back in a firm crane, yearning a deep yawn from you as you savour the sunshine on your ankles and naked shoulders.

“so I have a few things planned today but I thought it would be best to eat breakfast out at the cafe we talked about instead of ordering room service. what do you think?” his eyes focused on you in the mirror and you have no choice but to glance back with your remark weighing on your tongue.

so after a smile that was more than enough to let your childhood friend know that you were along with him for the ride you found yourself ready for your special day. a slightly puffed sleeve and flowy mint green sundress adorns your bodice softly, making you radiant in the morning sun that appears to be a glowing lemon slice across the cloudless skies.

arms securely wrap around Andy’s waist as he guides the scooter the same color of the sparkling sea and reflecting powdered blue vault above. hanging on to him as he brings you both to the tiny yet timeless cafe near the roaring pier of crashing waves and ancient cobblestone streets. the bouquet of large sunflowers that were tenderly hugged tightly between both your bodies are now free in your hold. their sunshine yellow petals sway in the morning breeze and take in the virtuous sunshine that rains in golden streaks on this magical day.

taking your seat near one of the outdoor tables, shaded by the umbrella the same color as the satin banner you both order your first meal as the waiter set your beginning entry of cheese, grapes, croissants and wine on a pine wood board in between you two. street cars come and go, along with passing people looking for special sites of eternal Athens Greece. the ocean bringing a calm sea mist breeze that only adds onto the refreshing and ecstatic tangibility seizing your atoms yet as you both talk about the plans you have for today.

although the words of the waiter coming to refill your tall glasses breaks both an uncontrollable smile and laugh between you both. “couples get a discount,” he spoke and you both had a dime for when you both were mistaken for a couple you’d be swimming in a sea as large as the one that captures your irises and heart.

with his confusion Andy quickly nods along, “yes we’d take that discount thank you,” and the waiter smiles back as he steps away after filling your glasses and informing you about your meal which you both thank back.

“Andy I thought we weren’t gonna take advantage of discounts by pretending we’re a couple anymore,” you broke with a raised brow and Andy only rolled his eyes in any way that wouldn’t ever be taken seriously by anyone despite his job disposition.

“awe come on y/n let's relive old times! do you wanna pay full price when we’ve been doing this for years?” Andy looked at you through a playful demeanor that you only recognize when he’s concocting and getting away with something as seemingly harmless as this.

“i’m not really fond of the backlash when it backfires on us in the end,” you speak as you bite into a butter croissant, the rich pastry practically melting on your tongue. “also you’re making us sound like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde duo. doesn’t look good with that attorney license of yours Barber,” you laugh as you return the same eye roll back as you sit up with your glass in hand.

“remember when I booked us a reservation at that restaurant when we were in college and I freaked out over the bill? I ‘proposed’ to you and once everyone cooed and congratulated us we got our bill cut in half-”

“and I nearly kicked your ass afterwards, yeah Andy my foot is remembering the loss,” you intervene which makes Andy shake with loud laughter enough to make all the other pairs -real couples instead of you sly imposters- stop from their conversations to glance at you two breaking into hysterics whilst eating green grapes and sipping on white wine.

“to be fair we were broke college students! money was tight as hell back then but I didn’t see you complain when I got on my knees and put a ring on your finger. I thought the rhinestone looked very good with your dress that night,” popping a grape in his mouth with a humorous smirk etched on his lips.

“i’m sure you were looking forward to saying that when you gave me a kinder surprise from a candy machine.” rolling your eyes as you bite into another golden croissant, pairing it along with a nibble of creamy cheese that taste heavenly on your tongue.

“alright you can hold that against me I still deserve it,” Andy still remembers the other students in his seminar congratulating him and some who didn’t know about his engagement and divorce to Laurie still believe he’s engaged to you. it was funny and seems like something straight out of the cheesy rom coms he and you used to binge together as bored high schoolers.

that you and him used to scoff and egg on the oblivious main protagonists to just kiss and push away the denial to just be together but amongst all these couples in the morning light at this café it’s you two reliving your movie annoyances. it was hilarious and unfortunately ironic but Andy Barber didn’t see anything or comprehend the knot in your stomach when you took his hand and said something he couldn’t quite hear.

all he was paying attention to in the slow-motion picturesque of your gleaming smile, the sparkle in your deep lashy eyes and how your lips moved so theatrically as you spoke his name.

Andy, Andy, Andy

eyes glossing over in wonder, it was possibly the prettiest thing he’s seen and he’d wish to hear you say his name one more time. heart yearning to just catch your lips movement yet as his mind wedges himself back into reality he finally catches what you’ve been saying.

“Andy our food is here,” you said as the waiter came with your large glass plates of oven baked pizzas. the comforting rich smell of toasted cherry tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and freshly baked dough fill his nostrils. it's enough to cover the lush sweetness of your Dior perfume he loved taking a whiff of when you'd lean over the table to sneakily reach for his grapes and croissants.

“um, yeah thanks for the heads up,” he spoke in almost a broken sense of charisma compared to his boyish behavior minutes ago but it’s just now that’s Andy denying the feeling-

the seed of amorous that had been planted in his heart a long ago that’s beginning to sprout now.

after roaming the creaky wooden piers with the sunshine twining divinely against your hair and every inch of revealed baby soft skin. a clementine in his hands and an apricot in yours, feeding the peels to the doves that rest besides the ancient stools as Andy give hands you cardinal slice after citrusy cardinal slice.

dangling both your legs over the docks and enjoying the way the rippling waves brushed against your curling toes. sweet orange and apricot filling your mouths like the sun spreading its orange and blush provenance across the aqua waters. lonely fingers fondle with your citrus fruits that you bought with wo shiny coins from a passing vender in a straw sunhat.

savoring the ocean blue and the sunny sky revealing the cotton white clouds that dot like dollops of whipping cream upon it. the sea breeze dancing with strand hairs, the topic of a greenhouse visit sparks and a sense of adventure rushes though bloodstream. within a matter of seconds you both race to hop back on the forget-me-not scooter.

inciting a school children challenge on who’s going to get there first and with the swiftness of putting your sandals back on and running against the mossy and dandelion cracked cobblestone had you seated on the bike. “I win,” you grin and of course Andy just gives you a fauxly hurt demeanor.

“you cheated,” you only hum back at his petty exchange, playing along for his sentiment until he sighs in his defeat. with the engine starting off you and him race to the glass palace that is the greenhouse.

a golden rimmed and sea mist colored empire, it stood out to you when touring the tiny city of colorful roof houses and marketplaces. mossy vines and leafy thorned shrubbery beautifully frame the interior pillars as rich golden sunlight fill in the glassy castle. cement molds create the railing for the lily pad and swan lotuses of the man made ponds. an occasional jasmine frog leaps from pad to pad as the milky pink and yellow koi’s swim about in the shadowy water.

exotic trees and wild plants bunch throughout the establishment, creating shade against the Apollo’s heavy rays as Andy lifts his head to marvel these large and tall works of Artemis. of course, with your polaroid camera you found in the rummage of your closet (that you haven't used since senior year of college) in a tight hold. wandering feet walk through the limestone pavement of the greenhouse, a sunflower in your hair that brightens the deep greens succulents and rich browns tree bark.

the vines of soft pink and purple flowers dangling from the glassy dome roof fall their baby pink petals as a breeze presents itself. some already settling in the brown tawny of Andy's hair, not far behind you smile at your face glossed in wonderstruck marvel. wide honey brown pools trail up the ten foot marble and ivory statue, reflecting in serenity cosmoses from the rainbows that spread from the crystal glass.

a sense of desire takes ahold of you as your slowed hands lift to trace your dark fingertips through the crinkle wrinkle of a marble maidens skirt. such detail and intricate design of the craftsman long ago must’ve took years to perfect, the cloth falling seamlessly upon the maidens body as her body crouches to run your clay hand again at the pond water. lifting your camera to your eyes, snapping your desired pictures that are set to capture all the whimsical aspects and elements that take your breath away.

Andy dares to draw near, it wasn’t like he hasn’t stood close to you at all- he might be making it hard on himself by overthinking ever move and step but you call out his name and his heart paces.

“yes y/n,” making his way to where you sit near a pond, you don’t say anything as you wrap the strap for the camera around your neck. fixing up your dress from any wrinkles from scrunching the hem up when dipping your feet in the sea earlier. checking your hair and make up in your hand mirror that you retrieved from your designer purse. an arched brow raises up at you, which you only respond by rolling your eyes and hand him the camera as you smile at yourself in the reflection of the ponds water.

“can you take a picture of me?” as you reapply another layer of gloss on your lips, the fishes swirling in the water to jump to the service to witness the beautiful nymph who have graced their pond themselves.

cupid bows perk at the fish and blow them kisses, your hands grab at a floating lotus before grasping the tender water blossom. putting it in the raven coils that delicately frame your face, damn it y/n.

it was as if you were torturing him with those mascara bambi eyes and glossy primrose lips, it makes his insides buzz and flutter like the malachite dragonfly that passes here and there.

“you telling me you want a picture or did you already decide for me yourself?” you only smack his chest with the camera once again.

“are you going to take the picture or not Barber? did you loose some of your magic with all that lawyer jumbo clouding your head or did you take those freshman photography lessons seriously?”

Andy rolls his eyes and takes the camera from you with a chuckle, “actually i’m still capable of using a camera y/l/n, god you’re making me feel old. go model for me,” you just laugh and run across to the other side of the pond.

soft skin from your legs revealed from the way your sundress lifts bends against your chest. head resting upon your knees while your arms wrap around them, the sunflower in your gasps and the lotus behind your ear. at this moment as the seconds turn into minutes Andy should be taking pictures, his eyes are looking through the lens as his index finger rests on the button.

with as much as single press he captures the greenhouse nymph but what good would a single picture do to capture every gift and grace you bestowed in the offering of your charm, beauty and heart?

it makes Andy's heart race, your eyes dashing from the godly statues that surround you to the camera. sweet music plays in deep cherry wood cellos and willow carved violins and even with the buzzing dragonfly it seems it found its favorite flower at the tip of your nose.

you certainly are the creation and waking of spring flowers and lovesick tales that took his heart then and its still yours now.

that single snapshot was all he could think about you two drove down south to the coast. searching back the drunk nights before where you and him ran into a little covelete whilst drinking goblet after goblet in the forest of olive and grape vine trees. it was a long ride but nothing suited the wait better than the man on the radio singing with his strung trichordo.

the hands that grip Andy's shoulder slide down to wrap your arms around him tightly when the minutes pass and the forest of green olives and sangiovese grapes. parking the scooter near the shrubbery of some innocent bush you and him look for the wine stash the both of you left in the abandoned cavern of an ancient olive tree. Andy grinning as he grabbed the expansive bottle and before you know it you both head to the hidden beach.

Andy didn't plan to actually go swimming, just settle the gingham blanket upon the finely grain sand and open the picnic you both prepared. and he also didn't prepare himself for the rosy blush to dawn his face when your almond nails grip the hem of your sundress to lift it up and over your head. revealing your matching bathing suit underneath its quick that you throw him a wink and race to the nearby grassy cliff.

"see you soon Barber!" you yell and as Andy gets up from the blanket to understand what you mean by that its too late. the summer air is filled with your laughter and sky rippling cheer as you jump off the cliff and dive into the cloud blue water. the splash nonexistent from your perfect swoop.

if only he had the polaroid on him to capture the way your smile gleamed brighter than the sun reflecting off the sparkling water the the way your eyes cutely scrunched like sand dollars under the warmth of golden sand.

the silver green of the olive trees emphasize the richness of your skin. the rich skin he couldn't keep his sapphires off as you laugh your choir laugh that would make Apollo cease his chariot to listen to the siren of Olympus once more. dancing in the turquoise waves of the coast, they crash against your soft mounds, curves, and dips of sun glistening hips and waist.

how could he have been so blind?

rage and anguish slosh around in his mind that pour melancholic rain onto his heart, you were there for him through thick and thin. a friend he believed but how could he have buried that yearn and longing for you all those years?

it's almost criminal to the highest degree and he'd know his side of the justice system but how could that distract him from you? his head was far too buried in those lawbooks to realize, too oblivious to his emotions when you'd date and hang around other people that weren't him. looking far into the looking glass hoping that his work would pay off in the future, meeting another woman and putting a ring on her finger.

now here he is, a divorced man but a still very much happy man. lonely at times with his only child in the custody of his ex wife but still very happy with the comfort and support of you. it was you who helped him from the tears at night and it was you who he wasn't scared to open up to. even the past few months he didn't realize it but now as you call his name to get in the water he doesn't hesitate to pull his shirt over his head and take his shoes and socks off.

joining you in the water in a mater of a few heartbeats, it was as if you were a sea spirit calling for him and even if you weren't he's happily obliging when the small waves collide against his skin. both your laughs rippling the ocean in this small ocean paradise, swimming in the richness of the present never would have guessing that throughout all these years you be here.

the salt water on your skin has dried as you and Andy walk side by side, your shoes rubbing against the gravel of the cobblestone paths as both you peer at the vendors and food stands arranging from rainbow scaled fish, fresh sesame seed breads, farm produced milks and cheeses, and vibrate fruits and vegetables. hands twined together in a firm hold, unfathomable excitement practically radiating off of you while you chat and giggle with Andy.

the topic of the conversation changing every few minutes when you find a stand that grabs your attention. curious eyes and wandering hands look over organic produce and homemade goods the people had to offer. the golden clutch of your purse being opened multiple times and Andy's mouth being stuffed with jam, cheese and fruit samples on the account of you. as you did you shopping he did as well, the ingredients for a sweet treat he had planned for you later on tonight are in a brown paper bag amongst your purchases.

of course he had to carry them all, not in obligation but because he didn’t want you to worry about shopping too much when you’re in the midst of enjoying your vacation. by all means he certainly wasn’t complaining, if anything he liked having you giddy and bursting with energy. practically dragging him from stand to stand and carrying your bags filled with stuff that you’d bring back home and try.

the village square where the marketplace takes place is tinted in an ambrosial hue, the sun now a glowing slice of grapefruit against the peachy pink carnation sky. lavender clouds that seem so close to grasp tower above you both yet they don't prevent the suns glow from capturing the beautiful soft planes of your face.

luscious and softer than the bouquet of sunflower carnations he surprised you with as you looked at the variety of sunhat options. one that you just purchased rests floppily against your temple but still doing its job at keeping you shaded from the suns glare. wrapped in a silky green bow, Andy smiles at how huge it is but it just makes you look divine and adorable in your sundress.

holding his hand tighter before tracing them up his forearm to softly grasp his bicep, it you who's leaning against him and pulling him close to you. the feeling of your body alongside his is warmer then any sunshine that seeps into his skin and lovelier than any of the flowers the market had to offer.

it’s hard to give you one excellent gift to give back all those years of commitment and loyalty and friendship but the way your lips spread in that enchanting smile it’s enough to make Andy know -despite the both of you not saying it- that you feel the same way to.

the bouquet in both your holds lifting up every once in a while for Andy to smell and for you to admire as you walk away from the noisy market. a little behind the village were the spring green of the countryside clashes within the stone brick city is a valley of flower arbors and hedge mazes. it was the last pitstop Andy the bags in both your hands settle down against the safety shadow of a maple trees shade and with a little laugh and an excited squeal he run to the flower arbors.

green rows of soft shrubbery dotted and laced in colorful blossoms stand in multiple rows upon rows look over of petunias and carnations. small apple and lemon trees in potted beds line up within the flowery hedges and no matter where you look it’s only the divination of spring and the gifts it bestows the Earth with. wooden picnic basket that was once used from your beach picnic is now empty but it’s quickly filling with the sweet smelling beauties of the flowers and fruits and you pluck.

Andy not fair behind you captures your wondering body in the still frame pictures of your polaroid camera. the pictures emerging quickly afterwards, he’s quick to fab them off and place them in your small picture album. turning your head over your shoulder your caught with Andy having the perfect opportunity to snap a picture that would be a bedtime story to tell with a child of his and yours.

it’s perfect and breathtaking, no matter the feeling of his heart thumping in its lingering hesitance you were the star that’s still continues to shine despite being out in broad daylight. it pulled at his heart strings because he knew what this feeling was, this feeling that he been avoiding to come to terms with all day but why was he so terrified?

the fear of rejection wouldn’t burst his heart but it would remind him that he was alone. a man like him wasn’t born to walk this Earth, wake to the sun and sleep with moon alone. the very presence of you besides him made him feel all the things besides lonely and bare to the universes cruelness at times. but maybe you felt the same way about him.

he only had one way to find out and he was set on keeping it, whatever sea he had to cross, valley he had to travel to and the plummeting ends to the Earth he will pronounce his love.

snapping another picture of you, you smile in it and with that he smiles to.

