#and actually becomes rather fond of him after he taps into his years as a whismur to maintain a baby-friendly volume!

[sincerely-sofie]

Is there anybody that little Opal would genuinely dislike?

Yes— there’s one person that Opal absolutely HATED as a small child. We’re talking hissing + shrieking + clumsy attempts at combat whenever she makes eye contact with this individual. If they’re in the same room, it’s on sight. Ark and Twig don’t take the threat seriously enough for her tastes, so she’s taken on the burden of guarding her family against that wretched scumbag she loathes so deeply.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

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The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

[realcube]

BABYSITTING WITH HIM

characters ♡ oikawa, tendou & sakusa

tw ♡ children, cursing & mentions of arson

TŌRU OIKAWA

♡ he is pretty much a professional babysitter, or so he thought

♡ which is why he accepted when you asked if he could help you take care of your nieces/nephews for the weekend

♡ i mean, he takes care of his nephew all the time so how hard could babysitting possibly be? it was basically a free pass to spend the day with you 

♡ however, he began to regret his decision as he sat on your couch and realised that he wouldn’t be able to get even somewhat intimate with you when there was constantly an annoying little boy clinging to his arm, asking him if he had any games on his phone

♡ “sorry, kid.” oikawa smiled, clenching his jaw to hide the rage but it wasn’t very effective, “i’ve not got any games. maybe you could go play with your toys or something.” 

♡ he let out a sigh, making the mistake of thinking that would be the end of their interaction

♡ “can’t you just download some?” the boy retaliated

♡ you snickered, watching as the energy visibly drained from oikawa, yet he still wore his frighteningly bright grin

♡ “i’ve not got any storage.” 

♡ “then delete some of your apps or photos.” the boy said with a shrug, then proceeded to point at oikawa’s home screen, which happened to be a picture of him and you in front of an ethereal sunset, “start with that one. you both look like dorks.”

♡ you and oikawa’s unified gasps of offence were enough to show the boy that he was able to do exactly what he intended; piss y’all off

♡ hence, with a final mischievous snicker, he dashed off

♡ “i hate kids.” oikawa muttered, inspecting his homescreen to see if he really did look like a ‘dork’, “what is his problem?”

♡ “what if our kids turn out like that?” you joked 

♡ his eyes widened momentarily, turning to look at you with an uncharacteristically sheepish expression, “our w--”

♡ “mr kawa!” a cry could be heard from the kitchen so without hesitation, you both hopped to your feet and rushed over there as quick as you could 

♡ once you both reached the area the yell came from, you were fortunately not greeted by anything gruesome 

♡ instead, you both got to behold two children trying to reach the top shelf with the power on friendship; the taller boy was standing on a chair, while the toddler held it still 

♡ however, his grip on the jar of the Nutella must’ve loosened at some point as it now lay dejectedly on the ground, half spilled across the tiles and the other half drenching the toddler, not that they seemed to mind though 

♡ in fact, it looked like they were having the time of their — albeit, short — life

♡ the container was only plastic, hence you didn’t have to worry about shards when you darted over to the poor, chocolate-covered baby and scooped them up into your arms, “are you guys, okay?!”

♡ “yeah.” the boy chuckled, noticing that holding the toddler was transferring the chocolate onto you too

♡ “if you wanted nutella, you could’ve just asked.” oikawa sighed, helping the boy get down safely from the chair before putting the object back at it’s intended spot at the dinner table 

♡ “you could have gotten seriously hurt! i thought you would know better than to do something like this.” you scolded, becoming even more furious as the baby continued to playfully slap your face with their grimy hands, “please don’t do that again.”

♡ before they boy got the chance to do anything besides murmur a vague apology, oikawa interjected, “they won’t get the chance.”

♡ and he was right

♡ after cleaning everything up (including the child, which took forever), you didn’t let either of the rascals out of your sight until your duties as babysitters were complete 

♡ “i think we handled that pretty well.” oikawa mused, gathering his stuff along with you as you both got ready to leave

♡ “yeah, maybe we should do this again sometime.” you suggested, but it was followed by a few second was complete silence

♡ until you both burst out laughing 

♡ “yeah, never again.” you agreed

♡ “the kids can take care of themselves.” oikawa said with shrug, offering his hand to you, before you both strutted out of the disaster house

♡ ever since then, it was a common inside joke between you to, when in the vicinity of a kid causing mayhem or being a nuisance, whisper to each or exchange a look that says, ‘it’s a great day to not be babysitting.’  

SATORI TENDŌ

♡ at first, you thought that asking tendou for help babysitting would be a bad idea bc he is just as hyperactive as the damn kids sometimes so he’d probably not be the best influence 

♡ and you knew this bc one time you happened to run into him while out in the park with the kids and you asked him to watch them for literally a minute so you could run to the bathroom but when you came back all you almost had a heart attack because tendou was teaching them fkn tricks on the monkey bars 

♡ however, you then realised that if the kids were busy committing arson with uncle tendou, then they wouldn’t be bothering you 

♡ so here you are, playing monopoly with your boyfriend, a seven year-old and a one year-old

♡ well, it was less like monopoly and more like debate class since none of you could agree on the rules

♡ “well, uncle ten,” the older sibling began, in a very matter-of-factly tone, “if i burn your property down, then i  don’t have to pay you for landing on it.”

♡ “but then you also go to jail.” you pointed out

♡ “not if the police don’t catch me.”

♡ you burst out laughing, meanwhile tendou kept his business face on, “good point, but watch this.” tendou spoke as he rolled the dice, though no matter what if he got a number between four and seven, he would end up landing on somebody’s property

♡ he got a four

♡ picking up his piece, he moved it across each square individually and once he was due to land on your property, he knocked his piece over

♡ “whoops, i slipped.” he chuckled, though his friendly aura immediately dropped as he looked you dead in the eye and said, “i’m suing.”

♡ “you can’t sue me because you tripped!” you yelled 

♡ “i guess i just fell for you.” he said, resulting in the kids both making gagging noises before he stuck out his hand, “100 monopoly dollars, please.”

♡ “like i said,” you tried your best to stay strong and not laugh at his shitting pickup line, “i’m not giving you any money, you fell!”

♡ “i guess we’ll have to take this matter to court then.” tendou said, tapping the shoulder of the one year-old who was currently chewing on a 500 bill which you quickly had to confiscate 

♡ “judge, do you think (y/n) owes me 100 monopoly dollars for poor health and safety conduct?”

♡ “yes.”

♡ “that is the only word they know how to say!” you cried, begrudgingly handing over the money 

♡ “thank you, angel.” tendou cooed, adding your singular bill to the pile he had already stored up; the winner of the game had already been decided 

♡ and although you and the seven year-old kid both cried later after getting your asses kicked in monopoly (the one year-old cried too but they were just hungry), you all went out to get food and actually had a pretty good time

♡ it became a routine for tendou to help you babysit whenever he got the chance and y’all would always play table top games

♡ also when tendou got accepted into culinary school, he’d teach/show the kids what dishes he has learned to prepare and let them help by stirring the pot, adding spices etc etc

♡ and even when he moved to Paris, on special occasions, a box of chocolates would suddenly appear at the kids’ door and all the little pieces would be shaped and moulded into some of their favourite characters or made out of their favourite flavours 

♡ and at one point the kids even insisted that you teach them how to make chocolates so they can send some back to uncle tendou <33

♡ they weren’t the best, but when tendou received the misshapen, slightly stale chocolates at his apartment, addressed from you and the children, he cried

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

♡ his first response when you asked if he could help you babysit was ofc ‘ew no 🤢’

♡ needless to say it took a lot mansplain manipulate malewifing to convince him to come over 

♡ but once he did, obviously he was in his full protective gear; there was no way in hell he was going to catch whatever germs the little goblins have

♡ honestly he almost sprayed a chid in the face with hand sanitizer when they came running up to him with open arms, trying to give him a hug 

♡ which was unusual because the kids don’t tend to be overly friendly with new people, but you just brushed it off and figured that sakusa must’ve been an exception

♡ during his time babysitting, sakusa spend most of his energy trying to avoid the children at all costs that it basically became a game of tag, with you helping the child try to reach sakusa, and him hiding

♡ but honestly you couldn’t complain since the whole time the child was playing, they were safe with you rather than playing with fire 

♡ until later you were reminded of their odd fondness for sakusa when they insisted that sakusa carry them to their bedroom when it was their nap time

♡ and as you were shifting through the books, looking for a story to read, it hit you why they seemed to be so familiar with sakusa

♡ it’s because he looked exactly like the prince in one of their favourite story books; same hair, both tall and they even had similar moles to each other

♡ upon noticing this, you immediately showed sakusa and was quite amused

♡ in fact, he found it so cute that he gave both you and the toddler a lil’ kiss on the cheek, as a parting gift — mask off and everything

♡ he ended up reading the story and the kid fell into deep slumber by the time he reached the second page

♡ letting out a sigh of relief, sakusa slumped onto the ground, allowing his own eyes to flutter shut for a moment, “what a day.”

♡ you shuffled over to you could lay down beside him, “indeed it was, prince sakusa.”

♡ “shut up.” he teased, poking your rib slightly before absently intertwining his fingers with your own

♡ next thing you knew, you were both awakened by the sound of a grumpy toddler...

[fawad-khan]

professor ‘fuck me a lot’

A/N: so tom in that esquire interview and that instagram story did things to me ajhsuifhf so here we are! also this is my first professor tom fic hehe. beta read by the lovely @parkerpeter24​ (title credit goes to her too XD)

Masterlist

Pairing- professor!tom holland x student!reader

Warning- smut, thigh riding,swearing, unprotected sex, teacher-student relationship(?), wrap it before you tap it! (all characters are 18+ btw)

Word Count- 3.4k+

Summary- you catch tom in a compromising position.

Thomas Stanley Holland, the new professor was the talk of every single student in the college. He was young, and very smart and knew his subjects well. He had a way with his teaching that made everyone’s ear perk up and pay attention to whatever he was teaching. Everyone was impressed by how he taught from a different perspective, in the sense that he not just gave a lecture, he explained in such a way that each person could visualise and convert the picture into their own words.

He was also very undeniably  attractive. He had attractive features. His chocolate brown dolomite eyes, soft looking lush brown hair, pink kissable lips that so many girls (and even some guys) dreamt of kissing over and over again, desirable cheekbones and the suits he wore for his lectures made him look so fine, drawing attention and he somehow managed to pull you towards him as well.

As if his looks weren’t enough, it was also his voice, and how it sounded like music to your ears. He certainly had a way with his words. Many times you had yourself what would it be like to have that same voice whisper dirty things in your ears. You remember the day he stepped into the classroom on his first day of teaching you.

"Hello everyone, my name is Tom Holland, and I will be teaching you literature from today onwards. I can see lots of bright faces here," he gazed around the room as he continued, "now, before we get started I would like to get everyone's names and just ask some questions in general, that is what we will do first. So why don't we start with," he took a list from his desk and called out a few names, who stood up and introduced themselves.

"(Y/n) (l/n)?" You heard your name being called out. You got up and politely introduced yourself. 

"I actually have a very good report on you here, miss (y/n). Are you that interested in literature? And please sit down if you want." He beamed, but you continued to stand anyway, admiring him already.

"Well, actually I have really been fond of reading lots of books since childhood and always had a hobby of writing small stories and poems and such for the school part so I guess that is how I realized I wanted to delve further into the subject."

"Well I must say, that's very impressive. And do you have any plans after you complete and procure your bachelor's degree?"

"Actually yeah, I have dreamt of being a writer so I would very much like to succeed in that. Otherwise, being a college professor is another option, where I'd love to teach about various literature works."

"That is very good, miss (y/n). Well that is all for now and I'm looking forward to teaching all of you, you all seem like very talented students."

"Thank you, professor Holland." Everyone chorused. He picked up a book from his desk and began to teach. He certainly knew his subject very well, for unlike the previous professor who had managed to bore all of you last year, you found yourself paying attention to every single word he said.

Of course, as time passed, there were more and more girls who always discussed him, innocent things at first like how great a teacher he was and something like he was the cutest professor they ever had. It gradually escalated to how hot he was and how many girls were willing to do him in his classroom and so on.

You would rather die than admit, but you did have a crush on your teacher. A major, at that one. It wasn’t that often that you got a teacher like him, anyway. Maybe that was a small reason why you tried harder in his class and excelled more. He was also often very pleased with your work and had grown to favour you, seeing that you indeed had a lot of potential and admired how you always submitted everything on time and how you were always punctual and overall how dedicated you were in his classes. You had gradually grown to become one of his favourite students.

----

It was a Thursday evening, the clock ticking 7pm as you finally finished your due work of the week. As usual, you gathered your sheets and checked it again to make sure there were no errors. Once you were satisfied, you stapled them and put them neatly in a plastic folder and made your way to Tom’s room for submission. He had made a rule that students could either email their respective essays and papers or physically submit it to him either in the classroom or personally in his room in case someone wanted a little guidance as well.

Checking your appearance to make sure there were no stains or anything like that on you or your dress, you took your file and made your way towards his room for submission. You gave a soft knock and waited for him to open the door. No response. You knocked again. Again, no response of opening the door. Although, you could hear his voice, so he probably was on the phone or in a meeting or something.

You turned the knob of the door and quietly, swung the door open and entered the room. Closing the door behind you, you turned right to walk towards his table and saw something you never thought you'd see.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, sir!" You exclaimed, making him startled and jump in his seat.

He was in a webinar session. With no pants on. He was only in a formal shirt and underwear and a pair of socks. You could very clearly see his thighs which were naked in your sight. The thighs you had only dreamt of riding in your dreams. 

He hastingly said something about some technical issues and that he would have to leave and left the webinar and walked across the room to his closet to quickly get some pants. He grabbed the first pair he could see and before he could put it on, your brain decided to blurt out something you wouldn't have dared to ever say to your professor.

"Don't put them on!" You quickly covered your mouth with both hands, your file dropping on the floor. Your whole face went red as soon as those words left your mouth, your knees shaking with nervousness.

He stood in his place, stunned. He could not believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

“What- what did you just say?”

“I -uh” you stammered, covering your face again and taking a deep breath. He walked towards you and took your hand and held it, his other hand holding your chin and making you look up into his eyes.

“Say it again, darling. There is no harm.” he said in a calm and husky voice that made you feel giddy and weak at the knees. “Go on, now.” his fingers gently pushed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

You looked into his eyes. Your heart was beating at a very furious pace. A fire was surging in you as his fingers had touched your skin. 

“I said, don’t put them on.” you whispered slowly, your voice lingering in his ears. He smirked and brought his lips closer to your ear and whispered, “and why is it so?” his voice lulled you to him, his one hand resting on your cheek and his other hand lowering to your waist, pulling you closer to him. “don’t be shy, say what you have to say.”

"It's because," you paused, a new wave of confidence flowing through you. This was now or never. "It's because I want to ride them."

"Hmm is that so?" He hummed, lazily nibbling your earlobe, making you hot and bothered. He stepped back and sat on his chair and held out his hand. You took it and he pulled you on his lap and held you tight by the waist with one hand. His other hand cupped your jawline and pulled your face closer so your lips were only millimetres apart from touching.

"Then be a good girl and ride me" with that he wasted no time and crashed his lips on yours, you reciprocating the kiss immediately. Your eyes fluttered shut, so did his. The feeling of his soft, smooth lips felt more amazing than you had fantasized in your dreams. You tilted your head to grant him more access. 

He bit your lips gently, making you moan into his mouth. Your fingers flew to pull his soft hair strands, messing them up as he deepened the kiss and you gently grinded your hips against his.

You were the first to pull away from the kiss, gasping slightly for air to breathe. His hair was slightly messed up, he was out of breath and both of you had flushed faces. The sexual tension that was subtle before was more thick and more prominent.

"I better lock the door, huh? Don't want anyone to walk in on us?" You asked, looking at him. He nodded in response as you got up and went to lock the latch on his door. Now no one would interrupt the two of you.

"Ride me, darling. Be a good girl for me." The raspy voice made you feel wet as you repositioned yourself so now you were sitting on his left thigh, with his thigh pressed against your clothed pussy, making you let out a moan.

You pressed your clothed pussy and began to rock your hips up and down, feeling a sense of pleasure jolting in you. As you increased your pace, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You held his shoulders for support as you grinded faster, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his thigh.

“Oh my, fuckkk” you moaned out, arching your back as grinded even faster, feeling that you wouldn’t last very long. Tom meanwhile was watching you, feeling his pants getting a little tight at the sight of you riding his thigh. He couldn’t help but let out a groan as he watched you ride your high. With time, he was attracted to you and always imagined what you would be like in bed. He had always fantasised but never thought he would be here in this situation.

“You’re doing great, darling ohhh” he groaned out, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as his hands held you firmly by the waist.

“God I’m gonna cum!” you moaned out, holding his shoulders tight for support as you felt yourself releasing, soaking heavily through your panties and shorts. Your movement became slower as you rode out your high, stopping a few seconds later, panting and sweating heavily. You opened your eyes to look at him all flustered and lips parted.

"Woah" was what came out of his mouth. He gently held you and placed you on his right thigh and the both of you could see a shiny wet spot where you had come just a few seconds ago. He looked back at you and smirked, making you go red.

"I don't normally do this with my students, you must know that."

"Oh that's, great I guess."

"Would you mind if I did what I wanted to do to a student whom I happen to be attracted to?" He whispered huskily, lips dancing dangerously over yours.

"And what would that be? Care to elaborate, sir?" You asked, looking into his eyes again.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, darling." With that he kissed you, this time with more heat and passion as though he was holding all his desires as he inserted his tongue into the kiss, exploring your mouth. You kissed him with equal amount of passion and lust, running your hands in his hair.

His lips left yours and pressed kisses on your jawline and neck, sucking your skin gently till he found your sweet spot and sucked a hickey there.

"Careful there sir, don't want people to see that." You gasped out, head thrown back.

"Say my name, dear. Wanna hear it from your pretty lips." He mumbled against your neck.

"Tom!" you whimpered, making him groan as he went back up to kiss you again on your lips. One hand went down to unbutton his shirt and touched his amazingly toned chest. Your fingers danced and touched every part of his chest, every touch sending tingles down Tom's spine, making him bite your lip gently.

He cupped your right thigh and squeezed it, wrapping it around his waist loosely. He held you by the waist firmly and picked you up and placed you gently on his desk, not breaking the kiss for even a second.

He pulled away from the kiss and looked into your eyes again. His orbs were dark with lust.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He said huskily, his hand slowly lowering down to your waist and slipping under the hem of your top, making contact with your skin. His touch ignited a fire in you. His fingers drew circles on your curves, sending you tingles of pleasure.

"Don't…..stop…." You trailed off, closing your eyes again, enjoying the feeling of him touching you.

His hands played with the hem of your top before taking it off and stepping back for a moment, looking at you. You were already a mess, your hair strands sticking out wildly, sitting on his desk, looking at him desiringly.

“You are so gorgeous, did you know?”

“Thanks.” you covered your face with your hands. He stepped forward and removed your hands gently, looking at you. He pressed kisses on your neck and collarbone, his hand trailing down to your shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping them. Slowly, he pulled them down to the floor, leaving you only in your bra and panties. 

He continued to kiss you on your chest, unhooking your bra in an instant, exposing your breasts. He took one of your breasts in one hand massaging it gently, taking the nipple in his mouth and sucking on it. His other hand went down to your panties, fingers touching your clothed cunt which was very soaked and he teased you through the material, eliciting a moan from you. Smirking, he hooked his fingers at the hem of your panties, inserting them inside to come in contact with your pussy.

He inserted a finger inside your wet folds, pumping in and out at a slow speed. His mouth switched to suck on your other breast as he increased his speed of thrust. You were by now a moaning mess, moaning his name out again and again while pulling at his curls. You were now very much turned on and very horny, craving him more and more. He inserted a second finger, thrusting faster, making you cum a second time.

He took his mouth away from your nipple with a pop sound and came up to meet your lips again. He finally took out his fingers out of your now swollen clit and pulled away from you, licking them clean, never breaking eye contact with you.

“You taste so delicious, dear.” he groaned out, making you want him more than ever now. You pulled him towards you by the collar and began unbuttoning his coat and shirt, running your hands over his toned abs, enjoying the feeling. He stepped closer, pressing his clothed hard-on against your soaked and clothed pussy, making you groan in pleasure. You couldn’t wait anymore. You needed him now.

“Tom…...please….” you groaned out, making him smirk.

“Please what? Use your words, darling.”

“Please….I need you now.” you groaned as you felt his hard-on press against you even more, making you buck your hips up and down.

“Gladly.” he threw his hanging coat and shirt off his body on the floor, pulling his underwear down to the floor, now completely naked in front of you. He stood in front of you, looking heavenly with his body glistening with sweat and his hair a complete mess. His cock was hard and the tip was flush pink with a little precum leaking. You took off your bra and panties and threw them across the room while he spread the precum and pumped his cock. He stepped forward and pressed a lazy kiss on your lips, aligning his cock just outside your entrance.

“Ready, love?”

“Yes” with that he entered you slowly, thrusting in and out at a slow pace, stretching you out so that you could get used to his size. Given how wet you already were, it was easy for him to move. His cock filled you up perfectly and you felt pleasure jolt through your body as you moaned continuously.

“Go faster.” you breathed out, him obeying gladly as he increased his pace, gripping your sides tight. His hips slapped against yours, a knot forming in your stomach as he hit that spot inside you again and again. He was moaning out loud with you, going faster with each thrust. One palm was on the desk to help steady himself. He pressed his lips against yours to kiss you sloppily, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths. You dug your nails on his muscles and his back, leaving crescent red marks, making him pound into you even harder.

You could feel your high approaching yet again and from the look on Tom’s face, it seemed like he wouldn’t last long before he came too. His finger rubbed your clit, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck, I haven’t got a condom, oh my-”

“It’s ok, come inside me.” you breathed out.

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to risk it like this.” he asked, looking at you as if to ask if you were sure about this.

“I’m on the pill. Besides, my period was a week ago.”

“Oh, alright. Ohh!” his cock was beginning to twitch as you came undone around him, letting out a cry of pleasure. He grunted out loud as he reached his high, his cum spilling inside you. His thrusts became sloppier and slower and stopped moving a few moments later, his cock still buried inside you.

You clenched around him, not wanting to let go of the feeling of him beside you. Both of you were sweating and panting heavily, you holding him to steady yourself. He reluctantly pulled out of you, his cum mixed with yours flowing out slowly. He smirked at the sight and took out a cloth he always kept in his drawer to clean you up. Wow, talk about a sexy and caring professor.

“How you feelin’?” he asked, pressing the cloth against your core after wetting it slightly, 

“Amazing.” you said, making him smile. After cleaning you up, he gave you a lazy kiss and picked up his and your clothes and handed them to you. You dressed in silence and watched him do the same.

“Hey, so uh, I wanted to tell you. Um, I don’t normally do this with any student of mine. Nor have I ever been attracted to any student. You are truly an exception.”

“Thanks, it means a lot.” you smiled. “And if it helps, I’ve never been this attracted to a teacher before. You are amazing too.” he blushed at that, making you giggle

“Well I better get going.” you said, getting off his desk. You picked up your file from the floor and handed it to him, then took a piece of paper and wrote something on it and handed that as well.

“Here's my submission, and my number. If you wanna maybe text sometime?”

“Sure, I’d love that sweetheart. Maybe we can meet up for a coffee later this week?”

