#Had fun with the design on his shirt as well :) Something of a premonition here hehe

[sysig]

For Requestober, Req.2

HP!Gaster with Nny clothes, not a specific fit, just that it's Nny's. I always wanted to see that sjsjdj

Day 4 - Perfect fit, barring taste

[james-fun-in-the-sunderland]

z. Zach ? Zach deadly premonition ?

hehe absolutely bc like what i said abt york where his characterization is just a bunch of headcanons stacked on top of each other in a trenchcoat, that but x100 bc zach gets like no time to develop and in dp2 when he gets more development time its like they forgot all the slim characterizations they gave him and just made him a worse copy of york but like anyway ANYWAY,

Send a character’s name to receive four different headcanons

Headcanon A:  realistic

This is going to be kind of 2 headcanons bc i just have so many headcanons for both york and zach.

Zach has a much more casual dress style than york, in fact hes really really satisfied with just a tee-shirt and jeans, hell even pajama pants can be fine to go out in for zach. This mostly is because hes used to how it was when he was a teen, him and york would go thrift shopping for clothes, mostly punk clothes. (And a small bit because he (and to a lesser extent york) just doesnt like how dress clothes feel (too tight :( york often doesnt wear his tie bc of this <3)) 

To add onto the thrifting headcanon, back when they first got into punk n punk music, they found a really cool punk as hell leather jacket at a local thrift store and bought it even though it was pretty big on them. (They were small in their early teens i think i headcanoned like 5′4?) a few years or so later they had a major growth spurt (launching them up to 6′2) and the jacket finally fit properly! Zach still has the jacket somewhere and can still wear it, even though its tight in some places.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Zach doesnt know how to play chess and absolutely refuses to learn. Its one of the only things that has made york outwardly frustrated at zach because york just doesnt understand that zach is doing it purposefully to make him mad, and well, it works :-) (Small bonus, im disregarding canon here bc dp2 makes me mad, he continues to refuse to learn chess even after york has left him even though theres no real reason to keep up the bit. He likes to think though one day he’ll meet up with york again and he can keep making him mad :-) )

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

I think for zach this section is much too easy, after all his whole childhood and everything :/ plus alot of interpretations of him, his character, and deeper examinations of him rely on him being tragic, thinking of an original sad headcanon is kind of hard so im just going for something ive only recently thought about and probably isnt as heart crushing and awful but at least its a little less touched upon.

Zach hates his scar, it was something that never really bothered him until he got full control of his body after york left and realized how ugly and still present it was. After all its a ever present physical reminder of his trauma, his responsibilities, and just all of the things he really wouldnt really want to remember. Its one of the main reasons he really avoids mirrors and imo probably has a small fear of them. Its that and also his white hair probably. The scar and the hair make him stick out horribly in a crowd and he just knows people talk about it behind his back. (Plus i have a bonus headcanon that goes against his canon design but zachs father had some white hairs even though he was pretty young because of the stress of his job, thus zach seeing his own white hair would likely remind him of his father and uh yeah bad times for zach :( )

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

this part is just going to be me hissing and growling at dp2 be prepared. Also gonna have multiples here.

Anyway so Zach doesnt care much for movies, thats yorks thing after all, while i do think he would watch movies and enjoy them (in part bc it makes him feel closer w york) i dont think he would particularly be at the same level as york is with them. I think personally Zach would be much more of a TV guy! Probably would be fine with TV edits of movies too (Gets rid of the bothersome blood n guts that probably bother him imo) 

Zach swears, like alot. I think he should drop way more f bombs than in dp2. He talks way more casually than york and just in general is more of a casual guy. I like thinking this bc i mean just the CONTRAST between his anime protag looking ass and his casual barely quirky at all demeanor is very funny and just fun in general. Also i think he would be a very outwardly nice guy <3 contrast to york whos kinda an outward asshole.

Final one but i think zach didnt really want to become an FBI agent, i think that was more yorks business, instead i think zach wanted to be someone involved in the music industry. In fact when he was a teen he really wanted to start a band and would write lyrics and little melodys, probably still does on occasion. Probably accidentally humming something he thought abt while on the job c:

[xiaomoxu]

MLQC CN Lucien (Xu Mo) Long Day Date Part 1 & 2

SPOILERS AHEAD!!

It's Xu Mo Birthday which has released on CN server. I'm doing translation for personal reason, so I'm sorry if there's some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) feel free for read it~ ^^

PART 1

At 4:30 in the morning, I dragged my heavy suitcase out of the customs gate of Heathrow Airport, and couldn't help but yawn.

There was a problem with the ticket before leaving, and I had to change the red-eye flight, but the plane was late.

Although I rest on the plane for a while, my upper and lower eyelids were still fighting constantly at this time.

MC: No... I have to buy a cup of coffee.

The coffee shop at the airport was very empty, and a blonde crew member was drinking coffee in the corner. I walked to the counter sleepily.

Male passersby: Miss, I'm sorry to bother you. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? You look tired.

MC: ...No, no need. I need to spend all the pounds I exchanged...

There was a moment of stagnation on the man's face, and then a familiar chuckle not far away.

MC: .....?!

I followed the laughter and captured the gentle and narrow eyes that I was looking forward to all the way.

Suddenly, I thought I was really dreaming, but the person who approached me step by step seemed extremely real.

MC: Xu.. Xu Mo?!

Xu Mo whispered something in the ear of the man who was talking to me. The expression on the man's face gradually became embarrassed, he turned his face to apologize hastily, and left in a hurry.

Xu Mo: Miss, can you buy me a cup of coffee with your pounds?

MC: You, why are you here...

Xu Mo: Come for coffee.

Xu Mo casually ordered the order to the clerk and said that it would be charged to my account.

I heard the clerk’s laughter, and my cheeks were hot.

MC: Don’t you have an academic conference? How come you run to the airport for coffee in the early morning?

As soon as I finished speaking, I suddenly realized that I accidentally missed my mouth.

Xu Mo seemed to be paying no attention, answering my question.

Xu Mo: This coffee is very good. Suddenly I wanted to drink, so I came over.

MC: ..what?

I took a sip of the coffee that the clerk handed me. It didn't seem to taste anything special.

Xu Mo: How? Is it a little special?

MC: When you say this, well, it seems that you have some taste.

The smile in the corner of Xu Mo's eyes was deeper, and there was a flash of arc in his eyes, which made me react suddenly.

MC: You lied to me again!

I don't know if it was because of his smile or the fresh caffeine that I took in, I instantly became sober. Looking closely at the face of the person in front of me, my heart moved.

MC: Did you guess that I will come, that's why

Xu Mo: Strictly speaking, it is not a guess, but a reasonable guess. As for the basis of the guess, there are at least three things.

MC: Three things?

Xu Mo: First, two weeks ago you asked my new teaching assistant about my schedule for this meeting in the UK.

MC: ....That Assistant actually betrayed me!

Xu Mo: Second, there was a problem with the ticket you booked earlier, and a notification email was sent to my mailbox.

MC: how is this possible?!

Xu Mo: According to the airline’s process design, I’m afraid you listed me as an emergency contact.

Xu Mo looked at me, his lips smiled even more, the color of his eyes was also a bit deeper, and I quickly argued.

MC: Because I don’t know anyone else in the UK...

Xu Mo: But when I received the email, I was very happy.

I suppressed my accelerated heartbeat, coughed, diverged and talked.

MC: So, what is the third basis?

Xu Mo: The 3rd basis.... Do you want to spend this day with me at the airport?

MC: Of course not! No, does this have anything to do with the third basis?

Xu Mo said, holding my hand on the suitcase, and his gentle eyes fell on me.

Xu Mo: Let's change the place, I can slowly tell you the third basis.

Xu Mo: Besides, you also have something to say to me, don't you?

PART 2

MC: Don't you have a meeting today?

The morning mist faintly enveloped the whole city, and I followed Xu Mo to an apartment that looked a bit historical, and couldn't help but ask in the elevator.

Xu Mo: The original arrangement was to visit the local scientific research room, but I took time off.

MC: Asking for leave? Are you sick?

I stretched out my hand nervously and touched his forehead. Xu Mo smiled lightly as he watched me, his eyes lowered a little.

The temperature under the palm was normal and the elevator bell rang. Xu Mo pulled my suitcase, held my palm with one hand, and squeezed it lightly.

Xu Mo: I asked for personal leave.

MC: Huh? What's the matter?

I was led by him and walked out, watching him turn around and smile at me.

Xu Mo: Very important things, I have to deal with them personally.

I looked at the hand clenched by him, my cheeks hot.

Xu Mo: We're here.

There is a fuzzy chalk mark on the house door in front of the room.

MC: What a coincidence! The number of this room is the same as the initials of your last name.

Xu Mo: ...It's a coincidence.

Xu Mo said that as he opened the door with the key, and what I saw were the large French windows and the tulle curtains raised by the wind.

The European-style furnishings in the house are simple and delicate, I can't help but admire

MC: Wow, this room is great! It feels like returning to my own home!

I turned around and found that Xu Mo was still at the door, seeming a little dazed, with a dull and unclear gaze falling on me.

Xu Mo: Why do you say... it's like returning to your own home?

MC: Huh? I, I can't explain it. Maybe the layout here is very special?

MC: A normal hotel will give people a feeling of alienation and leaving at any time...

MC: But this room looks very safe! It makes people feel like they can stay for a long time.

Xu Mo's eyes changed slightly, and his gentle smile quickly returned.

Xu Mo: Is that right?

