#and their shared affections and how they know the crevices of one anothers body like no one else.

[minophus]

nobody ever draws those old men not primed and i appreciate it so much that you do and your Sisyphus is not skinny six pack weird ‼️‼️💥💥hellyeah‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

THISSSSSSSSS EXACTLY THIS! dont get me wrong i think about their prime shenanigans every day of my life and how they still call eachother sun and moon( think it'd be fun for sisyphus to call minos new moon, regarding his face.. ) but what about before. where is the establishment of their RELATIONSHIP

[tarjapearce]

I'm just minding my own business, eating a nice hot Italian sausage sandwich, and my brain decided to do the naughty thinking

Imagine Miguel all pent up cause he hasn't been home cause our big man's a workaholic, and when he is home he's dead tired or you're busy too for whatever reason. You two finally get to sit down and have dinner for a little date night, he's just finally relaxing and ready to dig into the delicious meal you two made together, and the poor poor man looks up just in time to see your lips wrapped around a sausage or any other suggestive food item., and his brain just fries.

I never understood the food leading to dirty thoughts thing until one of my exes straight up forbid me from getting ice cream cones or popsicles on dates and he had to explain it. Now I just find it hilarious

Oh nonny, 🤭

Mild nsfw undercut. suggestive, Dirty minded Miguel ~

It didn't matter how heavy his shoulders felt like or how hefty they slumped, exhausted as he was, knowing you awaited him with welcoming arms was his reward after an extra busy day at HQ.

The Boss would find himself lost in your loving embrace, replenishing his energies with that gesture alone.

"Welcome home, Miggy"

Your voice was like a lullaby after the countless screams, barking orders to recruits that seemed to be slacking and so many complaints about the little malfunctions of his gizmo. But now, he was home with you, ready to prepare dinner.

Being a leader was exhausting, and when he was exhausted, he'd be hungry. Mostly of the times he'd be starving for you. Either just physical comfort like showering him in affection, playing with his hair or even letting him snuggle you on the bed or couch, whichever he plopped on first.

But other times it was the hunger for having you a trembling and breathless mess underneath him, mewling his name and pleading for more of him.

He chopped his share of vegetables as you cooked other things next to him. The little chat about his day turned into little playful bites on his arm, trying to light his mood up.

"Go sit down, I'll serve. You're tired."

"I'm okay, corazón."

You slapped his butt gently and smooched him, "None of that. You always work hard. Lemme spoil you, ok? Go sit."

Knowing that arguing with you was futile, he went to his seat and you served him one of his favorite comfort foods.

Huevos rancheros, some chile con queso and some spicy sausages. The way his lips burned at the spicy food was one of your preferred faces he made whenever eating along a tall glass of lemonade.

He dug right in after you sat next to him, devouring his food like he hadn't eaten in a long time, and knowing him, he probably hadn't have a nutritious meal in the past days. He groaned in delight at your seasoning.

"You'll choke, sweetheart. Do you want more?"

"I'll get it, it's ok."

He was about to stand up when his eyes darted towards you and your lips. Pouty and kissable lips perfectly molded in the round shape of the sausage. His Adam's apple bobbed as you bit down gently on it, letting the taste invade your mouth with a satisfied groan.

Some of the meats juices scurried away in the corner of your lips, one of your fingers dabbed away the little droplets before sucking it off your finger. His brain was entering an override. Lips parted as you took another bite, a little groan rumbled at the base of his throat as his eyes fixed on the degluting motion of your throat.

Just the way it moved when he slid in and out of your mouth, using your warm crevice in a more creative and delicious way. Your tongue peeked to lick your bottom lip, cleaning the saucy mix off it to then release it with an inaudible pop.

"You okay?" Big, round bunny eyes stared at him innocently.

"Yeah..." He tore his eyes away from you. Cause he knew that if he kept staring, he'd just throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom where he'd make a trembling mess out of you. Tiredness slowly abandoned his body.

How could such mundane thing had turned his gears this way was beyond him.

"So good" You mumbled at the taste of the sauce he had done. His cock twitched almost involuntarily. Oh how he remembered the other intonations of such phrase, specially when he buried himself deep enough in your tight and moist walls.

"Miguel?"

His hands slicked his hair back, trying to placate his thoughts.

"Si?"

"Do you want more?"

He'd always want more, that wasn't even a question. Would it be too selfish to just rip your clothes off and bend you over the kitchen and raw you silly until your legs gave out?

Focus

But how could he when you were slurping the sausage off? Was it intentional? No. You were just hungry and he was definitely being dirty minded.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, amor."

Lies. He wasn't fine and his cock certainly wasn't fine either, as it grew painfully tight in his sweatpants.

"Oh, you have something in your lips"

You'd dab away the sauce off him, to then lick it off.

Dios mío...

He stood gently to then pry the dishes away from your hands and threw you over his shoulder. It had been the last straw

"M-Miguel!" You giggled as he marched towards the bedroom. Exhaustion abandoning him completely.

Yeah, he'd be always hungry for something more.

[xhanisai]

marinette!!!! adrien is dying to be your husband!!! GO MARRY HIM ASAP.

AO3

Pairing - Adrinette (post-reveal, pre-relationship)

Prompt - 'Sleepovers'

Summary -

However, even though they were always attached to the hip with their hands glued together, neither of them put a label on what exactly they were and he was practically dying to know whether or not he had a chance of making room for himself in her big, selfless heart under a romantic light.

He wanted to believe so badly that the fondness and affection that soared in her pretty eyes and lingered in her touch mirrored his own feelings towards her, that whenever her blues flickered to his lips it was because she wanted to kiss him just as desperately as he wanted to kiss her.

~(x)~

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 Adrien thought it would be another sleepless night of him musing about the ambiguous relationship between himself and his Lady— alongside her interesting sleeping positions that never failed to make her so endearing and just absolutely adorable. Ever since they mutually unmasked themselves to one another, believing that the secrecy was now causing more harm than good, they have become much, much closer for sure (bisous that landed on the corner of their lips with each greeting, hands always making their way to each other's body like breathing, embraces that lasted for millenniums and eternities, blues and greens glittering with yearning and unconditional love for each other and so on).

 However, even though they were always attached to the hip with their hands glued together, neither of them put a label on what exactly they were and he was practically dying to know whether or not he had a chance of making room for himself in her big, selfless heart under a romantic light. He wanted to believe so badly that the fondness and affection that soared in her pretty eyes and lingered in her touch mirrored his own feelings towards her, that whenever her blues flickered to his lips it was because she wanted to kiss him just as desperately as he wanted to kiss her.

 Et mon Dieu...

 There were no words in any dictionary in the world that could ever describe even ten percent of the love and emotions he felt when it came to Marinette Dupain-Cheng and how much he wanted to kiss her with his everything. He wanted her to grab his face, tangle her nimble fingers within his hair and mercilessly crash her perfect lips against his. He wanted her to take and swallow every single breath he took and taste the pure devotion he held for her. He wanted her to silence each and every gasp of her name that would slip from his mouth with her lips over and over again until all he could think of was nothing but her.

 But he also had no idea of what she truly felt towards him and the sentiments that she kept guarded to herself within her vulnerable heart. The last thing he ever wanted was to pressure her into something she never wanted and lose the blissful, wonderful moments they shared now. He would happily choose to be tortured in the deepest, darkest crevices of Hell than hurt the love of his life.  .

 So, he tried his best to be patient and ensured that his partner held onto the reigns of whatever they were supposed to be, leading them both to wherever whenever she pleased. She always had a (almost obsessive) need to be in control of her situations after all but he didn't mind whatsoever, happily following her with their hands entwined and their paces matched to one speed.

 Oh.

 And they also have sleepovers.

 .

Lots and lots of sleepovers.

 .

 Sleepovers that consisted of her always sneaking him into her bedroom at night as if they were having a scandalous affair in a cheesy period drama where getting caught meant instant death. As if that wasn't enough, Marinette also ensured that he made himself home in her bed where she also slept right next to him which in turn resulted in mornings where he'd wake up either in her arms or with her in his arms. There were no in-between. Plus, since he was a light sleeper, Adrien always woke up first and would take the time to study his partner's dozing face (the boy forever pleased with the fact that she felt comfortable enough to drop her guards around him and allow herself to be vulnerable in his presence). And every time when she woke, she always, always delivered that sleepy, neverending, brilliant smile and kissed the back of his hand without fail.

"Hehe...hello, mon petit Chaton,"

 It was things like these that had the feline hero often question what Marinette's intentions towards him were and whether or not these moments were her roundabout way of saying that she wanted him too.

 .

 Maybe he should push for an answer after all because the way she always turned his poor heart into mush with each smile and each kiss was going to kill him at this rate and the last thing the world needed was for Chat Noir to be Melted Gooey Noir with his only power being seeping into drainage pipes or being a puddle for the Akumas to slip on. 

 Or maybe he should just get some fucking sleep now.

 .

 Sneaking out of the Dupain-Cheng's bathroom after washing his face (or that was the excuse because his poor heart needed a break from his Lady's beautiful smile and her loving touches), Adrien crept back into Marinette's room where she was last remaking the bed and getting some snacks ready for them all. They were currently bingeing a terrible isekai anime where pointing out all the ridiculousness was the entertainment and it paired so well with all the unhealthy treats that would send his père into a spiral of doom.

 He just hoped that Tikki hadn't finished them all first like last time.

 "Hey, my Lady. I hope you don't mind me asking—" He immediately stopped midway through the steps to her loft when he spotted Marinette sitting up on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed as if she was asleep. However, Adrien knew better, taking in her pinched brows and death-like stillness and the sight of Tikki's teary eyes only affirmed his realisation.

 Marinette was passed out.  "Shit!" He quickly darted towards his partner, lightly tapping her face and whispering frantically for her to wake up, trying with his everything to remain calm and collected. Even Plagg and Tikki joined in, tugging on her pyjama trousers and before Adrien could think of calling the emergency services and alerting her parents, Marinette was startled awake with a gasp. She attempted to stand up out of surprise by instinct, only to wobble and fall back into the blond's arms. His heart was close to leaping out of his throat in pure panic.

 "W-What happened?" She croaked, lightly shivering as her partner held her tighter against him. He kept her in his arms for a few minutes longer, trying to keep his frantic thoughts at bay and remind himself over and over again that she was awake and alive. Even Plagg attached himself to the girl's shoulder, his feline greens peering at her worriedly whilst Tikki hugged one of Marinette's free hands. "Mon minou?"

 "You passed out...you passed out again, Marinette." He finally laid her down on the bed, kneeling by her side and stroking her hair soothingly. Another major thing he noticed when they became closer was just how scarily often she fainted or was left on the brink of passing out because of how overworked she was. She was downright terrible at looking after herself and there was only so much her parents and their friends could do to help her out because she's so, so good at being secretive and hiding things from everyone. Thankfully, he's here now and has learned what to keep an eye out for in order to look after his partner. "Did you forget to eat?" Her sheepish expression had him bite his bottom lip in slight frustration. "Marinette..."

 Oh, his silly, silly little buguinette.

 "Sorry! I just...forget." He couldn't stay mad at her for long, leaning his forehead on hers. "I'll put reminders in my phone now so that I remember to eat on time. And there are plenty of snacks here too! Sorry for making you worry again, Adrien." He could only smile softly and then brush her hair back so that he could kiss her head tenderly.

 "Silly bug. Next time this happens, I'm dragging your butt to the doctor. Your health is more important than trying to hide me from your papa at night." His smile simply grew wider when she sat up and shoved a profiterole that Tikki offered into her mouth like a pudgy-cheeked hamster (clearly very embarrassed and eating her way out of it). "I mean it. If I see as much as a dizzy spell, I'm gonna put a whole cake in your mouth, hold you with one arm and take you to the nearest doctor or hospital. You could end up in a really bad position if you keep up with these bad habits. In fact, I think you should see a doctor now as soon as possible just in case." He wasn't blind to the flash of guilt in her eyes, an apology ready to leave his tongue because he didn't want her to feel bad.

 "I know. I am trying to do better." She was all honesty and softness when she held onto one of his hands with both of hers. Then she offered another smile, hoping to soothe his heart. "It's a good thing that I have the best husband in the world."

 .

 Eh!?

 .

 Marinette immediately went beet red, a thousand and one unintelligible words poured out of her mouth as her hands pinwheeled around in a frenzy. Meanwhile, Plagg gaped at her comically, Tikki stared at her wielder with bulging eyes and Adrien was still in the process of rebooting his brain.

 "Partner! I meant PARTNER! HahahahahaH! You didn't hear anything else! Nuh-uh! Nope!" She finally whisper-shouted and a strained smile pulled at her lips, the heroine hoping that her infinitely patient Chaton would let it slide.

 .

 Too bad for her, his patience has snapped.

 "So if you considered me as your husband all this time, why haven't you kissed me stupid yet???" Adrien was unironically a little frustrated and yet all that Marinette could do was combust into redness all over again, the duo blind and deaf to the cackling little God of Destruction and the giggling Goddess of Creation. "You can't just scream into a pillow forever, Marinette! I've been waiting for you to marry me and have my babies since day one! My Lady!??!"

 "Leave me alo-oooooooooooooooooooone..." 

 .

 Adrien didn't get his kiss until the next morning when they woke up together in each other's arms, Marinette briefly brushing her lips against his and then running off into the bathroom with a muffled squeal. 

 And Paris had to be saved by Ladybug and Melted Gooey Noir after that.

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~(x)~

[joyfullyacat]

Unordinarily Foolish

haha, don't hurt me, not beta'd it's another hurt no comfort - but this time no one dies! woo!! inspired by @gniteruirui 's animatic here (except then it spiraled way from that and im a little sorry-)

CW: so much self loathing, general heartbreak, pining when your heart wars with your brain, no happy ending word count: 2.7k

-

You’ve hit rock bottom it felt like.

What respect did you have for yourself any more?

There’s been a pain, irate and grating on the nerves right in your sternum lately but it was better than feeling numb.

At least, you think it is.

You go years single without affection, you had your time to date and you took time away from the pool, you got your licks from it, you thought you learned all the lessons. 

Now look at you.

Unsteadily, your hands follow the curves and grooves of the toys you clean with wipes. Under here, around there, get into that crevice. Your thoughts travel and your eyes wander to the subject of those thoughts.

Sun is cackling with giggly kids hanging off every limb, clutching about his legs and wrapped about his arms. He’s carefree and radiant, in his element, there seems not to be a care in the world with him… And maybe that was what had you ensnared. You stare at the panel in the back of his neck that his jointed neck comes out of. A distinctly inhuman appearance to his otherwise human personality.

Just maybe, this is what kept you away. You were an ordinary fool with a silly heart but your brain was logical… Cruel but logical.

You were an ordinary fool with not so ordinary lessons to learn. Like how bad of an idea it is to be in love with something - someone incapable of feeling as you do with temperamental chemicals and functionalities that dictate every part of you from head to toe. Who won’t share the experiences of life with you like an ordinary couple.

What you had was not an ordinary love.

This was no ordinary circumstance.

When did you take his exuberant nature for something more than what it was? When did his crushing hugs of friendly greeting become something that stole your breath away - more than just physically. The nicknames too, the sunshines, dewdrops, and daydreams, every single one of them stuck into you and hid between your ribs, becoming new butterflies that’d flutter in your stomach haplessly against your will.

You have enough respect for him to not dump this onto him or his lunar counterpart, Moon. 

Oh yes, a counterpart. A double decker to your psyche, really.

To be in love with not one but two distinct personalities and individuals that weren’t even human. Who likely could not grasp the concept of love, it wasn’t something to be easily defined like happiness or sadness, it was muddled by every emotion and bolstered by them similarly.

This wasn’t including the fact that you were fleeting in their very, potentially eternal, lives.

This also wasn’t including the fact that at any moment, they could be torn in twain and scrapped against your wants to make new animatronics, better ones, new personalities. They wouldn’t remember you - even if they kept the same face.

It already happened once, after Sun and Moon were split into their own bodies.

Most of their memories outside of the employee data bank were lost. You were pretty much another face in the crowd to them.

