#this has been written for like 3 hours its just taken me this damn long to edit

[velidewrites]

To get back what the Cauldron has taken from her, Elain Archeron makes a deal with Prythian’s most dangerous enemy.

Now, a servant of a cruel Death God, Elain must make sure her efforts are not discovered—especially not by someone tied to her darkening heart by a golden thread.

Someone like her mate.

Notes: My humble offering for @elucienweekofficial. This fic is a post-ACOSF story — and very close to my heart as it’s based on the very first one-shot I’ve ever written.

Tags: Post-ACOSF, Canon Compliant, NSFW

Read on AO3 || Chapter 1 || Masterlist

Chapter 3 - You're Not Like The Others

Lucien watched Vassa carefully as she leaned back in her seat, arms stretched out before her as she examined her shimmering skin.

“How do you feel?” he asked, eyeing the soft, blueish glow that seemed to shine from her very bones—in all his centuries on earth, Lucien had never seen anything quite like it.

Vassa considered, looking over her body once more before finally meeting his gaze. “Cold,” she said, though her voice betrayed no concern.

“Here,” Jurian said, rising from his seat to peel the jacket off his arms. Vassa smiled, stopping him with a lift of her hand. “It’s alright,” she said. “It’s not unpleasant, it feels…nice, actually.” She took another breath, shoulders loosening as though a thousand knots within them had just been undone. Slowly, Jurian receded back to his chair, his brown eyes sharp and trailing every single one of Vassa’s movements.

“You’re supposed to rest now,” Lucien reminded her. “Nuan said an hour at least—your body needs time to absorb the elixir.” Beside him, Jurian grunted his agreement.

Vassa looked at Lucien. “I’m afraid your mate has other plans for me this evening.”

Jurian glowered at him—as though Elain being so hell-bent on staying at the manor had somehow been his fault. The way Lucien saw it, the quicker they got this whole ordeal over with, the sooner she would be gone—and the sooner could he go back to his useless routine of pretending she did not torment his every thought.

Because she had—even more so now that he’d finally, finally spoken to her after months of seeing her only in his dreams. Their conversation—if he could even call it that—just a few hours ago had lit a match somewhere deep in his chest Lucien thought had long been darkened to ash, and he was more determined now than ever to find out just how bright it could truly burn. Every visit, every Solstice, Lucien had been presented with the same blurry picture—a polite, quiet Elain, so out of place in her new world that she needed space to figure things out on her own. Lucien had been more than happy to give it to her—until now, when the picture sharpened and he finally looked at it with new eyes.

There was nothing quiet about Elain Archeron, thank the Gods. She hadn’t expected to see him and he could tell the sentiment from her face as clear as day—he’d caught her off guard, like a startled animal resorting to its most primal instincts to defend itself. She’d shown her claws, the roaring that simmered beneath her pretty dress, begging to be let out.

Lucien was practically itching to be the one to do it.

“You don’t have to be so damn stubborn about this, you know,” Jurian told her, earning a look that, had he not been slaughtering on the battlefield his whole life, would’ve sent a regular man running.

Vassa said, “If Elain can find the answers we need, then I’m willing to try it again. And again, if necessary. However many times we need.”

Lucien leaned forward, propping his chin up on his palm. “Not too many, let’s hope.”

Vassa angled her head, her fiery hair shifting with the movement. “Does she know where you’ve been this morning?”

“Not yet. We got, ah…sidetracked.” His face flushed slightly as the words came out of his mouth, realising the message probably implied something entirely different than what he’d intended.

Sure enough, Jurian’s dark brows rose. “Have you—”

“No,” he cut in sternly. “But we…talked.”

“I wonder how that went,” Jurian murmured, the words rewarded with yet another look from Vassa.

Lucien muttered, “It doesn’t matter.” Because it didn’t. As much as he might have enjoyed seeing her true colours come to life, it could not have been more clear that Elain had hardly shared that sentiment. They might have spoken for the first time in forever—the conversation perhaps longer than any of the scraps he’d ever been given with her—but as soon as her mission here was over, Lucien had no doubt in his mind Elain would retreat to the shadows of the Night Court, never to light that match in his heart again.

Vassa hummed. “If you say so,” she said, resting her back against her seat again as her eyes closed in content. “This feels really good,” she admitted, that blue light still coating her tired features. “Maybe I’ll rest for ten minutes before your mate cuts me open again.”

Jurian snorted. “I got this,” he said to Lucien. “You go get your mate.”

———

Elain shifted on the couch nervously, watching as blood began to drip down Vassa’s hand. The carpet was still stained from yesterday, a rusted sort of red dotting the thick fabric and forming a pattern that, if she angled her head just right, she could’ve sworn looked just like a bird in flight. Elain sighed, well aware that, especially with the time ticking down her very tight schedule, she was definitely growing paranoid.

“Your turn,” Vassa’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, transfixed on the thin stream of liquid still filling the crease in the firebird queen’s palm. She handed her the knife, the steel surprisingly heavy in her hands, and lifted the sharp side of the blade to her smooth unassuming skin.

A low snarl ripped free from Lucien’s throat, and Elain’s head snapped up to meet his eyes.

He didn’t return her gaze, though, the pools of russet and gold flashing a sizzling flame that threatened to spill and burn the whole manor to the ground as he stared at the knife. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles bone-white and his body tense enough that she knew he was barely keeping himself seated, the beast in his chest purring out its loud sounds of protest.

That same beast, as Elain knew, lived in her own chest—though she’d managed to keep it dormant after the first and last time it awoke, silently raging as it took in Lucien’s bloodied clothes after the final battle. Elain tore her gaze off Lucien, slicing through her palm with a straight, clean cut.

That rage, that primal ferocity that roared in him to protect her—it wasn’t real. Their beasts—both of them—eventually, would be tamed into submission.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jurian murmured to his friend, leaning over the couch, Elain’s arched, Fae ears catching every word.

Lucien did not deign him with a response.

Jurian turned to Vassa. “Remember, you don’t have to—”

“We’ve talked about this,” Vassa said, the words apparently dismissal enough.

Elain nodded, offering the general a tentative smile she hoped masked her impatience. “This will never work if you don’t trust me,” she offered. Come on, her mind silently urged, tell the where it is. Tell me where you hid it.

Jurian opened his mouth, but Elain was quicker—she reached out to Vassa, her own blood dripping to join the carpet’s strange pattern. “Ready?”

Vassa loosed a breath. “Alright.”

The queen slipped her hand into Elain’s, two streams of blood joining into one.

The world flashed again, a white-hot flame consuming every inch of the room until it all became a bright, scorching nothingness.

But this time, Elain was prepared.

She navigated the space as though she’d been born for the light, her eyes now looking beyond what the fire veiled. There she was, Vassa standing atop a lustrous surface and looking up to the sun.

Elain looked down right at her.

Vassa’s eyes were closed—she could not see, not here, only feel as Elain’s light warmed her body, golden-brown skin shimmering under its power. But then, the sun intensified, and the surface beneath her feet trembled, as though the light had become too strong to reflect. Elain burned now, no longer a comforting presence above the queen, but a threat—beams of a scaling fire shooting to pierce through her, with Vassa’s heart their one and only aim.

Vassa’s brows knitted, her nose scrunching at the shift in the air—and her eyelids fluttered. In a second, those eyes would meet Elain’s—the last face the firebird queen would see before she burned to her death.

Elain.

Everything stopped.

Elain, please— a pause, as though the voice had choked on a breath. You have to save her. Help me save her, I—I can’t live without her.

The voice, hoarse and strained, echoed through the chambers of her very soul. Why did you do it, Elain?

The surface trembled again and blurred, shifting into something solid beneath Vassa as she fell, her knees hitting the ground hard.

“No,” Elain’s mouth moved on its own accord. “No, please—I—I didn’t mean to hurt anyone—”

A low, smooth chuckle. Well done, my sweet.

Elain jerked away.

“Elain!” Lucien called, by her side in an instant as if she’d frightened him—as if he cared. “Elain—are you—what the fuck did just—”

“Lucien, I need you here!” another voice—Jurian—reached her as the room began to come into view.

She had to have stood up at some point, and abruptly from the looks of it—the couch she’d sat on had been pushed back two feet, leaving four, long scrapes in the wooden floor. The back of her legs pulsed slightly from the impact, forgetting the immortal strength that rested within her muscles, just waiting to be harnessed. Elain looked over the space—not a lick of flame in sight—until she rested her gaze on Vassa, where the mortal queen hissed at the raw, bubbling skin of her open palm.

Lucien leaned over her quickly, a soft glow Elain recognised as similar to the magic used by Madja back in Night as he cast it over the burns. Elain looked down to her own hands—and, to her horror, found them perfectly smooth, not a single sign of the fire’s touch on them.

This, Elain decided, did not look good.

Her mind raced in search of an explanation she could offer—a lie she could come up with on the spot, certain that if any of the Band of Exiles learned of what she’d just seen, they would drag her down to the Nolans’ old basement and lock her up for all eternity.

Jurian, Cauldron bless him, gripped Vassa’s arm, forcing the stunned queen to look up at him at last. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

Vassa blinked, a fog scattering from her cerulean eyes. “I…” she looked at Elain, frowning.

Elain could not breathe.

“It felt…strange. I couldn’t see anything but light—but I felt it, warm on my skin.” She looked down to her palm—to the new, gleaming skin, no burn marks in sight—and added, “It grew hotter—and then everything stopped.”

Elain had to keep from crying out in relief.

Lucien looked at her, an incredulous expression creasing his scarred face. “And you?”

Lie, that silky voice within her purred. Lie and take what you came here for.

Elain looked back, her attention falling to the deep wounds in the floor she’d caused. There was a time when lifting a heavy, iron chair had been a struggle. Now, she could probably lift a thousand of them.

She forced herself to look away, her decision made simple. “That sounds about right,” she said to their expectant faces, then cleared her throat. “Except—I could actually see Vassa standing under the sun, looking up to the sky. In her human form.”

Vassa gasped quietly, Jurian squeezing her shoulder tighter.

“She was holding something,” Elain lied, fighting to keep her throat from closing up. “A small, rectangular shape.” The two males behind Vassa exchanged glances.

“What was the colour?” Vassa breathed.

“It was too bright—I couldn’t see it very well,” Elain said. There was little doubt in her mind that they’d never hand the box over to her—her only resort was prying its location from Vassa’s mind. She added carefully then, “Perhaps another vision…”

“Can you focus your Sight on it?” Jurian asked. “See…see what it was exactly? If it was…open?””

“I…” Shit, shit shit. They did have it—they’d tried to open it, too, apparently to no effect. “I could try. But Vassa…” she looked at the queen and offered a sympathetic smile. “You were smiling.”

Elain made a show of lowering her gaze to her palms slowly, an exasperated sigh sounding deep from her chest. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening.” The queen shook her head, still seemingly in awe at the Seer’s previous words. Jurian, too absorbed by looking at Vassa with an emotion she couldn’t quite discern, did not return her gaze, either.

Lucien looked at her wordlessly, his silence almost palpable in her chest. He was not a daemati, but Elain checked her mental shields anyway, making sure they were still intact despite his sharp scrutiny.

But it wasn’t her mind his presence seemed to slither into, but somewhere else—prodding at that place beneath her ribs that could ruin everything had he only decided to disobey the order she’d given him a mere few hours ago.

After all, there was a reason Elain had been working so hard to avoid him—months upon months of hard work, of carefully selected words and bold, if not desperate, strategies—a triumph she’d thought she’d cemented at the last Solstice.

Apparently not. 

Lucien, to her relief, stopped despite the golden cord around her ribs calling out his name in a quiet song. She stifled the sound immediately, levelling her eyes on his own, praying that her expression would not betray a thing.

Finally, Lucien turned to Jurian—to Vassa. “I need to go,” he said, his voice tight. “Don’t wait up with dinner.”

———

Lucien’s reaction—or rather, the lack of it—made her stir through the rest of the night.

She had decided to forgo staying up the way Jurian and Vassa did—especially when doing so meant having the house practically all to herself throughout the day. Elain had begun taking mental note of the rooms she’d already managed to search, crossing them out as a potential hiding spot one by one until she decided the ground floor was not, perhaps, her best shot.

She could only pray the box was not somewhere she’d never dare to go. Like Lucien’s bedroom.

Elain knew exactly where he slept by scent alone, a warm morning breeze infused by something like hot caramel dripping down his skin. She could smell it in the entire house, its trail infuriatingly following her no matter how far she’d tried to escape—a constant reminded of the thorn in her side.

A silent grimace twisted her face as she remembered he’d used a smilier analogy to describe her a few hours ago—and with that, Elain promptly decided to go to sleep.

At least in his absence, there was no steady thrumming lulling her into dreams she could not allow her mind to drift into again. Lucien’s heart had a quiet beat that no one else seemed to hear—in the manor, or even the House of Wind back when the two of them had briefly occupied it at the same time. Elain could hear it well enough, though—chanting the same words over and over again, as though repeating them persistently would make them any less of a lie.

Mate. You are mine and I am yours.

Elain groaned into her pillow, keeping her face there to inhale the clean scent of cotton instead.

The softness of the fabric seemed to have done its job well enough, because Elain’s thoughts eventually slowed and her jaw relaxed, lips parting slightly to take a quiet breath. A few more and she felt herself falling—her body sinking into the mattress, into the darkness enveloping her slowly…

Elain squinted as she spotted a light somewhere at its very end. It shone a soft glow, inviting her closer.

She began moving through the shadows, thick and stalling her every step as though intent on keeping her away from the light. But Elain knew, with a certainty she didn’t think she’d ever felt before, that she was meant to follow that light—that once she reached it, she would never get lost in the darkness again.

As she approached the end—or perhaps, the very beginning—the light became clearer, taking up a shape. It formed into muscle first—hard and golden-brown as it built a tall, powerful frame. A broad chest, with a silky white fabric draped over it, and an arm adorned by a golden cuff, slithering around the impressive bicep.

Elain could not tear her gaze away—she found that she didn’t want to. The light was far too warm, far too compelling, for her to ever want to be near anything else.

But then, the light was given a face.

It twirled a bright russet and a glittering gold, looking down on her from beneath dark lashes. Elain backed up a step, darkness already swooshing thickly behind her—ready to wrap its tendrils around her body and pull her in, never to return again.

Those strong arms reached out for her, finding their way around her waist, grounding her and offering her safety. She found herself leaning into them—into the sculpted chest as she noticed the very light that seduced her had come exactly from it. It shone quietly beneath his skin, and Elain could’ve sworn that if she focused, she could hear its gentle thrum.

She placed a hand on that light, the feel of it washing over her like the first ray of sunlight as it rose over the night sky. Elain looked up then—to meet those eyes of russet and gold, realising she no longer wanted to back away.

Lucien smiled down at her, his large hand covering her own. “Listen, Elain,” he said, his voice filled with an emotion that made her own heart ache. “It beats only for you.”

She opened her mouth to answer him—to place his hand on her chest, too, perhaps—when a flitting sound sounded behind her.

Wings.

Elain jolted awake.

Her gaze immediately snapped to the windowsill—to where she’d forgotten to close the window to her bedroom fully—and found nothing but a small, chirping sparrow, taking its rest happily before resuming into the fading night.

Elain sighed in relief and went back to sleep.

———

Feyre’s midnight-sharp talons brushed against the gates to Rhys’s mind, a solid wall of impenetrable darkness.

The touch was met with twinkling laughter. Yes, Feyre darling?

A picture flashed down the bond, and Feyre smiled at the sight of Nyx, cooing happily in Rhys's arms. His big, blue eyes looked into his father’s, widening as though he saw the whole wide sky inside them. Perhaps he had.

Feyre caressed the sight down the bond, then stored it deep in a quiet, glowing chamber of her heart. Actually, she started, no longer wishing to disrupt them, I think I can handle this one myself.

A low hum sounded his agreement. I have no doubt that you can. She watched as he carefully set the baby down, Nyx’s small wings rising on instinct to accommodate the new position. Still, allow me to listen in? He’d comply with whatever answer she gave him—at her side or in the shadows, her mate would step back if  that was what she wished.

As if she ever could. We are a team, she told him.

Rhys glanced at their son. That we are, he agreed softly.

Feyre smiled, then blinked, the image slowly fading away to be replaced by the palette of cool greens and mahogany woods of the drawing room. She sent the location down the bond. Gwyn is here, she told her mate, smiling at the priestess sitting opposite from her, teal eyes watching the silent conversation curiously.

Rhys appeared a moment later, foregoing winnowing straight into the room for a quiet knock on the door signalling his presence. Gwyn stood up as he entered, bowing slightly to the High Lord the same way she had as Feyre let her in.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” he told her in a manner of greeting before taking his seat beside Feyre. “Where is Nesta?” he asked her.

Feyre huffed. “Running late.”

Rhys’s mouth twisted into a shit-eating grin. Who would’ve thought freshly mated couples would’ve bothered you this much, Feyre darling.

Prick.

As though summoned by the wind carrying her name, Nesta suddenly appeared, reaching them from the doorway in a few quick strides, a heavy scent wrapped tightly around her skin. Gwyn, apparently well-acquainted with such entrances, rolled her eyes as her friend plopped on the cushions beside her.

Rhys sighed deeply. “Cassian?”

Nesta waved a hand. “Otherwise occupied.”

“What does that mean?” Feyre frowned.

Nesta snickered, more to herself than the rest of them gathered, “It means he is to remain exactly where I’d left him until I’m available again.”

Please, Rhys’s voice slid into her head again, for my sake, don’t ask her any more questions.

Feyre teased, I only worry for poor Cassian, of course.

Rhys’s expression looked pained. Something tells me Cassian is right where he wants to be.

Gwyn, thank the Mother, cleared her throat, giving Nesta a look that was almost scolding. “Shall we, then?”

Rhys looked at her as though she’d just declared world peace. “Please.”

The priestess chuckled, leaning over the coffee table. “Merril, unsurprisingly, was a dead end—but I believe I was able to find something interesting,” she said and, with a flick of her wrist, a stack of documents appeared, the fragrant smell of ancient scrolls mercifully cleansing the room. She looked at them both, meeting Feyre’s gaze directly. “What do you know of the fourth Dread Trove?”

She felt her mate’s surprise flicker down the bond.

“Next to nothing,” Feyre answered for him. “As far as history is concerned, there are only three,” she added, recalling Rhys’s words from months ago.

“Amren had once mentioned it,” Rhys said, Gwyn’s shoulders rolling back at the name of their Second as if on instinct. “There were rumours of it—rumours from her time. Whispers that it had been lost, or perhaps Unmade.” He angled his head, considering. “I believe that’s about the extent of it.”

Gwyn nodded. “That is correct. I was hardly able to gather any information on the existing Troves, let alone one only ever spoken about in rumours.” She shuffled through a small stack of papers, a silvery glint of a bracelet catching Feyre’s eye as her hands moved. “The library at the House of Wind holds very little information on magical objects or artifacts. Most of the priestesses choose to specialise in active history, or the events that shaped our cultures—our languages, our music—and as such, we have never had the need to collect knowledge that might have been more useful to other researchers.” She frowned. “Or so Clotho has said, at least.” Rhys nodded, though something about his shimmering gaze told Feyre the library’s collection would soon be undergoing a vast improvement.

“I wasn’t exactly hopeful,” Gwyn continued, “until I remembered something Nesta had told me about months ago. A vision, sent to her by one of the Prison’s…residents.”

“Lanthys,” Feyre whispered, recalling her sister’s horrifying encounter with the deathly mist-god. She glanced at Nesta, her sister’s expression almost bored as she casually sipped from her tea.

The priestess nodded again. “Nesta recalled a fourth object on the Dread Troves’ altar.” She looked at Nesta expectantly.

Nesta set down her cup. “I could not see much,” she admitted, “the vision was veiled in mist. But I remember the gleam of it to this day—a bone, aged and worn-out, yet still containing ancient, powerful magic.” Her hand tightened on the cup for only a moment. “It called to me. Cauldron-made to Cauldron-made. There was no denying it.”

Rhys asked, “You believe the fourth Trove is that bone?”

“It’s our only lead,” Gwyn said, “And, as it appears, not entirely a dead end.” She lifted a piece of parchment, a yellowed image painted above a text in a langue Feyre did not follow. “This is an old myth about the Seers—ones from so long before our time the exact date still remains in question,” she explained. “It seems their talents could be controlled by music—they listened to specific tones and melodies to clear their minds of the fog, usually clouding parts of their visions—and, sometimes, to even alleviate the pain.”

Nesta stilled. “Pain?”

Gwyn nodded. “It appears pain is a common side effect to the Sight. This text claims Seers are known to experience the physical impact of whatever the Sight is showing them—for example, foreseeing a stabbing might result in a Seer feeling a sharp-like sensation in their gut. Or wherever else the person would be stabbed, I suppose.”

Nesta looked aghast at the news. She looked at Feyre. “Did you know about this?”

Feyre could only stare—at her sister, then at Rhys. “No,” she whispered.

Elain had once foreseen Hybern’s twin Ravens. Had she…?

You can’t think about that right now, Rhys’s gentle voice sounded in her mind again like a soothing touch. We can only help Elain by moving forward now.

Feyre nodded, though her throat still felt tight.

“How does this tie to the fourth Trove?” Rhys asked Gwyn, ever so patient.

The priestess slid the parchment across the table. “Take a look at what the eldest Seer is holding.”

Feyre glanced down and stilled.

“Is that…” she started, the question dying on her tongue.

“A bone,” Gwyn agreed, finishing it for her. “According to this text, it was the eldest Seer’s family heirloom, taken from the body of his ancestor, that he used to enhance his abilities.” She glanced at the two rulers across from her. “It could not only clear the fog, but allow him to navigate his visions as he pleased, stay within them for as long as he needed, sometimes replaying it over and over before its meaning became clear to him at last. It is also said,” the priestess added, “that the Bone could be used to induce visions, allowing the Seer to find answers to whatever questions pressing him at the time.”

Feyre sucked in a breath. “This—this could change everything.”

Gwyn’s freckled face seemed grim. “Unfortunately, this is all I was able to find on the Bone, and even it being a Dread Trove is only my theory. The myth does not stem from a different, original text—finding anything even remotely related to this story would require the aid of researchers far more experienced than I am.”

Feyre looked at Rhys.

“Please don’t tell me you’re actually considering this,” Nesta sighed, seemingly reading the silent words from her sister’s face.

Feyre narrowed her gaze. “You may not like him, but he is perhaps the only ally we have that we could trust with this.”

Nesta nodded. “I know—I’ll go.”

Rhys straightened, as though another voice had just requested permission into his mind. “I believe that won’t be necessary,” he said after a second of a pause.

The entryway flashed auburn, revealing none other than—

“No need to start brooding, Nesta Archeron,” Lucien drawled, Nesta’s eyes flashing an ice-cold flame. His gaze slid to Feyre. “And here I thought I was the one bringing the news,” he added, Rhys apparently having already filled him in on the conversation mind-to-mind.

Rhys smiled at Gwyn, who gaped at the newest guest—at the golden eye and the cruel scar slashed across it. “Thank you, Gwyn. Your help has been more invaluable than I can put into words”

Gwyn’s returning smile was tight. “If only there was an easier way to do this.”

Feyre sighed, resting her back against the soft seat. “I really miss the Bone Carver.”

———

Lucien returned the next day, his face unreadable enough to make Elain shift on her feet.

She did not know where he’d gone that had taken up an entire night and half the day—but the looming speculation that his absence had something to do with Elain grew heavier and heavier over her with each passing minute he was gone.

Jurian was already awake—had been since midday, actually, a fact that made Elain have to keep from gritting her teeth as the general seemed to have made it his mission to follow her around the house every step of the way. His mistrust towards his friend’s mate was nearly palpable, and no amount of polite smiles or I’m just going to go and find something to read had managed to keep him away as she tried to search for the godsdamned box.

Elain was growing more and more desperate. She’d been given a week, and a task that had originally seemed doable enough (find a way into the manor, search for the stolen box, deliver it back to its original owner) was very quickly proving more difficult than anticipated. The box was here—she could sense it now, its magic calling out her name and filling her nostrils with the mouldy scent of earth. Vassa had hidden it well enough, though—Elain could not, for the life of her, find its location based on scent alone, silently cursing herself for not using all those months to ask Rhysand’s shadowy wraiths for basic tracking training. What good would all that baking do to her now?

The most important thing was that she remained at the house—that she kept distracting its occupants with a smile after smile, vision after vision, spilled blood after spilled blood, until she finally found the one thing she’d been asked to do and be rewarded with, quite literally, everything.

By the end of this week, Elain Archeron was going to, once again, become human.

And then…then she could finally live.

When Lucien found her, she was lounging in the drawing room, her favourite childhood book she’d found in the study propped up innocently on her knees as Jurian watched her closely from a corner. She sat up immediately, dread building in her chest all over again as she met Lucien’s hardened stare.

I know what you did, he could say. I’ve looked into your soul and found the rot you’ve invited into it. I know who you are, Elain Archeron, and I won’t ever let you become who you’re supposed to be.

Lucien sighed deeply. “Pack your things, sunshine. We’re going to the Day Court.”

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[theharrowing]

Sun Seeker 🌞 3: We should make a habit of this

Namjoon does not do impulsive. He doesn’t understand the fuss about body modifications, and he has never considered getting one. That is, until he meets Yoongi—the prettiest man he’s ever seen, who happens to be a tattoo artist—and he can’t stop thinking about going under Yoongi’s needle to have an equally pretty design tattooed onto his skin.

🌻 Namjoon x Yoongi 🌻 word count: 16.3k 🌻 strangers to lovers, tattoo shop au, smut, fluff, slash, nsfw, 18+ 🌻  warnings: namjoon in his entirety fit with the lace and mesh shirts, smut! (dirty talk, semi-public oral sex, ass to mouth, anal fingering, frotting, teasing, anal sex, dick piercings, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, safewords, praising, pain kink exploration, semi-public anal sex), fluff! (flirting, confessions), a smidgen of angst (anxiety), getting ears pierced (brief description of needle & piercing). side taekook. 🌻 written for the Namgi World Tour Fest! 🌻 thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading! 🌻 posted jan. 2023 | read on ao3

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For their third date, Namjoon wants to wear something nice—something to really knock Yoongi's socks off and make his jaw drop. It is for this reason that Namjoon has been standing in his closet with his hands in his hair, stressing the fuck out. He needs to call in reinforcements.

Namjoon Are you busy?

Namjoon is an appreciator of art, and he likes to think he knows which colors go well with others, and which do not. But putting an outfit together—color, form, material—it eludes him. He wishes he had the same eye as Taehyung. 

Tae Tae 🎁 You literally just saw me three hours ago. Obsessed, much???

Namjoon Some best friend you are.

Tae Tae 🎁 Fine, you win! What is needed of me, best friend?

Namjoon I'm stressing out about what to wear. 

Tae Tae 🎁 To the club? Wear anything.

Namjoon "Anything" to me is not the same as "anything" to you. You could wear a sheet with a belt wrapped around it, and you would look put together.

Tae Tae 🎁 That's not a bad idea...🤔

Namjoon Tae, I'm serious.

Tae Tae 🎁 Me too. I have a floral sheet that might look great with my knockoff Gucci belt.

Namjoon You're impossible.

Tae Tae 🎁 Hush, now. I'll save you. Give us 20. 

Namjoon Us?

Tae Tae 🎁 Yes, us. Jeongguk and I are a package deal now. 

Namjoon Fine. See you in 20.

"This is too much," Namjoon whines as he stares at his reflection. He looks good—damn good, if he is being honest. But he has never dressed in anything like this before, and it makes him feel nervous. 

"Nonsense!" Taehyung exclaims as he holds various silver necklaces up to Namjoon's neck and cocks his head side to side, trying to choose one. "You look fucking hot. Yoongi is going to die."

"Killing Yoongi is not the goal," Namjoon grumbles as he nibbles the inside of his lip. 

Taehyung waves Namjoon off and shakes his head, then holds the whole bunch of necklaces up as if deciding that he wants Namjoon to wear all of them. Which, Namjoon thinks, is ridiculous. Except, Taehyung drapes all of them over Namjoon's wrist—which he has taken the liberty of grabbing and positioning where he wants it—and unclasps them one by one to wrap around Namjoon's neck.

As soon as Taehyung takes a step back and studies his hard work, Namjoon has the overwhelming urge to tear at the clothing and jewelry and start over. He feels like a fraud staring at his reflection, and he hovers his palms over the yellow lace long-sleeve button-up shirt that Taehyung has left halfway unbuttoned and tucked into black jeans, which have been distressed with bleach, he assumes, leaving horizontal tan streaks down the length. But the real kicker is the white mesh shirt underneath, covered in silver sequins, which shows—in all of its somewhat sculpted glory—Namjoon's chest.

Namjoon had already felt self-conscious about the shirt upon first trying it on, and Taehyung wolf-whistling while exclaiming, "Mesh on top of big, beefy tits, what a gift," certainly did not help.

"This...isn't me," Namjoon mutters, feeling more apprehensive the longer he stares at himself.

"Nonsense," Taehyung insists, reaching around with both hands from behind Namjoon to delicately part his bangs over his forehead. Namjoon is used to Taehyung being in his personal space and fucking with his hair, and he does not flinch.

"I'm sure Jeongguk is outfitting Yoongi in just as devastating of an ensemble as we speak."

Evidently, when Taehyung informed Jeongguk that they were going to play dress-up with Namjoon, Jeongguk had the brilliant idea to dress Yoongi, claiming he also seemed pretty nervous about their date. Namjoon finds the notion of Yoongi being nervous both hard to believe and incredibly endearing. He likes the idea of Yoongi fussing over his hair and clothes, and he blushes at the thought of him getting flustered and grumbly when Jeongguk recommends something too outlandish, presuming he and Taehyung have similar ideas.

Namjoon opens his mouth to ask when they are going to finally leave for the club when a loud ping comes from Taehyung's phone, which is sitting on his bed. A smile creeps over Taehyung's lips, but he finishes what he is doing—using his pinkies to place the hairs over Namjoon's forehead just so.

"You look stunning," Taehyung beams as his hands fall to Namjoon's shoulders. "I have a jacket you can throw over this, too, so you don't walk into the club feeling instantly self-conscious."

"That's a relief," Namjoon responds, looking at his friend in the reflection, who rests his chin on the hand that sits on Namjoon's shoulder.

Taehyung is somewhat dressed down for his style, in a plain white tee tucked into mustard slacks with a thick leather belt around his waist. Draped over the edge of the bed is a black blazer covered in lilies that resemble a watercolor painting in bright reds, deep blues, and inviting greens, which he plans to wear to bring the look together. 

Namjoon puts on a black bomber jacket, but he knows that if he zips it up, Taehyung will give him hell. Still, it is pretty obvious that he is wearing two layers of see-through material, and he hopes that whatever Jeongguk has dressed Yoongi in is somehow more over the top than what Taehyung has put him in, just to ease his mind. 

His hopes are thwarted, however, when they show up to the club, only to find that Yoongi's outfit is pretty standard. 

"Great work, Gguk, but...a white tee? Really?" Taehyung mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Jeongguk—dressed predictably in a black tank top tucked into black slacks that are accessorized with a chunky black leather belt—blushes as he slings a black jacket over his shoulder and gives Taehyung a forlorn expression. "He threatened to cut my mesh shirt into strips if I brought it near him."

"Hyung!" Taehyung scowls, turning his focus on Yoongi, who Namjoon realizes is staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

Yoongi blinks as if he has just been pulled from another dimension, and turns his attention to Taehyung long enough to mutter, "S-sorry, did you say something?" before returning his gaze to Namjoon, and Taehyung laughs it off, clearly giving up on complaining. 

And it is not as if Jeongguk didn't do a good job. Sure, Yoongi is in a plain white tee, but it hugs him perfectly, showing hints of the muscle beneath it, and it is tucked into the tightest black jeans Namjoon has ever seen. The ends of the jeans disappear under tall black boots, making Yoongi's already slender legs appear longer and thinner, and he wears a blue bomber jacket and a cute, black beret. 

If someone were to ask Namjoon before how he felt about the beret as a fashion accessory, he would probably have shrugged and said he had no opinion. But seeing Yoongi donning one with his pretty, overgrown dark brown hair pulled away from his face, showing off his forehead, piercings, and neck tattoo in all of their glory, Namjoon thinks that perhaps the humble beret is his favorite invention to date. 

Both Namjoon and Yoongi stare at one another while the overwhelming sights and sounds of the club blare brightly and loudly around them. Fingers snapping in Namjoon's face pull his attention to his very impatient best friend, who gives him an incredulous glare.

"Drinks?" Taehyung asks.

"Yes," Namjoon responds, incapable of thinking about anything beyond the general idea of having a drink.

"Preference?" Taehyung asks a bit more sharply.

Namjoon shakes his head. "N-no. I don't know. Just...whatever you guys have."

With a scoff, Taehyung mutters, "I'll bring you whatever Jeongguk orders for Yoongi," as he makes his way from the table to the bar. Jeongguk follows behind, leaving Namjoon and Yoongi alone, and Namjoon finally finds the ability to move his limbs in order to approach Yoongi and pull him into a hug. Woody musk and a hint of citrus fill Namjoon's nose, and he inhales deeply.

"Taehyung put you in lace," Yoongi mutters slowly as if caught in a trance. "And mesh."

Namjoon chuckles, feeling his apprehension somewhat melt away from the attention Yoongi is giving him. He responds, "I'm disappointed I don't get to see you in mesh," earning a scoff from Yoongi.

They pull out of the hug and take two seats on one side of the table, rotating their bodies to face one another. Their knees bump, and both men chuckle until they get lost in each other's eyes, and the laughter dies. 

Yoongi has a light dusting of black eye shadow outlining his eyes, and silver hoops in his ears, and Namjoon blurts out, "You are so fucking pretty," as his eyes struggle to decide where to look.

"I'm pretty?" Yoongi asks as he pushes Namjoon's jacket open to expose more lace and mesh. "You're...I mean...seriously, Joon. I feel like it's my birthday."

"Stop," Namjoon mutters, feeling self-conscious as his cheeks warm.

"I can't believe I get you all to myself later, and you come dressed like this."

"Hyung," Namjoon whines, but the thought of Yoongi running his hands over his mesh-covered pecs does excite him quite a bit. 

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and smirks. "If I didn't want our first time to be so special I would drag you into the bathroom right now."

The sound of a glass being set on the table makes both men flinch, and Namjoon turns to find Taehyung looking at them with a surprised expression, and Jeongguk pursing his lips together while he looks anywhere but at the two men seated in front of them. 

"And they say romance is dead," Taehyung chides as he sits down and slides two glasses of what appears to be whiskey to Namjoon and Yoongi. "There's quite a bit to unpack, hyung. Where to begin, where to begin?"

"Thanks for the drink, Tae," Namjoon shouts as he grabs his glass, sniffs to confirm it is whiskey, and takes a gulp. The caramel color liquid burns slightly as it coats his tongue, and he can't help but cringe as he adjusts to the flavor. 

"The bathrooms here are surprisingly clean," Taehyung continues as he sits across from Namjoon. "And the ones upstairs are individual rooms, in case you want some privacy."

"Alright, Taehyungah," Yoongi says in an annoyed grumble, despite the look of amusement that tugs at his lips. 

Jeongguk settles at the table across from Yoongi, and everyone drinks. In an attempt to change the topic, Namjoon asks Yoongi how long he has been tattooing, and Yoongi blushes as he mutters, "Since I was 15," taking him by surprise.

"It started as little stick-and-pokes, and occasionally one of my cousins would let me tattoo oranges with his equipment. When I got older, I bought a machine and apprenticed under the same cousin, and the rest was history."

"He was piercing, too," Jeongguk adds, "before I came along and freed up his schedule so he could only tattoo."

"Is that so?" Namjoon asks with a raise of his eyebrow, and Yoongi nods. 

Namjoon's eyes flit between Yoongi's eyebrow, ears and lip. "How many piercings do you have, hyung?"

Yoongi's eyes widen, and he nibbles on his lip, looking away from Namjoon. If Namjoon is not mistaken, Yoongi seems embarrassed by the question, which has Namjoon's mind absolutely racing. 

"Hyung?" Namjoon presses, nudging Yoongi with his elbow.

Yoongi picks up his drink, holds it to his lips, and mutters something under his breath before taking a drink. Unsure what he said, Namjoon leans in close, looking between a shy Yoongi, an amused Jeongguk, and a confused Taehyung. 

"What was that, hyung? I missed it."

With a loud clearing of his throat, Yoongi turns toward Namjoon, eyes looking down at the drink in his hands, and says, "Twelve."

"Twelve?" Namjoon repeats, counting the piercings he can see—two in each ear, one in his eyebrow, and one in his lip—then begins to imagine where else a piercing could be. "Interesting, because I only count six."