“I’d like that.” you smiled and made your way to unlock the door. Just as you were about to open the door, he called you out, making you turn around and look at him.

“Hey, uh is it ok if we keep this thing a secret for a while? For the both of us? I don’t want you to face unnecessary backlash from anyone because of me.”

“Yes, it’s ok, Tom.”

“Ah, professor in the classroom.” he steps closer to whisper in your ear, “Tom when we are alone, together.”, making you go red.

“Noted, professor.” you winked and exited his room, your heart skipping a beat, silly smiles on both of your faces. 

You were looking forward to your possible relationship development with him and excited to see where it goes, as did he with you.

The end

lemme know what you thought🙈

[eskelstits]

Okay okay so hear me out:

Jaskier has been acting odd lately, though the bard was either too shy or too stubborn to acknowledge it. At the very least, he was stubborn fool for thinking Geralt, of all people, wouldn’t take notice. Jaskier had suddenly become adamant about more generous rations for his Witcher, started to insist on larger dinners at taverns, and was always quick to suggest another round of food and drink— only to insist that Geralt finish it. The witcher pretended not to notice the way Jaskier watched intently while he ate and hid his wry amusement when the bard hurriedly looked away upon being caught. Geralt had so far played along with these antics in feigned ignorance, admittedly feeling a small thrill as his body started to bulk and strain against his armor. And now that he was paying closer attention, he found himself fond of just how delicate his bard looked by comparison. Armed with his suspicions of what Jaskier is up to, Geralt decides to satisfy his curiosity by embracing the bard’s antics and seeing just how much he can him squirm.

I was thinking some stuffing and size kink ~ with increasingly daring taunts thrown from both sides of the table bc let’s be real neither of the boys would give in easily.

THANK YOU i definitely had fun with this prompt

[ masterpost - ao3 ]

"Are you ill?" Geralt asked the question hunched over the plate of eggs and bacon he was enjoying for his breakfast.

More accurately, Jaskier's breakfast. Geralt had already finished his own serving, but then Jaskier had deftly stacked his own half-full plate on top of Geralt's empty one. To be fair, as it turned out, that particular tavern did tend to dish out surprisingly hearty portions, and Geralt had to remind himself that Jaskier was not a witcher, and therefore did not have the appetite of one. It was not the only occasion on which Jaskier had passed off a good fraction of his food to Geralt, however.

In fact, it seemed to be happening more and more frequently lately. He would demand seconds, larger portions, extra bread or more ale, only to immediately claim that he was full and offer it up to Geralt. After a tough life of fighting for survival, Geralt was a rather opportunistic eater, and so he always took advantage of Jaskier's leftovers. It was … strange, but Geralt could not say he exactly minded it. He did like going to bed warm and satiated rather than starving, tossing and turning and kept awake by his growling stomach. The only thing that really puzzled Geralt was the staring. Jaskier would look at him like Geralt was the most fascinating thing on the Continent whenever they sat down together to eat, but as Geralt had recently discovered, Jaskier would always quickly look away the moment Geralt met his eye.

Jaskier gaped and sputtered for a moment, eyes wide and hand settled over his chest as though Geralt had just viciously insulted him.

"Ill? Geralt, you wound me. I will have you know that I'm positively glowing with good health," Jaskier huffed.

Geralt grunted. Eyes narrowed, he examined Jaskier for just a brief moment longer, then bowed his head again to continue eating. Out of the edge of his vision, he could see Jaskier watching him.

Geralt had been willing to ignore the odd behavior up until his trousers started feeling tight. He still was not quite upset. It was not an overly drastic change, just a slight layer of padding over top of his muscles, making him look more like he did after he had been settled for a while over the winters he spent at Kaer Morhen, but there was a definite difference. Jaskier seemed to be noticing, too. Though he had not said anything about it, he still stared, and whenever he and Geralt fell into bed together, the bard's hands smoothed all over him, wordlessly worshiping Geralt's fuller frame.

Geralt enjoyed it, too. He had always been broader than Jaskier, but putting on a bit of weight had only highlighted that contrast. The day before, Geralt had caught a glimpse of his reflection looming behind Jaskier's in the mirror as the bard stood there checking over his own outfit for the evening's performance, and he had looked almost … delicate in comparison to Geralt. The sight had ignited something deep and primal and exciting in his core, and he wanted to chase that thrill.

No, he was far from upset. He was curious, though. While he had pieced together what was happening, there was still one more question: Was Jaskier doing it on purpose? Geralt supposed he could simply ask, but the thought of setting himself up for vulnerability like that was horrific. He had to find some other way to weasel out the truth. He had to beat Jaskier at his own game.

"Do I look different to you?" Geralt dared to ask that evening while they waited for the barmaid to come back with their dinner order. Jaskier looked anxious for just a brief second, but then he relaxed again and hummed inquisitively as he scanned Geralt's face.

"Is that a new doublet? Oh! Have you trimmed your beard?" Jaskier said.

Geralt hummed. By trade, Jaskier was a performer, but Geralt knew him well enough to be able to tell when he was lying -- or 'acting,' as Jaskier often corrected him. Two could play that game. Feigning ignorance, Geralt nodded and falsely agreed that he had gone to a barber, and he watched Jaskier decompress with relief. When the barmaid returned and set a full plate down in front of each of them, Geralt cleared his throat to get her attention.

"I want another," he said, pointing to his own plate.

"Ah … Another leg of chicken?" The barmaid looked a bit confused, like she was hesitant to believe that Geralt had been referring to the entire meal.

"No. Another plate," Geralt insisted. A brief pause, and he tacked on, "Please."

The barmaid blinked, but she chose not to argue. Rather, she nodded and scurried back to the kitchen. When Geralt looked back towards Jaskier, the bard was staring. Again.

"... Hungry, are you?" Jaskier questioned.

"Very."

Geralt held Jaskier's gaze for a moment longer and watched as just a hint of color began creeping over the bard's cheeks. Without another word, Geralt began to eat. He tore into the half chicken and the hearty portion of roast vegetables he had in front of him, and each time he glanced up, he found Jaskier trying and ultimately failing to be subtle about the fact that he was watching Geralt like a hawk. Geralt thought that he would have wanted to shy away before he managed to get his questions answered, but that was not the case. In reality, he actually liked the attention, those enraptured eyes fixed on him making him feel alight with a strange mixture of pleasure and shame. The barmaid came back with the rest of the food Geralt had requested, and she set it down quickly almost as though afraid of getting bitten if she ventured too close. Geralt grunted his thanks around a full mouth. Jaskier had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time, all the way up until Geralt finally broke for air and a drink of ale.

“Are you … sure you’re going to be able to finish all of that?” Jaskier sounded both tentative and almost laughably eager.

“Yes,” Geralt answered.

He met Jaskier’s eye again, his gaze dark and smoldering. The bard’s throat bobbed enticingly when he swallowed, and Geralt only barely held back a smirk. Whether or not Jaskier had been feeding Geralt up on purpose, it was obvious that he enjoyed the show, and it was always fun for Geralt to try and get him flustered.

“Ah, yes, well … I suppose you have had quite a healthy appetite lately,” Jaskier said. He spoke hesitantly, testing his luck. Geralt pushed right back.

“Someone has to eat all your leftovers.”

“Mm, yes. You are rather good for that.”

Geralt made it about halfway through his second plate before Jaskier was getting restless again. The bard still had some food remaining on his own plate, and judging from the way he kept glancing between it and Geralt and tapping his fingers anxiously against the table, he was hoping to see the witcher finish it off for him.

“Going to eat that?” Geralt spoke around a mouthful of chicken.

He had inched past satisfied a few bites ago, but he could keep going comfortably enough, and he so desperately wanted to see how Jaskier was going to react to his more deliberate goading. Geralt watched while Jaskier blushed and tried his best to act as though he had not been hoping to hear that exact question. It had been painfully obvious. Their many years together had given Geralt the ability to be able to read Jaskier like an open book. Sometimes, it was useful, likely saving Jaskier from some fights when Geralt was able to pick up on the body language that meant foolish determination or rising anger, but other times, like in that moment, it was simply amusing.

“Come now, love, you can’t possibly still be hungry,” Jaskier teased. Somewhat unexpectedly, it sent a jolt down Geralt’s spine. The witcher made a noise somewhat like a little growl, and his pupils widened. Jaskier did a much poorer job of veiling his own smirk. Perfect. Geralt was baiting him, and he was falling for it so easily. “I know you’ve been eating a great deal lately, but honestly … you’re getting greedy.”

Geralt’s heart fluttered nearly as quickly as a human’s as Jaskier scraped the rest of his food onto Geralt’s plate. By then, Jaskier seemed to have accepted that it was useless to hide his interest. He sat with his elbows braced against the table and his jaw cradled in his palms, alluring blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Geralt. Near the end of his meal, Geralt was at last starting to struggle, the fact that his armor clung to him a bit more than he would have preferred only keeping it pinned in the forefront of his mind just how full he was. Jaskier’s reddened cheeks had only grown more vivid, the color even dusting the tips of his ears. Geralt rarely saw the bard so silent, so unwaveringly focused, usually only when he was in the middle of a fit of intense writing inspiration, and while Geralt felt scrutinized, he was actually enjoying it. Feeling bold, he grunted around his last mouthful and then reclined back in his chair, hoping to give Jaskier a glimpse of his distended belly where it strained against his clothes. Judging from the look on the bard’s face, it had worked.

“Are you finally satisfied, then?” Jaskier asked, and something about his tone of voice had something hot and exciting churning in the pit of Geralt’s stomach. He sounded almost condescending, but in the most deliciously arousing way possible.

“Mhm.” It was little more than a grunt.

Jaskier evidently had very little regard for how sluggish Geralt was looking. Lithe fingers curled around Geralt’s wrist and tugged insistently, and although Geralt easily could have kept himself planted in place if he had truly wanted to, he allowed Jaskier to haul him up onto his feet and lead him upstairs. Such a short trip normally would never have affected him, but with a full stomach weighing him down, Geralt found himself panting softly by the time he and Jaskier had reached their room. Distracted by the unfamiliar feeling of his trousers digging into his skin so tightly that it was almost painful, Geralt had little time to react before he was suddenly backed up against the closed door and drawn into a heated kiss.

“Jask --” Geralt breathed, cut off abruptly by yet another kiss.

Clearly, he had guessed right. Jaskier did enjoy that display, even more than Geralt had been anticipating. Soon, Geralt gave up on speaking, and he yielded to the kiss, lips parting for a teasing swipe of Jaskier’s tongue through his mouth. There was a pleasant warmth against Geralt’s middle that he soon recognized as Jaskier’s hands, kneading gently through stiff leather.

“Look at you,” Jaskier murmured. Geralt bit back a dry remark about how it was difficult to do that with the bard plastered up against him. “You’re getting so big.”

A thrill ran through Geralt at that. He curled his hands around Jaskier’s slender hips and squeezed, drawing him in closer, and Jaskier gasped against his lips. In truth, Geralt did not look too terribly different than he usually did, but there had been a little tone of hopefulness in Jaskier’s voice, a subtle but unmistakable hint that he wanted more. The next few seconds seemed to blur together, but somehow, Geralt had ended up spread out on the bed, staring up into Jaskier’s darkened eyes where he had perched himself on Geralt’s hips. Jaskier’s usually agile fingers trembled with anticipation as he worked Geralt out of his armor, putting him on blatant display. Where he had once been all sharp angles and overly defined muscles, he had accumulated a small layer of padding, and most noticeable of all at the moment was the rounded curve of his belly, warm and full and demanding Jaskier’s complete attention. His hands smoothed over it, rubbing and exploring, interspersed with little appreciative pats and scratches.

“Knew you were doing it on purpose,” Geralt said. Much to his amusement, Jaskier actually looked shocked. “Weren’t very subtle about it.”

“Yes, well --” Jaskier paused, seeming to be struggling to decide on what to say. Eventually, he just huffed, then decided to deflect and taunted, “Are you sure you aren’t just a glutton?”

Geralt smirked. Without any warning, he rolled over, pinning Jaskier beneath him. He heard Jaskier’s pulse flutter. A heated fantasy sped through Geralt’s mind, thoughts of how easily he could subdue Jaskier, how much stronger and bigger Geralt was, how much deep trust it took for Jaskier to lay himself out so vulnerable for a witcher, a predator. Jaskier’s arms snaked around him, and his hands splayed out over Geralt’s shoulder blades. Geralt laid heavier against him and growled in his ear just to feel Jaskier squirm. Jaskier would be unable to get away even if he wanted to with Geralt’s full weight holding him down. Oddly, that was a deeply pleasurable thought, and Geralt had very quickly decided that he would take no issue with it if Jaskier wanted to keep feeding him, making him broader and heavier still, only further exaggerating that contrast between the two of them. If the way Geralt could feel Jaskier’s hardening cock digging into his thigh was any indication, they were in agreement on that.

“Going to get me something good for breakfast tomorrow?” Geralt purred into Jaskier’s ear.

Jaskier groaned, hooked his legs around Geralt’s waist to grind their hips together, and moved one hand to tangle into the witcher’s hair. His opposite hand snuck downwards, and he pinched at the slight, growing plushness at Geralt’s hip.

“Certainly. You’re just wasting away.”

Geralt’s mouth was far too busy then for any proper response.

[redstoneverdict]

Ok so this is inspired by @petrichormeraki hermit tommy au, go check them out they both come up with great stuff.

Tommy has been living with the hermits for almost 2 and a half months now and honestly he can’t remember the last time he felt like he could just let himself breath. The first few weeks were rough, seeing that joe hills found him passed out and a few steps away from death door one day when he was out and about. Tommy didn’t think he would just be running for so long, trying to get as much distance between him and lmanburg as possible. But he should’ve know exustion would catch up to him eventually, especially having just narrowly escaping a group of pillagers.

It took them awhile to even get him to fully wake up again, and even after that he felt too weak to keep on running so grian offered to let him stay in his old hobbit hole. Tommy didn’t want to accept the mans pitty but he still couldn’t even lift up a sword much less build a temporary starter base so he caved in. It only took about another week of relaxation before he was able to fully run around again and took up helping grian around his base and his various projects as a sort of payment for letting him stay in his old base.

Tommy was surprised with how well they got along, but honestly it shouldn’t have been to much of a shock seeing as they both love red and tend to be more of the michivsious type. It probably helped that Grian reminded him so much of his older brother Wilbur, he almost asked one day if the two was related somehow but decided against it. Tommy doesn’t want another connection to the pass he is trying to leave behind.

Currently they where gathering materials for grians barge and had been at it for most of the day, and had started chatting away about various things like best ways to prank people and what is xisuma hideing under his helmet, before falling into a comfortable silence. Tommy used to not be able to stand the silence, having always filled with with whatever comes to mind, but during his exiled, and when he ran away, he started to become more quiet. Why talk when there was no one there to hear you anyway, well anyone that was actually alive and could remember the inside jokes you where attempting to make.

Tommy’s thoughts drift to his brother, Wilbur. He still sort of feels bad for leaving without even telling him, seeing as he was the only one besides dream who actively tried to help him and vist him back in logshire, but honestly he probably would’ve forgotten him too by now, just like every other bad memory. He feels a tap on his shoulder.

“-tommy are you even listening?” Grian ask, takeing a step back after seeing tommy jump in his skin and pull out his sword before realizing it’s just grian.

“Oh sorry” Tommy says sheepishly, “I was just cought in my own thoughts, what is it?” He ask puting his sword away.

“ I said we’ve been working for awhile, how about we take a break and eat something” grian says pointing over to a shady spot in the distance.

Tommy didn’t notice the ache in his arms untill grian mentioned it and agreed, packing up their shoker boxes and flying over there, he still wasn’t quite used to useing elytra but feeling the wind blowing pass him definitely helped ground him after having thought about the past.

The two sat and ate for awhile, laughing at a story about how mumbo really made a his demise bunkers door code 1,2,3,4 and then falling into silence as they ate some more.

“ ya know” grian said inbetween bites of a sandwich he had brought, “ we always say mumbos the youngest around here but I don’t think I ever cought your age” he puts the sandwich down, “ and I’d rather not assume since I look pretty young myself, but how old are you?”

Tommy pauses and think, how old is he? He hadn’t really thought about since leaving. “ Um, what day is it?” He ask.

“ April 13th” Grian replys, looking kinda worried.

“ oh”, Tommy pauses, had it really been that long since he ran away? He shrugs “ I guess I’m 17 now, my birthday was on the 4th”, he says nonchalantly, taking another bite out of his pork chop.

“REALLY?” Grian is shocked, he figured tommy was at least 18 but finding out he was just 16 when joe found him all beaten up and knocking on deaths door steps puts him back a bit. But he can’t really be one to judge seeing how his teenage years where, and he knows that if he had the chance he would’ve ran away from it all a lot sooner then he did. “ wow wish I knew sooner, we could’ve thrown you a party or something” he says giving tommy a playful nudge, but tommy goes still and a look crosses over his face.

“N-no” Tommy says, furrowing his eyebrows and looking away, “no it’s alright, I kinda don’t do parties anymore. The last one I tried to throw, no one even showed up, I mean dream did-“ Tommy whinces, saying his name “but he doesn’t really count”

“No one?” Grian ask, taking note of dreams name, it’s the first time tommy has said someone’s name from his past, and he’s surprised it’s someone he vaguely knows, but he keeps quiet about it for now.

“Nope, not my best friend, not even my own family” Tommy’s voice lowers on the last part, pain written all over his face, before he pushes himself up. “ But now of that really matters now, does it?”. Tommy’s whole demeanor changes as he goes back into his usual self. “ how about we load up your shit head back to the shopping district before it gets to late yeah? I got other things to do besides being your bitch”

Grian knows tommy has been trying to cut back on his swearing, and that he’s just trying to change and get away from the subject as fast as he could, but Grian wasn’t going to push the matter. He knows what it’s like to feel like you’re not wanted by anyone and he knows that tommy will talk about it when he’s ready.

“ hey watch your mouth before I make ya eat a spider eye again” grian gets up “ but yah you’re probably right, it is getting late and I’d rather not lost all my stuff over 3000 blocks out.” He puts his hand on the larger boys shoulder and looks up at him “ you go ahead and take off and I’ll pack up what whatever we might of left”

Tommy looks back at the smaller man, he knows Grian isn’t stupid, but is thankful he is letting it slide for now. “ thanks grian.” He says softly, for once not feeling like he has to make his voice boom in order to be heard

Grian smiles back reassuringly, “ no problem kiddo, now go on get out of here” he says shooing tommy off as he takes flight heading towards the shopping district.

Grian stares at his shrinking figure and thinks. He doesn’t know what has happened to Tommy, but it’s obvious it’s was something painful enough to make him run away into the wilderness at such a young age. Grian picks up their remaining supplies before putting the shoker into in inventory. In any case, was was going to talk to the other hermits and organize a surprise birthday party for Tommy. He may not have any fond memories at the moment but grian would be dammed if he didn’t try to help the boy form new ones. Ones where he knows that he is apreacited. 

[legends-live-in-memories]

Just Some Guy

AYO im back with day 3! i got nothing else to say :)

Maribat Masterlist   AO3   @maribat-bdbwm

Day 1 2

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: 

Marinette went to school hoping for a normal day.

Instead, she meets her father for the second time. Or perhaps, for the first time.

BD!Bruce Wayne Day 3- Identities

without further ado:

Marinette woke up in the morning with a bad feeling. Nothing was really wrong. She woke up before her alarm and she hadn’t tripped getting out of bed. She finished her homework the night before and hadn’t gotten into any fights all week. And yet, a weight sat in her stomach.

Her mother once said— when she was maybe three years old and landed on her feet when she fell out of a tree she wasn’t supposed to have been climbing— that as she grew up her affinity for the miraculous magic would cause these unfamiliar ‘sensations’ throughout her life. It was more precise than intuition but not nearly as sophisticated as precognition. Her teachers had said she was blessed by the ancestors as most guardians develop this skill only after years of training, not as a young toddler like herself. She knew to trust this feeling. Usually, she knew that this feeling meant something was going to hurt her; except, since living in Paris for a year, this feeling tended to mean that something was going to embarrass her at worst or mildly inconvenience her at best. She hoped it was the latter.

Nothing happened during her normal routine of getting ready and her papa had even made an extra nice breakfast for the family. The weather was perfect and everything seemed to be going right. So why did she have this feeling?

The walk to school was equally mundane and Marinette started to feel jittery. She hadn’t tripped on her way so that wasn’t what was going to go wrong either. Her class was a quiet sea of private conversations. Chloé wasn’t even doing anything beyond tapping on her phone. Though, she wasn’t usually as enthusiastic as she was now. Was that what was going to go wrong?

“Marinette!” her teacher had called. Madame Bustier was an eccentric woman, Marinette had learned. She was only their teacher for a few months but she was someone Marinette grew fond of rather quickly. “I’m glad you’re here early, can you do me a small favor?”

“Of course, Madame.” This was nothing out of place either, the feeling still weighed on her.

“I left some copies of some handouts in the staff room upstairs. Do you think you could fetch them for me?” Standing behind her desk, her posture straight and smile so bright, Marinette found no reason to say no. She agreed without hesitation.

The journey to and from the staff room was, again, uneventful and Marinette was just hoping that whatever Bad Thing that was supposed to happen to her would just occur. The fretting alone is enough to send her to an early grave. Checking on the time back in the class, it was only 8:20. She had the entire day left. Great.

The hours ticked by and it was then the lunch hour. Marinette’s nerves had calmed down in the meantime and she was fidgety for a different reason. Today was Friday and that meant her papa was in charge of her training. The thought alone was enough to lift her spirits. She couldn’t wait to see what he had in store today.

If only she could actually make it back to the bakery. Before anyone could actually leave the class, Chloé commanded the attention of everyone, including Madame Bustier, because she had a ‘special announcement.’

The bad feeling had immediately returned and Marinette felt a chill. This was it. This was what her senses had been preparing her for all day. She looked at Chloé and the curl of her lips, pale lip gloss shining as bright as ever, made a pit open in Marinette’s stomach. She had her undivided attention, hanging off of whatever words she was about to say next.

“A very important guest is in Paris and daddy has agreed that we all get to meet him. Bruce Wayne is coming here today! He’s staying at our hotel—of course— and he agreed to come to the school after lunch to speak to us about business and other boring stuff. All because of me. No need to thank me.” her little speech was decorated with self-congratulatory hair flips and pats on her own shoulder. None of it mattered to Marinette, however. Her brain was too busy rebooting. All her trepidation and egg-shell walking… for this? For this person? He was clearly important if not for Chloé saying as such then for the background chatter of her classmates but it all meant nothing to Marinette. Because…

Because…

Who the heck was Bruce Wayne?

Why would some old businessman want to speak to a bunch of twelve year olds? Well, he was staying at the mayor’s hotel, he probably didn’t have much of a say in the matter. Whatever the mayor’s precious daughter wants she gets. Too bad this man got dragged along for the whole ordeal. But that doesn’t explain why this was what set off her nerves. What could possibly happen in meeting this guy? Marinette could only wait until after the lunch hour to figure out.

Her excitement for her papa’s training was overshadowed by her dread. She could barely focus, distracted by her own hyper-aware senses. The trek back to school was slow, Marinette tried to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible, but she was facing her classroom door too quickly for her tastes. The chatter of her classmates beyond the door, Madame Bustier trying to control the noise, and a deep chuckle that cut through the cacophony, did nothing but make Marinette wish to be able to turn back and run home.