"realize what Andy?" you press on but in the rosy candle light his lips pressed against yours seems to be the only answer he can bring himself to conclude.

it's takes the breath out of your lungs and makes your heart blush and burn deeper and hotter than the tiny flames that decorate the cake. the roughness of his bottom lip that have been occasionally bitten the past minutes of dancing around your feelings. the nerve of you both to push aside your feelings for each other because the fear of breaking each others hearts.

if only your past selves could see you now, shedding your hearts and allowing the key to them to finally open the gates of vulnerability and yearn. the passionate lovesick mess tastes delicious against your mouths and you both could get drunk off it instead of the rose. sweet and inching for more as your lips part to graze against each other, but in order to seal the prophecy of established lovers Andy pulls away.

"that i'm in love with you. that i've always been in love with you. it's been years and i'm sorry for just realizing it now but I need to know if you feel the same way. please tell me now, please," he whispers against your lips.

now its your turn for our heart to skip beats and take in each and everyone of his words. fluttering eyes drowning in his copper blues, you open your mouth to say something but nothing but a soundless nothing comes out. all these years your love for Andy has been buried deep within you and you've tried your best to hide that seed. to plow in new seeds because what use was that seed if it never flourished when he'd feel the same way.

you don't realize until you feel the tear dripping down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb. pressing a kiss where it once existed and it's now that you realize that it's always come to this. your lives weren't entirely paved in stone but the love that has a faith of its own is something that changes as the pages of a storybook turn.

this virtuous night being the newest chapter and as much as you're scared to follow along your heart has been waiting for this moment for so long. with those teary eyes that bring some to his own you smile and pull his face with yours, pressing your lips with his to mark your answer clear, to make him feel the way you feel.

"i've always felt the same. dear god Barber it took you twenty years and it all worked out didn't it?" you giggle against his mouth, feeling his grin as he kisses you back.

"what did you wish for?" he murmurs and you only smile and wrap your arms around his neck, "this,"

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[dulce-pjm]

cheek to cheek

request for taehyung from @kidcoredreamz (thanks bae!!) 

listen to “cheek to cheek” by ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong and “i get along without you very well” by chet baker for maximum effect

make your own request here using these prompts!

cheek to cheek

word count: 3.1k

genre: fluff, arrangedmarriage!au

summary: it’s night like these that you wish things were different

Taehyung is guaranteed, always has been. 

From the minute your tiny fingers could interlock with his, you were dragging each other around the mansions and garden parties, sneaking off to corners with desserts and chocolate milk and getting sugar rushes together. Time with Taehyung comes easy and passes quickly, the hours with him condensing into minutes and the few minutes without him stretching into lonesome years. 

You’ve seen him through thick and thin. Through acne flare ups and awkward conversations and never-ending games of tag. You’ve seen him pick his nose, cry over spilled milk (or, in his case, a broken remote-control race car), get caught sneaking out. You’ve comforted him while he felt broken, laughed until your sides were aching. You know his ins and outs, his rough edges and corners, his soft spots he tries to hide. 

Marrying him should be a blessing. 

To spend the rest of your life with the person who’s stuck by your side throughout everything is a future some can only dream about. To have someone understand you so perfectly, to understand them like no one else will. It should be a blessing. 

It should be. 

The digital clock reads 11:57 when he knocks on the window. 

You’ve always had a weird thing about having a room on the ground floor, when possible. It’s closest to the front door, in case of an emergency. And there’s no risk of tripping downstairs when you’re sleepily moving around in the night. And, most importantly, it’s easy to sneak out when you need to. 

While you’re a little startled, you’re nothing close to afraid. You know exactly what face to expect as you throw open the sheer curtains, silken pajama sleeves hanging over your fingers and eyes swollen from sleep. 

The moonlight makes his silvery hair seem otherworldly, a soft glow coming off of his locks. A few months ago, you’d been more than opposed to his sudden need to dye his hair, but you really shouldn’t have been surprised. The odd color just makes him more ethereal. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, opening the bay window and letting the frigid air slam you in the face. Your eyes comb over the rest of his figure, your brows furrowing at his dark hoodie and sweats, a black hoodie crumpled in one of his hands. Anyone else would have assumed he was an intruder. 

“Visiting my fiancée?” he tries, flashing a lopsided grin. “Thought we could sneak out again. For old times’ sake.” 

“We’re not kids anymore, Tae,” you huff. 

“That doesn’t mean we have to be boring.” 

You cross your arms as a chill runs down your spine from the cool breeze. “It’s midnight. I’m in my pajamas.”

“Well, then you better change.” You stare at him indignantly for a moment, wondering just how much of a doormat he thinks you are. 

“Please?” he adds, batting his lashes teasingly. “I have a surprise. You’ll like it, promise.”

“But will I like it more than I’d like crawling back into bed? Can’t it wait until morning?”

“No. Let’s be a little spontaneous, like we used to be.”

You won’t lie. The soft duvet, still warm, is calling to you strongly. You know that as soon as your head hit the pillow again, you’d be out. Sleeping like a baby. 

But it’s Taehyung’s half-assed pout and an unfortunately strong curiosity that compels you to slip on the nearest t-shirt and sweats for the designated “not-dirty-enough-for-the-basket-yet” chair and climb out the window with a sigh. 

-- 

“It’s Dad’s latest passion project. It was my suggestion, but I think he’s enjoying it more than me.”

You’re enjoying yourself more than you’d like to admit, too. You aren’t sure what urged Taehyung or his wealthy, CEO father to pour their time and effort into a run down museum, but you sure are glad they did. It’s like walking through a ghost town, dust coating the walls and old exhibits. Only some of the lights work and there’s renovation supplies littering the floors. You and Taehyung stick to each other’s sides in the poorly lit areas to avoid tripping and meeting a sorry end via paint roller. 

This certainly isn’t the first time you’ve been out late with Taehyung. When you were in high school and determined to rebel against your parents’ constricting ways, the two of you often found yourselves roaming the city and laughing much too loudly during a time when you should have been catching up on sleep or homework. 

Being with Taehyung was never too much of a risk. His parents always fell victim to your innocent smiles and mumbled apologies, while yours believed Taehyung could do no wrong. After they yelled and scolded and nearly tore their hair out, soon they were only shaking their heads and smiling at each other knowingly. It was hard to be mad for long when things were really working even better than planned. 

“What do you think it means?” Taehyung asks as the two of you stare at the large mural. It’s filled with wide strokes of color, abstract shapes littering the foreground with seemingly no pattern or reason. You really can’t even see the whole thing, when Taehyung turned on the lights for this room, only two or three managed to flicker on. 

You tap your chin, deep in thought. “Well, the red is clearly...” You tilt your head. “It’s clearly having a battle with the yellow. They represent good and evil. And the purple in the back is hope.” Taehyung tilts his head in the same direction as yours, brows knit in concentration. 

“You really got all that from... that?” You snort. 

“Nah, I just bullshitted it. I have no idea what it means.” Taehyung giggles, shoving you in the side. You stumble, yelping dramatically and nearly crashing into a probably very expensive bust of some historical figure you wouldn’t recognize. 

“I was being serious, Y/N.” You laugh at his pouty expression, resisting the urge to poke him in the side in revenge. You don’t want to start a fight you know you can’t win. 

After trying to make sense of the abstract mural for a few moments, you move out of the art exhibits on to the historical section, looking at the old skeletons and fossils and relics from years and years ago. 

It’s fun trying to guess the names of the different dinosaur skeletons, cackling obnoxiously at all the ridiculous things you can combine with “—asaurus.” You take turns reading the puns scattered on the colorful signs throughout the exhibit, groaning at the bad ones and acknowledging the okay ones with a tiny chuckle. You laugh the hardest when Taehyung spots the fake alligators and climbs onto the display, insisting you take his picture so he can look cool. 

“Tae, you can clearly tell you’re inside!” He scoffs. 

“Just take the picture!” he insists. “Don’t I look like Steve Irwin?”

The photos all come out insanely blurry, your arms shaking too much as you try to hold in your giggles. 

When you were first told of the arrangement at age sixteen, you cried. You sobbed and you wailed and you screamed and you locked yourself in your room in protest for an entire day. Your parents couldn’t understand it. You loved Taehyung. More than your own family. More than anything else. They loved him too. He was the son of a close friend and a union would benefit business, certainly. 

When you eventually came out of your bedroom, you refused to talk about it. You only mumbled that you were sorry and your parents knew better than to ask questions and so, that was the end of it. 

“Taehyung!” you shout, grabbing his wrist and dragging him across the antiques exhibit. You’d both already tried (and failed) at using the dusty typewriter and moved on to playfully arguing about who should pose with the guillotine when your eyes locked onto an item across the room. 

“What is it?” he laughed, stumbling after you, all smiles. 

“It’s a phonograph,” you explain. It appears in near-perfect condition despite the circumstances, the brass horn shiny and golden like it’d been made yesterday. “You can play records on it.” 

He nods in understanding. “We should try it.” The idea is tempting, but your hopes for it working are fairly low. “There’s already a record on it, just try to get it to play.”

You lean forward, fingers mentally crossed as you fiddling with the needle and try winding the crank. The gears squeak terribly inside the main compartment, making you cringe. But you keep winding it, stepping back and squeezing your eyes tight in anticipation. 

When you’re met with silence instead of music, you sigh in defeat. “Well, I guess that’s alright, it’s pretty old anyway, let’s—”

Suddenly, the machine fizzles to life, record slowly turning on the turntable and a jazzy tune carries through the air. Taehyung cheers, clapping on the shoulder. 

“You did it!” Your smile quickly stretches into your cheeks, exhaustion long forgotten as you relax in the nice sound, soft piano and pleasant singing filling your ears. 

You begin subconsciously swaying to song, fingers drumming to the beat absentmindedly on your thighs. Taehyung seems to know the song, quietly singing a few lyrics every one and a while. 

“Let’s dance,” he says suddenly. Your stomach tightens. 

“Let’s not,” you reply quickly, arms hugging your sides. You stare ahead, trying to focus on the song rather than the person beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him lean slightly closer, lolling his head to the side. 

“Why not?” 

You sigh. You don’t really have an answer. 

Your hand finds his, fingers interlocking as you let Taehyung guide you out into a relatively clearly spot, tennis-shoe clad feet shuffling lightly to the music. You’ve danced with him in other settings, with many more eyes watching. You’re normally dressed perfectly, not a hair out of place and a thick layer of makeup coating your eyes and cheeks. 

“Remember that time your mom made us take dance lessons when we were twelve?” Taehyung asks, a glint in his eye. 

You scoff. “I remember the part where you gave me laxatives right before the first lesson, yeah.” Taehyung can barely keep his grip on you, moving his other hand to your waist in an attempt to steady himself as his shoulders shake with laughter. 

“I really thought it was regular tea, I promise.”

“Sure you did.”

“I did! I thought we were being all fancy like our parents and drinking fancy tea like fancy rich people.”

“Then why didn’t you drink the laxative tea, huh?”

“I don’t like tea. I just put milk in my teacup and hoped you wouldn’t notice.” You snort, hands settled all to comfortably on his shoulders as the smooth voice croons and echoes off of the walls. 

It’s intimate. There’s nowhere else to look but his eyes as he places a hand on your waist, pulling you closer with a soft smile. The room feels warmer, his breath barely skimming across your face at the close proximity. 

It forces you to think about the things you’d much rather keep inside. 

This should be nice. It should be normal and romantic and sweet, to be slow-dancing with your fiancée. Your smile should be light and endeared and love-struck, not forced and fake. 

There’s a heavy pang in your heart as you remember. Remember how much love him. How much you care. How much you want to hold him close, press your lips on his without a single bit of hesitance. 

But you can’t do those things, knowing the things you do. To Taehyung, this marriage is a convenience. It’s a way to please his parents and strengthen his business connections and do it all with his best friend. He’s always been perfectly content with the arrangement, perfectly content to marry for everything but love. 

And how are you supposed to feel, wanting to marry him for the very thing he doesn’t feel for you?

He’s all you’ve ever wanted. You would have left this life a long time ago, but it would mean sacrificing him. You’re too selfish to do that. You want him all to yourself, every part that you can get. 

You’ve seen every side of him, the weird and the sad and sweet. You want it all. But you’ll never have it. 

You wish it were real. That this were a romantic night away, that you’d wake up in the morning all tangled in his arms. It’s this intimacy that you crave but can never enjoy, not when you know it’s all fake.

And he knows you too. Knows something is up when that little knot between your brows forms and your eyes grow just a little glassy.

“What’s wrong?” You quickly straighten your spine, blinking away any tears pricking at your eyes. 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” But Taehyung knows. He leans forward slightly, dark eyes piercing through your very soul. You gulp as you feel his body heat on your own skin, releasing your hands from his shoulders in your panic. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you breathe. Your gaze falls as you step back, the music tapering off as the phonograph finally gives out and the moment is fully broken.

But instead of letting you slip away, his grip tightens, look growing desperate.

“Wait! Just a second.” You can see him itch to run his hand through his hair, but his arms don’t leave you. “You’ve been acting so weird lately. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You furiously shake your head. 

“No, that’s not it. I just—” You stop yourself before too many words spill out and you say something you can’t take back.

When you don’t elaborate, Taehyung’s face falls further. “Seriously, what is it? Am I really making you that upset?”

“No, I—”

“Is it because I dragged you out so late? I’m sorry, it’d just been so long since I saw you and I missed you—”

“Just shut up!” you cry, shoving him off of you for good. A few tears wet your cheeks and your face heats with embarrassment. “It’s because you pull this kind of stupid, romantic shit that makes me love you even more than I already do but I know you don’t see us that way.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, but you suppose since it’s all on the table, you’ll keep going. “I know this is all just fun and games and easy to you but it fucking hurts, Taehyung. You can’t lead people on like this. You can’t do this shit and expect me not to feel something for you.”

The phonograph crackles in the corner of the room, unable to play pretty tunes or sweet songs anymore. It sounds restless and broken and unpleasant to hear. 

“Maybe I wanted you to feel something for me.” You whip your head up, cheeks still hot from mortification and anger. 

“What?”

“You heard me. I wanted you to love me. Because I love you.” 

When you kiss him, it’s like a breath of fresh air. It’s hungry and rushed as your fingers gently tug on his hair and his palm is splayed on the small of your back, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible. 

At some point, you end up pressed against the wall, euphoric as he trails pecks down your jaw and neck incessantly, like he’s trying to make up for every time he wished he’d kissed you. You whine when he parts his lips, tugging on his hair as he fastens your body against him. He tastes like the peppermint chapstick he always keeps in his pocket. The habit had ruined a pair of his dress pants before when it melted all in the pocket, but he’s always been too stubborn about chapped lips to learn his lesson and carry it elsewhere. You can smell his shampoo and the faint scent of his cologne. Everything that fills your senses is him and only him. 

You feel a few tears sting at the corner of your eyes but you ignore them, gasping for breath between long kisses, a few giggles escaping you when you see you’re not the only one lightheaded. 

After what feels both like hours and seconds, Taehyung pulls away, his lips swollen and pink, but stretched into that adorable grin that hasn’t changed since you were kids. 

“Sorry I didn’t say something earlier,” he murmurs. “I never could find the right words to say it and I knew it’d make everything awkward if you didn’t feel the same way.” You laugh mirthlessly, cupping his face gently with your hands. 

“Same here.” You sigh. “Guess we’re both idiots.”

“Guess so.” 

It's a little frightening to stare at him like this. You’ve always held your guard tightly whenever you felt even close to your feelings being compromised, but that weight you’d carried for so long as suddenly detached itself from your shoulders, leaving you free floating. Yes, it’s like floating untethered through the air or being caught in the ocean with your life jacket. It’s scary and daunting and unknown. But it’s nice to know that you’ll have Taehyung’s hand tightly holding yours the whole way. 

“Since I confessed first, I think you should pose for a picture with the guillotine.” Taehyung’s intent stare breaks, his face crinkling in disgust. 

“But I kissed you first.”

“Only because I said I loved you.”

“If you really loved me, you’d pose with the guillotine and I could pose like I’m the executioner.” Now it’s your turn to be disgusted. 

“That’s so fucking morbid, Kim Taehyung.” You smack his arm, but he keeps you against the wall, thigh between your legs as he leans in again. 

“Only for you,” he murmurs, planting his lips on yours again. 

The scoff about to leave your mouth is caught in your throat as you’re enveloped in his embrace, kissing each other dizzy until you’re certain the sun must be rising soon. 

You wouldn’t mind too much if it did, though. 

