#i am still semi sick though i wouldn’t have gone either way

[perfectlullabies]

had my obligatory mcdonalds coffee and now i’m waiting for the train

[blossom-hwa]

pirate!ateez |2|

The continuation of the pirate ateez au inspired by pretty much every wonderland stage and the kingdom wonderland performance!! Once again credits to mai @wingkkun for the ideas that sparked san, mingi, and yeosang’s stories!

(Reading part 1 isn’t required to understand what happens here; however, there are spoilers for previous members’ stories!!)

Pairing: Ateez x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 11.9k (total)

Genre: some fluff, mostly angst, pirate!au

Triggers: cursing, blood and death (sometimes semi-graphic) - specific triggers for each section are listed below the header!

Part 1 (Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang) | Part 2 (San, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho)

Ateez Masterlist

san (ABS - specialty in swordsmanship)

warnings: cursing

so. san.

poor dude i put him through a lot in hongjoong’s part :/ he didn’t deserve that i’m sorry san

but let’s start from the beginning

unlike some of the others, san has only ever known the streets. he has no memory of real parents, just various random caretakers who ended up causing him more harm than good

there are two singular exceptions to this during san’s childhood: you and an older pirate named jongin

you’ve been there ever since san can remember. even now he’s not entirely sure how or when you two met, he must’ve been very young, but he just knows you’ve been with him for what feels like forever

the two of you wandered the streets together, begging and stealing food whenever you could

it only makes sense that you two would fall in love once you were old enough to understand it (which comes a little later than either of you would’ve liked - you’re probably sixteen or seventeen when you get the guts to press san against a wall and kiss him like person starved as san kisses back with just as much fervor)

when you were still together, it sometimes felt like you were the only reason san could stay alive

you mean the world to each other. the literal world

so that’s you - someone san knows will never abandon him willingly, will always stay by his side as long as they can

now uh moving on to jongin

you two were young when you tried to pickpocket him that one time

immediately it was clear you’d messed with the wrong guy - he noticed you two immediately and you were caught

but surprisingly, all he did was smile and offer to buy you something to eat

and being the hungry children you were (san thinks you were around twelve at the time) you said yes without a second thought

luckily jongin didn’t have any ulterior motives - in fact, he taught you and san to become better pickpockets, how to take advantage of people’s blind spots and your natural talents

so naturally, he became both of your role model

and because jongin was a pirate, you two resolved to become pirates just like him when you grew older, even asking him to take you on his ship whenever he returned to the city to visit.

but every time, jongin refuses. when you’re younger you kind of accept it, but as you and san grow older you start to insist more and more

there’s nothing left for you two here except a life still on the streets, and isn’t being a pirate pretty much the same? stealing and pillaging, just on the ocean instead of on dry land

neither you nor san flinches at blood, and you can both deal with injuries

but jongin still refuses, finally telling you just how far from heroes pirates really are. they kill and steal, often more than they need, not taking just enough money and food to survive or pass out to those less fortunate the way you and san both do

this kills the dream a little for you and san, though you both come to the conclusion that not all pirates have to be horrible - look at jongin

so you still resolve to become pirates, maybe on a crew that isn’t as terrible as the ones jongin has told you two about

this sort of dream goes on for another year or so. you and san figure out your shit and finally kiss, jongin mock claps when he finds out before disappearing again, you and san wander the streets again still with little aim but your interlocked hands are purpose enough

until you get kidnapped. 

san literally almost goes insane when he can’t find you after two days. tears around the city like a man possessed, looking everywhere you might be and then everywhere you definitely aren’t on the off chance he’ll find you

but even when jongin arrives back in the city a few weeks later and joins san’s frantic search, you’re never found

it’s all too much. way too much for san - he’s literally lost the one person who keeps him sane - and honestly the last straw is when jongin asks if he wants to join his crew now

deep inside san knows he means it out of the goodness of his heart. jongin isn’t evil and he’s hurting too with your disappearance, he’s just trying to give san a semblance of a new home

but san explodes. none of this would’ve happened if jongin had taken them in earlier, had let them join the crew together, if he’d even taught them more - it’s his fault, it’s his fucking fault

jongin tries to grab san but he just twists away - jongin’s touch feels like fire burning against his skin - and runs

for how long he runs, san genuinely doesn’t know. he just knows that he can’t stay here, can’t stay in this city anymore 

so he becomes somewhat of a highway robber? holding travelers at sword point and demanding what they have

the sword he uses was gifted to him by jongin and it makes him feel sick every time he pulls it out, but even though san is sometimes irrational, he’s not stupid - he needs a weapon, and if this is the only one he has, so be it

doesn’t matter if memories of you and an older pirate come flooding back every time he grips the handle.

san makes a name for himself - people whisper about him, tell travelers to avoid the paths he frequents, but the thing is he doesn’t really frequent anywhere. he’s a wanderer too, which makes him so dangerous because he’s so unpredictable

until hongjoong appears and san makes the mistake of challenging him to a fight. 

i say mistake but really, it was probably one of the singularly most life-changing events for san except for 1. meeting you, 2. your disappearance, and 3. leaving jongin 

because when hongjoong has his sword positioned over san’s neck and san thinks he’s about to die, hongjoong gives him a choice - join his crew or get his throat cut

san just scoffs at first and is like why would you want a highway robber on your crew? don’t you know who i am?

hongjoong does know, of course - he actually tracked san down because he needed a good swordsman to join his crew and thought san would be perfect

san is on the edge of saying no, but hongjoong is one of three people who’ve ever beaten san in a fight (jongin, you, and now joong) so he’s got a little grudging respect for the guy

but even more than that, he remembers you and remembers your pact to find a semi-decent ship and join the crew 

it seems like a childish pact now, but for some reason, once he remembers it, he can’t put it out of his mind

(maybe it’s because if you’re dead, which you probably are, san wants to at least fulfill his part of any promises you made so long ago)

so he says yes

for the first few weeks, san really considers jumping ship

seasickness is a bitch, first of all, even if the ship’s doctor is nice enough to give him tips on how to handle it

but the main issue isn’t just him being sick - it’s the people

not all of them. most are fine. but san has a particular problem with wooyoung and his partner, not because they’re assholes or anything, but because they remind him way too much of him and you. childhood friends who grew up together and wouldn’t part for the world, except they’re still joined at the hip while you’re lost

and san just thinks it’s horribly unfair that you had to be torn away from him while others are allowed to stay together

but really, the ship is better than living on the edge on land. besides woo + his partner, the others are nice, and san has found himself a match in sword fighting with hongjoong and yunho

so as time passes, san acclimates to the ship. he gets closer to everyone there and comes out of his shell, even becoming friends with yeosang whom he previously deemed too close to woo + his partner to deal with

and because yeosang is a package deal with the other two, san eventually becomes friends with them too

for the first time in a long time, san thinks he’s happy, even though he still sorely misses you and wishes you were here. but you’re dead or at least long gone, and he’s not going to find you again

so when you turn up on an enemy pirate ship several years later, san nearly has a heart attack when he sees your face (wooyoung actually has to catch him when he stumbles)

from the widening of your eyes, it’s pretty much the same reaction for you

there’s no fight, at least not then. the town your ships have docked in is safe ground for pirates, meaning the villagers will deal with them but won’t tolerate fights

so your crews resupply, all the while studiously ignoring the pirates from the other ship

but san is itching to talk to you - even just see your face one more time

you look so different yet somehow exactly the same and san wants to know what happened to you - how did you get that scar down the side of your face?

you feel the exact same way. 

when you were kidnapped, you were taken on a pirate ship that was far less respectable than hongjoong’s. meaning you went through a fucking lot

you tried to escape at least five times but each time you just got caught, so you eventually gave up. so here you are, ignoring the literal love of your life because your ship is shit and happens to have beef with hongjoong’s

meaning you couldn’t escape if you tried. 

so you’ve resigned yourself to mere stolen glimpses of san’s face but then your captain gives all of you a mission

he wants a hostage. and he wants you to lure one of them in. 

you don’t want this mission. you fucking hate it and you hate your crew and you don’t want anything more than to just run away so you just ignore it and resolve to subtly sabotage your crewmates’ efforts in any way you can

and for the most part it works

but then you’re on deck, helping one of your crewmates put some supplies away

when a crowd comes on board, bruised and bloodied, and drops choi san onto the wooden floor.

the captain is ecstatic - they’ve managed to catch hongjoong’s best swordsman, no doubt they’ll get a hefty ransom for him

but you’re not listening. all you can do is avoid san’s sharp gaze

and think of a way to help him escape.

the ship sets sail within hours, trying to get away from hongjoong as quickly as possible. san lives his days in one of the tiny cells belowdecks, barely fed between questioning sessions during which he says nothing

but he can feel hope slipping away, day by day - even he can’t break through chains, and even if he could, his sword is gone. five or six pirates he could maybe take alone without a weapon, but there are far more on this ship

still, when the ship finally docks, san has resolved to at least attempt an escape. he knows the captain is in negotiations with hongjoong over getting him back so hongjoong has to be in the same port, or at least nearby

so when someone opens the cell again, san literally launches himself at them in an aborted attempt to run

you subdue him quickly - you’re not dehydrated and underfed, after all

san just gapes into your face that’s barely lit by a torch on the wall outside his cell. he has so much he wants to say, the first being how could you do this to him, did none of your time together mean anything - 

but then you unlock the chains around his wrists, toss him a bundle of fresh clothes, and tell him to get changed

dressed in the new clothes, he looks like a member of the crew, and you tell him to keep his head down as you bring him up out of the ship and into the village

san’s still kind of dumbfounded so when you tell him to run, he doesn’t understand at first. run where?

hongjoong’s ship is in the next port, you say. on foot, it’ll take a few days to get there, so he needs as much of a head start before people realize he’s missing

therefore - you push back his forehead with a finger - fucking run, choi san. i don’t recall you being stupid before.

when he understands, he tries to tell you to come with him - hongjoong’s a decent captain, he’ll probably understand

but you shake your head. you yourself need to leave. once your captain realizes san has disappeared, it’s only a matter of time before you get found out, considering the number of unconscious and dead bodies you left in your wake, and you need to be long gone and away from san before that happens. you’re not going to bring more harm on him again. the least you could do is maybe divert their attention for a while

san’s heart sinks when he realizes you have no intention of coming with him, no matter how much he tries to convince you

and he almost starts crying again - just when he’s finally gotten you back, fate is forcing you to slip through his fingers yet again

you just hug him and apologize for everything, for getting kidnapped, for not helping him escape until now even though none of that is your fault

san says that and more, apologizes for even thinking you’ve changed - he should’ve known you were still the same person he’d fallen in love with so long ago

but there’s no more time and now you’re pushing him away and telling him he needs to go before it’s too late. in the process, you press a blade into his hand. 

for protection. 

it’s faintly familiar. and when san looks a little more closely, he realizes it’s the blade that jongin gave you so long ago, a copy of the same one he gave san. only the initials etched into the handle are different.

it makes him feel sick. san had switched his blade out for another sword the second he could, too many memories of you and jongin attached to it. but you never stopped using yours. 

that knowledge makes his insides burn with shame and he tries to give it back to you but you force him to take it. i have more weapons than just this. you have nothing. and now you need to go.

he kisses you one last time. you kiss him back with just as much fervor and when you break away, there’s a small smile on your lips 

you tell him you’re glad he’s found a kind crew, a crew he’ll be happy to remain with. you’re glad he’s luckier than you

san tries to tell you again to come with him, but you shake your head. hongjoong won’t be happy to take in a member of an enemy crew, and even if he was, that’d only turn your ship’s sights on san’s for a long time. you won’t have that. 

so you disappear with a last reminder not to be stupid, a wavering smile on your face 

it takes everything san has to return to hongjoong’s ship without chasing after you, and he’s welcomed back with open arms and warm words

but despite being back with his family, san’s heart sinks the farther they get from the harbor, knowing that he’ll probably never find out what happened to you, his original family, after this

wooyoung tries to comfort him, saying not to lose hope - after all, you met once after your separation, you might meet again

however, fate isn’t kind. san knows that very well. twice you’ve met, and twice you were separated

san hopes wooyoung is right, hopes he’ll see you once more

but as the ship cuts through the water into the open ocean and land fades from sight...

deep inside, something tells san he won’t.

mingi (ABS)

warnings: cursing

you look me in the eyes and ask how it is possible for me to write angst for someone like mingi. i tell you i will try my best

that is a threat and a promise

anyway! let’s get on with it

mingi is a pure-hearted orphan who has somehow survived the demoralizing and horrible orphanage system in his hometown

he never knew his parents, all he’s ever known was that shitty little orphanage, it’s a miracle that didn’t break apart his pure personality

it helps that from a young age, mingi was taller and bigger than his peers - people didn’t want to mess with him

also when he’s not smiling, he can look pretty scary

but that left mingi lonelier than he wanted to be, so he resolved to smile whenever he could so that people wouldn’t feel intimidated by his stare

it didn’t win him many friends??? like the kids his age were more just weirded out by him smiling when they lived in a fucking orphanage. but he did get more free handouts from adults when he’d pretend to act like a cute kid, so he just kept doing that

eventually when he grew older, maybe mid-teens, he got a job working at his town’s port

mingi’s pretty smart and more importantly here, he’s very strong - just the type of worker his supervisors were looking for

the job is okay - not horrible, but it’s kind of boring and mingi’s supervisors aren’t always the nicest

but mingi’s always been the type of person to just content himself with the fact that hey, things could be worse

he might not have survived the orphanage

he might not have been born with strength

he might not have gotten a job that comes with a semi-stable roof over his head

so for a couple of years, this goes on, mingi helping ships unload and reload, stuff like that

until hongjoong’s ship pulls into port

it normally wouldn’t mean anything if hongjoong hadn’t been half dead on his feet with his partner and seonghwa pretty much carrying him down the gangplank

most people were just shoving them around, totally ignoring the fact that hongjoong clearly needed help

but even though his supervisor told him to go help one of the bigger ships, mingi saw hongjoong and went off to go help them

recommended a cheap place to get rest and offered to help them with some of the ship repairs so they wouldn’t have to pay so much (because their boat was... a little beaten up to say the least)

after a few days, hongjoong recovers from his sickness (brought on by exhaustion, not eating well, and god knows what else - his partner chewed him the fuck out), and they all thank mingi profusely

they’re about to leave then - the ship has been repaired thanks to mingi’s help and they’re ready to set sail again

but a glint appears in seonghwa’s eye and he suddenly turns around and asks mingi if he’d like to come with them

mingi: wha - you mean me?