Could she call in sick?

Run away only to return on Monday?

No, a voice rang, her father’s voice, in her head. The only way out is through. Those were his words and Marinette wasn’t going to chicken out on meeting some stranger just because her gut feeling was warning her about something. Whatever it was, she’ll face head-on. She’s the daughter of freaking Batman after all.

She took a deep breath, mind made up, and opened the door with more bravado than she actually had.

Too bad she overestimated how much force she actually needed and accidentally slammed the door open. What was once a rowdy classroom was now a silent audience, peering as Marinette made a rather grand entrance. The tall figure standing next to Madame Bustier had the most unnerving gaze. She was transfixed. Mesmerized. She stared at the visitor, tall and broad, with swept back hair and a pair of baby blue eyes. She knew that face. She knew those eyes!

There were only two times she saw eyes that blue; in her own reflection and in the face of her father. Who was Batman. But… also this Bruce Wayne guy? What?

That’s not right. She would have known if her father was in the city and she most definitely would have known if her father was some guy named Bruce Wayne. Right?

At least her bad feeling was gone.

But why was he here? And why was he still staring at her?

“Going to become part of the decoration, Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé’s snark cut into the silence and called her attention away from her maskless father. That was when she noticed that she was still standing in the doorway. With everyone still staring at her.

She scurried to the back of the classroom to her seat in record speed, not meeting anyone’s eye, ignoring any snickering directed at her.

“Well, class now that everyone is here,” Marinette cheeks felt warm at her teacher’s comment, “Allow me to introduce you all to Mr. Bruce Wayne, owner and CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

Oh, her father was someone rich then.

“Thank you, Madame. I will admit I was surprised that the mayor personally asked me to be here on such short notice but,” that was her father’s voice but it was the gruff tones she had heard when they met. This was airy, and approachable. “But seeing all of you here today, definitely made it worth it.”

It was so weird.

Marinette didn’t pay attention to anything he said during his visit, and after he left, with an indecipherable, lingering look in her direction, she felt like she could breathe again for the first time in forever. Watching the stone cold Batman prance around, engaging with children, was bizarre. She felt like she was watching another person, and she almost thought he was but she knew that face. She’s seen it before, the night they first met, and those eyes, so much like her own, so she knows that this man is her father. No matter how… cheery he acted. But it was over and Marinette’s day could finally go back to normal.

Putting the whole ordeal behind her, her anxieties quelled and the bad feeling having passed, Marinette was left with one question however.

If Batman is Bruce Wayne, then who the heck are his children?  

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

this is a continuation of the other one

Y/N stares at him for a long moment, arms crossed and poking her tongue into her cheek. “Why do I feel like I'm Ariel and you’re the sea witch trying to get me to sing into a shell?”

Harry blinks once. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, right, that was—that was ‘89, wasn’t it?” Y/N bites back a laugh at the scowl that rolls over Harry’s expression. “After your time, I suppose.”

But Y/N isn’t laughing when she has to spend the next two weeks braless. And although she spends the first day being petty under Harry’s keen eye, by the third day, she’s turned the predicament around in her favor.

“Hey, Harry.” She says one night, stirring her pot of pasta on the stove as she sips her eleven dollar wine. “I have a question about our arrangement.”

Harry, who has been leaning over the counter to soak in the aromas of the food that he longs to taste (and also to get a look at Y/N’s cleavage in the v-neck t-shirt she’s wearing), cocks his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “If you're trying to reduce your sentence, don’t even try it.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Y/N murmurs, trailing her lip around the rim of her wine glass as she leans against the counter. “I was just wondering if it has to be only braless with a shirt on top, or if I could wear just a bra or bralette.”

Harry blinks once, his mouth falling open in surprise. “I—what?”

“Like, I have this little cotton Calvin Klein bralette, and it’s super comfy, and still gives me some support, but my cleavage and such is still decently on display.” Y/N clarifies with a smug grin, setting down her glass against the fake marble counter as she stretches to reach the spice cabinet. “I think that could fulfill our agreement, no? You know what bralette I’m talking about, right? You’ve probably seen it when you’ve been snooping around.”

Harry looks at her carefully, trying to catch the trick behind her all-too generous offer. He replies in a measured tone, leaning against the fridge as his eyes glue to the way her chest heaves as she teeters forwards on her tiptoes to grab a condiment. “I know the one, yes. Peachy pink, right? With a thick band and slightly ruffled fabric at the center?”

“That’s the one, yup.” Y/N pops the last letter of the word, wiggling her fingers to try and grab the oregano from the highest shelf. “It’s a nice number, I think, and going around braless for so long does my back in sometimes.”

Harry pushes off the barrier he’s using as support, drifting towards Y/N as she stands before her cupboards, one hand propped against the counter to boost herself up as the other fishes for the small container a few inches from the tips of her fingers. He stops right beside her, looking down at her with that same calculating gaze he had across the room. He’s still trying to sus out her angle, but little does he know that what she’s trying to implement is going to work out for both of them.

She’s grown quite fond of the extra attention he’s been giving her, and for some odd reason, she feels a deep sense of pleasure every time she catches him staring at her chest. Maybe it’s the way his eyes glint longingly as he ogles, or the way he’ll chew into his cheek or along his bottom lip or into the side of his finger as he follows the outline of her cleavage, or maybe it’s that when she catches him gawking, he’ll hold intense eye contact with her for a second before casting his gaze away to some other unimportant object.

Maybe it was that one time yesterday where she’d managed to pull an actual reaction out of him. They had been watching a rerun of a Scooby Doo movie, and she could feel his ghastly eyes pinned to her bust, probably because she had lied down on her stomach across her sectional sofa as he had sat on the floor in front of it, so when he turned his head, her chest had been less than a foot away. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had purposefully flushed it against the couch cushion below to make it seem extra plump and appealing, which would have knocked the air from Harry’s lungs if he still had them.

He’d released a soft whimper so broken and needy, Y/N had to fight off a conceited grin to avoid letting him know she was doing this to him with actual intention. She’d pretended not to hear it, but she had allowed herself to indulge the flare of satisfaction that rose from watching him shift his sitting position a bit, as if something were growing heavy between his thighs. His actions had vaguely made her wonder if ghosts could even feel arousal, and if they could, she hoped he was. It was the perfect revenge, because she at least knows that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not with anyone else, at least.

Y/N watches as Harry reaches an arm up, easily reaching the bottle she’s attempting to retrieve. He swipes his hand across the container, the motion managing to knock it off the shelf and into her awaiting palm. She’s learned that in order to touch objects, he has to put in quite a bit of energy and concentration to succeed in breaking through the dimensional barrier that separates the living from the dead. Garnering the slightest contact can sometimes drain him a great deal, so when he does make it his mission to touch something, he does it with as little impact as possible to save his energy for later, in case he wants to grab something for an extended period of time, or grasp a heavier weight that would require more exertion.  

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him innocently, blinking her lashes with a slightly sultry air as she closes the cupboard slowly.

Harry swallows heavily, glimpsing down at where her chest is still heaving from when she’d made a grand effort to collect the ingredient she needed. He hates how his little cheeky plan had recently become the bane of his undead existence, given that Y/N had recently begun using it to her advantage. But he can’t complain, because he’s getting exactly what he asked for. He just wishes he could get more.

His voice comes out low and strained as his eyes coast back up to meet her own, which are dancing with smug amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“So what do you say?” Y/N asks, uncapping the spice and sprinkling a liberal amount into her sauce. “Think we could tweak our deal?”

Harry pulls himself back onto the counter, tapping his fingers against the surface without making a sound. “I suppose.” He replies after a moment, eyes flickering to Y/N’s chest once more as she leans down to taste the sauce. “The bralette should be fine, as long as it’s not too padded.” He shoots her a cheeky grin. “I like a bit of nipple, you know that.”

“You’re gross.” Y/N scoffs, shaking her head as she sets down the wooden spoon on the stove. “I'm gonna go change, then. Watch this for me, will you?”

And Harry does rather diligently, inhaling the flavorful aromas rising from the stove. He wishes, for the billionth time in his thirty odd years of death, that he could taste food. He knows he doesn’t need it, but even just having its essence pass over his tongue would be enough for him. He misses pasta, he thinks, staring longingly at the noodles boiling away on the stove. And pizza, and fish, and steak, cooked perfectly with a delicious side of mashed potatoes and gravy, just pink enough in the middle that it’s still tender—

“You didn’t burn down the kitchen. Good job!” Y/N’s voice calls from behind, and the ghost turns around with a retort on his lips that quickly falls away once he sees her.

She’s put on the bralette just as she said she would, and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. The cotton is thin enough that he can see the clear outline of what he wants through the article, and the halter neckline lands low enough that he can see every dip and curve of her breasts. A band of her stomach is exposed beneath the labeled elastic lining the bottom of the fabric, and the soft skin seems to call to Harry, making him desperate to touch it. Y/N’s decided to swap her sweatpants as well, it seems, as she’s now dressed in a loose pair of heather grey shorts that sit above her belly button and barely cover the curve of her ass. The loose legs flutter up with her every movement, and if she were about to bend over just a smidge, he could—

“How’s this?” The girl asks, flicking her loose hair over her shoulder with a simper. “Does it meet the requirements?”

Harry clears his throat, his words coming out as a pained groan. “God, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Y/N sputters into a round of airy laughter, coming to stand before him with her hands perched on her hips. Her tone is innocent, but her true intentions are written clear across her face, obvious in the way her lips twitch with evil delight. “How so? I’m abiding to our terms!”

“You’re giving me the world’s worst case of blue-balls, is what you’re doing.” Harry bites back, his sharp jaw clenching and full lips pressing into a bothered grimace. “And you’re doing it on fucking purpose.”  

“You made your casket, now lie in it.” Y/N states brightly, shrugging her brows with finality.

“Harsh.” Harry mumbles, but he can’t fight off the amused grin that tweaks his dimples into place.  

Harry slips off the counter again onto his feet, not being able to stay still. There’s a peculiar buzzing sensation coursing through each of his ghostly limbs, and anytime he stays put, it intensifies to the point where he feels like he’s going to explode into a shower of static.

He saunters up behind Y/N, looking over her shoulder as she regains her previous activity of mixing the contents in the pot while they simmer their way to completion. Despite not being able to touch her, he can still smell her just fine, and her homey scent of chamomile and jasmine are ever welcomed. She just smells so much like a girl, for a lack of a better explanation, and Harry hasn’t been this close to one his own age since before he passed. It’s driving him to the brink.

“I’d give you a taste if I could.” Y/N's soft, teasing voice echoes against his ears as she cranes her neck to look at him. “It’s a family recipe.”

“Yeah...” Harry locks eyes with her for a moment, and his hand instinctively reaches down to grasp at her waist. Instead of being met with the warm sturdiness of what he knows would be her silky skin, he’s met with the typical icy fizzing sensation that constantly haunts him whenever he tries to make contact with a living being. His digits pass right through her hip, though she barely seems to notice, the only palpable indication of his attempt being a cold breeze wafting across her flesh.

He knows it’s something that is extremely easy to brush off, usually as a simple draft from the air conditioning, given the similarities between the two experiences. And that’s exactly what she appears to do as she gives a light, dismissive shiver, not paying it any mind.

The ghost tries his best to keep his disappointment from registering in his mood, and his tone instead fills with an unreadable emptiness that only he can truly interpret. Below it lies a double meaning, and it has to do with way more than just the general desire to be able to experience the taste of good again; it holds a certain longing that pertains to a deeper type of hunger, but again, only he can truly decipher it. “Yeah, I can only dream of it.”

[taetaespeaches]

“I hate fighting with you.”

jungkook x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 3.7K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Here is the resolution to the fight between Jungkook and Holly in, “You think I’d leave you if you falter?” Turns out, these two are pretty damn good at resolving conflicts. This features a little bit of Kid (over the phone). Parts of this are loosely based on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, thanks for reading! :)) 

YEARS of compartmentalizing feelings were coming in handy as you worked on the conclusion of your essay. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to write when all you wanted to do was sprint to the dorm and figure things out with your boyfriend.

For about the thirtieth time since he walked out, after you asked him to leave, you checked your phone. You wanted to text or call him. Things got out of hand and you never meant to lay all of that on him in that moment. It should have come out in a proper conversation, where both of you could listen to each other calmly without emotions being so high.

Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since he left, and your anxiety was only intensifying. The more time that went by, the less focused you were on writing, your ability to keep the fight concealed in a box in your mind dwindling. Your feelings were spilling out throughout your mind and body, the sadness and disappointment flooding your thoughts.

Your phone started ringing and you reached for it instantly, breathing out with a huff when you saw it was not Jungkook but rather “The Queen”, your close friend, who was also Yoongi’s girlfriend.

Completely unsure of how to handle the fight, you resorted to texting the girl, knowing she usually handed out amazing advice, and also knowing that she and Yoongi had some difficult times early on in their relationship. Though the issues were different than hers and Yoongi’s, you thought she might be able to provide some insight as to how to handle conflict when both parties obviously love each other and want things to work. 

Answering the phone, you greeted her with a sigh before saying, “Hello.”

“Hey, bubs,” she greeted, sympathy lacing her tone.

“I shouldn’t have asked him to leave, should I have?” You asked her, hearing her sigh into the phone.

“I mean, it’s complicated, you’re working on an essay. That’s important,” she reminded you.

“But now it looks like I’m prioritizing my assignment over Jungkook,” you whined, feeling like a complete asshole.

“And? What’s the issue with that?” She asked bluntly.

“I just don’t want to hurt him, I guess, I don’t know,” you explained.

“Jungkook understands deadlines, he’s not going to see it as you prioritizing something above him, it’s just sometimes things do rank higher in immediate importance. It was just shit timing, he gets that,” she told you, you humming in response.

“Yeah I guess,” you agreed, thinking about the situation.

“The kid may act like a selfish jerk sometimes but he’s not actually a selfish jerk,” she reminded you. “I mean but throwing a tantrum over the dishes? Really? Remind me to fucking punch him next time I see him.”

You let out a light laugh at the comment.  

“Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for taking care of yourself or your responsibilities,” she told you.

You groaned, your friend waiting patiently for your next words. “I know, you’re right. I just hate this feeling so much, we’re usually so in sync and now I just dumped all this stuff on him and he had no idea I had any of these feelings. I mean, you should have seen his face, dude, he was devastated.”

“No matter how in sync you two usually are, you’re still two individuals with different thoughts and emotions and that means communication isn’t always going to go easy,” she said, pausing for a moment as you both sat in silence. “Neither of you should have taken your stress out on each other, but it happens. And as for the deeper-rooted issues you laid out there, those do need to be addressed. Again, maybe shit timing, but it’s necessary to have those complicated conversations,” she pointed out.

“I just don’t want to lose him,” you admitted, tears forming in your eyes as your voice quavered. “I’m so scared I fucked it all up.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t,” she immediately negated. “Things may feel heavy right now but this doesn’t mark the end of anything. Jungkook is in this with you. He’s just going to be even more determined now to make sure you feel loved, and if he doesn’t, he’s not worth it to be completely honest,” she told you, you thinking about the words. “Look, I know he loves you. I mean, honestly, it’s a good thing that I actually adore you because I don’t think I’ve had a conversation with the guy since you two met where he didn’t bring you up,” she lightly laughed, you scoffing as you chuckled.

“Ok, same though, I can’t shut the fuck up about him either,” you admitted.

“Yeah, I know,” she laughed, “you two are annoying.”

“Says you, little miss, honey boy this, honey boy that,” you teased her, your friend gasping in feigned offense.

“Whatever, I can’t stand that dude,” she joked, both of you fully aware of how fond she was of Yoongi.

“Is he home?” You asked.

“No, he’ll probably be in the studio all night. I might head over there in a little bit and just sleep there,” she told you, but the information had your heart clenching. If Yoongi was pulling all-nighters in the studio, Jungkook’s current work stress was probably more intense than he was letting on.

“Look, finish your essay and then call him. And if you can’t focus on the essay, then maybe call him now. You don’t have to figure everything out right at this moment, but maybe reaching out and letting him know that you do want to figure it out as soon as possible will help both of you relax,” she told you, the words resonating with you as you realized that’s all you wanted in this moment. Just to give and receive assurance that everything would be ok soon.

“Thank you,” you pouted, tears forming in your eyes again. “I feel a lot better now. Like, still shit but at least better.”

“You know it’s not a problem,” she dismissed her role in helping you. “Everything will be just fine, let me know how it all goes, ok?”

“I will,” you told her. “Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you too,” she replied before the line went dead.

As soon as the call ended, you were tapping on your phone, preparing to call Jungkook, when your front door suddenly opened. Snapping your head in the direction of the intruder, startled by the sudden entrance, you found your boyfriend, his fluffy hair windswept and amess on top his pretty head.

“Sorry,” Jungkook muttered in apology for your frightened expression. His eyes were wide and doe-like as always, but you could see their reddened coloring and the puffiness from across the room. He came back, and that was all the assurance you needed to know that everything would be ok.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, preparing to stand up from your spot on the floor, your back against the sofa, but he held a hand out to halt you.

“No, no, don’t get up,” he told you. “Is your essay done?”

“Jungkook,” you repeated, but he ignored you, instead striding towards you and looking overtop you at your laptop screen. “I’m at the conclusion.”

“That’s good, right?” He asked, his eyes adorably innocent as they stared at you from above.

“I’m losing focus,” you whined pathetically, Jungkook frowning.

“Because of me?” He asked, the hurt and regret evident in his features.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him sincerely, Jungkook giving you a disbelieving look. “It’s not, baby, it’s not just on you.”

“Can I sit with you as you finish?” He suddenly asked, his expression hopeful but nervous, as if you just might turn him down. How could you ever?

“Yeah,” you barely spoke through a whisper, nodding a couple times. “Can we talk?”

“We will, I promise,” he assured you, bending down as he cradled your face in between your hands. “After you finish this, ok? For now, just know I love you and I’m here because I want to work through this.”

He left a kiss to your forehead, you pouting in response to his affection. Stepping away, he stretched out across the sofa, laying his head to the side of yours, placing his hand at the back of your head. As he massaged the spot gently, you leaned into the touch before taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Thank you for coming back,” you told him. “I want to work through this too.”

You felt his lips press to the top of your head, accompanied by a whispered, “I know, baby.” With that, you took one more deep breath, refocusing on the assignment.

You tapped the keys on your laptop, the thoughts flowing to you much easier in the presence of Jungkook, his hand staying at the back of your head to soothe you and remind you of his care for you. Time went by fairly quickly, for you at least, as you wrapped up the essay and went back through it, cleaning up sentences, fixing thoughts, and ensuring your citations were done correctly.

“Okay,” you said through an exhale, Jungkook sitting up to look over your shoulder at the screen.

“Is it done?” He asked, his tone sweet.

You hummed, looking toward him. “I don’t know, I think it’s as good as it’s gonna get,” you told him, Jungkook moving his gaze from the computer to you. “Would you mind reading it for me?”

Your boyfriend quickly sat up, crossing his legs underneath him as he held his hands out for you to give him the laptop. “How much time do you have left?” He asked as you placed the device into his hold.

“Twenty-one minutes,” you told him through a scrunched-up face, Jungkook smiling slightly.

“Ok, that’s plenty of time, you’re good,” he assured you just before he began reading. You watched him intently as he read through the essay, your lips occasionally quirking up as he’d nod his head, physically responding to your points.

Endearing. If you could only choose one word for Jungkook, which was just not enough words for the man sitting next to you, you thought you’d choose endearing. Your boyfriend was so gentle and kind and considerate and thoughtful, and observing him in that moment, you wondered how he could ever make you feel as though you had to be perfect to keep his love.

But maybe that was the issue. He was never messy, emotional, frenzied, rarely moody, and even less so selfish. As you stared at him, you began realizing that it wasn’t actually the way he praised you or very occasionally nagged you, but was rather entirely your perception of him that made you feel inadequate. And how could that be his fault?

Jungkook’s voice broke through your thoughts as he met your gaze with his bright orbs. “It’s really good, baby.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I had no clue what you were talking about in the beginning,” he smiled slightly, you letting out a light chuckle, “but by the end I feel like I could explain to someone else what you wrote about.”

“Are you sure?” You asked doubtfully.

“I’m sure,” he told you. “Turn it in.”

Sighing, you nodded. “Ok,” you agreed. “I don’t have time to change anything anyways,” you smiled, Jungkook giggling.

“It’s great,” he told you once more, handing you the laptop. He watched as you attached the file to the module, your pointer hovering over the submission button. “Do it,” he whispered encouragingly, you pressing the button with a giggle.

“Well, if I failed, I failed,” you looked to him, Jungkook rolling his eyes with a shake of his head.

“What was going on? You’re usually so quick with your essays. I mean, you’re an amazing writer,” he stumbled over his words, you simply shrugging.

“I don’t even know, I think I was just having some sort of mental block,” you told him with a frown.

“Our fight definitely couldn’t have helped,” he noted sadly.

“Can we talk now?” You asked, Jungkook nodding immediately.

“Come here,” he patted the cushion in front of him, you standing up just to plant yourself on top of the couch. You both sat across from each other, face to face, legs crossed underneath yourselves.

“You know if you didn’t get that essay done in time, I would love you just the same, right?” He asked you, you looking at him thoughtfully. “Or if you get it back and it’s not the score you’re hoping for?” You prepared to respond, but his next words cut you off before you could begin. “I don’t love you because I think you’re perfect, I love you because you’re you.”

Exhaling, you licked your bottom lip, directing your eyes to Jungkook’s knee that was bumping against your own. “I do know that,” you told him.

“Yeah?” He asked, sincerely curious.

“I think I was wrong,” you admitted, meeting his eyes, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I know you love me for me, as I am, but I’m still scared to show you me when I’m not at my best because I feel like I won’t be enough for you.”

“Baby-”

“Not because of how you treat me,” you quickly added, interrupting him. “But because I never see you be anything but this strong and collected person and I don’t want to be the one who’s always a mess while you’re totally fine.”

“I’m not always fine though,” he told you, his eyes sincere as he shook his head. “I handle my struggles pretty well, and I handle them alone, because I’ve never wanted to burden my members when they were going through their own shit,” he explained, you listening intently.

“It’s my fault,” he held his hand against his chest, “that you’ve never seen me in a vulnerable state. I’m so used to hiding my problems from other people that-” he paused, his eyes glistening with tears. “That I’ve hidden them from the one person I want to share them with.”

“You want to share them with me?” You asked, tears forming in your own eyes.

“I don’t want to burden you or worry you with my struggles, but at the same time, I want your help,” he told you, the admission tipping you over as you let out a quiet sob. Jungkook instinctively reached forward, placing his hands on your cheeks as he wiped tears away. “You’re gonna make me cry,” he told you through a giggle, his tears building up.

“I want to see them,” you pouted, immediately realizing how the words sounded. “Oh my god, that sounds so bad,” you whined, Jungkook’s smile spreading across his face as he laughed. “I just mean I want to be the person you can show that to,” you giggled.

“I know what you mean, baby,” he nodded. “I don’t want to hide any part of me from you anymore, ok?”

Nodding, you turned your head in his hold to leave a kiss to the side of his thumb. “I don’t either,” you whispered against his hand, Jungkook smiling in relief.