As Taehyung keeps trying to convince you to take stupid photos and explain abstract art to him, you aren’t sure how much a blessing he is. All you really know is that he’s your guarantee, your anchor in this unforgiving world. You aren’t sure where he’ll take you next, what random time he’ll decide is the best for your future adventures. You can’t know what the rest of your life holds, only that he’ll be next to you as long as he can. 

And that’s enough for now.

[dindjarindiaries]

Fall

summary: You spend the fall season falling in love with Frankie.

series parts: summer, fall, winter

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales x f!reader

warnings: loads of fluff, mentions of death if you squint

rating: R

word count: 6.165k

masterlist

The day you meet Frankie Morales, you fall for him—literally.

It happens at the local orchard when you’re picking apples like you always do when the season comes around. You usually stop by a few times to collect a large share of apples, cooking them into any recipes you can—apple pie, apple crisp, apple cake, literally anything. It’s one of your favorite parts of the fall, along with the changing colors of the leaves and the cool breeze that forces you to wear just one more layer than you’re used to after the summertime.

This time, however, you’re climbing one of the wooden ladders to reach the good apples near the top of a tree when its leg falls into a dip in the ground, causing it to sway and you to go with it. You let out a gasp and try to grip onto something, but it’s all out of your reach. You brace yourself for an embarrassing moment when you hit the ground and the other onlookers have to stare at you uncomfortably, but instead, you’re secured by a gentle grip on your waist. When you turn your head to observe your savior, you almost want to fall again.

Warm, charcoal eyes peek out from under a baseball cap, wide and expressive enough to reveal his concern for your well-being yet his amusement at what could’ve happened. There’s a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips, the hint of a dimple appearing within his scruff. “I guess that’s why they call the season ‘fall,’ huh?” the man jokes, his voice slightly raspy as he chuckles softly. He doesn’t release his hold on you until you’re safe on the ground again, tipping his cap and then stuffing his hands into his pockets afterwards. “You alright?” His brow is knitted in concern still.

You laugh and nod, cheeks growing hot as you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, just wasn’t expecting that,” you admit. You then raise an eyebrow at him. “Not sure I’ve recovered from that dad joke of yours, though.”

The man laughs heartily, the sound of it warming your chest as you laugh with him. “That’s why my buddies call me the dad friend, I guess.”

You smile at him. “Well, what do I get to call you?”

He smiles wider, reaching out one of his hands for you to shake. “Frankie—Frankie Morales.”

You introduce yourself as you shake his hand, relishing in how warm it feels as it grips yours securely yet gently in his. He pulls away and you oddly find yourself missing the touch, watching as it retreats back into the pocket of his jeans. You further observe the green flannel he’s got on with the sleeves pushed past his elbows and the boots on his feet, admiring the way he dresses for the season. “Thanks for saving my ass, Frankie.”

Frankie’s eyes widen a bit at you. “Of course. I wouldn’t trust those little wooden shits for my life, and I’ve had to do a lot of crazy things.”

You raise an eyebrow yet again in curiosity. “A lot of crazy things, huh? Well, now I’ve got to hear about them.”

Another smile appears on Frankie’s lips as he gestures towards the basket hanging from your arm. “Mind if I join you, then?”

You happily accept, and for the rest of your time at the orchard, you walk along with Frankie and get to know him better. You learn that most of the “crazy things” he’d mentioned were due to his time spent in the Delta Force along with the aforementioned buddies he’d met while serving. He tells you a few brief stories of things that went down, either on the job or with his friends. You confess that you’ve never been the perfectly innocent type, either, recounting some of your wild stories that have Frankie admitting he feels a little better about things he’s either done or had to witness.

You’re actually saddened by the time you wrap up your apple-picking, and you can tell Frankie feels the same way. He carries your bags to your car for you, saying that he knows you’re more than capable of taking them yourself but insisting that it’s how he was raised and that he really doesn’t mind. You exchange numbers and invite him over to your apartment later in the week to enjoy something baked with these apples. Frankie eagerly accepts and assures you that he’ll keep in touch. He stays true to his word, shooting you a text as soon as he gets home.

For the next few days, you talk nonstop, even going to the point where you’re texting more at your work desk than you probably should. When the night of Frankie’s visit comes, you’ve completely decked out your apartment, getting your best dish sets clean as you finish setting up the white fairy lights around your cabinets. The apple crisp you’ve decided to bake is already in the oven and making the apartment smell of cinnamon and nutmeg when you hear Frankie buzz up. You call him in and open the door when he arrives, unable to keep yourself from smiling as you let him in. He’s wearing that same baseball hat and you wonder if it’s a signature part of his look. There’s dark hair that curls out from under it and it reminds you of the cinnamon you’ve sprinkled on the dessert.

“Whatever you’re making smells heavenly,” Frankie confesses when he seats himself at your kitchen island.

You thank him as you stand across from him, leaning your elbows against the counter and meeting his warm and easygoing gaze. “It’s my mom’s famous apple crisp.”

Frankie’s eyes brighten at that. “Pardon my French, but I fuckin’ love apple crisp.”

You laugh a bit. “That’s good, then, because there’s a lot of it.”

“That’s incredible. You’re incredible. I can’t remember the last time I got to have a homemade dessert like this.”

You frown a bit upon hearing that. “Really?”

Frankie shrugs nonchalantly. “I mean, my parents don’t live in the area, and none of the guys are really star bakers, so…”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you don’t bake? At all?” When Frankie shakes his head, you gasp dramatically. “Oh, there’s so many simple recipes you could make—like this!”

Frankie smiles at your enthusiasm. “I guess you’ll just have to show me a few of them sometime.”

You return his smile. “I guess so.” You’re just about lost in his eyes when the timer on your oven goes off, making you jump as your hand flies up to press against your chest. You let out an embarrassed giggle as you head over to the oven, slipping on your mit and pulling out the dessert. “Jesus, that scared me.”

“Sorry,” Frankie apologizes with a chuckle. “I can be a little… distracting.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” There’s a hint of amusement in your voice as you look at Frankie over your shoulder. He’s observing your movements with such warmth and admiration that you’re sure the oven-heated pan wouldn’t feel as warm as your chest does now. You hear a shuffle of footsteps and look again to see Frankie walking over to where you’ve set the pan down onto the counter, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with you as he observes your creation.

“So, what’d you do to make this masterpiece?” Frankie questions, his tone full of honest curiosity as his gaze shifts from the dessert to you.

“Real simple,” you assure him, your hand floating over the dessert as you point out the different ingredients. “Butter, brown sugar, flour, old-fashioned oats, cinnamon, and nutmeg, all mixed together in a bowl. You crumble that topping over some sliced apples and voila!” You gesture to the pan, making Frankie chuckle with a nod of understanding. “If you really wanna be fancy and add some extra flavor, you can also soak the apple slices in cinnamon and nutmeg before adding the topping.”

Frankie raises a curious eyebrow as he nods. “Wow. That does seem pretty simple.”

You reach for the plates you’d already set out and start to dish out the servings. “Yeah—it’s quick and easy, and I’m sure your friends would go wild for it.”

Frankie scoffs. “Oh, yeah, they’d eat anything.” You laugh as Frankie gestures towards the dishes. “How can I help you?”

“There’s no need, Frankie,” you assure him as you shake your head.

“Please,” Frankie insists, his dark eyes pleading for you to let him do something.

You sigh yet smile at his sheer kindness, gesturing towards your fridge and freezer. “If you want to top it with some vanilla ice cream, I’ve got some in the freezer.”

“Perfect.” Frankie sets off in that direction without hesitation, reaching inside and pulling out the carton of ice cream for you. He sets it down on the counter next to the pan, gesturing to your small drawers to wordlessly question where he can find the scooper. You point to one just below where he’s placed the carton, and he retrieves it easily as he takes the plates from you and adds a generous scoop onto each one. You set forks on each plate, smiling in satisfaction once you’ve finished. You both navigate your ways back to the counter, you continuing to stand across from Frankie as you dig in with caution thanks to its temperature. When Frankie gets his first bite in, he closes his eyes for a moment, as if absorbing the taste while the hand not holding his fork dances in the air. “Wow.” Frankie reopens his eyes and you laugh at how much they’re sparkling. “This is… I don’t even know how to describe it other than magical.”

Your cheeks heat up as you laugh again. “Oh please,” you demur, picking at your next scoop as you try to bite back your smile. “It’s not me, just the apples.” Your gaze lifts back up to him as you finally let your smile give way. “Your company while picking probably made them taste a lot sweeter.”

It’s Frankie’s turn to blush at that, and he tries to hide it by taking another bite. You watch his hand readjust the cap on his head. “Almost as sweet as you.” Frankie smiles in victory when he notices your shy demeanor in response. After a few moments of comfortable silence while you eat, Frankie clears his throat, pushing his plate away a bit once he finishes. “Listen,” he begins, his voice soft. “I really liked this dessert and I really like you.” His gaze looks into yours hopefully. “Can I take you on a proper date soon?”

You smile warmly as you nod in response. “I’d love that, Frankie.” You take his plate for him and earn a genuine thank-you, carrying the plates to the sink and washing them off. Not surprisingly, you hear Frankie’s footsteps soon following after you, and he picks up your drying rag to dry the dishes after you clean them. “Though… I am a little offended that you wouldn’t consider this a ‘proper date.’” Your tone makes it clear that you’re kidding, but a look of fear still crosses over Frankie’s features as he looks down at you.

“No! I just—you know, I’d like to treat you. To something really nice. Not that this isn’t really nice, but I—.”

“Frankie, it’s alright,” you cut him off with a laugh, handing him the last dish to be dried as you look up at him with a bright smile. “I was joking. I know what you meant. And this has been very nice.” A look of slight embarrassment now covers Frankie’s face, and you release a chuckle as you reach up to leave a quick kiss on his cheek. It flushes red not long after, and you bite back a smile at his adorably shy behavior.

Frankie stays for another hour or so as you make easy conversation, planning for him to come pick you up this weekend to take you on his “proper date” to the local pumpkin patch. It’s an adorable selection and you find yourself gleeful at the thought of him embracing the season so openly. You’ve always loved the season and to see Frankie share that same passion for it with you makes you more joyful than you could’ve thought. You anticipate the date for the rest of the week—and, judging by the frequent and enthusiastic texts you share with Frankie, so does he. You practically skip out the door when Frankie finally texts you he’s arrived, your oversized sweater bouncing as you make your way to his truck. He gets out to open the door for you and you shake your head at his never-ending, gentleman-like behavior.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” you joke once Frankie gets back into his side of the truck. He chuckles as he starts down the road.

“I just can’t help treating a woman like you with the utmost respect,” Frankie retorts, his honesty evident in his tone. “Well, and any woman. But you especially.”

You smile as you never look away from him. “I see you drank your respect women juice this morning.”

Frankie laughs, giving you a quick look full of amusement and admiration. “Every day. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

You make more playful banter and fun conversation as you soon arrive at the pumpkin patch. Frankie helps you down from the truck and leads you to the wooden box that serves as an entry point, paying for both your fees no matter how many times you try to force the cash into his hands. Once your hands are stamped and you’re inside, you stay close alongside him, your arm brushing against his with every movement. You hope he gets the hint and he does, entwining his hand with yours in a way that makes your entire body go warm.

“So, what do you wanna do first?” Frankie asks, looking down at you with a soft smile.

You shrug and look around. “I’ll do anything,” you confess. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

Frankie chuckles. “Everything.”

You shake your head at him. “C’mon, Frankie. There’s gotta be something you like the most out of it all.”

It’s Frankie’s turn to shrug as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “I swear, I love everything.”

You laugh. “Alright. Then I’m making the executive decision to get cider donuts.”

Frankie laughs with you. “I support that.”

After having to fight Frankie to pay once again—and failing—and finding a seat at one of the wooden picnic benches, you both enjoy your donuts as you keep your hands folded together underneath the table. You sit in comfortable silence while you eat, looking out and watching the parents who try to keep their kids under control and the teenagers who try to pretend they’re not on a date but obviously are. You chuckle as you finish and point out a nearby duo who’s standing awkwardly far apart to Frankie. “How much do you wanna bet those two are gonna end up dating by the end of the night?”

Frankie raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know, they look pretty awkward. But I feel like I know better than to try to make a bet with you. You’re too smart.” Your cheeks grow warm, especially as Frankie looks over at you and furrows his brow. He lifts his free hand but hesitates. “You have, uh—” he gestures to your mouth before adding, “—do you mind if I…?” He reaches his free hand further again, and you nod once as he brushes his thumb along the corner of your mouth, no doubt wiping away a few pieces of sugar that lingered there. Your face gets even hotter, now, your gaze watching his own observe you with such admiration that you can practically feel your heart flying out of your chest. He lets his thumb fall to your chin as he looks all over your face, a smile growing on his lips. “You’re really beautiful, you know.”

Your gaze falls to your entwined hands as you try to bite back a smile. “Thank you,” you reply honestly, only looking back up once his hand leaves your face. You see his dark eyes glittering in a way that makes your smile impossible to hide any longer. “You should know that the day we met, I almost fell again when I saw you.”

Frankie blushes and shakes his head at you. “Oh, please.”

“I’m serious!” You laugh as you and Frankie stand up from the bench, throwing out your garbage and walking leisurely through the patch hand-in-hand. “If I had, it would’ve been a much better cause than that hunk of wood.”

“That’s true,” Frankie agrees, a playful smile on his lips. “But without that ‘hunk of wood,’ we wouldn’t have met.”

“Fair point.” You give his hand a squeeze as you smile to yourself. “Guess I’m gonna have to thank that thing one day.” You stop when you realize you’re a few paces away from the corn maze, and you look up at Frankie excitedly as you gesture to it. “Wanna go through the maze?”

Frankie watches your excitement with pure admiration as he nods. “Let’s go for it.”

He walks with you inside the entrance, his hand never leaving yours as you walk around together. Turns out that he’s quite the guide as you go around, and you figure that it probably has something to do with his military training. You’re sure that you’re bound to get out fast, but after ten more minutes of turning and walking, you realize you’re further in and not even that close to the exit. You can’t help giggling as you stand on your tiptoes in a lame attempt to look over the corn. “I think we’re lost, Frankie.”

Frankie shrugs nonchalantly. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to get us out.”

You scoff, turning to give him an incredulous look that makes him laugh. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d lead me into a cornfield to murder me on our first date. I thought we’d at least make it to the second one before that happened.”

Frankie laughs harder and shakes his head. “I won’t hurt you,” he assures you, giving your hand a squeeze. “It’s just… a little more private out here.”

You raise an eyebrow, ready to question him as to why he wants privacy when you hear a sudden rustling in some of the nearby stalks. You nearly jump into Frankie’s arms, bracing your free hand against his chest as you watch the stalks shake—convinced that someone’s about to jump out of them. Your moment of panic subsides when a squirrel trots out from the stalks, moving quickly across to the group of stalks that are facing your back. You let out a sigh of relief as you laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m just easy to scare.”

“That’s fine. I’m quick to protect.” You look up at Frankie upon hearing his sweet words, watching as his dark gaze observes you affectionately from under his hat. His gaze falls to your lips for a quick moment, returning to your eyes soon after. Your fingers drum against his chest as you raise an eyebrow up at him.

“So, about that privacy…” you trail off as you bite back a smile, looking to his lips as he’d done to you before.

You watch Frankie smile wide enough to reveal his dimple before his free hand cups your cheek, easing his face closer to yours until his lips touch yours. The kiss is gentle and sweet, just like the Frankie you’ve come to know, and you can still taste the faint remnants of apple cider and cinnamon and sugar on his mouth as it moves softly with your own. Frankie pulls away for a moment but stays close, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he observes your gaze closely. When he sees it glowing just as much as his own, he goes in for another, this time letting it deepen as he gently eases your body against his. You part your lips to let him in more, craving the sweet taste of him. Your fingers pick lightly at the curls peeking out from under his hat, wishing they could thread fully through his hair but knowing that time will come eventually. Your stomach is fluttering practically as much as the tops of the corn stalks in the wind when you pull away, your smiles wide and full of nothing but pure joy and affection for each other.

“It was a good choice to get lost,” you say in a hushed voice, running one of your hands along the scruff on his jaw. Frankie chuckles softly at you. “But I think we should get out before we get reported like two horny teenagers.”

Frankie laughs harder at that, nodding to agree as he lets you separate yourself from him. He holds tight to your hand again, and you let your free arm wrap around his as he leads you out of the maze for good this time. You finish the evening at the patch by selecting two pumpkins that you can each carve on a different night, and Frankie carries them to the truck for you as he helps you up. He takes you home and makes sure to walk you up and give you a goodnight kiss along with a promise to come the next evening to carve the pumpkins.