The dim lighting of the club paired with rainbow lights flitting all over makes it hard for Namjoon to see the blush that he imagines is turning Yoongi's cheeks a pretty shade. He curses the unfortunate circumstance, determined to tease Yoongi into spilling the beans, anyway. 

Yoongi chugs back the rest of his whiskey and stands in a rush, asking, "Anyone else need another drink?"

"Now, now," Namjoon says, reaching for Yoongi's hand and holding it tightly. "This conversation is still in full swing."

With an incredulous glare, Yoongi stares down at Namjoon. Then, with a huff, he sits. "My nipples and my belly button are pierced," he blurts out, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon, who chuckles.

"And you have two rings in each, I presume?" Namjoon asks with a smirk.

Yoongi shakes his head—small, quick movements—biting back a smile. "You presume incorrectly."

"I can't believe hyung is too shy to tell his new boyfriend that he has his dick pierced," Jeongguk blurts, making Taehyung gasp.

At this piece of information, the world comes to a screeching halt. Namjoon's mouth falls agape—brain absolutely empty of thought—and he stares at Yoongi, who shifts around in his seat, glaring at Jeongguk with a deadly look. 

Jeongguk giggles into his drink while Taehyung mutters, "Whoa, for real?"

When Namjoon continues to stare at Yoongi in a daze, Yoongi reaches over and smacks Namjoon on the arm, whining, "It's perfectly normal to have a dick piercing!"

"Is it?" Namjoon asks through a chuckle.

This time, Yoongi's mouth falls open, and he stares at Namjoon as he shifts around in his chair with a huff. "Don't shame me!"

"I'm not shaming you, hyung," Namjoon defends, "I've just never seen a dick piercing before."

"Well," Jeongguk chimes in—helpful as ever, "Technically two dick piercings and one on his balls."

"Your b—" Namjoon begins, struggling to finish the sentence. 

Yoongi's expression darkens, and he smirks playfully, asking, "Wanna see?"

Of all the things that might count as moving too quickly and possibly technically breaking the three-date rule, grabbing Yoongi by the hand and asking Taehyung exactly where the upstairs bathrooms with locking doors are located is probably high on that list. Namjoon, however, does want to see these piercings, and he takes his eyes off Yoongi only long enough to slam back his whiskey.

"Tae, where are those bathrooms?" Namjoon asks, turning back to Yoongi, whose expression is a priceless wide-eyed mix of shock and excitement. 

"Up the stairs, to the left, all the way back," Taehyung supplies.

Namjoon takes Yoongi's hand and stands, tugging Yoongi to his feet as he snakes past clubgoers who mingle near the bar. As they scale the steps, Namjoon's heart pounds heavily, aided by the thud of the bass booming too loudly in his ears. 

The upstairs bar is crowded, but to Namjoon's delight, there seems to be nobody waiting for either of the gender neutral bathrooms, and he taps the door to the nearest one open with his foot, turning on the light and pulling Yoongi inside. 

Yoongi appears out of breath as he enters the room, leaning into the door to close it behind him. As soon as Namjoon locks the door, Yoongi reaches to his neck and pulls him close, licking over his lips and groaning when Namjoon gives him access. Kissing Yoongi ignites something in Namjoon, and he crowds his space, grabbing his face gently as their tongues glide over one another. Namjoon nibbles on the metal hoop in Yoongi's lip until he whines, and when they pull out of the kiss, Namjoon lets his hands fall to Yoongi's shoulders, with his eyes on his pretty spit-slick lips. 

"Are you sure?" Yoongi asks, rubbing his hands over Namjoon's shoulders and chest.

Namjoon gently takes the collar of Yoongi's jacket in both hands and opens it just enough to reveal his pecs. Sure enough, under the white shirt, Namjoon can spot two bumps where each nipple is, indicating barbells through each one. 

"You're full of surprises," Namjoon groans, feeling dizzy from this revelation. "How did I never notice?"

"I had silicon retainers in before, so they didn't show through my clothing, and you probably wouldn't have felt them." Yoongi responds with a sly smile.

"So you put these in tonight, for me to discover?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi grins, nodding his head. 

One of Namjoon's hands falls, and with his index finger, he rubs over Yoongi's belly until he lands on another set of metal balls. Yoongi gathers his shirt in both hands, untucking it in the front, and lifts the fabric enough for Namjoon to see a simple silver bar in his bellybutton. Namjoon swoons. 

Suddenly, the realization that Namjoon dragged Yoongi into a public bathroom to look at his dick settles over him, and he begins to feel a little foolish. He swallows a lump and studies Yoongi, who seems to pick up on his anxiety and cocks his head.

"I just pulled you into the bathroom to see your piercings without considering how nerve-wracking it might be to show them to me," Namjoon admits.

"I offered," Yoongi responds with a smirk.

"But were you serious?" Namjoon asks.

Yoongi chuckles, nibbles on his lip, then begins to slowly unbuckle his belt. "It's not like I wasn't planning on letting you see them tonight, anyway."

Suddenly, the fluorescent lighting is too bright, and the smell of cleaning products is too strong. But Namjoon does not want to be anywhere but in this small, disorienting room with Yoongi.

"Are you sure you wanna see?" Yoongi asks one more time, and Namjoon takes a deep breath as he nods and mutters, "Yes. Please."

Yoongi's belt falls open, and his mesmerizing hands go to work undoing his fly. Once his pants are undone, Namjoon sees a hint of tight, dark blue briefs, and his mouth begins to water as his stomach swoops. He is really going to see Yoongi's dick, right here in this bathroom, and he cannot come to terms with it.

"You look scared," Yoongi says as he reaches into his briefs.

Namjoon looks up at Yoongi's face, then down at his crotch, and shakes his head. "Just struggling to comprehend reality, but I am very much not scared," he mumbles. 

Yoongi chuckles, then pulls his briefs down, and Namjoon sees two of the piercings—a circular ring right where the base of his dick and his scrotum meet, and a barbell on the underside of Yoongi's length. Then, Yoongi moves his hand down, gripping his shaft loosely, and Namjoon sees the final piercing. A thick, metal ring sticks through the head of Yoongi's cock—in through the hole and out just below the crown. 

"Wow," is all Namjoon can say, not only because he has never seen pierced genitals before, but because Yoongi's cock is out in the open, slowly enlarging with blood. 

Without thinking, Namjoon drops to his knees and stares up at Yoongi, whose eyes widen as big as saucers as they follow his movement.

"Y-Yoongi-hyung," Namjoon mutters as his pulse echoes loudly in his ears. 

"Yes, Joon?"

"May I—I mean—I really want—" Namjoon swallows a lump and Yoongi chuckles. 

"What is it?"

Namjoon looks up a Yoongi through his eyelashes as he asks, "May I suck your dick?"

Yoongi huffs out a heavy breath and nods as he begins slowly stroking his length, but Namjoon reaches up and gently takes Yoongi by the wrist, stopping the movement. 

"I want to feel you get hard in my mouth," he says, smiling with delight as Yoongi lets out a quiet gasp.

Namjoon sits high on his knees and rubs his hands up and down Yoongi's thighs, feeling the slightly scratchy denim under his fingertips. Yoongi watches with a somewhat dazed expression as Namjoon with his mouth close, waiting for Yoongi to consent one more time.

"Please don't make me beg," Yoongi breathes.

Namjoon grins, then leans forward and licks a strip from the scrotal piercing, over the bar in his shaft, up to the ring in the head, gently teasing the cold, hard steel with the tip of his tongue. A deep moan leaves Yoongi's lips, and Namjoon has to hold back making a sound of his own—feeling arousal flutter from just his voice alone. 

"So after we get out of here, and you take me back to your place to fuck me," Namjoon says between flicks of his tongue over the large metal ring, "will I be able to feel these?"

"Yes," Yoongi moans.

The feeling that washes over Namjoon is intoxicating—warmth covers him from head to toe, tingling. Arousal courses through him like oxygen, and he very desperately wants Yoongi to bend him over and show him precisely how these piercings feel inside him. 

Without another word, Namjoon opens his mouth and swallows Yoongi's semi-hard length. Yoongi gasps and groans, hips trembling and jerking forward, and Namjoon breathes through the urge to gag, feeling a bit rusty after not having a cock between his lips for longer than he would care to admit—not to mention the intrusive feeling of having a metal ring hit his throat adding to the sensation. It does not take long for him to adjust, and he begins slurping and sucking, letting drool fall past his lips and make a big fucking mess as Yoongi hardens—thick and heavy on his tongue. 

"Your mouth feels incredible," Yoongi groans, gripping Namjoon by the hair and gently thrusting his hips. 

Namjoon moans as he sucks Yoongi eagerly, unconcerned about Yoongi's hips pressing him in just a little too deep. The metal barbell in Yoongi’s shaft tugs occasionally on Namjoon’s bottom lip. It doesn’t hurt, but it does feel strange enough to make him want to giggle, which he does his best to hold in. 

Outside, someone knocks on the door, and Yoongi moans, "Occupied," as his fingers tug harder on Namjoon's hair.

"You're gonna make me cum," Yoongi mutters softly, and Namjoon slowly sucks Yoongi all the way to the tip, releasing his lips long enough to say, "Good," before sinking back down.

Yoongi trembles and softly moans as he gets closer, and Namjoon sucks in his cheeks, feeling impatient and wanting to taste his release. Luckily, Namjoon's desire is granted quickly, and Yoongi grips onto his hair and gasps shaky breaths, muttering, "I'm cuming," moments before thick, salty liquid hits Namjoon's tongue and slides down his throat.

"Holy fuck," Yoongi groans as Namjoon continues to gently suck, milking him of every drop. The tugging on his hair gets harder as Yoongi whimpers, "Joon you're gonna fucking kill me,"

As Namjoon clearly stated earlier, killing Yoongi is not the goal, so he releases Yoongi's cock, sitting back on his heels while he licks his lips. Yoongi bends, takes Namjoon's cheeks in his hands and kisses him deeply, groaning as his tongue strokes over Namjoon's.

"You're insane," Yoongi mutters, letting go of Namjoon's face to tuck himself back into his pants.

"Insanely attracted to you," Namjoon responds with a grin, knowing precisely how cheesy he sounds.

"Your lips are pink and swollen, Joonie. You look like you've been sucking dick."

Namjoon chuckles and begins to stand, groaning as his legs protest after being bent against hard tile. "I can't imagine why I would look like that."

Yoongi advances, pushing Namjoon by the hips until his ass hits the sink, and their bodies are pressed together. Namjoon was too distracted by pleasuring Yoongi to worry about the erection in his jeans, but with Yoongi standing flush against his body, it is all he can think about.

"We should get out of his bathroom," Yoongi mutters, and Namjoon nods in agreement. "But your dick is hard."

Namjoon shrugs. "It's fine. I'll walk it off."

"How soon until we can get out of here so I can repay the favor?" Yoongi asks, mouth dragging across Namjoon's lips.

Namjoon hums and attempts to give it some serious thought, but his brain feels short-circuited. "One more drink?" he suggests after a moment.

"Perfect," Yoongi groans, sucking Namjoon's bottom lip gently between his teeth until Namjoon whimpers into his mouth, releasing with a deadly smile. 

People are waiting in the hallway when they exit, and Namjoon ducks his head down, avoiding eye contact as a smile tugs on his lips. He has never been with someone who would initiate, much less agree to semi-public sex, and he wonders what other exciting, experimental things he and pretty, spontaneous Yoongi might do together. 

Yoongi holds Namjoon's hand as they approach the upstairs bar and order two more glasses of whiskey, then they continue to hold hands all the way downstairs, to where their friends are waiting. Taehyung takes one look at Namjoon and gasps, and Jeongguk grins, asking, "Have fun?"

Namjoon hums and nods, and Yoongi shrugs, muttering, "I don't know what you're talking about," causing everyone, including himself, to laugh.

"How was the bathroom?" Taehyung asks.

"Clean," Namjoon says, and Yoongi hums in agreement. 

"Well, the floor was clean,” Namjoon continues. “I didn't really see anything else."

Yoongi smacks Namjoon on the arm as Taehyung and Jeongguk share a knowing glance, and Namjoon lifts his drink to his lips and smiles.

"We're gonna head out after this drink," Yoongi announces. 

Namjoon half expects Taehyung to whine about them leaving so soon, but instead, he says, "I'm surprised you came back at all. I was expecting a good night text to come through any minute."

“Wow, you really thought I would bail on you?” Namjoon teases, feigning being hurt as he takes a seat, hand still held tight by Yoongi. 

“Well, you got a tattoo, which is something I never thought you would do,” Taehyung responds incredulously. “And you…examined the bathroom floor…whatever that—I don’t want—“

Jeongguk waves Taehyung off, shushing him, and Namjoon can’t help but chuckle. He has been stepping far out of his comfort zone lately, and it feels good. 

“So,” Jeongguk says with a grin that Namjoon recognizes as pure mischief, “what do you think of hyung’s piercings?”

Taehyung flails, attempting to shush Jeongguk by holding a hand over his mouth, but the youngest is undeterred. 

“What?” Jeongguk half-shouts. “Those are my handiwork! I want to know if Namjoon-hyung thinks I did a good job!”

At this, Namjoon laughs hard, squeezing Yoongi’s hand and holding tightly to his drink so that it doesn’t spill. Tears threaten his eye line, and his chest rocks. What Jeongguk said was not even that funny, but Namjoon just feels so elated, anything might set him off. 

“You did very well, Jeonggukah,” Namjoon finally says, sneaking a glance at a very amused Yoongi. “Excellent craftsmanship.”

“Alright,” Yoongi grumbles, clearly done with the conversation as he tugs on Namjoon’s hand. 

Namjoon continues to chuckle but manages to drink some of his whiskey. The music in the club is loud, overproduced, and technically not very interesting, but the beat continues to boom in time with Namjoon’s pulse, and he is glad to be right where he is, with all three menaces in his presence. 

Taehyung and Jeongguk finish their drinks and get up to get another round. As soon as they turn to the bar, Yoongi leans close, pressing his lips to Namjoon’s neck. 

“I still can’t believe you did that,” he grumbles against Namjoon’s skin. 

“I honestly can’t either,” Namjoon responds with a smile, turning to stare into sharp but soft eyes. “You make me want to be impulsive.”

Yoongi stares at Namjoon, cracking a soft smile. “Does that worry you?” 

Truth be told, it does worry Namjoon a little. But not because he does not trust himself to make good choices. All that worries him is that he might be too swept up in a whirlwind of Yoongi, only to crash back to earth harder than he could possibly imagine. But, all of these concerns have already been aired, and Namjoon does not want to drudge them back up at a time like this, so he smiles and says, “Only a little.”

“We can take it slow—“ Yoongi begins.

Namjoon squeezes Yoongi’s hand and shakes his head. “I don’t want to take it slow with you. I want all of you, as soon as possible.”

Yoongi’s eyes flash, and he lifts his drink, gulping half of it down. Namjoon drinks some of his, as well, feeling the warmth of the liquor settle in his chest as excitement begins to gently but insistently quake through him. 

“What you said in the bathroom,” Yoongi says, leaning so close, Namjoon can only see a Yoongi-tone blur from the corner of his eye. “You want me to fuck you?”

Namjoon nods and turns his head so he can look into Yoongi’s eyes. “If that works for you.”

“That does work for me,” Yoongi responds with a grin. 

Namjoon takes two big gulps of his whiskey, finishing it. His mouth and throat feel thick and heavy, with a bitter taste, and he exhales through it as he sets his glass down. Yoongi finishes his drink and places his glass beside Namjoon’s, and they glance around for their friends, finding them still at the bar. 

Without a word spoken between them, Namjoon stands and pulls Yoongi toward the boys. They squeeze through a small crowd and pull Taehyung and Jeongguk into a hug once they finish placing their order with the bartenders. 

“Have fun but be safe,” Jeongguk says with a stern look. 

“Text us when you get home,” Taehyung adds. 

“Yes, dad,” Namjoon and Yoongi grumble at once—Namjoon finding it hard to keep a grin off his face. 

Taehyung and Jeongguk collect their drinks and walk toward the dance floor, trailing Namjoon and Yoongi, who have to pass that area to get to the exit. With one more wave goodbye near the edge of the writhing throng of bodies, Taehyung places a hand on his heart and shouts, “They grow so fast.”

Jeongguk sighs, mimicking Taehyung, shouting, “I’m so proud of our boys.”

Yoongi stands so close to Namjoon that the bounce of his shoulders can be felt, and Namjoon laughs, tugging Yoongi outside.  

“Those little shits,” Yoongi grumbles once they are out on the sidewalk. 

Namjoon lets go of Yoongi's hand and wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him close, humming in agreement. Yoongi snakes an arm around Namjoon’s waist, and Namjoon could swear the spot under his large, warm hand tingles from the touch. The club is close enough to their neighborhood that they fall into step toward Yoongi’s place; nobody bothered to drive. 

“I wonder what other firsts I can get you to do,” Yoongi muses, turning his pretty smile to Namjoon.

With a hum, Namjoon shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“I’m still a certified piercer,” Yoongi suggests with wide eyes, swimming with mirth. 

Namjoon glances between Yoongi and the sidewalk ahead, and scoffs. “I don’t think I need a piercing, hyung.”

“Not even your ears? You’d look good with some silver hoops.”

Warmth blooms over Namjoon, covering him like a hug. Even if he is not sold on the idea of piercings in his own ears, he likes Yoongi telling him he would look good. 

“Already trying to get us to match, hyung?” Namjoon teases. 

Yoongi chuckles and squeezes Namjoon’s side. “I guess that’s something only couples do.”

Unsure what to say, Namjoon hums and keeps his eyes ahead. With his tendency to jump too fast and fall too hard, he hesitates to comment on a timeline for them to become a couple. 

They stop at a corner and wait for the walk sign to grant them permission to cross the street, and Yoongi leans and smacks a kiss against Namjoon’s cheek, making Namjoon flinch and turn to find him smiling brightly. 

“We’ll get there,” Yoongi says. “And when we do, we’ll be the cutest in our couples outfits.”

Namjoon can’t help but grin. “Is that so?”

With a lift of his eyebrows, Yoongi nods. Namjoon resists the urge to kiss him silly—to say fuck it and ask him right in this moment if he would like to make it official. 

But the light changes and Yoongi takes his hand once more and tugs him across the street. It takes Namjoon a few steps to pick his feet up properly, and he stumbles as he traverses, doing his best to keep up. It could be the whiskey, but it is more likely Yoongi who is intoxicating him, and he does his best to get his balance. 

"Drunk, Joon?" Yoongi teases, glancing back when their feet hit the curb. 

Namjoon feels winded, like he has just run a marathon, and he tugs Yoongi close, pulling a low grunt from him. "You make me dizzy, hyung."

Yoongi sucks his lips between his teeth before releasing them with a shy smile. "Pretty sure that's from the whiskey."

With an adamant shake of his head, Namjoon lets his gaze trail from Yoongi's eyes, down to his lips, and back. "It's you."

Yoongi falters—hesitates as if he has something to say or do—but then he squeezes Namjoon's hand and continues to yank him along. They are already so close to Yoongi's apartment, Namjoon is starting to feel nervous. Nervous, but also more excited than he has been for anything before. 

As Yoongi's apartment comes into view just over a block away, Namjoon's hand starts to sweat. The night air is just chilly enough to make him shiver, but where Yoongi's palm rests snugly against his, the skin tingles with warmth. If Yoongi notices, he does not seem to mind, just holds Namjoon tightly, rubbing his thumb gently over his skin. Namjoon wonders if he is just as nervous. 

"I think it's nice how we paired off," Yoongi says softly. 

Namjoon glances at him, finding Yoongi looking ahead with a small smile on his lips. Yoongi turns briefly to lock eyes with Namjoon, and his smile widens.

"What do you mean?"

"Taehyung and Jeongguk. They're both younger and are very similar in personality. Eccentric. But sometimes, they're like the sun and the moon. Taehyung is bright and sweet, and Jeongguk is dark and moody."

Namjoon hums, smile tugging at his lips as he watches the sidewalk before him. 

"And then there's us," Yoongi continues, making Namjoon turn to look at him again. "I'm the Jeongguk and you're the Taehyung."

Namjoon chuckles and squeezes Yoongi's hand. "I was going to say the opposite."

"Really?" Yoongi asks through a chuckle.

"Remember how emo I was on date two? I feel like I'm the dark and brooding moon and you're the bright sun."

After a pause, Yoongi says softly, "So I'm the sun you seek."

This stops Namjoon in his tracks, turning to Yoongi as his heart pounds wildly in his chest. The thought has crossed his mind before, but it is such a large, profound thing to voice aloud that it takes Namjoon's mind a moment to catch up. 

"I suppose you are," Namjoon responds, voice breathier than usual.

Yoongi crowds Namjoon's space, gently taking him by the cheek and slotting their lips together. It is less of a kiss and more an exchange of oxygen, warm whiskey-sweet breath passing from one to another. 

"I hope I can continue to shine for you, then," Yoongi mutters against Namjoon's lips. 

Namjoon grins, eyes open and watching Yoongi's pretty lips. "I will need at least six hours of direct sunlight a day in order to thrive."

At this, Yoongi smiles widely in return, rubbing his blunt fingernails gently along the column of Namjoon's neck. "Only six?"

With a gentle peck to Yoongi's lips, Namjoon continues their trek, tugging him across the vacant street and to the steps of their destination. Yoongi takes the lead, unlocking the front door and tugging him along, toward the elevator. Once the silver doors slide closed, Yoongi steps in front of Namjoon and gently, firmly, shoves him into the corner, standing with his smirking lips only an inch away.

"Are you ready, Joon?"

Namjoon's pulse quickens, and he stares into Yoongi's eyes, doing his best to breathe. "I am," he responds through a shaky breath.

"Are you sure?"

The elevator dings, but Yoongi does not move, so Namjoon leans in, and captures Yoongi's bottom lip between his teeth, gently sucking until the older whines. "I was the one who dropped to my knees earlier, remember?"

"I remember," Yoongi groans. 

The elevator doors begin to close and Namjoon steps forward, pushing Yoongi backward, so he can reach for the button to reopen them, crowding Yoongi's space. "Shall we?" 

Yoongi leans forward and smacks a loud kiss to Namjoon's lips before spinning and pulling him toward the apartment, causing Namjoon to stumble forward once again, simultaneously light and heavy on his feet as excitement vibrates from limb to limb. The familiar smell of citrus and cedar hits Namjoon's nose the moment Yoongi's door opens, and he takes in a deep breath as he crosses the threshold. 

Namjoon enters the apartment, steps from his shoes, and gently places them near the small pile of Yoongi's sneakers. Yoongi's tall boots have zippers up the side, and he wastes no time stepping out of them and tossing them aside. 

With a deep oof, Namjoon's back is pressed against the door, which closes loudly behind them, reminiscent of the first time he entered this apartment. Yoongi advances quickly, hands on Namjoon's neck and chest, pushing at skin and tugging at fabric as he kisses sloppy and eager. Namjoon melts against the door, slowly pushing at the collar of Yoongi's bomber jacket until the older helps him remove it—hands leaving Namjoon's chest only long enough for the garment to hit the floor. 

"I want you so badly," Yoongi whines into Namjoon's mouth, and Namjoon grins. 

"Really? I couldn't tell."

Yoongi yanks Namjoon away from the door from the collar of his jacket, forcing him to take a step forward just enough for him to shrug it away and let it hit the floor. He groans, "Shut up," against Namjoon's lips, making him chuckle. 

"So feisty," Namjoon teases, rubbing his palms over Yoongi's chest, feeling the metal bars under fabric. 

Yoongi hisses and hums from the touch, sparking Namjoon to rub his thumbs in circles over the hardened buds. More deep, dulcet sounds pour into Namjoon's mouth, and he has to fight the urge to turn into a puddle right there. 

"Is my hyung this sensitive?"

"F-feels good," Yoongi whines. 

Namjoon drops his hands to where Yoongi's shirt is tucked into his jeans, and he begins to tug. Yoongi complies, lifting his hands to allow Namjoon to yank the white fabric away, taking the beret with it. As the fabric falls to the floor and Yoongi's arms return to his sides, Namjoon takes in the sight of him. 

Pretty pale skin covered in flowers, snakes, and bones; taut, toned muscle; shiny metal accents. Yoongi is breathtaking. 

Namjoon grabs Yoongi by the belt loops and tugs him close, then bends and flicks his tongue over one of the nipple piercings. The deep, needy moan that falls from Yoongi's mouth is sinful, and Namjoon licks firmer, slower, warming the cold metal with his spit. 

Fingers brush through Namjoon's hair and grip, tugging gently at the strands, urging him not to stop. Namjoon drags his lips along the expanse of Yoongi's chest, leaving lazy wet kisses in his wake before his tongue finds the other nipple, flicking and teasing while Yoongi whimpers and groans. There is a faint, heady sweetness to Yoongi's skin, and Namjoon finds it addicting. 

"Let's go to my room, Namjoonah," Yoongi whines.

Namjoon teases Yoongi just a bit more, then straightens out. "What's the matter? Am I making you weak in the knees, hyung?"

Yoongi's pupils are blown, and there is a hunger in his eyes that sends a shiver through Namjoon. "Maybe you are."

Namjoon bends and wraps his arms around Yoongi's thighs, lifting him with ease, and Yoongi gasps and wraps his arms around Namjoon's neck. Carefully and slowly, Namjoon makes his way through the dark apartment with only the golden glow of streetlights filtering in from outside to guide him.

"Tell me the way, hyung."

Yoongi chuckles and nuzzles his face in Namjoon's neck. "Turn left, last door."

As Namjoon reaches a small entryway just past the living room, he notices a door to the right, a bathroom straight ahead, and, just to the left, a door at the end of the short hallway, on the right-hand side. 

Yoongi presses slow, wet kisses to Namjoon's neck as he approaches, tapping the door open gently with his toe, then Yoongi reaches for a switch on the wall as they enter, turning the light on just enough that they can see. The room is tidy, with more artwork on the walls like pieces in the living room. In the far corner is a bed covered in blood red and burgundy fabrics, and Namjoon carries Yoongi over, bends to set him down, and cages him in with his arms, hovering close. 

"You're wearing too much," Yoongi whines. 

Namjoon's heart flutters and his eyes drift down to Yoongi's pants and back up. "As are you, hyung."

With a somewhat petulant groan, Yoongi responds, "Do something about it."

Feeling playful, Namjoon stands and slowly begins unbuttoning the yellow lace shirt, watching as Yoongi gradually loses his composure and patience. With a huff, Yoongi sits up and reaches his long, tattoo-covered arms out, hooking his fingers in Namjoon's belt loops and yanking him closer.

Namjoon chuckles as Yoongi untucks the yellow lace shirt, shrugging it away and letting it hit the floor. Yoongi sits up tall, running his palms over Namjoon's stomach and pecs with a look of awe. The mesh shirt is tight, hugging Namjoon's curves in a way that made him incredibly shy earlier, when he was putting it on. Wearing it now, while Yoongi swoons openly, sparks excitement in Namjoon.

"Like what you see, pretty?"

Yoongi sighs, nibbling on his bottom lip. "You know I do."

"Want me to leave it on or take it off?"

Another sigh, "God, I don't know."

Namjoon can't help but laugh softly as he stares down at Yoongi with affection. It is too soon to be feeling strong feelings, and yet, all he wants is to take Yoongi gently by the face and shower him with words of love and adoration. Love. Namjoon feels his stomach swoop, making him a bit queasy, and he clears his throat and attempts to focus on how horny he is, instead. 

Luckily, Yoongi helps him get out of his head by rubbing against the rough mesh material, over Namjoon's nipples, sending a wave of pleasure through him that makes him gasp. 

"Fuck it," Yoongi grumbles, gathering the material of the flimsy shirt and pushing at it, "I want this off."

Namjoon aids Yoongi in his somewhat frantic attempt, grabbing the bottom hem of the shirt and slowly peeling it off, worrying for the sake of the fabric in his clumsy hands. He even struggles to get the tight material past his shoulders and elbows, and has to wiggle a bit until it is finally over his head, jingling the many chains that Taehyung had draped over his neck. When he is free of the garment, Yoongi paws at him, hands touching and groping his chest and abs. 

"Damn, Joon," Yoongi says softly. "You are so fucking hot."

"Pretty Yoongi has a thing for muscles?" Namjoon teases. 

Yoongi grips Namjoon by the hips, giving him a firm shove backward, and Namjoon stumbles a few steps back as Yoongi stands, so close he can feel the heat of his body. As Namjoon gets his bearings—suddenly tipped off his axis by Yoongi's proximity—Yoongi's hands fall to Namjoon's jeans, and he begins to undo the button.

"Pretty Yoongi has a thing for you," Yoongi responds, leaning so close Namjoon could easily press their lips together, if only he weren't so stunned where he stands.

"Is that so?" Namjoon asks in an attempt to be playful, though his voice cracks under the sudden pressure of being undressed by the man of his dreams. 

Yoongi smirks and hums, then begins to slowly push at the waistline of Namjoon's borrowed jeans. "May I?"

"You may," Namjoon all but whimpers.

As the pants slide past Namjoon's thighs, then fall the rest of the way to the floor, Yoongi wraps his arms over Namjoon's shoulders and begins to leave warm, slow kisses against his neck. 

"I want to repay the favor from earlier," Yoongi groans, voice deep and raspy. "And then I want to prep you nice and slow. Can you handle being overstimulated, Joon?"

Namjoon has absolutely no idea, and his exhale comes out shaky as he says, "I don't know. Maybe."

With a hum and a grin, Yoongi sinks back into a seated position on the bed and says, "Shall we find out?"

Suddenly, with Yoongi at crotch level, Namjoon feels anxious. He reminds himself that he has nothing to worry about—that he has already seen and sucked Yoongi's dick—but his head still swims with the possibility of his own dick being on display. 

Yoongi rubs his hands over Namjoon's thighs, then brushes a thumb over his growing bulge, and Namjoon whimpers softly as arousal sends blood flooding to that spot. With a satisfied hum, Yoongi leans forward and rubs his lips over Namjoon's growing erection, breathing warmth through the soft, tight fabric and sending a shiver up his spine. 

"I bet you get nice and big, don't you Joon?" Yoongi asks, dragging his lips against him.

"Yeah," Namjoon responds on a breathy exhale. "I get pretty big."

Yoongi nudges him gently with his nose. "Do you always bottom?" 

The light touches and warm breath have Namjoon practically panting, desperate for more. He shakes his head quickly, blinking heavily as he mutters, "No. I would do anything for you; you know that."

"Good." Yoongi smirks as he slides a hand up to Namjoon's dick, giving it a gentle squeeze that has Namjoon moaning.

Yoongi takes the waistband of Namjoon's briefs gently in his fingers and tugs down, letting Namjoon's heavy, hard cock spring out. With a gasp, Yoongi quickly abandons his task of undressing Namjoon and takes his cock in both hands, gently stroking his length while squeezing the head. Every nerve on Namjoon's body is alight with heat as arousal tingles in his core. Yoongi's large, pretty hands are warm and engulfing, delicate yet firm. 

"I bet you'll make my jaw sore really fast," Yoongi teases as he continues to gently stroke. "I can't wait."

Yoongi sits up straight, licking from Namjoon's balls up to the crown, and back down, teasing the tip of his tongue in tight circles. Namjoon lets out a gasp that becomes a groan and intently watches Yoongi, gaze traveling between his mouth and his eyes, which stare up at Namjoon. He practically breaks eye contact when Yoongi dips the very tip of his tongue into his slit, stretching him just enough to send a wave of pleasure breaking abruptly, making his eyelids flutter. 

"You're such a tease," Namjoon groans, reaching down to gently push his fingers into Yoongi's hair. 

With another devious smile, Yoongi mutters, "Sorry, Joonie. I'll be good to you, now," and takes Namjoon into his mouth, sucking him down until the tip of Namjoon's cock brushes against Yoongi's throat. 

Yoongi's mouth is warm and wet, with a hint of cold steel, and Namjoon tightens his fist around Yoongi's hair, not enough to tug too hard, but enough to make Yoongi groan. The vibration of Yoongi's voice along Namjoon's length makes him tremble and inadvertently rut deeper into Yoongi's mouth. Yoongi seems unbothered and does not gag, then he slowly draws his head back, eyes still watching Namjoon, as he pulls out completely.

"I don't think I can take it all," Yoongi pouts with spit-slick lips. 

"That's okay," is all Namjoon's horny, caveman brain can think of to say in response. 

"Did you masturbate today?"

This question catches Namjoon off guard, and he takes a moment before answering, "N-no."

"So you'll probably cum pretty fast?" Yoongi grins.

Namjoon nods. "Probably."

"And you might even give me a nice big load to swallow."

All Namjoon can do is swallow all the drool that has pooled in his mouth and stare down at Yoongi, who once again takes Namjoon's cock into his mouth as far as he can before the tip is brushing against the soft, tight flesh of his throat. The feeling is incredible, sending a tremble throughout Namjoon's body as his pleasure continues to build. 

Yoongi sucks in his cheeks and swallows, tightening around Namjoon before he slowly drags his lips back to the tip, only to suck him down again, nice and deep, and Namjoon legitimately fears that he may cum in absolutely no time at all. 

"Fuck, hyung," Namjoon whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them back up. "Feels so good."

Yoongi groans and hums as he continues to suck, building Namjoon's arousal to dangerous heights at a breakneck speed. If this is how good Yoongi's mouth feels, he can only begin to imagine how he will feel topping him. The prospect is nerve-wracking and sends a shiver quaking through him. Yoongi must interpret the shiver as Namjoon getting close, and he wraps a hand around the length that he cannot get into his mouth, using his drool as lubricant to gently twist. 

The wave of pleasure that bursts through Namjoon makes him whimper, and his entire body trembles. With his briefs tight around his thighs, Namjoon feels unstable on his feet and reaches down behind him with his free hand to shove at the fabric until it falls to the floor so he can widen his stance. 

Yoongi continues to suck his cheeks in and swallow hard around Namjoon, letting drool fall from between his lips. His eyes are closed as he focuses on his task, but when Namjoon takes a step with his right foot to the side, Yoongi opens his eyes and stares up at him through teary lashes. The sight is so sinful—so absolutely perfect—that Namjoon begins to plummet toward orgasm. 

With both hands, Namjoon takes Yoongi gently by the hair. He has to resist the urge to rock his hips, not wanting to push Yoongi too hard when he has established a perfect rhythm. But his hips do tremble with each deep suck, and Namjoon feels himself press into Yoongi's tight, velvety throat as his high builds. 

"You're gonna make me cum, hyung," Namjoon whimpers.

Yoongi hums and moans with each swallow and stroke of Namjoon's length, and the sound is all it takes to send him reeling. 

"Fuck, that's it," Namjoon groans. His entire body shudders and quakes at Yoongi's whim. "I'm so close. I'm s—"

Namjoon's head lolls back as he cums, spraying his release straight into Yoongi's throat while he continues to swallow around the tip. Orgasm quickly becomes overstimulation, and Namjoon begins to see stars as Yoongi milks him of his release.

"Hyung," Namjoon gasps, feeling the way Yoongi must have felt in the bathroom earlier, while tugging gently on Yoongi's hair, "you're gonna make me faint if you don't stop."

Yoongi chuckles as he pulls his head back and lets Namjoon's spent cock slip from between his pretty, sticky-slick lips. Tears have smudged the black makeup around Yoongi's eyes, and he smiles up at Namjoon looking very pleased with himself. 

"You did give me a nice big load to swallow," Yoongi says as he leans forward and flicks his tongue over the tip of Namjoon's dick, making him gasp and whine. Then, he licks his lips and rasps, "Such a good boy for me."

The bulge in Yoongi's jeans is noticeable, and Namjoon drops to his knees, wobbling a bit in the process, and rubs his hands up Yoongi's thighs. "You're still wearing too much clothing," he pouts as Yoongi leans back to let him undo his fly.

Namjoon makes sure to rub over Yoongi's erection as he unzips his pants, and Yoongi groans from each touch, watching with blown pupils and a sharp smile. Although he already went down on Yoongi less than an hour ago, there is a part of him that wants to do it again, and he licks his lips at the thought. Yoongi, however, has other plans, and he sits up, gently taking Namjoon by the wrists and stopping him from doing any more. 

"I assume you got bottom ready for me, baby?" Yoongi asks.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, feeling a surge of arousal go straight to his cock from the new nickname. "I did," he responds, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Good," Yoongi responds, then he releases Namjoon's hands and pats the bed beside him. "On your hands and knees, please."

Yoongi scoots to the side, giving Namjoon room, and Namjoon does as he is told, planting his hands on the mattress and climbing up onto his knees. He gets into place in the center of the bed, draping his arms over a pillow with his ass in the air, feeling extremely vulnerable but excited, and Yoongi stands then pushes his jeans to the floor, showing off a pretty black dragon tattoo that snakes down his hip and thigh. 

"God, you're a vision," Yoongi says as he steps out of the denim and kicks it aside. He gets onto his knees on the bed and grabs a handful of Namjoon's ass. "Just look at you."

