#taper ii

[mr-payjay]

happy valentine's day taco

[awingedinsect]

My, my, those eyes like fire…

[silversupremacy]

Wife? Stolen

[xumoonhao]

the nightgown i got + a closeup of what it looks like <3

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone. 

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night. 

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash. 

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up. 

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods. 

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain. 

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches. 

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.” 

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow. 

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed. 

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall. 

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor. 

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood. 

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression. 

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale. 

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.” 

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years. 

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.” 

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood. 

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten. 

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal. 

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest. 

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin. 

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art. 

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons. 

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling. 

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out. 

You ease at that. 

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.” 

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?” 

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips. 

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding. 

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap. 

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs. 

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?” 

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in. 

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door. 

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside. 

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches. 

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides. 

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs. 

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.” 

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly. 

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.” 

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.” 

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb. 

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver. 

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all. 

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him. 

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle. 

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth. 

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it. 

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut. 

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger. 

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.” 

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all. 

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off. 

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material. 

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows. 

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head. 

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing. 

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him. 

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man. 

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into. 

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.” 

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display. 

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important. 

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern. 

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet. 

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids. 

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.” 

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh. 

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure. 

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?” 

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek. 

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord. 

That was really all that matted. 

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night. 

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug. 

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward. 

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?” 

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree. 

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes. 

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger. 

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[spaceclefairy]

Lonely Hours

You're beginning to suspect, much to your own exasperation, you may actually like the Ghoul. The problem is, he may actually like you, too (in his own way).

Act I | Act II | Act IV | Act V | Ao3 Compilation

This is not the first gunfight the Ghoul has caused in your no-name wasteland town, and it absolutely won’t be the last. It is the first gunfight (well, that he has caused) that’s spilled into your office, though. You’re not thrilled about that, but, hey, as often as he’s come through town lately, it was bound to happen eventually. On the off chance there's anyone left roaming the streets when he shows up, there's always the possibility of him causing trouble.

You, currently, are crouched for cover behind your desk, staring down the sights of a rifle. You see the Ghoul clearly in the middle of the street, but you’re not worried about him. He’s a ghoul - resilience is part of the game. No, you’re busy picking off the horde of strangers attempting to shove their way into your office, particularly the ones killing the occasional straggling citizen of the town. Your front door is long gone (so much for that lock, huh, Cooper?), and the bars that serve as windows are barely hanging on by their bolts.

You manage to pick off most of the horde, and the Ghoul takes care of whatever your rifle won’t reach. When the gunfire tapers out and the encroaching horde is decimated, he climbs through the hole where the front door used to be, boots thudding on the dusty wooden floor. He doesn’t holster his gun.

“Get your shit,” the Ghoul orders. Dust drifts up from the wooden floor where his boots are planted. “We’re leavin’.”

You climb up from behind the desk and set your rifle to the side. “What the hell? Why?”

The Ghoul doesn’t answer for a beat. Rather, he grabs the closest bag of yours he can locate and starts shoveling shit into it (since you don’t appear to be listening to his orders).

“Because they were comin’ after you,” he finally replies, rifling through your desk drawers. He pulls out cases of chems and all the caps he can get his hands on, then looks up at you expectantly. “I said, go get your shit.”

“They couldn’t be coming after me. I’m a bounty agent,” you reply, cocking your head. “I’m off-limits”

“Well, they didn’t seem to think so,” the Ghoul replies, slinging his shoulder bag over his shoulder and tossing your pack over to you. “I’m not gonna tell you again, darlin’.”

You can’t imagine why anyone would be coming after you. Even if the plan was to rob the office and take the bounties on hand, it’s generally understood killing a bounty agent is more trouble than it’s worth. And no one, bounty hunter or otherwise, wants an agency coming down on their head for killing an agent over a few caps. 

You sigh. “I guess I’ll have to contact the agency in Filly. They won’t take kindly to this - this town is under their protection.”

“That’s just a couple days' walk,” the Ghoul says. He grabs you by the shoulder and guides you out the backdoor. “Let’s go.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Didn’t you just hear me say we’re leavin’?”

You don’t have time to elaborate. Gunfire rings out in the distance, closer than you’d like for it to be.

“Just surprised is all…”

--- --- --- --- ---

The sun is just setting down beyond the horizon when you find a lean-to to stop at for the night. It’s just a rickety, wooden shack, riddled with holes and falling in like most everything in the wastelands, but it’ll serve its purpose just fine. There’s no way to build a fire in the lean-to, but you’d gotten your hands on a Vault-Tec contraption that gives off a queasy, dim greenish glow when you press a button

When you’ve settled in, you all but inhale one of the powdery ration packs you’d brought with you. The Ghoul takes a pull off of his inhaler and produces something unidentifiable from his shoulder back that he proceeds to eat. You do not have the capacity, nor the desire, to ask him what he just ate.

You sit cross-legged, crumple up your ration pack, and toss it into a corner of the shack. “Do you want to take the first watch?”

He grunts his acquiescence and pulls a liquor bottle out of his backpack, chasing whatever he just ate with a swig of moonshine. You’ve never seen him eat before - nor any ghoul, actually. It never occurred to you they could.

You spread your jacket out on the ground as a makeshift blanket. You curl into yourself, arm tucked under your chin, trying to stave off the impending chill of the night. It’s not the worst place you’ve ever slept, nor the worst company in whose presence you’ve slept, but you can tell that sleep won’t be coming anytime soon.

The Ghoul’s thick drawl splits the silence. “Quit fidgetin’.”

You roll over and look up at him. “I’m trying.”

“Could just fuck instead. Might help you sleep.”

You can barely see the Ghoul in the dim lamplight, but you know he’s smirking. “Here?”

He shrugs. “Got nothin’ else to do.”

“Except keep a lookout?”

He pats his thigh. “Well, if you come up here, I can still keep a lookout.”

It might be the fact that you can just barely make out the Ghoul’s face in the dim light, but he looks at you with what suspiciously appears to be genuine affection. He strips his gloves off and tosses them to the floor, right next to the gun he keeps close to his side. He takes your outstretched hand and guides you to climb up into his lap and straddle his thighs, then grabs your hips and scoots you closer to him. 

You half expect him to just yank your shirt over your head, but he doesn’t. He’s oddly gentle with you when he strips your shirt over your head and unbuttons your pants. It never fails to confuse you when he’s gentle with you, because gentle is simply not in his nature.

You decide to see how far you can push it.

You unbutton the top button of his shirt, waiting for him to tell you no, but he doesn’t. You unbutton a second, then a third, waiting for the inevitable that’s enough, but it doesn’t come. You assume he probably thinks you can’t see him well enough in the lamplight to see what his bare skin looks like, but you can. His chest and stomach are red and raw like the rest of him, build slight but still muscular under his pitted skin. You run your hands down his chest, down his stomach, and unbutton his pants. 

He sighs when you wrap your hand around his half-hard cock. He lets you palm him a good couple of times before he's pulling you closer by your hips so that your still-clothed cunt is pressing down on him. You steady yourself with hands on his chest and grind down on him.

The Ghoul’s touches are never patient, but when he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss that's all teeth and tongue, you get the sense he may be trying to be patient. That’s different than the last couple of times - he didn’t exactly bother to take his time when he was shoving his dick down your throat or fucking you stupid. There’s nothing else to do out here in the wasteland in the dark though, so he can take all the time he wants. You just don’t know why he wants to take his time. It doesn’t really matter, you suppose, as long as you’re both enjoying it (and you are).

The Ghoul breaks contact with you long enough to tug at the band of your unbuttoned pants. “Take these off.”

You fumble around, crawling out of his lap long enough to strip off one leg of your pants and underwear. At the same time, he lifts his hips up so he can jerk his pants down and almost completely unseats you. You’re held steady by his hands on your hips and unceremoniously yanked back down into his lap.

You can’t resist teasing him. “Oh, you want to pick up the pace now?”

“I told you last time you’re gonna ride me sundown to sunup,” the Ghoul says. He slides his fingers between your legs and spreads your lips apart, trailing a finger lightly through your folds. “I meant that.”

“I - oh - I see,” you manage. You take his heavy cock in hand, stroking him while he slides a finger into you. “Guess we’ve got plenty of - ah - of time.”

His eyes glint in the dim light, and you can just barely see him grin. “If you can hold out that long.”

It’s half challenge, half teasing, and it makes you lean forward and smash your lips against his. His unoccupied hand grabs your chin, forcing you to slow the ferocity of your kiss. 

You’re still not sure how to handle the Ghoul’s patience, but he makes that decision for you. He pulls back and presses his thumb to your lips, pushing between your teeth. You wrap your tongue around his thumb and suck, grinning when he hisses through his teeth. His cock twitches in your hand.

“You’ve got a real talent for that,” the Ghoul says, chuckling. You hum, and he pulls his thumb from your mouth. He swipes the wet digit across your nipple, then pats your hip. “Come on, sugar, climb on.”

You gladly oblige, holding him steady in your hand and sinking down onto him. It’s a stretch, but it satisfies a deep ache you didn’t realize was burning inside you. You roll your hips, lifting up and sliding back down onto him agonizingly slowly. You have every intention of doing this as slowly as you possibly can, but the feeling of you hot and wet, clenching around his cock, finally breaks the Ghoul’s patience.

The Ghoul grips your hips and thrusts up into you. Your hips come down to meet his, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself steady. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

It's physically the closest you've ever been to him, you think. The past couple of times, you've only been able to get his pants down over his hips. He even kept wearing the duster the first time. Now, though, you feel his skin pressed to yours, and it’s warm and somehow comforting, especially here in the dark. 

When you cum, it's sharp and heavy and almost without warning. You'd gotten lost in the feeling of him slamming his hips against yours, of his skin sliding over yours, of his face pressed into your neck and teeth scraping over your flesh. It had become as familiar as your own heartbeat, his touch. Although, in the end, it's the soft grunts and groans the Ghoul makes, just loud enough for you to hear but soft enough to tell you he’s still trying to keep himself in check, that tips you soundly over the edge.

The Ghoul groans your name, hips stuttering as you clench around him. He wraps his arms around your waist, trying to hold you down flush against him. You don’t give him a break, though, and keep grinding down on his cock until he’s damn near howling in your ear. That only makes you fuck him harder, and you cum again, still riding the high of the first one. 

That’s what tips him over the edge - the feeling of you coming twice from just his fingers and his cock - and he cums deep in you, thrusting up into you until he’s spent. He sighs and pulls you off his cock, but he holds you in his lap while he comes down from his high. 

Even after you’ve both relaxed, the Ghoul holds you against him. His spend drips out of you; it runs down the back of your thigh, and you’re sure he can feel it in his lap. He doesn’t seem to care. He only moves to clean you up with the edge of his duster and wipe himself off, then grabs his inhaler and a vial of what you presume is rad-away and holds it to your lips for you to take a breath.

When he’s satisfied you’re taken care of, he gathers you up close to him and rests his chin on top of your head. “Go to sleep.”

“Thought you wanted me to ride you ‘till sunup?” you ask, face squished against his chest. “It’s still dark out.”

“We’ll give it another shot when it’s your turn to take watch.”

You fall asleep to the slow drag of his hand rubbing your back.

[arcielee]

Only if for a night.

Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3750 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving, m implied), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: This was a request from my darling anon! This idea literally had me obsessed until I completed it, so please don't think this is the bar for my response time. 😂 Also, a big thank you to my kindred spirits who answered my v. important questions about Aegon's booty! (You know who you are and Ily 💜) Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Update: This story has a pick your own ending. And you told me I should concentrate. [Aegon x you] But you came over me like some holy rite. [Aemond x you] Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

You felt numb from the sight: seeing your husband on his knees and feasting between the plush thighs of the queen.

It formed a knot that choked you, but it did not stem from a lover’s jealousy–as you knew that you did not love Aemond and he, certainly, did not love you. You always knew your marriage was one of honor and duty, to solidify victory, a peace offering postwar.

You came from a house that was reputable and wealthy, bringing a sizable force to ensure that King Aegon II would remain on the Iron Throne. Your father boasted of marrying his only daughter into the Targaryen dynasty and you felt fortunate to be given a handsome husband, despite his scarred socket. 

Prince Aemond already had a fierce reputation that preceded before you met; your ladies-in-waiting tittered over his disfigurement, his sense of bloodlust, and their hushed whispers of kinslayer that haunted him still despite that the kingly decree his actions were that of a true dragon. He was a renowned veteran of the war that was won, that instilled his brother as king without question, and in return he remained prominent on the council, serving still as the Protector of the Realm. 

You were shy, intimidated even, when you first saw the severity that lined his features, the unabashed gaze with his sapphire stone that replaced the eye lost, but you decided he was handsome in a way that was uniquely his own. You also  found Aemond was respectful and kind, that he was intelligent, he was considerate, and you sighed your relief, knowing all too often how ladies would be knitted to cruel lords. 

For your bedding ceremony, the only glimpse of the dragon that thrummed beneath was how Aemond barked to dismiss the maesters, the Lord Hand, allowing you both privacy to complete the act. He seemed well aware of the discomfort a maiden could feel and treated you with the utmost courtesy, mindful of your sighs, your soft sounds to completion.

He was dutiful and he was diligent. It was not love at first sight, not like the stories told; there was no fluttering of butterfly wings throughout nor did your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but you enjoyed his company, his consistency, and his consideration. 

In all, it was a formidable match and you were certain the marriage would be a success. 

Especially once you produced a silver haired royal babe. 

Which is why you were freshly bathed and dressed in silk, just the quiet echoes of your slippered footfalls against the cobblestone that led towards your lord husband’s quarters. You thought yourself fortunate no white cloak was perched outside his door, and you pressed close to listen before you carefully turned the gilded handle of the door. 

The room was cast in the amber glow from the hearth and tapers lit, and it was the lewd sounds that first caught your attention. You were rooted in the doorcase, your eyelashes fluttered at the view in front of you. 

Aemond was bare from the waist up, the peaks of the silver scars peering through his silver hair, and he was kneeled before the velvet settee at the end of his bed. You watched the muscled definition of his backside, the golden glow of the fireplace highlighting his bareness, as well as the elegant arc of a calf that was draped casually over his shoulder. 

Your eyes followed the milky curve of this limb to look over his shoulder and see the flushed features of Helaena. She was seated on the settee, her laces loosened which allowed the natural spill of her chest, with the peak of her areolas and the rose hues that stained the skin showing. Her skirts were rutted around her hips, the fabric spilling around, and her eyelashes fluttered with a silver glimmer, her head rolling back with a wave of her silver tresses. A smile curled on her kiss-swollen lips and there was a shudder of her pleasure that rippled viscerally over, her fingers curling against his scalp with the breathless whisper. 

“Aemond.”

The humiliation was hot in your veins and burned your cheeks; you willed yourself to move, but your eyes were rapt to attention, watching the frantic rise and fall of Helaena’s chest, her nipples pebbled, and the spilled moans from her mouth.

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

You left as quietly as you entered; your steps were soft, quick to take you back, with one hand lifting the silk of your chemise and the other wiping the tears that began to spill. 

We were not in love, you remind yourself, but it still pinched a nerve within your chest. He was still your husband and you were duty bound to bore him a child, a son if the Lord Hand could choose. The act itself was not unpleasant, but Aemond had never…

Your thoughts were interrupted with a singsong call of your name; you were quick to wipe your face before turning to see the king.

“Your grace,” you offered him a feeble curtsy and even weaker smile. 

Aegon moved with a grace, a sway to his steps; his brow furrowed above his wide, lilac eyes, and there was a genuineness to his question. “Sweet sister, it is late, what has you out of bed?” 

Before you had been sent to King’s Landing, your mother warned you of his behaviors; you were also told the tale of how the newly anointed Lord Commander and your lord husband had to drag Aegon from the streets of Flea Bottom and place him on the Iron Throne. 

But this notoriety of his youth seemed to dissipate with the placement of the Conqueror’s crown he now wore proudly on his silver waves. It seemed to kindle the royal ichor in his veins, and he moved with an elegance as he pressed closer, peering at you with his continued concern.  

“I… I was feeling unwell and thought that I would go for a walk,” you chose your words carefully, trying to mask the threat of emotion that brimmed beneath. 

His brow quirked. “Alone?”

You swallowed. In this moment, you wished to slip away, to return to your rooms and drown in your sorrow, your failures as a wife in light of learning your new husband’s infidelities, your self-loathing for craving the passion Aemond displayed, wishing it to be shown towards you instead…

The silence hung thick, too long for his liking, and Aegon reached to take your hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. “It is late,” he repeated. “If you are unwell, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.” 

You fell in step, peering at him. Aegon was handsome, as your supposed all Targaryen men seemed to be; your eyes admired his silver tresses that curled at his shoulders, that showed golden with the lights that lined the corridor, casting a gold ring that reflected in the lilac of his eyes that flitted over you; his lips were rosy, an upwards curl when he noticed your stare. “You seem so solemn tonight,” he tried again. 

The proximity allowed you to smell the long day on him, mixing with the scents of lavender and tea tree oils, a regal musk that called to you to nestle your head against his chest and cry. “It is only that I am feeling unwell,” is what you said instead. 

His eyes were wide and watchful, but he did not argue and instead allowed the silence to envelope as he walked with you. Before you could wish him goodnight, he pushed into your room, ordering your handmaidens to fetch something to eat, as well as red wine to help settle your stomach. 

They jumped with his command, quick to listen, and soon enough you were sitting on the terrace that overlooked the coast of Blackwater Bay, holding a goblet that brimmed with a Dornish wine that stained your lips with each polite sip. Aegon sat across from you, a boyish grin as he dismissed your handmaidens for the night, before reaching to break the bread for you both. 

The silence followed from the corridor, settling over in a way that was not at all uncomfortable; you peered again at Aegon, a choked cry in your throat as you watched him take care to slice the cheeses and the olives for the bread, before offering it to you. 

It was a simple, sweet gesture and you chewed, forcing down the bite with the wine. Whereas conversation had to be dragged from your husband, you found his brother’s tongue would not idle; perhaps it loosened from the wine, but it was not a mindless filler in a way that words are used as though silence were a threat, but you found Aegon to be cheerful, witty, as he shared stories from his youth. 

Aegon glowned from his narration, from the silver light that poured over; the night sky was empty with the clouds rolling over the black water, the air cool and salty. Your cheeks were rosy from your drink and your laughter, and when your cup emptied, he was quick to refill it. 

He pressed for your turn and you shared about your life before coming to King’s Landing. Aegon was an attentive listener, with sighs punctuating; you looked to see that his cheeks were pink from the wine and the wind, a curl returning to his lips. “My brother is fortunate to have such a pretty and witty wife.” 

Those words were the unknown catalyst broken; you did not sob your sorrow but instead there were large tears that rolled down your cheeks. You did not realize you were shaking until you felt his fingers, his touch warm, soft, wrapping gently around your wrist. You allowed him to pull you from your seat, towards him–now standing–and enveloping you into his arms for a moment before he sat back down, pulling you onto his lap. 

Your mannerly upbringing roared in your ears, this was wrong, this was improper, to be pulled into an unchaperoned embrace of your husband’s brother–the fucking king of the Seven Realms. But instead you curled against his chest, that regal musk soothing, his warmth pleasant against the nip of the air. You indulged in his comfort–his palm rubbing slow circles along your spine, his other arm across your lap, his hand gripping into your thigh. 

His touch grounded you, allowing you to compose yourself and share with him what you had found in Aemond’s quarters, making sure to elicit a detail that Aegon freely supplied.

“He was with Helaena, right?”

You looked at him. “You knew?” Your voice cracked, incredulous. 

Aegon only hummed, continuing his soothing ministrations, his hand rubbing your backside. “I thought you did as well,” he admitted. “Our status within the Seven Realms… requires certain duties to be fulfilled. We are honorbound to these obligations, to ensure peace amongst the kingdoms. But it is just a role to be played for the public.” 

You knew this in part already; you were always aware of the duty of your marriage, the child that you were expected to bring into the world. But still, the truth spoken brought a new wave of tears that he consoled. Your body burned with his touch, his finger curling and his thumb pressing into your chin to bring your watery eyes to his own. “Is it that you love him?” He asked with a curiosity that could not be helped, in light of your reaction. 

You did not, and would never, certainly not after this night. The tears that spilled came from something deeper, something that licked your belly when your eyes lingered in Aemond’s room, and your voice quavered, hiccupping to explain this. 

Aegon had an almost kingly glow in the moonlight, with its silver light reflecting in the stubble that spread across his square jaw, framing the mischievous grin that curled on his wine stained lips. “Is your husband,” he speaks of him like he is apart from Aemond, not knitted within the same womb, with the same dragon’s blood thrumming in his veins, “not fulfilling his marital duties?” 

You stammered with your response. This was not what you meant, as Aemond was courteous to his completion, but it was never like what you spied tonight. You flushed remembering the shades of pink that plumed against Helaena’s porcelain skin, how her back arched with her cries, his name a fervent prayer spilling from kiss-swollen lips… 

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

Aegon’s timbre brings you back out to the terrace, with his continued soft circles on the outside of your thigh. “You would know if he had,” he spoke so casually, almost flippant with the subject. 

How would you know? And you regret your question, your naivety apparent with your words. 

The same mischievous smirk returned to his lips, and as the moonglow spilled over him something glimmered, something knowing from how his brow quirked with your question. Aegon tilted his head up slightly, his lips now close to the soft divot beneath your ear, grazing your skin with his whisper, “I could show you.” 

Your lips part in shock, your eyes wide to look him over and see the flush of color that stained his cheeks, the wine that stained his lips. 

And you dared to kiss him. 

Your lips are shy to touch, almost chaste with your action, but Aegon responds, quick, his fingers curling at the base of your neck and his other coming around your waist. His lips are full, soft, warm with the hint of the sweet wine to taste when his tongue runs your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue clever, careful, as he drew the very breath from your lungs. 