I didn't think too much and urged Xu Mo to come in. While he was in the hallway to change his coat, I secretly dragged the suitcase to the kitchen.

MC: Can't be discovered so quickly...

I was about to open the suitcase secretly, but Xu Mo's voice came from behind.

Xu Mo: Don’t you take a break first? We still have a whole day. Don't be so hurry.

I turned around vigilantly, looked at the expression on his face, and wanted to see how much he had seen my plan, but failed to read it again.

If you want to keep confidential in front of this person, the requirements for IQ and psychological quality are really too high.

MC: You, you do something else first. Don't look at me all the time!

Xu Mo: What do you want me to do?

MC: Just take a shower, read a book, make a coffee, water the flowers.

MC: Anyway, what do you usually do alone at home, just leave me alone!

Xu Mo: Are you sure I can do the same as when I was at home alone?

MC: Yes! I have no problem!

Xu Moding watched me for a while, and as my eyes turned, a bad premonition flashed in my mind, but I didn't have time to think deeply.

Xu Mo: Okay. Then you... have fun yourself first.

Xu Mo's eyes slid across my suitcase and fell on my guilty face again, as if he chuckled slightly when he turned around.

I panicked. He must have guessed it, no, he has guessed it.

Even so, I waited for him to walk away before opening the box. I was relieved to see the tightly wrapped tools still lying peacefully in the box.

MC: Fortunately, hurry up and start work!

After half an hour, I hummed a song and looked to the kitchen with all kinds of sparkling baking tools ready, and opened the flour bag happily

When I celebrated Xu Mo’s birthday last year, I accidentally broke the pre-prepared cake. I have been sorrowing for a year.

I learned that Xu Mo will be attending an academic conference in the UK for his birthday this year.

I have a brainstorm and plan to refer to the farm to table model of European farms.

Bring all the tools and materials to Xu Mo's side, and make the cake on the spot. There will always be no problems, right?

MC: Um, where did you put the sugar packet just now? I can't fail to bring it...

I quickly searched and opened the cupboard, and found that some materials were originally stored here.

MC: Wow, it turned out to be rice! And tea!

There are not many ingredients, and the seasonings are one of the few. Foods made with these ingredients should be so weak that there is no taste.

MC: Wait a minute, this scent is...

The strong coffee aroma spreads under my nose, I can't help but shrug my nose and follow the aroma out of the kitchen, the next second I was stunned.

Xu Mo: Miss, would you like a cup of coffee?

Xu Mo seemed to have listened to what I said. He really took a shower, made coffee, watered flowers, and even brought a newspaper to his side...

His black shirt was loosely draped in a bathrobe, half lying on the lazy couch, relaxed and lazy.

The morning sun fell on the person in front of me through the French windows and gauze curtains that had just stunning me, making his contours appear softer.

It seemed that every thread on his body was plated with a faint layer of silver, and the slowly rolling water droplets on the spider plant and the heat of the hydrogenated coffee made his face softer.

This picture is a hundred times more stunning than what I saw when I entered the door just now.

MC: you..you...

I bit my tongue for a while, and my breathing became short.

Xu Mo: What's wrong? Isn't this your request? You made me feel like I was at home...

The corners of Xu Mo's lips were curved, and he gently lifted coffee cup on his hands.

Xu Mo: The coffee is ready, don't you plan to try it?

MC: I, I don’t mean that! If you are alone at home, you have to dress well, or you will catch a cold

Feeling my incoherent speech and the knowingly guilty smile on his face, I took the coffee from him in embarrassment and sat down on the other corner of the carpet.

The rich scent slipped into the stomach along the tip of the tongue, and the whole body was warmed up.

I swallowed the coffee silently, almost burying my head in the coffee cup.

It's all because of this person around, there are too many small conspiracies!

Xu Mo: Actually, I wouldn't be like this when I was alone.

Xu Mo's voice sounded from his side. I looked back at him, his face in the morning light seemed to have a different appeal, and I couldn't help but lean towards him.

Xu Mo: You seem... to be dripping here.

MC: Huh? Where?

I quickly looked down at my shirt and unconsciously moved closer to him.

Xu Mo: It's good now.

Xu Mo's fingers gently rubbed my cheeks, and the light in his eyes gradually settled down, and I realized that I had almost half leaned into his arms.

MC: You...

Xu Mo: Lied.

Xu Mo dropped his finger on my lips and made a silent gesture. The curvature of the corners of the lips was clear and moving.

I swallowed my words all at once, looked at his face close at hand, and heard my heart beating faster.

Xu Mo: You come to me today, There is nothing else to say to me?

MC: ....

I moved my lips slightly, and his fingers lightly rubbed my lips like nostalgia, and left.

MC: Xu Mo...

Xu Mo: Well, I'm listening.

MC: ...Happy Birthday.

Tickー

The crumbling drops of water on the spider plant finally landed softly, splashing a small beam of light in the sweet morning light.

-to be continued-

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Athena/Ash AU: Whiskey and Nightmares

Continuing the crack AU @whump-tr0pes and I are collabing on with her Honor Bound characters and my Daniel Michaelson characters... Isaac wakes up from a nightmare and heads downstairs for a drink... only to find Danny Michaelson is already up, for the same reason.

CW: Referenced past trauma and violence, some dehumanizing language (brief), and, uh... drunken makeouts and PG-13/Light R if you squint spice!

First Second Third

Isaac came out of sleep fighting for air through a what felt like a pinhole to breathe through, a panicked gasp lodged somewhere midway down his throat.

He was in an unfamiliar bed, too nice of a bed, too richly luxurious - the pillows were soft and there were so many. There were warm fuzzy blankets draped over him and the room smelled faintly like vanilla and tobacco. It was a space designed for absolute relaxation, and a faint breeze blew through from the open (but barred) window, rustling the long, semi-sheer drapes that ran to the floor.

Where the fuck was he?

For a second, as he moved to push himself up to sitting, Isaac was absolutely sure the door to the bedroom was locked, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

He felt off-balance, coming out of a nightmare where something… what had happened? He had a sense of deep-seated terror, a soft voice whispering you’re never leaving this room again in his ear. That was all he could remember.

It was already fading, the way that nightmares slip away and leave the aftermath and the fear without the context to explain it.

His heart was pounding in his chest like it’d try to break its way through, and he took a deep breath, blinking rapidly, trying to calm himself down.

Next to him, there was a soft movement in the bed, and Isaac jerked so hard to the side he rolled right off in a tangle of sheets wrapped around his ankles, hitting the ground with a muffled thump as he landed on a soft, plush rug that was nearly as thick as the bed itself.

He stared up, heart pounding, blinking as he realized the ceiling above his head was painted with a jungle scene. He was staring at a tiger, its jaws open wide over the back of some kind of lizard that clearly didn’t know it was there.

“Am I the lizard…?” Isaac asked, hearing his own voice hoarse and wavering.

He was being held here. The door was locked, he knew the door was locked. The Michaelsons were going to keep them here, Gray’s instincts had been wrong. They had been taken captive all over again but it was all of them this time, there was nothing he could do to save anyone.

Worse than that, he was locked in and there was someone else in the bed. He didn’t know how it had happened but he was locked in a bedroom with someone else, someone-

“Isaac…?” Sam’s voice slurred, bleary with sleep, and his head jerked over to stare as Sam shifted around to look back down at him from up on the bed. Their curly hair was an absolute mess, smashed flat on one side and nearly haloing their head on the other, and they rubbed at one eye, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You okay?”

“Uh…” Isaac took a deep, shaky breath, raking one hand back through his hair, looking around. “Y-Yeah, Sam, I’m fine. Just fell out of bed, I guess. I’ll just, uh…”

He had to see if the door was locked. He had to. There was still worry beating in the back of his mind, that they’d all been locked in like guests in some weird horror movie. It wasn’t an impossible thought, either.

The Michaelsons could just keep them here. Gray had taken a huge risk, agreeing to this to get through the territory safely, and what if this family couldn’t be trusted? What if their hatred for the Stormbecks wasn’t stronger than their greed? They could trade them back to Gavin’s family or… or worse, somehow, and he wasn’t sure what could be worse than what he’d already survived or what might be in store for the if they were dragged back, but…

What if the Michaelsons took one look at you and just knew that you’re so fucking entertaining to break?

“I’ll just go splash some water on my face,” Isaac said a little gruffly, getting to his feet, feeling an ache along his back. Phantom pains he was starting to get used to feeling, hints of fire along the places where the whip had come down. “Go back to sleep, Sam, I’m okay.”

Sam squinted at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

They looked like they wanted to argue, but exhaustion won out and they flopped back onto the bed. Sam wrapped themself up tightly in all the blankets until one side of the bed was absolutely devoid of even a single corner of the sheets.

"I'm going to want some of those back when I come back, you know," Isaac said, fighting a smile.

"Wish you th' best of luck takin’ ‘em," Sam muttered from deep within the little Sam burrito they had made.

Isaac sighed, good-naturedly, and padded barefoot to the door. He hesitated with his hand out, swallowing, just an inch from trying to open it. As long as he didn't, he wouldn't know for sure if it was locked or not, if he'd had a nightmare or a premonition.

It’s not going to open. You and Sam are locked in this room, with bars on the windows and a door you can’t get out of, and they’ll come and tell you that you’re never leaving alive.

He curved his fingers around the gilded handle and firmly pushed it down.

It’s not going to open, Isaac.

It opened easily, swinging in on silent hinges to show him the hallway. For a half-second he jumped at the sight of a man staring right at him… before he realized it was his own reflection. There was a large mirror with a gold frame hung on the wall opposite the door. He hadn't really noticed it earlier, but he was very aware of it now.