Feeling playful, Namjoon wiggles his butt back and forth while Yoongi settles beside him, earning him a light spank, which makes him gasp and chuckle. 

"Taking a pierced cock can be quite painful for some," Yoongi says, looking Namjoon in the eye with a serious expression as he leans and grabs a bottle of lube from atop the bedside table. "I'm going to stretch you as much as I can before we start, and if you decide you can't handle the feeling, I can let my erection go down and change the metal jewelry out for softer silicone. Or, you can fuck me. Whichever you prefer."

Namjoon takes in all of the information, doing his best not to feel nervous about the possibility of it hurting. He did admit to enjoying a little pain, but clearly, this might be more than what he has bargained for.

"I want us to use the stoplight safe word system. Do you know that one?"

"Yes," Namjoon responds, voice sounding shakier than he expected. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. "I say green to tell you that I am good, and red if I need to stop."

Yoongi reaches and places a hand on Namjoon's back, filling Namjoon with warmth as he rubs from his ribs to his shoulder and down to his hip. "And if you need me to stop for just a moment, you can say yellow."

Namjoon swallows a lump of nervousness. "Sounds good, hyung."

And with that, Yoongi gets onto the bed behind Namjoon, kicking Namjoon's heart into full swing, as the bed dips and two large, warm hands spread his ass. He hears Yoongi breathe—or maybe hum—before squeezing him, and his mouth falls open gently with a soft gasp.

"I've been waiting for this moment and now I feel lost in awe," Yoongi admits with a chuckle. 

Although the attention feels nice, Namjoon wonders if he might shrivel up and die from embarrassment if Yoongi continues to stare at his spread ass for too long. Never has someone wanted to sit and marvel at him before, and he feels incredibly exposed. But then he feels warm breath ghost over his taint, and he lets in a sharp inhale as his eyes flutter closed. 

Gently, softly, Yoongi swirls his tongue over Namjoon's rim. The sensation is so featherlight but warm, sending a shiver up Namjoon's spine that escapes him as a relaxing exhale. Namjoon allows his shoulders to droop and relaxes into the blood red pillow that is clutched beneath him as he waits in anticipation for what may come next. 

"Heaven," Yoongi groans, biting gently into the soft flesh of Namjoon's cheek and sucking the skin between his lips with a pop. "You fucking taste like heaven."

All Namjoon can do is whimper in response, finding it hard to wrap his head around Yoongi's voice or his words before his tongue is dragging over his hole slowly and firmly, making Namjoon tremble and moan. Suddenly, his insecurities fade, and all he is left with is the warm, wet drag of Yoongi's perfect tongue making him come undone. 

The feeling intensifies as the muscle dips inside, stretching Namjoon gently around it. Namjoon lets his lips drag over the soft, deep red pillowcase that smells like Yoongi's musk. He cannot believe he almost made himself wait to feel this pleasure for the sake of an arbitrary rule he had set for himself. Yoongi has barely gotten started, and already, Namjoon is on cloud nine.

A fingertip joins Yoongi's tongue and gently presses inside, giving Namjoon a firmer stretch. Namjoon moans and lets out a deep exhale, gripping onto the pillowcase tightly. Yoongi is slow as he pushes his finger in deep and pulls it back, allowing Namjoon to set a steady breathing pace. Bless the length of his fingers and those thick, knobby knuckles as Yoongi steadily fills him. 

"How do you feel, Joon?" Yoongi asks sweetly before lapping over Namjoon's stretched rim. 

"So good," Namjoon whimpers.

"Ready for another finger?"

"Yes, please."

The first finger exits, leaving Namjoon feeling dreadfully empty, and he hears the cap of the lube bottle pop open. Yoongi licks over his rim hungrily, taking Namjoon by surprise as his lips and tongue make a sloppy fucking mess of him. Pleasure builds, and Namjoon groans into the feeling, sinking further into relaxed bliss. Then, the sting of two fingers entering him replaces the warm tongue, and Namjoon squeezes the pillow as he is stretched further. 

"F-fuck," he whimpers, feeling a shiver rock through him. "S-so good."

A deep, pretty groan vibrates against Namjoon's skin as Yoongi drags his lips over his buttcheek, slowly prodding his fingers in and out a little further each time. 

"You are so good for me, Joonie."

Joy and affection burst and bloom in Namjoon's chest. All he wants in the present moment is to be so, so good for Yoongi.

Yoongi is unhurried and careful as he stretches Namjoon on two fingers, and then three. By the time Namjoon is adjusted around three, he is panting and sobbing with sweat pooling on his forehead. It has been a while since the last time someone fucked him, and everything little sensation is intense. 

As Yoongi begins to press a fourth finger in, Namjoon bites onto the pillow and cries out, practically screaming that he is green when his hyung asks so gently and calmly what color he is. 

Namjoon is easily overwhelmed by pleasure—feels like he might burst at the seams and explode—and Yoongi is so patient as he drags more and more from him with each pass and prod of his fingers. Yoongi's lips and teeth suck and nip at his skin, undoubtedly marking his ass like an animal print, and Namjoon whimpers and hisses from each feeling—everything feels like so much.

By the time Namjoon is adjusted to four of Yoongi's fingers, his cock is desperately hard against his tummy and dribbling streaks of precum. With a deep, devious giggle, Yoongi brushes his fingertip over Namjoon's prostate, and the jolt of white-hot sensation that sparks through him makes Namjoon speak in tongues, feeling far too close to cum and not wanting to just yet. 

"So pliant and good for me," Yoongi praises, littering his backside with kisses. "So tight and eager to be filled."

Namjoon has absolutely no idea what he fuck to say in response, so all he does is whimper and nod despite knowing Yoongi probably cannot see him. He is pliant and good and tight and eager to be filled. So, so eager. All for Yoongi.

As Yoongi slides his fingers from Namjoon's stretched hole, Namjoon lets out a large puff of air, able to breathe again but feeling so empty. Already, he longs for stimulation, missing the way Yoongi feels. The sound of the lube bottle popping open once more fills Namjoon with excitement, and he wonders if, finally, he will get to feel Yoongi's pretty, pierced cock.

Yoongi gives Namjoon's ass a playful smack. "Up, Joonie. I want you to ride me so you can be in control."

The very thought of being in any amount of control of his body weight and limbs feels overwhelming as Namjoon lifts himself onto his knees, feeling slightly embarrassed for the large drool spot that he has left on Yoongi's pillow. 

Yoongi crawls to the center of the bed, moving the pillows out of the way as he takes a seat against the wall. He strokes his hard length in one hand while giving Namjoon "come here" fingers with the other, and Namjoon notices the slickness of his fingers, feeling a swirl of arousal at the thought of those fingers being buried inside him. 

"You already look so fucked out," Yoongi teases as Namjoon crawls to him, straddling his legs. He feels fucked out already, and can only imagine the state of his hair. 

"Felt good," Namjoon grumbles almost petulantly, suddenly a bit shy about being teased by someone so dreadfully sexy.

Namjoon wants to stop and admire all the designs on Yoongi's skin, but he knows that this is not the time. He does, however, flick his tongue over one of Yoongi's nipples, smiling as Yoongi whimpers so sweetly. Spurred on to hear more pretty sounds, Namjoon gently sucks his pierced nipple between his lips, playing with the cold steel with his tongue. A shutter rocks though Yoongi, who gently takes Namjoon by the chin and pulls him away from his task.

"Joon, baby, I love the way your tongue feels," Yoongi grumbles with a knitted brow, "but I need you to sit on this cock before I go insane."

"Baby, hmm?" Namjoon asks as he lifts his head to slot Yoongi's lips between his.

Yoongi groans and lets his mouth fall open for Namjoon to explore. A faint, heady taste accentuated by the sweet flavor of lube can be detected, and Namjoon licks it up eagerly. He thinks he likes the way it sounds when Yoongi calls him baby. But, then again, Yoongi could call him anything and it would send the butterflies in his tummy into a frenzy. 

"I like it when you whine," Namjoon teases as he trails his lips down Yoongi's chin and neck, feeling some of his energy return. "Might have to make you beg some more."

Yoongi's hand wraps around Namjoon's cock, and he ruts into the feeling, unable to control the jerk of his hips. He feels Yoongi's pierced, lube-slick length thrust against his, and he whimpers as his forehead falls to Yoongi's shoulder. Slowly, Yoongi jerks the two of them, rolling his hips upward to rub their dicks in a dizzying motion. 

"Fuck," Namjoon groans into the junction of Yoongi's neck and shoulder. 

"What was that, baby?" Yoongi teases, voice breathy but controlled. "Were you saying something?"

"Not fair," Namjoon whimpers as he lifts his arms and drapes them over Yoongi's shoulders. 

"What's not fair?"

The slide of their cocks in Yoongi's hand makes Namjoon shiver. "Everything you do feels incredible."

Namjoon manages to sit up on Yoongi's lap and lets his eyes trail down his pierced and tattooed chest and stomach, to their dicks in his hand, both swelled and leaking with precum, and one with a big metal ring sticking from it. A finger taps the underside of Namjoon's chin, making him look up. 

"Come find out what else I can do, then," Yoongi says with a smile.

Yoongi releases their cocks and grabs the lube to slick himself back up as Namjoon plants his palms against the wall above Yoongi's head and sits high, hovering his ass until Yoongi is ready. With his fingertips, Yoongi smears lube over Namjoon's hole, making Namjoon groan, then he nods. 

"Ready when you are, Joon."

Namjoon reaches below him and takes Yoongi's cock at the base, gives it a little squeeze, then begins to lower himself. The feeling of the metal hoop through Yoongi's tip makes Namjoon shudder, and he jerks his hips upward before settling back down. 

"Cold," he mutters with a chuckle, glancing down to see Yoongi has his head tilted up and is watching his face. Namjoon smiles and mutters, "Hey."

"Hi there," Yoongi responds, nibbling on his lip ring. 

Slowly, Namjoon puts a little more weight down, gasping from the stretch that Yoongi's fingers did a decent job preparing him for. Namjoon lifts his hips slightly, then pushes a little further, feeling the drag of the hoop inside him. It's...strange. But also pretty good. 

But then, Namjoon feels the bar on the underside of Yoongi's cock tug at his rim, pulling almost uncomfortably, and he hisses, lifting his hips. Yoongi uses both hands to grab Namjoon's ass and spread him wide, and Namjoon lowers himself once more, determined to get past the jewelry.

"Careful," Yoongi gasps as Namjoon gently rocks his hips up and back downward. 

Namjoon tries again, but the tug is too much, and he lifts his hips once more, nearly boiling over with frustration. He wants to take Yoongi's cock so badly it makes his head spin. 

Yoongi sits forward slightly, reaching with his fingers to Namjoon's hole, and slowly begins to slide a finger inside, beside his cock head. Namjoon sobs from the feeling and does his best to keep still while Yoongi gently stretches him further, rocking his hips ever so gently, eager to be filled. Yoongi slips another fingertip in, sending stars bursting before Namjoon's eyes, then he gently thrusts until the piercing is past the rim and nestled inside Namjoon, using his fingertips as a shield from the steel balls. 

With the head of Yoongi's dick buried inside him, Namjoon relaxes into the feeling and begins to sink further. Both cold metal rings tug along his walls, and the feeling is just intense enough to make him nearly gasp with each movement. There is not much pain, but it is a bit uncomfortable, causing alarms to ring in his head despite his need to feel it deeper. 

"Take it slow, baby," Yoongi urges through grunts.

Namjoon had been completely spaced out, staring at the wall, but he blinks and makes eye contact with Yoongi, bringing his pretty, blushed face into view and feeling his heart soar. 

"I'm good, hyung. It feels—" Namjoon moans, sinking further down, "—feels kinda weird but also s-so good."

Silence falls between them as Yoongi stares up at Namjoon, who does his best to settle on his lap and allow himself to properly adjust. Namjoon begins to feel shy under his unwavering gaze—feels blush creep to his cheeks as he softly asks, "What?"

Something gentle and sweet flashes in Yoongi's eyes, and he blinks as his pretty lips tug into a smile. "You're just incredible," he says like it is nothing, and Namjoon feels his tummy do a backflip. 

The only thing he can do in this moment to keep himself from professing deep, intense feelings way too soon, is kiss Yoongi on the forehead, lift his hips, and slam them down. The drag of the metal on Yoongi's thick, perfect dick makes Namjoon tremble. Somehow, the intensity of the sensation feels like he is being crushed under some kind of weight, and he falls forward with his head on Yoongi's shoulder to catch his breath.

"Okay, wow," Namjoon mutters. "Why does it feel like so much?"

Yoongi chuckles and leaves a kiss on Namjoon's neck that makes him shiver. "Want some help, Joon?"

Namjoon nods his head, muttering, "Please," as he lifts his hips enough to give Yoongi some room to move. Yoongi cradles Namjoon's ass in his palms as he slowly begins to thrust up into him, not as deep as he could, but enough to make Namjoon whimper and curse and groan, eager for more despite it feeling like a lot, all the while Yoongi sucks and kisses at his shoulder and neck.

"How is that, baby?"

Namjoon's words come out breathy and weak. "F-feels amazing."

"Want me to keep doing this, or do you want me to fuck you?"

And, in this moment, Namjoon thinks he has never been so sure of anything in his life as he perks his ass out just a little more and says, "Fuck me, hyung."

Yoongi slams his hips upward, causing Namjoon to practically scream. The sound that leaves his mouth is pitchy and lewd, and it would make him feel embarrassed if Yoongi did not continue to piston his cock upward, hitting every spot inside him that makes him absolutely unravel. 

Instantly, Namjoon sees stars. He leans forward, nuzzling into Yoongi's neck while the top of his head bumps into the wall, and he drools and sobs. Yoongi fills him so perfectly, and the piercings send him over the edge while his own cock slaps against his stomach, leaving a small splatter of precum in its wake. Namjoon thinks he could cum just like this, with his hands gripping onto Yoongi's hair and his body being used like a doll.

But Yoongi has other plans. With one hand, Yoongi reaches between them and strokes Namjoon's cock, sending a wave of pleasure so intense—so white-hot—Namjoon loses track of his senses, suddenly unsure whether sound and space truly exist. Namjoon sucks against pink peonies on Yoongi's neck while doing his best to lift and drop his ass in perfect rhythm of his thrusts, terrified to already come undone when he feels like Yoongi is only getting started. 

"Want you overstimulated," Yoongi groans, voice broken on the edges from pleasure. "Sound good, baby?"

"Y-yes, hyung."

"Good," Yoongi says as he squeezes Namjoon's dick, sending him plummeting over the edge. 

Namjoon's back arches, and he changes posture to sit straight and let his head fall back. In this position, Yoongi leans forward and clamps his lips on one of Namjoon's nipples, causing another jolt of pleasure to join the electrical current running through his limbs. He is mere moments from falling apart completely. 

"Gonna cum, hyung," Namjoon whimpers as he lifts and slams his hips to match Yoongi's rhythm and chase his high. 

Yoongi's hips somehow piston even harder, and it takes no time at all for Namjoon to spray his release on Yoongi's fist, which continues to stroke and squeeze. Namjoon shudders through his orgasm, moaning and sobbing as his high begins to dissipate and he enters the realm of overstimulation. He practically begs for mercy when Yoongi slows his hips and wraps his arms around his waist. 

"Sit up baby, but don't pull out." 

Namjoon does as he is told, whimpering as he sits high on his knees so Yoongi can shift below him, going from a fully seated position to also on his knees, one leg at a time. 

"So good for me," Yoongi grumbles as he lazily drags his lips over Namjoon's chest while he readjusts. "I want you on your back. Can you do that for me, Joon?"

Namjoon nods and waits for Yoongi to begin to move, then drops his arms behind him and slowly begins to lower himself to the mattress with Yoongi's cock buried inside him. The feeling is strange and overwhelming, and Yoongi cradles him until his back hits the soft red comforter. 

It almost feels humiliating the way Yoongi grabs his thighs and spreads them, draping his legs over his shoulders and towering over him with a look of pure lust in his eyes. Namjoon considers asking for a break, but as Yoongi slowly pulls his hips back and rolls them forward, the drag is incredible, sending blood rushing back to his cock with a wave of overwhelming pleasure that makes him whimper.

"Too much, baby?" Yoongi asks in almost a mocking tone. 

Namjoon nods and whines, "Uh-huh."

"Color?"

With a sigh, Namjoon responds, "Green," because he truly does want more. 

Yoongi pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, slapping the metal ring that hangs below his cock against Namjoon's taint, which he finds surprisingly satisfying. Namjoon feels so full and so completely at Yoongi's mercy as he stretches his arms above his head and allows himself to sink into the feeling. Several more powerful thrusts have tears forming in his eyes, and when Yoongi leans forward, Namjoon feels so full it punches the air from his lungs. 

It takes no time at all for Namjoon's cock to be hard and leaking, slapping against his tummy, and Yoongi grabs onto it and rolls his hand over the leaking tip, making Namjoon sob. It also takes no time at all for him to cum a third time, and when he does, it hits so hard, his cries are silent, punctuated by sobs as he gasps to catch his breath, clawing at the blanket beneath him.

"Color, baby? Can you handle one more?"

Namjoon is absolutely certain that if he tries to cum again, he might actually die, but the feeling is so good, he wants nothing more than to be perfect for his hyung. 

"Green," he mutters, feeling his heart flutter when Yoongi smiles down at him so pretty. 

Yoongi slows his hips to a gentle roll and reaches for the bedside table, first for a hair tie to get the hair out of his face—tying it into a half top-knot that makes Namjoon swoon and want to cry—and then, for more lube, which he dribbles directly onto Namjoon's stretch hole, grinning as the cold liquid makes Namjoon thrash and squeal.

"How do you have so much fucking stamina?" Namjoon whines as Yoongi slowly drops Namjoon's legs to the side and leans forward to suck on his bottom lip as he begins to slowly pick up his pace. 

"You made me cum earlier, remember?" Yoongi groans against his lips.

Oh, Namjoon remembers. How could he possibly forget his first time dropping to his knees in a public bathroom?

Yoongi takes his time getting Namjoon hard and fucking him through his fourth orgasm. As soon as Namjoon begins to cum, Yoongi kisses him deeply, sucking the sounds from his mouth while whimpering that he is close. The cadence of Yoongi's voice when it becomes pitchy and desperate is music to Namjoon's ears, and he wraps his arms around him to hold him close, feeling Yoongi tremble in his arms as he fills him with his release. 

They stay like this for a while, with Yoongi nestled deep inside him, twitching from time to time as Namjoon squeezes around him, eager to milk him of every drop. Namjoon feels fucked out, sore, and exhausted, and he holds Yoongi close planting soft, lazy kisses all over him while Yoongi smiles and grumbles and tells him how perfect he is. 

"I've never been fucked that good in my life," Namjoon praises softly, and he means it; in this moment, he cannot remember anyone making him feel half as good. 

Yoongi chuckles and holds him close. "Good. I want to make you feel amazing."

"You do. I love—" Namjoon hesitates, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, "—uh, l-loved it."

He curses himself for using the word love and squeezes his eyes closed, but Yoongi just nuzzles impossibly closer and hums a deep, happy sound. 

"Good," Yoongi responds, slowly sitting up with a smile. "Let's clean off and then go to bed."

As consciousness slowly creeps into the hazy confines of what is leftover from sleep, the first thing Namjoon feels is disoriented. The second thing he feels is a bit sore. 

Namjoon cracks an eye open and looks around, remembering the room he is in. Next, he remembers the red comforter he fell asleep tucked under, and then the man he held tight as he drifted to calm darkness. With a smile, Namjoon rolls from his back to the right, lifting an arm gently with the intention of wrapping it back around his hyung. However, when he rotates, he is greeted by only an unoccupied pillow.

With a sigh, Namjoon returns to his back and stretches his arms over his head, knocking his knuckles against the cold wall while he yawns widely. As he begins to feel more awake, the smell of coffee wafts into the room, and if he listens closely, he can hear small sounds coming from the other room. Namjoon considers getting up and joining Yoongi in the kitchen when he remembers the attire he had worn last night. He does not exactly want to get dressed in Taehyung's clothing again.

But the promise of coffee—and of seeing Yoongi—is too enticing, so Namjoon gets out of bed, shivering as the air greets his skin, and finds his briefs. Perhaps the sight of him in nothing but his tight underwear will be a welcome sight for Yoongi. 

Namjoon finds the garment on the floor and grabs it, putting it on, one leg after the other and squatting to get everything in the right spot. Then, he makes his way down the short hallway, walking slowly and quietly with the hope of catching the sight of Yoongi dancing around the kitchen while he gets his morning started. Instead, when he turns the corner, he finds Yoongi leaning against the counter, anchored on his elbows, with his hands threaded through his hair. His posture screams stress or exhaustion, and anxiety drops to Namjoon's guts like a brick. 

Suddenly, Namjoon wishes he had not just come tip-toeing out in his undies. What if this is not the sight that Yoongi wants to see? He even considers backing up and retreating to the bedroom, but Yoongi must sense his presence, and he looks up. At first, Yoongi looks surprised, but then a smile spreads, and his gaze softens. He wears a large white tee, and he holds his hand out, beckoning Namjoon closer.

"You're naked," Yoongi grumbles, voice raspier than usual.

"Didn't want to put Tae's clothes back on," Namjoon responds as he approaches and joins Yoongi in the kitchen.

"Well, I'm not complaining," Yoongi says as he straightens out and rounds the counter. His shirt goes down to his thighs, and he has no pants underneath. Namjoon wonders if he has anything underneath at all.

"Was I interrupting something?" Namjoon asks hesitantly, trying to cover his nerves.

Yoongi shakes his head. "I wanted to give you some space in case you needed it."

With Yoongi close enough to reach out and grab, Namjoon does just that. "Don't want space," he mutters as he leans to place a kiss against Yoongi's temple. 

"You sure?" Yoongi asks. 

Namjoon detects a hint of uncertainty and wraps his arms around Yoongi's waist, hugging him close. "I'm sure."

With a deep, heavy sigh, Yoongi pulls Namjoon into a hug and litters kisses against his throat and neck, making Namjoon chuckle quietly. It tickles and it feels really nice. 

"I have to work in a few hours," Yoongi mutters against his skin. "Got a couple of appointments."

"Wow," Namjoon teases, "just gonna fuck me and kick me out." He pulls Yoongi impossibly closer, burying his face in thick, soft, dark hair as he grumbles, "You men are all the same."

Yoongi shakes from laughter and nips at Namjoon's neck until he jumps and attempts to pull from the hug. Held in place with Yoongi's arms, Namjoon has no choice but to wiggle around as Yoongi nips at his skin. 

He likes this. Standing in Yoongi's kitchen in the quiet of the morning, still a bit delirious from sleep and from a night of the best sex of his life. He likes being practically naked, wrapped in the warmth of Yoongi's arms, comfortable in his skin. This is something Namjoon thinks he could get used to. And this is even something he anticipates craving the moment he finds himself back in his own home, alone.

"If you aren't sick of me, maybe we could meet after?" Yoongi suggests. He continues to hold Namjoon tight, tickling his neck with his lips, which drag with every syllable. The vibration of Yoongi's voice against his chest is comforting. 

Namjoon smiles. "Imagine being sick of you."

"Yeah? You want to see me again?"

"See you again?" Namjoon asks incredulously, pulling back just enough to look Yoongi in the eye. "I want to recreate last night as much as possible. I have never been taken care of so well in my life."

Yoongi's eyes fall from Namjoon's gaze and trail around the room, and Namjoon swoons over his sudden shyness. "Please, Joon. I'm sure it wasn't that life changing."

Although he knows Yoongi is just being modest, Namjoon feels somewhat offended that he would brush his skills off so easily. It really was top-tier, in terms of how he has been fucked in the past. But he chuckles and lets it go. Perhaps Yoongi is too grumpy in the morning to be reasoned with, so he concedes to allowing him to lie to himself about his performance. There will always be future fucks to gush about, he hopes.

The rest of the morning is slow and easy. He sips coffee with Yoongi before putting on a tee and some sweatpants that Yoongi claims he drowns in, which are still a bit too small for Namjoon. Namjoon kisses Yoongi goodbye and strolls leisurely back to his apartment, feeling a pep in his step despite the slight limp. Then, he gets back to his place, showers, tends to work emails for several hours, before making plans to see Yoongi again later. 

Namjoon Hey, JK! Do you happen to know what time Yoongi should be off tonight?

Jeonggukie 🐰 His last appointment is at 3, so he will probably close up around 6. 

Namjoon Are you in tonight? 

Jeonggukie 🐰 Yes, and yes, I can stall him until you get here, but don't be late! He'll suspect something is up. Come between 5:30 and 5:45.

Namjoon Thanks, Gguk!

Jeonggukie 🐰 You have my hyung smiling like an idiot this afternoon. I take it you had a good night?

Namjoon We did. Hyung also has me smiling like an idiot today.

Jeonggukie 🐰 Good. I really like you two together. I haven't seen him this happy in a long time. 

Namjoon gets to the tattoo shop around 5:45 PM holding a bag of sweets from the café he and Taehyung stopped at several days ago before he came for a tattoo. As the door chimes, signifying his entry, he watches Yoongi twist with a scowl and shout, "We're closing!" before realizing it is him. 

"Sure you don't have time to pencil me in?" Namjoon teases as he makes his way through the lobby of the shop and leans against the counter. 

Jeongguk stands from the chair at his workstation, and waves at Namjoon with a wide, welcoming smile. He is dressed in his standard all black everything with his hair flopping around in large curls at the end, and he looks adorable as he prances over and mutters, "Perfect timing," before announcing that he is done for the night and heading out. 

Yoongi waves Jeongguk off, telling him to lock up, and Jeongguk closes the blinds and does as he is told while Yoongi continues organizing something at his station, all the while Namjoon watches him work. He wears a black hoodie and looks so cozy, Namjoon wants to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. 

"I was wondering why he wouldn't just leave," Yoongi finally says, glancing up with a grin. Then, he lifts a hand and beckons Namjoon closer. "Get over here."

Namjoon leaves the bag of sweets behind and rounds the desk, approaching Yoongi's workspace, and when Yoongi pats the leather exam table, Namjoon has a seat. Without a word, Yoongi rolls up the denim leg of Namjoon's pants to have a look at his tattoo, then puts on a black latex glove and grabs a small jar of crème.

"Looks good," Yoongi says with a soft smile as he dips a finger into the crème and begins to rub it over his sunflower. 

It is cold against Namjoon's skin, and it feels really nice. Already, some of the ink is beginning to scab, which has become a little itchy, and the crème instantly soothes it.

"So," Yoongi says as he pulls the glove off with a snap. "Did you come in so I could finally pierce your ears? Or were you hoping I would bend you over this table and fuck you?"

Arousal floods Namjoon, making him feel shy, and he lets out a soft chuckle as Yoongi stands before him and crowds his space, pushing his legs spread so he can lean in for a kiss. 

"I was j-just coming in to say hi," Namjoon mutters against Yoongi's soft, pretty lips. 

Yoongi hums, sucks on Namjoon's lip, and asks, "Are you sure? You brought something with you, what is it?"

"Just some sweets from the café."

Another hum from Yoongi's pretty mouth as he says, "You're the only sweet treat I need, silly. Sure you didn't come in looking for another spur of the moment modification?"

To his own surprise, Namjoon wonders if, perhaps, getting his ears pierced would be nice. He is curious about the way a needle might feel, and he has been on quite an impulsive streak, lately. Not to mention, Yoongi told him some piercings would look good.

"Maybe I should let you pierce me, hyung," Namjoon responds, watching as excitement widens Yoongi's eyes and smile. 

Yoongi taps the tip of his nose against Namjoon's and stands back far enough to glance at his ears. "I bet the boys would agree that you'd be stunning."

"Yeah? Should we ask them?"

Namjoon pulls out his phone and begins to text Taehyung, then Jeongguk, despite assuming that they are already with each other. Taehyung mentioned earlier that he would be waiting for Jeongguk to get off work, and even threatened Namjoon's life if he showed up to the shop late, delaying Jeongguk's arrival. Although Namjoon laughed off Taehyung's dramatics at the time, he totally gets it; he was incredibly eager to see Yoongi again from the moment he left his apartment this morning. 

Yoongi leans in to see what the guys are saying and cocks his head to the side. "Why does Taehyung have a present emoji next to his name?"

Namjoon laughs. "Oh, this. Uh, yeah that's actually a tradition Taehyung started. He claimed that each message from me was a gift, and insisted I never change it. And then, from there, I began to save people's names with an emoji that signifies my impression of them. Jeongguk has a bunny, because of his cute front teeth."

"Do I have one?" Yoongi asks softly, and Namjoon thumbs out of his chat with Taehyung to find his chat with Yoongi. 

"You do," Namjoon admits with a shy smile. "But I was actually thinking about changing it. 

"Oh?"

Namjoon opens their chat and lets Yoongi see his name with a sunflower next to it, and Yoongi smiles softly but then looks confused. "Why would you change it?"

As Namjoon opens the edit page and deletes the sunflower, he thumbs through the list of emoji, looking for the more appropriate one, saying "Because I'm the sun seeker, remember?" And then he selects the new emoji and hits save, turning it to Yoongi so that he can see the new name at the top of the screen, which reads "Yoongi 🌞"

Before Yoongi can swoon too hard, Namjoon receives emphatic texts from both boys, urging him to get his ears pierced. And so, it is settled. Namjoon is once again going to do something he never thought he would, and allow Yoongi to modify him a second time. 

Yoongi wastes no time setting up a small station, and marking Namjoon's ears. He even puts paper padding down on the table for Namjoon to sit on, joking that it is there just in case the pain from the piercing turns him on too much and he needs to be taken care of, making Namjoon chuckle.

Although Namjoon agrees to the placement of the dots, he is too tingly with adrenaline and trusting that Yoongi will do the right thing, so he says yes and allows Yoongi to continue without any fuss. They decide on some silver hoops that will hang just a bit below Namjoon's lobe, and then Namjoon hugs the cloth-wrapped pillow tightly as Yoongi begins to line up the needle on the first lobe.

"Take a deep breath," Yoongi says softly, and Namjoon does as he is told. "And breathe out."

As Namjoon exhales, Yoongi punctures his ear with the needle, sending a wave of adrenaline through him—the pain is intense for a very split moment, and then it settles into warmth. The sight and smell of Yoongi's presence does not help the sudden bubbling of desire from the pain, and Namjoon grips onto the edge of the paper-covered leather table with one hand as he squeezes his eyes closed and hisses. He thought Yoongi might be joking when he made the comment about this being a turn on, and now he thinks he might just be onto something. 

"One more pinch," Yoongi informs. "Gonna slide the needle out and put the jewelry into place."

The feeling of the metal sliding through his lobe nearly makes Namjoon shiver, and he bites his lip as Yoongi hums and gently pushes the ring through and adjusts it. 

"How do you feel, Joon?" Yoongi asks, and Namjoon opens his eyes to find him smiling. 

Namjoon's lips are parted as he catches his breath, and he knows that there is an expression of desire painted across his face, judging by the way Yoongi studies him.

"That good, huh?" Yoongi teases, and Namjoon nods. "You look great, baby." 

Yoongi moves in for a kiss, careful not to touch him with his gloved hands but still making Namjoon whimper. He may have been somewhat entertaining the idea of allowing Yoongi to fuck him in his shop, but now he wants it more than anything. 

"Onto number two," Yoongi says as he straightens out and grabs his needle from its spot on a paper towel that has been laid out on the small metal supply table. 

Namjoon attempts to ignore the flow of blood to his dick as Yoongi lines up the second needle and tells him to inhale, but as soon as it pierces Namjoon's ear, sending a rush of pain through him, Namjoon groans, trembling from the feeling. 

"That was borderline pornographic, baby," Yoongi teases. "You do like a little pain, hmm?"

"Yes, hyung," Namjoon gasps as Yoongi pulls the needle through, threading the jewelry into his ear and putting it into place. As soon as Yoongi is finished, Namjoon grabs his gloved hand and presses it over his growing erection, whining, "I like it a lot."

Yoongi wastes no time ripping his gloves off and tugging at Namjoon's jeans to get him to stand. Before he can get his bearings, his fly is open and Yoongi is spinning him around, shoving him into the exam table. Namjoon falls forward against the protective paper that covers the leather as Yoongi yanks his jeans and briefs down, and spreads him wide. 

"This what you need, Joonie?" Yoongi teases as he licks a stripe over Namjoon's hole, making him fall forward and tremble through a moan. Yoongi's tongue is divine as he laps over Namjoon, devouring him.

"Y-yes, god yes," Namjoon moans, bent and eager for Yoongi to do absolutely anything he pleases. It takes a lot of effort on Namjoon's part to pull his long-sleeve t-shirt over his head, and he drapes himself over the table as soon as he does, feeling the cool air of the shop hit his skin and give him goosebumps.

Yoongi stretches Namjoon open quickly, producing a bottle of lube from his desk that he jokes he bought on the way to work this afternoon, anticipating Namjoon coming in begging to be fucked one of these days. And this is just another item on the list of impulsive acts that Namjoon cannot believe he is doing as Yoongi rubs lube-slick fingers over his hole, making him practically scream out into the empty tattoo shop. It takes no time at all for Namjoon to be stretched and begging for his cock. 

This time, when Yoongi slowly pushes his cock inside, he spreads Namjoon nice and wide and eases the metal jewelry past Namjoon's rim without too much discomfort. In fact, Namjoon is still high from the adrenaline of his own piercings, and the additional hint of pain sends him hurtling toward pleasure and he welcomes the hint of discomfort. His cock is pressed between his tummy and the exam table, and when Yoongi thrusts in deep, filling Namjoon just the way he likes, Namjoon melts into the feeling with a sob. 

"Stand for me, baby," Yoongi commands, and Namjoon scrambles to anchor himself up onto his hands and get into a standing position. Yoongi wraps an arm around Namjoon's chest and grabs onto his throat, holding him in place. "Now I can show you what these piercings in my dick are really for."

When Yoongi pulls back and thrusts forward, both metal rings graze over Namjoon's prostate, sending a dizzying, intense wave of arousal crashing through him. He whimpers, "Oh, fuck," as Yoongi thrusts again and again, picking up a pace that has Namjoon's head spinning and his arms dangling at his sides. 

It takes no time at all for Namjoon to hurtle toward orgasm. He claws at the paper on the exam table, falling forward in Yoongi's arms and speaking in tongues with desperate, incoherent sounds bursting through his lungs and lips. Yoongi gently eases Namjoon down and spreads his ass wide as he picks up a brutal pace, moaning his own string of pitchy, whiny noises as his hips begin to lose rhythm.

"Shit, baby, I won't last," Yoongi groans, digging his fingers into Namjoon's ass. "You feel so good squeezing me."

A blessing, truly, because Namjoon is certain he will fucking die if Yoongi makes him cum more than once today. Yoongi thrusts harder and faster, making Namjoon sob as his cock grinds into the table below him. Trembles quake through him as he cums, and Yoongi follows behind quickly, pulling out and spraying the cleft of Namjoon's ass with his release. 

As Namjoon lies against the table with his own release turning sticky and cold against his chest and belly, Yoongi slides out, pulling another shockwave and moan from him. He stays put as Yoongi cleans himself up, attempting to catch his breath, and Yoongi returns with a warm, wet paper towel and carefully wipes his mess from Namjoon, then Namjoon stands and takes the towel so he can clean his own mess from his abs.

Before he can bend and pull his pants up, Yoongi captures his face between both hands, humming into a kiss. "Did that feel good baby?" he has the audacity to ask, making Namjoon blush.

"You know it did," he mutters against Yoongi's lips, smacking a nice loud kiss against his lips before bending to dress himself. 

"We should make a habit of this," Yoongi says as he begins to strip the protective paper covering off the leather table and cover the surface with cleaning spray.

"Yeah?" Namjoon asks, feeling flowers burst and bloom behind his ribs, stretching tall and thriving under the warmth of Yoongi's sun. 

"Yeah," Yoongi says, setting down his spray bottle and approaching Namjoon for another kiss. "Let me take you out. You can stay at my place. We'll have the sweets you brought for breakfast in the morning. And then, we can do it over and over again. Sound good?"

Namjoon wraps his arms around Yoongi's waist, nuzzling the tips of their noses together. "Is this your way of asking me to be your boyfriend, hyung?"

Yoongi grins, cheeks turning a pretty hint of pink. "Will you? I know it's still really soon, but—"

"Of course I will," Namjoon says, cutting Yoongi off and punctuating with a kiss.

Yoongi smiles as they slot their lips together and groans into his mouth. He wraps his arms tightly around Namjoon's neck, and they kiss nice and slow as Namjoon savors Yoongi the way he deserves.  

"Good," Yoongi mutters as their lips part just enough to allow them to breathe in each other's air. "I'm already beginning to fall for you. I can't get enough."