The spill of silk showed your shoulder and you gasped softly when he broke away, his mouth ravenous to capture the skin now exposed, with a wake of love bites from his open mouth kisses, and a warmth began to bloom within you. You touched his chest with a gentle push to stand and he lets go, his lilac eyes wide and wanting; your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull him to stand, boldly leading him within your chambers. 

Aegon stopped you in the archway, and you turned to see the smile on his lips as he pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs and his hands trailing your curves, settling and gripping onto your hip bones. His mouth captured yours once again, and your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer. 

You almost whined when he stopped the kiss, his eyes glassy and their color swallowed by pools of black. “My brother is an idiot,” is all he said. 

Before you could breathe a response, he pulled you into the room and back against his mouth, moving with the flutter of kisses along your jawline, nipping into the curve of your neck. His palms are still on the small of your waist, with guiding steps back towards the bed.

Clothes are removed with a passion, leaving a trail behind. “Lay back,” he coaxed, his hands warm against your bareness, careful to press until you laid against the mattress. Aegon followed after, climbing on top of you to meet with another kiss, with his sweet murmur, “Let me show you.”  

It is a tickling sensation, the mixture of his stubble with the softness of his lips against the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest. Gooseflesh rippled over, your nipples peaking from the warmth of his touch; his palm cups one breast while his hot mouth latches to the other, teeth and tongue teasing. 

You squirmed beneath him; his chuckle was low and warm against the valley between your breasts, from shifting his focus from one to the other. “So impatient,” and his hot kiss sends shivers down your spine, with an intensity that you know will mark you. 

You shivered again with that thought.

This reaction encouraged a tensity shown to your nipples, his tongue swirled and another crest of pleasure rippled over, your hand moving to cover your mouth to muffle. Again, his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm down to your side and pushing up to find your lips. “None of the that,” and his lips curled into an almost wicked smile, “your king wishes to hear you.” 

Satisfied with the crimson that flooded your cheeks, Aegon moved towards your core with sporadic kisses trailing, a warm tickle of his exhale as he nestled between your thighs. 

Your heart fluttered with the intimate kiss he placed, something that sparked a warmth that began to spread out towards the apex of your thighs and beyond. Your hips buck slightly from the sensation and you can feel him grin against your cunt. 

“So eager,” he breathed, a warm thrill against your slick slit, his tongue flitting with a precision that had you panting. “Yes, just like that,” he praised, his fingers now pressing within your velvet walls and stretching as one curled within, then another. 

His mouth, his touch was practiced, pulling something to blossom within the pit of your stomach, a fluttering sensation that built with the tandem of his fingers and his tongue.

You gasped, peering to see the top of his head, the spill of his silver waves as he moved, ravenous, determined. You writhed, a pitiful mewling sound, and his one hand moved to curl underneath your thigh, holding you in place with his continued sinful motion, your arousal spilling onto the bedsheets. 

It was too much, and you whimpered, “A-Aegon,” as your hands balled to grip the linen. 

“Just like that,” he purred against, his rhythm building still, a pressure threatening to burst within you. “Come for me, sweet girl.” 

It engulfs you as though you had been dropped into Blackwater Bay, a rush that spilled with the come hither curl of his fingers, pressing his lips against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You see the stars when your eyes flutter closed, the spill of tears that pearled in the corners of your eyes, your chest heaving to catch your breath and your thighs trembling. 

His praise was low, husky. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You slowly propped yourself onto your elbows, flushed, and reached towards him, but he stopped your hand. “Next time,” Aegon promised with a cheeky grin. 

You are flushed from his actions, from his words, your heart rate picking up again as Aegon climbed on top of you, nestling into the cradle of your hips. His expression was smug, his lips and chin slick, and you kissed him, hungry for him, curious of your own taste; you enjoyed the salty sweetness from the Dornish wine that mixed. His hand dipped between, lining himself with your entrance, and you sighed into his mouth. 

Aegon has girth, a thickness to him that stretches your walls. You gasp, then another whine that spilled as he pushed to sheath fully within you; Aegon swallowed your cries with his kisses, his hips still to allow you to adjust to his size, checking before he began his slow rut against your hips.  

You pant against his chest, your fingers digging into the twin divots on his lower back as he filled you with each thrust, a bruising pace that began to spark in front of your eyes. You cling to him with a desperation, still sensitive from your first release and flustered from the touch of his bare skin against your own.  

There is the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, positioning himself on his knees, his palms wrapping around your ankles and pulling to place your feet against his chest; your hips cant up, allowing him to be swallowed by your warmth again, a guttural groan that reverberates through when you clenched.

This new angle sparked another cry, lights dancing across your eyes with his pace; he was grinning down at you, pausing to turn his head with a quick kiss to the arc of your foot, and you giggled. 

His large hands moved to press onto the mattress, caging you, and he rolled his hips against your own; the wet squelch with your soft cry as he bruised within. You mewled his name when his pace quickened, pistoning his hips against. 

There was the returned flutter of pleasure and Aegon lifted one hand. “Open,” and you obey, your tongue touching the pad of his thumb, swirling to coat it with your saliva. When he pulled back, a bit of spittle broke off onto your chin, and his hand dipped to press against the bloom above, his touch soft, searching. 

Yours cries are unbridled at the touch of your pearl, and his satisfaction was apparent on his flushed features, his hips finding a new pace with his new ministrations. Your muscles tightened in response, your back arching against, and it comes, a tidal wave, an intensity that shudders throughout, rattling your bones beneath. 

Aegon continued through your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy to chase after his own release before melting against you, with a low groan into the junction of your neck that rumbled pleasantly through you. 

You both lay there in an intimate tangle of bare limbs until your breathing evened. Aegon rolled onto his side and reached to touch your hip, his lilac eyes roaming over you, admiring you. “Beautiful,” he declared, then leaned closer for a gentle kiss. 

You giggled again, pulling away to clean up. Aegon allowed it, but was adamant that you remained bare, pulling you back to bed after and curling up against, his face nuzzling into your neck; your skin rose in response. 

“For duty, for honor,” he murmured, moving to pull you until your head rested on his chest; his soothing scent and musk of sex now clung to the linen. “A silver haired child all the same,” and he kissed your hairline with his confession. “The twins, Maegor, I am not even certain they are mine or not, but I love them nonetheless.” 

“The blood of the dragon,” you whispered, tilting your head back and allowing him to kiss you once again. 

You felt a new satisfaction, a new understanding of your role within the Targaryen dynasty. The thought warmed you, I love them nonetheless, as you nestled against his chest, allowing the rise and fall to lull you to sleep. 

arcie's masterlist

[lipglossanon]

And Now For Something Completely Different

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The Merchant x fem!reader (one shot)

Such a random thought I had and quickly wrote out while I made coffee lmao so have this total and complete one off from my normal 🫣 please don’t expect more from me 🤣 also have a screenshot I took cause I thought he looked cute 😉

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, creampie, slight dirty talk? 😆

not proofread or even looked over lmao ✌️

Title pulled from Monty Python 😜

part ii

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“I’ve got something that might interest ya,” the strange man murmurs as you step up to the rickety table. 

The purple flame‘s the only light source in the area casting strange shadows on the walls and across the man calling himself the merchant. 

You pull out the few rubies you were able to scrounge out of some old barrel and hold them out to him, “Is this enough to get an upgrade and a first aid spray?”

His dark eyes look down at your palm and back up to your face, “Well no stranga, I can do one or the other, but I’m afraid it’s not enough cash for both.”

You slump in on yourself, exhaustion writ all over your features as you sigh, “I’ll take the first aid then.”

He hands you the aerosol can with one hand as you drop the rubies in his other. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, genuine and warm, “next time hopefully I can swing that handgun upgrade.”

He hums at you, watching underneath the hood as you pocket the first aid and double check your pockets to see if there’s anything else worth trading. 

“I wonder if you might be interested in less acceptable means of trade?”

You attention moves from your pockets up to him leaning against the table, shadow looming into your space. 

“Sure, I need all the help I can get.”

⊰❀⊱

“Oh oh my god,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as his cock bullies its way into your fluttering walls. 

He has you pinned down, back on the table he set up, and legs parted as he fucks into your wet and willing pussy. 

“What a lovely cunt,” he chuckles down at you, face still covered making you clamp down harder on his dick, “haven’t felt something this warm in a long time, stranger.”

“Mmm it s’good,” you whine, letting him push your knees up to your chest so he can plunge his cock in your pussy even deeper, “gonna make me cum so fast.”

“It’d be such a shame to end our fun so soon, love,” he groans, slowly rutting his fat cock into your clenching pussy and grinding against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt. 

Your eyes flutter shut and he smacks your swollen clit with his hand making you writhe under him.

“W-what’re you—“ a keening mewl leaves your lips as he slaps your pudgy clit again. 

“Behave, let me take my fill and I’ll give you what you need,” he laughs, “not a bad deal eh?”

You shake your head no as you gasp and moan. He rocks himself in and out of your pussy, never fully pulling out so you’re constantly stretched around his thick cock. The tip knocks against your cervix every time he bottoms out making you claw at his chest weakly, powerless as a kitten, too overwhelmed with pleasure to do anything but take it. 

“Bigger is better or so they say. At least I thought so as a lad,” he huffs with a laugh, burying himself so deep that his tip is grinding against your womb making you wail and thrash under his heavy body. 

“Shh, shh, you must take it, love,” he grits out, holding you down as he bruises your cervix, “let me give you what you need.”

“I-I need your mouth,” you gasp out, eyes wet with tears, “kiss me, please, sir, I—“

He yanks his mask down but before you get a good look a wet hungry mouth is kissing your greedily. One of his hands comes up to cover your eyes once he pulls back to catch his breath. 

“Such a sweet little thing,” he noses at your cheek and you can feel the grin on his mouth, “calling me sir like I’m some posh gent.”

He licks across your jaw and his tongue feels—odd, tapered but before you can process anything else he’s licking into your mouth again. 

You whine and suck on his tongue eagerly, rocking your hips down into his slow, punishing thrusts. You whimper when he pulls away and only quiet when he kisses you again, pressing his tongue deep into your mouth making you moan. 

You can feel how different his tongue is compared to yours and it makes your pussy gush slick around his thrusting cock. 

He pulls away with a hum of amusement, “You sure do enjoy that. Like my tongue, stranger? Like imagining it in other hot wet little holes?”

Your spine arches as you cry out, “O-oh god.” 

He finally uncovers your eyes but his mask is back firmly in place. You look into his eyes and see the corners are crinkled as he laughs at you. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” his hands shift down to your hips to pull you tighter to him, “but I’m pretty close to filling your lovely little cunt full.”

“Please,” you whine, hands scratching at the rough material of his cloak, “want it, please cum inside me.”

“Hell,” he groans, hips rabbiting into your squelching cunt making the table slide with his movements. 

“Touch yourself,” he directs you, “play with that slippery clit for me, love.”

You quickly listen to him, fingers moving to circle the swollen bud until your thighs are tensing and toes curling as the band of arousal snaps in your belly. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming oh—“ your back bows as you moan loudly, pussy milking his cock as he keeps fucking into your clenching walls. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, snapping his hips even harder against you until he burrows himself deep in your pussy. 

You feel the warmth of his hot cum paint your walls white as his dick fills you with rope after rope of sticky jizz. He yanks you even closer somehow as his cock kicks and throbs against your pulsing walls, tip spurting the last of his cum inside of you. You watch as he slowly pulls out, creamy slick and cum oozing from his drippy tip as it spills from your well used hole. 

“I’d say that’s a deal well struck,” his eyes seem to gleam down at you as he helps you up to redress. 

His cum is still oozing inside the gusset of your panties as you watch him quickly tinker with your handgun before giving you back your now upgraded weapon. 

He winks at you, “See you soon, stranger.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

On the language debate, I personally headcanon that the main language spoken at NRC is a common one. (?) (Like how English is the business language, or like how generally Native Americans had a common language that they spoke when trading with other tribes.) And Crowley or the Mirror used magic so that You was temporary fluent in that language.

After the ceremony, Yuu has to learn the common language and picks it up really fast (as one would in such a situation). Therefore, Yuu can still speak it when away from NRC.

(I also headcanon English as an ancient language akin to Latin, because I heard that Arabic was canonically an ancient language.)

[Referencing this post!]

I’d buy that everyone at NRC speaks the common language to some level of proficiency; it’s like how international students typically need to speak the language of whichever country they hope to study in and need to prove their fluency in an exam beforehand. As I said in the original post, the light novel does mention a translation spell over the school, so maybe that’s part of the “magic” that helps Yuu to understand what the others are saying.

Now, it’s theoretically possible for Yuu to learn the common language of Twisted Wonderland in a year, but I don’t think immersion alone would cut it (especially since the main story is only up to like 2/4 to 3/4 of a year so far) . They’d probably have to put in significant effort outside of everyday conversations to pick up its rules (because remember that language isn’t just vocabulary but also grammar, syntax, and social conventions). Yuu would also need consistent feedback from people since that’s how one usually “fixes” their incorrect language use. It’s similar to how adults would correct a child learning their first language; ie a kid says “wadur” instead of “water”.)

One site I looked at suggested that, depending on the language categorization (I, II, III, of IV), it can take 24-92 weeks’ worth of time to become an “advanced” speaker. Realistically, just getting to the basic conversational level could be hundreds or thousands (700-2500+) of hours on its own—and Yuu has to do this on their own time between homework, going to classes, and managing all the issues that Crowley doesn’t 💀 To me, that doesn’t sound like a lot of free time. Counterpoint to my own point though, we also have to consider that Yuu is... well, technically Yuu can be any age you want, but most Yuus are implied or portrayed to be 16-18. The critical window for language acquisition is theorized to be anywhere from the first three years of life up to as late as 17-18 years. After this critical window, the ability for language development tapers off. So, thinking about that, Yuu's brain could still be very pliable and able to absorb new language (though they'd have to work quite intensely to pack in as much as they can before this ability starts to decline).

Something that I feel would be difficult for Yuu is that the characters often use slang (Cater, Floyd, Idia, etc.) and/or uncommon words (like Vil’s “pulchritude”). The former may not follow the standardized rules of a language or may be idioms (other non-literal meanings for common words), which could make it hard for a non-native speaker to understand. The latter would not be used that often, so Yuu would be forced to guesstimate what the word means. I’d imagine this would make fluency challenging, because as immersed as Yuu is in Twisted Wonderland, less frequently used words are harder to grasp.

Maybe Crowley cast a translation spell ON Yuu so that they can still converse with people in the common tongue whenever they leave NRC? Or, since the events basically occur in an AU, more than a year has passed so it has allowed Yuu more time to absorb the language. Language in TWST and how it works… It’s really interesting to think about!

[peachdues]

Kinktober 2023 update

Werewolf!Sanemi x Red Riding Hood!Reader NSFW

In the Netherwood (Part I) will be uploaded tomorrow.

CW: NSFW preview below the cut • Monster fucking • werewolf fucking • Sanemi half-transforms mid-fuck

Get ready, you dogs (though he won’t fuck her until Part II).

Sanemi’s thrusts stuttered as his body suddenly seized. His head was thrown back, the tendons and muscles in his neck rigid with strain, while his chest heaved, struggling to take a breath.

The fingers digging into your hips tightened and you cried out at the sharp prick of nails sinking into your soft flesh. At the sound of your voice, Sanemi’s hands pulled away to reveal fingers now with long, curved nails.

His claws.

A choked, strangled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a howl ripped from Sanemi’s throat as he shuddered violently above you. The tremors sent faint vibrations right to where the two of you were connected, sparking new yet short-lived waves of pleasure rippling through your core. you mewled at the loss of stimulation as the huntsman stilled once more, desperately wanting him to start moving again to ease the burgeoning friction between your legs.

Your hips involuntarily twitched up against his and Sanemi’s head snapped down, his attention now wholly focused on you, writhing below him.

The first thing you noticed were his eyes.

No longer did they reflect the soft lilac that you’d come to find comfort in; that regarded you with a curious gentleness that often contrasted with Sanemi’s gruff and scarred countenance.

Now, the eyes that watched you from above had faded to a startling silver that glowed nearly as bright as the fat moon which hung just outside the mouth of the den.

But his eyes were nothing compared to the fangs that had formed on both his upper and bottom rows of teeth.

Sanemi’s incisors had lengthened, the upper pair extending nearly to his lower lip. The teeth tapered out to sharp points, glistening in the moonlight with a promise of violence to anyone who might find themselves at their mercy.

He had warned you that it would be difficult to keep himself from shifting while he mated you, but you’d assumed that the presence of your cloak would keep him in his human form. It seemed, however, that the magical protection afforded by the Ruby red wool draped around your shoulders, still could not fully temper the beast within.

Especially when that beast was in the thick of his heat and claiming you as his mate.

Still embedded deep within your heat, apparently oblivious to the growing friction that caused you to squirm, Sanemi’s nostrils flared and his eyes dropped to the sides of your thighs. His pupils contracted, a deadly glint igniting within his silver pools, as he beheld the thin rivulets of blood which had gathered and crested beneath the marks left behind by his claws.

A growl, low and dangerous built in his throat at the sight of the crimson, but the arm wrapped around your waist tightened in silent apology.

His free hand rose to cup your jaw and he squeezed, forcing your mouth to fall open. Sanemi leaned over you, his tongue falling out of his mouth where you could see he’d gathered some of his saliva, and he let it drip past your parted lips. You accepted the fluid, warm and slightly sweet, as it pooled in your mouth until all that connected his lips with yours was a single, clear string of saliva that broke as Sanemi spoke once more.

“Swallow,” his voice was gruff and tinged with an animalistic snarl.

You obeyed, and Sanemi huffed in approval, his eyes lowering once more to your legs, waiting.

The skin around the marks left behind by Sanemi’s claws grew warm and then tingled before the sensation quickly faded away. Curious, your hand fluttered to your outer thigh, fingers seeking out the tender, bleeding skin. With a soft gasp, you realized all that remained on your flesh were drying flakes of your blood.

Your eyes flew to Sanemi’s in surprise, and the wolf nodded.

“Healed,” he confirmed, tongue darting out from between his lips to lick alongside your neck. “Healed.”

@monster-october-kny-2023

[pierrotwrites-hc]

remember how I said I was going to take a break after finishing part II and then...didn't? the first chapter of part III sprang forth from my brain fully-formed like Athena from the head of Zeus, but the second has been much slower going. I know what needs to happen in part III, but right now, scene by scene, I feel a bit like I'm groping around in the dark. I need to return to my chapter outlines and lay more track. which means, right now, that I don't know when the next chapter will be posted.

I do have a whump rec in the interim, however! I've recently discovered the works of the late Joel Lane, a brilliant British horror/slipstream writer. while his short stories are shelved under dark fantasy, his two novels, From Blue to Black and The Blue Mask, exist in a hazier interval between the supernatural and the plausibly weird. both are set in Birmingham in 1993 and are as much about the political disillusionment of the young British left after the Blair election as they are about the travails of the main characters -- which, as an American leftist in 2024, is pretty fucking relatable. also, these books are very gay, and very whumpy. do tread with caution: neither have a happy ending, and From Blue to Black is particularly grim.

anyway, I'm sorry I don't have more of an update. on the bright side, my busy season is tapering off, and I will have more time to write (and to reply to all the wonderful messages in my overflowing inbox). thanks for your patience. <3

[the-jewel-catalogue]

Pair of bracelets in a silver box

Pair of silvered metal bracelets contained in a silver, velvet lined box. The bracelets of cylindrical tapering circular form with foliate ends joined by two bars. The ground chased with raised foliate design. Box hinged with chased foliates

Presented to Queen Elizabeth II by the People of Bairagirchala Village during her State Visit to Bangladesh, 14–17 November 1983.

~ RCT

[luminitewrites]

Nova

Rating: T Word Count: ~5,700 Warnings: Brief memories of/current trauma from being swallowed alive, brief contemplation of death and what lies beyond

So after seeing the absolutely stunning art that @themeeplord posted of Naff's leviathan!Eclipse and fisher!Y/N, there's no way I could pass up writing a small something for it. I might have made Eclipse a tad bigger in this drabble purely for size difference purposes, but Meep's depiction of them is the inspiration for this piece. (I hope you don't mind the tag, Meep! ;w;) This drabble is based off of @naffeclipse's In Deep Dreams Between the Waves (so very highly recommend!!) and set sometime after it, so there will be allusions to spoilers herein.