You were happy to befriend them again - at the time that’s what they were. Friends.

Because denial is not just a river in Egypt and you were hopelessly flowing down it back then, oh it’s just a crush. Merely infatuation! They were new, exciting, interesting and human enough, but you know now.

No, you were utterly endeared and helpless to how your heart speeds up around them.

Well over a year later.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Moon approaching, slinking in the designated shadowy corners you created with well placed large plushies and decorative hangings.

The animatronic lifts a finger, pointing to what you’re doing unknowingly. “I think that toy is clean enough…” He speaks in his typical low grumble, a permanent growl to his voice that rattles in his chest. Something that comforted you in your lowest moments when he’d hug you on days of stress.

His words bring you back to the moment, looking from him then over to the poor anthropomorphic turtle figurine with colored bandana in your hand.

You had stripped some of the color from it. Faded smears of green staining the little white rag.

“Ah, yeah. It is…” You cough, setting the toy in with the others and picking up a sort of tubby looking unicorn toy with cheap white hair and a set of sparkles on its hind quarter.

“You’ve been spacy lately.”

Ah, he was always the more confrontational of the two. A trait you admired and feared. You thought you were confrontational once upon a time, then you met him. Then you learned how ham-fisted your emotions could be to you. Making you clam up entirely.

Both were observant, eventually a comment would be made on your actions lately, your behaviors. Whatever vitals they’ve been able to read from you.

Sun was far more subtle, much more rounded. Acting sort of as a bumper to your feelings with careful gestures and honeyed words that served to entrap you further, much to his unknowing warmth. Leaving you little sticky notes of well wishes that you’d save and so on.

You felt… Dirty, really. Dirty about it all. Guilty may be more apt. Taking their gifts of friendliness for your own selfish needs. To fuel fantasies of your own design.

A low timbre breaks you from your thoughts, “Starbright?”

Right. He’s still there.

Moon brought himself closer, even in that moment of thought. Just an arm’s length away, well for him anyway. You’d have to lean forward.

“Things have been… Going on is all, Moon. Sorry about that, I’ll pay for a replacement toy.” The funny turtle guys are usually stocked in toy aisles, it’d be easy to pick one up the next time you’re going out for the easiest and cheapest premade meals because you haven’t been able to bring yourself to cook properly otherwise lately.

He doesn’t look convinced, looking past you to something just over your head, probably over to Sun if you had any guess. The two had a way of communicating without necessarily having to be in speaking range of one another.

Likely some technological link.

You watch as he nods once... Twice... Three times before suddenly decisions are made.

“...Come on, you’re taking your break early.” Is all he says before you’re swept up with an arm around your shoulders, promptly escorted to a doorway tucked behind one of the play structures with quite the tall baby gate that keeps wandering tikes from going into it.

Also known as the way to their personal room that wasn’t through that funny hook system that made them “float” to the balcony.

You squirm and writhe against his hold, trying to dig your heels into the carpeted area with all your might but he practically picks you up in your struggles. “Ho-Hold on now, I didn’t agree to this-!”

“Don’t care…” He draws out in a mocking sing-song. “Attendant’s orders, we care for children, this includes adults who act like children.”

Was this how you lost what shred of dignity you had left? Cornered to fess up by your coworker and crush? Could you dumb it down, play it off as if it were nothing? Make up a story about something in your personal life going on?

…Better question, did you want to?

You wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this, even if you wanted to do it with both of them present at the same time. No having to repeat yourself and becoming mortified twice over if there is only one band-aid to rip off, after all.

Though that question was answered for you with the reveal of Sun awaiting you up the stairs, hands on his hips and leaning forward, primed up and ready to chastise you for your mistreatment of yourself.

Quickly, you try to find a way out of this impromptu grilling on your being, “I know you did not leave the kids unsupervised.” You point out stiffly, gesturing to the balcony that the solar-themed animatronic likely scaled.

“You are correct, I set up their nap hour! We are both capable of it… Remember I was doing it alone for a time!” He’s chirpy in his jest but distinctly, you feel that smile he can’t necessarily help is more sarcastic in this moment.

“So that leaves you alone with us - ideally uninterrupted with plenty of time to figure out what is wrong with you.” Moon elaborates simply, resting his arms over your head and leaning his weight into you comfortably.

A common way he liked to make fun of his height over you. 

“Mhm! So tell us, sweet sunshine, what’s been eating at you?” Sun holds his hands out to you in invitation, flexing his fingers once.

You don’t hesitate to take his hands into your own two, staring right into his daylight-bright eyes that’d somehow shine more when he was excited you noticed. You hoped they’d stay like that. You don’t ever want to see that light dimmed.

With a deep breath, you decide to take the leap.

“...What would your guy’s responses be if I said I liked you?”

The way Moon goes tense, able to tell even with the rigid, barely padded metal resting against you, has you worried.

Sun twitches in your hold, almost as if wanting to pull away, “Well… It depends in what way you mean by that!”

The animatronic above you doesn’t reply.

Well, here goes nothing for you. Maybe you can ask to be transferred to a different area. Does Bonnie Bowl need any sort of supervision? Children are in every corner of this place, surely someone good with kids would be good in just about any place…

How hard do you play this up… Pouring your heart out would dramatically be for the best you figure.

A little tap to your temple makes you jolt and you can only wish to be able to look up and glare at the attendant who radiates smugness over your head.

“I want to experience life with you in the long run. I want to feel your hands in my hair and I want to be able to care for you similarly, maybe I’d pick up sewing or something to make sure your things fit, I don’t know. I wish to teach you what lies beyond these walls I want you - both… You and…” You point to Moon above you. “I don’t think I could ever choose and risk separation or division. I know there are differences and I'm sorry to dump this all out, it's unwanted and complicating and-” At some point, you start to cry, your frantic blinking had only kept the tears at bay for so long and you couldn’t bow your head to hide the waterworks.

So you stared at Sun who looked to you with, you think, eyes that weren’t remotely as bright as they once were. You caused that.

The seeming pity you felt from them, the awkward, stoney silence.

Your love for them was theirs to keep, your heart would never be your own you think, not for some time. They could do as they wished with it, it was the only blessing you could give them. For them to know they were loved in that way, even if for them, it does nothing.

“...I’m sorry.” You apologize once more after a few moments of the deafening quiet that you couldn’t bear any longer. “I didn’t want to say anything, I was trying to keep it under wraps hoping it’d go away but it didn’t even when I took that - stupid long break using up all my vacation and sick days in one go-”

“Wait, that was why you left for a month?” Moon speaks up, interrupting you swiftly and flicking your temple soon after. “You’re unbelievable. See Sun, this is what I mean. They’re a big child.” 

He’s so huffy about it you can see the silent tapping of his slippered foot against the ground… Actually no, you hear it now. The little bell jingles and his pants sound with the movement.

“Mmm, yes. Yes they are.” Sun confirms with a nod.

You huff out something that you think was supposed to be laughter, “You two are not making me feel any better about this.”

“Because you’ve chewed yourself out thoroughly I think! We had to get you smiling somehow.” Sun releases one of your hands to poke at your nose. “I say we did good.”

Your now free hand automatically went to rubbing at your eyes to forcefully clear the remaining wetness away, using your knuckles and making your vision scramble momentarily. 

“This… Doesn’t give me your answer though.” “Because I’m afraid we don’t have one, Starlet. You’ve dreams and ambitions - but we don’t share them… Especially when it sounds like this like is more of a love, isn’t it?”

Moon has you pinned and you can only let your shoulders lower slowly, forcing down that sticky feeling in your throat, the ball that wants to come out in a sob. 

They didn’t need to be so gentle about it. You wanted them to… Mock you. Do something that’d make you view them at least - something less than pleasant?

Something less than the sweet as peach nature of Sun and the toying black cat nature that Moon possessed, endearing even if sometimes you wanted to take him by the waist and shake him from side to side.

“...I’m sorry.” Is all you say, again.

You’re not sure what this means for you and your friendship with them. Do they view you as silly? Hopeless? A daydreamer with too lofty ideas? Potentially, too idealistic? Romanticizing what wasn’t there? 

“There is no need for an apology, really…” Sun soothes, hushing you when you went to apologize a third time with a press of his finger to your upper lip. “I think you knew our answer to begin with, somewhere in you, didn’t you?”

You did. The one your brain would tell you whenever your thoughts went down the rabbit hole of what-ifs and possibilities. 

After all, they were made with a purpose in mind. Artificial in design, they had their directive, and you were not part of it. They were in love with their duty, their charges, adoring the children they take care of and see grow with each visit. They were caretakers first and individuals second.

You want to find an end to this conversation, a solid conclusion, something of change, meaningful and positive and before you can broach the topic of how this should go on, the sound of a child crying echoes through the dying conversation, silencing it fully.

A part of you laughs deep down at the comical way the two attendants shoot-up like dogs catching the movement of a squirrel. Another part of you cries and laments at their presence leaving yours, the bubble thoroughly popped as arms drop from your head.

Not a moment of goodbye, not a note of continuing this later. They go over to the balcony.

“Oh ho ho! It seems we are up and shining already! Rise and shine from the clouds, who’s ready for snacks?! I say we have little apple bunnies!” Sun cries out with all his joyousness coming out in full force as he launches himself over the railing with a dive.

Moon only spares you a glance, giving you a simple two-finger salute with minimal words before his departure. “Go home.”

The moment he’s over that rail is the moment you feel the urge to keel over and curl up. You feel you screwed that over spectacularly.

This was never so painful, this was never such an agony. Never did feeling love make you feel like such a wretch of an individual. Like an utter bother.

But you go home as instructed. A quick text sent to your coworkers and a brief, phony explanation to the security guard stationed at the front how you sicked up in the bathrooms and wasn’t sure if it was contagious, and you’re out of there.

The rest of the day that’d serve as your shift, you spend staring blankly into nothingness while going about chores you neglected previously due to your shifts and emotional turmoil that left you unwilling to move once you got home.

Anything for normalcy.

Anything to not feel useless. 

Even got to cleaning your bedroom, sorting your messes and putting things where they belonged - briefly you feel accomplished.

You go into your prettily made bed at an hour that’d surely give you a sneer and a direct order to nap by Moon. The sun is kissing the horizon and the inky blackness of the sky, making way for heartwarming pinks that bleed to oranges and purples.

All you feel is cold however.

A meager handful of hours later and you wake up just a bit before your alarm is supposed to go off, to your phone chiming with a text.

…A text.

From your manager.

No email, nothing professional, no official slip of paper.

Hey, sorry to hear you aren’t feeling well, I hope it was just something bad you ate and not an actual issue since you don’t have sick days but, hey, you’ve been moved stations. Effective immediately and all that.

The arcade with DJ Music Man is pretty cool, you’ll do just fine there, you may have to learn some basic engineering and wire tampering though.

Your throat hurts from the wail that falls from you. Miserable and broken.

Desperately, your brain tugs at you. It tugs at your heart. That these tears aren’t needed, you’ve cried, this was for the best. You could heal from this, it wasn’t a break up. You still have your job, there are brightsides to this, that change was good.

All your heart could pound about was that you weren’t wanted anymore.

Unloveable. 

Foolish.

[the-s1lly-corner]

facial dysmorphia comfort spot x reader

maybe maybe

Spot w/ an S/O who has facial dysmorphia

Okokokok two things!!

One I am once again so sorry for taking so long for getting to your ask 😭😭 same goes for everyone else who sent in requests <\3 but I got nothing going on tonight so I'll likely be knocking out asks throughout tonight!!

Second!!

Bit personal but I really didnt know there was dysmorphia that's centered around faces :0 I thought it was just body dysmorphia; and this ask kinda

Made me feel things

Not necessarily bad things but like

"Oh that's a hyper specific version of me" as someone with body dysmorphia that's very. Face centered

🧍‍♂️

Anywahs

Eeerm yeah!!

With all that being said some of this might dip into my personal experience with body dysmorphia <\3

Actually it kinda dips into a lot

It's the self projection for me

Not proofread we die like peter parker

He gets it

Kinda?

Sorta?

I mean it's not a 1:1 but

Close enough...?

I think he may have also had similar issues precollider tbh, like when he said "oh I used to be handsome by scientist standards" sounded... backhanded..

Anyways

Not the most attentive, he wont immediately catch your mood souring if you two are out and about; but he does eventually catch on if you're quiet or fidgeting

Offers you things you can fidget with to keep your hands busy; from small stress toys to rubber bands, to keep your hands busy

I know everyones different but again, self projection here

Helps especially if you mess with/tug your hair into place or pick your face at any perceived flaws

"Look at me dont look at them," when he notices you start comparing yourself to others when you're both out

Probably steps in front of you, if you're walking hes walking backwards to keep him in your view

He falls over/hj

Ah yes the mirror

Frowns

Another thing that spot would personally relate too; I believe I've mentioned somewhere in a different hc post that he tends to just

Stare and talk down to his reflection, post collider

It's a habit he probably had precollider too, but instead of his lack of face he's scrutinizing the moles and beauty marks

He never really liked his spots

But aside from sympathy when he sees you do the same he also feels

Hurt

Is this how he makes you feel when he does the same thing?

It's weird for him to be on the other end; watching you pick at your skin or teeth, sizing up every curve and crevice

He doesnt want to just go up to you and pull you away from the mirror or upright tell you to stop; nono that doesnt feel right.. it feels too.. forceful, accusatory... he doesn't want to make things worse

He'll probably try to subtly bring your attention in another direction; be it asking you what the plans for that night are, or asking for some affection

The most bold he'll get is walking up to you and gently bopping his face against you

He does his research, hes a scientist afterall

He makes sure that your shared home is a safe place to retreat to at the end of the day; his protective side outright banning anything that could potentially trigger your dysmorphia, doesn't matter what it is he's just not going to let it through the door

He never ever wants you to feel like your experiences are less than; whenever he notices a day is particularly hard hes immediately dropping everything to help and/or distract and/or comfort you

Listens diligently to what you need

He probably keeps a little notebook somewhere with notes scribbled down, along with things he knows you like and bring security

You both have feeling sessions; you both just sit down and talk, about anything really

Not necessarily vents but also not necessarily not vent but

You know

God forbid anyone ever makes you feel bad about himself

He would never... kill anyone (attempting to off miles dad aside!! I write these like. Imagining it's the time between the movies :0) but boy does he get thoughts

Literally just

Spawns a hole under them and sends them to god knows where

If you've got anything to help it, like say therapy or medications he'll make sure you keep a consistent and steady schedule with it

Insists on taking you to therapy himself

Via holes, of course

"Wait wait wait I think... I got it this time-!"

Proceeds to accidentally send yall to the top of some random building somewhere

VERY persistent about any meds, almost gets naggy with it

This is the same with any other stuff you may or may not take; other meds, vitamins, antibiotics, ect ect ect

Spot is more or less kind of. ..

I dont wanna say hes a mother hen, but asides from revenge, the thing he wants most is for you to be happy and healthy

It also kinda offers himself some reflection, because again he carries/used to carry similar behaviors; whether he had dysmorphia or not, he can see himself in you and it

Hurts

As a side note you notice his frequency in the bad self talk lowers

Gives off that "do it for her" simpsons meme, but its spot having a board of you

Figurative board of course

Maybe

I can kinda see him having some version of it actually

He just wants you to know that he loves you so so so much. He thinks himself to be the luckiest man in the world; hell in the entire multiverse, as cheesy as it sounds. Despite everything hes been through and going through, he still managed to get someone like you by his side. You give him clarity in his whirlwind of a life and he wants to let you know how grateful he is for your existence

Anyways

Yeah I dont know where I was going with this post and hcs I kinda just let my feelings and experiences talk here so <\3 normally I like to keep things like this vague so others can hopefully relate easier but

Man this topic got me

But

Yeah

I hope this is alright !! It's not often I write stuff with this sort of topic matter so I'm a lil rusty <\3

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands!

B4R2: The Extinction

Driving Driving Driving:

“Climate change innit”

We Will All Go Together When We Go:

“Its literally about how we will all die if a nuclear bomb got dropped on us but cheerfully:)”

Lyrics below the line!