seonghwa: is there another guy named mingi around?

mingi: i mean technically yeah, there’s a lee mingi working on the other end of the shipyard -

at first mingi’s like... no i don't think so because he has a stable job here, right? nothing really happens and it’s kind of boring, but being a pirate sounds kind of scary

but another part of him has been aching for something more interesting than the monotony of working at the port day in and day out

besides, hongjoong seems like a much nicer person than his supervisors

so in the end, mingi throws caution to the wind and joins the crew

he kind of questions it at first because he really doesn’t seem to have a knack for swordplay, also he kind of tends to panic/get squeamish when there are fights

but seonghwa keeps faith in him no matter what - he was the one to ask mingi if he wanted to stay, after all

so as time goes on and more people join the crew, mingi adjusts to life as a pirate. he finds his role on the ship in making repairs when they’re in port or even when they’re on board, which makes him happy - mingi likes being useful

he also likes jongho, who joins him as one of the ship’s repairmen when he ends up with the crew

he even becomes a fair swordsman - definitely not the best on the ship, not by a long shot, but after being trained by first hongjoong and then yunho (with san occasionally interjecting when he joins the crew), he definitely has the skills to defend himself and others

emphasis on others. because while mingi might panic during a fight where he’s only defending himself, when those he cares for come into play, mingi is a demon. an absolute demon. 

an enemy pirate once got within a hair’s breadth of killing seonghwa once and mingi just unleashed absolute fury. first time he ever killed someone

it haunts him sometimes, but the knowledge that he was protecting seonghwa keeps him from dwelling on it too much. that’s how much mingi cares about his crew

and that comes into play when you enter his story

you’re the child of a couple corrupt aristocrats who have never, not once in their lives, given you the attention you deserved

no matter what you did, they didn’t care

you studied your ass off. you worked so hard on swordplay. you’re literally the golden child in the aristocratic circles of your region and other nobles wish you were their child, but all your parents ever do is give you a passing glance and a fake smile

sure they’ll praise you at parties and things when they talk to other nobles, but it’s all empty - they only barely remember all of your accomplishments. they just don’t care

then one day, hongjoong’s crew pisses off your family - ruins trade at some port or whatever

so your father puts a bounty on his crew’s heads

it’s not exactly a common thing to put bounties on the heads of pirates, but it can happen if a crew fucks around a little too much

and when the bounty goes out for the crew of the aurora (hongjoong’s ship), you seize on it as your last chance to gain your parents’ approval, the approval you’ve been seeking for quite literally your entire life

you’re not dumb - you know it’ll be hard, and you know your family is only going to be completely satisfied if you bring back proof that the captain is dead. not some other random crew member, though that’s a step in the right direction

you decide to go for one of those crew members first, preying on the fact that if one goes missing, the captain will likely be easier to capture

you’ve heard stories about hongjoong, he isn’t heartless. he actually does care about his crew, each of whom plays an integral role on the ship

which means if you can get one of them, you can lure him out - you might not even have to kill off the rest of the crew if you can just take him out

therefore you set your eyes on one song mingi. from the rumors he’s the worst at fighting, but he’s also essential when it comes to ship repairs 

the perfect target for your plan

so you set out on your journey. your idea is to try and see if you can befriend mingi somehow, get him to trust you, then take him hostage

and somehow, you get lucky at the first port you visit - hongjoong’s ship is right there, aurora emblazoned on its side

it’s not hard to spot mingi - he’s one of the tallest, and he’s busy tinkering around the side of the ship

it’s even easier to get his attention

because your master plan is simple and dumb as fuck

fall into the water and pretend to drown. 

mingi, being the pure-hearted lovely soul he is, jumps in to save you despite you being very able to swim

he’s worrying over you when he pulls you out of the ocean, spitting and choking water

and all you can think is 1. mingi is very handsome but more importantly 2. all of this is genuine. like too genuine

it unnerves you - how can a pirate be so pure of heart?

but you push that thought away. there has to be some hidden side of mingi that he hasn’t shown yet, he’s a pirate after all. you can’t feel guilt for using him - you need to gain your parents’ approval. you need to

so you do your damn best to keep him in port. every night you go out and subtly undo some of the repairs he’s made and create a few new problems as well

the ship ends up staying in port for a few more weeks than expected

and during that time, you find that mingi... is really not hiding anything

at all

you keep trying to prod at him when you invite him to bars for a drink, when you “coincidentally” catch him on the streets, etc. 

but there’s nothing to mingi except his very kind personality that sometimes, against your better judgement, sweeps you off your feet

like when that horse-drawn carriage almost hit you and mingi pulled you away just in time

or when you bumped into the wrong person and they pulled a knife on you that mingi was fast enough to deflect

by the time those several weeks are over, you haven’t made any headway in your plan to kidnap mingi

you tell yourself that it’s fine, this mission was always going to take a long time - you could be here for over a year before the right opportunity presents itself after all, and mingi probably doesn’t trust you enough just yet for that to work anyway

mingi ends up sailing off again, and he promises to come back

also makes you promise to stay and wait for him. 

you tell yourself another lie, that you’re happy he’s asking you to wait just because it’ll make your plan so much easier - plus, it means he likes you, which is a step towards trust

it’s definitely not because mingi’s smile is as bright as the sun itself. 

the next time you see the aurora come into port, you swear to yourself you’ll do it this time. you’ll kidnap mingi, force hongjoong to come out so you can put his head on a silver platter

but it doesn’t happen. and the next time it doesn’t happen, either. 

and in the end, you have to accept that the reason you keep sabotaging the ship, trying to keep mingi in port as long as you can, is that you like his smile. way more than you actually should. 

some stupidly hopeful part of you tries to convince you that it’ll be fine, you can continue living like this

but another part of you knows lies never last

and a last part of you screams that you’re a disappointment to your family, falling in love with one of the pirates your parents have put a bounty on when that pirate probably doesn’t even love you back

he does, though. he really does

mingi loves the curve of your lips when you smile genuinely, when the clouds in your eyes disappear for a moment of pure, blessed happiness

he’s fallen in love with your mind, with your quick wit and light banter when you speak

for the past two trips on the ocean, mingi has dreamed of little more than holding you close and kissing you and he’d resolved to that, finally, when he came back this time

which is why his heart completely shatters when he finds you by the ship one dark night, carefully undoing some of the repairs he made just this morning

he never suspected it, but as he stands, watching you work, the pieces begin to click together

mingi isn’t stupid, after all - he knows you’re smart, knows you’re good with your hands, and you’ve also been extremely secretive about your past

even more secretive than he is about being a pirate.

you sense his presence when he gets closer before he even says anything and your hands freeze

for a moment, neither of you says anything

then mingi just lets out a cracked why?

you could lie. you consider it for a few frantic moments, mind working to conjure something credible 

but it’s mingi. it’s fucking song mingi, the pirate you’ve fallen in love with against every single one of your wishes

so the truth behind all of your lies spills out in one go

in the moonlight, you can see mingi’s eyes turn from confused and betrayed to even more betrayed

but what really drives it home is when you mention hongjoong, and how you were trying to use mingi to lure him out

mingi’s eyes turn angry for the first time since you’ve met him

because like i said, mingi doesn’t take kindly to anyone who tries to hurt those whom he cares about

like yeah, he cares about you, but hongjoong is his captain, the captain who’s saved mingi’s life multiple times, often at risk of his own

that’s when mingi’s eyes narrow and his expression turns cold

a chill runs down your back, a chill you’ve never felt before in his presence

and mingi tells you then and there that he better not see you ever again

because if he does, it won’t end well

you’re in the next town before you allow yourself to process anything that just happened, mainly because you know that if you try you’ll start crying

and that’s exactly what happens in a dark little tavern at the edge of the city

you cry over yourself, over losing mingi, over failing your stupid mission for stupid parents who were never going to accept you anyway

you cry because you hurt someone so pure of heart just for two cold aristocrats who didn’t give a shit

you cry because now you have no purpose in life - you’ve catered your entire existence to your parents, and they don’t even care

what’s the point of anything now?

back on the ship, mingi doesn’t cry. he just stares at the fading town as the aurora draws farther and farther from land

your story plays in his mind over and over again

he sympathizes for you, he really does - mingi isn’t cruel or heartless, he heard the desperation in your voice when you talked about your parents and he’s seen the clouds in your eyes firsthand

but it doesn’t change the fact that you’d sought him out with the intention of hurting his crew beyond repair

he tries to tell himself this as comfort, to reaffirm that he did the right thing by chasing you off

deep inside, though, even if he’s sure he did right

the pain of a broken heart and what could have been, he knows, will never fully go away.

wooyoung (ABS)

warnings: cursing, death, blood

before i start i’d like to preemptively apologize

probably should’ve done that before every other part too idk why i'm only doing it now

maybe it’s because this one is 3.4k long and the second longest is a mere 2.8k (fuck you san)

doesn’t matter i've done it please don’t come for me

wooyoung is a ball of pure sunshine aboard the ship. almost literally

sometimes shines a little too bright (ie he gets annoying), but without him, the crew would fall into darkness

but a light needs a source, doesn’t it? it doesn’t just spontaneously emit out of nowhere - fires need kindling, candles need wax, even the sun burns on fuel

and wooyoung’s fuel is you.

like i mentioned in san’s part, you and wooyoung are childhood friends. probably not quite as long as san and his partner - you met when you were a bit older, maybe just after you turned twelve or something, but that doesn’t mean your bond is any less strong

wooyoung remembers your first meeting very clearly - in fact, it’s one of his favorite memories

some older kids were pushing him around, and wooyoung was just trying to run away

he’d just broken free and was running off when a hand grabbed his wrist, dragging him behind an empty market stall, and another hand slapped over his mouth to muffle his cry of surprise

the older kids ran past, then stopped, looking confused, but when they couldn’t see wooyoung anywhere they just left

you finally let go of wooyoung and he turns around to look at you

and from then on, he swears you’re his savior

seriously, wooyoung thinks you’re literally the greatest fucking thing on this planet. might not act like it all the time because he’s a little shit, but you mean more to him than anything in the world

you don’t plan to get attached to him, not at first - you’re a little more standoffish, you told wooyoung you only helped him because you really hate the group of kids that was messing with him

but wooyoung attaches himself to you like a fucking limpet and as the months pass, you find you don’t mind. not at all. 

you’re both street orphans, pickpockets and all that - neither of you are in the orphanage (wooyoung just never ended up there, while you ran away early on) and you’ve both been alone for a long while, so it’s nice to have someone with whom you can trust your back

and as time goes on, you start thinking of wooyoung less as an ally and more as a friend, then less as a friend and more as someone you love

wooyoung, on the other hand, has been head over heels since day one - getting into your space, pressing stupid little kisses onto your dirty face even as you try to bat him away

but he obviously doesn’t make a move at first because he’s like fucking twelve and doesn’t understand what he feels, and when he grows older and figures it out, he refrains from doing too much (like kissing your lips) because you don’t seem to feel the same way

except you are an impatient fuck

so once you figure it out and more importantly, you figure wooyoung out, it takes less than a day for you to have him pressed up against a wall, kissing him with all the strength you can muster

when you pull away, lips swollen and eyes suddenly shy, wooyoung tries to crack a joke like wow, didn’t know i was that irresistible

you just smirk and say you’re the one who’s been staring at my lips day in, day out for the past several years, woo

oh yeah that’s when wooyoung knows you’re the one

(he does ask why the fuck you waited so long if you noticed everything over the past few years)

(the truth is you only really figured it out a few days ago, but you tell him you just wanted him to suffer)

(it cues a lot of angry whining and cute pouts even though he knows it’s a joke so what can you do but kiss him until he shuts up?)

anyway you and wooyoung more or less rule your small section of the streets

master pickpockets and all that, plus you know how to use a knife very well and wooyoung is adept at fighting with whatever the fuck happens to be nearby

you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and though you never truly lie, your reasonable-sounding words always have several layers of meaning, which is very useful in negotiations

meanwhile wooyoung is just really, really good at sliding out of sticky situations - you turn your head the other way for one second and he’s disappeared

people don’t really dare mess with either of you because they know that if one of you get hurt, the other will literally go out for blood

the same goes for yeosang - you met the quiet orphanage boy on one of the rare times he went outside, and everyone knows not to mess with him since he’s under your protection

this reputation precedes you, which is why you and wooyoung are very surprised when a tall, gangly looking dude comes into your little pocket of territory looking very lost

both of you immediately think this is someone good to pickpocket, or at least harangue for news - he’s clearly not from here

too bad mingi has a hongjoong on his side who is very worriedly looking for his tall lost repairman

and in the middle of you two getting up in mingi’s space, hongjoong appears, wielding a very scary-looking sword

both you and wooyoung know this is someone not to be messed with, but curiosity gets the better of you - who is this guy, why is he here, and why doesn’t he know to stay away?

instead of asking, though, you both run away fast enough that hongjoong doesn’t have to deal with you

the next day, though, when you see a familiar face with a familiar sword hanging around the market, you decide to tail him for a bit

turns out he’s a pirate, which is intriguing in and of itself - it also explains the unfamiliarity with the territory

but what’s even more intriguing is how he manages to defend himself against your knives all the while answering your peppered questions in the most evasive manner possible

in the end, hongjoong has you pinned against an alley wall, sword inches from your throat

he clearly expects you to start begging for your life

but you just laugh breathlessly and say - hey, i’ve got two friends who’ve got nothing left here, just like me. do you have an opening for three on your crew?

hongjoong thinks you’re joking but you’re dead serious. there’s nothing in this town, you’re sick and tired of pickpocketing people and protecting your little territory to no end - there’s no point to it all

you know wooyoung feels the same way. he’s so energetic, always looking for something new, and even though he doesn’t say anything, you know he’s itching to get out of here

yeosang might take a little convincing, but if you can prey correctly on his desire to visit the lands he’s only ever marked on maps, he’ll come too

hongjoong asks what you have to offer to his crew. you say a sharp tongue, resourceful fighters, a navigator

and most importantly, a source of light. 