Enjoy!

~~~

The siren call of the ocean lulls your boat as much as it does you. Out here in the vast expanse of endless water where sea merges with ocean, the gentle stirring of the morning sun has yet to reach full wakefulness, casting the sky in a beautiful watercolor of lush indigos and mellow purples. The breeze caressing your face tells you it will be a hot day, but for now, it’s a welcomed brush against your skin.

You’ve opted for a less-bundled-up attire since you know what and who awaits you shortly. The loose t-shirt flutters at your back, and your light shorts and bare feet bask in the open, salty air. Curling your toes in excitement, you cannot help the enchanted smile that has yet to leave your face. You’ve been looking forward to today as the rough weather in recent weeks has kept you from seeing your friend. Well, it probably wouldn’t have completely kept you at bay were it not for said friend being very insistent about you staying home to wait out the hurricane. Something about being safe and warm and taking care of your health. Complete bogus, if anyone were to ask you.

But, of course, Eclipse always has other ideas about what’s best for you, and after much bartering in your dreams and getting nowhere, you’d caved to his utterly ridiculous demands. The oversized mer has a habit of being just as obstinate as you. You’d once thought you could outmatch his stubbornness, but turns out, it’s hard to say no when his big eyes turn soft and pleading, like you’re breaking his heart by even considering stepping foot outside during a nasty storm. Never mind that it’d been because you’d wanted to see him. He’d been adamant that the visits in your dreams could sate your loneliness in the meantime.

Needless to say, you’ve been chomping at the bit to get out. The hurricane had been circling your little island like a harrowing shadow for over a week, but it finally began tapering off yesterday, and by nightfall, Eclipse gave you his reluctant approval to come out the following day.

He probably didn’t mean that as an excuse for you to sacrifice sleep and slip out before the break of dawn, but he almost certainly knew that without you needing to say anything suggestive of it last night. The memory of his narrowed gaze and disapproving pout still makes you chuckle even now, and you can only imagine that same expression on his face when he sees you out here.

You’ve already dropped anchor and settled at the edge of your boat with your legs dangling over it and your arms propped atop the railing. The breeze ruffles your hair as it pleases, and it tickles your ears while you hum to yourself a gentle tune. It’s a unique one that transcends time and the waves themselves, flowing from within your chest and playing a soothing chord that first tugs softly and then a little firmer.

When your voice starts to rouse and the first few notes whisper past your lips, an answering echo from far, far below sounds beneath your feet and travels across the ocean floor.

Instantaneous is the grin tugging at your cheeks, and you beam at the way the wind suddenly billows in a different direction and sends your trusty flag flapping like a resounding applause. Your Rustbucket II bobs up and down as the water begins to turn choppy, creating a thrill of a ride as you eagerly peer down into the inky blue.

As bubbles form below, you dismiss what most sailors would consider an omen and instead lean over the railing as much as you can while sitting. Your legs swish happily, your skin prickling when a shiver courses through you. To your surprise, however, the bubbles stop after a few suspenseful seconds. A flash of a large shadow is all you catch sight of, but your friend doesn’t surface as you’d expected. Confused, you wait a moment more and then pull your legs under you and stand up so that you can lean over the railing as far as you can without falling in.

“Eclipse?” you call out. Your head tilts to the side while you listen.

Nothing but ocean responds.

A frown replaces your smile, and you wonder if something has temporarily distracted the mer, and he’s swimming off to go chase a giant squid or something similar. Before you can settle back down and wait for him to return, a colossal burst thunders behind you without warning and rocks your boat. Gasping, you have all but a moment to spin on your heel as Eclipse breaches in a swift motion that sends a terrific cascade of water directly down onto your boat and consequently you.

In mere seconds, you are entirely drenched in seawater and sputtering.

Soaked hair draped over and blinding you, you sigh loudly and brush it out of your face. Far, far above, your friend gazes down with a textbook version of glee. As soon as he sees your expression, a harmonious warble not unlike a laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you say in faux exasperation while wringing the water out of your hair. “Not like you haven’t done this before.”

The mer lowers in the water until his head is level with you, ray-like frills flicking, and your bond tells you exactly what he’s thinking, as if he were saying the words aloud.

And yet, you still fall for it every time.

You roll your eyes, and Eclipse chitters his delight.

“I guess it’s not like I wasn’t going to get wet anyways,” you huff in defeat.

Deciding it’s a lost cause to drain the water from your dripping clothes, you trudge over to him instead, making sure to step carefully through the large puddles. Yellow overlaid by impenetrable black oversees your maneuvering to be certain you reach the other side safely. Once you’re within reach, Eclipse leans in a little more, allowing you to rest your small hand against his large head and press a kiss between his eyes despite the little trick he pulled on you.

You watch the sharp yellow disappear as he basks in your affection and croons an unmistakably happy song. It’s enough to warrant the return of your smile.

“Good morning, big guy,” you say against his wet scales. “Missed you.”

The sentiment is returned tenfold through your bond, staggering in its sincerity, and Eclipse’s love threatens to reduce you to a puddle. The companionship with the leviathan has altered you in ways you could have never dreamed of, making you forever grateful for the day you discovered and helped him when he was but a little fish. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world because a life without Eclipse is one you can’t fathom. He means everything to you.

As your thoughts shift, Eclipse hears them just as if you’d spoken, and a low sound purrs from his throat. He nuzzles you with utmost gentleness, and you press as close to him as you can.

Yeah, you missed this. Shared dreams are one thing, but having him here with you in the flesh is incomparable. It’s your lifeblood.

When you pull back, the leviathan peers at you again. His expression is so compassionate that it sets your heart soaring like you are a fish in the sea swimming alongside him. The excursions you’ve had with him in the deep blue aren’t too far from that feeling, and it’s set in the very plans you have for later today. You intend to spend as much time as you can with the mer, and that means taking a hearty swim with his current guiding you along.

However, whatever soft moment you’re sharing now is wholly ruined when Eclipse chooses then to open his mouth and drag his serpentine tongue all the way up your front.

You yelp at the unexpected lick, and very swiftly, you are drenched in more than just water.

“Eclipse!” you cry in dismay.

Orange and red frills flutter in contentment. There is no remorse on the other’s face.

“Now I’m covered in gross saliva!” you further protest to express just how disgruntled you are. You shake your hands, and two wet globs fling off.

Eclipse churrs and clicks unhelpfully. It’s a bit similar to the squeaks of a dolphin, and after a fruitless attempt to wipe your face as best as you can, you glower up at your talkative friend. 

He seems to be cycling through a whole host of expressions today because the one staring you down is now unquestionably smug. 

You snort at the little—large—devil.

“Just what was that for anyways?”

The mer considers for a moment and then tilts his head to the side a little, eyelids falling low like he’s miming sleep. Then, a massive hand lifts out of the water to gently poke a long claw at you, followed by a throaty grumble that shakes your boat.

Ah. So that’s what this is about, huh. Should’ve known skipping out on sleep would come back to bite, or rather, lick you. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming. 

“I promise I got enough sleep all through that nasty hurricane,” you counter adamantly. Eclipse looks far from convinced, so you continue on. “Even still, I have a cabin I can always dip inside for a quick nap if need be. Or you can float on your back and snooze with me on top like we usually do. We have the whole day to ourselves, big guy. And besides, I thought you missed me.”

Eclipse releases another series of noises at that, which are just plain mournful, and the flood of insistent reassurance and concern makes you huff and smile.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing. I think I’m allowed to since I’m currently covered in…” You sniff and then grimace. “Overwhelming fish breath and questionable fluids.”

More snaps and clicks, but none of them are truly offended. Eclipse matches your fake glare easily, and when you playfully stick out your tongue, his mouth curls with a croon, and he slithers his own tongue back out again.

You hastily retreat, hands lifting.

“Woah, there! Okay, message received. Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me, I’ll turn this boat around.”

Your friend blows out a warm gust of air that just heightens the sticky feeling all over your body, and your arms drop as the mer retracts his appendage with rampant amusement. Clearly, your threat was too transparent to be taken with any modicum of seriousness. Not that you expected Eclipse to believe it for a second anyways. He knows just how much you’ve been aching to see him, and even without the words to verbalize it, he’s showing how much he’s missed you too. You haven’t missed the little display of the fins and frills around his head upon his arrival. They’ve been fluttering since you first spoke, a subtle indicator of your friend’s elated state.

Maybe it’s in a sign of good faith or repentance, but Eclipse gingerly rests a large hand palm-up on your boat right next to you. An offer. You consider the translucent webbing between the smooth surface of his digits like it houses a tremendously difficult question you don’t already know the answer to. A few moments you spend hemming and hawing in exaggeration, and to his credit, Eclipse waits patiently—hopefully—for you to hop on, the ocean churning noticeably from the swishing of his powerful tail.

You give a plaintive sigh.

“I suppose I can acquiesce this one request,” you say, snickering at the uncontrollable, excited thumping against the side of your boat from Eclipse’s fins.

He eagerly curls and uncurls his fingers as you step around the sprawled drape of the scarlet frills that adorn his wrist, planting your hands first on his palm and then crawling across until you’re seated in the middle. You’ve learned from experience that it’s best to remain off your feet when being lifted if you want to retain your balance. Eclipse will never let you fall and would almost certainly help you to remain standing if you wobbled, but sitting down for the little ride grants you a bit more stability. 

With the utmost care, the mer hoists you out of your boat and over to him. He nuzzles you once more with a soft coo, and then he lowers into the water until only his head and the hand you rest upon aren’t submerged.

You smile up at him.

“Thanks, big guy, but I’m already wet, so I might as well wash this off.”

Eclipse churrs and sinks a little deeper so that the water just laps over his palm. You pat him in appreciation, and he curiously watches as you begin to cup the ocean in your hands and rinse your face and then scrub at your body.

It doesn’t take long to get to a somewhat reasonably clean state again, though you doubt anything in Eclipse’s saliva would be truly harmful to you. The pungent smell, however, might be downright criminal, and that’s saying something because you’ve been around fish for years. But at the end of the day, it’s worth it because it’s still part of your friend, and you wouldn’t change anything about him.

Once the sticky substance has washed away, you lean back on your hands, and Eclipse’s large fingers press protectively at your back. His contentment is visible in the shine of glowing yellow and the peaceful glaze of his languid movements. He floats in place next to your boat with the waves barely disturbing him. The magnitude of his size strikes you yet again despite how much time you’ve spent at his side all these years. Maybe the separation brought on by the storm afflicted your memory of his stature, but you don’t mind the awe that fills you at the leviathan or how small you suddenly feel in his grasp.

You’ve never been safer in the claws of a mer, and that will never fail to warm your heart.

Eclipse trills at the emotions shared through your bond, and with a melted expression, he draws you closer. You are gently deposited atop his chest, and once you’re sure of your footing, you approach his beaming maw. The mer meets you halfway, and when your arms embrace him as much as they can, he releases a slow breath that chases away any chill from the water.

Together, you stay like that in the quiet stillness of dawn, the first cracks of light just kissing the horizon. The world is waking up once more, and you have been given the best greeting of all. After days of restlessness and anxiety and longing, your mind is finally at ease. It’s a serenity that touches your soul, mirroring the same peace from your friend.

Sometimes, a shadow of a terrible memory graces your consciousness, and phantoms of ghastly yellow and purple snap at you. Those awful, living nightmares have grown less obtrusive as the months have passed, fading ever steadily with the more time you spend on the waves with Eclipse. You know you are safe now. There are some things that take more than reassurance to overcome, however, set off by triggers that you’re still learning to pinpoint, but with time and exposure to the sea that is a second home to you, the initial flinching and brief bursts of fright will diminish.

Eclipse’s presence has been grounding all the while. He’s stuck with you through every crest and trough, understanding your inner turmoil better than any explanation you could try to come up with. He’s felt your fear and pain and determined that it’s now his to bear as well if it means it will bring you comfort and recovery sooner. The memories are no less horrible for him too, and you occasionally catch a glimpse of his remembrance of prying apart serrated jaws and reaching for your frantic form.

It’s a shared burden between the two of you. You will see it through together.

 A shiver that can’t be blamed on the breeze travels through your body.

Sensing the direction of your thoughts, Eclipse curls his webbed hand even more so around your comparatively smaller frame, like he’s letting you know that he won’t ever let anything take you away from him again. A quiet purr vibrates from his chest, and he nudges you with his cheek until you look up at him again. His scales are creased with worry, but you pet one of his claws to reassure him.

“I’m alright, big guy. I’ve got you here, don’t I?”

Better words couldn’t have been chosen as your leviathan chitters in agreement. The sound soothes the worries of your mind, chased by the fearsome predator who has become your protector. You enjoy the intimate moment with him and the heart-skipping way he stares at you leaning into his grasp.

But that’s all abruptly broken by a thunderous growl that shakes through your feet.

In an instant, Eclipse looks mightily embarrassed, and you flash a grin.

“Someone’s hungry,” you tease, tapping your foot to indicate the petulant thrum that had come from his stomach further down.

The mer shakes water off his frills like a dog, sniffing the air and frowning before his pupils constrict, and his head snaps downward and off to the side at the water. It would seem he’s already locked on to a potential prey. You wonder if he’s about to tear off in the direction of said prey, but Eclipse tips his head back over at you, frills twitching with anticipation. He then taps the tip of a finger at your stomach in question.

You do your best to keep your smile from twisting.

“Not quite a fan of eating raw fish, thanks. This one’s all you, buddy.”

Eclipse emits a distinct whine at your refusal, rays drooping.

“I’ll eat later, promise. It’s still early for breakfast anyways. But I guess I could always just take a chomp out of you if you want me to eat fish so bad, huh?”

Three rapid clacks of sharp teeth are your answer, Eclipse pretending to snap them at you instead like maybe he’ll take a nibble out of you, and you giggle at the fake threat. He squints at you, supposedly very intimidating, you’re sure. His fins flap against the surface of his water much like his tail, and the loud whoosh of air from his gills sounds like a heavy sigh.

“Adorable,” you remark, and Eclipse puffs, his ray-like frills expanding like an orange peacock. “Yes, yes, you’re very big and scary. Now go catch your breakfast, you oversized guppy.”

An aggrieved grumble from the mer shakes through your body, and Eclipse sinks into the deep, pausing long enough to make sure you’re treading water easily enough on your own once you’re submerged.

You give him a little wave, legs swishing beneath you, and a flash of warmth stirs in your chest in response from him.

The giant mer disappears from sight rather quickly, likely sensing the direction his prey has swam off to. He won’t be gone long. You’re confident in his hunting abilities, and the only times it takes awhile are when he’s feeling playful and turning it into a game.

Without the support of your friend to keep you afloat, you paddle over to your boat to conserve your energy. A quick climb up your ladder, and you’re aboard once more and perusing the still water-logged floor with a shake of your head. Your mild disapproval is countered by a sense of indignation within your core from the mer far below.

Not my fault.

Even when he’s focused on hunting, he’s always got to get his two cents in. You snort and step across the slick surface into your cabin. 

While food isn’t exactly on your mind right now, you do find something special in sharing a meal together, so you decide to rummage through your kitchenette for a small snack. There are some granola bars you’ve stashed in a cabinet exactly for this reason, so after snagging one, tearing off the wrapper, and disposing the trash in the bin so you won’t have to worry about it later, you shuffle back outside.

The sun is still in its infancy, but the thin streams of light are already casting a new layer of warmth. The streaks of burnt orange remind you of your beloved mer, rippling across the darkly painted sky. Minutes trickle by with nothing but nature for miles, allowing your thoughts to meander. As you take in its beauty, you’re reminded of its resilience and how it will continue to exist long after you’ve passed. The sun will continue to rise and set; the waves will continue to crash and roll and traverse the world. It makes you wonder, head tipping up to admire the stars, what it will be like one day when your and Eclipse’s time comes to an end. There is assurance in that you will go together, bound so intrinsically as mer and human. Such an occurrence is far down in the future, barely conceivable when you have so much life left to live with Eclipse, but as you stand under the starlight’s ever watchful gaze, you muse quietly.

Will you trade a life on the water for an eternity in the stars? Will the galaxies become your new waves, the constellations your new islands? What will it be like to explore the great expanse that rivals even your tremendous ocean?

Your vision shuts to the ethereal light, and you feel the answer in your soul that returns from the leviathan himself.

Harmony. It will be harmony, entwined with you and him forever singing that sweet song that ties you in scarlet thread.

Smile warmer than the sleepy sun, you’re not at all surprised when you hear a splash and open your eyes to see your close friend next to your boat again, waiting patiently for you to emerge from being lost in thought. His tender love is palpable, resonating from deep within your chest and guiding you over to him. As you near, you notice the edge of a tail fin poking out of his maw, and a snicker escapes you.

“Breakfast was successful, I take it?”

Eclipse hums and then in a perfectly unnecessary act opens his mouth to show you just how big of a catch he got. His rows of teeth have expertly speared the swordfish, and while impressive, you know why he’s showing off.

You hold up a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, still not happening.” You wave your granola bar under Eclipse’s dissatisfied scrutiny when he seals his maw shut in suspicion. “I found something else to munch on instead. Extra nutritious. You want some?”

Eclipse hisses like you personally offended him, and you bite back a laugh as you break off a piece of your snack and toss it in your mouth. Last time you tried to feed him some of your “nasty human food,” he wheezed and spat out the microscopic morsel and then proceeded to drag his claws against his tongue like you’d terrorized his tastebuds. He’s so goofily dramatic when it comes to most of your meals and snacks that don’t involve seafood, and he plays it up extra just for you because you adore his theatrics. You know as much because you’d asked him once why he’d reacted that way, and he’d answered with a photographic memory of your face flushed from laughter and your arms clutching your stomach from a time not too long prior.

Needless to say, your cheeks had immediately turned hot yet again, that time for a different reason, and you’d tried and failed to brush off Eclipse’s endeared cooing at your fluster.

He’s such a rascal. Wily prankster of a mer. You more than cherish him.

Taking another bite of your snack, you lean against the railing while Eclipse begins to chew on his meal. You know that one fish won’t be enough to feed a mer his size, but it’ll at least be enough to stave off his hunger for a little bit. The warmth in your core tells you Eclipse isn’t eager to leave your side for longer than necessary. He’s just as intent on companionship as you are.

Swallowing the mouthful of granola, you say, “I brought my pan flute with me again. Maybe we can give your song another shot later today?”

A tremendous purr rumbles across the waves. At the same time, the contentment behind your sternum spikes, and you sigh happily.

“I think I’ve got the first part down,” you add. “It’s what follows after that I’m struggling with, so it’s a good thing I’ve got such a talented conductor to help me.”

Eclipse’s delight transforms to a small grumble with an undertone of disapproval. His tail whacks the water behind him, and the giant mer gives you a disbelieving, reprimanding look.

Talented yourself.

Not expecting that, you smile sheepishly and chuckle a little.

“Thanks. I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m downplaying my abilities. Although your song isn’t exactly made for human lungs, you know.”

Dark pupils roll.

Siren song, comes the dry rebuttal. Natural. Weak human lungs.

You blow a raspberry.

“I’ll have you know I’ve got rather strong lungs for a human! And I can hold air for a long while too, which is why I’m even able to keep up with those drawn-out notes of yours.”

By this point, Eclipse has finished swallowing the fish he caught, and the bumpy texture of his burgundy tongue flicks dangerously across his teeth. The air charges with his intrigued hum, and you can sense your mistake the second you catch the mischief in his stare. Orange and crimson fins flutter, and a colossal maw nears until it hovers inches in front of you.

You’re already taking a cautious step back when the thought flashes in your head, one that is not your own.

Let’s test it then, the susurrous taunt curls around your mind, snaking like a low voice against the shell of your ear, and the blur of an arm is too fast for you to dodge.

“Eclipse!” you shriek with a laugh as the leviathan gently but gleefully snatches you up from your boat and brings you back into the water.

Your meager granola bar is lost to the waves and fish, but it barely catches your notice as the smug mer yet again deposits you on his chest, sinking onto his back with almost-feline elegance. The frills surrounding his face fan out like a blood-orange sunflower as they float in the water. Eclipse’s lower arms begin to lightly pedal across the waves, circling but not straying you and him too far from your boat. With his other hands, he keeps them cupped around you, preventing you from slipping off or getting away.

You know what he wants, can read his intent in the quiver of anticipation rebounding from your core that sings with the desire to dive. But the large mer is waiting for your approval first, not wanting to take you under without checking in regardless of his former tease. The considerate patience chases away the tepid air and flushes your heart with something even hotter.

Your smile is small and appreciative.

“Of course, I don’t mind taking a swim with you. I’ve gotta prove my little human lungs can outlast yours, right?” You pat against his chest. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy.”

Sharp teeth glisten wetly, Eclipse giving a hearty chortle at your challenge. His translucent fins catch the sunlight just as it skips across the indigo waves and reaches you, creating speckles of white gold atop every crest. Eclipse waits for you to take a few deep breaths in preparation, your lungs filling with air until you give him a nod. With a sweet smile, the mer begins to tip backward, sinking headfirst underwater with his hand cupping you all the while as you take the plunge together.

The water is bitterly cold the moment it touches your skin, and you instinctively squeeze your eyes shut at first as the ocean swallows you whole. But you’ve nothing to worry about in the grasp of your friend who keeps you clutched to a warm chest, the beating of his heart strong under your form even with layers of muscle between you and it. The steady thrum is like a lullaby setting your mind at ease, and soon, the flash of nervousness at diving dissipates like it was never there to begin with. 

A soft whisper of your name, wrapped in endless patience, coaxes you with a singular want. You feel a second arm slipping behind you, the first slipping lower, which is followed by a large palm spreading at your back and prickling at the strands of your floating hair, covering your entire frame with its size. In careful slowness, you dare to peek through just a crack despite the salty sting of the ocean. You want to see, just for a moment, and the second you do, you are so delighted you took the risk.