With a deep, happy sigh, Namjoon pulls Yoongi tighter and nuzzles against his neck, inhaling his sweet musk and littering soft kisses against tattooed skin. 

"The feeling is mutual, hyung," he admits with his eyes closed and his heart so warm and full of affection. 

Namjoon never used to do impulsive. He was measured and intentional. Being impulsive felt terrifying. 

But standing in Yoongi's arms, accepting a proposition to jump into something new so quickly, Namjoon thinks he can find new ways of being measured and intentional without holding back. Impulsivity no longer feels terrifying in Yoongi's arms. It feels freeing. 

you have no idea how much i have missed these two, and how good it feels to finally get to wrap up this story. apologies for taking so long! the tail end of 2022 was a whirlwind.

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Sun Seeker is copyright 2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[glassmarcus]

Xenoblade Chronicles 3: Side Content Redeemed

*Played in April 2023, Written in December 2023

The Xenoblade Chronicles 3: Future Redeemed DLC is a 30 hour stand alone campaign expansion of Xenoblade Chronicles 3. So it's unsurprisingly good. The story is solid and has interesting things to say about planning for the future and tribalism. The music continues the Xenoblade DLC tradition of having battle themes that don’t miss, not even a little bit. The game play is fun and the tweaks to combo customization make it the best the series has seen. It successfully tied up this ten year long saga while making me salivate for more. It's damn good. But the only thing I really want to talk about is the progression system in this. Since the first Xenoblade the idea of 100% completion seemed ridiculous. There were hundreds of side quests, many of which were only available for limited periods of time and most of which were just boring. Affinity building between all party members felt like its own part time job unless you knew exactly what presents to give these hoes. Leveling up to max was a feat I didn't even come close to doing. Doing everything in that game was this insurmountable crucible. Xenoblade Chronicles 2 faired much better in this regard despite it having even more side content. The side quest just informed you way more about the world and had better rewards. I completed a good amount of 2, until I got to the Ursula side quest and I ran as fast as possible away from that nonsense. Xenoblade Chronicles 2: Torna the Golden Country is the first Xenoblade game I ended up doing everything in, and I would have taken great pride in that accomplishment...if it wasn't the same accomplishment of everyone who beats that DLC due to it being mandatory.

In Xenoblade 3, I made sure to do pretty much everything. The side quest were better than ever and tied into the narrative in such a way that some felt mandatory without actually being mandatory. It was a good approach, but it didn't push me to complete it because all side quest were not created equal. There is a distinct difference between a good side quest and a mid one, thus I never really felt the desire to play the lesser ones because they already showed their hand in terms of quality.

The side content has been steadily getting better in this franchise, but there was still something keeping me from actually getting me to do everything. And it had nothing to do with the actual quality of the side content, just its integration. Future Redeemed gave me exactly what I needed, a giant graphic at the top of the menu telling me how much stuff I have done and have to do. It's such an effective technique in extrinsic motivation. It's the same theory behind map completion in a Metroid or Zelda game. You start with nothing, but you slowly piece everything together. When you see how much ground you've covered without realizing it once you look at your map for the first time in a while, you feel satisfied and want to do the same for the rest of the map. Sure this game also has a map like that where the same principle applies, but the menu that breaks down which category of things you've completed follows suit. The percentage numbers keep rising as you play and then eventually one of them is near 100%, but not quite. So you do whatever you have to do to get that to 100%. But then you look at the neighboring category and realize that's now also pretty close, so you attempt to bump that up as well. Each completion category is like one area chunk you want to fill out.

The menu shows what you have left to do, hints at where you have to go and it really felt like completion was within mortal reach the entire time. This organization and display isn't even the genius part of this system. Those sick bastards at Monolith have condensed the concept of completion into a refined resource to be used to make all your characters cooler. Everything you do towards completion has a value, and that value is used to upgrade your team. That move or skill that you want your character to have is unlocked through this completion currency. You'll always have some just by going through the game normally, but you can always have more and because that skill grid full of locked abilities is constantly mocking you, you will. It really seems obvious in retrospect. Don't force your players to do side stuff, incorporate the side stuff so hard into the systems of the game that players who ignore it are just doing a challenge run. This isn't even delegated entirely to the completion menu. Other core functions of the gameplay are locked behind items you find in the world. Some will be placed right in front of you, but others you'll need to fully explore the world and as a result I've never had more fun doing so.

Future Redeemed assures that every action you do that's not marked on the map is handsomely rewarded. Side content is not forced like it is in Torna. It's not placed in a caste system like the base game. It's just a list of things that will inherently have value to you if you do them, and it ends up being the perfect cap off trilogy, by being the one that finally makes all those things you can do in this big open world mean something purely from a gameplay perspective. I get that some people may not want their modularity locked in such a way, but this is perfect for me. The next Xenoblade game is likely to take a huge shift, but if there is one thing I want carried over, it's this.

[redrobin-detective]

all is well

Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped into the next room I am I and you are you Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. ~ Henry Scott Hollard

AO3 link

______________

He hadn’t meant to say it, that much was clear. As much as she wanted to hate him for it, claim it was some sort of cruel manipulation; she knew he was just as distressed as she was. The ghost boy had covered his mouth, bright green eyes wide with panic as his misspoken words brought their battle to a screeching halt. Even the ghost the three hunters had been fighting stopped and stared before flying off. No one moved to stop them. Phantom looked at her fearfully, then over at her companion before vanishing without a trace.

It was a slip of the tongue, an accident, so why did the ghost boy calling her Mom make her blood run so cold?

“I’ve knew a kid who called the teacher Mom one time but I’ve never heard it from a ghost,” the Red Huntress said with a sarcastic chuckle. But her shoulders were tense and it was clear the situation made her uncomfortable too. “You okay, Mrs. Fenton?”

“My son isn’t dead,” Maddie said quietly. She would admit there were times where she’d look at Phantom and see Danny overlaid on top of him but those moments were becoming more and more rare. Maddie liked to think it’s because she could find more differences than similarities between the two but honestly, she couldn’t say who her son was anymore. She saw this damned ghost more than she saw the child living in her own house.

“I know, I’ve seen him around,” Huntress said with steady conviction. It made Maddie pause, as it always did, to wonder just how old Amity’s other human ghost hunter really was. Or how young rather. “It was a mistake, he’ll probably avoid you for a bit out of embarrassment but then things will go back to normal.”

“Yeah, a mistake,” Maddie muttered to herself, finally lowering the gun even though the fighting had ended several minutes ago. Why was this whole thing so unsettling to her? Phantom had said much worse things to her, called her a fake scientist and more obsessive than a ghost. He’d even called her a bad mother once when he’d been particularly riled up. She remembered how offended and angry his unnatural eyes had been as they’d glared accusingly into her.  

“You know his parents are still alive,” Huntress said suddenly. “I found out by accident a little while ago.” She was still standing on her hoverboard about 3 feet off the ground, her gaze was trained away from Maddie. “They don’t know that he’s a ghost, that he’s Phantom,” the girl’s head was still turned away from Maddie but she had a feeling she was being watched none the less. “Maybe you remind him of his mother.”

Maddie felt liked she’d been slapped.

“And why does that matter to you?” she questioned defensively to cover how much the conversation was shaking her - they didn’t know how could they not know, how could they not miss - “I thought you hated him as much as we did.”

“I don’t like him,” the Huntress said vehemently. “He’s annoying and acts like he’s the only hunter in this town who can actually do the job. But I,” she paused, “I think I understand him, just a little bit. Enough that I’ve been combing through Amity’s missing children files in my spare time. Of course, it’s no good if no one reported him missing in the first place. Phantom doesn’t want me prying but it’s not right for a kid to die and no one to care.”

“He’s just a ghost,” Maddie said, her words weak even to her ears. Was that why Phantom was stuck here? Because he died forgotten and unmourned? The thought of one of her children, her babies, dying without her knowing... she was going to be sick.

“Yeah, he is,” Huntress nodded, “but he wasn’t always. And humans deserve to be remembered, even if they don’t want to be.” That said, the girl sped off into the setting sun, the varying shades of orange glinting off of her suit. Maddie stood in the middle of the street for a little while longer, gun pointed limply at the ground as her whole world spun.

She drove home slowly, taking the long way around to try and put her conflicting feelings into words before she talked to her husband. When she and Jack first began their research into ghosts, they told themselves that they had to divorce themselves from the people the ghosts had been before. If you focused on the lingering traces of humanity in every monster then they would never be put in their place. But she was human and she had kids around the ghost boy’s age, despite her attempts to stick to logic her heart ached with sympathy.

“And you call yourself a mother,” the Phantom in her memory spat at her, filled with hatred but underneath it all was grief. “Where are your kids now? All you care about is the dead but when are you going to care for the living?” Maddie tightened her grip on the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking.

“Mads! You’re home!” Jack grinned enthusiastically as she quietly entered the house. “Jazzy has her nose in her books and you know Danny, in and up to his room without a word so I made us grilled cheese!” He held her a plate with a flourish, “they’re ghost shaped!” The world tilted itself a little more onto it’s proper axis, no matter how crazy things got, Jack would always be her true north.

“Gracias,” she said accepting the plate. “Can we talk, privately?” She gestured her head down to the basement. Conversations from the kitchen could easily be heard upstairs and she really didn’t want her children to overhear her asking if she was a bad mom. She didn’t want their confirmation that she was right.

Jack’s goofy grinned smoothed out into something softer and he put one hand gently on her back as they walked down to basement. He kicked her usual stool her way and they sat in silence while they ate their dinners, staring at the swirling vortex of the portal.

“You remember that time Phantom called me a neglectful mother?” Maddie asked quietly after a few minutes.

“Mads, you can’t let that sneaky spook get to you. Everyone knows you’re a great-”

“Jack,” she interrupted harsher than she needed to but she didn’t need comfort from a husband but the unbiased opinion of a fellow scientist. “He accidentally called me Mom while we were fighting today, I don’t - I don’t think he meant it, he looked more scared then I’ve ever seen him before he ran off. Huntress was there too, she said.” Maddie gripped her plate tightly in her hands. “She said that Phantom’s family is still alive, that they don’t know about him.”

“Not know? You mean about him being-”

“Apparently,” Maddie squeezed her eyes shut to fight off the unwanted sympathy she felt. “He’s always been the Ghost Boy, the Ghost Kid. I never - I never fully absorbed what that meant. He looks,” Maddie set the plate aside and dropped her head into her hands. “He’s about Danny’s age.”

“Maddie,” Jack said softly, setting aside his own plate and wheeling himself closer. “Whoever that boy was, he’s gone now and all that’s left is an echo, an obnoxious and powerful echo but he’s not... he’s not a child. Not anymore.”

“But he remembers,” Maddie gasped, angry she was letting herself get all worked up over a stupid ghost. “He called me Mom, Jack. Huntress, she said maybe I reminded him of her and,” her eyes filled with tears now. “He’s comparing me to someone who didn’t even notice that he’d died. What does that say about me? About my relationship with our children? I feel like all I do is argue with Jazz these days and god knows where Danny goes to half the time-”

“Maddie, don’t do that to yourself,” Jack said softly, tilting her face up towards him with a gloved hand. “Once you go down that rabbit hole, there’s no digging yourself out. I think it’s just part of being a parent, always worrying that you’re not doing things right. Sometimes,” Jack gaze dropped, troubled. “Sometimes I enter the room and Danny looks at me and freezes like he expects me to do something terrible... He’s just easily startled but it still hurts.”

“Phantom is an echo, not a child,” Maddie nodded quietly to herself, trying to fall back on her usual logic but it tasted wrong in her mouth. He was a ghost... but also a child. “I wonder what he was like when he was alive? His personality seems remarkably preserved, he must have been a vibrant young man.”

“Or his death was particularly traumatic,” Jack mumbled. “Painful deaths usually leave powerful ghosts. And most healthy teens don’t just drop dead for nothing.”  A chill fell over the lab.

“How could they not notice?” Maddie whispered with horror. “What sort of parent wouldn’t see that their child was dead, what? Now two years in?”

“Not everyone is as good a mom as you are, Mads,” Jack said, pulling her into his chest. “Neglectful parents are a dime a dozen sadly. He could’ve been a runaway too, ran off and died leaving his folks still holding out hope that he’d come home. Or maybe...” he frowned, “maybe he’s pretending he’s still alive.”

“No, he couldn’t keep the charade for this long,” Maddie gasped but the horrible idea had been planted none the less. Phantom always seemed in such a hurry, like he had somewhere else to be. Was another woman tapping her feet as she waited for her boy to return like Maddie often did, not knowing her child was long gone?

“He’s a wily one, incredibly solid for a spirit. Sometimes I look at him and swear I see his chest moving like he’s breathing. Dampen his glow, dye the hair, change his clothes, he could probably pass as human so long as you didn’t look too close.”

“Jack,” she pulled back and looked at her husband in a panic. “Jack, if he’s pretending to be human when he’s not fighting then there’s a good chance he goes to Casper.” Her and Jack’s eyes widened with realization at the same time.

Their children’s high school has had an unprecedented amount of ghost attacks since the portal opened. They could never figure out why the ghosts targeted that school and ignored the other elementary, middle or even the other public high, Wendy. “What are we going to do, should we pull out Danny and Jazz? Even just until we figure this out.”

“That might tip the ghost off,” Jack said evenly but his teeth were biting into his cheek with worry. “We don’t want to set him off, who knows what he’d do if his cover was blown.” He might look like a harmless teen but Maddie had seen first hand how devastating Phantom could be when threatened. “I think we should tell the kids.”

“What? Why? You know they’re supportive of him!” Well Jazz certainly was, differing opinion on Phantom seemed to be the cause of half their arguments. Danny, truthfully, she didn’t really know his opinions on the ghost boy. He always looked so uncomfortable talking about ghosts with them so they just didn’t.

“Supportive maybe but they’re smart and observant,” Jack countered. “They could be our eyes and ears inside the school. They know better than to provoke a dangerous ghost,” Jack let his eyes drift over to the portal. “Besides, if the worst comes to pass, I want them to be prepared.”

“I don’t like it but you’re probably right,” Maddie grumbled. “If it keeps them safe then I’d do just about anything.” Jack smiled and leaned forward to kiss her gently, his lips a perfect match for her own.

“And this is why you could never be a bad mother,” he said. “Come on, let’s talk to them before they go to sleep.”

“Or Danny sneaks out again,” Maddie said to herself as she followed her husband up the stairs and heard him call for a Fenton family meeting.

It went about as well as Maddie had expected. Jazz alternated between being angry and anxious, telling them emphatically that Phantom wasn’t hiding among them at school and wasn’t a bad ghost to begin with. Maddie didn’t know what had come over her but she hardly recognized this irrational and emotional young lady as her daughter. She hoped it was just Senior year stress and hormones and not some ghostly influenced. Danny, as usual, sat there like he was a piece of the furniture and didn’t say much at all.

“Danno,” Jack said gently as he interrupted Jazz’s rant to engage their youngest. “You would tell us if you noticed anything unusual with one of your classmates, right? You know we’re telling you kids this because we trust you, love you and want to keep you safe.”

“Have you considered that keeping guns around the house, threatening to hunt and torture ghosts doesn’t make me feel very safe?” Danny said quietly, looking down at the table. “So what if he sometimes goes to school, maybe he wants to have something normal in his life. All I know is that if I was Phantom, maybe I would want to hide too. So people like you didn’t find me.” For the second time that night, the words of a teenage boy stopped her cold.

“Danny, what do you-” Danny didn’t elaborate and instead pushed his chair back and headed towards the door.

“Young Man, where are you going? It’s almost curfew and we’re not done here,” Maddie scolded even though she knew that neither her or Jack were in the control of the situation. Danny opened the door and didn’t look back.

“I won’t be long, just a lap around the block. I just, I just need some air, okay?” The house became quiet, no one quite knowing what to say. Jazz excused herself a moment later and walked back up to her room. She slammed her door shut. The ticking of the clock was the only sound to be heard in the suddenly silent kitchen.

“Is that how he sees us?” Jack asked quietly, looking down at his large hands. “Danny used to think what we did was so cool, when did that change?” When did he change? was the silent, unasked question. Or maybe they'd all changed, grown apart so slowly that no one had really noticed. Maddie stood up abruptly and stalked towards the door, strapping an ectogun to her hip as she went.

“Mads, maybe you should give him-”

“You know as well as I do that this is the peak time for ghosts. Danny, he might not trust us but I won’t let a disagreement get him killed.” It was full dark outside and she was halfway down the block before she realized she didn’t know which direction Danny had gone in. The night air was chill for mid-April as it shook off the last dregs of winter. She was feeling cold in her protective hazmat; Danny had left in short sleeves. Maybe she should run back and get his jacket for when she found him.

“Nice night for a walk,” Maddie jumped at the voice to find Phantom lazily floating in the air above her. His posture was casual but his eyes were sharp, searching as he always was. Green eyes glanced at her gun before meeting her eyes. “Looking for someone? Perhaps chasing someone who doesn’t want to found?” No way was she going to let him know her son was out here, alone and vulnerable.

“You actually,” she lied. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow but didn’t call her out. How could he be so expressive and so hard to read all at once? Against her better judgement, she thought again about the ghost as a human. “You called me Mom earlier, I want to know why.”

“What, you’ve never called someone something dumb by mistake?” Phantom flinched, crossing his arms defensively. “It was an accident, I’m just as upset as you are, believe me. Now if you don’t mind, I was trying to have a nice flight to clear my mind. Good luck finding whoever you were really looking for.”

“My husband thinks you’re pretending to be alive, that you’re lying to the town, going to school.” She searched his face for some sign that she was wrong but his expression was still as stone. “You’re putting people in jeopardy, I thought you wanted to play the hero!”

“I’m not doing anything,” He growled, his eyes flashing ominously in the dark. “I’m just doing the best I can, okay? If I go to the Nasty Burger or sit in on English Poetry when there’s no ghosts to fight then who’s hurt? Only me for trying to hang onto something real, something normal!”

“But the ghosts-”

“News flash! The ghosts would be here with or without me because of your stupid portal! I can’t even legally drive and yet you blame me for everything.” He scoffed and looked away, “you really are just like my mother.”

“So I do remind you of her,” she stated. “Your mother.”

“That’s a great thing to say to some kid you shoot at regularly,” Phantom said, icily, his green gaze boring into her over his shoulder. “What do you want me to say? Yeah, you do. It’s not just your voice or your face but the way you look at me like I’m nothing but a disappointment. How you make me feel like I’m some damaged child you need to hammer into shape.”

“You can’t - I’m not disappointed,” she said before she could think otherwise because how else could she react to such a charged statement? What kind of abusive, miserable home had he come from? Her heart clenched again to be compared to this woman.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Phantom snapped at her sarcastically but, like the time when he’d called her a bad mother, underneath the anger was sadness. “None of this matters, we’re both going to keep doing our own thing without each other’s approval. We’re enemies so let’s just forget this all happened and go back to you shooting at me while I beg for you just stop and listen for one second-”

“Alright, I’m listening!” Maddie shouted back, frustrated and sympathetic against her better judgement. “What is it you want to tell me so bad?” Phantom froze, like he hadn’t expected her to just stop like that. His shoulders hunched and his eyes were wide and he looked so much like a lost teenager that it pulled painfully at her heart. God, why did this one ghost bring out so many contradictory feelings in her?

“I want,” he stopped, swallowed and floated to the ground so they were near eye level. Sometime in the last year, he’d gotten taller than her. She hadn’t realized ghosts could grow, could age. Phantom was always the exception to every rule they had. “I want the same thing you want. I don’t like seeing ghosts coming through and hurting people. Before I was Phantom, I was nobody, I couldn’t help anyone. I can now and keeping people safe, it gives me a purpose I didn’t even have when I was human. Ghosts might just be the untethered remnants of dead people but we still love and feel and value things, just differently than you do. I want to keep ghosts from attacking people but without damaging them, we’re not all evil just... trying to find our own way to the finish line. If you’d just, not attack on sight, I could show you.”

It was perhaps the most she’d heard Phantom say all at once. He was rubbing his gloved fingers anxiously against his thigh and there was a desperate bit of want in his tragically young face. He wanted her to believe him, like a child looking to their mother for approval. As more time stretched on without her speaking, his hopeful look fell into a kind of sad acceptance. He looked like Danny had at the kitchen table not 15 minutes before.

“Okay,” she said finally. “We can give it a try for a bit. It’s not a truce exactly but so long as you’re not causing harm, Jack and I won’t shoot at you.” It wasn’t much but the boy looked like he’d handed her the moon and then some. He floated up a little, his boots jittered with excitement. She gaped when he reached forward and grasped her hand only to shake it enthusiastically. His hand was chilled but solid in her own.

“Yeah, you got a deal! Don’t worry, Mo- Ma’am you won’t have to worry about me, I’ll be a good little ghost, scouts honor! not that I was, uh, ever in the scouts. If things go well, I’d be happy to tell you more about ghosts and the Zone. I’ll even give you a tour if you’d like.” His smile was infectious and she bit her lip to resist the natural urge to smile back.

Maybe Phantom was a ghost, a sad child who’d died far too young but he was also someone’s son. That woman, however, hadn’t been able to protect him, to support him. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give the ghost boy a chance and maybe Maddie could fill in something his other mother couldn’t. Perhaps she could even learn how to give her own children what they needed too.

“We’ll see,” Maddie hummed. “Now, you were going to go flying and I need to find my son before he catches his death, that is, if he’ll even talk to me.”

“He will,” Phantom said softly. “My mom messed up, hurt me sometimes but I knew she loved me and I love her. I don’t know your son but I do know what it’s like to be a son and your mom is... whether you’re living, dead or in-between, she’s always your mom. Maybe he’s worried you won’t love him, the things he’s done or believes in.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, “Of course, I don’t really know you and your family. Usually try and avoid you guys, being ghost hunters and all. Even your daughter is pretty scary.”

“That would be pretty weird, a ghost surrounded by hunters,” her lips twitched upwards despite herself as she imagined Phantom chatting with Jack and Jazz in the living room. The image wasn’t quite as strange as she’d initially thought. Who knows where this shaky truce would lead them? Phantom took that as his excuse to leave and flew off into the night. Maddie watched him go, she started up the block when she got a series of texts a few minutes later.

Danny: I’m home, sorry for running off like that Danny: I don’t like the way you talk about ghosts the way some people talk about race or gender. I want to make opinions based on facts and understanding, not half baked theories Danny: I’d be willing to talk more, if you’d stop being so stubbornly certain you’re right and just listened for a change Danny: I love you, Mom I don’t think I say that enough. Sometimes I feel scared to, like you won’t understand Danny: Jazz came down and Dad brought out the special fudge Danny: Come home, its cold out

Maddie brought her phone to her lips, looking up in the sky as if she might see Phantom still flying around. That boy still loved his mother, the mother who’d hurt him. She didn’t want to be like Phantom’s mom: distant, cruel, unwilling to listen. If she could hold out an olive branch for her enemy, then she certainly could for her son.

Mom: I love you too, baby, never doubt that. I think I'm ready to listen now. Mom: I’m on my way home, save some fudge for me.

I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, Just around the corner. All is well.

[always-outlander]

A Formal Review of “Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone,” Outlander Book Nine - SPOILERS AHEAD

As I finally have a moment to sit down with my laptop, and have also taken an adequate 12 hours to decompress from finishing this book, I am now ready to write up my formal review. 

So with that said, if you are not caught up on books 1-8 (and/or read at a normal pace so you haven’t quite finished Go Tell The Bees), please proceed with caution as there will be spoilers! 

First I will start with a very surface level review, which is that I did very much enjoy this book. Is it my favorite of all of them? No, but I also have a hard time pulling out a favorite (because I think we can all agree book 1 is the best, but beyond that, they are all strong in my opinion). As with all of Diana’s books and true to her writing in general, there were many moments of absolute genius. I found that this book heavily referenced previous book events, and also quite a few of the novella’s she has written over the years. One of my favorites was Claire retelling Jamie of eating her peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the bench in Edinburgh right before finding him again in the print shop, and letting her cellophane wrapper float away in the wind, a moment which we actually saw in season 3 on one of the title cards. Call backs to moments like these in this book felt like special little Easter eggs, and when I read them I was intimately reminiscent of Jamie and Claire’s origin story and just how far they’ve come so far. It raised the stakes, but also provided the nostalgia that gets me every time. 

And while there are many, many good moments here, there are also mediocre moments. I will say that by now I am used to Diana’s writing style, which is highly descriptive and takes the time to explain even the most minuscule of details. This can sometimes make the chapter (and book) feel like it is being dragged on forever - and this book is nearly 1000 pages long - but it is also why I feel so strongly for this book series. Those details paint an incredibly detailed and complete picture, and she paints with that broad brush in every scene, not just the scenes with Jamie and Claire present. There was not as many intimate scenes and conversations between Jamie and Claire in this one either, which was palpable. They are the heart of this story and I personally felt like they were not central this time around. It wasn’t until the third act that they made there typical exclamations of love for one another known and felt, and that did feel odd to me. Jamie was “quiet” in this book, more than ever before. I found myself wishing for chapters from his point of view, so that I had a few more moments with his thoughts.

What also tended to frustrate me, was that there were moments which are insignificant to the plot and somehow earned pages of prose, and I found myself dying for certain scenes or conversations to be longer. Specifically, all of the moments shared between Bree and William. These scenes and chapters were the highlight of this book for me. There is SO MUCH to be said there, and while I do understand that William is still in a state of denial/frustration over his true parentage, its also been YEARS since he last saw Bree. Surely by now he would have questions for her. And surely Bree, as outspoken as she is, would initiate those difficult but necessary conversations with him. I loved the two of them together and their dynamic jumps off the page, but damn it give me more! 

Bree & Roger

Similar to the previous books, this one does take a while to get going. The first half+ of the book does not feel like a true ascent, but rather re-establishes the plot and explains the landscape in which we will move forward in the story. Bree and Roger are back, and we do not get to take part in the hard conversations between Bree and her parents regarding her attack. It is instead implied those conversations take place, and we do get far less of Bree and Roger in this book than I thought we would. Given the events of the last book I was surprised by this, but I also don’t know that we needed to, now that they are back on the Ridge. When they returned, Bree brought a number of books back with her. One of them is written by her late father, Frank. This book becomes significant to Jamie, as he feels it was written directly to him. 

Jem and Mandy are growing so fast, and I loved their dynamic with Jamie, Claire now that they have more to offer to the storyline. As they grow older I feel that they will become some of my favorite characters. Along with Germain, who we got more of this book, but still far too little of Fergus and Marsali. Give me more Farsali! 

In this book, many big moments take place for both Bree and Roger. But because we don’t spend a whole lot of time with them, those moments feel slightly glossed over. Roger formally becomes a minister and takes part in two major battles (one in Savannah, the other alongside Jamie at Kings Mountain in 1780). Bree is diagnosed with an irregular heartbeat, which she thinks might be a side effect of time travel. She also becomes pregnant with their third child, and delivers him (David William Ian Fraser MacKenzie) on September 16th, 1780 at Frasers Ridge. 

William

We also had far less Lord John that I expected, but he is at the center of the plot by book’s end. I am glad that instead, we got more of William in this book. I won’t lie, in the overarching story I didn’t really care for him so far. He came across as incredibly immature in MOBY, and I had a hard time finding anything redeeming in him. When you have a father like Jamie (and Lord John, for that matter), you wouldn’t expect him to be such a damn baby. In this book, however, he is 21 and thankfully the increased age has made him more likable (at least for me). He starts off the book similarly to where we left him, heartbroken over Jane, angry over Jamie Fraser, and looking for his cousin Benjamin despite reports that he had been killed. He has also resigned his commission in the British Army, having decided that he does not wish to be the Earle or Ellesmere now that he knows he is actually a bastard. I found his storyline in this book far more entertaining than in the last. It felt like he had a true purpose for his meandering up and down the east coast, in search of his cousin who (in an exciting and interesting plot twist) is a turncoat, who faked his own death so that he could take up office in the American military. 

This therein creates the subplot, involving Ben’s estranged wife (and fake widow, seeing as he is actually still alive), Amaranthus. She is in Savannah with her newborn son Trever, taking refuge with William’s uncle Hal. Amaranthus tries to entice William with an offer to provide him with a male heir so that he no longer is obliged to be the Earle of Ellesmere. William is attracted to her and wrestles with this offer for the first half of the book. In truth, I hated Amaranthus and thought William should know better than to fall for someone so calculated, but alas. He is a stupid boy, who needs a woman not a lassie, as Murtagh would say. I really hope he does not end up with this woman for a wife.

William meets Brianna in Savannah by the middle of the book, the two of them having been conveniently set up by Lord John and Jamie to be in the same place as the same time so that they can reconnect. Bree has come to Savannah to commission a portrait of a wealthy heiress, and she and William later end up traveling to the American camp so that she can paint the portrait of a fallen general. William stays with her all night, and repeatedly refers to her as his sister in public, a moment which tugged at my heart strings and felt incredibly significant for both him and Bree. As I said before, the scenes with the two of them together were my favorite. I could read a whole book of them getting to know each other.

In a later encounter with Ezekeil Richardson - the Captain under which William performed several intelligence missions for in MOBY - Richardson makes mention that he knows Williams sister, which makes William uneasy. He sends a letter to Brianna, warning her of him and providing her with a sketch of his face. Brianna recognizes the man as one of the men who attacked her at Lallybroch, and informs Rodger that he must be a time traveler. 

Lord John

As mentioned above, we did have far less of Lord John than I would have liked (he is one of my favorite characters), but he is very important as we head towards the tenth book of the series. For most of this book he is with his brother Hal, offering him aid and assistance as he tries to wrap his head around the questionable events surrounding his missing son, Benjamin. He spends much of the book in Savannah, and in the beginning of the book he and William reunite after a long time apart at his house on Twelve Oglethorpe Street. William brings his friend, John Cinnamon, with him as Cinnamon is convinced that Lord John is his true father. This is obviously a point of contention for William, having found out that the Earl of Elsmere was not his true father himself. 

Lord John informs Cinnamon that sadly he is not his father either, but uses William’s time in Savannah to try and re-establish their relationship. He has also spent considerable time with Ben’s widow, Amarathus, and introduces the two of them. Hal eventually receives a letter from Denzell Hunter, the Quaker Doctor who had married his daughter, Dottie in MOBY. He informs Hal that he has been arrested, and that Dottie fell ill in the prison while with him. He asks that he come retrieve her and bring her home so that she might recover, and Hal sends William to Virginia under the protection of a British Commission. 

When William returns to Savannah without Dottie, he informs Lord John of the truth he uncovered; Ben is very much alive, in New Jersey, under the alias of General Raphael Bleeker. Ben is a traitor, and when she realized there was no talking him out of it, Amaranthus suggested Ben fake his death so that Hal would still take her and their son Trevor in. Lord John informs Hal, who later leaves Savannah in search of Ben in New Jersey. While Hal is away, Lord John receives a suspicious letter from a ship captain claiming that his Tomas Byrd (his former Valet from the Lord John Grey Novellas) is in need of monetary assistance aboard a ship in port. Lord John goes to investigate, and is kidnapped by Ezekiel Richardson. 

Richardson has blackmailed John with written confessions from both Neil Stapleton and Percy Wainwright (both from the Lord John Series), claiming they had intimate relations with John. Richardson’s plan is to use John as leverage in an effort to prevent Hal from returning to England and advising the House of Lords to withdraw from the war. He asks John if he is aware of what Claire Fraser and her family are (i.e. time travelers) and tells him that he too, is one of them. 

It seems Richardson’s true mission is to try and abolish slavery. If Britain remains in America and wins the war, then America would remain a British colony and would not engage in slave trading. Existing slaves would be freed under the Slavery Abolition Act in 1833, and the civil war will be prevented. I am unsure how this plot line will tie in with Brianna, as at first it seemed like Richardson came back in time to go after her, and this appears to be an all together different storyline. When John thinks all hope of being found is lost, he asks one final request of Percy; that he find William, and tell him that he loves him. Percy does find William, and in an act of bravery and love for John, tells William where he is.

Jamie

Oh Jamie, the poor guy can never catch a break and this book is no exception. After having been banished from his own community, Jamie is back on the Ridge and set to build his new house with his family around him. All appears to be going well on the surface, but for the duration of this book Jamie is dealing with the inner turmoil caused by Frank Randall and his book, ‘The Soul of a Rebel.’ Jamie reads it and feels as though Frank wrote it to him. In it, Frank calls out many signifiant dates which Claire, Jamie, Bree and Rodger refer to throughout the book. For Jamie though, it is the chapter in which Frank calls out the death of a Jamie Fraser on October 7th, 1780 at Kings Mountain that has him convinced that this is the day and place he will die. 

In the meantime, Jamie is also dealing with Captain Cunningham, a former member of the British Navy, who has hatched a plan to aid the growing Loyalist militia right under Jamie’s nose. It later comes to Jamie’s attention that Cunningham plan to arrest Jamie and see him delivered to Patrick Ferguson (leader of the Loyalist Militia, who will eventually lead the battle at Kings Mountain). Jamie is attacked and wounded but not killed in Cunningham’s effort to capture him, and Cunningham is paralyzed. 

In an effort to protect his family and tenants, Jamie begins to raise his own Militia and seeks out other allies in the backcountry. All the while, Frank’s book is in the back of his mind. He does not tell Claire of Frank’s account on Kings Mountain, as he is still unsure that the James Fraser Frank refers to is actually him. 

He has Bree and Rodger smuggle guns to Fergus and Marsali in Charles Town, and continues to train the men of the Ridge for much of the book. In a turn of events, Ulysses makes a reappearance and is now a Captain in the British Army. It is not a friendly visit, however, and he informs Jamie that according to the Secretary of State for the American Department, Jamie’s land grant had been fraudulently obtained and he is to surrender Frasers Ridge and leave his home immediately. Jamie follows him after he departs and attacks him in an effort to obtain the document and destroy it, but with no such luck. In the attack, one of Ulysses men, Sergeant Jackson, breaks his leg and Jamie brings him back to Claire to help aid him.

When that fateful day at King’s Mountain finally arrives, Jamie is shot multiple times and does in fact die, but Claire is able to save him with her blue healing powers (something I am very curious about and hope we get a more detailed explanation on in the next book). I won’t lie, I cried when he left her for this battle having been inside his head leading up to this moment and watched him draw up a will and testament in the previous chapter in preparation for the end of his life. I did think that if he was convinced he was going die, we would have at least had a scene with him and Bree before he left, but that’s just me being nit-picky. 

In our last scene with Jamie, he is standing on the front porch of the New House, having just discovered that Sergeant Jackson obtained the land grant documents and sent them to Claire as a thank you for tending to his leg. The Ridge is safe, and for a moment it appears that all is resolved. William then rides up to the house in search of Jamie. The ship on which Lord John has been help captive is no longer in port, and William needs Jamie’s help once more.

Claire

Like Jamie, Claire starts out this book with a strong desire to find a sense of normalcy again. With Bree and Rodger back, she knows that something in their time must have gone horribly wrong, but is selfishly grateful that her family is by her side once more. Brianna brought her back a medical book from the future, which she uses throughout this story to help heal the injured on The Ridge. In the first half of this book, we also see Claire take Fanny (who was given to Claire and Jamie by William at the end of the last book) under her wing. Fanny is still struggling with the death of her sister, Jane, and Claire is able to provide her with reassurance, love, and comfort. Fanny proves to be a great help to Claire and Jamie. To me, she is the only real link we get between Jamie, Claire and William in the entire book (save a few comments and internal monologues by them both throughout the book). 

It is in the early part of the book that we see Claire receive her bees from John Quincy Meyers, and begin her relationship with them. Evidently it is tradition to speak with your bees and inform them of the ongoings of your house, so that they feel a connection with you and don’t flee to build a new hive somewhere else. Throughout the book I find her moments in the garden really lovely, as it is a call back to her love of plants and to previous comments made by Jamie, Bree and Frank that she would live in her garden with her plants and herbs if she could. This sentiment is a really sweet part of her storyline, and I love that it serves as inspiration for the title.

When Captain Cunningham starts to rouse trouble on the Ridge, Claire finds a rather odd friendship struck between herself and Captain Cunningham’s mother, Elspeth. The two find a mutual respect between them, and when Captain Cunningham’s plan to capture Jamie is discovered, Elspeth and Claire spend the night together in the living room of the New House, waiting for the outcome. When Jamie arrives back at the house, he is wounded and Cunningham has been shot in the back. Claire is able to help Cunningham as best she can, but unfortunately he is paralyzed. This relationship with the mother of the enemy serves as insight into one of Claire and Jamie’s strengths as a couple - despite the growing tensions and lines being drawn between the sides, they still treat the people around them with respect. Jamie did not need to bring Cunningham to Claire, but he is an extension of her and knows her desire and ability to heal anyone in need. This is echo’d again when he brings Sergeant Jackson back to the house, and Claire and Jamie’s kindness towards him is what ultimately saves the Ridge. Jackson repays them by recovering the land grant, and saving their home from Ulysses and the British Government. 