It was then that his tears fell, you looking at him in surprise as your crying was stopping due to the resolution. “Oh, baby,” you pouted, crawling forward to place yourself in his lap, Jungkook’s arms easily wrapping around you as he tucked his face into your neck.

“I hate fighting with you,” he cried against your skin, you cooing at his pure heart.

“Me too, baby,” you told him, running your hand soothingly over the back of his head. “Hey, we’re good at resolving things though,” you pointed out, Jungkook letting out a breathy laugh, tickling your neck.

Sniffling, he sat up straight, wiping his face carelessly with the back of his hand as he nodded. “We are pretty good at it,” he giggled. You watched as he resituated himself on the couch so he was reclined, holding his arms open for you to cuddle up next to him, which you did eagerly.

Looking up at his face, you saw the way his jawline slightly shined in the living room light, you pulling your sleeve over the palm of your hand to dab the tear residue from his face.

You both stayed in each other’s arms in silence for a little while, Jungkook’s breath becoming slower and more relaxed as you dragged your finger in patterns on his chest.

“Do you ever feel like you peaked at like, 11?” You asked, him, Jungkook pulling his chin into his neck to look down at you.

He looked at you thoughtfully, a small crease etched into the skin at the top of the bridge of his nose. “Yeah sometimes,” he agreed. “Maybe not 11, but sometime in childhood.”

“I wish you could have known me when I was a kid,” you told him. “When I was uninhibited, just being me with no apologies every day.”

“I wonder at what age we lose that sense of ourselves,” Jungkook thought out loud.

You hummed, still tracing invisible drawings across your boyfriend’s t-shirt covered chest. “I don’t know, I look at some people, like Tae and even his Peaches,” you both giggled fondly, “and I think that some people have managed to hold onto that part of themselves. Like even though they mature and grow up, they don’t lose that inner child. Even you,” you added.

“Do you think you’ve lost yours?” He asked, you puckering your lips in thought.

“Sometimes. I’m so controlled now, I used to be free. I wasn’t so concerned about concealing everything,” you explained, Jungkook nodding in understanding.

“She’s still in there,” he told you. “I’ve seen her, we’ve met a couple times. We’re acquaintances,” he smiled, you giggling at the comment. “She just needs to know it’s ok to show herself.”

“You’re really sweet,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “What were you like as a kid?”

“I was a bit of a brat,” he grinned.

Laughing, you pulled a face of feigned shock. “No,” you said sarcastically.

“Can you believe it?” He joked, wrapping his arm around your waist a little tighter. “No, I was a brat but I was a good kid. I had a nice childhood.” You watched him thoughtfully, noticing he had more to say. You waited patiently for him to continue, dragging your fingers over his abdomen. “I just sometimes think it got cut short.”

Jungkook moved away from home much earlier than most people ever even thought of living away from their parents. You had no doubt that with his long days of training, he felt that his childhood ended earlier than it should have.

“I’m sorry baby,” you told him, feeling sympathetic for the younger version of your boyfriend.

“No,” he quickly shook his head. “I wouldn’t change anything, but it’s interesting to think about,” he told you, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, my life could have been totally different. I’m happy with how it turned out, but, choosing a career as a kid, I don’t know, there’s a lot of opportunities that I never even got to consider.” You hummed in understanding, Jungkook letting out a scoff. “I sound ungrateful,” he pointed out, you quickly negating the comment.

“No, you really don’t. Everyone knows you’re grateful for what you have, but it’s ok to wonder about what your life would have been without all of this. And it doesn’t mean you wish things turned out differently, it’s just, like you said, interesting to think about.”

“I think the hyungs preserved as much of my childhood as they could,” he told you, and maybe even to himself. “That’s why I never wanted to burden them.”

Hearing him talk so fondly about his members brought tears to your eyes, and you could tell by the way Jungkook sniffled and coughed to clear his throat, he was becoming emotional as well.

“They’re amazing people,” you told him through a warm smile. “I love them a lot.”

The confession, which he already knew, made him look from the ceiling to you, your two teary sets of eyes meeting. You both giggled at each other and yourselves as Jungkook pulled a silly expression to lighten the mood.

“You know,” he started, the allusion in his tone piquing your interest. “I knew I was in love with you probably one month into knowing you,” he admitted, you smiling at the comment. “Which I don’t know if that’s early or too soon to tell, but I knew I felt it. But when we went and did karaoke that one night, that’s when I was so sure that I couldn’t not tell you.”

You remembered the date vividly. You went and did karaoke with Jungkook, his members, and their girlfriends, and well… Peaches. You had only met them all a few times before that, but somehow, you felt like you belonged with them.

“I didn’t know that,” you smiled brightly. “That’s why you confessed that night?”

At the end of the night, everyone went their separate ways, and as you and Jungkook were walking to your apartment, he told you he loved you.

“Yeah,” he giggled in slight embarrassment. “Watching you get along so well with everyone and seeing them treat you as their own friend, I just, I knew.”

Your eyes glistened again, Jungkook’s own bambi eyes looking at you with a sheen. You groaned in disgust of your cute moment, adding, “We’re really cute, aren’t we?”

Jungkook laughed at your comment and expression, nodding in agreement. “We’re really cute, baby.” Sighing, you crawled up his body so you were eye level with him. “Maybe even the cutest,” he added teasingly, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“You might be right,” you whispered, your lips barely grazing his own, Jungkook smiling before placing a hand at the back of your head, lifting his face toward yours to kiss you firmly.

The kiss was messy with smiles and giggles, forgiveness and acceptance His hand left your head to wrap around your lower back, pulling your body as flush with his as it could be.

“I love you,” you breathed out, mumbling against his mouth, Jungkook purposefully nudging your nose with his.

“I love you so much,” he replied, the words just as mumbled as yours.

And fuck, you really did love each other. And maybe he was right. Perhaps you were the cutest.

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt13 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang is visited again by his future self, which goes even less pleasantly than before

Nie Huaisang did not enjoy in the least being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, a hand firmly pressed over his mouth to keep him quiet and avoid waking the other Nie disciples.

His future self really needed to find a better way to visit him. They had to decide on a schedule of some sort, Nie Huaisang ranted when they were outside, hidden away near the cabin he currently inhabited. Or a signal. Or something other than the absolute terror of a stranger taking him out of his bed in the dark.

“Couldn’t you at least have told me when you were planning on coming back?” Nie Huaisang complained, to which his future self shrugged.

“I was supposed to, but I forgot,” the older man muttered from being his fan. “Not that I would have kept to the schedule anyway. I had to know how your time in Yunping City went, so I… pushed hard to come here as early as I could. I probably won’t be able to return again until late fall, or even the bew year.”

He did look tired, and had a slight trembling in his hands, Nie Huaisang noted. Though that could just have been excitement rather than a sign something was wrong with him.

“It went well in Yunping City, I think,” Nie Huaisang announced. “I don’t think that Meng Yao will be going to Lanling Jin now, not if he has even a little bit of brain, and…”

“He’s more stupid than you’d expect,” his older self snapped. “I take it he’s still alive then?”

Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulders and looked down at his feet. 

“It’s not like I could actually have killed him! And anyway, he’s nice. Well, I thought he was nice…” The older Nie Huaisang scoffed. “And Lan gongzi thought it too…” Another scoff, and when Nie Huaisang risked a glance, he was met with an expression of disgust. “And Jiang gongzi too had a good opinion of him!”

“You saw Jiang Cheng?” his older self asked, lowering his fan while something shifted in his voice. “How was he? Was Wei Wuxian there too?”

He sounded almost eager to get news, as if he cared about these people.

He sounded almost human.

“I don’t think that other one was there,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to remember. He'd been so nervous about that Meng Yao business, he hadn't paid attention to anything else. “And Jiang gongzi mostly seemed interested in chatting with Lan gongzi. They were getting along just fine. I think they’re writing to each other now? I think Lan gongzi mentioned that the other day.”

Whatever softness had briefly taken over his older self melted in a second, replaced by something dark.

“That’s new,” he said, closing his fan with a flourish before tapping it against his hand. “I knew they would have met briefly in Yunping City, but to my knowledge they didn’t speak at all. We’ll have to be careful. I don’t like the idea of Jiang Cheng siding with that idiot." He sighed. “We’ll see what comes of it in the future. For now, tell me what you’ve done with Meng Yao, since you’re apparently too much of a coward to properly get rid of the man who killed da-ge.”

Nie Huaisang felt breathless at that casual mention of Meng Yao’s true role in his brother’s future death. His older self had said that Meng Yao was involved, that he needed to be dealt with, but Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought…

How could someone like Meng Yao ever kill his brother? Even if he worked day and night, even if he tried as hard as he could, Meng Yao would take years and years to catch up to even a normal cultivator’s level. He would never compare to Nie Mingjue who everyone agreed was a cultivation genius, a force of nature. In a direct confrontation, Meng Yao could never win.

It would have been something more insidious then, Nie Huaisang thought. Poison, or backstabbing, or some other under-handed thing. And since Lan Xichen had appeared so instantly fond of that Meng Yao, since his future self hated him too, maybe he’d accidentally given him the means of coming close to Nie Mingjue. That would certainly explain why that older Nie Huaisang despised both men so intensely.

A little shaken by that theory, Nie Huaisang started recounting what had happened in Yunping City. Or at least, he explained most of it. He was so embarrassed about failing to find the right brothel that he didn’t speak about that, meaning he also didn’t say anything about meeting Lan Xichen in the red district, and that complete breakdown the poor boy had.  And while he proudly explained that Meng Yao was now part of Yunmeng Jiang where he appeared to be doing very well according to letters Lan Xichen had received, Nie Huaisang didn’t mention that to obtain that result he’d insulted a sect leader and gotten harshly punished for it. He didn’t think his older self would show much sympathy for his suffering.

Really, talking to that man was like talking to Nie Mingjue when he asked about his brother’s cultivation progress. Except at least Nie Mingjue was only like that some of the time, when the elders had pestered him about Nie Huaisang’s lack of talent for anything one time too many. His older self felt as if he was this way all the time.

“I suppose Yunmeng will have to do,” the older Nie Huaisang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Jiangs certainly aren’t going to give him a recommendation to join Lanling Jin. Anything is better than Lanling or Qinghe at this point.”

Nie Huaisang pinched his lips, quite glad he hadn’t mentioned his initial plan of bringing Meng Yao to Qinghe. It had been a stupid plan, he now realised. But he hadn’t known that Meng Yao would be his brother’s actual murderer, and his future self hadn’t said anything, and…

“Now that Meng Yao is dealt with, let’s talk about what you have to do next,” the older Nie Huaisang said.

“About… about S-Su She?” Nie Huaisang quickly asked, trying to sound as indifferent as he could.

His older self opened his fan with an elegant gesture that Nie Huaisang was starting to hate, and shook his head with a cruel smirk.

“No. I’ve given this some thought,” the older man explained, fanning himself slowly. “I’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t care much whether Jin Zixun and him kill each other. Good riddance, neither of them are worth even the dirt used to bury them. These two are just…”

“He’s my friend,” Nie Huaisang squeaked. By which he meant Su She of course, but also…

Jin Zixun and him had exchanged a few glances here and there during particularly boring lessons, and they’d chatted a little when they’d been punished again together, this time over a failed assignment. Jin Zixun wasn’t a friend, but he might have become an acquaintance, and that was probably more than anyone could say about Jin Zixun.

His older self closed his fan with a sharp gesture and glared at him.

“He’s not.”

“But he is!” Nie Huaisang insisted. “I met Su-xiong a while ago, and he’s real nice, and we get along fine, and he even…”

“A man like Su She doesn’t have friends. He’s only using you to get something. What did he make you promise? Support? Help? Money?”

“He’s not like that!” Nie Huaisang cried out, letting his voice rise higher than was truly wise at such an hour of the night.

But he couldn’t let Su She be insulted that way. Maybe it was different where his future self came from, maybe Su She and him hadn’t met over there, but they had met here, and they were true friends.

Su She had amply apologised about not coming to see Nie Huaisang that whole week he’d been punished for his fight with Jin Zixun. He had cited his own punishment, as well as Lan Xichen enrolling him in his book-copying scheme. Both were valid reasons, but Su She still appeared very sorry that he’d let Nie Huaisang deal with that on his own, and shared some candies with him as a way of apology.

Su She was the best friend Nie Huaisang had ever had in his life, and he refused to hear anyone insult him, even himself.

“Su She is no friend of yours,” his older self claimed. “Stop whatever acquaintance you have with him right away. Da-ge wouldn’t approve, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re at the point of my life where I’m a little idiot who cannot do anything right. If you’re making a decision, it’s always going to be the wrong one, and it will anger Da-ge. So drop Su She immediately.”

"Da-ge isn't like that," Nie Huaisang grumbled. 

"I've known him longer than you," his future self retorted. "I know what he thinks of me." 

Which might have been true, but it still felt wrong. Nie Huaisang and his brother had their disagreements, of course. Many of them, in fact. They argued over just about anything, but rarely seriously, or about anything really important, and they always made up quickly. Sure, some people misunderstood their relationship and thought they didn't get along. Some had even tried to take advantage of that perceived rift between them, but both brothers knew where they stood. 

Nie Huaisang knew his brother would like Su She when he met him. In fact, Nie Mingjue had already promised he could invite his new friend to come to the Unclean Realm, provided he passed his exams.

Maybe it had been too long since his future self had last seen Nie Mingjue, if he could only remember their few disputes and none of the affection. 

"The only person you're supposed to pay attention this year to is Lan Xichen," his older self reminded him. "So how are things going on that front? I swear if there's still no progress…" 

"No, there is!" Nie Huaisang said, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "A lot of progress! We spend at least a shichen together every week lately, sometimes more!" 

"That's a very precise amount," his older self noted. "How do you know it is that much?" 

"Well, see, he gives me music lessons. He says I'm quite good at it actually," Nie Huaisang added with pride.

That pride was met with a dark, angry look. Or perhaps not angry as such, Nie Huaisang thought after a moment. Maybe envious instead. Considering the opinion his future self had of Lan Xichen, it was impossible he'd ever been given those lessons, or surely he wouldn't have hated Lan Xichen so much. And since they were the same person, or at least had been the same person before his future self grew up into an asshole, then they had to have the same tastes, the same aspirations.

"What instrument ?" 

"The guqin, of course. You know, I always figured it'd be really hard, but I'm liking it a lot, and it's really fun to practice a little every day, and Lan Xichen is a really nice teacher, and he's actually fun, and…" 

"He's not," his future self cut him. "And while I'm glad you're finally remembering the part you have to play in our plan, I don't want you to get distracted. Music isn't your goal. Neither is it to actually befriend Lan Xichen. You only need to make him think you're his friend, getting attached as well would be a mistake."

"But…" 

"In fact," his older self continued, slowly fanning himself, "it would be best if you gave up already on the idea of having friends. It's not for the likes of us. If you were a little more charismatic and likeable perhaps… but in the end, none of the 'friends' I made at your age were there for me when I needed them. I had to trick them into helping when the time came to avenge da-ge, or they would have let his murderers live free."

"Well maybe if you weren't such a prick they'd still be yours friends," Nie Huaisang muttered, which earned him a slap. 

It didn't immediately register that he'd been hit. He just stood there, staring at his older self, vaguely aware of a noise too loud in the quiet night of the Cloud Recesses, and a rising sensation of heat on his cheek. 

"I can't believe nobody has ever done that, with how annoying I am," his future self remarked, shaking his hand as if the blow had hurt him too. "Now listen to me. You are not likeable. You are not charismatic. You're not even particularly clever most of the time. Why would anyone want to be friends with you? At best they're tolerating you because it's impossible to just reject the heir of a great sect, but make no mistake, your only quality is Nie Mingjue. In terms of popularity, you rank about as high as someone like Jin Zixun. Do you understand what it means?"

Nie Huaisang failed to contain a few tears as he brought one hand to his smarting cheek. It felt hot to the touch, and he'd have to expend some spiritual energy into it, or else there might be a mark in the morning that would be difficult to explain. 

As for his older self's question, Nie Huaisang shook his head the way he felt might be expected of him.

"It means you have to treat people the way they treat you," his older self said. "Keep your heart closed, and use them for what they're worth. Especially Lan Xichen. Get him to trust you, but don't make the mistake of trusting him back. He is a rather poor friend to those who make that mistake."

Gritting his teeth, Nie Huaisang obediently nodded, fearful of being hit again. 

But it didn't sound right. He refused to believe that people were as bad as his future self said. Surely Su She at least was better than that. Nie Huaisang could doubt anyone in the world, but not Su She, so he was absolutely not going to dump his friend just because some old creep with trust issues told him to. Not even if the old creep was himself.

As for Lan Xichen… not so long ago, Nie Huaisang might have accepted that unkind assessment of his brother’s friend. But now that they hung out together more frequently, he thought Lan Xichen wasn’t so bad. Their music lessons really were nice. Lan Xichen was patient and encouraging, something few teachers in Nie Huaisang’s life had ever been. He didn’t mind when Nie Huaisang got too tired to focus, or when he struggled with something that should have been easy. He also didn’t take Nie Huaisang’s moments of easy success as proof that he was faking whenever he struggled, and for this alone Lan Xichen had Nie Huaisang’s gratitude.

Not only that, but Lan Xichen had proven that he wasn’t as stiff and boring as Nie Huaisang used to think. He’d listened about the problems that Su She had, hadn’t he? And not just listened, but he’d done something about it, and he was still doing something about it, and not only for Su She’s sake either. 

Su She had told Nie Huaisang that any inner clan disciple who bothered an outer disciple was in serious trouble these days if Lan Xichen heard about it… or worse still, if Lan Wangji got involved. He was a stickler for rules that one. Once his brother had casually mentioned to him that some people were breaking Lan principles behind the teachers’ back, Lan Wangji hunted them down and made sure those people regretted it.

All because Nie Huaisang had told Lan Xichen that he didn’t like how people treated his friend.

How could Nie Huaisang not have started liking him a little after that?

“Speaking of making friends,” his future self said, “you remember you need to fail your classes this year, right? We have big plans for next year.”

Nie Huaisang nodded again, with more sincerity this time. Failing his exams would not be difficult. At all. In fact, he was quite good at failing. Lan Qiren could have testified that when it came to failing, he’d never had a student as great as Nie Huaisang.

“Good, excellent. Now, I don’t have much time left here today but… I have a task for you when the classes end.”

“Another thing?” Nie Huaisang lamented. “That wasn’t the deal!”

“It is for da-ge’s good,” his future self snapped, and once again Nie Huaisang wondered if he really loved his brother enough to bother with all this.

He did love Nie Mingjue, no doubt. But he still wondered.

“In fact, it’s for the good of the whole cultivation world,” his future self continued. “This might be the most selfless thing you’re ever going to do, so don’t mess it up. When the classes end, you’re not going home. You’re going to the city of Kuizhou…”

“Really? Oh, that’d be neat. I’ve always wanted to see…”

“You’re not going there to sightsee and think about poetry,” his older self cut him. “You’re going there to find a young criminal by the name of Xue Yang and ensure he never gets to create trouble for the cultivation world. You’ve disappointed me with Meng Yao, but I think you should manage to do the right thing with Xue Yang. He’s only ten or eleven, and you have a sabre, surely it can’t be too hard to dispose of him.”

“You don’t mean…”

The older man closed his fan, his face devoid of emotion. “I would think my meaning is clear enough, but I’m not letting you mess this up as you’ve done with Meng Yao. Xue Yang must die. He grows into too much of a menace as an adult. Even if we're going to make sure his particular skills never become needed by any sect, letting him live is just too risky. He’s devious enough to come up with demonic cultivation all on his own if given the chance to grow up, and he certainly doesn’t have any ideals of justice to help him keep it under control. Kill him before he harms anyone.”

"I'm not a killer!" Nie Huaisang shouted, too loud, far too loud, but he didn’t care, horrified by the very idea of what he his future self was demanding. He felt sorry when fighting fierce corpses and tended to cry at exorcisms, how could he ever… and to a living person, to a child.

And yet his future self rolled his eyes as if his horror were but another minor annoyance to deal with, and started fanning himself again.

"You'll learn fast. Just find a cat, snap its neck, and you'll see how easy it is. After two or three you stop feeling sorry for them, and people aren't so different from cats."

“I don’t think da-ge would want that,” Nie Huaisang protested in a trembling voice. “I don’t think he’d like that at all. It’s just… it’s a kid! Good people don’t kill kids! Even a lot of bad people don’t kill kids!”

“Be quiet, or we’ll be found by whichever Lan disciple is patrolling tonight!”

Good, Nie Huaisang thought. If they were found he’d be punished, sure, but more importantly he’d be forced to tell someone about everything his older self had told him, from the war that was coming, to Nie Mingjue’s death, to killing children. But of course Nie Huaisang couldn’t be so lucky, and no one appeared to have heard him.

“You’re really too naive,” his older self said. “Everyone kills children, they just don’t speak about it and pretend they’re righteous. Even da-ge is no better. I only realised that after the war with the Wens, but it’ll be good for you to grow out of your illusions earlier than that. Besides, you don’t have to tell da-ge that you’ve killed that boy. Keeping secrets is your only real skill, use it.”

“Da-ge isn’t like that,” Nie Huaisang hissed, and felt he’d started crying again.

His brother wasn’t a murderer. He was a good person, he wouldn’t harm anyone who didn’t deserve it… but he might make an exception when it came to the Wens, who nobody in Qinghe Nie really counted as people anymore. 

They were just a disease upon the cultivation world, pests that needed to be eliminated. Nie Huaisang, who had always agreed to that, had never really paused before to think that Qishan Wen also counted a number of children, of elders, of servants, of people who really had nothing to do with his father’s death and maybe didn’t even realise there had ever been such a person in the world.

“Da-ge is only human,” his older self said. “And all humans are ready to kill to get what they want. Da-ge wanted to avenge our father. You want to protect da-ge. It’s not so different. If it helps, Xue Yang really deserves to die, so don’t bother feeling sorry for him. He would kill you for candies, given half a chance.”

“I’m not like that,” Nie Huaisang sobbed.

“Not yet perhaps,” his older self conceded in a softer voice. “But you’ll get there anyway. The world is cruel. We must be worse than it is, if we are to survive, if da-ge is to survive.”

The man raised a hand toward Nie Huaisang's head, wanting perhaps to comfort him by ruffling his hair. It was what Nie Mingjue would have done. But Nie Huaisang flinched, fearing to be struck again, and his older self's hand dropped at his side.

“So remember well,” his older self ordered, his tone dry once more. “An orphan boy named Xue Yang, who lives in Kuizhou. He’s a petty criminal for now, he hasn’t yet switched from theft to violent crimes I think, but it’ll come soon. He would be tall for his age I believe. He has a missing little finger on his left hand, and when he smiles his canines are very prominent. He is a monster, and he cannot be allowed to live. Do you understand?”

Through heavy tears Nie Huaisang nodded. That seemed to satisfy his older self who vanished. 

Nie Huaisang understood indeed, but he didn’t agree and was certain he never would.

[imagine-loki]

What About Trust, Chapter 1

TITLE: What About Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki owns a bookshop on Midgard. He had to do something there to try and avoid getting any attention. But he’s not fond of having customers, is rather grumpy and guarded. But then he meets a bright, bubbly and trusting young woman who doesn’t recognise him. To his dismay, he finds himself becoming rather fond of the mortal.  RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Fluff ahoy in this fic! Lots of fluff.

Cleo was just strolling along the streets in the Northern Quarter of Manchester. It was her favourite place to be and since she had a day off, she was going to make the most of it.