The brightness of the sun does not yet penetrate the surface of the deep, but it casts enough light to turn the ocean into an underwater paradise basked in violet hues.

Upside down, you and Eclipse float in the beautiful display of color that transitions from light to dark, the expanse above your head an incredibly rich sapphire. With every swish of his tail and flap of his frills, Eclipse creates a plume of bubbles that catch the thin light in this flipped world. Your legs curl tightly around his slick frame as much as possible, and a bountiful rumble erupts from your friend. He embraces you until there is no room left to spare, and your arms do their best to wrap around him as much as possible.

Golden eyes shine like pure light in the dim purple glow that is incrementally turning lavender while the sun climbs. Eclipse purrs greatly so that you can hear it even underwater. His heart pounds next to yours, a duet not unlike the song that the mer has sung for you since life was still so new to you and him. Age has not withered the exceptionality of it, but it has made you yearn for it all the more. You doubt you will ever stop longing to be close to Eclipse, and you can feel in your chest that he is much the same for you.

Suspended in place in the arms of your closest friend, you find breathing becomes meaningless. The separation that had kept you trapped on your small island and away from him is no more. Finally, you are together again, reunited under a fading starlit sky and within the pleasant rocking of a calm ocean. Home, at last. 

Once your lungs begin to ache, your eyes slip shut, and your smile grows when Eclipse presses his to yours. You happily nuzzle him right back, content to just hold each other like this in the morning quiet where nothing and no one disturbs you. The graze of his frills tickles your cheeks while he keeps you close. You stroke the ones you can reach at the sides of his head, and your movement is mirrored by the light carding of a claw through your hair and along the base of your scalp. The intimacy of it threatens to bring tears behind your eyelids, but any and all drops are carried away by the ocean when your eyelashes flutter with your cautious squint.

Eclipse rubs his scaly cheek against yours for a quick, last nuzzle. Though you’d prefer to remain suspended upside-down like this beneath the waves with him, your friend has your preservation on the front of his mind, and he sweeps his tail in a powerful stroke that rights you and him and brings you back to the suncatcher waves.

A prism of droplets sprays across the surface when you’re brought back up to blessed air that your lungs greedily take back in. After a hasty brush of your hand, you blink away the remnants of saltwater. Your lips twitch.

“I think I definitely outlasted you this time, big guy,” you playfully boast.

Scarlet fins flutter in amusement. Eclipse snorts.

If you say so, sea star.

You hum and tap a finger indecisively, rubbing one of his sharper points against your thumb.

“Well, I might be persuaded otherwise. I guess we won’t know unless we try again, will we?” Your smile flirts on the edge of a grin, but what Eclipse returns with next is enough to stun you.

If that is what you wish. Wherever you want to go, the ghost of an answer dances along your consciousness, I will follow.

His amber gaze is flooded with a softness that makes your heart quicken while you’re choked by nothing related to the air you breathe.

It’s funny, you think, how the universe works. To think that you would find your lifelong partner, someone who fits with you like a puzzle piece, out among the waves. Like you were made for each other, regardless of species or place or form. 

Here in the embrace of your soulmate, you’ve found everything you need. 

Eclipse warbles in surprise when you lean up and press a kiss to his forehead. There, you linger, shutting your gaze to the caress of his silky frills and the salty tang of his home filling your nose. The arms holding you wrap tighter, a third and fourth finding purchase around any part of you that isn’t covered like he can’t touch enough of you.

Your drenched hair runs rivulets down your cheeks, hiding the evidence of your pure happiness that wells inside you and sneaks past wet eyelashes. A faint sound stirs from the leviathan, dipping into a low tune that makes you bury your face in his precious rays and quietly sing along with him his siren call.

You don’t end up ever really responding to his avowal, but you think Eclipse understands you all too well. Locked together like this, you greet the morning as a reunited pair while the memories of a troubled past float away on the seafoam to break on a distant shore.

[minjoonalist]

Alexithymia. | JJK +18 [2 of 3]

Pairing: Demon!Jungkook x Reader 

Rating: Mature +18

Genre: Angst, Smut, SoulmatesAU

Word count: 15.8k

Description: Jungkook always had a pull to you. An unexplainable connection that brings him to your side daily, like a permanent routine.  Is it a hobby? An obsession? Or was the centuries old prince just bored? No… boredom doesn’t make his heart race. It’s not supposed to make him lose his own self control, or fill him with blinding rage, and it certainly isn’t supposed to have him hallucinating the strangest things until it drives him back home for answers. Maybe he just cares too much for you and he thought that it’d be better to wait than to give in, but the longer the prince of darkness spends his time away, the more he realizes he has absolutely no Idea what emotions have been festering since the very beginning. What if he could just turn them off? 

Warnings: Cursing, explicit language, mentions of blood, black blood, mentions of killing, priceless object is broken, sadistic friends, slight back stabbing (metaphorical) but its out of good?? intent, lots of sexual tension, mentions of suicide, heavy make out, eventual smut.

Song Inspo: Pretty- The Weeknd, Waves- Normani, Softcore- The Neighbourhood, Middle Of The Night- Elley Duhe

Author’s note:  This is a mini series of three parts due to the high word count lol Also In no way am I an expert on demons, all of this is from the top of my head or made up honestly. It’s more of an angsty self-indulgent plot to write demon JK for (several months) so please enjoy and if you want leave your thoughts on it as well! :)

Masterlist | 1 2 3

II. Emotional Deficit

“Welcome back.” 

He hates that he’s hearing those words. It’s irritating at most but still, Jungkook couldn’t be happier when they’re coming from the two people he needed to see at this moment.

Sitting within their private room for the first time in years, he finds himself residing in the dual leather seats of their luxurious common space. The area itself was darker than he remembered of the two, the atmosphere closing in the second you found yourself there but somehow still inviting enough that you didn’t want to leave. They clearly changed a lot over the time he hadn’t been around.

 It's funny how much effort went into making it this way when the owners hate to have company. Jungkook thinks to himself as he shifts to get him comfortable within his tense position. Honestly, his back was still killing him and he felt as if he was running out of breath more often.

He’s really a dumbass for fighting Yoongi.

Jungkook suddenly clears his throat as he thinks about that-staring at the hard wood floors where his boots lay before he glances at the blood red hair falling messily around one of the judging couple’s heads.

 “Hi Jimin and…-Hobi Hyung.” Jungkook’s awkwardness shows through his uncomfortable stature, temporarily looking elsewhere to hide his slight embarrassment.

His body is stiff and frozen like ice while two pairs of naturally alluring eyes stare him down within the secluded room. It made him feel even more on edge than before, itching to go back to your apartment where he hopes you’re sleeping safely.

Right, Jungkook felt even more embarrassed, thinking about you…

He couldn’t believe how much of a coward he was when he left you standing there before, but sadly the reason he was here couldn’t be ignored if he’s going to be able to stand in the same room as you again. 

Unsurprisingly, the man had given up, showing up to those that could possibly understand the foreign emotions that were tearing him apart. Not only that but he refused to give Yoongi any satisfaction in knowing he was somewhat right, probably predicting that the youngest would make his way back home at some point. 

Jungkook clearly didn’t notice it for himself, but then again he didn’t notice a lot of his behavior that was gradually building up over the years.

Hoseok, after giving Jungkook a once over, arches a thick brow and runs a slender hand through his tapered jet black hair before he adjusts his black shirt. His legs then cross within his slacks putting on a professional position as he leans back within a leather chair in his common room. It was strange how serious he looked, completely opposite of his joyous nature, so Jungkook knew a topic like this had to be as important to his brother as it was to himself. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was in for, but if it meant getting back to you faster he’s willing to put up with it. Not only that, but putting an end to this torture that was plaguing his body and mind at the moment.

He can still feel what he was feeling before…it hasn’t gone away. 

Jungkook then swallows, feeling on edge as he watches Jimin come within his casual attire to sit comfortably on the King’s lap, looking and acting as any normal couple would. 

Like how he wishes you could. He’s envious.

“I was told by Yoongi you left home to go see your girlfriend. Change of plans?” Hoseok begins after receiving a sweet peck from his lover. This causes Jungkook to frown not just in jealousy but from the title he’d given you so carelessly. 

Hoseok must have picked up on one of Yoongi's bad habits because Jungkook then rolls his eyes and curses the man mentally for spreading that private information. “I only wanted to check on her and she’s not my girlfriend.” 

“Yoongi said you’d say that.” Jimin suddenly chimes in, laughing softly and causing Hoseok to let out an easy chuckle. “—He also told us you were in deep denial. The both of you apparently are…”

Hoseok then shrugs with a smug smile.  “They’re the perfect example of an alexithymic bond, according to him.” 

“Kind of reminds you of a certain someone, huh?” Jimin cackles under his breath and Hoseok immediately tenses back up, a look of slight embarrassment behind his eyes as he chooses to focus back on the youngest.

Meanwhile, Jungkook stares irritably like a child, realizing, first he would need to talk with Yoongi again and set a few things straight about sharing his personal life and second, that watching two of his other friends find humor in his situation definitely wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“Are you done?” He scowls and huffs when Jimin motions him to speak. “Look, I didn’t believe Hyung when we talked earlier. I couldn’t think about anything else when I planned to stay with her. I thought at the time I could control myself, my emotions,  but I think they may be too out of reach. He told me I could come to you and that you knew how to fix this.” Jungkook finishes with a lingering sincerity in his words that causes a sorrowful atmosphere in the room.

Hoseok definitely understands this pain.

The man nods in thought. “True, if anyone knows how far it can affect you, he was right when he suggested you come to me…multiple times.” Hoseok emphasizes the last part and watches Jungkook’s eyes shift elsewhere, feigning innocence. “Though, I will say that doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll tell you what you want to hear. What you feel might help, might not be what you think it is.” 

Jungkook couldn’t care less, he just needed this to stop. It's truly terrifying how secure he felt of himself before he saw you today and now he could say the exact opposite. “That's fine, Yoongi already told me about the bond and that it's screwing with me mentally. So I was curious, can it mess with what I’m feeling as well?” . 

Jungkook figured he’d run the risk of another hallucination with you, but not the aggressive emotions that came to him after being near instead. He would have never guessed that the rarest of these situations would end up as you somewhat bonded to him. 

“...Well, yes.” Hoseok stares at Jungkook to study him. “We’re not truly meant to have emotions, but once you complete the bond they should settle down.” He concludes as if it were that simple for Jungkook, truthfully it isn’t. If it were, he wouldn’t be here talking to them, he’d have you wrapped in his arms hoping you’d reciprocate what he’s feeling. 

Hoseok knows that.

“It's beyond that, Hyung. When I got near her..I felt something strange.” He inhales deeply, thinking back to the moment he’d seen you in front of your bedroom door. Whatever that weird feeling he had, it wasn’t nice and that only reminded him that there’s nothing about him that is. The horrifying image that began to form in his mind and started off so loving, could that be the trigger Yoongi had mentioned earlier? Was Jungkook truly becoming part of his worst self? 

Hoseok’s brows raise in curiosity, clearly probing to see where Jungkook was going with this. “Well of course, it's only natural to feel eager. Part of completing the bond will require you both to feel that urge.”

Jungkook frowns, until Hoseok’s words truly hit him and he then waves his inky hand out. “Hyung no…not like that. This wasn’t sexual-or it was?… I don’t know, it felt like I really wanted to hurt her.” Jungkook's eyes seemed to look a little lost as he tried to place it all together. “And it wasn’t out of anger or fear. For a second, it was like a sick combination of wanting to kiss her and then ripping her apart at the same time. I guess that’s what Yoongi was trying to warn me about.” 

“I-… don’t think you’ve ever felt that with me.” Jimin says looking down towards his pondering lover.

“It was more confusion and misdirected anger for myself…so not exactly.” Hoseok mumbles with a frown, but they don’t seem as alarmed as Jungkook thought they would be. 

Hoseok then  taps his fingers against the arm of the chair, having both Jungkook and Jimin look at him in anticipation. “She is human, right Jungkook? You had to have wanted this more than just one time. After all…we do feed on their souls every now and then. It sounds like you wanted to devour her.”

Jungkook is aware, but that didn’t stop him from hanging his head in acknowledgment. “I know, but I can usually ignore that with her and it's not like I have it often. Now it's just clawing at my insides, I-I don't know what else to do.” Jungkook looks up from his feet and meets them with sorrowful eyes. “I’ll die before I do that to her.” 

Jimin’s eyes drop from his last statement but he quickly recovers with a sweet smile. “Although I've never seen us harbor so much for one human, it's cute to see how much you care for her.” He says while clearly having an internal battle, which makes Jungkook cringe in embarrassment.

“I don’t think, wanting to eat her soul could be categorized as cute, right now.” He replies to Jimin. “Actually, nothing about our connection has been right. My hallucinations have only proven that.”

Hallucinations? Hoseok’s ears perk up.

“Jungkook–” Hoseok suddenly calls him in a serious manner. “I want to say that I understand where you’re coming from in this, but truthfully, I’m not happy to admit that there's ever been a point in time that I didn't see humans as a way to sustain life. However, I do understand the emotions inside of you right now and can definitely recommend that you’ve reached a breaking point within your connection to her.”

“So what does that mean? You’re saying it's too late? Can't anything be done?” Jungkook tries openly, but the way his stomach turns after hearing that is really solidifying his dilemma.

“I know you’re aware of what happened to Jimin and I when we were suddenly bonded to each other and we were always working together side by side. I won’t go into too much detail. However, you should know that Hallucinations were one of the last things I had begun to experience and each one had become more vivid and haunting than the last. Sometimes I’d even blacked out for hours until Jimin found me in one and...” Hoseok stops, swallowing before he glances towards the small scar above Jimin’s eyelid. Anyone could see the immediate regret on Hoseok’s face, including the lover in question himself. 

Jimin sends him a sad smile, but Jungkook could tell it was meant to reassure Hoseok, not pity him.

Jimin then screws his lips up together, taking over for Hoseok’s silence. “I think what he’s saying is. It's not common for anyone within our bloodline to grow an intimate attachment to anyone outside of here. Especially not to a human. So we can’t guarantee anything.” He says before looking at Hoseok apprehensively “However, there are other options and one you should consider before you actually end up hurting her- whether you meant to or not. You’ve already moved into a hostile state and by the looks of it, you’re lucky enough to have pulled yourself out. You can’t go back to her without our help.”

Jungkook straightens up at the mention of another option, but his chest stings at the thought of never seeing you again. “So there is something you can do? ” He asks, his eyes lighting up like a child’s on christmas morning. Both Hoseok and Jimin go warm at the younger’s expression, but it didn’t stop the massive amount of guilt for how they were about to crush it. 

They already know it isn’t going to be that easy.

“Yes…two actually.” Hoseok clears his throat with uncertainty and Jimin squeezes his lover’s hand with comfort. It was as if he knew exactly what the elder was thinking.  

Actually Jimin does know what Hoseok could be thinking… “It’s okay Hobi.”

“So- what is it?” Jungkook then falters, a deep dread filling his heart when he sees their body language shift. 

How could it possibly be worse than what they’ve already told him? 

Hoseok sighs. “It’s possible that in your case, your body is somehow mixing both forms of your infatuation with her. Drawn in by her soul and the connection that the bond has created for both of you. Judging from what Yoongi told me, your emotions are everywhere obviously, so even you can’t tell when you’re not thinking straight- which unfortunately has left you at a very unstable stage that you can’t fix unless you complete the bond… or break it.” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything when Hoseok stops to let it sink in. He only stares before he says something that just might set Jungkook off. “How do you break it? Glad you asked. Well the only way possible to break your bond would be if one of you dies and clearly you killing her won’t be an option, so we could just throw that one out the window. Since you’ve willingly expressed killing yourself before it comes to that.” 

Jungkook blinks to control his sudden rage at the suggestion, he couldn’t even let the idea cross his mind for that to happen. But how could an option like this help him in any kind of way?

“Hyung, what exactly is the point of telling me that?” He grits his teeth. 

Hoseok shrugs, clearly showing how much he couldn’t care if that offended Jungkook or not.  “It’s better you know everything than me skipping on the details. The more you know, the easier it is to explain how serious this situation is not only for you but the girl as well. I don’t need anyone coming to me later on, because I half-assed on the information of how our bonds work. Now as I was saying, the real option here will actually be a lot harder than contemplating the other. It's the route I took and…it had a price to pay.” 

“One hell of a price.” Jimin suddenly grumbles bitterly, grabbing both of their attention and Jungkook’s curiosity. 

“Don’t exaggerate, it wasn’t that awful.” Hoseok warns sternly.

Jimin huffs in annoyance. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who had to deal with you while you were in that state. I held a lot of patience with you Jung Hoseok…and a lot of energy.” 

“...What is he talking about?” Jungkook’s eyes widened from Jimin’s sudden confession.

Hoseok’s mouth opens but it's cut short and Jungkook really wishes the guy would just get the hell on with it. Seeing his impatience, Hoseok then sits forward with a look that's sending chills over Jungkook’s body. 

“We think it would be best to shut off your emotions.” He finally says and waits patiently for Jungkook’s reaction. Which after a much awaited silence, Isn’t the one he was expecting.

“What—?” The couple watches shocked as the tension leaves his face. They take a glance at each other. “You start off with death and end with that?” Jungkook suddenly chuckles while sitting back within the chair as relief floods him. He exhales and might as well have laughed in their faces, which technically he is. It definitely explains the reason their gazes have turned into daggers towards him. 

“You could have at least pretended to take that seriously.” Hoseok says while rolling his eyes at Jungkook. 

 Abruptly, Jimin’s sassiness had surfaced again while seeing the amusement with the younger’s eyes. “What exactly is so funny about this?” He asks completely straight faced, quite frankly a little disappointed in how light Jungkook was taking this. Yoongi was right when he said that Jungkook hasn’t been himself. At a time like this, they’d taught him better to understand these situations. 

The raven haired man in question pauses “What? Turning off my emotions? I’m not a doll, I don't have an on and off button for what I feel. I thought I was going to have to do some fucked up blood ritual or something.” 

“No, but you almost splattered your girlfriend’s blood over her apartment walls. Therefore, I don’t think you have the luxury to laugh this off.” Jimin seethes within Hoseoks lap. “Maybe that could be the ritual you’re looking for.” Jimin then clips at Jungkook and he flinches from the harsh words.

Hoseok himself then moves his hand from Jimin’s hip and rubs soothingly towards the bottom of his back, comforting him the same way the other had done for him earlier. He then takes his chance to control the narrative once again. “What Jimin is trying to say, Kook, is that as I mentioned before- with us, there is no need for our emotions. We live, breathe and exist solely to keep order which honestly should be the only objective within our life span. Like we said, mating to humans or anyone else outside of us is uncommon and that's due to the high unlikelihood of a connection in the first place, plus the past members before us who have refused to complete their bond with them. So to say, Almost, if not all of them had broken those bonds as rare as it is. To go through with it, they learned to numb themselves from the emotional toll it takes.” He explained, and the longer he went, the slower he said them to the kid. 

Jungkook could feel this conversation making more sense, however he doesn’t like where his mind is getting to in the conclusion. He swallows knowing he should wait for Hoseok to explain, but he couldn’t help himself. “Are you telling me…they took away their emotions and killed their other half?”

Hoseok sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.” 

“Thats fucking stupid.” Jungkook exclaims. 

“Hey, It’s not stupid when you’re putting both of your lives in danger. Then again you don’t seem to give a shit about yours in the first place. So it’s not surprising that you can’t see the reasons behind it. ” Jimin speaks cautiously, but even then those weren’t a good choice of words.

 Hoseok tries to diffuse the conversation, but it's too late.“Jimin don’t–”

“So they decided their lives were worth more than the other? Her life is just as important as mine and despite what you think, I do care. Just not for a lifetime without her.” Jungkook’s nostrils flare as his chest rises harder and Both of the demons across from him are suddenly on high alert as they gauge his unstable temper. 

The last thing Hoseok wanted was for this situation to end  up just like Jungkook’s earlier encounter with Yoongi. It can be tricky trying to talk someone down who's only being driven by the slightest change of what they’re feeling.  

Hoseok then shoots a quick glare at the red head. Do not set him off…

He then clears his throat to gain their attention. “Calm down and stop pissing each other off. I swear sometimes I think you guys overestimate how my patience works.”

Jungkook can hear Hoseok say this through his deafening anger, nothing but the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he takes deeper breaths to do what his friend asks.

“However, Jungkook, know we are completely aware of the fact that you don’t want her to die and there is a way around that outcome. You can still choose the option of numbing yourself without killing her. In fact it’s to make sure that you’re stable enough to prevent your emotions from continuing their war with your mind. Otherwise we would have just told you to do it in the first place.” 

“Might as well have. The first thing you told me was that I had the option of killing her or myself. instead of just saying ‘hey, maybe if you shut off your emotions you can actually save yourselves’. ” He scoffs at them both and Jungkook could still feel the glare radiating from Jimin. “Could you imagine if I’d gone with the first option and decided to kill her anyway? Would you have stopped me?” 

Hoseok and Jimin stare silently at Jungkook, stunned into silence from his odd behavior. Hoseok doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jungkook this riled up, but it is a great question if he was being honest with himself.

 Would he have cared enough to stop Jungkook? 

“…I wouldn’t.”

 That answer suddenly shakes Jungkook to his very core, a prickling of goosebumps falling over his skin. 

“You are what's important and interesting about her life. Lets not pretend otherwise.” He then hears.

Someone who wasn’t in this room before had spoken up from behind Jungkook and Just like him, both Jimin and Hoseok's eyes widen as they stare right behind him. He couldn’t tell at first but the moment that overwhelming power had hit him and the couple- he knew very well who was there to greet him.

 He swore he was having the worst luck ever...

“Jin, always making an unforgettable entrance. I thought we asked that you at least give us a warning before coming here.” Hoseok sighs but it was clear he was too drained to be irritated with the elder’s intrusion.

“Though that doesn’t change the fact that you are here...what do you want?”  Jimin asks clearly, holding enough emotion for both.

“I was told our famous troublemaker made his way back, I thought I’d drop in to give him a welcome. Since apparently no one else is capable of communication.” Seokjin announces clapping a hand on the man's shoulder with a sly smile stretching across his face.  

The younger frowns skeptically.  It was odd, Jungkook wasn’t used to seeing him within his ‘Human’ form. So it surprised him when the platinum blonde look of his friend is who he’s met with on his side grinning like an idiot. Not only that but he had on the kind of all black suit only a CEO of his own company would wear. Meaning the man clearly had more important matters to attend yet he’s popping in at a time like this. 