There are two instances when Claire uses her “blue” healing powers in this book, the first of which when Agnes Cloudtree appears on their door. Her mother is in labor, and is having trouble delivering the baby. When Claire arrives, she discovers that Susannah is having twins, and one of them is stuck. When she is able to deliver the first baby, she discovers the second (a girl), is stillborn. This immediately gives her flashbacks to Faith, and is one of many mentions of Faith in this book. I always disliked that Claire and Jamie do not think of or talk about Faith more, but they certainly do in this book. Together, she and Jamie morn over this baby girl, reliving the loss of Faith together again. For Jamie, it is the first time he truly sees the loss of an infant, as he was not with Claire when she delivered Faith. In her sadness, Claire refuses to put the baby down, and eventually breaths life back into her with her hands. 

The second instance is on Kings Mountain, when Claire joins Jamie on the battlefield and discovers him shot and dying on the edge of a cliff. Some of my favorite Claire and Jamie moments come just prior to this battle, when Jamie shares with Claire that he believes he will die and Claire, in her stubborn way, informs him that he is not allowed to. It was a call back to the first book after Wentworth, and again when Jamie was bit by a snake and nearly died. Diana’s writing in this scene is very vague and so the way in which Claire is able to heal Jamie is not clear, but she lays with him on that cliff face for days, refusing to let go of him and once again, uses her hands to breathe new life back into his body. She had been told by the Native American healer that when her hair is all white, she will come into her full power. By the end of this book, we are nearly there.

Honorable Mentions

- Roger met young Jenny Fraser in MOBY, and he tells Jamie about that day at the beginning of this book, and of meeting his father Brian and Jack Randall. Roger feels that Jamie should should make Jenny aware of their time travel situation prior to seeing him again. This is a scene that I wish we got. We never see Roger and Jenny talk about this together in the book. In fact, we never even see them talk to each other at all.

- Fergus and Marsali begin this book separated from Germain following the death of Henri-Christian. The family needed time apart, as Marsali couldn’t look at Germain without seeing Henri-Christian and Claire volunteered that he stay with them. Marsali eventually sends Germain a heartbreaking note asking him to return to them, and informing him (and the rest of the family) that she has given birth to twins. When we do meet up with them, they are continuing their work for the rebels through print, and Fergus sends a letter at the end of the book stating that he “cannot leave undone the Work of Freedom to which I am called.” I hope we spend more time with Fergus in the next book, and that he can elaborate on what it is he is being called to do. 

- Ian and Rachel are raising their son, Oggy alongside Jenny at the Ridge. Ian is later informed that the village of his former wife, Works with Her Hands (aka Emily), has been attacked and her husband killed. Ian is compelled to travel to New York to see that she and her children are safe, and brings Rachel, Oggy and Jenny along with him. The scene were Rachel meets with Ian’s former wife was very heartwarming, and my love for Rachel only grows in this book. While there, Ian discovers that he has a son by Emily, and is asked to take him with him back to the Ridge. Emily also asks that she be able to name Ian’s son for him (since Ian had named hers), and chooses the name Hunter. 

- Jamie does have a handful of dreams in this book, though it is unclear if any of them are dreams in which he appears in the future. He does have a couple of dreams of Culloden, and a conversation with Jenny where he remembers more of that day. Specifically, seeing Murtagh on the battlefield right before his death. We had not been given this closure in the books like we have on the show, so this passage was really special to me. 

- Jenny meets an Indian known as Sachem while in New York, who immediately takes a liking to Jenny. He travels back to The Ridge with Ian and their family, and meets with Claire. He tells her that he died from a snakebite and was brought back to life, wherein he now sees ghosts. He tells Claire that he sees Ian Murray (Sr.) follow Jenny around often. He also sees a small child following Claire around, though she is faint (implied that it is Faith), and a man with round glasses and a strange hat (Frank Randall). He tells her that it is the ghost of a man who loved her, and means her no harm. Sachem also tells her that this man often follows her husband Jamie, too. 

Final Thoughts

All and all, it was another good read. This book was engaging, descriptive and dense, filled with the characters and writing that make Outlander so special. It did feel like its main purpose was to set up the finale, and I do hope 10 is not the last book, but if it is, ‘Go Tell The Bees’ certainly laid solid foundations. Unlike previous books there aren’t as many open-ended storylines here, and the direction heading into the next book is clear for everyone, not just Claire and Jamie. I just ask that Diana provide us with plenty of moments and conversations shared between Jamie and William, William and Bree, and Claire and William in the next book. Basically, we need William to get to know this family, and they need to get to know him. I think having had William become a man independent of the Fraser influence will make this dynamic incredibly engaging, and now that William is not quite as malleable as he would have been as a young child, they will all be able to teach one another and converse as adults.

I also know that the world building is ongoing and there are hundreds of characters to write about and weave into these books, but we all read because we fell in love with Jamie and Claire. They are of course central to this story too, but I do hope that the next book really zeroes in on them, their love, and their dynamic. Claire’s chapters are always in first person so I feel connected to her always, but I wanted more Jamie in this story, especially considering he is now connected with Frank in such a significant way via his book (and evidently his ghost).

I can’t wait to see how this dysfunctional and ever growing family turn out in the next one. Let’s all pray it won’t take 7 years to find out. 

[fruitoftheweek]

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 1: Who is She?

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 Here

I guess this is a Switch!Spencer (mainly Sub! Spencer)X reader fan fiction this is my first fan fiction I’ve written since middle school so bare with me and feel free to message me constructive criticism. This will probs be multiple chapters but I just couldn’t get this idea off of my mind so here we go! And yes this season 1/2 Spencer because he is just the cutest!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Plot: Doctor Spencer Reid has heard of little black books, but that pales in comparison to what he has just found in the BAU’s elevator. A sweetly scented notebook filled with salacious journal entries illustrating the writer's sexual fantasies. He doesn’t know what it is about this book but all he can think of is finding its owner.

TLDR: Spencer finds your kinky notebook and uses super sleuth skills to find you.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: Cumming in pants, Hinting at sex, exhibitionism, no panties, Language, General 18+, Hinting at future kinks

Word Count: 2,439 (gah damn)

𝒯𝒪 𝒲𝐻𝒪𝑀 𝐼𝒯 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒞𝐸𝑅𝒩𝒮:

𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓀𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹.

As Spencer read these sentences, he paused. Not for the warning of so-called curses, there was no scientific evidence for such things and Spencer knew magic was just science with a trick of the eye, but for the vehement warning making him feel intruding on whoever had left their journal in the elevator.

It had caught his eye as he stepped into the elevator on his way out of the office. As someone who had lost plenty of books in his days roaming the halls of the BAU, he knew how frustrating it was to not know what happened at the end. As he picked it up, he noticed the cover. It was old, bound in aged cherry red leather, yet too small to be more than a pocketbook. He had found your message while searching for a name to return the book to, and simply reading the first page already felt prying.

Alas, one sentence enticed him “If it comes into the right hands, You can find me.” Where his hands the right ones to come into? The probability of that could be found easily by calculating how many people got on and off of this specific elevator that day, no, in the past hour, with the hustle and bustle of people leaving for the day. Spencer could and he would calculate it he wasn’t so distracted by the message and his voracity to solve this mystery.

Tentatively, he flipped the page, finding a handwritten table of contents. This book had obviously been very important to the reader if they had taken the time to write in page numbers, detailed headings, and chapters. The table was nearly full of chapter titles in scrawled cursive lettering. His eyes stopped on the first chapter title. “Male Needs” with shakey lettering. He could tell by your handwriting that you grew more confident in your journaling as the chapters progressed, the hesitations in your strokes growing few and far between.

As he flipped the page once more he had reached the next floor and a large group of people bustled into the elevator. Spencer shied away from them, not just because he had an aversion to contact with strangers and their germs, but because of the sentences, he had read underneath that first chapter “I do not need a man, a man needs me. Yet, when I am with a man, I have needs. Needs that most men can’t fulfill. I need a man that eats pussy like it’s the only way to quench his thirst-“ and with that Spencer slammed the book shut, earning some confused looks from the others on the elevator. He should have heeded the warning because now all he could think about was the fact that this was your nervous entry and as your confidence grew, it was bound to escalate from there. He wasn’t sure if it was his flustered mind or the heat growing deep from inside him that made him feel dirty; not because it scandalized him, but because these were someone’s fantasies and he had intruded in their secrets and soiled them with his mind.

Ding! He had reached the ground floor and that was when he decided to leave it alone. He couldn’t bring it to the lost and found as it would be more likely to end up in the wrong hands there and your secrets would be for someone else to find, not that he even knew who you were.

On his drive home, he tried to think of anything else besides the book. His lunch, Garcia’s new item she added to her collection, how to get back at Derek for putting salt in the sugar container, but his mind kept wandering. It didn’t help that the notebook sat tauntingly on top of his satchel as if saying “Open me, you know you want to. You want to know who I am. You can find me.” There was no way that it had been there for that long as the janitor was on duty today and he had been on the elevator two hours ago on his way to clean the top floor. Since Spencer had left a little later than most people that meant there were multiple elevators full of people who would have noticed. He knew it wasn’t so but part of him felt as if you had left it there specifically for him to find. Like it was made for him. He quickly shook off the thought and went back to who it could be. He wanted to return it without reading any more. You clearly would miss it but he couldn’t imagine you wanted others to know about what lay in those folded corners of your book and your mind.

As he walked up the steps of his complex, he clutched onto the notebook with all of his strength, he feared that he would look down and it would have disappeared, he wanted to keep your deepest secrets safe as if they were his own. He was only able to relinquish his grip when he shut and locked the door to his apartment. He set it on the table as he got prepared for the night. By now he had limited his pool to 54 women who were regularly in and out of the elevator at that time of day which was a cut down in comparison to the 860 roughly women in that building on any given day. But that number still wasn’t small enough. He had to minimize the sample size even further. That was the only reason he reopened to the table of contents, right? Not because of his own morbid curiosity and definitely not because of the heat burning in his stomach.

He looked down at the page numbers, still too nervous to look at the titles, and saw that each entry was a page long consisting of 23 entries and one with a title but no page numbers. Not chapters as he previously thought but entries giving lascivious details into what he had not yet mustered up the courage to read. He was still unable to look at the titles in fear of what he might find. If graphic depictions of female oral sex were displayed under “Male Needs”, what possibly could lie ahead.

For now, he studied the handwriting. Cursive, not often used by many younger women, was often associated with antiquities and traditional values but he noticed something off. There was a very specific curl to certain numbers. Every even number had a specific extra curl or flourish to it and the zeros had a line through it like a “do not enter” sign. This went directly against the hypothesis that you were an older woman that the cursive provided; as many older women who wrote in cursive stuck to the rules even when it came to numbers. She wasn’t old enough to even be Hotch’s age but she appreciated the charm of the past. 'Who is this girl?' Spencer wondered. He was able to narrow it down to about half of his previous lot, excluding the women on his team. He had seen them write enough to know their handwriting inside and out. And while Garcia’s had similar flourishes to yours, she never crossed her zeros.

Spencer knew that he would have to read at least the chapter titles to grasp a better understanding of your handwriting and who you could possibly and as his eyes scanned the page, for the first time in a while he was actually reading slowly; putting all of his focus into each word and what order they were in. Unfortunately, his focus was his downfall. His face became so hot that he felt as if you could see steam coming off of it.

Table of contents:

Male Needs

Praise

Degradation

Mommy

Daddy

Work

Exhibition

Choking

Collars

Breeding

And that was all he could take. Ha couldn’t look at the thirteen and a half more entries, even this much knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t have much experience with women and certainly not enough to understand what all of those words necessarily entailed but he knew that whatever it was keeping his internal fire roaring with heat.

While he hated snooping, he knew he would need more information. He chose the chapter that sounded the most mundane out of all of them, "Work." ‘What was more normal than work.’ he thought, but he was so sorely mistaken.

"Work:

"Before I move on to exhibitionism, I have to talk about work. Yes, I would love to have sex at work where I and my partner are one step away from getting caught, I haven’t done that yet. I want to tell you what I have done. Almost every day I go to work wondering if the others can tell that I’m not wearing underwear.”

His heat spread from his face down until it pooled in his loins and his cock became hard imagining this mystery girl walking the halls of the BAU with a breeze in her skirt, nearly exposing the secret that lied beneath. Had he sat next to you when you were partaking in this activity? What would he have done if your skirt bunched up your thigh as you sat, exposing the tan lines where your underwear should be. Would he be able to see you in your tight work pants with no pantie lines and be the only one who truly knows your secret?

“I kinda want to be caught someday by Him. I wonder what he would do. Would he tell me off for being unprofessional? Would he take me to that storage closet 3 doors past Garcia’s office, just far enough away that he could teach me a lesson for being naughty at work?”

He felt so dirty, inserting himself into the fantasies of a girl which he did not even know that he almost glanced across the use of Him, capital H.i.m. He wanted to indulge in his imagination that in some way or another that the “Him” in question was in fact the man reading this with trembling hands and an impossibly hard cock. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining situations in the storage closet that he regularly used as a reading nook when he needed time away from the others.

He rested his head on the pages of the book, hoping somehow that his dirty thoughts would be transplanted from his head and back into the pages so that he could stop thinking about you. His efforts were thwarted as this action meant that he could spoil himself in your scent that enveloped the book. As if you had wrapped it in the deepest most vulnerable part of you to hide it away from others. You smelled of bergamot, patchouli, and musk but deeper than that, you smelled like sweet, tart berries and honeysuckle in summer. There was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on at first but it was intoxicating all of his senses. It was saccharine, heat, and sex all combined in one. When it clicked, it no longer felt as if his head was pressed against a book but as if his he sat kneeling on the ground with his cheek resting in your inner thigh, your hot sex waiting for his indulgence, “like it's the only way to quench his thirst” echoed in his brain. The scent was your natural pheromones beckoning him closer with the promise of a treat.

And that was it. That was what sent him over the edge. The purest embodiment of your scent had him cumming, hot in his pants.

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You sat down at the edge of your bed after a long day at work; shucking off your work clothes to get as comfy as you could in your PJs as a way to unwind from the day. You went to grab your lip balm from your bag and noticed that the front pocket of your bag had been left open. You instantly panicked, searching everywhere for your little red book. The one that kept the key to your deepest secrets and darkest fantasies. You tore your bag apart, knowing that you had it at the end of your workday because you took it out of your desk drawer and tucked it back into its home in your bag. You cursed your carelessness for not double-checking that you zipped your bag before leaving. With your forgetfulness, you knew it would happen one day but you didn't realize it would be this soon.

There was an odd mix in your heart and your stomach. Part of you felt your heart drop through your ass thinking that it had ended up in the wrong hands, part of you had butterflies thinking about someone knowing the deepest parts of you, intimately in your own words. You had the assurance that your name was nowhere to be seen in the book but you also knew that you worked with people who analyzed people's dark desires for a living. While none of your fantasies involved murder, they were like precious gems that you kept locked away in your heart. You couldn't dare imagine what would happen if it came into His hands. While you were the youngest at the BAU, only by a few months and you weren't even part of the group because you were still tentative, you couldn't put your dirty thoughts into the innocent head of the pretty boy genius. It was almost more worrisome than if SSA Hotchner or Gideon found it and you were fired. The idea of tainting someone so pure...

You had to literally shake your head to clear your thoughts. Imagining His face tinged red in innocence reading through your lewd writing had your head in a tizzy. Imagining Doctor Spencer Reid sifting through the pages with lightning-fast fingers, stroking down the pages of smut as you had imagined him stroking down your thighs so many times before. You decided to bury your head in your pillow, hoping that would calm your mind enough to slip into slumber.

Unfortunately for you both, your efforts would be fruitless and you would both go to sleep unknowingly thinking of each other.

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Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 here

And that's Chapter one. Hope y'all like it. LMK in my messages and all that <3 have a great week!

[joyfulhopelox]

Strawberries & Cigarettes

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (Soulmate!AU)

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of sex (once), swear words, talks about death of minor character, mentions of smoking (don't do it kids)

Summary: As a child you detested strawberries, convincing yourself that you have an allergy to them. But imagine your shock when you grow up and realise that your soulmate connection has to do with the wretched berry.

Word count: 7.7k

rating : pg

A/N: This is square 4/25 for the @bangtanwritingbingo (Square: Strawberries) I have not written something remotely angsty in a while so this has been a challenge but i did it! And i am somewhat proud of it! Thank you @mochi-molala @sunshinejunghoseokie for listening to me complain about this it has been a journey. And most importantly, thank you @min-yoon-kween for being a beta queen and trying to read through this mess and managing to make 3am rambles onto words. I really appreciated all the support and tough love! @yoonjinkooked, @sunshinekims and @yoonia thank you for being there and listening to my 3am complaints whilst i was getting this done, your encouragement has been a massive help!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

The sweet, fragrant, slightly tart taste invades your senses once again causing you to sigh in frustration. How are you meant to find your soulmate if this unknown taste is all you have to go by? You couldn’t even pinpoint what it could be, the flavour being unlike anything that has ever touched your tastebuds.

“For real now Y/N, what do you have against fruit?” Your friend, Taehyung, inquires. You’ve adamantly refused his offer to share a fruit snack. It’s not like you had anything against fruit, far from it. You loved fruit. It was just the wretched strawberries lying there innocently on the bed of other berries, tainting them.

“It’s not fruit! I love fruit, you know that! Remember that time we snuck out into your grandfather's garden to steal apricots?” Your friend snorts. He remembers that time extremely well. You ate way more than you should have and ended up with indigestion for days after that.

“It’s just…” you grimace, looking once more at the red offenders. “Those”

“Strawberries?!” It was Taehyung’s turn to grimace. “How can you still hate strawberries after all this time? They are the best berry out there!” As if to prove his point he reaches for one and pops it in his mouth. You look away in disgust. “Oh come on Y/N, give them a try. You never know, you may like them now.” He pushed one towards you. Glaring at him, you rejected his offer.

“Tae, you know I can't! It’s not that I don't like them, I am allergic to them!” He responded with an incredulous look but didn’t say anything. Reading too much into his look you go to defend yourself. “I am! Since I was a child!”

“How do you know?” He raised an eyebrow at you. Shrugging, you tried to find a good answer.

Truth is, you didn’t know whether or not you were allergic to them. All you had was a bad memory from when you were a child. You had a very bad encounter with said berries. It was not a near death experience by any means, and it was not an allergic reaction. You were just a child, excited at the thought of trying a new fruit and so in your exhilaration you shoved it a bit too readily in your mouth. The innocent berry happened to go down the wrong pipe and causing you to choke and your family to panic. Ever since then you had sworn to never touch them again, telling everyone around you that you were allergic. That way you didn’t have to face the shame of retelling this childhood story and they couldn’t try forcing you to eat them.

It happened so long ago that you couldn’t even remember the taste. You couldn’t understand why everyone around you seemed to find them so delicious.

“I- just do ok? I had a bad reaction to them a long time ago, and I don’t want a repeat experience” you shrugged hoping that he would not catch onto the white lie you had just blatantly presented to his face. Side eyeing you suspiciously, Taehyung made sure to eat the strawberry he had picked up, sighing in the most dramatic way possible.

“Well then, more for me” his mouth was so full you could barely understand him. Disgusted you pushed his shoulder playfully. “Ew, that is bad manners. Did your mother not teach you to chew with your mouth closed?”

Taehyung pretended to look thoughtful whilst still chewing. “Nope, now take a blueberry and shut up” he pushed the assortment of fruit your way once again, this time making sure that the strawberries were out of your sight.

“Thanks Tae” you smiled gratefully at him, picking a blueberry out. Before it could reach your mouth, a loud thump resounded from next to you making you jump. Surprised your fingers let go of the blueberry you were holding so preciously.

“Oh man, don’t waste food!” a voice you recognised all too well spoke, whilst a hand made its way past your face and into the bowl of fruit Taehyung had so carefully prepared for the two of you. Long slender fingers wrapped themselves around the green stem of a strawberry. You followed the movement of the hand holding the strawberry to come face to face with the culprit.

“Hello to you too, Jungkook” Taehyung sighs, his smile instantly dropping. “What brings you here?” His deadpan expression was a good indication of how happy he was to see him.

“Uh, it’s lunchtime?” Jungkook looked at Taehyung as if he had grown a second head. “Is this not where we are supposed to eat lunch?” disposing of the green stem of the strawberry, he pops it in his mouth. You wanted to grimace, you had enough of Taehyung making a scene whilst eating that damned fruit. Now you are forced to witness the office heartthrob lick his fingers clean of the fruit juice that coated them. Simultaneously expelling a moan so sinful it was definitely not appropriate for office hours. You doubted it was healthy for your heart.

“Yes, but you guys in the graphics team have a separate kitchen. You know, the one you took from us last year? The big fancy one?” Taehyung was still bitter about that incident. It had been his favourite break room to spend time in. The room was spacious and had more than just a few tables scattered here and there, divided by a couple of couches where employees could lounge during their break. There was also a terrace with a lot more space and a pool table. Most importantly,Taehyung’s pride and joy, a gaming room. He would get lost in there during his break, and sometimes even after work until you would come and retrieve him worried for his health.

That is where he met Jungkook, and that is where he ruined your life by introducing you to said office heartthrob. At the time your department and his rarely interacted outside of company meetings. You were working as a business analyst and he was working as a graphics developer. Your jobs could not have been more different from each other.

Truth be told, you had seen Jungkook around the building on more than one occasion. You had the chance to speak once at a company gala in a drunken haze, where you realised you had a lot of interests in common. But you only got to know him the second time you bumped into him, when Taehyung decided to introduce you two. His handshake and shy presentation told you he was too drunk to remember talking to you that night so you did not mention it either.

Once you’ve been introduced, his presence turned into one of the ones you sought out during lunch breaks, you became more aware of the rumours flying around the company. Out of all of them the ones you heard the most were about him and his love for “dining and dashing” all the women he had taken out on a date.

Normally, you wouldn’t be the person to listen to such rumours and allow them to sway your opinion of someone. But you had witnessed on one occasion how he had indeed left a woman in the middle of a restaurant and fled the scene. After that you wondered if maybe you should be more weary of him and his bad habits.

Talking to him in person was a completely different story. He seemed incredibly shy at the beginning, it took him a couple of weeks to be able to look you in the eyes. Taehyung would laugh and say it is because he had a crush on you but you doubted that. How could you believe that? Not when you lived in a world where lovers were predestined. You were born with a bond that tied you to someone else, a bond that's unbreakable. Your soulmate was made for you and only you. You could have other lovers until you found your true one, you have seen it happen on multiple occasions but once you found your soulmate and that bond was complete you couldn’t be apart from them.

Soulmates, a subject that ruined your life as soon as you became aware of it. At the age of ten you found out that all humans on this planet have a person they are meant to be with forever. A person that is yours, and only yours. At such a young age you fell in love with the concept. Fairies and princesses in the stories your parents would read you before bed, they all had their one true love. When you found out that you were meant to have one true love, a soulmate, you were beyond ecstatic. For years after, it was all you talked about and all you dreamt about. It all came crashing down when one rainy night your father had a car accident on his way home from work. The crash took a parental figure away from you. Aside from having had to deal with the pain of losing your hero, you also went through the misery of witnessing the painful heartbreak that comes with having a soulmate.

Your mother mourned for days, she could not eat or sleep, she withered right in front of your eyes. It was heartbreaking to experience your only remaining parent destroying themselves right before your eyes. You were only sixteen at the time and could not do anything to help alleviate the pain she was going through. So you helplessly stood at her side for another three years until one day, her soul finally gave up.

Her funeral was a relief for you, it meant she didn’t have to struggle anymore. The pain was gone. So, at the age of nineteen, you became an orphan.

Turning twenty and a struggling pen pusher, you met Taehyung in a cafe. You crashed into him soaking his expensive suit in coffee as you rushed out the door, late for work. Apologising profusely and promising to pay for his dry cleaning you gave him your number. That was the first time you had hit a stroke of good luck in years. Later that day, when a text came through from an unknown number you expected it to be an extortionate dry cleaning bill. Instead all that was written was: ‘Coffee’s on me next time (not literally though) haha.’ You couldn’t help but laugh, he gave you a place and time and signed it with Taehyung. That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

For the first few years of your friendship you’d wondered if he was your soulmate; and so, despite your aversion to the concept, you two started dating. It was difficult not to like him, he was good looking and you two seemed to have a lot in common. It didn’t help that the sex was also great, you had to admit he knew what he was doing. But after one too many nights of netflix and takeaways at his apartment, which ended in his bed, you both decided that you were not the one for each other. So, two years into your relationship you separated. Fortunately, the friendship you two forged remained, your bond stronger than before. At the age of twenty three, you moved in together as housemates. It was the most logical thing to do, you were attached at the hip anyway and rent was too expensive for a single person to bear. Twenty four came and went, stressed and always low on money, when luck struck you for a second time the day Taehyung told you a position had opened in his team. You decided to apply and rejoiced when you got the job offer. That night you and Taehyung celebrated with pizza and champagne.

Here you are three years later having worked in the same company, being promoted from a trainee to a junior business analyst, and life couldn’t have been better.

There was one thing that bothered you, and that was the strange taste in your mouth that you had begun to notice. At first it was so faint that you didn’t notice it. As time passed, it got stronger and stronger, until you could not ignore the slight tangy, sweet taste that lingered on the tip of your tongue. It wasn’t a bad taste, in fact you quite liked it. You were just annoyed at the fact that you could not place it. You tried multiple foods which you thought may have a similar taste but none of them satisfied that craving. You hid this information from Taehyung for a while, not wanting to make a big fuss out of it until the day he found you rummaging through the fridge mumbling to yourself.

“What are you doing Y/N?” he stood in the doorway confused as to why your head was buried deep into the fridge. You jumped not having heard him move into the kitchen and looked at him in surprise. The sight that greeted him was something he was not expecting. The hilarity of your wide eyed expression paired with the cheeks stuffed full of cherries made him double over in laughter.

Mumbling something akin to “stop laughing at me, i had a craving” you stood up and walked to the table dejectedly plopping yourself down on a chair. Taehyung sobered immediately noticing the forlorn expression on your face and whilst still wiping the tears from his eyes he approached you and sat down. “What’s up chipmunk?” he could not resist making a jab at you. Sighing you started picking at a stray thread off your sleeve. You decided it was time to tell him what has been bothering you for months, despite fearing his judgement.

“Have you ever had cravings?” you turn to look at him, your expression so innocent that he could not make fun of you for such a trivial question. “Of course I have! All the damn time” he scoffed at you.

“No, no what I mean is; have you ever had a taste at the tip of your tongue, on your lips something that isn’t what you have eaten that day, but it is there continuously lingering in your mouth?” the more you were explaining this out loud the stupider you felt. Your own words were confusing even to you. But it seemed like Taehyung knew what you meant because in an instant he jumped up from his seat and looked at you wide eyed.

“Y/N!” the grin on his face intensified. “Do you know what this means?” he grabbed your shoulders in excitement. “It means that you have found your soulmate!” your eyes widened in fear, your body stiffened under his hold. Realising what he’d said, and how you felt about soulmates he backtracked quickly. “Nonono, it means you are close to finding your soulmate. It means you have met them at last!” When your frozen body refused to move he realised that maybe that was not the best way to phrase it either. But the damage has already been done. Wide eyed, you flew off the chair and rushed out of the kitchen towards your own room, slamming the door in the process.

You called in sick the next day, and the day after, not leaving your room until you were certain Taehyung had left for work. He tried on multiple occasions to coax you out of your room, but to no avail. You stubbornly refused to acknowledge him. Mulling over your thoughts in the comfort of your room, conflicted at the realisation that he was right. You had met your soulmate, just not completed the bond yet.

“Y/N, are you ok?” the worry in his voice broke your heart, but you were too absorbed in your own thoughts to respond to him.

Memories of your parents, together and apart, thoughts of your mother and her suffering, memories of you together as a happy family all swirling around in your head. It was all too much to bear, and in the end your brain gave up exhausted, only to wake up the next day and start all over again. For a week you stayed in your room, but when Taehyung decided that enough was enough he formulated a plan in his head hoping it would get you out of your room. If you refused to come out for him, he would have to resort to other methods. He would invite people over, he knew you would not be able to resist the temptation of being a good host. So that day he called your colleague and his friend, Jungkook.

Later on that night, you laid in bed, thoughts ruminating through your head at a fast pace when you heard voices from the entrance. You could easily recognise Taehyung’s voice, the low timbre echoing through the house. It was the second voice that you could not pinpoint, and so, intrigued you got off the bed.

Your joints ached, having sat in the same position for so long and your head hurt from exhaustion. You knew you probably looked like a mess but curiosity was eating at your insides. So you took the chance and opened the door slightly trying to peek into the corridor. Unfortunately, your room was the first along the corridor, right around the corner from the kitchen. The kitchen where Taehyung and his mysterious companion were now exiting from. Your delayed reaction ended up with them coming around the corner almost bumping into you. Gasping, your eyes took in the unknown person whose voice drew you out of your miserable state.

“Jungkook '' you yelped. Startled at the intrusion, you slammed the door in their faces, your back now leaning against the door. You didn’t ponder too much on Jungkook’s shocked expression or Taehyung’s pleased one. Your heart was pounding, and for a second the blood rush from the adrenaline made your ears ring and your lips tingle. You were so focused on your embarrassment that you didn’t even notice the lingering sweet taste residing on your tongue.

Sliding against the door to keep yourself from falling you tried to regulate your heartbeat by taking a few deep breaths in. After a few moments, your eyes opened and took in the darkness of your room. Deciding that you were calm enough you got up, your legs slightly wobbly from crouching for so long. Turning on the light you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was in disarray, your skin looked dull and the red that rimmed your eyes accentuated the eyebags under them. Grimacing at your appearance, you patted your hair trying to make it look more presentable only to give up after a few minutes. Throwing another worried glance at your door, as if you were expecting the boys to barge in at any moment, you contemplated going out there. You sighed deciding that you didn’t care if Jungkook would think you were impolite, you were not ready to face the world.

For the next couple of hours you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts accompanied by the loud hollers coming from the living room where the boys were playing video games. Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t realise how late it had gotten, the rumbling of your stomach waking you up from your trance.

Opening the door you listened intently but there were no sounds coming from the living room. You assumed the boys had finally fallen asleep do as quietly as you could you tiptoed to the kitchen. The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the TV in the living room where you assumed the boys had passed out. Turning on the light in the kitchen you contemplated stealing Taehyung’s last pack of ramen when a voice from behind startled you.

“What are you doing?” you yelped, not having expected to have company.

Jungkook stood in the middle of the doorway, his eyes bleary with sleep, his hair poofed up and judging by the groggy voice, still half asleep. You tried to ignore the way your heart somersaulted at the sight of his messy hair, the way his hooded eyes were blinking sleepily at you and the way his small yawn made him resemble a rabbit. He was adorable and for a second you entertained the thought of telling him that.

“Food” was all you finally replied, secretly trying to fix your messy appearance. Jungkook hummed in acknowledgment. You looked away trying to ignore his eyes on you. The silence that followed was awkward, neither of you knew what to say. “Uh, I don’t know if that rascal fed you but uh….would you like some ramen?” you stuttered trying to break the awkwardness. His stomach growled as if prepared for your question. You stared at him in shock for a couple of seconds before you burst into laughter.

Jungkook smiled at you bashfully, too embarrassed to respond so you took it upon yourself and pulled another chair out for him to sit in.

The silence that ensued was comforting, neither you nor Jungkook feeling the need to interrupt it with small talk. You observed amusedly the way his eyes seemed to lighten up at the sight of food, the way the corner of them would crinkle in excitement and the small satisfied sounds at the food gracing his taste buds was something you found adorable.

The feeling of contentment that enveloped you was entirely new. As the calmness washed over you, you realised it felt like coming home. Not knowing what to make of it you continued to stare at Jungkook, hoping that the answers were hidden somewhere in his smile. Catching you stare at him mid bite Jungkook stopped and tilted his head in confusion.

“Is there something on my face?” realising you were staring at him for a bit too long you squeaked in embarrassment.

“Ah, no no no I was just lost in thought.” Hoping he would buy that excuse, you offered him a bright smile.

Jungkook had known you were staring at him, and for a brief second, along with the spiciness of the noodles burning his tongue, he felt something smoky intertwine. He wondered if it was the food, but the taste was too distinct. In an instant he could place it, the taste of cigarettes. It was faint but he recognised instantly that ashy fragrance. He wondered if his soulmate was a smoker and if so why would the taste bother him now?

He found out about the soulmate connection years ago and how he was meant to figure out which person was meant for him. Meeting your soulmate was supposed to trigger a taste that was only attributed to them. His trigger happened a few years ago when he started working for the company. To say he was excited was an understatement. He has dreamt of meeting his soulmate for so long and to know that they were in proximity was exhilarating.

In his naive search for them he decided to accept all the requests he has gotten from his colleagues to go on dates. Unfortunately for him, he realised too late that it was not the way to find the one that was meant to be for you. Just like the concept of a soulmate, if it was meant to happen, it would happen. He realised too late and after too many failed dates that he could not rush the process. So he stopped trying. Until that one day when he saw you on the roof of the building, during lunch time. You had no idea that you were not alone, had you been aware of that fact you may have not gotten out your pack of cigarettes. Jungkook could tell by the way your foot tapped the ground impatiently and the way your hands kept grabbing at your hair that you were stressed. He sat in silence not wanting to disturb you as you seemed to be hyping yourself up about something. You didn’t interact that day, but in his head he knew he had found you. The taste of cigarettes on his lips was as strong as the smell wafting through the air.

Normally he would not have been happy about someone who smoked in his vicinity, the harsh smell causing his nose to tingle in an unpleasant fashion. Watching you stress smoke that cigarette with the knowledge that you were his soulmate he found himself unbothered by that knowledge. He knew who you were, your mutual friend being Taehyung. He had introduced you two as soon as you started working for the company.

He will always remember that specific moment, the time when you smiled shyly at him extending your hand. He felt an unusual warmth all throughout his body, but he didn’t realise at the time it was your soulmate bond tying itself together like the ends of two loose strings.

He tried with all his might to figure out whether or not you had the faintest idea about your soulmate connection and for a few months he would insist on taking his break on the floor below just so he could spend time with you. Your lack of interest towards him and his advances told him that you were oblivious. You weren’t treating him differently than you would treat Taehyung and for a while he questioned himself. What if he had been wrong? Instead of keeping up appearances, he let himself slip into the friend's mould. If he had been wrong then it would spare him the embarrassment, if he hadn’t been wrong then it would do him no harm to be friends first.

The memories still fresh in his mind he knew now that you were his soulmate. Still a bit tipsy from the wine he had shared with Taehyung earlier he plucked up the courage and jokingly asked, “Is it because I am handsome?” The shocked look on your face and the silence that ensued were far from comfortable. Slowly Jungkook could feel the heat of the blood rushing to his face and he tried his best to hide his embarrassment with a cough. “I mean-“

At the sight of his wide eyes and red cheeks you started chuckling, not being able to hold your composure for any longer. “It was bad, but you’re adorable.” This time your face turned beet red. You both looked at each other like deer caught into headlights for a few moments, only to dissolve into laughter once again.

That night you talked to Jungkook as if he was an old friend. It felt comfortable to share stories with him, to laugh and to make jokes. It felt good to be out of your head for once. The worries that had plagued your mind completely dissolved in between the laughter and the wine that you were sharing.

At some point during the night you both moved into the corridor in front of your room, both sat on the floor, your back leaning against the wall. Passing the wine bottle in between the two of you the conversation carried on into the darkness of the corridor. The only available source of light coming from the kitchen dimly lighting both of your faces, casting shadows across the floor. You didn’t know when you got so close to him, your skin prickling at the heat emanating from his body. Or when your head dropped onto his broad shoulder, your eyes fluttering, heavy with sleep.

“Y/N” Jungkook whispered and you hummed in response. The familiarity of the scene made him smile. You looked adorable, cuddled into his side, your eyes laden with sleep.

“What if I were to tell you I found my soulmate?” His voice was fearful but his heart was hopeful.

Wide awake now, your head snapped up. “What?”

Even though it was meant to be a whisper your voice reverberated through the corridor. Gasping you stopped to listen for any signs of Taehyung waking up. When the corridor stayed silent you breathed a sigh of relief and cleared your throat. “What?” you looked alarmed at Jungkook.

“Is it that bad? That I found my soulmate?” he looked wounded and you quickly tried to clarify. “Nonono, definitely not bad, just...i am surprised” you looked hesitant. You didn’t know what to make of that information, on one hand you wanted to be happy for him. Not everyone thought like you about the soulmate bond. On the other hand you couldn’t fathom the idea that he may have found his intended love in life. The pain blossomed in your chest and you readily assumed the reason behind that being your aversion towards the concept.