As she worked in an independent record shop on Oxford street, she knew the importance of supporting small local businesses instead of the larger ones. And there was plenty of quirky shops in the area, including other record shops.

But suddenly the heavens decided to open and started dumping a load of rain on top of her.

‘Shit, shit, shit!’ She had forgotten to take an umbrella. And her jacket wasn’t exactly waterproof either.

She pulled her jacket up over her head in an attempt to try and at least keep her hair from getting utterly soaked and she sprinted along the street. Then she ducked into a small doorway that had a small overhang, enough to save her from the sudden downpour anyway.

Sighing, she looked round to see what she was outside of. Her eyebrows shot upwards when she saw it was a bookshop. It didn’t look very brightly lit inside, but there was a very small sign that said open.

Unable to resist looking around a bookshop, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. There was a small bell above the door that announced her arrival. But the shop was empty, aside from books.

‘Oh wow.’ She gasped as she looked around, it was quite a small place but the owner had managed to stack hundreds and hundreds of books in, with really tall shelves on every wall and a few aisles on front of her.

There was a beautiful wooden spiral staircase just off the centre of the shop, leading to an upper floor that came out halfway, where she saw even more books.

A lit fireplace was to the left of her, in a space amongst the book shelves. It kept the place cosy and was one of the few light sources in the shop. As well as a large lamp to her right.

Cleo breathed in deeply, revelling in the book smell that surrounded her.

How she had never noticed this place before was beyond her. Considering she frequented the area all the time, pretty much every week. But she decided she was certainly going to make up for lost time now.

‘Hello?’ She called out, wondering if there was even anyone here manning the place.

There was no response. But she didn’t notice the green eyes watching her from the back corner, hidden in the shadows.

Not caring much, she started to the right and looked at some of the book titles. She felt giddy when she realised this was no normal bookshop, these were rare books. Some were foreign, a language she didn’t even recognise. But some of the books were decorated in beautiful and intricate patterns, capturing her attention.

She pulled a few books out from the shelves and went to the fireplace, where it was warmest. There was a lone green arm chair on front of it, she took a seat with the books on her lap and she started looking through the first one.

It was a William Shakespeare play that was said to have been lost many years ago, she couldn’t actually believe it was in her hands as she carefully turned the pages.

‘What are you doing?’ Came a rather cold voice from beside her.

She jumped, having not heard anyone approach. When she looked round, her eyes widened when she saw a really tall man… A really tall and rather handsome man, at that. With long black hair, nice cheekbones. He was wearing a dark green shirt and leather trousers with boots. He didn’t look like an ordinary book shop owner, but who was she to judge?

He had his arms folded across his chest and didn’t look overly pleased at her presence.

‘Oh, sorry. I did shout when I came in but no one answered… I’m reading, that’s not illegal, is it?’ She smirked up at him.

‘No, it is not.’ He drawled. ‘But this is not a library.’

‘I can see that. It’s way better than a library.’

Loki had no idea why this mortal was in his shop, reading a book and sitting on his chair. Sure, it was a book shop, but barely anyone ever came in. Never mind stayed for this long.

‘Are you going to buy that book or just put your grubby hands all over it?’ He grumbled.

Cleo narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You’re not very friendly for a shop owner. No, I am not going to be buying it, I suspect this would be well out of my price range. Do you not like to share with a fellow book lover? I was going to leave some money on my way out, I know it can be difficult for small businesses to keep afloat.’

Loki was a little surprised at her answer. And the fact she was still there, sitting on his chair. Normally when a mortal came in and stayed to look through his books, they soon scarpered when he made his presence known. Either because they recognised him, or were just put off by his coldness towards them.

‘Fine. Whatever. Just… don’t rip any of my books.’ He huffed and walked away again, leaving her to it.

Cleo was rather confused at what the hell had just happened.

‘Wait.’ She carefully placed the books down on the small coffee table on front of her and rushed after him to the back of the shop. ‘What’s your name? I’m guessing you are the owner?’

Loki rolled his eyes before turning around to face her. ‘I am… My name is Luke.’

‘Nice to meet you, Luke. I’m Cleo.’ She put her hand out towards him. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then shook her hand when he decided she didn’t seem much of a threat.

‘I’ve never seen your shop before, it’s quite hidden. But it’s incredible. I can actually see why you wouldn’t want it to get too busy, it would ruin the atmosphere. But it’s quite the wee gem.’ She said as she looked around, still taking it all in.

‘Thank you… You’re not from here, are you?’ He quirked an eyebrow up.

‘Nope. I’m from Inverness, but I’ve lived here for the past eight months. Much more exciting than back home.’ She smiled.

Loki nodded once. ‘Well, I shall leave you to your reading… If there areany books you’re interested in buying, let me know.’

Cleo’s face brightened. ‘I will, thanks.’

She watched as Loki disappeared through a door at the very back of the shop, it said staff only on it. She shrugged the encounter off and went back to the few books she had taken out to look at. After flicking through them, she carefully placed them back in their place and went upstairs to look some more.

As she carefully pulled a book out from its shelf, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Loki suddenly spoke next to her.

‘Are you still here?’

She held the book she had in her hands close to her chest in fright, her heart was racing but soon calmed down when she realised it was just the owner.

‘Jesus Christ. Do you always sneak up on your customers?’

‘Are you always so jumpy?’ Loki countered, raising an eyebrow. A ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Cleo rolled her eyes and looked down at the book in her hands. ‘How did you even get hold of most these? They’re so rare and expensive.’

‘You could say I’ve travelled a lot.’ Loki said as he started walking down the aisle, she followed him, curious.

‘Really? That’s cool. I’ve never been out of the UK before. But I would love to visit some countries like Iceland, Finland and Norway, for the culture and history. Those places fascinate me.’ Cleo rambled a bit.

Loki suddenly turned on his heels, going back right past her. Cleo was a little stunned but turned and followed him again.

‘How long have you had the shop?’ She asked as Loki stopped and started skimming through the shelves, looking for something.

‘A year.’ He said simply as his long fingers tapped gently along the spines of the books on the upper shelf.

‘I can’t believe I’ve only just found it. I’ve been living in the city for the last eight months, I’m around this area every week.’ She said as Loki plucked a book out, he briefly turned his back to her so she didn’t see the slight shimmer of green that surrounded the book before he quickly turned around to face her, holding the book out towards her.

‘What’s this?’ She asked, tucking the other book under her arm.

‘Nordic tales. Since you seem interested in the Nordic countries, perhaps you might find that of interest.’ Loki hummed.

Cleo’s eyes widened as she looked at the book. She looked up at Loki in disbelief. ‘I’ve been looking for an English edition of this for… years! I didn’t think one existed. I thought I was going to have to give in and google translate every single word.’

Loki scoffed. ‘Google translate is not reliable at all, believe me.’ He turned on his heels again and started heading back towards the stairs.

Cleo was too busy looking at the blurb of the book, by the time she looked up Loki was back downstairs. She hurried after him, putting the other book back in its rightful place first.

As she was rushing down the stairs, she held the Nordic Tales book out. ‘How much is this? Please, God. Let it be within my budget!’ She said as she rushed over to him by the fireplace.

Loki folded his arms over his chest and sighed, narrowing his eyes at her for a moment. Then he smiled, just a little bit. ‘Call it a gift, for a fellow book lover.’

Cleo’s mouth opened wide in shock. ‘What? Seriously? But the originals are like at least fifty quid anyway. This English version must be worth a shit load more than’  

‘Do you want the book or not?’ Loki interrupted.

She nodded sheepishly. ‘I do…’

‘Well then, like I said. Consider it a gift. Before I change my mind and decide to charge you triple what it’s actually worth.’

Cleo grinned and slipped the book safely into her handbag. ‘Maybe I did get you wrong, you’re an alright shop owner.’

Loki chuckled. ‘What is it they say? Don’t judge a book by its cover.’

‘Never a truer word spoken.’ Cleo agreed. ‘Well, it was really nice meeting you. Thank you so much for the book, I really appreciate it. I’ll be back before you know it, I want to read that Shakespeare play through properly.’ She said as she started to head towards the door.

‘I look forward to your return.’ Loki said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cleo turned back to face him and grinned widely. ‘Ohh, I bet you do.’ She laughed.

As Cleo left the shop, Loki shook his head. But he smiled.

‘What a curious mortal.’

[flyingkiki]

A Very Merry Christmas (2/4)

Full steam ahead! I'm back for more steamy TimRae content! Enjoy, my loves.

Chapter One is HERE. A Very Merry Christmas, Chapter 1.

~~

“Good morning.”

Raven tensed and immediately looked over her shoulder to see Bruce, dressed in pajamas, appear under the arch of the living room’ doorway. She blinked, surprised at how she was not able to catch his aura or emotions – but then again, that would be Batman for you. It stunned her at times how she could oftentimes read nothing from the man. She watched him walk into the room, his movements not making a sound.

“Good morning,” she replied, offering a small smile before involuntarily folding her arms across her chest. Tim’s soft sweater offering some comfort. “You’re up early.”

The corner of Bruce’s lips quirked just a little bit in response. “I’m usually up at this time to prepare for work and start the day,” he replied.

Raven hummed lowly in agreement and returned to staring out the window. It was still dark outside; sunlight would be in another couple of hours thanks to winter. The garden lamps outside illuminated the snowy garden beautifully and Raven had spent the last few minutes just staring blankly out the window and watching illuminated snowflakes drift from the sky.

“Tim’s practically the same. Though he usually stays up until dawn for work and catches whatever little sleep he can. It’s horrible,” Raven said, a fond smile playing on her lips at the memory of Tim hunched over a laptop in his bedroom back in Gotham. “Though he usually gets into bed with a few threats,”

Bruce sighed. “He works himself to the bone.”

“He does.” Raven agreed.

A heavy silence fell over them as Bruce and Raven continued to stare out the window. Raven shifted, pressing her arms just a little tighter to her chest as her discomfort grew. Perhaps it would have been best to have just stayed in bed with Tim. She shot Bruce a quick glance before watching a few snowflakes disappear into a rosebush.

“Thank you for taking care of him,”

Raven starts, looking up at the sudden confession. She blinked, feeling the faint whispers of emotions from Bruce. Her fingers curled into Tim’s sweater as she mulls over Bruce’s words. Raven tilted her head just a little bit and released a soft breath. “He’s been taking care of me too,” she replied, silently recalling her own personal struggles recently.

“We all went through some difficult times,” Bruce said, his voice low in the quiet of the room. Raven held her breath, watching as a few emotions flickered across his face. “Tim more so. I – I,” Bruce blinked and paused, visibly struggling with words. Inhaling softly, Bruce absently tapped the mug he was holding. “I have many regrets.”

Raven felt her stomach twist and she watched Bruce swallow. “You’re trying now,” she said after finding her voice. “Tim knows that. He’s trying too,”

Bruce stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Raven saw a broken expression flicker in his eyes briefly, before turning to Raven and offering a small smile. “I love my children though I’m terrible at showing it,” He told her. He inhaled softly and released a rueful chuckle. “I’d never imagine parenting to be this difficult,”

Raven tilted her head and smiled. “It doesn’t come with a user manual, does it?” Bruce returned the smile. Her lips quired at a thought. “Though I’d doubt you’d be type to read the manual.” A fond expression crossed her face and a smile played on her lips as she turned back to the window. “I’d think Tim would though.”

Bruce chuckled and nodded his head. He returned to watching the snow too. “That’s right.”

Raven dropped her hands from around her, tension leaving her. It was still pretty early, perhaps it would be good to return to bed briefly before everyone woke up. Bruce may like some time alone, after this rather strange heart-to-heart encounter. “I –”

“I’m sorry,”

Raven paused and stared wide eyed at Bruce. She held her breath, starting up at the older man expectantly. “Bruce,” she whispered. A swarm of mixed emotions blossomed in her chest and she watched as Bruce looked at her with a rare, apologetic look.

“13 years ago, we made a terrible mistake. We allowed our prejudices cloud our judgement and refused to help a 13-year-old girl asking for our help,” Bruce stared at Raven, for a moment seeing that distraught young girl. He paused and watched Raven’s surprised reaction. “We are an institution that is supposed to help. But we failed you. I have seen your work and the Titans you have built over the years, I’d like to think you’ve become a hero far greater than most of us. I deeply regret our decision – my decision – on that day. I know that trust is hard to build but, I’m sorry for what happened on that night. I hope you can forgive me for my mistakes,”

Raven inhaled softly and for a brief second she remembered that night at the Watch Tower and the silence she received from the Justice League. She remembered Batman and his empty emotions, and she looked up at the same man now and felt his emotions, regret, tickle her own. It took her aback. “Bruce,” she whispered. She blinked, pulling herself out of the memory. “I—thank you,” she whispered. She gave him a rueful smile. “You were being a parent, protecting his home,”

Bruce swallowed, an emotion flickering in his eyes. His lips quirked into a rueful smile of his own. “I’m a parent now trying to correct and learn from my mistakes,”

~

“I’m kinda hurt you didn’t tell me,” Dick shot Raven a playful smile over the kitchen counter as they helped Alfred prepare breakfast later that morning.

Raven rolled her eyes and transferred some fresh pancakes on a plate. “You didn’t tell us you and Star were dating. Just taking notes,” she shot back.

Dick snagged a strawberry from the plate she prepared, much to her annoyance. “Told you a week after,”

“Well, you know now.” Raven replied and pushed the plate of finished pancakes towards Dick. She raised an eyebrow as he eyed the pancakes skeptically. “Alfred made them,” she said. She had been delegated to plating duty after confessing to Alfred that she wasn’t very much useful in the kitchen outside from making tea and toast. Tim had been trying to teach her to cook, but what little time they had together was not spent in the kitchen, admittedly (more like the kitchen floor, but that wasn’t something she would openly admit to Tim’s family). Alfred had promised her to teach her to make Tim’s favorite cookies later though. She hoped they’d be passable.

Dick took another strawberry from the plate. “Yeah. Over a year late,”

They heard Alfred putter in the background, finishing up a final batch of pancakes. Raven dutifully waited by the counter for the final few pancakes for her to plate. “To be fair, nobody really knew.”

Dick propped his elbow on the counter and dropped his chin into his hand as he eyed her. His face contorted. “I feel bad that you felt like you had to keep it a secret,” he told her.

Raven shrugged her shoulders dismissively. She absently rolled a blueberry between her fingers. “Don’t be. We just wanted privacy,” she smiled. “It was nice keeping this just for us,”

“Something as precious as love is always best kept close,” Alfred offered Raven a pleasant smile as he placed a final stack of pancakes in front of her ready for plating. Raven returned the smile, the warm emotions of Alfred tickling her own.

Raven hummed in agreement and the three shared amused smiles. “Besides,” continued Raven and started distributing pancakes onto different plates. “I honestly did not want Gar or Jinx annoy the crap out of me with all their teasing.”

Dick made an agreeing sound in the back of his throat. “I’m still surprised nobody caught on.”

The corners of Raven’s lips quirked just a little bit. “I think Cyborg got suspicious at one point. He caught me once when I was not in the Tower. I leave my comms with the tracker in my room when I go out,” at the look of Dick’s disapproving face, she rolled her eyes. “And take my untraceable comms with me, every time. My tracker said I was at the tower but I wasn’t in my room. Cy got a suspicious. Told him I had to return a book. We were actually in New York,”

Dick raised his eyebrow. “New York?”

“Broadway.” Raven smirked. “Hamilton.”

Dick rolled his eyes at her smirk. “Cyborg’s going to blow a fuse.”

Raven chuckled and nudged all plates into his direction, ready for serving to the rest of the Batfamily. “To be honest, I’m kind of disappointed none of you caught on.”

Tim took this time to shuffle into the kitchen, still in his pajamas and looking disheveled and sleepy. “Terrible detective skills if you ask me,” he yawned and shot Dick a sleepy grin. Dick retaliated by quickly giving his younger brother the finger just as Alfred turned his back on them. Tim maturely returned the finger while crowding into Raven’s space and throwing an arm around her waist.

“Morning,” Tim offered Raven a sleepy smile and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Raven shrugged and smiled. She handed Tim one of the plates with pancakes and blueberries.

Jason made a face as he entered the kitchen for his plate of pancakes. “Please don’t talk about your sex lives this early in the morning. We do not want to know what kept you up all night,” he shot Tim an annoyed look.

Dick looked scandalized and shot Jason a dark glare. “Jason!” The last thing he wanted to hear was that his little brother and one of his best friends were having sex. Dick felt a little sick.

Jason lazily leaned over the kitchen counter and pointedly stared at Dick with a bland expression. “Don’t say you didn’t too!”

“You are terrible,” Tim frowned and made a grab for the coffee pot.

Jason pointed a finger at Tim and offered him a wink. “I know it,”

Raven rolled her eyes and shoved a plate of pancakes for Jason to take. She watched him grudgingly take the stack and her lips quirked just a little bit. Despite the storm of emotions Jason usually carried with him, she could feel the light banter behind his words.

“Let’s have breakfast, shall we?” Alfred appeared at the foot of the kitchen island carrying a tray of coffee and hot chocolate. “I am sure Master Bruce and Master Damian are already waiting and hungry,”

They all nodded in agreement and shuffled around the kitchen island, picking up plates of pancakes and trays of fruits. Tim nudged Raven gently and they exchanged small smiles. “All good?” he asked her as they followed the rest of the group towards the dining area.

Raven hummed softly and nodded. She felt Tim’s gentle brush of concern and she nodded. Recalling the early morning conversation with Bruce, she realized what tension was left in her shoulders had disappeared. Offering Tim a smile, she juggled the plates of pancakes in her hands and nudged her concerned boyfriend with her shoulder again. “All good,” she replied softly only for them to hear. Entering the dining area, they joined the rest of the Batfamily at the table, depositing stacks of pancakes in front of everyone. Raven caught Bruce’s eye as she settled down next to Tim. The older man offered a small smile and nodded in her direction. Returning Bruce’s smile, Raven allowed herself to slowly let go of her worries of the past. All was good.

~

“And this is still Wayne property?” Raven asked, her voice carrying through the cold winter air. She surveyed the frozen forest, appreciating the sight of a pure white landscape. They were a good distance from the house, walking past a frozen lake and over a snowy hill.

After two days of just staying indoors, baking (and taking out fires that came with it), board games, and movies, Tim had decided they both needed a break from the rest of the group. While he loved his family and it warmed his heart to see Raven slowly take to the rest of the Batfamily, they both needed some much-needed alone time. There was just so much smothering and sex jokes he could take from Dick and Jason.

They decided a quick hike into the forest would do them some good. Raven suggested they take his old camera with them so he could do some photography. Most of the pictures he took were of Raven though, admittedly.

“Yeah, sort of?” Tim replied, lowering his camera after taking a photo of a snow bunny. He smiled as the little creature scurried away after catching sight of them. Turning back to Raven and watching her carefully step over a dead log.

“Sort of?” Raven looked up and eyed him curiously.

“I think this is the edge of the property?” Tim looked around in the clearing they were in, cataloging the trees and calculating the distance they had walked. “Yeah, pretty much the edge of the property.”

Raven stuffed her gloved hands into her jacket and bounced on her heels to get some warmth into her body. “It’s such a huge property,” she whispered and watched her breath condense. There was a winter snap lingering in Gotham and it had been snowing for days. Thankfully it had stopped snowing today. Raven looked around briefly, appreciating the snowy quiet.

“Apparently B’s great grandparents kept this place as a farm back in the day. There’s a really old barn at the back of the house,” Tim told her. He absently took a photo of the dead tree branches, capturing the spiny outline they cast in the sky. He threw an amused smile over his shoulder. “Farming didn’t stick with Bruce. It really wasn’t his hobby of choice,”

Raven chuckled in amusement and stepped up to him, watching as he took a few more landscape photos and clearly enjoying himself. She was glad they were able to do something he liked. “That’s good. I don’t think any of you would be great farm boys,” she teased.

“Hey,” Tim chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I’d invent something to speed up farm processes in no time. Shouldn’t be too difficult,”

“Careful,” Raven chided, purple eyes danced in amusement and she quickly sidestepped Tim as he tried to reach for her. “Your nerd is showing,”

Tim released a loud bark of laughter. Reaching out with his gloved hand, he tried to make a grab for her. Snorting at her playfulness and he watched her slip out of his reach. “Raven,” Tim whined playfully and dropped his camera to dangle over his shoulder. Quickly catching up with her, he caught her wrist and pulled her towards him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he chuckled as she squirmed in his grasp and tried to elbow her way out of it. Tim grinned at her frustrated whine and tsked lowly in the back of his throat. “So mean,”

Raven let out a soft huff and stopped wriggling. Leaning into his embrace, she conceded to the fact that she was not slipping out of Tim’s embrace (though honestly, with a little fight she could, really). Inhaling Tim’s familiar aftershave, she slowly melted into his embrace and relished the familiar warm press of his body against hers. Coming up to her toes, she pressed a clumsy kiss to his flushed right cheek. “What are you going to do about it?” she whispered playfully into his ear.

Tim groaned. “Raven,” he whispered and held her closer, fingers digging into her hips. Adjusting his hold around her, he leaned forward and captured her lips into a needy kiss. He felt her breathy chuckle and wrap her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Ignoring the biting cold and the uncomfortable press of his camera into his ribs, Tim sighed and savored the kiss. Humming softly at the kiss, Tim slipped one of his hands down her back and cupped her ass.

Feeling his hot flare of emotions feed her own and the tantalizing grope of her butt, Raven inhaled softly and pulled herself away from Tim. “Tim,” she breathed and dropped her chin on his shoulder, steadying her heartbeat and quickly glancing around the empty forest. “Someone might see,” she whispered, and swallowed as Tim continued to press closer to her and hotly press a kiss into her neck.

Slipping his hands away from her butt and over her hips, Tim ignored her and shifted both their hips towards each other into a delicious press that simply made the freezing outdoor temperature disappear. Pressing another needy kiss onto the underside of her chin, Tim sighed against her skin. “We’re alone,” he whispered, and hands traveled again over her back.

“Tim.” Whispered Raven, her words disappearing into a sigh as she melted into another long kiss. Her gloved fingers curled into his thick winter jacket to steady her as she felt his slick tongue slip against her own. A warmth bubbled lowly within her, and she keened softly, knees growing week and desperately chased after his lips. The cold wind tickled her flushed, warm cheeks, seemingly adding fire to the heady emotions.

Raven gasped as Tim shifted them ever so slightly, one strong leg slipping in between hers and gently pressing against the growing heat between her legs. Teeth scraped against her jaw and her fingers dug deep into his jacket as she felt her emotions purr. She whimpered as she felt his soft breathing in her ear.

“Tim,” whispered Raven, eyes flying open as she heard the distant snap of a twig. She blinked, pulling away but holding onto the man in front of her and relishing Tim’s hot breath fan over her cheek. She briefly looked over his shoulder, just to make sure they were alone.

Tim chuckled softly, swallowing and catching his breath. Catching on her worry, Tim pressed forward and kissed her cheek gently. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Finding his center, he straightened and pulled Raven’s hands away from his back. Slipping his gloved fingers against her left hand, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s walk around a bit?”

Raven hummed and nodded, allowing Tim to tug her along through the snowy forest. They remained quiet for the most part, catching their emotions and enjoying the quiet noise the forest had to offer.

