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Flowers of Fate | Cedar & Clove

↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft.xUnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 24,720 ⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, blood, violence, torture/being held captive, minor character deaths, first-time vaginal sex, not-so-first-time vaginal sex, nipple play, marking/biting, mfmm scene, kissing, guys kissing, blow job, cum swallowing, creampies, things get emotional

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Everything hurts.

It’s a level of pain you’re only vaguely aware exists. There’s been nothing like it before in your life. Searing heat and biting cold, a combined mix of warring sensations. Even the light brush of your hands and the push of fabric against your skin has you screaming in pain.

“An iron blade laced with foxglove,” Joon gasps, jerking back from examining the wound in your side. Your shirt is shoved up under your breasts, leaving your side exposed. “Vile, utterly despicable heathens! She is just Fey enough for it to be on the edge of killing her.”

After you managed to get out that Yoongi had been taken, Mini and Joon sprang into action, getting you and JK inside. Whatever was on the dining table is now on the floor, cleared off with a sweep of Joon’s arm. You can feel JK lying beside you, the table jerking sporadically under you from his movements.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine! Stop that!” JK snarls, jerking so hard the table shudders an inch to the side.

“Asshole,” Mini grunts. “Yoongi would skin me alive if you die. I was just making sure the wounds were healing.”

The table trembles under you again as JK jerks upright and quickly turns so he can look at you. “I’m not the one you should be worried about!”

“Right. Can you help her? What can I do?” Mini asks, ignoring JK and directing his question to Joon.

Joon moves around the table, drifting in and out of your line of sight. “You have a minor ability in healing. Can you try to stitch the inner tissues? We must stop the bleeding before I can administer anything to combat the foxglove. Otherwise, it will just leech right back out of her body.”

Mini makes a distressed noise. “A very minor ability. But, the sun is up now, so I may be able to do that…it will not be pretty, though.”

“Just do it,” Joon commands, his voice drifting further away. “The wound still has traces of the poison, so be mindful of how long you are touching.”

Your eyes flutter as you try to focus on JK looming over you. “Hey there, Beautiful. I know it hurts, but we’ll need you to try not to scream so loud, okay? I’m going to help Mini here by trying to keep you quiet. Just in case those assholes come back through the area. Is that okay?”

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, slipping into your hair. You’re unsure if you can form words to answer him even if you want to, so you just drop your chin and try to nod, your lips quivering with a whimper. JK brushes tears from your cheeks and smoothes a hand over your blood-matted hair. He maneuvers himself so he’s on his knees beside you.

Mini takes a deep breath before bracing his hip against the table's edge. “You are going to feel my magick, and your instinct will be to fight it…please do not. I need to use it to help.” You try to give him a nod, too, but the pain makes your chin jerk up instead of down, a pitiful mewl coming up your throat.

Joon’s voice grows louder as he returns to the table, “Any day now, Jimin!”

Jimin gently presses one of his hands against your belly. “Do not rush me.” Jimin lays his other hand on your right ribs, just above the stab wound, which is still steadily oozing blood. You make a miserable noise as his hand moves slowly down, and the tips of his fingers brush over it, eliciting a flare of burning pain. “I am sorry,” he whispers before pushing the blunt end of his index finger into your gaping flesh.

It’s agony, a nightmare that has come to life. Your eyes flash wide, and you gag, choking on a guttural scream which JK muffles with a hand over your mouth. He presses his other hand against your shoulder, trying to keep you from thrashing too much as Jimin probes further into the wound.

Even with JK’s hand pressed firmly over your mouth, your screams must still cause him to worry as he speaks out. “You’re hurting her,” he grumbles, cutting eyes like daggers at Jimin. “Can’t you be more careful?”

Jimin gives JK a withering look, slightly baring his teeth. “This is not light work, but I am trying to be as delicate as possible. I need to be closer to the end of the wound if I hope to knit the tissues properly. Now, if you would be so kind, shut the fuck up and hold her still.”

The next several minutes are a bit fuzzy, if only because all coherent thoughts cease to exist in a body-wide short circuit. Your heart must’ve stopped at some point because the next thing you’re aware of is JK straddling your hips with his hands planted firmly against your sternum, forcing compressions against your already aching body. You shudder and jerk under him, eyes blinking rapidly, tongue thick against the roof of your mouth.

“Oh, Seven Hells, you’re okay! You’re alive!” He scrambles off you, making the dining table rock alarmingly as he drops back down on the surface beside you. “Namjoon! She’s back—hurry with that poultice before she goes dark again!”

Namjoon’s warm, brown eyes fill your vision. “Hey there, Beautiful. You gave us quite the scare,” he chuckles awkwardly. “I have something I need you to drink and something else I will press over the wound in your side. They will work together to counter the effects of the foxglove and give your body a chance to heal, okay?”

You can only make a soft noise, hoping it suffices as a response of acquiescence. “I’ll help,” JK says, hopping off the table and coming around the other side. He uses gentle pressure and careful movements to lift you so you’re leaning back on him in a reclined position. “Don’t need you choking on anything.”

The concoction that Namjoon pours into your mouth, with JK’s help, tastes like ripe cherries and honey. You cough a little, trying to work the thick substance down your dry throat. “Water,” you gasp, holding back a gag that would surely bring the mixture back up.

Namjoon steps away, returning quickly with a cup of water JK helps you to drink. Your shirt is still tucked under your breasts, giving Namjoon easy access to dress the wound with an earthy-smelling paste. “Mini was able to knit the inner flesh back together fairly nicely, if I do say so myself. The scar should be minimal, but we must ensure that your system is free of foxglove before we go planting new seeds. It is a good thing you are still so new to the bond. If this were anyone else, I do not know that we could have helped.” He gives a cursory glance in JK’s direction, his eyes lingering on the black stain of blood crusting the shoulder of his shirt. “You should let me place some of this on your shoulder, too.”

JK wrinkles his nose. “Nah, I’m good. It was just a scrape. Piss poor shot on their part. Lucky for me. I’m healing just fine.”

“Stubborn as always,” Namjoon murmurs, offering you a strained smile as he begins smearing the thick paste on your side. He wraps your middle with a stretch of linen to keep the medicine in place. “Let us get her into bed to rest, JK. Then you can share with us what exactly happened so we can decide what to do next.”

The pain in your side subsides substantially, reduced to a soft, throbbing ache. “Where is Mini?” you mumble, realizing he’s nowhere to be seen as JK slides his arms around you to carry you to the bedroom.

The shoulder under your arm kicks up slightly in indifference. “Outside, I think. Joon will get him, don’t worry about that asshole. How are you feeling now?”

You wince as he takes your weight off the table, your side pinching with the movement. “Better, I think. What was that, exactly?” You gesture vaguely with your other hand toward your exposed middle.

“Iron dagger infused with foxglove essence. Nasty business, meant for killing. If you hadn’t stepped in front of me…” JK trails off, clearly uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he finally whispers. “You saved my life. I probably don’t deserve it, considering I let them take him.”

Everything is still a bit blurry. It all happened so fast. “You didn’t let them do anything. We’ll get him back,” you swear to JK as he settles you on the bed, tucking you under the sheets and propping the pillows behind you. “I can—I can feel him. But, there’s something there, something in the way.” You press trembling fingers over your heart. “It’s like a thick fog is separating us.”

“But he’s okay, right? I shouldn’t have listened to him.” The desperation in JK’s voice has your eyes watering, your nose burning as you try not to choke on the palpable emotional dread in the air.

You want to tell him yes, but you can’t bring yourself to lie or instill a sense of false hope. “I-I don’t know if he’s okay. Alive, yes, but…” you trail off, swallowing down the bitter taste of uncertainty.

JK grunts, dropping his eyes from yours and picking at the skin around his fingernails. “Well, at least there’s that. It’s got to be enough for now.”

Jimin clears his throat from the doorway, drawing your and JK’s attention. “Feeling well enough to talk?”

Throwing a tired hand up, JK gestures for Jimin and Namjoon to enter the room. Namjoon perches on the edge of the bed with a bowl of water and a cloth in one hand, and Jimin chooses to stand at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are guarded, flicking around the room like he’s avoiding looking at you.

“Take your time, both of you. You might feel well enough to talk, but your energies could wane quickly as your adrenaline tapers off.” Namjoon gestures with his free hand at the bowl of water. “I will clean you up the best I can while you two tell us what happened.”

JK looks at you, raising his eyebrows in silent question. “I can start,” you assure him, reaching out and gripping one of his hands. His fingers thread through yours, anchoring you in the present as you recall what you can of what happened. “We had just crossed the boundary into the Unseelie territory. They came out of nowhere, had to have been hundreds of them, all armed to the teeth. Like something out of a horror fantasy movie, bristling arrows and long pikes.” You shake away the mental image of all that glinting iron and steel. “Yoongi was ahead of us by a few paces. The moment he realized what was happening, he…he—“

“He told me to take her and run,” JK picks up for you as Namjoon begins to clean the dried blood from your face and, as best as he can, from your hair. “That swamp bitch came swooping in on a fucking wyvern. The moon was blotted out in the sky as it descended on us. Yoongi knew if we were all caught, it would be the end of everything. He tried to harness his magick, but I watched as it sparked and jetted from him like a maelstrom of unchecked power. We should have listened!” he snarls, gripping your hand tighter. “We should have listened to you. I’m so sorry we didn’t.” His eyes are rounded with regret and pain as he looks up at you before it morphs back into anger. “I’ll never forgive myself. I have to leave. Now! I’m sure I can make it to the castle undetected. I can be in and—“

You shake your head, interrupting Namjoon’s cleaning. “No. No, no, no. Think rationally here! There was no way to know things would go so badly, not like that. It is no one's fault. And you’ll just make matters worse by going off hot-headed and getting yourself taken, too!”

“So, you just let them have him?” The question is eerily quiet but no less acidic. Jimin’s chest is rising and falling with a barely restrained rage. “How could you not want to fight for him!?”

“What? No, of course not! It’s not like we wanted—”

Letting go of your hand, JK jumps up off the bed and rounds the corner, coming chest to chest with Jimin. The motion is so abrupt it cuts off your response. “Are you not listening? Have you not heard a single thing we’ve just said!? She's right, despite how much I want to go after him now! Put aside your hatred for one fucking second and think with your head instead of your heart! We know that Chaddick won’t kill him, not yet. But if he got his hands on me, or Seven Hells forbid, got his hands on her,” he throws a hand out toward you on the bed, “it would have been near-instant death, tortured in front of Yoongi surely. Which, in turn, could kill him for all we know! You’re not stupid, Mini. You know the power of a mated bond! We have to be careful, or we could lose him forever.”

Jimin narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything in response. He stares at JK before turning on his heel and storming out of the room. JK moves to follow, but you call him back. “It’s not worth it right now, JK. Let him be.”

“So, what do we do now?” Namjoon asks into the silence. He sets aside the bowl and cloth, having done as much as possible without putting you in the bath.

JK glares at the door and then turns to face you and Namjoon. “I don’t think we should treat this as a rescue mission. We should approach it like it’s the same mission as before. We continue to target Chaddick. If we can get into the castle and take him out, or at least take out Borgia, then we increase our odds of rescuing Yoongi. But first, we need information. We need to know what’s going on in that castle. Do you think the bond could help us?” He looks at you, a hopeful expression on his face.

“I wish I knew more about how to use it. Do either of you know?”

“I have a few books tucked away that might be able to help. I acquired them over the years in hopes they could serve Yoongi once he bonded. One can never be too prepared, after all. Perhaps next time, I will insist he read a book or two before going off on an unknown adventure,” Namjoon declares, clapping his hands lightly before excusing himself from the room to pull out the books.

“Are you okay?” you hesitate to ask JK, unsure of his current temper.

The concern in your voice deflates him a bit, taking the bite out of his voice. “I’m a failure for letting this happen. I should have scouted ahead, been the one in front, something…fuck.”

“We can talk about that until we’re blue in the face. What I mean is, are you actually okay? You wouldn’t let Joon put anything on your shoulder. I know you were injured. I could feel how you limped as you helped carry me back to the clearing.” You aim for gentle yet firm, needing to know he’s wholly okay but not wanting to push him.

He blows out his cheeks, chuckling softly. “The glory of being Fey,” he says before grabbing the bottom of his heavily soiled shirt, pulling it over his head, and dropping it to the floor.

“Oh,” is all you can manage as your eyes hastily sweep the expanse of his chest and shoulders before dropping to your lap.

You can see JK standing in your periphery, looking over his body in the firelight. “These will be no more than slightly puckered scars by the end of the day. The shoulder is a bit more sensitive, but thankfully it’s not my fighting arm, so it can afford to be a bit tender for a few more days.”

“Fighting arm? You think you’ll need to fight soon?” You glance up at him, watching as he scoops the shirt back up, studies a few of the stains, and unceremoniously tosses it into the fireplace, where it catches instantly and blazes brightly.

His good arm pushes up in a shrug. “Possibly. It depends on what Joon has in those books. I might have to try to sneak in if we can’t find any alternatives. I won’t let him suffer in there for longer than I have to.” He nods toward the door. “I’m going to go clean up. Do you need anything before I go?”

You shake your head, and he disappears out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It doesn’t take long before your thoughts have circled back through the conversations, and you’re tugging the blankets to the side. You stare at the white linen wrapped around your middle. Your side still smarts, pinching with pain if you move too much. Namjoon didn’t tell you how long you’d have to rest or wait until you could remove the wrap. You freeze, fingers poised over your middle as you realize what thought just crossed your mind.

Namjoon.

You know his name—his real name. JK said it earlier in a panic. You focus hard on all the feelings in your chest and the knots you now associate with being tethered to a fae in this realm. There isn’t a new one, nothing that feels like it’s directly attached to Namjoon or that you have some sort of power over him. Thinking back over the snatches of conversation again, you realize there’s something else you know…

Tossing back the rest of the sheets, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and take a deep breath before pushing up to stand. As your side protests, you blow out a slow, shaky breath to keep yourself from sitting back down and crawling under the blankets. After standing a few moments, letting the lightheadedness and spots dotting your vision disappear, you creep slowly across the room.

You peek through the crack JK left and scan the living space. Namjoon has his back to you, hunched over in front of the fire with a book in his hands, muttering to himself. You slip out of the bedroom. Thankful someone had the forethought to remove your boots sometime earlier, so you’re quiet as you pad across to the door.

If Namjoon hears you opening and closing the front door, he doesn’t voice it. The sun is high overhead, bathing the clearing in warm light. “I was hoping you were still here,” you express, approaching the figure sitting on the lip of the porch, absently peeling a basket of potatoes with a small paring knife.

“Joon would box my ears if I left without so much as a goodbye,” comes the weary reply. You ease down beside him, holding a hand to your side and trying not to gasp with every stitch. “You really should be resting right now.”

“I wanted to say thank you.”

Guarded turquoise eyes slide your way. “Well, you have said it. Though, there is no need to thank me. Seven Suns know I do not deserve your gratitude.”

“You helped save my life. To me, that deserves probably the most gratitude anyone can deserve.” It’s hard to tell if he’s being self-critical or just obtuse.

He makes an unintelligible noise of frustration, hunching his shoulders and violently freeing a potato of a few inches of skin. “I nearly killed you,” he bites, mangling the rest of the vegetable with a few jerking flicks of the knife.

“What? No, that’s—“

“Do not presume to know more about magick than I do!” he interrupts, rounding on you with wide eyes and a firm frown. “It is my pitiful ability in healing that had your heart stopping. If it were not for JK being familiar with restarting a human heart, you very well would have remained that way. Dead. By my hands. Yoongi would never forgive me.”

“Jimin,” you whisper, wanting to comfort him but unsure how to proceed. You’re so caught up in your own emotional process that his real name spills from your lips before you can wrangle it back down your throat.

The new potato in his hand tumbles into the basket, half-peeled. The paring knife follows, thumping hollowly against the mound of raw vegetables. “‘What did you call me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” You clamp a hand over your mouth, wishing you could take it back. This is not how you wanted to have this conversation. When you first came outside, it was your intention to be honest and reveal what you overheard, but the conversation took a different route. One that had you tucking that knowledge away for another time. “Jimin.”

He shivers in response, a full body tremor with his eyes closing, fists clenching, and his lips curling back to expose his teeth. “How? Who told you?”

“Well, no one, technically. Namjoon said it in a moment of panic,” he freezes at the mention of Namjoon’s real name, “and JK said Namjoon’s name in much the same way. But…don’t worry. It’s different somehow. I’m not sure why it’s different, but it is.”

Jimin’s eyes spring open, locking onto you with thinly-veiled suspicion. “Different?”

“Yeah. It’s not like Yoongi. I don’t feel like I have any power over you by knowing your full name. Is it because you didn’t tell me yourself? Is that part of it?”

His mouth works like he’s trying to form words, but nothing comes out. You watch as he wilts slowly, shoulder sagging and hunching forward. “I do not know. It could be that. Though that has never been the case before, to my knowledge, it could be something else…such as your bond to Yoongi and the fact that you are now slowly becoming Fey yourself.”

“It wasn’t my intention to alarm you like that. I just wanted you to know that I know and…that I don’t have any sort of power over you with it. Just being transparent, trying to earn some of your trust. This isn’t how I envisioned the conversation going, though.”

There is a look in Jimin’s eyes that you’re not sure you understand. “If you did have power over me…would you use it?”

You want to immediately say no, that you wouldn’t dare exert control over him like that, but you consider for a moment and shrug, wanting to try and lighten the mood considerably. “Maybe.” He balks at you, but you shake your head with a gentle smile. “But only so I could make you see reason right now. I know you’re upset, and it might be easy to blame yourself for what happened to me or to blame me and JK for what happened to Yoongi, but the person you should be directing your anger at is the one that ambushed us and took him. They are responsible for what happened to me and Yoongi’s current absence. Focus your anger in the right place. Help us find a way to save him instead of wasting energy being pissed at yourself and us.”

The abrupt laugh that Jimin lets out startles you, making you laugh nervously along with him. “Seven Suns,” he huffs with a sigh. “I have been a nightmare, have I not? Please know I am not so much angry with you or JK. It is really the whole situation. However, I am obscenely upset with myself. If I had only listened to you instead of seeing you as nothing more than an enemy…it would have been different.”

“You’ve not exactly been sunshine and rainbows, that’s for sure. But it’s with reason, I believe. Or at least, I think I understand.” You pause, considering what words to use to express your thoughts adequately. “I can’t even begin to pretend to understand what you and Yoongi have. He is still a stranger to me when you break it down to a base level. Sure, a stranger I’m pretty much married to, but still a stranger. We haven’t had sixty years to get to know each other and build that bond. But I can feel the way he loves you. And even if I didn’t have a front-row seat to his emotions, I’d still be able to see how much he loves you by how he looks at you alone.”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Now that I can see beyond my hatred, you really are not so bad. A little wordy, but I do not mind that so much. You can make up for Yoongi’s broody silences.”

That gives you a warm feeling, hearing Jimin include you as part of Yoongi in that sense, that you could contribute something to their relationship in a way, and it makes you smile. “So, we’re good?” you ask, hopeful.

Jimin nods. “Yes. I would say that we are, indeed, good.” He gives you a slight smile that you know will stick with you for a long time. It’s intimate in its own way, private, genuine, and warm.

“Now, is there anything you can think of that might help? How do we discover what’s happening in the Unseelie Court without going there ourselves? I feel blind. I know nothing about this world…the only thing that makes sense is,” you tap your chest, pressing your fingers over your heart, “this.”

Jimin eyes your fingers, his brow pinching. “Would it—is it okay if—” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “what I mean to say is, is it okay if I try to feel for him…through you?”

“Is that possible?” You scoot closer to Jimin until your thigh is pressed against his. “I don’t mind if you try.”

“I, uh, I do not know if it is possible. But, I think I would still like to try, yes.” He clears his throat, sitting up straighter and exhaling slowly. Jimin lifts his right hand, hovering it over yours, where it still rests over your heart. You slide your hand down, letting it drop into your lap.

The gentle press of his fingers is warm, even through the linen of your shirt. “You can press harder,” you say when he continues with the same hesitant contact.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach when his fingers brush the exposed skin through the neckline of your shirt as he presses his entire palm against your chest. “I feel something. There is a power here. But, I can not discern it as connected to Yoongi.”

He pulls his hand away quickly, shaking his head in disappointment. “Sorry, I wish that would have worked,” you share honestly.

Jimin waves a dismissive hand. “We tried. That is the best we can do for now. But, you can feel him, truly? And he is okay?”

“I won’t give you any false hope, the same as I told JK when he asked. I know that Yoongi is alive. I can feel the bond, but it’s like some sort of wall of smoke obscures the other end of it.”

“Alive,” he parrots, nearly matching JK’s words from earlier. “That will have to be enough for now.” Jimin gracefully stands up from his perch on the edge of the porch, the basket of potatoes abandoned and offers you his hand to help you do the same.

You slide your hand into his, and he hoists you up effortlessly. “Ow,” you splutter, wincing and clutching your side when he lets go, and your stance shifts without his support.

“Oh, fuck!” Jimin quickly takes the bulk of your weight, slipping an arm under yours and lifting you nearly onto your toes. “Let us get you back inside. You do need to be resting.”

The hostility you once felt so plainly from Jimin has substantially tapered off. It’s no longer a choking cloud of disdain, just a mild sourness you can smell mixing with his jasmine and chamomile scent. Though, you can distinctly feel a warmth from him that wasn’t there before. Perhaps in time, you can grow even closer to him. You’re sure that would bring Yoongi joy. It’s still unusual to care so much about someone you barely know. You’ve read books and heard stories about such things, but those all fell under the fiction genre…or so you thought.

He ushers you back inside, being mindful of how much tension gets put on your side with each step. “Thank you,” you murmur when he helps ease you into Namjoon’s rocking chair by the fire.

Namjoon startles, jerking around from his perusal of the book in his hands to take in you and Jimin. “What are you doing up? Were you just outside? You should still be in bed.”

“It is my fault,” Jimin tells Namjoon. “I was outside sulking, and Beautiful felt the need to tell me thank you. If I had not been hiding like a petulant child, she would not have had to get up and come find me.”

At that moment, JK emerges from the bathroom, bringing with him a cloud of steam and the faintest scent of banana and coconut. “A petulant child sounds about right,” he scoffs, giving Jimin a once over. “Glad to see we’re on the same page. Now, speaking of pages”—he casually walks into the living space with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips—“have you found anything of interest in that book of yours, Joon?”

“Would you mind putting some clothes on?” Namjoon makes a face at JK. “Nothing yet, but I only just found the one I think may be of help,” he says, pointing to a large pile of books you hadn’t noticed on the floor. “This is The History Of Bonds, written some few hundred summers ago. I was just about to begin browsing it when Mini helped Beautiful into the chair here and was explaining why she was out of bed.”

“Why are you out of bed?” JK asks as he bends to rummage through a cedar chest on the other side of the fireplace.

Jimin clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “You both are insufferable. Leave the woman in peace. The last thing she needs is you two fawning over her like old nannies.”

You hide a chuckle behind your hand. “It’s fine, Mini,” you intentionally use his nickname. “I just wanted to thank him for helping me. Everyone else was busy, and I figured walking outside wouldn’t do me any harm. As I see it, we should focus less on why I’m out of bed and more on what we will do next. How do we find out more information?”

“Well,” Jimin says, “I have been thinking about that since you brought it up. I think I might be able to get information from home. We have a magickal communication network that allows us to communicate directly between the courts. I am sure by now word has been sent to the Seelie Court regarding the capture of Yoongi. I will return home and see what information I can find and what I can learn that might help us.

Namjoon hands the book he is holding off to you. “If you would, please hold this for me for a moment.” The book's leather binding is soft, the pages smelling faintly of oranges as you absently thumb through them.

Rummaging around in a small wooden box on top of the fireplace mantel, Namjoon produces a small velvet draw-string bag. “Ravens Word?” Jimin asks, stepping closer to Namjoon.

“It would be the best way to relay information quickly. I have not perfected it, so it can only be used for short phrases or words, but it should be sufficient to give us some knowledge while we wait for you to return.” He hands the velvet bag to Jimin, who tucks it into his trousers pocket. “You remember how to use it?”

Jimin nods. “I will aim for the dining table unless you prefer somewhere else?”

“That should do just fine. I will put down a linen runner.” Namjoon enters the kitchen and opens the cabinets, setting a folded-up white cloth on the table.

JK eyes the pocket the velvet bag is tucked away in. “Are you sure Ravens Word is the best thing to use? Isn’t it traceable?”

“Traceable only if someone is looking for it. Even still, I will not include anything that might incriminate anyone. We long ago stopped using lowels for signature tracking anyway,” Jimin explains with a small shrug.

“Lowels? Ravens Word? Is there a dictionary in that stack of books that I can get or something?” you ask, letting your gaze flick between the three of them.

Jimin gives you an apologetic smile. “Right. A lowel is a creature resembling an owl of your world that can trace magick signatures not directly attached to an individual. So, things such as minor enchantments that use implements and components instead of the magick from within a being. Ravens Word is one such kind of enchantment. It is a mix of astral dust, herbs, and…um, well, the essence of a mortal-world raven. The mixture is powdered and can be used to send messages as long as the caster is familiar with where they want the message to appear. Imagine it like writing in the sand right before the tide comes in and washes it away—short and precise is best.”

“As for a dictionary, you’re just going to have to hope that mortal brain of yours can keep up, Beautiful,” JK says teasingly. Before you can think better of it, you flip him a vulgar one-fingered gesture. “Oh!” He clutches his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me!”

Jimin and Namjoon watch your exchange with mild curiosity. “Well, the sooner I leave, the sooner I can return. I will return as soon as I can,” Jimin says. He moves toward the door, brushing a hand over your shoulder as he passes. “Continue to rest. Once I return, I will begin instructing you on ways of the Courts. If you are to be bonded to my—er, Yoongi, then I will do what I can to ensure that you do so as an informed resident of this realm.” You’re so pleased that he’s finally being nice to you that you fail to argue that you don’t plan to remain a resident of this realm.

After Jimin was gone, Namjoon focused on the book resting in your lap. “I am curious. Are you able to read that?” he asks, nodding to it.

JK produces some clothing from the cedar chest, only stepping behind your chair to afford himself some privacy to pull them on. Once he’s dressed, he rests his forearms on the back of the chair, looking at the book over your shoulder.

The words on the front of the book look simple enough, but the longer you look at the characters, the more they bend and swirl, which confuses you. “No. I thought at first I might, but the letters don’t make sense. What language is it?”

“Ancient Sylvan,” JK says. “I can barely read it. Joon, where did you get this book?”

Namjoon curls his lips between his teeth, suppressing a mischievous smile. “I may have pilfered a thing or two the night I was put out of the castle.” He gives the book in your hands an affectionate glance. “Most might think that my most desired things are plants because I am a woodland nymph. Well, that might be partly true, but books have always been the real treasures that I’ve sought. You can learn so much from them. Beyond the words on the pages, I can learn the tree's history from which the pulp used to make the paper came. It is a marvel to learn history without needing a history book; any book will do.”

“Put out of the castle? Did you escape with Yoongi, too?”

Shaking his head, Namjoon briefly explains, “I come from Jimin’s Court, actually. We were younglings together. My parents worked in the royal gardens. I was caught one night helping Mini sneak out of the castle to be with Yoongi. I was turned out the very next morning and forbade to return.” He shrugs. “I much like my solitude here in the Hollow Lands anyway. Castle life is so…loud.”

“Interesting.” You want to ask many more questions but know they’re not the priority right now. You hold the book up to JK. “Do you want to give reading it a try?”

He laughs, stepping back from where he was leaning against the top of the rocking chair. “I’ll pass on that. Joon, why don’t you read it for us?”

“Certainly,” Namjoon says, coming to perch himself on the arm of the rocking chair. “The first page should be an index of sorts. Let us start there.”

You thumb open the book to the first page with writing on it. It doesn’t look much like an index page to you, having only a few lines of swirling text. “Here?”

“There are just a few chapters. I have only briefly skimmed this book in the past. But,” his eyes flick over the page, “ah, yes. Here we are, ‘Chapter 4: Communicating Through Bonds’. Finding a way for you to communicate with Yoongi through the bond seems like a good place to start.”

That is what you focus on for the next handful of days. And, much to your chagrin, it doesn’t work. At least, you don’t think it does. The process is easy–mainly depending on your inner focus and learning how to navigate and decipher the different fibers of the bond, of which you’ve come to find out there are seven–but the execution sparks no results.

The bond's first and most prominent thread is called the soul tether. It’s the part of the bond that allows Yoongi to use you to access his inner well of magick. It has a distinct feel, with a constant pulsing thrum and vibration. Anytime you focus on it, the magnetic pull that says you should be by Yoongi’s side increases.

The other strands are all more or less associated with the senses—Yoongi’s senses, to be exact. There are five basic senses and a sixth that is tied to the feeling of emotion. These more minor parts of the bond are associated with communicating. But the connection to them slithers away whenever you think you get a handle on it.

In a way, it feels like Yoongi is doing it on purpose. After nothing but failed attempts, Namjoon concluded that perhaps Yoongi was trying to keep Chaddick or Borgia from discovering his bonded status. Another chapter in The History Of Bonds touched on how another fae can detect things like that, but it can be masked to prevent that from happening.

“I am not sure how he is doing it. Perhaps it is linked to the natural instinct to protect your bonded mate while under duress.” Namjoon spreads his hands in defeat. “I just do not know at this point, and the book does not explain further. Though, I think it best if we move on to trying to find a different way to help.”

JK grumbles from his spot across the table from Namjoon, “I’m still for sneaking in and murdering those assholes. You know I could do it.”

“You’re insane if you think I’d let you go in alone. I told you before. We go in as a team or not at all.” You roll your eyes when JK sticks his tongue out at you. Turning your attention to Namjoon, you ask, “What did you have in mind?”

Namjoon glances down at the white linen runner still on the table—the remnants of Jimin’s message burned into the fabric. Drumming his fingers on the table, he hums thoughtfully. “Well, considering Mini’s message yesterday, we might be better off waiting until he returns to try to formulate another plan. He might be able to offer us a bit more insight. True to form, the Ravens Word was, indeed, limited.”

Sun Solstice.

Two words with a giant X crossing over them. That’s all that came through on the second day after Jimin left for the Seelie Court. When you questioned what that could mean, Namjoon and JK were puzzled. Namjoon explained that the Sun Solstice is the longest day of the fae year, celebrated by the Seelie. It’s mostly known as a day when they hold bonding ceremonies for the royals or Greater Fae. But, it also has been known to be days where they execute the Hell Condemned. Which is a term, you’ve learned, that is used for someone like Yoongi—an exiled fae convicted of high treason.

“How is it exactly that Chaddick has been able to deceive both courts for so long? Fae can’t lie, so how has he kept up such a ruse and made people believe Yoongi is a murderer?” It’s a thought that’s been driving you crazy since the beginning, but everything is moving so quickly that you didn’t think to broach the subject sooner. However, you feel like it’s vital information to know when trying to develop a game plan now.

JK pushes up from his seat to rifle through a cabinet in the kitchen. He begins pulling out dishes and various containers. “From what we’ve gathered over the years, it’s all because of his warty little bitch, Borgia. At least, that’s been the only reasonable explanation.”