Jungkook doesn’t trust it.

“He hasn’t been here for more than an hour. How could you possibly know?” Jimin frowns with astonishment while also looking over to Jungkook.

“He shouldn’t be able to…” Hoseok adds on.

“Why...Yoongi told me, of course. I always know what's going on with all of you, even down to that poor girl, Jungkook likes so much.” Jin beams with a handsome smile towards the three. It was one that made Jungkook uneasy, especially not after hearing what Jin had to say about you.  

Honestly, He loved the man, but his eldest friend definitely never knew when to shut the hell up about something he didn’t know and everyone knew it was only his status and ego to blame. Sometimes he wondered how Seokjin came to be at that level of power in the first place. 

Jungkook however couldn’t help when his fists balled up in his lap, staring head on at his friends. He then shoots his eyes sharply towards the king beside him. “You know nothing about her.” 

Jin grins while tilting his head in a taunting manner. “Now what makes you think that?” He asks, with an unwavering gaze. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I wouldn’t be interested in the reasons you’ve been away from home. That includes whoever is holding your attention at the moment.” The implication sends a chill down Jungkook’s spine when he sees the mischief behind his friend’s black eyes.

He knew Seokjin’s sudden appearance wouldn’t be good.

“Have you been watching her? You wouldn’t…” Jungkook asks, fear laced within his voice. He may not like what he has to say, but if that's true and Seokjin really has taken time out of his day to go see you then there's no doubt there's some truth to his words. 

“No…I’ve been watching you and her.” Seokjin answers, but then a thoughtful look makes its way to the elder. “I also remember having a fairly entertaining conversation with Y/n not too long ago. She really misses you Jungkook and I have to say I’m a little disappointed in the way you’ve left her by herself. You never know who may try to get to her…” 

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, hoping none of this is true. “You spoke with her?” 

“Yes, many times actually. We’re pretty close I’d say.” Jin grins down at him with pride in his chest.

Jungkook’s eye twitches and it feels as if his world is beginning to crumble beneath him. “You’re lying, if you did I’d know.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t and neither would she. Every conversation I’ve ever had with her is buried deep in the back of that simple mind, she wouldn’t know who I am unless she sees my face. I got so bored of you not noticing that I left you a hint, remember?” Jin goes to sit on the spare couch beside all of them, shrugging as he puts his feet up on the expensive looking decor of Jimin and Hoseok coffee table. 

Jimin huffs in annoyance, but Jungkook knows the man can only bite his tongue. 

“You didn’t think we weren’t going to keep tabs on you while you were away did you? Why else do you think Yoongi agreed to help you so easily?” He laughs as if this was such a light hearted matter.

A hint…? Jungkook tries hard to rack his brain for whatever Jin could have left behind but nothing comes to him. When he saw you earlier nothing seemed to be off about you, in-fact you looked perfectly fine aside from the broken gaze that you unknowingly gave him when you realized you wouldn’t see him once again. That was to be expected, he’d tainted that hope in a matter of seconds, but it was only because he knew he couldn’t stay there with you. Not with everything that had happened before, his fight with Yoongi, his anger, and Hallucinations…

That image of him pulling you into his arms and holding you close for dear life. You looked shocked at first but eventually your beautiful smile rose on your face as your heart fluttered from your excitement. Jungkook focused so much on that small detail- mouth salivating the second he senses the purity lying with you. It was such a wholesome feeling- you and him. How happy the both of you were, but the thought of ripping that purity from you certainly wasn’t. 

Jungkook’s blood suddenly runs cold when he remembers vividly what was so out of place. The reason he nearly went insane while thinking of you and another-what was setting him off in the beginning.

“You marked her with your scent…just so you could piss me off?” Jungkook’s anger was piling on dangerously from the new information, a slight pain in his stomach from realizing how Yoongi may have been lying to him this entire time. 

Did he smell Jin too? That could explain why he was trying so hard to get him to leave.

Seokjin shrugs. “Did I? Oops…”

Jimin’s face turns down and he looks over toward Jungkook with sympathy. “Jin, you’ve overdone it.”

Jungkook knew something was off…He wasn’t going insane after all. “Are you fucking kidding me? Couldn’t you have respected my privacy? I’m not some goddamn child and it’s getting pretty old how often everyone is treating me like one. Nothing about this is okay.” He sneers, now wondering if Jin is the reason he couldn’t get to you this whole time. 

Hoseok shifts uncomfortably from the elder’s demeanor, after listening for a while. “While I personally don’t agree with Jin’s actions. You aren’t doing that great of a Job at proving us otherwise, Jungkook. Despite what you think, we do care if something happens to you.”

“This is your way of showing you care?” Jungkook replies immediately, but then something hits him. “-wait what do you mean we? Did all of you know about this?” He then asks and knowing the answer it was only going to make things worse.

The couple once again shares a look and this time they look to Seokjin as well, clearly having an inside secret that Jungkook didn’t know about. He waits for one of them to say something, but all he’s met with is a deep uncomfortable silence that only had him seeing pitch black once again. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me?” He almost growls when the heat in his voice takes over. Before he knew it, the demon was triggering a lethal state within the room, it was like finally watching a child throw a tantrum. Once again, that itch inside him was burning and he just really wanted to hurt something.

From where he’s sitting, Jungkook can see how Hoseok’s eyes had shifted as well- all whites going completely pitch black as the dark veins around his face came in under his control. It's just a safety caution, one that usually any of them always had to activate between the seven of their personalities over time. 

It's also what Yoongi used to protect himself earlier, Hoseok’s essence slowly seeping out to match Jungkook’s rising mana. 

“Jungkook calm down, If it pisses you off that much- there's a lot of talk of seeing you around with a human girl regardless. There's no avoiding it. Think about it, you have plenty of enemies, we all do. Did it ever occur to you how she hasn’t become a target from your recklessness? did you really think you were protecting her enough.” Jin raises a brow himself, watching just as on edge as Hoseok was. 

Jungkook knew it had to be because of how out of character it is for him, but those words only egged him on. Everything was spiking and he couldn’t stop it, passing over Hoseok and Jimin to glare daggers towards the eldest king. 

 “Don’t tell me about putting her at risk…You went behind my back to go see her. How about if I go around poking in your affairs?” He huffs aggressively.

“—Then you’d be an idiot, asking for death.” Seokjin simply answers. “We only discuss the important matters of your relationship and yes unfortunately that includes watching your screwed behavior. We had to be sure.”

“And Y/n? What did you talk about with her?” Jungkook suddenly rises from his seat and towers towards Jin.  

“Nothing you need to worry about. I simply wanted to meet her myself. I wasn’t there longer than 5 minutes, you can ask Yoongi if you need that assurance.” The man stares up at him with a blank expression, but never loses interest in Jungkook’s foreseeable burst of anger. It only pissed him off more to see how unbothered he was. 

Did his eldest friend really not care for his feelings towards this? Or was he just saying all this because he knew it would piss Jungkook off? Little did he know, there was always a method to the eldest actions.

Just what exactly is he playing at? 

Jungkook shakes his head, looking around the room. “If it was so important to lie to me, you could have done something. Or does everyone want to sit around and laugh? Does that make you feel better? Me admitting it out loud for your amusement. I had my head so far up my ass, I couldn’t tell my own friends were lying to my face. Well, as I already told Yoongi, you all can fuck off.” 

He didn't get it, He knew what Jin said was right. Jungkook was careless, too busy thinking about when was the next time he would see you- when he wasn’t even sure there would ever be a next time. It was too much at once, realizing how much he endangered you, but also how much Seokjin would actually be right. 

How everyone was right and he was too blinded to see what's been festering for years. How long has Jungkook been in the dark about himself? When did he start sweeping it all under the rug?

It made the blood in his veins boil from his stupidity. He felt like breathing fire just for that epiphany and so when he felt it overflowing- The bond, his emotions, his selfishness and how much he missed you, he’d abruptly lifted a fist and landed a perfect blow onto the mini table between everyone. A booming crack erupts within the space, causing the duo to be unsettled. The force violently shatters the entire object into pieces, knocking Seokjin’s feet to the floor and before he could realize it, Jungkook’s temper had taken a hold of him. It catches everyone including himself by surprise, sparking another very long silence between the group. 

After a while, Jimin was the first to speak, his fiery eyes glaring at the shattered table in front of him. He then shifts in Hoseok’s lap- taking a deep breath to calm his own temper. “Okay make this a note, no more meetings in our nest.” He says as he pinches the bridge between his nose and ultimately ignoring Jungkook for his benefit. “Actually no more company within our space, this is worse than when Namjoon knocked over that emerald vase.”

Hoseok, on the other hand, looks calm and collected. He stares at Jungkook but instead of rage he only holds sympathy and Hoseok must have known he caught that, doing well to cover his own anger again. “...Don’t get me wrong, if it weren’t for the fact that you have absolutely no control over your emotions- I’d pick each of your bones by one and use them as a replacement table. That was an eight century old piece Namjoon gifted us—” 

“—After he broke our vase.” Jimin deadpans bitterly.  

Hoseok then frowns disapprovingly. “But do you now see why you’ll need to numb your emotions? What if that was your girlfriend instead? You wouldn’t need to worry about the bond or anyone coming after her for that matter, because she would have already died from you.” 

“How many times to I have to say shes not my girlfriend.” Jungkook sighs in defeat. The both of you aren’t together and again he didn’t need to be constantly reminded of himself on the matter.

Jin, who Jungkook had honestly forgotten to be sitting there, scoffs at the notion “Huh, Yoongi said you’d say that.”  He laughs clearly amused and completely unfazed by the kid, but somehow still adding fuel to the dampened fire.

Hoseok then switches his attention to the fellow king “Jin, man, please stop talking. You are the reason he just lost his temper and I don't think Jimin can handle losing another piece of our decor. You did invade his space after all.” He pleads while still consoling a much gloomier lover and Jungkook swallows thickly.

Seokjin huffs, his humor filled smile slowly dropping off when he sees the heavy emotions behind his friend’s face. Suddenly, he then claps his hands together- making a thunderous noise that has Jungkook jerking just a little. 

“Fine, I guess the kid is beginning to learn his lesson.” He starts, demeanor going deathly cold as he faces the youngest.

 Jungkook can’t help but to listen and take him as seriously as he’d put on, watching the way that darkness over takes his eye sockets. And the paleness in between his deepened veins. Its chilling, knowing only Jin was capable of that power.

“From what I heard earlier, you took everything Hoseok was telling you without much consideration. Which only shows me that obviously you’re not grasping the decision you are about to make. Not only that, but how you’ve decided to handle your own mistakes by taking it out on your family when we’re trying to help you fix it. There are times we spoil you, like letting you leave your duties here unattended or not reprimanding you when you’ve clearly lost any control on your own power and we do it because we want you to come into your own maturing. It’s sad that even with this freedom, you’ve caused nothing but trouble and too much attention- which is why I told Yoongi to watch over you since he seemed to be the most worried . Who knew you’d repay him by tearing his arm open in the process.” 

Jimin sighs, seemingly over losing one of his prized pieces. “Jin...it’s fine.” 

“No, it is not.” Seokjin glances at him with a harsh gaze, having the prince fall back into silence. 

Seokjin then goes back to a quiet Jungkook. “You’re lucky it's me here and not Joon, he’d probably take it upon himself to rid you of your connection to her despite you disagreeing. Fortunately, I didn’t tell him everything you’ve been doing, he only knows about Y/n and that you’ve definitely taken a liking to her. Maybe, we can keep it that way, but first you need to clean up your mess. Listen to Hoseok and turn off those damn emotions, before you end up killing Y/n and yourself.” 

“I-” Jungkook wants to defend himself, but when he thought about it...was there actually any point?

 He’s wrong and he knows it, plus the prince knows just how lenient they’ve been with him. He was fortunate to be where he is, he could have been at the bottom ranks- a no name slaving away for the rest of eternity...he would have never met you.  “Yes, Hyung. I’m sorry.” 

 “Stop apologizing, those are only words. We didn’t bring you here to watch you disappoint us, nor would we ever want you to fail.” Jin watches as Jungkook’s pride leaves his expression and sees the resolve in him instead. 

Meanwhile Hoseok looks at him and Seokjin, they both nod in confirmation- giving him the go ahead to continue on with Jungkook. He just didn’t know if this would be something Jungkook is capable of handling once it's done. “ I can help you turn them off Kook...however, turning them back on won't be easy. You might not even want to, it's up to you whether you complete your connection to her or break it. Do you think you’re up for that?”

“You can’t undo it by yourself, that's for sure. They’d gradually have to come back, either over time or I guess if something really special happens. There's no true way to tell how your relationship will continue with her.”  Jimin looks to him as well, everyone’s eyes falling on the poor prince and awaiting his answer as he thinks hard about it.

What other choice did he have?

Jungkook nods in understanding, the image of you and your smile coming to him and it hurts to know that at some point- that may no longer have his heart skipping like it is at this moment. Still, he’d rather have you and make you happy while he felt nothing - than to not have you at all. So once again his mind was made up he didn’t need another second to begin his transition. 

“Okay, let's do it..”

Hoseok nods.

He then stands from his seat, bracing himself as if he was going to go to war and both of the couple follow. Jimin gets up first and then Hoseok, standing apart and Jungkook waits when he sees the king rolling up the sleeves of his button down and how Jimin begins to move the furniture back. The broken table shards, the chairs, even the couch Seokjin had been lounging on.  

Jungkook is suddenly nervous from the strange preparations. 

“Wait, how exactly are you going to help me—?” He couldn’t get the rest out. Hoseok signals to someone and it wasn’t long before both of the prince's knees were being kicked in from behind, causing him to drop towards the ground and his arms abruptly being pinned behind his back by an incredibly strong force. 

Jimin stands to the side and Seokjin is nowhere to be found. Which makes Jungkook assume that’s who’s holding him hostage. Meanwhile Hoseok is approaching Jungkook, pitch black eyes staring straight at him as a nasty smirk makes its way on his face. 

“Now, usually you can do this on your own if you have the experience— but since this is your first time we’ll have to do it manually, so this might hurt…-actually no, it will hurt like hell.” He begins just as his calloused hands were grabbing the sides of Jungkook's head and he notices immediately how Jimin cringes in the background- yet he still looks as amused as ever. 

Jungkook then brings his attention back to the man in front of him as a foreboding slithers deep into the pit of his stomach. “Um, Hobi Hyung–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle…” Hoseok somehow manages to smile comfortingly once he notices the shift in Jungkook.  “—Oh and I definitely won’t be thinking about the priceless decor you’ve just destroyed less than 5 minutes ago. So just relax and try not to swallow your tongue.” He then mentions with no remorse and immediately destroys any kind of comfort the kid might have felt previously. 

Sweat begins rolling down Jungkook’s back and Hoseok then looks up towards the elder holding him down. “Ready?”

“ Let's get this over with, I’m getting bored.” Seokjin sighs in return.

These sadistic assholes…Jungkook thinks to himself.

Hoseok focuses back on him, the black in his veins deepening and pouring through his arms as a smokey black essence begins to seep out and wrap around Jungkook's head like snakes. It’s hot like lava, a searing pain that follows in its path as it slowly inches towards his nose and eyes. 

 He’d say a silent prayer if he actually prayed…Instead he could only release a pained groan from the heat that was begging to enter his head. The essence falls in relentlessly, making Jungkook’s eyes roll back and not long after afterwards does Hoseok notice the dark blood beginning to drip from his nose, seeping from his eyes and ears in the same manner and Jungkook lets out animalistic scream.

He’s got him…

“Okay, let's begin.”

You’re not sure whether you’d slept through most of the night well, but somehow while you were within a deep sleep, you felt an immense amount of pain washing over you within your dreams before leaving you completely numb and floating in an endless void. 

It was strange, how saddened you had been just moments ago after having a weird dream and then waking up instant without any cause. 

Just like that void, darkness is the only thing that engulfs you as you come to. Your senses are suddenly alert to any small thing around you and you’re jolting awake violently with intense heat swirling around in your head. Before it runs throughout your entire body, It then slowly begins to fade and you’re taking in a deep breath when you’re very much aware of the sounds filling your lonesome space.

When you glance in front of your bed, you’re shocked to see thick black boots clunking across your bedroom floor and heading purposefully in your direction. Your first instinct is to immediately panic, heart beat rising in the fear of some unknown intruder breaking into your apartment. But then, as your gaze quickly moves around in the darkness, it then follows up the tall figure striding closer.

 You’re terrified, immediately frozen with fear when you see how familiar it looks to you in the distance, a strange sense of an unknown emotion taking you  by surprise.

They weren’t attacking you, actually you were almost sure they’re doing the exact opposite. The movements are highly familiar and you’re too focused seeing an inked hand reaching towards the bottom half of your legs. In the process, you’re holding your breath and a wary look crosses your face when that same hand goes to grip the sheets you’d kicked off in your sleep. 

Realizing this, you know for a fact that the figure was getting ready to pull them over you- just like it always did when you were too hot to leave them on and this only aided in making you aware of how extremely cold you are at the moment. 

At times like this, you’d be too tired to refuse them letting him tuck you in on his own volition and you’d know you would just see him the next day. 

But this time, you’re wide awake, not knowing if it’s really who you thought him to be and you weren’t willing to wait and see. Without thinking, you shoot up from your position and daringly reach towards the hand you’ve been eying that entire time.

“Jungkook-...” 

You barely let the name leave your mouth as what you thought to be a person freezes. Unfortunately, the second your fingers could feel the object, you were immediately met with the air of your bedroom and the entire image disappears like a mirage. 

Nothing, you were seeing nothing.

 No figure, no black combat boots, none of that beautiful natural ink that snaked up his hand and around his body like an art. Instead your excitement is quickly stunted when you’re suddenly knocked out of your bed from a force that couldn’t be stopped. Your entire body twists and hurdles quickly towards the floor and you’re bracing yourself to hit the ground face first. 

“Huh…-?” You open your eyes, suddenly jolting awake again. After a few seconds of awaiting that inevitable pain, you’re actually surprised to find yourself face planted into one of your pillows on your bed.

What… was that? You thought groggily as your eyes adjusted again, but it wasn’t to the darkness- instead you were being blinded by the light of your bedside lamp. You didn’t remember leaving it on and when you had awakened earlier it was off...right? 

You remembered sleeping and this weird emotion came over you before you were jumping awake to grab for…maybe it was your light? That would explain how it got turned on in the middle of the night. The only problem is, you could have sworn you fell out of your bed when you did. 

You then frown, head fuzzy with confusion as you tried to remember what exactly had just happened. As you moved, you felt more tired than usual, feeling as if a truck had run over your body and you slowly started  to sit up within your position, your throat feeling extremely dry after the past few hours. 

You sigh, turning to your side to look at the alarm clock that said 3:00 in the morning and your face turns down even more before rubbing at your eyes. How is that possible? You could have sworn that's when you fell asleep and just so you could ease this suspicion, you reach next to the clock to grab your phone, finding it to still be 3:00 am completely un-moving as well.

Strange.

 Wondering to yourself how time hasn’t changed since you’ve been sitting there, you swallow slowly and attempt to get your thoughts together. It’s all too eerie for you and you couldn’t let yourself sit still for much longer, finally moving from your bed. 

 “It’s fine, you’re fine.” You grumble to yourself as you stand.

It’s times like this where you wish you could call on Jungkook, nervous to be in your own home alone. You never realized how much you’ve also grown to depend on him. Calling out for him whenever you wanted and he’d show up in a blink of an eye. Now no matter how hard you tried, he hasn’t shown and this time you felt like you needed him more than ever.

You stumble across the bedroom’s floor and out into the hall like usual when the atmosphere feels way off, almost spacey in a way. The hairs on the back of your neck are beginning to stand and your body shivers as a chill racks down your spine. You hold yourself once you've begun to walk through.  

You couldn’t explain the dreadful sense that was easing up on you, feeling as if someone was taking the same steps as yours. It’s like they were watching your every move and hiding, while you made your way to the kitchen. 

You huff when you  finally get close and unease fills your chest. It only makes it worse while you are traveling through the dark of your own apartment, unable to see who else may be waiting around within it.

Once you are by the entrance, you notice how warm your back is and you could swear someone is standing right behind you- transferring heat from their body to yours. Quickly, panic had begun to set in and you’re shivering in the freezing temperature, pulling your shirt down a bit more for warmth. A constant anxiety of knowing once you turn around you weren’t going to like what you’re met with in return. 

There’s nothing more terrifying than this as the overwhelming presence is getting closer. Hell, you could swear they were running to you over and over again, but you’re quick to shake that thought.

Maybe all of this is just in your head…

 Before you drive yourself even more crazy, you finally round the corner of your destination and feel on the wall to reach slowly for the light switch. You wanted to do it fast, but that would just ruin the stealth and you didn’t want to trigger whatever it is, but still you couldn’t see a damn thing. So your hand slowly crawls up more as you swallow down your fear and when you are close enough to feel the block shaped switch on the wall, you’re closing your eyes and taking a deep breath for bravery before you flick it upwards and a bright light gives you a clearer look into the housing—

Everything…is truly in your head and you need help.

You release the breath you were holding, looking back to see your living room in its neat and peaceful state. No one is there and neither is anyone else when you glance down the hallway from where you came. No axe murderers or night creatures stalking your movement- just you. 

You then laugh out incredulously, almost like a fooled mad woman and relief floods you after finally coming to the conclusion that you were actually alone. You make sure to calm yourself, running your hand over your hair and somehow managing to get it through this time without the knots. 

As if you aren’t stressed enough, working like crazy and having the biggest meltdown over your  friend, while also realizing your feelings for him. You’re probably going to have to consider psychological therapy, after clearly making up scary scenarios in your head.

 Tension starts leaving you little by little, but you’re so choked up from a drier throat- it suddenly has you padding over to one of your cabinets so you could grab a glass from the lower shelf.  You then head over to your fridge before reaching into it to grab the water jug, filling your glass in complete silence. 