They reached another clearing with a massive tree off the center. Tim tugged her towards the tree and pointed at the large treehouse that sat up in the baren branches. “We built that when the little demon spawn came to live with us,” he told her.

The tree house was large, made of old, sturdy wood, and obviously built to last. It stood out in the white snowy background. Raven squeezed Tim’s hand and eyed him curiously. “You built that for Damian?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. He threw her an amused smile and pulled her towards the tree. “We thought it would make the eight-year-old brat less, uh, deadly. You know, give the kid a treehouse to have some semblance of a childhood, not that any of us really knew what that was, really.”

Raven’s lips curled into a small smile and followed Tim towards the back of the tree. “Did he like it?”

Tim brushed away some snow from the steps that were fixed to the side of the tree. He snorted and gave Raven a wry grin. “He knocked out Jason and left him tied up in this treehouse for 6 hours,” he told her.

Raven frowned and watched as Tim started to climb up the small stairs. “What are you doing?”

Tim threw an amused smile over his shoulder as he stopped his climb up the stairs. “C’mon. Don’t you want to check it out?”

Raven drew her brows together and eyed the large structure skeptically. “Is this even safe?”

“You of little faith,��� Tim chuckled. He continued his short climb up the steps and pushed against the floor door to open it. When it released from its internal lock, he looked down and saw Raven at the foot of the stairs. “We built the Batcave. This is basically a fortress of treehouses,”

Raven rolled her eyes and slapped his calf. “Shut up. Your nerd is showing again.” She smiled as he caught her eye and laughed. Raven watched Tim jostle the door a bit more before pushing it open. He climbed throw the hole and turned around to stick his hand out and help Raven through the door. Climbing through the hole, Raven was sure she heard the old treehouse creak under their weight but kept quiet.

“Some fortress,” Raven said dryly, looking around the bare room. An old table stood in one corner of the treehouse. She watched Tim remove his camera from his shoulder and carefully place it on the table.

Tim rolled his eyes at her and walked around the space, looking out one of the two windows. “It’s a treehouse, what do you expect?”

“I don’t know. Maybe like a BatTreehouse?” she teased. She leaned against the window from of the other window and briefly looked out before turning back to an amused Tim.

Tim’s lips quirked into a silly smile and watched Raven in amusement. It was nice seeing her relaxed and with her guard down. “Aren’t you a tease today?”

Raven snorted and crossed her arms. Her purple eyes shone playfully catching Tim’s shift of emotions. Two could play that game. Tilting her head, she raised an eyebrow in mock challenge. “I am?”

Tim hummed his confirmation and moved away from the window, slowly crossing the small space. A familiar glint in his eyes. “Very.”

Raven raised a delicate eyebrow as she watched Tim draw closer to her. The emotions in the room shifted and it suddenly did not seem too cold. A pleasant warmth spread low in her abdomen and her senses tingled in anticipation. “Are you complaining?”

Tim chuckled, stopping in front of Raven and placing both of his hands on her hips. Smiling mischievously, he leaned forward and pressed a gently kiss on her cheek. “Hardly,” he mumbled into her skin. Shifting his hands, he drew her into an embrace, pressing her small form towards him.

“Good,” Raven mumbled into his shoulder, melting into the warm embrace and closing her eyes. Inhaling Tim’s familiar smell and relishing the solid press of his body and warmth against hers, Raven sighed in content. Despite her initial hesitations to go out for a long walk in the cold weather, she was glad to spend some alone time with her boyfriend and get away from all the new emotions at the house. Enjoying the quiet, Raven sighed softy and drew her arms tighter around Tim.

Feeling her shift in his arms, Tim tilted his head and eyed her curiously. “Everything alright?” he asked, voice low and carrying softly through the cold afternoon. He smiled when he felt her nod against his shoulder. Running his hand up her back, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Though,” Raven voice was mumbled against his shoulder. “I’m still disappointed that this is not a BatTreehouse.”

Tim laughed and his arms drew her tighter to him. “Hey,” he squeezed her waist and grinned at the soft chuckle from her. “I’ll have you know there are definitely weapons in this treehouse,”

Raven snorted and propped her chin on his shoulder. She smiled in amusement. “Of course,”

Rocking them gently, Tim squeezed her hips. He pressed his lips closer to her ear, earning a soft shiver from her form. “Such a tease,”

Leaning up and pressing into him, Raven relished Tim’s warm emotions. Curling her fingers into his upper arms, Raven leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw. Her skin hummed in silent anticipation. Raven sighed. “I hear no complaints,”

Tim ran his right hand down her back and gently cupped her ass through her jeans. Releasing a soft chuckle, Tim easily caught her lips in a breathy kiss. “No complaints here,” he mumbled against her lips. He sighed softly as she readily responded to the kiss with her arms curling around his neck, drawing both of them closer.

Raven felt his warm emotions press into her and she readily responded in kind, raising to her toes and pressing into Tim’s lips. A soft moan escaped her lips as Tim pressed into her, pushing her against the old wooden wall. His strong fingers pressed through the thick layers of clothes into her hips, and she sighed softly at the pressure.

She felt him shift, hips pressing into hers greedily, and she felt her skin tingle in anticipation and her mind fog. Releasing breathy moan into Tim’s hot kisses, Raven pulled Tim closer. Heat started to pool low in her abdomen and Raven groaned as Tim tilted her head and kissed her deeply, parting her lips and slipping his tongue against hers.

Tim shifted them, greedily drinking in her softy sighs and pressing his right leg in between hers. Grazing his teeth against her jaw, Tim groaned as she shifted her hips and brushed against his own growing desires. “Raven,” he whispered into her neck, her soft scarf tickling his nose. He was faintly aware he was making out with his girlfriend in an old treehouse. How cliché. Tim felt Raven’s fingers curl into his winter jacket, and she shifted against him, hips urgently pressing into his. Fuck.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Raven whispered, lost in the fog of hot emotions. Eagerly lapping up Tim’s warm emotions, Raven leaned up and captured his lips in a heady kiss. She moaned softly as his tongue slipped against hers, teeth catching against lips. His right leg pressed into her, adding a delicious pressure in between her legs. She unconsciously bucked her hips, chasing after the hard pressure. Heat rushed through her and she sighed breathily.

She was vaguely aware of Tim pulling off his gloves. She felt one of his cold hands slip behind her head, threading into her hair and knocking off her black bonnet. Tim tugged her hair gently and titled her head up, kissing her deeply. Pressing into him and bucking into his leg for release, Raven heard Tim’s low groan.

She gasped loudly and pulled away from his demanding kisses as cold nimble fingers had slipped under her jacket and thick sweater and danced over the hem of her jeans. Cold fingers pressed into her heated skin and she whimpered softly. Unrelenting, Tim pressed forward and pushed her harder into the wall behind her. Fingers danced over the hem of her jeans as Tim instead started to kiss her neck, teeth hungrily scraping at the exposed flesh.

Raven felt like she was going to explode as heat pooled in her abdomen and teeth scraped against her throat. Throwing her head back and ignoring the sting of hitting her head against the wall, Raven released a soft moan. Tim’s fingers fiddled with the button of her jeans and his knuckles pressed into her abdomen. Her hips bucked in response. She faintly wondered how she did not burst into flames yet.

“Is this okay?” Tim whispered, voice raspy and needy. Despite the fog that clouded his mind, he was still vaguely aware that they were outdoors and just seconds away of potentially fucking their brains out in public. He felt Raven’s hips buck and his thumb pressed into her jeans button, ready to open a glorious treasure.

Raven inhaled deeply, lust practically purring. Cracking open her eyes, she caught Tim’s hooded stare. Lips curling and shifting her hips into his hand, she tried to pull him closer. “No one is here,” she whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. In quick, practiced movements, Tim pushed the jeans button through its hole. Surging forward, Tim groaned and caught her lips in a heady kiss. Tongue hungrily slipping against hers just as his fingers slipped past the confines of her jeans and into her tantalizing wet underwear. He happily drank her keen as his fingers slipped into her wet heat. Groaning into the kiss, Tim felt her contract around his fingers.

“Ah!” Raven breathed loudly, head tipping back and hitting the wall behind her. Closing her eyes in pure ecstasy, Raven’s hips bucked into Tim’s hand as his fingers pumped into her in a steady delicious rhythm. Raven was sure her body was on fire as she felt her knees buckle. Her own fingers curled desperately into Tim’s shoulders, trying to keep herself upright. She moaned breathily as Tim curled his finger and hit that spot and she released a breathy moan.

“Raven,” Tim watched the emotions dance across Raven’s face. Pressing a kiss into her neck, he groaned as he felt her chase after his fingers. He felt her flutter around him. Tim sighed into her neck, his own need for release becoming painfully aware. His dick twitched in his jeans.

Tim’s fingers were relentless as they thrust into her and Raven mewled softly, heat close to making her body explode. Gasping as his fingers pressed into her, Raven grabbed Tim’s chin and caught his lips in a rough, heady kiss. She felt Tim’s burning emotions, begging for release pressing into her. She knew they both would not last very long – and while Tim’s fingers fucking her senseless were wonderful – her body was ready to explode.

As Tim roughly pushed into her, his body practically pressing her into the wall, Raven’s hand traveled down his chest. Tim immediately pulled away, and stared at Raven with wide eyes as he felt her fingers shakily work on his belt buckle. The distinct clink of metal releasing from the buckle could be heard over their heavy breathing. “Raven,”

Breathing heavily, Raven unbuttoned Tim’s jeans and swiftly unzipped his pants. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, her dark purple eyes caught his dark blue eyes heavy with lust. Her fingers slipped over his exposed boxers and danced over his hot bulge. “You’re going to fuck me into this wall,” It was more of a command than anything.

“Fuck,” Tim growled. He pulled his fingers out of her, enjoying the slick wet sound as he removed his fingers from her. Ignoring her groan, he grabbed her hips and roughly turned her around, making her face the wall. Mind clouded heavy with desire and his ears ringing loudly with his heavy heartbeat, Tim watched in satisfaction as Raven groaned at the rough action and arched her back. Pleasure spread through his chest in satisfaction – she did always like it rough. Surging forward, Tim groaned and pressed into her back, hips thrusting into the curve of her ass. Freeing her scarf around her neck, he hungrily pressed a kiss into the nape of her neck. He smirked at her breathy groan.

“Please,” Raven whimpered, hands braced on either side of her head and right cheek painfully pressed into the cold wood wall. She thrust her ass into Tim’s hip, seeking for release.

With a strangled grunt, Tim made quick work of pushing Raven’s jeans down her ass and legs. He listened as she inhaled softly as cold air brushed against her legs. His cold fingers ran up the side of her legs before reaching her exposed ass and giving the right cheek a hearty squeeze. After pushing her legs apart a little, Tim pushed down his jeans and pulled his throbbing member out of his boxers. He hissed as the cool air hit his warm dick and he gave it a few pumps. Stepping forward, he pressed himself into her back and allowed his dick to slip in between her legs and brush up against her wet heat.

“Tim,” Raven breathed and whimpered at the familiar feel of Tim’s cock brushing against her. She rolled her hips, hungrily brushing up against Tim’s cock. Bending over a bit more and pressing into the wall, Raven spread her legs further in anticipation. “Please,”

Groaning lowly, Tim grabbed Raven’s hips and with a one fluid thrust slipped into her. Raven released a strangled moan and pressed her cheek into the wall. The cool wall offered some relief to her hot cheek. She moaned softly as Tim filled her to the hilt, the pleasant stretch and fullness made her skin burn and her knees grow weak. She gasped as he began to move, thrusting into her and stoking a hungry fire.

His movements were fast and frantic, both desperately trying to chase after a much needed release. Tim’s right hand slid over her abdomen and towards her clit, and his fingers danced over her as he continued to press into her. Grunting into her neck, Tim rubber her clit while his other hand dug into her hip, guiding her with every heavy thrust.

Heavy breathing and the sharp sounds of flesh hitting flesh filled the treehouse. Tim groaned as he felt her flutter around him, he heard her breathing hitch as they inched towards the end. Despite how cold it was, he felt that his whole body was on fire, practically singing as he held Raven close. He groaned as Raven frantically met every thrust, catching him and pushing her soft body into him.

Raven tittered dangerously close to the edge, her body tingling and her emotions purring in satisfaction. She hungrily chased Tim’s emotions, catching his fiery need and gasping at each needy thrust. She dug her fingers into the wood and her back arched as she released a strangled groan. As fingers continued to dance across her clit and Tim’s hard thrusts filled her, she felt herself dangle close to the edge.

With a low growl, their movements become more frantic and the wet noise of sex filled their ears. Tim gasped and angled her hips just the right away, hitting her from behind that made her throw her head back in a satisfying groan. With a few more heavy strokes, Raven mewled and arched her back as heat just exploded inside of her and she toppled over the edge. Gasping and groaning, Raven tumbled forward as Tim chased after her orgasm and roughly pressing her into the wall, frantically riding out his own orgasm.

Their movements slowed down and their heavy breathing filled the cold air. Tim’s arms wrapped around Raven’s waist as her legs wobbled and he gently pressed her against his chest, supporting her. “I love you,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into her cheek.

Raven hummed softly. “I love you too,” she mumbled, heart still racing wildly in her chest. After a few more moments of stillness and trying to catch their breath, they slowly moved apart. Raven shuddered as Tim pulled out of her. Turning around, she leaned against the wall and inhaled unsteadily as she came tumbling back from her high.

Ignoring the freezing cold as it bit into his exposed thighs, Tim stepped forward and kissed Raven gently. A soft gust of wind slipped through the open windows making them both shiver. They worked quickly to pull up their pants, Raven fumbling with shaky legs. After Tim pulled his pants back up and closed his belt, he threw an affectionate look at Raven and gently helped her straighten her clothes and brushed some errand strands of hair from her face.

“Some walk,” Tim breathed with a soft laugh as they shared a look. Knowing that she needed to steady all her (and his) emotions, Tim gathered her in his arms and listened to her sigh into his shoulder. Adjusting their position, he leaned against the wall and felt her practically melt into him. “Excellent idea for a walk, Rae,”

Raven made a softy sound in the back of her throat and gently pinched his waist. Pulling away from his shoulder, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Having sex in your family treehouse really was not part of the plan,” she shot back. She made a face in sudden realization. “We had sex in your treehouse.” She said as she looked up at the old wooden ceiling. “There are no cameras here, right?!”

“Relax,” Tim breathed and brushed a hand down her back soothingly. He pulled her closer, enjoying her closeness. After assuring her, that no, there were no cameras hidden in the treehouse (maybe explosives? Who knows where Jason keep his shit), the two stayed up there for a little while longer, catching their breaths, and enjoying each other’s presence.

As she buried deeper into Tim’s embrace, she had to agree with him. This was definitely one of their best walks.

[prose-for-hire]

Hopelessly devoted

Pairing: Faith x vamp!reader

Request: I was wondering if I could request something for a sort of ,,reformed'' vampire(theyve had their soul for a while) falling for either Oz or Faith and trying real hard to get on their good side? similar to that of spike I think only they arent as much of a creep abt it aojsbdis thanks

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Mention of killing in reader’s past.

A/N: There... might need to be a second part 💖

Hope was a concept you had always detested. It wasn’t tangible and it made people cling to things that often should have been long forgotten. Hope was something you had tried to remove from everyone’s hearts. Something that you detested more than the lives you had taken.

You had been around for some decades now. A lot of it was very similar. Human nature, for instance. They mistrusted you and for good reason. They could sense it although they did not know what the feeling was. The hair on the back of their neck would stand on end. Their heartbeats would quicken.

In the old days, this would excite you. Make you laugh even. The fear had been intoxicating. Like a fine seasoning. But now, it didn’t interest you. It just made you feel embarrassed.

You fought for your soul. Almost half a century ago now. You had come to terms with it, for the most part. Although, it wasn’t something you could get over in a night.

One thing, that had made your life brighter since was a sudden growing affection that had creeped up on you. For a Slayer.

It had given you a feeling inside. A small ember of something you hadn’t experienced long enough to name in the recent past. Something you hadn’t believed would be possible for someone like you. After all the ways you had tried to snuff the light from everyone else.

It was Faith. You were hopelessly devoted to her. In every sense. You would lay down your un-life for her. Commit every waking moment of yours to her. It was an unending, eternal affection that consumed every inch of you.

You hadn’t known what to do with it to begin with. How to express it. It soon became clear you would need to find a confidant as you couldn’t even begin to express these feelings to her. However, when you had bumped into Spike who you had known from the old days, he wasn’t much help.

For one, he was crying over Drusilla and completely drunk. Wasted out of his mind. The only advice that hadn’t been a slurred mess was when he advised you to watch her every movement until she wore down and gave you the time of day. Which, you had told him firmly that you wouldn’t be doing.

However, tonight, it did appear that this was what you were doing. She was walking through the graveyard alone and her scent had caught your attention as you walked through the streets looking for something to fill your time. Her natural scent was like a sweet perfume. It called to you. Sung heady notes of affection.

You had followed her to the graveyard. You weren’t skulking from the shadows. You weren’t prowling behind gravestones. You were just casually walking up to her. About to announce your presence.

What you didn’t realise was that she had been listening to music. Buffy had always warned her not to take her earphones to patrol but she trusted her instincts. And plus, she was so very bored without it. She often patrolled alone whereas Buffy got all her friends around her.

So, you were about to tap her on her shoulder and say hello when she swung around, taking you by the throat and slamming you against the closest mausoleum. You had squeaked in surprise and then subsequently coughed to try and cover it up as she did.

From nowhere she whipped a stake out and held it to your chest. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened slightly but no more sound came out. You just stood there, almost in awe of her as her hand clasped tight around your throat.

A thought came to mind, that you would at least be happy that she would be the last thing you saw before being damned to an eternal hell dimension.

“You wanna move that heart away from my stake?” She asked, when she finally registered that it was you.

“Sorry, I-I was just-” You stuttered as she moved away from the hold she had on you. You felt yourself move with her, trying to feel her touch for as long as possible.

“Following me? Actin’ on this massive jones you got for me?” She teased. She was joking but it wasn’t a joke to you. You looked away as she stepped back allowing you space. Your eyes had bulged in horror as you looked down, averting your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to help”

“Yeah, well, don’t need my own stalker” She warned and you looked so beyond embarrassed it almost hurt her. She wanted to take her words back but she knew you would notice if she did.

“No! N-no not stalking, just making sure that you were, um, okay. I sensed you and-”

“I’m kiddin’, man, don’t freak” She punched your arm in a friendly way and both of you looked at each other slightly awkwardly. You frowned for a moment before you began to smile. She enjoyed the way it made your features brighten and it instantly made her feel better for having spoken the way she had.

“Sorry, I’m not really used to modern humour, I kind of shut myself away after I got my soul… I’m getting used to it though, it was… funny!” You blurted all of this out really quickly before adding the part at the end, trying to make her feel better. Her brow was furrowing again.

She found this admittance endearing almost. She watched your lips as you spoke. She wanted to kiss you. Usually she would make a move. She could give a person a look and end up taking them home. But this meant so much more. With you. She found herself getting a little nervous around you, wanting to make a move but feeling as if she would be rejected. Laughed at, although you had never been like that.

She couldn’t express her feelings. Instead she made jokes about you liking her, trying to gauge your reaction. Which, of course was neutral. Your mental health was still fragile ever since your soul had returned and you couldn’t risk the emotional reaction you may get if she tore your heart from your chest and crushed it with her bare hands.

“I can go though, if it would make you more comfortable-” You insisted, all you wanted was for her to feel comfortable around you.

“No!” She shouted, cringing at the note of desperation she heard in her own voice, “Uh, no, it’s nice to see you y’know? B’s always there when we’re talkin’ now”

You nodded, having noticed this too. When you and Faith would talk when you were able to meet the others in the library, Buffy and the others would always have something for one of you to do on the opposite side of the room. Or just plant themselves into your conversation.

It embarrassed you, that these people could tell that you liked her so much. That they were trying to save Faith from you. Your cursed love for her. Your heart was hers but you understood that just because it was reserved that way, it didn’t mean she would want to choose it from the pile.

This, actually, wasn’t entirely true. That Buffy was ‘saving’ Faith from you. And in some sense, Buffy was trying to save you from Faith too. She knew exactly what it was like to fall and be in a relationship with a vampire. The slayer and vampire love was one she wouldn’t wish on her own enemy. Not even Faith.

You were both good people, Buffy was sure of it, and so she was trying to prevent the inevitable heartbreak that she could sense building between you.

The blonde slayer had been surprisingly accepting of you on the whole, even in your more demonic years you had been more about survival than torture. Plus, you hadn’t been cursed your soul had been sought out - so you weren’t seen as that much of a threat.

This kept happening after a while. The two of you crossing paths on patrol. Until you began to plan where to meet in the evenings rather than hoping to bump into the other. You would meet and patrol together. Both of you enjoying these moments, Faith needed the company. She had felt very lonely until you had begun to power through your worries and try to befriend her the way you had always wanted to.

She enjoyed that it was you though. Your company she was keeping. She would run your interactions through her mind as she sat in her motel room. Just as you would from your crypt.

When you first got to know each other, you had begun talking and found commonalities. Reasons to become fond of the other. You noticed how she didn’t flinch away from you when she first learned about your past the way many others had.

You had been getting on so well that one evening as you were paying for your blood at the butchers, it dawned on you. You hadn’t been doing anything particularly meaningful. Just staring at the jars of blood, salivating guiltily. Until you thought it.

I love Faith.

Such a simple thought, but with such a rush of feelings behind them. It began to descend on you at once after this. A waterfall that you were sure would never stop flowing. You adored her. The way she moved, the way she acted. The softer side you had caught from her on occasion. When you had made her feel comfortable enough to let it slip even for a second.

It was another evening, after you had agreed to meet near the gargoyle that looked a little bit like the Mayor. You walked beside the other, where you would both wish for a demon to occupy your time if you were alone, you began to hope that nobody would interrupt your time together.

You would laugh and swap stories. It was everything. You stole glances at the other when you thought they weren’t looking. Your hands became so close when you were walking that you wanted to reach between the space and entwine your fingers with hers.

Faith had some trouble with getting the hang of this fighting technique that Wesley and Giles had insisted every Slayer should know. Buffy could do it with her eyes closed, of course and Faith was feeling like the understudy again. She wanted to hone her skills like Buffy did but without the ancient old guy staring at her while she did.

As you walked through the exit of the cemetery, you steeled yourself and decided to be brave.

“I could help, if you like…” You offered with a smile. You were experienced at fighting after all.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not on a sunny afternoon” You joked which made her laugh.

“Hey, you’re gettin’ it” She nodded in approval of your improved humour since you and her had been spending more time together. You grinned gleefully at the compliment and she walked ahead of you, hiding her own smile at the way your face brightened at her words. She loved seeing you smile. Even more so when she was the reason you were smiling.

She stepped into the road and turned to you, wanting to get another look. So she could picture it later, when she was cold and only had the broken tv for company. You were looking at each other and just smiling.

Your smile suddenly dropped. You panicked, sensing the danger before she did. In the past, it would have been a good feeling, the lick of terror. It snapped through the air like a whip. Struck your senses in a way that would elicit a human’s hair standing on end. Goosebumps rising.

Accidental death meant tragedy. Blood. It meant adrenaline. Easy prey. You had enjoyed the taste. You hated that you had enjoyed the taste.

But the feeling was still identifiable. The warning signals still there but it now only meant dread.

Especially when it came to her. You ran at Faith, just hoping you would get to her in time.