“What exactly is she?” The image of the fiery-haired crone on the back of a pitch-black winged serpent has infiltrated your mind while both asleep and awake. Those fateful moments still come in fits and flashes, the chaos overwhelming.

“Swamp Hag,” Namjoon says. “Nasty, ancient being. It’s still a mystery how Chaddick sways her to do his bidding. They are typically solitary creatures that come from deep, deep to the south, beyond the borders of The Hollow Land. In a place that we call the Dread Court, though it is not a real Court. There are no presiding rulers or anything. No, it is a land ruled by darkness alone.”

“Swamp Hags are what you might think of as a witch,” JK continues, picking up the explanation as he starts to slice the loaf of bread Namjoon made after breakfast. “They have no natural magick but can harness the magick of other creatures or items. Creatures from the Dread Court are not held to the same…restrictions we find ourselves with. They can lie just as easily as a mortal man.”

“So you think she has somehow given Chaddick that ability?”

JK scoops a spoonful of honeyed butter onto a slice of bread and spreads it out. “More or less. That or she’s somehow found a way to glamor the entirety of the courts. It’s tough to say, considering we’ve had little inside intelligence over the years. The most information we get is from Mini, and even then, he can only ask so many questions to avoid unwanted suspicions.” He proceeds to butter several more slices of bread, arraying them on a plate and setting it on the table in front of you. “She’s the wild card in all this shit…and I hate it.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

It is imperative for Yoongi to hide the bond, but he can’t think of the rationale as to why for some reason. Whenever he wants to relax and let go, something kicks in and smothers that shining light all over again. He wants to reach out to it, to touch it and find comfort in it, but no matter how much he wants to…wait, what did he want to do?

It’s the same thing over and over.

Awareness. Smothering. Darkness.

Nothing makes sense, and yet everything is highlighted in stark clarity. If only he could turn off that incessant ringing. Maybe he could remember what he was thinking about. It’s important. It’s warm—comforting.

No.

Awareness. Smothering. Darkness.

Again and again.

Until…something changes.

Voices. Yes, there are voices. Hushed whispers that he is sure he wouldn’t be privy to if they knew he was aware of them.

“What is wrong with him?” A familiar voice. The voice of his nightmares.

Shuffling feet draw closer. “How am I to know? He looks and feels much the same to me as he did before. What has changed?” Fetid breath ghosts over his face as the figure comes even closer. “I think he is awake.”

The ringing in his ears intensifies as a hard fist connects with the side of his head. “Wake up, boy. Let me see those eyes that are so like your father’s.” The chains securing Yoongi’s arms over his head rattle with the residual force of the blow. Slowly, Yoongi lets his eyelids slide open. “Ah, there they are. Just as ugly as I remember.”

“Do not speak of my father, you filthy murderer!” Yoongi growls, focusing his anger on masking the bond even now that he’s broken out of his temporary fugue.

“Ah,” Chaddick rears back, a dainty hand pressing to his chest. “You wound me, Yoongi.” He flicks his other hand through his long, blond hair. The silky strands cascade over his shoulders as he moves in a slow circle around Yoongi. The space is small, the top room to one of the circular outer turrets, far from the castle proper. He stops after completing the circuit and comes back to face Yoongi. “Borgia, be a dear and remind him exactly who the murderer is here.” His crystalline eyes glitter with hatred as he watches Borgia step forward and press a gnarled, dirty finger to Yoongi’s temple.

“Yoongi, stop!!” Geumjae screams in pain. The metallic stench of blood is thick in the air. It coats his tongue and makes his grip on the short-hilted dagger slip as he raises it again to bring it back down in a harsh stroke. Geumjae’s next scream is wetter, bringing up a froth of bubbling, black blood dribbling down his chin.

He raises the blade again, eyes tracing the arc of it. The moon is high, its rays streaming just enough light inside the hallway for Yoongi to see the look of terror on his brother’s face as he swings the dagger a final time, the wicked edge severing Geumjae’s spinal cord with a satisfying pop of cartilage and muscle.

Blood soaks into the knees of his trousers as he kneels there, watching the light wink out in Geumjae’s eyes. “Like father like son, both dying a coward's death,” he says, his voice coarse and thick with disgust.

Except…it’s not his voice. It’s—

“NO! That is not what happened!” he snarls, jerking away from Borgia’s poisonous touch, severing the connection to the false memories.

“Are you so sure about that?” Chaddick sneers. “From my recollection of that day, your hands were very much covered in your brother’s blood.”

Yoongi shakes his head as much as he can with his arms up the way they are. His hands might have been covered in Geumjae’s blood, but he did not murder him. “You murdered him. You murdered them both!”

“How preposterous. The guilt has clearly warped your mind during your time away.” Chaddick's long black dressing robe swirls around his slippered feet as he approaches Yoongi, coming within just a few inches of him. “Rest assured. You will meet your justified fate for your crimes against the Unseelie Court.

Yoongi laughs a cold and reckless laugh that earns him a backhand across the face. The coppery tang of blood fills his mouth, dribbling down his chin from the cut left by one of Chaddick’s many finger rings. “What? Angry with me? Will you push me out the window like you did your wife? A sword through the belly like my father? How about—” Another blow across his mouth cuts him off.

Chaddick’s hawkish nose wrinkles in anger before he jerks his chin at Borgia and takes a step back, cradling his hand against his chest. “I want him to be pliable and weak. Scramble his brain if you have to, but you make him heel like a pup, or you will be the one I push out the damned window!”

There is momentary satisfaction as Yoongi watches Chaddick storm from the room until he’s reminded of who remains. “You ought to watch your tongue, boy, else he requests me to cut it out. You should know better than to speak such fallacies.”

“Fey can not lie, and you know it.”

That makes her suck her teeth. “Funny, if Fey can not lie, then how is it you say one thing and he says another?” Power glitters in her rheumy, yellowed eyes. “Story has it that you found yourself some dark magick out there in the wild. Allows you to lie and has further tainted your pitiful soul.” Her body shakes as she throws her head back and howls with laughter.

Yoongi has been suspicious about how Chaddick can lie and manipulate this whole time. He knows the stories, what the people believe happened to his father and brother—what Chaddick has made them believe. To anyone that is a victim of Chaddick’s manipulations, Borgia is simply an old seer that Chaddick employs to throw bones and tell fortunes. She’d come with Chaddick to the Court as part of his retainer of staff. Yoongi didn’t even know her capabilities and true nature until it was too late.

“Just kill me and be done with it,” Yoongi mutters, wincing as the burning around his wrists finally registers. Iron, thick and unbreakable, surrounds each delicate joint. The chain connected to the manacles disappears into the darkness above.

Borgia cackles, drawing Yoongi’s attention. “He plans to marry your mother. Do you know that?” Yoongi tries to control his breathing as he listens. “The way I hear it, she pants after him like a mongrel in heat.” He can’t hold back any longer. Yoongi pushes off with his feet, swinging wildly in Borgia’s direction. His right foot connects solidly with her jaw, sprawling her flat on the floor.

“Fuck you!” Yoongi yells, his voice twisted with the pain that echoes down his arms. His body sways, toes scraping at the stone to stop his momentum.

Her moan of pain turns into a rasping chuckle. “Fuck me?” Borgia pushes her bony body off the floor, swaying sharply as she gains her feet. “You will regret that, just as your brother regretted trying to save your life. He told me so right before he took his last breath…right before I cursed his soul to eternal darkness!” she screeches, lunging at Yoongi with surprising agility. Before he can react and jerk out of her reach, her skeletal fingers close around a fistful of his shirt and jerk him forward.

Pain explodes behind his eyes as the fingers of her other hand dig into the flesh of his neck. Ragged fingernails drag over his skin, leaving fire in their wake. He opens his mouth to scream, but silence is all that comes as he’s swept away to another time, another place…surrounded by the darkness of horrid memories that are far too real.

The blankets are snatched off Yoongi’s bed, bringing him with them to land in a sprawling heap on the floor. “Seven Hells!” He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. “Geumjae? What is going on?”

His brother crouches beside him, giving Yoongi a clear view of his face. There are splatters of black across his cheeks and down his neck—blood. Before Yoongi can question him again, Geumjae presses a finger to his lips. “We do not have much time. We have to go. Now!” he urges, grabbing at Yoongi’s arms to help untangle him from the sheets.

“Can you hold on—stop, ow!” Yoongi swats at Geumjae’s hand. “You pinched me, asshole!”

Geumjae slaps a hand over Yoongi’s mouth. “Stop being so loud,” he whispers harshly through gritted teeth. “I do not have time to explain right now. I just need you to trust me. We have to get Mom and get out of the castle. Right. Now.”

It’s not often that Geumjae acts so seriously. If anything, he’s the more relaxed of the two. When their father steps down, Geumjae is expected to take the throne as the eldest son. A revelation he grumbles about more often than not. He’d much rather spend his time playing the lute and singing great ballads to the simpering ladies of the court.

“Why are you covered in blood?” Yoongi questions when Geumjae lowers his hand, matching the volume of his brother’s whisper this time.

Geumjae looks at the door to Yoongi’s bedroom as if checking to ensure no one is looming in the open doorway. “I need you to listen to me, Yoongi. I mean, really listen, okay?” Yoongi purses his lips and nods. “I was coming in from the stables and overheard an argument in the east courtyard. It was Father and Chaddick. By the time I snuck around the corner, it was too late. Five handspans of steel were sunk into Father’s belly, Chaddick’s hand wrapped around the hilt, and that damned red-headed crone of his cackling with glee behind him.” He holds up a hand as Yoongi opens his mouth to protest. “I said listen! I ran as fast as I could and came straight here. This blood is from the guard stationed outside your room. He was one of Chaddick’s men. I could not risk him alerting someone as we left. We can discuss it later, but we need to go now. We have to get Mom and leave!”

It’s not that Yoongi didn’t comprehend anything Geumjae said. It’s just that there is a process to accepting and understanding something like that. Father, dead? Yoongi’s never heard a funnier—albeit not amusing at all—thing being said. “Jae,” he whispers, his heart quivering violently in his chest.

“I know, baby brother, I know.” Geumjae helps a robotic Yoongi to his feet before gripping his hand and pulling him out into the hallway's darkness.

As they approach the wing that leads to their mother’s bedroom, Geumjae slows down to a walk so he can peer around every corner to check that it’s clear.

Silent tears coat Yoongi’s cheeks. Every time Geumjae looks back at him, he scrubs his face with the sleeve of his pajama shirt, not wanting his brother to see his weakness.

“We should just go kill him,” Yoongi mumbles.

“Kill who? Me?” comes a cold voice from the shadows down the hall beside them. They whip around, Geumjae shoving Yoongi behind him. Chaddick moves closer, his bloodied sword trailing him out of the darkness. A few steps behind him crouches Borgia, her sickly-yellow eyes catching in the moonlight like a monster lurking in the dark waiting to pounce.

Geumjae reaches back, fingers wrapping around a small dagger tucked into the top of the back of his trousers. He whips it out, brandishing it. “Just let us get our mother and walk away. We will leave here and never return.”

Chaddick raises one icy blond eyebrow. “Do you think me a fool, Geumjae? Come, boy, I know you are not that thick-headed. You and I know I can not let you leave here alive. Either of you.”

“Jae, stop,” Yoongi urges, tugging on the back of his brother’s shirt as Geumjae steps toward Chaddick.

“Run, Yoongi, run as fast as you can. Leave here and find a way to reveal the truth.” Geumjae maneuvers himself to block Chaddick’s line of sight to Yoongi completely. “Go!”

“Guards!” Chaddick bellows, startling Yoongi. “Sound the bell! The king has been murdered! Hark, hark, hark! To arms! Defend the Court!”

Geumjae glances back at Yoongi, realizing he still hasn’t moved. It’s this instant that Chaddick attacks. Glinting steel slides right through Geumjae’s back, tenting the fabric of his shirt before slicing through in a rush of black blood. Blood spews from Geumjae’s lips, misting Yoongi’s face as he makes one last attempt to get Yoongi to move, “Run!” Geumjae takes a staggering step toward Yoongi, the sword sliding back out of his body. Bloody fingers land on Yoongi’s chest, shoving him backward.

Yoongi screams a gut-churning, heart-wrenching scream that echoes off the stone walls and fills the entire hall. Just as Yoongi finds purchase, after slipping in the pool of blood steadily growing at his feet, Chaddick begins another mockery announcement. “Guards! The Crowned Prince has been slain! To arms! Beware! Min Yoongi, murderer!”

“Not dead yet, you bastard!” Yoongi hears Geumjae snarl. He glances back over his shoulder, locking eyes with his brother one last time—the final time. Geumjae smiles, even through the blood and the pain, letting Yoongi know that it’s okay…it will always be okay.

“Get out of my head, you evil bitch!” Yoongi groans with the effort of severing Borgia’s connection. “I will take great pleasure in gutting you like the slimy bottom feeder you are!”

Borgia hacks a glob of bloody phlegm onto the floor at Yoongi’s feet. “Good luck with that when all that is going to be left of that brain of yours when I am done with it is mush!” She smacks her lips together, tongue running over her cracked and discolored teeth. The red of her hair looks like rust in the dim light coming in through the arrow slits at the top of the room's walls. “Are you curious about your brother’s last moments? Do you want to know how he died on his knees, begging and pissing his pants? How about how we made your mother watch as Chaddick opened his belly and fed his guts to the hounds?”

Yoongi’s nostrils flare, the pain of seeing those last moments all over again almost too much. “Why are you doing this?”

She titters, clucking her tongue. “I do not need a reason to want to see the likes of you and yours finally fall from their gilded seats into an iron cage.” Waving a gnarled hand, she dismisses that line of discussion. “What I would like to talk about now is why every time I dip into your noodly little brain, I can feel something I have never felt before. But every time I try to take a closer peek, it moves further away. Tell me, Hell Condemned, what are you trying to hide from me?”

Even with tears freely streaming down his cheeks, Yoongi silently pats himself on the back for being able to keep his bond hidden. He may not have realized what it was before, why he wasn’t allowed just to let go. But, now he does. He understands with brutal clarity what exactly he’s protecting. It only pains him that he’s not allowed to take comfort in the bond, to luxuriate in it while facing the darkness ahead. No, he can’t even think of—before the image of your face can fully form in his mind, he’s willing it away.

“I guess you will never know,” Yoongi finally responds, letting his eyes slip closed and promptly ignoring any of Borgia’s further questions. Even when she screams at him and presses her filthy fingers into his skin again, he meets the replay of dark memories with a slight smile on his busted lips.

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

“What am I supposed to do, Mal? It’s been weeks.”

Malcolm slides another espresso across the small cafe table to Monica. “Ye say she wanted tae come ‘ere fur she was after something. Whit was it again?”

“Stupid stories. Well, not stupid, but silly children's stories. Her grandfather was one of those head-in-the-clouds types, and he was always filling her head full of fantasy bullshit about pixie dust and fairies. Utter nonsense.”

In the three weeks since you went missing, Monica has more or less moved in with Malcolm. She canceled her flight home, returned the rental car, and put in for an extended sabbatical at work. In part, she feels responsible for your disappearance. She’s sworn off alcohol and refuses to go home until you’re found.

“Ye dinnae believe in magick?” Malcolm asks hesitantly.

Monica scoffs. “Do you expect me to believe some little green man with fairy wings carted her off? Be real, Mal.” When he just looks at her, she continues, “Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff?!”

One of his big shoulders lifts, and he sighs. “There are stories, ye ken? Things folk only blether aboot in hushed whispers. Stories aboot people disappearing around Beltane.” Monica leans forward, bringing the espresso up for a small sip, intent on Malcolm’s story. “The veil between worlds is thin, allowing the fae folk ta donder among the mortals. Some say those that disappear are taken back tae the fae realm. There was this yin lassie, mah maw knew her when they were weans, disappeared when she was eighteen. She showed up almost a decade after, had barely aged a day, spouting off aboot a peace finally comin’ tae the courts allowing her tae make her escape.”

“Do you expect me to believe that? Honestly?”

“All I’m saying is that there are folk who have disappeared the same as yer friend. Would it be so bad tae think she’s somehow caught up in another world? Ye said so yerself that she doesn’t feel here anymore.”

She hates that Malcolm is right, and she has said that; she still says that. Because that’s precisely what it feels like. Is this why you talked her into coming to Scotland? Did you come looking to disappear? Monica reflected on your last few conversations many times over the previous few weeks. Everything points back to your grandfather…maybe she should have paid more attention or been more empathetic to what losing him did to you. Perhaps then you would still be here.

🌸🌸🌸

Namjoon

Maintaining the new ward is taxing. The leaves of his seeded oak are starting to drag the ground, an alarming new development. Jimin is delayed in returning, his second message using the Ravens Word still smoldering the linen runner on the table.

Tonight.

They had waited, thinking Jimin would be returning soon. But one day turned into another and eventually became almost an entire moon cycle. Namjoon is ready for his friend to return, hoping he’ll bring with him another implement or two. The haggardness is creeping back around his eyes, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep the garden flourishing. He knows if it comes down to it, the plants will have to suffer to preserve the ward; it would be for the best, but it still pains Namjoon to consider it.

“Are you feeling okay?” Your inquiry startles him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I should have knocked.” You prop your hip against the bedroom door jamb, where Namjoon excused himself hours ago so he could lie down and nurse a headache.

He pushes up on his elbows, wincing slightly at the thundering ache still pounding away between his temples. “Feeling a bit better now. Has JK returned from the western glen?”

“Joon, JK returned hours ago. You’ve been in here nearly all day. It’s why I came to check on you. Mini should be arriving soon, I’d imagine.”

That gets Namjoon’s attention. He clears his throat and absently pats his clothes as he slides off the bed. “Right. I must have laid down a bit longer than I thought I had.” He wishes he’d have at least slept some.

“It’s your magick, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The reason you look and probably feel like shit.”

His brow pinches. “I look like shit?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week, and the bags under your eyes are turning into suitcases.” The worry you feel is evident in your voice, even if Namjoon doesn’t quite understand your odd phrasing.

There is no use in trying to skirt around the truth, as you’ve already figured it out. “Yes. It is my magick. Or rather, a lack of. I was already nearing my limit when I let down the ward the first time. Now that I have had it back up for several weeks, and with the bond necklace only having given me a few additional weeks…well, it would seem I need another boost or a miracle.”

“Maybe we should find you a human to bond with,” you say. Namjoon can tell you’re joking, but the idea has crossed his mind on multiple occasions.

“Mmm,” he hums, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You push off from the door jamb and gesture over your shoulder with a thumb. “JK has dinner ready if you’re hungry.”

He follows you out of the room and settles at the dining table across from you. Jungkook has a platter of grilled meats and vegetables waiting. The fragrant scent of herbs and spices makes Namjoon’s stomach give an appreciative grumble. His appetite hasn’t been what it should be, another testament to how he’s been feeling.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jungkook says after setting plates and cutlery beside the platter. “There is another rack of trimmings keeping warm in the coals.”

Jungkook’s always been a fairly decent cook. The tender meat is like butter melting on Namjoon’s tongue. He’s confident that if he can eat enough tonight, he’ll maintain his strength for another day or two at least.

You’re awfully quiet as you slice up the vegetables Jungkook spooned onto your plate. Namjoon can almost see the wheels turning in your head. There’s something on your mind. He’s gotten good at picking up on your tells and personal nuances over the last few weeks while waiting for Jimin to return. The awkwardness that was there in the beginning no longer exists. You might have been a stranger to him the first few days, but now you’re so much more. A friend—but even that does not seem to suffice when he considers you. Between the training you’ve been doing with Jungkook and the help you’ve been putting in around the house, you’ve been spending a lot of your free time helping Namjoon with his garden and learning all you can about the plants he so dearly loves.

It’s very apparent that Jungkook has also taken a liking to you. Primarily, he dotes on you, waiting on you hand and foot. When Jungkook returns from his daily scouting trips, he often returns with a swath of wildflowers you’ve taken to decorating the porch railing with. Bright blooms of pink, purple, and blue cover nearly every available inch. Namjoon knows what it means but doesn’t dare to broach the subject. Especially considering he would then have to reflect on his own internal feelings, and that’s a space he would rather avoid for the foreseeable future.

“Would that even work?” Your question pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry. Would what work?” he asks after swallowing a bite of meat.

You poke at a crispy potato wedge, chewing on your bottom lip instead of the food. “Bonding with a human?” You finally look up from your plate, your eyes meeting Namjoon’s curious gaze.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, pausing with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

You shrug. “His magick is straining again. I was just curious if bonding with a human would help him like it helped Yoongi since Joon is a woodland nymph, not a Greater Fae or whatever.”

Your curiosity is endearing. The fact you care enough about Namjoon to ask makes him feel good. “I imagine it would work much the same way. There are far fewer stories in our histories where a woodland nymph took a human mate, but we have our own inner wells for magick. Ours are more connected with where we plant our soul seed. My oak,” he gestures toward where his towering oak sits outside, “is where my magick is channeled from. It enters through my connection with my tree and into my inner well. The way a human bond works is it primarily allows the Fey to wield more of their own power safely. If I bonded with a human, it would allow me to draw on more magick through my oak.”

“Where does your oak get magick from?”

“Bronwe—that’s the name she whispered to me when her first leaf began to sprout—my oak,“ Namjoon explains, “draws her power from deep below the ground. Her roots reach for many miles in all directions, feeding on the life force of nature itself. Though, the more magick I draw from her without having some sort of stabilizer, the weaker her roots become. That is why her branches have begun to droop so low. I have been trying to take too much from her.” Namjoon drops his eyes from yours, resuming his study of his plate. “So, yes, to answer your question. A human mate would help—if just to give her a break.”

“Can more than one fae be bonded to the same human?”

Jungkook chokes on his mouthful of food. Namjoon reaches over and hammers a fist against his back, suddenly feeling like he can’t breathe himself. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’m just curious,” you declare. “I still know very little about this world and how it works. Just asking questions.”

“Sounds to me like you are causing trouble with your questions,” Jimin’s amused voice carries from the porch just before the door opens, and in steps the Fey himself.

“Mini!” You shove back from the table and skip to the door, pulling Jimin into a hug. Namjoon watches you, thankful for Jimin’s interruption and amused at the look of surprise on his face as you press your face against his chest and inhale deeply. You’ve been gravitating toward scents recently, primarily seeking clothing worn by Yoongi or left here by Jimin. It’s made Namjoon curious if it has anything to do with the deep connection between Jimin and Yoongi, despite there not being an actual bond between them.

Jimin pats your back. “At least one of you is happy to see me,” he teases.

“What news do you have for us?” JK asks, standing up and grabbing another plate from the cabinet. “You must be starving, have a seat. Eat.”

After settling down beside you, once you resume sitting at the table, Jimin fills his plate with food before he begins. “I expect you got my Ravens Word messages?”

“Sun Solstice.” Namjoon confirms, “We did. What is happening?”

“Chaddick has announced a marriage decree to Yoongi’s mother come the Sun Solstice, an act of unification, he claims. It will coincide with his public execution before the whole of both courts. The end of the Min line to finally bring true peace to both Courts. A blessing and a curse.” He pauses, taking a moment to meet everyone’s eyes. “I saw him.”

“You saw him? How? Where?” Jungkook’s hand tightens around his fork so tightly that Namjoon hears the wooden handle creak.

Jimin visibly shivers. “It was requested that my family be present for the announcement. Chaddick presented the decree and began working with the Seelie Court advisors on a power merger. He intends to be the first Seelie to sit on the Unseelie Throne. This is exactly what he has wanted all along, but he knew as long as Yoongi was still alive, there was no way he could lay claim to the Min throne—regardless of Yoongi’s exiled status.”

“How did you manage to see him? Surely they have him locked away in the dungeons?” Namjoon questions, knowing full well the typical etiquette observed for prisoners.

The sigh Jimin lets out is hollow, exhausted. “Chaddick is bold. He was parading him in the open, shackled in iron like a beast. His eyes were so—they were so…empty. I could feel the taint of darkness surrounding him, bleeding from him. It stank of a swamp,” he sneers.

“Borgia. She must be using some sort of witchy shit on him.” You shove away your plate in frustration. “Ugh! I wish I knew more about this bond. If it gives him access to more power, shouldn’t he be powerful enough to break free from it or something?”

Jimin gives you a sympathetic look. “Was there anything you all found out that might help? Anything about the bond we can work toward? The Sun Solstice is just a week away.”

Namjoon has an idea, but he’s unsure how receptive anyone else will be to it. You gave him the idea, actually. Even then, it’s a long shot that anyone would be comfortable agreeing. But, then again—he glances at Jungkook, who is staring at you like he wants to hold you and soothe your worries. Jimin, well, he already knows Jimin will do anything for Yoongi. And, as far as himself…

“I think I might know of a way to help,” Namjoon admits, his voice wavering slightly with nerves. “But, it is a bit eccentric.”

🌸🌸🌸

Jungkook

“You want us to do what?” Jungkook can’t believe what he’s hearing.

The tips of Namjoon’s ears blush as he stammers out his idea again. “It might be possible for us to all bond with Beautiful, giving Yoongi unfettered access to our magick through her. It would have to be enough for him to overpower whatever enchantment Borgia has over him. There is no way she is more powerful than four Fey combined.”

“I’ll do it,” you don’t hesitate to state. “If it can help, I’ll do it. I’ll fuck all of you at the same time if it means helping Yoongi, if it means we rescue him and send Chaddick to the fiery pits of Hell…or wherever it is that bad people from here go.”

Jungkook can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips. He knew he liked you from the moment he laid eyes on you. The fact you were meant for his best friend didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate you. Spending the last several weeks holed up in Namjoon’s house with you only intensified that appreciation. Since Namjoon said your side was healed well enough, you’ve asked Jungkook to help train you with a sword every morning. And fuck if he doesn’t like how your body moves when you swing it. You might be no better than a child playing with a toy sword right now, but you don’t give up—which is what makes him keep agreeing to train you.

“Are you certain this would work?” Jimin asks, his untouched plate of food forgotten on the table.

Namjoon stands up from the table and moves over to his stack of books. “I came across it a few days ago. It is not a definitive account but a speculation based on transcribed scrolls in an abandoned temple found near the Dread Court. There is a small passage about ‘Circle Bonding’,” he explains, flipping through an old, tattered book. The pages are barely staying within the binding. Dust drifts down from the book with each additional page Namjoon turns. “Here.” He turns the book around and gently lays it on the table.

Looking at the page, Jungkook can see it is in a standard script, likely part of the translation process. “‘A practice observed mostly by lesser Fey seeking more power’,” he reads off, skimming over the small paragraph. “‘Although the effects may vary according to the Fey involved, it is believed to be most effective with at least one Greater Fey’. Well, we got that covered, at least. Twice over,” he muses, glancing at Jimin.

Jimin lightly brushes the edge of the page. “Is it so simple?”

“I am willing,” Namjoon says. “It may also help with my magick. I do not know how long I can keep us concealed here.”

“With luck, my friend, you won’t need to keep the ward up much longer. If we bond and Yoongi gets the boost he needs, I say if he doesn’t make it out by himself, then we orchestrate an attack the night before Sun Solstice. The Seelie Court will be in attendance. I’m sure there will be a feast in preparation for the sun to rise…the perfect distraction and opportunity to slip in and make some noise.”

You’re nodding along to Jungkook’s plan, a sparkle of light shimmering in your eyes. He knew you liked this kind of stuff. There’s no way you wouldn’t with all the stories your grandpa told you. You’ve shared a few with him over the weeks. His favorite is The Young Tamlane of Carterhaugh. He wonders how long it will take you to realize that story is, in part, based on himself.

“So, we agree, then? We try to bond and give Yoongi the extra oomph he needs to escape. If, for some reason, he doesn’t, we say fuck it and storm the castle in a last-ditch effort. If they’re going to try and execute him anyway, it’s not like we have other options.” You look at Jimin, the only one who hasn’t voiced his agreement yet. “What do you say, Mini? We didn’t start on the right foot, but I no longer care about that. I just want Yoongi to be alive and happy.”

“It would mean I am connected to him, too. So, if sharing a bond with all of you saves Yoongi, then of course I agree.” Jimin smiles. It’s soft and sweet, something Jungkook hasn’t seen from him in a while.

Jungkook begins clearing away the dishes from the table, uncaring of the uneaten food. “Well, no time like the present. We need to find implements to use. Joon, do you have anything?”

“I believe I know just the things,” Namjoon replies. He heads straight for the small box on the mantle, where he pulled the bag of Ravens Word from. “I have been saving these for a long time.” Returning to the table, he opens his palm and reveals three near-identical purple and white crystal shards. Delicate silver chains crisscross over and around them, securing the stones at the ends as the pendants of necklaces.

“Those are beautiful,” you say, looking at the stones in Namjoon’s palm. Your lips make this cute ‘o’ shape, parting just enough for Jungkook to see the tip of your tongue.

Jimin grabs the bag he discarded on the floor by the door when he first came in. “They will match perfectly with this.” He pulls back the clasps on the bag and reaches in. “I got something for you. I figured you would be tired of having to roll up the sleeves on the tops and cuffing the pants of these giants.” Purple silks and velvets come out of the bag, silvery and light blue accents peeking through here and there. “Some blouses, fitting of your beauty, and some tapered trousers more suitable to your stature.”

“Oh, wow. Mini, you didn’t have to do that.”

The smile that graces Jimin’s face reminds Jungkook of just what made Yoongi so goo-goo-eyed, to begin with. Jimin has an ethereal beauty that goes beyond even that of a Fey.

“Perhaps not. But I wanted to. I want you to be comfortable and well cared for, truly.” A bit of color creeps into Jimin’s cheeks, further brightening his smile. You roll your lips between your teeth and do this little shoulder swish that’s just so fucking cute. Jungkook’s sure he could swoon over the Seelie Prince himself if he weren’t so caught up in watching your reaction to Jimin. You disappear into the bedroom to try on the new clothing.

“Okay, Prince Charming,” Jungkook teases. “A few weeks away, and you come back a different Fey.”

“Not different, just more accepting, perhaps. She is forever a part of Yoongi, and I love him—all of him.” Jimin sets his bag back down, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I know I was wrong in the beginning, I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and I will forever be embarrassed and sorry for my actions. I am simply doing what I can to rectify it.”

Jungkook steps around the table and places a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Yoongi would be proud of you.”

“I hate that he is not here for this. Do you think he would be accepting? She is his mate, his bond…would he be okay with us making that connection, too?” The worry in Jimin’s voice is evident.

Namjoon moves to stand beside them, the necklaces dangling from his hand. “I believe if Yoongi were aware of ‘Circle Bonding’ before all of this, it would have been his idea. You know how much he loves you, Mini. He and JK have been inseparable since they were younglings. Of course, he would want him to be a part of his bond.” It’s not lost on Jungkook that Namjoon doesn’t include himself in the assurance.

“Do not leave yourself out of that, Joon. He would want you, too,” Jimin responds immediately, clearly having caught it the same as Jungkook. “You have done more for him in the last ten years than JK, and I combined. If anything, you would be his first choice.” They both chuckle, knocking shoulders playfully.

“How do I look?” you call from the bedroom as you step out.

