#hue & cry fic art

[taegularities]

entertainer (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut ➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, sexual tension, he is so attracted to her :'), mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, dark past(s), crying, fear, confrontation and fighting, cocky kook, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, etc.), more warnings on drop day once the fic is finished!! not much for the teaser itself, though <3 ➳ wc: 1.8k :') (around 20k for the full thing) ➳ a/n: scratches head. this has been a long time coming and i'm beyond curious how y'all will like it :') very new and experimental, so let's see how it goes!! as always, drop a message to lmk what you think of this lil glimpse, i'll be waiting with dangling feet hehe!! <3

➳ give the Entertainer playlist a first listen! 🖤   

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs 

“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”

“Fuckbo—”

“Nevermind.”

If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done that a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.

You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?

Yet.

You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.

Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices once the two of you halt in front of another piece of work. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me like that?”

You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”

“Sure.”

Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.

“So,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”

You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.

But somehow, he only recognises a tranquil ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is tender, but wrapped in dark mystery.

How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?

When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly odd things.

“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”

“But it’s not, yeah?”

“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must be a trigger, or a thought on something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”

Interesting…

“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.

You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”

“Ahhh. Like what?”

“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibition made me realise how that colour makes me cry.”

Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.

You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who've earned it.”

Earned it? How? 

Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?

And then…

If that’s what it is.

He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack. 

“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.

“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your gaze. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”

Someone…

Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.

He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t. Yet.

Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”

“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — a nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”

Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like this when you were at the meeting, or in his office. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.

And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.

But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.

One who shrugs all the puzzles away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.

He inquires, “Are you always this much of an open book?”

“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”

“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”

“Hah. Well, I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Strokes his ego, though. And then, out of the blue again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”

Jungkook has barely inhaled half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.

Perhaps this is enough for now, visiting the overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.

Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.

But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.

Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake to go with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”

“Oh. One?” you ask, “Don’t you want one?”

“I do.”

“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”

Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as hell. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for us two.”

You laugh — a candied, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”

Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip of his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. While he does avoid them, it’s still always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.

He sighs.

“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.

And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, serving two perfectly prepared cappuccinos and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge piece.

You thank her with a gentle smile, and tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your dangling silver earring.

And he watches.

Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”

Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.

And then… oh God.

He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head.

All the way through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag the wet tip of your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.

Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance in snail’s pace… makes him sick.

When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sound around him comes alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.

You catch him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.

But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try.”

You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — and maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.

Making you smile must be an achievement, though, right? If only… you didn’t think of him like…

He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.

He wishes he could.

His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him live, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… that’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”

“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you interesting. And somewhat attractive.”

People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?

Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”

He shakes his head, clicks his tongue.

“You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”

Is it the habit of never failing; getting what he wants? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?

You’re just a person.

Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel. 

He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before.

No matter what it is; Jungkook only understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.

Wants you to be the colour green for him. 

wrote most of it now and while sick, so it might change hehe! but i hope it's okay so far, and it shall only get better!! i'm so so excited for this, like i've been working on it and putting thought into it since october, so i hope it's worth the wait <3

as always, send your thoughts, questions, complaints lol lemme know what you think or i might perish sniff. super curious to know!! also, here's the taglistttt 🤍 love and appreciate you all <3

[shinobushaori]

heyoooo!!! this is my first time requesting a fic ever so bear with me ●ᴗ●.

may you do Shinobu x f!reader in where they met together in the final selection when R was injured and Shinobu took care of her and then they just became friends after that. R is usually cold and pessimistic but then Kanae died and she saw how Shinobu was burdened by responsibility and she couldn't have the time to grief. so R takes it upon themselves and Shinobu woke up one morning to seeing R taking care of the mansion with a smile. it goes on for a few days before Shinobu snaps and asks "Why are you suddenly so compassionate and caring?!" and R says "Someone has to fill in your role of annoyingly caring for everyone, y'know?"

it's pretty specific so feel free to reject this if you don't want to write it!

A/N: HELLOOO!!! Yes, I am alive!! I apologize for suddenly disappearing. Writer's and Art block mixed with academic burn out is a dangerous combination indeed. Anyway, I'm still not over my writers block but I tried really hard for this request. Hopefully y'all like it!! Definitely more centered around grief rather than the actual premise idk if I did capture the grief well tho, yall can freely judge. Also, you can either piercive this as romantic or platonic :DD

Anyways, enjoy!!! >:333

HEAVY GRIEF

- kochou shinobu x f!reader

warnings: vivid imagery of blood(?)

word count: 3.5K

The morning dawned reluctantly, as if the sun itself was too weighed down by sorrow to fully rise. Inside, the normally hearty Estate felt cold and unwelcoming, its usual warmth stripped away and laid bare and cold with the rain outside showing no signs of subsiding, each drop being a reminder of the relentless sorrow that seem to mark itself on the Butterfly Estate residents.

It has been a few days since Kochou Kanae's funeral.

Everyone was deeply devastated by the sudden news that spread, the kind and strong Flower Hashira fatally injured by an Upper Moon Demon. Shinobu, her own blood-related little sister, being the one to cruelly stumble across her in an ill fated timing.

You weren’t unfamiliar with death—far from it actually. You had seen corpses torn apart in the field by claws, bodies reduced to nothing but unrecognizable remnants due to the demon's blood art. You had learned to steel yourself against grief because mourning was pointless. The world did not stop for a dead body.

And yet you still couldn't stop the feeling of the painful shudder that rang violently in your spine, and the heat that left your stomach, crawling upwards your eyes. You quietly trembled when you watched the group of crying Kakushis slowly walking into the mansion, lifting the body of the person you've grown to respect most, with her striking familiar yet covered in red hue butterfly haori peeking out of the white cloth.

You wish you could forget it all.

And currently, you tightly embraced the girls that sobbed in your arms. Your heart tightening at each hiccup that left their mouths.

All of them grieved in their own way, Kanao sweating profusely as you reassured and hugged her trembling form. Aoi, in a bit of denial, distracting herself by the endless chores that seem to add up each passing day. The kids, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho. Being so young, they cried all day and night as you carefully cradled them until they surrendered to drowsiness and exhaustion. You would be the one to tuck them to bed before your mind wanders towards the person you were worried the most.

Shinobu had been locking herself inside her office.

Your heart longed to comfort your best friend, be a pillar she had always been towards you as you know she's the one suffering the most, you know just how much she treasures her sister and the devastation she felt must be immeasurable.

With that in mind, you walked towards her work office, faintly hearing the clanks of glass and light stomps of feet before raising your hand to knock. You pause when a harsh noise becomes audible, a sob breaking the short silence that followed as you instantly feel your heart drop.

Immediately, you tore the door open and took in the sight of Shinobu tightly clutching a familiar haori that she held in her hands in the middle of the cluttered space, tears flowing out of her reddened eyes and you could feel your own water. "Shino..!"

She looked up at you tiredly and you bit your lip to stop it from further trembling. Slowly, you kneeled in front of her, your hand hovering above her, avoiding possibly startling her. Shinobu looked absolutely broken as another sob left her mouth. Without any second thought, she tightly pulled you in an embrace the moment you were close enough.

"[Name].. she, how could- I.. I could've..!"

You tightened your hold on her, slightly rocking as you whispered reassurances in her ear. Reassurances you know are utter bullshit. Nothing was going to bring back Kanae, bring back the warmth of the estate, bring back the happiness you all had. And yet your lips whispered more like a sinner would.

This was the first time you had ever glimpsed this side of Shinobu, seeing the raw grief and anger she had been harboring these past days. Hopelessness and guilt rang loudly in you, not too different from Shinobu who clutched tightly on your back with loud and angry weeps leaving from her.

You could feel your shoulder damp yet didn't bother to care too much for it, simply rubbing circles on her back in an attempt to comfort her. "Shinobu, It'll be fine, It'll be all fine, okay?"

Suddenly, Shinobu pulled away from your embrace, her face twisted into a sour expression as she glared at you, you didn't find it a bit intimidating as the tears still flowed nonstop alonside her occasional hiccups. You held a palm against her cheek in which she leaned closer to.

"It won't just be okay! You, out of all people, should know that!"

You bit your lip, before Shinobu continued. "I can't- I can't do this on my own-"

"You won't," You cut in, determined. "We will be here for you, I will be beside you, Shinobu."

Shinobu sniffs, gritting her teeth. "I just- There's so many things needed to be done and I just can't, can't possibly do everything at once!"

You pulled her in, and like a magnet, she clung to your body as if you were her lifeline. Her grip was tight and desperate. Gently, you rubbed her shoulders, trying to offer even just a bit comfort, "You don't need to do everything at once, we could take baby steps, one at a time, remember?"

With time, her sobs slowly subsided as you continue to slightly rock both of your bodies tangled with each other. You hear her inhale and let out a shuddering breath before leaving your embrace.

You stare as Shinobu looked down at Kanae's Haori, tightly holding and gripping the fabric. So much emotions flashed on her face. Anguish, grief, regret— too much to take in.

"I'm not Kanae." She whispered eerly.

You gulp, slowly taking her whitening and trembling fists on your own.

"I'm not Kanae, [Name]!" Shinobu looked up at you with another set of tears threatening to shed, her lip trembling and the once confident purple eyes you've sometimes lost yourself into, now looked so dull and beaten.

You don’t remember much of what happened that night. The events blurred together in a haze of exhaustion and grief, becoming a tangled mess in your memory. When you finally awoke, Shinobu was beside you, her usually composed appearance disheveled. Her hair was in disarray, and her brows were deeply furrowed even in sleep.

The agony of losing your mentor weighed heavily on your heart, a constant ache that you couldn't escape. As a demon slayer, you had pledged to fight against these vicious demons and is aware of just how much destruction they could truly do towards people yet the brutal reality was far grimmer than you anticipated.

You took a deep breath, blinking the tears that blurred your sight as you tear your gaze towards Shinobu. If you were feeling this much already, how heavy would the weight of responsibility be pressing down on her? Although, you admired her as she was someone headstrong and brave, even the strongest people had their limitations and the evening before was a proof of such.

You want to become the anchor she was once towards you. Help her through her struggles, just how she saved you from getting yourself killed in the Final Selection without a second thought. After all, she could've left you bleeding and heaving towards your demise in an absolute pathetic state and yet she didn't.

She didn't.

And with a final soft exhale, you slowly stood up from your place and gently picked up the sleeping girl, who immediately curled herself once you placed her on her office bed.

You made your way towards the door with deliberate and steady steps, silently closing the door behind you before a small smile slowly stretched your lips.

-

As her eyelids began to struggle open, Shinobu felt the weight of exhaustion pressed against her skull.

And for a moment, she could barely recall where she was.

The dim glow of the morning showed itself through the open windows, showing another day to be awoken to. She blinked, her lashes sticky from dried tears, with the silence around her feeling painful and suffocating.

No different from the previous days she felt after her sister's sudden passing.

As the memory resurfaced, the realization landed like a hammer to her chest, knocking the air from her lungs. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she clenched her fists into the fabric beneath her. Kanae's whispers were small and barely audible yet it clung and stung as if her chest was ripped wide open at that very moment.

The memory was vivid, unrelenting—like it had only happened minutes ago.

Blood.

It was everywhere. The deep crimson soaked through Kanae’s butterfly haori before landing on Shinobu's own clothes as she clung tightly to her sister. The once gentle, smiling face was marred by pain, blood seeped out of her sister's mouth as the suffocating iron like scent scattered throughout the air.

Shinobu had dropped to her knees, hands shaking violently as she pressed against the deep wound in her sister’s abdomen. She didn’t even register the hot tears spilling down her cheeks, didn’t even hear her own desperate pleas.

"No, no, no! Nee-san I'll—Just, just hold on! You’re going to be fine, I swear! We just, we just have to stop the bleeding—"

A choked sob tore through Shinobu’s throat as she frantically tried to mend what was beyond saving. And from there point on, it was all a blur— Or she fools herself to be.

The Kakushi arrived too late. They tried to pull her away, but she fought, clawing at the ground to stay by Kanae’s side. Even as her sister’s body was carefully lifted and carried away, Shinobu could only reach out with bloodstained fingers, her screams raw and strangled.

Shinobu squeezes her eyes shut, nails digging into her palms so harshly she felt them sting.

A sharp slap against her cheek snapped her back.

This was enough grieving. Enough brooding. Enough of her pathetic behavior.

She had wailed for days on end. Break as if this would bring back Kanae's soul. Be immature of her older sister's passing.

But now, the world is still turning. The demons never stopped their destruction. The patients never constantly healed on their own. The time continued on moving—and she was expected to move along it.

She exhaled shakily, sitting up. The room was in disarray. Papers littered the floor, glass vials knocked over, ink stains smeared across her desk—proof of her unraveling.

For a long moment, she simply sat there, staring at nothing and everything.

Then, with quiet deliberation, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her limbs felt heavy, her body weighed down as if the grief itself had settled into her very bones. But she forced herself forward.

'Nee-san..'

---

The moment Shinobu stepped out of her office, something felt… off.

The estate was quiet, yet there was something unnatural in the air—one that didn’t belong. One that felt uncanny and eerie.

Then she heard it.

Laughter.

Not the soft, tired chuckles of those trying to heal, but a bright, full-bodied giggle. It rang through the halls like a melody, cheerful and warm. A sound she hadn’t expected to hear so soon. A sound that sent shivers through her spine.

Her brow furrowed as she curved a corner, stomping towards the familiar hallway.

The dining area was bustling, yet the atmosphere was something you could've expected. Grief still clung to the walls, to the people in it. Kanao sat stiffly at the table, her hands curled into loose fists in her lap, staring blankly at the bowl of rice before her. Aoi stood by the doorway, arms crossed, her expression in a tense scowl. The three younger girls, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho, had their red-rimmed eyes fixed on the figure bustling around the room.

And at the center of it all was [Name].

You moved gracefully between the tables, setting down plates with an exaggerated flourish. Your voice was light, teasing, as you softly nudged Aoi toward a seat with a smile.

"You’ve been working too much, Aoi. Come, come, sit! You ought to try this soup. It's good for growing kids like you girls!"

Aoi frowned, staring at you as if you had grown a second head. "You don’t cook."

You giggled, a bright, ringing sound that made Shinobu’s stomach twist uncomfortably. "Well, there’s a first time for everything."

You turned next to Kanao, oblivious to the new figure that stood and stared at your act. Your voice softens as you pat Kanao's hair.

"Eat up, Nao. You need to keep your strength up."

Kanao blinked slowly, as if trying to understand the words. After a few seconds of silence, she slowly retrieved the heavy coin in her pocket. The one that Kanae had preciously gifted to her. You bit your lips as she took a shaky breath before successfully flipping the coin in her hands.

Her lips barely parted, voice hoarse from days of silence. "I’m.. not hungry."

Your smile faltered for the briefest second before you reached out, gently placing a piece of Unagi onto Kanao’s rice.

"I understand but you need to eat properly to keep yourself healthy, okay? Even just one bite is plenty."

Kanao hesitated, staring at the food, then at you. Something flickered in her dull eyes, and not long after, slowly, with stiff movements, she lifted her chopsticks and took a small bite.

Your grin widened as if Kanao had just won a battle. Perhaps she did.

"There you go, I'm proud of you Nao! It’s good, right?"

Shinobu’s fingers twitched.

Something about the scene made her deeply uneasy.

The exaggerated joy. The forced lightness in your voice. The way your hands trembled ever so slightly when you thought no one was looking. Your trembling lips as the younger girls, Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho, looking up at you with a conflicted expression.

You were trying too hard to be there for everyone.

And Shinobu hated it.

---

This pattern continued.

Day after day, you filled the Butterfly Estate with their endless soft energy, tirelessly caring for the others. You helped in the infirmary, giggling as you changed bandages. You cooked meals, telling jokes as you stirred the soup, the only meal you could pathetically prepare. You played with the children, twirling them around as if nothing in the world was wrong.

But Shinobu was no fool.

You were caring, indeed— But not in a cheerfully smiling way. Not laughing as you endlessly chatter towards the patients kind of way. Not in a forced exertion of energy kind of way. No, you were reserved and cold. Your lips pursed as you barely answer to people's inquiries. An awkward grunt when you're in a tight spot. A pair of observing eyes silently and keenly supervising over everyone else.