He, of course, follows up on that promise, and your time spent together becomes more and more frequent as the season progresses. Soon, you’re seeing him almost every evening, whether it’s him coming over to your place, you going to his, or him taking you somewhere for dinner or just to look out at the beautiful, changing nature. The more you get to know Frankie, the sweeter you find him to be, fully learning just how selfless he is and how eager he is to lavish you with affection. If you show any evidence of you being cold, he’ll either wrap his arm around you or give you his jacket right away. If you seem tired, he’ll offer his shoulder for you to rest upon. If you’re upset, he’ll let you talk for hours, even offering to bake you something you’ve taught him to make. Frankie’s mastered your apple crisp recipe to become even better than yours, and you can’t complain about it. He’ll never admit it, but you know it’s true.

One of your favorite nights is when Frankie takes you on a haunted hayride. You’re not a huge fan of them, but remembering his words about protecting you, you decide it’ll be fine and he won’t let anything happen to you. Thankfully, this isn’t the type of haunted hayride where they can reach out and grab you, so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s the jump scares that get you most of the time, and while you hold Frankie’s hand and arm the whole time, you often find yourself hiding your face in his shoulder while he assures you he’s got you and you’re okay. It’s usually uttered between laughs and you don’t mind—especially when Frankie accidentally gets scared so bad by one masked man who jumps out of a tree that he yelps like a surprised child. You laugh so hard your stomach hurts, and Frankie just shakes his head as he chuckles along with you. By the end of the night, you’re still buzzing with anticipation and fearing a random thing jumping out at you, so Frankie agrees to stay the night with you at your apartment just so you can feel secure enough in his arms to sleep.

When Halloween rolls around, Frankie tells you that you’ve been invited to go with him to a party hosted by his best friends. You’ve heard so much about them and this will be your first time meeting them. Thankfully, Frankie tells you it’s not a costume party, so you don’t have to worry about being dressed up as someone else when you meet them. You find yourself feeling a bit nervous as you get ready for the occasion, though, wanting to impress the guys who Frankie has repeatedly told you are like family to him. You dress as nice as you can without looking as if you’re going overboard, wrapping up your light application of makeup as soon as you get the text that Frankie’s arrived. You meet him outside to see him already leaning against the truck with his arms crossed over his chest, and they unfold slowly as he stands up straight to meet you. Frankie’s hands wrap around your waist as his widened gaze observes you fondly.

“You look gorgeous,” Frankie tells you, his voice soft as he places a kiss in greeting against your lips. “I mean, you always do, but tonight you look especially incredible.” You thank him quietly, giving him another kiss before pulling away to let him open the door for you. You hop inside and wrap your hand in his as soon as he joins you again, your entwined hands resting on your thigh as he starts off towards Santiago’s house. Frankie takes a quick look over at you, long enough for you to clearly see the way he’s reading you so easily—as always. “You nervous?”

You shrug, trying to play it off but knowing better thanks to Frankie’s keen way of knowing you. “A little,” you confess with a light sigh. “I just—I know how much they mean to you and I want them to approve of me.”

“Approve of you?” Frankie scoffs lightly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Baby, they already adore you. When they actually see you in person, they’ll just go crazier over you.” He gives you another look of reassurance. “And even if, in some weird alternate universe, they didn’t ‘approve’ of you, I wouldn’t give a shit.”

You can’t help smiling at that, and you squeeze his hand in thanks. You remain in comfortable silence for the rest of the drive, taking a deep breath once Frankie pulls into the driveway. He carries the drinks he’s contributing in one hand and keeps your hand tight in his with the other, not even bothering to knock on the door as he pushes your way inside. Almost as soon as you walk in the house, you’re met with cheers of delight and excitement as the guys come up one-by-one. They greet Frankie first and then you, and by the time you’ve sifted through all four of them, you already feel much more at ease. Santiago even invites you into the kitchen with him, and Frankie urges you to go on as you follow him away from the rest of the guys.

“You know, you’re pretty much a legend around here already,” Santiago tells you, a smile tugging at his lips as he invites you to sit at his counter while he finishes cooking up dinner. You laugh and shake your head, watching as he works skillfully. “I just thought I’d get you in here because, well, as I’m sure Frankie’s already warned you, the guys can be pretty… overbearing at first.”

“Yeah, I did get that warning,” you reply, chuckling more as you sip at a glass of water Santiago had offered you before. “But they all seem very sweet, too.”

“And fucking loud.” Santiago’s words are followed by a string of random exclamations from the dining room where the guys are gathered, and he looks at you with a raised brow that practically says See what I mean?

You snicker. “I’m surprised—Frankie’s pretty quiet himself.”

Santiago hums in agreement. “He keeps us all in check. That’s why he’s the dad friend.”

“Oh, right. He’s told me all about that.”

“Really?”

You nod, watching as Santiago views you with an amused eye. “It was one of the first things he told me.”

Santiago stops what he’s doing to look up at you again. “Really?”

You nod again, this time with a light laugh. “I mean, his first words to me were a total dad joke, so…”

Santiago laughs, giving his head a shake as he looks back to what he’s cooking. “Bless your heart for letting him continue, then.”

You smile as you reflect on the moment when it all began. “I couldn’t resist. It was actually really charming to me.”

Santiago lets out a dramatic aww, causing you to giggle and shake your head as you take another sip of your water. As Santiago starts to finish up the meal, you move to rise from your seat, wanting to help him.

“What can I do to help?” you ask.

Almost immediately, you’re shot down as Santiago shakes his head and gestures for you to sit back down. “I really appreciate it, but don’t worry, you’re alright. I never make my guests work. Only those little shits.” He gestures with the utensil in his hand towards the boisterous dining room that’s hidden by a wall. You chuckle and nod in understanding, letting yourself relax back into your seat as he continues to work. “Actually, your boyfriend should be coming to ask me for help any minute now.”

As if on cue, Frankie pops out from around the corner of the wall, his hand resting on it as he looks to his friend with a lifted brow. “Need some help, Pope?” Santiago nods and gestures towards a platter that’s already been put together on the countertop you’re sitting at. Frankie smiles warmly at you as he walks over, pausing before picking up the platter to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Having fun so far, babe?” You nod, and Frankie jerks his head in Santiago’s direction. “He’s not annoying you too much yet, is he?”

“Oh, fuck you, Fish,” Santiago scoffs, causing Frankie to laugh as he starts to pick up the platter. “She’s great company.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Frankie agrees, throwing you a sly wink before he heads off to the dining room. You shake your head and follow, taking your seat beside Frankie as the dinner commences.

Frankie keeps a hand on your thigh to settle you as the guys begin to pester you with questions, but you don’t mind. You entertain them well and they seem to really enjoy your company, which you know brings a wide smile to Frankie’s face as he listens in. By the end of the night, you’re sharing drinks and laughing so hard you have to double over a few times, already being asked when Frankie will bring you by again. You promise them that there’s plenty of time left, and when Frankie announces that he’s taking you home, they all take the time to say a warm goodbye along with a reinforced statement to Frankie that you better be in for the long run. You already feel like a part of their little family as you leave, and Frankie shares his joy with you over this on the drive back.

“I’ve never seen them so excited over one of our girlfriends before,” Frankie confesses excitedly, his hand giving yours a squeeze. “I mean, I knew they were gonna love you, but they’ve practically adopted you into the family already.”

You smile warmly as you return his squeeze. “I feel honored. They’re great, Frankie, really. I can see why you love them so much.”

Frankie looks at you jokingly, a playful smile on his lips. “Oh boy, should I be worried, babe? Am I gonna have to compete?”

You laugh heartily. “No, Frankie, you won’t. They’re all great, but—” you pause as you lean over to kiss his cheek, “—you’ll win me over time and time again.”

Frankie blushes a bit as he smiles wider, his dimple popping out and making your heart soar as you finish the drive to your apartment.

When the season starts coming to a close, Frankie takes you out for a weekend camping trip, wanting to use as much of the lasting relatively-warm weather as he can. You hike around the scenery during the day and sit by the fire at night. Frankie always makes sure you have as many layers as you need to stay warm, and during those cold nights, he always keeps an arm around your shoulders and—inside your tent—he holds you as close to him as possible. It’s the last night now, and you’ve been sitting at the fire reflecting on your pasts and how they’ve led you to this very moment, to each other.

“Fall was always my favorite season,” you tell Frankie, head leaning against his shoulder as he keeps an arm around you.

“Really?” Frankie remarks, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your shoulder as you nod at him. “I’ve always been more of a summer guy.”

You look up at him with a small smile. “I can see that.”

Frankie laughs, kissing your head before he continues. “The fall has always been a favorite of mine, though. I guess I just never got to experience it the right way with someone I loved—until now.”

Your heart nearly flies out of your chest at his words, and you look back up at Frankie again to meet his warm and affectionate gaze. It practically melts you into a puddle as your jaw drops at him. “Is that your way of telling me you’re in love with me, Frankie?”

Frankie shrugs, his thumb now running down the length of your arm as he searches your eyes almost anxiously. You smile and reach a hand up to grab one of his cheeks, pulling his face to yours in a slow yet passionate kiss. You try to show him all the things you want to say in the kiss, proving to him that you feel the same way as your mouth moves with his in such a sweet and familiar manner. When you pull away, your gaze never leaves his as you brush your nose against his.

“I love you, too.”

Frankie smiles wide and releases a soft chuckle, placing another quick kiss upon your lips as he stays close. “I kinda figured.” You laugh as his free hand runs over the side of your face. His dark eyes sparkle with a new light, now, half-mischievous and half-desiring. He waits a few beats before he voices his thoughts. “Listen, remember when I told you about all the crazy things I had to do and would rather do than climb a flimsy wooden ladder?” You giggle at him and nod. “Well, how would you feel about adding to that crazy list?”

You raise your brow at him. “Depends. What do I have to do?”

Frankie breaks his gaze with you briefly to look up at the dark sky, and you follow to see a clearing in the surrounding trees that puts the autumn stars on full display. He then meets your eyes again with his usual warmth. “How would you feel about making love with me under these stars tonight?”

You try to bite back a smile at his proposition, lips brushing over his as you give your answer. “I think the only crazy thing about that is you thinking there would be a possibility of me saying no.”

Frankie chuckles softly as he fully places his mouth against yours, and in the sweetest and most passionate of ways, you add an item to his list of crazy things that night, but not without Frankie making sure you’re tucked in the warmth of his body and at least three layers of blankets when you finally drift off to sleep.

You realize the fall’s truly coming to a close the day you and Frankie start moving into your new apartment together. Frankie’s just reached for the last box in his truck when you realize snow’s starting to fall from the sky, and you look at him in disbelief. “The fall’s really over already, huh?” you ask him, watching as he smiles at you from behind the box he’s carrying.

Frankie nods, stopping beside you to plant a kiss on your forehead. “The winter’s here,” he reinforces your statement. “Good thing you’ll have me here to keep you warm. I know you’ll miss the fall, though.”

You shrug and smile up at him. “It won’t really be over when I’m falling for you basically everyday.”

Frankie rolls his eyes playfully as he chuckles. “Who’s the one with the dad jokes, now?”

You laugh and reach up to kiss him softly. “I learned from the best.”

When you look into Frankie’s dark and loving gaze, you realize that this is the exact moment where you’re finally feeling grateful for almost falling off that wooden ladder—and right into Frankie’s arms.

series parts: summer, fall, winter

permanent tag list: @mikahid @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann @nettyklecan @javier-djarin

[nosunwithoutshadow]

finally posting for day 1 of darklina week! (I have no concept of time)

Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Words: 2k Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Fluff and Angst, Character Study, Loneliness, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels

Summary: It’s the worst kind of cliche, but Aleksander doesn’t realize what he’s missing until it’s gone.

also on ao3

Aleksander misses it. The light. 

He didn’t realize it at first, in those lost few months after he tore the world apart to protect his people. Time stretched oddly then, as he adjusted to his new reality. He felt off balance, constantly teetering on the edge of falling into the abyss he created. The merzost coiled in his soul, making a home in his bones, craving more with each breath. He’d known the magic required a sacrifice before he stepped in front of the dead king’s army, accepted it, but a martyr never knows what they will have to give up to their cause before it’s ripped from them. 

(cont. under the cut)

He only discovers what’s missing later. After emerging from the other side of the void into a new world, one he has shaped, will continue to shape. He gathers what self possession he has left and returns to the capital, presenting himself as a tame housecat for the throne to use at their pleasure, repentant for the misdeeds of his family and content to hunt mice for the reward of a warm hearth and occasional pat. He blunts his fangs, hides his claws, and bats at toys tossed his way for the crown’s amusement, a domesticated predator biding his time. He returns to the tatters of the sanctuary he had begun to build and teaches every Grisha he can save how to sharpen their own claws so when the world comes for them, as it inevitably will, they will be ready. 

And when he has time to think again, when the urge to plunge the entire palace into a darkness they cannot escape has lessened enough that his bones don’t ache with the need, he stands in the courtyard of the Little Palace and breathes. He hasn’t lived without burdens since the day in his long-ago childhood when he realized that he and everyone like him would never be safe. It’s different now though, rather than weighing on him, the darkness drags him down, anchoring him to the earth like it would swallow him at any moment. And when he spreads his arms, exhaling and letting his eyes slip closed for the briefest moment, he feels…

Nothing. 

The days in Ravka are rarely truly warm, but dressed in all black, he’s used to the sun slanting down and soaking into his kefta. He sees the sun overhead, the near cloudless sky, feels a cool breeze rustle the fur at his cuffs, but the warmth he expects to feel doesn’t reach his skin. It’s as if he’s no longer quite part of this world, truly the abomination they call him, shunned even by the sun’s light. 

The small part of him that’s still human wants to strip off his layers in the lost hope that if he can only bare himself to the sun, it’ll be different. As if there’s any way he could ever give enough of himself to buy back what he’s sacrificed. He tilts his face up to the sky and feels nothing but the chill of the afternoon against his cheeks. 

His heart, that traitorous organ, hesitates before resuming its regular beat. He draws a deep breath, collects himself, and continues on his walk. He’d hardly been unaware that there would be a cost to his actions. Out of all the possible consequences, this is far from something that can’t be borne. He will find other ways to keep warm. 

Years pass, nearly too many to count, and yet he numbers every one. The time is counted in the lives he could not save, the indignities thrust upon his Grisha he cannot protect them from. The walls of the Little Palace grow higher, blocking the outside world and its taunting sun. Its light only serves to remind him of what he still can’t do: he can’t control the fold, can’t use it as the weapon he needs to protect his people, can’t stop them from being slaughtered beyond his limited reach, can’t promise them the true security they deserve.

He wears his layers like armor and tries to forget the missing pieces of his soul. He keeps the fireplaces of the Little Palace well stocked to ward off the cold. He nearly forgets what it feels like to have sunlight play across his skin, warming him even through winter’s chill.

But then.

And then.

Oh.

He’s spent centuries planning, but he could never have planned for Alina. Even less for what she would do to him. He touches her, and walls built over hundreds of years fracture, their foundations no longer solid. He sees her power, and he remembers dreams he no longer has any right to. He feels her warmth, and he finds he might give up what’s left of his soul to stay close enough for her heat to burn. 

It’s another small sacrifice to let go of her after that first touch, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that she won’t go far. He’s found her now, and the blinding potential of what that means threatens every ounce of his hard-won restraint. He rediscovers parts of himself he thought long-dead, pushing through dirt and cobwebs like a dormant seed, reaching out towards her sun. 

He will keep her close, there’s no question of that. Losing part of himself was torture enough the first time; he doesn’t know how he could bear it again. He’s endured so much, but not this. And she’s so much more than his scattered missing pieces. She’s life to his emptiness, the rushing river to his steady mountain, the celestial light to his earth-bound darkness. 

If he’d known just how much she was, he’s not sure he would have wanted her, the him before he met her. No blessing as potent as her comes without danger. And she is dangerous, all fire and fury, telling him “no” and crashing headlong into centuries worth of careful plans. Even so, he’s no fool to cast aside such a treasure, if he even could. He’ll hide her in his fortress, its defenses built for this day, and hone her into the weapon she was meant to be. 

It has to be said, his plans usually proceed much more smoothly. 

People are the fatal flaw to any plan, Aleksander knows, and that has never been more true than with Alina. Every time he thinks he’s learned to understand her, she surprises him again. He wants to hate her for that, at first. Even then, he can’t bring himself to, not really. His only consolation is those moments when he’s certain that she feels it too. That he’s not alone in this maddening need. She fills the empty spaces inside of him to overflowing, and even then, it’s still not enough. He’s never thought himself greedy, merely wanting what he’s earned, but for her, he might be. 