Jungkook swallows thickly, subconsciously licking his lips as he takes you in. The lilac top hugs your figure, accentuating your waist, flaring over your hips, and pushing your breasts up. He sends up a silent thank you to the Moon for Jimin choosing those trousers. They hug your legs, making them look like they were dipped in starlight.

Jimin breaks the silence first. “Exquisite.”

“Thank you, good sir.” You give an exaggerated curtsy, your fingers pinching at the flared fabric over your hips, making them all melt into laughter. “Now, who’s ready to do this?”

🌸🌸🌸

You can’t believe what you’re about to do. When you slipped into the bedroom to change into the beautiful clothing Jimin brought you, you nearly panicked and climbed out the window. Since the moment JK dumped you through the gateway and into the loch, your entire life has been one giant tailspin. It’s only been recently that you’ve managed to stop the nauseating swirl and begin to get a grasp on things. Now, you’re about to take another nosedive into the unknown.

It’s not that you don’t want to bond with these fae—you don’t mind that part—but you can’t seem to get rid of the tingling beneath your skin when you think about how Yoongi might react. You’ve been trying to remain positive, spending a lot of time reaching out to the bond and frustrating yourself over and over again when you run into the same foggy wall as before.

Jimin’s news of Yoongi made your stomach churn. You immediately grabbed for the bond and threw everything you had against the wall separating you, but it was useless. If you’re being honest, the reason you agreed so quickly to try the circle bonding was the thought that maybe if someone else is part of the bond, then they can use their magick to break through the barrier and finally communicate with Yoongi. From what JK explained and what little you could read of the book Namjoon had, in theory, it should work in a way that allows them to feel the bond you have with Yoongi and each other.

“We should start with JK,” Namjoon suggests. “Go in sequence of ability.”

JK huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess that makes sense. Are we all going to do the rites first?”

Jimin looks to Namjoon, and they both nod. “I think that might be for the best. We can begin the bonding process all at once and then…umm, the other.”

“Foursome,” JK chirps. “The other would be what they call a foursome.”

“You do not have to be so crude,” Jimin murmurs. “Besides, what if we do not want to do that together?”

“Are you worried we’ll laugh at your little cock?” JK pokes his lips out in a faux pout. “It’s okay, Mini. I promise not to laugh too much.”

Jimin raises a slim brow, his lips tipping into a smirk. “I was thinking more along the lines of not wanting to make you feel inadequate in comparison.”

“Okay, okay, enough dick talk,” you laugh, thankful for the banter that has eased the tension. “If it’s any consideration, I wouldn’t mind if everyone was present. Based on my experience, inhibitions seem to have no place during a bonding. I doubt any of you will even care if you accidentally cross swords.”

That earns you a loud, full laugh from JK and curious looks from Namjoon and Jimin. “That has to be in reference to sex of some kind,” Namjoon muses. “I will have you all know that I have never—well, I have never experienced copulation with another being.”

“Fucking knew it!” JK exclaims.

This makes you pause. “Are you sure you want to do this, then, Joon? The bond…it, well, it is very controlling.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I know. If I am being honest with you, with all of you, I have taken quite a liking to you, Beautiful. I do not believe in coincidences, the sun and moon move in mysterious ways, but the stars are always aligned precisely how they are meant to be. You were destined to come here, to be a part of this world, and now you are making it tilt to rotate on your axis.”

You can feel it, the rightness in his words. You didn’t travel to Scotland on a whim as you thought. No, you were inevitably drawn to this time and place as a beacon of hope and change. Everything your grandpa ever told you has prepared you for these very moments. You know how this story is supposed to end.

When you lead the way to the garden, the moon is high in the sky, the air warm and humid against your skin. Beautiful ivy vines, fragrant jasmine, and drooping wisteria cover the moon gate. The flowers have bloomed fully over the last week or so, creating a magnificent backdrop as you stand with your hand clasped in JK’s. Jimin gently wraps the delicate silver chain around your hands, much like he and JK did for you and Yoongi.

You can’t help reaching out to the bond again. Trying to somehow let Yoongi know what you’re about to do is meant to help him. Being of the Unseelie Court, the words JK speaks mirror the ones spoken by Yoongi, vowing to be like the moon that gives way to the sun. You feel the same draw, reciting the words you also spoke to Yoongi. As the last word leaves your mouth, you gasp, stumbling forward into JK and clutching your chest.

The bond undulates, swelling inside you with the onslaught of new feelings. It’s like JK has reached under your ribs and is squeezing your heart. “Fucking hell,” you rasp as your body finally adjusts to the new sensations. “Is that normal?”

JK’s eyes are wide and full of alarm as he clutches you to his chest. “Like being hooked up to a car battery.” Usually, that would make you laugh, hearing JK speak so casually about things in the mortal world, considering the amount of time he has spent there during the last ten years. But, now, it barely registers over the ocean roaring in your ears—only, they’re not your ears.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

Standing on the rocky precipice, looking out over the deadly drop into the crashing waves below, he feels something inside of him change. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his manacled hands grow clammy, having nothing to do with the ocean mist that lingers in the air.

“Would you like your body to be dumped into the ocean once I finish with it?” Borgia asks, sucking her teeth as she ambles over the craggy rock face to sneer at him. “I would shove you over right now if I could get away with it.” She uses a high-pitched mocking voice, “Oh, no, he jumped! I could not stop him!” Her laugh is like the crumbling of dead leaves, raspy and hollow. Yoongi barely registers the fire lancing through his wrists when she tugs on the iron chain, making him stumble behind her like a dog on a leash. He’s so focused on the new sensation in the bond that he doesn’t mind when she forces him onto his knees, the barnacles on the rocks cutting through his pants. “Collect those for me, dog, and I will let you have a bite of bread for dinner.”

His fingers dig at the crustaceans, trying to pry them from the rock. He doesn’t care that it’s nearly impossible to do with just his fingers, as long as Borgia doesn’t touch him. Because, right now, he is leagues away…standing in front of a moon gate, looking into the eyes of one of his best friends.

🌸🌸🌸

The sensations level out, letting you get a better grasp on them. After Jimin unwinds the necklace, JK slides his hands up your arms, sucking in a breath when his fingertips graze the exposed skin of your neck. He licks his lips and jerks back, releasing you. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reluctant to let him step away. The connection between you urges you to go to him. Now that it has tasted his magick, it wants more. It needs you to complete the bond to his inner well.

Your eyes drift to Namjoon as he takes JK’s place before you. He offers you his hand, a warm smile on his face. “May I?”

Instead of answering him, you feel a need to be honest with him about something that has been eating away at you for a long time now. “Joon, I—I need to tell you something.”

Namjoon’s brow pinches and his hand slowly lowers to his side. “What is it?”

You chance a glance at Jimin, who is watching you with an open expression of genuine support. He nods his chin slightly in further encouragement. You reach for Namjoon’s hand, taking it up and holding it between both of your own. “When JK and I first came back after Yoongi was taken, there were some things I overheard during all the chaos. Things that I do not think I was supposed to hear but that were said accidentally with all the stuff going on. Joon—Namjoon,” you pause, letting him take in the realization, “I hope you are not too upset with me.”

His eyes drop like he’s taking a moment to filter through his feelings. “No control,” he finally says. “You know my true name, but still, you hold no power over me for it.” He looks up at you, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “I am thankful for you telling me. You are full of surprises, you sweet, wonderful being.”

“Do you know my real name?” JK asks, drawing your attention.

You shake your head. “I do know Jimin, though. Those were the only two names I heard that night. I don’t know if it was because someone else said them, and that’s why I don’t have power with them. Or, Jimin thinks it might have something to do with me slowly growing into my own faeness. Either way, it’s not my intention to have that kind of power over any of you. I didn’t want to ask you, and it somehow not be the same as with them. I would never have asked it of Yoongi if I thought there was any other way to guarantee my safety at the time.”

“Tell her,” JK urges, nudging Jimin with his elbow. “I want her to know my name, too.”

Jimin chuckles softly, giving JK a knowing look. “His name is Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook of the Unseelie Court, Royal Guard to the Crowned Prince.”

“You didn’t have to get all proper like that,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes, but then he quickly looks to you, hopeful.

“Jungkook,” you test out his name, liking how it feels on your lips. “I like knowing your name without having some control over you with it.” That makes Jungkook positively beam, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes and over his dark hair. He may not be a fae prince, but he sure looks like it to you. You turn back to Namjoon, intimately aware of the butterflies that sweep through your belly when you meet his gaze. “Shall we?”

The words Namjoon chooses are different but no less potent in their meaning. “As all living things need the sun, water, and nutrients to grow, so too do I need you as my mate to grow beyond what I am now. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my grove and find shade under the branches of Bronwe. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

It’s so natural now, responding to his vow with your own. “Whether as a mighty oak or a delicate rose, I come to you as tender hands of care. I will be the cooling shade to searing heat and the suckle of water when it's dry. I will protect you and Bronwe with all that I am and ever could be. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

Namjoon’s hand tightens around your forearm as you both sway from the impact of the tether beginning to form. “Wow,” he says. The sentiment of his surprise and awe echoes inside you as the bond changes again. Your nose twitches as you catch the faintest whiff of briny ocean air.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

Something is happening to the bond. The harder he pushes it down to mask it, the harder it pushes back. It’s clear to him that you’ve accepted a bond with Jungkook, though the reasoning alludes him. He trusts his friends implicitly. Whatever it is they are doing with you, he knows it’s for the benefit of everyone.

The moon is bright overhead, something that used to bring Yoongi immense amounts of joy because it would revitalize his inner well and make him feel refreshed, even when his magick was at its weakest, right before you got dumped into his life—literally. Since he’s been taken, Borgia has made sure to only take him out at night when she feels like he’s extra compliant. Tonight is one of those such instances. He’s been feeling listless the last day or two, using all of his reserved strength to keep the bond masked, long having given up trying to fight the nightmare of the night he escaped the castle that she makes him relive constantly.

“Scrape at those faster, boy. We do not have all night.” Saliva splashes onto his boot as she spits on the ground beside him. He ignores it, digging his now bloodied fingers around a particularly stuck barnacle, his eyes focused on the moonlight glinting off the ocean in the distance, but all he can see are a beautiful pair of turquoise eyes that are so full of love as they move to in front of him—but not him.

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin is the last to step in front of you. Unshed tears are glistening in his eyes as Jungkook helps Namjoon twine the third necklace around your clasped hands.

The words Jimin says are similar to Yoongi’s but from the sun's perspective as opposed to the moon's. “As the sun provides light for the moon to glow, so too will I shine for you as my mate. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my stars and find warmth within my soul. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

You combine your own words, feeling like that is the right thing to do. “The moon spends its entire life reflecting the light of the sun so that others may see, even in the dark. I offer myself to you as an equal to shine for the moon. I open my heart to you so we may both be bright for him, even in the darkest of times. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.” The inclusion of Yoongi is automatic, offering Jimin not just a bond but a promise that you will never try to be more prominent in Yoongi’s life, instead standing as an equal to Jimin.

The bond shivers, bringing an added warmth that shines brighter than the midday sun. Jimin closes his eyes and murmurs, “Yoongi. I can almost feel him.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

“Put them in the jar,” Borgia huffs, kicking the glass bottle closer to where he kneels. His hands are a mess, bloodied and aching, as he grabs the jar and begins to stuff the crustaceans he managed to pry from the rock.

Sweat is pouring down his neck and soaking his shirt. The last change to the bond is making it so hard to hold back. Jimin. He has barely thought of him since he’s been captive, lest he falls into a bottomless pit of despair. Yoongi can feel them, all three of his best friends, glittering like an oasis in the desert on the other side of the mental wall he’s erected within himself.

He aches to drop the wall and reach out to embrace the warmth it offers. But he’s not sure what will happen if he does. The bonds are faint, incomplete—just a tease at this point. Yoongi grits his teeth, shoving the last of the sea creatures into the jar before staggering to his feet and holding it out to Borgia. She gestures wildly down the coast, a silent command for Yoongi to walk. He clutches the jar to his chest, takes a step forward, and once again finds himself with his unfocused gaze staring into familiar turquoise eyes and the faint taste of chamomile on his tongue.

🌸🌸🌸

“He’s there. I know he is. Why isn’t he letting us in?” Jungkook presses a hand to his chest, a look of confusion on his face.

“The bond is not yet complete. That could be holding him back,” Namjoon suggests. His breathing is a bit ragged as he works to unwind the necklace from around your and Jimin’s hands. “There is so much power.”

You can feel him now. Yoongi is there, a muted presence, but you feel him more prominently than you have the whole time he’s been gone. The taste of salt lingers on your lips, and for some reason, the tips of your fingers ache with phantom pains. “He knows,” you whisper, licking your lips and savoring the tangy flavor that shouldn’t be there. “I can feel him.”

“Whoa,” Jimin gasps, pulling you closer. His eyes bore into yours. “Your eyes, they—they are his. Oh, Yoongi.” Before you know it, Jimin’s lips are pressed to yours. The touch ignites something in you. You lean into the kiss, letting Jimin slide his tongue between your lips. “You taste the way he does, like the darkness just before dawn and morning dew,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling away to catch his breath.

Gentle fingers brush across the back of your neck, eliciting goosebumps down your spine. “You smell even more divine than before. Is it because of the bond?” Namjoon audibly swallows, the sound quivering his breath as he exhales. “Perhaps we should go inside.”

All you can do is nod. The force of three new bonds is far more intense than one, each playing off the need of the next. As you follow them back into the house, you can feel moisture already gathering between your thighs. Namjoon leads the way, his broad shoulders seeming even more expansive now that you’re looking at him through a bond haze.

Jungkook has been uncharacteristically quiet since he questioned why Yoongi wasn’t letting them in. You put a hand on his arm to draw his attention. “You okay?”

“What? Me? Oh, yeah, I’m more than okay.” That boyish grin you first saw all those nights ago at Bowhill House settles on his lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug. “You don’t even know my name.”

His eyes flick to yours. “Sure I do. You’re Beautiful.”

“I mean my real name,” you laugh. Namjoon pushes open the door to the bedroom, and you continue in behind Jungkook.

Jimin shrugs off his overcoat and tosses it on a wooden chair in the corner. “We do not need to know your real name for this to be what we want. At least, that is how it is for me. And if I am being even more honest, I do not want to know your name until you are ready to give it, and even then, I want Yoongi to know it first. He deserves that more than we do, but only when you are ready for that…if you ever are. We are all perfectly content with calling you Beautiful, as that is exactly what and who you are.”

“He’s right,” Jungkook agrees. “Now, quit stalling and get on the bed.”

“Excuse me?” you ask with an awkward laugh.

Jungkook pokes at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I said get on the bed. Now.”

“Hold up a minute, I don’t thin—“

His chest is against yours in the next instant. He steps forward, forcing you back until your thighs knock into the edge of the bed. “Seeing as how I am the only cock in this room that has any experience with pussy, I think it would be best if I called the shots. Besides, I like being in charge.” He emphasizes that statement with a gentle push to your shoulders, easing you back onto the bed.

You glance at Namjoon and Jimin. Their eyes are locked on Jungkook, watching his every move as he slowly begins to relieve you of the clothing you put on only hours ago. The buttons on your blouse pop open quickly under his deft fingers, exposing your bare breasts to the heat of the room and their gazes.

Being bold, Namjoon steps forward and perches on the bed beside you. “Are they as soft as they look?”

“It’s okay to touch,” you tell him before giving Jimin a look that means those words are for him, too.

Your boots come off next. One at a time, they thump onto the floor, discarded by Jungkook. His fingers tickle along the arch of your foot, making you squirm. You open your mouth to tell Jungkook to stop, but Namjoon’s fingers pinching one of your nipples steals your attention.

“Touch her, Jimin. I know you want to. Stop resisting.” Jungkook smirks as he trails his hands up your legs until he gets to the fastening on your pants.

Jimin reaches out a tentative hand and cups your other breast, squeezing lightly. You both shudder from the contact. “I can feel you feeling me,” Jimin observes, experimenting by flicking his thumb over your nipple until it pebbles tightly.

Your body jerks as Jungkook tugs your pants down over your hips. Namjoon sits up a little straighter. He cocks his head to the side, sliding his hand down from your breast to splay across your stomach.

“What you’re looking for is the clit,” Jungkook casually tells Namjoon. “Listen to the sounds she makes. Watch her reactions. You’ll know when you find it.”

“Why am I the only one naked?” you huff, biting your bottom lip as Jimin continues teasing your nipples, and Namjoon’s hand moves lower. Your pants hit the floor, Jungkook finally getting them down your legs. He stands back, looking smug as he watches Namjoon’s hand intently.

It’s a soft touch at first, the way Namjoon’s fingers sweep over your skin. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as he becomes more confident with his exploring. Jimin leans in and captures your next exhale, breathing you in before devouring your mouth in a brutal kiss. He follows you down as you lose the will to continue sitting upright. Hands trace over your knees before firmly pushing them open, exposing your throbbing core.

You track Namjoon’s fingers, letting your body and the bond guide your sight even behind closed lids. You’re distinctly aware that it’s Jungkook’s hands on your knees. The sound of Namjoon’s sharp inhale when he finally slides a finger through your wetness, mixed with the sensation of it, has you moaning into Jimin’s mouth.

“Listen to her moan for you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dark and throaty.

Namjoon drags his finger through your arousal again, eliciting another moan from you. Jimin breaks away from the kiss, panting against your cheek before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. He alternates with tongue and teeth, leaving playful marks in his wake. “Kiss her when you do that, Namjoon,” Jimin stops his kissing to murmur into your skin. “It is exhilarating feeling the vibrations of her moans.”

“Take off your clothes first, lover boy,” Jungkook suggests, the words hooked on a groan he tries to hide. “I have a feeling once you start, you won’t be able to stop.” His hands are still on your knees, and without looking, you can tell he’s staring at where your arousal is beginning to drip out and down your ass. You can feel his penetrating stare, the way he’s holding back his desire so Namjoon and Jimin can enjoy themselves before he does.

The finger that was tracing circles around your clit disappears. Your eyes flutter open, intent on getting your first real glimpse at Namjoon’s body as he begins to slip out of his clothes. He’s always worn neutral earth tones that compliment his easy-going demeanor. The fact he’s hiding such a beautiful body under so many layers of linen should be marked down as a cardinal sin.

His eyes meet yours as his shirt hits the floor, and his thumbs hook into the waistband of his pants. With teasing slowness, he slides them down inch by inch until they come loose around his knees and fall to puddle around his feet. Namjoon is as glorious naked as he is kind in spirit. You’re utterly at a loss for words, so you just reach out a hand to him in offering.

Jimin leans back, propped up on an elbow, as he watches Namjoon take your hand, and you guide him up onto the bed. The bed dips, and Jimin scoots back a little to allow your legs to open further as Namjoon kneels between them.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks you, his eyes searching yours for assurance.

The bed shifts as Jungkook settles above you. He holds up a single white, dusty petal. You automatically open your mouth and stick out your tongue to receive the Silver Ward, internally grateful someone thought to grab it. The creamy taste of the flower petal melts in your mouth. In response to Namjoon, you grip a handful of his hair and pull him down, guiding his mouth to yours.

The scent of pine blooms heavily around you, and the taste of orange floods your mouth. Namjoon tastes and smells as sweet and comforting as you thought he would. With your other hand, you work it between your bodies until your fingers graze along his erection. He shudders, stomach clenching as his hips jerk forward.

“Easy,” you whisper between kisses. “Nice and slow.” His velvety skin is warm and smooth as you slide your hand along his length, marveling at the amount of sticky wetness already seeping out from the tip.

“Seven Suns!” Namjoon curses, his lips popping off of yours as you shift your hips up, and the head of his cock presses into your wetness. His eyes widen as your other hand lands on his hip, encouraging him to thrust forward. Inch by inch, he fills you until you’re both writhing, and he’s all the way inside. “It feels—it feels, I do not…the words…” he trails off, jaw going slack as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in.

“Good pussy is supposed to make you speechless,” Jungkook comments slyly. “Now, make her cum like a good mate.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

His steps falter as his body locks up, rocketing through a sensation he hasn’t felt since the night he bonded with you. Alarmed, he holds the jar of barnacles over his crotch and quickly continues walking before Borgia can bark at him for stopping.

Pine and orange blossoms. The scent is so intense, Yoongi could almost believe he was somewhere deep in a spring orchard instead of walking along the rocky coastline of the Unseelie Court. You have fully bonded with Namjoon. The idea that his best friend just made love to his mate doesn’t phase him. He welcomes the additional feeling of Namjoon in the bond. Though, what is most surprising is the energy Yoongi now feels. His exhaustion is waning, and the ache in his head lessening.

🌸🌸🌸

Namjoon pants heavily into your neck, his body still quivering on top of yours. You can feel his cock still pulsing, filling you with thick jets of cum. The orgasm tore through you and ripped right down the bond connected to Yoongi. You hadn’t even considered that could happen. But, as you recover from the post-orgasm haze, you realize the foggy wall separating you from Yoongi has depleted significantly.

That revelation excites you. “I think it’s working,” you say breathlessly. “Namjoon, do you feel him?”

Pushing up on trembling arms, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you, sitting back on his heels. His cock is still hard, jutting up against his stomach and smearing your combined releases across his skin. “I do.” There is evident amazement in Namjoon’s voice, his face splitting with a huge smile. “It is beyond what I imagined. I can feel him, just as I can feel you.”

Your body kicks back into overdrive, reminding you there are two bonds you’ve yet to complete. “I should clean up.” You sit up to slide around Namjoon, but a hand on your shoulder pulls you back.

“If you think Namjoon’s cum will stop me from fucking you, you are mistaken.” Such dirty words coming from Jimin’s sweet mouth have you moaning softly. He’s almost possessive in how he grabs your ankles and pulls you over on top of himself. You straddle his stomach; hands pressed against his chest for support. “Claim me. Mark me as yours,” he demands.

You shift back, feeling his hard length slide between your thighs until it pops out and slaps against his stomach. Jimin grunts, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, prominent canines—making you think so much of Yoongi’s—indenting the plush flesh. Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you give it a firm squeeze, watching as a bead of pre-cum oozes out.

You can feel Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s eyes on you as you lean forward and flick your tongue over the tip of Jimin’s cock, collecting the glistening moisture. The taste alone makes you moan, like the best blend of warm spices you’ve ever had. It complements the clove of Yoongi and the orange of Namjoon so well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans. You glance at him, smirking before swirling your tongue around Jimin’s head. All three moan then, Jimin’s hips bucking up and pressing his cock more firmly against your tongue.

“I will not last if you keep doing that,” he whines beautifully.

Sitting up straight, you keep your hand wrapped around his cock and adjust your hips until you hover over him. “Look at me,” you tell him. Those turquoise eyes lock onto yours. The rapture that takes over Jimin’s face as you begin to lower yourself onto him is something that will be ingrained in your memory forever.

He stretches you perfectly. Despite having just been filled with Namjoon, your body needs a moment to adjust. You begin to move, rocking slowly until Jimin starts to rock his hips to go deeper.

“Play with her nipples,” Namjoon suggests.

Taking the direction, Jimin captures one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently. You throw your head back, moaning loudly. Encouraged by your reaction, he does it again. “Jimin!” you cry his name, undulating your hips in a way that has the head of his cock rubbing all the right places.

He stiffens under you when you cry out his name, growing impossibly harder. “When you say my name like that, it does something to me. Seven Suns, say it again!” he begs.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” you string together his name like a prayer, repeating it with each thrust until you’re nearly sobbing his name, begging for relief yourself.

You hadn’t realized Jungkook moved to kneel behind you, only becoming aware of him when one of his hands slides around your hip and his thumb presses against your clit. “Make him cum, Beautiful. Claim that cock as yours.”

The sensation of Jimin tweaking your nipple and Jungkook rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clit has your next orgasm careening through you. Black dots spot your vision, your body pulsing around Jimin and encouraging his release. His mouth opens in a silent cry, head thrown back against the mattress.

Before you have time to register what’s happening, Jungkook grabs your hips and pulls them up. You fall forward, landing on Jimin as your ass goes into the air. “Ju-jungkook, wha—OH!” you moan, sucking in a breath and trying to orient yourself.

Heedless of the cum dripping out of you and Jimin’s hard cock just inches away, Jungkook shoves down the front of his trousers and pushes into you in one swift motion. “If I had to watch anymore, I was going to cum in my pants, and well, that would be a waste of a perfectly good bonding orgasm.”

You mewl from the overstimulation, fingers scrabbling over Jimin’s shoulders, searching for purchase to keep yourself from sliding forward. Jungkook’s fingers dig into the meat of your hips as he sets a relentless, pounding pace.

“He is like an animal,” Namjoon muses, though clearly being turned on by the display. He fists a hand around his own erection. “Do you feel it, Jimin?”

Jimin just grunts, wrapping his arms around your back to help hold you in place. You meet his eyes, watching the swirl of emotions in their oceany depths. “Let go, Beautiful. Give in to it,” he whispers, his lips brushing over yours with each word.

You do. You give in and open yourself to Jungkook. Jungkook’s hips stutter against your ass as your body commands his, drawing forth his orgasm to crest with yours. The final bond slams into place, exploding through your body with pleasure and intensity.

For a moment, you’re shuffling along a desolate shoreline. The moon is high overhead, the ocean screaming as it throws itself against the bluffs a hundred feet below you. “Where am I?”

“What did you say, boy?”

You jerk around, startled by the voice, and meet a wicked set of yellowed eyes that instantly go wide with understanding.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

He was ready the second time you accepted a bond, silently rejoicing in being connected to Jimin. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he kept his face forward so Borgia wouldn’t grow suspicious. The third bond came so quickly after the second that he let his hold slip. Those terrifying moments when he watched as you looked through his eyes, spoke with his mouth…

“Fuck you!” Yoongi yells, throwing the jar of barnacles as hard as he can at Borgia’s face. The glass smacks her in the mouth, shattering. Shards of glass rain down on the rocks at her feet as she screams.

Opening himself to the full power of the bond nearly sweeps Yoongi off his feet. It barrels through him, and he has to step back to keep his balance. Focusing on his strength, Yoongi pulls against the cuffs around his wrists as hard as possible. They are iron, but the strongest Fey magick has been known to break it.

Borgia swipes a hand over her mouth, trying to dislodge errant pieces of glass. “You stupid, stupid worm! I do not care what Chaddick wants. I will see you in pieces before the night is over!”

She lunges at him, hands hooked like claws, aiming for his face. Yoongi grunts, ignoring the bite of iron ripping into his skin as the shackles groan and creak from his efforts. He might not know how to control his power fully, but with the additional potency from the bond now, he only needs a small amount to make a big difference.

The cuff on his right wrist snaps, the iron pieces crumpling in his hand. As Borgia collides with him, he brings up that mangled piece of iron and drives it down as hard as he can into her back. Her fingers dig into his cheeks, the nails slicing through his flesh, but he forces his hand down harder. Yoongi feels the metal pierce her skin and grind against the vertebra in her spine.

“You may not care what he wants, but you should care about what I want!” Yoongi snarls, jerking his hand from side to side to do as much damage as possible. “Your life, you foul bitch! I hope you rot!”

Borgia spasms, her legs jerking wildly as her hands slide down his face. She gives one last snap of her teeth in his face before her body lists to the side and thumps solidly against the ground. A wet cackle bubbles past her lips, her eyes darting up to him. “You are a f-fool if you think he will not find y-you again.”

“You will be lucky if anyone finds you,” Yoongi sneers, crouching down and promptly giving her limp body a push. She rolls, her arms and legs flopping with each turn before disappearing over the edge.

Yoongi stands there momentarily, contemplating the likelihood he could make it to the castle and get his mother out undetected, before deciding against that plan and turning west to begin picking his way across the uneven ground—letting the bond lead him home to you and the three males that mean the most to him in his life. With Borgia gone, Chaddick’s deception will be swift to crumble. His mother will be safe enough, protected by the lies that have kept him away all these years. He only saw her a few times during his time of capture but never was able to get close enough to talk to her. As he twists off the remaining cuff from his left wrist, he wonders if everyone in the castle will be able to feel his increase in magick. That also might mean Chaddick can feel him, too—all the more reason for Yoongi to get home as soon as possible.

He begins to run.

🌸🌸🌸

Everyone is milling along the edge of the meadow surrounding the house. Namjoon increased the radius of the ward, pushing it out to where it used to be, where you’re all now standing.

Jungkook is pacing, his feet kicking in frustration through the ankle-high grass. “We should go find him,” he grumbles for at least the fifth time.

“Be patient,” you insist. “He’s close, but so is that patrol that went by earlier. The last thing we need is multiple bodies out there making noise or accidentally running across the wrong trail and putting them on our scent.”

You can feel the irritation coming from Jungkook, he knows you’re right, but that doesn’t mean he won’t press your buttons. That’s something he’s becoming increasingly good at over the last forty-eight hours.

Once the bond was completed, everyone could feel Yoongi with stark clarity. You felt the moment he drew their magick through you and used it in bursts and fits of strength. Even now, he’s drawing on it to propel himself forward faster through the woods of the Hollow Lands. With each breath you take, you can feel him moving closer.

A noise catches your attention, drawing your eyes to the tree line. There is movement a few yards in. You can see and hear at greater distances, far more than you could days ago. Adding three bonds has seemingly kicked your transformation into high gear.

Finally, you see him. Yoongi peeks out from around a tree. His eyes scan the immediate area, checking for any sign of threats before he takes off in a sprint, coming right for you. He may not be able to see you through the ward, but you know he can feel you.

“Faster,” Jimin urges in a frantic whisper.

As Yoongi draws closer, you have to suppress the urge to scream. He looks barely alive. His clothes are ripped and tattered, hanging loosely from his thin frame. His weight has dropped considerably; his shoulders and collarbone stand out in high contrast through the thin material of his shirt. Angry red rings circle his wrists, and his lips are bruised and cracked.

You open your arms, prepared to grab him as soon as he stumbles through the barrier of the ward. He slumps into your arms, and you nearly drop him, but thankfully Jungkook is there and catches you both.

“Seven Hells,” Yoongi rasps, clutching at your shirt. His eyes flutter, trying to focus on your face before they roll back in his head, and he goes limp in your hold.

Jimin keens in distress, quickly sweeping up Yoongi’s legs. Jungkook takes over for you, holding Yoongi’s torso, and he and Jimin begin to carry him toward the house.

As soon as Yoongi’s eyes rolled back, you felt the bond connected to him shiver and pulse weakly before dropping to a low hum in your chest. “Namjoon,” you say more as a plea than anything. The nymph pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you as you watch Jimin and Jungkook work their way up the porch stairs with Yoongi slung between them.

“All will be well, Beautiful. Come, let us go help our mate.” Namjoon ushers you across the yard and into the house, where Yoongi is laid out on the dining table, much like you and Jungkook were. You’re not sure if you can appreciate the irony or not.

The fact Namjoon called Yoongi our mate still resonates with you as you pick up one of Yoongi’s hands, clutching it in your own.

“Namjoon, you know best. What can we do?” Jimin asks as he rips the tattered remains of Yoongi’s shirt off. Yoongi’s chest is like a macabre version of a Klein painting, blue and black with bruises and dried blood.