It feels like nothing but that could help and as parched as you are, you’re  more than willing to take your first big swallow to soothe the dryness altogether along with your anxiety. The cool water goes down and you hum in appreciation, sighing in content before pulling the glass up against your lips, the only problem this time seems to be that you still don’t feel completely alone.  

Pausing altogether, that dreadful emotion makes its way back to you. Actually, before you could even think about taking your next sip of water- you were sure that you heard steady footsteps clunking from your side. 

Fear shakes you to your very core and before you could react, you’re looking towards the source only to see nothing, but clearly hearing them as they step around. Your heart is beating rapidly, so much you might as well have been put into the hospital from an unhealthy pace. —Abruptly, with a pitiful whimper you could feel your blood run cold and two arms are emerging from behind you, coming to wrap around your waist as a way of hugging you snugly from behind. Your throat wants to close up- the hairs on your body standing to alert because there was definitely someone’s breath falling heavily down the back of your neck. Steadily, not ragged as if they felt no kind of adrenaline or worse they’d been perfectly calm watching you this entire time.

Kind of like a natural predator.

Normal people would have screamed, moved- do anything other than releasing the fragile glass within their hand and letting it drop eventfully to the floor. You obviously weren’t within that category, stuck in place until you had the strong scent of mint hitting your nose.

 Only then did you feel like crumbling onto the ground.

  “When did you become a sleepwalker? You hate walking in the dark.” A deep but soft voice chimes from behind you. The melody immediately reminds you of your friend and you're taken back by the way your body is instantly covered in that similar wash of heat.

You slowly reply. “With good reason when you’re sneaking around my apartment.”

Jungkook tenses behind you from the reaction and leans down to place his chin on your shoulder, a simple chuckle rattling in his chest and vibrating on your back. “Technically I’m not sneaking if I let you hear my footsteps.” 

“Same, difference. I thought you were someone waiting to kill me.” You say rolling your eyes, but it was clearly all a front. 

His chest rises on your back. “Well you’d make it way too easy, stumbling clumsily. You weren’t exactly subtle and I definitely had plenty of tempting opportunities.” 

“Oh…” As much as you try to calm yourself, you are still in the aftershocks of your fear. 

“...Hey-…I’m kidding.” Jungkook then adds from your silence, but feels your body is shaking in his hold, trembling under his arms and weak as ever.  

He wonders if it could have been from you only wearing an oversized t-shirt in your deathly cold apartment or if you simply couldn’t handle the way he had himself wrapped around you for a surprise. He’s studying you, inhaling your scent when it hits him and he’s intrigued when his heartbeat still speeds up, however no excitement fills his chest-at least not in the way it used to. 

Now, while you are directly in his reach, it's too bad that whatever Hoseok had done to him, he could just barely feel the parts that had him completely enamored with you.

He’s empty, no happiness, or thrill for being around you. He isn’t sad not feeling anything for you either, if anything he’s just really horny and he likes how your touch sends euphoric shocks all around him. It actually reminds him of what Hoseok said earlier, how others before him did this so they could  kill their partners...In some way he can see why. 

There was only slight truth to the temptation, when he said it would have been easy to kill you. He just knows logically, if he did, he’d never forgive himself when the block wears off. To be honest he was actually facing a much different dilemma and that was figuring out a way to ignore the secondary effects. 

 Forcing himself away from the physical pull of you. 

Fortunately, he won’t have to worry too much on that aspect- in fact he’s not worried at all. Jungkook honestly doesn’t know how he was able to be so consumed with you before, but it was certainly clarifying without all those thoughts running around in his head. 

For instance, earlier, Jungkook didn’t realize how boring it was to watch over you- which is something he’s never noticed before. It should be heartbreaking for his lack of reaction. Him, appearing in your room as you slept away peacefully after not seeing you for weeks and he couldn’t be overcome with his joy once he was finally near you again. He wasn’t distracted with his love and excitement of finding you at a good time, though that doesn’t mean he couldn’t feel anything else.

He specifically remembers seeing how you’d kicked all of your covers off while sleeping like usual, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from running over your body and it seems the only thing he could succumb to is his natural instincts. 

He’s considered how he should intervene, afterall it would be the first time you’ve seen him in a while and he didn’t want to just thrust himself back into your life. He could have crawled into bed with you and held you close just to feel something, but he still wasn’t too sure at the time if you were safe. The last time he’d gotten so close he almost allowed the darkest part of him out and thankfully that doesn’t seem to be the problem anymore. Instead, he thought he could at least cover you with your blankets- consistently finding himself to be distracted and pulled to you the more your body was shifting maneuvering to find any kind of warmth.

He could’ve helped with that…wait no- he definitely shouldn't. At least not while he wasn’t not in love with you? It’s only fair.

He found himself wondering what it was you could possibly be dreaming of to have you in so much distress. With nothing else to entertain him- he couldn’t help it...curiousity overtook his thoughts and he wasn’t ready for the images and information he was met with after taking a short look within your head, throwing the man off furthermore into his visit and ultimately messing with his self control.

It was enough to have him thinking, swallowing back his urges and moving across your room to wait. Stupidly, Jungkook was so wrapped up in your thoughts, trying to process your new emotions, he didn’t pay attention to his own movements. A spark of fire suddenly flew throughout his head, causing him to stutter and he stomped forward at the same time your body jolted.

 In the end he only woke you from your sleep when he made too much noise, hearing you call for him out of the blue and shooting up to reach for him with no warning. Once you actually had his wrist in your hand- he froze looking down at your miserable hazy expression and it didn’t feel right the way he wanted to touch you or ravish you...he could feel a part of him scratching from inside- mouth salivating and canines growing longer. He was even thankful you couldn’t see the veins deepening around his pitch black eyes at that moment.

Wasn’t this supposed to help with his control? 

Shit...He thought, pupils dilating and before you knew it, Jungkook made the cautious decision to put you back to sleep, then moving as far away from you as possible.

It wasn’t until time had passed that he planned to visit you again, assuming that it would be better instead of waking you up in the middle of the night, especially after discovering what you’d had been going through while he was gone. Sadly, he still couldn’t resist, Hearing the way your heart beats rapidly in your chest, your waves of fear rolling off of you and beckoning his darkest nature to follow. Before he knew it, Jungkook felt too drawn to you as you entered the kitchen, listening to the whispers of your thoughts calling out for him. It was like the first time he heard it. You were just as scared and lonely, giving up on the reality that he would show and he was trying his best not to be affected by it.  It was actually kind of depressing... If the man hadn’t shown himself just now, you’d probably have given yourself a stroke, or burst into tears sooner than later—because apparently you are now being affected by the bond a lot more than him.

In that moment, he knew the ultimate ways to make it stop, fulfill the bond or break it. Jungkook was conflicted, he loves you and he knows this, even if he currently couldn’t feel it. But still… would this be something you wanted?

Jungkook paced back and forth, hands itching to reach for you and it almost got the better of him, until a sweet smell of almond had them shifting from their angle near the pulsing beat in your neck and wrapping around you- completely giving away his stealth. 

Jungkook inhaled, resisting the arousal forming inside. 

Yeah, he just fucked himself.

“Don’t stress yourself, I’d never let anyone hurt you.” He holds a little tighter hoping to calm your racing heart, but it only makes its beat faster. Oh the irony- considering how he really needs to protect you from himself.

“That's hard to believe when you’ve suddenly gone MIA Kook.” You scoff breathlessly, lowering your gaze to one of the hands around you and seeing the familiar markings all over it. Without thinking, you grab for it, hoping that once you did, you wouldn’t end up realizing you had been dreaming the entire time. Honestly, it was getting hard to tell at this point. “You were gone for a month and I thought you left me alone again.” 

He shifts uncomfortably, frowning in thought about how he’d been blocked from seeing you—which, he later learned may be due to the meddling of his brothers.

 He wished he could be pissed, having Seokjin conveniently reveal to him after Hoseok took his emotions temporarily. Apparently, it was their way of testing out their theory about his relationship with you, your bond to their youngest member. Which is now only proven to be completely true and Jungkook wouldn’t put it past Seokjin to have manipulated the situation as some form of punishment for him.

He was truly cruel when he wanted to be. 

“I-... had business to take care of at home, it just took me longer than usual.” Jungkook lies, but takes a mental note of how he will be speaking with Yoongi once he gets his emotions back.

“A little communication would still have been nice. Plus that doesn’t explain why you decided to pop in and scare the living hell out of me in the middle of the night.” You swallow the thick lump in your throat while trying not to let yourself be overcome with your feelings. It was hard to control how much your hands were actually shaking at that moment, Whether it be from what was left of your fear or just the overall excitement of having your good friend back. 

It's been two weeks and while you are concerned— you’re curious as to why he chose now to talk with you.

He shrugs “To be fair, you told me nothing about you working night shifts this entire week. I’ve tried looking for you every moment I got...” Your eyes widen from the confession, starry orbs filled with curiosity. He sighs, lifting his shoulders “-you were gone right under my nose.”

You’re silent for a moment.“...How did you know that?”

“Know what?” 

“That I was working more shifts?” You clarify in an expectant tone. 

He suddenly stiffens and you’re already sighing in disappointment when you figure it out. This wouldn’t be the first time Jungkook has found out something he shouldn’t know from you.

“Jungkook…” You say his name and he rolls his eyes, thinking he might have made the wrong move telling you that. “We’ve talked about this.”

He holds a little tighter  “I know, I know you hate it when I invade...I just wanted to know where you’ve been.” He continues to lie.

The problem is…why did he feel like he had to? Why is Jungkook putting off the inevitable? You are his soulmate and he will have to tell you that eventually.

“Working and trying not to be worried crazy about you...that would have been my answer if you’d just asked me.” 

“You need to be a little crazy to have someone like me in your life, Angel. Otherwise you’d have never come back, the moment you found me again.” He replies a bit too honestly.

“...Did you just call me crazy?” You finally crack a half smile and step forward out of his embrace.

Jungkook reluctantly lets you go and he hums. “No, I said a little crazy.”

“Yo-...You stalked my life for months and have a personal vendetta against my uniform shirt.” You’re ready to point it out. 

“Anyone would be scarred looking at that hideous outfit they force you to wear.” He rolls his eyes.

“Jungkook, you burned two sets of my work clothes and I almost got fired for that.” You balk in disbelief while he smirks, completely satisfied with himself.

“A small price to pay for salvation.” He immediately replies and you then move, turning around to face him when you recognize those words.

“Did you just quote Thanos?” The question leaves your mouth when a giggle rises in your throat from your friend and before you know it, you’re finally facing him and seeing him for the first time in a while.

Jungkook actually didn't do much, instead looking down towards you and slowly dropping his smile before running his eyes completely over your face. He falters, barely letting you catch on to the way his brows dip in concentration when your eyes meet and he can sense the change in your mind.

 You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to catch your breath once you stared up at him and slowly went over his whole attire. 

Jungkook, no longer looked like his normal dress code. Sure he’s still wearing his thicker boots, but they weren’t the kind you were used to. He’s dressed way more mature than normal, black loose button up undone by the first three and exposing the top part of his chest, he’s sporting black leather pants fitted to the thicker chords of his thighs and you’re then switching to the matching leather jacket that goes with it.

 It’s...so mouth watering to say the least, but still made your throat run dry once your eyes went from the simple silver chain on his chest and up to his face. Which also brings you to the most surprising change that catches you off guard. It was the fact that he actually changed his hair. No longer was it draped to his shoulders and hung half-way back into a pony-tail but instead to be tapered shallow on the sides and parted into two directions-cropped right to the top of his forehead. The style itself seemed to add years onto him, making you notice the more structured part of his jawline.You even found yourself, noticing the fact that he had a piercing on his right brow or that his markings flowed further up onto his neck than you’ve ever seen before.

Oh... wow… You breathe and your eyes go wide when you realize you’re probably  staring too long. It was impossible to keep yourself from being starstruck. 

Jungkook looked like a completely different man and one who had the confidence of someone nowhere near your level. It was striking to say the least, but also just a little intimidating- especially being that you were only in a huge worn out shirt for night clothes. 

Immediately, you notice how his eyes go lax just a little, his usual black orbs staring straight into you, possibly seeing every sinful emotion you feel just by the first look at him. 

He definitely can and it’s excruciating for him to ignore.

 Jungkook clears his throat, ignoring whatever you’re doing to him. “I know I was born in hell, but you’re looking at me like I actually agree with his ideology...”  He chuckles.

—You quickly stop him and pull yourself together. 

“Kook, no. I... just wasn’t expecting you to look like this.” You say as you shake your head, trying to collect your thoughts, but still finding it hard to adjust to his gaze. For some reason it comes off way more alluring than usual and you have no doubt it was stemming from you suddenly wanting to jump his bones.

Jungkook stares at you a little too hard as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle. He then looks down, thinking about his appearance until it hits him. “Oh! yeah, I guess I’ve never had to show you this persona. I only use it while I’m home and not working.” He tries to explain cautiously.

“You mean, this is what you look like when you’re not here?”  You point out with a nervous tilt to your voice. “-Like a crazy hot dilf?” 

Jungkook frowns in a humorous manner. “Well, I am a prince...I have to look the part to be it. Believe it or not, being royalty there is like being an A-list celeb here, except with an insane amount of fear and respect.” He teases and yet something seems off. Jungkook didn’t seem like the type to care about whether he could impress others or not, he just does.

“Yeah, well not everyone rules over a section on the dark side mister, so we can’t all be hot demon royalty...well actually except for Yoongi...he at least has the attitude down perfectly.” You’re rolling your eyes before crossing your arms, only to land on the ground- where you recently remembered you just dropped one of your nice glasses. You then move, walking around your kitchen island to grab for a napkin and broom.

 “I’m sorry that I was born naturally hot?” He smirks while also catching you off guard. 

You lift your brow completely taken back by his arrogance and you’re not sure why but you could feel your stomach roll in reaction. 

“ Does cockiness also come with the new clothes or…—?” You trail off as you turn to walk back so you could clean up your mess, but you stop the moment you see it’s completely gone and Jungkook’s dusting off his hands in a haste. 

“No, but it does come with the title.” He chirps immediately catching on to your question and shrugs casually. When he does this, your eyes immediately zone in on his chest falling up and down and you’re quickly thinking of a way to pull yourself together. While doing so, you place the napkin gently onto the kitchen counter after putting the broom back in the corner.

 A deep breath escapes your chest when you take the time to control it and you’re leaning over your sink before checking the time on your electric stove. The clock now reads 6:53 am and you frown as you turn to look out of your kitchen window. From your view, the seemingly night sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of violet. Indicating how soon the sun was to come. 

What the hell?

“...Jungkook?” You’re calling out into the air and before you knew it, you felt him again. 

You look back  and towards the rest of the kitchen- seeing him suddenly posted up against the entrance. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as the mesh, silk shirt hugs him beautifully around his torso. When you’re staring at him again, you watch as he plays with the ring on his lip, but your stomach churns with unease.

“Yes, Angel.” He answers and the second you blink he’s appearing right by your side, startling you incredibly. It's been so long that you're surprised by such a common move with him. You step to the side, somehow more put off by how tall he seems next to you. It’s almost as if his height had changed too.

You cross your arms before asking “It wouldn’t be crazy of me to believe you’re hiding something right?”

With that one question to Jungkook, he tenses as a cautious look slowly enters his eyes and all playfulness is gone when he sees the confusion falling into place within your mind. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He plays dumb.

Of course he is, he just didn’t think  you’d pick up on his mistake.

You turn, leaning back on the counter and put yourself to thought. “I went to bed at 3:00 am and woke up a few minutes ago at 3:00 am…it's almost 7:00 now.” You state more so as if you’re trying to piece it together yourself.

“You must’ve been dreaming or something. Don’t stress yourself out over it.”  He swallows, suddenly seeming on guard and it's almost unnerving how straight his face has gone to hide any expression. 

He looks hollow.

“Stop that.” You frown, seeing something completely off about it. “I know you’re reading my thoughts again...I can feel it.”

“I’m not always reading your thoughts, Y/n.” He huffs, stepping up and looking down at you completely convincing to the naked eye. Deep inside, you knew better. You stare at him and don’t back down from your concern. 

 “What is it kook, I know something’s not right.” You grit. 

“What's making you think something’s wrong?” He sends you a defensive look and shrugs. 

“That right there!” You point immediately. “ You’re getting upset.”

It feels like Jungkook had suddenly put his mask back up as soon as you said that, which isn’t something normal to happen between you both. You frown deeper, looking at him. It was little at first, but you realized why Jungkook seemed a little different to you- his voice, his demeanor…it was less familiar to you and whatever dialect he was using with you was more formal than endearing. It was like meeting him over again for the first time or maybe he just felt less lively than he usually is. You would even say it feels like he’s holding part of himself back.

“You seem different and not just the way you’re dressed but how you’re acting.” You say honestly. 

He smiles and it puts you at ease a little,  but you can clearly see there's something he's not telling you because it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just tired, there was a lot to handle once I went back and I’m still adjusting.” 

 “Adjusting to what, did something happen to you?” After hearing that, you look at him disappointed. You clearly didn’t believe a word he said and that was simply because you could easily tell when he’s lying.

“Y/n, for your sake please let it go.” He pleads.

“No.” Your expression stays hard.

He sighs in slight frustration. “I’m trying to go about this carefully and you’re not making it easy. if I tell you why then-” 

“Since when has it been too hard to tell me the truth?” You then ask, with hurt filling your voice. “ I get that there's some things I don’t need to know about what you do and your family, but it doesn’t feel like this is something with just them. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now.”

You’re right…He’s not fond of how obvious that is, so Jungkook says nothing in return and watches how determined you look staring up at him.

“You can tell me anything, you know.” 

“I do know that, Angel.” He replies in a sincere manner, yet still it was lacking. “It’s just not that easy to explain, okay? I don't know how.”

How to tell you he almost devoured you and wants to fuck you at the same time? Yeah super easy.

The both of you stand there in an awkward silence and it’s like someone had sucked all of the words from both of you, well mainly Jungkook. 

Clearly, there’s unknown tension in the air and neither of you weren’t sure of where to lead after that. A small part of you wondered if it's because he was in trouble, or if he’d gotten hurt. If that really is the truth behind it, it only made you worry more if somehow it would come back to mess with him again. However this still doesn’t explain why there's almost a 3 hour gap between your time and why Jungkook seems like a totally different version of himself.

Was this the real Jungkook? Is this what he’s like when he’s not with you? 

When you look at him, your chest feels heavy and you can’t make those butterflies go away when he’s looking at you just as hard. It has you realizing just how much you truly are into him. His bunny face even in the newer version of himself, those big doe eyes and pouty lips. You used to love his longer hair, always playing with it and running your hands through it, part of  you wishes you could do that now-even with his new undercut. 

You don’t realize when your mind wanders, somehow envisioning Jungkook with his wild hair, your hands running over the natural inky skin of his body as your hands tug on the silky strands to your heart’s content. You wanted that- his kisses, his touch and so much more, that was evident with the trickles of arousal invading your abdomen from his presence. It's not the moment to think of this, but you couldn’t stop the images from popping in. You’re actually beginning to feel like it wasn’t of your own volition at this point.

“I just want to understand what's going on. You say everything is alright- but it doesn’t feel like that and honestly I don't think it is.” You shake your head, hugging yourself and shielding yourself away from him.

“Y/n...I know I haven't told you everything and maybe that's because I’m still trying to understand it myself. I think it would be too soon for you to handle. There's a better time than now, we can wait. ” He speaks out while listening to every thought you were having and his breath hitches, seeing the images that invaded your mind…He wanted that too and he thought he would have more time than this.

You’re not making this better. Stop thinking like that- fuck he wishes he couldn’t see it all.

 You listen back in when he speaks and realize you were just staring at him again. Honestly you hoped that he couldn’t see what you were thinking because otherwise you’d rather have been swallowed up whole in the ground.  You clear your throat and try to push down the nervousness that's slowly rising within you- a shiver racking down your spine when you take in the mint that's hitting your nose from him and the more you found yourself standing there with him, the more you were seriously finding it harder to not think that way. You honestly have no idea where any of it came from, but you were so on edge and you can’t control it.

Exhaling you, try to calm yourself.

“I’d rather know now, before you’re disappearing to who knows where again.” You say almost as low as a whisper and step forward to take his hand in yours. “And for your information, I don’t think anything will ever be as much of a reality changer as finding out about you and the fact that demon’s actually exist, it can’t be that much worse to handle.” You smile and Jungkook sees it, in your eyes, how much you feel when it comes to him. They're warm and inviting, completely sincere with every word you say because you truly wanted to know.

Damn- wait why is he noticing that?

Honestly It was like a punch to his gut, a stinging sensation burning on the sides of his head ringing throughout his nose and ears. He hisses, bringing his hands up to touch, but he couldn’t stop the small sense of relief forming after the realization. 

You’re definitely into him.

“Y/n…”  Something twinges from within his head, trying to break through and Jungkook is hissing from the sensitive heat that sears throughout. He grunts and his hands come up to grab beside his ears.

Your eyes widen in shock. “Kook, whats wrong?” 

Grabbing his hands to pull them away, you’re looking him over intensely and you begin to notice the odd appearance on the side of his head, closer towards his ears. Without thinking much more you lean up closer to him and as usual you notice when he tenses, inhaling deeply, but that doesn’t stop you anyway. You lift up your hand to touch his face, looking in to inspect him more and Jungkook watches you like a hawk, because so much is crushing down on him at this moment.