You weren't the radiant sun— seemingly filling up the room with your passionate enthusiasm. No, to Shinobu, you were the comforting moon that hovered over everyone when they needed it the most. When the darkness engulfed the surroundings, you were the one shielding them from the unknown.

And she had enough of your unnatural behavior.

---

The soft murmur of voices cut through the evening air, accompanied by the occasional burst of giggles that rang like wind chimes in the night. The engawa was bathed in the dim glow of paper lanterns, casting long shadows that danced gently across the wooden panels. The cool breeze carried the scent of damp earth and faint traces of the floral plants that you can occasionally spot from each corner of the garden.

Shinobu paused mid-step at the sight of you, fingers curling slightly at her sides.

Sitting cross-legged on the wooden porch, the three youngest residents of the Butterfly Estate nestled close to your side. Kiyo leaned against your shoulder, her small fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the loose thread of your sleeve. Sumi had her arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting atop them as she gazed up at you with wide, eager eyes. Naho sat just a bit apart, but her expression betrayed how much she was hanging onto every word that left your lips.

Your voice, so steady and warm, cut through the night like a lullaby.

"..And then—then the old man huffed and took the mean man by the arm and proceeded to slam him against the table! He really didn't need my help! Can you believe it?"

The three girls let out a chorus of laughter, their tired faces momentarily brightened by childish amusement. This sight should've normally warmed Shinobu's chest, no matter how much she may deny it. Instead, however she felt something gnaw at her insides.

It was clear in the way your shoulders tensed, the way your fingers twitched as you smoothed over Kiyo’s hair. The way your laughter rang hollow at the edges with lips curved into a smile that never quite reached your eyes.

This wasn’t you.

Not at all.

The moment the girls' laughter died down into sleepy murmurs, Shinobu took a deliberate step forward. Her presence made the children perk up but they quickly deflated at her next words.

"It's getting late," Shinobu said, her voice light but firm. "You three should get some rest."

Naho blinked up at her, still drowsy from the warmth of the evening. "But—"

"Goodnight." Shinobu pressed, her lips forming a small, tight smile.

There was a hesitation, a moment where Kiyo glanced up at you as if seeking permission.

You gave her a gentle pat on the back. "Come on now, listen to your Shinobu nee-chan. You’ve all had a long day."

Reluctantly, they obeyed. With murmured goodnights and small yawns, the three girls trudged off, leaving the engawa wrapped in silence once more.

Shinobu let it linger. Let the weight of the quiet settle in. Let the moment stretch until she finally turned her attention fully to you.

You, who were still stiffly sitting there, stared out into the moonlit courtyard.

"So," she began slowly, stepping closer. "How long do you plan to keep this up?"

You blinked as if pulled from a trance, tilting your head toward her with a bemused smile. "What do you mean?"

Shinobu’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"Don’t play dumb."

You let out a light chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck as your eyes wandered away from hers. "I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Shinobu."

The sound of her name from your lips, so casual, so teasing, made her hands curl into fists.

She exhaled through her nose, trying to steady herself. "You’ve been exerting yourself," she stated plainly, watching for your reaction. "Running around, forcing yourself to smile, to laugh, to take care of everyone else while pretending nothing is wrong."

Your expression didn’t change, but your fingers twitched ever so slightly.

"I'm just doing what I can to help," You replied casually, giving her a small shrug. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

Shinobu’s eyes darkened.

"It is when you’re lying to yourself."

You let out a shaky chuckle, shaking your head. "Shino, really—"

"Why are you doing this?"

The question was sharp, cutting through the tense air between you two.

You purse your lips, still acting oblivious to her implications. "Doing what?"

"This." She gestured at you, frustration clearly bubbling. "This ridiculous performance. Acting like everything is fine when we both know it’s not."

Your resolve, however, didn't waver. "I just want to make things easier for everyone."

A muscle in Shinobu’s jaw tensed. "By pretending?"

"By helping." you corrected, voice still infuriatingly chirpy.

And that was it.

That was the final thread as Shinobu snapped.

"Why are you trying so hard to be compassionate all of a sudden?!" The words came out harsher than she intended, her voice laced with something raw and desperate. "It’s fucking pathetic! You’re being pathetic! And I—I…"

Her breath hitched.

Your eyes, so impossibly gentle, met hers.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached out and took her hand.

Her fingers twitched at the warmth of your touch.

"Shinobu," you murmured.

"I just— I just don't get it why are you acting like this?"

You hum, and replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Someone has to fill your role of caring for everyone, you know?"

Shinobu trembled.

The anger in her veins bled into something heavier, something that settled deep into her chest like an unbearable weight. Her shoulders shook, her breath coming out in small, uneven gasps.

You didn’t say anything more, didn’t try to fix anything or offer empty words of comfort. You simply held onto her hand.

Shinobu let out a shuddering sob, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth as if that alone could stop the flood and it couldn't.

Tears spilled freely, trailing down her cheeks as she crumbled.

She buried herself into the warmth of your embrace, fingers clutching onto the fabric of your clothing as if afraid you would disappear.

You didn’t.

After what felt like an eternity, she managed to choke out a single, broken whisper.

"Y-You’re so stupid."

You softly exhale, stroking her hair in slow, soothing motions. Your chirpy persona seemingly melting away into the air and finally, it felt like Shinobu was actually talking to you. And not some pitiful performer.

"I know."

And in that moment, grief did not feel so unbearably lonely.

[tevanbegins]

You guys. It's getting extremely exhausting now. Do you realise that toxic BoBs want to make sure that we Bucktommy fans don't enjoy our fandom experience at all? And by responding to cheap anon asks and reposting screenshots of all the disgusting vitriol they keep spreading on our tags, you are giving them the attention they seek and letting them accomplish their motives — stealing our joy. They are not worth giving any explanations to! They are not going to give a shit about what we have to say to them and it's definitely not going to change their minds. In fact they are going to enjoy seeing us getting riled up over their baseless nonsense! Don't give them that power!

What's the point in raising a hue and cry over their BS? It will keep happening and getting worse as long as the show is running. Nobody is going to protect us from that. Oliver, Ryan, or Tim aren't going to sympathize with us or come to our aid, they don't give a flying crap about this fandom toxicity and ship war nonsense. So the only thing we can do for our sanity is block all the negativity the moment we spot it without engaging further with it, as outrageous or provoking their shitty opinions might be.

Let's just focus on sharing the positive stuff. Fics, art, gifs, edits, etc. All the Tevan content that makes us happy. Please. Let's not add to the negativity by giving antis the importance and acknowledgement they don't deserve!

___

[hakogyi]

i drew a thing for this beautiful fanfic by @the-nameless-ramekin >:3c i 100% recommend this fic for people who enjoy crying (and beautiful writing in general!!) anyway hey rame...it's ao3 user bachstreetsolo o(-( i love your writing (i cried!!)

keep reading for rambles and alt images 🌟

fun little detail (kind of) - i gave each character clothes in a hue close to their partner's hair colour...vil's was a bit hard to work in but she has a bit of white in her hat. also sorry for having the opposite of same face syndrome

honestly i think this might be the most detailed piece i've done? even my rook birthday art wasn't this intense omg. i aim to do more detailed pieces in the future 💥 i can't keep doing flat backgrounds forever...i'll keep improving 🔥 and seriously read the fic it's crazy good

[et-cant-phone-home-no-signal]

i wrote a little something because i read "The Wicker Basket" by @balrogballs and it made me sad but also inspired me, and it's not my usual writing but i still like it enough to post so here's something for @maedhrosmaglorweek prompt 'Ship Burnings', but mostly a response to balls' fic. cover art by me because i was struck by inspiration and couldn't let it go

Their wings were on fire. Their wings were on fire and the black gems of their eyes glinted with hues of orange, yellow and red. Red like Nelyo's hair. Red like the cape that atya wore and soared around him in the wind like the very boats that were burning before them. Their wings were on fire, and if he listened closely he could hear the wood crying out like those that were slaughtered on the opposite shore. Their wings were on fire and the heat was unbearable; it cast a sheen of sweat upon his brow, and the ash stung his eyes. The tears did not come from the sight of the blazing fire, but rather the sound of Nelyo's begging cries, loud in the relative silence of the splintering wood and popping mud, the only one to speak and keen and cry. From the corner of his eyes he saw him, prostrated on his knees before their lord, their father, his pleas unheard and uncared for. Their wings were on fire and the blood of the Teleri stained not just his hands, clean as they appeared, but his heart also. Their wings were on fire and he thought of those on the ice, those who could not feel the warmth of the burning swans, those who would perish on their journey, those who would suffer and suffer and suffer... And after it all, once the embers were cold, and the night was dark aside from the pale light of the stars, when none but he and Nelyo stood there upon the shore grieving for their past and their future both, Káno could not help but wonder what songs would be sung in years to come.

Oltha onár

Onár littëyë

Oltha ohánonya

Yaimëya apa i súrë

Oltha otaryonya

Quildaya lonië

Oltha ovanwïe

Tulwiënya vanwaië

Rámarnta nér apa nár.

-------

I dream of fire

Of fire and ash

I dream of my brother

His cries on the wind

I dream of my father

His silence is loud

I dream of the past

My future is gone

Their wings were on fire.

the translated poem in Quenya is a little crude and primitive and i rushed the translation a little because i'm tired and elvish grammar is hard, but i think it should still hold up enough to work.

[fanaticsnail]

Day 3

OC x Canon Week 2025: Kisses at Sunset

Mozart Valentino x Massacre Soldier Killer for @autumnnjoy's beautiful boy

Cover art of Valentino by @macbethsymphony, screengrab from one piece, and snail's dodgy editing skills using polish pro. Mini fic under the cut.

Themes: Established relationship, pregnancy, domesticity, love, fluff, crying, kisses at sunset.

Staring out onto the horizon and gazing upon the hues reaching reds, pinks, and deep purple, Valentino tilted his head to the side and allowed the breeze to brush through his hair. The call of gullsong crooning over the topsail almost had him lose his attention to the horizon line, yet the one thing that pulled him from his focus was-.

"-Hey, Doc. Got somethin' for ye."

A smile upticked at the corner of his lips as he turned to meet the masked face of the massacre soldier he fell in love with. Hues of cerulean and pearl over holed helmet, his knight holding a tray of sweets out like tribute to a heathen god on a wooden tray.

"Got you yer chocolates," he coughed out, leaning down on his scarred arm and drawing himself to Valentino's side, "Ye said the baby was causin' ye heartburn and the only thing you could think of all day was chocolate." He placed himself down beside the doctor of the Kid Pirates and par-raised his mask up to reveal his purple-hued lips.

"You're gonna hate me, but I get the chef-tax. Rules are rules, Val. I don't change for nobody." Valentino moved his chin to gaze at the smile rising on his lover's lips, feeling that flutter in his chest at the thoughtfulness included in such a small treat.

Without much thought, Valentino felt his eyes begin to well up the longer he stared from the chocolate, to his partner's smile, and having that telltale quiver in his lip that the dam was about to snap. A choked whimper clawed it's way out of his gut as he smelled the waft of flavoured confectionary his partner dutifully made for him.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," Killer whispered in hastened succession as he discarded the chocolates and reached for Valentino's cheek, "Hey, none of that now, doc. You're okay. It's okay. Is it the baby? Is it the chocolate? Is it me? I swear if it's me, I-."

Killer's words were stolen from him as soon as Valentino's lips engulfed them. Arms flung around his shoulders, belly pressed flush with his chest, the doctor of the Kid Pirates felt the sun breath it's last on his cheek as he continued to relay his gratitude against his lover's lips. Breaking away, Valentino whispered a confession on his lover's tinted lips.

"It's perfect," Valentino smiled, "You're perfect, massacre soldier."

A lazy smile sprawled over the massacre soldier's lips as he helped his spouse further into his lap. All smiles, all lovely smiles, were shared between them as their kiss at sunset slowly shrugged into nightfall at each chocolate-stained moment remained stolen between lovers in the crows nest together.

[simplyyspring]

Memories

Liam Mairi x Fem!OC, Xaden Riorson x Fem!OC (platonic)

Summary: Genevieve Tavis has lost the most important person in her life and her older brother's best friend, Xaden, attempts to help her through her grief.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! smut, death, grief, angst, hurt (with comfort), me not knowing how to properly portray Xaden. FOURTH WING SPOILERS, please don't read if you haven't read the first book I will not be responsible for the emotional damage.

Word Count: 9k

A/N: This is not the first fic I have ever written but it IS the first fic I've ever posted. I already rewrote it because I hated the first version, and the only proofreading that this version has received is grammarly spell/grammar check so bear with me! This fic was inspired by @saintsanddevils "Unravel Me" fic so please read that as well, it's amazing! I've debated expanding on Gen's story but have not decided, please do tell me if you'd like to see that! Anyways, let's get into all the angst (I did cry a few times writing this).

✰✰✰✰✰✰

The sky has an orange hue as I sit on a ledge outside the Riorson house. My eyes study the waves of hills and rigid peaks of mountains in the distance — this has always been one of my favorite views. I grew familiar with it from all the summers I’d spent here while my brother visited his best friend. I catch the scent of pine trees in the wind, and the familiar rustle of the grass beneath gives a sense of nostalgia. It almost brings a smile to my face. Almost.

My hand finds the small wooden sculpture of Eilidh that Liam had whittled months ago in the pocket of my flight jacket. He had done it for everyone, but Eilidh was his first — likely because she had let him close enough to truly study her. Of course she had. She had a soft spot for Liam, though she was reluctant to voice it often. She understood our connection long before anyone else. Eilidh’s grief when Deigh died wasn’t just for him — it was for his rider as well. 

I pull the sculpture out of my pocket, my thumb brushing over the details as I study the shape of Eilidh — one I know like the back of my hand. When he had given the sculpture to me, I didn’t know what to say. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had given me — the kindest thing a person had done for me. Although I can go outside and see her whenever I please, there was something intimate about somebody turning the most important being in my life into a piece of art. I feel a knot building in my throat as the memory floods back, my eyes beginning to well with tears.

“I made you something.” 

Liam’s voice brought me out of my studying trance, causing me to look up at him. He was fiddling with something in his hands — a piece of wood? Some sort of sculpture? And he looked… nervous? I raised a brow as he handed the sculpture over to me. I took the piece, studying it for a moment. My heart nearly stopped as I recognized the features.

The wood was rough — almost as if it was supposed to represent her scales. It painted an image of her mid-flight, her wings spread wide. He must have seen her from a distance, or maybe during flight maneuvers and gotten the idea. And he’d gone through with it. Butterflies began to flutter in my stomach.

“It’s Eilidh,” he said, sheepish. 

I met his gaze, trying to find the words to say. My mouth opened, then closed — no words came out. Nobody had ever done something so personal for me. His smile faltered for a moment, and my heart almost stopped once again as I noticed his confidence starting to slip. 

“I love it,” The words were rushed as they left my lips. My ears heated with embarrassment but I managed to ignore it. 

“You do?” Liam let out a breathy sound that sounded suspiciously like relief. 

I nodded as my gaze fell back down to the sculpture, a small smile forming on my lips. “I think she’d love it too.”

“It’s alright, I suppose.” Eilidh’s voice echoed in my head, her tone playful. I let out a soft laugh. 

“She said she loves it,” I could almost hear her eyes rolling. 

I pocketed the sculpture and glanced back up at Liam. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I didn’t know what else to say. My feelings were all over the place — and I was never good at voicing those. Rejection and I had become good friends, but that was against my will.

“You think he’s beautiful,” Eilidh’s teasing tone echoed once again. The heat from my ears began to spread to my face. She wasn’t necessarily wrong… but that’s not the point. Either Liam didn’t notice or he chose to ignore it — thankfully.

“Of course. And tell her I said thank you,” Liam said with a grin that made my heart skip a beat, settling into the seat beside me. His knee brushed against mine, the butterflies going wild now. “I just… I like doing things for other people, and she’s always been nice to me. She never threatens to scorch me when I get too close.”

“Not that you know of.” The corner of my lips tugged upwards. 

“Noted,” A small laugh escaped his lips. He was quiet for a moment, then, “Do you need any help?” His gaze flickered down toward the books in front of me, then back up at me. 