Namjoon moves around to stand at Yoongi’s head and places a hand on his forehead. “He is burning up. A fever. Most likely infection from the iron that was around his wrist. Exhaustion, certainly. He did not stop running the whole way here, meaning he made a nearly three-day trip in less than two. I think what he needs right now is some rest and an infusion of vitamins, nutrients, and something for the infection.”

Jungkook finishes taking off Yoongi’s pants. “Beautiful, want to help me get him cleaned up?”

You startle, tearing your eyes away from staring at the myriad of discoloration covering Yoongi’s body. “Yes. Yes, of course.” You gently set Yoongi’s hand back down on the table and follow Jungkook into the bathroom to retrieve towels and a cleansing bar.

“He’s strong. He’ll be okay.” Jungkook moves back to the dining table, setting the supplies down. “I’ve seen Yoongi in a worse state than this.”

“Worse than this?” You can’t imagine that.

Jimin looks longingly at Yoongi before pressing a quick kiss to his forehead and follows Namjoon outside to collect everything needed for the infusion.

Filling a bowl with warm water from the solar tank by the sink in the kitchen, Jungkook sighs. “Yeah. Hard to believe, but when we first escaped from the Unseelie Court, the first few weeks were not kind to us at all.”

“What happened?” You dip a cloth into the warm water and begin to gently clean the various cuts and wounds littering Yoongi’s body.

“I remember being woken up by Yoongi tipping my bed onto its side. I was spitting mad, cursing at him, and yelling until I saw that he was covered in blood from head to toe. I still can’t recall the exact words he said to me, but I didn’t need to hear them. I just knew I had to follow him, do whatever I could to protect him from whatever was happening.” Jungkook works diligently with tender touches, careful not to jostle Yoongi too much. “My bed was in the royal barracks, but thankfully in one of the outer wings. I don’t know that we could have slipped out had my bed been somewhere deeper in. We managed to slip out through an unmanned postern gate.”

You tilt your head, watching Jungkook and feeling your appreciation and affection for him grow with every word. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Jungkook snorts and shakes his head. “I was a shit friend most of the time, especially in the beginning. Mad that he wouldn’t tell me everything that happened and then horrified when he finally did. What Chaddick did to his brother, right in front of Yoongi’s eyes…that’s not something you can move on from easily. Yoongi was in a bad place for a long time. He barely ate anything unless Namjoon or I forced him to.”

“I’m glad he got better.”

“All thanks to Jimin. It wasn’t until Jimin finally made it into the clearing—once the immediate danger had passed—that Yoongi got some life back into him.”

You let that thought soak for a while, ruminating and sitting with it while you and Jungkook finish cleaning Yoongi up and wrapping him in a blanket. When Jimin and Namjoon come back in, their arms ladened with baskets from the garden, they agree to move Yoongi to the bed to afford him the best chance at resting comfortably.

“Beautiful, there is a ceramic bowl above the kitchen sink and a mortar and pestle. Do you mind bringing them to me?” Namjoon asks as he and Jimin begin to sort the things in the baskets on the bed.

The bowl and tools are easy to find. You pull them down and take them to Namjoon. “Is this something he will need to ingest?”

“Not necessarily. Much like the poultice I made to help heal your side, this works through dermal absorption. It can be ingested, but it more or less works the same either way. Though, it can be a bit vile tasting, so through the skin is best in my opinion,” Namjoon explains as he begins to crush different sprigs of greenery and colorful petals with the pestle.

He continues to work in silence under the watchful eyes of Jimin and Jungkook. You spend most of your time staring at Yoongi, watching his chest's shallow rise and fall. His silvery hair is longer, greasy, and disheveled, but he’s still no less handsome than before.

Jimin holds out a small glass tube with a cork stopper to you. “For his lips. It is a moisturizing oil that he favors. Just a drop will do.”

You unstopper the glass and press your finger over the opening, upending the tube quickly before righting it again. A small drop of oil sits on the pad of your finger. It smells like honeysuckle. You gently rub the oil across Yoongi’s lips, being extra careful around the swollen split on the right side.

When Namjoon is done mixing the infusion, he begins to rub it into any exposed skin methodically. Jungkook pulls the blanket back, giving Namjoon access to Yoongi’s legs and stomach. The mixture smells like bitter greens with the faintest hint of mint.

“And now we just wait?” you ask when he’s done.

“Unfortunately, that is all we can do for now. He needs to rest. His magick, the bond, and the infusion will do the rest.” Namjoon gathers the empty baskets and the used tools with Jungkook’s help. “We will be outside. You two should get some rest, too. Call if you need anything.” He presses a brief kiss to your forehead before starting for the door.

Jungkook blows you a kiss over his shoulder, giving you a look before he disappears behind Namjoon. It was a look of contentment, assurance that everything would be okay. You’re grateful for their optimism and support.

“I will go as well,” Jimin murmurs, a forlorn expression on his face as he begins toward the door.

“Jimin, no, wait. Please stay.” You settle on the bed beside Yoongi and hold a hand out to Jimin. “He would want you here when he wakes up.”

“But you are his mate,” Jimin murmurs and purses his lips. You can tell he’s hesitating.

“And you are my mate…but most importantly, you are his love. Now, get your ass over here, or I’ll be forced to make you.” You raise your eyebrows, daring him to argue.

Jimin’s lips quirk in amusement. “You drive a hard bargain.” He kicks off his shoes before climbing onto the bed on your other side. The uncertainty in his touch is gone as he presses up against your back, draping his arm over your side so his hand rests on Yoongi’s chest. Your cheek rests against Yoongi’s shoulder, and your eyes slide closed as you sigh and relax into Jimin’s hold.

Bonding with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon is something you will never regret. Not only did it help bring Yoongi home, but it also has broken down every barrier ever erected between you. The connections to Namjoon and Jungkook hum with potent vitality, letting you know they are drawing on small measures of their magick—probably working in the garden.

“Jimin?”

“Yes, Beautiful?” he murmurs against your neck, his voice soft and sleepy.

“Will you take me to see the Seelie Court someday?”

Jimin shifts behind you, pressing even closer. His lips tickle the back of your neck as he speaks. “Of course, you are my mate. You belong by my side.” The words are breathy, half coherent as he fights the pull of sleep—but you hear them clearly, right down to your soul.

The blanket shifts, almost drawing you out of your half-sleep. Lips brush over yours, making you hum. “Jimin,” you breathe as another kiss presses against your lips. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not Jimin.” Your eyes snap open and meet those green and gold ones you have dreamt of nearly every night. Yoongi presses his lips to yours again, his tongue teasing along the seam. You automatically open for him and can’t help the moan as his alluring clove scent floods your senses.

You pull back, but Yoongi follows, reconnecting your lips in a desperate kiss. “Yoongi,” you try for firm, but his name comes out more like a needy mewl than anything.

“Please do not stop me. I need you.” He pleads between kisses. Yoongi shifts more, rolling onto his side. The movement dislodges Jimin’s hand, jolting him from sleep.

“Y-yoongi?” Jimin murmurs. “What—wow, okay.” Jimin presses a hand against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Slow down, Yoons. We will take care of you.”

The grunt of frustration that comes from Yoongi is cute. He reluctantly pulls back, breaking the kiss and letting Jimin push him onto his back. “Mini, my love,” Yoongi whispers like he’s finally registering who has their hands on him.

“Just relax,” you coo, smoothing a hand across Yoongi’s forehead and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Tell us what you need.”

“I need to feel you,” he states, reaching for you again. You let him draw you in, the bond blooming tenfold as you give in. His hand reaches out, searching until Jimin grabs it. “I thought all was lost.” The words are whispered fervently against your lips. “Never again.” Yoongi breaks away from the kiss to pull Jimin in. You sit back and watch as they come together, their lips molding and moving with familiarity.

The bond pushes and pulls in an all-consuming way. After you were bonded with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon, you spent the rest of the night in the throws of passion, much like the night you bonded with Yoongi. It’s a visceral thing, a baser instinct that is in control. They each watched as you pleasured and received pleasure in turn but never went so far as to touch each other. So, seeing Jimin and Yoongi get lost in the feel of one another brings a new sensation to your body—one that has you squeezing your thighs together and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Beautiful,” Jimin catches your attention. He presses light kisses across Yoongi’s chest, his half-lidded gaze sliding to you. “Suck his cock and remind him who he belongs to.”

Yoongi groans. “Yes. Please,” he begs. “I need to feel your mouth on me.”

You sit up on your knees, working with Jimin to shove the blankets back. Yoongi’s body is no longer a patchwork of colors. His skin is now smooth and blemish free like before. Kneeling between Yoongi’s thighs, you marvel at him and the wonder of the infusion Namjoon made.

Before you can give any attention to Yoongi’s straining erection, Jimin catches your chin with a finger and slowly brings your lips to his. He tastes faintly of chamomile and clove, a taste combination you will never grow tired of. All that’s missing is orange and coconut. At the thought of Namjoon and Jungkook, you feel the tethers of their bonds pinch with barely concealed amusement. They know Yoongi is awake and are very aware of the state he’s in—that all three of you are in.

“Be good for Yoongi, little mate, and I will give you your own reward,” Jimin promises with an encouraging smack to your ass.

You need little encouragement. Leaning forward with your eyes locked on Yoongi’s, you run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, earning a guttural moan from him. “No teasing,” he whimpers.

The look on his face is desperate, tugging at your heart. Wrapping a hand around him, you swirl your tongue around the head a few times before taking him into your mouth. His pre-cum is sweet, driving you to seek more. You take him as far as possible, letting your throat convulse around him with the intrusion.

“Perfect,” Jimin says. “You are so perfect.” You can’t tell if he’s talking about you or Yoongi, but either way, the praise makes you moan around Yoongi’s cock. “You like that?” He punctuates his question with a tug on your pants, working them down over your ass until they’re caught mid-thigh. “I think you do.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he runs a finger between your thighs, delighting in the sticky moisture he finds.

You work over Yoongi, using your hand to squeeze and pulse in time with the suction from your tongue and lips. Yoongi throws his head back and curses when Jimin’s cock pushes into you. “Oh, Jimin!” All three of you shudder, overwhelmed by feeling each other physically and through the bonds.

The tightness in your lower belly increases with each thrust from Jimin and moans from Yoongi. “Make him cum, Beautiful. Do it.”

Yoongi jerks under you as you take your other hand and cup his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. He moans, his whole body going rigid as the first gush of cum hits your tongue. Jimin’s hips crash into your ass as he follows Yoongi over the edge. The feeling of Jimin pulsing inside of you triggers your own release. You hungrily swallow down all Yoongi gives you, licking him clean between shaky breaths as your body just as eagerly milks everything it can from Jimin.

“Holy fuck,” you pant. Your whole body feels like jello, trembling as Jimin helps you lay back down beside Yoongi. Your pants are still around your thighs. You can’t be bothered to fix them yet.

Jimin stands up from the bed. His half-hard cock glistens in the light coming in through the crack in the curtains over the window. “Are you okay?” he asks Yoongi as he delicately tucks himself away and does up the laces on the front of his pants.

“Much better now,” Yoongi sighs with contentment. “I apologize for my behavior. I was away from you for too long. There was something inside of me, some pent-up possessiveness…When I awoke, I could think of little else besides claiming you in any way I could.”

“You should never apologize for that,” you assure him. “Are you well enough to tell us what happened? What do we need to do? Is everything okay in the Unseelie Court?”

Yoongi holds up his hand, slowing down your questions. “Peace, my mate. I feel well enough to tell you all what happened. Let us begin there.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

His best friend. His claimed brother. His lover.

Mates to his mate.

She looks so radiant sitting among them, arrayed as they are around the table in front of him. They insisted he sit in the rocking chair to continue resting as much as possible. Jungkook drags the chair closer to the table, fluffing the pillows in the seat and draping a blanket over his knees.

“First, I would like to leave for the Unseelie Court once we finish this conversation. The sooner we arrive, the better. When I escaped, Chaddick was supposedly overseeing a command change within the border guard.” Yoongi shifts in his seat, adjusting the blanket in his lap. “By now, I imagine he is aware of Borgia’s death—“

“How did you kill her?” Jungkook asks.

Yoongi gives Jungkook a knowing smile. “Iron through the spinal cord, pushed her limp body over the cliffs along Tidal Bluff.”

Jungkook whistles appreciatively. “Damn. I wish I could have seen that. Good riddance.”

“I was able to confirm that it was through some of her dark magick enchantments and glamors that Chaddick has been able to lie and deceive openly. They”—he pauses and takes a deep breath—” they had been working on experiments. Ones that would allow him to take the magick of another Fey through their death. The first attempt was when he murdered my father. Apparently, Father learned about Chaddick having Borgia try it out on lesser Fey—pixies and dryads from the eastern regions. It is what started everything. Now that Borgia is dead, the truth will reveal itself as the glamor and magick begins to fade.”

Namjoon leans into your side, something that greatly warms Yoongi on the inside. “Good riddance indeed.”

Jimin clears his throat, garnering everyone’s attention. “Well, Yoongi, my love, are you ready to take back your court and greet your people?”

🌸🌸🌸

The journey to the Unseelie Court takes two full days of continuous walking. Approaching the border had you on the verge of panicking, thinking back to the last time you crossed it. But there isn’t a single guard in sight. In fact, you haven’t seen a single other being, other than the occasional woodland creature, since leaving Namjoon’s glade.

“Where is everyone?”

You stand beside Jungkook, his hand tucked into yours, staring up at the vacant battlements along the curtain wall surrounding the castle of the Unseelie Court. The portcullis is up, leading directly into the equally as empty inner ward.

“I do not know. Keep your wits about you,” Yoongi says softly before leading your small group under the barbican and through the front gate.

There is an eerie feeling, standing in the middle of the ward, and the only sound you hear is the breathing of your mates and the crunch of their boots on the pavers. “Something isn’t right,” you say, your voice sounding too loud in your own ears.

“I can still feel the taint of darkness covering the grounds. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” Namjoon agrees with your assessment.

You notice a few broken pieces of furniture scattered around the inner walls like it was tossed from windows and balconies above to shatter in the courtyard. Spots of color peek out from the around the furniture. Children's toys and trinkets litter the walkways between the turrets like they were hurriedly abandoned. It’s unsettling. It feels like a tomb; you hope that isn’t some ridiculous foreshadowing. As much as you love a good plot twist, you’ve had just about enough of them lately.

Movement from one of the upper doorways of a balcony draws your attention. You gesture up to where you see another flash of movement. “Yoongi, look.”

“Yoongi, is that you?” calls a soft voice from the balcony. The door opens, revealing a handsome woman with silver hair piled on her head and familiar green-gold eyes. She’s wearing a midnight blue gown, the line of the bodice embroidered with silver stars.

“Mother!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Oh, my boy!” she cries, disappearing back through the doorway in a flurry of skirts. “Yoongi!” You can hear her calling his name from within the castle. It echoes down and through the main hall, where the door is propped open.

By the time Yoongi reaches the entrance, she’s barreling through it. Her loud cries shake her whole body as she clings to Yoongi. “Mother, peace, please. Be calm. I am home.” You can hear the choked emotion in his words as he tries to soothe her, but more prominently, you can feel his flood of emotions through the bond. It nearly buckles your knees.

Jimin cups your elbow, steadying you as you sway on your feet. “Use our strength,” he murmurs into your ear. With a calming breath, you reach out to the other three bonds, letting them stem the tide from Yoongi, each sharing in his sorrow, pain, and joy.

“What has happened here, Mother? Where is everyone?” Yoongi finally pulls away but keeps his hands braced on his mother’s shoulders. Her eyes flick around, taking in the rest of your group.

“Jungkook? Jimin? Seven Hells, what are you two doing here? And a woodland nymph?” Her eyes find yours, and she stiffens. “And her—she, is that—“

“Mother, please, I will explain it all. But, first, what is happening here?”

She gestures vaguely over her shoulder toward the castle. “Chaddick—something went wrong. He flew in on that damned serpent of his and began screaming about how you escaped. I did not know if it was true, but I prayed it was. I tried to rally The Guard, but they would not listen to me. He fled, taking them all with him! Hundreds of Unseelie–everyone from the castle–they emptied the armory and the coffers. I am only glad they left the city alone. I have not yet had the heart to tell our people. They do not know what has happened within the walls, only that the guard marched out the gate.” Her face darkens with anger. “I watched them move south from the parapet. I sent word to the Seelie Court as soon as I could. What did you do? How did you escape? Who is this human?”

He fled to the south. Chaddick is gone. You can feel the disappointment and anger radiating off of Yoongi. “I escaped by killing Borgia. Her body is surely rotting at the bottom of the Lunar Sea by now. The truth will be revealed now. Her glamour died with her. That is what sent Chaddick into a panic. He knows it is over for him. His plans for taking over the Unseelie Court are ruined.” Yoongi takes a step back, letting his hands drop from her shoulders. “As for the woodland nymph, Mother, let me introduce you to one of my best friends who has helped save my life over the last ten years. If it were not for Namjoon offering me sanctuary in his home in the Hollow Lands, I would have had no place to hide. Jimin and Jungkook have been with me every step of the way, guiding me and reminding me to keep fighting. They were the ones that helped me find a way to access my power—all of my power. They brought me her.” He gestures to you. “My mate.”

“I see,” she says, giving you a strained smile. It’s polite but not warm. “Come inside. Tell me everything.”

The inside of the castle belongs in one of your grandpa’s stories. Soaring ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers and halls that extend into darkness, lined with life-sized family portraits spanning generations. If it weren’t for the haunted feeling from being so empty, you would be far more intrigued with what you pass as you follow along with Yoongi holding one hand and Jimin holding the other.

You stand with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon just behind Yoongi, who is at the base of a dias where his mother sits on her throne—the only place she says doesn’t feel like it has darkness still clinging to it. It takes Yoongi nearly an hour to recount everything for his mom. He leaves out very few details, stopping to answer her questions whenever she asks them.

“It was Jimin’s idea that I try to find a human mate. We knew the possibilities, the potential for access to more power. It was figured that if I could access my inner well and wield more of my power safely, I could use it to defeat Chaddick. At first, that was all I wanted. I did not care who it was or whether or not they stayed after giving me what I needed. But she made me realize that I did care, and even though our time together has not been long, she means more to me than I have the words to express. Someone could argue it is only the bond causing me to feel this way, but I can speak plainly that it is not. Her tenacity and spirit intrigued me before we said our vows. The moment she opened her mouth and cursed at me, I yearned for her fire. She is my reason for breathing, what pushed me to beat Borgia and finally free our people from Chaddick’s control.”

Yoongi’s mother slowly stands up from her seat, her sapphire gown rustling over the stone steps as she comes down to stand before you. “My dear,” emotion and tears choke her words. “I did not mean to judge you. I had always imagined my boys–my boy, finding a mate whom he loved. His love for you is clear regardless of how you found yourself in his life.” She clears her throat, blinking away the emotion in her eyes. “Would it—is it okay if I hug you?”

You laugh, nodding enthusiastically as tears threaten to spill down your own cheeks. She wraps her arms around you, squeezing and whispering her thanks over and over again. When she finally steps back, Yoongi takes her place, burying his face in your neck. You feel three other bodies press in around you, cocooning you in safety and comfort.

Leaning back, his green and gold-flecked eyes meet yours. “Welcome to my home, Beautiful. The home you helped save. You may have it if you wish. You deserve it. Or I will build you your own if you want it. Just stay. Please, stay with us,” he says. Even with darkness brewing to the south, the bond floods with hope, filling you to the brim with possibilities.

“All of us together?” “Forever,” comes three very enthusiastic answers, though they can’t entirely hide the tiny grain of worry underneath it all. You know as long as Chaddick is alive, regardless of how far he runs, none of your mates will be truly safe.

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2023-05-31 ColorMePurplex2

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fuddledance · 1 year

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party talk: right before you go break the news to michelle. i wanted to post the party’s thoughts about whether or not eleven should tell her the truth or be honest with her. i feel like this provides a pretty good insight into everyone’s character since there isn’t a “right” answer morally speaking. (under the cut for length reasons)

Jade believes that telling her the truth is the right thing to do, she acknowledges that it’s hard, but she won’t even name any other option

rab’s speaking from experience, which, duh. he’s old, he’s seen far too many people he loves die for him to pretend otherwise, including his entire kingdom. he doesn’t directly say what eleven should do, but i think he’s trying to imply that the right thing to do would be telling her the truth (”and once someone’s gone, ye cannae bring them back” basically saying that her waiting for him won’t bring kai back from the dead)

sylvando’s goal is spreading joy and happiness to everyone he meets, so he’d much rather tell michelle a kind lie to try and make her happy, at least for a little while. but he also doesn’t discourage eleven from telling the truth, just advises him to try and soften the blow a little. although he throws in a joke at the end, he genuinely wants her to be happy. why tell her such a miserable truth if you don’t need to?

veronica is kind of in a similar camp with sylvando, but she seems to be the only one really advocating for lying. she really doesn’t want to be the one to break the bad news to her, and i think this really shows veronica’s more immature side.

meanwhile her sister is adamant that eleven should be honest with michelle. serena tries to put herself in michelle’s fins and says that closure is important, regardless of the pain it will bring. i think this really shows the difference in maturity between the two sisters. (honestly, the twins differing responses reminds me of what happens in act II between them, with serena being mislead to believe that veronica is still alive)

erik is also team honesty, but he does acknowledge that it sucks being the one to break the news, so he’ll understand if eleven chooses to do otherwise. i love that erik is a thief, but he’s honest whenever he can be. the last part is what really gets to me though. erik’s big thing is his loyalty and being faithful to the people he cares about. i’m sure he’s thinking about mia right here, erik would do anything for the people he cares about, so it would make sense for him to be thinking of mia right here, and how all he was able to do for her was abandon her in her golden state.

#xi analysis #I GUESS. hi #party talk #xi spoilers #this is rambly and i didnt put my thoughts together super cohesively but whatever. hi #jade #serena #veronica #rab #sylvando #erik #xi replay

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everyonewasabird · 2 years

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Brickclub 5.6.4 “Immortale Jecur”

The title means “indestructible liver” and references the liver of Prometheus which is being torn out by an eagle for all of eternity, and, you know, at least Hugo is self-aware about the wringer he puts his characters through.

What are we supposed to make of this chapter? Hugo returns us to one of Valjean’s familiar horrible dilemmas. He’s at a crossroads again, staring into the shadows of his conscience, wrestling with good and evil...

Should he be? Does he need to be?

I can’t tell what the book thinks about this. He’s arguing in his head that he’s bringing his dark past into their innocence and it isn’t fair to do that with them unawares. Is the book presenting this as a terrible conflict between good and evil ironically or sincerely?

On the one hand, this is a very pro-lying book. This book doesn’t have moral issues with Valjean lying in a way that harms no one. On the other hand, Marius feels the gaps here, the way people do when someone integral to their life is systematically lying. And Valjean has also gaslit him in some really specific and important ways, like letting him believe he hallucinated his presence at the barricade. He should absolutely come clean about that, because what he’s doing there is cruel. (He is absolutely not going to come clean about that part.)

There really is a lot to be said about not keeping dark or complicated secrets from your children, and I really hate that Hugo is able to apply this idea to Marius but never to Cosette. Valjean’s secrets only matter now, because there’s a man in the picture.

But also, it just kind of feels like Valjean has gotten so used to the conclusion of the struggle of conscience being the necessity of sacrificing himself that he can’t believe anymore that this could end otherwise. There may be a good argument for coming clean to Marius (more especially to Cosette!)--but I don’t think there’s any good argument for the kind of “coming clean” he ends up doing. He knows at some level that if he told the actual whole truth, there’s a chance Marius wouldn’t cast him out. Maybe he’s already predetermined himself for sacrifice, or maybe the suspense is too unbearable, but he won’t let that happen, even when Marius attempts it.

Martyrdom is a kind of moral purification, a corrosive kind of purification. It is a form of torture that crowns. You can consent to it for the first hour or so; you sit down on the throne of red-hot iron, you set the crown of red-hot iron on your head, you accept the globe of red-hot iron, you take the sceptre of red-hot iron, but you still have to put on the mantle of flames; and isn’t there a moment when the miserable flesh revolts and when you abdicate the torment?

I’m hearing Convent Talk here. This book is a big fan of sacrifice in general, and martyrdom, but it does actually draw the line at punishing the flesh for punishment’s sake, and at forsaking life in favor of sacrificial torment the way it considers the Petit-Picpus nuns to be doing. We’ve seen places where torture has been performed--they aren’t places this book is positive about. And torture is a human enterprise in this book; I don’t think there’s any notion that the Providence of this text has a corresponding hell besides the ones men put each other through.

I don’t know. There’s a lot of positive rhetoric around what Valjean is doing, and I can’t tell whether that’s free indirect speech or the voice of the author. But this descent into torture talk feels to me like a really, really bad sign for what Valjean is doing.

To impose his jail term on these two dazzling children, or to himself bring about his own irremediable demise. On one side, the sacrifice of Cosette, on the other, of himself.

Okay, at this point he’s just making shit up. If someone showing up to arrest him--much less likely with Javert dead, but not outside the realm of possibility with Thenardier still around--were the actual threat, Marius’s offer of a pardon would solve it. If the threat isn’t the actual penal system, then he’s just being all “my ENTIRE BEING is CORRUPT and will CORRUPT HER with my MERE PRESENCE....” which. Okay, I have sympathy for Valjean’s issues, but this is not an actual moral argument.

Is the possibility of 1) blackmail by Thenardier or 2) Cosette learning the truth really enough to justify Valjean being forced to vanish? I mean, obviously I think absolutely not, but does the book take any of these arguments seriously?

It’s so hard to tell.

#brickclub #lm 5.6.4

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teamhawkeye · 1 year

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Hell one of the posts in the tag made me ultra fearful. Still praying that Ted isn’t that type of person. Hopefully nothing comes out later that proves otherwise and the girl in question is just an overexcited but not fully mature fan.

So it’s cool to still enjoy him? I’m worried about people bombarding his accounts and hope nothing happens to him at any convention. Or that his work isn’t halted due to accusations.

But still cautious. Like you I will admit that I was wrong, though hopefully not. Is it bad that we don’t think the immediate worse of people that we like.

i'm willing to put my faith out in the open and say with sincerity i believe he is a good man and not nefarious. no, i do not believe he has ever interacted with this girl beyond liking some comments. no, i do not believe he is aware of who she is and the extent of what she's posted in the past, even now

again, you're never wrong for wanting to believe in the best of people. if you're always assuming the worst and mistrusting, that's a miserable and lonely way to go through life. being cautious is one thing, but jumping the gun at every chance and grabbing your pitchfork at the first possible second is an insane way to live and interact with others

genuinely, this is like a 3 people on twitter and maybe like 7 people on here namecalling and throwing around accusations with no actual proof, so i don't see this impacting him much when it comes to conventions and film making

that girl at the center of all this running wild and unsupervised on the internet genuinely is in potential danger, though i stand by not from Ted. it's genuinely disturbing how some of the younger generation is so secure in putting personal information and inappropriate comments out there and not realizing how that puts them in the path of dangerous people. and her continued lying about interactions with a grown man - the fact that she doesn't realize that she could very well damage his reputation and livelihood because she wants to try and impress her friends is disgusting, but she has the partial excuse of being a literal child who clearly isn't well monitored by her parents of guardians

stay cautious, yes. if anything new and actually nefarious would come to light, i would change my tune in a second. but i will never publicly denounce and participate in a witch hunt when you have nothing more than the "word" of a proven liar and the notion that Ted is online 24/7 and monitoring every single interaction on one of his posts or @ s sent his way across multiple social media apps/sites, when that is literally such an insane and terminally online concept

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 2 years

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Nausea/Upset Stomach

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #18

Fandom/OCs: MCU/ Sick!Bruce Banner

Title: Blurred Lines

Words: 663

Inspiration: Nada

Author’s comments: I struggle to whump all the non-human avengers, but I wanted to give them each their turn this year. I personally think Hulking out and nausea would go hand in hand. Here’s what I think that might look like.

CW: mentions of/implied vomiting. Not described.

Bruce Banner came crashing back into consciousness as abruptly as ever, the line between the other guy and himself blurring for a moment. He watched the last of the green hue leave his forearms and hands, receding back into his skin. He was lying on the ground in pants several sizes too big and nearly destroyed. He groaned and rolled to his side, curling into the fetal position for a moment. Everything was throbbing as usual, especially his head. There was almost nothing good about Hulking out, but the after effects were one of the worst parts. Every muscle and joint was sore and tense, and he was sure he had his usual post-transformation, low-grade fever. He breathed deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth, swallowing again and again.

He was strangely alone in an abandoned alley, and the only destruction nearby was an ancient, broken-down car that showed the evidence of two massive fists smashing it. He wondered what had happened this time, but decided it didn't really matter. He would see it on the news or hear it from the rest of the team.

He shakily stood, clutching the remnants of his pants around him and walked to the nearest street, one hand on his abdomen. By some miracle, he was only a few blocks from Avengers tower. He raced home as fast as he could, avoiding being seen when he could. Safe inside the tower, he took the nearest elevator up to his suite, staggering through the door and bolting it behind himself. He let the tattered rags fall to the floor and shambled on wobbling legs to the bathroom, falling down on his knees in front of the toilet.

He was always nauseous after de-Hulking. It was usually part of the background headache and soreness that came from your body splitting out of itself, and then back in. However, this changed when the other guy managed to ingest something. He didn’t ever stay in Hulk form long enough to digest, so whenever he transformed back into Bruce, the substance (it was rarely actual food) was still sitting in his stomach and causing him agony. He always had to vomit it up, and it was always one of the most miserable things he’d ever experienced.