Even when their goals finally align, when at last she accepts him as her ally rather than her enemy, it’s still barely enough. It’s consuming, this need, more dangerous than merzost and infinitely more seductive. He can almost forget the hunger clawing at his soul when he’s with her, the warmth of her bathing his skin, sinking deep. She’s so powerful it’s blinding, and yet so unbearably human. A mess of contradictions, his Alina, and he wants to take the time to explore all of them. 

In the early days they don’t have much time for exploration, as one age gives way to another. The first time they bed each other is fast and desperate, fueled by all the times they’ve been denied before. It can’t even properly be called bedding, since they don’t make it farther than the nearest table. They manage to fall into bed together by the third time around, and the sense of completion as he slides into her, their eyes locked on each other, is enough to make all the centuries it took to get there worth it. Anger still simmers between them, and he can’t be certain that she won’t try to kill him before morning, but for this, he might let her. 

In the aftermath, he foolishly thinks that this must be the pinnacle. He holds her to him, reveling in the heat of her body and how perfectly it fits against his. Her light calls to his shadows, even lying quietly together like this, their bodies and spirits tangling into a single whole. 

He doesn’t have the frame of reference then to imagine how anything could be better, but then time stretches before them, and the walls between them slowly crumble. They rebuild and their lives mesh into one another, weaving around each other until they become inseparable. She reminds him of things he’d left behind, and he shows her what could lie ahead. He finds his shadows reaching out to her without realizing, what should be an unforgivable loss of control, but he can’t deny them their other half. He doesn't ask if she feels it too, conditioned by centuries to avoid any hint of weakness.

And he knows that there's no way he can complete her the way she fills the ache in his soul. It's an emptiness that's only grown over those same centuries, widened and deepened into a chasm he could never admit existed. She's his match in every way, but she's only lived a mere couple of decades. He can barely remember being that young, that long ago time when he knew so little about what was to come, what real loneliness meant. 

He clutches her to him at night, without meaning to, his body reacting to his mind’s unspoken fear that she may yet disappear. She lets him, sometimes tucking her body into the contours of his, other times turning in his hold to wrap her arms around him in return. 

They’re laying like this one night, her head against his chest, his nose brushing her hair, both sated and drifting on the edge of sleep. Aleksander idly considers his tasks for the next day, while his sun summoner traces patterns of light over his skin. She draws back, and he relaxes his hold enough to look down at her. Her thoughts are heavier than he expected, some inner struggle creasing her brow. He doesn’t expect the question that follows.

"Did you feel it, before me?" She hesitates, as if searching for the right word. "The… emptiness?"

And he remembers that he didn’t feel that much older than her when he'd opened the Fold, tearing apart the very fabric of the world out of his grief and desperation and fear of losing the people he had left. She may not be able to match the age-worn depth of his feelings, but he shouldn't underestimate the depth of them. The young feel everything so much more fiercely, he remembers. 

His mother had tried to tell him, back then, that what he felt would fade. He'd known she was wrong then, but he knows it with earned certainty now. Age may have dulled the edges of that grief, but to lose it would be to lose a part of himself. Time has given him perspective for those emotions as it held onto their all-consuming breadth. 

One forgot the passion of youth at their own peril. He'd made that mistake with Alina already. So many years, and still so much to learn. 

“Yes,” he answers. It costs him a small sliver of his pride, but the price is well worth it. In his arms, Alina relaxes, losing a small thread of tension he hadn’t realized she held. “I thought it was my burden to bear,” he continues. “I never thought we could have this.”

Her lips curve in the slightest smile. “I didn’t know what I was missing,” she admits. “Until I found you, I thought that’s how it was.”

He tightens his arms around her, pulling her up for a kiss. He takes his time, exploring the lips he’s come to know so well, reminding them both of what they’ve found together. 

“It might’ve been,” he says as they break apart. “But in a world where we met, I could never have stayed apart from you.”

She responds with a blush and a contented sigh as her lips return to his. They lay there together in their bed, passing kisses back and forth for nothing more than the pleasure of sharing them. The night deepens and, eventually, sleep catches up to them.

Alina relaxes in his arms, eyes fluttering closed. His shadows slip across the room and extinguish the last lamp. Comfortable darkness settles over the room while in the bed, Alina wraps Aleksander in her light.

[billyspotato]

Hi! Can you please do a Rafe Cameron imagine where the reader (who is also a kook) and him go shopping and just hang out, maybe get ice cream as well and they end up back at home for a movie night?

A/N: Hii, I hope it’s okay that I made it a head cannon ❤️

Shopping - Rafe Cameron [HC]

Words: 779 words

Type: Fluff 

Warnings: English is not my first language, so, sorry if I misspell anything.

A/N: Gifs not mine :)

- If you had to describe the perfect day out with Rafe, you would have to say: shopping;

- Not only is it super entertaining (to you) but Rafe can actually give good advice when you’re looking for new clothes;

- You two would just walk around all day;

- You first had to catch the boat out of the island, since there is no shopping center in Outer Banks;

- But after that and a car ride over to the busy area, you two would walk hand in hand through the many stores that rather big building held;

- Rafe, at least for the first minutes, would willingly walk with you in stores and give his opinion on everything;

- But after only half an hour, he would just bluntly show his boredom towards your clothes;

- You would tell him to be brave and hang in there, which he always did;

- Even though he would keep on whining throughout the rest of the evening;

- Rafe would also be the type of boyfriend that would want to get in the dressing room with you;

- Even when the two of you were in quite expensive stores (which means a huge waiting area for every little dressing room);

- Rafe just wanted to be in the small cubicle with you while you changed, since that would at least keep him entertained;

- When you would tell him ‘no’, he would just slightly pout his way over the couch;

- But when you would let him in...

- Oh boy;

- He would be like a kid in a toy store, from picking up the clothes on the floor to trying to tickle you as your arms were up to get in the shirt;

- He just wouldn’t stop;

- Sometimes you two would be caught, and practically forced to listen to the rules of the “one person per dressing room”, again;

- Rafe would just roll his eyes and go back to the couch, grabbing his phone, in annoyance:

- After you would be done with shopping, you offered to pay Rafe an ice cream;

- Which he accepted;

- (The ice cream, not the you paying for him part);

- You two would sit down and talk while slowly eating your ice cream in the middle on that hot summer evening (in which you were mostly protected by the mall’s ac);

- You would talk about everything and anything;

- Rafe would just be relaxed, leaning back on the chair while looking at you, as you talked;

- He really was at peace when with you, and you noticed that, many times;

- When going back to the island, hours later;

- You would just be staring at the water as Rafe leaned closer to you from behind, letting the cool breeze of the sea hit your warm skin;

- “Do you want to sleep over at mine?” Rafe would ask you before snuggling into your neck;

- You would accept it and enjoy your time in Rafe’s hold before the trip was over;

- Tourists would sometimes step out to feel the breeze as well, which would sometimes ruin your moment of relaxation with their loud excitement and with all the pictures being taken;

- You two would get into Rafe’s car as soon as you got back and he drove the two of you back to his house;

- Rafe just kept on silently hoping that his dad would still be working and not getting ready to attack his ass with questions about anything;

- When at his bedroom, you would just belt into his bed,that welcomed your body into its comfort:

- The bedsheets were kind of cold because of the AC, which would just make the experience even better for you;

- Rafe would take some layers of his outfit off, so he could be comfortable, and turn on his TV;

- After sometime of questioning what movie you would like to watch and many minutes of looking through the options given by Netflix, you finally chose one;

- Your day after that was filled with cuddling, not moving for many hours and eating any kind of food you felt like ordering;

- By the time you were tired, Rafe had already fallen asleep, using your chest as a pillow;

- You would turn off the lights while trying not to move too much as you feared waking up the blonde that would be sleeping like a baby, and stayed on your phone until sleep would takeover you;

- And that, ladies and gents, would be the perfect day with Rafe Cameron

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[nitaescence]

The Howling Wolf | Part VII

↳ Pairing : Lycan!Taehyung x Human!OC ft. Vampire!Jimin & Human!Jungkook Genre : Mythicalcreatures!AU, Royal!AU | angst, smut, fluff Word Count : 3.3k ↳ Moodboards | story masterlist (unavailable because tumblr sucks) ↳ Warnings — Unprotected pregnancy sex

After the drop of temperatures, the pack began gathering some of their belongings.

Taehyung told you every winter they would migrate to what they called the citadel, their other living area, a place with stronger buildings which could keep them warm for that period of time but mainly because their prey sought warmer temperatures as well.

You were kindly offered the opportunity by the Alpha to spend the whole journey in a rustic coach given your new condition which had not fail to draw everyone’s attention.

The small wooden door suddenly opened after the coach came to a halt and when you looked to your left, you saw Taehyung peeking his head inside. You carefully moved closer to the opening where a soothing fresh breeze blew softly.

“Love,” he chirped, “how are you feeling in there?”

“What does it look like?” You huffed frowning and annoyed. “I feel hot and sweaty… I hate this.”

His lips curved in a crooked grin at your worked up pouting face. He opened the door a little more and the cool wind was not welcomed anymore.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise it’s not too far anymore now.” He said while squeezing your knee. “Tell me, if there’s anything I can do… To help you feel better?”

“Stay here. With me.” You prodded without thinking.

Taehyung’s eyes trailed upward to meet your as he licked his bottom lip and nudged it between his teeth, tempted. “I would. But I can’t. They need me out there.”

“I think they can survive a couple of minutes without you,” you groaned. “Please, I feel lonely in here.”

“I can bring the children with you... if you want.”

“No,” you shook your head like a stubborn child, “I want you.”

You had no idea what made you be in need of his presence right by your sides; when every circumstances lend themselves to, you would naturally stick to Taehyung’s sides and avoid your children at the same time; it was not coming from his marking but somewhere else — something else was triggering it.

When you used to seek Taehyung’s eyes on you, your hands on your body it truly was you looking for a mean to alleviate yourself purely out of self-interest. This time around, you were surrendering to needs and seeking for affection you knew were not coming from you.

You simply felt better in his presence.

“Alright, let me just- open this first.”

He manoeuvered the door, opening it entirely and climbed inside. You closed it behind him and quite violently pulled on the curtain to hide the the tiny square window.

“Hey, easy.” He chuckled as you shoved him on one of the two couches.

“I don’t want to go easy. I want you. Now.” You slurred and pulled, irritated, on your thick dress so as to straddle him. You instantly latched onto his lips hungrily, clinging onto his long hair at his nape. Taehyung grunted and gripped your hips.   

He smiled into the kiss, hugging you a little closer to him. You could not help the urge to grind yourself, the feeling of his swelling arousal unmistakably nudging your throbbing core.

His hands slid on the sides of your swollen belly, “______- We can’t be rough- the baby-”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. More than that.” You breathed heavily, annoyed he was not kissing you back anymore. “Just-”

Your pregnancy made you so sensitive, it did not take too long for you to totter, your edge already close. You could feel the coach rocking with your forceful rutting as you chased your lusted-after high while Taehyung made sure you were not hurting yourself in your haste.

Whimpers left you in broken, breathy gasps as you rode out your climax, pressing the lycan’s face into your breast.

“I need you,” you whined kissing him when you felt the fire inside fueling even more, not satiated. “Please- I want you inside me.”

“I don’t know if-”

“Please, Taehyung, please,” you pouted into the kiss while your hand was already reaching down between the two of you to free his thick shaft. He did not object any further and a grunted moan escaped him when you closed your hand tightly around it.

What frightened Taehyung the most was the danger of hurting you unintentionally, not that he would ever but having you that much excited and desiring him while pregnant with his child was messing dangerously with the wild beast lying dormant in him. 

He took care of removing your dress out of the way for you to be able to rub yourself against him and spread your arousal gathered at your clenching entrance.

You slowly pushed him inside you and your walls were already clenching hard. You sank further down until he bottomed you out and stilled.

His forehead was pressed against your neck and you heard him exhaling expletives as he felt you tightening unmercilessly around him. It had been several weeks since you gave yourselves over to carnal desire and he was filling you so snugly, he was thinking he could burst at any moment.

“______-,” Taehyung stammered. “I need- to go-” He hissed when the Alpha’s voice yelled to everyone to get back on the road again.  

You began moving on top of him again and you both gasped, the urgency of the situation sending even more shivers down your cores and bringing your orgasms closer.  

The coach quickly felt stuffy and sweat wettened your skin the more you tensed as you kissed and worked to reach your highs. He was starting to twitch and you tightened your fingers in his hair when he grazed your sweet spot, triggering pleasurable waves coursing your body.

Taehyung pushed up against you as you climaxed around him and he came inside you, keeping you rooted to him, eyes shut tight as he moaned out against your marked chest.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfZZWWvdWw8

A loud shout was heard from the outside and you peeked your head through the window to look outside. Two heavy doors made in wood were pulled open and the procession walked inside. The coach was pulled in a vast courtyard which was surrounded with half-timbered buildings of average size, off-white walls crossed out with wide pieces of dark brown wood. The roofs were as white as the ground of the yard — both already covered underneath thick layers of snow.

You were adjusting your cape around your shoulders and head when the door of the coach opened.

Taehyung appeared, smiling and offered you his hand to help you down. You looked around you, watching as people busied themselves to move their belongings like clockwork.

“This way,” he announced, effortlessly carrying heavy bags on his back.

You followed him through a two-aisled corridor and up some stairs that led to the widest part of the buildings. The inside was well insulated and you were glad to remove the scratchy scarf from your neck.

Taehyung stopped in front a door and pushed it open, “Here we are.”

He let you in first and you immediately noticed the afternoon sun delicately bathing the room through the sash windows. A splendid and large canopy bed took up a lot of room, decorated with thin cream white veils bunched all around the length of the four bars. A square table with two chairs occupied the place right under the windows and a closed door was across the entrance.

“How do you like it?” Taehyung inquired as he walked away to put your belongings nearby the hickory wardrobe positioned a few meters from where you stood.

You walked further in and circled the bed until you faced him. Your hand brushed the sheets neatly tucked around the wide mattress and you slowly nodded.

Taehyung liked to spend much of his time with your children and it saddened him that you never were around when he shared precious times and memorable souvenirs and how much your son and daughter must have been lacking the love of their mother. But he never dared addressing you on the matter. He felt the happiest man on earth surrounded by the most beautiful children and your attention constantly drawn to him but he knew he could only feel fulfilled when he would get to see you interact with each other.

In the darkest hours of the night, while slowly recovering from the exertion, Taehyung was thoughtful.

Your head was comfortably lying on his arm, his hand was covering your belly possessively as he drew invisible patterns with the tip of his finger, his nose nuzzling your hair.

His voice disrupted the comfortable silence.

“______,” you hummed in response. “You do love our children, don’t you?”

You frowned, looking back at him confused.

He met your eyes and opened his mouth again but before he got the time to say anything, you were already getting up and walking away in the bathroom. He cursed himself for his choice of words and called your name but you suddenly closed the door behind you, hiding the tears brimming your eyes.

The creaking sound of the door opening instantly caught the attention of your children.

Big, curious eyes met yours as you timidly walked in. You gestured to the woman who was playing with them not to mind you as you chose to sit on one of the empty chairs.

They kept looking up at you from time to time, probably wondering about your unusual presence when they only got to spend their time with nurses, women who gladly accepted looking after them as some of them would never get the opportunity to have children of their own.

They slowly got used to you and after some time you stopped feeling like an intruder. You were unable to tear your eyes from them. They had grown so much in the span of a couple of months.

The woman stood up and went away, promising not to be long and you reluctantly let her go. Feeling uneasy about being left alone with them, you kept an eye out.

Your son lifted his hands in the air to grab onto the chair nearby him to stand up on his frail legs. He staggered, let go one of his hand and ended loosing his balance, hitting his forehead against the edge of the seat before he fell down on his back loudly, bumping the back of his head.

You gasped but remained rooted on your chair, unable to move as you watched him, his whaling slowly building up. Panicked stroke you as you did not know what to do. His sister looked down at him and then back up to watch you as you went to open the door. You looked around but the nurse was nowhere to be seen.

You turned back and bit you lip. You carefully crouched down to pick up your son whose face had turned into a flushed color. You slowly stood up and paced in the room as you coddled him against you. This felt unfamiliar but not odd, simply strange.

Rocking him in your arms, you noticed how weightless he was in your arms and even began to grow fond of the natural scent of his hair.

His crying ceased surprisingly quickly. The little boy seemed to enjoy feeling you against him, being in your embrace, recognizing your familiar, pleasant smell. You looked down at your daughter who was still looking up at you and smiled back when she offered you a toothy grin.