(hongjoong doesn’t ask and you don’t elaborate on the last one, even though you can see a hint of confusion in his eyes)

he gives you two days to convince wooyoung and yeosang, if you don’t show up by then he’s setting sail

wooyoung is convinced almost immediately - his only qualm is seasickness, and you tell him he’ll get used to it

yeosang takes a little more effort, but with your persuasion skills, he agrees

and so the three of you join hongjoong’s crew

being a pirate isn’t as glorious as you originally thought it’d be - the first few weeks are just being seasick all the time, and there are fewer fights and less exploring than you’d like, more just running around and maintaining the ship

but the crew makes up for it more than tenfold

you and wooyoung have never really had family - just each other and then yeosang

but now that you’re with the crew, that sense of home you’ve only ever felt with woosang just multiplies

you love it on the ship. so does wooyoung

(he says it’s because there are so many hidden places where you can hide to kiss, but you think it’s because he has seonghwa to annoy now and not just you + yeosang)

both of you are on cloud nine, even with the nonstop work day in and day out

it’s all worth it when you can see the new cities, pilfer a little something in the marketplaces every now and then

life goes on like this - some crew members are lost and others join

you mourn for those gone, especially hongjoong’s partner, and you try to welcome the new members as best you can

(san is a tough nut to crack, but in the end, you and wooyoung are both happy that you kept at it long enough to see the results)

it’s a constant give or take - you know the ocean isn’t kind, know that the life of a pirate isn’t kind, and you’ve learned to live with it even though a piece of your heart breaks away with every crew member who falls

but then yeosang falls. literally. 

and wooyoung begins to fade away.

wooyoung feels his emotions deeply, he’s always known that - it’s what binds him so strongly to you and what bound him so strongly to yeosang

so when he fell during that battle, stabbed several times, and could only watch yeosang fall into the ocean from the crow’s nest - essentially yeosang’s home on the ship - 

wooyoung cries for hours after the battle, locked in your arms

and for once, even the knowledge that you’re by his side doesn’t seem to be enough to fill the void left by yeosang’s loss

the entire crew is experienced with their own types of loss, loss of partners and friends

but this is the first time wooyoung has felt it so deeply, like a knife carving out a hole in his chest

eventually, though, he recovers

it takes months, but he still has you. he still has san. he still has yeosang’s grieving friend, who might have become his partner had he lived, and he still has all of the crew

and you let him latch onto you whenever the void comes creeping on him again, because though wooyoung might be the light, you’re the source of fuel that keeps his sputtering flame burning

(guilt eats at you, too - you’re the one who convinced yeosang to join the crew, after all. but wooyoung calls it bullshit - you’re not at fault, not at all, yeosang understood what he was risking - and when he latches onto you, you take your own comfort in the warmth of his arms)

life goes on after the battle and yeosang’s death. wooyoung takes a long time to recover from his injuries and you’re by his side the entire way

but then san gets kidnapped and wooyoung almost goes off the deep end again - he can’t lose another friend

thankfully, san returns, so wooyoung doesn’t lose himself completely

but he begins to fear the disappearance or death of one of those whom he loves even more than he used to

as time goes on, he realizes he might not be able to handle the life of a pirate - he cares too deeply, too much, losing the people he cares for is breaking him slowly, bit by bit

you ask him what’s wrong one day and he spills all of this to you, sobbing

the next day you ask hongjoong to leave you and wooyoung at the next port - you can’t be on the crew anymore

hongjoong asks why, but when you explain he doesn’t even hesitate to nod and thanks you for your service

he does say that he’ll miss the source of light on his ship, the light and its kindling, but if this is what you and wooyoung really want, then it’s what he’ll give you

wooyoung feels a guilty sense of relief when you bring him back the news - he’s relieved that you two are going to leave, but there’s also the guilt of taking you away from a life that you enjoy

but you remind him that he’s your life. wooyoung is everything to you, and if he isn’t happy, you’re not going to be happy, no matter what

so it’s settled that you two will split off from the crew at the next port, which you’ll reach after a few weeks of sailing, maybe

you reach the port and are ready to part ways, saying goodbye to the rest of the crew

the aurora is staying in port for a couple of days for repairs, and you and wooyoung decide to stick around for at least the night before you go off

you go on a walk that night with him, darkened streets lit up by evenly spaced torches and lanterns

which is why you see the other ship pull into port with a navy seal on its side. and your blood freezes. 

with one look, you and wooyoung are racing off to where you know the crew of the aurora is staying because you have to warn them

hongjoong looks grim. there’s a fight, it’s going to be inevitable, and you can feel wooyoung tensing up next to you

your former captain says you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to, you’re technically not part of the crew anymore

but one look between you and wooyoung settles it. one last battle to help the family that took you in

the battle is in the dark, bloody and brutal and made even worse by the fact that you can’t see the rivers of blood flowing down the streets - it’s all a mess of sticky black that your feet leave tracks in on the roads

you and wooyoung are back to back with san, the three of you fighting to the last

until there’s finally an opening and you manage to escape into a little alley

except the alley ends in a wall. a wall tall enough to climb over, maybe, but wooyoung has a wound in his stomach and san’s bleeding out of his side and you’ve got injuries of your own so you’re wholly, completely fucked

as several naval soldiers appear at the end of the alley, all you can think is how you and wooyoung were supposed to have gone off today, were supposed to have left to find a more stable life together

but at the same time, you know that if you hadn’t stayed for the night, your crew, your family, might not have gotten enough warning to save at least a few of their lives

wooyoung is starting to wheeze behind you. san doesn’t look much better, and you feel like you’re going to collapse

there are four soldiers standing in front of you, and there’s no shred of uncertainty in your mind when you think we’re not going to survive this

except - maybe if you can buy yourselves some time - 

your eyes light on one of the torches on the side of the alley and a really dumb plan springs into your mind

you spring forward, ignoring wooyoung’s cry, and snatch up the still-burning torch

with a prayer that the ground is flammable, you hurl the torch in front of you 

and thankfully, a flame begins to burn

you turn around and start helping wooyoung boost san over the wall

wooyoung is about to go next, grasping san’s hands - you go to help push him up

but then metal flashes in corner of your eye and you have to whirl away, dropping wooyoung to dodge the sword that came a hair’s breadth within slicing the skin off your cheek

how the soldier got past the fire, you have no idea - it’s still burning

maybe they got over it when it was still low

but then there are two shadows, not just one, both with blades flashing

and you know with a stark certainty that both you and wooyoung are going to die if you don’t get up that wall immediately

the problem is, there isn’t enough time to get both of you up - one is going to be slashed to pieces by the time it’s their turn

but one of you...

you block one of the blades and send the soldier crashing to the ground. the other is farther away and for one split second, you lock eyes with them

there’s enough light to see your smirk

give me a moment here, will you? you say

then you turn around and kiss wooyoung on the mouth. 

it’s a brief kiss, barely longer than a second, but it’s all you have time for before you bodily lift wooyoung as much as you can so that san can reach him, arms pulling him up

san acts on reflex - he doesn’t realize what you’re planning just yet and neither does wooyoung

but they sure as hell figure it out when you duck under the second soldier’s swipe and begin fighting, despite the blood streaming from your face and body

in the background, you can hear wooyoung screaming and no doubt he’s thrashing around in san’s grip

but it’s all you can do to focus on the fight at hand - two against one with the one injured isn’t fair, but since when has the navy played fair?

you notice the sword flashing down at your side. you notice it, but you’re not fast enough

white hot pain bursts below your rib cage and you fall to your knees, blades clattering from your hands

another explosion of pain enters your back and you let out a scream of agony, collapsing to the ground

wooyoung watches you fall in the moonlight, red and black blood pooling beneath you

and only then does he stop thrashing in san’s hold

because he’s crying too hard, too hard to see or do anything but let a silently crying san carry him away

san takes him back to the ship where hongjoong manages to set sail in record time, leaving the navy behind

wooyoung doesn’t even move from where san has laid him on the floorboards - the only sign he’s still alive are his eyes, deadened eyes that track the land they’ve left behind, growing smaller and smaller in the distance

the land that holds your body

the body he’ll never see again.

several hours pass. someone’s moved him into the medbay, wooyoung doesn’t know who because all he can see is you collapsing to the ground over and over again, dark blood flowing endlessly from your wounds

tears build up behind his eyes again and he wants to scream, scream how nothing is fair, nothing is fucking fair, he was the one who wanted a new life that wasn’t that of a pirate and you were just going along with it but now he’s still alive and on the same fucking pirate ship he wanted to leave in the first place 

and he’s lost both of his childhood friends, first yeosang to the waves and now you to the navy

with this loss, wooyoung is grasping his will to live by a mere thread

and he isn’t even sure he wants to hang on any longer.

there is no sun aboard the aurora anymore, at least not in the form of jung wooyoung

because once a fire’s fuel is gone, it can no longer burn

and wooyoung’s fuel is out.

jongho (ABS)

warnings: cursing, death, blood

ah yes jongho stronk boy

when i listed the best fighters i bet you were expecting me to put him in there too

but what i meant by best fighters is best sword fighters

see, jongho is extremely good at fighting and has the arms to prove it

however, his skills don’t solely lie in swords - hongjoong/yunho/san are better than him there - but he will fight with whatever the fuck else happens to also be around him

mingi sometimes likes to bring up that one time there was an enemy pirate fighting next to him and jongho just picked him up, swung him, and knocked out a second enemy pirate right then and there

so yeah. that’s jongho. well-rounder extraordinaire

no one knows how the fuck he’s so good at everything and at this point most of the crew is afraid to ask

but anyway let’s talk about the back story a little shall we

unlike most of the others, jongho has parents that he remembers and as far as he knows are still alive

however that does not mean he likes them

they weren’t abusive, exactly - they just were never around and when they were, jongho mostly got ignored or ordered around to do stuff like cook dinner or fucking whatever

so that’s what he suffers through for most of his childhood

during that time, he learns how to be pretty self-sufficient - he’s the one who takes care of himself, after all

he learns to cook, clean, etc.

but most importantly he learns to repair things, like the house

he gets really good at it too, to the point that people start hiring him to help them with fixing their shit

which is how hongjoong finds him

well, more accurately, yunho finds him

the aurora has docked in jongho’s town after a long storm and the ship has a lot of damage that’s going to take mingi a lot of time to fix

so yunho sets out to find someone who they can hire to help mingi out

he asks around and everyone recommends jongho, so yunho goes to find him. after losing his partner in that storm, hongjoong is in no shape to leave the ship, san is still recovering from injuries and guilt, and seonghwa’s busy tending to the crew members and making sure they don’t fall apart

when jongho answers the knock on his door, yunho is like ???? at first because what the fuck this guy can’t even be older than him - is he really that good at fixing things??

tbh yunho was expecting some middle aged man with massive muscles or something

but jongho’s staring at him like wtf do you want and yunho remembers he actually has a purpose here plus jongho does have really big muscles even if he isn’t middle aged so he’s like hi i heard you’re jongho can you help us fix our ship we’ll pay you

and what’s jongho gonna do? say no? 

so he works with mingi for the best part of a couple of months, fixing up the aurora

and during that time, he meets the rest of the crew, who come and go

jongho gets to know them and he grows to like them - he used to be a pretty solitary person, but it’s really impossible to stay that way after meeting one jung wooyoung and his partner

even after he puts it together that they’re pirates, he still likes them

jongho isn’t stupid, it’s pretty obvious after working with mingi for a couple of weeks - they talk of treasure and travels when they think he doesn’t hear

but really, jongho doesn’t care too much - pay is pay, no matter who it comes from

and really, pirates can’t be much worse than the greedy nobles and aristocrats who run his city, right? their illegal acts are just blatant and out in the open, while the aristocracy try to keep their wrongdoings under wraps

he does ask mingi about it one day - why he decided to join the crew of the aurora

after the initial spluttering of we’re not pirates, cueing jongho’s deadpan expression that has mingi immediately quailing, mingi tells jongho more or less his story of joining the crew

maybe a few embellishments because yknow it’s mingi and we love him for it

and jongho listens carefully. his story is a little similar to mingi’s, actually, even if he knows his parents and was never at an orphanage

they were both alone, they both learned to do repair work...