Whatever it was wasn’t quite ready to come up yet. His stomach was hard and sore, rolling and growling angrily, and he groaned, falling over into the fetal position with his arms wrapped around his middle. He wished for it to be done. He would have no rest until it was.

~~~

A few hours later, after it was all over, he was curled up on the couch nursing his fever and watching the news mindlessly with a heating pad on his abdomen, catching up on what the Hulk had gotten up to this time. His phone dinged with an incoming message:

Steve: JARVIS told us you were here safe in your suite. Everything okay?

Bruce: I’m fine. Just sore. Are you all okay?

Steve: We’re all good. Just got done debriefing. We’re gonna grab dinner if you want anything.

Bruce grimaced at the thought of eating anything. His throat was still raw from vomiting, and he couldn’t quite brush out the taste from his mouth.

Bruce: No thanks. More nauseous than usual this time. Think I’ll pass.

Steve: No worries, soldier. Feel free to come down if you’re up for it, or let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, get some rest. We’ll see you in the morning.

Bruce: Thanks, Cap. You too.

The doctor let his head fall back with a quiet sigh. Thanks to the other guy, he’d feel back to normal in the morning, but it was the other guy’s fault that he felt like crap now. Still, there was nothing else to be done. He closed his eyes and tried to doze off, keeping his mind as blank as he could, the line between sleeping and wakefulness blurring.

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 18 #mcu avengers #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever

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thetrishtalgem · 9 months

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Whumptober Day 3: "Like crying out in empty roms, with no one there except the moon."

Journal || Solitary Confinement || "Make it stop."

Being back in the Imperial City has awakened more bad memories than Tesi bargained for.

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons (OCs)

Tag List: @whumptober-archive

“Tesi, I am warning you. Do NOT do anything with that journal until I tell you to. Do you understand?”

It had been two days since Lys had given her Nyssa Cassian’s research notes. She had made a promise to Lys that she would leave the book alone. It wasn’t like she was curious to read the details of Nyssa’s secret experiments.

Not like you need advice in making innocent people’s lives miserable.

Tesi lifted her head to gaze around the bedroom, allowing some of her ki energy to flow through her. Though there were no others with her in her room, visible or otherwise. She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Self-doubt and guilt were two demons Tesi was very familiar with wrestling with. But ever since the Bar Crawlers had arrived at the Imperial City, she felt as though her intrusive thoughts were becoming unnaturally loud. It helped that she had her friends surrounding her, sometimes.

Almost as if on cue, she heard a knock on her door. She called out, “Come in.”

The door pushed open and she heard the clicking sound of heeled boots against the wooden floor.

“I don’t know how you can tolerate those things for so long, Sylvain,” she said without even looking up.

He laughed. “Damn. Am I really that obvious anywhere I go?”

“You’re predictable,” Tesi answered. “You come by every night.”

“Well, the shoes were definitely a learning curve. Laila had a blast watching me try to figure out how to walk in them. Along with everything else Skye does,” Sylvain said.

Tesi grunted in response. After a moment, she felt the mattress sag next to her.

“Listen. If you want me to stop coming by, then I can try to do that. I’m just…I’m worried about you,” Sylvain spoke quietly.

“You don’t need to be. I’m fine.”

“I know I’m not as good at reading people as you are, but you’re not good at lying either. That’s a load of horse shit, and we both know it.”

Tesi was quiet for a moment. There was a dull ache in her chest. On one hand, it might not be such a bad idea to let the Bar Crawlers help her. To tell them just everything that she was dealing with. It was good to talk about her problems with other people. But on the other hand, that’s why she talked to Sieristoria. It had made her feel better in the moment to get some of her burdens off her chest. And then she had gone looking for Fatima to try and work through what their plan of action would be.

She wouldn’t need a plan if you didn’t put her in danger in the first place.

“It’s just…a lot that I don’t think I’m ready to talk about,” Tesi admitted.

“I get that. When you are ready to talk-,”

“I know. You’re here.” Tesi paused for a moment. “Literally.”

Sylvain laughed at that. “Alright. I can take a hint. I’ll go back to my own room.”

He stood, striding out of the room without saying anything else. Tesi laid backwards on the bed with a heavy sigh as the door shut behind Sylvain. A part of her felt guilty for chasing him out. But there was only so much hovering she could tolerate before she lost her patience. She stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything bouncing around in her head.

It felt like they still didn’t have a solid plan of attack against General Cassian, and his ships were due to leave the harbor for Levian City soon. Fatima had come up with an idea to create a naval blockade and seemed confident in her ability to pull it off when the time came. But how were they going to target Cassian himself? Where were they going to imprison him after his defeat? What was the next move after that? What if Fatima decided she didn’t want to stay with the Bar Crawlers after the assault was finished, and she went back to the Grand Archive with stupid Nyssa Cassian and her stupid bath potions and-,

“You really should just do something about her already. It would be so ridiculously easy for someone of your skillset.”

Tesi sat bolt upright in bed. Standing in front of her was a dark-skinned man she was quickly becoming familiar with. The corner of his mouth was pulled up in a coy grin. His dark hair was neatly swept to the side. A deep gash marked his throat exactly where Francois had run his blade clean through. Castor Cassian watched Tesi with a look of bemusement for a moment.

“I mean seriously. Seeing you seethe with rage is fun and all, but…” Castor looked Tesi up and down with a cruel smile, “I want to see what you can really do.”

Tesi’s shoulders tensed. She turned away from the spector and began to rummage through her bag. Castor stepped forward to stay just in the edge of Tesi’s vision.

“You should show someone that journal…” he sang.

Still refusing to look at him, Tesi pulled out a small, porcelain teacup and watched it begin to fill itself with piping hot tea from Araban.

Castor persisted, “Don’t you want to stop her before she adds Fatima to her list of subjects?”

She took a slow sip from her teacup.

“Or are you going to let someone else you care about take the consequences for your actions?”

Tesi’s grip on the teacup tightened. But she refused to turn her head. Refused to acknowledge the taunting spirit beside her. Perhaps if she continued to focus on her breathing and keep a calm state of mind, she could sever the connection.

“Help…p-please!”

The teacup slipped from Tesi’s fingers and tumbled onto the bed. She barely felt the burning hot liquid pour across her legs as a small, whimpering voice called out now. Slowly she turned her head to see another familiar figure. A young human boy, no older than 10, with mousy brown hair and watery green eyes. From underneath the sleep shirt he wore, she watched blood begin to blossom from his chest.

“No…no, please,” she whispered.

Tears ran down the young boy’s face. His hands grasped at the fabric of his shirt, pulling at it desperately. He tried to speak, but all that came out of him was a choking sound.

“Please, stop,” Tesi begged.

“H-help me…” the boy sobbed.

“Make it stop,” Tesi cried.

“Please, I…I don’t want to die…!”

“Make it stop!”

Her fingers raked through her hair and she shut her eyes tightly. But nothing seemed to help cut through the sound of Erik Brand’s cries of anguish. She didn’t even register when the door to her room slowly creaked open, or the quick slam as heeled feet hurried across the room. It wasn’t until Sylvain had his arms wrapped around her that she even realized someone came in.

“Tesi? Wh-what happened?” he asked.

“Make it stop,” she repeated, leaning her body into Sylvain’s. “Please, make it stop.”

She felt his hand begin to rub slowly up and down her back, “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever’s going on, it’s gonna be okay. I’m here for you.”

Tesi didn’t answer him. She instead continued to let herself fall apart.

#whumptober2023 #no.3 #journal #make it stop #fic #oc #dungeons and dragons #dnd #war for rython #wfr

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

sleeposal | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (est.rel!au)

Genre: fluff

Rating: g

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 2.8k

Prompt: boyfriend Jungkook accidentally proposing to you in his sleep (or how i like to call it sleeposal)

AN: this was also meant to be a drabble…..and i once again failed miserably.....and the next one to come is just as heavy....i am so so sorry i just started writing and i couldn't stop! This idea was so cute i fluffed myself to the point of toothache! Thank you anon for sending this in! I hope you enjoy it!

thank you @notyouroppar for reading this for me you are a star in disguise.

Hope it’s enjoyable to read! I would love to hear feedback! <3

Sequel - re: posal read here

Rᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴏᴘᴇɴ!

Every girl dreams of their own wedding. Starting from the proposal, the privilege of calling someone your fiancé. To the wedding planning with the whole shabang; flowers, mother in law and their own mother arguing, picking the dress, picking the cake, walking down the aisle, saying 'I do'. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t even thought about it once. Because you had, more times than you could count on your fingers. As a child you always used to brag about your wedding. You told anyone who would listen what your wedding was going to look like. Sure, things may have changed on a daily basis, depending on what you saw on TV, you were barely a teenager. But for the most part, your wedding was going to be grand. Fit for a princess like you.

Slowly, as you grew up, you realised that dreaming of your wedding was setting yourself up for disaster. Hoping that each person you dated would be the one, became tiring. Life was never so straight forward, but you still held onto that hope. Although, the desire to become a bride was less strong than it had been before. You stopped writing into your diary how you would marry the person you happened to be dating, you stopped sticking magazine cutouts of wedding venues and dresses onto random pieces of paper. You left your own wedding planning days behind, along with your pink dresses and tiaras. Even more so now when you had other weddings to organise. As an event planner- you weren’t a wedding planner no, there was a difference, and you would straighten up anyone who dared to say otherwise, you saw more couples and weddings than you wanted to. Being out and about during a wedding reception, ensuring that everything was going according to plan, you witnessed tears of happiness, sadness, the good speeches, the not so good speeches, the fights, the laughter, everything. All this, experiencing people’s occasions, made you forget that someone out there may be the one for you.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook.” That was how it started. He happened to be the drummer of a band hired for a performance that night. You didn’t have much time, the lifts were broken, and with missing chairs, you had more than plenty on your plate. Yet, something in his smile, the way he wrinkled his nose when he laughed at a joke, made you feel like time was limitless. He made you slow down and sit for a few seconds, just to chat.

Those few seconds then turned into days, weeks, months. Now, after years of him being your reminder to breathe, to slow down and enjoy life, to put yourself first sometimes, here you were. Living together, sharing good mornings and good nights, sharing kisses and sharing dreams.

What you sometimes struggled to share was a bed. Jungkook had a very bad tendency to talk to you about his day and his plans for the next day. Which in itself was not a problem. You loved to talk to him about anything and everything, he was your boyfriend and he was also your best friend. He was the person you reached out to whenever you needed encouragement. He was the person you hugged whenever you needed comfort. He was the person to wipe away your tears whenever you needed. He was the person you shared your good memories with, he was the person who made the bad memories disappear.

The problem was not sharing bits of yourselves and about your day, the problem was that Jungkook had a tendency to do all that even after he’d fallen asleep. On more than one occasion you woke up thinking he had called your name. At first you thought he may be dreaming, then you thought he genuinely required your attention. It took weeks for you to realise that Jungkook sometimes talked in his sleep.

Most times it would be mumbled rambles of one thing or another, other times he would sound as coherent as he did when he was awake. Sometimes he’d address you directly, other times, he’d be having a conversation either with himself or with someone else. You’ve learned to ignore the mumbled speeches, most nights you ended up sleeping through them. However, it was on nights where he would have eloquent conversations that you arose, if only to listen to him.

Tonight was no exception, you were still awake, the chill of the bedroom making you scoot closer to your boyfriend in search of some heat. Managing to slot yourself flush to his side, his arm instantly wrapping around your waist, you sighed in contentment. With your eyes closed and your body as warm as it could get, you prepared to slip off into dreamland.

“Mmmm… with you.” Your head was half on Jungkook’s chest, the vibrations causing you to whine. “Shhhhh.”

Jungkook snorted, “I’m thinking.” His voice got louder with each syllable and you pulled away from him to check whether or not he was awake. Seeing his eyes tightly closed, his nose scrunched up as he usually does in his sleep, you let your head drop back onto the pillow with a sigh.

“What are you thinking about babe?” You decided you were not going to sleep anytime soon. Scooting away from Jungkook’s body, your own instantly cooling down from the loss of contact, you decided you might just as well enjoy this.

“H’to pr’pose.” He mumbled, sniffing loudly, shifting his body closer to yours.

Your heart stopped for a second, he couldn’t have said what he just did, right? “What was that?” Normally by then you’d leave him to his own devices, but this time you needed to know what he said, if only for your own peace of mind.

“I’m gon’ propose.” At his words your eyes widened. In the darkness of your bedroom you could barely make out his face and you didn’t want to turn on the bedroom light in case it woke him up. Narrowing your eyes, you wormed your way closer to him in an attempt to see him better. His eyes were still closed, but this time he wore a soft smile on his face. Heart pounding you made a quick decision to prod him more.

“Propose to me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the incredulity clear in your voice. You had been together for some time now, yet this was not something you were expecting any time soon. The two of you had gotten as close as anything, and with that closeness came the comfort of just being in each other’s presence. Marriage had never crossed your mind, and you certainly weren’t expecting it to have crossed his.

Jungkook snorted, his hand rubbing his nose, and for a second you froze, your heart dropping to your stomach. What if you’d got it wrong? “Not you no,” amusement lacing through his voice. “M’ g’friend.”

The relief you felt at his words was brief, your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel the familiar sting of your tears forcing you to blink. You sniffled, not wanting to cry in the middle of a proposal, even if it was a sleep induced one. Jungkook’s hand reached out for you as if he could sense something wasn't right. Extending your hand, you found his, your fingers naturally interlinking and you dropped them in the space between the two of you.

“I wanna propose and I want it to be the best proposal she’s ever gotten.” The determination in his voice made you snort out loud. With bated breath you checked once more if he was awake or not. He sounded too articulate for your ears.

“Jungkook, babe.” You considered waking him up, before he carried on doing something he may regret later, your brain and heart at war with each other. Your brain was telling you to stop him, in case he got your hopes up only to fall short on his promise, whereas your heart yelled at you to keep him talking, yearning to hear his promise of forever. You decided to listen to neither, as you forced yourself into his arms, wiggling to get comfortable. Sighing as he tightened his grip around you, caging you in. You hoped that your brief interruption would make him stop or at least change subjects. However, this was Jeon Jungkook, and your boyfriend was nothing if not stubborn; awake and asleep.

“Mno, I want her to be only mine, don’ call me babe. Only Y/N gets to call me that. No,” He smacked his lips audibly, “she gets to call me her husband.” His speech was getting faster and faster and you stared at him in awe. Deciding to change tactics, you figured that getting it out of him may make him stop quicker. You didn’t know how much more your heart could take.

“Ok, I am sorry.” You said sternly, trying your hardest not to laugh. The multitude of emotions coursing through you combined with the lack of sleep were finally getting to you. “How would you propose to your girlfriend?” For a moment Jungkook’s soft breathing was the only thing you could pick out in the stillness that surrounded you. Thinking he finally settled, you sighed and closed your eyes prepared to get some much needed sleep. The tiredness you felt made it hard for you to process his words no matter how much you tried. “Babe.” You whispered hesitantly, curiosity getting the best of you. You needed to know what he had planned, otherwise the thoughts in your head would make it impossible for you to sleep. Straining your ears for any sign of him being awake, you tried again when you got no response. “Babe.”

Mumbling a response, Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist, as his leg tangled up with yours. Chuckling you shook your head. “You are cute. And I love you.” You whisper, your fingers gently combing through his hair. “And I would say yes a hundred times if you asked me to be your wife.” The weight of your words hit you; suddenly with all the love blooming in your heart, you realised that for the first time, what you had dreamt of as a child, you were living. Now. With Jungkook.

“Good.” He mumbled and with a sigh he buried his face in your hair, the soft snores coming from him a clear sign he was done talking for the night.

“You have been thinking about this a lot, huh?” With a sigh of contentment and the new title of fiancé, which you would make sure to question in the morning, you let yourself relax into his arms, sleep taking over you.

You woke up in the morning with your stomach still fluttering from the night before. As you lay in bed, sun warming your body, you replayed the events in your head. Your boyfriend had done a lot of things that made you laugh like an idiot in love, yet this topped them all. Smiling softly to yourself, you stretched languidly as the smell of breakfast tickled your nose. Deciding to face the day, and with it, your somniloquist boyfriend, you padded barefoot towards the kitchen. The sound of humming reached you before you could get to your destination. Rounding the corner you spotted Jungkook’s bare back near the stove, a dish rag over his shoulder as he cleaned the remnants of the ingredients he used to cook. Not wanting to break his concentration, and also rob yourself of the sight of his naked back, you leaned against the doorway. He was an apron away from getting the sexiest chef award, his muscles contracting with his movements as he reached out to put the salt back in its place.

You licked your lips, and with a mischievous grin you tiptoed your way towards him with the clear intent to jump on his back.

Jungkook smiled to himself and purposefully raised his voice, the humming turning into singing. He had heard you as soon as you opened the bedroom door, the sound of your footsteps already ingrained into his mind. Not wanting to give himself away he pretended to be busy, his back still turned towards you. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the temptation to stop and listen to him sing deterring you from the golden temptation of his skin.

Pausing right behind him, you took your time drinking in the softness of his skin and the expanse of his shoulders, waiting for the opportune moment. However, Jungkook was set on ruining your plans, as he abruptly turned around and trapped you in his arms, the smirk on his face worthy of a gremlin.

“Gotcha.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, your scheme may have been foiled but you didn’t mind it too much. Jungkook pecked your lips in greeting as he started swaying you side to side to a song only he could hear in his head. Closing your eyes for a second you enjoyed the tune of his heart, the rhythm reminding you of the night before. You smirked to yourself as you shimmied out of his arms. Jungkook couldn’t help but look at you suspiciously, your playful smile an indication you had something up your sleeve.

“I think,” You couldn’t help but smirk knowingly to yourself as you poked his arm. “Mister,” Your finger trailed down his arms, following the design of his tattoos as you forced yourself to not get too distracted by them. “That I have an answer to give you.”

“Answer?” Jungkook’s confusion was clear on his face. He couldn’t remember asking you anything that you haven’t already answered. Suddenly realisation dawned on him, and he groaned burying his face in his hands. “Have I talked in my sleep again?” He ran his fingers through his hair in nervousness. He had been stressed about the direction he wanted to take your relationship. What worried him the most was the little black box snuggled in his drawer, and the knowledge that he talked often in his sleep when he was nervous. With that in mind he looked wearily at you, “Have I —“

“Proposed to me in your sleep?” You tried to shrug nonchalantly despite your heart’s attempts to beat out of your chest. Glancing up at Jungkook you saw his Adam’s apple bob as you continued, “and I may have said yes?” You turned around to grab the kettle, going about your routine as if you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him.

Jungkook stood frozen on the spot, your relaxed approach to everything taking him aback. He’d stressed out for months on how to do it, planned everything to be as perfect as possible. Now that the cat was out of the proverbial bag, it turned out he needn’t be.

“Love, would you like some coffee?” You turned around the kettle swinging in your hand. Trying not to laugh at Jungkook’s dumbstruck look, you continued. “Oh and by the way, I am still awaiting my proper proposal. As much as I love your sleep talking habits, I won’t have that privilege taken away from me.” As you spoke you approached him slowly, a grin forming on your face. Reaching him, toe to toe, you pursed your lips. “Love, are you still breathing?”

As if to prove you wrong Jungkook took a loud inhale, the situation having sunk into his brain. Your face was so close to his, he only needed to lean in as his lips softly brushed over yours. What started as a slow kiss soon turned into a battle as you haphazardly put the kettle on the counter. Jungkook’s hands were now pulling you to him, trying to get as much of you as possible.

“Wait- I need to know.” You broke the kiss and shushed Jungkook’s complaint at the loss of contact. “How were you planning to propose?” You said looking up at him expectantly. Jungkook simply smiled and leaned to press his lips against yours once more.

“I may have booked us flights to Paris.” His kiss trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Pulling away he enjoyed the dazed look in your eyes morphing into excitement as the shoe dropped.

Squealing you jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. “You,” You pecked his lips forcefully. “Are,” Tightening your hold on him, you continued to attack his lips between words. “The best boyfriend ever.” At his protest you were quick to correct yourself. “Fiancé.” Sealing the deal with another kiss, this time a deeper one, you wound your fingers through his hair.

“Good because I've been hiding the ring from you for months.”

drabbles masterlist

#jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #drabble request #maria's drabbles #bts drabbles #bts drabble request #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #castlebangtan #bangtaninn #established relationship #boyfriend jungkook

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pankowfruitsnackswriting · 2 years

Text

beautiful (r.c)

My work is NOT to be transferred, translated, reposted or copied to any other sites without my permission. That is plagiarism. But you can re-blog the heck out of it on here :)

paring(s): shitty!jj x reader, rafe x reader

summary: After a terrible break up, y/n makes the choice to change herself, causing Rafe a whole new kind of heartache and pain.

warning: jj being a complete asshole, toxic relationship, insecurity, body image, slut shaming, language, smut (very little, and kind of not really descriptive)

(master list) (tag list)

It had been simultaneously the best and worst three months of y/n's life. The way her heart flutter at JJ's admission of feeling was a perfect contrast to the sound of the organ crashing on the floor to small shards.

JJ stared her down, forcing a silence upon her. "You're so needy, all the goddamn time. Give me a fucking break."

"I haven't heard from you in three days, let alone, seen you in week. I don't know what's going on." The distance was painful, but not uncommon. It just had never gotten to this point. "A text would have been nice."

"You wanted a fucking text, sucks because I needed space." He ran a hand through his blonde mop head before pinning her between his arms, a hand on either side of her. The same arms she once sought comfort in now instill a deep rooted fear. There was no escape. "I needed time away from your clingy ass."

Y/n regretted even coming to the chateau today. If it was any other time, she would have busied herself on figure eight, hanging out with Topper, Kelce, and Rafe. Unfortunately, they had some sporting event on the mainland, but opted for a get together later that night.

"Do you know how you make me feel?" His voice filled with the same rage of his father's, at least from what he's told her about the man. "Answer me."

"Maybe if you would tell me-"

"You make me furious. Thinking it's some fun game to kick it with the pogues-"

Y/n pleaded. "No, I don't."

"You suffocate me." In a moment of temptation, she glanced at his lips, confused how they once flooded words sweeter than honey, now we're sharper than daggers. They were still beautiful. "You want me still, don't you?"

The girl attempted to seal her eyes shut, but his change of demeanor and soft words brought her out of the darkness, once again staring in the dark icy blue eyes. "Please look at me, pudding."

"JJ-" she began, wanting to talk about what just happened, but he shushed her.

"I just need time to think about us." He pulled y/n up by the arms and led her to the bedroom. He was always the one to fight her emotions with sex. What once was beautiful seemed vile. Only for his pleasure.

She laid complacent on the mattress as he trailed kisses down her skimpily clad chest. It wasn't long before he was inside her, claiming her as another conquest. She didn't mind though, it felt so nice to be loved.

JJ turned his back to her and tucked himself underneath the covers, leaving her to clean up the mess that he made. It's been too long since he actually cared for her needs and feelings. She let the despair flood her body. "I think we should break up." He mumbled.

"What?" Everything stopped.

"I mean, I don't know why I stayed this long. I wouldn't even had looked you way if it weren't for your..." he paused to think, "bedroom abilities."

Y/n repeated her whimper. "What?"

"I mean the island talks. You have a nice body. If anyone says otherwise they are lying. Only good for sex, you know? Otherwise you're so miserable to be with."

"Oh." She held her tears back the best she could.

"Don't take it personal, pudding."He didn't even care, just scrolling through his phone as if it was another typical afternoon, as if he didn't just rip her heart out, leaving her to choke on her suppressed sobs. "I'm gonna go, I guess."

She slowly put on her clothes, hoping he'd tell her it was a mistake. "Can you hurry up? I have a hot touron on her way. I don't want to have to explain the inconvenience."

Another girl? Already? He truly didn't care and clearly doesn't know anything about discretion.

She wanted to turn around and scream at him. Tell him he's acting the same way as his father. That he should remember his father treated his mother the same way and that's why she left. But y/n didn't have the heart. The boy was still hurting over his mother's absence, the abuse endured by his father, she didn't want to be added to that list. Instead she silently left, ignoring the glances from pogues.

Y/n continued to wander home, completely numb to the feelings and the elements, when she received a text. Some part of her it was John B or Kie checking in on her after hearing the events but it was just topper. She felt crushed.

Topper: we're ordering take out, send your order so it's here when you arrive.

She quickly went into the group chat to let them know tonight is not a good night to hang out.

Y/n: JJ and I just broke up. I need sometime by myself to think about and process it. I love you all and I'm sorry to bail.

They all sent their understanding and making plans to go 'beat the living daylights out of him.' She of course said no.

The girl sent a quick message to Rafe privately. They had practically been raised together resulting in a firmly rooted bond.

Y/n: could you come over tomorrow? I don't want to be alone.

Rafe: Anything for you. It's going to be okay. I love you.

Love. She stared at the word, questioning the underlying meaning. 'He probably just thought saying it would make her feel better, or flatter her ego. Yea. Rafe only stayed friends with her because y/n was a good piece of arm candy.' Or so she convinced herself.

It's funny. She used to stand in front of the mirror and pick apart the things she hated about herself. But clearly she must have not seen what everyone else saw because clearly the whole island thought she was beyond pretty enough and that was all she was worth. The tears that once spilled for JJ, are now for her beauty she wished not to have. What a twisted thing it was, to pray to be ugly and truly seen, then only beautiful. She was just that. Only beautiful.

——

Rafe was never too far from y/n. He never thought it was right to leave her, not like this at least.

It had been a little over a month and she barely left her house, apart from school. The things that once interested her now seemed like a nuisance. She never wanted to dress nice, always in sweats or what she deemed as 'lazy day apparel.'

"You need to stop moping around." He gently urged her to get up for a Saturday with her friends. "You deserve more than what he did to you."

"Shut up, Rafe. I know my worth, okay? It hurt but I'm getting over it." He didn't know why they broke up or the things JJ said to her. Just that it hurt. That's all she ever told him.

The man never got used to the quick burst of angers, it was so uncharacteristic to her calm nature. "I'm just saying, Topper and Kelce miss you very much." She's only allowed them to come over a few times, Rafe was their only connection to what was going on. "They don't even care to do much."

"So they can just look at me? Appreciate the sight."

"Where is this hatred coming from, y/n? They want your friendship and company. Watch a movie or something." He worried for her, only wanting to take care of her and bring back the sweet girl she once was.

"Let's just drop it. Can you leave so I can go change?"

"You know I don't mind. I'll just turn around like always."

"I said get out." He barely made it through the door way when she slammed it shut.

Her heart raced. There would be no way she would even give anyone the opportunity to look at her body.

Y/n quickly grabbed a large hoodie that happened to be JJ's old school one. It no longer smelt like him, but it still brought up memories, good and bad. She shrugged it on, allowing to fall close to her knees. It was one of the few things that hid her figure. No one can love her for her body if they could not see it. At least that was the goal.

Rafe offered a gentle smile as she exited the room only to greeted with a glare. She perplexed it to the point it began wearing his heart thin. Bit by bit it was breaking, but that was his fault for falling for his best friend all those years ago.

"Are we walking?" She grumbled.

"Yes." And they continued their short journey in silence. This allowed Rafe to simply think.

At a young age, Rafe knew his friendship with y/n was special. Even when they fought or grew fussy of each other, they'd find a way back to one another.

He must have been eight or nine by the time he developed that crush on her. They played house. She was the mommy and Rafe willingly took the roll of father. "Mommy and Daddy's kiss, you know?" He wanted it to be true for the sake of his fantasy. What if they got to be mommy and daddy's for real? Rafe knew he had to wait.

As he got older, the pair stuck together. They were each other's first kiss. For Rafe it was a dream come true but for y/n it was "weird" and "best friends don't do that." So he waited. He listened to every story about the guy she thought was cute. He watched as JJ slowly crushed her heart then completely destroyed it.

Now he watches her destroy herself and it the end that killed him.

"Rafe are you listening?" Topper questioned?

"Sorry, I was just thinking." He glanced at y/n. She had a grin on her face while hugging a large bottle of some expensive moscato.

"You're always thinking too much."She rolled her eyes. "Whatever it is, just push it to the side."

"I can't push you to the side. Love ya too much." He only half teased.

She put on a façade of security as she passed the alcohol. "Well don't. Just take a sip and forget it ever happened."

As time went on, the group was too far past drunk. Kelce and Topper were in there own little world. Rafe and y/n sat awkwardly in another. It was like sitting in a room across from a person who you no longer knew. Just the memories. "Rafe, why do you stick around?" He stared at her. "I mean with me?"

"After almost ten years of friendship, you ask that? Have I not been here long enough for you to trust me?" He chuckled, trying to masquerade the hurt.

"It's not that." She quickly slurred out. "I am just self aware that I can be annoying or clingy. Even needy. You haven't done anything except wait on me. Why?"

"I hope one day, when you are ready, you'll let me take you out to dinner and tell you about it." It was the honest to god truth.

"You're doing it for a dinner?"

"And because you're my bestest friend in the whole wide world." She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his structured rib cage.

"I'm sorry for being a bitch. I'll try and do better."

Rafe glided a hand on the back of her head. "One day at a time, Pickle."

She scrunched her nose with a shit eating grin. "It's been a minute since you called me that."

——

It's been one week since that drunken evening. Y/n finally agreed to a dinner. He said that's the reason he was sticking around, so she would give him just that, and it would be over.

"Wear something pretty." Rafe whispered in her ear earlier that day and for some reason that made the girl feel even worse. He wanted her to look nice so he could show her off for every single person on the island. She was just for show like all the trophy girl friend's on figure eight.

She wouldn't dress to impress. It's Rafe and it was just dinner. Typical night at the wreck. It wouldn't be the first time they ate without Topper and Kelce.

A decision was made; grey sweatpants with a black crew neck. That will do. She didn't have the energy for anything else really. Her brain focused on other things.

Rafe stood at the door, fixing his tie with his free hand. The other was filled with a bouquet of flowers that he had personally chosen and arranged. His hair was lightly gelled, split perfectly down the middle and pushed to the sides.

No one would understand the strings he had to pull to get a reservation at this restaurant. Technically it was not open to the public yet, just the upper class who knew someone.

Even though the reservation was nearly two hours later, he wanted to spend time talking and walking along the beach. He was excited and eager when he knocked.

His heart dropped when he looked at her. "You're not even dressed yet?" He tried to hide the disappointment. Was she not as excited at he?

"It's just dinner." She did everything to hide the shock that her was in a full suit and fist full of flowers. "The wreck isn't anything new."

"I was going to surprise you with Luigi's. That new place." Frustration was rising. "I said dress nice."

Her heart begged her to apologize, to run upstairs and change, but her brain was self destructing. She would never let someone use her. Friend or foe. It will never matter. "I don't care for a fancy restaurant, i thought we'd be hanging out like usual."

She noticed the way his jaw clenched. Y/n knew he was holding back his anger. "There's still time to change."

"But I'm comfortable as is."

Rafe threw his hands up, dropping the flowers. "I'm such a fool." He muttered. "God. I thought you would finally see how much I really love you. Beyond a friend. That this was a turning point for us. All I wanted was to give you an excuse to dress up. Have a nice dinner. Feel special. And maybe we could talk." He started to walk away and she stared at the flowers. "Couldn't even do that!"

Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again, except she wouldn't have rafe there for her. Even if he only loved her body, like everyone else, she couldn't even pretend it was real and she most likely would never feel it again if he walked away. "Why do you want me to dress up so badly? Huh? So you can show everyone that you can pull a hot girl? Or that you have to islands most wanted fuck?"

"Because I love you." He screamed back. His red face showed exasperation.

"You love how I look. You're just confused." She scoffed.

"You're beautiful, sure the island wants you, but I knew you before you got in shape and grew boobs, or learned to do makeup." He sighed then took a step forward. "Where would you ever get that idea?"