“But what if….” Jungkook stopped. He looked unsure of himself and something pulled at your heartstrings. In an attempt to comfort him you placed your hand on his grasping it gently.

“What if, the soulmate doesn’t want me” he tried again, his voice meek. You gave him a sympathetic look, in a way you could relate to his worries. “There is no way your soulmate wouldn’t want you” you tried to ease his worries, your hand subconsciously tightening its grip on his. Jungkook didn’t respond looking lost in thought and for a moment you thought you had said the wrong thing when you felt his fingers intertwined with yours. The feel of his warmth combined with the softness of his hands cause butterflies to erupt in your stomach. The feeling so foreign to you, but not unwelcome.

“But what if I said my soulmate was you?” he tried again, his grip tightening, as if he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. Your heart stopped, your mind trying to catch up with his words. Taking the risk, Jungkook slowly cupped your face. Leaning towards you until your lips were only one whisper away he stopped. His warm breath fanning over your face, it smelt sweet, tangy. Before you could process your thoughts bumped his lips onto yours in a timid touch. Once, twice, three times, his lips ghosted over yours.

You could not react, the surprise from his confession still wrecking havoc through your body. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his soft lips touch yours with a bit more conviction. You almost allowed yourself to melt into the kiss a small moan leaving the back of your throat. He tasted sweet, just like...you could not place the taste, and yet it seemed so familiar.

You jolted out of the trance pulling away from him entirely, almost sliding yourself on the opposite side of the corridor. Like a deer in headlights you observed his every move, ready to flee the scene if he got too close to you. “Y/N”, Jungkook tried to reach a hand towards you. You flinched away from him and he halted. You looked scared of him. He could feel his heart break in two at the sight of your distress.

“Y/N” he tried again but you would not have it. You were unable to listen to any reasoning, your fight or flight reaction at an all time high. “Please go” you managed to utter.

When he tried to approach you again you let out a sob, the emotions of your revelations catching up with you. “Please” you pleaded, looking at him in despair. Jungkook’s heart dropped. The look on your face told him you wanted him gone, and as much as it hurt him he would listen to you.

Giving you one last pained look he turned around on his heels and walked down the corridor, swallowed by the darkness of the apartment. When with a click of the front door you knew he was gone, and you broke down in tears.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Taehyung, fully awake, having heard the front door close and your sobs echoing through the apartment, rushed to your side.

“I fucked up” was the only thing you could mutter over and over again. Taehyung was confused. Looking around him trying to find something that may indicate the reason for your cries, he spotted the wine bottle by your leg. Alarmed, he picked it up. “Fresh notes of strawberries”....

“Y/N are you daft? This has strawberries in it!” he tried to pry your hands away from your face to check for any signs of swelling. Your incessant cries lessened at that. Taehyung could barely discern what you were saying and so instead, he hugged you tightly to his chest letting you cry it out.

“I think I know the taste that has been bugging me” a couple of days after that night, you were in the break room with Taehyung prepared to have your lunch break. You had been successful at avoiding Jungkook, and you had a strong suspicion that he had stayed out of your way on purpose. That lessened your worries, you didn’t know if you would be able to confront him about what had transpired between the two of you.

“Really? What, when and how?” you could tell Taehyung was trying to hide his excitement underneath his grin. You refused to give him more information on the subject, not yet ready to talk about it. But if you underestimated something, it was his ability to put two and two together. “Is it Jungkook?” you stopped dead in your tracks, your heartbeat picking up the pace. At your reaction Taehyung almost grinned, he was happy his two friends had discovered each other. His grin faltered at something behind you.

You tried denying it, telling him he was mistaken. but with the sweet taste of strawberries lingering on your lips, even you knew that there was no mistake.

“Uhh, Y/N, I have to rush, I forgot that I needed to send some documents over” he quickly got up and rushed out of the room. Your bewildered eyes followed his retreat only to come across the man that had just entered the break room. You gasped at the sight of his athletic frame dressed in the dark coloured suit he normally wore for work. He looked handsome.

“Jungkook” you acknowledged him with a nod. He stood there looking at you for a moment, a strange look on his face as if he was prepared to say something but then changed his mind at the last minute. Instead he mirrored your nod and headed towards the coffee machine.

He passed by you in an attempt to reach for the pods that were on the table behind you. To get to them he had to step around your still body. You could not move, still in a daze, your lips tingling from the kiss you two have shared earlier. Your hands were trembling and you tried your hardest to stay calm and not give away the mixed feelings raging through your body. You cleared your throat and looked away in an attempt to hide your blushing face from him. Jungkook took you in silently, he didn’t know what to make of your reaction. Earlier when he had kissed you, your lips moulding together, you pressed tightly against his form, hands raking through his hair. You seemed to be reciprocating the feeling but now, when you were acting like a deer caught in headlights, he was not so sure of himself anymore.

Cautiously he approached you, his gaze unfaltering, he was afraid that if he stepped over the line you would run away from him again. He didn’t know if his heart could take it.

He couldn’t imagine that if you’d figured it out you’d react to him like this. He was waiting for you to realise it was him. However, the blank look on your face and your stiff posture told him otherwise. The soulmate connection urged him to take you in his arms and take the pain away, to make it better. But you didn’t know yet it was him, and he debated whether or not he should tell you. His heart lurched in pain, he didn’t know how to approach the issue. Knowing himself he’d make a stupid comment which would drive you further away. So he settled for actions rather than words.

It felt like an eternity until he reached you, toe to toe, his hand hesitantly cupped your face. You couldn’t move, your breath coming into short pants, your heart flipping inside your chest. For a second you feared you would faint, but the warm touch of his hand kept you grounded and so you focused on that. Closing your eyes you leaned your head onto his hand soaking up the comfort. Even though you were apprehensive about Jungkook and your connection, he has been nothing but kind and understanding to you. His awkward demeanour paired with his confident looks, an endearing combination in your eyes. After that night you two spent together in the corridor of your apartment you understood very well why most women in your company fell in love with him. What you didn’t understand though, was why he would break their hearts like that. Thinking about the rumours once again your eyes snapped open and you pushed his hand away.

“Jungkook,” you cleared your throat. You needed to get your feelings off your chest otherwise you would implode. You wanted to make sure you were both on the same page. You didn’t want to end up heartbroken like any of the other women in the office. Your stomach lurched at that, the thought of him rejecting you like he did those women sending shooting pains through your whole body.

Jungkook’s hands stayed a few centimeters away from your face, his face morphing into anguish. But as soon as it appeared, it was instantly gone, replaced by a smile, the same heartfelt smile he gave you the day you met. The day you had signed your fate. The day the taste of what you could place now as strawberries had invaded your tastebuds. He waited for you to say something, he was not going to push you, but his gentle eyes told you he was going to listen to whatever you decided to tell him. Taking a deep breath in you decided to continue.

“I- am not sure how to put this into words, so I am going to just come out with it.” tears pooled into your eyes at the thought of what you were going to say. He nodded but you could tell he was anxious by the way his hand helplessly dropped to his side and started fiddling with his pants. You blinked the tears away but they just kept coming leaving a hot trail down your face. The pain of losing your parents resurfacing at the memories flooding your head.

“My parents, they uh, died” you stumbled over your words, finding it very difficult to get a grasp over your emotions. You took Jungkook’s silence as a sign to carry on, “my dad passed away in a car accident, after that, my mother she uh” a sob wrecked through your body and you couldn’t carry on. Watching as your whole body broke down in front of him Jungkook decided to throw caution out the window and steadily wrapped his arms around you. In an instant you relaxed, the warmth and the comfort provided by your soulmate embracing you calmed you down enough for you to carry on with your story.

“My mother, she died heartbroken three years after my father” you sniffled embarrassed at the snot you could see on his shirt. Trying to pull yourself away from him you found yourself nose to chest with him as he tightened his grip on you. You didn’t have the strength to fight against his hold.

“Jungkook,” you pleaded, slumping against him, your forehead resting on his warm chest. In that position you could hear his heartbeat, the strong thump reverberating through you. The knowledge that you were about to break that rhythm pained you. “I don’t want to have a soulmate.” A fresh wave of tears soaked through his shirt. Jungkook felt as if your sobs had not only penetrated the material but also his heart, the coldness that gripped him rendering him speechless.

Despite the unbearable ache that your words have caused him, he remembered that you were also suffering. He decided that his pain was irrelevant to yours, the soulmate bond that forged between the two of you pushing him to alleviate your sorrow and forget about his own.

“Y/N” his voice sounded foreign to him, the anguish seeping through. He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on you, trapping your arms in between the two of you. You knew you were being selfish, your hard words chipping away at his heart. Despite that he was being patient and understanding, lending you the last of his strength. “Don’t, please” was his last attempt at asking you not to crush him. A plea followed by a soft kiss on the top of your head, his own tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

His words pierced through you, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. It felt as if someone had placed a weighted lead over your heart. Your mind was fighting against the soul’s desire to mould together as one, to form that bond fully. But by doing so, you were fighting against the laws of the soulmate connection, the broken promise of being together forever caused you to feel agony like never before. Desperate, you managed to free your hands and wrap them around him, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back in an attempt to steady yourself. You let the pain course through you, letting Jungkook’s soft cries in your hair be a reminder of your self-serving fears. His breath was hot on the crown of your hair, his breath coming out in broken gasps and you finally understood.

This is what your mother had experienced. This is the pain she must have gone through when your father was gone. Only, you were voluntarily putting yourself and him through it.

You felt despicable, but most importantly, you were terrified. Thoughts running through your head, scenarios in which you and him were bonded and living a happy life, only for it to be swept from under you. You didn’t think you could bear that, but you knew that what you were doing now was not right either. There was no such thing as a bandaid when it came to a soulmate bond. You would suffer forever and it never got easier.

“Y/N, please talk to me.” Jungkook’s voice wavered but his tears had stopped. He was doing his best to stay strong for you. Burying your head into his inviting shoulder you inhaled his scent, it was something sweet. Sweet like that night when you kissed, that significant night when you realised he was yours and you were his. Trying to recall the happiness that you felt when you two kissed you whispered, “I’m afraid.”

Jungkook had never felt more helpless. Hearing you admit this felt even more painful than you rejecting the soulmate bond. He could do very little to alleviate your worries, he couldn’t promise you forever because he himself had no power over the future, but he could promise you that he would try his best to be there until it wasn’t possible anymore.

“I can’t promise you that we will last forever, but I can promise you that as long as we are alive and have a forever to fight for I will do my best to reach it” his soft words brushed through your hair, the hand on your back tightening its hold. Fresh tears spilled from your eyes, the hot trail competing with the warmth that was growing in your chest. His words were not enough to alleviate your worries, but they were enough to pacify the inner battle between your soul and your heart.

“Hey,” he gently grabbed your shoulders, breaking your hold on him. With some distance now in between the two of you, it was easier to look at him. Your heart broke at the sight of the tears silently running down his face, a contrast to the small reassuring smile he was offering you. If not for the pain in his eyes you would have thought he was crying for you only. However, his eyes spoke of agony for two. The relationship that was meant to be, the relationship that your souls craved and you had power over. The understanding encouragement he was offering told you that he would take whatever you decided. If your decision was to not pursue this, he would accept it and never question it. With this in mind you took a deep breath in, your hands hesitantly reaching out and wiping away at the trail of tears.

“I am afraid” you stopped glancing away from him for a split second. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat anticipating your next words. You had the power to make him or break him, his heart in your hands. With your next exhale, you let all your worries out, your stance visibly relaxing.

“But I am not afraid to fight for a future forever, with you.”

Main Masterlist

[knullanon]

how the symbiotes stole you from one another #3

this took 5 hours in total yay

words: 4627

warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, dads being assholes, lmk if I missed any!

Routines in the area where Knull had dropped you off were almost nonexistent. The only reason why you woke up at all was because of the fact that it was already something you did before you got here.

Here, as in this place where Knull seemingly… owned? It was weird. He didn’t just own the land, either, he owned the symbiotes, and by that, Knull, whenever he wanted to talk to you, would just go inside one of their minds, take over, and talk to you. He had done this one multiple occasions, with him always being an asshole about everything. From trying to stop you from going outside, to bitching about your old life, and how you must be enjoying this one. It was really annoying to have to deal with him every damn day, and it was starting to become borderline creepy.

He wouldn’t care about your privacy, only how you were holding up. Literally nothing could stop him from entering your room. He removed the lock when you first got there, and then just left you. Nothing to do besides clean, fuck around, and be bored to death. The only thing you could really do otherwise bsides talk to that asshole, is just try and find something to look at.

So far, you’ve been able to tell that the previous owners of the land were evicted: probably by force by the numerous blood stains all over the place, hiding under whatever Knull didn’t want to clean. Another thing you noticed was that the area you were in used to be covered with trees, but they seemed to be all cut down recently. They smelt fresh and didn’t have any dirt or grime on the stumps. You had to assume it was a safety precaution. For him, at least.

It didn’t take long for you to start snooping around and finding different things, like a hidden diary, all written in russian, an old art kit, and a calendar dated to that year. These items, and their good conditions they were found in, only solidifies your theory that Knull just found a random property and killed the people living there. It also solidified the fact that Knull really didn’t know you existed until that night. Or, morning. Whatever time you were at the gas station. You were able to tell how long you had been taken. 2 weeks just tonight.

It was annoying the hell out of you how long staying with these assholes would seem. Two months with Eddie and venom, and then 3 months with carnage and cletus.

And now 2 weeks with this asshole, probably more. You really wanted out of this damn place. Actually, you wanted out of this weird game they had. Whoever got you first got to keep you until someone else came along. And tried to do the same thing.

As you grabbed some random clothes, and walked into the bathroom, you tried to remember before everything had happened. Before you decided to walk back home alone, like an idiot. That's what you were, wasn’t it? A fucking idiot for thinking it was a good idea. You really thought that nothing would happen, would it? And now this.

Shoving open the bathroom door, you almost didn’t see the 7 foot tall symbiote sitting in the chair across from the bed. This one was known for having a more emo look to them. With being dark blue and with little streaks of even darker red, they were always quiet and silent when you saw them. They were usually the ones to bring you food, guard the house you were in. They were also the one that Knull preferred to get into when he decided to speak to you.

The symbiote themselves were rumble, and he was… actually quite pleasant. It seemed Knull had let this batch keep their personalities, maybe at the price of kneeling before him. You didn’t know.

What you did know was that Knull was now controlling Rumble through whatever bullshit he did to be this powerful. Rumble, or, Knull technically, was reading an old newspaper dated a few months ago. It was from somewhere in Idaho, where you would assume you were located. Yes, Eddie lived in San Francisco, but when carnage took you wherever the hell he took you, and then Knull, well, it was confusing to say the least.

Anyways, the one good thing about Knull was that he really didn’t care what you thought of the place, as he said it, “a temporary arrangement on both our parties''. Pretentious bitch.

Knull put down the newspaper, and gave a smile, before gesturing with his arm to the bed you had just made. “Ah, _____, sit. Let's talk shall we?”

You didn’t want to talk to him, or even look at him, but you followed his command anyway. You tossed your clothes into an old bucket that you had placed in the corner of the room and walked towards the bed, before sitting on it. Knull smiled again with that weird mouth. Rumble never smiled, so of course it would look weird when he did. Of course, not of his own will, but still.

“So, how have you been liking your new enclosure?” Did- Did he just-

You brushed it off, not wanting to anger him. “It’s… fine. Every home comes with its ups and downs.” you hoped he would get the message about calling a home an enclosure. It makes you feel like a pet rather than a person. If Knull noticed your wording, then he ignored it. Instead, he picked up the newspaper again, saying, “Good, good. I’m glad you could understand the circumstances of your predicament.”

You tried hard not to roll your eyes, remembering what Carnage or Venom would say- even now, if you had no idea where they were, their words and opinions still sat with you months later. Instead, you nodded your head to his words, and sat in silence waiting for him to say anything else. Knull did not say anything for a few minutes. Long, agonizing minutes. It reminded you of being with Eddie and Venom, those two assholes. When they were working, they required the utmost silence otherwise they couldn’t focus. They never got mad at you, but they would always try to put you up to something, like reading. Which is why you would read all their books on crime rates, detectives, natural disasters, anything to pass the time while they were working.

It got you entertained for the most part. Sitting in a room with nothing to do, for 2 months was more difficult than you ever thought it would be.

“Are you thinking of your previous hosts and their accommodations?”

Knull pulled you from your thoughts, and even though he was reading the newspaper, you were able to tell he wanted an answer. You shifted from your spot at the edge of the bed, before answering with, “U-Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to read for a moment, before he pulled the newspaper down a little to view you. “Are you not tired of them?”

“What do you mean?”

This time, he put the newspaper in his lap. “Venom and Eddie. Carnage and Cletus. How have they treated you in the few months you’ve known them?”

You had to sit there and think for a moment, wondering where this conversation was going. What was he trying to do this time?

“Well, venom and Eddie were… constricting. I never had anything to do. Besides reading the books on the shelf, but even then I had to do that discreetly. They didn’t like me doing those things. Or, rather, reading those things. They said it was too… graphic.”

“Ah, I see.” he acknowledged, picking up the newspaper again. “And Carnage and Cletus? How was their company?”

You really wanted to hide in a hole now. “They were… fine.”

“Were they, though?”

You wondered if it would just be worth it to tell everything: how you felt about Eddie, how you felt about Cletus, and how you felt about this asshole doing the same thing the rest of them had done.

“...No, they weren’t.”

He gave a small smile, before he asked, “Oh? Please do tell me more.”

You knew what he was doing, what he was playing at, and yet, you fell right for it. “They would tell me… they would say that no one was going to come for me. No one cared. Not my family, not Eddie, no one. Only them.”

He nodded along, and when he realized you were done venting, he said, “well, aren’t you glad that you’re with me now?”

Turning to face him, you gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. With one of them, they gave you limited resources to entertain yourself, and the other made you feel like nothing. With me, I give you free reign to do whatever you please. You may ask for whatever you wish, visit whoever you choose, as long as you plead your loyalty to me.”

You stared at him, before you turned your back towards him, mumbling, “Liar.”

He chuckled, and you heard the newspaper crinkle. “I’m not making any jokes. Pledge our loyalty, and you will receive anything you would ever want.”

“Would that include being let go to see my family again?”

“Yes, actually. You would just have to come back when you were done with your visits.”

That caught your attention. He would let you go back? Really? He did say you would go back to him when you were done with your “visits”... but still, better than what the other two were offering.

You thought for a moment before the doubts started to kick in. How do we know he won’t betray you when you do pledge your loyalty to him? How do we know he won’t just keep you here forever? What ounce of trust should we put in him when everyone has kicked us when we were already down?

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Knull said, “I will give you time for your answer. After all, I have years and years to spare.”

With that he folded the newspaper, setting it down gently, before you saw something spark in his eyes and Rumble returned to his own mind. He sat there unmoving for a few moments, before he sat up and looked at you. “I assume he just wanted to talk?”

You sighed, feeling tired only at 7 in the morning already. “Yes, Rumble, that’s all he came here for.”

He gave a hum of acknowledgment before he got up and walked to the exit to the room. Before he left, however, he said, “Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Before you could say anything, he left you to watch the door again, just before you could ask him to stop calling the home an enclosure, he shut the door softly. You were about to say something, but decided it was not worth it, so instead, you opted to just continue on with what you had to do throughout the day.

~~~~~~~~~

As Rumble looked on as you would clean and dry out clothes on line and leave them for the hot summer day to dry, hopefully by the end of the day, you had mumbled out when first getting out the big hamper. Next to it, you had a couple pieces of clothing sitting in another basket covered by water and soap. Currently, you were wringing out all of the water from a white top, trying to not stretch it out.

Rumble grumble out something, before he heard him in his head:

“Rumble, I would assume you would have the decency to not talk badly about my daughter behind her back.”

Rumble froze up before he quickly set his posture more straightened as he watched you put the shirt on the line, before going to grab another piece of clothing. “No, Lord Knull, I was just noting the… strange enclosure you had chosen for her.”

He heard Knull chuckle, before responding with, “Oh, Rumble, you should know my plan by now.”

Rumble sent a wave of confusion to Knull, indicating that no, he had no idea what his plan was.

Knull simply sighed, before he continued. “I have had plans to bring her to Klyntar, our homeworld, and yet, I have a feeling she will not be able to live there. For a while, I thought I would only be able to visit her through the symbiotes already on earth, or just get there myself, with obvious consequences. However, I’ve found a third option. There is a way to bring her here without having to worry for her safety.”

Suddenly, Rumble received a vision, or more specifically, a live feed of what Knull was looking at. It looked like a symbiote, and yet, it was… odd. It did not have a mind of its own, it's like it was waiting to be filled by something. And this one did not need a host, either. From Knull’s own memories, it seemed he created this one to rely solely on its own, however, for the need to do normal things, it needed someone to fill its mind. Rumble suddenly realized where this was going.

“Lord Knull, you aren’t saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying exactly what you are thinking of.”

Rumble saw Knull walk up to the symbiote, and stroke it with his claw. It did not respond. “This symbiote that I have created will need a mind, someone who has already been born, only their mind. I am planning on giving it to ______ and then letting her rest there, before taking away her body and giving her mind to.... Well, I have not named this one. Maybe I will name it… _______. After her.”

~~~~~~~

You laid the last shirt in the bucket, and when you tried to grab another and felt that there were no more, you sighed and grabbed the dirty water, and poured it out on the grass, not caring if the soap would kill the already dead plants. Then you put the hamper and the bucket on top of each other and carried it back into the house. When you reached the sink, you put the buckets in the sink and turned the tap: only for nothing to come out.

“Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Fucking hell. You got the hamper out and when you saw that it was relatively clean, you let it go, but the dirty water one…

Yeah, you had to clean this before the next laundry day.

It did not help that there were dishes that needed to be washed. You sighed and left the bucket on the counter, and you were about to walk back up to your room, when you had an idea. You walked outside and saw Rumble standing near a cut down tree, waiting for something. Walking up to him, you said, “Hey, Rumble, is there another water source around here?”

He gave you a look, before he said, “Yes, there is one, why must you use it? We will be moving next week to a new location.”

“Well, if it's gonna take a week, I hope you have some form of water to bring up here for the dishes, or showers, or clothes, or-”

“Alright, alright I get it.” he stalked over to you and looked towards another symbiote, probably trying to talk to them before the other symbiote simply nodded and walked to another part of the property.

“I will take you to a river, but after that, the others will gather the water for you, am I clear?”

You nodded. “Good, lets go.”

~~~~~~

Anti-venom stood at the clearing, looking at the decomposing bodies, just two women and two men. He could tell they had been there for more than a week, but not enough for them to completely decompose.

Anti-venom looked around before he tried to smell where they were from. Unfortunately, whoever dumped their bodies was smart in how they covered up the scent. There was almost nothing out here, and with the fact that someone covered up their scent made it more unnerving.

He didn’t try to think of how they died, only giving them his wishes before he started to walk away. Just a couple meters away was a little river that he knew expanded as you went up the stream. He walked over and saw nothing of old blood on the rocks, so they must’ve died somewhere else-

What was that?

He whirled his head towards the start of the river, upwards maybe by a few miles. Even out here, the stench of Knull and his underdogs were there. He growled, remembering how Knull used them for his own gain. He quickly theorized that for some reason, Knull was here and he had killed these people- but why? What would make him do this?

Anti-venom decided to find out on his own, as he started to sprint his way up the river.

~~~~~~

“Why did Lord Knull choose you, anyway?”

“Choose me as what?”

You were currently at the river, cleaning out the dishes in the bucket, and then rinsing them off. Rumble was nearby, sitting in his own little area, and he was also bored. He wanted to know things that Knull would not tell him: would not tell anyone, to be more precise.

You looked back at him, before you turned back to the dishes. “I don’t question it anymore. I never had a choice, I was just… chosen. It’s something I’ve had to get used to for the past months, and even now I don’t have anything to do, anything to say.”

Rumble quirked an eye. “But Lord Knull gave you a choice, did he not?”

“Oh, yeah, please tell me, what did he give me a choice on?”

“On being free to do as you please.”

You stopped washing the little plate you had, and you turned back to face him. “What?”

“He gave you a choice. You could swear loyalty to him, or-”

“Ok, enough with the loyalty bullshit, I’m tired of hearing it.” You had gone back to the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the plate. “I get it, it's a better option than Carnage or Venom, but could I at least have the option of never seeing you fucks ever again?”

Rumble did not say anything more, letting you get out your anger by scrubbing the dishes that were left, and tossing them into the bucket.

When you were finally done, you tried to pick up the bucket, but all of that scrubbing and cleaning made your arms sore. Rumble decided to restore his reputation with you by getting the bucket for you. You didn’t complain, as your arms were extremely sore from your anger washing.

The walk back to the property was peaceful. You weren’t angry at Rumble: to be honest, he was a sweetheart. He would help you out with so many things it was almost unbelievable. He was much more pleasant to be around than Knull, that was for sure.

Even if he had to call Knull “Lord Knull” each time you met, it was fine. The little trail that you two took was getting more smoother as you got closer and closer to the property. When you reached the clearing, you saw the normal sight:

5 symbiotes around the area stalking, waiting. They were most likely on guard, and even then, they had their eyes on you, making sure there was no funny business between you and Rumble.