“Faith! Watch out!” You screamed.

You tackled her, moving her out of the way of the oncoming traffic. Her slayer senses hadn’t been quick enough for the van that was heading her way. She had been so distracted by the way your features were lit up by the moonlight.

All of the time you had been spending with each other, hidden away from the others. Not telling them that you were together so often. She held onto this, needing this. Needing you. You were sweet, which she hadn’t ever thought she could call a vampire. Even less she wouldn’t think she would have fallen for such a seemingly sweet person.

You couldn’t lose each other, not now you were just finding each other.

You landed, tumbling together onto the other side of the road. Just in time. You landed above her, almost pressed flat against her. You couldn’t help just staring. Holding yourself up slightly so you could see her face.

She was trying to catch up with what had happened, her breathing heavy. That had gone so fast, she could have been really hurt. But you had saved her. Protected her.

She had always prided herself on the way she was so independent. On how she could look out for herself. But the truth was, she wanted you to be there. She wanted to be allowed to fall into your arms, just as she would hold you in hers.

You looked at each other and time stopped. Your eyes flickered from hers to her lips, if she blinked she could have missed it. Her eyes were scanning your face. She loved the way you looked at her as if the entire world revolved around her. You were so close you could feel her breath on your face. All you wanted to do was lean in and kiss her. Catch your lips with hers. She shifted slightly and you thought she might move in, but when she didn’t the feeling of desperate yearning turned into concern.

Concern that she may reject you. That you would no longer get these stolen moments. These patrols where all that made your soul feel relaxed. Comfortable. As if your soul could only feel safe when hers was near. She meant too much. You pulled away, moving your gaze from her.

You got to your feet and heard her exhale. You couldn’t tell if it was from relief or because of the same tension you felt. You weren’t sure you would ever know. You had tried so hard to get onto her good side. To show her you wanted to be friendly. But, this was so much more. It meant too much.

You offered your hand, helping her up and she took it. As she got to her feet, your hands clutching hers. The touch lingered. Until she pulled away. You didn’t realise but she had been about to lean in. Press her lips to yours, the way she had been imagining so often recently. But you had moved away too quickly.

You both looked at each other for a moment in silence before Faith nodded her thanks. You didn’t speak, as if it would be too much after what had happened. Both of you had known that meant something. That this was new. You dared to hope that the other felt the same, but both were too nervous to say. Because rejection, the thought of losing the other. The company. The understanding. Was too great.

You wanted to be hers. Wanted to tell her what she meant to you. You wanted happiness… love. But not at the expense of her feelings should she not reciprocate. So you parted ways, as you always did just before sunrise. You went your way, she went hers.

Your souls, they lingered together like your touch had, not wanting to leave their fate. Maybe one day, they might be allowed to stay together. Once you both worked on prising open your hearts. Allowing the other in.

All you had left now was hope.

[solarune]

between the lines

Anonymous said: can I req an imagine with johnny where your their songwriter and he catches feelings for you? 🥺  thank you!

pairing: johnny seo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing, hyuck is annoying as always

word count: 1,947

a/n: i’m going to consider this my official “i’m back!” post since it’s been a while since i’ve written. for anyone who cares, yes i will still be uploading my summer fic that’s literally a month late lol don’t worry. life happens, what can i say. i think this is my first request that i’ve gotten so thank you to this anon for sending this in, i hope you like it :-) also dedicating this to @127-mile​ who i, for some reason, always associate w johnny even though i know that ten is your ult. surprise, i’m your 💚 anon!!

Has that painting always been there? I don’t think I remember it- Wait, why am I trying to think of something else, it’s not like he can read my mind. 

Your shoulders sag.

Wait. Can he?

You stare at Johnny as he talks to the producer beside you, looking for the slightest hint that he’s capable of reading minds.

If you can hear me, look at me right now.

When he doesn’t look up at you, you let out a breath that you didn’t even realize that you were holding. You definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle it if Johnny was capable of reading your mind. It’s already driving you crazy that this is the fifth time that you had to break eye contact with him while he was singing one of your more romantic lyrics. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion that you’re feeling from how late it is or your overthinking brain but you swear he does it every single time, and your heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of your chest when he looks at you.

“(Y/N)?” Jaehyun calls out, pulling you out of your internal existential crisis. “What do you think? You’re the songwriter after all. How did you want it to sound?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you struggle to find the right words while also avoiding Johnny’s gaze on you. You grab the lyric sheet from the table beside you—not that you actually need it, you just want to have something to do with your hands—and look down at it. “Can you guys sing it one more time?”

You force yourself to not look up, even when you feel the man’s stare on you once more, instead acting like you’re reading along with the lyrics while they’re singing. The way that they’re singing is wrong, the hours that you spent writing this song already telling you that, but you pretend to be contemplating just to give yourself a few moments to breathe before putting on your professional persona. You have no time to be acting like a teenager with a crush when you have a job to do. 

“Try singing a bit softer,” you suggest as you finally look up at the two idols. “Imagine you’re saying this to someone who’s sitting right in front of you.” Your eyes flicker to Johnny for a brief second before looking back down at the paper in your hands. “So you shouldn’t be belting the lyrics out because you’re not yelling this to them. Your voices should be… full of fondness rather than happiness, if that makes sense. I can’t really think of any examples that you might be able to relate to.”

“Like you’ve known them for years and they just did something really cute that you can’t help but smile at,” Johnny says, and you nod along quickly.

“Exactly like that,” you agree. “This song should bring out feelings of contentment, warmth, and stability. It’s about a timeless love so you shouldn’t sound like you're bouncing off the walls because you just told that person about your feelings and they reciprocate them.”

“Warmth,” Johnny repeats softly, and when you look over at him, he’s smiling at you in the exact way that he had just described moments before. Like everything you do is just completely endearing to him. 

You blink and the expression is gone, and before you can even begin to comprehend what just happened, the producer is already ushering the two into the recording booth. Your eyes follow Johnny’s every move, watching the way he puts the headphones on, the curve of his lips as he laughs at something Jaehyun says, and the way his fingers nervously tap at the music sheet stand.

“Okay is it just me or did Johnny just give you the look?” someone asks loudly in your ear, causing you to jump in your seat and the other producing staff to glare and shush the boy beside you. You turn around to see Mark with his knees bent so he could speak into your ear, a blush on his face for being scolded while Haechan snickers from his spot on the couch.

“A look?” you ask, not quite sure at what Mark is trying to get at. “What look?”

“No, not a look,” he shakes his head, a few strands of his unstyled hair moving out of place as he does so. “The look. The Look, you know?”

You stare at him in the hopes that you would magically understand what Mark is trying to tell you and he stares back, as if trying to connect with you telepathically. It doesn’t work. You shrug and wave your hands in the air, encouraging him to go on.

“You know,” Mark mumbles as he scratches at the back of his neck. You would think it was Mark that was caught staring from how shy he’s suddenly become. “He was staring at you and smiling at you… and stuff.”

“Oh my God, it’s even more confusing when you try to explain what you mean,” Haechan groans in exasperation. The youngest sits up straight and looks at you pointedly, and even though you’re older than him, you feel like you’re about to get scolded. “Johnny’s into you, (Y/N). Broke his promise of No Simp September because that man simps hard for you, he literally doesn’t shut up about it. So please either accept or reject him soon because I’m tired of hearing him talk about your ‘eyes that hold all of the universe’s stars in them’ - his words not mine.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” you respond drily before spinning around in your chair and scooting closer to the sound board. 

You cross your arms over your chest, and any outsider looking at you would think that you’re some hard-at-work songwriter observing the artists to make sure that they don’t mess up. In reality, you’re having yet another existential crisis because Johnny likes you? Johnny Seo, the man that you’ve had a crush on literally since you were first hired at SM Entertainment years ago to become one of NCT’s main songwriters, has a crush on you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up but Mark and Haechan’s words only seem to confirm your previous suspicions that Johnny was indeed staring at you before. 

You let your mind wander as you only half pay attention to what’s going on around you, not even noticing that everyone has decided to take a break until Haechan is shutting the door behind him and you’re the last person left in the studio. Or at least, you think you are until you turn around and see Johnny lying on the couch that the youngest was just previously occupying.

“What are you still doing here?” you ask him as you stand up to stretch out your limbs with a soft sigh. “I thought you would’ve been one of the first ones out so you could get some coffee with Jaehyun.”

“Well I wanted to talk to you about something,” Johnny says while rubbing at the back of his neck, and you have to stop your eyes from widening because this cannot be happening right now.

“A-About what?” you stammer, and it’s taking everything in you to not burst out the door and run all the way back home just to avoid the specific scene that’s been playing over and over in your head every single week before you fall asleep. “Are you worried about the song still? I think you guys did great this time around.”

“No, it’s not about that,” he says with a shake of his head. “I wanted to talk about the lyrics to your song. You told us to imagine saying this to someone sitting right in front of you when we’re singing this. Is there someone you were thinking of when you were writing the song?”

You really wish that the ground would swallow you up right now. 

What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Oh yeah, I was thinking about you actually, haha funny right? You know because I’ve been in love with you basically since I’ve met you and all that. And if you read in between the lines of all of the love songs I’ve written, all you would see is your name because it’s so painfully obvious that they’re all about you.

“No one in particular,” you reply, your voice higher than normal and you rush to clear your throat. “I was just trying to help you guys out.” Johnny nods and you mimic his actions, the awkward atmosphere almost suffocating you as you look anywhere but at the man in front of you. “Is there someone that you were thinking about?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. It’s now or never. If you don’t have the guts to confess—and assuming that Haechan and Mark are right—then maybe Johnny does.

“There is, actually,” he nods and you feel your heart rate increase at his words. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about; I need some advice. There’s this girl- obviously- And she’s just, like, amazing. She has this loud laugh that’s so contagious and she gets so excited about such small things and I don’t know what she puts in her hair but it always smells really good. And I’m pretty sure I’ve liked her ever since I first met her but I didn’t figure that out until like last year. But ever since I did figure that out, I’ve been trying to drop hints whenever I’m with her but she just doesn’t seem to get it. I’ll visit her randomly on my days off and bring her coffee when she’s at work and send her videos that remind me of her. I look right at her when I say something romantic but nothing works. Even now, I’m literally telling the girl that I like that I like her without actually saying it out loud and she probably still doesn’t get it.”

It feels like your brain short circuits at that last sentence. Well, your brain felt like it was short-circuiting throughout the entire thing, so it’s more like it just stopped working at that last sentence. “Wait- what-”

Johnny stands up and moves close to you until he’s only an arm’s length away with his dark eyes looking straight into yours. “(Y/N). I like you. Like, I really like you. And I would like to take you out on a date- if you’ll let me.”

Instead of answering his indirect question, you opt to confess your own feelings. “There is someone that I think about when I write all of those love songs. It’s only ever one person. And it’s only ever been you, Johnny. I think about you every single time, ever since we first met.” Your cheeks feel so warm after your confession but your heart feels like it’s soaring when you see the wide smile that breaks out across Johnny’s face at your words. “I really like you too. And I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Fucking finally!” Haechan exclaims as he bursts into the studio while Mark tries to pull him back and Jaehyun just stands there laughing. The boy’s yelling causes you to jump and causes the smile from Johnny’s face to fall as he glares at his roommate. Haechan ignores that, walking right past Johnny and flopping down on the couch before he takes a sip from his iced coffee. “Now that that’s over with, can we hurry up and finish for today? I wanna go home and play Valorant.”

[guqin-and-flute]

I love the Yanli/JGY verse so so much, so in the hopes that a prompt might help there be more of it: JGY, being a very observant genius and all, figures out Something Is Up with WWX's core, and since what A-Li wants is to take care of Her People, and because what A-Li wants, JGY will make sure she gets, he and Yanli work together to deal with it?

[Ahhh thank you so much!! Well, THIS went off in a direction I didn’t expect, but thank you THANK you for the fascinating prompt! TW for: canon-typical alcohol use, mention of an injury, heavily implied offscreen self harm, but for a very specific reason? It’s not for self injury/mental health reasons]

[First post in Yaoli/Peony to Lotus!verse]

Wei Wuxian stared moodily out at the sunset drenched lake, sprawled on one of the docks with a jug of liquor cupped in his hand, listening to the cicadas drone far off in the trees, the crickets sing in the grass, the frogs croak in the reeds, the people far across the lake shout and laugh. Everything was so noisy. The clamor used to be such a comfort--and to most of him, it still was, filling him with the warmth of soup and long days in the sun. But there was a new ball of darkness that had tightened a cage around his heart. That sometimes sang in his veins. Reminded him that, in the Burial Mounds, there were only moments of silence and of screaming and that both were equally dangerous. 

Reminded him of the unnatural quiet that lived at his core, now. Sometimes, the pitch of the insects would rise to such an edge that it would become too human, become something he had once heard in the darkness. Or uttered himself.

He splashed the alcohol into his mouth, reveling in the burn. At least it wasn’t night quite yet, the last vestiges of bruised purple-blue light clinging to the tops of the trees, brightened by the heavy moon. There were footsteps on the dock behind him, approaching light and even and he paused without turning. Then relaxed.

Jin Guangyao stopped next to him at the edge of the pier, clasped his hands behind his back and looked out at the moon that was held in a thousand little cups of the lily pads, tiny silver coins tucked beneath the lotuses. Wei Wuxian glanced up at him, saw the pleasant, directionless neutrality on his face and sat up with a grunt, leaning his elbows on his knees. He liked the man and his presence--had even grown quite fond of him over the many months he’d lived with them, but right now, he’d rather be alone with the frogs and his drink. He opened his mouth to greet him, but Jin Guangyao spoke first. “I was in the kitchen, just now, and,” he clucked his tongue against his teeth despairingly and turned his arm out with a grimace. “I cut myself by accident. I managed to focus some energy to keep it from bleeding too heavily but I have to admit that I don’t have the same schooling as you all do. It isn’t completely….”

Frowning, Wei Wuxian quickly got to his feet, taking the proffered arm in his hands with a sympathetic hiss between his teeth as he studied the wound. It was indeed not very deep, an irregular crescent on the side of his wrist, but his sleeve cuff had bloody blotches on it and the skin around it was stained with more blood than just this would have produced. “Yowch. Jin-xiong, we should get this cleaned. I can wake the doctor--or where’s shijie--”

“Actually, I was hoping that you could help me, Wuxian.”

It was Wei Wuxian’s turn to grimace. “I don’t know all that much about medicine, I wouldn’t leave this to me.”

Jin Guangyao’s smile managed to be at once anxious and reassuring as he looked away from his injury, finally, and up into his face. “I would think all you needed to do was channel some spiritual energy into it, right?”

The bottom dropped out of Wei Wuxian’s stomach, but he managed to hide the sudden queasiness behind a throwaway smile. “Ah, I’ve never been very good at that--Lan Zhan is much better. If only he were here, eh? Listen, I’ll go get--”

Jin Guangyao’s face fell into a gentle pleading. “Please, it’s so embarrassing; I don’t want anyone knowing I can’t handle a knife properly. We can handle this here, can’t we?”

“Look--”

Jin Guangyao sucked in a quick, protesting breath, but only gazed at him imploringly, eyes round and mouth twisted in discomfort. Wei Wuxian groaned and spun on his heel, dropping back to the dock with a thump beside his jug. “Ah, so particular. If you're so picky, you must not really be so close to dying, huh?” His insides writhed like snakes, his skin alive like a storm on the horizon. He wanted to leave. He wanted to dive into the water and let the silk of it swipe away all the restlessness. Stop forcing it, Guangyao….

For a moment, there was silence above him, then the soft rustle of clothing. Then, Jin Guangyao spoke in a voice very unlike the one he had just used, even and conversational and light. “I have not been able to verify any reports that say Baoshan Sanren's mountain is in Yiling. It's miraculous that you were able to recall so faithfully something from so young an age.”

At this, a surge of cold flooded Wei Wuxian, quickening his heart, tightening his chest and his fingers on the neck of the liquor jug as he looked up at him sharply. “Jin-xiong.”

Jin Guangyao looked down at him with a mild smile. Except Wei Wuxian hadn't had anything to say--he had just wanted him to stop. This wide eyed man was slyer than he had ever given him credit for, damn him. Did he…? Was he…? Fuck. Fuck.

“There has also never been a report of someone recovering after being tortured by Core Melting Hand,” he continued in that same friendly, casual tone and the liquor soaked stone that was Wei Wuxian’s stomach officially plummeted with a sick swoop. 

Fuck.

“...Have you told Jiang Cheng?”

“About?”

Wei Wuxian curled a half-scowl and clicked his tongue against his teeth. He was unable to look him in the eye, though he kept him in the corner of his gaze. “You know what.”

“I haven't anything to tell. I'm only mentioning a few interesting details from my studies.”

“Is that so,” Wei Wuxian said, sullenly, flopping back onto his elbows, jaw cocked mulishly even as his fingers flexed and tapped the rough wood beneath him. “So why were you studying it, then?”

Jin Guangyao sighed breezily, rolling his neck once as if to loosen it. “Because you are troubled. Because A-Li worries. Because I have an eye for patterns. Because we are family.” He let that rest a moment before looking down at him once more, eyebrows slightly raised, mouth in the barest of smiles. “Are we not?” 

“We are,” he grunted reluctantly. “Though now I regret letting someone so nosy under my roof.”

Jin Guangyao hummed a single, polite laugh in acknowledgement of the non-truth of the statement and allowed the silence to lie a few moments more. And while Wei Wuxian might be a habitual chatterbox, he surely wasn't going to help the conversation he desperately didn't want to have. “I’ve considered it, you know,” Jin Guangyao continued, suddenly, turning back to look out across the lake. “Telling someone. A-Li, Jiang Wanyin. But I thought it best to not...surprise you. Given the state of things.”

Wei Wuxian found his fingers wrapped around Chenqing stuck through his belt, the edge digging into his palm like the slow bite of an implacable serpent as his racing heart sped dangerously. That seeping ache spreading….“Meaning?”

“Wei Wuxian,” his tone was gentle reproval. “You cannot tell me you don't see how A-Li is affected by all this.” 

With an effort, he peeled his hand away from the flute, batting down the prickling, caged anger. Cornered. Trapped. He heaved a sigh and sprawled further on the deck, propping his head up on his hand, squirming as if to get comfortable--more to allow the restless energy some outlet and trying to convince this man that this was simply...what? A misunderstanding? Not that big of a deal? Jin Guangyao was proving even now, in front of his eyes, that he was not in any way stupid. “I suppose I should be grateful that she has a husband who dotes on her so,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “But does it have to be at my expense?”

“I don't know,” he countered lightly. “Does it?”

Wei Wuxian scoffed in exaggerated, dismissive disgust, but said nothing, his stomach roiling. As the silence lengthened, the restlessness grew, the nervous energy was crawling through his limbs like bugs. Why now? This was supposed to have lasted for years. No one else had looked that closely. No one else considered that there might be a reason beyond his own arrogance, his own blind bullheadedness that would lead him to dance with corpses and amulets that tore him up inside. Why did he need to look closer? 

Of all the people to see him, why did it have to be him, why couldn’t it have been--? 

He snapped off that line of thinking and leaned over, aggressively swishing his hand through the water, splashing it onto lily pads, up the struts of the dock, soaking his bracers. It was still warm from the heat of the day. “And so what are you going to do, then, Jin Guangyao? Because this feels an awful lot like a threat,” he demanded, all at once flipping over and sitting up with a scowl, staring at his calm face. “I don't appreciate being manipulated. Bad things tend to happen.”

“This also feels an awful lot like a threat.” When Jin Guangyao smiled back down at him, nothing noticeable in his face had changed and by all rights should still be classified as pleasant, dimples and all. But there was something--maybe the eyes--that all at once had a weight that was not there a moment ago. And maybe a warning. “Are we threatening each other? I wasn't under the impression that's what we were doing.” 

For a moment, Wei Wuxian’s hackles fully rose, that restless darkness housed in his chest eagerly shifting to press against the back of his gaze. No one can make you do what you don't wish to, anymore. There is no one who can force you ever again. There is nothing you cannot do. 

As if in response to these private thoughts, Jin Guangyao tilted his head, just so, smile still perfectly affixed, growing no wider and no sharper but now ever so slightly wrong for the length it sustained its unwavering stretch. For the briefest moment, Wei Wuxian’s fingers flexed.

But no. No.

He let out his breath, shoved that darkness back and away, roughly. This wasn't the Burial Mounds where the heat of that rage kept him alive. This wasn't the Sunshot Campaign where such darkness could be harnessed to help. This was wounding. This was danger. 

Those things didn't belong in Lotus Pier. 

Anger always felt better than fear, but that didn't mean that he had to choose it. Nothing made him turn into a fox gnawing off it's own leg in a trap in a panic. Maybe this was a mercy killing. Maybe this was even...a rescue. He rubbed his face with his palms, letting the tension fully seep out of him until he let himself wilt to the side and sprawl across Jin Guangyao's feet. “Jie-fuuuu. Jin-xioooong, why do you torture me with this? Can't you just leave well enough alone?”

Jin Guangyao huffed out a quiet, amused breath above him and the tension bled out of the night, leaving it cool and sticky once more. Crouching down, the edges of his robe brushing over Wei Wuxian's prostrate form, Jin Guangyao laid a hand on his shoulder. "If it was well enough, don't you think I would?"

"Ugh. You’re terrible."

“Mm,” he merely agreed, indulgently.

Wei Wuxian scoffed and closed his eyes, breathing in the wet, green scent of the lake. He did not want to do this. Not tonight and not any night. “Do we have to do this now?”

Jin Guangyao sighed. “I'm telling you this so you have time to prepare and have some control. But I am not going to keep this from A-Li and she will not keep it from Jiang Wanyin.  I wanted to be…considerate.” The mildly thoughtful tone in his voice sort of seemed to imply that there were times he had not been considerate which Wei Wuxian found hard to picture. 

He had never seen Jin Guangyao anything but patient and elegant, courteous and nonthreatening. Though, he corrected, thinking of that tacit warning he had just seen in his gaze, maybe that was not entirely true. Maybe this was something he could watch for. If not directed at him and his own, it might even be fun, this unassuming man that had the presence of someone you could fit into your pocket with ease. Perhaps he was a bit sharper than he seemed, in all respects. “I’m drunk. I don’t want to do it now.”

“You’re not drunk,” Jin Guangyao said, easily, a smile in his voice. “It would take something much stronger to get you drunk. Right now, you are numbing. That is well enough. For now. If not tonight, when?”

“I don’t know, I don’t plan things!”

“Perhaps you should. I think you would find the alternative quite unpleasant.” His tone was nothing but knowing sympathy, but the words were quite firm in their message. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.”

“Mm. If you say so.”

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes to glare up at him, his pale face sideways and framed by the stars winking on overhead. His expression was understanding and benevolent and there was no more hint of darkness in his eyes, this man who was outmaneuvering him with annoying deftness. “Don’t be funny. I’m suffering.”

His polite smile grew real and crinkled his eyes at the corners. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Wei Wuxian heaved a huge sigh, and then again for good measure. “I hate this,” he said, voice smaller than he had intended, staring up past his brother-in-law’s face into the vast darkness of the sky. “I hate this.” The anger and restlessness was gone, leaving his throat to swell and his eyes to prickle with helplessness and the brutal fucking unfairness of it all. 