that night, jongho lies awake in bed in his empty house, thinking about what mingi said

as they continue working, jongho prods mingi for more and more stories about the crew and their adventures, and though he visibly shies away from some topics (major fights and major storms, particularly the one that drove them into this port), mingi tells jongho enough for him to see that hongjoong’s crew isn’t immoral. far from it, really

there’s no explaining away the battles and murder and pillaging, but as far as jongho is concerned, at least they’re upfront about it

nobility does the same shit, they just prefer to call murder “the hanging of criminals” and pillaging “taxes”

and jongho is tired of both

after about a month or a month and a half, he decides to himself that he wants to join the aurora

so he asks mingi one day how hongjoong might feel if jongho wanted to join the crew

he doesn’t know hongjoong, he’s only caught maybe a glimpse or two of the captain because he’s been grieving this whole time, which is why he goes to mingi first

mingi tells him to come back the next day, he’ll see if seonghwa can better answer that question as the second in command since hongjoong is still out

seonghwa takes a liking to jongho almost immediately, and the feeling is mutual

even just minutes after meeting, seonghwa gives jongho the sense that he truly cares for him in a way that jongho really hasn’t felt before, not even from his own parents

so the deal is settled and after the repair job is finished, jongho returns to his small home to pack up his stuff. the next day, he’s sailing into the open ocean without looking back

like almost every other new crew member, jongho gets seasick for the first few weeks he isn’t on land

meaning he stays in the medbay more often than he’d like to

but it’s fine - because that’s where he meets you

you’re the ship’s doctor. relatively new since the last doctor was killed in battle maybe half a year ago, but wooyoung was lucky enough to befriend you, an apothecarist’s apprentice, in one of the towns the aurora docked in 

you come from a town that’s a safe zone of sorts for pirates - the locals are friendly if wary, and pirates don’t get into fights on your land

it’s a pretty decent existence if you ignore the fact that royalty/nobles would have all of your heads if they could find definitive proof that your town likes to harbor criminals, but people keep their mouths shut here so it doesn’t happen

however, as decent as this existence is, you got a bit of the short end of the stick

your parents died after you were apprenticed to the apothecarist, leaving you with no nearby relatives or places to stay other than the orphanage or the apothecary

and the orphanage in your town majorly sucks so you just opted to stay at the apothecary

except the apothecarist is not a good human being. major leech. creepy. you hated being around him any more than necessary

which means you learned everything as fast as you could just so you could stay away and look after customers on your own

and when the opportunity to use your skills elsewhere came up, you barely hesitated before telling wooyoung please get me the fuck out of here

only thing that made you balk was the possibility of death on the seas, but you’re young and naive and when you’re at that age, you feel like you’re invincible - therefore you brush it off

plus, everyone dies eventually, right?

you’re the new blood for several months until jongho joins the crew

and because he’s the new guy now, you take it upon yourself to familiarize him with how the ship and the crew work while he’s currently bedridden

it gives him something to focus on other than the rolling sea beneath him

and it’s nice to talk to someone who’s just mildly sick and not bleeding to fucking death

even after jongho gets better, he continues to spend a lot of his free time in the medbay because he likes being around you. your voice is soothing and somewhere in the back of his mind, he probably associates it with care and comfort, given how you treated him during those first few weeks

slowly but surely, you grow closer and closer

you’re the one jongho goes to when he feels a little stifled, too used to independence on land and unfamiliar with the teamwork that comes with being part of a crew

and you like to talk to him when you’re exhausted after treating wound after wound after wound after a harsh storm or bloody battle

it feels like you understand him, no matter what, and jongho does his best to lend you a listening ear as well - it’s the least he can do

you feel comforting, but in a different way from the rest of the crew

like yeah, seonghwa’s comforting in that mother sort of way, hongjoong has that tired dad vibe where jongho knows he can go to him with whatever, and the rest of ateez are like older brothers he knows he can trust

but there’s something different about you

he figures it out, of course, because jongho isn’t dumb or clueless - but he is a little afraid of being so attached to you

because what if he loses you? then what happens?

he tries to go to seonghwa to talk about it because he’s genuinely so scared

but seonghwa’s not in his room and instead, a tired-looking hongjoong catches jongho in the hallway knocking on seonghwa’s door and asks what he needs from hwa

jongho is slightly nervous because he hasn’t spoken that much to joong, or at least not as much as some of the other crew - after all, he joined the crew when hongjoong was still in grieving and has only really been talking to him for a few months

and by now he knows what happened to hongjoong’s partner in the storm - the same storm that wrought the damage on the aurora that jongho helped repair

so he isn’t sure if it’s a good idea to talk to joong about it

but hongjoong presses him a little, saying that hwa is dealing with some other stuff at the moment and that jongho can talk to joong if he wants

so in a fit of recklessness (he’s also been holding it in for kind of a while, he needs to talk), jongho spills it in hongjoong’s office

and hongjoong goes silent. 

jongho regrets his entire existence during the few minutes of silence and he’s opening his mouth to apologize and take his leave

but hongjoong talks first

and he says to go for it. 

you can’t live your life in fear of what might happen, especially when it comes to love

losing love hurts, but the memories you make are worth the pain

hongjoong’s eyes look haunted, but there’s a faint smile on his face that jongho somehow knows isn’t faked - his words are the truth

and he takes them as comfort when he goes to talk to you later about how he feels

turns out you’ve felt the same way for a while, but you didn’t think the feelings were reciprocated so you didn’t say anything, just kept caring for him in the ways you know best

you talk the entire night about what this means for the two of you, and it ends with you and jongho holding each other on one of the medbay beds, curled into the other’s warmth

it turns out to be a blessing that jongho talked to hongjoong about this and not someone else

mingi/yunho/san don’t have partners on the ship, while wooyoung and his partner have been together for literally forever - getting together was barely a decision for them, more like the only logical path to follow

seonghwa would’ve been good to talk to, probably - he lost his partner (at this point he still thinks they’re dead) and would’ve said something similar to hongjoong 

he still wears the ring, after all

but the talk with hongjoong breaks down that last wall between him and jongho, and they grow closer

which is something jongho really appreciates, because hongjoong is as dependable as seonghwa and another figure jongho can now trust

life goes on - it gets better for jongho, actually, what with you and finally growing close to every member of the crew

he loves sword fighting practice and delights in terrorizing his crew members during mock fights by using whatever happens to be nearby, not just his sword

he also loves sitting with you on deck and breaking an apple in half, wordlessly handing one part to you and keeping the other for himself, all the while staring at the clouds during the day or the stars at night

just being near you makes jongho instantly feel not safer, but more comforted

because jongho’s in as much danger as he always was, he knows that

but having you close by makes him feel more able to handle that danger.

at least, until yeosang dies. 

jongho watches him being flung off the crow’s nest and into the water, never to resurface

watches his partner race to the railing and scream until their throat goes raw and the screams die to begging wails

the scene replays itself in his head again and again after the battle is over

only instead of it being yeosang flung through the air, it’s you

which doesn’t make sense. you’re the doctor, you stay belowdecks during fights and have never ventured into the crow’s nest as far as he knows

but suddenly jongho is confronted with the very real fear that you could die any second

he knew that before, but like you, he was young and reckless and thought himself invincible

now, though, he knows what could happen

and it worries him. you’re not the worst at fighting on the ship, you can defend yourself pretty well, but you don’t have have as much experience as even mingi because 1. you’ve been on the ship for less time, and 2. you don’t go above decks during fights - you stay in the medbay with someone designated to protect you. a ship’s doctor is valuable, after all

your instincts are to heal, not to destroy, and that terrifies jongho

it gets even worse after wooyoung loses his partner and jongho sees the shell that he’s become

jongho didn’t see it happen, but san tells him and seonghwa several days later, eyes haunted as he tries to describe the sight of wooyoung’s partner jerking under the blades, wooyoung going limp as a rag doll as they fell, san being forced to bring basically a corpse back to the ship - the only reason he knew wooyoung himself wasn’t dead was because of the tears running down his face

the story cuts deep into jongho’s heart - wooyoung’s partner was a very good fighter, far better than you, and even they were lost

what if it was you, not them?

jongho decides it’s better to be paranoid than to do nothing and he trains you harder, asking san/yunho/hongjoong to help

you notice the change in his demeanor but don’t question it - after all, you’re wrestling with similar thoughts to his

you confide to him during long nights with you two curled up together on one of the infirmary beds and jongho talks, too

neither of you wants to end this, and you both agree that ending it won’t do much, anyway - you still live on the same ship together, and breaking apart will only hurt you two more

but jongho wishes there was something he could do about this constant fear that he’s going to lose you

wooyoung is still a shell of his former self - jongho doesn’t know if he’d become the same way if you died, and he doesn’t want to test it out

he tries to ignore the fear, to just enjoy every day with you like it’s his last

pressing his lips to yours always makes him feel a little better, anyway

the fear never goes away, though - it’s almost like something is warning him that he will soon suffer the same fate as wooyoung and his partner

jongho ignores it. prays to every higher being he knows that you’ll be safe and extends his prayers to those he doesn’t even know

but prayers don’t work when fate has already decided its path. 

the battle comes quickly, and jongho is thrown into the fray, incapacitating as many navy members as he can

he’s so focused on the fight to see the two navy soldiers going belowdecks

because nobody goes belowdecks. the fight stays on top of the ship, only when the ship is being pillaged after the fight do they go below to see what’s there

but since when have naval officers played fair?

jongho has just stabbed an enemy soldier when he hears the muffled yell through the floorboards

a yell of fear, familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time because he knows the voice, but he’s never heard it so frightened

no one has ever seen jongho move that fast. he crashes through the throng of individual battles, earning himself a scrape in the side and several cut ons his arms, but in the moment, he doesn’t feel any of the stinging pain

he crashes belowdecks and freezes for a second at the sight of a dead crew member on the floor, the crew member who was assigned to guard you during this battle

and in that frozen moment, he realizes that there’s no screaming anymore. 

jongho throws himself into the medbay

and the first thing he registers is the blood all over the floor.

grief pulls a desperate cry from his lips

the soldiers turn around

and jongho doesn’t know what happens next.

when his mind catches up to the present, jongho’s throat is raw and two naval officers are dead at his feet, their blood seeping into the floorboards, almost ripped apart

but he can’t even take sick satisfaction in that

because no matter how much navy blood he spills, you will still be gone

dead

your blood staining the medbay floors

jongho falls to his knees - blood soaks into his pants, your blood or the officers’ blood, he doesn't have any fucking clue

all he knows is that you’re dead, gone forever the way he always feared

and no amount of blood he spills will ever bring you back.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for me these parts were so much longer than they should’ve been I think I’m going insane)

[gguksgalaxy]

Inkling | JJK

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

›› AU: Tattoo Artist ›› Genre: Smut / Angst ›› Rating: 18+ explicit sex ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 17.7k Warnings Include: Lots of swearing, conflict, a false accusation of cheating on a third party (it’s nothing serious please trust me), Jungkook being a dick, the death of a coat hanger, mentions of internalised homophobia, fear of coming out, and unaccepting parents. Sexual content: rough (protected) sex, piercings, heavy petting, teasing (with and without other people around), lots of tongue action, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, marking, nipple play, mentions of riding, blowjobs, and mxm sex. A/N: This one is for my beloved friend @xiubaek-13 who’s stood by me and my tumblr journey for over 3 years now. Our friend anniversary was last week, the 16th of January, so it’s a little late. But I hope you still love it. Remember, you gave me this idea, so you shall face the consequences. Enjoy <3

“Like, it’s so unfair,” you groan, arm slung over your face. “He kisses so well. I’m talking toe-curling, spine-arching, breathtakingly good. He really didn’t need to decorate his tongue with a gold medal to celebrate it.” You've replayed the events of Saturday night many times since it happened. The way Jungkook’s hands had slid under your shirt. Your thighs spread over his. Kissing, grabbing, moaning. It really wasn’t fair, the way his tongue pressed into your mouth and made you cave at the very first swipe. The first subtle brush of his golden tongue piercing against your lips. How he—

“Okay, please stop detailing me on what he can do with his tongue and get to the point. If this was just about his amazing tongue skills you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be in his bed.” Hoseok grumbles. “So?” His back is turned to you as he motions for you to continue, busy cleaning his tattoo gun after he touched up your latest piece. A colourful design on the side of your breast and ribs.

It’s one of the reasons you find yourself here. Half your chest out at 8am in Hoseok’s tattoo shop, Inkling. The other reason is being able to vent about his best friend and colleague — Jungkook — without him actually being here.

Jungkook, who had kissed you like he meant it. Fingers sinking deep into the flesh of your thighs. Whose bun had come undone from the way your fingers had slid into his hair. The ink that covers his slightly tanned skin shifting to show defined muscles. The smirk he had every time he’d looked at you — quirking up the left corner of his mouth. His stupidly skilled tongue. The golden tongue piercing that adorns it.

He’d kissed you so hungrily — devoured you — and then he’d gotten up and ran out on you. Leaving you with no proper explanation or goodbye.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve got twenty minutes left to tell me what happened before I go pick him up. Get on with it.” Hoseok finally turns to face you again, grabbing the cream and film to finish up your tattoo. The deep-coloured mandala designs on his elbow shift as he does so. Like all of Hoseok’s tattoos, these are traditionally styled, more simple. Yet, there’s something about every one of his pieces that is uniquely him. Like the small red flower at the hollow of his throat that shifts as he speaks. “What’d he do to you?”