Isaac closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, and stood for just a second, listening. Someone was snoring loud enough to hear - he was pretty sure that was Gray - and he was also pretty sure he heard low voices coming from Ryan Michaelson's room, low soft male laughter followed up by a voice he knew.

Two voices he knew.

Well, that didn’t take long.

“I need a drink,” Isaac murmured, dragging a hand down his face. He could see the starry sky through the window next to the stairwell, moonlight shining in well enough to nearly light the dark hallway. He rolled his eyes upward, slowly looking at the ceiling above him, wondering if Gavin was asleep yet, or still whining to the wall about how small his queen-sized bed was.

How was it Ryan and Daniel Michaelson had been so polite and nice and Gavin Stormbeck was such a piece of whiny, sniveling shit?

Maybe Ryan and Danny’s parents don’t teach their children to cut people up for fun. Or to be better at pretending they don't, anyway.

He was thinking too much.

Isaac set his jaw, carefully blanked his mind, and made his way down the winding staircase, listening to the sounds of the house settling around him. This house was older than any place he’d seen still standing, evidence of the time before the syndicates - if you ignored the more newly-added bars on the windows and the fact that he was fairly certain the front door was bulletproof.

There was greenery everywhere, now that he thought about it. Plants on shelves and in corners, ivy growing up the outside of the house, a heavily wooded area out back that they had been warned to not go in without Nate or Ryan giving them explicit permission.

“... in case it gets shoot-y,” Isaac said to himself as he stepped onto the first floor, lips twisting with wry humour, stretching his arms up over his head.

"Is-... Is s-someone there?"

The voice was slightly wavering, a little worried. Isaac turned, still mid-stretch, to see Danny Michaelson, a nearly looming presence in the open doorway to the kitchen, peering out at him.  

"It's just me," Isaac said, opening his palms wide where they were held above his head, in a don't shoot gesture. "Uh. Isaac. I don't know why I thought you'd know who 'me' is in the dark…"

"No, I… I recognized your… hi." Danny hesitated, eyes dropping, and Isaac realized his shirt had ridden up to show a wide band of his stomach, criss-crossed with scarring from Gavin’s knife. He quickly dropped his arms, shirt falling back down to cover them up. "What, um… are you doing up?"

"Could, ah, ask you the same."

"Oh. Um." Danny ducked his head, smiling with an odd, shame-faced expression. His scars were nearly invisible in the blueish white moonlight coming through the windows, warm light from the kitchen making him nearly a silhouette. "Had a nightmare, thought drinking would, um, would help. You?"

"Yeah… same reason, same thought."

Danny blinked at him, then he laughed - it was a low, soft laugh, and Isaac had the distinct feeling that if he so much as acknowledged it, Danny would not laugh again. “Well, sit on the couch, then. I’ll get you… I’ll get you a glass.”

Isaac nodded and watched him duck back into the kitchen before he moved quietly over to the ‘formal family room’ or whatever Ryan had called it, looking around at the multiple couches that took up the seemingly cavernous space before he settled on a large sectional nearly wide enough to be a bed in and of itself, sitting down only to nearly sink into the cushions, letting out a soft breath.

Seeing Danny made his nightmare, and his certainty when he’d first woken up that they were locked in and never getting out, seem ridiculous, nearly insanely absurd. Gray had said Danny lived through something similar to Vera’s experience with Gavin’s father, that his captivity had lasted years. He had a feeling the shy, nervous redhead would never have been here if anything like that had been planned.

Granted, he could see Ryan Michaelson being just fine with it if it meant Sam would stick around… Isaac caught himself smiling again, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples with his fingers.

Danny came back out with a bottle in one hand and two whiskey glasses braced between his arm and his ribs.

“Why not hold them with your hand?” Isaac asked, blinking, as Danny came around the side of the couch and settled close - but not too close - to him.

“I don’t have the best grip with my, um, my hands any longer,” Danny said with a shrug, not quite looking at him. He set the glasses down on the coffee table before pouring them each a good three fingers of brown liquor with practiced expertise.

“You’re good at that,” Isaac said softly. “I always have to keep evening out the pour for what feels like minutes to get everyone the same amount.”

Danny looked up at him, considering, and then said softly, “I had to be good at it, for them.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Isaac felt his face burn, embarrassed that he’d manage to so thoroughly tapdance right into uncomfortable territory, but Danny just smiled at him and pushed his glass closer, quickly pulling his hand back before Isaac could reach out.

“No problem. You wouldn’t know.” Danny picked his own glass up, taking a long drink, and Isaac followed suit.

It was whiskey, hints of vanilla - what was it with the Michaelsons and vanilla? - and it went down so smoothly he could nearly drink it like water. He was drinking it like water, he realized only after a good third of it was already gone, and he’d barely even taken a breath in between drinks.

“You did it, too,” Danny said, his voice low enough that Isaac nearly missed it over the welcome warmth beginning to spread through his shoulders, relaxing muscles that felt like they never stopped being tense. When Isaac blinked at him, he pointed at the scar that ran over Isaac’s left forearm. “You were… held.”

“Um. Yeah.” Isaac found himself gulping even more, and made himself put the glass down on the table, nervously rubbing at the skin between thumb and forefinger with his other hand. “I was. Not for, uh, not for nearly as long as you, not by a longshot.”

“Pain is relative,” Danny said quickly, in the practiced cadence of someone who had tried to memorize the phrase. “It doesn’t, um, matter how long. What matters is that it happened. I, um, I thought so when I, I saw you…” His voice trailed off and he took another drink, and Isaac realized Danny was drinking pretty fast, too.

“Shit. So you can tell just from looking at me,” Isaac muttered, and Danny laughed again, surprising enough in the moment to make Isaac look back up at him. The warm blue eyes were sparkling with real humor, in a way he hadn’t seen before.

But then, Danny was drinking before Isaac ever came downstairs.

“No. I mean, um, yes. I can. And Nate can. When you’ve, um, been there… you can see it in each other, I think.” He gave Isaac a slightly nervous smile, and picked up the glass to hand it to him again. Isaac took it with a soft thanks and took another drink, wondering if Danny was trying to get him drunk, or if he was just trying to be nice.

Get you drunk and you wake up and then you really are locked in, and it was all part of some sadistic fucking game, just like Gavin-

“I know because I, um, I have them, too,” Danny said, and tapped with one finger the scars on the back of the hand that held his own glass. “Scars. This was, um, knives. Your stomach was knives?”

“How do you-”

“When you were stretching,” Danny said, shyly. “Not that I was looking. I just… saw them.”

“Oh.” Isaac felt his face redden again, and he shrugged, trying to look casual and uncaring about it, his eyes drifting over to the windows that ran along the front of the house. Barred, in a subtle way he hadn’t picked up on at first. This was a sweet, lovely little country house - and it was also a fortress. Even as he looked, he saw the shadow of one of the Michaelsons’ armed men move past, walking the grounds, armed to the teeth. “Yeah. That was knives.”

When he was Gavin’s favorite fucking entertainment. And now he had to cart him around and save his life, because he was supposed to be better than Gavin, even if he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t.

The two fell into not-quite-awkward silence, punctuated only by the sound of the bottle when Danny picked it back up and refilled both their glasses once they were empty. Isaac was watching more closely this time, and he could see a flicker of emptiness in Danny’s face when he did it, as though he were sliding somewhere back into himself, just for a fraction of a second, as he did something he had done in captivity.

It reminded Isaac uneasily of Vera - and made him wonder if it would remind any of the rest of the team of him.

“What was your nightmare?” Danny asked, looking up at him. It was weird, to sit next to such a tall man hunched over to make himself so small, and see him look up at you, with big eyes.

“What?” Isaac was feeling the whiskey, now - he could feel the flush of it in his face, warm under his skin, relaxed back into the couch now instead of sitting up straight and tense.

“Why you woke up. You said you had, um, nightmares, and wanted to drink. What was your nightmare?” Danny grinned at him, a flash of the kind of smile he’d given his brother and the other one - Nate - earlier. Less shy, now that he also had plenty of whiskey in him.

He was… kind of cute, Isaac thought, and carefully looked away before that thought got any further away from him or - in the most horrifying possibility - found its way out of his mouth. “Um. I just… I don’t really remember. I know I was dreaming that we were locked in, that you had, uh, decided to-”

“Keep you?” Danny tilted his head, a little hair falling over one eye. Isaac was just drunk enough to lean forward and push it back out of the way - but not drunk enough to miss the way Danny went very, very still, almost instantly, at the touch.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Isaac said, jerking his hand back like maybe he’d burned him. “Shit. Gray said you don’t like touch, that was part of our, uh, shit. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s not as bad when I’m drunk? It’s okay. You’re okay. You’ve, um, you’ve been there, too…” Danny trailed off. “That makes it easier. When someone has, um, has… been there, too.”

“Not like that,” Isaac said quickly. “I mean. Shit. I’m too drunk not to fuck this whole conversation up, Daniel.”

“Danny. My… not a lot of, um, people call me Daniel. I like Danny better. That’s okay, I’m drunk enough that this whole… conversation… is going pretty well from, um, my perspective.” Danny grinned at him again, and he found himself smiling back. “So you thought we were, um, going to keep you here?”