I stared at him for a moment, my brain slowly processing his question. It happened often — I short circuited whenever he was around. I didn’t really need his help, but who was I to deny myself the pleasure of his company? “I’d love some help.”

Liam scooted closer, the scent of oak and leather filling my senses. My lips tugged up into a smile again as we began studying together.

The soft crunch of footsteps pulls me back to the present, the weight of the past few days settling into my bones. I don’t look up. There are very few people who would venture out to find me — even fewer who would know where to find me. Sure, I have quite a group of friends, but they know I’m typically fine after some time to myself. Something tells me this time is different.

My gaze finally lifts toward the large figure as they drop onto the ledge beside me. I’m half surprised that it’s not my brother, Garrick, but his best friend that takes the space. I study him for a moment. He’s dressed more relaxed than usual, but his muscles are still tense. I fully expected him to be occupied, considering the woman he loves is inside, healing. But he’s right here. Making sure I’m okay. I suppose she hasn’t woken up yet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Xaden’s voice breaks the silence as his dark eyes meet mine. The silence stretches once again. Do I want to talk to him about this? Should I? There was a point in time where the simple thought of him brought a blush to my face. He’s Garrick’s best friend, which means Garrick found him decent enough to be close to him. We’d grown up with him, after all. He’s always been so passionate — and that passion shines through in everything he does. Even now, a leader of a revolution, it’s hard not to be drawn to him. But this is a vulnerable topic. It’s not often that I voice my feelings.

“He’s really gone.” I try to tame the shake in my voice before the words leave my lips but I don’t have any success. Xaden tenses beside me, clenching his jaw, and I look back toward the mountains. He and Liam had been placed in the same foster home — he’d trained him and watched him grow. He’d helped turn him into the boy I fell in love with.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” He cuts me off. “If that’s what you need to talk about… then we’ll talk.” He gives me a nod before going quiet. I don’t break the silence. I don’t know what to say. I know he’s doing the same thing I am — studying the view, taking it in. I know he misses it more than any of us, and that, on top of the grief of losing his brother… Gods, I can’t imagine what he’s feeling.

I look at him again, and his eyes find mine. The typical glare they usually hold is missing, replaced by something softer and kinder. I see it often. He’s always had a soft spot for me, though he never outright admits it. 

“Gen…” Xaden’s voice is soft, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for the words to say. “You loved him… didn’t you?” The words feel like a punch to the gut. I haven’t spoken much about my feelings — certainly not with Garrick or Xaden, and certainly not with Liam himself. I’ve wanted to, but the words get stuck in my throat any time I start.

“I…” My voice trails off. There they go, getting stuck again. Part of me wants to deny it, keep it for myself, and hold on to the feeling of being in love for the life of me. My heart has been ripped to shreds, and the only person who could mend it isn’t here. Tears begin to brim my eyes as my gaze falls back on the scenery ahead. Xaden is silent, which isn’t unusual, but I know he’s waiting for me to continue. 

“I never got to tell him…” I finally whisper, my voice cracking ever so slightly. I’ve never been one to show much emotion, but recently, I haven’t had much control. I’ve been distancing myself, knowing I’ll either lash out or break down if anyone gets too close. My jaw clenches as my vision begins to blur. “... How I felt, what I thought of him. How much I appreciate him. How much I appreciate everything he’s done for me.” I shake my head, attempting to blink away the tears, but the action only causes a few of them to stream down my cheeks. 

“He knows.” The older boy nods, certainty bleeding through his tone. “He knows all of it now… and I’d bet quite a bit of gold that he felt the same.” A very small smile touches his lips as my eyes find him again. I don’t understand how he can seem so… fine after everything that’s happened. We’d been set up to die. Violet almost died. Liam did die. Xaden’s ability to be the calm in the storm will always be something I admire; it’s always drawn me to him. Sometimes, he used that ability to his advantage. He can be deadly when he truly wants to be. 

“Can I tell you something?” I ask softly, my eyes catching on the scar on his brow for a moment, admiring it. Although the feelings I once had are no longer there, I can’t deny how attractive he is. “I haven’t really been able to… talk about anything with anyone.” More like I haven’t tried to.

Xaden leans back on his hands, keeping his eyes on me as he nods, urging me to continue. I’m sure he knows all the information I’m about to spew at him, but it’ll be nice to finally let something out for once. 

My gaze lingers on him for a moment before I lick my lips and continue, “Before him, I thought I already knew what love was.” My voice goes quieter as my eyes fall to my lap, and I start to fiddle with my fingers. “I thought a… childhood crush was love. I thought it was everything I’d been looking for. I thought I was completely screwed because the man I supposedly loved saw me as nothing more than a little sister.” My eyes dart toward him as I hear him snicker, watching as he shakes his head, giving me a knowing look.

“I’m not an idiot, Tavis.” I raise a brow, ready to argue against that statement, but he continues, “And before you get defensive, I’m not judging. I would never judge you. I knew for longer than you think I did.” Xaden’s eyes leave mine, shaking his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say next. “Just because feelings aren’t… reciprocated… doesn’t mean they’re not real. It may not have been love in the sense that you know it now, but it was still an experience.” He finally finishes, giving me a slight nod. 

My eyes narrow for a moment as I listen to what he says, then I shake my head. “Okay, thanks.” I nod, “But that’s not the point.” I speak slowly, a little baffled by his response, then continue, “The point is that I felt much stronger things for him.” Liam and I had been friends before going into the Rider’s Quadrant due to Garrick and I visiting after we were placed in our foster homes, but we’d grown closer after crossing parapet. Thankfully, my brother and I weren’t placed far from each other like Liam and his sister, Sloane, had been — otherwise, I likely wouldn’t have met him.

“When we first joined the quadrant, everything changed. We immediately became really good friends.” I nodded slowly as I recalled everything, and Xaden sat quietly, listening intently. “We spent every moment we could together. Sure, eventually, I met Vi, Ridoc, Sawyer, and Rhi… they’re all amazing. But Liam and I had this… connection that I never had with anyone else.” I feel tears beginning to fill my eyes as well, and I don’t attempt to hide it this time. 

“One day, we were sparring together. We were alone… it was late. One thing led to another, and… he kissed me.” Tears left wet trails down my cheeks as I stared off, recalling the memory. 

“Quite the position you’ve got me in here, Mairi,” I spoke breathlessly as he hovered above me, his hips pinning mine to the mat and his hands pinning my wrists above my head. I couldn’t lie; I enjoyed being in this position with him. I could feel his body heat against me — and I was very aware of how his training tee outlined his muscles. I’d let my soul meet Malek before ever admitting that to him.

“You flustered, Tavis?” Liam arched a brow as his gaze focused on my features with a grin. I couldn’t tell what that look meant — Was he thinking the same thing I was? Was the fact that our bodies were touching in such intimate places driving him crazy, too? Or was he simply trying to catch me off guard?

“Me? Flustered?” I let out a scoff, fighting to deny the accusation. Admitting anything would only give him the upper hand. “In your dreams, Mairi.” I shook my head, and his grin only widened. 

I studied his features as I laid beneath him, letting my eyes fall on his lips for a moment. I noticed the catch in his breath, the way he faltered — even if it was just a little. An idea sparked in my mind. Although I enjoyed being in this position with him, I could still have some fun with the rest of the sparring match. His gaze then followed a path similar to my own, glancing down at my lips. I felt his body relax on top of mine.

As soon as I knew his guard was down, I quickly moved my wrists out of his grip and took his wrists into my own grip. I then used all my body weight to flip us over, pinning him in a very similar position. Realistically, I knew he could turn it back around if he really wanted to. But he didn’t.

“Quite the position you’ve got me in here, Tavis.” His grin was still huge, and he raised a brow as his blue eyes met mine. He was obviously enjoying all of this. I was suddenly very aware of just how easy it would be to place my thighs on either side of him and have my way with him. My skin heated at the thought, but I managed to push it away before it could become an issue.

“You flustered, Mairi?” I questioned, raising a brow back at him. I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest. 

“And if I was?” My body tensed above him. Had I heard him correctly? My eyes were trained on the freckles that littered his face, once again questioning if he was trying to throw me off for the win. Something in those beautiful blue eyes told me he wasn’t. 

I didn’t reply, but neither of us moved either. We laid there, me pinning him to the sparring mat, our breathing syncing. Suddenly — as if acting on impulse — Liam tilted his head up and closed the gap between us, pressing his lips against mine. Stunned, I froze for a moment before kissing him back.

Fireworks set off in my stomach as I moved my hands from his wrists to cup his face. Liam let out a soft hum against my lips as he deepened the kiss, and I followed, moving to bury one of my hands in his hair. I could feel his hands on my body, roaming along my waist, and his body pressed up against mine. It made me feral — something nobody ever made me feel. I’d never let anyone touch me beyond kissing and a few roaming hands. Nothing more than a make-out session. If this continued, I had a feeling it would turn into much more.

Moments later, we heard the gym doors open, causing both of us to jump and remove ourselves from each other. Our lips were swollen, his hair was a mess, and there was absolutely no denying what had happened, even if the culprit hadn’t already seen it. Heat rushed to my face, and our eyes darted toward the door to see who had interrupted. Then, we found the Wing Leader staring at us with raised brows. He muttered something about first years under his breath before shaking his head and immediately retreating back into the hallway.

Xaden’s soft hum pulls me away from the memory. “You forget that I walked in on that.” I look over at him to see his nose scrunching up in mock disgust. “I’m still scarred,” he adds, and I roll my eyes playfully, letting out a soft laugh. It almost takes me by surprise; I haven’t heard myself laugh since the night of reunification — before everything went to shit. 

“It’s your fault for walking in,” I joke, raising a brow at him.

The older boy lets out a scoff, furrowing his brows. “You act like it isn’t a space open to the entire quadrant.”

“You had no business being there that late.” I playfully glare at him, causing him to laugh and shake his head. I almost feel lighter, like all my problems have disappeared. He doesn’t say anything further as the two of us fall into a content silence. 

“You scared the shit out of him, y’know.” I break the silence after a moment, laughing quietly as the memory of Liam panicking over Xaden finding us resurfaces.

We finally reached my bedroom door after deciding that our sparring session was over. The embarrassment of being caught — and by Xaden, of all people — was like being dunked in a bucket of ice-cold water. We wouldn’t have been able to focus if we’d continued.

Liam seemed more freaked out by the event than I had expected. I was just embarrassed — he looked as if his world was coming to its inevitable end. He fidgeted with his hands, his brow tightly knit, unusually quiet. I let him sit in silence for a while, but the anticipation of not knowing how he felt was starting to wear on me. Did he regret the kiss?

I pushed the door open and stepped into my room, gently grabbing Liam by the arm to tug him through the ward that Xaden and Garrick had insisted be put in place. I had complained about the overprotective nature of it, but I admit that I appreciated the extra layer of protection in this hellhole.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, closing the door before watching as he fell into his usual spot in the chair beside my desk. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his body wound tight with tension and his mind obviously reeling. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in my room — we’d had countless study sessions in here — so it was a comfortable space for this inevitable talk.

“What’s wrong?” Liam repeated, his brows shooting upward as he let his body fall back into the chair. “Xaden just walked in on us kissing, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?” His hands were moving frantically, mirroring his panic. I still couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was panicking, though.

“I’m sure Xaden has seen more traumatizing things.” I joked and let out a soft laugh. I studied his features — his blonde hair, his blue eyes, the freckles that decorated his face. It was something that I did often, though I tried to be subtle about it. He was beautiful.

“What if he tells Garrick?” His tone was now exasperated. I furrowed my brows at the question. He was worried about my brother finding out? I walked over to sit on the edge of my bed, across from his chair, keeping my gaze on him.

“Would that be so bad?” I questioned, letting out a small laugh. Sure, Garrick could be overprotective, but he was reasonable, at least. I never had an issue of him interfering with my love life. He trusted me to make the right choices — and come to him if they turned out to be the wrong ones.

“You don’t get it.” Liam sighed and ran his hands down his face. I tried my hardest not to focus on the veins that made their way from his forearms to his hands as he did so. “You’re not an older brother.” My face softened as I heard the words. He was looking at this from the perspective of Garrick himself — how he would feel if someone he trusted and considered a friend had seemingly gone behind his back and kissed his little sister.

“But you are,” I said, giving him a small nod as I leaned back on my hands. “How would you react to Sloane kissing someone you were friends with?” I raised a brow, keeping my eyes on him as I waited for his response. 

“I would be furious.” He scoffs, bringing a hand up to run through his hair before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees once again. He was still fidgeting. “And if I fuck up? What happens? Do I lose two important people in my life?” An ache blossomed in my chest, and I wanted to kiss him until he was breathless and assured that nothing he could ever do would cause him to lose me. But I could tell he was gathering himself, reeling himself back in from the panic, so I didn’t. 

“But I guess I’d come around eventually — if she really liked them.” Liam’s blue eyes met mine as he broke the silence, causing a small smile to grow on my face. We fell into a comfortable silence as I allowed him to sort through his thoughts more, and he eventually leaned back in the chair again as he relaxed. 

“I write her letters all the time.” His voice was softer now as he glued his eyes to the floor. My heart skipped at the admission. “I know I can’t send them, and she’ll already be here by the time I’m able to… but fuck, there’s so much I want her to know, so much I don’t want to forget. So much I want to prepare her for.” The ache in my chest returned as I listened to him. I could tell he was terrified for her to join the quadrant, and it was obvious how much he missed her. He’d brought her up quite a few times in passing. I couldn’t help but wonder if Garrick had felt similarly during his first year.

“I promise there are just as many things she wants you to know.” I smiled small and gave him a nod, speaking from experience. The age gap between Garrick and I was larger, so we were able to write letters back and forth before I joined, but nothing could beat talking to him in person. Although there had always been a sense of dread about joining the riders quadrant, there was also a sense of relief that I would see the people I loved again. 

A small smile grew on Liam’s lips as his eyes drifted to meet mine again. “Do you think he’ll tell him?” He asked. Xaden was just as protective as Garrick. He wouldn’t rush off to tell him immediately, but he certainly wouldn’t pass up the chance to mention it the first chance he got. 

“I think it’s very likely.” A chuckle escaped my lips as I nodded, causing him to tilt his head back against the chair and let out a dramatic groan. “But I don’t think it will be as big of a deal as you’re making it out to me.” I shook my head, watching him in amusement. 

“Why’s that?” Liam raised an eyebrow as he turned his head toward me, still tilting it back against the chair.

I went quiet for a moment, my heart and my brain having a silent debate. One of them — my heart — told me to tell him the truth, to spill all of my feelings to him. My brain was telling me to keep it to myself — that chances are, he didn’t feel the same, and it was a spur-of-the-moment kiss. But the fact that he was so anxious told me otherwise.

“Because to him, I’m an open book.” My shoulders shrugged, and I paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I’ve thought about you for… a while now. And he knows that. I’m sure he’d be pretty understanding.” My heart pounded as I kept my attention on him.

Liam froze as he listened to me. Shit. Did I make a mistake? Had I read him wrong? Did he not feel the same way about me? Was the kiss not good for him? I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spiraling — now I was the one panicking.

“A while, huh?” His voice brought me out of my thoughts. He had noticeably relaxed in a matter of seconds, his voice teasing now. Heat began to creep up my face once again. “Do you have a crush on me, Genevieve?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. There was no way this was the same man who was freaking out just minutes before. “You’re insufferable,” I said with a soft chuckle. 

“I take pride in it.” A grin grew on his face. “You want to tell me just how long this little crush has been going on?” He raised a brow, and I could feel his eyes studying me.

I groaned, falling backward on my bed. “Insufferable,” I repeated, causing him to let out a laugh from deep within his stomach — a real one. The sound brought a smile to my face.

My chest aches as his laugh echoes in my head.

I stay quiet for a moment, my lips rubbing together. “He definitely wasn’t my first kiss, but he was my first for a lot of other things.” I nod slowly. I can feel Xaden’s gaze on me but I don’t meet it.

“I know you don’t want to hear about that, but the connection… I don’t know that I could find that anywhere else.” I stare off for a moment, attempting to ignore the sting that threatens to return to my eyes. One would think I didn’t have any tears left to cry, but I’m actively proving that wrong.