“No,no. Ignore it.” You pleaded with a frown, tugging on Taehyung’s hair and nipping softly at his bottom lip.

Taehyung chuckled quietly and smiled down at you, endeared.

He cupped your face and pecked your lips, “I’ll be quick.”

He kissed your forehead and swiftly climbed down the bed before striding to the door to answer the knocking. You reluctantly sat up and adjusted your clothes as a precaution.

When you looked up at him talking with someone behind the door, you watched as your son came into view, your husband holding him and his sister securely against his bare chest.

The boy turned his head to look around, his eyes instantly met yours and he instantly began whining and fussing in his father’s arms while stretching his tiny arms towards you.

Taehyung closed the door with the help of his foot and walked back to the bed, looking uncertain.

“What is it?” You asked looking up at him.

His knee dipped into the mattress as he slowly lowered himself to put your children down. “They were causing a lot of trouble and... probably missed us.”

Your son turned on his front, showing his will to crawl up to you but the thick covers hindered him and he whimpered again. You leant forward and gently pulled him towards you. The little boy ceased his whimpering and became calm again as he felt your warm touch he had missed all day ever since you had left him.

Taehyung’s eyes soften at the sight and he joined you under the covers, positioning your daughter in between you, content.

Your hand slowly slid up on the sheets that felt surprisingly cold underneath you touch. You frowned and opened your eyes. You blinked several times when you did not see anyone next to you. Panic awakened you.

“Taehyung, the chi-” You lifted yourself as quick as your belly allowed you to and looked around you, cutting yourself off when you noticed your family right next to you.   

“‘Morning love,” Taehyung smiled widely.

Your daughter was positioned across his lap for lack of seats as he fed her. Your son peered over the back of the chair he was sitting on when he heard his father talking to you, a little spoon held tightly in his tiny hand.

You exhaled and leaned back down on the mattress, you pulse still beating loudly in your ears. You closed your eyes and laid your arm above them, breathing deeply.

You felt the mattress dip in and soon you could smell Taehyung’s scent as he softly kissed the underside of your forearm and brushed his nose against it.

“How are you feeling?” He trailed quietly against your neck, caressing your swollen bump with his large, warm palm.

Eyes closed, you naturally nuzzled your face against his shoulder,“Uhm, fin- oh.”

Taehyung lifted himself and frowned at you, worried, “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“You didn’t. It’s just…” You looked down at your belly and gently closed your hand around his, moving it across your distended skin again. Taehyung’s brows raised and his mouth parted in surprise when he felt the unexpected nudge underneath his palm.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VY0A1eaqhSw

“My belly feels itchy,” You whined, sitting down on bed.

“Hm?” Taehyung raised his brows looking at you, as he set down the strawberries you had been craving, and then at your bump. He walked to you and kneeled down in front of you, gently cupping your belly. “You want me to fetch you some something that’ll soothe you?”

“What could possibly ease it?” You groaned, running lightly your nails above your dress.

He raised onto his feet and kissed your forehead, “Wait for me. And stop scratching it.”

While waiting, you decided to pass some lukewarm water on your inflamed skin to help relieve it in the meantime while pinching in the bowl of fruits.

When Taehyung came back, you had slipped into a thin dress to cool yourself down. There were no more strawberries and you were still annoyed.

He walked around the bed in front of you and put down a plate filled with a yellowish liquid. He fetched the thick pillows to position them behind you so you could get comfortable with your legs dangling over the edge.

“What is this?” You asked, frowning at the small plate.

“Olive oil,” he replied as he bunched your dress in his hand and uncovered your legs and swollen belly. “And lavender. Lie back.”

You grabbed the dress to keep it from falling back and watched him as he coated his fingers in the oily mixture.

“Where does it itch?”

“Everywhere,” you huffed frowning, fighting against the urge to run your nails on your skin.

Taehyung’s smiled at your pouting lips and repeated, chuckling “everywhere? I’ll make sure not to miss any spots then.”

He gently ran his hand all over your belly and you closed your eyes, the discomfort quickly disappearing.

“Good?” You hummed and moved your hand to cover his gleaming fingers for them to concentrate on a particular zone. He applied more oil, eyes widening as he admired the purple striaes scaring your skin.

“Don’t be scared. You can go harder.” You mumbled looking down at him as your hands kept following his movements.

His eyes met yours as he released his bottom lip from in between his teeth, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You assured with a smile and he kissed the top of your thigh.

You did not want to scratch your belly anymore but the position began to wear you out. Taehyung froze as you parted your legs a little more and he stared an instant at the heart of your femininity, completely bare to him.

“Tae…” You whined with your eyes closed when you did not feel his hands anymore.

He pulled himself together and resumed massaging you slowly. You unconsciously began to slide your palms up and down his fully coated hand as he leered you. He breathed deeply in as his way to get the upper hand over his needs and focus less on his swelling cock.

He did not have any control of over his gestures anymore as your hold on him tightened and slowly, you were bringing his fingers closer to your slick intimate entrance. The tip of his fingers grazed lightly your engorged bud and it was enough to tear a shaky gasp from you.

Taehyung slowly moved one of your legs to hook it over his shoulder and as you did not seem to complain he parted them a little more.

Gently sucking on the skin of your inner thigh and gently began tracing tight circles with his thumb over your clitoris. Soft moans escaped your mouth and your hands struggled to fist the sheets neatly tucked on around the mattress.    

Taehyung leant his face against your thigh, eyes fixing your swollen mound as he quickened the pace of his finger. He switched with his index and middle fingers, pressing them lightly above your bud and proceeded to rub it a little more quickly.

You moaned out the more he kept stimulating the sensitive area and clenched around nothing, oozing out even more.

Your legs were subtly trembling and he knew you were about to come. The muscles of your body were tightening hard and your mouth froze open, feeling your edge dangerously close.

Taehyung never faltered his pace until he could feel the quaver beneath his pads and your shaking thighs trying to snap close. Your moans suddenly died in the air as he sent you into a dizzying orgasm. Choked gasp were torn from your throat when you felt him sliding in two fingers and instantly thrusting them relentlessly.

You tried to call out his name, jerking your legs around him but Taehyung quickly shifted to slide an arm behind your hips and prevent you from shying away as he battered your sensitive spots.

As he was kneeling on the bed, you were able to claw his shirt helplessly and he could reach your mark, licking and suckling on it. The scar was as sensitive as your throbbing core and with the excess of stimulation another climax stroke your body with hot waves of deep pleasure, freezing you in time.

Taehyung slowed the pace of his fingers between your legs but did not stop as more of your essence splattered his arm, soaking the sheets and the floor.

Your swollen breast heaved rapidly up and down as you gradually came down your high. You watched him, spent, as he smiled down at you and leant down to kiss your lips lovingly.

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[tywriteskpop]

Sleeping Beauty (Mark Tuan)-Chapter 3

I apologize for any trauma I may have caused with this chapter.

Genre: Fluff, Angst Warnings: Minor language, might have traumatized some individuals (RIP), loosely edited

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / Epilogue

Mark felt a warm breeze brushing against his face. The sensation made him suddenly alert. He opened his eyes and saw a bright blue sky with puffy white clouds passing by. The soft grass beneath him gave him a sense of comfort.

Turning his head to the side, he saw a mix of colors from the large amount of roses scattered across the field. He knew this place. He’s been here before, more times than he could count.

He sat up slowly, getting his bearings as he took in his surroundings more. Then he stood up and looked around the meadow. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was searching for.

“Y/N.”

You stood there at the other side of the meadow. Your hair draped around you, and Mark found it strange compared to the usual regal style he’s always seen you in. Your clothes were the simplest he’s seen you in. Instead of the traditional dresses you’ve worn in his previous dreams, your dress this time was pure white and flowed down all the way to the ground. He found it beautiful.

You smiled when he recognized you, albeit a sad smile. You felt guilty, but you began walking towards him at a steady pace, feeling the softness of the grass underneath your bare feet.

“Is this another memory I forgot?” he asked you.

You shook your head softly. “Not this time.” You stood before him. “I decided it was time we spoke.”

Mark took another glance around the meadow. “This place.”

You nodded and looked around as well. “It was our favorite place. We came here to play as children. And as we got older, it became our sanctuary.” You smiled at the fond memories. “Our haven away from the responsibilities required of us. Our place of freedom” Your bright expression turn solemn. “And then, it became a place of mourning.”

Mark swallowed and hesitated to speak. He wasn’t sure how to convey his feelings about everything that’s been happening. He knew he had questions to ask, and you had answers to provide. But he couldn’t figure out how to approach the topic. When he really thought about it, this was his first time actually meeting you in this life.

Before Mark could open his mouth to speak, you interrupted him. “I’m sorry,” you said.

He was baffled, to say the least. He couldn’t understand what you were apologizing for. He felt the blame of everything that had happened up to that point would be his.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked. “None of this is your fault.”

You reached out and took his hand. He let you pulled him down to sit on the cool ground. You pulled your legs next to you and got comfortable. Mark sat next to you, his legs pulled up and leaning his elbows on his knees. You both faced opposite directions to be able to face each other. Despite the awkward tension in the air, the position seemed a bit intimate, yet comfortable.

You allowed most of your weight to lean against your hand placed on the ground beside you. “The night you…were killed. I gave you some of my magic right before you passed. It was an accident, but it set you on this cycle of pain and suffering. For that, I am sorry.”

Mark shook his head. “Hey, that isn’t your fault. Everything happened because of Jinyoung.” Without thinking, he reached up and placed a hand on your cheek, making you look him in the eyes. “I’m glad I’m still here. No matter how many times I’ve died, I’m glad I have this chance to make things right.”

You leaned into the warmth of his hand and sighed in content. “No matter who you are now, you’re still my prince, aren’t you?”

Mark relinquished something between a smirk and a smile. “I promise I’ll find you. I won’t fail this time.”

Mark sat on a tree stump and twirled the dagger in his hand. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, creating a massive storm of confusion and anxiety. His own brother had killed him, more than once. And he couldn’t understand what he could have done to earn such hatred from Jinyoung.

“Why did Jinyoung do what he did?” he asked.

Jackson turned and looked at his best friend. “We’re not really sure. We could never figure that out.”

BamBam was sitting on the ground next to the stump Mark sat on. “We actually didn’t know Jinyoung that well. You never talked about him much. Only thing you told us was that he couldn’t be trusted.

“We assumed it was because he was after your throne,” Jackson continued. “But now we’re not so sure.”

Mark looked up from the blade and furrowed his brows in confusion. “How come?”

“The throne is gone,” Youngjae answered. “After he attacked our kingdom, it was completely wiped out. There was no longer a throne to take.”

“And even now he persists to kill you for good and take Y/N’s magic.” Jackson walked over with Youngjae and stood in front of the two sitting down.

“Sucks for you, man,” BamBam joked.

Mark scoffed and pushed BamBam’s head away, making the boy laugh.

“You guys said this happened hundreds of years ago, right?” Mark continued his questioning. “But how is that possible? I mean…” Mark swallowed and tried to figure out how to phrase his question.

“How are we alive?” Youngjae guessed. He chuckled when Mark nodded stiffly. “It’s part of the curse.”

“Curse? You mean the whole live and die cycle?”

Youngjae sat on the grass in front of Mark and explained. “The night the kingdom was taken by the shadow army and Jinyoung killed you was the night the curse began. When Y/N kissed you, she somehow transferred some of her pure magic to you right before you passed.”

“The vows you spoke to each other before you died that night acted as a sort of spell,” BamBam added. “Kind of like an enchantment. That’s what allowed her to give you her magic.”

“And what exactly did her giving me her magic do?” Mark asked.

“It’s what started the cycle,” Jackson answered. “Her magic is what’s bringing your soul back to life each time. You already know she gets weaker with each life and this is our last chance. On top of that, it dragged everyone who was in the meadow that night into the curse.”

“Immortality?” Mark guessed.

“Not exactly,” BamBam said. “We can be hurt and killed. But we don’t age.”

Youngjae leaned back on his hands. “Funny thing is, we had no idea. We brought our sister here where it was safe. We hoped she would wake up.”

“But after several years, we realized we were the same, as she was,” Jackson finished. “We figured out that were stuck in our age. But so was Jinyoung.”

Mark nodded, taking in all of the new information. But then he realized something. “If he managed to take Y/N, how is this place safe?”

“We had brought her to a different location. But Jinyoung tracked us and managed to take her right from under us. We’re lucky he still doesn’t know about this place.”

Mark remained silent. He mulled over the thought of Y/N being taken while he could do nothing. He wasn’t sure where he was at the time, but he was too afraid to ask.

Youngjae noticed the turmoil on Mark’s face. “Would you like to see her room?”

Mark’s head shot up. “What?”

Youngjae used a key to unlock the wooden door. He moved to the side and allowed Mark to walk in. After a brief hesitation, Mark took a tentative step into the room.

The walls were all built by wooden boards, much like the rest of the cottage. There was a bed fit for a princess against the left wall. The sheets were a gorgeous shade of your favorite color, and Mark gave a small smile at the fact that he knew what your favorite color was. A sheen canopy hung from the ceiling over the bed. Next to the bed on the floor was a soft rug, and a finely crafted nightstand table was against the wall.

On the right side of the room sat a large wardrobe. The birch wood was smooth and outlined with golden accents. Mark could only imagine the amount of clothes and accessories you had shoved in there. Directly across the room from the door was a large curtained window. The curtains were closed, the heavy cloth falling to the floor in a heap. He walked over to the window and moved one of the curtains aside. The sun shone through the glass panes and lit up the room even more. Mark was met with a beautiful view of a pristine lake surrounded by a cove of trees.

“She used to tell us that the view was her favorite part,” Youngjae said solemnly. “She would always sit by the lake and write in her journals.”

Mark turned to face him. “Her journals?”

Youngjae nodded over to a bookshelf beside the wardrobe. It was small, but large enough to hold a few leather-bound books. “She would write everything in those things. Her thoughts, feelings, things that happened. We used to make fun of her for it when we were kids.”

Mark walked over to the bookshelf and picked up one of the books. He patted the light layer of dust off and opened it. He felt bad about going through your private things like this, but he felt like he could better learn who you are.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Youngjae said, leaving the room quietly.

Mark skimmed through the words written on the old paper, finding it difficult to clearly see what was written as the ink had faded over time. He could make out a few words, such as his name and the names of your brothers. He smiled as he read what he could about your excitement over spending the day with him.

After skimming a while longer, he closed the book and set it aside. He shifted through the rest of your journals and pulled out the last one. He sat on the edge of the bed and flipped through the pages. The writing was more legible than the others, and Mark assumed that was because the journal was newer. There was nothing except sweet words and your imagination in your entries. Until the very last entry.

“I’ve experienced a most terrifying nightmare.”

Confused and concerned, Mark pulled the book closer to his face to carefully read the words you wrote.

“I dreamt of a dark cloud pouring crimson rain over my kingdom. The walls of the castle were destroyed, broken windows and furniture. The dead scattered across every hall.”

“I was alone. Sitting in the middle of the grand ball room. The lifeless bodies of my loved ones lay around me in a circle. My mother and father, my brothers. My beloved prince. All gone, staring at me with soulless eyes.”

“A black mist surrounded me as I mourned. The menacing glow of purple is the last thing I remember before I had awoken.”

“I do not know what sort of omen this dream may be. I can only hope that it is not something to be feared.”

“The day of my wedding approaches. In a short few days, I shall marry my prince, the same day as his birth. I know on that day, this nightmare will be nothing but a false reality.”

Mark seethed, breathing heavily through his nose. He slammed the journal closed and got to his feet, marching out the door and into the main room. He found the brothers there, sitting on plush cushions as they discussed something quietly. Mark tossed the book in between them, letting it land on the floor with a thud.

“He tormented her,” he growled. “That bastard sent her dreams the same way he did with me.”

“He did what?!” BamBam exclaimed, rising to his feet.

Jackson quickly snatched the book off the floor and flipped to the last entry. He read through it rapidly and clenched his teeth. He closed his eyes tightly and ran a hand over his face in exasperation.

“She never told us about it,” Youngjae said. “Why?”

“It terrified her to death, probably,” BamBam said after reading the passage. “The purple she saw had to have been Jinyoung.”

“He never fully revealed himself to her,” Jackson realized. “She never knew his face or his name. He wanted her to be afraid.”

Youngjae’s shoulders slumped. “There’s no telling how many nightmares he had sent her before the takeover. She could have been suffering from them for days.”

“We need to get her back.” By Mark’s aggressive tone, the brothers knew he was furious.

Jackson stood up and walked over to stand directly in front of Mark, meeting his gaze steadily. “Why are you so determined to save her, Mark?”