“Yeah. I mean. It’s just a bad dream, but we’ve been running from… so many fucking people. I think my brain just… doesn’t want to admit there’s anyone out there who doesn't have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh, we do.” Isaac felt a vague sense of alarm before Danny only shook his head and laughed again, sitting more upright. “Sorry. I just mean, we’re not doing this because we’re good people, my mother just wants to piss off the Stormbecks. They stole some, um, some stuff from her a long time ago, and she figures, why not? But we wouldn’t, uh, hold you.” Danny glanced away, over at the window outside. Looking at the driveway lined with trees gently swaying in the nighttime breeze. “We don’t… do that.”

“Well… good. I’m glad my nightmare was as ridiculous as it sounded. What was yours?”

“My nightmare?” Danny looked back at him, hesitating, and then just shrugged. “Same as always. That coming home was, um, a dream. They’re not dead, and I’m still… there. What happens in the dream is, um, different, but… that’s always what it’s about. This time I was being whipped again. They liked whipping me.”

Isaac took another drink, nodding as he let the flavor rest on his tongue, then swallowed. “I’ve been whipped, too. Does your back still hurt when you wake up?”

“Every fucking day,” Danny said dryly, and the both of them laughed together. “I mean every day. My hands, too, but my back’s the, um, the worst.” He shrugged, finishing his second drink and setting the glass a little too firmly down on the table, both of them wincing at the loud thunk. “Whoops. I’m glad you guys asked us for help.”

“You… are?” Isaac blinked, not entirely sure he hadn’t just drunk enough to start hearing things. “Why?”

Danny smiled but looked away at the same second, and Isaac knew that expression, and felt vaguely alarmed and sort of enthralled by it all at once. “It’s just… nice to meet other people who, um, who know. I mean. Other than Nate. But we talked about it, and he’s okay with it, he said…”

“You talked to Nate? About what?” Isaac’s voice was lower than he meant it to be, a little shaky. His face had never stopped being red, and it had to be the whiskey.

Danny looked at him, briefly, and then away. “You.”

“You talked to him… about… me?” Isaac’s voice caught, and he drank the rest of his whiskey way too fast, coughing as it went down the wrong way, leaning forward wondering how ridiculous it was to make it through everything he’d survived and then choke to death on goddamn whiskey. “Shit. Sorry, I just-”

He coughed again, harder this time, bent nearly in half with the effort.

“Are you, um, okay?” Danny patted him on the back, firmly, and with his eyes closed - still coughing - Isaac wondered if Danny had done that for anyone but Nate since he’d come back here from whatever it was he’d lived through. “Hey, I can, let me go get some water-”

“N-No, I’m fine.” Isaac cleared his throat, putting one hand up, taking a few deep breaths. “I’m fine, thanks, I’m okay. I’m-” He coughed once more, and finally sat back, only to find Danny leaning in closer than he had been before.

Either he was really drunk, or it just didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He looked up to meet Danny’s eyes, only a few inches away from his. “I’m okay,” He said, again, more softly. Nearly a whisper.

“I think you’re safe,” Danny said, quietly, without pulling back. “So I want to try something. Are you safe?”

“I don’t-... I don’t know what that means.”

Danny shook his head, and that bit of hair fell over his eyes again. “I mean, I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”

“Hurt you… One of us has about three dozen armed guards outside, Danny, and it’s not me.” He reached up and pushed the bit of hair back out of the way again, tucking it behind Danny’s ear. Danny went still - but this time, Isaac got that he wasn’t going still because he wanted it to stop. “Did you seriously talk to your boyfriend about-”

“Yes.” 

Danny cut him off with lips pressed to his, a kiss that surprised him with intensity, that he was answering with the same warmth before he even understood what had happened.

Danny’s rough, scarred hands were on either side of his face. His hands went up over Danny’s, not to pull them back, just laying over the pattern of scars, feeling the rough bumps under his palms. 

He could taste the whiskey they’d both been drinking, when he opened his mouth, when Danny pressed the kiss deeper. 

“Are you sure this isn’t going to, to fuck something up-”

“Me, maybe,” Danny whispered. “Or you. But not us, not me and Nate. Please, you can say no, but-”

“I don’t want to say no,” Isaac said, and groaned when Danny kissed the side of his neck, sliding his hands up into his hair, tangling his fingers around it. “I just-... haven’t, in a long time-”

“That’s okay, we don’t have to do-... I don’t think I, um, I can, anyway, we can just do this.”

“Oh, okay, just-... this is good, I think, this is good, to start.”

They were whispering, heads together, and Isaac wasn’t sure exactly how it happened but somehow a few minutes later he ended up on his back on the couch with Danny laying on top of him, their hands up under each other’s shirts, the other man’s tongue in his mouth, feeling his body light up in ways it hadn’t done in way too long.

The world was a sort of delightful drunken spin centered around the simple solid weight of Daniel Michaelson’s hips on his, the warmth of his ribs under Isaac’s hands, the odd rough coolness of Danny’s fingers sliding up his back as he arched into him, pressing over scars.

His own hands moved up Danny’s back, under the fabric of his heavy knit sleeping shirt, feeling along the scars as they kissed, the house shifting, creaking around them in the middle-of-the-night stillness. “Got whipped right there, too,” Isaac murmured into Danny’s jaw, licking at the scar there, the little dip of evidence of something darker than Isaac was prepared to name.

“We both did,” Danny whispered, voice and breath heavy, moving his hands to feel over the knife-marks on Isaac’s stomach, curving over his hips through the fabric of his pants. He rocked their hips together, to Isaac’s low moan. Then Danny smiled and pushed himself back and away, sitting slowly up with his weight still on Isaac’s hips. “Want to see?”

“Not, uh, exactly, b-... but your shirt off… yeah.”

“I asked as a, uh, to see if you wanted… to see my shirt off… I’m bad at this. Hold on.” Danny smiled shyly, pulling his shirt off over his head, and Isaac pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at him. Jesus, it had been a while - they’d been so busy running and fighting and living on pure adrenaline, he hadn’t even thought about doing anything like this…

Are you about to sleep with a syndicate son? After what the syndicates have done to your entire fucking life? Seriously?

Danny didn’t feel like a syndicate heir, though. Talking to him felt more like talking to one of them, one of the normal people the syndicates had crushed and brought to heel when they took over. Talking to Ryan felt like talking to a syndicate member, but… not Danny.

Danny shifted back and off of him, moving to turn around while still kneeling on the couch, and in the dim light of the single lamp in the living room and the moonlight coming through the windows, Isaac stared at a back absolutely coated in scars exactly like his own. He moved around and up onto his knees, pulling his own shirt off in silence.

“I, I know they’re bad,” Danny whispered, shoulders hunching forward. “I’m sorry, I can put my shirt back on-”

“Don’t.” He was drunk, and this probably wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but Isaac leaned forward and kissed Danny’s shoulder blade, hearing his breath hitch and smiling a little as he grazed his mouth over the scars, rough and silk-smooth at the same time. “I like, I like how you… look, I think.”

Danny laughed, a low soft sound, and turned around on the couch, grabbing at him again, and this time Isaac didn’t hesitate, the two of them kneeling together on the couch, wrapped in each other, and Isaac realized the vanilla-and-tobacco smell was Danny’s cologne.

“Christ, you’re good at kissing,” Isaac said, sucking a spot red on Danny’s neck until he was shivering and moving his hips again, almost helplessly, breathing in little gasps that Isaac wanted to hear more of, all night or potentially for-fucking-ever. 

“Y-you, um, you, too,” Danny murmured, sliding a hand over Isaac’s stomach, over the scars, and then slipping it underneath the waistband of his pants, fingers skimming lower and lower until Isaac dropped his forehead onto Danny’s shoulder and groaned, bucking into his hand.

“Jesus. Fuck. Yes, right there, Danny... ah, I want that-”

“Oh my god,” Isaac heard an all-too-familiar voice say. “What the f-”

THUNK.

“Ow! Jesus Christ that hurt!”

Danny and Isaac both jumped apart, turning to look over the back of the couch to where Gavin was sitting on his ass on the ground, rubbing at one side of his face, next to a doorframe.

“Gavin, what the fuck?” Isaac grabbed at his shirt, moving to pull it rapidly back on over his head, and saw Danny doing the same. He tried to ignore his disappointment - which was easy, since he was rapidly papering it over with anger. “Did you just walk into the fucking doorway?”

“I was surprised! I came down to get a glass of water, I didn’t expect to find you and this asshole fucking playing ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ at 2 in the morning!” Gavin pushed himself to his feet, glaring at Danny with real anger and something else, something even sharper, in his eyes.

“It’s, um, it’s my house,” Danny said, trying for firm, but his voice shook just a little, and Isaac stood, walking around the couch to stand between them without even thinking about it.

“Sure, it’s your house, but he’s-” Gavin cut off.

“If you were about to say what I think you were about to say,” Isaac said, voice low and dangerous, “Then you need to get your ass upstairs right. the fuck. now.”

“How would you know what I was going to say,” Gavin muttered, a pouting whine to his voice that stabbed into Isaac’s brain like a hundred icepicks. “I mean, with him? What, you going to thank him for letting us stay here flat on your back? I kind of get the other one, but this one? All he’s done is cook and clean like a fucking maid and he just follows the other guy around like a-... like a, a fucking…”

“Like a what, Gavin?” Isaac asked, his voice low and soft.

Danny had gone silent, but in the moment, Isaac didn’t notice.

“Like a fucking puppy or something!” Gavin half-shouted. “That’s what I was trying to say! He’s like a puppy!”

There was a strangled sound, and Isaac turned to see a look in Danny’s eyes that he’d seen before… in Vera. Wide, and distant, and terrified.

I am going to fucking murder Gavin Stormbeck one day, and right now I could happily bludgeon him to death with anything in this room.