Driving Driving Driving:

I'm not a conspiracy theorist but I read blogs by scientists And I believe they know more than we are being told By the mainstream media sources, want the truth to hold its horses So there isn't mass hysteria as the sea floor erodes

And those in and on the ocean all say, "Hey, what's this commotion?" And try to get away, they are moving in slow motion 'Cause their bodies are so heavy from a substance thick and deadly They say, "I don't want to die, it's all your fault, I wasn't ready"

And I'm sorry and I'm scared and sad and mad and unprepared To see the stuff that's in the sea evaporate into the air Where it will gather and form clouds that travel north upon the wind Drop its cool refreshing poison raindrops on our crops and children

And maybe it's the end, I always thought the end of man would be Exactly what we need for the earth to stand a chance And I always thought that I'd be fine if this happened in my lifetime Now that I'm a mother, it is really terrifying

But I've always identified with the turtle's soft insides Because there are times when I really need to hide But even the strongest, toughest, thickest shell is not designed To survive, to survive, to survive something of this magnitude Because water is fluid and oil is crude

And it billows way down deep and it sticks to grains of sand And it floats up on the surface where the birds all try to land And it's ruining the marshes, ecosystems are destroyed And the people all along the gulf coast are now unemployed

While the men who cut the corners still scream, "Drill, drill, drill" From their yachts far away and their mansions on the hill And they turn away the cameras and scream, "Kill, kill, kill" As they burn endangered sea turtles alive

They're burning turtles alive

And the seas are all connected and we are all connected And you're living in denial if you think you won't be affected You can't hide behind your flag because water knows no border It'll creep in every crevice, it'll seep in every pore

They lie about the damage, the solutions are illusions There's no cover-up big enough to hide this huge a contusion On the face of our mother, yeah, that's right, Mother Earth Is the cost of every living thing what your product is worth?

We are all afflicted with an underground addiction Will our desire for convenience be the cause of our extinction? The industry's the master and we are all the slaves And we're driving, driving, driving to our graves, graves, graves The industry's the master, we are all the slaves And we're driving, driving, driving to our graves, graves, graves Graves, graves, graves, graves, graves, graves

So we must teach our kids to love themselves And let them live their lives What will they be if they grow up? Whatever they like It's crucial to raise children who won't do what they're told Who will fight for what's right and who can't be bought or sold

I want nothing of this business, I'm staying underground I'm gonna ride the railroad and let my guard down We can forage and ride bikes, jump in lakes, go on hikes We can sing and sing for hours and click 'like', 'like', 'like'

When somebody posts something good we share and spread the truth It's time to define what success means to you I hope my kid will never be another cog in their machine Trapped inside a box trying to remember her dreams

They'll sell us all out for their greed, greed, greed As we cry for the earth while she bleeds, bleeds, bleeds Bleeds, bleeds, bleeds, bleeds, bleeds, bleeds

So hold onto to your loved ones, hold on for dear life Try to walk like thunder leaving footprints that are light Hold onto to your loved ones, hold on for dear life Try to walk like thunder leaving footprints that are light Hold onto to your loved ones, hold on for dear life Try to walk like thunder leaving footprints that are light Hold onto to your loved ones, hold on for dear life And try to walk like thunder leaving footprints that are light

I'm not a conspiracy theorist but I read blogs by scientists And I believe they know more than we are being told By the mainstream media sources, want the truth to hold its horses So there isn't mass hysteria as the sea floor erodes

And those in and on the ocean all say, "Hey, what's this commotion?" And they try to get away but they are moving in slow motion 'Cause their bodies are so heavy from a substance thick and deadly They say, "I don't want to die, it's all your fault, I wasn't ready"

We Will All Go Together When We Go:

When you attend a funeral It is sad to think that sooner or l- -ater those you love will do the same for you And you may have thought it tragic (Not to mention other adjec- -tives) to think of all the weeping they will do But don't you worry

No more ashes, no more sackcloth And an armband made of black cloth Will some day nevermore adorn a sleeve For if the bomb that drops on you Gets your friends and neighbors too There'll be nobody left behind to grieve

And we will all go together when we go What a comforting fact that is to know Universal bereavement - An inspiring achievement! Yes, we all will go together when we go

We will all go together when we go All suffused with an incandescent glow No one will have the endurance To collect on his insurance Lloyd's of London will be loaded when they go

Oh, we will all fry together when we fry We'll be French-fried potatoes by-and-by There will be no more misery When the world is our rotisserie Yes, we all will fry together when we fry

Down by the old maelstrom There'll be a storm before the calm

And we will all bake together when we bake There'll be nobody present at the wake With complete participation In that grand incineration Nearly three billion hunks of well-done steak

Oh, we will all char together when we char And let there be no moaning of the bar Just sing out a Te Deum When you see that ICBM And the party will be come-as-you-are

Oh, we will all burn together when we burn There'll be no need to stand and wait your turn When it's time for the fallout And Saint Peter calls us all out We'll just drop our agendas and adjourn You will all go directly to your respective Valhallas Go directly, do not pass 'GO', do not collect two hundred dollars

And we will all go together when we go Every Hottentot and every Eskimo When the air becomes uraneous We will all go simultaneous Yes, we all will go together When we all go together Yes, we all will go together when we go

[cupidzgf]

TARNISH - LEVI ACKERMAN

cw: mdni, nsfw, smoking, angst, dark thoughts

"You shouldn't smoke." Levi doesn't have to turn around to know who's speaking to him. He almost wishes she wasn't here to see him in such a sorry state, a person much unlike the stories paint him to be. He takes another drag, letting the smoke bury itself in his throat before it leaves his lips in a short puff. The nightlife around him dances with pale color, lanterns flickering ominously down the street, still lingering with a couple of stragglers.

"That's shitty for you." He takes another puff. Your footsteps echo in his ears louder than his own heartbeat until they stop beside him, and suddenly his lungs can't get enough air. Your proximity always did something to him, clouding his mind with thoughts that shouldn't be there, awoke a flame he thought he'd extinguished many moons ago.

He can't hide the weariness in his body when you slide a hand down his back, brushing the knobs of his spine like you know every crevice of his body. And you do because he let you know him better than anybody, better than himself. It's why you're here in nothing but his shirt and those thin pair of shorts he likes to take off, worried over his health at an ungodly hour in the morning. It's his fault you're not sleeping, an unpremeditated effect to his sorrow.

"Levi?"

What is he supposed to do when faced with your voice cracked with concern about an old soldier like him? How is he supposed to resist his salvation wrapped in the body of his downfall? He can't. The butts of cigarettes atone for it. He's enamored with you, from how you enunciate his name to your body wrapped around his in the dead of night when sex becomes not just sex.

"You should be asleep." He decides on a response, and the hand scorching his back with delicate warmth stills. Was that the right thing to say? He can't ignore his churning stomach at your guilt he inflicted upon you. It haunts him, knowing his selfishness is the result of your ruined innocence. All he wants to do is take back everything he said, wrap you in his arms until the world stops spinning.

"You should be too." Levi ponders how someone could speak to a battle-hardened killer like him with so much affection- tenderness, like all the lives stacked on his consciousness mean nothing, like the emotions he keeps tucked away are okay not to share. Despite how you open yourself to him, body and soul, trust him with it as if he hasn't used the same vulnerability to his advantage to end lives without hesitation. It makes him waver whenever his door rattles with your knock, or he leaves the bed he'd fucked you on to find his escape in the stars. All while your body drapes over his mattress so gracefully that his chest tightens into knots of shame. Who is he to take away that purity? Tarnish your body with his violence, ruin the light you seem to radiate with every brutal thrust of his hips against your pelvis.

But maybe there was something there besides lust whenever degrading, vile words left his lips, hidden with his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips in the most delectable way, or the soft fingers that card through his hair trying to pull him closer, emotionally and physically, that lets him allow you to sleep in his room. A part of him wishes he pulled away from whatever this is before you get close, so when this relationship spells your demise like it has done for everyone else he's ever held on to, it won't shatter him down to his very being like it would now.

"Let's go back to bed." He wonders if he told you to leave if that would protect himself and you from what fate has in store. If he could part with the one thing reminding him he's alive, would it be enough to spare his heart? He wants to, god, he wants to, with every fiber of his being, pull away and keep you from binding yourself to the death that finds everyone but him.

"Okay." You might as well be dead.

©2023 cupidzgf. do not copy, translate, modify, or repost my content onto other sites without my permission

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil

Pairing: Luca Changretta X Reader

Author’s note: So excited to share my first fic on this blog! I’m still trying to figure out the ins and outs of Tumblr as it’s been a hot minute since I’ve last used it, but if you like my writing please repost and follow for more :)

The story (part one of many, hopefully) is set in early Season 4 and is in second-person, but you’re also a character with a name.

And in case you can’t tell...I think Luca Changretta is criminally underrated.

Warnings: Some mild smut.

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

There is a stranger in the Garrison tonight.

He isn’t a shipyard laborer, neither tired nor grimy from the perpetual muck that belongs to Small Heath. In fact, he is more polished and well-dressed than anyone you’ve ever seen, except for perhaps the Shelby brothers who frequent the Garrison.

But this man is no Peaky Blinder.

He leisurely surveys the customers in the pub, eyes obscured by a fedora that slants on his head. An unlit cigarette hangs between thin lips. It’s a halfhearted attempt to blend in, as if he’s doing this as a courtesy but cares not in the slightest if he rouses suspicion.

You are used to breaking up bar fights and mopping up the bloody aftermath, but this man makes you more uneasy than any roughhousing drunkard you’ve dealt with. He is too quiet, his eyes too sly.

“This must be the trouble Tommy was expecting,” you think to yourself.

When he catches your gaze from behind the bar, a hawk-like smile cuts across his face. He winks then, and you flush even as something dangerous spikes in your throat. The whiskey you hold in your hands is just like his. Another prop, another facade.

“Anything else for you then, sir?”

He looks up from beneath the brim of his hat. His face is slyly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a striking nose you crave to run down lightly with your fingers. Now you understand why he tries to keep himself hidden.

Here is a face that, once seen, would not be soon forgotten.

A tilt of his head, a voice as like raw silk as you shiver.

A tilt of his head, a voice as like raw silk as you shiver.

“Your daddy owns this place?”

So he’s not from Birmingham, after all. Every man within a fifty-mile radius knows who owns the Garrison. They might have never met the man, but they certainly know the name of his younger brother.

“No sir, he doesn’t.” Your voice is carefully polite but clipped, praying it doesn’t betray the pounding of your heart as you watch him take off his hat and run a hand through dark, slicked-back hair. You’ve seen Tommy talk like this with men he mistrusts, and he mistrusts a lot of men. No matter what, you are not volunteering any more information than necessary.

He waits for you to say more, and his smile doesn’t falter when you remain silent. “Well then, signorita, will you tell me who does?”

The Italian. So it is him.

Fuck.

“The Garrison is owned by...a family from these parts. Do you have business with them,” You can’t help but add impulsively, “Signore?”

His dark eyes widen with pleasure at your flippant remark in his own language. He is playing a game, and you are playing along with him.

“What business would I have with Gypsy fucks like them?” He leans forward, “But sweetheart, you on the other hand...”

Working for the Shelbys means minding the pub when Arthur’s gone, and spying for Tommy when he needs intel on whoever he’s feuding with at the time. It’s more serious than simply turning the other cheek when there’s a cutting in the streets. But you are not prepared to face an enemy alone.

Even if he is as charming as the devil.

Even if he wants you, and you want him back.

For the millionth time, you silently curse Tommy for forbidding you from having a gun, a knife, anything to protect yourself while in the pub. You had asked him about it one night, afterwards, and he only replied, “It’s bad for business if a girl like you gets caught with a weapon she can’t handle.”

“Then teach me,” You had retorted, balling up his trousers and chucking it at his head, “You think you can protect me. But what about when you’re gone?”

Tommy had looked up from buttoning his shirt then, his gaze steely and blue. “I have eyes in all of Birmingham. And besides,” He smiled ruefully, “You’re never in danger unless I put you there myself.”

In the pub, the Italian watches your expression. And in a moment of madness, you almost take up his veiled flirtation.

But then there is Tommy. Tommy with his inscrutable blue gaze. Tommy with his whores. And now you are angry at yourself for thinking of him when he was probably fucking some other woman in Camden Town. For business, he would explain, avoiding your eyes.

“What business would you have with a barmaid like me?” A whisper of regret fills you as you turn to leave. You are halfway up the stairs that lead to your room above the pub when you hear a caress of a single word that turns your blood to ice.

“Isabel.”

The Italian is leaning against the banister, eyes drinking in your figure. And now he saunters up the steps. You scamper up the rest of them but he is quicker. In a flash he spins you around, his body snugly against you and the second-floor wall. An arm over your head, caging you with his tall frame.

The intoxicating scent of tobacco and roses fills the crevices between your bodies.

Your eyes flash dangerously as he bends down, daring him to force a kiss. But he only murmurs into the crook of your neck, “Where is Mr. Shelby tonight?”

You answer breathlessly into the shoulder of his freshly-pressed suit, “He could be at the betting shop. Could be with his wife at home. I don’t-- ”

“The other Mr. Shelby, Isabel.”

Maybe he already sent his men after Tommy. Maybe Tommy’s already dead in a ditch, in godforsaken Camden Town. Or maybe, just maybe, this man really doesn’t know where he is, and you are the only person who can tell him.

He has you good and compromised. No one can help you, so you must save yourself. Instincts kick in, your mind feverishly formulating a plan. It won’t be the first time you’ve done something like this, and on Tommy’s orders nonetheless.

Loose lips sink ships, and men are so pliant after a romp in the sheets. Mindful of your mission now, you angle to ask for his secrets, anything you could find out that gives Tommy an advantage.

Only this time, your heart actually catches as you gaze into the mafioso’s lethal eyes.

A pause then, wondering how much you should reveal, and you confess, “Tommy doesn’t tell anyone where he is until he’s already there.” It’s a half-truth—he told you.

“So he’s Tommy to you then?” The man is pleased with your slip of the tongue. You’ve told him a secret he already knows.

“You are his woman.” He caresses your face with the back of his hand, etched with ink. A cross. Rosary beads. And there, a black-palmed hand. Just like the ones he sent the Shelbys.

I want to see where his tattoos lead to.

“You are his woman,” he continues, and something dark and sweet fills his voice as he purrs, “And you are not afraid of me.”

“I’m not giving up Shelby secrets even if you seduce me,” You stifle a whimper as he wedges a leg between your skirts, and you think of nothing except the way you ache for him to come even closer, until there is nothing between you but skin on bare skin.

“Tommy has whores who might give him up for a pound or three. Although,” you smirk, “I won’t tell you where you’d find them, either.”

“Oh sweetheart, didn’t you hear me?” So close you can feel his heartbeat with your fingertips, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

A deathly promise.

“I’ve come for you.”

He slants his mouth, his lips pressing hotly to yours as you surrender to desire. The kiss is swift and hard. The two of you come together, again and again, like lightning and thunder. As he cradles your head with one hand, the other slips underneath your blouse to palm your breast. You arch against the wall. The onyx rings on his hand are cold, and they pucker your nipples as they bite your skin.

Somehow you find your fingers seeking him too. But it’s not enough to touch the exposed skin between the gaps of his buttoned shirt. You want more.

When you pull apart he is panting, lips apart and wet. His once slicked-back hair now mussed, you imagine yours is too. For the first time this evening, his arrogant face is a little shocked, as if the taste of you affected him more deeply than he expected. You unclench your fists from his shirt and slowly take his face into your hands. You draw a line down the bridge of his nose, feeling all its bumps and ridges.

You murmur huskily, “Why did you really come to Birmingham?”

He tilts his head expectantly, and you are lost in his devastating eyes as he replies.

“Pleasure.”

[mssirey]

The Terrors of Being Alone

A small continuation of this.

Lena didn’t send her away.

That was the best Kara could have hoped for. All she had hoped for. 

Lena thanked her at the airport. It was a whispered gratitude, but Kara could not mistake the gentleness for shyness, knew better than to assume the reservations were just the lingering awkwardness of not knowing where they stood. 