You groan again, lifting your arm a little to give him better access to your side. “I’m not entirely sure really. Like...One second we’re making out and the next he gets up and pushes me off.”

Smoothing the film over your side, he speaks without losing focus. “How drunk was he?” Hoseok isn’t normally this flat in his speech. His mood, much like yours, seems off today.

“Not all that drunk, seen him way worse.” You and Jungkook had both been tipsy, at most. Neither of you made it past more than three drinks before you were all over each other. Hands on bodies. Lips on necks.

It had been a long time coming. The two of you agonisingly ogling each other from a distance for months. That is, if you can call you nearly sitting in his lap every change you get ‘distance’. Even your brother Yoongi had firmly called you out to do something about the sexual tension. Last Saturday you had. It just didn’t go as planned.

Your friend chuckles suddenly.

“What?”

“Nothing, just a thought. Keep talking.”

“No, Jung. Spit it out.” Now that he’s done, you sit up to narrow your eyes at him.

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re just a bad kisser, I don’t know.”

You gasp. “I am no such thing.”

“I mean, I can’t attest to that. Facts only.” He again motions for you to continue as he gets up to clean some things. “He pushes you off and then what?”

Something about the way that Jungkook had looked at you when he pushed you off had stuck with you. Pain, confusion. No lust, no want, not even embarrassment. “He just left.”

“What do you mean he left?” Your friend’s eyebrows contort as he pulls off his gloves. They’re black just like the walls in the small shop. “Are you sure he wasn’t just — I don’t know — not that into it?”

You scowl. “I am not that bad of a kisser Hoseok! If the tent in his jeans had been anything to go by, I’d say it’s the opposite.”

Hoseok merely rolls his eyes, dusting off his ripped jeans and sitting down at the end of the chair that you're still lounging on. He runs a hand through his vibrant red hair.

Part of you just feels sick to your stomach. Both out of embarrassment, confusion and anxiety. Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung and you had all gone to a club together, a normal Saturday night. It’s not uncommon for you and Jungkook to get a little handsy after a few drinks. Usually though, you’d be delightfully cockblocked by your brother, Yoongi.

You get it. Jungkook doesn’t want to make out with his friend’s little sister when he’s right there. Now that he finally got free reign, this happens.

Whatever ‘this’ even means. All you’ve been able to think about is that Jungkook knew what he was doing. His mouth, his hands, his body. Everything. He played you like a damn fiddle. The moan he’d let out at the first contact of your mouth to his still echoes in your ears. Deep, guttural relief.

Hoseok interrupts your train of thoughts, “and you haven’t seen him since he walked out on your apparently amazing make-out session?”

“It’s not like I ever see him on Sundays. Shop’s closed and Yoongi and I usually have a stay-in day.”

“Has he called?” Hoseok asks, quirking one dark eyebrow.

“No?”

“Texted?”

“Nope.”

He sighs, ruffling his own hair, foot tapping on the grey tiles of the floor. “Have you tried texting him? Calling him?” The accusatory tone in his voice twists your gut as you give him a sheepish grimace. “Y/N!”

“What?!” You look away, eyes focusing on anything but him. The off-white desks, Jungkook’s detailed artwork displayed on the opposite wall. The red of the door that leads into the back, or maybe the piercing display.

The chair creaks when Hoseok gets up. “I just thought that, since you’re a girl, you’d have a bit more sense when it comes to shit like this. But you and Yoongi really are one and the same.”

“Excuse me?” you spit, turning back to face him as you grab for your shirt to cover yourself up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Both of you are dense as fuck. You can’t always wait for the other person to act first.” The sharp tinge in Hoseok‘s voice hints at something else. Something unrelated to you and Jungkook. It must be related to your brother. After all, they’d been in a relationship for a little over half a year now. A rocky one. Something must’ve happened between them over the weekend. “Just,” he stops, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Jungkook will be here today, just ask hi—“

The bell that sounds as the door open drown out the sound of Hoseok’s playlist. It brings with it the sound of pouring rain. The tattoo artist immediately gets up to check. The shop isn’t open yet.

“Kook?!” Hoseok exclaims. “I told you I was coming to pick you up. You’re going to get sick like this. What were you thinking?” Concern laces his voice as he rushes over to his friend who’s still hidden from your view behind the velvet grey curtain. Hoseok lets out a few curses, caring personality getting the better of him. Always a listening ear, always ready to help. Sometimes, maybe a little too concerned. Jungkook seems to agree.

“I can take care of myself,” the younger grumbles. He trudges inside, entering the area where you’re currently sitting. Water is dripping down his leather jacket and black baseball cap onto the tile floor. He’s effectively soaked to the bone. Black jeans plastered to his thighs more than usual.

A sense of dread fills your veins when his eyes land on your still half-naked chest. Yes, Jungkook has seen you topless before. To pierce your nipple. Not randomly in the middle of his shop.

His dark gaze flickers between you and Hoseok. Jaw clenched tight, tongue pushing his cheek. “I have a change of clothes in the back.” His voice is nothing short of a sneer, as he drops his backpack by his station and walks off without another word.

“Yikes,” Hoseok whispers. “Are you sure you told me the entire story?”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before he fucking hears you. And call my brother,” you mumble, pulling your shirt over your head, “He’s not going to call you first. We both know that.”

With your shirt back on you feel a little more comfortable. But not comfortable enough to immediately go confront Jungkook.

“What did you two fight about anyway?” you question the redhead who’s currently bent over the laptop by the front desk.

Hoseok doesn’t look up, brown eyes lit by the screen. “Nothing you should be concerned about. You just worry about mister tongue medal. I can fix my own relationship problems.” The comment stings. Neither Hoseok nor Yoongi have ever been particularly open about their relationship. Even though you’re close with both.

“That was unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry.” He leans his head down. “Having all three of you in bad moods is just not doing any good for my own.” The tension in his body is evident as he straightens up. He slides a black folder your way. “How about you go make inventory from today’s shipment. I’ll try and talk to him during morning appointments.”

Inventory, great. Not the kind of work you thought you’d be doing when you offered to help them around the place. You want to protest, but he cuts you off.

“Listen, I know that you hate doing inventory. I know you don’t want to be here at all right now, but you promised to cover Tae’s position until we found someone else.” He’s right, you had offered to do that. In return for a tattoo, you would work their front desk whenever you have time between school and your actual, paying job. The desk was previously manned by Jungkook’s best friend Taehyung. He now works at an art gallery. A job he’s always dreamed of. “It’s not my fault you decided to make out with him,” Hoseok states. “Okay? Now go.”

“I know, I’m going.”

There’s no way for you to miss Jungkook as you round the corner. Tanned skin and tattoos shift as he shakes his wet hair. The crow and moon tattoo on his upper back stand out starkly. Dark, like most of his tattoos. You’ve seen it before, it’s always peeking up from the collar of his shirt. The floral pattern that peeks up from the waistband of his jeans is new to you though. It curves over his lower back and hips. You wonder how deep it goes.

The fabric of his clean shirt drapes down and hides everything from your view. It snaps you out of your thoughts quickly enough for you to slip into the storage room quickly enough before he spots you.

Your gut wrenches with nerves. Avoidance, great. Probably not the best way to solve this. Certainly not the fastest. But then again, talking this out while Hoseok is right there is inconsiderate. It’ll have to wait.

You’ll just spend the rest of your morning thinking about nothing else but Jungkook. The anger in his eyes a few minutes ago, the feeling of his tongue, and shipments. Fun.

Your butt hits the floor as you open the folder. The room is dusty, even with the lights on you struggle to read Hoseok’s jagged handwriting. For someone who draws so well you’d expect something at least semi-legible. Regardless, you can’t focus to begin with.

You and Jungkook have been running in circles ever since that one time when he pierced your nipple. Cliché, but it is what it is. You remember the risky touches and how turned on you’d been. Until he actually pierced you. That had been the most painful thing you ever experienced.

It’s been over a year since Jimin, Yoongi’s coworker, introduced the two of you to Hoseok and Jungkook. Now, everyone in your close circle of friends knows that there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension between you and the youngest. Sadly, neither of you have acted on it. That’s as much your own fault as it is Jungkook’s. Not to speak of the fact that you’ve been interested in him ever since you first laid eyes on him. An entire year, and you did nothing about it.

In that time, Jimin started dating Taehyung. The guy who worked Inkling’s front desk. And your brother has started dating Hoseok. Something Yoongi had only recently told Jungkook about.

That had been a bit of an unfortunate situation. As much as you had assured Yoongi that Jungkook would not bat an eye if he came out to him, he just kept pushing it off. The way your parents had treated him when he told them he was gay made a deep impact on him. It’s a wound you don’t think will ever truly heal. Your parents’ harsh reaction was the reason he moved out at the young age of sixteen. That same reason caused you to show up at his doorstep a few years later. To live with him. Support him.

You and Yoongi have always been close. It’s why he knows about your crush on Jungkook. It’s why you’ve kept Yoongi’s secret from everyone for so long. He’d been especially on guard when he thought Jungkook had already found out a few weeks ago. Apparently Jungkook had suspected something, asked Taehyung about it, who told Jimin, who came to Yoongi. Your brother had then turned into a hysterical mess.

That situation is over now. And somehow you’ve magically created another one out of thin air. You think about this as you count the packages of dyes, gloves, masks, and other various things you’ve no clue what they’re used for. It’s just a little tricky to match the official descriptions to Jungkook’s incoherent labels and abbreviations. Boxes labeled guns, pricklers, and clamps most certainly weren’t what you were looking for. Those are all related to Jungkook’s piercing practice.

When Hoseok and Jungkook set up the shop three years ago it had taken the younger an entirety of a year to convince his friend to let him start piercing. Hoseok’s slightly irrational fear of piercings made a poor argument. Especially since tattooing involves a needle. Something about the puncturing of skin or whatever. Jungkook had eventually won.

Your phone rings, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What the...” you mutter as you see Taehyung’s name pop up on the screen. Taehyung never calls you. The two of you don’t even talk outside of the group.

Picking up, you lean against one of the shelves. “Hey Tae, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a loud yawn on the other end followed by the unmistakable sound of a car door closing. He must be about to get into work. “I’m calling about Jungkook.”

Heart rate picking up, you await his following words.

“I’m not sure what exactly happened, but you probably know more about it than I do.” His voice trails off, faintly lined with anger.

“Is this about Saturday?” you ask, hoping for a no.

Taehyung is silent for a few beats, “I mean, I thought the two of you finally fucked after we couldn’t find you two. Jimin and I scouted the entire place, you were nowhere to be found. He’s called you three times since, and you haven’t gotten back to him. What happened?”

You mentally curse yourself for not calling Jimin back. He’d be way easier to talk to than an aggravated Taehyung.

“I'll rephrase my question,” he says upon your lack of answer. “Yesterday Jungkook came to ours at eight in the morning. He was really fucking distraught and I want to know if you have anything to do with it?”

“Tae...” you hesitate, unsure of what to tell him. The tone of his voice isn’t making it easy for you to choose your words. You know he has a temper. He won’t just forgive you if you hurt Jungkook, he’d do anything to protect him.

“Don’t ‘Tae’ me, you’re not Jimin. It doesn’t work when you do it. You can’t blame me for looking out for Jungkook when he was so upset.”

You really do understand where he’s coming from. Before he and Jimin had gotten steady enough to move in together, Taehyung had been crashing on Jungkook and Hoseok’s couch for months after a series of complicated events. The details had been kept from you, but it involved Taehyung severing ties with a gang he’d been involved in. It hadn’t gone as planned, and Jungkook had to make sure he would get back up on both feet. He made sure he had a roof over his head and food to eat. The entire ordeal had completely passed you by until Jungkook mentioned it to you when he was drunk on your couch one night a few weeks ago.

“Y/N?” he pushes

“I know, I know. Just give me the space to fix this, okay? I have as much of an idea as to what’s going on as you do.” You rub your eyes, trying to stave off the nerves. “I’ll talk to him today, I promise.”

The other’s car engine revs in the background. “Did you know he was upset?”

You bite your lip. “Sort of.”

“And you didn’t think to call him?”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” The way the words fall from his lips make tears appear in the corners of your eyes. What if Taehyung was right? What if you had read all the signs wrong? What if Jungkook didn’t like you? Had you messed up? Pushed him too far? “I’ve known Jungkook since we were kids. He puts up a strong front and you know it. He manages to scare off enough people by merely looking at them. But we’re all aware that he doesn’t look at you the same way. He’s more sensitive than he lets on.” Taehyung’s voice remains neutral, but his words still sting.

You find yourself sliding down the shelves and onto the floor. Fighting the tears increasingly getting harder as Taehyung’s words cause your mind to reach for places that it shouldn’t. Jungkook is more than just a hot guy who wears a manbun and has too many piercings for you to count. He’s more than a guy you want to fuck. You like him, as a person.

“Just let me talk to him, okay? I haven’t had a chance yet.” There’s not much else to tell him. You know that he’s not going to take your side. If you really hurt Jungkook you wouldn’t forgive yourself either. “I never intended to upset him.” The thought that you might’ve pushed Jungkook too far feels wholly irrational, but you can’t get it out of your head anymore.

Taehyung’s silence threatens to make your thoughts spiral again. When he speaks you’re almost relieved. “To be honest, I don’t want to turn this into a huge thing before my ten hour shift.” Your heart sinks. “I’ve got to go, let me know how it goes.”