Mark looked at him as if he was crazy. “What are you saying?”

“You don’t know her,” Jackson continued. “You’ve never met her. You’ve only met her in your dreams. You’ve only seen what she wants you to see. So why do you feel so strongly about saving her?”

“I…” Mark paused and tried to comprehend what Jackson was asking him. Why did he want to save her? He couldn’t think of any logical response, so all he said was, “I know her.”

Jackson scoffed and gave him a condescending look. “Do you really?”

“You think I’m lying?” he challenged. His anger was already at its peak, but the patronizing tone in his friend’s voice was beginning to tip him over the edge. “You think I don’t want Y/N back? I promised I would get her back, that I would save her. I don’t care if I die in the end, but I can’t let Jinyoung keep her in his clutches. She deserves better than that.”

“And how do you know what she deserves?”

Mark grabbed Jackson by his shirt collar and threw him against the wall, holding him there. “She’s your sister!” Mark shouted in his face.

“And what is she to you?!” Jackson yelled back.

“My everything!” Mark faintly realized the words that left his mouth. He backed up, still clutching Jackson’s shirt in his fists, and his voice lowered to a steady tone. “She’s my everything. I have to save her.”

Jackson grabbed Mark’s wrists and pried him off his shirt. He nodded, content with Mark’s answer. “Welcome back, Prince Mark.”

Mark was dumbfounded. “What?”

“I needed to be sure you were ready,” Jackson said. “Your memories have been returning from your first life. Your feelings for Y/N are genuine. All that’s left now is your magic.”

“My magic?”

Jackson smirked. “Shall we?”

“I hope you have made progress in your search.” Jinyoung gave his two ravens a sharp look.

“Of course,” Jaebum scoffed. “In fact, we found his exact location.”

A sly grin formed on Jinyoung’s face. His eyes shone with excitement as he leaned forward in his seat. With his hands clasped together in front of him, he looked between the two. “Do tell.”

The sun was high past noon as the boys stood in the open field outside of the cottage. BamBam pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing the gray sleeveless shirt he wore underneath. Jackson shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the ground.

“We’re going to bring out the magic that’s been laying dormant in your soul,” Jackson said to Mark. “Rely on your emotions and concentrate. That’s how you bring it out and control it.”

“With the other…mes,” Mark said hesitantly. “How long did it take to do this?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” BamBam began.

“We never got this far with your past lives,” Youngjae answered. “Jinyoung killed you before we had the chance.”

Mark let out a humorless laugh. “That’s comforting.”

“Don’t worry, man,” Jackson said, patting Mark’s shoulder. “We got this far. As long as we can unlock your magic, we can save her and stop Jinyoung.”

Mark nodded. He looked at BamBam. “So fire magic?”

BamBam raised his loosely closed fist with a smirk. Mark saw that his hand was beginning to glow a faint red, emanating a powerful energy. “Damn right. Check this out.” He snapped his fingers and a full flame engulfed his hand. He clapped his hands together, causing the flame to split between both hands. He reared his arm back and threw a fire ball at Youngjae.

Youngjae’s reflexes were quick as he waved his arm in time to block the fire ball. It disintegrated into steam. At a closer look, Mark saw that Youngjae’s arm was completely covered in a blue aura.

“Yah!” Youngjae shouted. “Warn me next time.”

“What the hell was that?” Mark asked.

The magic surrounding Youngjae’s arm moved to his hand. He upturned his palm and allowed his magic to take its physical form. “My specialty is water.” A ball of water floated over his palm, small waves moving over it as it turned over in midair. “The complete opposite of BamBam’s. But it makes for good practice.”

Mark turned his gaze to Jackson. “And you? What’s your magic?”

Jackson’s expression turned solemn. “I used to have magic like you actually. Light magic. It’s what started our friendship.”

Mark swallowed. “Used to?”

Jackson was silent. He mulled over his thoughts, debating if he should tell his best friend the truth. With a sigh of indignation, he started to distance himself from the others. As he walked away, he reached down to pull up the hem of his shirt. He revealed his bare chest, and Mark was confused. He’s seen Jackson shirtless plenty of times having lived with him for so long.

“We arrived too late to stop Jinyoung from killing you that night.” Jackson sounded regretful. “We could have saved you. But it’s my fault.”

Mark shook his head. “How is it your fault?” He quickly glanced between BamBam and Youngjae, but they look just as guilt ridden and upset over the story Jackson was about to tell.

“After I left Y/N in her room, I found you and sent you after her. I went to look for my brothers. I didn’t anticipate being surrounded by shadows.”

“Jinyoung’s shadow army.”

Jackson nodded. “I was caught off guard. They messed me up pretty good, to say the least. In fact, I should’ve died that night.”

Mark was speechless. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed Jackson to finish the story. He held a secret that weighed heavy on his heart.

Jackson’s watered slightly as he fought with his own self hatred. A black mist appeared suddenly around Jackson’s torso. It swirled around him for a moment before dissipating. “I was struck with a fatal blow.”

Mark’s eyes widened as he observed the three large scars running across Jackson’s body. It began at his right hip and travelled over his chest to his left shoulder. The scars looked like claw marks, and Mark had no doubt they came from one of Jinyoung’s shadows. “What the hell happened?” he asked quietly.

Jackson lightly brushed a hand over the scars on his chest. “One of the shadows got me. I was bleeding out, and they just stood there and watched. Bam and Youngjae showed up and distracted them. Eventually, just as I was about to pass out, one of the shadows got too close. It merged with me somehow.”

Mark watched as a black aura surrounded Jackson. Jackson’s eyes turned solid black, the whites of his eyes gone. He had seen this before.

“Becoming one with that shadow saved my life,” Jackson said. “But not I’ve become this.”

“You’re like Jaebum and Yugyeom,” Mark concluded. “A raven.”

Youngjae nodded. “That’s how Jinyoung creates them. Using his shadows to turn humans into his ravens.”

“After that, they’re no longer human,” BamBam said. “It wasn’t until Jackson used his magic around Jinyoung a few lifetimes ago that he realized he could create minions like that.”

“Then came Jaebum and Yugyeom, and we lost Y/N.”

Mark looked Jackson in the eyes. “So what happens should the shadow leave your body?”

Jackson’s eyes returned to normal and the mist disappeared. “Then that’ll probably be the end for me.”

Jinyoung stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He watched the image projection Jaebum provided with leering eyes, scrutinizing the four men who ran around the field.

“It looked like they were sparring,” Jaebum guessed. “They were using magic.”

“Do you think they’re trying to get stronger to overpower us?” Yugyeom asked.

Jinyoung smirked. “Those fools are trying to bring out my dear brother’s magic. They think they can save her by doing so.”

Yugyeom leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table in front of him. “So what do you want us to do? Should we go kill him like you said?”

“No,” Jinyoung answered. “I’ve decided to torment him a little more.” He turned and faced the crystallized force field you were cocooned in. “It’s his last life after all.”

Jaebum folded his arms and made the image disappear. “So what do we do?”

“I think it’s time we sent my brother a clear message,” Jinyoung said.

Mark opened his eyes and found himself in the meadow once again. He sat up and immediately met your eyes. You smiled lovingly and sat beside him as he sat up.

“Hello, my love,” you said. You reached up and caressed his cheek gently. “You seem different.”

“I feel like myself,” he told you. “My old self. I’m starting to remember who I really am.”

You took in his words, comprehending what he was telling you. Then you let out of small laugh full of relief. Mark couldn’t help but grin hearing the joy in your voice.

“I had hoped for so long this day would come,” you said quietly. You eyes watered as you tried to fight the tears of happiness that threatened to fall.

“If it wasn’t for you, I would have died without knowing who I am,” Mark said. “I feel like that’s happened too many times already. Thank you, love.”

Hearing the endearment fall from his lips once more filled you with glee. You leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes, and he did the same. You both sat there in comfortable silence, reveling in each other’s presence. You were so close to truly being by his side once again.

“I love you,” you confessed.

Mark raised his hand to cup the back of your neck. “I love you. I truly mean that, Y/N.” He leaned back and looked you in the eyes. “We’re almost there. We’re so close. Just wait for me a little bit longer.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. I’ll wait as long as I have to. I-“

Your words caught in your throat as you tried to catch your breath. You mouth hung open, your eyes tightly shut. A searing pain radiated through your body. It started from your head, through your arms, over your spine, all the way to the bottom of your feet. You faltered, your strength giving way and forcing you to fall onto the ground.

“Y/N!” Mark hovered over you, clutching you to him. He pulled you into his lap and tried to calm you down. “Y/N, love, what’s happening? Talk to me!”

The pain was beginning to become unbearable. You felt like you were losing yourself, and you knew the dream would shatter any second now. Despite knowing it was a dream, Mark could literally feel the sweat covering your skin in a thin layer. Something was causing you pain in the waking world.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he said as calmly as he could. He was beginning to panic seeing you in so much agony. “What is he doing to you? Tell me how to help you.”

Your hands wildly grasped anything they could. You latched onto his shirt with your right hand, twisting the fabric in your fist. “T-The bar…barrier,” you choked out. “…H-He’s…br-break-ing-“

You were cut off by your own scream as the pain increased. The center of your body flared with a burning heat near your heart. Your strength depleting, your grip loosened. Your ragged breathing grew heavier.

“The barrier?” Mark repeated. “He’s trying to break the barrier?” He hurriedly cupped your face and encouraged you to look at him. “Y/N, can you tell me where you are?” You didn’t respond, and it was then Mark realized you had gone limp. “Y/N? Y/N!” He shook your shoulders to jolt you awake, but you were out cold.

With wide eyes, Mark’s mind ran in an erratic panic. He was stuck in this dream that turned into a nightmare with no way of finding out where you were.

A loud, booming roar stunned him in frozen shock. The sky above him turned black, clouds pulling towards each other and creating a thundering boom over the land. Mark turned around, facing towards what should have been the castle from his first life.

The castle was old, withered, with cracks in the walls and broken stone. Lightning struck at the higher towers, allowing a brief shock of light each time to illuminate the land. The windows and open cavities in the castle glowed with bright purple flames. A second roar sounded, this time louder. A taunting call towards the prince.

A loud crash woke Jackson up with a start. He shot up in his bed and wasted no time in running out the door. He ran towards Mark’s room, meeting his brothers halfway.

“What’s going on?” Youngjae asked.

“No idea,” Jackson answered. Standing in front of the door, he banged his fist against the hard wood. “Mark! What’s happening?”

They received no reply. Jackson huffed and turned the doorknob. Realizing it was locked, he relented and used his magic to break the handle off. He pushed the door open, and they were met with an empty room.

“The window.” Youngjae gestured towards the broken window pane on the other side of the room. It was raining heavily outside. The window was completely shattered, and the stone beneath it broken.

“How the hell did he break through solid cinderblock?” BamBam asked in awe.

Jackson turned around and headed for the exit. “Let’s go find him and find out.”

The three boys braved the harsh weather as they exited the cottage. It didn’t take them long to find the prince. He was sitting on the same tree stump from before, unmoving.

“Mark!” Jackson called as they got closer to him. “What the hell, man? What happened back there?”

Mark’s eyes were closed, his back facing them. He sat silently as he tried to control his outrageous emotions. As the rain water dripped down his face, he spoke in a low tone. “He’s hurting her.”

“What?”

Mark opened his eyes. “He broke her force field.”

BamBam cursed. “This can’t be happening.”

“What do we do?” Youngjae asked his older brother. “We have no idea where he’s keeping her.”

“Yes we do,” Mark said.

Jackson observed Mark carefully. His behavior had changed drastically, but Jackson recognized it easily. It was the prince’s way of expressing his anger, a rare sight.

“Where do we go?” he asked.

Mark stood up and turned to face his friends. He looked down at his hand as he raised it with his palm facing upward. A bright aura formed in his hand before taking a solid form of a blade. The blade was only made substantial by the intensity of Mark’s light magic.

“Take me to the castle.”

Your body lay motionless on top of a stone table. Your hair fanned out beneath you, your arms laying at your sides. Your chest moved slowly as you breathed, signally that you still had life within you. Your face was scrunched up in pain, but you never opened your eyes.

“Even after the crystal was broken, she remains asleep,” Jaebum observed.

Jinyoung nodded, examining you with disinterest. “It is because her beloved is not here to awaken her. The barrier was merely a protection to keep me from coming into contact with her. But now, it’s nothing but dust.”

“So that means you’ve won,” Yugyeom said excitedly. “Her magic is yours.”

“Hmm, yes, that is true.” Jinyoung tilted his head as he looked at your face in thought. “But I think I’ll wait.”

“For what?”

Jinyoung walked towards the window nearby, his hands clasped behind his back. “The prince knows where to find me. I want to see him suffer one last time before I take what’s mine.” A bolt of lightning struck the ground outside, with thunder following a moment after. “Let him come to me. Let him see the life of his beloved princess slip away.”

[thedefinitionofbts]

Our First and Last (Ch. 9)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | 

Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 (Final)

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (MAIN) | Park Jimin x Kim Taehyung | Jung Hoseok x Min Yoongi | Kim Namjoon x Kim Seokjin

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Soulmate Au, Scifi

Words: 4.4K

Days in lab were consuming most of your summer. Graduate classes would start in early fall, but that wasn’t until September. You had finally completed a successful attempt of the experiment Jungkook had assigned you, and were feeling much better about wasting so much material (aka convincing yourself it wasn’t all in vain).

Jungkook was always busy, and seeing him after that “visit to his apartment” was surprisingly not as awkward as you had originally prepared for. Granted you barely saw him around anyways, but when you did, the neurosurgeon had just acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened and continued treating you the way he had before, but you were somehow less intimidated by his status.

It's not until now, that you find yourself sitting in his office once again, discussing more theories and the next steps of the project.

“I’ve made some alterations to the project” Jungkook says, as he pulls up another PowerPoint on his computer.

Damn, how does this guy have enough time on his hands to put together this stuff. It’s not like we’re having a lab meeting…

“Recently I’ve gotten a new surgical procedure approved, and it changes up the game.”

You look at him, waiting for him to continue because it’s not like you knew how important any of this was or what kind of vital role this so called procedure plays in the overall project. And you didn’t understand why he always just assumed you knew what he was talking about 100% of the time.

“It may redefine consciousness”

He pauses, perhaps waiting for an awestruck response from you, but you continue to look at him, wondering if consciousness was ever defined in the first place.

“We’ve always associated consciousness with being awake, leading us to believe that our dreams are part of our subconscious.”

You listen to him explain, trying to follow along as best you can so you won’t have to ask any dumb questions later.

“It’s a simple, minimally invasive procedure where the connections between neurons in the lower cortical layers are strengthened. You know, the area where our perceptions are bound into a cohesive whole, and this procedure could potentially change the sleep-awake dynamic, making dreams more clear and understandable.” Jungkook pauses and looks at you with that pair of memorizing doe eyes, and you almost forget what he was talking about. Good thing the eye contact only lasted for a fraction of a second because you were practically getting lost in them. “It’s like putting on glasses for the first time, there’s a certain element to that breathtaking experience of depth and clarity that we haven’t had the ability to explain properly, and now this might be the answer.”

“Is it possible that dreams and memories are one in the same?” You ask, not knowing how or why that thought suddenly popped into you head and came out of your mouth without any warning.

Jungkook slowly raises his eyes to look at you again. There was an unspoken glint in them that you had never seen before, like your question had sparked something in his own head that he wasn’t expecting.

“Memories….” He’s looking at you for an unnaturally long amount of time, before he clears his throat and averts his eyes. “We won’t know until experimentation on humans. So far, the brains of non-human primates are the closest match, and those monkeys can’t really voice anything to us.”

Another thought pops into your head.

“Do you need volunteers?”

“Y/N, I’m a biochemistry major. You’re going to need to do more explaining than that.” Hoseok says as you’re telling him about consciousness and the re-defining nature of Jungkook’s new procedure.

“Well, if we’re talking about consciousness, the simplest scenario is you looking in a mirror. Let’s say you didn’t know the mirror was placed in front of you, and you just saw a being that was exactly the same as you, down to the last subatomic particle. So how is your brain just able to know, that the supposed you that you are looking at is not you, and that the you looking at it, is you?”

“Ok, you lost me at ‘the simplest scenario’” Hoseok slumps down in his chair.

“Whatever, the point is, Dr. Jeon is going to help me clear up my dreams.”

“Y/N, you can’t just let this guy just use you as a lab rat. I mean, as hot and intelligent and skilled as he is, your not obligated to donate your body to him… ” Hoseok says before realizing he phrased that in the worst way possible. “Ok, that came out wrong, but you know what I mean.”