After all, Lena had been there, had been integral to her rescue, had made her stance clear. She had placed herself on Kara’s side, fixed herself in the company of heroes, rooted and sure. It was where she belonged, too. Always had. 

Kara had seen it, known it, but never took the step—the one step—that could have made it happen, that could have cemented Lena’s position among the SuperFriends. 

But now things had shifted in her absence. Lena was recognized—by the others and by herself—as part of the team. There was no dispute, no question, nothing that should have made the ground between them hard to traverse.

And yet, as they slipped into the car that would take them to the remote town, there was quiet. Too much quiet. 

The minutes dragged into hours, much like days had tumbled into years, and through it all, Kara was trapped in her head. She screamed until she was hoarse, pleaded with herself to take action, to reach through the walls she put up herself, but in there the yellow sun made no difference. 

It wasn’t until they arrived that Kara realized that Lena was waiting for them to be alone. They had not even brought Lena’s bags up the narrow, sagging stairwell that winded its way to the lofted bedroom. The only light they had touched cast stark shadows over the sparingly furnished kitchen, barely illuminated the age stained tablecloth that hid the slight lean of the legs. 

“Why are you here?”

Kara had to let the words echo, to filter out the anticipation of accusation that twisted their meaning. The gentleness remained, Lena’s gaze shifting between downcast and a guarded sadness that better pierced the cage Kara trapped herself within. 

“I told you,” Kara started, forced to clear her throat, too dry—and not from the brine in the air, “you don’t have to—” 

Lena didn’t let her finish. “I heard what you said,” she sighed, “but what did you mean?”

The silence that bled into the small room came from Kara, from the tightness in her throat and squeeze of her ribs around empty lungs. 

“Kara, I know I’ve missed things before—” there is a sourness they are both forced to swallow, a shared grimace, touched with guilt and doing little to relieve the ache that saw the merging of hollow chests and stomachs. “I know—especially now—when you are not being straight with me. You always dance around things the same way,” Lena trembled, that little tremor in her chin, the minute flutter of her eyelashes as she kept the tears that gleamed in the dim light at bay, “with sweetness and care and… and gestures.” 

Kara hated the way her mind reminded her of the door at her back, only three paces away, nothing else between her and escape, but worse still was that fear was what kept her rooted in place. It froze her muscles, more familiar than she could stomach acknowledging. 

But as she stiffened with it, Lena was free to approach, seemingly affected by the gravity of the gaping hole that opened up inside her and dragged everything into it. Part of her wanted to shield Lena from it, knowing how easily she could be swallowed in its depths, but another was desperate for her to be close. That was the part that melted into shaking hands as they cupped her cheeks, hot tears running down to meet clammy thumbs, spilling into the crevices that shrank as she pressed forward. 

“It’s okay.” 

A lie and a wish and a promise, all at once, diverging with the shift of subject. Kara was not okay, but she wished for them to be, and Lena promised that honesty would not be what ended them. 

But it was dishonesty that had shaped her life—starting with the truth her parents withheld from a dying planet, leading to an inauthentic existence on a world that wanted her to only ever be human, culminating in a cycle she had yet to free herself from. It was a web spun of noble intentions—meant to protect, to shelter—but the narrative unraveled under close inspection, left her tangled in the threads of fear that remained. 

The blurred image of Lena offered salvation, but she didn’t know how to accept it, didn’t know how to extricate herself when the lie was also a haven. It buried her, suffocated her, but it was something to hold on to. If she was honest, that husk of a relationship she clutched with shaking, desperate hands might crumble. 

“I—“ her voice cracked harshly, the squeaky eke of breath that followed a byproduct of her flinch. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

That time the quiet was a stretched pause, the confused twitch of Lena’s brow barely visible. “But you aren’t alone,” she noted with the lilt of a question tugging at the end. 

“No, I know,” Kara exhaled in a rush of breath, her shoulders sagging as she deflated, straining beneath her own weight. “I just— I’ve been—” 

The ice that filled her lungs crystallized between each cell, shredded her apart as she begged her body to remember anything else. She wished she had been taken too—not left the lone survivor, stranded without a reason to hope for anything else. 

She strained in an effort to wail into the maw of endless nothing, paralyzed and forced to endure years of silence. Years of cold. 

Alone. 

“I’ve been alone,” she sobbed, the croak of her words grating on her already sensitive nerves. “But that’s… I— oh, Lena… I didn’t mean to let it shape me, or to let that— to let my fears erode what we had.” It had been easier to hold too tight than to admit she was wrong, or to acknowledge that her own hands were what strangled the life from them. “After losing so, so many people, you’d think that one more would…” she couldn’t even bring herself to finish the thought. 

“But you aren’t just one person, Lena, and I’m sorry I… I’m sorry I let my fears come before your trust.”

[yeojaa]

wherever i’m with you.

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  mature.  tags.  kook is just really really in love.  also some light smut.  wc. 1.3k.  beta reader.  duhhhh, it’s @hobi-gif​.  author note.  i had two ask requests for more devil drabbles but... when i tried to answer them, the asks disappeared. i am so sorry. @_@ anyway, i’m really into super soft stuff lately so... enjoy the fluff! 

Jeon Jungkook enjoys a lot of things.  Playing music far too loudly in the car, going for night drives that feel as if they’re never long enough, receiving praise from his mother and father, seeing you in the skimpiest lingerie money can buy.  He likes runny egg yolks and perfectly crisp potatoes, samgyupsal and lettuce dipped in ssamjang at two in the morning.  Wasting too much time in the shower and tracking kisses over your wrist when you’re watching television shows you spend too long arguing over. 

He thinks he’s a simple man, someone who finds beauty in the little things.  Someone who appreciates the moments in between, the befores and afters of the great big crescendos. 

Now, for instance, as you’re half-asleep and lovely in his arms, curled against his chest like a cat.  Hair askew, makeup worse for wear, skin sweat-slick and intoxicating.  So warm in his arms that it’s as if he’s holding the sun, somehow having managed to trap all the light in the galaxy in this piece of paradise.

“Stop staring.”  

He hadn’t realised he had been.  Also hadn’t realised you’d noticed. (Frankly isn’t sure how you had, considering your face is buried against his pec, remnants of your lipstick staining his skin in the prettiest mosaic.  A piece of artwork he’d like to keep forever.)

“I-I’m not,”  he says, stutters, uncertain and flustered and so in love it makes his head spin, pulse thundering in his ears at being caught.

(Somehow, you just know him.  Know who he is, beneath it all.  Under the layers of carefully crafted armour, down to a molecular level.  Jungkook supposes you recognise yourself in the shape of his structure, your own face reflected back at you when you pry his chest open to lay your head.)

“You are.”  You’re right.  He is.

Can you blame him when you’re so lovely, so pretty, so kind?  Warming him from the inside out, offering all your stardust into the crevices of his bones?  (You can’t.  He knows you can’t.  You like him too much to begrudge him this:  the eagerness with which he adores you, folds his affections between your silk strands and writes them into your skin.  Burns them like a brand, forming them by the edge of his teeth and the press of his mouth.)

(He’s a magician, you’d say. Turning you soft soft soft, crafting all those sharp edges into something different but still you.  Because you’ll always be you - the brilliantly bright girl he’s fallen head over heels for, who sends his heart tripping over its feet.)

“Sorry,”  he offers, though he’s not very sorry at all.  Why would he be, when this is the thing he loves best - more than his mother’s coffee cake and the shiny gold Rolex his father gifted him as a twenty-third birthday present?

A breathy exhale falls, tickles all the nerve endings that already feel too worn, electrified by your touch and left to sizzle to ash beneath his skin.  It’s barely a sound - a simple in and out of your lungs - but it feels as if you’ve caught him in your orbit, drawn him entirely into your system to be consumed.  He doesn’t mind.  

“Close your eyes.”

“Closing.”  Except they’re not, still trained on you as if the longer he stares, the better he might remember you, imprint your figure into the backs of his eyelids until you’re all he sees, all he knows. 

(He’ll never get enough.  There will never be a moment where you - where this feeling that overwhelms him and scares him and makes him want to shout from rooftops - will be enough.)

(Did that make him greedy?  Probably.)

“You’re not closing,”  you chide him again, always knowing, omniscient like a god.  (Perhaps that’s what you were, though.  A deity to be worshipped, to guide him in the dark, to hold his head high when he felt nothing like himself.  A reason for being, for loving, for living.)  

He wonders why you’re so intent, insistent.  He understands quickly enough, lurches into realisation with a keening breath when you find him, curl a hand around his length and brush the pad of your thumb across the tip.

(A part of him wonders when he’d grown hard again, leaking into the warmth your palm offers.  Another part knows it doesn’t matter - that you could hold his hand and call him baby boy and he’d want nothing more than to kiss you senseless, fold you in half and whisper those same sweet things back to you.)

(Jeon Jungkook is a sucker - but just for you.)

“____.”  It comes in a broken whine, the kind of noise he rarely makes, that has you swirling your thumb through pearlescent pre-cum, stroking him from base to tip with languid twists of your wrist.  You’re taking your time in driving him crazy, gradually toppling his walls, unfurling heat in the pit of his stomach.  (Bringing him to ruin, conquering his kingdom.)  He loves it like he loves you - endlessly, arduously, wholly.  You’re so good to him, touching exactly how he likes, teasing until he can’t keep his thoughts in a straight line, coherency tied into a knot.

“Relax,”  you purr, the sound rumbling through his chest, branching into the cavity behind, stuttering his heart.  (It goes deeper too, shoots straight to his cock in your fist, curls his toes when you massage the sensitive underside of his head.)  

Jungkook’s not sure what’s got you like this but he doesn’t mind.  Revels in it instead, lets his hands furl into fists, clutching linens as if they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Again?”  He asks, half-hopeful, half-surprised.  You’d been a complete mess not even an hour earlier, begging for a reprieve when he’d sealed his mouth to your clit, devoured you like a beast of a man.  Fucked you through your third orgasm of the morning with the hook of three fingers and a tongue intent on mapping out the geography of your body.

Your response is sheer sweetness, cotton candy laughter sticking in his ears.  “Again.”

Who is he to deny you?  He’s but a boy in love, desperate to do as asked, to make you happy, to make you laugh, to make you smile and shake and sob. 

“Again,”  he repeats, with a touch that crafts you into the perfect puzzle piece, fitting you against him with a push here, a nudge there.  That has you straddling him, hair a halo around your head, a crown for his queen.  “I love you.”

It’s not the first time he says it and he’s certain it won’t be the last.  It still feels brand new though, drowned in emotion and drunk on passion.  An amalgamation of all your experiences - of shared secrets, hands under the table, your chiding it’ll be okay’s.  The taste of your jasmine toothpaste, the glide of your skin over his, the way you run your hands through his hair when he’s falling asleep on the couch.

It’s a promise and a request all at once, asking for you to love him just as he does you.

And you do, so well, so utterly perfect for him when you sink onto his cock and thread your fingers with his, lock your knuckles together where they rest on your hips.  

You return his profession with one of your own, an I love you too that comes with a twinkle in your eye, all the stars sparkling against the night sky.  Four words that fades into a sigh, a rise and fall of your chest when you swivel your hips, rock down against him until he swears he’s never filled you better.  (He swears he finds home in the warmth of your walls, the heat of your stare.)

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice�� @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​ @codeinebelle​

[gallickingun]

Hi I saw that thirsts were open and ✨oh boy✨ I would let Tsukishima Kei degrade me to hell with no remorse ✌🏻

tw: degradation; “sir”; dacryphilia; after-care because i am weak and need to be told im pretty; also a little bit of praise but not necessarily praise kink lol;

ps, reminder that ~drabble~ requests are OPEN! this includes sfw/nsfw for bnha, haikyuu, dragon ball, avatar, or jujutsu kaisen!

Your chin wobbles and your eyes look like glass, your fragility projected in your sweet little irises. Tsukishima smirks, tugging his lower lip into his mouth by his canine tooth, “What are you crying for? I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.” 

The plush of your ass is red, throbbing with welts and begging for mercy. You grit your teeth and try to keep your muscles from flexing too much, the pain rippling through you with each small movement. You dig your head into the pillow so you don’t have to look over your shoulder at his condescending tawny gaze, almost like he is glowering down at you for having the audacity to take up the same space, even though you two have shared this apartment for nearly a year.

“I should give you something to cry about,” he licks his lips and digs the heel of his palm into the small crevice between your shoulder blades, shoving your chest down into the mattress. 

To accent his words, he grips your hip with the hand not preoccupied with pinning you to the sheets, blunt nails dug harshly into your skin until he’s left evidence of his presence behind. A sob rips from your lungs, but is muffled by the down of the pillow you stifle yourself with. Tsukishima huffs out a snicker and resumes his relentless pace, each slap of his hips against your ass reminding you of how harsh his hands were mere moments prior.

“K-Kei,” you garble his name, drool seeping from the curve of your lips as you whine, trying to move your hips to no avail, his iron grip on your waist unwavering. Another smack is slashed across your backside and you still your body, squinting out tears, soaking the pillow beneath you.

You feel the uncharacteristically soft plush of his lips press to your shoulder, and your body relaxes under the administration of the affections. It is but a quick reprieve before his harsh, calloused palms and biting words make their return. 

A cry parts your lips when Tsukishima’s middle finger presses against the small bundle of nerves at the apex of your hips, ruthless in his ministrations. You warn him through driveled words that you’re going to make a mess on him, that you’re going to unravel if he continues to touch you like this. You’re not sure if you’re speaking coherently, but it’s all the talk you can afford at a moment like this.

“Filthy little whore,” Tsukishima huffs against your throat, nipping at your ear each time his body ruts up into you. The quick, salacious drag of his cock against your innermost parts is a mixture of pleasure and painstaking ache. He snickers when you wriggle your hips, begging quietly for more than he’s giving you, “Such an eager little bitch. God, you’re so desperate. Aren’t you?”

Your hands scramble behind your back to try and seek out his wrist, his forearm, or his knee. Something, anything, to anchor you before you float away. A weak little, “please, Kei,” trembles from your lips and he sighs like you’re the biggest inconvenience known to man. Even still, a palm reaches forward and presses into the mattress, close enough that you can angle your wrist to wrap your delicate fingers around his pulse point, counting each thud of his veins to bring yourself back to earth.

“So needy,” his tone holds no malice this time, although you suspect he didn’t originally mean for it to come out so tenderly. Tsukishima clears his throat and pistons forward into you to try to get you to forget any benign slip of the tongue he might have made. A high-pitched whine makes your throat ache and he rolls his eyes, a motion you catch with the way your chin is tucked against your shoulder, “What, your fingers can’t make you feel like this? You can’t figure this out on your own? How pathetic.”

You know if you come now, he’ll punish you for it later, since he hasn’t given you permission to fall apart on his cock just yet. His moan is guttural to the point that it sounds like he’s growling when you clamp down on him, your walls begging for reprieve.

He does not grant you the solace you are so desperately searching for, instead peeling his touch from your clit to pinch at your nipple, the sharp lightning strike to your sensitive bud making you keen. Your head slams back into his collarbone and you whimper at the pain of bone on bone, but Tsukishima is as steady and resilient as they come. His voice is low and gravelly in your ear, patronizing to the perfect degree, “I swear to God if you come before I tell you to, you won’t know what pleasure is for weeks. Do you understand?”

Your body is worn out, overstimulation making your cunt flex and your thighs quiver under the strain of holding yourself up for so long. You gulp and sniffle and you cannot react or respond to him, your mouth unable to catch up to your mind.

“I expect an answer,” his tone is clipped and a fresh bout of tears well up in your eyes, but the way he speaks does little to quell the slick between your thighs. Each slap of his hand and his words only washes a new wave of arousal between the walls of your cunt, translucent white dripping down his cock and staining the bed until the sheets are damp.

“Y-Yes,” you manage, nodding so hard your whole body shakes.

The world ceases to spin but your mind cannot stop, so you’re stuck somewhere between upright and dizzy.

Tsukishima’s mouth is close to your ear, the bow of his lips dragging along your lobe, “I hope I misheard you, or did you really not address me properly? Are you looking for a punishment, brat?”