He hangs up without another word, leaving you with guilt settling heavily in your stomach. This entire situation is messed up. You vividly remember Jungkook pulling you in, capturing your mouth with his. He’s the one who shifted you into his lap, who made you his. It can’t just have been your imagination. Maybe this wasn’t even related to you.

You just hope that whatever it is that caused him to react this way, is something you can fix. An apology should be the start. Taehyung was right.

A knock on the door startles you. “Are you alive?” Hoseok calls, opening the door. He frowns upon seeing your slouched form on the floor. Phone lying between your legs. “You know that if you want to take a break, you can just come up to the front, right?”

You shake your head. “Taehyung called.”

Hoseok helps you up, brushing some dust off the back of your shirt. “Everything okay?”

“Ha, no.” You let out a dry chuckle that’s merely there to cover up your obvious nerves. “Taehyung seemed pretty angry.”

“Eh, he always does. He’s just overprotective of Jungkook, Jimin’s not gonna let him actually rip you a new one. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” Hoseok speaks gently as he grabs the binder off the floor. “Did you finish?”

You nod. “Just unsure of where everything goes.” There’s still a few open boxes in the back.

“That’s okay. I’ll put them into place later.”

“Hobi?” you ask as he opens the door.

He hums an affirmative.

“What if Jungkook didn’t want to kiss me?”

There’s a brief silence, Hoseok turning around with the most confused look on his face as he observes you. “I’m sorry but what did Taehyung say to you? I swear that I have no idea what’s going on but I can assure you that Jungkook not wanting you is the least of your problems.” He lets out a laugh.

“Okay,” you mumble, a little hurt that he’s laughing at it. But he’s probably right. Jungkook’s lingering touches, his purposeful stares, that little thing he does with his tongue piercing that drives you insane. “Did you call my brother yet?”

Hoseok nods, moving to his messy station. “He’s supposed to bring over lunch. All’s good, I promise.” He ruffles your hair and you swat at his arm. Maybe he’s getting a little too comfortable around you. He might be dating your brother, but that doesn’t give him the right to do that. Only Yoongi is allowed to ruffle your hair. Sometimes.

Back in the front area, Jungkook is finishing up a tattoo on someone’s leg. The man’s lying on his stomach, seemingly quiet. Just how you know Jungkook prefers his sessions. He doesn’t talk much when he’s working, finds it easier to concentrate this way. For a moment you let yourself stare. Eyes gliding over the dip in his back and his messy hair. The way it’s pushed back shows off his eyebrow piercing.

Many have claimed him to be intimidating. If it isn’t for the multitude of piercings in his face and ears, then it’d be the way his arms and shoulders are covered in ink. Or his facial expressions. There’s something about the way his brows furrow and his jaw sets just right, that tends to make the sixteen year old girls who come to get their belly buttons pierced regret their decisions. You on the other hand, can’t get enough of him like this.

Where Jungkook is all black — tattoos, clothes and hair — Hoseok is brighter. The other’s red hair and deep-coloured tattoos speak for his personality. He’s more outgoing, more open. And unfortunately, more obnoxious at times. Right now you get a good look at the fox tattoo that covers his left thigh. It peaks out through one of the arguably too big holes in his jeans. He definitely picked them out on purpose.

When you turn back to look at Jungkook, your eyes meet his and you’re not prepared. A lump forms in your throat as his eyes seem stone cold. There’s no smirk, no flirtatious glint. Nothing but what could only be described as anger. “What?” he asks, voice nearly a sneer.

You startle at the harshness, mumbling a quiet ‘nothing’ before deciding to just go to the front desk.

The man leaves before your lunch arrives, and at this point you really are starting to get hungry. Jungkook yet again disappears without a word, probably to the lightbox to draw something. Or he’s smoking a cigarette out back. A nasty, nervous habit of his.

Hoseok’s busy doing work on his laptop, when finally, your lunch arrives. It’s just not Yoongi, but Jimin who’s carrying it inside.

“Hey, a little help would be welcome,” Jimin groans as he pushes open the door with his shoulder. Both you and Hoseok scramble up to help before he spills the coffee all over the floor. “Thanks. Yoongi got stuck doing God knows what, so I’m bringing food in his name.” He smiles, lifting your mood as easily as ever. No matter what’s going on, Jimin’s presence is always soothing and bright.

Yoongi had first met the blonde when he started dishwashing at a local restaurant. Now both him and Jimin are leading staff and close friends.

Jimin looks around the shop. “Where’s Kook?”

You suck in your cheek, meeting Jimin’s suspicious gaze. “He’s holed up in the back.”

Jimin’s eyes shift from you to Hoseok, contemplating speaking up.

“You can say it,” you say blandly, “Hoseok knows.”

“Did you talk to him yet?” he whisper-yells. “You’re so lucky I didn’t tell on your ass to Tae. But the next time you ditch me and ignore my calls I will not hesitate to kick your ass myself.”

“What?”

Jimin’s face changes into a glance you know all too well. That specific one which says; are you fucking kidding me? “Do you really think that I didn’t see you and Mr. I don’t wanna fuck Yoongi’s sister, sucking face in the corner?” Your cheeks heat up. “I mean, we all knew he was lying. But that’s not the point.” Jimin presses a finger in your chest. “My point is that the next time the two of you leave to exchange something more than saliva, at least send me a text.” Jimin’s tone is highly accusatory, but he doesn’t seem upset. That’s probably just because he doesn’t know what’s going on. His hand goes into one of the bags, fishing out a pale muffin for himself to eat.

Hoseok coughs, setting his decaf latte back on the desk. “I hate to break it to you Jimin, but that’s not the actual story.”

You want to slap him for exposing you like that. Reaching behind the counter you turn the music up so you can tell Jimin who’s waiting with wide eyes. “Jungkook and I didn’t go home together,” you confess.

“Please don’t tell me you fucked in the ba—“

“JIMIN!” You shove him lightly. “Just — no, okay? We made out and he bolted on me,” you whisper.

Jimin cocks an eyebrow. “That would...explain a lot but also nothing at the same time. Jungkook was pretty out of it yesterday. I mean, he gets like that from time to time, but still. My bet was on the sex being bad. Or like — I don’t know — you saying his dick was small.”

“Okay, okay! We get it!” you hush.

“Get what?” Jungkook’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you.

You still, stopping yourself from immediately turning around and meeting his probably cold eyes. Part of you want to say something, anything. But you can’t find the words. Especially when he comes close enough for you to feel the heat of his body radiate to your back. His chest grazes your shoulders as he grabs his drink and food from the desk.

“She and Yoongi had a falling out this morning,” Hoseok says calmly, the saviour of your day. “Nothing big.”

Jimin smiles at Jungkook, but it’s not returned. “Hot chocolate, no whip, one shot of espresso.”

Nothing more than a barely-audible thanks follows. He runs his fingers through his fringe, hair now pulled up in a bun again, before he leaves to continue whatever he was doing.

“Are you really that bad at kissing?” Jimin whispers, making you shove him again.

“Shut up, not you too. This is serious, keep your nosy ass out of it.”

Jimin gasps in offense. “You better remember who brings you lunch.” You roll your eyes. “Also, can I talk to you guys about Tae’s birthday present?”

You hoist yourself onto the desk, nodding as you finally bite into your own muffin.

“Of course, it’s not like any of us know what to get him,” Hoseok adds.

Jimin sighs a little. “He keeps saying that he doesn’t want anything. But I know that isn’t true. It’s just that the one thing he really wants is expensive and I can’t afford it on my own.” The slight tremble to his voice gives him away. He loves Taehyung, would do anything for him. You know that Hoseok would be here to help, so are you. “He has a tattoo, he wants to get it covered up. But Jungkook’s told him that he has to get it laser-treated first because it's pretty big and dark. I looked it up and it’s not cheap. I just don’t want you guys to think that I’m taking advantage of you or something. I just...”

Hoseok pipes up before Jimin can even properly finish. “I’m sure that if we all chip in it’ll be good. Plus, Jungkook and I would totally do the cover-up for free. It’s gonna hurt, but it’ll be worth it. You agree, Y/N?”

You nod. You've never seen Taehyung's tattoo, and you know Jimin's not going to go into details, but you understand him wanting to get rid of it. It's his last tie to his past. “Yeah, I’ll chip in. Just send us how much it is and we’ll figure it out Jimin.”

Jimin just about bursts at the seams from happiness. He hugs both of you so tight, whispering a dozen thank you’s as he does. “It’ll mean so much to him!” His eyes flicker to the clock. “By the way, before I go. Hoseok, have you and Yoongi finally told Jungkook about the two of you fucking and all?”

Hoseok grimaces. “We’re dating, Jimin. Stop putting it like that.”

“Potato, potato.”

“We didn’t tell him,” Hoseok confesses.

“What?” You and Jimin say at the same time.

Hoseok sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Yoongi got cold feet. Again.”

Jimin is silent, brows furrowing before his lips part in realisation. “Oh...OH!” He almost starts laughing. “I know what’s going on here. I see, I see.”

You frown at him, looking at Hoseok for an answer but he seems equally confused.

“Girl, you gotta talk to Jungkook. This? It’s all a huge misunderstanding. Just talk to him, you’ll be fine. Trust me.” The giggle in his voice makes you a little angry. He could just tell you, but he’s halfway out the door before you even get the chance to ask. “Also, you,” he says pointing at Hoseok, “make  sure you tell Jungkook about you and Yoongi before he finds out like me and Tae. Meaning with you three knuckles deep in Yoongi’s ass.”

“Okay!” Hoseok calls, somewhat flustered as he gets up. “You’ve said enough for today, don’t you have customers to yell at?”

Jimin laughs, giving you one more glance. “If you and you-know-who end up having some r-rated sessions, please use protection.”

“OUT!” you and Hoseok yell in unison, causing Jimin to quickly slip away before you can properly shove him out the door yourself.

Jimin really seemed to be one step ahead of you, and you hate it. Though his gut was usually right so maybe you should trust him that it’ll all be okay. Hoseok said the same thing after all.

The rest of your day goes by fairly smoothly. A few walk-ins but nothing special. Jungkook quietly works with his back to you, and Hoseok does his best to start some sort of conversation. It dead-ends each time.

When Hoseok is getting ready to leave, your nerves feel like they’re going to burst from your body. Literally. You don’t know if you can do this. Talk to Jungkook. He’s been stone cold the entire day, not a single word where it wasn’t absolutely necessary. You’ve never seen him like this, even Hoseok started to become a victim of his wrath. Jungkook started snapping at him too, causing the elder to just leave him be after a while.

“Listen,” Hoseok says, “I’m going to go, here’s my key in case you need it. Talk to him. Tell me how it goes.”

You whine. “Hobi...”

“No, you’re doing this. I refuse to work with him like this for another fucking second. Just talk. It’s probably nothing.” His voice is stern, and he opens the door to leave. “If it really goes south you can yell at me later. But you have to try.” he goes, leaving you behind in the empty shop unknowingly of what to do.

It can’t be that bad, right? Your hands tremble as you try to take a deep breath. What are you so afraid of? Jungkook rejecting you? Maybe...It would hurt. Everyone would be surprised, that’s for sure. There’s been something oddly specific about how he treats you, looks at you. Jimin’s often referred to it as ‘looking at each other as if you were going to fuck right then and there’.

You take another deep breath. The only way to face the beast is head-on right? Jungkook isn’t gonna hurt you. Worst he could do is yell at you. You can handle that. Right?

With shaking legs you walk into the back, thoughts still running rampant. He’s not at his station. The black chair empty, grey desk neatly cleaned with the dyes organised by colour. Hoseok could take from that.

“Why are you still here?” Jungkook’s voice startles you.

A shiver runs down your spine, the deep drawl echoing in your mind. “I want to talk.” Your voice wavers slightly.

He gives you no chance to face him, scoffing as he walks past you. Not even a glance in your direction. He gathers his pencils that have rolled onto the floor, placing them neatly back on the desk. The black koi fish tattoo on his right shifts as he does. It matches the white one on the left. Yin and Yang, separated. His movements are rough, and he’s rushing through it. Trying to get away.

“Well?” he questions. “Are you going to talk or not?”

The harshness in his voice has you stunned for a moment. “I-I...Jungkook I’m really sorry if I did anything to upset you. I’m not sure what’s going through your mind but, if this is because you didn’t want to kiss me the—“

Jungkook’s hand make a harsh sound as they connect with the surface of the desk. “Is this a game to you?” He looks at you — glares. Angers rolls off his shoulders that are coiled tight

“What?”

“You heard me,” he all but growls. “Do you think this is a joke?” Jungkook looks away, eyes closing with a deep, barely-controlled breath. It shudders through him.

Your hands are clenched tightly, they ache to touch him. To smooth down over the expanse of his back in an attempt to comfort him. “If I thought this was funny I wouldn’t be here trying to talk to you.”

“Fuck.” The words fall from his lips right before his teeth sink into them. His fingers squeak over the desk’s surface. When he looks up at you, you expect to see the anger. The disgust. However, you don’t expect it to be in the shape of tears glistening in his eyes as he struggles to even look at you for more than a few seconds. “Stop being like this, okay? We both know that what we did was wrong. It’s eating me alive and you know what — I can’t deal with it any longer.” Jungkook reaches for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder with so much force it collides with his back. Yet, you don’t miss the tremble in his other hand. “I’m giving you one day to tell him. Otherwise I’ll do it myself.”

You frown, quickly following him towards the front. “Is this about Yoongi?”