“Are you sure about this?” Liam questioned as he hovered above me, both of our shirts already discarded and thrown somewhere in the room. It was late, after another sparring session, and we were in my room. A make-out session had gotten a little too heated, and well, here we were on my bed.

I nodded, allowing my eyes to study his freckles for a moment — they were almost like constellations. My gaze then fell to his lips, already swollen from kisses. He was beautiful like this, disheveled, his guard down as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure in my life.” A small smile came onto my lips, which was quickly returned by the boy. 

Liam bit his lip as he slowly trailed a hand down along my body, mapping every curve. I felt my breath hitch in response, the heat in my lower stomach only intensifying from the anticipation. I gasped quietly as he slid his hand under the waistband of my pants, then my underwear, running a finger along my already slick core and causing me to let out a soft moan. Nobody had ever touched me like this.

“So fucking wet for me,” he muttered as he began toying with my clit, adding another finger and drawing more moans out of me. “So fucking beautiful.” Liam’s words shot right to my core, only adding to the pleasure. He had to know what he was doing to me.

I felt two of his fingers circle around my entrance before sliding into me with ease, causing me to gasp and toss my head back against the pillow. The feeling. The stretch. It was overwhelming — so much better than doing it myself, imagining it was someone else touching the most intimate parts of my body.

Liam grinned as he began pumping his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes on my face. “Such a good girl,” he cooed as I felt his thumb press against my clit, adding a delicious amount of pressure. 

“F-fuck,” I moaned out, looking up at him as white-hot pleasure coursed through my body. I could feel him everywhere — his presence was maddening, and the fact that all his focus was on me even more so. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

Liam’s fingers began to pump faster, curling and hitting that delicious spot inside me. He mumbled praises under his breath, each of them only intensifying the pleasure. I began to feel a knot building in my lower stomach, grinding my hips up toward his hand. My back bows, the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of me filling the room. 

“I-I think I’m gonna–” My words are cut off by another loud moan. 

“I know, baby,” His voice was soft, the sloshing of his fingers pumping into me growing louder as he pumped faster. “Let it out for me. I’m right here with you. Show me how good I make you feel.” He coaxed. 

I felt him begin to kiss along my chest before attaching his lips to one of my nipples, and he only added more pressure to my clit. The pleasure grew more intense with the added sensation, my moans growing louder as I squeezed my eyes shut. My body shook against his as the knot in my stomach began to unravel. Moments later, I moan out his name as I release around his fingers, my walls pulsating around them.

“That’s it,” Liam cooed against my skin, “Such a good girl for me, look at you cumming all over my fingers.”

The words felt like a blanket over me as he rode out my orgasm, and I relaxed beneath him, breathing heavily. He lifted his head before planting gentle kisses on my neck, removing his fingers from me. I whimpered at the loss, squirming beneath him. Liam chuckled low against my skin as he trailed kisses further down my body, and I looked down as he began to work my pants off. 

“What are you–” I’m cut off by his shushing. 

“Let me take care of you,” He muttered against my skin. The heat in my stomach ignited once again as he tugged my pants down before tossing them to the floor. He then wasted no time diving in between my thighs, drawing loud moans from me again.

I blink and feel a tear roll down my cheek. I realize I’m still sitting on the ledge with Xaden rather than in my room back in Basgiath with Liam.

Xaden’s eyes scan over me with a sorrowful look. “I didn’t know you guys were so intimate…” He spoke softly, his tone more comforting than usual. I bring my hands up to wipe my eyes. I’m so tired of crying. 

I let out a soft hum in response. “We didn’t see any point in screaming it from the rooftops.” I shook my head slightly. “We never made anything official. The only conversation we really had was regarding whether or not we were exclusive.” I nod my head slightly, bringing a hand up to run through my hair.

We were exclusive. We’d decided that after I’d gotten jealous of some girl trying to make a move. I almost laugh at the memory of how dramatic I’d been.

I walked out of battle brief without saying a word to Liam. In fact, that’s how I’d been walking out of every class for the past week. I played it off as having somewhere to be, but truthfully, I simply didn’t want to face the storm brewing inside me.

“Gen!” I could hear him calling out for me. Why was he chasing after me now? Why hadn’t he done it sooner? Did he truly care, or did he just want to make sure he could still get laid? I hated myself for thinking that, but I couldn’t help it. I always thought jealousy was pitiful — pathetic, even — but then I saw her talking to him, twirling her blonde hair around her finger. His smile. Now, it had plagued me like a disease.

I felt a hand grip my arm before I could round a corner, yanking me into an empty classroom. I furrowed my brows, eyes darting around to ensure nobody was present before focusing on Liam. 

“What the hell are you doing?” I hated the way my body relaxed at the sight of him, the way my voice couldn’t be as strong as I willed it to be. The effect he had on me was always undeniable. My heart and my brain were fighting over how to feel — currently, my brain was winning, but my heart was putting up a damned good fight. 

“Why haven’t you been talking to me?” Liam asked with furrowed brows, concern lining his face and filling his eyes as he studied me. It was silly, really. I shouldn’t have been avoiding him like this. Who was I to be jealous of some girl?

“I’ve had the same question,” Eilidh’s voice echoed in my head. “You don’t have time for these pathetic and petty acts.” She was right. I had bigger things to worry about, but I couldn’t help it. He deserved proper communication, though.

I stayed quiet, my eyes glued to the wall behind him before meeting his gaze. “I saw you last week. You were… talking to someone. Some girl. She seemed nice, and you seemed quite interested in her.” My voice was soft, almost shy. I never got jealous. I had no reason to. We never agreed to be exclusive. 

“Are you jealous, Tavis?” Liam raised a brow, amusement washing over his face as he watched me.

I sighed quietly, looking away from him again. I didn’t want him to think I was possessive. I didn’t want to be that girl who held him back. He had never been the kind of guy to settle on one girl. 

“Gen,” He spoke up softly after a moment, keeping his eyes on me. I didn’t answer, not wanting to deepen my own embarrassment. 

“Genevieve.” I finally looked up at him, and he brought his hands up to cradle my face. “Nothing happened with her.”

“It sure seemed like something was happening,” I spat back, my tone more angry than I cared to admit I was. Gods, I was so pathetic. 

“She was trying, but if you had stuck around a little longer, you would have seen me walk away and find Xaden.” His blue eyes focused on my hazel eyes. My brows furrowed. 

“Xaden?” 

He nodded. “I didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I went to Xaden.” Liam scrunched his nose slightly, his thumbs gently brushing against my cheeks. I felt myself relax more at his touch, finding comfort in how gentle he was with his rough hands.

“And what did Xaden say?” I raised a brow as I studied him, focusing on his freckles — Gods, I loved his freckles — and taking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“He basically said I’m stupid for being so scared about it.” He laughed quietly. “A little rich coming from him considering how often he denies his feelings for Violet.”

I let out a soft laugh and shook my head, feeling a weight fall off my shoulders. I moved my arms to wrap around his shoulders and allowed my body to relax into his. 

“You could have talked to me,” Liam spoke up softly as he tilted his head down to look at me. “Probably would have cleared everything up pretty quickly.” A small laugh escaped his lips, causing me to roll my eyes. He was right, but I wouldn’t admit that.

“I didn’t think you’d want anything more.” I shook my head slightly, hating myself for how stupid I’d been.

“I don’t know what I want.” He shook his head as well. “All I know is I don’t want to do it with anyone else. This doesn’t have to be some… crazy declaration. But we can agree not to see other people if that’s what you want.”

I saw something as I looked into those beautiful eyes of his. Hope. Yearning. A million things being left unsaid. He knew I had an issue with commitment, and he was trying to navigate it the best he could.

“I’d like that,” I said with a nod, a smile forming on both of our lips. The world stilled for a moment as we held each other’s gaze. Before much else could be said, Liam leaned in to gently press his lips against mine. It didn’t take long for that kiss to turn into something much more heated.

“I remember him coming to me in a panic about not wanting anyone else,” Xaden’s laugh and his voice pull me back to reality. “I think he was just scared of getting hurt, which anyone can relate to.”

I nodded a little, staying quiet. I couldn’t think of a response. After that conversation, Liam and I spent every possible moment together. We were together the night of reunification day, the last real moment we had alone before being sent to Athebyne. The last real moment we had before Resson.

I took in a deep breath, the scent of oak and leather wrapping around my senses as Liam wrapped himself around me, his arm draped over my waist. We must have fallen asleep after our… activities that night. Xaden had finally let him have a break from being Violet’s body guard since he had decided to be with her tonight. Every one of my instincts told me to stay like this forever — wrapped up in his sheets — but that wouldn’t be realistic. 

Liam moved his arm to gently rub his hand along the bare skin of my waist, and I shifted to lay on my back, a soft smile growing on my lips as I looked up at him. His hand now rested on my bare stomach, and I lifted my own to gently run through his hair before slowly tracing my finger down along his jawline.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice came out soft and groggy from just waking up. It almost ignited that flame in my lower stomach once again, but I just wanted to lay here with him for a while longer. I went quiet for a moment, deciphering how to form my thoughts into words. 

“What things would be like if we weren’t… here.” I finally spoke up quietly. I could almost see it — sleeping in late, finding him shirtless in the kitchen making breakfast. Holding his hand just because I could, kissing him without worrying if it may be the last. The late nights spent with our friends, the laughter. The joy. Maybe in this other life, I wouldn’t feel the need to guard my love so stubbornly and could tell him how I truly felt. Some of these things were obtainable, but it was difficult to have them when we never knew if we would survive to see next week.

Liam let out a soft hum in response, his index finger tracing shapes on my skin. “What, if we weren’t forced into a death sentence?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, though we both knew there was truth to it. That’s exactly what it was supposed to be for us marked ones — a death sentence. Leadership hated it when we moved up the ranks with ease, like Xaden and Garrick, but there wasn’t much they could do. They couldn’t deny how much of an asset some of us were to the continent.

“Somethin’ like that,” I said with a soft laugh, studying the freckles that painted his face as if I didn’t already know them like the back of my hand. He was so beautiful — like a work of art. All of him. Sure, his body was absolutely divine, but he was arguably the kindest person I had met and definitely the most patient. Liam was confided in often, and yet he never complained — nor did he judge. He was the kind of person to put everyone before himself.

His head dipped to bury his face in my neck, planting gentle kisses. “And what would things be like?” Liam asked teasingly as he nipped at my ear. That flame simmered below the surface, ready to ignite any second if he continued. I drew in a deep breath as his lips trailed down along my skin. 

I held back a breathy moan, my thighs pressing together like the traitors they were. “You’re gonna tire us both out again if you keep on with that,” I told him, resisting the urge to squirm beneath him.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Liam responded, “the best sleep aid known to man.” He began leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses along my collarbones. I let out a sensual sigh, wetting my lips with my tongue. 

“You’re insufferable.” My voice came out shakier than intended. I had a love-hate relationship with the way he affected me — or my body, I suppose — it gave him far too much control. I allowed it, though, because the love tended to override the hate. Liam knew the effect he had, and he took advantage of it every chance he could.

“And I take pride in it,” Liam said with a teasing laugh, his lips now moving up along my neck toward my own. 

“Now answer my question.” He grinned as he pecked my lips. “What would things be like?” 

I opened my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by an urgent pounding on the door. “I know you’re in there, Mairi!” A voice called from the other side. Bodhi? “We’re being called to formation.”

Liam and I both let out a groan as he let his head fall to rest on my chest. Bodhi pounded on the door again before Liam let out a deep sigh and got out of bed, grabbing his underwear from the floor and shuffling it back on. I pulled the sheets over my body and tried not to focus on how the muscles in his back rippled with every movement as he walked over and opened the door. 

Bodhi was standing there, already dressed in his leathers and ready to go. He looked into the room and made eye contact with me, his brows shooting up toward his hairline.

“My bad for interrupting,” He spoke up and averted his gaze from mine, looking back at Liam. His face was solemn, and he didn’t make a teasing remark like he usually would. A beat passed before he spoke again as if gathering his thoughts. “We’re under attack. Get to formation. Now.”

My heart dropped to my ass as Bodhi rushed away, and Liam closed the door before anyone else could see us. Under attack? On reunification day? How the fuck does that happen? That couldn’t be a coincidence. Liam turned to look at me, his wide eyes meeting mine, and then we both scrambled to get our clothes on.

Liam turned to me once we finished, stalking over before gently taking my face in his hands. He leaned in to kiss me before mumbling, “We can finish this talk later.” A small grin made its way onto his face. “I’d love to hear that answer.”

His voice echoes in my mind. I’d love to hear that answer. The answer I never had the chance to give him. I squeeze my hand around the wooden sculpture of Eilidh. I can feel her at the back of my mind, quiet but waiting in case I need her. I don’t know what I need. 

“He got better with it.” I smile softly. Though we never said those three words, he was always very vocal about how he felt — consistently reassuring me I was the only one he wanted, telling me how amazing I looked even when I was a sweaty mess after challenges or sparring sessions.

“I was going to tell him the last night we were together, the night of reunification. Being called to formation kind of ruined that.” I let out a dry laugh, almost a scoff. “It still fucks with me that they told us we were under attack when it was really fucking war games.” 

Xaden grunts in response. “Had to be realistic, I guess. Wanted the adrenaline rush to see how we’d do if it were real.” This time, I let out a real scoff but don’t respond because he’s right. That’s exactly what it was, a test to see how quickly we’d react. 

“And then they sent us to our deaths,” I say quietly. Xaden doesn’t respond, but I notice how his jaw clenches. I know he feels like he failed us that day — failed Violet, Liam, and Soleil especially. I want to tell him it isn’t true, that he couldn’t have controlled what happened to us that day, but I know it would fall on deaf ears. 

“I can’t get it out of my head.” My voice falls to a whisper. “He was… fine. He was healthy. He was fighting, didn’t miss a beat, and then suddenly…” I trail off, chewing on the inside of my cheek. An ache comes creeping into my chest. I’ve debated numerous times asking Imogen to wipe the memory of him, but I know that wouldn’t be beneficial.

My feet hit the ground as I dismounted Eilidh. I could hear Deigh’s cries from a mile away. Surely he was just injured — surely he’d be fine. My eyes searched the area before finding Violet’s half-silver hair, my brows furrowing as I took in the sight of her on the ground. What the hell was happening? Why wasn’t Eilidh speaking to me? Had she shut me out? Did I do something?

I rush over, the breath leaving my lungs as I take in the sight before me. Liam was lying in her arms. No color to his face. Barely awake, his breathing shallow. I couldn’t see any blood; his body seemed fine, but he obviously wasn’t. 

“Oh my Gods, what happened?” I managed to get out as I fell to my knees beside her. Violet was kind enough to gently move Liam toward me, allowing me to gently wrap my arms around him. 

“Deigh…” Liam’s voice was strained. He’d hardly managed to get the words out before coughing. I shook my head slightly in a silent plea for him to save his energy, gently caressing my thumb along his cheek. He looked so tired. So weak. I looked up at Violet and met her gaze. There were tears streaming down her face.

“He was attacked… gutted,” Violet spoke very softly. “He was… he was protecting Tairn and I. He… he didn’t make it, Gen.” My breath caught in my throat at her words. A sudden wave of grief fell over me, partially my own but primarily Eilidh’s. Her shield must have fallen. If Deigh was dead, Liam only had minutes before he followed. If that.

My eyes fell back down to Liam, whose blue eyes studied my features like they had done a million times before. 

“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, and I couldn’t stop the tears that flooded from my eyes. This would be the last time I could hold him, the last time I could look at his beautiful eyes. The last time I could admire those freckles I loved so much. 

“It’s o-okay,” He nodded, tears brimming his own eyes. “Everything will be okay.”

I shook my head as I listened to what he said. Everything would not be okay, not without him. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I should have told him how I felt. I should have told him how much I loved him. But my voice fell into a void, and I cursed myself for it. 

“Listen to me.” There was a shake in Liam’s voice. His energy was depleting — and quickly. “No matter what happens right now, you fight. Do you understand me? Don’t let this pull you into the dark; you fight it. You fight them. And you win. This is just a battle. We can still win the war.” His hand grasped mine as he met my tearful gaze. I stared down at him for a moment before nodding.