Before you can answer, Tsukishima’s palm strikes your ass several times, until you’re foaming at the mouth with an apology, “Yes sir, yes sir! I promise I-I understand, I-I’m sorry!” And you’re not sure how many times you beg for his mercy, for his forgiveness, but you do so until you’re unable to speak. Between the way his cock spears your cunt, tapping against your spine with each thrust, and the sweet yet poisonous words that fall from his maw, you can’t hold yourself back any longer. 

And so you beg. 

You beg and you beg and you beg for him to either stop his torturous actions or let you feel the ecstasy of release. Your hands claw at him until you leave trails of red on his pale skin, your tears soak the pillow until you cannot make out a dry spot of fabric, and your knees knock mercilessly into his hips to try and still his movements. What you cannot see through the bleariness of your tears and subservient haze is the glint in his irises, honey bleeding down his spine until he feels the sickeningly sweet taste of it in his gut. As if by some form of osmosis he can taste the thick of your cream as you drip down his balls, and he can’t stop himself when he sneers, “Making a mess on these sheets, sweetheart, what a filthy little thing you are.”

“Please,” your voice is so small, so fragile, and Tsukishima feels that familiar twinge in his gut when you fixate your pouting gaze on him. He grits his teeth and turns you so you’re on your back, ankle hooked by his shoulder, only this position does little to help you stave off the impending doom of your orgasm.

“Gonna listen to me, yeah?” his words are rushed and you know that means he is near the end of his patience and his resolve. Tsukishima grunts and his eyes screw shut, hips pausing so he is buried to the hilt, “When I tell you to come, you better come.”

Your teeth clang together with the ferocity in which you nod to tell him you’re listening, and that you will obey. Tsukishima’s cock pulses within your walls, and the reaction makes you cant your hips forward and your eyes roll back just enough that he feels feral at the sight.

“C’mon then,” Tsukishima near-growls in your ear, pressing his chest against yours as his body begs for the closeness this near to pleasure. His hips bruise your supple skin and your fingernails find the flesh of his shoulders to make your own mark, both of you branding the other in the heated moments of ecstasy. He nips your jaw and noses your cheek, voice dropping an octave and you feel the molten magma churn in your belly, “Make a mess on my cock.”

As if that final phrase, one of permission and wanton lust, sets your body free.

A sobbing whine sits pretty on your tongue, eyes screwed shut as you clutch him with whatever parts of yourself you can find within you to move closer. His torso leans back, eyes raking appreciatively over your shaking frame before settling on the conjunction of your body and his. Amber irises narrow as he watches his dick slide between your folds, dripping with your combined arousal, and his whole body shudders.

His name rakes from the back of your throat and it burns but you can’t focus on anything other than the gushing of your insides, aborted thrusts bringing your hips closer as you grip his biceps with unabashed intensity. Your cunt feels warm and you chock it up to your own orgasm, but then you feel Tsukishima’s cock softening slightly, the head of his pulling away from your cervix as he works himself through his own high.

“K-Kei,” your wobbling voice forces his eyelids to open, warm irises seeking out the sight of you.

“You did good,” his mouth finds yours and a soft kiss is volleyed between the two of you, “Proud of you.”

Your eyes are still blown wide, pupils swallowing the color of your irises. Tsukishima nudges his nose against your jaw and kisses faintly down your jugular until he reaches your collarbone, a teasing lick administered to the prickled skin. Your hands go slack against his shoulders, kneading at the muscled plane until you feel your soul settle.

“Did good,” you echo, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I listened!”

Tsukishima laughs, only this time it is genuine and free of it’s usual sarcastic lilt. He massages your thighs and kisses your ankle before resting your legs back against the mattress, still caged between your knees. He nods, reaching up with one hand to brush his knuckle against your cheek, “Yeah, you did. And what happens to pretty girls who listen?”

His kisses trail between your breasts and down over the bulge of your belly until his mouth is hovered over your core, your words and his overlapping as you watch him in awe, his pink tongue slipping from between his lips to accentuate the end of his sentence and yours. 

“They get rewarded.”

[hansolmates]

(secret) lovers | m

summary; the (not) best friends 2 lovers spin-off where jungkook and you are trying to hide your relationship from his old best friend  pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; established relationship, jiyu is now an old friend and mc went to high school w them, weeb!koo, jk n mc be kinda stanky bc they’re only going to this party for the free booze, soft dom!mc, switch!koo, whiny koo, mc calls jk a slut, cockwarming, gets really soft n’loving at the end, heavy use of the pet name [redacted] i really think this couple is meant to be diabolically dumb together w/c; 2.7k a/n; this couple is really out here living rent free in my mind. jk, mc and jiyu really just are that thruple that i love to hate and hate to love. hope u enjoy this lil spin off! 

[series masterlist]

“You made it!” 

Jiyu flings her hands out, knocking both your heads with hers in the middle in a surprisingly strong hug. It’s a complete episode of déjà vu, from the way her body smells like the peach lotion she used after gym class to the shade of coral lipgloss. From the corner of your eye, you can see the caramel brunette’s tiny face is inching closer towards your ride, her head tucking in the crook of his neck. 

“Jiyu,” you beam. You’re the first to speak, the first to dip their toe in the water. “You look great!” 

“Thank you!” she pulls away, popping her hip against the doorway. The silky material of her coverup gleams in the sunlight, the silvery material showing off the silhouette of her bikini-clad body. Despite the fact that you’re the one who compliments Jiyu, her gaze floats over to the person next to you, “what a coincidence you two came at the same time and—oh my, and where are my manners! Come in, come in!” 

She moves away from the door, revealing an ornate lobby and two twin stairwells. You can’t help but light up at the beautiful crystal chandelier, flecks of pink and blue flickering in your eyes.  Further down the hallway you spot open glass doors that lead to a large backyard that overlooks the lake. Some people are already sitting by the dock, lounging about with drinks and happy smiles on their faces. 

“Actually,” Oh, he speaks. You think with a small smile on your face, side eyeing the man of the minute, “I forgot the rest of my luggage. We’ll meet you inside.” 

“Okay!” Jiyu smiles, “I’ll make you guys some drinks.” 

As soon as the door shuts, Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend for three years blurts out, “She still has a crush on me.” 

You snort, taking off the duffle bag that’s hiding behind your back. Continuing to stand awkwardly at the front door, you prepare yourself to console your boyfriend’s worries. “She still has heart-eyes for you, Koo,” you tease, pinching his side. 

His eyes are big and swimming with guilt, “We should tell her.” 

“Oh, baby. We can’t break her heart this weekend.” 

“But love, it’s her birthday.” 

“Exactly,” you chirp, bumping your head against his arm, “can’t break her heart on her birthday.” 

Jiyu is an old high school friend. Class president, straight As, and even vied for prom queen. The only thing she wasn’t able to obtain throughout her high school years was Jeon Jungkook, the object of her affections. They were best friends in elementary school, eventually turning into distant friends as their interests changed and they got older. Yet, Jiyu still tried to insert herself into Jungkook’s life. Back in high school it was surely cute, the way she’d pine from the back of the room and place anonymous love letters in his locker, but Jungkook wasn’t interested and avoided any of her advances. Fast forward ten years later and it seems like old flames never die out. 

The meetups with Jiyu have been scarce since college and only in large groups. As former class president, she decided to hold a little reunion for her old friends, taking advantage of her stellar job benefits. A weekend in the woods, perfectly balmy and far away from the city. 

“I don’t wanna lie,” Jungkook nearly whines, pink lips warbling at your inability to budge. 

“Mm,” you hum, tracing the fingers across the seam of his back pocket. His boardshorts hide nothing, and you curl your fingers around the swell of his plump bum, “be good for me and tell a little white lie, will you?” 

Jeon Jungkook, former President of the Anime Club, prom king candidate and your favorite nerd in the entire world. 

A teeny tiny lie won’t hurt anyone. After all, you haven’t seen your high school buddies in literal years, and they wouldn’t dare bother to make a fuss about your relationship. In fact, they don’t know of your relationship with Jungkook. The two of you reconnected randomly, some spontaneous holiday party Kim Seokjin is always inclined to throw. You barely made eye contact the first two hours into it, not really wanting to go back to the hellhole that was your late teenage years. Nevertheless, by the end of the night the two of you couldn’t help yourself. 

As you look around the room with utmost confidence, the two of you have made the finest glow up by far. At first you wanted to keep the white lie to save face, you don’t owe anyone an explanation as to how you and the President of the Anime Club hooked up. However, you’re starting to enjoy the ruse. 

Jungkook’s sitting on the other side of the backyard, looking absolutely delicious as he sips on whatever fruity cocktail he created. Judging from yours, you have a feeling his drink probably consists of 95% orange juice and 5% alcohol. 

Jiyu and him are sitting in the large netted hammock, swinging lightly. Gravity is doing its thing, and Jiyu is practically laying on top of Jungkook’s lap, her body pooling to where his meets in the middle. As soon as his thigh touches hers, his eyes flicker to you in panic. He’s shirtless, only with a pair of mid-cut shorts to protect him. The skin that touches him probably burns. 

You wink and wave him away, assuring him it’s fine. Pretending to flip your hair, you turn back to the conversation you’ve been ignoring for the past five minutes. “Man, Jungkook’s so sexy,” Im Nayeon cooes, looking longingly at Jungkook’s form. 

“Jiyu’s so lucky,” Rina eggs on, taking another shot from the tray (a tray for herself, you might add.) 

“Do you think Jiyu’s gonna get some birthday sex tonight?” 

Nayeon snorts, covering her flared nostrils with her hand. That hand eventually loops around your thigh, eagerly pushing you two together by pressing on the meat of your bare skin. “If she’s lucky! Besides, we all know Jungkook had that big crush on you junior year!” 

Her pretty bunny teeth tease you, and you can’t help but smile back in return. “What do you mean, he really liked me?” you ask innocently. 

“Oh yeah! Drew so many little pictures of you in the margins. Little anime versions of you in his favorite outfits.” Of course, you know about Jungkook’s old crush on you. He’s mentioned it in passing, paired with an adorable blush on his cheeks. Hearing it from Nayeon, the shameless grin on her lips and the ease of champagne on her breath is much more entertaining. “Rina, do you remember when Jungkook set up her desk with rose petals and chocolate in a little heart? And then in the morning the janitor sweeped it up? He was so sad!” 

“Yes! I really felt for him,” Rina pouted. 

“Oh, poor baby,” you didn’t know that bit of information. You put a hand over your heart, watching as Jungkook shares a drink with his old friend Kim Mingyu. He looks so different, yet all the same since you’ve been acquaintances in high school. He carries his own weight now, an air of confidence that he’s finally reached over time.  

“Definitely not a baby anymore,” Rina scoffs. She clicks her tongue back to where Jungkook is seated. 

The sun is doing wonders for him, highlighting every crevice of where his biceps curl and twist as he lifts his hand in another drink. Their side of the lawn is doing a toast. For what, you don’t know. You do know however, that Jiyu is trying very hard to cheer right over Jungkook’s thighs, spilling some liquid over his knees. You smirk when Jiyu sends him an apologetic grin, dabbing a napkin up and across his thighs, far away from the wet spot. 

Jungkook, the poor guy, discreetly shoves her off. He brushes his hands and gets up, letting Jiyu fall back in the hammock all by herself. Avoiding the teasing gazes of his friends, he looks into the lake, hiding his blush. 

Still a baby, you think. Your baby. 

“Jiyu was practically sitting in your lap, baby boy,” you card your hand through his dark locks, fresh and shiny from the shower. The feeling is soothing to Jungkook’s scalp until you tug, arching his neck towards your lips and twisting, “did you like that,” you mumble into his Adam’s apple, “my little slut?” 

“N-no! Never, ohgodnever—” Jungkook is sweating, fat beads rolling down his hairline and glistening across his face. His fingers are practically phasing through your skin, the crescents of his fingernails sinking into the swell of your bottom. 

You clench around his dick, your soft folds urging Jungkook closer to his release. But he knows better not to move, and instead shudders from the ministrations, breaking apart from you to dip his head into your chest. His nose pokes at the bouncy flesh, nuzzling into your breast like the softest pillow. 

“Sh-shit, love,” he cries into your skin, “you feel so warm n’soft.” 

“You need to be quiet, baby,” you murmur, playing with the curls that hang around the nape of his neck, “unless—you want someone to hear? My little slut wants everyone to hear that I’m fucking you?” 

“Mm, no,” you grin at his honest reaction, and you can feel his neck heating up at the thought. Your fingers make their way, finally ending towards the apples of his cheeks. You squish lightly, loving the way his tanned skin puffs under your fingers. “I’m—ah—not a slut. I just really love you, only you. Really wanted to hold you in my lap today and show you off,” he whimpers at the unconscious clench of your folds, “just uh—slut for you, love.” 

You giggle, tightening your thighs around your boyfriend’s tiny waist. Your other hands trail down to the ridges of his abdomen, where you two are connected. You absolutely love the way your thighs wrap around his lean waist. 

Jiyu split the floors by girls and boys, as if you’re still in high school. It took forever for everyone to fall asleep, but you managed to sneak away with your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Call yourself needy, but you couldn’t imagine yourself falling asleep with at least one good night kiss. Jungkook was ten steps ahead of you. Your boyfriend was already naked when you arrived, pumping his cock across the bed and getting himself ready for you. His eyes instantly zeroed in on you in his shirt, the black material hanging off your shoulder and begging to be pulled away by his teeth. 

“If I crawled in your lap today,” you murmur into his shoulder, “our whole secret would’ve been thrown out the window.” 

“I wouldn’t have minded, even if Jiyu got hurt,” Jungkook admits, running his hands up and down your back, “I wanna marry you, y’know.” 

You freeze in your ministrations, suddenly feeling the room go cold. Not in an unpleasant way, but the room freezes, the blue-white light of the moon igniting the seriousness in Jungkook’s gaze. You force yourself to stay on his lap, let his cock settle between your folds. The juices of your coupling are dripping down each other’s legs, cooling at your thighs and onto the white blankets. 

“You wanna marry me?” you echo, running your thumbs across his shiny lips. 

Of course, you’re at that age. Everyone around you is getting married, heck many people your age are already in the middle of creating a family, going on vacations to Disney and picnics in the playground. And yes, you also have thought about marrying Jungkook, he’s the only man you can picture marrying. Yet, hearing it out loud and from him only further fuels your desire to make these thoughts a reality. 

He kisses your thumbs, lips smushing against the pads. “Of course I do, love. You’re it for me.” 

You relinquish, slowly pulling yourself off of him. He’s still hard as you untack yourself, his member slapping against his belly button as he watches you in confusion. You make a show of fluffing up the pillows, arching your back and wiggling your ass as you make yourself comfortable to lay on your back. 

“Show me, baby,” you spread your legs for him, gesturing for him to come closer with a curl of your finger, “show me how much you want to marry me.” 

Jungkook smirks, hands immediately pumping with a squelching sound resulting from yours and his combined arousal. You love it when Jungkook takes the lead, just as much as you do. It makes you feel like a pillow princess, especially when you feel lovey sex is on the way. “Will you be quiet? Just like you tried to make me quiet?” he rasps, wrapping a hand around your waist to arch you up. 

“Depends on how good you are.” 

The head of his dick rubs against your clit, slapping lightly at the shiny skin. You both moan when he finally gives you what you both need. As soon as the tip of his dick sinks down, you feel like you’ve both hit home. It doesn’t take long for him to find his pace, naturally throwing your leg over his shoulder for added leverage. 

“Oh—fuck, baby,” you tug at his hair, pulling him in for a wet kiss. You don’t care that you’re slobbering all over him, the bed creaking and squeaking against his minstraitions. “I—uh, you feel so deep—yes!” 

“When we’re married I’ll fuck you every day like this, love,” he whispers between your lips, thrusting in a particularly sensitive spot that has you arching your back and pulling your chest to his, “I—ugh, I love you so much.” 