He took a glance over her features, noticing the guarded features hinted with fear. " If anyone says the want me for anything other than my body, they are lying. I am I nly good for sex. Otherwise I am so miserable to be with." Her voice stayed calm as if she repeated them a thousand times, building her defense with every syllable.

"Who told you that bull shit? Since when does the y/n care what other people think?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. Because they made you feel so terrible, you can't even be yourself around me. Your best friend."

"Well, JJ was my boyfriend and that made no different." Rafe tan to her. Rescuing her collapsing body as she wept.

"Three months compared to the ten years I knew you were made for me. I sat by you through everything. I'm sorry if I never made it known to you very well."

She tried to lightly push him off. "You don't mean it."

"I've waited and I will continue to wait."

"I ruined everything, Rafe. I hate myself. I'm not sure I can fully trust you. It's not your fault but,"

"You've been hurt, it takes time. Even after all this, I still love you for you." She stilled in his arms. "I'm giving you time."

"Enough time to dress and make it to dinner?" He glanced at his watch. "Good thing we still have an hour."

"I'll try to trust you."

"Good." Helped her up and back inside. "Have I told you how sweet and beautiful your mind and soul are?"

"Never."

"Well I just did and I will tell you till time runs out."

tag: @deepestfancloud @obxluv @mrs-starkey1 @rafeswh0ree @halsmultibitch @agent007knight @hopebaker @fangirlfree @ameliaalvarez06 @fashphotolife @samcaniglia @apogueprincess @gryffindorpouge11 @bjrmaybank @multifandomwhore-003 @youdontlikethatdoyoucupcake

#outer banks cast #outer banks imagines #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks season three #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #jj maybank #rafe fluff #rafe obx

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myherowritings · 4 years

Text

Maybe It’s Fate

— After discovering the mememate you fell in love with was your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart, you find yourself alone in a bar with a dead phone in a poor attempt to cope. The person who helps you at 3 a.m. is the last person you want to see.

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader word count: 10,531 genre: modern au, social media au

a/n: hihi welcome to part 25 of toya ! ;) the smau is rated 17+ so keep that in mind because it applies to this part too. it’s a bit thicc so i hope it’s able to keep your attention! skksffsd plspls chat with me and let me know what u think once u read! i’m looking forward to the convos ^-^ [edit: THIS IS NOT THE FINAL PART LOLOL]

Of all the dumb decisions you’ve made in your life, this by far had to be the dumbest of them all.

You were angry and hurt and wanted nothing more than to drown your feelings with overplayed EDM music and cheap booze that reminded you too much of the trash college parties you used to frequent. And while going out to get drunk was no where near your stupidest decision, going out alone with the full intention of returning home with someone else was.

“Is everything okay?” you heard an unfamiliar voice beside you call.

Wishing you had brought more than an empty can of pepper spray, you cautiously turned to face him. You wanted to call a cab or take the train home, but you knew walking alone in the streets in your current condition might just be more stupid than staying at the club. Besides, your phone died right after you sent Kaminari your location.

In other words-- You were truly fucked.

Not that you would let anyone know that, of course.

“Everything’s just fine,” you replied, trying to sound polite but disinterested. “Thanks.”

He kept his distance but sat down at the barstool next to you. “Are you sure? You’re a pretty lady alone at the bar and you’re staring at your drink like it just insulted your favorite grandmother.”

Immediately, the tears of stress and frustration flooded your eyes but you kept them from falling. Your bottom lip quivered and you blamed all the alcohol in your system for your seemingly uncontrollable emotions.

“Am I that transparent?” You sniffled, downing the rest of your drink as you turned towards him.

“Ah-- Wait!” he cried with wide eyes, waving his hands in front of him as you chugged what was in your glass. “Are you sure you should keep drinking? Where are your friends?”

You studied him curiously. He seemed nice and trustworthy, but you couldn’t help but be skeptical of his intentions.

“They’re...around,” you answered, unwilling to admit you were here alone to a random stranger. “And I’m okay! Just here hating men, but what’s new?”

He nodded solemnly. “Understandable. Men suck. Carry on.”

That earned a grin from you.

As the last gulp of vodka settled in your stomach and made its way to your head, you instinctively checked your phone in your pocket only to find it still dead.

Damn. And here you were hoping it would’ve miraculously charged through sheer willpower.

Drumming your fingertips against the empty glass, you let your gaze roam around the perimeter of the nightclub, blinking furiously in confusion when you thought you had spotted a head of all-too-familiar purple hair near the entrance.

“What the…” you trailed off. You could have sworn you just saw Shinsou, but the next second you opened your eyes, he was gone.

Great, you thought to yourself miserably. First he snuck his way into your heart and now you were imagining his presence too?

“You’re really had too much to drink, haven’t you, Y/N?” you chided yourself, head spinning as you instantly regretted the last few gulps.

The guy next to you glanced over in concern, drinking a glass of what you assumed to be respect women juice.

“Can I order you some water?” he fretted. “Or maybe a cab?”

You shook your head to decline but stopped abruptly when your temples started to throb at the sudden motion.

“S’okay,” you slurred. “I just thought I saw--”

“Y/N!”

You froze in your seat.

That voice… It was faint and almost like it wasn’t real, but you knew that voice.

There was no way.

“Good grief, I’m losing it now, huh?” you asked your bar acquaintance with furrowed brows.

He shrugged, not knowing how to reply.

“Y/N, thank god,” the voice said frantically, sounding closer this time. “You’re safe!”

Ever so slowly, you turned around in your seat, eyes squeezed shut.

Even hearing his voice amidst the blaring of music was enough to make your heart twist in pain. It was the same deep timbre you remembered from high school and you haven’t heard it since then. You hated just how much you had missed the familiar sound. It was like a hug of comfort telling you everything was okay and a stab in the gut all at once.

“Y/N,” he said again, almost a whisper this time.

You finally found the courage to open your eyes, but refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you developed a deep interest in the laces of his shoes, reluctant to look up.

“Shinsou…” The name left a bitter taste on your tongue and you wished you had another drink to wash it down with. Your voice hardened. “What are you doing here?”

He winced at your harsh tone but stood unrelenting. “Your friends are worried sick about you. Kaminari was so concerned he even messaged me-- Something I imagine he never wanted to do.”

Your lower lip jutted out in guilt as your stare stayed set on the intricacies of the tiled flooring.

“Why have you not checked your phone?” asked Shinsou in exasperation. “Kaminari was trying to tell you I was going to pick you up.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. “My phone died after I sent Denki my location.”

“Died? Did you not charge it before you left? Y/N how could you be so irresponsible--!”

“Is everything okay here?” your unnamed acquaintance said from his seat on the bar. He glanced carefully between you and Hitoshi.

You nodded, sparing him a wry smile. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

Shinsou bit the inside of his cheek as he eyed the stranger who sat next to you. “Who’s this?”

“None of your damn business.”

Annoyed by Shinsou’s chiding, you bristled when he frowned at you. He had no right to sound concerned or jealous-- No right to pretend he cared!

Not when he did what he did.

“I know I was being stupid and I’ll call my friends when I get home,” you said, not bothering to hide your irritation. “But you can’t just come here and talk to me like everything is normal! Why are you even here?”

Pushing yourself out of your chair, you stood up and finally looked Hitoshi in the eye, glaring at him. You wobbled on your own two feet and felt the goosebumps on your bare thighs and arms, briefly wishing you had brought a coat with you.

Great, another thing Toshi can call you irresponsible for, you thought crossly, a mixture of hurt and anger in your face as you stared up at him.

“Why are you here?” you repeated as you paced away from the bar--turning back only to give your bar friend a wave goodbye that he returned with a confused look. You headed for the exist of the nightclub as briskly as your legs could carry you in your uncomfortable heels. “How did you know where to find me?”

Shinsou trailed not too far behind you and you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that you felt a warmth near your back from his presence. “Kaminari told me you were alone at a nightclub and this one happened to be only ten minutes from my house.”

You pouted. Small fucking world. Fate must’ve been getting a kick out of this.

“Your friends were worried-- So was I.” You rolled your eyes, but he continued. “And since I was the closest to this place I offered to pick you up.”

Reaching the side doors, you stopped by the stone wall of the building and squinted at him. “You offered and they just let you?”

That did not sound like the friends you knew. You were expecting a full Shinsou beat down from Bakugou alone.

Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck and, in your tipsy stupor, you felt comforted by the familiar habit of his. You swallowed, balling your hands into fists to snap your mind out of it.

It shouldn’t matter how many memories of the past were flooding you-- You were mad at him for lying and you had every right to be.

“Maybe offered is too loose of a word,” he admitted after a moment’s silence, having the decency to appear sheepish. “But we were worried and I knew I could get to you in half the time any of your friends could.”

Sure, it was a logical reason. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. “I would rather have waited double the time if that meant I didn’t have to see you again.”

You stared Hitoshi straight in the eyes as you said that as you tried to ignore the trembling of your lower lip. He flinched at the words, looking hurt. But another part of him looked like he accepted it.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now--”

“Mhmm,” you hummed just to be petty.

“--but we had no way of knowing if you were safe. Especially when you stopped replying to anyone! This was the quickest way.”

Folding your arms across your chest you stubbornly held his gaze. “Well, I’m safe. So you can leave now.”

Shinsou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Please. I know you hate me and you have every right to--”

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered under your breath. As much as you wish you did, you don’t think you could ever really hate him.

He blinked slowly and you could have sworn you saw a shimmer of hope in his expression. You tore your gaze away, studying the small fissures and cracks on the otherwise smooth pavement.

“Oh,” he breathed almost imperceptibly. “Thank you.”

You pretended not to hear him.

“Regardless of whether you hate me or not, I know you don’t want to see me--and I apologize for showing up so suddenly--but will you please let me bring you home safely?” Hitoshi pleaded. “Or to your friend’s house if you don’t want to be alone.”

With your lips squeezed shut, you rubbed the goosebumps off your upper arm. It was cold and your head was spinning and you had no clue what to say to him.

Silently, Shinsou took off his outer coat and gently draped it over your shoulders, fastening the top button near the collar so it wouldn’t fall off your frame. You looked at him in surprise, unshed tears stinging the back of your eyes as you recalled all the times he’d given you his jacket while you were dating.

There were more times that you cared to admit where you conveniently “forgot” your jacket or wore too little layers on a cold day just so Hitoshi could give you his and you’d be enveloped in his scent.

And that’s exactly what was happening now. Shinsou’s coat surrounded your body like a warm hug and your nose was filled with a scent exactly like the one you remembered from when you were dating. He smelled like a sweet sandalwood with a mixture of fresh jasmine. He smelled like a field of flowers you’d find after a long trek through a woodsy forest. He smelled like home.

But he wasn’t.

In actuality, you haven’t been this close to Shinsou since your break up.

It had been years since you had seen him or talked to him or even been close enough to catch a trace of his scent. And now he was flooding every one of your senses with no care of the repercussions.

Your head was light.

You missed him. You cared for him. You never stopped loving him.

And now old wounds that never fully healed had been ripped open all at once.

“You were shivering,” Hitoshi stated quietly. “So I gave you my--”

He stopped short when he heard a sniffle coming from your direction, eyes growing wide as your buried your face in the palms of your shaking hands.

Through the cracks between your fingers, you saw Shinsou reach out to cup your face, stopping himself before he could touch you and withdrawing as if he had been burned. As stupid as it was, you wanted nothing more than to feel his touch against your skin and you found yourself involuntarily taking a half-step closer to him.

Your silent tears feel even faster.

“Are you crying?”

Despite the droplets of water blurring your eyes, you managed to glare up at him for his dumb question.

He grimaced. “Sorry. I’m...sorry.”

Although you were the one crying, you still noticed the pained look on Shinsou’s face. He seemed just as conflicted as you were, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands so hard his knuckles appeared white.

When he opened his mouth to speak his voice sounded choked, but still gentle. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Just peachy,” you murmured, barely moving your lips. The two of you stood there in awkward silence, nothing but the sounds of your labored breaths filling the air until you blurted, “Actually, you know what--? No. I’m not!”

Shinsou opened his mouth to speak but no noise came out. That was just fine by you, though. You had plenty of things you wanted to say, regardless of his response.

“I’m angry at you! And confused. And sad. And hurt! I don’t know if I want to yell at you or ignore you or run right back into your arms--” Your voice cracked and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to slow your sharp breathing.

You hugged yourself around your waist, painfully aware of how comforting his jacket felt around your body. A part of you wished you could just tear the coat off your shoulders, throw it onto a puddle on the floor, give Shinsou the middle finger, and turn away without looking back.

But you couldn’t.

Instead, you let your tears continue to fall as you glowered at Hitoshi’s shoes.

“I am so mad at you,” you managed, hands clutching the fabric at your sides. “You lied to me, Hitoshi. You lied to me and you didn’t trust me and you left!”

The hurt from your past which you never wanted to accept mixed with anger from the present, both fueling your surge in emotions.

“And now you’re here--in front of me--acting like everything is okay?!” you shouted in exasperation. Your face was burning despite the chilling breeze outside. “Do you even care about me? Have you ever even cared about me?”

He gritted his teeth, hurt that you would even ask that. “Of course. Of course I care about you, Y/N! Even through all these years I’ve never stopped caring about you.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

His laugh was humorless. “I’m a fuck up. I know.”

Your gaze softened just the slightest bit. “Hey-- I didn’t say that.”

Shinsou shrugged. “Regardless, I did fuck up with you. And I’m so sorry for that.”

“For which time?” By now, the tears flowing out of your eyes slowed, the remnants dried by the biting wind. You gave him a wry smile, unamused.

“Both times,” he answered without hesitation. “I hurt you when I broke up with you for no damn reason and I lied when I told you I didn’t love you. That was the biggest lie of my life-- I still loved you. So much. But I jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you the change to explain. I owe you so much more than an apology but it’s the least I can give you right now.”

You rolled your lower lip between your teeth, hating yourself for wanting to accept his apology and jump into his arms. He gave no excuses for what he did and his words were genuine. That much you knew for certain.

Slowly, he inched towards you.

“I really am sorry, Y/N.” He paused. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You stayed silent, holding your breath as the pad of his thumb brushed against your damp cheek. Shinsou wiped away your flood of tears with a touch so gentle, it felt like a feather on your face.

His thumb lingered on your cheekbone, his fingertips lightly grazing your jaw, and you found yourself ever so slightly leaning into his palm. The tension in your muscles loosened and if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend you were back with the Shinsou you loved in high school-- As if he never left and nothing had ever changed.

Just for a moment, you tricked yourself into being truly happy. You tricked yourself into thinking that maybe you and Hitoshi could still be in love.

You wanted to capture this second and replay it on an infinite loop, but just like all moments, this too had to come to an end.

As you opened your eyes, Hitoshi reluctantly brought his hand back to his side.

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “You were crying and I just wanted to--” He shook his head, cutting himself off before his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

It sounded like his apology was meant for more than just wiping some tears off your face.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, the anger in your gaze diffused by hurt and longing. “I know.”

As the minutes passed, neither one of you made a move to step away from the other-- Your bodies mere inches apart and so close, yet never quite touching.

Suddenly, Hitoshi cleared his throat.

“Er-- If you’ll let me, I think I should bring you home now,” he said, forcibly shaking himself out of his daze and pulling his phone out. “It’s almost four in the morning.”

Blinking, you rubbed your eyes. Not that he mentioned the time, you realized just how tired you were. You wanted to take a bubble bath, change into fluffy pajamas, and sleep until the following night.

“Do you have to go to your flower shop tomorrow?”

“Hmm?” You were startled. You had almost forgotten that the man in front of you was the same person you considered your “mememate.” As much as you hated to admit it, he probably knew more about you than some of your closest friends.

Biting your lip, you snapped yourself out of it.

“Oh-- Right. My flower shop.”

He nodded.

“No, I don’t have work tomorrow,” you answered finally. “I may not have made the smartest decisions tonight, but I’m not that irresponsible.”

A shadow of a smile graced his face. “Of course not.”

Fishing his keys from his pocket, Shinsou walked to the parking lot of the nightclub, looking over his shoulder to check if you were following.

When his gaze met yours you immediately stuck your tongue out at him haughtily so he knew you were only following him as a last resort and you needed to get home-- Not because you wanted to.

You caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around, and you managed to stop yourself before one spread to your lips as well.

Stopping at a black car with tinted windows, Hitoshi unlocked it with his keys, opening the door of the passenger seat and waiting for you to safely enter.

“I can open a door myself,” you murmured, sliding into the seat securely before he gently shut it close.

“I know,” you heard his amused voice call through the window.

It felt like there was one, singular butterfly fluttering around in your stomach and causing mayhem, and you batted it away before Hitoshi could come in and see the grin on your face.

“Did I just see you just hit yourself in the gut?” he asked when he entered through the driver’s side.

“No.”

“Okay.”

Subtly, you rubbed your tummy in a soft, circular motion. You hadn’t meant to punch the butterfly that hard.

“Didn’t hit yourself, huh?”

You flushed. “Oh, hush.”

With a snort, Hitoshi turned the engine of his car on and you let your eyes explore the interior. It was sleek and clean, smelling like a mixture of sandalwood and new car.

Reaching behind the gear level, he pulled out a white cord and handed it to you. You stared at the object in his hands.

“For you,” he said, with a raised brow. “You should charge your phone and let your friends know you’re on your way home.”

Wordlessly, you accepted it from him. Careful not to let your fingers brush against his in fear of the spark it might cause.

“I messaged Kaminari earlier to let him know you were safe. But he probably wants to hear it from you.”

You nodded as you plugged your dead phone in. “Thanks.”

He hummed, putting the car on drive and backing out of the parking spot, stopping before he reached the main street.

“Do you know how to get home from here?” he asked. As you shook your head, Hitoshi handed you his fully charged phone that was opened on the navigation app. “You can search for your address.”

“Got it.” The air between you was almost suffocatingly awkward as you typed in where you lived, each click of the keyboard ringing into the stillness of the night. After finding turning the directions on, you handed the phone back to him. “Thanks.”

Shaking his head, he waved you off. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Y/N. This is the least I could do.”

Averting your gaze, you twiddled your thumbs in your lap, unsure what to say. You had so much you wanted to tell him--so much you wanted to ask--but when it came to it, you froze.

Just then, your phone made a sound from its spot near the gear shift, buzzing and lighting up as it finally turned on. A plethora of notifications filled your screen and you found yourself feeling guilty for making your friends worry like that.

Five missed calls for Kaminari, three missed calls from Todoroki, and nine missed calls from Bakugou. You gulped. You were definitely going to get your ears talked off by those three once they got a hold of you.

But amidst the calls and texts of worry from your friends, you also noticed a handful of messages from Hitoshi. He sent you texts asking if you were okay and telling you not to worry because he was on his way to get you. There was a lump in your throat when he saw the messages were still from your mememate-- You never did get around to changing his contact name.

From the corner of your eye you saw Hitoshi glancing down at your phone screen, a look of regret apparent on his face. When he caught you staring, he directed his attention back on the road, clearing his throat as he followed the directions on the navigation system.

To think only a week ago, things were so different between the two of you.

You thought he was a random stranger you connected with through the power of memes, never having a clue that he was your ex this whole time. You found yourself opening up and sharing your private feelings with him despite the promise you made yourself to always guard your heart.

Even anonymously, Hitoshi climbed over your walls and found his way to the inner workings of your life. Even anonymously, he made everything feel like it was okay.

But a part of you was scared--so scared--that it was all in your head and he was only playing you this whole time. And at this point, you were just too afraid to ask.

“Are you crying again?”

“What?!” you yelped in alarm, wiping at your slightly damp face with the sleeves of his coat. “No, you asshole!” You glared at him, a few loose tears still gathered by the corners of your eyes. You refused to let them fall through the use of sheer willpower. “The air conditioning is just blasting into my eyes.”

“The air conditioner is off.”

You blinked. “Well that makes sense. It’s so hot in here I’m just sweating through my eyes.”

He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Right.”

The lighthearted mood didn’t last very long, however, when your phone buzzed once more and the notifications from earlier tonight appeared on your lockscreen.

“I really made everyone worry, huh?” You sighed, leaning back against the headrest and shutting your eyes, the effects of the alcohol long since worn off. “I can’t believe I did something like this.”

He signaled a left turn and waited until he was at the red light before continuing. “I’m sorry for causing this.”

You stared at him in confusion. “What do you mean? Causing this?”

“Yeah. If I had just told you who I was the moment I found out, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have been scared and alone at a random nightclub and your friends wouldn’t have been in near panic for hours. Hell-- If I hadn’t run away like that all those years ago none of this would have happened.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel so hard it left indents on the leather. “You wouldn’t have felt all the pain and heartbreak and--”

His voice grew hoarse as it broke off, as if something was tightening around his throat. Holding your breath, you gazed at him in concern.

You were angry at Hitoshi and thought he had a lot of explaining to do-- Sure. But...for him to blame himself for everything that happened? That was more weight than anyone should bear on their own.

Surprising both him and yourself, you firmly placed your hand on top of his as he gripped the steering wheel. His hands were cold and rough from the wind, and you were certain yours weren’t much better. But still, you held him. And still, it felt right.

“Not everything is your fault, Toshi,” you said quietly, his old nickname slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it, like it was natural for you to call him that.

His eyes widened and a flush filled your cheeks.

You coughed to relieve the tension in your neck. “I just mean… You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. You messed up and there’s no denying that, but this isn’t all your fault. I mean it.”

Your eyes met before he tore his gaze away to focus on driving. Quickly, you retracted your hand from on top of Shinsou’s, cradling it against your stomach as you felt the burn from his skin linger on yours.

“Thank you.” His voice was solemn and grateful, as if he needed to hear those words at least once in his life. “You’re too caring, you know? Your heart is too good.”

You let out a breath of laughter, brushing his compliment off. “Yours is too. It’s just been through some shit. And maybe didn’t make the best decisions.”

“It most definitely didn’t.”

Though neither of you were looking at each other, there was a shared sense of happiness between the two of you--regardless of how brief it may have been. There was a small smile playing on your face as you bit your lip to keep it from growing wider.

You hadn’t fully forgiven Hitoshi, he still had some explaining to do, but you felt a sense of calmness when you realized that maybe forgiveness would be possible.

Before you knew it, you heard the navigator say, “Your destination is on the right,” as Hitoshi pulled up at the curb in front of your building.

“We’re here,” he announced slowly, one hand on the gear level as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

There was an awkward silence as you unplugged your phone from his car charger. It wasn’t that you wanted to spend more time with him exactly (that was definitely not the case), but rather you had more questions to ask. And what better time to figure out those questions than at four in the morning?

“You’ve been driving for a while…” you trailed off, hoping he caught the hint without too much embarrassment on your part. “Do you want to use the restroom before you drive back home?”

Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck. “No, I’m good. I wasn’t out for that long.”

“O-Oh,” you stuttered, a sudden feeling of nerves settling in your stomach. Not those damned butterflies again. “Well, how about… Maybe you want a glass of water or a cup of tea?”

He gave you a curious look but set his car to park and turned off the engine nonetheless. “Sure…? Some water would be nice.”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding, pulling your keys out of your pocket and unbuckling your seatbelt. Before you could open the car door for yourself, Hitoshi was already on the passenger’s side ready to open it for you.

“I know how to open a door,” you muttered with a roll of your eye, but felt a faint flush litter your cheeks nonetheless. You hopped out of your seat, accepting the hand he offered to stead you. “But...thank you.”

“No worries.”

For someone you were still mad at, he was making it damn hard for you to stay petty.

Despite the light throbbing in your head, both from drinking too much alcohol and from staying up too late, you were able to lead him inside your living room with no complications--only struggling with unlocking the door just a little.

“Welcome to my house,” you said, flapping your arms around and fidgeting in place. You slid off your shoes and placed them at the doorway and Hitoshi followed suit. “You can, uh, sit on the couch while I get you water. Or you can follow me into the kitchen…?”

Your eyes scanned the floors and furniture of your apartment. You liked maintaining your living space clean and clutter-free, so it wasn’t too much of a mess. Still, you weren’t expecting any guests and it wasn’t as nice as it could have been…

You shook your head, giving your face a light slap when you thought no one was looking. You shouldn’t be bothered. It was just Hitoshi here. Someone you most definitely no longer cared about.

Or so you kept telling yourself.

He followed behind you, grabbing at his neck and glancing between your walls and you, unsure what to look at in this new environment. After all, it wasn’t everyday you picked up your ex that you haven’t seen for four years at a bar only to be invited into their house.

“I can go with you to the kitchen,” he answered with uncertainty.

“G-Great!”

You grimaced. When did you become Tony the Tiger all of a sudden?

As you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, you filled them up with ice and water, setting one next to Shinsou on the countertop.

He accepted it. “Thank you.”

You nodded and there was an awkward silence, both of you taking long sips from your glass, not knowing where to go from here. You knew you wanted to talk to him, but what were you going to ask exactly? What was the right way to go about this situation?

Next to you, Hitoshi looked like he was having some inner struggles of his own. His fingers flexed and unflexed around the cool glass, both avoiding your gaze and looking at you at the same time.

Biting your lip, you turned to look at him. As uncomfortable as it was, there was no better time to ask than now.

“Can we talk--?”

“We should talk--”

You both started and stopped at the same time.

There was a beat of elongated silence before the two of you laughed. Shaking your head, you buried your face in your hands, peering at him between your fingers.

“This is silly,” you cried in embarrassment. “Why are we so awkward?”

Hitoshi shrugged as a flustered laugh escaped his own lips. “Because this is weird. This is a strange situation we’re in and no one would ever expect something like this to happen.”

“Exactly!”

“But,” he continued, almost hesitantly, “I’m kind of glad it did, though.”

Your own laughter quieted down as the mood became more serious. You drank another gulp of water to quench your suddenly parched throat.

“Can we talk in the living room?” you asked, heading towards the hallway when Hitoshi nodded. You figured if you were going to have an uncomfortable conversation, you may as well try to find some comfort in your warm and plush sofa.

You sat down at the edge near the armrest and he took a seat not too far from you. There was less than a cushion space separating the two of you and if you were to move a few inches, your thighs would be touching.

Tearing your gaze away from your legs, you looked up to face Hitoshi. “You don’t have to answer, but… There have been some questions on my mind lately.”

He nodded, as if expecting you to say that. “Ask away. It’s the least I could do.”

You curled your legs and hugged your knees to your chest, peering at him through your lashes.

“Okay,” you said somewhat unsurely. Confrontation was never easy. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was? How long were you planning on keeping it from me?”

Hitoshi ran a hand through his hair, tufts of purple sticking out in random patterns. Somehow, it suited him.

“I found out a day or so before you confessed to liking...your mememate,” he admitted. He had told you this through text when you asked, but hearing it a second time didn’t make it hurt any less. “I was going to tell you that day, too. But then you told me you liked me and I didn’t know how to break it to you then.”

You looked away, embarrassed at the reminder of the night you poured your heart out to him. He knew you were his ex the whole time and still didn’t stop you? You scoffed, “Well, you could’ve stopped me before I humiliated myself like that.”

“Humiliate-- How?”

“What do you mean how?” You glared. “I totally embarrassed myself that night by saying how much I liked you--my ex!--only to have you basically reject me on the spot!”

“I didn’t reject you.”

“I told you that you were the first person I liked since...well you,” you said, rubbing your temples to ease your own confusion. “And you never said it back. Not that you needed to. It’s totally fine that you don’t. It’s just that… I don’t even know. I just wish I never said anything.”

He placed the glass he was holding onto a coaster on your coffee table, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” said Hitoshi. “But that’s not it at all. I wasn’t trying to reject you. I would’ve told you I liked you back-- I wanted to, I swear.”

Your head snapped to his. He wanted to tell you? As in he started liking you too? Even when he didn’t know who you were?

With a wistful smile, he continued, “But it wasn’t fair to you. Not when I knew who you were and you didn’t know who I was. You didn’t deserve that bullshit.”

You stretched your legs out so they were dangling off the couch, folding one carefully over the other as you crossed your arms. “Then you should’ve just told me the truth about who you were.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “And if I did, you never would’ve told me your feelings.”

“Exactly,” you huffed. “They’d be safe and locked away in my heart until they disappeared.”

He was silent as you turned his body towards yours, resting his arm on the back cushions of the sofa.

“Is that really what you want, though?” he asked. “You’re so kind and beautiful and you deserve to open your heart to someone and be happy with them.” A flush rose to your cheeks at his sudden words of kindness but you shook it away. “I never knew I hurt you so badly that you were scared to love again-- And I’ll hate myself everyday for that.”

“Hitoshi…” Your gaze softened. You wanted to reach out and smooth down his hair but you couldn’t.

He hurt you, yes. But to hate himself and never forgive himself for it? You thought that was far too extreme.

“When you broke up with me,” you started slowly, unsure how to go about this, “you said that our relationship was nothing more than some cheap dates and sex.” He winced, holding his stomach as if he felt nauseous. “If you’re so regretful now, why did you ever say something like that? Did I really mean nothing to you?”

“No-- Of course you meant something to me. Y/N, you were everything to me. And it’s ridiculous of me to say this now but I never wanted to hurt you like that,” Hitoshi said, his eyes squeezed shut. “But I did and I’m so sorry. I thought if I told you those mean things you would find it easier to just hate me and move on. Be with Kaminari or someone who could make you happy.”

You glared at him with both sadness and anger, nails digging into your palms. “I was happy. With you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little.”

Taken aback, you stared at him. You weren’t sure what response you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“But not because of anything you did,” he rushed before you could get the wrong idea. “I just thought you were a good person who truly deserved something better than what I could give. You should be with someone who wasn’t anxious and insecure and messed up.”

You were unsure if you wanted to smack Hitoshi or give him a hug, so you sat there stock-still.

“Even when I saw you with Kaminari, a part of me thought it would be better off that way,” he admitted, a scornful look on his face as he scoffed at himself. “But that wasn’t my call to make, was it? And how I went about it was wrong and dishonest. I’m really sorry.”

He tugged at a loose thread on the sofa while staring at you in earnest. There were so many things to say and not enough time in the night to say it.

“You’re right. It wasn’t your call,” you said, furrowing your brows. “I wish you would’ve told me you were feeling this way all those years ago. I loved you--regardless of what you may have thought. And what you said really hurt me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up and hurt you more deeply than I could’ve ever imagined. You felt like you couldn’t have feelings for anyone for all those years because of what I did, and if I could take it all back, I would.”

His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to cup your face, pulling away harshly before he could touch you.

“You deserve to find love, Y/N. Even if it’s not with me because I know I have no right to anyone’s heart after what I did--”

“Hey, don’t say that!” you interrupted, a wrinkle forming as you scrunched up your nose. You frowned at him. “You deserve to find love again, too. You may have messed up a few times, and I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t hurt, but I still care about you. A lot. And just because you made some really bad decisions doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to ever be happy.”

He looked down at his lap, hands curled into fists by his side. You had the sinking suspicion he didn’t believe you.

Swallowing your pride, you inched closer to him, lightly lifting his chin so he stared at you face-to-face. The dark purple of his eyes stormed as a conflicted expression overcame him and you wanted to run a finger over his brow and brush the insecurities away.

Quietly, you whispered, “You’re so worthy of love, Hitoshi. And it makes me so sad that you still haven’t realized it.”

You felt a piece of your heart chip as he pulled away from you, gritting his teeth as he hung his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked, as if he was holding back tears.