“Gavin, go upstairs right now,” Isaac said quickly. “Right. Now. Get back in your room and don’t come out until everyone else is up.”

“What? Why?” Gavin blinked, looking at Danny directly for the first time. He swallowed hard, face going pale. “Oh, shit. I fucked him up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you dumbass. You did,” Isaac said, and it took real effort to keep his tone even. All the warmth from the whiskey had drained out of him, leaving him feeling coldly sober and furious - at the look on Daniel Michaelson’s face, at the interruption and the way his body was still lit at every nerve ending, at just fucking everything. “Get upstairs. Now. I’ll handle this, and maybe we don’t get our asses thrown to the fucking bounty hunters chasing us.”

Gavin muttered something that could have been the world’s lamest attempt at an apology and all but fled back up the stairs.

Isaac turned back to look at Daniel Michaelson and took a deep breath. “Okay, what do I do now?”

Danny looked up at him, eyes wide and frightened of something only he could see. “I’m sorry,” He said, voice shaking. “I’ll… I’ll be good, for y-you.”

Isaac felt dread like cold water run down his spine. “Hey, it’s okay,” He said, putting his hands up, palms out, then dropping them when Danny flinched back and put his own hands over his head protectively.

“I’ll be good,” Danny said, closing his eyes, steeling himself as if waiting for a blow. “I’ll, I’ll try h-harder, I’ll be good, I want to be good for y-you, Abraham…”

Isaac ran through everything he could think of to do, and finally he just stood there, feeling helpless. The only thing he could think of… “Shit. Okay. Stay here, uh, Danny. Just stay here, I’ll go get Nate, okay?”

He did not look forward to explaining the last few minutes of his life to Danny Michaelson’s boyfriend.

If they weren’t going to fuck us over before, there’s a distinct possibility they’ll do so now.

He went for the rooms at the back of the first floor, and felt more than a little embarrassed that at least part of him was upset that he probably wasn’t going to get to do any of that with Danny Michaelson again.

[httpsung]

A Series of Monsters

pairing: reader x jungkook x jimin x yoongi

genre: thriller, supernatural/mythological monsters! au

word count: 3,924

note: it’s been a while since I’ve worked on something new so my feelings are a bit mixed with posting this, feedback is greatly appreciated! Tagging @jungee

description: the beginning of all things unexplainable happens the one night you decide to live for once...

The typical chitter-chatter of young adults soothed his ears the moment he entered the halls of his campus. The conversations, usually dull and not of his taste proved to be comforting this time as he sauntered his way to his classroom. Those meaningless words spoken by his peers were ten times better than the hissing of voices that raked his mind every now and then, whispering chilling declarations of someone’s impending death, which could invoke a scream so piercing to claw its way out of his throat if he let them get the best of him.

They’ll die soon.

But why should he care? He was often late to the scene of the crime, the voices in his mind leading him too many times too late to save anyone from an unsightly end. So why listen? Especially if he was no help at all and especially when he could live without seeing an excessive amount of blood. “Jungkook over here!” His eyes lifted to meet a male who called out to him, just down the hall near the classroom he frequented three times a week. This person might be the only one in his two years of attending university that he called friend.

“Hey.” He answered back with a wave of his hand. Jungkook’s lips began to tilt into a small smile, only to drop when he felt a body crash into him accidentally, losing their balance and scattering to pick up their things.

His dark irises settled on the girl who quickly apologized and hurried off, her features burning into his mind with a sharp twinge digging at his heart. Something wasn’t right.

“Hey Jungkook you okay man?” His friend now behind him asked, hand resting on Jungkook’s shoulder to get his attention. “Oh, yeah…I’m good.” He lied, turning away from her figure that continued to rush in the distance, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It was at least two hours into the morning and he’s in his second lecture of the day, eyes glazed over and fixated on a quick sketch that had his heart pounding at the scene he’d subconsciously drawn.

There she was, the girl from earlier lying on a bed helplessly bloodied with two dark figures representing the culprits of her death, and here it was the harbingering yell aching to tear through his lips, signifying a death soon to come. Jungkook immediately stood from his seat, the metallic sound of his chair scraping against the hard-wooden floor interrupting his professor’s words and drawing attention to him as he hurried out the door to the nearest bathroom as if to hold in vomit or something viler, threatening to escape.

Swallowing back something hard Jungkook let go ragged breaths, shaky hands gripping the edge of a marbled sink while he gathered his composure. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead, salty droplets trickling down his nose. This may have been the worst premonition he’s ever faced, a feeling more awful than the rest and one that motivated him to put forth an effort to change it. With his last deep exhale, he took a glimpse at himself in the mirror, guiding his nimble fingers over the reflection of his mouth which were in stitches, reminding him that no matter how much he tried to blend into this world he won’t be able to avoid his fate much longer.

You were prepared for the night to be like every other night in your apartment. Your roommate would be out with her friends studying as she liked to call it, though you knew she was partying it up and living a life you never imagined for yourself.

Your nights consisted of the same activities ever since you began college. It didn’t matter if homework came first or a nice shower, after it all you were going to end up on the couch with snacks aligned, enjoying some of your favorite animation and that was so much better than wasting the nights around people you had no interest in.

“Not tonight!” You heard the high-pitched voice of your roomie entering the living room, interrupting your show. She took in your appearance, hands on her hips, front teeth sinking into her lower lip. Your hair was a mess on top of your head, feet covered in big cozy slippers and over-sized pajamas hanging off your frame. It was a staring contest between the two of you until you decided to ask her what she meant with a raise of your brow and a bag of unopened chips fiddling between your fingers.

“Not tonight...?” You urged for her continue, the faster she told you what was up the faster you could get back to enjoying the television. “You’re coming out with us tonight Y/n… you promised to let loose for once and let me show you a good time.” She beamed at you with a grin you could never fully trust.

“I don’t recall.” Your answer was immediate, quick and cold as you plopped backwards onto a pillow, propping your slippers on the arm of the sofa. “You promised me last week!” She whined and stood in front of your face, fingers reaching for her cellphone with proof of the words you seemed to forget, seven days ago, to be exact.

You sat up, mouth settled to protest but the look she gave you and the constant replaying of your recorded words made you sigh and stand up without much of a fight. It looked as though tonight wasn’t going to be like every other night and surely you weren’t prepared for the events that were about to unfold. Within forty-five minutes you were staring at yourself in a mirror, seemingly unrecognizable thanks to the make-up you were wearing. It wasn’t heavy but just right, it was amazing how different you looked. If you were a different person you would enjoy getting dolled up more often, sporting petite dresses to keep the attention of others with maybe a guy or two following your every step. But you weren’t a different person and that was fine but at least for the night you could at least try to be.

“Where are we going exactly?” You spoke over several voices coming from your bedroom, your roommate and her friends waiting for you to exit, to get the show on the road and head out to god knows where. “A club!” There was one girl, too enthusiastic for her own good who answered you promptly and gushed over her next words. “There’s this night club, kind of sophisticated I must say with live music performed by the man of my dreams.” Her giggle had your eyes rolling. This wasn’t the first time you heard of such a place, your roomie regularly informed you about some guy singing at a club she liked, his voice making the gals go crazy though you doubted he was that good and assumed he was mediocre at best.

“Nice...” You tried to sound excited as you exited, receiving a thumbs-up of approval over your look before getting dragged out the front door in seconds. It hadn’t been a full ten minutes since you left your apartment and you were already missing the comfortable couch, wishing you didn’t have to sit crammed in a taxi full of strongly perfumed girls, to a setting you’ve only been to a couple times in your life and both weren’t great experiences. Before you knew it, you were losing track of how much time passed and becoming immersed in the city’s scenery. The dark sky was lit beautifully by skyscrapers peeks and the streets were bustling with bodies hurrying home or to dinner at the late hour.

“We’re here!”

You didn’t notice the car had stopped, your roommate disrupting your view as she waved for you to exit the cab while the rugged driver cleared his throat signaling for you leave as well.

“Thanks sir.” You sighed and stepped out, low heels clicking behind hurried ones, entering a nice establishment with a smooth melody of music grazing your ears.

There were a lot of people around, at the bar if not on the dance floor and you were thankful to find a lot of seats available, planting your butt into one of them as quick as you could. You were sure your roomie and her friends would wonder away from you as soon as possible but were pleasantly surprised to see them sit at the same table, calling over a bottle of alcohol to kick off the fun.

“The shows about to start.” She winked at you, handing over a glass of dark liquid. “Looking forward to it…” You lied, fixating your eyes on the stage and knocking out the bitter beverage in one gulp.

Ten minutes passed and you found yourself anticipating something to happen, there were so many women seated around you now and it made you curious to see what this performer was all about. You noticed a few ladies squirming in their seats before a tune began to play, a few on edge as if they were ready to pounce on the person about to take center stage. The sudden drop of lights in the venue left the room barely dim, startling you almost to the point of choking on your liquor. The subtle sound of a violin began to echo in the air, lingering beautifully while the strings of a guitar followed. A mess of lavender tresses is what you noticed first about him, well-designed clothing clinging to his body, shirt opened to give a tease of smooth olive flesh. You were expecting to lock on his eyes next but they were covered, completely blindfolded as he gripped the mic stand before him, licking his plump lips before singing.