I would make every dark wielder pay for this. Who were they to take him from me? Who were they to attack us and assume there would be no consequence? This wouldn’t be over until every last one of them met the same fate. I’d make sure of it. 

“I promise. I’ll fight. For you, for Deigh.” I nodded again. “I promise.” And I meant it. That’s a promise I would keep. 

Liam gave me a small, weak smile. I tilted my head down and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, then one on his forehead, before Xaden landed on Sgaeyl beside us. He dismounted as quickly as possible and rushed over. My vision was blurred, my hearing muffled. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the ache forming in my chest. My body was frozen. All I could hear was Xaden’s voice as he said, “I know, brother,” before Liam was lifted from my arms and carried over to Deigh. I should have said a proper goodbye, but my heart wouldn’t let me.

I let out a deep, shaky breath as my eyes glued themselves to the grass below me, the spot where he’d been lying in my arms. I managed to blink away some of the tears before lifting my head to watch Xaden and Liam. I allowed myself to sit and wallow in the grief for a moment.

Don’t let this pull you into the dark. His voice echoed in my head. I would never be able to get over this — to get over him. I’d never be able to let go.

“You don’t have to let go of anything.” Eilidh’s voice finally sounded in my head. “But you do have to fight through it. We have people depending on us, Brave One.” 

I let out a slow breath, attempting to stabilize myself, and stood up. She was right. We did have people depending on us. I couldn’t wallow in my grief; I didn’t have time for that. Not yet, at least. 

So I looked out to where our friends were fighting. I studied them for a moment and assessed my surroundings, beginning to create a game plan in my head. I then quickly mounted Eilidh once again before she took off. I had a promise to fulfill.

“I don’t think that’s something any of us are going to get out of our heads.” Xaden shakes his head as he looks forward, not wanting to look me in the eye. It’s a sore subject for all of us, especially so soon after. 

“And that’s okay. You should remember him; all of us should…” His voice trails off as he pauses for a moment as if thinking about how he should continue. “But we have to remember that people die in war, Gen. If we let it eat us alive… if we let it hold us back, then they’d have died in vain. 

His words sink into my bones as I take my bottom lip between my teeth. He’s right. Liam isn’t the only one we lost in that battle. Xaden has always been great with speeches and motivational talks, but I’m not typically someone who needs them. Guess there’s a first time for everything. I don’t notice the silence until he breaks it again.

“And he wouldn’t want you to hold anything back.” The older boy speaks softly, his onyx eyes finally meeting mine once again. I can’t tell where he’s about to take this conversation.

“It won’t happen now, but eventually… eventually you’ll find someone who makes you feel loved and appreciated. And I know for a fact he would want you to do what makes you happy. No matter what that is, no matter who it is, he would want you to be happy.

I close my eyes, going quiet as I chew on my bottom lip. I don’t want to think about being with anyone else — I can’t imagine loving anybody else. The idea of giving myself to someone else makes my stomach churn.

“Thanks for the talk.” I give him a slight nod, not acknowledging what he had said. I push the idea of potentially falling in love with someone else away. It’s not an option. Not right now. I’m not sure it ever could be. 

“I should get back inside before Violet wakes up and I’m not there.” Xaden runs his fingers through his onyx locks before moving to stand up from the ledge. He reaches his hand down to give my shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Let me know if you need anything.” 

I don’t respond as he walks away I look back down at my hands in my lap, staring at the wooden dragon in my hands. My thumb traces over the ridges of Eilidh’s features, about a thousand emotions swirling inside me. I take a moment for myself before standing from the ledge and following Xaden into the Riorson house.

[sevdonic]

Severus Snape and Aesop Sharp, illustrated by the lovely voxophile on AO3 for my fic, “double-edged wand”

first fic I’ve ever written and first artwork I’ve ever received. I could cry this is the best thing in the world and I am cherishing this forever

Summary:

In your seventh year at Hogwarts, your mentorship with the enigmatic Potions Master, Severus Snape, teeters on the edge of an exhilarating yet complicated turning point.

Just as you dare to explore your complex feelings for him, you're accepted into the prestigious Goldhawk Initiative—a specialized Auror training program led by the Ministry of Magic.

Under the tutelage of the charismatic Aesop Sharp, a captivating ex-Auror, you're thrust into into a world of rigorous training, advanced spell-casting and high-stakes law enforcement.

In a world on the cusp of a Wizarding War, you navigate a labyrinth of secrets and dualities. Severus Snape, your potion-making mentor, offers a world of hidden depths and unspoken affection, while Aesop Sharp, the enigmatic ex-Auror, ignites the thrill of danger and the allure of the unknown.

Both men, adding contrasting hues to your life and shrouded in their own mysteries, lead you to a tantalizing crossroads. With the impending war casting shadows, their secretive pasts hover close, challenging you to choose between the art of subtlety and the adrenaline of the frontline.

[sisyphusofdishes]

been a treat to see your art on my dash lately :3

Still working on that demon realm project and thought I'd show you the rough draft of the biomes I adapted from your ideas!

“Hell” :

Valleys home to vernal pools that can grow up to five feet deep, it’s the rainiest and hottest biome in the realm. Life here is resilient, and even larger than in the Wasteland, if you can believe it.  The pomegranates growing here are the biggest and juiciest in the realm, and the area is generally known for its gardening/gathering and hunting communities.

Sunny Depths:

The pink sand at the bottom of the lake is almost rose in hue and glows brightly enough that even in deep shade from surrounding flora, the clearing is as bright as if in direct sunlight. This lake is actually the uppermost point of an enormous groundwater system; demons tracked the floor of water deep underground by observing the plants with that faint glow. The oldest demons swear up and down that the lake did not glow like this before, and if it did, certainly not to this extent - but even blaming the goddesses isn’t sufficient to explaining the glow as foreign. Many native plants from both the demon and vampire realms have bioluminescent properties, so why is the soil gaining those properties in certain areas over time strange? Sure, the goddesses have attempted biochemical warfare before, but if that was the case wouldn’t it be . . . effective at causing death? On the contrary, this lakewater has observed nutritional benefits. Except to humans, who claim it’s “radioactive,” whatever that means. 

Death’s Marks:

Hallowed grounds of goddess-wrought devastation from the times they managed to enter the demon realm. Redistributing the Tyrant King’s magical energy back to the Demon Realm itself has gone a long way into restoring much of the native species across war-affected areas, but these spots in particular continue to need special care. Previously the zones cast a dreadful and eerie atmosphere, appearing as if the goddesses sucked what the demons know as life out of it, leaving only the bleached husks of crying, wounded plants. Nowadays, the normally vibrant pink soil bears most of the scars of the offensive magic, now paler than Britannian flowers. Expert trappers have spent decades treating the native animals as best they can, but due to their highly adaptive nature, some specimens’ conditions cannot be reversed. Others stubbornly evade any interaction with demons. Who knows, really, what still lurks in there? Nowadays, flora and fauna are beginning to grow anew in places, and locals are hopeful to one day fully reclaim those areas of nature that haunted them so.

Hope you enjoyed the sneak peak!!! More to come eventually lololol

Omg that sounds fabulous! I love the amount of detail you put into these, it's so cool, Can't wait too see more!. I've tried to find fics about the demon realm having radioactive stuff but I couldn't find any so I'm so glad your doing something! So happy that you're enjoying my art!😊😊 might include some of your ideas in future drawings if that's OK with you?

[birdstooth]

I was going to feel cringe about making this post, but then one person liked it and I got a lot of validation from that, lmao,so @thedonswife13, this is for you buddy 🥹

Btw idk if you have read the series but I highly recommend it! It’s actually has more of a bleak, tragedy kind of vibe, but in a way where you can’t stop reading bc the story has its poetic little claws in your heart.

[birdstooth]

Looooool I can’t 😂😂😂 this is literally the kind of psychological warfare I engaged in at the age of 12 y/o when I fought with my parents and wanted to “punish” them so they would come apologize to me first 😭

For real I’d just sulk in my room and not come for dinner - and the whole time I’d be so hungry but thinking like “they must be so worried about me hahaha, let them suffer from my silent treatment!! I hope they feel very tormented and guilty 😈”

Meanwhile my parents were probably having a peaceful dinner with nice conversation like, “phew that kid finally gave us a break! I couldn’t deal with that whiny brat for another second 😮‍💨”

Anyway, I can’t get a grasp on what the frickle frackle kind of clothing people wore during the medieval period, so I went with a mishmash of things I saw on Google images and Etsy, which probably resulted in the most wildly inaccurate outcome, so honestly I’m just hoping you guys don’t know what they wore either 🤷‍♀️

Ok but basically, imagine this happened at your work lmao 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Hue and Cry

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You notice a sudden change in Lord Barnes.

Note: This is just me being self-indulgent. I start a new job on Monday and yesterday, someone close to me passed. I’m trying to distract myself but I’m too stressed to work on an standing series. This will have at least one other part.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You scattered fresh herbs over the rushes carefully as you backed down the hall. The woven mats would absorb the scent and keep the floors tidy until the next sweep. When you reached the corner, you tied up the sachet and gathered up your bucket and broom. The corridors were already smelling fresher though the task had kept you well past the evening meal. 

Keep reading

[zaynesplushiekiller]

idv andrew hc with gender neutral s/o who wants to draw him? :)

aka "dreamsy simps over andrew for an entire fic"!

hope you enjoy (✯ᴗ✯)

andrew with a significant other who wants to draw him

✿✿

"you want to... draw me?"

andrew's voice cracks a bit. his face is bright pink, a contrast to his normally pale white skin.

the scars were less evident when he blushed, they blended in with the soft pink hues of his cheeks. gods, he was so adorable.

"yes, I want to draw you at the red church." if andrew's face can go redder, it does. he tries to cover his face with his hands, but to little avail. you can still see the lovingly curious look hidden behind his eyes.

you reach forward and rest your hands on his, pulling them down from his face. his purple eyes bore into your own, almost as though waiting for you to speak once more.

you take the initiative, motioning to the canvas and supplies in the corner of the room. "come to red church with me, andrew, please?"

he can't ignore the puppy eyes you give him, and with anyone else, he would've put up a fight. but not with you. the overwhelming softness in your voice lead him to following you, far from the safe confines of his bedroom. and into the red church he saw nearly every day.

this time, however, he was not going with an outlook of death. only art.

when you arrive, you ask andrew to sit under the archway of the red carpet. the sun doesn't shine, not in the real world. but in your painting, it certainly does. it shines so brightly so it can illuminate andrew's prettiest features.

his hair and skin, features he normally hides from the outside world, put on display in your painting. the scars he desperately covers- bright and shining in the sunlight you make brighter with every stroke.

and your most favorite feature of all? his smile. you've seen it quite a few times, of course, but you wish to see it all the time, don't you?

when andrew smiles, it's always a perfect occasion; since he doesn't smile very much. he does it more often around you. often, he wonders if you notice how much more he smiles around you. you do.

when the painting is finished, you hesitate to show it to andrew. a thought crosses your mind, 'would he be okay with this?' he's self-conscious of his physical body, and you only wishes to highlight the beauty you saw in it.

"may I?" he's in front of the canvas when you're still deep in thought. you nod.

andrew's quiet for a while, as he studies the painting. a fear bubbles within you- does he hate it?

silence fills the air.

and then andrew turns to face you, and the fear bursts through the surface.

"d-do you not like it?" your voice is barely above a whisper. oh gods, what had you done now?

he pulls you into a tight embrace. so tight you barely realize the fact that he was crying. the tears burned through your shirt.

"thank you," he whispers. "I love you."

[cascadena]

Sunset Fireflies

Art and Fic by: Cascadena

(Rated: G; Words: 1385)

“She has been out on the veranda for quite a while now,” said Impa. Her wrinkle-framed eyes glinted in the flicker of the hearth behind her that Paya was cooking our dinner over. “Link, why don’t you go talk to her?”

With effort, I pulled my head away from the wall that I sat against. I had been fighting off the urge to nap ever since I sat down and would lose the battle if I sat for much longer. The Princess went out to Impa’s back porch shortly after our arrival at the Sheikah’s home, and we hadn’t spoken much since Impa’s caravan picked us up from Hyrule Field earlier that day. We were both bruised and littered with cuts, but somehow neither of us had sustained severe injuries. The final roar of Calamity Ganon as Zelda sealed him away still rang in my ears, and I suspected it wouldn’t go away any time soon.

When I pushed open the doors to the rear veranda, Zelda was facing away from me. She leaned over the guardrail, looking down at the trickling stream below. Her golden hair shone in warm hues of the sunset beyond the pine forest surrounding the village. She would stun anyone who would look upon her, despite the stains from a hundred years ago that still muddied her dress.

The Princess snapped her head around before her shoulders relaxed at the sight of me. “Oh, it’s only you, Link.”

“Were you expecting a monster?” I asked as I approached. I intended it as a joke, but the Princess turned away to look over the edge of the porch again, her mouth a hard line.

She groaned. “I’ve only had terrible monsters as my company for the last hundred years,” she mumbled.

I leaned against the guardrail beside her. What a miserable hundred years she had to have witnessed: watching the castle as it was overrun and looted as the fields beyond burned. Not to mention, she’d been holding off Calamity Ganon, the most fearsome beast of the land, the entire time. I’d had a long, lonely journey, but at least I wasn’t under a constant attack for a hundred years straight. “Hopefully my company is more pleasant than that of a monster,” I said.

She looked at me for a second, her brow raised, then returned her gaze over the side of the deck. A frog leapt from a rock and landed in the stream below with a splash. “You know, Link, you seem different,” she said.

My heart sank. I feared Zelda would think I changed a lot after losing and regaining my memories. I looked down at the planks of the deck beneath my boots. Small cracks where the wood had aged littered the edges of a few of them. “I’ve been told that by others I met on my journey who knew me before...” I said.

“It’s understandable. You had a long journey,” said Zelda. Her voice was almost a whisper, as if she could barely get words out. “I am still in disbelief that everything has been accomplished,” she said.

I nodded slowly. “It hasn’t really sunk in for me either.”

She didn’t say anything more for a few minutes. The setting sun slipped behind the cliffside and the light dimmed before she continued. “I could only watch as everything was destroyed,” She said, her voice breaking. “Waves of guardian and monster armies, fueled by calamity ganon, descended upon the land.”

She rubbed her eyes, and I realized she was crying. “Princess…”

“I will never be able to shake the guilt. If… If only I had tried a little harder at Mount Lunayru, maybe it would have awakened in time…” Tears fell down her cheeks. I felt a strange inclination to reach out and hug her, but perhaps she felt I had become too much of a stranger to offer such an act. When she shivered and rubbed her shoulders, I knew I couldn’t just stand idly beside her like the guard I once was to her. I unclasped my Hylian cloak from my shoulders and placed it over Zelda’s without a word.

“Thank you, Link,” she said through a sniffle.

“From what I remember, you worked very hard. You did all you could to save them, and it’s over now. You sealed Ganon away,” I said softly. She nodded, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

“I just… I have no idea how I can bring myself to face this kingdom again after having failed my people…” she said.

We stood for a bit longer in silence as the sun continued to set. A bright green light suddenly blinked from the stream below us and then another flashed in the trees surrounding us. Then another, and another emerged as a bunch of small lights illuminated around us. “Look, sunset fireflies!” I said, pointing them out to the Princess.

“Link… this isn’t the time,” she sniffed.

“Come on, Princess, look!” I said.

Zelda’s looked up at the lights. She frowned. “From the research on them we once did together, I concluded that… they don’t live long,” she said flatly.

I huffed and waved my arm towards the trees. “That doesn’t matter, just look at them! Aren’t they beautiful?”

She looked up again and sighed, giving in to my request to observe them. After a few minutes, her tears stopped. She spoke again. “You’re right, Link, they are beautiful.”

We watched the bugs as they flashed twinkling lights that resembled constellations as darkness completely enveloped the village. It was a spectacular show that always happened in Kakariko on warm, midsummer nights.

The Princess clenched a hand to her chest as she looked up at the trees. “These fireflies… they glow only when the sun sets,” she said. “I believe this may be a sign to us from Hylia. Like the fireflies, our kingdom too can emerge from darkness.”