Walking up to the one story house, you felt… wrong. Of course, this had always felt wrong, but this time it was like someone was watching you from afar. Before you got onto the porch, you turned to look at all the symbiotes watching you. Nothing unusual, the normal amount that would stand guard in this area. Maybe one of them is looking too long, you thought, as Rumble opened the door for you and you both went inside.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the speck of white in the bushes, hiding. Waiting.

~~~~~~~

It was almost time for you to start getting ready for bed. You already had dinner, and now all you needed was just a nice warm bed. You sighed as you made sure everything was in its place, before you walked back in the hallway and into your room. You got out your favorite pair of pajamas, and started to change. You already had a shower last night, it wouldn’t matter if you had one today.

As you changed, your mind went back to the conversation with Knull earlier that day. Would he really let you do whatever you wanted if you just… spared your loyalty, as he called it? Could you see your family and friends again? Could you tell them you were ok and not harmed?

But, he did say that you couldn’t stay there… you would have to go back with him… where did he live, anyway? He was an alien god, so… space? But… where?

Maybe he lived on some random planet and acquired a bunch of power, you had no idea-

“YOU WOULD ALL DARE TO HELP KNULL AND HIS PLANS?!”

That didn’t sound good. You rushed out of your room, pajamas halfway on, and peeked outside of the kitchen window, where you saw everything.

In the middle of the clearing, stood tall and bloody, was another symbiote. He was white with some black accents here and there, and most importantly, he was holding fire.

You already knew that symbiotes didn’t like heat, or fire. Especially not fire.

You remember one time when you tried to escape Eddie with fire. It did not work out well. You were locked in a closet, and fortunately for you, that was where you stored your books.

Anyways, you had no time to think of those times, when you were running from whatever the fuck is going on outside the house. You ran back to your room to put on a shirt, and when you were finished putting on your socks, running was heard from the hallway.

Rumble came through the door and dragged you by your forearm down towards a specific spot in the floor. He then lifted a larger floorboard that revealed a crawl space. He shoved you in, gently as possible, before he said, “Stay. Here. I’ll come for you when I beat him.”

“Who?” You were about to ask, but he slammed the door shut, leaving you to fear for the next few minutes.

You sat there for a few more minutes, before you heard crackling. Crackling of fire. You were desperately trying to open the door, but it seemed to be glued shut: there was nothing that could open it.

At this point, you were starting to cry. The symbiotes couldn’t stand fire, how would they stand this? You were desperate to leave, to escape: you never wanted to be here, with these people who thought they could help you. You wanted to go home, to see your family, friends, the people who loved and cherished you, and actually respected your boundaries.

The door was broken inwards and you felt every muscle in your body stop. You crouched a little from the trap door, hoping they didn’t hear you. From they're desperate steps and quick feet, it was obviously not Rumble or any other symbiote you knew.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the steps went into the hallway. As they walked by, slower, you held your breath. If they found you… well, you knew what happened when new symbiotes would find you.

You let out a silent sigh when they passed the door… only for them to come rushing back. Without even knowing it, they ripped open the trap door, revealing you, tired, scared, and cold.

The symbiote you saw was the exact one that was outside, who was attacking all the other symbiotes.

He looked shocked, as if he didn’t know you were there. “Child…” he asked, as he reached down to try and grab you, “what are you doing in a place like this?”

He picked you up with the utmost gentleness and care, like you would shatter if he just yanked you out. He cradled you within his arms, like you were a baby. He was a giant compared to you, being almost 7 or 8 feet tall.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, taking you with him, walking out of the house. You tried to crawl out of his palm, but he stopped you each time. “I-I don't know.”

He tried to give you a sympathetic look. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t be afraid. I will k-”

He suddenly jumped into the fire, and you screamed expecting to be burnt along with all the weeds.

However, you didn’t feel anything. Turns out this was because the symbiote had taken you up into the air, so while he was holding you by your waist, he was also holding you out of the reach of the fire. He held his hand up high, not only to make sure that you wouldn’t be hurt, but as you saw Rumble on the ground, close to the fire, you realized it was to get you out of his grip.

“Rumble. You used to be such an open minded symbiote. Now look at you. You are just leeching off of Lord Knull, the one who enslaves you and the rest of our kind!”

The white symbiotes seemingly noticed you again, and said, “and you have the audacity to bring an innocent child into this mess! How dare you!”

With that, he started to walk into the fire, which surprisingly was not burning him. He still held you up high so you wouldn’t be burnt by the flames, which was nice. You looked back at Rumble, who was trying to get up, but the injuries on his legs seemed severe. The fire was closing in on him as well.

You felt bad for him. You reached out, but before you could do anything, Anti venom started to sprint away from the house. The last thing you saw of Rumble was him collapsing onto the ground, broken and beaten.

When you were out of the fire, the symbiote lowered you to his eye level. “My name is Anti-Venom, tiny child. What is yours?”

BONUS:

Rumble sat on the remains of the house: nothing was left of it when Lord Knull appeared. It was a miracle he had even gotten the distress alert, a bigger one he had arrived in time to save rumble himself. Every other symbiote was gone, either from the fire or the white symbiote. Anti-Venom was his name.

“So, you failed at getting back _____ for me?”

“... Lord Knull, I am deeply sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Rumble, I want to see my daughter! I want to seeher before the other two get her, or worse she falls for that idiotic Anti-Venom, do you hear me?!”

Rumble sat there waiting for Lord Knull to be done with his rant, before he said, “Yes, Lord Knull. I understand.”

Lord Knull stood up and started to walk away. “Good. I will try to locate her myself. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this Anti-Venom. I want his secrets, every dirty little thing about him, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Knull, it will be done.”

And with that, Lord Knull was gone, leaving Rumble to dwell in his own failures.

--------

almost forgot, @anxiousnerdwritings this was for u

[bakugohoex]

“that’s literally the definition of jealous, you dumbass”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: explicit language and kissing

word count: 2500+

a/n: hey this is my first one shot on tumblr, i haven’t written in almost 3 years now and i thought i should get back into it, so here i am. hope you guys enjoy it.

summary: in which bakugo finds y/n and todoroki getting closer than normal, the more he sees them together the more rage he builds up over someone who he thought was just an extra to him

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

It wasn’t like you weren’t friends with Bakugo, you were, there had never been any formal introductions at the beginning of class 1-a, instead a quirk test. It wasn’t that it was boring to see people’s quirks but the only one that stood out was Bakugo’s, his ability to reach the top made you admire him until he opened his mouth. You had just scrapped number 2 on the stupid test something you were proud of, it being the first time you could use your quirk without damage.

He had come up to you by the end of the day, rambling on about some Deku kid who you assumed was the guy who broke his finger. “Fucking Deku” he hadn’t bothered introducing himself and instead rambled on about how much he hated this Deku kid.

“Who are you?” You look at him with the most unamusable face as he stared back watching you intensively.

“Katsuki, Katsuki Bakugo.”

“Oh, okay and why are you talking to me?” You longed out the ‘and’ questioning, why had some boy who you had just met following you and rambling about some Deku.

He stares at you as the both of you continue to walk out of UA, “you got second, just after me dumbass, you need to know that you’ll never beat me.”

“Oh, is this like a i’m not here to make friends you’re all just insignificant to my life kinda routine.” You cocked your head back in a laugh as he huffs in agreement to what you said starting to walk away.

“Nice to meet you Bakugo I’m y/n y/l/n.” The smirk that was plastered on your face making the explosive boy become even more angry.

Even with that being the first encounter with Bakugo there continued to be many more, even helping to find Bakugo after he was captured by the league of villains and the dorm system being implemented. Moments occurred where both Bakugo and you would spend lunches and breaks talking to each other even occasionally walking to and from school.

The relationship wasn’t conventional, but you were friends in some way, so when Bakugo saw something he never expected he was angry, not just normal Bakugo angry though the rage he held was something more, something he couldn’t explain.

“Todoroki look what I got last weekend?” You left your desk, your presence clearly making Bakugo turn around as he saw you sitting on Todoroki’s desk as he sat in his seat. Your legs were swinging with your skirt riding to your thighs. You were showing him something on your phone as Bakugo tried to see, angry that you were that close to that extra and even showing him your legs that were covered by your thigh highs that pushed your thighs together. “Do you like it?”

He heard Todoroki reply making his blood boil, “any guy would love that y/n”. He could hear your laugh as he turned around not wanting to see any more, as he was writing something the pen snapped before throwing it in the bin just missing Mineta who was sharpening his pencil.

This wasn’t the last time he was going to see you and Todoroki spending time together, a couple hours after the first incident he watched as he saw you with your bento box you were talking to Todoroki again, Bakugo was about to call out to you to tell you to join him and Kirishima but instead you turned around showing Todoroki your arm which has the scar that you had told Bakugo about months prior. He wasn’t jealous it was just a stupid story of you falling when you were a kid, so why was he angry again. Did he think it was some private secret between the two of you?  Todoroki and you walked to where Izuku was and sat beside them.

“Fucking Deku” He mutters as he watches you smile at a shitty joke Izuku probably said.

Bakugo stood up not wanting to see anymore knowing he’d break something again, he walked out of the lunch room as he went to get some air, his quirk wanting to be released. He hid his palms as sweat was building up, he couldn’t wait for some training later. All the pent-up anger he had would finally be gone and he wouldn’t have to see you all up in Todoroki.

As Bakugo was walking back to lunch he could hear your voice ringing in his ears, “Shoto” you face him as he smiles at you, “why does everybody like you? Is it because you’re hot and cool” you laugh as Shoto gave a smile at your idiotic behaviour, trying to supress a laugh at how bad the joke was. Bakugo didn’t want to hear your laugh especially beside Todoroki and even worse you were calling him Shoto. He was still Bakugo, why hadn’t it changed, he’d known you longer, you were friends, weren’t you?

The day continued, you were luckily paired up with Momo who wasn’t as harsh as the guys were, it went a lot quicker than usual, and as you finished getting changed, you left for the dorms. Shoto was waiting outside as you ran up smiling at him as you pushed into him your arms touching, Bakugo had come out at the same time, he was going to ask you to walk to the dorms, immediately his face fell as he saw your arms touching Todoroki.

“Everything all right.” Kirishima asked as he saw Bakugo’s face fall.

Bakugo quickly became his normal angry self, “I want to be in fucking bed.”

“Woah its not even 8PM yet.” Kirishima laughed as they walked back to the dorms.

Arriving at the dorms, Bakugo saw you and Mina on the couch, you were still wearing your uniform with you tie hanging off your neck as the front three buttons were unbuttoned, you’d taken off your shoes left in your socks that you’d brought from your knees down to your ankles.

Both of you hadn’t realised Bakugo was behind you before Mina started speaking again, “you still like him then.”

“Duh! Of course, I do, have you seen him?” You sign leaning against the couch.

Bakugo continued to listen, you liked someone? Who was it? It better not be fucking Icy Hot!

“Well I don’t know; you always hide your feelings from me.”

You look up at Mina, “Oh shut up, I need my bed, Momo hit me across the room.”

“Sounds like you’re changing the subject Y/n” You had stood up putting your socks back to your thighs as you did so.

You stick your tongue out as you flipped her off, “Fuck off.” You laugh walking out of the room.

Bakugo pretended to be walking towards you as if he hadn’t heard anything, “Hey Bakugo, I haven’t seen you all day.” You smile as he gives a scowl.

“Why would I want to see you anyway?” He crossed his arms walking past you.

Hurt. You felt hurt, you’d thought your relationship with Bakugo was improving but now it just seemed like he didn’t care about you even as a friend. “Fuck, how am I supposed to tell him I like him.” You whisper as you walk to the elevator.

The next day rolled out quickly, both Bakugo and you not even looking at each other, Bakugo would normally come in and turn around to see your face every morning, nothing this morning though. You looked down. Had you done something wrong?

You had been partnered up with Shoto which you were happy about needing a friend, the scowl on Bakugo’s face said the opposite for him. He watched as the both of you were sparring, seeing Todoroki hitting you with ice and you were hitting him back with your own quirk.

“Bakugo pay attention.” Kirishima shouted as he was running towards the explosive boy.

Bakugo kept watching before he saw you trip up on Todoroki causing the both of you to fall, you had landed on the hard chest of Todoroki, his arms wrapped around your waist, you both looked at each other staring into each other’s eyes. Your legs were inside his own, laughing in embarrassment as you both stayed in the position to work out the best way to get out of it.

That’s what started it, the blood boiling as Bakugo had watched the scene, you both laughing, finally helping each other get up, you were touching hands, arms, bodies something Bakugo hadn’t done with you. He wasn’t jealous, it wasn’t jealousy. He kept telling himself but with the explosion in his hands that flamed up into a bright yellow hue that looked like it could harm All Might himself, Bakugo threw it at Kirishima who had hardened just in time as he had witnessed Bakugo’s eyes go a blood red.

Kirishima fell to the ground as everybody saw him on the ground, “Kirishima” you say running to him alongside the whole class.

Questions came from the whole class as Bakugo stood there before storming away, you noticed the blond boy leave as you quickly followed trying to not be caught by Aizawa. Bakugo was pacing quickly away as you had to run to catch up to him.

“Bakugo.” You shout as he stops, he slowly turns around his eyes still a blood red looking to murder.

“What?” He spits out.

You walk closer to him, “Where are you going?”

“None of your damn business shitty woman.” You looked up at him before huffing.

This had been the second time Bakugo had let his feelings control his mouth in front of you and it was making it harder to see if he had any feelings back for you.

You spoke as he was looking around, “you don’t need to be a dick.”

You walk back to the class, to make sure Kirishima was fine. He wasn’t hurt that badly, but he already knew that to be partnered up with Bakugo was a cause for disaster to occur. Bakugo had come back and was shouting at something Sero had said as he had been made to partner up with Sero in the meantime. He would give sly looks at you and Todoroki who continued to talk to like a normal person would. Bakugo had finally realised that he had fucked it with you, and you were better off with Icy Hot.

After the class got dismissed you and Todoroki walked back to the dorms again, this time Bakugo couldn’t handle seeing the both of you so close, he pushed past Todoroki hitting shoulders. You look at him as Todoroki was fine but the anger you felt was building up.

“Are you okay?” You ask Todoroki as you both walk into the dorms.

“Yeah I’ve had a lot worse from Bakugo.” He laughs as you give a small smile, he walks towards his room as you go into the elevator, pressing the floor that had Bakugo’s room in.

You paced outside his room contemplating if you should even go inside and shout at him, you finally got the nerves and knocked on the door.

“Who the fuck is it?”

“It’s me.” Bakugo opens the door seeing your frame against his you were wearing you uniform with your tie stuffed in your bag that you’d chucked in your room.

“What the fuck do you want?” He hissed, you barged passed him as he rolled his eyes closing the door as you crossed your arms glaring at him.

He stood in front of you looking pissed, “What the fuck is your problem, first you hurt Kirishima and now you’re getting pissed at Todoroki, what is going on?”

He stays silent, “Really silence, Bakugo fucking tell me what’s going on, we’re…” you pause thinking, did Bakugo even class you as a friend, or where you just another extra to him. “friends.” You finally say.

“I was worried for you that’s all I just don’t want you to get close to Todoroki and get hurt cause then you’ll be sad and you won’t work to your potential and then you won’t be worthy competition.”

You stare at him, thinking of the bullshit you just heard come from his mouth, “Wut?”

“I said what I said.”

“Bakugo you do realise that doesn’t even fucking correlate together.” You look at him as he stares at you, “You’re not jealous or something.”

“What the fuck? No! Of Icy Hot? I’m better than him in every single way. He’s not good at anything, the only difference between us is that he has you and I don’t, I don’t care though, who needs you? I don’t!” The malice dripping from his tongue as he moves closer to you, you could almost feel his body heat against yours.

You look at him smugly, “That’s literally the definition of jealous, you dumbass.”

“I’m not fucking jealous.”

“Whatever.” You mutter before moving closer to him, “if you were I wouldn’t worry I only have eyes for one person…” You stand on your toes going to his ear as you can see his ears turn red, “and its most definitely not Shoto.”

You let go of him as your hands had gone to his chest, he stares down at you, “who is it then?”

Even with him asking casually you could see his eyes watching inventively, “I thought you didn’t care about me.”

“I don’t”

You start walking to his door as he looks at you, “I think I’ll ask him out actually.” You open the door but as soon as Bakugo heard those words he slams the door shut, his arm pushing the door closed as your head was just touching it.

“You are not leaving this fucking room.” He shouts as you cock your head to the side looking at him.

“And why not.” He pauses before speaking, “Don’t be a slut.”

“A slut? Don’t be jealous Katsuki.” You had said his first name without even realising, Bakugo’s eyes fell softly as he stared at you.

“Who do you like?” His arm was still on the door as he looked down almost embarrassed at ignoring your statement.

This was your chance, just say it, say his name Y/n. Do it!

“He’s here right now” You finally mustered out as he looked at you his eyes going wide, he doesn’t speak, just admired processing what he had just heard.

Your back had been to the door as his hand travelled to your throat softly grabbing it as he brought your lips to him, his lips were soft compared to your chapped lips, finally gaining moisture, the kiss became hungrier and hungrier. His hand choking you slightly as you were in between him pressed against the door, his other hand had travelled to your waist, with your hands in his hair. Slowly pushing himself onto you as you felt the kiss deepen.

You both let go to feel air before you finally spoke, the distance between your lips being a mere centimetre, “maybe I was jealous.” He spoke softly.

 “Maybe?” You give a small giggle as you both go in for another kiss, feeling his warmth and safety around you. 

If you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and I’ll add you xx

[dracowars]

obsessed | tom riddle

pairing: tom x reader

word count: 2,9k

summary: where y/n dislikes tom's obsession of becoming the dark lord

a/n: my first tom imagine for @creeping156tin !!! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

warnings: angst, claustrophobia, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

A loud, painful scream suddenly pulls you out of your deep, peaceful sleep and you shoot up from your bed, your dorm room almost completely wrapped in darkness except for a few dim candlelights.

"What was that?!", your roommate asks you in fear and lights up all the lamps in your room with a spell. The other two girls also look around anxiously and neither of you know an answer to the question.

Until you suddenly hear numerous voices and steps outside your room and you quickly jump up, your friends accompanying you as you quietly open the heavy door. Carefully, you peer out of the narrow gap, only to see how all the other students in your house are running around in front of it, frightened.

"What is going on here?", you ask one of the students who you get hold of first, and look at him expectantly but somehow also a little bit scared.

"Somebody is supposed to have died!", he answers you shortly and as fast as you stopped him, he sprints off again, following the others.

Taking a look at your friends, who are still standing close behind you at the door, you can see the pure fear in their eyes. And even though they do not look like they want to leave your dorm any time soon, they nod understandingly as a sign that they still want to come with you. After all, there have always been a lot of rumours going around Hogwarts that were ultimately false anyway.

Hastily grabbing your cloaks in the colors of your house, you follow the other students out into the dark and cold corridors of Hogwarts. One of your friend is clinging onto your left arm while you are busy seeing where everyone is going.

Although you are never really afraid of anything, you now have a very uncomfortable feeling in your stomach area. The high-pitched, deafening scream from earlier still gives you an incredible amount of goosebumps all over your body and thousands of questions fly through your head.

If someone was actually killed, then who? And above all, by whom?

The four of you continue to follow the crowd, which already seems pretty strange to you as this succeeds without further problems because no teacher is patrolling the corridors like usually, and you finally stop in a long, illuminated hallway. Half of the school is probably in this certain hallway right now and romps into a big pile.

The feeling of fear is suddenly overshadowed by worry as your thoughts wander off while you get closer to the crowd. They wander off to Tom Riddle, your best friend.

The questions where he is and whether he is okay or not buzz through your mind and your knees become much shakier than before.

What if something happened to him?

Not wanting to further think about the possible worst case scenarios, you continue on your way. Everyone in the crowd is whispering wildly and you can only pick up a few snippets of words here and there that do not help you at all. The longer you stay among them, the worse you get. However, you are abruptly freed from this bad feeling when a loud shout echoes through the corridor all of a sudden.

"All students have to go back to their rooms immediately! There is nothing to see here", you recognize Armando Dippet's, the headmaster's, voice in the exclamation that silenced everyone.

But due to the fact that the headmaster himself is here right now, the feeling of uncertainty returns inside of you because it cannot mean anything good if he has to be here at this late hour. Apparently not only you think that way, because suddenly the murmuring around you gets louder again.

Across the hall you spot Dippet and several other teachers, including Dumbledore, who are currently trying to hold the students back. At first it is quite difficult for you to see from what exactly they are holding them back, but in the next moment you notice the door to the girls' bathroom and how it opens.

An unknown person steps out of and you catch a glimpse through the now opened door to a stretcher with a white cloth on top of it. You have to swallow hard at the sight, but you do not have time to see more as you are rudely pushed aside.

"It's Myrtle!"

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened!"

The teachers from each house immediately begin to bring the students back to their common rooms after the exclamations, which is why you are pushed around even more now. Meanwhile you have already lost your friends in the crowd and the whispering around you is getting louder and louder with each second, so that you slowly but surely lose your orientation.

But suddenly everything around you falls silent when your gaze lands on him.

"Tom!", you loudly call out his name and try to somehow fight your way through the crowd. However, he does not seem to have heard you and just keeps staring in the direction of the bathroom before turning away to walk into the other direction.

Finally being able to free yourself from the crowd, you take a deep breath and follow your boyfriend as quickly as possible so that you do not lose him in the labyrinth of corridors and staircases.

"Tom! Wait!", you yell after him when you spot him at the end of an empty hallway. He flinches briefly before he turns around and recognizes you, relief written over his face.

Your steps echo loudly from the walls as you fall around his neck and deeply inhale his scent, calming you down right away.

"What are you doing here, Y/N? You should be on your way back to your dorm by now", he says with such tension in his voice that you immediately break the hug and get away from him, looking at him worriedly.

"What is it?", you ask him directly, his expression how you have never seen it before. Kind of obsessed.

"Nothing. What should be, sweetheart? I am fine", he assures you and places his hand against your cheek, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead which is apparently meant to calm you down. You softly press his hand back on your cheek with your own as he tries to loosen it.

"Somebody was murdered, Tom. How can you be doing fine? That is terrible!", you express frightened and look deep into his eyes, in which you can see nothing but a crazy twinkle. "There is something else that is bothering you. I can see it, Tom. Tell me."

Finally removing his hand from you, he stares at you for a moment, completely speechless. It just does not go into his head how you can see through him so easily, how you can detect everything within seconds. He was never used to beeing looked after by someone, but since you came into his life, his otherwise dark and cold soul started to feel a little bit brighter and warmer with each minute he has spent with you so far.

"Talk to me, Tom. They said something about the Chamber of Secrets. Have you not been talking about it for two weeks?", you mention and want to step closer to him again, but he immediately takes a step back and lets the cold of the night envelop your body.

"You wouldn't understand anyway", he scoffs, averting his gaze from you while convulsively clenching his hands into fists and all of a sudden he no longer looks like the Tom Riddle with whom you fell so deeply in love with.

"What did you do, Tom?", you shakily breathe out, fear flowing through your body because of the fact that might really have something to do with this. Since his response is taking an unnaturally long time to come, tears already form in your eyes, but your voice is failing you as you try to speak up.

"I finally made it, Y/N. I finally opened the Chamber of Secrets", he admits and your breath gets caught in your throat, the satisfied smile on his lips disturbing you. "I can finally sleep in peace again. It was amazing, Y/N!"

Staring at him in disbelief as he is basically enjoying what he has done right in front of your eyes, a tear finds its way down your cheek and you barely dare to say your next words.

"Please tell me that you have nothing to do with her death", you utter, hurt evident in your voice, and look at him with a heartbreaking expression on your face.

"It is not my fault that this stupid girl was in that bathroom, but believe me I would do it again every damn time", he explains in all honesty and tries to convince you that nothing is wrong with his actions. "I would open the chamber again every time, Y/N. I knew you wouldn't understand!"

In fact, yes, you could not for the life of you understand. None of his words make any sense to you. You have had this conversation many times already in the past. And every time it ended the same way: you were deeply hurt and he just left. For him everything revolves around his dream of becoming a Dark Lord who rules the whole wizarding world.

"Tom, you killed someone! Of course I do not understand! What do you expect from me? That I am happy for you?", you yell at him, now with much more anger than sadness in your voice.

"Well, yes. That would be an idea for once instead of trying to reprimand me again and again", he rolles his eyes in annoyance and gives you a derogative look.

"All I ever wanted was to protect you from doing something stupid that you may never be able to to reverse, but obviously I miserably failed", you sob as you cannot longer keep your tears under control.

"I never asked you to", he hisses with no emotion.

"I have always taken care of you and this is how you thank me!?", you angrily scream in his face, but he does not even move an inch. "Stop this stupid rambling about becoming a Dark Lord or.. Or otherwise I will never talk to you again, Tom."

"Then leave! I don't need you. Get out of my life!", he yells at you when he can no longer hold back his emotions and you feel your heart break in two, but do as he pleases and leave without another word.

Two weeks later and almost no one talks about the incident anymore, even though a fellow student was brutally killed. However, it is more than fine for you if it means that you will not be reminded of him and his hurtful words towards you every time.

"Hey, Y/N. You look so pale today. Is everything alright?", your friend asks you as she worriedly looks at your still full plate, which you have not touched yet, just like the weeks before.

With a forced smile you nod at her, signalising that you are fine, when in reality you are anything but fine. You have never felt this bad in your life.

Maybe you and Tom were just best friends and not meant to be, but you always felt a different kind of feeling towards him that was definetely beyond friendship. And for a while you even imagined that he could maybe feel the same way.

Oh, and how wrong you were.

Listlessly moving your meanwhile cold food around on your plate, you listen to the conversation of your group of friends who are animatedly talking about today's Quidditch game. But somehow your brain cannot process any of their words correctly since your thoughts keep wandering back to him.

You have not seen him since the terrible incident, neither in class nor in the hallways. Even though you forbid yourself it, you still worry about him despite everything that happened between you. You do not want to give him the satisfaction that he is still continuously on your mind, but you just cannot help it.

"Y/N! Will you be at the Quidditch game today as well? We want to make a detour to the lake afterwards", one of your friends asks you enthusiastically and without really thinking about it, you agree with a nod. A little distraction will not hurt you.

Later in the day, after your class in Muggle Studies, you make your way back to your dorm to prepare for the Quidditch game later. Stepping up the stairs you spontaneously decide that you want to let your thoughts dangle a bit more so you make a detour through Hogwarts to get to the courtyard to get some fresh air.

With your books tucked under your arm, you run down the stairs and slowly walk through the long corridor to the clock tower. With your gaze focused on the deserted hallway in front of you, you are about to reach the junction to the courtyard when a person steps into your field of vision. A person you did not expect.

At the other end of the corridor is none other than Tom himself, who, just like you, abruptly stopped walking when he spotted you on the other side. For a short moment you stare at each other from the distance.

This moment does not last long when the painful memories appear in your head again. You lower your gaze to the floor, avoiding eye contact, press your books against your chest as if they could protect you as a shield, and turn to the courtyard.

Fortunately, you do not hear any footsteps behind you and you assume that he does not dare to follow you, which is why you slow down your pace and take in a deep breath when you arrive outside. There is no one around, only the birds happily chirp over your head, until you hear loud steps behind you all of a sudden.

"Y/N!", he calls you and you freeze in your movement, your heart racing.

With shaking hands you turn to him, despite the countless warnings in your head. Tom is only a few meters away, a sad look on his flawless face.

You do not say a word, just wait for what he has to say to you. If he even has anything to say at all.

"I am so glad I found you", he exhales heavily and runs his hand through his brown hair. You immediately notice the dried blood on his hand.

"You are bleeding", the words pour out of of you unintentionally, obviously showing him that you still care about him after all. You prevent yourself from thinking about the cause of his injury.

"O-Oh, yes. Well, that is not that bad", he laughs nervously, but your eyes stick to his injured hand until he hides it behind his back. "We need to talk, Y/N."

"What is there to still talk about? I have nothing to say to you."

"I know", Tom sighs, not quite sure what to say himself. Silence spreads between you again until you break it with a loud scoff.

"Good. If you have nothing to say either, then I can go", you accuse him before walking past him, but you are promptly grabbed by the wrist and pulled back.

"I love you", he confesses out of nowhere and even though these are the words that you always wanted to hear so bad, tears form in your eyes and you angrily swat your hand out of his grasp.

"That is not fair, Tom! You can't just tell me something like that after you broke my heart and destroyed our friendship!", you whine and quickly wipe the tears away as he gets closer to you.

"I was so damn stupid, Y/N. I did not know what I had until I lost it", he explains dejectedly and watches how one of your tears slowly rolls down your cheek. "I am so sorry. I am not worth crying for."

"It is too late for that now", you sob and want to turn away again when he suddenly grabs your face with his hands and pulls you into a gentle kiss that says more that words could ever express. And the worst part of it is that you do not fight against it, you just let it happen. You might even enjoy it a little even though this is definetely not how you imagined your first kiss with him to be.

"I really love you, Y/N. I realized it now", he whispers after he broke the kiss, a small smile on his lips because you did not reject him.

"Tom-", you try to answer, but he stops you by laying his finger on your lips.

"I know what you want to say. I closed the Chamber of Secrets again and finished thinking about becoming a Dark Lord once and for all. Your are much more important to me than that", he tells you and you can cleary hear out the sincerity in his voice.

He is back. Your Tom is finally back.

Happily, you jump around his neck and tightly squeeze him, wettening his cloak, and in the next moment you punch him hard against his chest. Laughing, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss on top of it.

"Now please tell me what you did with your hand and do not lie to me, I warn you", you admonish him while he lets you take his hand to have a closer look at his small injury.

"You wouldn't believe me if I said that I wanted to get you flowers, right? But funny thing is that it is exactly what I tried."

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #1-3

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

Warnings: angsty fluff, Ezra’s dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I know I said Death and Angel would come out next, but I got such a inspiration high and the words came out so quickly I just told myself screw it and decided to share what I have. If anyone thinks this is a series worth pursuing, let me know. If you don’t, well, just be gentle please 💖

Cross-posted on AO3

Entries #4-6

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

My name is Ezra. 

I have my mama to thank for that. Time has erased her face from my memory, but her voice is ingrained into the tissue of my brain the same way these words are inked on this parchment. She was a bonafide believer that the meaning of a child’s name influenced the course of their destiny. When I was no taller than the height of her waist I learned my own name’s denotation: help.

It’s just a tick too ironic, isn’t it? To be destined to help others when I can’t help my own self. I gave the Green far too little credit. It didn’t just pilfer my arm to satisfy its ravenousness, it greedily stole my sense of purpose too. 

Every night I thank the deities you didn’t accompany me there. If the Green had taken you...

I know how worried you are about me, little love of mine. When I look at you, I find you already looking back, a sweet smile gracing your lips even as concern burns in your eyes as an eternal flame. From day one you’ve always been looking at me, seeing every disgraced flaw and scar—even the invisible ones carved into the darkest edges of my soul. Kevva knows I’ve never been capable of concealing anything from you, but fuck if I don’t wish I could sometimes.

You’re asleep now as I write this, tucked against my side in the vacant space my arm once occupied, drooling on my shirt. I love you so much it hurts. A black hole in my chest perpetually aching to be filled by your presence. And as we venture once more into the starry sea, our ship gliding past the imaginary wings of Noctua, I find myself recalling a theory you once told me many cycles ago about humans being made in the womb with stardust infused in their bones, linking them to the universe. You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

And it’s undoubtedly selfish, but all I could think of in that tender moment beyond kissing you was how I didn’t want an eternity spent together with our cosmic bodies intertwined. 

I want longer.

Soon after we awoke and each consumed a slice of bush bread bought during our recent docking at Kamrea, you fiddled with the channels on the ship’s radio, hoping to hear news from your homeworld but cursing when you only heard static. Then, without an ounce of forewarning, music burst out with an almighty scream through the speakers at full volume, flooding the whole compartment with a woman’s warbling. It was the same crusted Vayok song that merc Inumon blared in my ears during my last night on the Green, every note an individual needle piercing my skull, impossible to ignore.

Reality deserted me, leaving me to sink to the depths of the abyss within my mind where all I could see was Cee’s pale, disturbed expression as she looked to me for guidance. I remembered how my tongue felt clumsy in my mouth as I tried my damnedest to negotiate our transport, thinking if I could just piece together the right sequence of words, if I could just get their lingering eyes off of her, then maybe, maybe we’d have a chance at salvation. 

The memories coalesced, overlapping and blurring and mixing out of order. Each one was drenched in spilt blood.

Then your pinky wrapped around mine. The touch was soft yet firm, the action childlike in its innocence. It was such a jarring contradiction to my mind’s violent narrative, my consciousness was hurtled back into the living quarters of our ship as a result. You didn’t say anything when you saw I returned to you. Instead, you swallowed down the questions lodged in your throat and led me by our entwined fingers back to our bed.

There’s a plant back home called a dandelion, you told me with my head resting in your lap, a far better comfort than any pillow could provide me. It’s the only plant in the galaxy you can see the sun, the moon and the stars when you look at it. That’s not why it’s my favorite though.

I asked how it had won your heart’s favor if not due to its resemblance to the celestial bodies, then immediately found myself mesmerized by the smile that lit up your face as you peered down at me. My chest cavity tightened as I was filled with the profound longing to be able to suspend time, if only so I could stretch this moment to match the length of our separation, if only so I could erase the old and replace it with the beautiful new.

Dandelions grant wishes, babe. Anything you wish for with your whole heart, it will be yours to have.

I told you I wouldn’t wish for anything—nothing else in the galaxy could compare to the prettiest, wisest soul I’d ever encountered in all my years traversing it. You saw right through that lie with the same confident ease you see through all my masks and diversions, but—for the second time in the span of an hour—you held your tongue.

This journal’s as good a place as any to admit the honest truth. So here it is: I wish with the entirety of my bloody, beating heart I could be the man you deserve, little love of mine. 

When you read, whether it be a book or the flight manual, you have the precious habit of mouthing the words. I don’t think you have the faintest notion you’re even doing it, which makes it all the more endearing to watch.

My brother had a similar habit, always nose deep in the yellowing pages of classic literature, except he had a proclivity to spoil the plot when he talked in his sleep. I remember there was one particular novel he returned to often, sometimes reading from beginning to end, other times seeking out specific segments he’d underlined in bold, black pen. It was a rather dreary tale about war and rivalry and the process of determining one’s own identity. I became so exasperated with my brother’s obsession I considered shredding it on more than one occasion, only to immediately hate myself for entertaining the thought.

It was only after his death—twelve whole cycles, in fact—that I summoned up the will to open the front cover. Seeing his name scribbled in the corner, cursive and neat and so utterly him, nearly had me tearing the book in half, overcome with a vicious rage I had never known prior nor have I encountered since. But by the almighty grace of Kevva I reigned it in, chaining it to the agony and fear imprisoned within the confines of my rib cage, and turned the page.

There was one segment underlined not once, but three times, nearly bleeding ink onto the page behind it. When I close my eyes, the words are tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, as haunting as they are comforting.

So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.

The author lived and died centuries before my brother’s inception, that is an inarguable fact. 

But I know those words were written for him all the same. 

Notes: 

There is an actual theory humans are made of stardust ✨

The Sater within Prospect mention the Currents as being responsible for bringing Ezra and Cee to them, so I imagine them as similar to the Fates/Moirai in Greek mythology.

Noctua is a real life, extinct constellation that is Latin for owl. I thought within this Prospect universe it could exist as a type of landmark or coordinate. Plus I love owls 🦉

Crusted is a term from Prospect Ezra uses. Equivalent of damn. I think there’s something funny about how they use creamy as a positive adjective and crusted as negative.

Vayok is the alien language Inumon speaks within the movie, so I decided to write the song she blares as being sung in the same language

Bush bread is referenced in a deleted scene by Ezra, but a google search revealed to me it’s also a real life type of bread too

In the same deleted scene Ezra references that he has a brother. I haven’t decided his name yet/if he will have one

The book and quote Ezra refers to in #3 is John Knowles’ A Separate Peace. One of the few required reading books I liked back in high school.

The quote about dandelions being the sun, moon and stars is based on the legend of how dandelions came into existence. I always thought it was beautiful.

Series Taglist: @insomniamamma

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan, @melobee, @randomness501, @absurdthirst, @captain-jebi, @artsymaddie, @happiestsparkleofall, @disgruntledspacedad, @gallowsjoker, @aerynwrites, @vintagesaph, @sylphene, @chibi-yuki, @freeshavocadoooo, @stilllivindue2spite, @pointy-sharp, @leilei-draws, @over300books, @theocatkov, @oh-no-a-whovian, @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @lin-djarin, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @coaaster, @waywardmando, @thisshipwillsail316, @grogusmum, @asta-lily, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @tacticalsparkles​

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.5)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4]  previous chapters

[CH.6] next chapter (now available!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

P.S Niki and Sunoo's roles become bigger in later chapters :) sorry I took 2 weeks to update. School + new enhypen teasers made me alter the story now jesus their lore is confusingly interesting. Didn't proofread half of this chapter LOL. Happy readings <3

"Well now that everyone is here, I'd like to announce we have a new student who just transferred here." Your eyes were immediately drawn to the student's platinum blonde hair. Despite his sharp and charismatic face, his eyes were delicate and innocent. He had an exceptionally small face and a sunkissed skin tone. The new student snapped himself around so that the entire classroom got a good look at him, "Hello, my name is Park Jongseong or Jay, call me whatever you feel." He bowed slightly, his voice having a cool ring that played over in your head.

"Everybody please welcome Jay to our astronomy class. Lend him any of our previous notes because midterms are coming up and I'd appreciate as a teacher if you guys helped him catch up before our long weekend coming up in two weeks." Your teacher gave a warm smile, nodding in such a way that made the rest of the class nod with her.

Without a student saying a word, everyone's eyes followed him as he took a seat at a desk a couple of rows in front of you.

You stared at him tirelessly, barely listening as your teacher rambled off-topic. You noticed Jay often stared out at the crying sky that occasionally flickered with lightning. His eyes focused intently on the woods. You were sure you weren't the only one who was interested in the new boy as you frequently caught other students glancing over at him every few seconds. Jay carried an attractive and dark aura that clearly contrasted from the crowd. Both girls and boys stared at him not because of his pretty face but because he was far different from the new students who had joined your school mid-semester.

The class flew by for you because of Jay until a simple but intriguing question was purposed by the teacher, "Bonus marks today if anyone can guess when the next full moon is." she lifted her eyes off the projector for a few moments, waiting for answers to come sailing.

"Saturday?" Somebody from the front called out, followed by numerous answers that ranged between the second week to the fourth week of the month.

"Come on now. Don't blurt out, give others chances to guess. Jay why don't you guess?" Your teacher questioned welcomingly, expecting no answer from him.

He leaned back in his chair, scraping the non-writing end of his ballpen on his thumb, "November 30." A gentle sound of thunder playing perfectly when he said the answer; like some sort of scene out of a comic.

"Ding ding ding!" Your teacher switched to a PowerPoint slide with the new unit name bolded, "I know this isn't part of the curriculum but I got it approved by the head of the school." She took a breath, giving students time to comprehend what was presented in front of them. "Our next unit will be looking deeper at the moon. More specifically, we'll be looking at both the sciency and non-sciency sides of this topic. And before anyone asks; no, you don't need to believe in astrology or superstitions to understand the non-sciency material. It's just very fascinating because it connects to many cultures." Your attention was now far away from Jay. You were enthusiastic about a topic for once in the class.

"And looks like we're running out of time." Your teacher's wrist clock blocking her eyes. "That's it for today's class everyone! I'll have your projects marked for next class, I promise! Have a good day." She said while shutting off the projector.

You slid all your handouts into your binder, not bothering to align the three-hole punches of the papers to their designated rings.

"Y/N before you go, do you mind helping out Jay? Today or tomorrow?" Your teacher stopped you on your way out.

"Like lend him my notes?"

"Yep! I just forgot to ask but he just left so you might be able to catch up to him. Maybe ask if he's got the notes yet."

You waved your goodbyes and chased the new boy down, his uniquely blonde hair standing out from the hallway of heads. You picked up the pace to catch up with his swift steps when you caught him chatting with Sunghoon and Jaeyun. Your feet froze straight down in their place.

Were they new friends? Or perhaps they were old friends?

You weren't going to bother talking to Jay as you already knew what kind of funny business would come up if you did. You could only watch them swing and lean their arms against each other in a close and friendly way. The picture was becoming more and more clear to you as to what kind of association Jay had with Sunghoon and Jaeyun perhaps even Heeseung, Sunoo or Jungwon.

...

You throw yourself violently over your thick mattress after finishing a long study and homework session at your dorm. The session wasn't productive but the time you spent surrounded by your schoolwork made it feel that way. Your dorm was awfully quiet that afternoon as your dormmates had music rehearsals for their extracurriculars. Nana had told you to come by the music rooms around a quarter past five when their practice was over to go down to the dining hall and have dinner but you couldn't think of a way to kill your remaining hour alone.

Phones were forbidden in your school and you often felt uncontrollably alone and bored with your thoughts during your free time. You could only lay tangled in your bed with your half progressed work in the corner of your eye. You shift on one side to watch your wide-open binder until you got some burst of motivation to finish studying until an idea hits you.