Captivated, you were sure you wouldn’t be, he couldn’t have been that great from what all the other girls were saying, but you were wrong. His voice was like honey, it was suave and sweet but what you were most interested in was his eyes. What did they look like? He couldn’t perform the entire time blindfolded, could he? It was as if he read your mind because in seconds one hand of his gripped the velvety fabric and pulled it off, revealing a pair of blue irises that seem to glow. Your heart began to flutter, a rush of warmth heating up your typically cool demeanor. You were becoming entranced, just like everyone around you and it didn’t help that his eyes seem to linger on you alone.

It was odd to say you felt a connection so soon, but you did. It was strange that you were so influenced by his singing that you didn’t want him to stop and the thoughts of leaving with him raced through your mind. When his performance was over he simply smirked before exiting the stage swiftly, leaving the women to scream with applause. He was nowhere in sight but it was as if his voice was trapped in your head, keeping your heart jittering in your chest, making you long to see him once more.

“He was great, right?” You were nudged by your roommate who had the biggest grin as if she watched you become undone at the performance. “His name is Jimin by the way, he performs here almost every night.” She added as she stood to head off to the dance floor. “He was alright…” You finally replied though she probably didn’t hear you.

“Jimin...” His name rolled easily off the tip of your tongue, a name you could get use to saying repeatedly. You poured yourself what was left of the alcohol at your table, switching your view to the others in the building, a dark-haired fellow with a twisted smile coming into the view. It appeared he was looking straight at you and the moment you blinked he disappeared.

“May I sit here?” An unfamiliar voice asked from behind you, it was soft and had you turning around to meet Jimin himself, staring down at you with a pleasant smile on his lips.

“S-sure.” You stammered, cursing yourself in your head. Though he was right in front of you and speaking, you could still hear that song of his dancing in and out of your ears. “I’m Jimin... and you are?” He held his hand out to you once he was seated and you didn’t hesitate to accept it as if you had no control over your limb.

“Y/n…” You gave a light smile. “Lovely name, I haven’t seen you around before so I must say I’m a little intrigued by your presence.” He chuckled. His words made your heart skip a beat. “Are you saying you see the same women here all the time?” You asked with a raise of your brow. “Just about.” He sat back in his seat with a laugh, even that was melodic. Interesting.

You spent what seemed like forever conversing with Jimin, taking notice of every little action and gesture he made and whilst still hearing his song as if it was surrounding you and drawing you into him. After a few more drinks, you were surprised at yourself for accepting his invitation to leave the club and have some fun elsewhere. It was like you were in a trance, following behind him, his hand gently gripping yours, the environment around you fading to black.

It was easy.

Once again, he had hooked another victim and lured her away to become prey to him plus one more. She would be the most beautiful feast for his companion, the best-looking woman he had brought home to his temporary residence in a long time. It was a shame that such a stunning girl was about to meet her demise but it was against his nature if she didn’t. Jimin locked eyes with her vacant irises, they were a beautiful shade lacking a lot of light thanks to his little spell. Right now, she was lost in his voice, a beautiful song that sung sweet nothings into her ears without him parting his lips.

Nothing less from a siren. She would be trapped in a whirlwind of musical notes unless he decided otherwise.

“We’re almost there love.” He smirked, glancing out the window at the streets momentarily before settling his gaze back on her. She nodded of course, that was the most she could do while dazed.

The car ride ended and Jimin tipped the driver, he slipped his arm around her waist and guided her up several floors by elevator to his shared suite. “Here we are y/n…” Jimin simpered sliding his card key through the lock and pushing the door open for her to enter first. He was greeted by another male, dark-haired, pale skin and even darker eyes that were hungry.

“Didn’t take long right Yoongi?” Jimin grabbed her hand once again and led her to sit on a couch.

“Tch, you’re a minute too late…” Yoongi replied, his eyes fixed on the beauty before him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, inhaling a scent. It was not of the sweet-scented perfume that wavered off her body but what lied inside her, a soul waiting to be his.

“She looks almost too good to eat.” Yoongi hummed as he approached her, slipping his finger under her chin and tilting her head upward just a bit. “Let’s have some fun darling, it’ll be quick.” He flashed her a gummy smile and she nodded, a muted yes slipping past her lips.

You were a puppet, that’s what it felt like, no control over your body, following your heart and lost the man that was Jimin. His voice was comforting as it sung to you, confirming that everything would be okay and that Yoongi was just as safe. Both men were beautiful, hypnotizing you with a pair of ominous black and fluorescent blue eyes. You were guided to a bedroom, your surroundings becoming a bit hazy, body numbing. But the pair of lips connecting with yours was fresh and sent a jolt coursing through your system for a split second then everything felt as though you were floating, like you were being detached, as if your soul was leaving your body. Maybe this was a good way to die.

He ran as fast as he could, following the voices in his head, directing him to the beginnings of a crime he could only hope he’d stop on time. The image of the girl he bumped into earlier rushed through his mind a thousand times. She hardly looked at him, yet from that brief encounter she was all he could see. Jungkook stopped in front of a hotel, catching his breath before barging through the doors too impatient to take the glass elevator and settling on the stairs instead. She wasn’t too high up, and the minutes were quickly ticking by. His heart kept sinking by the second and the moment he made it to the floor he sensed she was on, he kicked up his speed and stopped at the door. Jungkook took a deep breath in and tried to keep his composure, slipping on the hood of his jacket over his head and raising his hand to knock.

“Are you alright sir?” A voice from behind startled him, making his fist clench. “I uh…” Jungkook turned around slowly in fear of being suspected that he didn’t belong where he was. When he noticed a young male with a walkie talkie in hand he fixed his lips with the assumption that he was some sort of management or security.

“I seemed to have lost my card key and my phone is locked in my room, think you can open this up for me...?” He swallowed hard after his question, nervousness shooting through his veins, he was running out of time. The male answered immediately. “Sure, no problem sir. We’ll get you a new card key as well.”

Jungkook sighed in relief as the gullible gentlemen opened the door, and hurried away to get a new key sorted out. This was it. Any more delay could result in a failure. He hurried inside, eyes quickly scanning his surroundings. The suite was big and elegant, so it was someone with a lot of money about to commit a horrible act. Jungkook tensed when he heard a light moan coming from the other room, feet swiftly moving in that direction. His doe eyes widened at the sight of the girl limply in the arms of a black-haired man, a visible light slowly passing from her lips to his.

Demon. He was eating her soul.

“Hey, who are you...?” A light voice came from behind. With quickness Jungkook turned around and hit the one behind him, fist connecting with his nose before hurrying over and snatching the dark-haired male off the girl he came to save. The white of Yoongi’s eyes changed black, his voice leaving his throat in a raspy growl. “Jimin who the hell is this?!” He snapped.

Jimin stood up carefully, wiping blood from his nose, blue eyes glowing. Jungkook grabbed the girl in his arms, she was unconscious but still alive with cheeks flushed. Yoongi inched closer to Jungkook and so did Jimin. “Listen little man, you’re ruining a nice meal here, just hand her over and we won’t have to hurt you too bad.” Jimin sighed, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t want to get these clothes too dirty anyway.”

Jungkook’s heart pounded against his chest as he cradled her tightly to him, taking a deep breath in he released an ear-piercing scream, stunning the two and making them quiver to the ground beneath their feet. While his ear-splitting voice lingered in the air he used the opportunity to escape with her in his arms unscathed.

The sun’s warmth woke you the next morning, light rays tickling your skin. You stretched your arms above your head and sat up, groggy and a bit hung over. You felt relieved to be awake from the weirdest dream that seemed almost too real for your liking, the men in it were beautiful but there was no way they could even exist in your reality. It took you sometime to feel your best again, but not too long that you couldn’t make it out your front door and on your way to class.

“Hey Y/n!” Your roommate could be heard chasing you down campus halls. “Great news! My boyfriend asked me to move in with him this morning.” She squealed, clinging onto your arm. “That means I’ll be out of your hair and snuggling every night with my honey.” She beamed. Her words circled around your head, the realization of her not sharing a place with you anymore was too good to be true, but it also brought about a new issue. Who was going to help you pay rent?

It had been a few days since Jungkook saved your life from the demon and his companion and he tried his hardest to keep away from you to avoid any triggering memories and to keep his heart from thumping out of control. He sighed to himself after avoiding your presence in the hallway, eyeing a letter on the college bulletin board:

Looking for a new roommate, rent and details of the apartment to be discussed! Call: #82-2-987-5432

He furrowed his brow at the vagueness of the letter but took it down anyway. Jungkook was looking for a new place to stay, growing tired of living in a dorm and willing to try anything to get out of the small room he shared with two others. He dialed the number in between classes, freezing momentarily at the female voice he heard over the phone. It was familiar but he couldn’t pinpoint where he recognized it from at that moment. The conversation was quick but he got the address, promising to show up after his classes had ended for the day to check the place out.

He found the apartment with ease later that day, just a block away from the university. The area seemed noiseless, already better than his current residence. Jungkook made his way up to the right door, ear phones hanging from his ears and donning a black hood over his head. His fist gave the door several knocks, waiting patiently for someone to answer him, “Hello?” He felt confused, he was sure she would be here now. When he knocked again he was surprised to see the door slightly move, his mind wondering if he should just enter.

“Um... excuse me...?” He cleared his throat peeking into the apartment, his eyes widening at the sight before him. There sat the demon and the siren he fought with just days ago, panic settling in his system. The two gestured him a smile, approaching footsteps from a different direction grabbing his attention and theirs.

There she was.

You heard faint knocking through your headphones, curious to if you were simply hearing things until you remembered you were expecting a possible new roomie to share your home with. It was a male who sounded very promising from the brief conversation you had with him earlier and you couldn’t wait to talk with him. When you entered the living room you froze upon seeing three different males gazing back at you and each of their faces triggering your brain with faint memories.