“Very profound, Princess,” I said. “I hope they inspired you.” She turned and offered a small smile. A wave of relief fell over me with her smile.

As the sky dimmed more, Zelda wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and leaned towards me, her arm grazing against my shoulder. The move might have been subconscious and due to her tiredness, but her touch sent a quick shiver up my side. She was warm now though, and I wanted to lean in to her too.

Whatever moment we were having ended when Paya called to say dinner was ready.

Zelda began towards the door to the inside, but then reached for the clasp of the hood to return it to me. “You can keep that, if you want,” I said, nodding towards her shoulders. “It’s from a shop in Hateno Village.”

She hummed. “It is very nice, though I don’t want to take yours.” She paused, before pivoting around to me and her eyes lit up. “Perhaps I can get my own, and a whole new outfit too. I want to get rid of this old dress and never wear it again. Oh, and I want to get a haircut.”

I laughed. “Whatever you wish, Princess.”

“And you…” Zelda continued, furrowing her brow as she looked over me methodically. It was as if she were inspecting me, and my cheeks unexpectedly started to burn. “You are not dressed for the dangerous, monster infested conditions of Hyrule. That old champion tunic is simply not enough to protect you. You don’t even have proper chainmail. No wonder you fell...”

“Hey, I am old enough to dress myself now,” I said, pointing a finger at her. “I even figured out how to put on pants after I woke up in the shrine of resurrection.”

“Supposedly a hundred and eighteen years still isn’t quite old enough,” she said with a tilt of her head. She bit her lip, only for a moment, then burst into a fit of giggling. I couldn’t help but laugh too.

A second later, her arms were around my shoulders in a hug. “I was wrong. You’re different, but still the same somehow,” said Zelda. “I’ve missed you, Link.”

Her hugs were not numerous in my memories, but her hold still awakened something familiar in my heart as I wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve missed you too, Zelda.”

✨

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Bodies and Betrayals

A/N: I just started a new series called Badlands by Natalie Bennett and it helped inspire this smutty fic. There might be a part 2... 

MASTERLIST 

Angel Reyes x Reader; Ez Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: mention of death, language, smut, oral (f receiving), more smut, grief, reader trying to heal, (gif not mine!)

******************

Thunderous claps of lightening boomed in the distance but Y/N didn’t shy away from the desolate graveyard she currently found herself in. His newly minted tombstone held an array of flowers making her feel like he wasn’t quite gone…not just yet. Six feet under the tarnished ground laid an empty casket. His body had yet to be discovered, only large pools of blood inferencing Angel bled to death. She eyed the gray skies circling the bitter clouds as a chill ran through the wispy air. Her heel sunk another half inch into the damp grass.

Nobody prepares you for the loss of a spouse, a partner, your proverbial other half, but here Y/N was standing at a dead man’s grave wondering where it all went wrong. She aced the art of pretending mastering mere illusions for kicks. She became so good that after a while the lines blurred between truth and fiction. And sometimes, when she did an excellent job, she even fooled myself. Life was particularly fucked up most of time.

Guilt chewed away as she gnawed at the inside of her cheek holding back the forlorn tears. Angel was a ghost, a dead man who now resided in her mind alone. Bubbling rage simmered through every ounce of blood in her withered body unknowingly forcing her nails to dig into the palm of her hands. 

The pain was real, something tangible she could taste, feel. In this bitter moment, Y/N knew she would never forgive Angel Reyes for breaking her heart. Too many chances, too many betrayals led her to his exact place. Kneeling eye level with the tombstone, Y/N released her parting words rubbing the cold marble soothingly; “May you now dance in Hell, mi amor.”

Ezekiel watched the widow not daring to offer his comfort or condolences yet admired the wrathful woman who took Y/N’s place. She was fierce and furious, no more the quiet, docile girl he’d met decades ago. The cigarette between his chapped lips burned brightly with every inhale. The burn a welcoming distraction. From her rigid shoulders to her dusty black dress, Y/N appeared hauntingly ethereal. Forever the enchantress.

“How ya holdin’ up?”

“How the fuck do you think, Ezekiel?”

Poisonous venom laced her words at the deceitful question. Ez reached for her but Y/N was faster flinching from his touch. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her cry or scream or show any emotion besides unbridled madness since his brother’s passing.

“He was far from perfect but he didn’t deserve this. Why the hell did we have a funeral without a fucking body? I mean, who does that?”

Concern echoed his demeanor; “Y/N….”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes gleamed up to his glassy caramel orbs finding a moment’s solace. Ezekiel was peace incarnate.

“Who found all the blood?”

His cheeks flared a vibrantly betraying hue. Unwillingness spread through his stiff limbs reluctant to make eye contact.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you fucking do.”

Nervously, Ez scratched the back of his head searching for the easiest letdown. But Y/N’s serene voice broke through the bubble.

“It was her, wasn’t it? Fucking what’s her name…?”

“Nails.”

“Class act that one. Gotta give it to you boys for hiding your secrets so damn well.”

“We’re not all like that.”

Her demeaning stare met his hopeful one; “Aren’t you though?”

A light patter sprinkled the ground signaling the storm fast approaching. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care about anything but being in a overgrown cemetery.

“He stopped loving me a long time ago, Ez. I just didn’t get the memo.”

The truth lingered in the air like a suffocating force causing Ez to act rashly. His arms engulfed her sulky frame noticing how emaciated she was. Protruding cheekbones, slender neck, and how every bone that shouldn’t be visible now was. Her makeup smeared against his suit jacket but still no tears came. So, he held her closer. This time though, she didn’t pull away.

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

The house remained in utter disarray not wanting to waste her depleting time on menial chores when she could instead wallow in self-pity. Unwashed clothes decorated the laundry room she hadn’t entered in weeks. Dust collected on every possible crevice as spoilt food wreaked havoc in the fridge. 

Hell, Y/N couldn’t even recall the last time she showered nonetheless done anything for herself. Even from the grave, Angel troubled her. His mere presence loitered in their once lively home. His kutte still hooked around a kitchen chair like he’d just come home, his favorite beer chilled and stock just like the good ole days.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like it.”

“Maybe you outta try tiding up the place… get your mind off things.”

“What a grand idea, boy genius. I don’t feel like it.”

The whiplash radiating from Y/N was inevitable attacking his every word leaving him bewildered. We all mourn in different ways. Ezekiel just couldn’t figure out her method of madness quite yet.

“You’re not okay.”

“Thanks Captain Obvious.”

“I don’t wanna pry—”

“Then don’t.”

“It’s been three weeks and I still can’t piece together shit. You’re my best friend. We used to tell each other everything.”

“Yeah, past tense. We used to until you started covering up all your brother’s dirty laundry. I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Ahh, finally some fucking clarity.”

“Neither of you deserved me.”

Her poignant honesty hovered catching Ez off guard. Her scolding persisted; “You made a fool outta me. The Reyes brothers for the fucking win. I mean, I’m not perfect nor do I claim to be but all I asked for was the bare minimum and he couldn’t provide. Your friendship was the sacrificial token whether you knew it or not. You already choose sides, E. And I’m not really in a forgiving mood.”

“So, you’re gonna push everyone away and just be miserable, huh? Great plan, kiddo.”

“I wish…”

“What?”

Y/N bit her lip hoping to keep her unguarded emotions confined but slipped.

“Am I a monster for feeling relief? Angel died and I felt like I could finally breathe. How messed up is that?”

The broken, beautiful woman before him searched his shocked face questioning if she’d gone too far. But there was no turning back now…

“No. Your feelings are valid.”

“So many nights I prayed for him to come home to me fully knowing he was fucking some other bitch. I spent eleven years chained to a man who never once appreciated me.

“I didn’t realize—”

“No one did. Because I’m not a quitter. At every challenge, I faced it head-on begging for a solution but he would just push me away, a forgettable forethought. Then when Adelita happened…. I was fucking done. I asked for a divorce and he had the audacity to say ‘over my dead body’. And now I’m supposed to be grieving the loss of my husband when all I can think about is how damn horny I am. God! I haven’t had sex in almost a year and suddenly that’s more distressing than the rest of the shit going on in my life.”

“I didn’t realize Angel was that much of an asshole.”

A side-eye from Y/N unavoidably grabbed his attention.

“You know what I mean. I wish I would’ve known.”

“Me too.”

Stillness aerated the stagnant living room. Y/N chugged her wine polishing off the remainder of the bottle seeking another to fill its place. She mindlessly swayed to the kitchen forgoing the wine for vodka. The repulsive burn was a welcome distraction forcing another large gulp down her throat.  Ez sprang up heading to the kitchen.

“Whoa whoa, slow down champ.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like watching you get your stomach pumped tonight.”

Ezekiel claimed the bottle taking a swig of his own. His face cringed at the awfully bitter taste. Y/N meandered back to the couch plopping down, “You can’t babysit me forever, Ez.”

“Not babysitting if I’m not getting paid.”

Y/N threw a handful of stale popcorn at the handsome Reyes feigning shock. She didn’t recall making any pondering how long it’d been sitting abandoned.

“You’re an ass and I demand you take that back.”

“Make me.”

An unusual sensation overwhelmed Y/N as she catapulted atop Ez knowing exactly where to attack. Ez huffed as the wind got knocked from his lungs falling over. Y/N gazed down at him with innocent playfulness, a fleeting happiness. She continued tickling him as his hands gravitated to her hips pushing her further down on his lap.

“St—Stoppp!!”

Her breath danced along the ridge of his neck before flipping Y/N completely on her back. Her arms now pinned above her head at his mercy.

“Oh, how the tides have changed…”

Their breathing intermingled as her chest rose. Ez conveniently slotted himself between her thighs. Her legs locked around his hips keeping Ez in place. Both quiet embracing the calm before the storm. Her eyes blazed with unspoken passion; Ezekiel’s alit with burning lust. His grip tightened keeping her right where he wanted. With mere inches in between them, Y/N wordlessly begged. For what? That was to be determined.

“We can’t.”

Ez agreed; “We shouldn’t.”

Yet neither left their precarious situation. The tension mounted as Y/N wiggled underneath him. A groan riddled from Ez at the sudden movement. Her shameless eyes pleaded with his, Ez hovered bumping their noses. Y/N closed the gap locking her chapped lips to his. He kissed back like a man possessed grinding against Y/N. 

Teeth clashed and tongues danced as both fought for dominance. With her hands free, Y/N looped her fingers through his hair tugging harshly. Ezekiel playfully bit her bottom lip in response. Seconds morphed to minutes only intensifying the passing mischief.

Marisol raised him better than this, to covet his brother’s wife, his best friend but that didn’t stop him in the slightest. Some twisted root within Y/N ached for Ez while yearning for Angel and their love. Ezekiel’s attention was drawn to the clanging of his belt unbuckling shredding his last bit of resolve. 

Warm fingertips slipped beneath her baggy t-shit, Angel’s old shirt devouring the flesh underneath. He held her when her insecurities were as sharp as a knife and at every moment, they got sharper, he held Y/N even tighter.

She sunk deeper into the depths of her sorrow yet soared at the adrenaline rush. Y/N knew better but her body simply couldn’t resist the temptation, the craving of closeness. As long as it drowned her mounting doubts. Her dead husband painted her closed lids every blink. Her stomach revolted at every turn while a pleasant buzz radiated in her pelvis. Her pelvic muscles spasmed around nothing dying for Ezekiel to take her.  

Whether it was grief and lust pushing, Y/N didn’t care, desperately shoving his pants and boxers down with her feet until the offensive material clung to his ankles. Her hands made quick work of his shirt throwing it somewhere in the distance. She froze admiring Ez in all his naked glory. That damn smirk of his would be the death of her. Guaranteed.

Suddenly, her sweats were yanked off faster than wild fire leaving Y/N bare and vulnerable. Petite kisses trailed down her belly towards her aching core. Ezekiel’s movements were sporadic yet methodically maddening. Her legs spread on their own accord granting him access to her inner sanctuary.

“Please, E….”

This specific day Y/N wasn’t above begging wanting nothing more than to feel alive for a goddamn second. His hands gripped her outer thighs happily divulged into her flower. His tongue dipped between her folds nipping at her glistening bud. Y/N writhed as Ez devoured every last drop of her essence. Y/N spiraled unable to recall the last time she had a man between her thighs blissfully enjoying the ride. She spiraled further from reality losing herself in undeniable desire.

Her mind swarmed of memories of Angel forcing a lone tear to slid down her hollow cheek. Her legs quivered as his thumb pressed deeper on her clit stimulating an entirely different sensation. His tongue slid between her folds slurping at the excess nectar. She uncontrollably wiggled causing Ez’s hand to gravitate to her hips holding her firmly in place. A tiny tingle built in her belly growing fiercer with every passing lick. His ministrations continued not letting up until she exploded.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna cu—cum.”

Her chest heaved as her moans quickened signaling a bittersweet end just on the horizon. Y/N’s hands found his interlocking the fingers glued to her hips. That radiant spark morphed into irresistible fireworks jolting her body awake for the first time in a long time. Auburn orbs locked with Y/N as her orgasm ascended to ungodly ecstasy. 

Her toes cringed as her body slowly came down from its high leaving an overwhelming silence. Guilt immediately crept into her senses blaring an alarm of betrayal. She refused for regret to take ahold basking in the selfish afterglow.

Easily snaking his way between her legs, Ezekiel’s cock prodded her swollen lips. Exactly where she craved him. Her legs instinctively locked around his ass trying anything to get Ez inside.

“Wait.”

He cupped her jaw drawing her attention. The intimacy intensified sucking the air from her lungs.

“What’s wrong, E?”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

His stare was enough to eat her alive; “Just say it and I’m yours.”

His tip slid through her folds before halting all movement.

“I want you, Ezekiel Reyes.”

Ez bottomed out as she gladly accepted every thick inch he offered. Y/N huffed adjusting to Ez’s enormous size. It was fucking heavenly.

“Jesus, E. Warn a girl.”

“Shit, querida. You feel otherworldly.”

“Quit teasing and fucking move please.”

Without warning, his thrusts escalated plunging into her wet pussy hitting that spongy spot that made her eyes roll. Hands traveled down his protruding back muscles grabbing a globe of ass. Y/N desired Ez to consume every morsel of her soul, of her existence until there was nothing but the shell of the girl that used to be. Two bodies glistened in a thin layer of sweat moving seamlessly as one. Skin slapped sinking closer to eternal rapture. Grunts and moans filtered as neither kept quiet.

That minuscule spark grew within her again readying herself for a second euphoria. Ezekiel buried himself in the crook of her neck concentrating on her contracting walls. Her scent, her essence was driving him absolutely crazy. He pulled Y/N to his chest launching her forward. 

His back hit the couch sending Y/N atop his thick thighs. Both paused at the sudden switch of position. Ez was handing over the reins to do whatever she pleased. She excitedly accepted. At first, fer movements were slow, controlled. So right but so wrong. Her walls squeezed around his hardened cock eliciting a salacious mewl from the Mayan.

Once comfortable, Y/N rode like her life depended on it taking him all the way. She threw her head back in pleasure, Ezekiel lips latched to her right nipple sucking delightfully while palming the other. The rise and fall of her hips picked up speed.

“Y/N…”

Barely a whisper escaped; “Me too.”

Y/N screamed shattering to beautiful little pieces as she came with Ezekiel right on her heels. His arms wrapped around her as he erupted losing himself in her consuming heat. Warm spurts shot inside her womb mixing with her own juices. Y/N fell forward colliding with his chest both officially dead weight. With neither willing to move, they stayed in place soaking up the sheer exhilaration.

“Holy fuck.”

“Holy fuck is right.”