Jungkook stops in his tracks, causing you to almost bump into him. “Yoongi?” He’s seething with anger. It’s hot, burning your skin and making your throat constrict. “I’m talking about us nearly fucking while you’re obviously in a relationship with Hoseok.”

Silence. Minutes seem to tick by as you take in his words. “What?”

A last time, he turns. The look he gives you is nothing short of pure, unfiltered disgust. “You know what? I’m so done with you.” He shakes his head. “You know I like you, everyone knows it. And we were both wrong here. But I can’t cope with the fact that I had my best friend’s girlfriend moaning in my lap two nights ago.” Jungkook’s words are painfully sharp, but they don’t seem to only affect you. He’s hurting himself unnecessarily. “If he hates me after this that’s fine, but someone has to tell him.”

“Kook,” you try, tears brimming your own eyes. But he doesn’t hear you.

“It’s bad enough that everyone seemed to know about you two except for me. And if you were trying to protect me then I can try to understand, but I can see the signs you know? I’m not fucking blind. Hoseok’s always going home with you. He spends three nights a week at your apartment at the very least. And even around here the two of you have gotten disgustingly close. Hell, Y/N, you were half naked in here with him before business hours as if it’s the most normal thing. I don’t even want to entertain the idea of the two of you fucking in here. This isn’t r—“

“STOP!” you yell, hands coming up to cover your ears. “Just, stop!”

Jungkook’s mouth snaps shut as he stares at you. Your mind is going a hundred miles an hour. He thinks you and Hoseok are together. Jungkook thinks that you and Hoseok are dating, because Yoongi never told him that he's the one dating Hoseok. That it’s his bed Hoseok is sleeping it. Yoongi never even told him that he’s into guys. Jungkook has no reason to entertain the idea of you not being the reason that Hoseok was over at your apartment. He went with the logical option. That you and Hoseok are an item.

“It’s...”

You want to tell him. It’d be an easy way out to tell him Yoongi is dating Hoseok. That Hoseok wasn't sleeping in your bed. But you can’t do that to your brother. You can’t out him, it’s wrong. The only chance you can take is hoping Jungkook will believe your word.

“I’m not dating Hoseok,” you say as calmly as you can.

He scoffs, loud. Nostrils flaring as he reaches for the door handle.

Fingers circling around his other arm, you stop him. Causing him to quickly shrug you off as if you’d burnt him.

“Don’t fucking touch me. It’s bad enough we did this. I don’t need you lying to me about it.”

You shake your head, almost reaching out for him again in your panic. “Just...hear me out. If you really like me as much as you say. If you believe that I like you too. Hear me out.” There’s one other way out of this. One other person he would believe. “Please Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He wavers. Caves. “Fine.”

Relief floods your veins, and you sink back against the counter. “Okay, I’m going to call Hoseok.” You grab your phone from your pocket, fingers sliding over the screen shakily. “Just—“

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“HEY!” you call, causing him to startle. “You’re sitting your fucking ass down. It’s not my fault that you’re not willing to believe me and decided to get worked up over some imaginary scenario.” Your voice is barely a growl but it pushes him enough to finally get his hand off the doorknob. “Sit. The fuck. Down.”

He swallows thickly, and your chest heaves with anger. To your surprise, he actually slumps down onto the couch without another word.

“I’m gonna call Hobi, and you’re gonna keep your mouth shut until I’m finished.” No words come from him, but the scowl on his face says enough. Hoseok’s picture pops up with you dial him, and you take the time to steady yourself. This has to work.

“Did you two finally figure out your bullshit?” Hoseok asks the second he picks up.

The nerve. “You gotta help me out here.” You hold the phone steady, putting him on speaker as you look straight at the man across from you while speaking. “Do you remember when I explicitly told you this morning — in all glorious details — about Jungkook and I making out?”

There’s a clear shift in Jungkook’s expression. Eyebrows raising ever so slightly. His red bitten lips parting.

“Yes — Wait,” Hoseok stumbles. “Am I on speaker? Why am I on speaker? I want no part in this!”

“Hobi!” He needs to listen to you and help. “Please just tell your friend that you and I are not fucking.”

The first sound that comes from the other end of the line is a loud snort. Followed by hysterical laughter. “Oh. My. God.” This situation isn't funny to you nor Jungkook, but you suppose that Hoseok comes across very authentic like this. One day you’ll probably laugh about this too. “Jungkook, sweetheart,” he laughs. “You really gone and cockblocked yourself because you thought I was dating her?”

Jungkook's eyes are now wide with confusion, body sunk deeply into the leather couch as his gaze is unfocused. “You’re...not?”

“No offense to Y/N,” Hoseok says with laughter still ringing his voice, “but absolutely not.”

“None taken,” you state dryly, “thank you.”

Your eyes follow Jungkook as he stands up slowly, leaving his bag on the couch. His tongue presses into his cheek, running under his top lip where you know he hides one of his many piercings. The change in his body language is evident, and you shiver as he looks at you.

Hoseok sighs dramatically. “No problem. I’m getting used to saving your guys’ day. Now can you two please fuck out your frustrations so that I can work and live in peace. Use protection. Cheers!”

The line ends before you can say another word to him. When you finally glance up at Jungkook again, he’s closer than you thought.

He stands barely a foot away, eyes curiously meeting yours. Scanning your face for any type of reaction, waiting. His hands hang limp by his side, shoulder no longer bunched but...Something about him is still taut. “You’re not dating Hoseok?” he asks, voice unexpectedly deep.

“No,” you breathe softly, unable to look away from him. From this angle you can see his eyebrow piercing where it hides under his fringe. You can see his eyes darken too.

“You’re single?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a quick flash of gold.

You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

Jungkook steps that much closer, toes bumping yours as he lowers his face. His breathing is heavy, chest almost brushing yours as he corners you against the desk. “And I can have you?”

“All yours.”

Everything is forgotten from there. Jungkook’s hands fly up to cup your face, tilting you up so he can capture your mouth with his. You groan, deeply relieved at the contact. Jungkook has no reservations. No, within seconds you find yourself with one of his thighs snugly between yours and his tongue pushing past your lips.

Fuck. The feeling of his piercing pressing against your tongue still takes you by surprise. You shiver with excitement. Your fingers grapple for purchase at his shoulders.

Jungkook moans, a sound that’s silenced by you kissing him back. It’s messy, you can feel his heart hammer in his chest and yours is no different. As he explores your mouth with his tongue, your fingers tug his shirt from his jeans. You graze the warm skin of his waist and back.

As his hands grab your hips possessively, your toes curl. There’s no time to breathe. All you can manage is a pathetic whimper when Jungkook bites down on your lip and runs his tongue across it. Kissing him is oddly foreign, in the most delicious way.

Diving in again, Jungkook grants you more leverage to kiss him back. One of your hands slide into his hair, reaching on your tiptoes to do so. There’s a brief smile from him. Followed by him hoisting you up on the counter without breaking the kiss. No, you’re too busy tracing the piece of jewellery in his mouth as it clacks against your teeth.

It’s wet. Sloppy. And you’re certain that it’s noisy. But all you can hear right now is the rushing of your heart and the rough sounds that come from him. He parts your thighs, pressing himself right up against your centre and — fuck. It’s just right, the way he presses the seam of your jeans into you.

Your mouth falls from him, unable to stave off your air for any longer. Jungkook seems unfazed, tongue tracing your bottom lip to break the string of saliva that connected you. “Kook,” you breathe heavily.

He smirks, nosing along your cheekbone as your nails digging into his back. Tantalised, you hold your breath. Expecting the harsh graze of his teeth just below your jaw. You know it’ll mark, especially when he presses his lips over the same sport and suckles at it until you're shaking in his hold.

By now his hands have slipped under your shirt, fingers digging into your bare waist. His fingertips are rough, like everything about him but his lips. They’re soft and you hate it. He shouldn’t be allowed to kiss you like this.

Still, you let him kiss back up to your lips. You moan into him. The way he passes any of the kisses and hesitation. He licks into your mouth like you’ve been doing this for ages. Tongue gliding along yours, making you want more. You will need it, when he parts. Ache for his mouth again as you pull him unimaginably closer.

A moan falls from both of you as you grind down, and somehow it pulls you back to reality. The reality where you’re sitting on the front desk of the shop. Right by the windows. Where everyone can see.

The reality where Jungkook yelled at you mere minutes ago.

“Jungkook,” you whisper against his mouth. A shiver rakes through your body when he moves to kiss your neck. “Jungkook, stop.”

Those words stop him immediately. He looks up. “Everything okay?” His chest rises and falls against yours.

You nod, placing your hands firmly on his chest. The accidental brush of your palm against one of his piercing causes his breath to hitch. “Just,” you eyes flicker between where he stands between your legs and the large, open windows, “maybe we shouldn’t...you know?”

Jungkook’s hands smooth down your arms, sending goosebumps in his wake. “This is not the part where I tell you we can go to the back. Is it?”

“No,” you whisper.

When his hands fall from your body, you feel cold, empty. You reach for him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Hey, I want this. But maybe we need to let everything cool down a little.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, lips swollen, hair a mess. “Yeah.” His voice is firm, paired with a deep sigh. “Yeah, I’m sorry. For getting so mad at you, I should’ve asked before making assumptions.”

A smile tugs at your lips. You hop off the counter, leaning up to press your lips against his. “It’s alright. No hard feelings.” saying that, you feel relieved from all the tension. Knowing that Jungkook wants you — likes you — makes your stomach flutter.

“Can I get a ride?” Jungkook grimaces at the pouring rain. “I don’t want to get soaked again.”

“Yeah of course, silly.”

To be honest, it was a futile attempt. Both of you don’t make it to the car with a single dry inch on your body. You just hope it’s not going to ruin your seats, that’d be an expensive joke.

Jungkook coughs when you start the engine, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. You turn to give him a look, but there’s no way for you to miss the obvious erection he's sporting.

“Are you really hard right now?”

“I’m still hard, for your information.” He groans, letting his head fall back. “It’ll go away.” The smile that stretches over his lips it too telling. “Or you can help me.” It’s barely a mumble but you can catch it.

“Jungkook!” you spit.

“I know, I know.”

There’s a calm mood in your apartment, Yoongi’s music softly emanating from his room next to yours. Not a single fibre in your body wants to have this conversation with him. Not again. But you have to. Even if it’s for the fact that you need to let him know he doesn’t have to lie to you about these things. That you’re not disappointed in him.

“Hey, you’re home late. I was starting to get worried about you.” Yoongi appears from his room, already dressed in black sweats and an oversized grey sweater. “Everything okay?”

You want to nod, but choose not to. “Can we talk?”

He freezes up, fingers clenching into fists. “Why?”

Because you lied to me. Because you didn’t tell Jungkook and it almost ruined my chances with him as a result. “Just please sit, so we can talk. I promise I’m not mad at you, Yoon.” The nickname seems to be enough incentive for him to nod and take a hesitant seat at your small dining table.

You sit across from him, chest heavy and uncertain of whether this is the right moment to do this. He nervously traces the pattern of the worn down, brown table, his sleeve tattoo peeking out as he does.

“Yoongi, why did you lie to me about coming out to Jungkook?”

Abruptly, he stills. “Did Hobi tell you?”

“How I found out doesn’t matter right now okay. I just want to know why you weren’t honest about it with me.” You watch your older brother as he avoids your gaze. He sinks back into his chair and purses his lips.

Part of you feels like hugging him, telling him it’s okay. But it’s not. Not really. Your brother has been through so much, and you understand this is hard for him. That your parents basically casting him out is why he is so afraid that everybody will reject him. But logically he should know that Jungkook won’t care that he’s gay. Taehyung is, and they’ve been friends for almost their entire lives. Hoseok and Jimin as bi. Jungkook might be the straightest guy you know, but that doesn’t say much.

“Yoongi, I’m not mad at you. You can be honest with me, I want to help.”

“I’m scared,” he says, very matter-of-factly. “I’m scared. That’s it. I don’t have any other real excuse.”

“That’s not an excuse, Yoongi. It’s a legitimate reason for not telling him, regardless of how often Hoseok and I have told you there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Yoongi shakes his head, black hair falling into his eyes. Still, he avoids your gaze. “I was scared that you’d be disappointed. That’s why I haven’t told you.”

“Yoongi...” Your heart aches for him. Even through this, your brother has always been the bravest person you know. He’s built what he has from nothing. He was merely sixteen when he moved out, barely had a degree. You were just eighteen when you showed up on his doorstep unannounced with a suitcase and a request to move in with him. He’d fought so hard to make ends meet for both of you until you’d found a job. Yoongi’s always fought for you. You just wish he’d fight for himself too. “I would never be disappointed with you. Ever.”

He finally looks at you, tears showing at the corners of his eyes. They shine regardless, as he look at you as if you’re his only lifeline. “Don’t you want me to tell him?”

You take Yoongi’s hand from where it lies limply on the table. The small sun tattoo stands out against the bare skin of his wrist. It matches the moon on yours.

Rubbing you finger over his tattoo, you speak to him softly: “I do want you to tell him, but not for me. Or for Hoseok. I want you to tell him for yourself. Once you’ve told him I think you will feel much better. You and Hobi won’t have to hide anymore, and you’ll all be able to be comfortable around each other.” You squeeze his hand. “It’ll give you strength, Yoongi. Telling people instead of letting them find out.”