[noirlevity]

Mismatch

Pairing: Hiroaki Genre: Angst Words: 3772 Summary:Akihito promised Hiroomi that they would be together, but the thing is, Akihito and Hiroomi’s soul marks don’t match. 

A/N: I’ve read fanfics about soul marks one after another and it made me wonder about a lot of stuff, and then I had this idea about a mismatch thingy and thought of Hiroaki. This is part one.

----

It was not really a promise. It was just something that spilled out because of too much playfulness and enthusiasm.

“We’ll be together forever Hiroomi!” Little Akihito chimed wrapping an arm around little Hiroomi’s shoulders.

Flashing a toothy grin at the raven haired boy, the blond took the other’s little hands in his and dragged him to run with him. Little Hiro’s eyes grew wide. His scarf that wrapped around his little neck fluttered in the air as his body trundled because of the uneven ground. He grabbed a hold of his scarf to prevent it from unwinding from his neck. He thought it would, so he tightened his grip on it and tightened his grip on Akkey’s hand as well.

They reached a post. Both were panting from running too much. With shallow breaths, heaving lungs and fingers entwined, and the cold wind seeping into sweaty pores, they tried recovering their breaths.

Little Hiroomi blushed. He was older by a year and big boys like him he thought didn’t blush easily. But Akkey was Akkey so it didn’t really matter whether Hiroomi was bigger and much older. Akkey was a dweeb, a little bit weird too, but never did Hiroomi feel like pretending big and mature when he was with him, except in times when he teased Akkey. But times like this when they play, Hiroomi can do whatever he pleased, thinking only of his Akkey and nothing but him.

Hiroomi bowed his head, covering a potion of his face with his bangs in an attempt to hide his flustered face. He still thought of what Akkey said to him. It bugged him, and so he asked,

“You mean it?” despite his shaky voice and nervous hands balled into fists; despite his pride of being a Nase smoldering into ashes turning into dust at Akkey’s words.

Akkey paused, quite surprised at little Hiro’s response.

“Yup! We’ll be together forever.”

When he said it, Akihito made sure to hold Hiroomi’s hand tightly.

----

 Soul marks didn’t manifest themselves early. In fact, most soul marks appeared a day after one turned 14. They always start faint, just a mole like dot or a line at first on the skin, but the difference was it was painful and itchy. In certain occasions, it glows, scintillating as a burning feeling envelops the body it scarred as if it was some sort of premonition that maybe soul marks didn’t really bring luck nor love, only pain and probably a promise that can’t be fulfilled once you found your match.

Hiroomi’s soul mark appeared when he was 12 years old. It was a faint line etched on his left hip. He discovered it when he was bathing. He felt something sting near the juncture of his hip and his thighs. Anxious, he never told any one about it, not even his most beloved little sister; not even Akkey.

When the mark manifested, Akkey and he had drifted apart. Hiroomi no longer visited Akkey’s house to play with him. This is also the time when Hiroomi started his formal lessons of being a spirit world warrior and was forbidden to visit Akkey after what happened between them.

What happened between them caused their relationship to be strained. Hiroomi noticed that when they see each other at school, Akkey avoids him. Akkey no longer looked at him like how he used to. His toothy grin, his company and his warmth was no more, and that left Hiroomi winter cold.

Now, he didn’t have anyone he can bare himself out. But he still thinks of Akkey from time to time and vows he would become a great spirit world warrior just to be able to be with him; just to help him contain the youmo inside of him.

So it was no surprise that when Hiroomi found out Akkey’s mark had manifested, he would be severely heart broken.

Mitsuki told him that Akkey’s soul mark was on his left hand. It was just a faint petal, like a faded tattoo written on the fleshy part at the bottom part of his thumb.

Mitsuki continued that it made Akkey look like a moron. Hiroomi only smiled at his sister and narrowed his eyes, attempting to hug her because talking about Akkey always made her very charming in his eyes.

“Nii-san, you idiot! Stop this.”

When he grabbed Mitsuki by the shoulder, that’s when he found out Mitsuki’s soul mark. Disappointed he said,

“No!” Eyes wide Hiroomi acted like a fool finding out about Mitsuki’s mark. He slapped the side of his face for a more dramatic effect.

“My lovely imouto! It can’t be,”

Mitsuki made a disgusted expression and slammed the door in Hiroomi’s face.

When Mitsuki left, Hiroomi’s goofy expression turned sad. He slumped on the bed and closed his eyes.

“So his mark is different from mine.”

 ---

 The next thing Hiromi knew, the mark on his hip got darker and it snaked up his side and curled like soft skin of a skinned leaf. What used to be a faint line turned into larger and more imposing. Hiroomi ran his fingers across its expanse, tracing the outline, its shape; every curl made him wish his mark would match Akkey’s. But he knew it wouldn’t. It never will. So he decided to go to Akkey’s apartment and confront him about it, perhaps tease him a little bit. But really he just wanted to see him after so long.

Hiroomi waited for Akihito to open his door. It was Saturday, they didn’t have classes and it had been 400 days since they last talked and Hiroomi was nervous. He tried to keep calm by humming. Alternating from standing on his tiptoes to planting his feet firmly on the ground, he couldn’t stand still. His clenched hands were inside his pockets. It was autumn and a bit warm now, but he still felt cold; his hand was cold, and his mark ached currently. He wanted to erase it so that at least he wouldn’t feel bad about having a different mark from Akkey; so that he could at least cling to Akkey’s promise that they would be together forever. He considered this as he burrowed his head deeper in his scarf, breathing in the scent of the cloth. Maybe Akkey already forgot all about their promise. Hiroomi’s cheeks turn a shade redder at the thought of this.

He knew it was foolish of him to cling to something Akkey told him when they were young. Children were prone to giving promises—promises that they would likely forget once they grow older. But despite this, Hiroomi still believed in their promise.

Feeling his stomach knot, Hiroomi bit his lower lip, furrowed his brows, and clenched his toes out of frustration and sadness. This sadness was something that was growing into fear, and as of late hate. He thought that the seconds that dragged on as he waited was tormenting. Upon the sound of the footsteps and a click on the door, the chaos inside his mind calmed down a little bit. He raised his eyes and met Akkey’s widened golden orbs.

Clearly the boy was surprised at Hiroomi’s sudden visit. He may have also felt awkward. Hiroomi thought because he was placing his hand at the scruff of his neck clearly confused.

“Hiroomi,” Akihito said wryly.

In response, Hiroomi narrowed his eyes. He knew Akkey still felt guilty about what happened. He knew seeing him like this only pained him. But Hiroomi was hell bent on seeing for himself Akkey’s mark, and if he was able, ask him if sometimes Akkey wished he had a different mark too.

Hiroomi smirked; he was trying to be playful, to be a tease just to hide how insecure he felt. It was the only thing he could do to ward off the ache in his chest. He missed Akkey very much, this he couldn’t deny.

“Saa, Akkey, are just going to keep standing there?”

Hiroomi stepped inside. Akihito made way for him, quirking his eyebrows as if saying, “You win.”

“What brings you here though Hiroomi?”

“That’s Hiroomi-senpai for you Akkey~”

“Hiroomi-senpai..” Akkey pouted, shoulders hunched tiredly as they walked towards the kitchen.

“I missed this lonesome home of yours Akkey.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Of course not.” Hiroomi says blithely.

Of course he did not. Akkey’s aparment was the only place he could be comfortable in. And it will be the only place he’d ever feel at home.

“Cook for me Akkey.”

“Hah?” Akkey raised his voice, surprised.

Hiroomi never touches Akkey, but this time he mustered the courage to. To keep him quiet, he placed his index finger on the younger man’s lips. Akihito slapped his hand away and gritted his teeth. Hiroomi knew what he was thinking. He knew that he must be angry about Hiroomi doing all these things: tormenting him, teasing him just because Hiroomi had the leverage to do so.

Hiroomi felt a bit hurt. The pang of what used to be a warm friendship between the two that still lingered in his heart still hurt like a burn. He wanted to say what happened to us Akkey? He almost said it, but he stopped himself before he could.

Akihito turned his back on Hiiromi and cluck his tongue. He still obeyed by walking to the lavatory. Akihito will cook omurice for him. Hiroomi smiled and sauntered towards Akkey’s bedroom and slumped down on the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a bit and then he closed his eyes, his arms used as pillow.

The room smelled of Akkey. It stunk of his sweat and his perfume; also of magazine sheets and paint. Sometimes Akkey painted designs of glasses and the girls he wanted them to wear.

Akihito loved glasses. In fact, he had some sort of of fetish with glasses and Hiroomi used to always tease him about it. Akihito would retort back how at least it was not as disturbing and creepy as Hiroomi’s sister complex.

It was not as creepy as Akkey thinks. Because truth be told, the feelings that Hiroomi had for Akkey was even worse. This had always been what’s in Hiroomi’s mind whenever Akkey tells him his sister complex was creepy. Upon remember their exchange, Hiroomi slipped a hand inside his shirt and traced a finger on his soul mark.

The mark was really a pain in the ass. Hiroomi started to wonder whether these marks would really make Akkey drift farther away from him.

They said that soul marks would fully develop when one reached the age of 19 when that happens, attraction may happen. Once they see the person whose marks matched theirs, the mark will glow and that’s when they’ll know.

Hiroomi wondered whether this was true or not. He wondered whether despite that, can one escape this fate and love another instead? Can someone choose someone else, love someone else despite the attraction that they have to their pairs?