His fingers danced along her spine tickling the exposed skin. Soft kisses trailed down Ez’s neck trying to calm her pounding heart. Y/N’s hips swiveled in small circles sending tingles to her tender core. Ezekiel was already at half mast, she persisted. His lips found hers effortlessly locking the searing passion flaming dangerously. The night dragged on indulging in each other’s pleasure without a care in the world and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder…If you can love the wrong one so much, just imagine how much you can love the right one.  

~~~~~

Tags: 

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[bonny-kookoo]

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

[zeenmrala]

By The Light Of The Second Moon

A Darth Maul x F/AFAB!Reader Fanfiction

chapter nine: life in the dark, it’s who you are

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CHAPTER SUMMARY: An experience, a disagreement, escapism and acceptance. RATING: Explicit. This work is strictly for those 18+ due to sexual content. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. WORD COUNT: 7.5k CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: This chapter is quite intense. Angst, anxiety concerning family, the loss of a parent/family member, arguing, shouting, Maul being mean, implied threat. Smut, breast play, fingering, male!receiving oral sex, PiV sex. CHAPTER SONGS: hardest of hearts, florence + the machine. buy the stars, marina. A/N: The wonderful @elledjarin created this work of art that once I saw, I just could not get out of my head - and so it inspired a paragraph of this chapter. Check out her art! She’s amazing!

Chapter 9 Life In The Dark, It’s Who You Are

The vision immediately roars to life, though you feel it before you see it. It bursts into existence by tugging on your veins, ripping through your nerves hard, and you know that it should hurt…but somehow it does not, and though it is dark, you can still see without seeing. It appears that wherever or whenever you are, nothing here is logical. You can feel the air of a long-ago evening cool your skin, the rain that pours from the sky drenches your hair, drips down your body. It is heavy and cold, and as you automatically try to gasp for breath, you find that you cannot use your lungs. Though you still somehow inhale the petrichor of the night, but without breathing. It does not make sense, but you absorb your surroundings, you drink them in greedily like a sponge without even trying. You then begin to hear things, mutterings, birdsong, the clamour of thunder, and then the recognisable sound of that starship. It is the one you heard before, from that day, exactly one galactic standard year ago. Even though you were never there, and that there is no possible way for you to remember it – you still vividly recall and identify it.

What? It is strange, because you somehow know that they are back, as they promised that they would be. But you do not know who they are. Puzzled, you try to spin around, though you lean on nothing, you have zero leverage, and your energy does not come from anywhere physical. But as you attempt to do so, your sight awakens and the vision swims to life in even more terrifying detail. There is suddenly so much light, and you can really see it. It is a hazy, blue shroud of glowing luminesce, and as it washes over you, you feel the brief sting of comfort. It has that familiar beaming hue of the second moon, you recognise, and it envelops you in a disjointed sense of safety. When your eyes adjust to it, you very clearly see a large spaceship and a tall man robed in brown.

He stands beside your Mother.

It is the first time you have seen her since she disappeared. It surprises you how much you have misremembered her, because at first you almost do not recognise her. But kriff, you think, she does look like you. You start to cry because you love her so much, but it isn’t a kind of love that you understand. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a painful, intense panic – you are dismayed at the sight of her with this man again.

Again? Before you can even begin to process your confusion, the image swirls and contorts, and you are then thrust into a room that looks like the surgery, except it is different. “What is- ” you begin say, though you are not able to vocalise the words, your lips try to move but nothing comes out. Any movement you make does not register with your body or the images around you, any noise you try to produce goes fully unheard. But you are still absorbing everything in your vicinity, the image of now two strangers – but strangers that you know – as they stand before you, your Mother listening intently as they speak. You cannot fathom their words, yet you can identify the meaning of the entire conversation. The vision fractures, like a crack snapping through a block of ice, and then there is a child, a broken promise, a frightening, all-consuming loss. Oh, there is pain – it is so lucid and pure, a woman is destroyed and she drowns in her grief. Your blood thunders to your ears, and the blanket of cold that is pulled tight beneath your skin melts into heat – but not a comforting kind of heat, not the warmth of a bed long slept in, not the relieving cinders of an open fire – but an angry heat. The fresh heat that pours from your body as you bleed to death, the fierce fury of an ancient, burning sun. The image bleeds around you again, and then through you. It penetrates into your bloodstream, buries itself into the marrow of your bones. The story it tells blasts its way through your veins in the same way that a meteor rips through the atmosphere, and you breathe it in and out without breathing, over and over again. As your heart pumps the dream-like image to each fibre of your being, as it digs into your brain like a desperate parasite, you try to scream. The hazy vision muffles everything, but you consume it in its entirety, not understanding anything, yet fully comprehending it all.

Beneath all of this chaos, there is one, stubborn word that is branded into every sense you possess. It haunts every cell of your being, every atom of the world around you, it snakes into the web of time that is your existence. It decays only to bloom again, in an everlasting cycle of life and death. Just one nonsensical word, a word that means absolutely nothing to you, but when you try to form it in your mouth, the taste is bitter and you want to violently spit it out. One word.

Jedi.

--

When you flutter open your eyes, you see him. For a perfect second, you feel nothing and you know nothing, except for the comforting sight of his unique silhouette. He is sat with his legs crossed, his back to you. He is shirtless, and perfectly still. You take in the toned muscles of his back, his stark crimson skin that is decorated so splendidly with the thick black lines of his tattoos. You look up at the perfect curve of his horns and the dark skin of his head that they so elegantly emerge from. Stars, the artistry of his physical form, the mystifying nature of his dark aura – him, in this moment, he is everything you can fathom, the only part of this life that you can truly understand. In this moment, he is simply everything.

That moment ends as you take a breath, and he stirs. As you breathe, your immediate thought is gratitude at being returned to the normality of your usual senses. You slowly sit up, and run your hands over your legs, feeling your physical form. You thank the Stars for the gravity that roots your body to the ground. You look around and you are not in your brother’s house, but back in Maul’s starship, on the cot you slept in together.

Stars and Planets, what just happened?

You feel his eyes then, as he stands up and turns around to look down on you, stoic as ever, arms behind his back. His expression does not change, and he gives no indication of what he could be thinking or what he is feeling. He says nothing.

Then it hits you, the weight of the truth. The understanding that you somehow gleaned from such a strange, out of body experience. How you now know, without fully seeing, that what happened to your Mother was indeed traumatic for your family. That what happened was more complex than you could have ever imagined, bigger than your own bones, that it goes far beyond your small planet and your tiny life here. That though she may be dead, she did not die here – she disappeared. She did not take your cousin, she did not do anything to hurt her. Whatever happened to your cousin, wherever she went – it was because of the robed man. The Jedi person, not your Mother. The relief of finally knowing that is astronomical.

But yet, there is something wrong. Something more.

Though she was not the one who did it, you know that she did have something to do with it. Something…You cannot seem to piece together the events, your brain simply cannot make sense of it. The way that you found out…

Well, that was the most ridiculous, terrifying experience of your life.

“Stars,” is all that you can say for a moment. Then, “Maul, why was that so - so jarring? Why was it – why was it like that?” You are slightly lost for words. “Why would you not just tell me what happened? Why did you need to…”

He sighs. “It is complicated,” he says. Then a bit colder, “you told me that you would not ask. That you would not talk about it.”

But when he senses the strength of the confusion that rakes your mind, when he sees that deep frown on your features, he sighs. Then he closes his eyes, and with clear reluctance he briefly explains.

“In simple terms, it is because they are the memories of your Father, from many years ago.”

He then pauses to gauge your reaction.

He went to see your Father. Your blood thaws into ice as you try to understand the implication of such a thing. Before you can react, he continues his explanation.

“I saw the memories that form the truth, and I essentially copied them from his mind. Then I passed them on to you. But you received them through me, and I received them from him, so they are slightly…tainted. A lot of clarity stripped away.”

There is silence for a few heartbeats.

“But the reality remains,” he adds softly.

“You went to see him. My Father.” He must have – he must have. To somehow take the memories from his head, then give them to you.

He says, “yes.”

“You…went into his head.”

He answers somewhat defensively. “I thought you wanted to know? To remember?”

“Of course I do.” You say it resolutely, then you touch your forehead, which throbs. “Of course I do,” you reiterate, softer. “But why did you need to…?”

“This is the raw truth. You saw what he saw. This way, you know it exactly as it happened. It is the least that yo – ” he swiftly cuts himself off.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again, glaring at you with his weighty gaze. You know him enough to understand that he will not finish his sentence now, that he will not speak again until you do. So you begin to ask the questions that are bleating incessantly in your mind, all of your questions that are so desperate to be answered.

“W-what did I see? Who was that person? I feel like I do understand it but also like I still know nothing.”

You groan, the heels of your hands now pressing into your eyes.

“How does everything make sense yet nothing is coherent? It is as though I have the full reality, the truth displayed as a wall of text in front of me. That it is finally right here for me to understand, but…it is in a foreign language, and no matter how I try to view it I just…can’t. It is so frustrating.”

You groan, standing up to be on the same level as him.

“And what in the Universe is a Jedi? I think I have heard that before…Again, I feel like I know what that is but also –”

“A Jedi is the reason for all of this.” He cuts you off, and there is a profound severity to each of his words. “A Jedi took your cousin as a child. Your Aunt was distraught, and your Mother, who could not stand the sight of her sister in such distress, wanted to find her daughter for her, to bring her back. So she left.” “And we never heard from her again,” you finish. You squeeze your eyes closed. Something clicks into place and yes, you know that that is true, you felt it from your Father’s memory. The robed man – men you correct yourself – there was another one in that image of the surgery – they are the Jedi. Jedi…

Something feels off, unfinished. “Is it all really that simple?”

He does not falter from his sternness. “How is any of that simple?” he asks. “You agreed to no words. Why are we still talking out loud about this?”

He stands there steely and firm, and there is a grimness to his distinctive features. It is as though this whole situation is displeasing to him, as if he cannot make sense of how you are reacting to this revelation, as if he is trying to figure you out himself.

“This is such madness,” you continue, ignoring him and speaking anyway. This is all so much. How could he expect you to not talk about this? “I know what happened. I know that what you just said is true but it is also not.”

You begin to pace.

“And now I just have more questions. I want to know why and how. Who are the Jedi? Why would they take my cousin? And why…why would these events need to be kept from me? What would stop my family from telling me this? Why can’t I know this?”

You wrap your arms around your own head – your brain feels like it is on fire, and now you have started talking, started asking, you cannot stop.

“There has to be more to it than just that. Why did I – I mean, why did my Father recognise the Jedi man? He had returned, he had been here before. I knew that it had been a year, exactly a year since he had last seen them. It was raining, I could see the light of our moon – of the second moon, I mean. Why would they come back? What could have possibly happened? And my Mother, she-”

He cuts you off again. “I believe it is this exact reason that they never told you anything.” He says, somewhat spitefully, “you are relentless.”

Stars. That rude, blunt and growingly consistent way of interrupting you is starting to get annoying. You look at him in disbelief. “Why do you say that like it is a bad thing?”

“Because maybe it is.”

You physically recoil in confusion, shaking your head. “Wait, what?”

“Why can’t you just accept it for what it is? I showed you the truth, is that not what you wanted? You need to stop talking.”

You are almost bewildered into silence. Almost. Instead, you lash out. You reply with a bite to your voice, reacting instinctively to the unfairness of what he is asking.

“Just accept it? Accept what, exactly? This is not the truth. Not the whole truth. I had a question, and as always you have only answered it with more questions. You want me to have the truth, and then you do not. I can know some things, but I cannot talk about them or ask anything of it. And then you expect me to just accept something that does not yet make sense.”

“But you know that she left to find your cousin after she was taken, that is the truth” he says.

“Yes, but there is something more to it than that –” you hesitate briefly, “do you really think me stupid enough to not realise that? Because you are certainly not stupid enough to miss it.”

He looks taken aback. “You know now that she is not the villain. You know that they are. You do not need to live in her shadow anymore. Is that not enough?”

“No? Of course not!” You stutter, in disbelief. “Do you not know me by now? Of course that is not enough.”

“But you are always so able to accept things. You...” he stops. “You trust me.”

“Yes, yes I do,” you confirm. “But you are making it much more difficult for me now. You have never told me why I cannot talk about these things. You do not explain. And it all mounts up, all my questions, all my worries and my ignorance. And it is just so much.”

You stop pacing with a dejected sigh, and all of your frustrations peak.

“Then you tease me with scraps of information, and it is like you are promising me more, but I know that you never intend to give me more. It is like you want two things that cannot possibly exist at the same time. You try to make me understand but you know that I will never be able to. You want me to know but I cannot know.”

He does not say anything, but he looks more and more cross with each moment that passes.

“Am I correct? Is that how it is? Because I never know if I am right. I always have to figure out everything on my own with the clues you leave me.”

“It is both – both. I do want you to know but you cannot know. They can exist at the same time.”

“No, that is not fair, they can’t. It cannot be both. I cannot be fed half-truths and be expected to believe something fully when there are pieces missing. You are only confusing me further.”

He sounds angry when he replies. “I found out what happened to your Mother, and I have shown you – and at great personal risk. How is that not clear to you? Why do you look so…perplexed by it?”

You stutter, “Great personal risk?  W-What does that even mean? It is like you speak in riddles. You expect me to know what you are saying with no context, because you never explain things properly and I swear, you talk utter nonsense half of the time.”

“You are the one that talks nonsense. Childish, naïve, ignorant drivel. I do not know why I even risked this. This is pointless,” he spits callously.

Childish, naïve, ignorant.

You start to feel the upset from the sting of such words. Your confusion utterly peaks – you are physically and emotionally stressed – you do not even know what time it is, what day it is. Your head burns. It all begins to become too much, nothing makes sense to you – the memory-vision, your reaction to it, and his reaction to you. Why in the galaxy is he acting like this?

“Maul, it might be easy for you to make sense of this situation…” you try to say, but find you cannot seem to properly voice it. “It is not that way for me. What I saw – what you showed me, I cannot fully grasp it. I can’t���I cannot seem to understand why it is so difficult for you to understand that I have questions. That I want to…you just –  you don’t understand.”

“No, pathetic, foolish girl – it is you who does not understand. You do not understand anything,” he says. “You know absolutely nothing."

“Yes,” you agree with him, though you are hurt by his name-calling, and vexed by this irascible side of him. “Yes, exactly, I don’t understand. That is the problem. I never do. And apparently, I never can.”

You sigh, the sheer enormity of what is happening, what has happened – it now crushes you. The weight of it threatens to squeeze reluctant tears from your eyes, though you blink them back stubbornly.

“I do not appreciate the way that you are speaking to me,” you quickly add, your voice meek and shaken. “We can disagree without you resorting to words you know will wound me.”

It is all suddenly so much. That Maul sought out your Father, looked into and stole from his mind. That somehow, he was able to allow you to experience your Father’s memories, in the most disconcerting and odd way. That he has become so furious so quickly. That he is being so short with you, his tongue brutal, so sharp. The cruel depth of his words, how they rattle your insecurities - they now settle uneasily in your chest.

He is cold and unmoving. His eyes find yours, and you stand for a while, just looking at each other. His fists are clenched at his sides, and though his frame is solid, he appears ready to pounce at any moment. It reminds you of the night he was watching you in the trees, perched up so high, so effortless. Like a predator in wait. Prepared. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, then your eyes glaze across his strong arms, down to his hands. You feel a pang in your chest, a sore, horrid ache – because you know how gentle his hands can be, what sweet things he can speak, how attentive his tongue has been to you. You can even feel the softness of his lips on yours, his gentle fingers caressing your skin, so familiar to you now. And yet – at the same time, that he was ever tender or tame towards you, it seems so unrecognisable in this moment, now that the viscousness of his words ring in your ears.

You bring your line of sight back to his face. His expression looks so pained, his yellow eyes so forlorn as he bores them into yours.

Stars.

In spite of his cruelty, even though you know he is purposefully trying to hurt you, that he is manipulating your insecurities again – you realise that all you want is to just hold him. Comfort him. All you want is to lace your fingers around his horns, and kiss his terrible, spiteful mouth.

You can only sigh. You refuse to look away from him as you speak.

“I do not know how it works, of course – but whatever you tried to put into my head, it did not translate well.”

His eyes cast towards to the floor, breaking your eye contact. You keep talking.