His body is lighting up from your proximity, a hand landing gently on your waist for support. A causal gesture, but the touch created tingling shocks in its wake. You would think this is a new territory for you two, it’s quite the opposite. It was normal for you to be this intimate with him, it’s just never in any way romantically… At least not like this moment, where you are very much aware of his hand and Jungkook fights the instinct to grip you tighter, pulling you onto him.  

He tilts his head curiously, feeling the soft caresses of your fingers on his face and he sees the moment you begin to notice the slight scarring on the sides of his head. Memories of what felt like burns that Hoseok created on him comes rushing in and suddenly he curses when he feels your hands run over it. Normally his kind are able to regenerate when needed, but because Jungkook was not only affected by someone stronger than him. What was done to him causes a much deeper wound that's harder to recover from. 

It could even be irreversible.

“What is this? When did this happen to you?” You ask, running your thumb over one side. 

He hesitates but finds it better to just grit his teeth, ignoring your proximity as much as he can. “It’ll go away...I got them with some help from my friend.” He answers honestly, but still sees the confusion on your face.

Jungkook feels as your finger follows it up into his hair, your fingers slowly seeping into the shallow parts, because you simply couldn’t help it. He instantly feels a shutter in his body, briefly closing his eyes the second you thought about pulling on it just a little. Suddenly before you could look more— he grips your hand tight and pulls it away gently before looking down at you in a more serious manner, burying the heavy lust burning within his chest. 

You’re way too close right now and should definitely move. Actually, he should move too, before he messes this up…but why can’t he?

“Oh-” You blink when you realize how distracted you’d gotten before clearing your throat. “D-Did it help?”

“...Not enough.” He breathes lower, desperately, but still watches you carefully as a darker look comes into your hazy stare in return. “-If only you knew.

You don’t notice the darkness seeping into his by the second, but the air around you both was thicker all of a sudden. Are you…are you seriously turned on by him right now? Oh no.

“Then maybe you can enlighten me, Jungkook.” He hears your voice, soft and curious as you stare up at him within his running mind and very much unaware of everything he’s holding back from you. 

Your scent is so overpowering at this point that even without his emotions, Jungkook definitely still felt how high his temperature could go and it wasn’t enough to stop him from being turned on by you. He only wished Hoseok had explained that part to him, or at least warned Jungkook how much he’d have the physical need burning within him. Better yet, maybe this is what Hoseok had planned from the start- with everything else everyone has done to manipulate his relationship, maybe Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised that Hoseok had only taken it upon himself to speed up the process.

Afterall, Jungkook had willingly let him into his head…Hoseok, what did you really do to him?

A monstrous desire chews at him to take you in any way possible, anywhere, and position—so many are going through his mind. The fact that he can still hear your thoughts definitely isn’t helping.

He shakes his head “Shit, I-...It’s too much right now.” The man says, fighting the erotic influence within his head.

“…Yes, because being best friends with a guy who appears and disappears out of my house everyday makes so much more sense.” You scoff up at him and he only rolls his eyes once more at your strange humor. “--I’m pretty sure I’ve watched you kill a guy once and while I’m still severely traumatized and seriously considering therapy, at least it was too quick for Yoongi and I to see.” 

Jungkook, bites his bottom lip, knowing of his friend’s act. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face once you met the real king…wait…would you meet the rest of his family? Was that something he really wanted? Again, why is Jungkook thinking this far ahead- you don’t even know what you truly mean to him and vice versa. As much as he knows Yoongi lied to him and would never want to step foot up here again, he’s pretty sure the grumpy man would eventually miss you after a while. There was no acting when it came to your friendship with him, that much Jungkook knows is true, he talked about you half of the time- even when he wasn’t reporting to him. 

The matter still remains, was he truly ready to bring you around his dysfunctional family? And why did that spark something foreign in his chest? This is truly bittersweet.

If it weren’t for them, Jungkook wouldn’t have spent most of his time searching for you and going half crazy on your whereabouts. They literally drove him mad and for what? Because he wasn’t moving fast enough?

Fine, it’s fair to say that Jungkook was only being a coward when it came to you. He took his time, because the first time he showed you the real him- you pushed him away…Jungkook didn’t trust his own reaction if he told you how he felt and you didn’t feel the same. However, he never expected to be racing against an ancient curse and maybe…that's why he keeps putting off the truth from you. If you didn’t accept his feelings, he felt like it might truly kill him at the time… now would be the best while he couldn’t feel much right?

The problem is… Jungkook should really tell you about the bond first, because if this does go in his favor and the way his family clearly intended…Jungkook might actually end up completing it.

“—For your information he didn’t die until after I took him away so technically I didn’t kill him in front of you.” He corrects and if you weren’t so bent on figuring out his problem, you would have reminded him that hearing a human’s neck crack that violently is still disturbing enough to have anyone believing the complete opposite. 

“Whatever, Just tell me already.” You wait patiently for him to begin, watching the hard look on his face as he tries to battle his inner turmoil of what to do next. 

He really wanted to skip over this part, but Jungkook felt everything breaking down in an instant. Your thoughts, his hunger, the whispers…why did everything have to be so intense? Honestly he couldn’t take it anymore.

Fuck, is he actually giving in? wait.

“I-...hell.” Jungkook barely mumbles and you notice as his face goes completely blank, but he moves close enough to be a breath away. Jungkook then swallows, eyeing you strangely and though you had to admit while his gaze was drawing a forbidden emotion in your mind- you stare back at him expectantly, waiting for his next move. 

What you’re not ready for however, is when Jungkook’s hands are grabbing both sides of your face abruptly and pulling you towards him. Your body colliding against his hard front. The sheer force of his strength has you calling out in surprise, your face quickly coming so close to his and  he sends the deepest gaze into your eyes before something urges him to close the space. 

He couldn’t help himself, he’s supposed to wait!

 –His lips crash onto yours and catch your breath entirely from the shock of his sudden passion. You could feel your body reacting immediately—heat firing up in your stomach as he waits a second before moving them and you find yourself suddenly clutching his shirt for dear life. You were expecting words not a kiss- and definitely not for him to suddenly take this route with absolutely no cause whatsoever. You just couldn’t complain as a wave of lust shoots over your stiffened body and his minty scent becomes so much stronger to inhale. 

For a long time, there are no words or thoughts, just the feel of his lips molding and his body pressing into you to be closer. You may feel his tight embrace, but you had no idea of the fierceness he was fighting back to do more.

It’s definitely too late.

You guessed he was waiting for you to reject him, but after feeling his tongue swipe over your bottom lip for entrance, you’re more than willing to open your mouth- sighing in content when he slips the muscle in and licks almost desperately against you to get a better taste. His hands leaving your cheeks, Jungkook’s arms then come to wrap securely around your waist like before and he backs you up into the counter, definitely putting more emphasis into how much closer he wants you to him. 

It's not enough for him.

Not long after, you’re being lifted up, finding it hard to let yourself pull away and so does Jungkook. He grips one side of your legs, hoisting you effortlessly onto the counter and the flips in your belly are going crazy as his cold leather pants make contact with the inner parts of your thighs- putting himself comfortably in between. 

He just wants a taste…but something keeps pushing him. His own efforts to fight back are crumbling so easily.

Your mind is still running on another brain wave, one part of you completely lost and the selfish part of you present enough to enjoy the way his mouth is moving against yours, fulfilling the thoughts you were having all this time. 

His lips were just as soft as you imagined and it’s strange suddenly being able to share a moment like this with him. You exhale the breath in your chest, leaning your entire body into him and while melting easily as he shifts towards a sweeter end of your kiss. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and your eyes shut when your arousal finally makes its way to your panties- no doubt beginning to cause a wet stain.

More, you want more.

Letting the mix of sweet almonds travel up his nose, Jungkook reluctantly pulls himself back, somehow managing to temporarily snap out of whatever urge had taken over him at that moment. Those same burns from earlier lingered on him the longer he felt himself standing there with you, he wished he waited until a better moment to kiss you. It was going to be impossible to control himself from you after this. 

Honestly…Jungkook really doesn’t think he can now.

You didn’t notice it, but he’d been taken by surprise when his vision had gone black out of nowhere, hands vibrating with the need to tear your clothes off. He couldn’t tell whether it was from him or if it was because of the bond pushing, wondering if this was possibly just another hallucination of his. However everything feels fine and you are in-fact sitting helplessly in his arms on your own counter. 

Jungkook just fucked himself once again…he’d only intended for a sweeter kiss as a test, not whatever that was just now. 

He’s left with a powerful hunger and it was running too deep inside him to ignore. Whether it was building up all this time or he’d always had it, Jungkook was overtaken by it and he’s wondering if it could be from the same hunger he felt to devour you. Only now it was dangerous to know there wouldn’t be any remorse if he did right now. This kind of desire was completely consuming him, or at least the mental block was slowly fading off, maybe that would explain why his head was lighting up over and over- until it was sending him into a fuzzy haze.

Jungkook stares down at you, getting a continuous light buzz when you try to chase his lips in return and when he doesn’t reciprocate, your eyes are opening- face stuck in a sinful daze when he hasn’t even touched you yet. 

He doesn’t know how he’s ever held himself from you before…now he’s tasted you and the filthy images racing in his head at the moment had him wanting more. The way he could bend you over your sink, fucking so deep inside you until you only knew him. He was only making himself worse by the minute- salivating as he came to wrap his hand around your neck and his eyes growing to pitch black as if you both were a part of his unusual dark fantasies.

You’re definitely not and there's one thing Jungkook was sure of at this moment…he wants to completely ruin you.

...

Tag List : @thisartemisnevermisses @vampyjk @taeilmom @outro-kook @bishuthot @mwitsmejk @irissilujm @vickyboo @awesomebabyyoda @hanzyyme @gerim-1995 @i-dont-give-a-fok @hwangheiress @hollyverday @seajae @oishee09 @jolinaprincess @yoongibabs​ 

a/n: I’m super sorry if some people couldn’t be tagged but tumblr isn’t allowing it.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of death, being hunted, vulgar language, price in a tunic (yes this is a warning by itself), awkwardness, nakedness, suggestive (?), implied age gap, etc.

A/N: I'm feral over this AU, ong. A million kisses to the Anon that brought this to my attention-btw this is definitely becoming a mini-series.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your family told you to never go beyond the deep waterways of the cove, never to brave the open sea. Times were changing. The Harpies, when they weren't as shrewd about their feathers getting wet, would fly down from their tall mountain spires and tell stories—ones about the hunting ships. 

They’d seen them, they said as your family listened on in horror from the rocks, dragging all manner of Merfolk up from the waters in large nets made of iron and hard steel. Spears that tore scales to take for profit. In other instances, the unlucky individuals were even sold to royalty to become showpieces in displays of high wealth and standing. 

But it wasn’t just Merfolk. It was all manner of mystical beast and being. Hunted. Sold. Humans, your parents had told you, were not friends. They were greedy and selfish; more than often cruel. 

And so they started to do the same unto them. Your family would lure them with their voices to the ends of the great ships that were brought close to your cove—watch as they hurled themselves from the sides into the grasp of the ruthless waves. They did it for you, they explained. To try and keep you safe. 

For years they did this until they were gone too. 

Suddenly the cove seemed more like a prison than a safe spot, and the Harpies no longer came to converse or tell news. Killed or taken you had no idea, but it was becoming fairly obvious that even interactions with your own people were impossible. Were you the only mermaid left? It was a good question to ask and one that you could never answer. All that you knew was that you had been alone for a very long time. 

That was, before you first laid eyes on the fisherman. 

You watch him now, yet again, from behind the sharp jutting body of the rocks; the water delicately bobs you up and down as your vibrant tail hangs limp in its otherworldly throes. Eyes softly wide and mouth parted in wonder. 

He’s walking along the deck of a small ship—not the large and intimidating ones of the other men that sail the seas—with a strong form. A hat on top of his head of brown hair and a well-trimmed beard of the same color made him look gruff in appearance. 

Your hands shift over the sharp black stone, and the nakedness of your top is covered by the long strands of your wet, uncut, hair. This man wore a plain white tunic and brown pants stuffed into large boots. Even as far as you were, you heard the soft whistled tune dancing in the shell of your ears. Delicate eyes watch, head slowly peeking out more and more. 

He was tending to the nets he had on the bow and as you studied him you were mystified. 

“Fascinating,” you whisper, unknown emotions swirling in you. 

His muscles strain, large and expansive shoulders lead down to a tapered waist; legs that you blink at before glancing at your tail under the rippling water. There’s a large grunt before the fisherman’s net is thrown in a beautiful arc, hitting the water with a slap and a spray of liquid as it begins to sink. Startled, you flinch back, gasping loudly.

With a racing heart, you quietly scold yourself for the childish reaction, flicking your tail in annoyance. Slowly but surely, your head peaks back out with water dripping down the flesh of your shoulders. 

But when you shift back into the open, you find a deep set of stormy blue eyes digging into your field of view. You freeze, seeing his lids go back in surprise and shock as your jaw slackens. A cold fear enters your veins at the new attention brought to you but you find yourself unable to look away. 

The Fisherman is the picture of utter stillness, just as you are, like twin mountains of ancient stone. Your nervousness only seems to grow as he doesn’t do anything—teachings and lessons about those who walk on two legs and sail in ships poking holes into your mind. 

Gawking and spying were one thing…but being seen meant death. You swallow stiffly and go tense, shifting to half-hide behind your rock. 

“Oh, no,” your mouth murmurs, self-hatred and fear lining the tone. “Oh, no, no, no.”

And yet the Fisherman had not moved, nor made any attempt to pull his sinking net back into his boat. Fish panic in the rope grave they’ve been ensnared in. His eyes….why are they so curiously locked on you?

You spare one last glance before shoving away from the rock and disappearing under the water with a violent splash; making off for the deep underwater caves that offer salvation. 

When you’re down there—in the darkness with only silent ripples of light to guide your eyes—you find it hard to stop thinking about the Fisherman and his strong jaw. His genuine awe at the sight of you. 

Had he not heard the stories of the Merfolk of this region? Or…or were you truly the last of your kind? 

The thought troubles you, and, riddled with anxiety, you go over to your store of shiny trinkets that you’d collected over the years; grabbing them in your hands and fiddling with them to try to put your mind at ease. The walls of the caves bare down on you and you hope you’d not just signed over your own death warrant. 

Maybe he’ll go away, you offer yourself, face tight and tail curled close, maybe he’ll be afraid and won’t come back. 

It was a pointless belief. They always come back—driven by greed or a righteous authority. Humans were cruel. 

But your brain goes back to stormy blue eyes like pebbles and softly parted lips. Orbs glinting with wonder and shock. No attempt to shout or grab for the large knife you’d seen strapped to his belt. 

A fisherman, you told yourself, who hesitated to go after the biggest fish of them all. 

You didn’t quite know if that made you more afraid or more intrigued. 

—

It was only after you’d spent three weeks in the underwater caves of the cove that you’d finally decided the coast was clear. You’d cautiously gone back through the winding seaweed and schools of marine life to hide in your little rock fort; afraid but brave. From under the waves in the calm of the water you’d scanned the surface for the shadows of a boat, anything to indicate that the man had returned. 

Nothing. 

Tension leaves your shoulders and you travel upwards, vibrant scales shimmering like jewels. You were quite close to the mainland, you would say, back to the shore to look out over the open entrance to your home. At the first sign of danger, the rocks would be your first point of shelter if you wished to remain hidden but continue to watch.

Ears popping as your head surfaces, you only look out with the water swaying below your eyes; nose and chin hidden. Sand from behind you shifts.

“Knew I’d seen something, then, eh?” Your heart lurches—brain flashing to hooks and nets; you shove yourself back under the water with a garbled gasp.

Fish around your form dash away as you frantically look back at the surface, your scales shining as the light hits them. Fingers tense in the water, you shift your body so that your form has its back to the floor of the cove and breathe quickly in your own mermadian way with shaking fins. 

On the very edge of the shore, you see the shadow of a sitting body in the sand. He hadn’t moved, this Fisherman. Was waiting as inanimate as an empty shell.

What had he said? You ask yourself, hair disturbed by the flow of the waves above your head. A gentle back and forth. After a moment of contemplation, the large muscle in your breast slows itself and a nervous curiosity grows.

Yet still, the shadow stays completely motionless beside the occasional itch and brush as facial hair. Waiting. 

Waiting to attack, your hand twitches in the water and you flutter your tail to take you closer to the open air, or waiting to see me?

Taking what you can describe as a deep breath, the top of your head once more breaks the top of the water; lashes dripping salty tear-drops as you blink away the sting. Every part of you is ready to disappear once more if things go south. 

And then you lock eyes once more. 

The Fisherman sits in the sand with his boots pushing up the granules—his right hand rests over his bent knee while the other keeps him up in a relaxed position from behind his back. You stare, the sun reflected in your eyes with a small glinting and hair in your vision. A foreign heat builds in your face when the man’s head tilts; tiny eyes narrowing as if he’d just proven a point to himself. 

Why doesn’t he seem surprised?

There’s a moment of a smirk that slashes his hidden lips but it’s gone in a fraction of a second. His mustache moves as he speaks and your face slightly bobs lower instinctually. The Fisherman doesn't seem hostile—he has a kind of stern comfort to him. 

Stubborn gruffness. And his accent only amplifies that fact.

 “Well, wasn’t expecting to find you here,” his chest rumbles with his words. You find you quite like the sound of it. Shells grinding against each other and pearls that clatter in palms. Your eyes widen with innocence. The Fisherman clears his throat, still watching carefully as the water sloshes over his boots. “Else I would have stayed clear when I still could.” 

Your hands tread water around you, tail flickering in small movements. 

The man's gaze darts down to stare as well as he could through the ripples. 

“Bloody Christ,” he murmurs to himself, returning your eyes once more, “thought you were all mostly extinct. Fuckin’ hell.”

“Extinct?” Your lips flinch, chin caressing the waves as brows pull up. The Fisherman blinks as if surprised to hear you speak. To be honest, you were half afraid you couldn’t either—how long had it been since you’d had a conversation above water? You spent most of your time passing comments to rare traveling Hippocampus and Sea Serpents.

Not that they could respond, of course.

By now your face had entirely left the water, that word startling you. Your chest tightens.

“What do you mean,” you ask the older man, this strange Fisherman who was shifting his weight in the sand, “extinct?” 

Dark brows furrow and his back slightly straightens itself. 

“You aren't exactly what I’d be calling common, Love. No one’s seen one of your kind in years.” Your face stills. 

“Years?” Head angling itself down, you stare at your reflection in growing fear. 

The Fisherman makes a move to stand, and you dart back swiftly. A pale hand is held in the air as if to sedate you.

“Easy, now.” It’s said softly, a grunt stuck at the beginning. A small moment passes before the man fully stands up, dressed similarly to when you’d seen him before. 

Top, pants, hat. There’s also a flash of metal around his neck, some piece of jewelry hidden on the chain under the layer of his thin, flowy, tunic. Hands go to cross over his chest in a display of muscle gained from a long time of hard work.

You nervously plead for an explanation, “B-but that…that doesn’t make any sense! I’m not the only one left!”

“No,” the Fisherman slowly states, taking off the hat from his head and delicately placing it on the ground. “No, you’re not the last.” 

His eyes dart along your visible body, trying to catch a glimpse of that tail that was in all stories about your kind. 

“Your name, Ma’am,” he asks, blue returning to your own sights, “what is it.”

“Well, what’s yours?” You counter, getting snappy in your anxiousness. “You come into my home and expect me to answer to you? And where’s your fishing boat anyways—unless a male Selkie has suddenly managed to brave the deep sea?” 

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but you had sworn the Fisherman had smiled at you; it was a swift slash of something that pulled his mustache back and wrinkled his face. An amused thing it was. A sort of tiny tease, in its own right.

Your heart beats steadily at the sight, eyes watching. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right, then.” He scratches at his beard with one hand, still studying you with a tilt of his head. As if weighing what he should tell you. There was an air of intrigue but that did nothing to hide the hesitance. “I docked my boat in the sea cave, thought it would do more harm than good to leave it in the open. If you’d seen it, you wouldn’t have shown, eh?” The Fisherman points and you look to the deep indent in the mountainside, the tiny ship visible as it stays stationary. You blink at it slowly. 

“And you can call me whatever it is you like, I don’t bloody care, but I’m not inclined to tell one of the Merfolk my name—I may have come ‘ere, but I’m not fuckin’ daft, now.”

It was true, what he spoke of. Names to your people have a stark and violent purpose. To know one's name is to own a piece of that person’s soul. Songs gain more power, words grow into orders followed without thought. Not that it was your intention.

You glower, brows pulling in. 

“A simple fisherman does well to know that it’s rude to speak ill like such in another’s home.” The man smirks, cheeks rising. 

“Simple, am I?” The already expansive build of his shoulders widens as he leans back on his heels, water sloshing at his boots. His eyes glimmer like lighting with humor. The look makes your cheeks burn with warmth, throat swallowing saliva.

“Why are you here?” You avoid the question, treading water and letting your tail drift. Willing the water to cool your senses. It was obvious that this man wasn’t a hunter—foolish, perhaps, but no hunter.

Or maybe just confidently brave. 

The Fisherman hums under his breath, grunting in the way you’d already come to associate with him. Rugged fellow, really. Weathered like a pile of old rope but still handsome, the sinews under the stain of dirt pure of color. You found yourself, however apprehensive, enjoying the squareness of his face; how the brunette’s hair would sweep in the warm breeze. 

He was attractive.

“Fishing, Ma’am.” A broad sweep of one of his hands, “You have a proper cove. Plenty of places to cast.” 

Your tight arms somewhat loosen. 

“Just fishing?” Your voice darkens. “Then why is it you’re here on shore and not doing just that.” Tail flickering, it lightly brings you back from him, eyes always darting away to stare into the background of his form—at the dark shadows of trees behind the dark rocks. At the open mouth of the cove in case of extra ships. 

If what he told you earlier was true, you were in danger just by living. 

Extinct? Not seen in years? No, that can’t be right. A deep knot forms in your stomach.

“I may be human, Ma’am, but I believe myself to be above intrusion.” The Fisherman splays his hands by his waist and shifts his thighs. He seems serious again, like a wave going forward and back he seemed to always revert to a crafted visage of firm resolve. “This is your home, and I’m asking to ferry my boat here when able. Nothing else.” 

You blink in surprise, brows pulling back. 