“You’ve shown me too much kindness,” he said, words shakey. “Even after I assumed you cheated and broke up with you in the cruelest way possible--”

His voice cracked and he couldn’t speak. With his gaze avoiding yours he pushed himself off the couch.

“God, I’m sorry,” Hitoshi muttered, his face a look of self-disdain. “I shouldn’t even be here in your life right now. I should just--”

Your hand grabbed the one he used to shove himself off your sofa, holding his fingers tight in between yours. With your head bowed, you called, “Don’t leave again. Not yet.”

He froze in his spot, one leg immobile in front of the other in the direction of the door. Desperately, you tugged at his arm so he looked back at you. Your eyes pleaded with him. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be the end until you received your closure and Hitoshi received his.

“You know that night we played Truth or Drink?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He stared back at you curiously, slowly sitting down as you patted the seat next to you. Cautiously, he nodded in response.

That night was a pivotal time in bonding with your mememate and it was the closest you had felt with anyone besides your best friends.

Continuing, you said, “You told me about your dad cheating on your mom. And then seeing me and Denki the next day after I lied about who I was with.”

There was no accusatory tone in your voice, and you stated it as if you were recalling the facts. But still, Hitoshi winced.

“Yeah, shit.” He placed his palm over his forehead, rubbing at his temple as he grimaced. “I really just jumped to conclusions like that and it was unfair to you. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t reply to his apology, but gave him a small smile. “That night, I told you I thought your response was understandable. It made sense that you were mistrustful at the time. Especially after just finding out about your parents-- People I know you looked up to. Even in regards to love.”

Hitoshi wore a guarded expression, but still listened keenly to what you had to say.

“Toshi… My opinion on that doesn’t change just because I now know it was me you were talking about.”

“Y/N--”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you clarified, not wanting to sound too lenient. “I’m still hurt that you couldn’t trust me. I wish you confronted me so we could’ve cleared up the misunderstanding. I wish you hadn’t stood me up on our anniversary date. But most importantly… I wish I could have been there for you when you found out about your parents.”

Hitoshi sat there in silence, mouth opening but unable to form the sentences he wanted.

You gave him a look of regret, one hand still not letting go of his even as he stayed seated beside you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“It’s not your fault. At all.”

As you shook your head, he faltered. “Still, you went to America, alone, and never told anyone what was wrong. You kept all these feelings to yourself this whole time and I hate that so much.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. I don’t deserve to--”

Your fingers twitched. How many times was he going to beat himself while he was already down?

“Stop saying that!” you snapped, unable to contain your emotions. “You are not a burden. And you deserve so much more than you think you do.”

His eyes widened at your outburst and his lips parted slightly.

“It’s good you know what you did was wrong-- You can’t pretend lying and making assumptions was okay because it’s not. But you know it’s not! And you acknowledge that and it seems like you regret it.” Your voice took on a desperate tone as you tried to get Hitoshi to see his mistakes as something separate from his worth as a whole. “You’ve made mistakes, but you can grow from them. Fucking up doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love and happiness. You don’t have to take all the blame onto yourself.”

“How can I not take the blame?” he asked, his frustration at himself matching yours. “If I had been a better boyfriend, I would have trusted you more. If I had been a better person, I wouldn’t have lied to you. And maybe if I had been a better son, my parents--”

As if your body had a mind of its own, you threw your arms around him in a hug before he could finish his sentence. You heard a sharp inhale come from him as he sat, rigid.

“Don’t,” you whispered, breathing harshly as you held him tight. “Please, Toshi. Don’t say that. If no one ever told you this, please listen to me then. It’s not your fault. Your parents divorcing has nothing to do with your worth. Don’t blame yourself for the issues they had.”

His shoulders were still tense despite the shudder of tears you felt.

“You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. Hold yourself accountable, yes. Always strive to be a better person, yes. But don’t think it’s all your fault,” you pleaded. “You don’t have to handle everything on your own. You can lean on someone, Toshi.” You gently stroked the hair on the back of his head. “You can lean on me.”

At your words, you felt him visibly relax, his body free of the tension as you held him close.

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around you as he returned your embrace, his strong hands firmly gripping your waist as if he never wanted to let you go. You found yourself loosening up at his touch and you placed your head in his chest.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you said, “I don’t know if you need to hear this, but I need to say it.”

His thumb stroked the length of your spine as you continued.

“I forgive you, Hitoshi. For everything.” He stopped moving as he looked at you in surprise. You simply smiled at him. “Your apologies were genuine and so is your regret. I know you’re a good person and I forgive you, so please stop blaming yourself now.”

“Thank you, Y/N. So much.” He pulled away ever so slightly, feelings of guilt still flooding him. “But I feel like I still don’t deserve it though--”

A noise of protest bubbled up at your throat. “I swear to god, if I hear the d-word come out of your mouth again, I’ll make you shut up.” After a moment’s pause, you tried to hide your laughter. “Heh. D-word.”

“Oh my god,” he said, his amusement escaping him. With his arms still around your waist, he challenged, “How would you make me shut up?”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Hitoshi laughed a genuine laugh that you haven’t heard in years. The deep rumble had a smile of your own forming on your lips.

But the mood turned serious when you gazed into his eyes again.

“Really, though…” you said, squeezing the fabric at his sides. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way for so long without telling anyone. I hope you know you can always talk to me.”

He tilted his head back, staring at your ceiling as you caught sight of his Adam’s apple. “Why are you being so nice to me after how much I hurt you?”

“Because I care about you,” you answered simply. “And I know you still care about me. You wouldn’t be this hung up over everything if you didn’t.”

There was a sort of smugness in you as you teased him and he let out a breath of laughter.

“Hah. I do. I care about you. And I’ve missed you so much.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but he hugged you even closer to him. Your arms released their embrace on Hitoshi as you brought them to your sides. He looked down at you with a strange expression.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you admitted, squeezing your eyes shut as if it pained you. “You’re the first and only person I’ve ever loved and I miss you more than you could ever know.”

Your head was bowed at his chest as you tried to steady your trembling hands by grasping the fabric at the front of his shirt.

“Why did you never call me? Why didn’t you tell me you were moving to another continent? Toshi, I loved you so much--” Your voice broke off as the tears you were holding in escaped you. “Why did you leave me?”

His fingers were laced in your hair, holding you tight. He wanted nothing more than to soothe your tears and hated himself for being the cause of them. “I’m an insecure idiot who fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Through the blur of tears, you saw the wistful look on his face. The best thing? you thought to yourself, touched.

“No amount of apologizing is going to fix anything,” he said, accepting it as a fact, “but I am so sorry. And I want you to know I’m grateful the person who AirDropped me that day was you.”

He lifted your chin and wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb. Your knees were touching his thighs as you sat down with your legs folded under you, facing him. Letting go of the grip you had on his shirt, you unballed your fists and instead rested your palms on his chest.

You grinned at the audacity of it all. “I still can’t believe that happened. But I’m glad it did, too.”

“Must be a small world.”

“Or maybe it’s fate.” Your hand found his as you interlocked pinkies with him bashfully.

Hitoshi looked down at your interlaced fingers and a light dusting of pink colored his cheeks. A sense of enjoyment filled you as he continued to blush, a teasing grin playing on your face.

Before you lost any courage you had, you pressed your lips against the corner of his mouth-- Not quite a kiss but most definitely an invitation for one.

The red on his cheeks died down as his eyes darkened in color, removing his hand from your waist to cup your jaw. Hitoshi’s palm was warm and soft against you and you leaned into his caress.

“Do you feel like you got the closure you needed?” he asked, his voice a whisper as he leaned close to you.

“Yes.” You nodded, painfully aware of your close proximity. If you were to lift your head up any more, your lips would brush against his. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

His forehead was pressed against yours and your heart was being so hard, you were certain Hitoshi could hear it from his spot in front of you.

After a moment’s silence, you said, “Now what?”

He shrugged, eyes shut. “That’s up to you to decide. I’m happy with doing whatever will make you happiest. And if that means leaving you alone and letting you close this chapter, then I--”

You yelped, silencing him with a gentle shove on the chest.

“Are you crazy?” you asked incredulously. “You think I would ever let you go again?” There was frustration in your voice as you resisted the temptation to kiss the stupidity out of him. “I… I mean, unless that’s what you want?”

“Y/N…” Now he was the one with the tone of disbelief, like he couldn’t wrap his mind around what you had just said. “I’d want to stay with you. For as long as you’d let me.”

“O-Oh?” Your eyes widened in shock, but soon settled into an ecstatic smile. “Fate must have done us a favor with all this AirDrop stuff, huh? I fell for you all those years ago as Shinsou, and I fell for you again without even knowing who you were. There’s no way I’d throw that chance away.”

Tired of waiting for him to make the first move, you brought your hands to the back of his neck, and lifted your head up to meet his. You spotted an amused look on his face, but it didn’t last very long when your lips finally pressed against his with a contented sigh.

His movements were gentle and slow, like he was afraid if he kissed you any harder he would find this was only an illusion that would shatter. But it wasn’t. It was real and it was genuine and you wanted to prove it to him.

You broke away from his touch to pepper chaste kisses on his jawline, starting at the lobe of his ear and making your way down to the sensitive part of his throat you knew would drive him crazy, your hot breath blowing against his neck as a guttural sound escaped him.

“Eager, are we?” he asked hoarsely, his chin lifted.

You grinned mischievously against him.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture,” said Hitoshi, gently pushing you away with a roguish glint in his eyes, “you don’t always have to keep giving. You should be spoiled for a change.”

You squealed when his hands trailed down your sides to cup the undersides of your thighs, lifting you up as you sat down on his lap. His hands unclasped the button that fastened his coat on you and brushed the collar aside, exposing the supple skin on your upper chest.

“You should be spoiled,” he breathed in between each kiss he planted on your decolletage, “every day of your life.”

Your face burned at the implication of his words, the skin his mouth had touched feeling like they were searing hot. Though his jacket had fallen off your shoulders, you were still overwhelmed by his scent, the woodsy citrus filling your senses as you sighed his name and you still couldn’t get enough. He was more intoxicating than any vodka you had consumed earlier that night.

Growing impatient at his teasing, you squirmed on his lap, causing him to hiss in response.

You giggled at his expression and stuck your tongue out at him. “Just kiss me already.”

Tossing his inhibitions to the side, he obliged.

When your lips met again, this time it wasn’t uncertain and gentle. Each move Hitoshi made was firm and deliberate and if you weren’t already sitting down, your knees would have gone weak and given in.

His teeth grazed your lower lip and he kissed you harder, and your hands found themselves tangled underneath the hem of his shirt. The skin on your arms filled with goosebumps as he mimicked your motions, his fingers toying with the clasp of your bra as his name escaped your lips once more in a strangled moan.

Before it could go any further, however, Hitoshi removed his hands from the band of your undergarments and slowly pulled away from your kiss.

His face was flushed with beads of sweat falling down the side and his breathing was labored. You were certain you weren’t any better as you rested your forehead against his to steady yourself.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked with a strained voice, giving him your best pleading eyes.

“It’s late and you need some rest, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to your nose with a smile. “I don’t want to stop--believe me,” he promised, his hands squeezing your thighs that still straddled his lap, “but I also don’t want you to rush into anything you might regret.”

You pouted, not wanting him to stop, but also feeling grateful he wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything you would regret the next day.

“Damn you for being such a gentleman,” you grumbled.

He ran the tip of his tongue against his lower lip. It was plump and red and it took all your willpower not to kiss it again.

“Only sometimes, princess,” he said when he noticed how your gaze zeroed in on his mouth. “But for now, you should get ready for bed. The sun is almost rising already.”

Hitoshi made a move to get up and you slowly unwrapped your legs from his hips, standing up shakily. He placed his hands on your hips to help you steady yourself, but that just made the weakness worse.

Still holding you, he stood up from the couch and looked down at you, resting his chin on the top of your head as you hugged him.

“You’re leaving?” you whimpered, a pout on your face.

“Sadly,” he sighed. “I have work tomorrow. Well, in a few hours I suppose. But if you need me to stay I--”

“Oh, my god!” you cried, jumping away from him. “You have work? And yet you still came for me and let me keep you this whole time?! Toshi!”

You folded your arms across your chest as you scolded him, but he just ruffled your hair playfully.

“It was the least I could do,” said Hitoshi. “And I’m used to running on little to no sleep. It’s fine, don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not fine! If you don’t get enough sleep this week I will smother you until you pass out.” You glared at him, holding his face between your hands and examining his tired eyes. Your gaze softened when you saw how sleepy he looked and thought about how well he hid it from everyone. You sighed. “And I think you’re a lot more selfless and caring than you give yourself credit for.”

You kissed the apples of his cheeks and smoothed his brows.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said. “You should get going.”

“No, you’re the one I should be thanking,” he replied, giving you one last embrace before getting ready to head towards the door.

Both of your legs felt like lead, neither of you wanting to leave the other after years of being apart. With a smile, he moved towards the door.

In silence, you examined him for the first time in four years. He was taller than before-- Bulkier, too. It looked like he worked out since he was in college, his plain shirt stretching against his pectoral muscles.

But still, he was the same Shinsou Hitoshi you had always loved.

You glanced at his bared arms and your eyes widened. “Oh, wait--! Your coat!”

It had fallen off your shoulders and onto the floor during the heat of the moment, and you picked it up and brought it to him. As you held it out, his hands wrapped your outstretched ones around the fabric of his sweater.

“No, it’s okay,” he said with a shake of his head and a small grin on his lips. “You should keep it. It suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in warning, but hugged the coat to your body nonetheless. “I hope you know this means I’m never giving it back to you now.”

Hitoshi laughed. “I figured.”

He was about to grab the door knob when you blurted, “O-Or maybe I could give it back to you! If we were to, I don’t know, meet up for some food this week?”

Turning back in surprise, he was met with a look of utter embarrassment on your face. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire.

You bit your lip, unsure what had just come over you when you asked him on a date but also not regretting it for a moment.

“Only if you want,” you murmured, suddenly feeling more bashful.

Taking the hint, Hitoshi looked at you with a mix of wonder and amusement. “Sure. I’ll get some food with you just to have my coat back.”

You gasped, cheeks burning. “You know what? Never mind, I’m keeping this--!”

“I’m kidding,” he laughed, tone still teasing. “The jacket is just a bonus. What I’d really be there for is...the food.”

You buried your head in your hands and sighed. “I-- Why do I have to like you?”

He shrugged, feeling just as lost as you were. “Because feelings are strange.”

“They are,” you agreed. “But they’re worth it. And so are you.”

Hitoshi smiled as you gave him a gentle kiss goodnight.

“Have a safe drive home, Toshi.”

“Thank you. Go get some sleep now, kitten. We can talk when you wake up.”

You nodded feverishly, almost bouncing in anticipation at the thought of talking to him again. “I’m going to sleep right now so I wake up faster and get to talk to you sooner.”

A chuckle of surprise left his lips before he could stop himself. “You’re such a dork, you know? But I love that about you.”

Your face heated at the sound of the l-word as the two of you stared at each other, both in shock that the night happened and even happier that it did.

“I… I should go now,” he said in a daze. He didn’t want to leave and you didn’t want him to, but you knew he had work soon.

You nodded, waving at him as he left your house. “See you soon, Hitoshi.”

When the door closed shut behind him, you slumped a little. Tired and exhausted yet wishing you could see him soon. Though it might have been foolish, you couldn’t help but wish he was feeling the same.

Grabbing your phone on the coffee table, you unlocked it to check the time. You were about to shut it off and put it in your pocket when a notification bubble popped up on your screen.

“AirDrop: mememate would like to share a note,” it read, and a grin spread across your lips as you eagerly pressed accept.

The notepad application immediately opened up on your phone and you read the small message on the off-white display.

mememate: can’t wait for our date, y/n. p.s. i really really like you.

Letting out a surprised cry of joy, you held your phone to your chest, hugging it along with Hitoshi’s jacket he had left you.

From the other side of the door, Hitoshi had heard your scream and responded with a laugh of his own. A feeling of warmth in his heart as he placed his phone in his pocket and headed for his car. Thank goodness for AirDrop.

Your heart was pounding and your lips were still pulsing from the way he kissed you. Even as you got ready for bed and drifted off into a restful sleep, the silly smile never fell from your face.

You were grateful he came to get you at the nightclub, and you were grateful he was the recipient of your memes that day at the amusement park.

He made mistakes in the past and you were no saint either, but you had an opportunity to heal those wounds and be with Hitoshi again.

And you just couldn’t wait for your next date together.

a/n: AHHH THAT WAS A LOT,, pls let me know what you think! i know some readers never want to forgive shinsou at all and that’s okay, but i do think y/n forgives him and still really cares about him [and maybe l-words him? o.o] so i hope u support it 🥺 ilysm and thank you for reading! lmk ur thoughts !! xx

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eulangelo · 3 years

Text

callout for @genderfluidlucifer

google docs

tw for transmisogyny + TERFs + emotional manipulation

Transmisogyny

Lucifer is a huge transmisogynist who will complain 24/7 about how TERFs hurt the ace community, but the moment @randomclustermissile , a trans girl (who is not an exclusionist at all) tries to point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles (in the most vague and general way possible, without pointing fingers nor calling anyone names) Lucifer will immediatly jump to block her and so they did with me (another inclusionist) and i have to suppose to everyone else who agreed with that post, even arriving to vagueing about us in private group chats to suggest that we were “sympathizing with exclusionists”. all because we dared point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles. lucifer is TME but apparently they think they’re the authority on TERFs and their talking points but actual trans women are not, according to them, since this is the stuff that they would go and spew to other people. (screenshots from @enbyoctoling)

here’s more examples of Lucifer (again, a transmasc person) going deep in detail about how according to them, TERFs/SWERFs hate aro/ace people and are an active threat to us

1. link

[Image ID: Three screenshots of a post by Genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot is of a paragraph that reads, "Hey. So I can actually answer this. Anon your commentary about how you thought terfs would approve of sex repulsed aces is sort of it. Except...not. Basically terfs hate ace people for not wanting sex in the approved by terfs way. Terfs are actually extremely interested in [forcing] amatonormativity onto everyone. Because for as sex negative as terfs are...they don't want to actually acknowledge or change the fact that amatonormativity is at the root cause of rape culture and misogyny."

The second screenshot is a zoomed in section of the post that reads, "So yeah no I have NO idea where exclus allies are getting this idea from that terfs would even remotely care about the sexual rights of ace people. Terfs generally hate any sexualities in the LGBTQ+ acronym that aren't LGB because they can't force a gender binary onto those sexualities. At least, not as easily. That's why it's actually a massive sign of someone who doesn't call themselves a terf being a crypto terf if they use the term LGB in a positive manner. Along with the term SGA, as it is deliberately exclusive of nonbinary and not inherently SGA centric queer-aligned sexualities. /END ID]

link to the full post, these are just excerpts but the whole thing is just a very long rant about how TERFs hate ace people and so on (i think it’s worth noticing that although the actual post is kinda long, trans women are never once brought op in a conversation about TERFs issues and the only time transmisogyny is mentioned is not relevant to the conversation)

2. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is nothorses. It reads, "Because apparently I have to say it: Testosterone is not a 'violent' hormone. It doesn't make you 'more aggressive' or a worse person, it doesn't make you 'dangerous,' or 'toxic.' Transmascs do not need to be 'warned of the dangers of T.' We do not need to spend our transitions terrified that we're going to become a danger to those around us - that HRT is going to turn us into a monster.

Everyone experiences mood swings during hormonal shifts (pregnancy, menstruation, menopause, estrogen HRT, etc.) and while you might have grumpy moments or feel anger/frustration that you need to learn to handle differently, that doesn't make you a bad person.

Testosterone can change the way you access/process emotions somewhat, but if you're already thoughtful about how you handle your feelings and treat others, you're going to be fine. It's normal to lash out on occasion, by accident, then apologize and work to do better. It doesn't make you a bad person. Everyone on HRT is prone to this, and everyone experiencing hormonal changes is prone to this.

Getting HRT should be positive and affirming; you should not have to spend your entire transition terrified of becoming a monster."

The post then has a reblog by captainlordauditor that reads, "The big danger of T is that needle ouchy." /END ID]

here’s them reblogging from known transmisogynist user @nothorses (once again, the irony that a post about how testosterone is seen as the "aggressive hormone" does not mention transfem at all which are literally the main victims of this rethoric in the first place)

3. link (1), link (2)

[Image ID: Two screenshots of posts by genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot reads, "Queer exclus: We're not repackaging terf rhetoric! Saying that is transmisogynistic! Also queer exclus: Remove the plus from LGBT!" and has tags that say, "I will pay these people to grow some god damn self awareness. Imagine being this dense. Queer discourse." The post has 15 notes.

The second screenshot reads, "Honestly it is so stupid and frustrating to see ace exclus continue to deny that the ace discourse was started by terfs. Proof was given countless times. And a big name terf like galesofnovember even admitted to starting it. Those of you who demand proof but ignore all of this never wanted proof to begin with." and is tagged with, "ace discourse. The post has 38 notes. /END ID]

heres another two post of theirs conflating TERFs with ace exclusionism

4. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblogged post by furbearingbrick. The original poster is boxlizard, Lucifer's old account. The original post reads, "By the way for people still in denial about it, here's galesofnovember, a terf, admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement. She's taking credit for it. Normally if the victims of this behavior weren't ace/aro or other queer identities y'all be ready to rightfully lynch her. But since it's us, y'all just still wanna stamp your feet and go, 'Nuh uh!' instead of acknowledging facts." The part that says, "admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement" is a link to a galesofnovember post.

There is then a reblogged addition from furbearing brick that reads, "archived versions of the receipts" and has two links to the webarchive. The tags read, "Bringing this back since it's apparently still relevant. Terfism mention. Aphobia mention. Queerphobia mention. Blocklist." and has 1,455 notes. /END ID]

this is their post that ive already talked about but basically they found a 52 notes post made by a TERF in 2012 and this one person said "i dont know why i dont get to be the princess of the anti-ace-brigade" and apparently they are convinced that this means TERFs started the ace exclusionism movement and that this is one of their goals. which is insane when TERFs in real life only care about making life miserable for transfem people first and foremost.

5.link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is yu-gay-fudo. It reads, “Just in case you happen to be unaware, some of the “radfem lite” they post to warm you up to their rhetoric, just off the top of my head:

- Ace/aro exclusionism

- Bi exclusionism or claims that bi people are “less queer” bc of “straight passive privilege”

- Saying you have to be dysphoric to identify as transInvalidating nonbinary people

- Calling queer a slur regardless of context, saying people can’t identify as queer, and saying that it can’t be reclaimed

- “Mogai hell”, “kweer”, or otherwise mocking less common labels and claiming they are “just cishets who want to feel special”

- Excluding sex workers from feminist discussions or claiming that sex work is inherently evil

- Basically anyone who thinks they can determine what other people identify as”. The tags read, "queerphobia tw. twerfs tw. no id." and has 70,727 notes. It was reblogged on March 22nd, 2021 /END ID]

another example of conflating radfems to things that, while wrong, have little to nothing to do with them because being a radfem, again, is something very specific that has all to do with transfem oppression.

Emotional manipulation

Lucifer has done nothing but block, break boundaries, spread lies and vague about people, some of which were even mutuals with them knowing they would see the posts. when confronted about it Lucifer's only answer was "just say you hate me and block me" but they actually ended up blocking everyone first, making it impossible for anyone to set some boundaries with them or even just to calmly confront them about anything.

[proof: Io(popncourse) and Lucifer had a disagreement in a shared discord server, which prompted Lucifer to vague Io in a vent post. Io confronted them, as being vagued is one of buns triggers, to which Lucifer initially agreed to delete the vent post, but then proceeded to victimize themself and immediatly blocked Io. later on, Jude(malewifedeckard) was confronted by Lucifer, then after Jude told them “I’m worried that you’ll vague me just like you did with Io” they proceeded to block Jude and vagued about him too. when Io made a post (which was not a callout, it was just bun setting buns boundaries) explaining what Lucifer did, Lucifer immediatly jumped to victimize themself, acting like they were being called out and straight-up lying, even going so far as to say that no one tried to hear them out, which is a blatant lie if you consider the aforementioned Io and Jude’s attempts at doing so, with Lucifer immediatly blocking and cutting ties with the both of them. ]

(screenshots taken by @popncourse and @malewifedeckard)

as seen in the proof above Lucifer’s behaviour is not ok because they don’t accept any kind of confrontation and immediatly jump to blocking, and after blocking, they'd immediatly go and vague about the people who confronted them pacificly, spreading more lies and painting themself as the victim and even arriving to say “no one hears me out at all” which is simply not something you can say when you block people who are trying to hear you out in the first place.

this is by no means an invitation to go and harass them, send them hate or anything like that. i absolutely don’t want anything even remotely hateful or negative to be sent their way after this post.

this post was only made because:

1. as an ace person who fully supports the inclusion of aspec identities in the lgbt+ community i don’t want to support an enviroment that costantly downplays transmisogynistic oppression in order to be taken seriously. there are hundreds of ways to make aspec activism without acting like we(as in TME aspecs)are the victims of a system that seeks for the annihilation of transfemenine people in real life everyday. i especially don’t want to support TME individuals who act transfem-friendly but then block any transfem who tries to speak on transmisogyny without a second thought.

2. Lucifer’s behaviour has hurt two friends of mine and i don’t want to associate with someone who actively breaks people’s boundaries without taking accountability when messing up.

3. i cannot associate with someone who spreads lies about me accusing me of sympathizing with exclusionists all while having me blocked so that i can’t see it nor defend me. they complain about people not hearing them out but they’re the very first person who does not try to hear people out, and instead jumps to spread baseless rumors. this is not someone i can nor want to associate with.

(image descriptions provided by @malewifedeckard)

#genderfluidlucifer #transmisogyny tw #terfs tw #ask to tag #txt #long post #ok to rb

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shelobussy · 3 years

Note

How would you say Kris and Noelle's first kiss go?

Kris and Noelle are at the autumn festival when they have their first kiss.

Or wait, no, their first kiss is in kindergarten, on the playground. Berdly made Noelle cry and Kris pushed him and got in trouble and after school she gave them a quick peck on the lips and took off, embarrassed.

Their first real kiss happens during the autumn festival.

Being raised in a town that was mainly populated by monsters, Kris had never had the opportunity to celebrate halloween, but they hear its similar to the autumn festival.

People dress up, eat candy, go bobbing for apples, play pranks. It's a good time.

Susie has ideas this year.

"Dude, we should totally go as ourselves," she says, a few weeks before the festival. She's sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone lazily. Kris is trying to do their homework, but her constant snorts and laughs from whether she's texting Lancer about is a bit distracting.

They don't mind though. It's nice to have someone to waste time with.

Kris glances up, question written in their eyes.

Susie, used to reading Kris when they go nonverbal now, rolls over so she's lying on her stomach.

"You know. As like us us. From you know."

Kris rolls their eyes.

"Ugh, us from the dark kingdom, dipshit."

They offer her a deadpan look.

"Well if you knew what I meant why didn't you say so?"

Kris turns back to their assignment.

"Petty bitch. Are you down or not?"

And so Kris found themselves dressed in a fairly accurate replica of their own armor, nibbling on buttered pumpkin bread and trailing after Susie and Lancer and wishing Ralsei was here.

Kris understands that ruling the Dark Kingdom came with many responsibilities, but it didn't make them any less unhappy about it.

So Kris is being carted from stand to stand, watching bemusedly as Lancer and Susie try to out eat each other with every choice of food, when they come upon Noelle.

She looks lovely, as she always does, and it seems that Susie has convinced her to dress as her own Dark Kingdom counterpart, white robe and all. She beams at them all, and immediately sticks herself to Kris's side.

They all go on rides together and check out the haunted house and prank Berdly and it's the most fun Kris has had in forever.

The end of the night brings the hayride, which Susie and Lancer think is boring, so Kris agrees to go with Noelle because otherwise Berdly's gonna try and sit next to her and Noelle insist she'd rather have Kris.

Kris isn't sure if Noelle wants to hang out with them or just really hates Berdly, but they agree.

Full harvest moon and sipping apple cider, the two of them find their own corner of the wagon to pair off in. The ride is bumpy and the other teenagers are loud, but Noelle is pressed up against their shoulder and she smells like cinnamon and the apple cider she's drinking, so Kris doesn't mind.

One of the horses pulling the wagon freaks out a bit, and Kris gets dislodged and falls into Noelle's lap. They're still kind of...just there by the time the horse calms down, but now it's Kris freaking out because they're always awkward and weird around Noelle, and this definitely the most awkward and weird thing to happen in a while, but Noelle just giggles and suddenly presses a quick kiss to the tip of their nose and Kris-

Kris fucking blushes and lets out the most humiliating high pitched noise that attracts everyone's attention and then Noelle is blushing and the whole way back they aren't talking, aren't looking at each other, just sitting there in embarrassed silence.

But that wasn't a real kiss, no, the real kiss happens later when Kris and Noelle are waiting for their parents to pick them up and Susie and Lancer have already gone home. They're waiting on the curb, bags of candy in their hands and avoiding eye contact when Noelle suddenly apologizes.

"You're not mad at me right?" she says after, looking miserable. "I wasn't thinking, I just-I thought you were cute and-oh no I'm making it worse-"

Kris doesn't think they can blush harder than they are right now, it feels like their entire face is on fire and Noelle looks just as flustered, and Kris's mind is caught on an endless loop of I just thought you were cute and then suddenly they're throwing all caution into the wind and going for it as they stand up on tiptoe and press a gentle kiss onto Noelle's lips.

Noelle lets out a flustered squeak and Kris pulls away, absolutely sure that they just made things worse, but then Noelle leans in and they're really kissing and sure it's awkward, but Noelle and Kris are awkward so it's actually kind of normal for them, kind of nice, kind of something Kris wouldn't mind doing regularly.

Noelle's mom shows up and herds (ha) Noelle into the car, casting the two of them knowing looks. Noelle blushes one more time and says well, see you at school tomorrow just before she rolls the window up.

Kris sits on the corner for a couple of minutes, face still red. Their phone dings and they pull it out and it's from Susie. Attached is a picture of Kris and Noelle-

Kris whirls around and Lancer and Susie are there, grinning like idiots and Susie is saying things about Lancer owing them money and throwing halfhearted apologies at Kris about how they didn't exactly mean to spy on them, they were going to prank them but then Noelle and Kris got all gross and smoochy and Kris-

Well, they're feeling kind of warm inside, so they're letting this one go just this once.

Just this once though. And only because Noelle had looked so adorable when she said see you at school tomorrow and then looked away still blushing.

As far as first kisses went, Kris thinks they're doing pretty good.

#oop i did a fic #kriselle #kris dreemurr #noelle holiday #deltarune #my fic

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Text

Alright, so apparently certain love square shippers felt the need to go into the Lukanette tag to celebrate/mock that Lukanette is “over” (Marinette broke up with him to keep him safe but go off I guess) and that officially crosses all my lines of not dealing with the fandom’s garbage.

The sheer pettiness is astounding to me, to take joy in the end of what was a lot of people’s comfort ship (people don’t choose comfort ships, by the way) because of “toxic Luka/Lukanette stans,” essentially lumping chunks of the fandom together and letting the opinion of those fans shape their own opinion on a character/ship. The sheer sensitivity on display to have so much spite and disdain for a ship that appeared in less than 10% of all episodes in the show. The sheer vindictiveness to feel smug and self-righteous while also being panicked over a non-endgame ship that’s as temporary as their claim of positivity and condemning of salt until they’re presented with something they don’t like.