“Love you. Love youlovelove—ah! Kook, I’m—” 

The two of you don’t spare any time, the sun will eventually rise and you’ll be back to playing strangers. Jungkook pounds you into the mattress, nails you with enough cum for you to last the next day without having to sneak into each other’s room like horny teenagers. The roughness is smoothed out by love and bliss, eager at the thought of going home and anticipating a permanent life together. 

Five minutes later, you’re starting to feel a little too sticky. “Ohmygod—I need to fucking pee,” you pull yourself away from Jungkook’s sweaty body, palming around for your t-shirt.

“Just pee on the bed,” Jungkook grins. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” you make a face, “nasty.” 

“You like that I’m nasty.” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

With one last kiss, you skip away from his bedroom and close the door behind you. Unfortunately, as soon as you take five steps in the direction of the bathroom, somebody emerges from the shadows. 

“Holy shit, Jiyu,” you put a hand on your heart, eyes widening at her peeking in from the hallway. “You scared me.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she frowns, squinting her eyes to make you out in the dark. It’s easier to see her in her white slip, a thin chiffon material that barely covers her thighs. 

You don’t question why she’s out in the hallway in really pretty lingerie, or why she’s on the boy’s side of the house. So much for being discreet. Then again, there must be an ulterior motive for her if she’s already here, five feet away from Jungkook’s room. You wouldn’t have been caught if she hadn’t been so sneaky. (Well, not so sneaky. You got to him first.) You smell like sweat, arousal, and Jungkook. The shirt you’re wearing feels far too short and the cum in your panties feels tacky and gooey. You feel like a teenager being caught smoking. 

“Why?” Jiyu’s voice suddenly sounds as dark as the early morning, no sign of the sun. 

“Why what?” you answer, furrowing your brows at the sudden change in demeanor. 

“Why?” she hisses, eyes wide with pain and confusion, “why Jungkook?” 

You frown, not liking her attitude. Did she think it was a contest to who would fuck Jungkook first? Did she think she was being slick, sneaking away into a bedroom she has no business being in, even if he was single? You could laugh. So despite your height you steel yourself, looking at Jiyu straight in the eye. 

“Because Jungkook’s mine, and I’m marrying him.” 

As you pad down the hallway as fast as you can, you send Jungkook a quick text. 

[5:44AM] love: pack it up. Plan b go fake a fever we gotta go lol

[jaeminzie]

helping hand | l.jn

↳ lee jeno x gender neutral!reader

synopsis: being a transfer student in hogwarts, you felt the need to prove yourself and live up to the rumors of you being the best seeker in your previous school. though, in hogwarts, you had the lee jeno to compete against with. thankfully, he didn’t see you as a rival.

genre: fluff

word count: 1,959

part of ‘the dreamies in hogwarts’ series

everyone in hogwarts hears the name ‘lee jeno’ so frequently that it’s as if he’s professor snape who every student gossip over and try to keep an eye on. though unlike the notorious professor, the person who possesses the name ‘lee jeno’ has a pile of students from each of the different houses trying to score a date with him like how he scores the golden snitch every single quidditch match that he’s played. jeno — the sixth year hufflepuff who has struck everyone (even the professors) with his perfect manners, annoyingly good looks, and even more infuriatingly amazing abilities in everything he participates in. one of the many natural talents the boy has is making the people around him seem inferior.

being a new transfer student from ilvermorny school of witchcraft and wizardry, you weren’t aware of the man’s skill at first. heck, even if you did, that wouldn’t make you second guess joining your house’s team — slytherin which is the equivalent to your old house in ilvermorny, thunderbird. it only took a couple days for you to know random facts about the hufflepuff after constantly hearing about him in classes, the loo, the great hall, and even in the slytherin common room. still, you didn’t feel threatened since you were confident in your abilities, hogwarts was already starting to feel like a home to you. you navigate through the halls like you know every crevice of the campus. for some, it’s hard to believe that it’s only your first year in hogwarts since your name is the second most frequently talked about around campus.

everyone knew you of course, they were all curious on how wizarding school was like in the states. everyone, including jeno. although he heard many rumors about you being the best seeker in your old school, just like you, jeno didn’t feel threatened one bit, though, for different reasons. unlike everyone else, he honestly didn’t care about winning. he played for the fun of it, not for winning a piece of metal that’ll be eventually left for the dust. you, on the other hand, believe that the joy of playing quidditch is winning and you assumed every athlete thought the same.

the first game of the season is today and you have been practicing after school each day for the past three weeks. and never once, have you seen jeno practice in his own leisure time. the only times you did see him was during his weekly team practices that only lasted an hour and a half maximum. he must be that confident, huh? you were ready to teach him.

“we’re going out in three.” your captain yelled out in your little shared tent.

you straighten your green robe and flew out with your team on your broomsticks, forming a straight line. you flew in the air with a perfect posture and chin titled up, but not too high or that’d be trying too hard. your team halted when you all reached the middle of the field and met face to face with your opposing team dressed in yellow.

you and jeno floated directly across from each other and you slightly grimace at the smile he shot at you. a person with a functioning pair of eyes can recognize that jeno is indeed a handsome man with amazing body proportions, yet you would never admit it out loud. you are sure not to feed his ego further when he already has a crowd praising his every action each millisecond.

unaware of your opinions on him, jeno keeps the smile on his lips and eyes for you to see, hoping that you’ll reciprocate. before you could do so, you got into starting position with your full attention on the shaking case placed on the grass below your hovering bodies that held the golden snitch inside.

madam hooch opens the case and the snitch shoots up, flying around your heads in a mocking manner. everyone’s diverts their attention to the commentor in the stands, waiting for them to say the words as madam hooch throws the quaffle straight up into the air.

“the quaffle is released, and the game begins!”

everyone’s robes instantly flapped in the wind as people rushed to acquire the balls. you repeatedly hear the commentor yelling out various numbers as points for team hufflepuff which fueled you even more so.

everything and everyone surrounding your floating figure became a blur the second you get a glimpse of a tiny golden shine from afar. immediately, you fastened your pace to the ball.

jeno was amazed at how determined you are in catching the snitch, he followed suit right behind you, making you to see a hint of yellow at the corner of your eyes.

after many sharp turns and circles, you finally manage to catch up to the snitch, only having a finger length distance between you and the object while jeno seems to be too close by your side.

“lee jeno and y/l/n y/f/n are head to head!” the cheers and booing boomed louder. “who will be able to catch the snitch for their team!” all you heard were various yelled responses clashed together, almost making both your ears ring.

if you could just lean in a tiny bit more, you’d bring your house to victory. you scoot closer and closer to the tip of your broom in order to get be in reach with the shiny object. finally, you felt the cold metal brush your fingertips and it slinked into your palms. along with the feeling of coldness in your hand, you feel your entire body running cold as you plummeted down when you got too carried away with acquiring the snitch, causing you to lose balance on the tip of your broom.

“y/l/n has fallen from their broom!” there is a collective noise of the audience standing up from the benches and their gasps.

you look up to see your broomstick still floating in place, cursing at it and wishing you had upgraded the stick before transferring schools. what you can also see is jeno making his way towards you, seeming to get closer and closer every second as he went at a inhuman speed. instinctively, your grip on the snitch became tighter. his hair pulled back due to the power of the wind and his eyes wide open in panic as he approached you faster.

you look over your shoulder and realize how near the grass is, making you shut your eyes closed and hold the snitch to your chest since that is truly the only thing that mattered in your mind.

jeno inches closer to your falling body, forcing all his power to accelerate faster. he could feel his veins nearly popping from all the pressure and the wind, but he didn’t stop until he felt you secure in his arms.

everyone goes silent. “lee has caught y/l/n!” cheers erupt. you hesitantly opened your eyes as you could hear people ‘aww-ing’ and some praising jeno for the kind act toward his own opponent, only to make direct eye contact with the boy instantly. this is the first time you guys aren’t at a few feet distance from one another. previously, jeno would only be able to see you from afar, he didn’t get to see the marks and dots that splattered randomly on your cheeks, forehead, chin, and neck. nor was he able to see how adorably quick you are to get red whenever he’d step into the same room as you prior to this moment — you weren’t completely sure if it was out of frustration or timidness due to his overbearing presence — jeno made himself believe that it was out of coyness, that he was affecting you like this.

“you okay?” his arms are still holding you up bridal style. with his naturally moon crescent shaped eyes boring into yours, all you were able to do was nod into submission. now finally recognizing the reason why students and professors have only good words to say about the boy after he had just saved you from critical pain despite not been given the best treatment from you. surely, if it were you in jeno’s position, you would’ve sat there and enjoyed the show of your opponent falling to their doom. or the only reason you would go after him is the snitch in his hands. but he caught you and isn’t putting any effort in trying to get the ball from you.

you mumbled a ‘thank you.’ then you begin to feel the stiff wings attached to the golden snitch in your hands that you had shortly forgotten flickering against your palm. immediately, you get off jeno’s arms and placed each of your legs on both sides of his sturdy broom, facing his body and getting a better angle of his face. though, you are convinced that there isn’t any angle he didn’t look good in.

you shake away your thoughts and raised your hand up proudly with your back shot straight and the biggest smirk.

“y/n has gotten the snitch!” loud roars erupted from your house’s tower. “150 points to slytherin!” the smirk laid on your face turn into a smile which later turned into fits of laughter. you admired how your house cheered for you, almost too invested to catch the boy sitting in front of you staring shamelessly at you.

feeling as confident as ever, you joked, “enjoying the view?”

“actually, yeah. very much so.” you smirk at the smiling boy’s response. something about his smile right now was different from the previous pure ones he’s given you, he seems hungry. “the rumors were true, i’m impressed.”

you take off your gloves and clap your hands to dust them off, then shoving your gloves into the pocket of your robe. jeno maintained the eye contact. “yeah, you could put some more work, though.”

the boy dropped his head and shook it as he chuckled, tongue poking the inside on his right cheek. “maybe i could use some lessons.”

you quirk an eyebrow and hummed, waiting for him to continue. “possibly lessons from the best seeker in hogwarts, y/n.”

“so you admit that i’m the best?”

his lips turned up. “only if you agree to teach me and spend some time with me to build a bond, you know, so when we play, it’ll be easier-“

“we aren’t even in the same team.” your hands rested on your thighs and tilted your head while his hands came up to ruffle his own hair and waver them around as he tried to explain.

“well, it’s still nice to hav-“

you shake your head at his great reasoning. “deal but buy me a new broomstick.” jeno’s face relaxed and nodded firmly, his hands copied yours and found place on his thighs. he began to lower both of you down toward the grass without either of you speaking a word, just staring and smiling slightly.

you both hop of his broom, never leaving your sight on each other. you spoke first, “we practice everyday after school. we start on monday, don’t be late and don’t make me regret saying yes.” you point a finger at him and look him up and down to get a mental image of the boy’s figure for your own pleasure before walking away.

jeno took note of your last sentence as he stood there bashfully. now that you couldn’t see his face, he could let out the breath he’s been holding and his face heating — and for the first time, he wishes for monday to come sooner. smiling to yourself as you strutted back to your tent, you already knew you wouldn’t regret a single thing with lee jeno.

[haztory]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

--nanami kento x gn!reader; hurt, comfort, minor character death, established relationship, death from a disease

--summary: Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on. He's no stranger to it nor the quiet that follows it. But when it plagues you like this, he finds himself at a loss.

a/n: I don’t know where this came from. it just happened. have I mentioned I'm a huge nanami simp as well? something about capable men just gets to me hehe. anyways, enjoy!

i listened to ‘clouds’ by luke faulkner while writing this

(w.c. 2302)

Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on.

It’s not one he has to particularly enjoy, but it would be advantageous in the resting of his conscious to make peace with it. Rather than let death ruin the few hours of sleep he can manage a night, it’s significantly easier to never let it weigh too heavily on his mind, never let its stay linger for more than necessary in the space of his thoughts. His occupation demands a certain air of nonchalance from him, requires the detached, almost stoic acknowledgment of the situation. Eventually, familiarity will settle in the depth of his recollection and death becomes something one needn’t blink twice towards. 

It’s not an aspect of the job he likes, per se, but it’s significantly better than the alternative. This seemingly apathetic conception of human life is unfortunately an evil requirement. Instead of festering over the lives he didn’t save, he can focus on the ones he has yet to protect. His slate may be tainted with copious amounts of red— inky, dark, bleeding red; the kind that looks black as it accumulates— but in true Kento fashion, he’ll wipe it clean. Gently, with a clean rag and with slow, circular motions, he’ll wash away the evidence of his failures with as much respect as he can, regardless of how exhausted he may be and how much easier it would be to just run his body, suit, and knife through the stream of water.

The victims may no longer be of this earth, but their last physical embodiment lay wickedly upon his person, his weapon, and his soul. Where he couldn’t save them, the least he can do is lay their last parts to rest with as much kindness as one can muster: with a slow wipe and a silent prayer. 

Death is part of the process, but, if one allows it, it can also be the fuel towards excellence. A drive that settles in after the brief misfortune, kickstarting the desire for improvement; A need to do and be better. To work harder and save more people. But that’s all it must be. No residual guilt, no lasting regret, only fuel. That’s what Nanami Kento learns early on.

What he learns rather recently, though, is that death is much different when it’s inevitable. 

When there is no amount of slashing, no amount of fighting, no amount of improved skills that can prevent it. Even worse, when you know it’s coming and preparation can do very little in settling the grief. 

Death is part of the process, but how can one rationalize it when it doesn’t come from the immediate life or death situation he so often faces? When it doesn’t come from the hands of maniacal cursed spirits or the wickedness of greedy men, but instead, from the unforgiving nature of nature itself? How does one reconcile the inevitability of death when it happens to someone so young?

Cancer. 

She was only eleven.

Death is part of the process, Kento used to think, but as he stands amongst the sea of black on this fitting day of grey, he can’t help but notice how incredibly unfair this all is. Her mother stands a few feet away, silent as they scatter her ashes by the river she used to play in as a child. She stands flanked on either side by loved ones, and yet, the abysmal look on her face betrays any ideal that she may be comforted by the closeness of others; Hardly even cognizant of the fact that they’re there. He’s seen that look before, once on himself.  

It’s the face of vicissitude, the kind that casts someone past the rocks of sadness and out onto the sea of loneliness and despair. A place that no one can follow.

Spouses are called some variation of widow, children are called orphans. What does one call a parent who’s lost their child? No doubt the lack of a label only helps to contribute to the loneliness of it all. Suspended in pain without even the decency of a customary societal title attached to one’s name. Left with nothing but the echoing emptiness of a broken heart.

Grief personified. A hollow shell of a being. Just another person who lost someone they loved. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kento is used to death, but this? This has heartache weighing heavier on his shoulders than he’s used to, forcing his impeccably straight posture forward with a sag of tragedy. The silence of the fellow attendees forces him to maintain some morsel of composure, in fear of disturbing the serene devastation of it all that’s composed so fragilely. So delicate that even a sigh will break the glass of still anguish. As her ashes are scattered to the river and the priest begins the common prayer, the image of her weak smile in her last moments plays vividly behind Kento’s tinted glasses. He can hardly swallow the lump that tightens his throat.

He can hardly imagine how her mother feels. Can hardly imagine how you feel. She was your niece after all.

His eyes trail towards your figure. Standing to the right of your sister, dressed in the customary black, and hand held tightly in hers in solidarity of the magnitude of the loss. Kento didn’t mind standing towards the back, away from the bubble of intimacy that surrounded the two of you. It would’ve felt like an invasion of the sanctity of family to stand anywhere near. A foreigner, he’s always attributed himself to be whenever accompanied with your family— not out of their refusal to accommodate him, but rather his own voluntary maintenance of separation from their sphere of loving connection that was more or less absent from his own life— and any meager effort to share sentiments of sorrow would feel, more or less, inauthentic. At least at this moment.

So he waits, towards the back of the gathering. A far enough distance to ascertain his separation from the immediate family, but close enough to where, should you require him at any point, you need only turn around to seek him out. And he will come to you, as fast as his legs may go, regardless of the people that may be in the way. For his hand has been twitching this entire time with the need to physically comfort you and his eyes continuously dart back to your figure in watchful consideration.