“But I want to, Hobi. Besides it’s a simple procedure and experimentation on humans has already been approved by the medical association.”

“But…but…”

“Just think of me as a volunteer.”

“What about the risks involved?”

“Temporary amnesia, but it’s very unlikely. Especially with someone as skilled as Dr. Jeon.”

“He’s that good?”

“He’s that good.”

Hoseok doesn’t look convinced, but you had already made your decision.

After you had revealed to Jungkook that you happen to take therapy sessions at the same clinic he goes to, Jungkook thought it was probably a good idea to pay a visit to Dr. Kim Taehyung before the actual procedure (out of respect and maybe to also apologize to his partner Jimin for being rude in the past). It was embarrassing to say the least, especially seeing the dorky smile spread across the pink-haired psychologists face as he accepted the apology in a flash.

Taehyung, however, had not been as easily forgiving, and he was far from happy about the whole “experimental procedure”.

“As her psychologist, I’ll need to take more factors into account.” Taehyung says as Jimin stands behind the couch he was sitting on.

Jungkook was sitting on the other couch across from Taehyung. It was like having a therapy session; only there were two faces across from him, Taehyung and Jimin, which made Jungkook feel even more uneasy because of the antagonistic terms they had been on before. The three of them were in Taehyung’s office, and Jungkook thinks this is about as friendly as he’s ever been (or is ever going to be) with the two psychologists. He’s also starting to think that maybe this was a bad idea, but he sucks it up like always and explains the actual procedure.

“She’s agreed to go through with it, and there are virtually no risks involved”

“Dr. Jeon, you do realize that most professors don’t consider doing experiments on their students, right?” Taehyung voices, only to have Jimin whisper “Taehyung!” and nudge his shoulder, reminding him that Jungkook has no ill intentions.

“I wouldn’t if I wasn’t confident that this procedure is harmless,” Jungkook says. He looks down, as if trying to summon more words of reassurance; more ways to convince Taehyung that he knows what he’s doing and he’s worked his whole life for this.

“This might even help her condition” Jimin says to Taehyung after realizing the latter hasn’t responded.

Taehyung sighs after a long drawn out silence where him and Jungkook were basically just staring each other down. “Very well, I’m going to trust you, as a doctor, to make sure she comes out of this unharmed.”

Taehyung was recalling the last session he had with you, thinking about how much you struggled to remember the last event that happened in your dream, after they the man that had consistently been present, suddenly disappeared. But the thing that really caught Taehyung’s attention and came as a shocking revelation was the fact that Jeon Jungkook was the very professor you were doing research under. All of this lead Taehyung to feel weirdly attacked in way because Jungkook had been showing up everywhere ever since Jimin brought him into the clinic and started treating him. Not only was he the central topic him and Jimin would talk about most of the time, he recently shifted to also becoming the main focus of his therapy sessions with you. And just when Taehyung thought it couldn’t get any more “intimate” with Jungkook, here he was again, directly dealing with this admittedly “hot” neurosurgeon whose life kept getting intertwined with his and Jimin’s.

“Thank you, Dr. Kim” Jungkook says, feeling his face flush a little for the first time in years. The office room suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, making Jungkook tug at the collar of his dress shirt.

Taehyung swallows, not knowing if he preferred this side of Jungkook to his previous commanding alter ego, but one thing’s for sure, it’s certainly going to take some getting used to.

“Well, that’s that then” Jimin says, clapping his hands together. He was clearly unaware of the awkwardness looming in the atmosphere, but at least he saved both Jungkook and Taehyung from another moment of drawn out awkward silence.

“Dr. Jeon, where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook tells you to take a walk with him after lab.

It was the day before the procedure, and Jungkook had told you to take a break from doing experiments, which somehow entailed doing something outside of lab with him for a second time. He was probably just trying to get you to relax so you could be in a physically optimum condition for the procedure, so you don’t question him on the matter and just decide to go along.

It was early afternoon and the weather was mild, sunny with a cool breeze. The scenery was very green, different shades ranging from bright chartreuse to dark pine, splattered across your visual field; a perfect contrast to the light blue sky, the patches of yellow dandelions in the grass, and the dark maroon colored shrubs lining the side of the path.

“About what you said the other day….” Jungkook begins to say as the two of you are walking along a cobblestone trail behind the hospital. He was wearing a navy blue, knitted sweater, with a white-collar, and his black slacks and dress shoes were on point as always.

“About dreams and memories…” He looks at you, almost hesitating to continue.

“Oh, that was just my mind running off to places.” It surprises you that he’s still thinking about what you said. You didn’t actually think it through before it just came out of your mouth, and you certainly didn’t expect Dr. Jeon to actually take that comment so seriously.

“It’s something I’ve also thought about. In the past and up until now.”

You find yourself confused again, but you had long gotten used to feeling this way whenever you had conversations with Jungkook. His mind always seems too far ahead of yours, and you’re never able to catch what he’s trying to get at. But this time, his words really grab your attention.

“Those paintings. They’re places I feel like I’ve been. The dreams I used to have, although it sounds crazy, but they feel too real to just merely be dreams.”

At this point there’s a thought in the back of your mind, that you don’t have the courage to voice or even think about. It’s always been there, like some crazy idea that was a manifestation of your mind playing tricks on you, but you’ve always kept it buried because maybe you were insane to think that everything Jungkook was saying is eerily similar to your own feelings about your dreams, too similar. But saying that out loud might make it seem like you were trying too hard to resonate with his words and might strip them of profoundness, so you always chose to stay silent.

And the two of you continue walking for what feels like an eternity but is only probably no more than five minutes, until the second surprise of the day decides to hit you in the face.

Through the corner of you eye, you see whom is undoubtedly Hoseok chatting with someone in the distance. He hadn’t spotted you and Jungkook yet, so you decide to do something you didn’t think you had the guts to, which was push Jungkook back behind the nearest tree, because you were not about to go through a long ass explanation about why you were with him outside of lab, again. And Hoseok would be having a field day if he saw you walking together, side-by-side, chatting like you were close friends or even worse…

You heart was pounding, and you immediately regret what you just did because prior to today, you had never even come close to making physical contact with the guy. But by some unseen force that came over you two seconds ago, you were somehow given the audacity to just slammed him into a tree on a whim. At this point, you can’t even bring yourself to lift your head and look at the expression on his face because the physical distance between the two of you was too close to even breathe. He was basically cornering you against the tree.

“Wait, isn’t that the guy you came with on the first day” You hear Jungkook ask as he peaks at them from behind the tree you guys were hiding by. “And what’s he doing with Yoongi?”

“What?” You ask while simultaneously turning and taking a look for yourself, forgetting the nervous regret that was strangling you earlier. Low and behold, the guy Hoseok was chatting with was indeed Min Yoongi.

“Are you sure I’m allowed in the palace?” Jimin asks, as the young prince guides him through the empty halls and eerie chambers.

“My father is visiting a neighboring state, so he won’t be back until later” The young prince reassures the fairy boy.

It was Park Jimin’s seventh visit to the Yang Dimension in Kim Taehyung’s timeline, but the young prince has already grown attached to bubbly fairy boy and the new found company of his first ever friend.

Taehyung looked forward to seeing Jimin, every year. Planning out everything he wanted to do with the boy during his short visits, and even making trips deep into the forest every day of the year to look for Jimin, despite the latter telling him he can only travel through the portal once a year on that specific day. But Taehyung never stopped thinking that just in case Jimin is able to come back more than once a year, he wouldn’t miss a single opportunity to see his only friend, even if it meant extra severe beatings from his father for leaving the palace, more cuts from the thorny bushes in the forest, and the fatigue, due to physical exertion, that would constantly wash over his frail body.

Their time together never felt like it was enough, because even when Jimin was there, Taehyung still missed him, and he would always cry himself to sleep at night every time the pink-haired boy left to go back to the Yin Dimension. He knew there was nothing either of them could do about it, but he learned to cherish every second he was fortunate enough to have with Park Jimin. To him, the fairy-boy’s yearly visits were the only thing worth waiting and living for, like the perfect rainbow after a destructive thunderstorm or the irreplaceable stable comfort of a home that never existed.

“Will you come back?” The prince had never failed to ask the same question every year. Never getting tired of hearing the same answer, the only answer he ever wants to hear.

“Yes, you’ll see me again next year.” The reassuring musical voice of Jimin would calm him, ever so slightly, but it was fleeting and just like his visits, it never lasted long enough.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

This was the first time Taehyung had brought Jimin to the palace. They spend a day playing in Taehyung’s bedroom, laughing and chatting until the yellow-orange glow of the sunset filled the room.

“Jimin?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The fairy boy is startled by the young prince’s sudden request, lavender eyes a dazzling contrast against the warm toned world, flawless pale skin almost translucent under the sunlight, but without answering he smoothly leans in and kisses Kim Taehyung on the lips. Their soft skin melding into one as cool meets warm in a perfect fusion of atomic particles from opposing dimensions.

The emotion swelling in their chests is like nothing either of them has ever felt before, but as quickly as the moment had escalated, it ended just as abruptly. The sound of the door to Taehyung’s bedroom banging against the wall as it is kicked open by a guard is loud enough to shatter the glass windows.

“Remove that filthy animal!” The King’s voice is deep and disgusted as he walks up behind the group of guards that have just barged into the prince’s room.

“Jimin, run!” Taehyung yells desperately, as he stares wide eyed as his father whose face is full of fury. The alarm in his mind is ringing, causing him to feel a sharp pain in his head.

“GO!!”

Jimin dashes out of the room, agile feet allowing him to dodge the guards. He turns his head one last time, only to see the King land a forceful punch on the prince’s beautiful face. The scene almost causes him to stop in his tracks, but Taehyung’s scream for Jimin to keep running prevents him from turning back.

As he hops down the steps and out of the palace, the image of Taehyung’s bloody lips and bruised eyes has manifested into physical pain for Jimin. He clutches his chest as he sprints into the forest, blinking away the tears that are blurring his vision.

“It’s Jungkook and Y/N” Taehyung says when he puts his earphones in, hastily dials Jimin’s, and hears the voice on the other end. He sitting in rush hour traffic now, with rain beating down on the window shield of his car as the windshield wiper desperately tries to swipe the buckets of water away. The obnoxious honks of the cars stuck in a their lanes is irritating, but Taehyung has more important things on his mind.

“What’s with them?” Jimin’s voice on the receiving end sounds muffled due to the bad signal.

“They’re from the first parallel universe we met in” Taehyung can feel his heartbeat quicken as the words leave his mouth. He had been having this sort of hunch for a while now, but only recently was it confirmed.

“The Yin and Yang dimensions?” Jimin’s voice is louder now, but Taehyung can still hear the sounds of sizzling vegetables being stir-fried in the background. Jimin was cooking dinner.

“Yes.”

“What? Are you saying we finally found another pair? How do you know?”

“The surgery. When she woke up, she was able to recall memories her brain had previously neglected. The ones that manifested in her dreams.”

“So Dr. Jeon just successfully redefined dreams and memory in consciousness? Wait, what happens now?” Jimin is trying to steady his rushed thoughts, but all of his questions are just tumbling out of his mouth.

“Are you ever going to stop drooling over the guy?” Taehyung’s voice comes out slightly irritated due to traces of jealously he won’t ever admit to. He narrows his eyes, even though Jimin can’t see him.

“Hey, I’m just interested in his research” The latter defends.

“Whatever, the point is, I think she’ll figure it out soon, if she hasn’t already.”

“But Dr. Jeon doesn’t know, does he?”

“Why do you keep referring to him so formally?”

“Because he has just graced humanity with other worldly knowledge and made a groundbreaking discovery, I feel weird just calling him “Jungkook”, it seems so….informal”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, and inhales a long breath of air before exhaling and tightening his grip on the steering wheel as the vehicles lined up in front of his finally begin to inch forward.

“Whatever, the point is, no he doesn’t know yet, so it’s up to you to guide him.”

“Me?! Why is all the pressure suddenly on me?”

“Have you forgotten you’re his psychologist?” Taehyung closes his eyes and leans he head back against the head rest, thinking that maybe Jimin was so caught up with how “hot” Jungkook is, that he forgot why he was treating him in the first place.

“Oh, yeah….” Jimin swallows nervously, half struggling to register all this new information and half trying to connect it all back to whatever he previously knew.

“You said he had dreams right? From what I can tell, those dreams sound awfully similar to Y/N’s dreams, which means there’s still hope.”

“Yeah, hope…..”

A week after you had woken up from your procedure with Taehyung by your side, everything was starting to come together. You had explained to him that you were certain that you had met Jeon Jungkook in another universe, and somehow ended up in this one after both of you had decided to “jump”. At the time, you had look at the golden-haired psychologist, waiting for a confirming response, although you already knew that nothing he said then was going to change your mind about what you were already certain of. You even told him about the paintings in Jungkook’s apartment, and the fact that you know him and Jimin are from the same universe.

“Y/N, I think you should come on a little trip with Jimin and I” was Taehyung’s only response.

And so Taehyung and Jimin had decided to take you by the ocean, thinking that perhaps the atmosphere was suitable for the long story that they decided to orally narrate for you. Before the procedure, you would’ve waved everything they were saying off as if they were telling you some fictional fantasy only fit for teenagers, but everything you’ve been seeing in your sub-conscious dreams had already come together and you knew it was real, just like you had always wanted to believe that it was.

However, what happened to them after they jumped into the wormhole was still overwhelming and heart wrenching, and you tried to suppress the questions forming in your head as they talked because you didn’t want to interrupt the captivating tale. They spoke of different universes, where they met only to fall in love again, cycles of hard fought beginnings and inevitable endings, in search of a place where eternal love could exist.

“Maybe eternal love just doesn’t exist” You say, listening to the waves of the ocean crash against the rocky shores as Jimin finishes and falls silent.

“Contrary to popular belief, it actually does, but the catch is, sacrifices have to be made.” Jimin looks at you with an aged smile that transcends his physical youth and reflects the amount of hardships he’s gone through. Noticing that his philosophical thoughts have put you in a confused state, he proceeds to explain in more detail.

“Matter that forms the bond of love can only choose one or the other. Either the medium exists eternally or the bond of love exists eternally, but one has to be traded for the other. That’s what Taehyung and I have discovered over the years, throughout our travels to different dimensions and our struggles to finally find each other again. We’ve learned that this particular trade-off is the only constant in every dimensional universe.” Jimin explains, his eyes dreamy now as he looks towards the setting sun.

There’s a long silence and the only thing that can be heard is the ocean, waves growing stronger as the sun disappears below the horizon, signaling the pending rise of the moon from its slumber.

“You know why the people in both the Yin and Yang dimensions never get a taste of true love?” Jimin asks.

“Because they’d rather choose eternal life?”

“That and because they are literally missing their other half” He smiles, and you could see the moon’s glow reflecting off his clear skin and crescent shaped eyes.

“Do you think he’ll ever remember?” The procedure was the only way you were able to, and you know there’s no way Jungkook could ever operate on himself. But deep in your gut you’re also certain that even if he never does you’ll still wait for him up until the end of your days. Because even breathtakingly beautiful is an understatement for the memories you have of him, and as long as you had the power to, you would never that go.

“There were several universes where I had to wait for him and others where he had to wait for me. We were lucky we recognized each other at the same time in this one, because knowing and waiting really takes a toll. We know from experience.” Jimin reaches over and gently pats you on the shoulder. His touch loosening a bit of the tension you didn’t realize was there.

“We’ve been to many parallel universes, but we ultimately decided to stay in this one. It’s the only one we’ve come across that allows us to spend the entirety of our lives together, and that’s all we’ve ever wanted anyways.” Jimin says.

“So what made you guys choose this universe?”

“We realized that us escaping to different universes was still choosing physical matter over love. And after so much waiting and painful goodbyes, we eventually decided it was time to let go of the medium. To choose love as the thing we wanted to last eternally.”

He pauses and looks over at Taehyung in the distance, who has walked down to the beach to soak his feet in the foamy water. The tender look in his eyes speaks of solace and gratitude.

“Whether we remember it or not, our love will always be there long after our physical bodies cease to exist. It’ll make a home in the colorful swirl of the gravitational field of gaseous stars; the image of the full moon on a clear night sky, representing the feeling of longing between distanced lovers; the pastel colors of the sky slowly lighting up at dawn and the warm hues of sunset mixed with the cool toned reflection of water. It’ll manifest in the sound and smell of rain, the strong, continuous flow of waterfalls, and perhaps in the stories that are passed down from generation to generation.”

That’s when you realize Jimin was right. And at that moment, you finally understand why the legend of Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung is told to every kid in the Yin and Yang dimensions and why it’s such an unchanging tradition.

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