Wondering about such things, Hiromi fell asleep.

“Hiroomi! It’s done,” Akihito called. He waited for a response, but there was none so begrudgingly, he stomped his feet and walked towards his room to drag Hiroomi’s ass down to eat. It was awkward because he felt as though he was a nagging wife.

“Hiroomi! Hiroomi-senpai,”Akkey sarcastically called.

When he opened the door to his room, he saw Hiroomi’s back facing him, shirt bunched up a bit, the scar on his back stretched across his back, visible, palpable.

Akkey frowned and clenched his fists. He still regretted the fact that he hurt someone; that he hurt Hiroomi.

Akkey sighed and sauntered towards the bed. He sat down and reached out to touch a lock of Hiromi hair. He ran his index finger through Hiroomi’s hair, feeling the softness of his silky raven hair. At this, Hiroomi scrunched his face, making Akihito smile.

Akkey stared at the goofy way Hiroomi slept and smiled. He adjusted himself on the bed and looked at his left hand. He stared at his palms and studied it. The faint bulb of a flower etched into the skin looked like a mole.

“So this is a soul mark,” Akkey thought. Even he, the infamous half human half youmo had something like that. He knew about the thing about soul marks, that it meant you had someone that was born for you in this life.

Undaunted, he took Hiroomi’s hand to check whether they match. He took Hiroomi’s left hand and tilted it so that the palm was up.

There was no mark like his. And Akkey felt disappointed. He ran a thumb across the fleshy part of Hiroomi’s palm.

Maybe they were not really meant to be together. Fate commands it so. Akkey frowned. He thought that it was bad to force things that were clearly not meant to be. There were just things that even if how much you wanted it, you can never have it. And as such, you just have to live with it. He wondered whether or not this was also true for affection, for love even. Thinking about this, Akkey felt nostalgic; it reminded him of the past,

----

 “What if your mark doesn’t match with mine?” Hiroomi said a little bit shy while the were playing at the sand box.

Little Akkey had been very sure they would match.

“We would match!” Akkey flashed a smile at Hiroomi. He grabbed the raven head boy’s hand, held it tightly, firmly, as though nothing would ever make the boy think they would ever be apart ever.

The gesture was like a promise, an assurance, and it felt permanent and true.

 ---

 Akihito wondered whether or not Hiroomi forgot about their promise. Akihito never reneges on his promises. He wondered about what he’ll do when Hiroomi first reneges on his.

After he hurt Hiroomi, Akihito didn’t really know how to approach him again, that’s why he avoided him as much as he could. Whenever Akkey saw Hiroomi, he would only remember him splayed on the grass, his bloody back exposed, unconscious, and Akkey’s hands drenched in Hiroomi’s blood.

Akkey wonders whether things were better this way.

 ---

 None of them actually had any idea how soul marks worked when two persons finally found their match. Akihito and Mitsuki talked about it in the clubroom one afternoon. Mitsuki got curious about the whole thing about soul marks when she read a novel about reincarnation.

“I don’t really believe in this reincarnation stuff, but don’t you think its pretty similar to this whole soul mark thing of ours?”

“It sounds the same. Well, reincarnation can also be related to this soul marks right? After all, the truth behind this soul mark is that in our past life we met our match before and probably had a connection with them right? So I guess technically it’s the same.”

“Hmmph, I don’t really see the point in this though. We develop this mark when we turn 14, and then the mark would fully manifest itself when we turn 19. And then? What if you decide to love someone before that? Isn’t it strange? What if before finding your match you are already devoted to someone else?”

What Mitsuki said struck a nerve in Akihito. She was right. That was indeed a problem. What if you already decided on loving someone before you found your match? Before your soul mark even manifested itself? That was the problem.

Akihito gripped the cover of the book he was holding. He stared at the line of words without reading, his mind still wondering about what was up with all the drama surrounding the soul marks.

“No one ever told us how it works” Mitsuki shrugged.

“You didn’t ask any of your elders?”

“Why would I do that? That’s ridiculous. I could ask Aneki, but.. she seems to have a lot going on right now and Nii-san’s being an asshole as ever.” Mitsuki crossed her arms over her chest. She raised a hand to flip her hair.

Upon mentioning Hiroomi, Mitsuki paused and waited for a response from Akkey. None came; she thought Akkey’s silence was odd. At this, she narrowed her eyes.

“Hmm, he visited you didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he did. I thought he was going to ask something, I thought it was important, but he just took a nap there and ate when he woke up.” Akkey ruffled his hair, then added, his face contorting as if he had enough.

“When he woke up, the omurice was already cold, so I had to heat it up for him. And you know how he is, while I was heating it up, he slipped his hand in my armpits. Ugh.. so I kind of.. did something.”

Mitsuki just stared at Akkey. She knew something else happened between the two, but she let it slide.

What Akkey hid form her was what came after,

----

 Akkey wheeled around at Hiroomi’s touch, slapping his hand away embarrassed. Hiroomi never changed, he was still as shameless as before. But what caught him in surprise was how cold Hiroomi’s hands were. They were trembling too.

He understood that Hiroomi was perpetually cold, this was a downside to his power, but it was colder than he had remembered them. He sighed completely surrendering. He didn’t’ look at Hiroomi, he took his hand and ran his hand across its surface.

Hiroomi just stared at him, feeling all sorts of emotions well up within him. He missed this so much; he missed Akihito’s touch.

“You are colder than ever. You should have brought mittens. For goodness sake Hiroomi,” Akihito rolled his eyes, as he felt Hiroomi’s hand wiggle against his side. He grabbed Hiroomi’s hands and continued clearly annoyed, “My armpits are of the question!”

Hiroomi chuckled, “But your armpits are really warm Akkey~”

Akihito sighed again and this time raised his eyes and said,

“You sure it’s okay to be alone with me like this? After that?”

Hiroomi wasn’t expecting that from Akihito. He smiled a slight smile and tightened his grip on Akkey’s hand. He tilted Akkey’s left hand to expose his palm.

Akihito’s heart skipped a beat at this. He stared at Hiroomi as the latter shifted his eyes on his palms.  Akkey didn’t want him to know they didn’t match. He wanted to take his hand away, but Hiroomi firmly held it, like his life depended on it.

Hiroomi ran his thumb across the fleshy surface, twice. Akihito had to swallow a lump in his throat nervously. Hiroomi took his hand closer to his face to see it clearly.

Akihito wanted to push Hiroomi away, he didn’t want it like this, and then it came, the words he never wanted to hear coming from Hiroomi’s mouth,

“We don’t match.”

Akihito looked dejected. He bowed his head, praying Hiroomi had already forgotten about their promise, about being together.

Their destinies had changed now. This bond was broken and it can never be mended again.

“It’s a cute petal Akkey. I wonder what it would turn into when it has finally fully manifested itself. Does it hurt? When it first manifested itself on your skin?”

“It just throbbed a lot, sometimes,” he paused, he almost said when I think of you without thinking.

“… it throbbed a bit, and glowed that one time.”

Hiroomi didn’t reply for awhile. Then he said,

“Sometimes I wonder whether I have two soul marks.”

Akihito knew that sometimes Hiroomi still felt pain from the scar he left him. They said that it is probably psychological. Wanting to end the topic, Akihito replied,

“Let’s eat.”

----

 Finding one’s match was unlike anything Akihito had imagined. He wasn’t expecting that the mark would glow, rather than hurt, the sensation was warm; it felt like his nerves were thrumming against his skin. His cheeks felt hot and his hands went cold as he gazed upon her—his glasses goddess, Kurayama Mirai.

He was aghast at first. When he first saw her, she was about to jump on the roof. Feeling worried that she might commit suicide, he rushed to the rooftop and declared,

“Someone who looks so good in glasses as you should not die!”

The girl stared at him for awhile and said, “Fuyukai desu.” She rushed to him then, a liquefied reddish thing manifested itself in her hand forming something that looked like a sword. Everything happened so fast that Akihito didn’t have time to struggle. Before he realized it, she already stabbed him straight through the heart. At this time, his soul mark glowed. They were both surprised.

The girl immediately took out her sword and stared at him wide eyed. She flitted her eyes from her own hand to Akkey’s nervously. Her mark also glowed. At this, she baked away and said,

“Fuyukai desu.” As she adjusted her glasses and escaped, clearly embarrassed.

Akihito never understood what attraction meant until that moment. He never thought he would ever feel a connection that strong. He never thought his chest would hurt a bit because of his heart ramming too much against his chest. The feeling he felt made him incredibly embarrassed to the point that his palms was sweating and his cheeks turned red as a tomato.

So this was attraction.

He never thought it would also mean constantly thinking of that person; constantly worrying about her and things like that. And every time he thought of her, the mark on the palm of his hand would glow.

Whenever this happened, it felt nice. It felt like the warmth from his hand spread through out his body. Such warmth was comforting. And it could ease his insomnia most of the time. It also somehow made his nightmares go away.

But then, a sense of guilt would overcome him. He would think of Hiroomi and feel sad. Sad because despite his attraction to Mirai, he really, absolutely wanted to be with Hiroomi. It was something that he thought was natural. He would be with him, not because he had decided about this long ago, but because the more he thought of Hiroomi the more he thought of wanting to be with him like it was something that was meant to happen.

Every time he thought of Mirai, he thought of the warmth of Hiroomi’s touch the very first time they held hands. He thought of the way the little version of Hiroomi clasped his hands tightly as he pouted,

“What if we don’t match?

Akkey cleared his throat and shuffled on the bed. What would happen to both of them now?