The priest ends his prayer and the last of the ashes are sent off and silence once more encompasses the gathering. The aching kind, the one that wants to be disturbed so badly, but remains untouchable. The kind of agonizing mute that has surrounded his life since you received the fateful phone call a few days before.

Kento is no stranger to quiet. It’s his preferred method of life, not the kind of person to find delight in unnecessary, boastful noise, nor the kind to entertain it often. But this is the kind of quiet he finds greats distaste in. Especially since it’s deprived him of his favorite kind of din— yours.

The life that is so intricately intertwined with yours has held virtually no recognizable clamor in four days. No low chatter from the television, no raucous laughter induced from one of your social media apps, no prolonged discussion of each other’s days or interesting points of conversation. Only silence has filled every gap and crevice as you two packed bags and made arrangements to head to your hometown in preparation for the funeral. Lamenting silence filled the space as you sat side by side on the train towards your destination. Mournful silence encompassing the home of your sister upon your mutual entry into the area. Silence so thick yet so delicate, so long and so void that any attempt to dismantle it feels boilingly uncomfortable.

He doesn’t like the wall it has unintentionally placed between you two, wanting nothing more than to tear it down with his bare hands and have you back within the safety of his arms. But he knows better. 

Death is part of the process, and he must let grief run its course. He’ll just remain in the shadows as a beam of support, intent to provide the space and time you need, but always keeping a trained eye on you.

That’s what love is, he supposes. It’s an odd thing to think, especially as solemness surrounds him as it does now. The drag of sadness competing with the surge of love that overwhelms his veins. It’s burning, and intense, and while his is mostly in consideration of you (as most things in his life nowadays are), it’s peculiarly indicative of the moment. Poetic, almost. 

Bleeding affection borders this ceremony of gathered friends and family in a proper send-off, love encapsulated in the silent tears trailing down faces and memorialized in the air of stagnance. Pouring in every direction as they all gaze sadly at the traveling ashes of the young girl down the steady waters of the river.

It’s grief, yes, but also love, for what is grief but love with nowhere to go?

The ride home is like all the other days, incredibly hushed. Inaudible. He can barely hear your breaths. He wonders, and not for the first time, if when he dies, this is how you will grieve. In this tragic quiet, moving with such stillness that was he not watching, he wouldn’t know you moved at all. A vacant soul wandering just to survive. Jujutsu sorcerers unfairly make their peace with dying early on in their tenure, and maybe he’s committed you to a life of tragedy by involving himself so intimately with you. 

When he dies, and he will— this life that he has chosen spares him no luxuries, not even false beliefs— he will condemn you to a brutal reality that he could have spared you from were he not so selfish. He hates seeing you like this. Hates it with every fiber of his being.

Death is a part of the process. He understands that. He just wishes it wasn’t so collateral. A prolonged state of your affliction that resulted from his hand would surely be a more painful fate than any gruesome death.

Your parent’s home is warm, in sharp contrast to the events of the day. And while they stayed with your sister, Kento insisted you return to your place of stay to wash and change if only to give you a moment alone; So he can check on you in the sanctity of privacy, grant you a brief respite from the unrelenting tide of sorrow, cherish you in these sparing instances that he can never take for granted. 

You bathe alone, he gives you that. He makes tea the way your mother taught him how, even though you quite like the way he makes it and has it set on the table upon your return. Dressed in comfier attire and seated blankly at the table, he settles in beside you. His shoulder touching yours hoping to convey in this minute action that he’s here. 

He doesn’t need the words to say it. Just his presence. 

His hand too, as you settle your own silently in the space of his large one, gripping tightly onto the rough skin. He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, bringing it to his lips as he placed two long kisses on its surface. You’ve made eye contact all day but this is the first time you’ve really looked at each other. 

Where he can see the pain swimming in the pools of your irises behind the film of unshed tears and you can see the unrestrained sympathy and worry in his. 

“She was eleven,” you whisper, unable to speak any louder.

He doesn’t say anything. There’s not much he can say, only press his lips harder to the back of your hand.

It’s the only moment you’ve had alone together since arriving, and while he was so desperate before to hear something, anything come from your mouth, he finds that the inactivity the fills space once more is rather appropriate. One that he doesn’t want to disturb. Not when there isn’t anything he can say that can heal this wound, nothing he can do except love and care for you when you’re too weak to do it yourself. 

He places a hand behind your head, tilting you forward as he places his lips upon your forehead and smoothing the stray hairs that have displaced themselves from your formal hairdo. Fingers travel down the back of your neck and rub gentle circles on your shoulder, healing any aches with his touch. 

“Drink,” he murmurs against your temple, and you do. A sign of progress that he relishes in. He’s more than eager to see the slow trek back to a state of normalcy, but he knows it’ll be different from here on out. There’s a hole in your heart and it will take a while to heal. 

But he’ll be there. For as long as he can, whenever he can. Because that’s what love is.

Death is part of the process, but he finds it’s infinitely more manageable with you. He knows you feel the same way when at the end of the day as you lay side by side in the guest room of your parents’ home, you take comfort in the safety of his arms and finally, fill the air with something other than the prolonged silence and let him comfort you. 

Death is part of the process, and he knows the inevitability of his own part in it. But in this moment with you, he’ll let himself indulge selfishly in your noise. It’s his favorite sound, after all. 

end notes: come shoot me a message! i love hearing from yall. 

[digitalvoidheart]

Proud indeed...

°°°°°°°°

The black cat is back. Same place same time as always. Ccino figured out why.

Ever since this fluffy black cat appeared at his quaint shop at the boardwalk, he's noticed it avoiding all the cat treats he has offered to it, only giving it a tiny sniff and turning away. Trying to figure out why it refuses to eat was quite a challenge considering he has to run his coffee shop and follow the stray cat. His luck did turn for the better later.

Ever since realising that cats liked to bask in his shop when the weather gets too hot, he replaced the front screen door to have a pet door. It was small enough that during one evening, the little fuzzball came dashing through it, covered in scratches and its fur matted. On the other side through the pet door were a pair of sharp canine jaws snapping uncontrollably to try grab the injured kitty behind boxes. Ccino realised the situation, chasing the dog away before tending to his new visitor.

They were feral at first, not surprising since one of their eye was scratched up and closed to reduce pain. After several minutes of coaxing, sweet words and promises, the teal eyed kitty gave him a chance to tend to his wounds (it was a boy, Ccino found out).

For the next few days, during a visit to the vet, Ccino named the kitty "Night" because of his beautiful black fur. The vet insisted on calling him 'Nightmare' due to his feral nature and resistance against the doctor. Albeit being a stray, his only injuries were his body and right eye now permanently blind. No problems with emaciation or parasites in his luscious fur. It put Ccino on edge but he shrugged it off later.

He then decided to adopt the fuzzy kitty, even going as far as to getting him toys of his own liking and an adorable belled-collar that even Night loved.

Nightmare (Ah-he meant Night. Guess the nickname stuck) didn't usually show affection much, only the occasional twisting around his legs (though it could be mistaken for scenting Ccino as his) and purring whenever Ccino pets him and gives him wet food. Although it came to a halt when Night decided to stop eating again, going out more often than staying indoors at night.

Ccino, with nothing to do at night and having no idea on Night's history, followed him one day without the kitty's knowledge. Night only stopped his journey when he figured out Ccino was following him, returning to the Café only to repeat the next day.

Being extra careful this time, Ccino followed him and surprisingly, he stopped at the empty docks. Thinking he might've been caught again, Ccino decided to walk away. Until sounds of something emerging from the water stole his attention.

A skull, connected to a strong skeletal frame and glowing sanguine tail, looked up at his pet cat. A skeleton mermaid! His cat is friends with a mermaid!

The mermaid's gentle male voice was soothing as it spoke to Night.

"Hello there, beautiful. Been a while, where've you been? What's this? A collar? That's wonderful news! You found an owner!" A soft mewl from Night as he headbutted the outstretched hand of the mer. "Haha. Alright, you've been forgiven. Why are you closing one eye though? Did a bad dog hurt you?" A grumbling purr "That's not good. At least you got an owner. They'll keep you safe. You can come here whenever you want too!"

Ccino wanted to go there, but he didn't want to risk ruining this adorable reunion. He should leave. If Night decides not to return, that'll be alright. Its not like Ccino didn't know how to live without an amazing pet, or emotional support, or-

"Hey! I found your favourite type of fish! The one from that shiny box you gave me! Hang on." A quick dive and an equally speedy return from the red mer scared his kitty. "Pffft, you got scared," a growl emitted from Night. The half skeleton put up his hands defensively, "alright you egotistic and proud cat, you weren't. Don't scratch attack me or no minnow- or whatever the box said this was." He handed out a pile of fresh Minnow to Nightmare before resting his head on his hands on the dock, watching Nightmare eat.

Minnow... That was the flavour of wet food Nightmare preferred. It was funny to think Night brought a can of wet food to the mermaid monster to get more. The cheeky bastard. No wonder he's not slimming down. Though Ccino learned one fact about Night's secret friend. This mermaid knows how to read.

He sighed as Night nudged one back to him "As much as I love to share with you, I already ate. Plus, I prefer Salmon that tiny fry." Night gave him another guttural growl as he scarfed down the fish. "Jeez, fine. I think I should call you Proudy for your demanding nature and anger towards insults." He picked up one fish and swallowed it.

Looking behind at the sea as Night finished the last of the fish, he sighed, "time you go back to your new home, kitten. Your owner must be worried" the red mermaid reminded Night. With a small drop of his tiny head, the mer chuckled lightly, petting Night and taking a look at his belled collar. "Well Night, I'll be waiting as always. Goodbye." And the handsome mer dove back in the ocean.

-*-

The next night was the same as the day (or should he say night) before yesterday. Night didn't return. Killer figured that would happen. He guessed he grew too attached with the once stray cat which didn't fear him like the rest, his bravery and pride is one he looks up to greatly.

He shouldn't stay. After all, Night didn't return- maybe might never... Pushing himself off the edge of the docks, he began to leap into the waters.

That is until he heard a little familiar growl.

Turning back, there he was. Little Night. The little adorable kitty cat with an equally adorable backpack. That was new.

"What's this about, little Night?" He chuckled, letting his hand wander and open the little clasp holding the bag close as Night Nuzzled his phalanges. Inside was a rolled up paper, likely a message.

Being a nosey and curious mer, Killer opened it. As he read it, he was surprised the message was for him!

Dear Mermaid,

My name is Ccino (si-seeno? Keeno? Cheeno? Killer didn't know how to pronounce it). I'm Night's owner. Please do not fret. I promise not to tattle of your existence. It is between Night and me and you. I only want to thank you for keeping this kitty safe. I shall leave a special something every night for you under the docks. Please accept my gratitude.

Ccino.

Looking around, he only saw Night standing with a puffed chest like the proud creature he is. No sign of any human or monster in sight. Deciding to humour the message, he dove under the docks. There was a small crevice where rocks resided, on top of them was a platter with circular white balls.

Picking one up, it was kinda squishy. Giving it a sniff proved it was edible from a fresh fish scent. Killer popped it into his mouth and bit into its chewy surface. The burst of flavour was an instant flood of fresh Salmon. He scarfed down the others, loving them just as equally. He made sure to leave one before reuniting at the docks with the pretty black cat. He pushed the white chewy fish ball to his friend, only to be surprised when he nudged it back.

It became a small back and forth game until Night gave his signature growl, stopping the game as Killer took the fish ball and downed it making the kitty relax in satisfaction.

He laughed. "I guess not all landwalkers are bad. I mean you don't look like you lost your spunk at all!" Petting his friend, glad he wasn't abused and became fearful like the rest. No. Night was brave. Tilting his tiny head upwards like a king on his throne to show he isn't and will never be hurt "a proud creature indeed".

°°°°°°°°°

Day 2 of Fluffynightkiller week

Did this all mid class and during day 1 so the ending looks very rushed. I apologise if it isn't that nice...

Although since its still mermay, I added a smol story with kitty nm and fishy friend killer! No drawing tho. This was a last second idea. Sorry. ^^"

Fluffynightkiller week by @help-im-a-gay-fish

[mintvender]

UTOPIA [ 3 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning: None

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: Finally finished part three of Utopia. Feedback are always welcome. Anyways, enjoy 🌿.

Masterlist

Focusing at the familiar sensation you were feeling on your back, you couldn’t help but let out a low groan. Satisfied with the pressure that is currently being applied, you obediently lay on the bed and let the magic occur. Combined that with the calming scent of lavender with a hint of rosemary, you couldn’t decipher whether or not if this was truly reality.

Continuing to let yourself sink into the mattress, you couldn’t help but be annoyed at the stare that you were getting.

“ A little harder on my shoulder blades?”

Feeling a heavier pressure applied to your tense shoulders, you could only sigh and not enjoy the entire experience because of a particular someone.

Despite you wanting to ignore it, luck was apparently not favouring you today. Well, you should have known that ignoring was never an option.

Hissing at a particular hard jab, you felt the pressure being lifted along with a line of apology. Little shuffles were then heard, until the person was standing a good distance away from you.

“ I… apologize?”

Scrunching your eyebrows at his tone, you were confused why he was using it. Turning your head around to meet his gaze, you offered him a curious look.

“ Do you need anything, Namjoon?”

At the mention of his name, Namjoon uncomfortably directs his gaze anywhere but you, obviously trying to avoid your questioning.

“ You seem weird today,” you commented, “ Do you perhaps have a fever?”

Quickly scanning his body, you tried to find out where the problem lies. Reaching your arm up to position it against his forehead, you tested his body temperature.

Seems normal.

While you were busy trying to come up with a potential reason, Namjoon could feel himself flushed in surprise. Stunned at what you were doing, he couldn’t help but stared at you, wide eyed.

Noticing how shocked he seemed, you removed your hand away, and chuckled.

Raising your left eyebrow, you teased, “ Why are you so stunned?”

Flinching at getting caught, Namjoon’s face continued to burn a crimson color.

“ I-I…”

Seeing how you manage to make the overly wise Namjoon speechless, you decided that it would be better to save your teasing for another day. After all, there are more important things to talk about as of now.

“ I trust that you will be more than capable of taking care of yourself,” turning around, you relax against the soft material, “ If you don’t, I don’t think that you have the ability to be by my side.”

Namjoon, a person who has been with you for years, is also a master in his own rights. Unlike Taehyung, Namjoon is well versed in the realm of medicine. Having memorized countless documents from ancient manuscripts to the most recent, Namjoon could be considered as a living medical dictionary.

With how long you have known each other, you know more than anyone how powerful Namjoon can become if he would put some effort in building his public relations. However, no one could ever be that perfect, every person has at least a flaw of their own.

“ … yes, your majesty.”

There it is again.

“ You don’t have to be so formal, Namjoon,” you reminded him, “ We, basically, have known each other for most of our lives.”

Not only has he learned many valuable information from the countless documents he had read, it had also somewhat affected his ability to be casual with others. Normally, it would only happen when he is with friends and whatnot, but never with you nor Taehyung. However, Namjoon seemed to become much more closed off the moment you guys took up your positions within the palace.

Maybe it was the difference in rank, but knowing Namjoon, he wouldn’t have cared so what’s the actual reason?

“ But, yo—“

You interrupted, “ No, I know what you are going to say… I don’t care if I am your current superior.”

Pushing yourself to your knees, you drowsily sit on the bed, still feeling the impact from earlier.

Sighing, you continued, “ Namjoon… before becoming the monarch, you were my friend first. You should know this better than anyone else, Namjoon… that our roots are intertwined.”

Hesitantly nodding at your word, Namjoon seemed to be more conflicted than before. You, this time however, waited for him to sort those feelings out himself.

The moment he called your name, you nodded and moved on, careful to not make him too uncomfortable.

Rubbing your back, you asked, “ My back is fine, right?”

“ Your back is fine. The soreness you are feeling is your body’s reaction to such an abrupt impact.”

Nodding at the reasonable answer, you reach your right hand over to your left shoulder and massage them, attempting to relieve your shoulders from its tense state.

“ Hwan is really big nowadays, she must’ve thought that she is still a puppy,” you said, finding how cute she is.