“How could you ever expect me to take kindly to such a thing in the first place? That vision, the memory - it was not only strange, but frightening. You did not warn me of the nature of it. You expect me to not be rattled by it? To not want to talk to you about it? And Maul, you went to see my Father without telling me – without even asking me first?”

You shake your head and close your eyes. You hear him groan, and when you return to looking at him, you are greeted by the sight of him flustered.  

“I just thought this would be,” he hesitates, “I thought this would be easier,” he admits.

“Easier? This is difficult for you?”

“Yes!” he shouts, raising his voice at you for the first time. Though he says it loudly, you do not flinch. There are a few moments of silence that follow his small outburst, and this kind of quiet, the kind that follows a loud noise – it is utterly deafening.

“Yes, this is difficult for me,” he eventually says, much calmer. Then he turns away from you.

Another pause.

“Okay,” you say, “okay.”

“I do not want to…” He groans. “I do not want to say anything else.”

“Why?”

“Because what I say always…it hurts you. It lingers and festers in your mind. I know it does.”

You pause. “And you do not want to hurt me?”

“Sometimes I do want to hurt you,” he confesses. “I do.”

You feel an uncomfortable, worrying dropping sensation in your stomach.

“But now? No,” he says, crestfallen. “No. No, I do not want to hurt you,” he concedes.

“Then why – why do you say such cruel things, seemingly out of nowhere? You are so quick to weaponise what you know pains me. You do it knowingly. Because you can see inside my head, you know how to strike true. Stars, it is like it is an instinct for you.”

He does not disagree with you.

And then you realise that you have just answered your own question. Why does he say such things? It is so obvious to you now. Malice is second nature to him. The pain in his eyes. His strange hesitation, the opposing sides of him, how you both misunderstand each other so frequently. This is who he is.

It suddenly makes you incredibly sad.

You return to the cot, and fold your body into yourself. You take a moment of quiet to try to process all of the revelations of the day, or night – or whatever timeframe it is or has been. You do not even know.

The next few minutes pass in total silence. Then you hear him move, and he settles beside you.

“We are clearly much too different,” you eventually say, quietly. You do not even mean to say it out loud – not that it matters, you try and reassure yourself. He can take whatever he wants from your head, whenever he wants. “For what?” he says, then softer, “what are you implying?”

You regret it almost immediately. Because you do not know. You have absolutely no idea, and that is the worst part. You do not know why you said it. You do not know what you are trying to suggest with it. And by the Planets, you do not want to find out. You are not ready to find out.

So you take a page from his book, and answer his question with one of your own, to derail the conversation.

“What you said, before you did whatever it was that you did to me. You said there was a reason we were brought together.”

“Yes,” he says. “I still believe that.”

You pull your arms away from your face to look at him. “I do not understand that either.”

“I want to explain, but –”

Now you cut him off. “This is beyond frustrating. You are beyond frustrating,” you say.

He only nods.

“Why would these Jedi people take my cousin?”

He sighs, and he suddenly looks incredibly overwhelmed. “I do not know.”

“What – that’s a lie.” You accuse him, and he does not deny it. “Why are you lying to me now?”

He shakes his head. “I wish you would stop asking questions.”

“I wish you would just answer them.”

You sit beside each other in silence for a moment.

“They came back,” he says. “What?”

“That other ship. The ship that you have always been so curious about and fond off…” he curses and huffs. “It was them. Jedi. Truthfully, I do not know the nature of their returning here. But considering how small a population there is here, how far into the outer rim your planet lies, I cannot imagine that it did not have anything to do with you and your family.”

“No one has come to the surgery, though,” you reply.

“Yes. I know.” Then he adds, “I made sure of that.”

What?

 “Maul, what does that mean?”

He groans your name and takes your shoulders in his hands, turning you towards him.

“Stop talking. Do not ask such questions.”

“W-Why? I am just replying to what you say!”

“Because I cannot tell you. I cannot. You are making this all so much more difficult that it needs to be.”

“Me? I am making it more difficult?” Stars, this conversation is impossible. He is impossible. “Why do you say things like that? You say things that are so loaded, then you just expect me to drop it? Why does everything feel so - so dangerous with you?”

“Lady…” “Who are you?” you ask quietly. “Really?”

“Stop,” he says.

“Why are you here?”

“Quiet,” he demands.

“Why are you involving yourself in my life like this?” “Silence...”

“How do you – how can you know what I am thinking?” He shakes his head. “Why are you here? Why do you…” You begin to softly cry.

His hands find their way to your face. “Enough,” he whispers. “Who are you?”

“Stop asking me these things.”

Everything feels as though it collapses in on itself. The weight of so much trauma, of so much pain, it finally caves in and crashes down on you in a chaotic, agonising turmoil – and you sob. Your family, your history, the dark implications of what happened, what is yet to happen, all that you understand and especially, all that you do not. Him. Him and his kindness, his hypocrisy, his mystery, his cruelty – how you care for him in spite of it, all of it. All of it hurts.

It all suddenly hurts so much.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you lament.

He whispers your name.

You cry and cry.

“I cannot stand to hear you anymore,” he pleads.

“Then stop me,” you say. “Silence me, please.”

So he does.

He kisses you. And it is so desperate, both protective and possessive, and you immediately lose yourself in the comforting familiarity of this feeling. You kiss him back messily, your cheeks still so wet with tears.

You whimper into his mouth. He pulls you on top of him, one of his hands fists your hair, his other is already pulling at your dress. He kisses you harder, and you melt into his lips, as you always do when he kisses you in this way. Everything else fades away, it all bleeds into nothingness – until it is only you and him left. Just the two of you, connected with such lust and pain and longing.

You seize him with your hands. They coast their way up to his head, your fingers between his horns. You moan at his strong, anchoring touch – and as he works to quickly free you from your clothing, you put your weight and the entirety of your anguish into his lips. You pour everything you feel into the frantic, all-consuming kiss. “Please,” you beg, sliding your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he tastes you, and then he finally pulls away your clothing, throwing it aside. Naked now, you press into his warm, solid chest. You lock your legs around his waist, your hips grind down on to him, your body yearns for him. You crave him in the way that you know him the best, the way that you both fit so perfectly together, the way that makes everything feel right again.

Your desire heightens, and your hands are now exploring his chest, his shoulders and arms. His hips buck up into you, the erratic nature of the movement evidence of his own longing. You rock your body downwards, and then you can feel him, you feel the firm press of the hardness of his cock – and you crave it, you crave it so badly that it hurts. His kiss slows, his tongue languid, lips now gentle against your own. Yet his arms are still solid around you, and he holds on to you in his strangely comforting, domineering way. In the way that makes you feel treasured, so very secure. Kriff – you now crave the rough harshness of his sex, but you also want the softness of his lips, you need the cruel sting of his words and the soft ache from his candid, surprising kindness.

Stars, you crave all of him. Every confusing, contrasting part of him.

He frees his lips from yours to trail his kisses down your face, your jaw and to your throat, grazing his tongue and his teeth over your skin. His mouth then moves lower, over your collar bone, your chest, until he finds your breasts. He is kissing and licking them, and you lean into the touch, enjoying it – but his hands are now lowering you to the cot beneath him. His mouth laps at your skin with gentle kisses, broken with the harsh prick of his teeth as he bites you over and over again. It feels so good, so right. Like everything has fallen back into place, and nothing else matters at all – nothing but the wet flick of his tongue and the electric sting of his teeth.

Soon he has spread your legs, and his fingers dip inside of you. Your entrance is already so slick for him, but with each movement you become wetter and wetter. He fucks you with his fingers, deeper and deeper each time, and you grind down onto him, needing that sweet intrusion to be drummed into you, over and over. You need more. You always need more. Sometimes it feels as though nothing will ever be enough.

“Wicked girl,” he mutters into the skin of your neck, and your whole body keens at the richness of his voice. Your being shudders beneath those two words, and they rekindle your lust, reawakening your desires once again. More, you think, I just need more.

Your hands graze down his chest to the waistline of his pants. You claw at them to free his cock from the material, needing to hold him, kiss him, take him. He growls, his fingers gently leaving your cunt, so that you can sit up and shower his chest in hot kisses.

You strip him naked. He is now on his knees, and you lower your mouth to him, lying stomach-down. You hold his strong hips in your hands, then slide them lower to his thighs. You take the shaft of his cock into your mouth, lapping your tongue at the tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum. Then you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you encourage the length of him further into your throat. Your head bobs up and down, and you moan needily around him. He curses, his hands holding on to the back of your head, his fingers tightening into your hair as you work him. You savour his taste, you relish in how taking him in this way feels so good, the way that you can feel him slowly unravelling, in how the strength of his grasp on you fluctuates with each movement that you make.

He surrenders to your mouth, and for a while he completely gives in, succumbing to your hot, wet throat. But then he opens his eyes, and when he looks down at you, he cannot stand it anymore, and he becomes entirely overcome with his own desires for you and your body. He just wants to take you in the way that he always does, in the way that he knows he can. And by the Force, he wants to fix all that he has broken. He wants to heal how he has wounded you with his twisted attempts of affection – he wants to, but it does not matter. Because he cannot. He does not know how he can make it right, as there is no way that he ever could. For it is impossible.

But – he does know how to make you feel good. So he will. And more selfishly, he needs you beneath him, he needs to see you writhe in desperation. Because he loves to watch you want him. It feels good for him too.

So he pulls you up and into his arms, and then gently lays you beneath him. He pushes his way back between your thighs. You hook your legs around his, encouraging him forward, arching your cunt up closer, needing him inside of you. You mewl and beg for him as he teases himself against your warmth, and as the tip of his cock presses into your entrance you cry out at the pleasure of it, and he groans a primal growl, and sheathes himself inside of you.

It is dizzying, and it is good, but the quickness of taking him so fully hurts at first, and you hiss, grasping tightly on to his arms.

He stops. “Are you okay?” He asks. He pulls back and out of you, and as you look up at him you catch a flash of concern in his eyes.

“Wait, don’t go. Please stay. Stay,” you affirm, and he pauses, doing as you say.

“Yes, yes I am okay,” you continue and he kisses the top of your head fondly. The softness of the gesture makes your heart flutter.

“You feel good, Maul,” you say. A soft giggle falls from your lips, “I am just slightly sore from before…”

He smirks and kisses your temple, “Mmm,” he hums. “Have you finally had your fill?”

“Oh no,” you say. “No-where near. Never.”

He mouths the word “wicked,” then takes your lips back in his. You shift, adjusting to the feel of his cock being inside of you again. He kisses you, over and over, his hands cradling your face, your neck, your shoulders. Then you are ready, and you ask him to fuck you. And so he does, he begins a sweet rhythm that rocks you into the familiar, blissful pleasure of his body. You coo soft moans of gratification, the rock of his hips and the heavenly depth of his cock inside of you a comforting melody. He is sighing his own silky moans into your ear, his mouth kissing at your lobe, his palms warm on your face.  

You do not know how long you are both wrapped up in each other like this. You do not know the time, or the day, or even where you are beyond the walls of his ship. But it does not matter. Because nothing else matters in this moment, nothing but him. The warm tickle of his breath, the huskiness of his groans, the featherlight touch of his fingers that trail down your chest, the firmness of him as he penetrates you over and over again. It is all so dreamy, so wonderful. You hold his head and bring his eyes to yours, searching them, to see if you can catch a glimpse of how he is feeling, to see what he is experiencing in them.

He smiles back at you, and it is such a delightful view, that you cannot help but beam at him. He appears utterly content, and seeing such a delicate expression on his harsh features spreads a warmth across your chest. He grabs your leg and hitches you forward, then you both groan as he slips himself in deeper, until he is in to the hilt. He catches your lips in a swift kiss, and then his pace quickens – and he begins to fuck you harder and faster. It is so good, and so intoxicating and consuming, that when you feel the hot caress of your orgasm engulf your nerves – Stars, it is so sudden and mind-blowing that you think you may pass out. Your walls clamp down onto his cock as you cum on him, and then his rhythm stutters, and he curses, groaning your name. “Oh, wicked girl,” he whines, “you are exquisite.” He fucks you through your climax, until each thrust becomes less controlled, each moan that falls from his lips is more and more frenzied. Then he groans a final, wild growl when he reaches his own peak - he cums inside of you, with your legs wound tightly around him, his strong arms embracing you, his lips on yours. He holds you steady in his arms until long after he has finished.

You both pant, and you can feel his hearts race wildly beneath his chest, and your own heart is beating so hard that you can almost hear it. He gently removes himself from you, then pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around you from behind. The warmth of his strong body behind you and the sound of his rapid breaths which gradually slow, combined with the sweet buzz of the aftershock of your climax – it makes you instantly relax. You feel so safe. After the turbulence of the memory-vision, after such a dramatic and emotional conversation, and after the physical satisfaction from your sex, you are already so exhausted. You feel the pull of sleep, and though you are reluctant to give in to it so soon, you do. You drift into dozing, until you eventually fall into a light sleep.

And you do not dream at all.

You do not really have time. Because soon he wakes you up, and says he has something to show you. Confused and your body weakened from the events of the past few hours, you allow him to pull you up and you dress yourself. He then drapes one of his robes across your shoulders, and you welcome the warmth of it. You also grin to yourself at the way it smells like him.

And now that you are both dressed – he takes your wrist in his hand and leads you out of the ship.

Stars and Planets.

You are immediately breathless and speechless – completely stunned at the sight before you.

The ship is not where it was when you last saw it. It has been moved, on to the top of something incredibly high – a mountain. You are on a mountain so far away from home that you have never even seen it before, not from your window, not from the trees. You are on your planet, but you are somewhere that you do not recognise. For the first time in years, you take in a view that you have never seen before. You look upon a landscape that you have not committed to memory, a landscape that you have never committed to paper.

You look down, and notice that you are above the clouds, above the rain and the storms. And then you look up, and you see it. The second moon, blue and brilliant, it shines unobscured in the sky, drenching the two of you in that cool, comforting light.

“Stars, where, where are we?” You ask, and he smirks, raising a finger to his lips.

“How long was I out? How long were we…”

He hushes you. “Don’t think about anything. Just look,” he says leading you to the edge of the cliff face that you stand upon.

“Woah,” you say apprehensively as you look down, your stomach flipping. “I haven’t ever been this high up before…” He then holds on to your arm tighter, and your lips tug into a smile.

Your eyes return to the sky. “And I have never seen the second moon so clearly.”

“Our moon,” he says, smirking at how you automatically cringe as he says it.

Your cheeks burn. “Oh. You noticed when I said that.”

“Of course,” he replies.

“This – this is beautiful. But the moon is up, so it has been more than a rotation since we left – I have been away too long, I need to go back, I need to…fix all of what has happened, I need to sort this out. Take me back.”

“Shhh,” he hushes you. “No. Not now. Not tonight.” “But I have to –”

“No. Stay with me.”

You shut your eyes. How can you deny him? And even more than that – how can you deny yourself? Deny yourself this view, deny yourself more of him. After everything that has happened, after all the confusion and the turmoil that burns inside of you – how can you deny yourself the brief and beautiful relief of such a glorious night?

So you nod, and he sits down. After a while, he looks up at you in curiosity as to why you haven’t joined him. But you are frozen, both stunned and terribly nervous at being so close to the edge of such a tall drop. He smirks, clearly amused at your reaction. He jumps back up to his feet, entirely effortless. He is seemingly unphased with being at such a height, just like he was in the trees. Lithe and graceful with his movements, no matter where he is. Like he is invincible.

He takes your hand and helps lower you down, and then you both sit with your legs over the edge. It takes a long stretch of minutes before you stop shaking from the frightening shock of being so high up and so close to the edge. But you eventually grow more comfortable, though you clasp on to Maul’s arm very tightly. You drink in the view, and it is so remarkable you are almost unable to breathe.

“I want to -” he begins, breaking the silence.

You hush him. “No,” you say. “Stop.” You take a long breath, and shake your head. “We said what we needed to say. It is done. Let us just move on. I am not going to think about anything else until the morning.”

And so you sit together for hours, on the edge of a mountain, looking out onto a planet that you believed you had grown tired of. How wrong you were about this place. As you look down on the thick sheets of cloud that glow a deep purple with streaks of lightening, as you catch sight of the large, wild oceans that frame the land, as you gaze across a vast, unending spread of beauty - you feel entirely stupid to have believed that you were sick of the sight of your home-world.

How naïve and ignorant indeed.

You feel him shift slightly as he senses your thoughts, senses the result of his cruel words, how they have lingered within you. How, deep down, they have haunted you since that very first conversation.

Because of who you are, they will always stay with you. Because of who he is, you know that he will speak them again and again and again.

You do not talk, but you squeeze his hand.

It’s who you are, you think. It’s just who you are.

--

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