After eyeing your handouts from your astronomy class, you decide to hit the library and do some reading to get a little advanced in the class. Sure you could study for your other class but the sudden idea was far more worth your time in your mind. You quickly twirl out of your room, clearing your desk while you're at it. Excitedly, you hop into your shoes and head straight for the library. You were put in a good mood as you skipped along the long journey to the bookhouse.

The library was moderately packed as you don't bother to recognize any faces there. You get deja vu as you trail the same path you did when Sunghoon and Kyungeun were around. Sliding between the thin space between the bookshelves once again, you search for the section related to the moon, feeling dizzy at the sight of books your school owned. You could've made your life easier by asking the librarian but you were confident you could find it on your own. You move up and down the aisles as you catch a glimpse of theoretical and astrology related books that sit next to a couple of history books.

Backing up, you awkwardly bend your knees forward to get a better look at the small selection of books under the genre. You peel a random book spine out from its tight spot as if it had never been taken out before. You dust off the book a bit, reading the wordless cover and open it to check if it was really related to any sort of astronomy as you find a much stranger subject being discussed.

"Finding everything alright?" The librarian comes by, pushing a kart from the other end of the shelves. "I-I'm looking for books related to the moon." You say, standing up and forgetting you still had the old book in hand.

"The scientific information is just on the other side of this shelf but the section you were just looking at has some interesting stuff that might be related." The librarian stuffed herself in between the shelves to get toward you.

"Yeah, I noticed... This book I just picked up was talking about vampires." You laugh a little as you hold it up.

"Ah, that book..." She paused, snatching the book out of your hands to examine it, "I read this before... It relates to astrology. I think there are some parts of the book that go into detail about the moon, you should give it a read."

"Is this book just theoretical research about vampires though?" You were unconvinced with the idea.

"Yeah, real or not, our school grounds and the neighbouring town are talked about in the book. Apparently many years ago this place used to be a hotspot for vampires."  She looked you dead in the eyes.

"Do you think the information is true?" You questioned with deep curiosity upon her answer.

"Some information in there is haunting. I think vampires did exist." She said with some sort of distress beginning to seep into her face.

Shivers ran down your spine, if she was just trying to sell you the book, it was working damn well on you.

"I'll leave you be, no need to sign out the book, nobody ever takes it out so I trust you'll return it." And with that said, she left you cold with mystery as the book between your fingers stared at you with big round eyes.

You shake back to reality, checking your wrist just to find out your time has vanished. You shift your priorities to getting to the music department, throwing the book into your bag without much thought.

...

The sun was already going down around the afternoon as the days got shorter with autumn blossoming. You're standing between rooms full of beautiful voices and instruments, peering through every window attached to a door in an attempt to find your roommates. The issue was the widows didn't give much of a view as to who was in the rooms. But your ears were drawn to a gentle piano that played a bittersweet melody beneath the louder sounds of people singing in a harmonious glee. As you move in the forward direction of the hallway, the piano gets clearer to your ears. It became clear that the sound was coming out of a room with its door wide open. Your back attached it to the wall in fear of being seen as slide yourself until you meet the spine of the door where you could see into the shadowy room.

Your eyes lit up when they see a familiar platinum blondie behind the keys. The melody was enchanting and was played in such a personal way as the sounds escaped into the noisy environment where it hoped to go unheard. Jay had reached the final notes of his song as he turned his head in your direction. It was as if he knew of your present from the moment you started watching him from the doorway.

[morganaspendragonss]

quédate un segundo más (1/8)

@911lonestarangstweek day 8 - t is for...tumour, terminal, treatment

title from voy a quedarme by blas cantó, translates roughly to 'stay a second more'

thanks to @halsteadmarchs and @tarlos-spain for the beta!

as shown above, this will be eight chapters if all goes to plan, and i hope to finish it before season 3 begins. much of what is written both in this chapter and in future ones is ripped directly from life and i am only writing from my own perspective and experiences of losing a loved one to cancer.

ao3 | 1.6k | angst, hurt tk, cancer, terminal illness, more warnings to come in future chapters

A rare genetic mutation.

That’s what the doctors tell him when the results come back.

A rare genetic mutation that has rendered his cancer practically undetectable until its latest stages, until all that’s left to do is wait to die.

TK’s hands shake as various leaflets on Managing Your Diagnosis and What To Expect and Looking After Someone With Cancer are placed in them. He feels two steps to the side of himself, his entire world halting in its tracks the moment those words had left the doctor’s lips.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he’d said, eyes wide and empathetic. “Your scans and blood results have come back showing evidence of a tumour on your pancreas. There are treatment options which we can and will—with your consent—pursue, however I have to inform you that your cancer is entering stage IV. It has begun to spread to your bladder and liver. I’m sorry to say that, at this point, treatment is more focused on managing your pain and making you as comfortable as possible; we do not anticipate recovery.”

It’s just… TK’s fine. He feels fine. Like, sure, he’s been a little more tired recently and he’s been getting these weird pains, but they always fade after a while, and he’s fine.

But he couldn’t deny the blood spotting his pee, the last straw which had finally sent him to the doctor’s office.

Too late, apparently.

A touch on his knee brings him back to reality with a start. TK looks up to meet the doctor’s kind gaze, and he wants to cry.

“I understand this is a lot to take in,” he’s saying. “If you have any questions, please ask.”

“I…” TK shakes his head, swallowing a couple of times before dropping his eyes to his knees, the words on the pamphlets blurred through his tears. “How long?”

The doctor hesitates a moment, then sighs regretfully. “I can’t say for certain. People frequently outlive their projected timeframes; equally, it could be less. However, given the way your tumour looks and the rate it appears to be spreading at, I would estimate around six months.”

Six months.

Six—six months.

“Oh,” TK says, and it feels wildly insufficient but it’s all he has. What even is there to say? He’s dying, and that’s...that’s that.

“Do you have a support system in place?” the doctor asks. “This is going to be a difficult process, and you are going to need other people to help you through it.”

TK nods slowly, not looking up. “M-My husband. Carlos. He was supposed to come with me today but he was called into work last minute. He’s a detective, so he couldn’t exactly refuse—not that that stopped him from trying.” He laughs wetly, remembering how he’d insisted that everything would be fine when Carlos had stalled leaving this morning. “And there’s my dad, and my team—my family. I’m a paramedic and I work in a fire station, so we’re all pretty close. I… Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t need to know all this.”

“It’s okay.” The doctor is still smiling, still so understanding, and TK wonders—just how many times has he had to do this? “I’m glad to hear you have solid support behind you; that’s going to be incredibly important for the coming months. I’ve also given you a few leaflets about support groups you can access, that your family can access, and, of course, your treatment team will be there every step of the way.

“Now,” he continues, returning to a semi-professional aspect, “I want to see you later this week to iron out how we’re going to proceed. For now, why don’t you go home and rest, allow yourself to process this? Does Friday at 10.30 work for your next appointment?”

TK nods absently, clutching the pamphlets tight enough to crease them. “That’s fine,” he whispers.

“Okay,” the doctor says, just as quiet. “Are you going to be okay to get home?”

“Yeah.”

But he doesn’t move. He can’t. In this room, he’s separated from the rest of the world—TK doesn’t want to go back into it, where he’ll have to tell everyone he loves that he’s… That he…

“TK.”

TK’s head snaps up at the doctor’s voice and he flushes a little at seeing his pointed look. “Sorry,” he mutters, scrambling to stand up.

The doctor stands too, much more gracefully than TK, and gets the door for him. “It’s okay. I’ll see you on Friday, TK, alright?”

He mumbles an affirmative then steps out of the office, taken aback for a moment by the bustle and noise in the corridor. It’s strange to witness it now, to see all these people who don’t know him from Adam going about their lives, while his has, in the span of thirty minutes, completely crumbled.

TK takes a deep breath (and how many of those does he have left?) and joins the flow.

*

He’s home.

That’s… He doesn’t remember it. He must have unlocked the front door because the keys are in his hand and he’s standing in the entryway, but TK has no idea how he managed to get from the doctor’s office to here.

He made good time though, judging by the clock on the wall.

Small victories.

With heavy steps, TK walks to the sofa, easing himself down and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. It still doesn’t feel real that there's this—this thing inside him, growing and mutating and killing him. He’s not sure when it finally will.

Maybe in a few months, when his skin is sagging off his bones and his hair is gone and even the very act of breathing is a challenge.

Or maybe in a few hours, when Carlos comes home and TK has to break the news. TK can picture his face now, the way his ever-present smile will crack and break, the shock and hurt and grief that will take its place.

He thinks he understands his dad now.

TK closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, just for a moment, of everything that’s happened today.

Which, as it turns out, is a mistake, because that’s when he remembers the letter that came for them yesterday and the phone call they’re going to make after dinner.

The phone call they were going to make after dinner.

TK wants to scream at the unfairness of it all. They’ve been waiting for that moment for so long, the moment in which they found out they were finally cleared to adopt a kid. And now…

Gone.

Carlos is going to be crushed.

As if the universe is reacting to that last thought, the door suddenly swings open, marking Carlos’s return from his impromptu shift. For a moment, TK panics. He’s not ready, dammit, he needs more time to plan and to figure it all out, how he feels and what he’s going to say, but—

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter. He could have had the most detailed and well-thought out plan in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Because all it takes is one look at Carlos’s smile for TK to fall apart.

Carlos is by his side in an instant, gathering him in his arms and sliding to the floor with him when TK can no longer support himself on the couch. TK fists his hands in his husband’s shirt and cries into his neck, all the emotion that’s been slowly building all day exploding from him all at once.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Carlos shushes, which only makes TK cry harder, because how is he supposed to tell him that it’s not?

He shakes his head and clings onto him tighter, feeling Carlos do the same to him in return. TK’s always felt safe in his arms and it’s no different now; he thinks that, if he can just stay here forever, maybe things will turn out okay after all.

But the moment ends, as they tend to do. When TK’s sobs have run dry, Carlos carefully pulls back from him, his hands rising to cup his face and wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, so much worry in those damn eyes that it hurts. “Is it… Did the doctor say something? Are you okay?”

TK opens his mouth, but the words refuse to come out. All he manages is a wordless shake of the head, and even that turns Carlos’s expression into the picture of devastation. He can’t bear to look at it, so he wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist and leans into him again, resting his head on his chest.

Carlos holds him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll get through it,” he promises. “Whatever it takes.”

And it turns out that he does have a few more tears left in him; TK squeezes his eyes shut and breathes out shakily as a couple of lone drops fall down his cheeks. “We can’t,” he whispers hoarsely. Carlos stiffens and shifts as if to look TK in the eyes, but TK doesn’t let him. If he has to look at Carlos, he doesn’t think he’ll have the courage to say it. He hesitates a moment longer, a huge lump forming in his throat, but eventually he manages it.

“It’s cancer,” he chokes out. “Stage IV. Incurable. They think… I’ve got six months.”

It’s like time stops.

They’re both motionless on the floor of their front room, neither saying anything, barely breathing as the weight of it settles between them.

TK doesn’t know how long it lasts for, but suddenly Carlos sobs and grips onto him with a bruising strength. Carlos’s body heaves and shakes with the force of his cries, and it’s TK’s turn to hold him as tears drip down Carlos’s cheeks into his hair.

And, in that moment, it becomes real.

[jackson--t]

Hi ! I hope you're doing well. I've had an idea for a one shot and though I could write it myself I don't think it could ever come out as beautiful as if you would write it so here it is.

I was thinking of Ivar and Heahmund as a couple. They haven't really had to spend too much time away from each other because whenever ine traveled with work the other would come along so maybe this time Ivar has to go alone because it's urgent and Heahmund can't come along cause he's stuck at work and unable to take a few days off. I was thinking Ivar would be so homesick. Like unable to sleep and stuff. And though he would have had to spend around a week away he won't be able to stay away for so long and return 3 days later and surprises Heahmund and they cuddle q lot and Ivar barely let's Heahmund go anywhere because he's touch starved.

You don't have to write it. It's just an idea but if you fancy it and want to I would feel honored to have my idea written by you and also very happy. Thank you ! Love ya!

Hello my dear, and I feel so honored that you want me to write this idea of yours! ❤️ As I already told you, it was a huge pleasure for me as I can identify myself with that situation very well, and I really hope that you like what I wrote and it turned maybe a little bit out the way you wanted it. Thank you so much! ❤️

Three days

Words: ~ 3k.

It's all pure fluff and stuff, and a bit of missing, obviously. xD

Ivar clenched his hand lightly around Heahmund's; he had been afraid, damned afraid of this day that was coming anyway - and it had just been there far too quickly, far too fleetingly, and most of all - far too hard.

He could feel Heahmund squeezing his hand a little tighter as well, but the big man only smiled slightly, while Ivar could already feel the tears in his eyes.

"I can't do that, no. I'd rather be out of a job." he snarled tensely, while Heahmund let out a soft snort. They had arrived at the final departure lounge, where he would soon be leaving - and where Ivar would have to say a final goodbye to Heahmund.

They had been a couple for maybe two years, had been through many ups and downs together - but they had never been apart for long. The longest they had spent without each other was one day. And that was only because Ivar had been far too offended at the time and had missed his bus when he had changed his mind after all. In that night, Ivar had sworn to himself that he would never again spend even one night apart from Heahmund - which had generally worked out well. When one of the two had to travel, they had taken each other with them. One had taken time off, the other was working; in this way they had been able to discover many places together. But this time it had been different. Since Heahmund had an important job to do, he couldn't take time off - just when Ivar had to fly away for a week for his job.

It was the first time Ivar had seriously considered just quitting; it was one thing to go to work and have your partner back in bed with you in the evening; but something completely different to have to go to sleep without him. The thought of it sent deep goosebumps down Ivar's body, and he sighed deeply.

"Honey, you're hurting me. It's only a week.", Heahmund said in a relaxed manner, trying to lightly release his hand from the clamp-like grip of Ivar's warm fingers; however, Ivar shook his head. Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself; but his eyes betrayed him. It wasn't really a tear that ran lightly from the corner of his eye, but Heahmund saw it anyway.

He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue and wrapped his arms tightly around the middle of Ivar's body; Ivar buried his face deep in Heahmund's black jacket, breathing in deeply the smell of his boyfriend. God, how he would miss him. Already his body felt drained, and his heart area became terribly heavy.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Heahmund. What are you going to do without me? Who's going to cook for you? And don't you dare meet anyone else.", Ivar mumbled dully into Heahmund's jacket, and he wrapped his arms tighter around Heahmund as he laughed softly and melodically.

"Babe, I'm not seeing anyone else. And besides, I'll probably survive a week without you! What are delivery services for, huh?" Heahmund replied, lifting Ivar's chin with a slight movement; Ivar blinked.

"Still. I should stay here." he grumbled, and Heahmund laughed softly.

"I have something for you that will comfort you a little. I know you always claim you don't like these things and are too old for them - but you always hug your bear very fiercely for that when I come home at night. That's why...", Heahmund said and pulled something out of his jacket pocket; it was a small stuffed animal, a small, soft hyena, wearing a dark blue ribbon around its neck. Ivar had to swallow; he took the stuffed animal carefully in his hands and then blinked very gently up at Heahmund, who looked at him with a smile.

"A hyena! You remember I was particularly fond of those?" he murmured softly, and Heahmund nodded as his hand went lightly to the back of Ivar's neck.

"Sure. You took about 200 pictures, and you kept stressing how much you'd like one yourself, and that you'd keep it in the bedroom."

"In the bathroom, so it could have a tub!"

"Of course!" Heahmund snorted in amusement; through the hall came the distinct and final call for Ivar's Gate, and the voice again sent a terrible shiver down Ivar's spine. He pressed himself as tightly as he could against Heahmund and sobbed slightly; Heahmund's warm fingers stroked through his hair, which for once he had not braided today, and which was just wildly disheveled. Who else was he going to make himself pretty for when his future husband wasn't around?

"Shhht, it's going to be okay, Ivar. You have to go now.", Heahmund said softly; Ivar knew it was time, but he found it extremely difficult to let go of the warm and familiar body and the familiar, beloved smell.

They kissed firmly and as long as they could; before Heahmund softly broke the kiss and smiled at Ivar once more. "You call me as soon as you land, okay? And no cell phone on the plane!" he said with a wink, and Ivar rolled his eyes.

He wiped away the last of his tears and hugged the hyena tightly before shuffling towards his gate with infinitely heavy feet. He looked after Heahmund for as long as he could - and when his dearly beloved guy disappeared behind him, the whole feeling in his body became really crushing. He tried to calm himself down the aisles to the plane and not show his tears - which worked well as long as he kept chewing his lower lip and answering all questions from stewardesses and staff only with a dull nod.

But it wasn't until he was sitting in his seat on the plane that all his emotions suddenly came rushing up - especially when he put the little hyena down on his lap and squeezed it tightly. He knew it was Heahmund's way of letting him know he was there - but the takeoff still sucked. Normally, during airplane takeoffs, Ivar always held Heahmund's hand, and always huddled slightly against Heahmund's shoulder out of fear; now that he wasn't there, the plane takeoff was a thousand times worse for Ivar.

The flight itself went by quickly, it was also only two hours. But the first day in his seminar from work was not great. Ivar found it awful to keep in touch with Heahmund only through his cell phone. Every two minutes he glanced at the screen, waiting to receive another heart, or an "I love you, I miss you." He knew Heahmund was working, too - but his inner, offended side most wanted Heahmund to text him every second.

The distraction of the seminar made the day go by quickly, even though Ivar shut down easily; he barely listened, and when he fell into his bed at night, all the fierce violence of missing him came crashing down. It took him a few seconds, a few seconds and his little hyena, before he could breathe reasonably again and pull out his cell phone to call Heahmund.

"Hey, little guy. Are you okay?" Heahmund said; he sounded tired and exhausted, but tears immediately started to flow on Ivar's face.

"I want to go home, I don't feel like it anymore! I'm homesick as hell, and I already know I can't sleep in this shitty bed! Heahmund, come get me. You can work from here too!" Ivar grumbled, sniffling as Heahmund laughed softly.

"Babe, you know I can't do that. I've really had a lot of conversations today, and I'm really, really knackered. I'm about to go to sleep too."

"You sound really tired too. But still... How am I supposed to sleep without you?" Ivar whined softly as Heahmund tossed and turned, Ivar heard it clearly. "And you're not supposed to sleep on the couch, Heahmund."

"I'm about to go to bed. Are you stalking me?"

"No, but I know our couch." Ivar said, smiling slightly; although tears were running slightly from his eyes, he could not hide the smile. He hugged the hyena a little more to his chest, imagining for a moment that it was Heahmund's warm hand; it helped a little.

"You are unique, at least your ears are. Which, after all, only hear what they want to hear. I miss you, Ivar."

Ivar swallowed hard. "I miss you too."

"We can talk on the phone with video tomorrow, I'm really too tired today."

"All right. Sleep well, and don't touch yourself too much! I want the full load when I get back.", Ivar grinned slightly, and he heard Heahmund snort exactly: it was the snort that Ivar knew quite well he was imagining him naked, with Ivar lying underneath him, moaning and whimpering.

"Of course. The same goes for you. I want you trembling and fucking starved with me," Heahmund replied; "...I love you. If there's anything, get in touch!"

"I love you, too. Will do."

As soon as he hung up, Ivar's heart grew heavy again, terribly heavy. He felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest, almost crushing him. It was such a sickening feeling to be lying alone in this bed, so many miles from Heahmund.

"You're 20, you can do it," Ivar whispered to himself as he tucked himself in and snuggled comfortably. But no matter what he did, he couldn't sleep.

His thoughts kept circling around Heahmund, and his body and soul missed the man next to him just terribly. Ivar had the feeling that his body was in severe withdrawal, that he simply needed Heahmund to function at all. He remembered the smell, the so familiar smell of Heahmund's neck and chin as they lay over Ivar's head, taking him in; he remembered his fingers always sliding over Heahmund's chest, sometimes on shaved, smooth, skin, sometimes on something hairier... but either way, it was the most wonderful feeling in the world to sleep in Heahmund's warm embrace.

For as long as Ivar could remember, he had always slept with his head on Heahmund's chest or shoulder; he couldn't think of an evening when they hadn't somehow fallen asleep without physical contact. Even on the hottest summer nights, Ivar would always curl up against Heahmund's back like a little hedgehog, holding at least his one arm, no matter how much Heahmund grumbled in his half-sleep.

It was simply his means of falling asleep, of waking up, of feeling good all around. But now, so alone in this hotel room, he felt completely lost and abandoned. The pain after Heahmund's closeness was so gravely real that Ivar found it difficult to breathe normally at all; again and again small sobs interrupted his breathing, and he pressed the hyena very tightly against him; unfortunately, it no longer bore any traces of Heahmund's scent, and only now did Ivar remember that he had forgotten to pack a worn shirt of Heahmund's - and it was so bad for him in those seconds that he burst into sheer tears, which only subsided when he eventually fell asleep from exhaustion.

The next two days were an absolute nightmare for Ivar. He didn't want to and couldn't eat anything, hardly felt like doing anything with the others even though the weather was wonderful - and he cried so terribly after every phone call with Heahmund that he always had to calm down before he could do anything else.

This feeling didn't go away either, and it got worse. This terrible feeling that a very primary part of him was missing, that his better and more beautiful half was simply missing. This missing squeezed all the nice feelings out of him and took over almost his entire daily life - so much so, that on the third day he was fed up and pretended to be sick so he could fly home.

He didn't tell Heahmund about all the action, because he would have just said, "You can't do that," and put on his dad look, along with his glasses, which he needed to work. But Ivar didn't care what he would think; he wrote to a work colleague of Heahmund's beforehand and asked her if he was in the office - when she answered in the affirmative, Ivar decided that he would wait for him at home as a surprise.

It was like a warm hug when Ivar unlocked the door to their apartment and smelled the scent of Heahmund still in the air; his heart was still burning, and he could hardly breathe with excitement - but finally he was home again.

Ivar felt a little bad that he had lasted such a short time and had only managed three days without Heahmund. But he knew that he would not have been able to stand it any other way, and no matter what Heahmund would say - he would just be glad to hold the man in his arms again. It would take away all the pain, and finally the endless burdensome pressure from his chest.

As he wandered through the apartment and looked around, he discovered slight chaos in some corners; but he was not angry. Rather, he smiled from the bottom of his heart, because he saw exactly that Heahmund seemed to need him in everyday life as much as Ivar needed him. As he was already unpacking his suitcase in the bedroom, he discovered the photo album of all their travels on Heahmund's bedside table; it was still open, and Ivar carefully took the book in his hands.

It showed a page with four pictures where they had been together in Egypt; there were pyramids in the background, and Ivar kissed Heahmund on the cheek while the older man grabbed his butt. It was a wonderful photo, and Ivar had to hold back his tears hard. It touched him more than anything that Heahmund had apparently looked at these pictures, even though he had seemed so tough on the phone. It was a moment that was so precious to Ivar - even though it was just a small, hidden detail in their otherwise great relationship.

As the evening approached, Ivar had almost prepared Heahmund's favorite meal; he had placed the little hyena in the hallway so that it would be the first thing the older man would see when he came into the apartment. And indeed - after a little while Ivar heard the lock of the door open, and someone standing in the hallway, puzzled. For a moment, nothing was heard - Ivar bit his lower lip in gleeful excitement before quietly sneaking around the corner of the hallway. He lurked around the corner and saw Heahmund perplexedly picking up the hyena and eyeing it in his hand, and once he had his eyes on this beautiful man, Ivar could wait no longer.

He jumped around the corner and threw himself into Heahmund's arms; the older man was a little startled, but he caught Ivar effortlessly and immediately took him deep and tight in his arms. He even lifted him up slightly with the embrace, and Ivar smiled broadly as Heahmund kissed him breathlessly, demanding.

"Oh fuck, I missed you so much, my little burglar." he murmured against Ivar's cheek, and Ivar took his face in both hands and kissed him again, firmly and intimately. Although tears were running down his cheek, he finally let go of that terribly heavy feeling of missing him, and he could finally breathe freely again. His arms wrapped around Heahmund's neck as tightly as he could, and the older man held him effortlessly in his strong arms.

"I escaped." Ivar admitted dryly, and Heahmund laughed softly.

"How did you do that again, huh?"

"I said I was too sick, and I just flew. Heahmund, I couldn't go on without you, I'm so damn starved and it hurt so much and... oh, the food!", Ivar groaned and pressed one last kiss on Heahmund before breaking free from the hug and running to the kitchen.

They spent a wonderful dinner together, and Ivar talked an incredible amount, though he didn't actually catch that much; but he was immensely satisfied when he was finally able to lie down in Heahmund's arms in the evening, and the older man pulled him into an intimate embrace on the sofa.

Ivar inhaled the smell of Heahmund deeply and firmly and swore to himself that he would never let him go - at most when he had to go to the bathroom. But that was it. Far too much had he missed the pressure of strong arms around him, and didn't want to be left alone for another minute.

When Heahmund wanted to get something to snack on from the kitchen, Ivar grumbled; but he clung with his arms around Heahmund's broad shoulders and let himself be carried like a little monkey all the way to the kitchen, where Heahmund finally had to laugh.

"What are you doing, huh? Are you my little spider monkey again?" he said, amused, and pushed Ivar onto the kitchen table; Ivar chuckled lightly and wrapped his arms around Heahmund again, even though he actually wanted to go to the freezer to get some ice cream. But Ivar kept a tight grip on him, and additionally clamped his legs around Heahmund's hips.

The big man raised an eyebrow, slightly enraptured, and leaned down to Ivar; they kissed intimately, and Ivar felt Heahmund's warm hands slide under his shirt with a slight pleasant hum.

"Are you a little starved?" he murmured softly, and slowly began kissing Ivar's sensitive right side of his neck; a thousand butterflies raced through Ivar's body, and he opened his full lips slightly to let out a soft moan.

"Yes - starved for touch. After all, we have three days to make up, my big guy."

Heahmund's eyebrow rose again in rapture, and not a second passed before the two strong arms had Ivar firmly in their grasp once more, and they were kissing fiercely. And even as Heahmund pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, he knew for sure that he never wanted to be without this man for even one more day. Fuck the job - he didn't need money.

He just needed the full love and absolute closeness of this incredible man with him, forever.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

@youbloodymadgenius @jadelynlace @punkrocknpearls (Uh, I don't remember if it was you who wanted to be tagged in stuff like this? xD Otherwise, I'm so sorry! <3)

[aonogifreactions]

Flower crown headcanons nobody asked for

a/n: hoooooo boy i went crazy with tHIS ONE JSDFGLSO i need help,, hc under the cut cus ITS LONG JFDOS bYE || beta read by my bff again ♡♡

✰ Characters: Rin, Yukio, Mephisto, Amaimon.

✰ Words: 1,4k

Rin:

He’s so fucking excited to do this and a bit nervous cus he probably hasn’t done that before.

first of all, he’s bewildered by the place you have taken him to. He’s never seen a bigger field full of flowers. He even feels bad for placing a blanket on the ground, thinking he’s probably gonna ruin some of them.

The atmosphere, the scenery is just too much for him- it feels so magical, surreal almost. Light blue sky with white, fluffy clouds, a huge field of flowers and his s/o... he swears he’s hallucinating.

He gets kinda confused when he gets some flowers on his lap. At first, he fiddles with the ends of the flowers, tries to make a knot and eventually sighs.

you giggle at him and show him the proper way of making a flower crown; honestly, he just stares so dumbfoundedly at it? it’s so damn cute and easy to do? how???????

and somehow he messed up?????

he doesn’t expect you putting that flower crown on his head though; that tiny daisies look so good on him, he almost looks like a real angel. he lowers his head looking on the ground and smiles softly, taking your hand in his; then, he chuckles.

“I... I really don’t deserve you, [Y/N]” he says quietly and kisses you on your lips softly; you can feel him smiling as he kisses you.

“Okay, [Y/N]! It’s my turn! I wanna make you a bomb flower crown!” His energy is back and he looks at you, grinning; you now notice his tiny blush. Not wasting any more time, you guide him a little bit and eventually, he made you a pretty flower crown with navy colored flowers.

He puts it gently on your head, smiling, “You look like a princess now. Honestly.. you are one to me.”

Yukio:

he’s honestly, impressed. similar to Rin, but he doesn’t show it as much. You can see his excitement a little bit though, the way he just looks around with a tiny smile is.. really refreshing.

he finds a nice spot under a tall tree, where he also places a blanket and sits down with you. None of you say anything, meanwhile he just.. takes in that beautiful view that’s in front of his eyes. He’s finally free and happy, plus, you’ve been with him all that time- He just feels so happy he might cry.

You wake him up from his trance by gently tapping him on the shoulder; he blinks at you, smiles, and says softly, “well... we’ve come here for a reason. Let’s do this.”

He’d probably looked up how to make flower crowns before he left, but he hasn’t actually tried it out, so now he finally has a chance.

acts like he doesn’t know how to do it, so he asks if you could explain it to him. meanwhile, you’re busy talking, he makes his own flower crown for you, nodding every time you ask him if he understood what you said.

for a first try, his flower crown looks very good - sure, it has some faults here and there, but he tried his best. he used red and white flowers and overall, it’s pretty impressive.

you look at his lap where the flower crown sits and confusion slightly takes over your face, “h-how did you... how did you manage to do it so well for the first time?!”

he laughs faintly, watching you; his gaze falls onto the flower crown as well.

“I put all my love for you into it, I guess” he murmurs to himself, hoping you didn’t catch that. He then put his crown onto your head and observes you blushing madly.

There’s something heavy in his chest, but in a positive way. He looks at you with pure adoration and love in his eyes, and then realizes... that it’s the first time in his life, when he feels loved and genuinely loves someone else.

Mephisto:

he doesn’t know how you managed to actually convince him to come, but hey, he’s here already and he’s gonna enjoy his time with you.

he loves seeing you pick flowers the most, actually; the way you just look so peaceful and happy... makes him feel e m o t I o n s.

although he’s probably seen such beautiful places already, it’s definitely a memory worth remembering; it’s also a moment when he can forget about his “worries” for a bit.

he’s been a long time on this world, thus he probably made and remembers how to make a flower crown; he pretends he doesn’t know how to do one though - he waits until you start explaining, then he’s just watching your delicate hands working on a flower crown; plus, your soothing voice makes him relaxed.

he’s amused on how silly that activity is, yet another part of him really likes this experience.

once you’re done with your flower crown, you stand up and hold it gently in your hands. He watches you and squints his eyes a little bit, trying to figure out what’s on your mind.

“Samael... The king of time,” you say calmly, your eyes wandering to Mephisto’s now smirking face as you addressed him with his real name, “But what kind of king would you be if you didn't wear the crown?”

he decides to play along and gets on one knee, lowering his head to make it easier for you to place flowers on his head.

“That’s right, darling. I’d love to get one.” he answers with his eyes closed. just as he feels the weight of the flower crown on his head, he gets up and twirls you around; he stops when your back is pressed to his chest. his hands then sneak around your waist as he whispers into your ear, “Now I am surely a king... but the king needs his queen, doesn’t he?”

Amaimon:

straight up says he doesn’t wanna go and that he can grow you flowers himself if you really wanna make that flower crowns so badly.

after 2 painful hours of begging him, he eventually agreed, but on one condition - you will have to make him food in a big, picnic basket. you couldn’t trick him though, since he promised to watch you make the food.

he insists he knows better transportation to the place instead of driving or walking, which is jumping from a tree to tree like a maniac for 15 minutes straight. you hold the basket for the dear life and pray he doesn’t drop you (spoiler: he won’t).

when you two arrive at the place, Amaimon slowly places you on the ground, letting you regain your balance. he then drags you by your hand to a random spot on the field and sits down, rummaging through the basket while you pick some flowers.

when you come back, half of the food is already gone and he looks at you with his usual, monotone expression. after a few minutes of silence, surprisingly, he’s the one to break it, saying, “mmm. those flowers are pretty boring, if you ask me.”

you pout at him, murmuring to yourself that you like the simplicity anyway. he hums in response, placing the pads of his fingers against the ground. suddenly, roots sprout near his hand, creating a wall full of different kinds of flowers - mostly colorful roses and the ones that are rare and in different parts of the world.

he cuts off some of them using his sharp nails, removes thorns and uses vines to tie them up together. you’re honestly speechless, considering that Amaimon isn’t the one that looks like a flower crown master (but he’s the king of earth... isn’t he?).

once he’s done, he looks at you, and then at the flower crown; he hesitates a little bit, thinking if he should add something more. he shakes his head, and with his still bored expression, carefully places his hard work on your head.

you blush, feeling a little ashamed of your own, plain flower crown. Amaimon however, snatches it from your hand and places it on his own head, saying, “mm, you look nice with that thing on your head. it’s kinda cute. now, make one for Behemoth. He seems like he wants one.” Behemot appears out of nowhere from behind a tree and sits down patiently, waiting for his very own flower crown.

the twins + meph and amai’s icons aren’t made by me! credit to the author! :3 headcanons have been written by me,,, just in case xD

[twstwonderlandstuff]

Octo Love! (Reader x Azul!)

Original song

My cover 

In which [Name] gets a little too tired and goes on a sporadic singing journey.

It always feels like you’ve exhausted yourself to the max limit. Every day, you trudge back to Ramshackle, muscles and back sore from the work Crowley forces upon you, that damned bird. Every day, you collapse into the soft cushions in Ramshackle and fall asleep in 3 seconds, and after an hour-long ‘nap’, you wake up to see Grim sprawled on top of you, snoozing away (you’re always grateful for the ghosts you take their time to spread a blanket on top of both of you). 

But today… today was different. 

No, you’re still exhausted (come ON now, this is school and when does one catch a break from school?), eyebags visible, but this time, you don’t get the chance to go to Ramshackle. 

No-no-no. See, you’re broke. Very, very, broke, and you have to work, and what better place to get models, than working in Monstro Lounge, right?

Well, it depends. 

On good days, working there can be its sort of fun, with Floyd’s unstable mood swings, the business of the place, Azul (with his mafia-like nature) running the place to perfection, and Jade’s butler act, but on other days were simply dealing with that is too much. 

You lose all sense of logic and fear- throw that shit out of the window, dawg, it doesn’t matter.

Say it with me, loud in clear! LOGIC AND FEAR DOESN’T MATTER! Again! LOGIC AND FEAR-

“Shrimpy~?” Floyd asks, and you gasp in alarm, gripping onto whatever you were doing. What were you doing?

Ah, yes, cleaning Monstro Lounge after dark, right, right…

“Yo, Floyd…” You give him a weak grin, tiredly pushing the mop against the tiles. “I’m so… sleepy.”

“But you’re always sleepy.” Floyd points out, lighting up. “Ah, wait here, Shrimpy. I got something for you~” He quickly leaves, leaving you looking like a deer in spotlights. 

“Ehh… ah, whatever…” You mumble, going back to your duties. Oh god, the floor’s beginning to look like something entirely different….

“[Name]? Are you alright?” This time it’s Jade asking, his calm and soothing voice forcing you to rub out the sleepiness from your eyes. You know he’s not that concerned, but the verbalization is appreciated. 

“No, not really. Fuck, I just want-” You don’t get the chance to finish your complaint as Floyd bursts in, holding a sheet of music and a mic in hand. 

“Shrimpy~! You know when you sang that weird song?” Your eyes snap open for the first time, and your cheeks redden. Ahh…

It’s a song from your middle-school years, how embarrassing. You were talking with Floyd- well, to be precise, he was spinning and squeezing you about- and as he was spinning you, you began to hum a little tune. The eel picked up on it, and insistently asked what you were singing about, so you gave him the entire rundown of the song.

He giggled, saying how weird it sounded, but his grin contradicted his statement and before you could realize it, he dropped you on the ground and ran away, doing who knows what- and it seems that he’s…

“You… wrote the entire note-chorus- thing?! Based on what I said?!” You shout, skimming over the notes he’s written down messily. 

“Floyd, this is amazing, holy shit!” You gasp in amazement. “That’s so cool!”

“Hehe, sea otter helped me out! Sea otter’s too nice, it’s kinda annoying.” Floyd pouts, going to sling his arm around Jade. “Whatcha think, Ja-de?”

The twin smoothly takes the paper out of your hands and reads the notes, looking amazed. “Ah.. this truly is spectacular, Floyd. Good job.” He pats Floyd on the head, and Floyd grins at the praise. 

“What’s going on here?” Ah, the man of the hour, the head of the fish mafia himself, Azul Ashengrotto.

You might or might not harbor a tiny, insignificant crush on him. No, you don’t have secret doodles of him and you in the corners of your notebook, of course not! That very notion revokes the idea of logic!

But then again, didn’t you say ‘FUCK LOGIC!’ just a while ago? You did, didn’t you?

…

Well, maybe the crush is bigger than that. There might be a chance that it’s 0.1% bigger than that.

…

No, you most definitely harbor an obvious crush on the silver-haired bloke, and EVERYONE KNOWS, except the bloke himself!

“A-Azul, hey!” He waves you aside, used to the way you stutter when you speak to him.

 “Floyd, I believe I told you to check on [Name], not needlessly wave around a piece of paper,” Azul says, adjusting his glasses.

“But A~zul~ take a look! I, Sea Otter, and Shrimpy made this, you know! And I don’t wanna work anymore! I wanna play the piano~” Without giving Azul a chance to protest, he grabs you (and throws you over his back like a sack of potatoes) and the paper, and runs to the piano Monstro has, leaving Jade to deal with Azul. 

“Jade, set me down at once-” Azul complains as he’s handled similarly to you, looking undignified. 

“My apologies, Azul, but it wouldn’t do good to displease Floyd.” Jade chuckles.  “Besides, don’t you want [Name] to rest? It seems that you were quite worried about their health, fufu.”

Azul stiffens, a light blush adorning his ears. “I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, I must have misunderstood. My apologies.” Jade snickers, setting Azul down on one of the tables in Monstro Lounge, sitting next to him. 

You and Floyd are too far away to hear this conversation, with Floyd getting the piano up excitedly and handing you the mic. 

“Wait, are we going to play a concert? In the middle of the night?” You mutter, taking the mic dumbly. 

“Duh~ you’re pretty dim, Shrimpy!” Floyd snickers darkly, setting the music sheet in front of him and stretching. “What did Goldfish say…? Oh yeah, this spell!” 

After the spell was cast, the piano began to play a tune to what you’re familiar with. 

“Holy shit. It’s playing by itself?!” Floyd pays no heed to your words and began dancing. 

“Come on, Shrimpy, sing!” He encourages you, clearly having fun. 

Well, what’s the harm? You turn the mic on, and begin singing, moving your body for a bit.

“Ooo, we break the laws of attraction

Like you’re sent from above

Got a case of octo love”

Azul glares at the oddly fitting words but begins to slowly bop his head. Jade is smiling, stiffly dancing in his seat. 

“Ooo, we’re like a chemical reaction

Or a code you can’t debug

Got a case of octo love”

“She’s always turning to violence-” Floyd laughs particularly hard at this, and swings you around, leading you to giggle halfway through the song. 

“…’s so determined she’s timeless

And I’m so nervous I’m silent.”

Floyds leaves you be, and you pause in time with the music. 

“What if she finds out I’m lying?

What if she sends me home crying?

Why can’t I just be kawaii?”

“Isn’t that a term Idia-shii often uses…?” Azul mutters. Floyd comes closer to Jade and Azul, picking the latter up. 

“Wait wait wait-!” 

“Too late, Azul~” He plonks Azul, next to you, and you give him a grin. 

“Baby, baby, baby, you’re so fine-” You scream into the mic, clutching it like a madman. 

Mew mew kissy cutie, you’ll be mine-

Crushing, crushing, crushing, on AZUL-” 

The octopus freezes in shock, as you continue with the very, very fitting lyrics. Floyd’s going absolutely ham, doing some sort of ska dance with his twin as he laughs at your mistake. (RIP all the other members of Octavinelle). 

“Oh, did I say that out-”

No, did I say that out loud?!” You, being dramatic, clutches Azul’s hands and shake them, seemingly unaware of what you’ve said. 

The octopus face reddens almost immediately when you swing his arms as children do.

“Ooo, we break the laws of attraction

Like you’re sent from up above

Got a case of octo love”

The poor dorm leader would like to hide under his octopod forever now, thank you very much. 

“Ooo, we’re like an improper fraction

Hope this ship gets safe to shore

Though I’m quite unsure”

“Come on shrimpy, join us!” Floyd grabs you and Azul, and together, the 4 of you began dancing in a circle as the Dance Break ensues, your and Azul’s hands holding each other. Azul just repeatedly wants to die of shame and embarrassment. 

“She’s always turning to violence

I’m always turning to science

She’s so determined she’s timeless 

And I’m so nervous I’m silent.”

You lot stop spinning, dizzy, and out of breath as Floyd takes the mic and sings into it, surprisingly melodious (well, maybe it’s not THAT much of a surprise. He IS from the sea, after all.)

“What if she finds out I’m lying?

What if she sends me home crying?

Why can’t I just be kawaii?

And then I’m like…”

Jade takes the microphone, seemingly knowing the lyrics, and sings into it, making you cheer as you press close to him. 

“Baby, baby, baby, you’re so fine

Mew mew kissy cutie, you’ll be mine-”

You grab the mic back, spinning in place. 

Crushing, crushing, crushing on Azul-”

You point towards the dorm leader, who’s taken to sitting on the floor of Monstro Lounge and hiding most of his face with his hands, excluding his eyes, and come near him, getting your face a little too close to his liking. 

“And so I shout it out!” 

And so I shout it out loud!”

You grab Azul by the hand and drag him towards you, skillfully keeping him balanced. He can’t help but wonder, Where was this energy when you were working?

You began to do a sort of impromptu couple dance, your exhausted giggles and laughs slipping in and Azul sighs at the silliness of it all, but… he smiles genuinely. 

You look so plaintively happy here that he can’t help it, you know?

“Ooo, we’re like a warrior in action

Fit together like a glove-”

You shove the mic into his face, and he, in a low voice, murmurs. 

“Got a case of octo love…”

You gasp dramatically, looking like you didn’t notice him. 

“OOOOH MY GOD HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN STANDING THERE?!”

“I’ve been right here the whole time…” He mutters, a little confused. Is this part of the song, or something?

“Ok, now I want to die.” You say, deadpan. The twins, who were back to their own ska dance thing, grabs the mic from you and pulls you and Azul by the arms (again). The four of you began to sing in harmony (as harmonious as you can get, anyway). 

“Ooo, we break the laws of attraction-”

You eagerly grab the mic back.  “A duet will maybe do... cuz I invited Floyd and Jade too!”

“Hehe, of course, you did, Shrimpy~”

“Smooshed together like a bug!!”

“Got a case of Octo love~”

You let out a huge laugh, giggling and snickering as Jade sets you down, catching your breath. 

“That was… fun…! But now, I...holy shit… I’m tired…” You gasp in exhaustion, falling flat onto one of the couches and quickly began to fall asleep, but-

“Ne, Shrimpy?”

With the last bit of your strength, you open your eyes just a tiny bit. “Wha..?”

“D’ya realize what ya said?” Floyd’s grin is wide like he was about to tease the SHIT out of you or use you in some way. He flops on the floor and leans onto your leg. 

“The song, yeah?”

“Hihihi, Shrimpy~,” The twin says. “You’ll see tomorrow~ goodnight.” He says quietly, a quick change of mood. 

“Sleep tight.” Jade laughs, sitting down next to you and putting his head back. 

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Azul finishes, sitting a bit further away from the 3 of you. 

“G’night.” Not a second later, and you are asleep, breathing softly.

*

“Ne, ne, Azul~? Watcha think of Shrimpy’s confession?”

“Th-that wasn’t a confession! It was a slip of the tongue.”

“Eh. You’re still gonna deny that. That’s cowardly, Azul~ Even Shrimpy knows better than that.”

“I must agree. Honestly, to think that you were beaten to confessing. And most oddly, too.”

“I...um…”

*The Leech twins grin widely at Azul’s clamming up. 

“Hmm~?”

“J-just leave me be!”

*With a face as red as tomatoes, Azul leaves, assuming to hide in his octo pot. 

[Thanks v much for reading! This is a better version of what I put out yesterday because god damn, that was disgraceful.]