However, thinking back to earlier, your body couldn’t help but shudder at the feeling.

Groaning at the heavy weight on top of yourself, you tried to push them off but to no avail. Somewhat having an idea who this could be, you definitely have to handle it with care. If not, someone was going to be extremely mad at you.

Suddenly, you felt a chilling sensation on your left cheek, feeling a shiver wrack your body. Instinctively you brought your hand up to your cheek and wiped the substance off your skin. Wrinkling your face at the substance, you helplessly ruffled the big ball of fluff that was currently nibbling at your neck.

Purring at the feeling, it digs its head to the crevice of your neck and cuddles into you.

Normally, you would have also cuddled into the pile of fur if you were in a more private setting. However, with Taehyung screaming at someone, that scenario seemed far too out of reach, especially with you being stuck under a portable comforter.

Unable to contain your exhaustion, you let out a sigh, wondering why no one was helping you.

Am I really that cuddly? Why does everyone have to hug me today?

You flapped your arms around, silently gesturing for help which was thankfully answered by General Kim’s assistance. Lifting up the large body off you, he also assisted you on your way back to your feet.

Feeling painful pricks continuously nib at your feet, you waited for some moments to get blood to travel back to your asleep lower body.

Patting your attire to get rid of any dirty particles, you looked over to the pile of fur that was now hiding behind a certain person. You would have deceived yourself for its pitiful form if you didn’t see its excited eyes, piercing at you.

Looking up, you met the new arrival’s eyes who was awkwardly rubbing his neck, silently apologizing for his dog’s actions.

“ You should have put her on a leash!”

Taehyung, who had seemed to fully restore all his energy, was full on ranting at the person situated opposite of you, who was now pouting because of the lecture. He then looked over to you, silently sending another apology in the stead of his dog.

“ You don’t have to go that far, Tae,” you reassured him, “ Besides, Hwan didn’t hurt me. I was just taken by surprise by the abrupt greeting.”

Clapping your hands, you looked over to Hwan and signaled her to come over. While waiting for her to enter your arms, you shot Tae a soothing look, hoping to ease him up. As expected, Taehyung could only helplessly sigh and stop his ranting.

Watching your interaction with Hwan, Taehyung couldn’t help but pout. However, that was dismissed by all of you.

After having your share of exercising with Hwan, you look up and smile at the male who was proudly admiring you and Hwan the entirety of your little playtime.

Picking yourself up from your kneeled position, you walked over to the group with Hwan happily following your steps.

“ How have you been, Hoseok?” You greeted.

Smiling in return, Hoseok replied, “ I have been doing well, you’re majesty.”

Happy that he was doing alright, you threw a stick in the opposite direction, waiting for Hwan to go and retrieve it.

“ That’s good to hear. After all the mishaps within the palace, at least someone is doing well.”

“ I’m hoping that I’m not the only one,” Hoseok chuckled at your response, “ How have you been doing, your majesty?”

“ I—“

“ You definitely aren’t the only one doing well.” Taehyung interrupted, “Besides, I am sure that Y/N is doing quite well.”

Not knowing what to do, you could only shut your mouth, and tried your best to give a natural smile.

Immediately after, the atmosphere became a little too awkward for your liking.

Shooting Taehyung a glare, you silently warned him of his actions. However, not only did Taehyung not look apologetic, he even did a little ‘hmph’ to prove his point.

Lucky for you, with Hwan rushing back to the group, placing the stick in front of you, dispersing the tense atmosphere was much more achievable.

“ I’m doing fine, Hoseok,” directing your gaze to meet Hwan’s, “ Hwan is getting so big.”

As if waiting for the particular comment, Hoseok happily nodded, reaching his hand over to pet Hwan.

“ She indeed is,” Hoseok smiled, “ Though, she seemed to be a little puppy yesterday to me.”

Noticing how fond Hoseok is towards Hwan, you silently coo at how closed they were. However, that was cut short once again by the one and only Royal Consort.

“ That dog’s too big, it might even endanger your majesty’s life with its weight,” Taehyung interjected, “ Yeontan is much better.”

Normally, you would have dismissed the comparison if it was between the two of you. However, with Hoseok being here, you cannot just let him act whatever way he wants to. You knew that Taehyung did not fully intend to insult Hwan, but it was enough to offend Hoseok.

Even after your initial warning, he still decided to disobey your words.

Looks like I spoiled him too much.

Instead of repeating your previous reaction, you decided to ignore the male next to you and instead focus on who's opposite of you.

Seeing how awkward things have been, General Kim decided to intervene in an attempt to lift the tension.

“ May this servant ask the Noble Consort the reason for you being here?”

Previously nervously glancing at the bush nearby, Hoseok perked up at his title and smiled in return.

“ Originally, I did not plan to go out today,” Hoseok explained, “ However, this little rascal hasn't quiet down since last night. As a result, I figured to get some exercise while at it.”

Nodding at his response, an idea suddenly came, whooshing into General Kim’s mind.

“ If you do not mind my suggestion, your majesty,” General Kim looked over to you, “ Since the Royal Consort is training his physical body, if we were to have another person join, he would have a partner to practice with.”

Curious at what he was hinting, you urged him to elaborate.

“ To be more specific, I think that the Noble Consort would be the perfect candidate.”

Looking between the two, you contemplated at the suggestion.

Hoseok was quite agile by just how he carried himself. His moves also seemed quite sharp but with him wearing a hanbok, you can’t really figure out if it was true or not.

While you were busy thinking about the possibility, the mentioned couple were glancing at each other, too shocked to say anything. However, before Taehyung could even think about denying it, you beat him to his own game by fiercely glaring at him. Making direct eye contact with you, Taehyung couldn’t help but cowered slightly, unable to utter a witty comment. Looks like your little tiger has lost once again.

Smiling in triumph, you couldn’t help but puff your shoulders slightly, proud of winning your guys’ little game.

“ Hoseok, what do you think?,” you asked, “ Would you mind being Taehyung’s partner?”

Looking at Hoseok, you can immediately sense his nervousness and hesitation at your offer.

If you were being truthful, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have Hoseok accompany Taehyung. However, you weren’t a pushover, you wouldn’t force Hoseok to so something he doesn’t want to. Though, you still hope he accepts your offer.

“... I would be more than happy to do so,” Hoseok said, “ However, would the Royal Consort not mind my presence?”

“ Of co—“

Before Taehyung could reject the idea, you interrupted, “ No, Taehyung definitely would not mine. Am I correct, Taehyung?”

Shivering at your tone, Taehyung immediately nodded.

Satisfied with his response, you happily entrust Taehyung’s training to General Kim and Hoseok.

“ Then I’ll entrust Taehyung to the both of you,” you said.

“ Of course, your majesty.”

“ … Yes, your majesty.”

At the tone of Hoseok’s tone, you were reminded of a certain etiquette used specifically within the palace.

Pretending to be oblivious to his tone, you looked at him, confused.

“ Do… you perhaps need anything, Hoseok?”

Hoseok, realizing that he got caught red-headed, could only sheepishly nod his head.

As expected, you had to fulfill a request of his for the time he would spend with Taehyung.

Although the palace could sometimes be considered to be quite mysterious, whenever it comes to favour, there is no grey space, only black and white. If you have asked a person for a favour, expect that person to do exactly the same to you when they need it. That’s the basic rules that all need to understand when entering the palace.

If not, it’s easier to die than to live within the palace walls.

Knowing this, you had to grant Hoseok one of his requests. Though, until now, you could tell that he is not a malicious person, but it’s better to be extra cautious now that you are always the center of attention.

“ Tell me.”

Not meeting your gaze, your mind immediately branches out to various possibilities.

Maybe he wants me to get him something? Or maybe to grant Minister Jung an audience with me… Maybe he … wants a divorce.

Somehow, your heart unexpectedly tightens at the thought of Hoseok leaving. With just a few months of knowing him, you have grown quite fond of his bright personality. However, your expression still remains composed as you wait for Hoseok’s reply.

“ I would like to go outside.”

“ Hmm?”

Surprised, no shocked at his utterly humble request, you couldn’t help but let out a confused expression. You understand that this man is not like others but how is he so innocent to ask for such a thing?

Seeing your unresponsive state, Hoseok couldn’t help but be uncertain at his request, thinking that it might be too much. As a consort who serves the monarch, he technically can’t have any public relations outside of the palace so he understood that his request was quite absurd. However, he had seen the Royal Consort leave the palace a few times so he figured that it would be alright, but does have to ask for your permission first.

“ You want to go outside?”

Directing his gaze to the voice’s direction, he nodded, confirming Taehyung’s question.

“ Hoseok… you do know that you could go out whenever you want right?” You asked, “ Or was there any misunderstanding that I have yet to catch on to?”

Immediately shaking his head in response to your question, “ No, you did say that but I figured that it was only … out of politeness... I’m sorry.”

You gently waved your hand, dismissing his apologies, “ No it’s fine. If you want to go outside, then go ahead. I don’t restrict people from those types of things.”

Hoseok happily yet hesitantly nodded and thanked you. Somehow, the way you had phrased that particular sentence sounded quite off to him. However, Hoseok ignored it and thanked you for your kindness.

Nodding at his response, it seemed like the perfect time to end the conversation. And with that you went back to caressing Hwan’s soft fur.

Unfortunately, that memory was cut shorter and more abruptly than you would have liked to admit.

“ Y/N? Are you listening to me?”

Flinching at the mention of your name, you were snapped back to reality with Namjoon yelling your name.

“ I apologized. What were you saying?”

Knowing how your mind tends to drift away whenever you just experienced a dramatic scene, all Namjoon could do was helplessly sigh and restart.

“ It’s alright,” he said, turning back to what he was doing, “ This is a combination of lavender and chamomile which would help relax your nervous and digestive system.”

After he had finished combining the two scents, Namjoon makes his way to the chair nearby, settling down on it. Picking up the book on the little table nearby, he gently flipped through the pages to where he previously was.

On the other hand, you have once again lie down on the mattress, your muscles silently aching at every movement you do. Ignoring the pained feeling, you take a moment to inhale the air within the room, noticing how the fragrance was indeed different from the previous one and slowly relaxes your body.

“ You know what Hoseok asked me today in return for being Taehyung’s partner?”

“ The Noble Consort?” Namjoon questioned.

“ Mhm… he asked me to allow him to go outside.”

In response to your comment, Namjoon hummed in interest while still focused on the content of the book.

“ Hoseok, that child, sometimes reminds me of Taehyung,” you said, “ Although they have similar personalities, each of them still shine in their own way. While Taehyung is bubbly and cheeky, Hoseok is … quite innocent when you get close to him.”

“ Innocent and a child? The Noble Consort is only a year younger than you,” Namjoon replied, “ More than that, he is turning twenty-three this year.”

Rolling your eyes at his sarcastic response, you continued to breathe in the calming scent, continuing to feel your body relaxing.

Now that he mentioned that, most of the people that are within your inner circle are quite similar to you in age, with the exception of a few. Maybe it’s because all of you are so young that you guys have bonded through your high ambitions. However, even if they were to be in your age group, they still have to have similar roots as you.

So how did these people manage to befriend me when it has only been 3 months?

Deciding to dismiss the question and postpone to another day, you answered, “ I understand that Hoseok is the same age as you and is an adult. However, the way he carries himself just reminds me of a curious child, especially whenever we talk in depth about a particular subject.”

No, more like a curious child who has been deprived of the most basic education about the way of life.

Somehow, Namjoon found himself nodding in agreement with your observation.

“ Also, with how often he smiles, and so brightly even, just proves the point of how much innocence he has,” you added.

Sometimes, you envy how positive Hoseok is in any situation. Just having a genuine smile in a tense situation can brighten the entire room up. However, not many can be as positive as that.

“ He might seem innocent to you but why would a noble, who has spent his entire existence bathing in riches would suddenly go out to the dirty streets?”

Thinking about what Namjoon just said, it really truly doesn’t make sense. Hoseok, who can have all the things he wants in the world yet still remains to be so innocent and humble. How unbelievable it sounds.

Is this really the real him?

“ I’ll send someone to investigate him further,” you said, sitting up, “ They found almost nothing suspicious about him during the first round of inspection. Maybe, he is hiding something much deeper…”

“... or is working as a spy for Minister Jung within the harem.”

You nodded, expression sharpened at the possible thought. It was a possibility that you have already thought of but ultimately dismissed it after the initial investigation. However, it seems like you should be diving deeper, much deeper. In any case, preventing the worst possible outcome should always be the top priority.

Though, I hope that my intuition is right about you, Hoseok.

“ Be careful, Y/n.” Namjoon warned, “ You never know what or who is involved.”

Silently thanking him, you make your way out of the comfort of your bed and begin walking towards Namjoon.

“ Jungkook.”

At the mention of his name, Jungkook quickly opened the door and entered.

“ Yes, your majesty.”

“ Go and invite Taehyung to come over,” you ordered, “ Quickly.”

Immediately after, Jungkook then greeted you and ran out the door, feeling the need to hurry and bring the Royal Consort back with how urgent you seem.

Knowing this was not the time to question your words, Jungkook focused fully on bringing back the Royal Consort as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, you settled on the seat positioned around the center table, waiting for Taehyung.

After what seemed like quarter of an hour, your chamber doors finally opened.

Normally, you would have waited for Taehyung to even out his breath, but with the possibility of a rat within the harem, there was no time for that.

People might say that you are being too abrupt but with personal experience, how could you repeat the same mistake?

Waving your hand to dismiss Jungkook, “ You can leave, Jungkook. We’ll be fine.”

Nodding at your words, Jungkook then exited the room, knowing to leave your courtyard fully.

You gestured for Taehyung to settle on your right side while Namjoon took the seat left of you.

“ Taehyung, I apologized for suddenly calling y—”

Feeling a light gust of wind entering the closed space, you stopped yourself from saying anything further, “ Looks like we have another guest.”

Quickly standing up from your spot, you quietly make your way towards the shelve on the left side of the room, and grab your sword, that was proudly displayed on the main compartment.

Blazefury, a bonguk geom made especially for you by one of the most skilled blacksmith in the nation, maybe even wider than that.

The single-edge sword was quite long, making it much easier to injure the enemy at a greater distance. Like any other sword, the blade itself is quite sharp. With how much time you put into taking care of your sword, the blade still reflects whatever is put in front of it. The handle of the sword is a deep red, while a scarlet tassel is attached at the hilt, contrasting with the silver metal of the blade.

To say the absolute least, you couldn’t be any more honoured to have this sword within your possession. After all, the sword is a masterpiece on its own, even without having to say who brought this sword to life.

Unsheathing the sword from its leather scabbard, you pointed it towards the window opposite of you.

Smilingly, you slowly close the space between you and whoever was behind the thin windows.

Though, you do find it weird that the person is not moving even after finding out that they have been caught.

How could they be so careless to hide behind a window composed of mostly paper? To spy on me? No, there are other ways. Maybe they just want to finish me?

When you are finally in front of the window, placing your left hand against the window, feeling the rough paper on your fingertips. Gently tracing the outline of the frames, you wickedly lengthen the moment much to other’s displeasure.

To you, however, it truly doesn’t matter if you were to open the window now or later. After all, even if they want to escape, it would be too late to even move a meter.

The only thing that would make you hesitate is if the person would call for backup. You would be able to handle them all, but with Taehyung and Namjoon here, both yet to master any type of martial arts except for the most basic defence exercises. Looks like you have to prepare for the absolute worst.

Finally gathering force to your left hand, you forcefully open the window, purposely creating a large bang.

However, before you could even register what was about to come, the person in front of you dropped their weapon, silently surrendering.

While you on the other hand felt your smile getting wider, eyes sparkling in interest.

“ What are you doing here, Panther?”

Definition:

Bonguk geom - a type of sword or sword skill. It is said that the phrase ‘bonguk geom’ originated from the Hwarang of the Silla dynasty. As a result, it could even be called as Silla Sword or Singeom. Bonguk geom literally means ‘national sword.’ The appearance of it is quite similar to a katana ( I believe it is the sword used in Yoongi’s track, Daechwita but please correct me if I am wrong).

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