Goliath really be beating up on David over here because he's bigger and thinks his opinion is more valid. For the record, no, opinions are not more valid due to shipping an endgame ship or presenting oneself as a beacon of positivity.

And it just goes to show how ship-blind these people are, to care about nothing more than the fact that Lukanette has broken up. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’ve seen people who openly admit to caring more about the love square’s security than Marinette’s happiness, which is just part of the issue here.

These people did not care how Lukanette broke up, only that it happened. Marinette’s crush backpedaling (because of the show feeling the need to cater to these exact people, who are so worried about their obviously endgame ship being “in danger”) and Marinette ending the episode in literal tears because she wanted to date Luka but couldn’t are both things that didn’t matter to them because it’s all about their ship in the end. Marinette’s life has been made more and more miserable due to her crush on Adrien while straining her relationships with various characters (see: Alya’s claim of jealousy as a reason for why Marinette “must be lying” about Lila), but so long as these people feel secure in their endgame ship, that’s all that matters.

They didn’t care if it was a clean break where both sides came out satisfied (or at least content). If anything, they wanted Lukanette to end as shoddily/dirtily as possible with zero care into how it affected Marinette, whether because they just don’t like the ship or because they actively desire for the suffering of the people who found comfort/happiness in the ship. Adrien had literally nothing to do with the break-up itself and him being mentioned served nothing for the story, but it’ll be completely overlooked or outright praised because god forbid Marinette spend an episode not talking about Adrien since that would imply that her life doesn’t revolve around him and that would be an apparent detriment to the love square.

By the way, newsflash: Luka was not an obstacle to the love square. He sent Marinette away in “Frozer” to go talk to Adrien. He told her that there was no pressure and that he’d be happy for her no matter what. Had Luka not existed, the love square would still be as stagnant as it is now, and it’s pathetic to complain about Marinette liking/dating another boy when she’s not only allowed to do so, but when “Oblivio” and “Chat Blanc” both exist as little more than tools to hold the supposedly “starved” love square shippers over.

These are the same people who will say they dislike/hate Luka, then do a 180 and claim that they “just feel so bad for him” and how he “deserves better than Marinette” (the sudden sympathy of which conveniently serves to hate on a ship that interferes with their own, further proven by equally convenient and appreciation/liking of Luka when he’s not a “threat” to the love square) while simultaneously shipping her with their sunshine boy because Ladybug is who Adrien wants and what Adrien wants is what matters.

These are the same people who will say that Luka is unnecessary and unneeded, then use him as a prop and stepping stone for love square fanfics and fanart, or suggest that Kagami is fine because she makes Adrien feel good about himself (when Luka does the same for Marinette but sure).

These are the same people who say that “Marinette can’t date Luka because she’s busy with hero stuff” while making fics about the love square getting together mid-”hero stuff” and then giving complete radio silence during “Chat Blanc” outside of how good they thought the episode was.

These are the same people who will tell others not to denounce Adrien for “a few mistakes” and then preemptively denounce Luka’s behavior based on a written synopsis for an episode that hadn’t even come out yet (and also after complaining that Luka was “too perfect,” I might add).

These are the same people who will say that Luka/Lukanette makes them feel “uncomfortable” (usually without offering any tangible reasons or being vague about Luka giving off “bad vibes” when he’s done nothing less than support and respect Marinette's agency) while the show’s endgame ship features the “m’lady” hand kissing Chat Noir who Ladybug has pulled away from multiple times yet he keeps persisting (which is apparently considered okay because Adrien is Chat Noir as if that discredits her discomfort/disdain for the gestures).

These are the same people who will say that Luka is “barely there” or “hardly exists” and then complain about how much screentime is dedicated to Lukanette, the utter greed on display going right over their heads when they have the actual endgame ship.

These are the same people who will absolutely reach for anything about Luka to complain about (again, after saying that he’s “too perfect,” then claiming he “tricked” Marinette into kissing him, claiming that he tried to force her into telling him her secret, or criticizing him for teasing her for her stuttering despite him immediately apologizing) and then either defend or turn a blind eye to Chat Noir (who tried to kiss her mid-battle instead of helping, made Ladybug feel bad for keeping secrets that weren’t hers to tell plus threatening his kwami that he’d quit if he didn’t get let in on said secrets, and mocked her instead of apologizing when she told him to stop calling her by a nickname she doesn’t like and has told him before to stop calling her) at every opportunity.

These are the same people who will say that Lukanette is “forced,” then proceed to ship Luka (regardless of if they like him or not) with literally anyone else for the sake of taking him out of the romance equation (because he has to be taken out via already dating as they couldn’t come up with a legitimate reason for Marinette to not want him otherwise), and the only requirement for this person he’s shipped with is that they breathe and aren’t Marinette.

These are the same people who act bothered by Marinette “””treating Luka poorly””” because of her crush on Adrien (by the by, Adrien’s crush on Ladybug has hurt Kagami as well), inadvertently admitting that Marinette’s crush is a problem, then continue shipping her with Adrien in its canon form anyway.

These are the same people who will say that they hate salt fics (specifically ones that target Adrien) and how they “bash characters,” then write fanfics or draw fanart that intentionally make Luka out of character for the sake of having him look bad or giving Marinette an excuse to run to Adrien (because Luka apparently needs to be made worse so that Adrien can look good instead of Adrien being able to stand on his own merits as a good love interest for Marinette).

These are the same people who will slam Luka when he’s Marinette’s support, then go off and ship him with other characters so that he can support them instead (fun fact that this is usually either Adrien - thus leaving Marinette completely alone and miserable when Luka canonically likes her - or characters that Marinette is actively against, such as Chloe or Lila).

These are the same people who will complain about how salty the fandom is (even when the salt is for catharsis/getting out anger from an episode in a productive way) and then laugh when a simple side ship ends because they’ve been letting said ship live rent free in their heads and couldn’t stop anticipating the episode that declares them “over.”

These are the same people who tell or suggest that people should “just leave” if they don’t like the main ship, unapologetically implying that the main ship is either all the show is about, all that they personally care about (bringing us right back to that little “not caring how torn apart Marinette is about the break-up” thing), or that people aren’t allowed to watch/like the show for other reasons (like Marinette herself, the miraculouses, other characters who may appear intermittently but nevertheless bring them joy to see, etcetera).

These are the same people who get on other people’s case for being spiteful while they themselves ride their high horse into the sunset, playing victim when people call them out for intentionally provoking others or purposefully mistagging to avoid people’s blacklist (tagging is not for the comfort of the tagger so they can “””avoid the toxic stans,””” for the record; it’s for the comfort of the people who don’t want to see that content).

And these are the same people who will go on and on about the toxicity of the stans who ship something they don’t like and then either ignore or downplay the stans who ship what they do like because they personally don’t have to experience it. This isn’t even about ship wars, it’s about the hypocrisy and lack of self-awareness.

I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about how cruel the Luka fans or Lukanette shippers are when these people are celebrating Marinette’s misery because it means the end of a ship that they don’t like and certain people find comfort in. I don’t want to hear about people cross-tagging/mistagging when the Luka/Lukanette tag has been flooded with people who talk trash about the ship without any additional tags to filter it away, getting so bad to the point where some Luka/Lukanette fans had to find workarounds and/or avoid the tag entirely. I don’t want to hear about how certain shippers are worse because [x] [y] [z] when everyone has different experiences, showing a severe case of close-mindedness or at least ignorance on these people’s parts.

And, with how this season is heading, if something bad happens to the love square by the end of Season 4, I most definitely do not want to hear these same people decry the people who will do the exact thing that they’re doing now.

#category: salt #category: fandom #category: long post #((Mind you--this doesn't apply ONLY to the people who cross-tagged to ''celebrate'' Lukanette ending or mock Luka/Lukanette))#((so... if the shoe fits.))#((I literally don't care if people want to salt.))#((I think the whole situation is gross but like--whatever.))#((But we shouldn't be forced to deal with it because salty clowns want to make sure the people they're salty over see it.))#((And I don't want to hear ''oh it'd be different if people cheered the love square getting a wedge driven in it because it's endgame!''))#((as if mockery is okay if done by endgame shippers.))

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jjungkookislife · 3 years

Text

Secret ||PJM || Pt. 5: I’ll Be Good (M)

pairing: sugar daddy!jimin x sugar baby!reader

genre: smut, angst, some fluff

wc: 5.1k

warnings: [not in order] cursing, mentions about mental health (depression and anxiety), loneliness, daddy!kink, pet names (baby, baby girl, babe, good girl, doll, love), alcohol use/mentions, spit kink, choking, nudes, oral sex, nipple play, marking (hickeys, bruising, biting), hair pulling, thigh riding mentions, unprotected sex, mention of birth control, jealousy, possessiveness, creampie

date: March 31, 2021

The last thing Jimin wanted to be was stuck in a meeting with men who still didn’t trust him with the company, despite his great efforts. He made sure to keep his demeanor hard— frigid— refusing to allow them to see him as weak. It took a toll on him, a large heavy weight on his mental health, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that now because he had you to help him carry the burden.

You.

You were wonderful in his eyes. Smart, beautiful, funny, but that mouth of yours often got you in trouble. You liked to push his buttons, liked to rile him up to see how far he’d go. You were a brat at heart, but a princess at any other time when it suited you. He lov—he liked that about you.

Ever since he had first met you, he’d been drawn to you. He wasn’t sure if it was your smile, your laugh, or the way your eyes caught his at the bar of some party he couldn’t even remember the occasion of. You smiled at him, excusing yourself from the man that had been chatting you up. Jimin paid him no mind as you strutted toward him, head held high and your drink clasped in your perfectly manicured hand.

You were stunning. A true vision in your red dress that hugged your body just right. Your makeup was spectacular and as he eyed you shamelessly, you giggled. He knew he was gone then, more so when you smiled brightly at him, hand held out for him to bring to his lips to kiss as you told him your name.

Jimin repeated it, as sweet as a lullaby. Your hand remained in his after introducing himself, not wanting to let you fall through his fingers. He was the envy of every man in attendance that night, but a quick romp in the sheets wasn’t what he was looking for, and frankly, neither were you.

After the night of the party, Jimin contacted you. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of you, fantasizing about all the naughty things he’d like to do to you... if you’d let him. You were eager, a pawn in his hand, ready to bend at his whim… for compensation.

You were a sugar baby. And definitely not a new one. You knew your way around, knew your worth, and knew when someone just wasn’t going to pay up. But Jimin would. Of course he would. Companionship, sex, and a pretty face with a personality that drew him in, keeping him on his toes… what else could he want?

Now, although Jimin didn’t date or had the time to, honestly. He got laid pretty often, if he so desired. He’d had his share of flings, some lasting longer than others, but they all took off when he wouldn’t commit. He had no desire to, not when he had first taken over the company and not in the present either.

Jimin liked his life easy. Liked to spend time with his friends, do his hobbies (tennis, skydiving, swimming, and fucking) whenever he damned well pleased.

Loneliness did creep in. Lonely nights of tossing and turning in an empty penthouse with nobody to share it with. Those dark thoughts consuming him, calling him back to bed when there was work to be done.

He was tired of it. Tired of feeling lost and alone, carving a hole in him that his friends just couldn’t fill, despite their best efforts.

Easily, Jimin agreed to your terms. He’d spoil you rotten, absolutely rotten in exchange for your companionship and sex. He didn’t need a girlfriend, just someone who could act the part without the commitment; the jealousy. Someone to fill the hole in his chest.

Your affection and friendship came with a price tag and some other suitors, suitors Jimin paid you to disperse off. You had put a fight to keep them, but money talked and those other daddies walked.

Jimin had smirked, sitting beside you as you cut off all your other sugar daddies. Some confused, some enraged, and some asking if you were okay.

When he was your only daddy left, you’d smiled smugly. You’d crossed one leg over the other, ignoring the way your dress rode up your thighs, a peek of your panties drawing Jimin’s eyes as you said, “I expect the same from you. No other babies, no other women, just me.”

“You can’t be serious?” Jimin had gasped, his pouty lips in a frown.

“How bad do you want me?” You’d asked, crossing your arms under your chest to draw his attention to your breasts. Jimin had gulped, eyes wide as he licked his lips. You were a temptress, a seductress who knew how to play the game, and Jimin was at your mercy. He was your pawn and with your hand reaching for his belt, he knew he was doomed.

And doomed he was from the very start. He fell into the role very easily, thrived in it and still did. You were wonderful. A ray of sunshine in his otherwise gloomy days. He wasn’t sure how he lived before you; he was sure he didn’t. You were everything he could have ever wanted in a person and so much more, and when his friends loved you as well, he was set.

His baby.

You were his baby and he would take care of you in any way possible, not just financially. He had bought you cars, diamonds, vacations, clothes, iPads, cell phones. You named it; he bought it. All you had to do was send a link, a screenshot, or simply point to it before it was in your hands. The more he got to know you, the more he found caring about you, wanting nothing but your happiness. He didn’t understand what he was feeling, and he didn’t think he was ready to understand it, if he was honest. So, he suppressed his feelings and did what he did best; spoil you with materialistic items. If only he knew you wanted him, and not his gifts.

Jimin looked down at his shoes, concealing the smile that tugged on his lips at the thought of you. He carded a hand through his hair, forcing himself to pay attention as the dull voices wore on and on. Time couldn’t go fast enough as he daydreamed about you waiting in his bed when he eventually got home tonight.

It was the weekend. Maybe he could have you stay the night without you rushing out the door tomorrow morning. He liked when you stayed over, liked having you in his arms all night and being buried between your thighs in the morning.

Why were you consuming his thoughts like this? What kind of spell did you have him under? Recently he’d begun feeling… different around you.

Jimin hadn’t been jealous since you cut off your other sugar daddies. He wanted you for himself and only himself. Mostly because it would be safer (no condoms and you were on the pill), but also, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else. You felt the same way, although you’d never admit it to his face. You’d rather choke.

Lately, these feelings—whatever they were—had made his head spin. He didn’t want to feel more. The thought alone sent him into a panic. But… he also didn’t want to end things. Could he be lying to himself? Sure. Most definitely, as his friends constantly reminded him.

Feelings were dangerous. Feelings—especially one-sided—could cause the beautiful relationship you both had to crumble into smithereens. And then what would he have? Nothing. Not a damn thing if you weren’t in his life. He’d be lonely again. Miserable. A shell of a man like he was before he met you.

Jimin would not go back to that. Not ever. He refused! And so with that, he buried his feelings deep in his chest, under lock and key. And nobody, not even you, was going to let them out.

“Mr. Park? Are there any issues you’d like to address or perhaps some questions?” One of the board members asked. Jimin looked at his assistant, “did you get all that?”

At the nod of her head, Jimin responded, “No, we’re all done here. I’ll see you next week. Dismissed.”

Jimin rose from his seat at the head of the table, passing by everyone to go out the door before they even had a chance to blink. His assistant was hot on his heels, with barely an inch of distance between them.

“Marissa?” Jimin stopped, his assistant halting in her tracks just before an impact could occur.

“Yes, Mr. Park?”

“Is anything on my agenda time sensitive? I’m suddenly feeling ill and would like to go home.”

Marissa looks at her tablet, scrolling through the rest of the afternoon. The sun would set within the hour, and Jimin’s most pressing meetings and appointments had been conducted earlier in the day.

“You have a call scheduled with your father. He says it concerns your brother.” Marissa informs him. Jimin rolls his eyes. He knew that phone call could drag on, and frankly, he didn’t care to know what his younger brother was up to.

“Reschedule for next week. I’m sure he can wait,” Jimin waves his hand, popping into his office to grab his belongings before announcing his departure. Marissa calls the driver, alerting him of Mr. Park’s departure, and Jimin smirks as the doors of his private elevator shut.

It felt good to be the boss.

Jimin sat back in his limo, growing more inpatient as the minutes ticked by. You’d already sent him some racy photos, each growing more and more risqué until you were down to just your panties, back arched and fingers dangerously close to slipping into your panties.

‘I’m waiting, daddy.’

Jimin cursed, biting his lip as his building finally came into view. He wanted to devour you in kisses, consume every bit of you until you were writhing beneath him, hands pinned above your head as your pretty eyes locked with his.

“We’ve arrived, sir.” The driver stares down at his boss, who is just staring down at his phone, finally noticing his door has been opened and his driver is waiting for him to get out. Jimin immediately locks his phone, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket before getting out.

“Thank you,” he says as he walks past him and into his building, greeting the doorman as he gets into the elevator. He swears it’s dragging today, but it could be his eagerness to get to you, knowing you’re waiting for him in his bed in nothing but a pair of flimsy panties is torturous.

Jimin rushes inside his penthouse, “Baby, I’m home.”

“I’m in here,” you call back as Jimin heads down the hallway, a smirk on his lips as he opens his bedroom door.

He bites his lip. You’re a vision. A true vision as you lie on his bed, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I missed you,” you say softly as Jimin walks further into his bedroom. His hand begins to loosen his tie as he kicks his shoes off, ignoring how they clatter on his bedroom floor.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, princess,” he apologizes as he climbs onto the bed and you get on your knees, crawling over to him.

“Really? Are you going to show me how sorry you are? I’ve been waiting such a long time, daddy. I almost had to take care of myself,” you pout, your hand tightening his tie, eyes hard. Jimin licks his lips, his hand wrapping around yours before he’s caressing your face.

“Is that so?” he asks, moving his hand to undo his tie. He holds the black silk in his hands, twining it as he looks at you, his eyes drawn to your bare breasts.

“Very. It’s not nice to keep me waiting,” you whisper as you inch closer, lips pressing a featherlight kiss to his neck. Jimin swallows thickly. You quickly work your way through the buttons of his shirt, untucking it from his black slacks. You push his jacket off his shoulders, letting it crumple on the floor.

Jimin raises a brow. You ignore it. Your lips are planting kisses on every inch of his neck, pushing his shirt down his arms. You feel his bicep, looking up at him with a grin before he’s pulling you to him. You gasp, your chest pressed against his as he threads his fingers in your hair to pull you into a deep passionate kiss that has you moaning into his lips.

“Jimin,” a sigh of his name has him grunting, eyes wild as he kisses you once again, pushing you onto your back. You giggle, loving how he sloppily kisses your face and neck.

“Jimin! Jimin!” you exclaim, giggles filling his bedroom as you look up at him. Jimin feels his heart skip a beat, cheeks tinted pink as he grins widely at you, “am I forgiven, princess?”

“If I say yes, will you stop slobbering on my face?” Jimin smirks, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing the sides. You gasp, moaning and melting under him.

“Open,” you do as instructed, sticking your tongue out for him. So obedient. Such a good girl for him.

Jimin releases your throat, a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes as he squeezes your cheeks. He spits on your tongue, releasing you, “swallow.”

You do.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, carding a hand through his hair. You stick your tongue out again for him, watching as he undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor carelessly. He straddles your hips, leaning in to kiss you, his tongue twining with yours. He grinds down on you, swallowing the dulcet moans that escape you as your hands weave in his hair, tugging at the locks. Your hips meet his, feeling his erection with every roll of your hips. Your panties are soaked, utterly ruined as you beg him to touch you… to fuck you.

Jimin smirks, pressing a kiss to your kiss-swollen lips to silence you. His lips trail downward to your jaw, down to your neck where he nips and suckles at the sensitive skin as his hands cup your breast, thumbs circling your pert nipples before it’s his tongue swirling around them. Teeth gently nipping your nipple, your back arched into him as he palms himself over his slacks.

“Tell me,” Jimin starts as he rises, one hand palming his dick, the other kneading your breast. “What did you do while I was gone, doll?”

“N-nothing,” you answer honestly. Your body is heated, sweat beading at your hairline, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to you obscenely.

Jimin looks into your eyes, his hand moving over your chest. He can tell when you’re lying, having figured it out right from the start. Simple little tells: lack of eye contact, biting your lip and a racing heart.

Grinning, Jimin brushes his lips against yours, “good baby.” You preen at the praise, smiling bashfully before his hand is unbuttoning his pants, tugging the zipper down as he climbs off of you to pull his pants down the rest of the way. He takes a second to remove his socks, knowing you don’t like them on during sex.

Jimin shoots you a knowing smile as you sit up on your elbow, hungrily admiring his body. He was sin incarnate. Perfectly sculpted from his strong shoulders and neck down to his thighs that you just loved to ride until you were nothing but a creamy mess. The thought makes you clench, licking your lips as you crawl toward him, getting off the bed. Jimin eyes you curiously, slightly amused when you drop to your knees in front of him.

You look up at him, resting your weight on your heels as you lean back. Jimin can’t resist you, running his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling soft and secure. Warmth overwhelms you as you maintain eye contact, swallowing thickly. “So, so pretty.”

“Jimin,” you whine, your hand resting on his. You look at his cock, licking your lips. It’s straining against his boxers, pre-cum staining the material; it makes your mouth water. “Please?”

Jimin knows he’s putty in your hands, that look alone is enough for him to buy you the world, hell maybe the universe. How can he ever say no to you, his princess?

“Sure, baby.” That’s all you need to hear as your tongue laps at his boxers. Jimin is surprised but his fingers thread in your hair regardless, tugging gently as a warning not to tease. He’s been hard since this afternoon and the last thing he wants to be is teased. He aches to feel the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, your nose pressed to his pelvis.

You tease the head of his cock through his boxers, earning a tug of your hair before you’re pulled back. Jimin’s heated gaze sends a tingle down your spine, “baby.”

A simple warning, one that has you pulsating as you lick your lips, hand reaching for the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down his muscular thighs before they pool at his feet and he kicks them away.

A curse escapes him when your lips wrap around him, your tongue swirling around the head as your hand strokes him. Jimin groans at the feeling. He could never grow tired of you.

Jimin caresses your face when you pause to look up at him, “so pretty.” You grow flustered, ignoring the way your cheek heat as you begin bobbing up and down instead, making him moan and groan instead of complimenting you. Your plan works, Jimin overcome by the pleasure your sweet lips provide as you suck harder, sloppier, gagging on his big thick cock, hoping your throat won’t get bruised once again. You didn’t want to go through that embarrassment at the dentist again.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck,” Jimin grunts, your name spilling from his lips as he tugs on your hair, guiding you and setting the pace. “You’re so pretty when you’re choking on my dick. So good for me.”

You deep throat him, loving the sinful sounds that tumble from his pretty lips. His head lolls back, eyes fluttering shut as utter bliss crosses his ethereal features. Moans of your name, curses, grunts, and praises escape his lips as he praises you to the high heavens as his cock sits heavy on your cock, lips sucking the soul out of him.

A whine falls from your lips when you’re tugged off his cock by your hair, your adorable confused gaze meeting his cocky one.

“Up,” he commands as you rise to your feet. He kisses you, his tongue meeting yours as you grip his biceps to hold your balance as he kisses you passionately. Arousal pools deep in your abdomen, body fueled with lust.

“Daddy, please.” Jimin chuckles, kissing his way to the column of your throat, nipping at the skin. A moan of his name rolls off your tongue as he wraps your legs around his waist to take you to his bed.

Jimin sets you down with care, having you lie back as he climbs over you. His lips brush against yours, a featherlight kiss that has butterflies fluttering in your tummy. His hand cups your face, saying nothing as he admires your body. You were aroused, panting and aching for him. Nobody else. Just Jimin.

The soft look you give him is what sends him over the edge, kissing you roughly as he holds you tight. Maybe… just maybe, you could love him. Love him the way he’d deny loving you. You were everything for him, but was he to you? He didn’t want to think about it right now, not when you were wet, ready, and his cock was throbbing, leaking pre-cum.

“Jimin…” your hand cups his cheek, his dark eyes flitting to yours.

God, he loved you.

“Please,” you whisper as your hand moves down to his neck and then his chest. Jimin swallows thickly, nodding as he takes your hand in his, fingers laced together as he pins it by your head, earning a gasp from your pretty lips.

With one last squeeze of your hand and fleeting kiss to your lips, he moves down your body. He wants to mark you as his, leave love-bites on your skin for the world to see but he resists if he wants to keep his plans for tomorrow.

Jimin’s fingers toy with the waistband of your panties, tugging them down to suck a tiny mark on your hip. You roll your eyes, but you love the slight possessiveness.

“I’m yours,” you assure him regardless. It works. Jimin presses a kiss on the mark, gently tugging your panties down your thighs, you lift your hips to aid him. He tosses them over his shoulder to be forgotten.

His hands immediately grab your thighs, spreading them.

“Fuck, so wet for me. All for me,” Jimin licks his lips, looking up at you. You resist the urge to cover your face as he kisses his way up your thigh until he’s pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. A sigh escapes you, making him smirk before he’s diving right in. Your hands seek purchase in his sheets, fisting them as he works wonders on your cunt.

“J-Jimin,” you stutter, hand embedded in his thick locks, hips rising from the bed to chase after his tongue. His hand pushes you back onto the mattress while he continues to feast on you, one leg thrown over his shoulder as his fingers slip right in, curling and scissoring inside you. His tongue flicks your clit, swirling in circles before his lips are suckling it.

You arch, crying out for him over and over again. Sweat beads between your brows, a sheen of sweat appearing on your body as you writhe beneath Jimin, wanting to crush his head between your thighs.

Jimin looks up at you, watching as pleasure overwhelms you, his fiery tongue the source of all your curses and pleas. Your hands cup your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between your fingertips as you cry out, “Jimin… Daddy… I can’t!”

Your body is overwhelmed with pleasure. Your skin is hot, flushed as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten before you cry out, “I’m coming! Fuck!”

Jimin doesn’t stop his ministrations, continuing as you fall over the edge. His name rolls off your tongue in a mantra, eyes squeezed shut and the sheets fisted in your hand once again as you arch your back. Jimin waits until you’ve fallen slack before he slips his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth, tongue swirling around them as he sucks them clean.

“Feel good, princess?” Jimin asks, a smirk on his lips.

“Mmm,” you murmur, your eyes still closed as you try to regulate your breathing.

Jimin chuckles, “you good, love?”

“More than okay,” you answer, sitting up to crawl over to him until you’re straddling his lap. Jimin’s hands immediately grip your hips, your lips pressing against his. Your arms wrap around his neck, keeping him from going anywhere.

Jimin buries his face into your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin as you line him up at your entrance, sinking on to him when he least expects it.

“Baby, fuck,” he grunts, his forehead falling onto your shoulder as you hold him close while he finally bottoms out. You bite your lip, groaning at the stretch that has your eyes fluttering shut, nails digging into his perfect muscular back.

Hesitantly, Jimin looks at you. Three words sit heavy on his tongue as you stroke his face, biting your lip as you roll your hips. Your eyes flutter shut, your hand falling to his shoulder, moans of his name filling the space between your bodies.

“Y/n,” your name is a delicate whisper, his hold on you tightening, swallowing the heavy words instead. He kisses you, losing himself in you instead. Lust is easy, lust he can deal with. That’s all this is, he lies to himself once again as you ride him.

You hold Jimin close, fingers threaded in his hair, tugging it to make him meet your gaze, “you always fuck me so good, baby. So, so good.”

“This tight cunt is all I can think about at work. You’re such a fucking distraction but coming home to you waiting on my bed wet and horny is so worth it,” Jimin kisses you, tongue pushing past your lips before he’s rolling you over so he’s on top.

“Jimin,” you moan, his thrusts hitting all the right spots.

“On your knees, baby.” You do as you’re told, getting on your knees and arching perfectly for him. Jimin smacks your ass, mesmerized by the way it jiggles. He smacks it harder, your cry of his name making his cock throb in his hand as he strokes it before lining himself up at your entrance, grunting when the thick head of his cock is welcomed into your cunt.

“Fuck,” you curse, face in the pillow, turning your head to the side. Jimin grabs your arms, putting them behind your back, wrists crossed together as he holds them with one hand while he fucks into you. His head is thrown back, saccharine moans escaping him as you fuck back into him, moaning when his fingers rub at your clit.

“That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, you feel so good..” Jimin bites his bottom lip, a poor effort to try to muffle the moan that threatens to escape his pretty lips. His eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the warmth and wetness of your cunt. Your sweet moans fuel him, consume him as he pistons in and out of you to coax more of those dulcet moans from your lips. His hand moves to raise you, wrapping around your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, melting into his touch as he squeezes.

“Jimin,” you rasp, overcome with pleasure as he continues to rub at your clit. You shutter, your hand wrapping around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Jimin grunts, kissing your cheek as he grinds his hips into you, slamming them when you cry out that you’re close.

“Come for me, princess. Please,” his angelic voice has you pulsating, doing as he’s asked as you grip his wrist and come. Jimin moans, lips planting kisses on your shoulder before he’s biting down and coming with you.

“Jimin… Jimin!”

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, love. Come for daddy,” Jimin moans, eyes shut and lips parted as he moans your name repeatedly, filling you with cum until you’re unable to hold yourself up. Jimin chuckles, lying you on your back on his bed before he lies beside you.

“Fuck,” you giggle, pushing your hair out of your eyes as Jimin takes the chance to kiss your sweat beaded forehead. You grimace, “gross, I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care, princess.” Jimin covers your face in kisses, making you laugh until you’re pressing your palms on his chest to push him away.

“Jimin!” You squeal, kissing his cheek before cuddling up to his side. He kisses your temple, holding you for a few minutes before he’s pulling away from you to get you some water and lead you to the bathroom to help you get cleaned up.

You end up taking a quick shower, exchanging kisses and lingering touches before you’re wrapped up in a towel in his bedroom. You’ve brought your own clothes to sleep in, but you take one of Jimin’s baggy shirts instead, climbing into his bed while he puts on a pair of boxers.

“Go to sleep, baby. We’ve got plans tomorrow,” he tells you as you snuggle into your side of the bed, pulling the comforter up to your chest.

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

“Goodnight, princess.” Jimin whispers, caressing your cheek before you close your eyes. He watches you until he’s sure you’re asleep, hoping you can’t hear how loud his heart beats.

The morning sunlight streams in through the cracks between the curtains, the light stirring Jimin awake. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes with his hands until all he can see is black dots before his eyesight settles once again.

Beside him, you’re still sleeping, clutching the pillow to your chest. He sits up, admiring the serene look on your face as you snooze away beside him, so comfortable, stress free.

Jimin’s heart thunders in his chest when you stir, rolling over and seeking out his hand with yours. He easily gives it to you, squeezing softly when you settle soundly.

As the world outside begins to wake, he can’t help but want to stay in this bubble the two of you have created in his home. Nobody to bother you, nobody hounding you to do this or that. Nobody to disturb your utopia.

Jimin caresses your face, his delicate touch makes you moan softly as his fingers push your hair out of your eyes. He stares at you freely, admiring your features. You were beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and it still baffled him how you’d agreed to this arrangement. He knew he couldn’t give you more, and on days like today, he desperately wished he could. But what would that get him? Get you? A broken heart and the loss of his best friend? He couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk it. Money was easy. Money came and went, but you stayed regardless if money appeared in your account at the end of the day. That scared him. Why would you stay?

“If we’re having a staring contest, you gotta wake me up first, Minie.” Your voice startles him, his hand hastily pulling away from your face as you sit up. He hopes you can’t see the pinkness in his cheeks or the embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Way to ruin the moment,” he laughs, shaking his head, and your heart skips a beat when he gives you his radiant smile.

“I didn’t know there was a moment to ruin, baby. I’ll close my eyes and you can keep staring at me,” you giggle, rolling over and shutting your eyes. Jimin settles behind you, draping his arm over your waist before you wiggle into him.

“I hate you,” he jokes, kissing your temple.

“Mhm, your cock is way too hard for you to lie about that,” you smirk, wiggling further into him.

“Shh,” he chuckles deeply, kissing your cheek, moving your hair out of the way to kiss your neck.

“Show me how much you hate me, Min,” you goad him, turning to face him. Your eyes lock on his and Jimin can’t help but fall for you even more. He wonders if it’s obvious to you like everyone else? He wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, not to himself and certainly not to you. You were destined to fail, and who was he to stand in the way of destiny?

“Lie back, princess. Let me get a taste of you.”

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