He was…asking you? 

“I…own the cove no more than the Manticore owns the desert,” your voice stutters, oddly touched by his sincerity. You pause and push yourself farther above a wave. This large man didn’t seem cruel to you. “I have no claim on the waters—they have been here longer than I. Do as you wish.” 

While that should have been the end of it, you found his blue eyes continuing to watch you, head tilted like a shaggy dog. Thinking deeply with a slight parting of his lips and rising to his lids. 

At the intensity of his silent wonder, your head goes light. Had you said something strange? No, it was just the truth. Then…why was this man’s face going to a modest pink shade? Why were his eyes darting away from yours and his feet shifting? 

You narrow at him before he speaks, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

“Alright,” the Fisherman mutters, chest rumbling. 

A silence falls where your ears twitch to the lapping of the sea-foam and the feeling of blood in your veins which mirrors such movements. As you saw him do to you, your vision falls to the man’s body; looking across the tapering of his waist and the rolled sleeves of his tunic—showing off years of muscle 

“I don’t suppose…” Your tail flinches from the sudden noise from the brunette, expecting him to swim over to his boat and get to his business. You stare and listen, and for the first time, you believe a mermaid has been entranced by another's voice. “That I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again?”

The Fisherman speaks slowly, hands shifting on his biceps; thighs tense and settle. You allow the waves to connect and slide around your body and a feeling reminiscent of warm rocks in the sun grows in your heart. 

Strange, this man. This serious-faced Fisherman who asks one of the Merfolk for permission over the waters we don’t control. You tilt your head to teasingly mirror the brunettes. He humphs in his throat at your action. I enjoy him. 

At the first sign of danger you’d leave—but for now…talking felt good.

“Perhaps,” you say, lips twitching into a smile. “Would this nameless Fisherman enjoy the company of a mermaid? Not many would say yes.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not like those many, then, yeah?” He smiles, a small twitch of his lips. You begin backing up, getting to deeper water while maintaining eye contact. “I don’t care what you are, just that we have an agreement.”

“Very well,” your neck dips under the waves, tail momentarily peaking above the surface. Blue flickers to it, shoulders lowering in hidden awe. The Fisherman’s lungs still. 

He hears your giggle before you dive under, disappearing swiftly down to your caves with a splash. 

It’s a long while before the brunette picks up his hat and begins walking the length of the shore—strong steps taking him back to his ship with a tiny smile brightening his ruggedly handsome face. 

He runs a hand over his chin and chuckles.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

—

You perch on the side of the Fisherman’s boat, golden comb in your grip as you run it over and over through your locks. Tangles and knots are rendered useless to the fine and beautiful make of the object, the handle covered in small barnacles and seaweed. A nice breeze wafts in the air, and behind you, the padding of feet goes across the deck. With the sliding of nets and a small whistling from the Fisherman, you feel your tail gently sway from side to side; the bottom under the water whose waves rise and lower the vessel. 

It had been a week since your first meeting and you had become more relaxed about this man’s presence. He had been truthful—every day he would come and fish. 

At first, you’d watch from the black rocks, sitting atop them and studying. More than once you’d see the brunette raise a hand in greeting when his boat had entered the cove; an acknowledgment that you were there and nothing more. No expectation for you to come over or speak to him. 

Day after day you’d see the net being thrown from the side only to be reeled back by large arms, legs apart and firm to the deck. 

On day four, you swam over and grappled onto the side of the ship, curious. Before you could even realize he instantly knew you were there—despite his back being to you—the Fisherman spoke in a cheeky tone.

“Come up, then, if you’re that interested. No use watching from the water.” So you had, with a bit more fire to your cheeks than you thought mermaids could handle.

Now it was routine. The human man would pull into the cove and you would sit on the side of his fishing boat, doing whatever you wished as he worked. 

You pull your comb through the ends of your hair, placing it down after and closing your eyes before your hands grab the shiny strands, twisting them. Under your breath, you hum in tune with the Fisherman’s whistled song; the notes like a growing symphony in your head. 

Song to Merfolk is sacred and revered—everything sings, in its own right, and deserves careful crafting to fully understand. 

“You seem to enjoy that,” you startle to a stop, eyes popping open. Sharply looking over your shoulder, you pause your hands. Staring, the man has completely stopped his work; nets at his feet with slapping fish of all colors stuck in the rope’s limp weavings. 

He squints at your confused face.

“Rhythm.” 

“Oh,” you offer a smile and watch him look away only to kneel down and begin separating his quarry. “If you’re worried I’ll sing around you, think nothing of it—I know what that could cause.” 

The Fisherman hums, amused at you, “I’m not. I was complimenting you,” the knife at his belt glints in the light. “You have a pretty voice, Love.” 

You shyly watch him, hair partly covering your visage, and catch a glimpse once more at the necklace he seems to always wear. Silver and shiny but still hidden. 

“If you knew about my species, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Explaining lowly, the man grunts, sending a look your way as he tosses a Cod farther up the deck—you watch it flop around for a moment. 

“Well,” the Fisherman explains, hands pausing and body leaning closer as one of his knees connects to the wood. It’s a teasing whisper that slides into your drum, and you find yourself nearly shivering from it. Blue eyes twinkle with mischief. “I did. No worries, I’ll never tell.”

A deep chuckle joins a lighter one, and your tail shimmers in the open light; scales vibrant and rich-looking. From what the brunette can see on the deck—the smaller plates that extend all the way up your navel to stop at your belly button—you know he stares at them. 

Not a greedy, evil, stare…just one of hidden admiration. It was of no surprise to you that he found it beautifully uncanny.

You have no idea how to read this Fisherman; have no idea what he wants. You think he doesn’t want anything. On your face, a strange calm settles. 

“Tell me, Fisherman,” his gaze snaps from your scales to your face, momentarily stopping at the dip of your neck as you turn as fully to him as you’re able from your perch. Your hand rests at your side; spine twisted halfway. “Who are you? No, I don’t mean your name. I want your person. You don’t act afraid of me—of what I am.” He stays kneeling and lets the net rest for now, his heart beating steadily in his breast. “There is more to you than a human at sea, surely.” 

Your words are not accusatory, they lacked any sort of confrontation. Curiosity, though, like enclosed treasure, was stuck behind your tongue. He surprises you by standing and beginning to walk over, boots thumping. 

As he nears, he sits down with a huff on the edge, right next to you. 

There’s a moment when you both stare into each other's eyes as you feel the world shift. Blinking up at him, at the closer range you take into account the ancientness of his eyes and how it seemed, for such an alone man, it was making him look far older than he was. Still older than you, yes, but the sentiment still stands.

With his hat having been retired not five minutes earlier onto one of the many ship’s barren tops, you saw the streaks of sun-bleached strands in his brown hair. You unconsciously reach for your comb but stay your fingers as they flinch over the gold.

Storm-blue carefully glances away before coming back to you. 

“Not much to know, Love,” the Fisherman’s brow raises, “you understand?” 

“No,” you say, honestly, head tilting at him. He looks surprised, breath hitching. 

“It’s just…there’s not much to tell, Sweetheart.”

Humans are strange creatures.

Not knowing this word game, you take your hand away from the comb and bring it to his chest, slipping under the neck of his tunic to grasp at the necklace he always wears. A hand snaps to your wrist almost immediately—a startling speed that makes you flinch. 

Above your heads, seagulls squawk at you, but all you can gaze into are those pure blue orbs. They trap you, drag you down far faster than a whirlpool into the briny depths of hypnotic appeasement. 

Perhaps you were naive to the magical whims of males that walk on two feet.

The Fisherman’s jaw clenches, eyes tightly narrowed at you in hesitance and veiled threat. You blink at him softly, not doing anything besides twitching your fingers and widening your sight. Before long, his hold loosens but doesn’t leave, allowing you on whatever it was you were doing yet still touching your damp flesh.

Lips parting, you don’t make a fuss. Instead, you hum under your breath and allow his calluses to scrape you. The toughness becomes a stark contrast to your own make-up. 

Feels nice.  

Your digits peel out the article of jewelry and you shift closer to look; bare chest brushing against his. You can feel his pulse through the brunette’s tunic, the way his throat shifts in a tense swallow of nothing. 

The necklace held two pieces of small, round, silver and said the following. 

“Jonathan Price, Captain, 141st company under the King.”

As you read, your tail gradually begins brushing his leg in its swaying. Through it all, the large Fisherman only slants his chin down and watches, breathing half through his mouth and half through his nose. You hear his throat clear; feel his grip squeeze your wrist. 

It is a small and taken-aback kind of noise. He doesn’t move his hand.

You are happy he doesn’t. 

“You’re a…Captain?” Asking, you look up shocked and aren’t taken aback by how close your face was to his. Even if your cheeks begin to burn at the beard bristles itching your nose. 

“...Yes,” breathe puffs over the lower half of your face. Your fingers detangle from the Fisherman’s necklace and let it thump to his chest. “I was. Left.” 

Blinking, you whisper, steadily, “What’s a…Captain…?” 

A small sound is made in the back of his throat and he releases your wrist and pulls back before a loud bark of a laugh jerks his chest. You stare in innocent confusion, hair falling over your shoulders.

“What?” Gripping his mouth, Jonathan Price grounds himself by gripping his thigh as he chuckles.

“No, no,” he takes a deep breath and releases his face, smoothing down his beard quickly with amusement stuck in his smile. “Bloody hell, it’s nothing. Nothing at all, Love.”

He sends you a warm side glance and you huff, moving back and picking up your comb, getting back to brushing your locks again. You are acutely aware that you now know the Fisherman’s name, but refrain from saying anything until he does. Now you know why he reacted in such a way.

Your tail twitches in the water as fish brush past it and the brunette begins with a soft look. 

“I was in charge of a small group of men—we had a ship. Far larger than this old girl,” he pats the deck, and you slow your motion to show that you are listening, intrigued. “We did what was needed of us, but there was a thin line that needed to be drawn to keep every bastard sane.” 

Blue meets your eyes and the man’s expression darkens. Your fingers twitch as the breeze ravages his hair, chest tightening. 

“And yours?” You ask softly, entranced and open, “What was your line, Captain Price?” 

He hums after a small silence, sighing deeply. Along the hull of the boat, the waves rock the vessel gently side to side, and your mythical attention seems to entrap him far better than your voice could. His face loses that dark edge, well-trimmed beard relaxes as his jaw does. 

The past it seems, looms over him like a tsunami.

Reaching up a slow hand, his fingers brush the tendrils of hair that had slipped out of your hold and were dangling in front of your face; the Fisherman blinks and pushes them back behind your ear. By now your brush had long stopped and your breath was held in your chest. For the first time in your life, you think you feel yourself shiver at the delicate scrape of his skin on yours.

“John,” he mutters, and you suck down a shallow breath as he watches you like you were an idol of the Gods, “Just John.” 

Your smile leaves his fingers pressing deeper into your scalp and, perhaps a bit naively, you welcome him to you like a bird to the sky. You liked his gruffness—his beard and his face. The lines on his forehead that you could imagine tracing as if they belonged on a map instead of the squareness of this Fisherman’s profile. Tiny sockets that hold sapphire stones.

“Maybe I left because I couldn’t stand seeing such beautiful creatures being put to the hook, eh?” Your eyes widen, tiny gasp leaving your lips. 

Merfolk swooned with flattery, truth be told. They enjoy being doted on and praised; given gifts of both words and objects. You were no different. 

Oh…did he call me beautiful?

John smirks at your reaction, taking his hand off of you and standing with a low chuckle. Your tail flutters at the sudden absence, head following after him as he walks back to his net with a sway in his step. You blink in astonishment. 

“You’re a strange human, John,” calling to him, you grimace at the blatant disappointment in your bones at the lack of his skin on yours. At his humored hum, you sense your growing attraction to the grind of his vocal cords. His voice. “I don’t know what to think of you.”

“Then think nothing of me,” he explains easily, casually, re-gathering his nets in his toned arms. You try not to let your jaw slacken at the bulge under his tunic when he carries them. “I’m not offended by it, Love.” A sly look, “Do as you wish.” 

Your tail twitches so violently you’re afraid you might break the side of the ship. 

And so this strange dance between the two of you continued well into the longer months—John would come in his ship nearly every day and you would join him on the side of the deck. Sometimes you would hum for him and he would whistle a tune back, others there were long bouts of conversation about the ways of humans and beasts. John told you that the King had ordered the total extinction of all manner of ‘strange and unordinary’ creatures to secure his line safely to the throne. 

When he had explained it, the mad had gone red with anger.

“Fuckin’ muppet,” he’d spit, fiddling with his knife as you watched a small distance away, playing with his silver necklace in your hands. You twiddled it around and liked how it shimmered like your scales did in the light. “Bloody thought I would just go along with the deaths of innocent beings. He had no facts—no proof to back up his claim. I’ve done things. Horrible things,” John explained to you, sending you a stiff look, “but I’ve not forsaken my damn mind to reality. Takin’ the piss.” 

Muttering the last sentence to himself, you had felt your lips curve into a smile. “You have a proper conscience, John, done bad or not.” 

“Yeah, well, Sweetheart, I’ll be done in soon enough.” You only stared with care-drowned eyes and caressed his necklace. When he had seen this, his body had deflated with an exasperated grunt. 

You shared a chuckle and he got back to work; feeling his melting gaze drawn back to you every so often. 

Later, yet again, you found your form on his boat, this time with his hands across the small of your back as you studied the blade of his knife.

“Careful, now. Don’t run your finger along the edge.” His free grip points to the sharp side—breath fanning your ear. You feel your throat tighten and nod, caressing a thumb on the leather handle. 

John’s hand is hard on your bare skin and you sense his heat drilling past your veins into the very marrow of your bones. You unconsciously sigh when his fingers slide slightly higher, traveling the length of your spine; his scars catching on every knob of bone. Your exploration stills and your pupils widen. 

His breath is on your neck, nose tilting as his jaw does just above the meat of your shoulder. 

“Why’d you stop?” You stare off into the metal, lashes fluttering when his fingers finally curve at the swell of your neck. Lips drag on your flesh before a deep grumble of affection stems from John’s chest as he kisses your rapid pulse. “Distracted? Hm.” 

“It’s,” you breathe out, scales reflecting light as your lower body shifts on the wood. His opposite hand circles your waist, drawing your back to his chest. Skin burns and thoughts go to liquid as you feel his roving muscle. “It’s g-good. Pretty—” 

Words fail you as his lips continue to slowly travel.

“Could say the same,” John grunts; beard scraping down your flesh. 

Your eyes flutter, head tilting to give more room at the same time you whisper out, violently shivering at the compliment, “John…” 

“What is it?” The grip moves to run over your scales, right where your upper hips would be; the sensation of him caressing you with gentle, deep, rubs of his thumb was all it took for you to give in completely to him. “Go on, Love, speak.” 

You take a breath and feel his heart beating steady along your back—the texture of his tunic. “What…are you doing?” 

John moves your hair and places open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. He breathes in your scent and you turn your light head to stare unabashedly at his flushed face. Your tail sways, limp, over the side of the boat. 

Blown pupils hide that sea-storm blue like a lock and key to dangerous thoughts and attraction. 

In answer, his eyes flicker down to your lips hungrily and your gaze widens; a small sound in the base of your throat. 

“You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” He says and you let him lean in closer to your face, eyes threatening to close when you take in the musk of human flesh and sweat. Rope and wood oil. John’s words make you shiver again, hairs standing on end—responding to that deep growl with a roaring in your ears. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. Shouldn’t be enjoying his lips or his tight grip; his…his rough, large, hands that encapsulate your body and drown you. It terrifies you, this heart-stopping magnetism. You can’t get enough of him.

John presses his firm lips to yours, groaning into the connection as you sigh and part your mouth. Fingers shaking, you twist and place your hands on his chest, gasping mutely as his teeth nip into your lower lip and pull back before pushing back forward. Sparks of subdued pain mix with pleasurable agony at the scrape of his beard hair.

 “Every inch of you…” John’s grip captures you closer, hands ensnaring you against his chest like deeply intertwined strands of fabric, squeezing as he licks his upper lip. He catches his breath shallowly. Blue eyes burn through you. “...is fucking perfection.”  

You grab at his necklace and drag him back in, feeling him not waste a single moment to grip the back of your head and keep you trapped to him, tongues slipping out of mouths to tangle together like seaweed. Perhaps it was foolish, but a part of you knew that this Captain, this strange Fisherman—this Johnathan Price—was the only man or being on this planet, land or sea, who could make you feel like you could walk and fly all at once. 

When he lifts you in his arms and drops you in his lap as if your body weighed as much as a pebble, you knew you’d brave the open ocean for this man in an instant. His arm drips with water as it slips under the joint of your tail; where your knees would be if you had them, and you whine into his mouth at the slip of his fingers. 

Intoxicated, drunk off of his scent and his pressure. 

A dangerous mix of two different lives. 

It couldn’t last.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XXVIII

y'all might want this

ao3

masterpost

At 5:24, Ivy watched the bright red Mustang slide into the lot. At 5:26, he watched III stride into the gym on long confident legs. Legs that had been wrapped around him not three days ago. At 5:27, he watched III chat animatedly with II, little braided buns bobbing when he spoke. By 5:28, he couldn't focus and dismissed the class. He slithered into the back office, hoping III hadn't seen him. He slid into the nicest clothes he had on hand, which was just jeans and a black shirt. At 5:31, Ivy gathered his bag and walked toward III. III was in pants that were almost casual, but almost dressy at the same time. He had a black button down with dark gold designs on as well and Ivy knew he was underdressed. 

“Should I go home and change?” III turned to him and checked him out. Those pretty blue eyes slid up and down Ivy's body in a slow observation. 

“Nah, you look good,” III grinned. He stepped forward then and enveloped Ivy in his long arms. “I'm happy you said yes,” III whispered into Ivy's hair. It was sweet, III looked romantic and Ivy could feel his anxiety rising. This is gonna hurt, he realized. “Are you alright?” III asked when he looked at him again. 

“Uh, yeah, totally,” II was looking at him now. 

“III, can I please steal Ives for just a moment?” II had a warm, firm smile on his face as he guided Ivy back into the office for a second. The smile dropped from II’s face. 

“I can see the self sabotage glimmering behind your eyes. You promised you'd give this a shot if III was interested. Which, he IS! He literally showed up here because you didn't reply to an Instagram message. I don't know what you learned when you were in school, but if you genuinely think III is going to hurt you, you need to get your money back. A banana could intuit that he likes you. A BANANA!” II tapered off on his tirade. He ran a hand through his hair and Ivy could see just how tired he was of his shit. 

“Alright. Alright. I just… it's hard. Ever since she-” 

“She's gone. She didn't want you. He does. Go get him, go on this date and just have fun. Please. For you,” he looked at II. And nodded. 

“Okay, fine. Just this once,” at that, II rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah and I'm only ever going to go on one date with Vessel. Fuck off, man,” Ivy took that as a dismissal and walked back out to where III was waiting. 

“Did he give you the safe sex lecture?” III laughed. He then offered his arm out and Ivy threaded his arm through. 

“No, he thinks I'm in my head about this,” 

“Oh, don't worry. I'm not a first date you need to be jittery about. We're just going for gyros and then I'm taking you to a planet show,” planet show? 

“Sounds great, honestly,” Ivy inhaled and tried to push all the bad thoughts away. III led him out to the red Mustang. III opened the door for him and cupped his head as he got in, so he didn't bang it on the door. That act kind of made Ivy's heart melt into a puddle of goo. III walked around to the driver’s side. While he did that, Ivy inhaled the scent of old leather. And something sweet like vanilla. III was next to him, and started the car. It roared, almost as loud as II's bike. 

“So, what do you think?” III asked, turning toward Ivy. 

“Of..?” 

“The car! Her name is Candy,” 

“Oh, cuz of the color? Um. She's cute,” Ivy replied, awkwardly using the vehicle's pronouns as III had. III grinned. He was always grinning. It made Ivy's chest feel tight. III leaned over and kissed Ivy's cheek. 

“Thanks, peaches. Let's go get some food. I'm starving,” III threw the car in drive and took off on one of the most harrowing rides of Ivy's life. III clearly knew his car, and knew exactly how to drive with a perfect carelessness that terrified Ivy. When they arrived at the restaurant unscathed, Ivy wondered if he should kiss the ground.

“Wait here, I'll open your door,” III jumped out of the vehicle and came around to open Ivy's door. It was romantic. Just. Plain. Romantic. Ivy could feel his fear about this fading. III was just so kind, he was starting to see why II yelled at him. I am not going to let Roxy ruin another good thing. Ivy resolved as III opened the door. 

Dinner went by quickly. III was a talker, and Ivy loved to listen. He peppered III with questions so that he would continue. He was almost soothed by III’s voice, animated and happy. It was nice. Things felt… normal for the first time since she’d told him she was leaving him for his best friend. He still remembered II calling him to say he’d thrown her out onto the street, and that he’d never do that to him. He still remembered everything afterward. Crying in II’s arms for days. 

“Ivy?” III broke into his thoughts. “You’ve been staring,” shit. 

“Ah, sorry, babe. You’re just so nice to look at,” III turned pink. He bit his lip. 

“Well, the show is going to start soon. Are you ready to go?” Ivy nodded. Now he was excited. A real planetarium! Excitement shot through him as III took his hand to walk to the car. 

The walk to the auditorium was lined with giant, sparkling rocks. III pointed at one, tugging Ivy to the side to look at it. 

“This one matches your eyes! It’s a..um.. Paraiba tourmaline,” III looked back at Ivy, clearly pleased with his find. Ivy thought his heart was going to combust. He couldn’t take III being any sweeter. 

“The one next to it matches your eyes,” he pointed out, to distract from how hot his face was getting. He was actually starting to feel guilty about all the negative things he’d thought about today. III was kind of oblivious to all the darkness in his head, and guided him away again. They were almost to the auditorium, when the floor changed to a plush, squishy carpet that Ivy could feel even with his shoes on. “This floor is nice,” 

“Super squishy. Are you excited for the show?” an attendant asked as they approached the doors. “Kinda quiet in there tonight, but we’re still going to show you the heavens,” just like I showed him the other day. Ivy giggled at his own thought. 

“What are you giggling about?” III asked, again right in his space. His mouth hovered near Ivy’s ear, damn height difference. 

“Nothin,” he whispered back. They found their seats. The show was projected onto the circular ceiling. It showed them what they would be seeing through the telescope in twenty five minutes, and then showed about two thousand years worth of constellations. Ivy was getting more and more excited. He was going to be looking through a real telescope. Once the show ended, they followed the small group down several hallways, including one that had a bunch of pulley and lever systems, like a big Rube Goldberg machine. They must have crossed half a mile before finding the actual planetarium. Once Ivy saw the telescope, he looked up at III. Man it’s actually really nice to look up at someone. He knew he was smiling ear to ear. 

“Thank you,” III shrugged and smiled again. 

“It was nothing,” Ivy wished he could explain that it was kind of everything.