Jin Guangyao was silent for a while, eyes hooded and face still, before he fully settled himself on the dock arranging his dark purple robes just so around him, allowing his feet to still be Wei Wuxian’s cushion. “I would imagine so.” 

The frogs shrilled their chorus around them as Wei Wuxian sniffed and swiped at the few tears that escaped his eyes, making a run down his cheeks for his ears as he lay, absorbing the thick night air. Jin Guangyao sat beside him, quietly, hands folded in his lap. 

“Jiang Cheng is going to hate me,” Wei Wuxian said, finally, voice rough.

Jin Guangyao shook his head, slowly. “Be incensed; yes. Hurt; yes. Feel inadequate and insecure and violated; yes. But Jiang Wanyin does not hate you. Could not, for this. A-Li and I...we will help.”

“I don’t know what the hell to say.”

“I find, if you forgive my immodesty, that I can be very good with words.”

“...I think I’d like that.”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Whatever you need, Wei Wuxian.”

After a few minutes of frog and cicada and cricket thick silence, Wei Wuxian all of a sudden looked back up at him. “Did you really slice your damn arm open just to prove a point?”

This seemed to startle a laugh out of him and he shook his sleeve back and glanced down at the wound with mild consideration, turning it this way and that. “To confirm a theory, but I suppose the spirit is the same.”

“You aren’t really bad with knives, are you?”

His eyes still on his arm, that smile grew just a bit more sharp and just a bit more knowing. “No. I’m not.”

[hopelikethemoon]

Soul || (Ezra x Reader) || Moonbeams

Title: Soul Rating: PG-13 Length: 4,300 Warnings: Mild angst  Notes: Why am I always so nervous to post every chapter? Part nine of the Moonbeams series.

Taglist: @princessbatears @djarin-junk @absurdthirst @hdlynn @legally-a-bastard @opheliaelysia @heather-lynn @sabinemorans @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @pedrospunk @maybege @chews-erotically @katlikeme @lose-eels @youmeanmybrain @theindiealto @irishleesh93 @seawhisperer @hdlynn @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @theindiealto @grapemama @roxypeanut @kochamcie @kiwi-the-first @hellomothermoon @soft-fanfics @spacegayofficial @storiesofthefandomloversreblogs @kindablackenedsuperhero @goblinqueen95 @nominalnebula @wheresthewater​ @letmybabysleep @hayley-the-comet​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @i-ship-it-ironically​ Hopefully I got everyone! Please message me to be added, comments to be added get lost in my activity. 

Ezra idly slid his fingers in between yours, his chest a firm presence at your back as he molded his body around yours. He had barely left your side since you came back from your brush with the guardians. 

“What was it like?”

“Hmm?” You questioned, tilting your head to look back at him. 

“Death.”

“Oh.” You frowned as you considered his question, watching your fingers as he played with them. “Cold and then warm.”

“Warm?” Ezra pressed his lips to the back of your shoulder. 

You exhaled slowly, searching for the right words to explain all of it to him. “It was cold and dark and then there were… stars. Falling all around me.”

He hummed softly against your shoulder, “That’s unexpected.”

“And I don’t know if that was even what death was. I can’t remember which came first. If the nothingness was before I woke up… or after.” You stretched your legs out before rolling over to face him. “Do you believe me?”

Ezra’s dark eyes searched yours for a moment before answering, “I believe that it is possible that you died and were revived. I can’t deny the potential, given my own curse.”

You reached out to trace your thumb over the curved scar on his cheek. “I should go back to the Block for the next full moon. I know I’m safe with you, but I also know that Shiva is likely losing their mind with my absence.”

He chuckled, “Do you think Shiva will believe you?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” You shrugged, “They’ll probably force me to see a medic. Check me for concussions.” You turned your palm over to look at the healing cut. “I’ve just got a self-inflicted stab wound and a handful of someone’s fingerprints.”

Ezra scratched at the back of his ear, “I have recently found that it is impossible to be overzealous when it comes to you-almost-died sex.” 

“I think it’s more oh-shit-you-died sex.” You corrected, tapping your finger against his nose.

He caught your hand and rubbed his thumb gently over the spot just above your healing palm. “Touché.” 

“Why do you do that?”

“Hmm?” Ezra’s brows knit together.

“I just remembered that when I was lost in the darkness, I recalled the way you rubbed my palm.” 

“Ah.” He smiled fondly at you, “When I was wee lad, I used to be frightfully afraid when we’d leave orbit.” Ezra explained. “My mother used to take my hand like so,” He took hold of your hand. “And rub her thumb over the center of my palm to remind me that she wasn’t going anywhere.”

You smiled at him, “I like that.” 

He cocked his head to the side, “I like you.” 

“Read to me.” You murmured as you leaned in to kiss him. 

“And force me from my comfortable position?” Ezra huffed dramatically, even as he drew back the covers and moved to get out of the bed. 

You tucked your arm beneath your head and watched the muscles in his back move with him, as he went to look over your stack of books. 

“I’ll bring back more honeysticks.” You told him, “And perhaps track down the nonpareils you mentioned.”

“You feed into my sweet tooth,” He taunted, looking back at you. “When the sweetest thing of all is laying tangled up in our sheets.” 

“Our sheets?” You gave him a look. “I do believe I bargained these sheets out of a vendor on Phthalcol.” 

Ezra smirked, looking back at the books once more. He snatched one up and flipped through the pages. “Is that so?” 

“So smug.” You rolled your eyes. “I let you sleep in my bed for a handful of nights and now it’s our bed?”

“Aren’t our ships connected now?” He questioned, not looking back at you yet. 

“In theory.”

“Ah-ha!” Ezra licked his thumb before turning the page, reading it as he turned back towards you. “I knew I recalled seeing Herrick in this collection. An often forgotten fellow, you know.”

“I don’t know if I’m well versed in him.” 

“He was rather fond of the Greek poet Anacreon.” Ezra informed you, giving you an expectant look. 

“Wine, women, and…” You racked your brain for the third attribute. 

“Song.” 

“Are you going to sing now?”

Ezra rolled his eyes, “Though poetry could be song, in theory.” He shrugged his shoulders, “He was a hit of a religious poet too, back when society was limited in their dieistic notions.” 

“What have you picked to read?”

He stared at you for a long moment before clearing his throat and focusing on the page. “How love came in, I do not know, whether by th’ eye, or eare, or no. Or whether with the soule it came, at first, infused with the same. Whether in part ‘tis here or there, or, like the soule, whole everywhere. This troubles me, but as I well as any other, this can tell. That when from hence she does depart, the outlet then is from the heart.” 

“Herrick certainly knew what he was talking about,” You said gently as you smiled back at Ezra. “I’m glad we said it, more or less, before everything happened.” You told him as you sat up, picking at the edge of your blanket. “It wasn’t said because something happened.” 

Ezra nodded slowly, shutting the book closed as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“If you ask Shiva, I’m always falling in love.” You told him, lifting your gaze a little. “But twice. I think. It wasn’t like this.” You gestured between the two of you. 

“I always avoided it,” Ezra admitted quietly, reaching out to brush his fingers down your bare arm. “Skirted close, but never too close. These past five years made me realize how much I missed out on — thinking only of myself.” 

“Being open isn’t worth it,” You told him, shaking your head. “You usually get burnt. Bad.” 

“I’m assuming you’re referring to Mars and Alia?” 

“I don’t even want to get into Alia, but…” You pursed yourself lips. “Mars was very charming. Very charming.” You kept your eyes on the blanket beneath your fingers. “I fell headfirst into that dreamboat.” You snorted. “Lots of pretty words that amounted to — ‘you have a sweet connection with the head of Fiorta Corp. and that’s all this was about.’ Asshole.” 

“I’m sorry.” Ezra kept skimming his fingers over your arm. 

“Fortunately, I found out before I could’ve been foolish enough to get myself trapped into becoming his third wife. One and two actually warned me about his plans.” 

He hummed curiously, “It sounds like you were leading quite the adventurous life.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Are you sure you want to tie yourself to me?”

“Too late.” You reached out and tousled your fingers through his hair. “I much prefer this arrangement. For so many reasons.”

“Inquiring minds would like to know.” Ezra drawled out lazily as he reclined back on the bed. 

“Fishing for compliments?” You grinned as you settled back against him. 

He rested his chin in your shoulder, winding his arms around your middle. “Always.” 

You traced your fingertips over the back of his hand, sliding your fingers in between his. “I feel like it has to mean something that it didn’t work. They were able to wipe Sybil and Cora from Proctor’s mind, but.. they couldn’t pull you out of me.” 

Ezra fanned his fingers out on your stomach, before skimming upwards to rest at the curve of your ribs. “It certainly begs the question of why.” He nuzzled at the crook of your neck. “Is that the only reason?”

You snorted, reaching back to tug at his hair. “There’s also the fact that you’re handsome, smart, and humorous. But if we’re being honest, it was the books.” 

“I figured.” He chuckled, his breath warm against your shoulder. “I meant what I said, moonbeam. I’m not letting you go.” 

“I would be disappointed if you did.”

Ezra pressed another kiss to your skin. “I know at first I tried to convince you to leave, but I’m glad you chose to ignore me.”

“I’m stubborn by default.” You tilted your face towards him with a cheeky grin. 

His lips parted to say something, but a sudden bang at your transport door made you jump. 

“What the fuck?” You questioned, climbing out of his lap to find your clothes. 

“Stay here.” Ezra growled, his entire body going rigid as he snatched up his shirt and pulled it on over his head. 

Someone knocked — again. 

“Lock the door. Don’t open it.” He told you, turning to face you as you followed him towards the threshold. 

You reached out and grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumb over the center of his palm as you held his gaze. “Please be safe.”

They knocked again. 

Ezra leaned in and kissed you, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered, swallowing thickly as he pulled away from you. You watched him as he walked backwards towards the knocking. 

You hit the button on the wall, the door sliding closed and locking shut. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you pressed yourself against the cool durasteel and tried to listen through it. It was muffled and almost impossible to hear — but the knocking stopped. 

And everything fell silent.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. The faded memory of the guardians still loomed over your thoughts. The man had reminded you of a statue — chiseled features and sharp eyes. Towering over you like a deadly beast in a man’s form. 

If they were the first creatures on Lykaios, there was no knowing what skill they had beyond Ezra’s abilities. 

You could barely hear the muffled sound of Ezra’s voice on the other side of the door, alongside a pair of voices that didn’t bode well for either of you. 

There was a shuffle of feet against durasteel, the whirr of the exterior shutting close, a slightly raised voice, and movement drawing closer to you. 

You had nowhere to go. 

“Moonbeam,” Ezra called out through the door. “It’s safe. Open the door. Your friends have made an appearance.” 

You pressed the release button on the wall, watching as the door unlocked and slid into the threshold. On the other side stood Ezra, flanked by Shiva and Quinn. 

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Shiva shot back as they stepped forward to grab you. “I thought you were dead.” 

You wrapped your arms around them, looking over their shoulder at Ezra who was sizing himself up against Quinn. Quinn had a few inches on him and it was entertaining to see him try to make himself seem more imposing. 

“A lot has happened,” You told Shiva as you pulled back. “I didn’t make it back this time. Sorry for worrying you.”

“You even got me nervous,” Quinn remarked, looking between you and Ezra. “Is he always so bristly?” 

Your eyes flickered towards Ezra, when you heard him growl. “Hey. No.” You glared at Quinn. “Knock it off.” 

“Are you going to officially introduce us?” Shiva questioned as they took a step back, giving you a cheeky grin as they looked towards Ezra. “He just leered at us and told us we smelt like humans.” 

“Jury’s out on this one.” Ezra huffed, looking at Quinn briefly before stepping through the threshold and circling towards you. You didn’t need him to say he was uncomfortable — it was perfectly clear by the way his back was rigid and his jaw was set hard.

“Ezra, this is Shiva.” You said, trailing your fingers down the back of his arm gently as you gestured towards Shiva. “You’ve already heard all of my stories about my stalwart friend.” 

Shiva shook his hand with an arched brow, “I’ve heard plenty about you too.” They gave him a sweeping once over. “Trying to steal our girl.” 

You rolled your eyes, “And this is Quinn.”

Quinn offered his hand, but Ezra refused to shake it in return. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Ezra huffed, reaching down to take your hand into his, interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Why don’t we take this conversation out of our quarters.” You said, shooing them out of the room. 

“Our?” Shiva arched a brow at you, before starting ahead down the corridor with Quinn. 

Ezra tugged you to a stop, “Moonbeam.” 

You turned back towards him, “I know this is difficult for you.” You reached out and brushed your fingers over his cheek. 

He hung his head and gave a slight nod. “I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to be the most hospitable of guests. Particularly where he is involved.” Ezra sighed heavily, “Their arrival was unexpected, to say the least.”

You glanced down the corridor where you could hear the two of them laughing about something Shiva had said. “I didn’t even think that they would come here if I didn’t turn up.” You admitted, “I probably should’ve seen that coming, but it slipped my mind.”

Ezra touched your chin, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “I think that’s understandable. And they clearly care for you and your well-being.” He held your gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Your brows furrowed as you searched his eyes. 

“My rabid jealousy.” Ezra’s eyes darted down the corridor. “I recognize it’s foolish.” 

You leaned in and kissed him, letting your lips linger there. “It’s okay, Ezra.” You brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “Just don’t try to kill him.”

“Tempting.” 

“Are you two coming to join us?” Quinn called out. “Or was that a ploy to get a little alone time?”

“We’ll be right there.” You called back, smiling at Ezra. “You’re better at being sociable than you think. You were a perfect gentleman with Sybil and Cora.”

“Entirely different scenario.” He pointed out. “Neither of them desired you.” 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Point taken.” 

Ezra stole another kiss, before taking ahold of your hand and starting back down the corridor towards the living area. 

Quinn was sprawled out on the makeshift sofa, tossing a stress ball into the air above him. “Do you think he likes fetc— Hello.” He jerked upright into a seated position. 

Shiva stifled a laugh. “Good job, Quinn.” They looked back towards Ezra. “I’ve always thought he’d go down greasy. He’s not worth eating.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ezra smirked, before gesturing for Quinn to get off the sofa who was quick to follow suit. 

“I had every intention of coming back to the Block, but things got out of hand here.” You explained as you settled onto the sofa beside Ezra. “Really out of hand.”

“Well, now you’re going to have to tell us.” Shiva gave you an expectant look. “I won’t judge you if you got distracted.”

“I wish it were that simple.” You picked a bit of dirt out of your thumbnail as you kept your eyes lowered to your lap. “It’s actually rather convoluted.” 

Ezra ran his hand down the length of your spine reassuringly. 

You rubbed your lips together, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as you looked up at Shiva. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one,” You said, “Lykaios has more secrets than we were aware of. Before the full moon, I was taken by the… I guess we’ll call them the Guardians. They were the first here on Lykaios, allegedly.”

Quinn cleared his throat, “If I may interject.” 

Ezra worked his jaw slowly as he glared at Quinn. “Do you know something?”

He nodded, “Shiva and I continued to do research after you left. Everything’s in my shuttle and you’re both welcome to it.” He leaned back against the wall, holding his arms across his chest. “There were three, I believe. Callisto, Dia, and Psophis. Arcadia has rivers named for each of them.”

You cocked your head to the side, “I encountered Callisto and Dio.” 

“Hmm.” Quinn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The rivers were named for the children of an old god. Descendants of the nymphs of the sea, so they say.” 

“I see you’re clever,” Ezra remarked with an edge of annoyance. 

Quinn shrugged, “Yes, well… the common denominator between us happens to surround herself with clever friends.”

“I can’t deny that,” You leaned into Ezra’s side. “That’s more than we knew before, so thank you for that.” You offered Quinn a small smile. “They are apparently the originators of the curse and… they tried to get rid of me the same way they got rid of Proctor.”

“Which is?” Shiva questioned. 

“They killed me and attempted to wipe my memories of Ezra. They didn’t succeed, clearly.”

“Back up, they killed you?” They leaned forward. “You should see a medic. You can’t just stay here when you could have something seriously wrong with you.”

“I told you.” You glanced sideways at Ezra. “Look, Shiva… I’m okay. I’ll see the medic when I go back to the Block in a few days.” 

“How do you know you died?” Quinn asked skeptically. 

“I just know.” You said sharply. “I know how I felt and what I saw.”

“She smells different, too.” Ezra offered, shifting beside you. “I can’t put my finger on what’s changed, but she smells like more.”

“You weren’t kidding about the smelling thing, were you?” Shiva laughed, shaking their head. “I definitely wasn’t expecting to find out that you died while you were away.”

Quinn snorted, “You were convinced she was dead.” 

“Only because she didn’t show up.”

“It’s been a blur,” You admitted. “We only had a few days between my kidnapping and the full moon and with how my mind was at the time…”

Ezra cut in, “We thought it was best that she stay here. Just in case whatever they did wasn’t fully out of her system.” 

Quinn frowned, “What do you mean how your mind was?”

“Is, really. Things are still spotty.” You gave an awkward laugh at that. “I would forget things. I’m still not entirely certain of things that happened that first month here.” 

“You remember Ay-7?”

“Quinn.” Shiva snapped and Ezra’s hand tightened at your waist instinctively. 

“Really?”

Quinn held up his hands in mock defense. “Just checking on where we stand.” 

You glared at him. “Not good.”

He snapped his fingers and nodded, “I figured.” 

Shiva rose from their seat, moving to sit on the cargo crate in front of the sofa, “I came with Quinn, so if you want a co-pilot back to the Block you’ve got me.”

“I might actually take you up on that.” You smiled, reaching out to give their shoulder a squeeze. “With everything you told me about people losing their minds when they leave Lykaois I’ve been nervous about leaving.” 

“Just,” Ezra started, his voice wavering a little. “Send her back to me.” 

Shiva tilted their head to the side as they looked at him then, “As long as you agree to send her back to me from time-to-time.” 

“There’s enough of me to go around,” You assured both of them, before holding up a hand to keep Quinn from commenting. “Not enough for you though.”

“You wound me.” Quinn shot back with a wicked smirk. “There used to be more than enough for me.”

Ezra leaned forward on the sofa and Quinn shuffled an inch further away from the three of you. “That’s what I thought.” 

“There’s too much testosterone in here.” You muttered and Shiva started laughing. 

“I think there’s too much Quinn here.” 

He scoffed, “You’re the one who dragged me along for the ride.”

“Because your shuttle’s fast.” Shiva rolled their eyes. “Don’t act like you weren’t worried for her.” 

“I’ll own up to that.” Quinn shrugged. 

“So, what other information did you find out about the moon?” 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I put a few feelers out. Expressed some interest in launching my own mining team into Lykaois. Got a few bites, but they didn’t fully materialize before we disembarked.” 

“What exactly do you deal in?” Ezra questioned with a slight edge to his tone.

“What do you need me to deal in?” Quinn retorted. “I’m a man of many skills. Our dear friend is aware of that.” 

Ezra exhaled slowly through his nose, “I’m assuming if you call Ay-7 home, you’re not dealing in legal ventures?”

Quinn gave a short laugh, “You’re forgetting that I’ve seen your files. Quite the body count.” 

“Was I casting aspersions?” He countered, keeping his eyes fixed on Quinn. “Was I?” He looked towards you then. 

“It was definitely implied.” You smiled a little, nudging him in the ribs. “Quinn’s a bit of a jack-of-all-trades. His latest venture was a dust enterprise he ran into the ground. Before that he used to run fake licenses business for those that washed out of the program.”

“Some company you keep.” Ezra smirked, with a teasing tone. “Useful though.”

Quint puffed himself up, “I can be very useful.” 

“Quit peacocking.” Shiva warned him, before grabbing their satchel up off the floor. “I forgot to mention I brought goodies. I figured if you’d missed coming back to the Block, you’d need supplies.” 

You scooted forward to the edge of the sofa to peer into their bag, “Are those honeysticks?”

Shiva grinned, “I figured you’d need your magic beast taming treats.” 

“Hilarious,” Ezra remarked wryly, holding his hand out for one. 

Shiva popped the box open and passed him one of the sticks. “I don’t get the appeal, but I respect it.” 

He tore off the end of the stick and sucked at it as he sank back against the sofa. “I believe they call it creature comforts.” Ezra stated.

“What else did you bring?” You questioned, grabbing the satchel away from them. “You were so worried about my well-being that you stopped by the bakery for fruli pies?” 

“I can be magnanimous when I feel like it.” Shiva retorted, watching as you turned towards Ezra to show him the mini pies you loved. “I figured I should satisfy both of your sweet tooth needs.” 

“What are they?” Ezra questioned, examining them curiously. “Are those berries?”

You nodded, “A sweet flaky pastry with a berry concoction in the middle. They keep for weeks.” 

“She’s always been fond of stocking up and hiding them around the transport before long missions.” Shiva pointed out. 

“Only because I’ll eat them all day one if I don’t.” You laughed, popping the package open to grab one. You took a bite with a satisfied moan, before passing it to Ezra. “Here.”

He took the bite from your fingers, chewing it thoughtfully before smirking, “I see why they need to be hidden around the ship.”

“Right?” You grinned. “We eat a lot of berries that grow here. There’s even some decent ones that are winter berries.”

“I haven’t been venturing out,” Ezra admitted. “So we’ve leaned on her ready-to-eat meals.”

“Cardboard and iron.” You scrunched up your nose. “I was going to bring more when I come back after the next full moon.”

“Are you not leaving the ship?” Quinn questioned.

“I don’t want to risk her being found again.” Ezra stated. “We were careful about coming back from my transport. There’s a chance the guardians will try to hurt her again.”

You snapped your fingers and shot finger guns at Ezra, “Not looking to die again this soon.”

Quinn frowned, “So you really died?” 

“It was a whole ordeal.” You licked some of the berry juice off your thumb. “But I’m okay now. I think.”

“Please let the medic check you over.” He said gently. “That can’t be good for you. I am worried about you… as a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, “As long as we’re clear on that.” You looked back to Shiva then. “What else did you bring?”

“Well, I was picturing you chewed up and spit out by a beast, so I brought you new clothes.”

“I’ll take those anyways.” You took the clothes from them. “I appreciate how committed you were to rescuing me.” 

They shrugged, “At rare times I’ve found I can be a good friend. Just consider all of this added on to what you owe me for cheating me out of this haul.” 

“Figures.” You snorted.

“Not to run you off so soon,” Ezra started with a polite tone. “But depending on where your transport is parked, you should start back before nightfall.” 

You nodded, “It’s not safe to be out there right now. We still don’t know what the guardians—“

Shiva laughed, “You just want to get back to whatever we interrupted. I saw what a mess your bed was.”

“This is so much worse than I imagined.” You grumbled, covering your face. “In all sincerity, this is out of concern. After what they did to me, I don’t want either of you dealing with it.” 

Quinn pushed off the wall, “I don’t want anyone rearranging my head.” He clapped his hands together, “Come on Shiva, let’s get out of the lover bird’s hair. I’m sure you’ll get all the gossip when you head back to the Block.” 

“Come by in the morning.” You smiled at them. 

“Not too early.” Ezra tacked on. “I like my sleep.” 

Shiva winked at him, before turning towards Quinn. “Let’s get out of here.” 

You lingered in the living area as Ezra saw them out of the transport. Shiva had left their bag behind, filled with a handful of other goodies they had brought for you. Everything you would’ve needed if something had gone wrong. 

Despite how often the two of you were at each other’s necks, at least they were your one true friend. Through thick and thin… and falling in love with a werewolf. They stood by you.