A tear slips from his eyes, and you hold your breath awaiting his answer. This is why you’ve always looked up to Yoongi. He’s not afraid to show his emotions to those he trusts, even if he trusts a very small number of people. Yoongi is the one who showed you that it’s okay to not be okay, hence the moon tattoo on your own wrist. He has the sun, to signify that you’re the brightness in his days. Or well, that’s how he said it.

“Will you go with me?” he asks. “To tell him?”

It might not be the greatest idea, especially since you and Jungkook are in whatever situation you are in now. But also because this is technically not something that concerns you. If he wants you to go, you’ll go, but there’s a better choice. “I think you should ask Hoseok. That way you can kill two birds with one stone.”

“You really think so?”

You nod.

He takes a deep breath, grabbing your hand and squeezing it in return. “Thank you. For always being here to remind me of how stupid I am.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that,” you chuckle.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You were thinking it.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Am not!”

“Are too, Yoongi. It’s a bad habit.”

“It’s a bad habit,” he mocks with a scrunched up face. “Whatever, I’ll call Hoseok tonight.”

You smile. “Promise?”

“On one condition.”

With both eyebrows raised you await his condition that will most likely make you want to strangle him. You know your brother. His requests are never to make you comfortable. If anything he’s relentlessly able to tease you just enough to make you want to murder him, but not enough to actually justify it. A skill to behold.

“Please tell me whether you coming home an hour late and that disgustingly obvious hickey on your neck are in any way related.”

Your stomach jumps at his comment, hand immediately covering  the spot under your ear where Jungkook had laid his claim. “I...”

He gives you a knowing look. If one thing was true about Yoongi it’s that he knows you, through and through. You and him are like peas in a pod and sadly there’s not much wiggle room in said pod. Said pod left no space for you to hide your obvious attraction to his friend.

“Oh God, Y/N,” Yoongi gives you a disgusted look. “No. Not at the shop. I know that Hoseok and Jungkook clean that place religiously, but still. I sit on those stools too! You heathens.”

Your face is red hot as you try to find the words before he can get any more ideas. “We — no, we didn’t fuck, okay. Please just calm down.”

Yoongi sighs, a breath of relief. “Good, because like — I’ve eaten at those tables. I don’t need to accidentally touch Jungkook’s lefto—“

“OKAY! I get it, I get it! We didn’t fuck. I swear.”

“Wait. Not at all?”

“Nope.”

He groans, throwing his head back. “Does that mean I need to sit through another week of gruelling sexual tension. Do I really need to be subjected to this another week? Like I have an actual fear that the two of you will at one point climb over the table and devour each other while I’m right there!”

You get up. “Okay, this conversation is over.” Honestly, you would tell him what actually happened this afternoon. About Jungkook thinking you cheated on Hoseok. But telling your brother that will just make him fear that Jungkook’s already figured out that him and Hoseok are together. “It’s your day to cook today, by the way.”

Then, he pouts. “Hey, no! I was sad today, can’t you cook? I deserve comfort food!” As a grown man, your brother’s ability to whine about little things is slightly concerning. But he will only do so at his advantage. No, whenever a time comes that Min Yoongi must adult on you, he will be an adult. And when he wants things from you, he will whine.

“Not after you called me a heathen,” you sing-song. A kiss to the top of his head and a ruffle to his already messy hair is enough to send him into a fit.

“I’m older than you! Only older siblings get to ruffle heads!”

“I’m in the mood for beef stir-fry. Oh,” you say, turning around to look at his offended form in the kitchen, “don’t forget to call Hoseok while you’re at it. If you don’t,” you smile, “I will let Jungkook fuck me,” pause, narrowing your eyes, “on our kitchen counter.”

Utter scandalisation, Yoongi’s mouth falls open. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I don’t know, Jungkook seems like a guy who’s up for anything. I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”

Next Wednesday, you and Yoongi are arguably late to Taehyung’s birthday dinner at Hoseok and Jungkook’s apartment. Not that it’s a problem though. Jimin’s still fussing around in the kitchen with Hoseok’s help and Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

Jungkook, who’d been hitting up your phone the entirety of the two days you hadn’t seen each other. Including various attempts of sexting that you had to shut down because you were either in class or with your brother.

“Finally, Yoongi, I need your help.” Hoseok turns, hands covered in what appears to be some red marinade. “Come here.”

You smile as Hoseok kisses Yoongi before anything else. It’s good to know that they can now be themselves. The two hadn’t wasted another day to tell Jungkook about their relationship. He took it well. Aside from sending you a very exasperated text about the whole ordeal, calling himself a dumbfuck. Something you wholeheartedly agreed to.

Jimin’s busy chopping something, and you can just see the glint of silver ring that sits snugly around his bottom lip. He can’t wear it to work, the same way your brother has to take out his nose ring every time.

Yoongi’s commitment to Hoseok had been clear when he’d taken out both his lip piercings for his boyfriend. The other’s terrible fear of the things made kissing a bit of an issue. It was how you knew that even through their fighting, they’d be in for the long run. Especially because Hoseok decided to learn to live with Yoongi’s nose ring.

Taehyung’s reading a book in the living room, he hasn’t acknowledged your presence yet. Jimin apparently gave him all hell for being so rude to you, so you hope he’s not mad with you anymore.

“Oh,Y/N,” Hoseok says suddenly. “Kook’s probably in the bathroom.”

You frown. “Okay?”

The redhead gives you a flat expression. “You’ve been standing in the middle of the room for the past five minutes. Just go and talk to him or something.” He realises his words. “No, not or something. Only talking!” he calls after you. “No fucking in my bathroom!”

You wave him off. “Yeah, yeah.”

True to Hoseok’s words, Jungkook is in the bathroom that hides in the back of their apartment. The open door lets you quietly peek around the corner. What you find is a little more than you bargained for.

Jungkook stands in front of the mirror. Clad in ripped, black skinny jeans and a deep maroon and black flannel with what seems to be Urban Outfitters version of tribal designs on the sleeves. Said shirt hangs open, and the way he has his hands in his hair to pull it up leaves no inch of his toned chest covered.

Your own stomach flutters as his abdominal muscles shift. His nipple piercings glimmer in the harsh lighting. The way they had felt against your own chest Monday — you remember. You remember how he’d kissed you, held you, ground against you. How h—

“Hello to you too,” he chuckles with a bobby pin between his teeth. His eyes hold nothing similar to the softness of that chuckle.

Once you gaze up from his lips you find his eyes heavy — dark — as he takes you in. This is familiar, this gaze. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that you struggle to repress.

“Hey,” you breathe, voice low. There’s nothing to be ashamed about, he’s openly letting you watch him. The way he smiles, exposing the piercing under his top lip, says that he’s enjoying it. Loves it. You’re certainly not going to complain.

Not with the way you can see every muscle in his torso as he moves, struggling to get the small pin into his mess of black hair. His skin is almost golden in this light. Warm, enticing. You yearn to touch him. Trail your fingers down his pectorals and feel the ridges of his abs. Hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Pull him against you. Kiss him.

Jungkook’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, faint dimples appearing in his cheeks. He’s no longer watching you watching him. But he can feel your lingering stares. It’s evident in the way he takes his time. How he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders to expose the large, intricate dragon tattoo that curls around his bicep. Every scale is detailed as it’s wing spread over his shoulder for the head to rest on his collarbone.

The longer you watch, the further your mind drifts. Thinking of kissing that exact spot where his collarbone dips, tracing your tongue up to sink your teeth into the skin of his earlobe. What sound would he make? Jungkook has proven to be a moaner, but there might be more than meets the eye.

You know he’s rough. The feeling of his fingers digging into your hips had lasted for long after you’d parted. You know that the sounds he makes go straight to your core. How he growls, groans, grits his teeth. His —

His tongue piercing.

The glint of it in the light catches your eye. You’re drawn to it. How such a small thing could have this effect on you. He knows how to use it and you haven't even felt the worst. The quirk of his eyebrow as he exposes it purposely tells you that much. He’s taunting you.

Your entire mouth goes dry when he scrapes his teeth over his lip again, holding your gaze steady through the mirror. Chest rising with a shaky breath on your part, he ever so slightly tilts his head. A smirk paired with a dangerous look in his eyes.

“What?” Your stomach flutters.

He shakes his head with a lopsided smile. When he turns you come face to face with his chest. It’s not as easy to openly stare this directly. Without the barrier of the mirror your words are lost to you.

You swallow, following his hands as they start to button his shirt. A sight that’s equally enticing and saddening. Watching the stretch of his chest disappear behind the fabric, narrow waist no longer apparent. You can’t help but notice the roughness of his fingers. You’ve felt it. They’re calloused, never used sparingly for anything. A small tattoo hides there, one not easily spotted with how the koi fish draw all attention to them.

Euphoria is etched into the side of his middle finger. A tattoo you’ve seen time and time again, but you don’t know it’s meaning. The dragon symbolises strength, power, will, and the koi fish represent balance. He’s even spoken to you about the tarot cards on the inside of his upper arm, that one drunken night in your living room. The reverse magician for untapped potential, the upright eight of pentacles for mastery and honing skills. Yet, the small word on his finger raises a question for you.

Jungkook suddenly grabs you. You would’ve screamed if his mouth didn’t silence you.

He shuts the door behind you, pressing you against it with enough force to knock the breath from your chest. Tongue licking into your mouth you mewl, grappling for something to hold onto. Your fingers automatically loop into his belt.

With a hand behind your head he angles you up, grants himself access to your warm mouth. You arch into him, every nerve on edge. Every sound distorted by the way he kisses you so deeply you can barely fight for control. No, he’s got you in the palm of his hand, literally. One hand sliding to your ass, digits slipping into your pockets to hold you tight.

Jungkook lets out a deep sound, one that rumbled in his chest and pulls an equally ruined moan from you. His lips are pressing, demanding, speaking ‘you are mine’ into yours. ‘I want you. Now’.

Still stunned, you tighten your fingers into his belt, trying to kiss him back but getting lost in his ministrations. The leather material is tough, but you manage to get him closer. A thigh between yours, you shift your hips up to find friction for both of you.

The kiss is beyond messy. Both needy for oxygen but needier for each other. Breaths mingle and the way he runs his tongue over your top teeth causes a lewd yet startling sound.

“Fuck,” you grumble, breaking from him suddenly.

His eyes remain closed as he licks his lips. “I’ll second that statement,” he whispers hotly, “sitting on the sink or bent over it?”

You choke on your own spit, causing him to finally open his eyes and come back from wherever his mind had wandered. “Jungkook!”  

“What? That was a very serious statement.”

“Not with everybody on the other side of the door!”

He grins, tonguing his smiley piercing in a habit that has driven you crazy so often. “Fine.” Straightening up, he swiftly tucks his shirt back into his jeans where it’d come undone under your hands. “Just so you know,” he says, leaning into your ear and opening the door, “all you gotta do is say the word and my room’s right there. I’ll find a way to silence those pretty little moans of yours.”

All the hair on the back of your neck springs up at his words. The way his breath fans out over your ear, lips just shy of grazing you. Tongue darting out, brushing the shell of your ear. You have no reply but a shaky intake of breath.

He leaves, and you’re left to stare at your disheveled form in the large mirror. Hair tangled, you curse under your breath. Jungkook probably won’t mind if you borrow his brush if he has no problems basically swallowing you whole, right?

With the hair at the back of your head finally in place again, you shake your feelings. You can't let Jungkook just play you like that with no repercussions. Two can play this game.

This is how you find yourself walking back into the room, briefly receiving a knowing look from Jimin. You pay him no mind. All you do is glance at the obvious space beside your brother and Hoseok, who now sit at ease in each other’s embrace. Yet, there’s one spot that’s more inviting.

Jungkook knows what you’re up to as soon as you look at him. He narrows his eyes, but you unsuspiciously smile as you take place in his lap as if it’s the most normal thing to do.

Everybody is thinking something, briefly glancing at how you comfortably shift on his thighs. Jungkook himself is less displeased than you’d thought, one hand coming to rest on your leg. Beneath you, you can feel the hard muscles of his thighs and you wonder what it’d be like to ride them.

“Now that everybody is here,” Jimin says, “we can finally do what we came here to do.”

All eyes turn to Taehyung, who gives a deep annoyed sigh. You all know there’s no way around Jimin’s plans. What Jimin wants, Jimin gets. That includes Taehyung, Gucci slippers, and the present that will make his boyfriend very happy even though he’d never admit it. It doesn’t come wrapped in anything big. And as to Taehyung’s wishes, there’s also no singing happy birthday. But the light blue envelope which Jimin retrieves from his bag are enough to make the other’s eyes grow wide like saucers.

Taehyung’s name is written on the front, and he looks at it as if it’s foreign. “I said I didn’t want anything.”

Jungkook fingers suddenly start moving — possibly absentmindedly — trailing the outer edge of your jeans. It tickles. His other hand is placed beside him, keeping him steady as he supports you. There’s enough room for you to squirm but you don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Or the fact that Jungkook is nosing the back of your neck and shoulders. His breath fanning down your shirt and over your back.

“You did say that,” Jimin says, pecking Taehyung’s lips. “But you also said there is something you do want. You just didn’t mention it in regards to your birthday.”

The younger man frowns, sitting up a little straighter and running a nervous hand through his black hair. “Jimin.”

“It’s a present from all of us, Tae,” Jungkook speaks up, fingers falling from your leg.

The second everyone looks away again from the man who’s currently trailing his lips dangerously close to your skin, you shift. Immediately Jungkook’s hands reach for your hips that now sit flush with his. There’s no space left and he can’t do much more than rest his chin on your shoulder with a trembling breath.

You try to concentrate on Taehyung opening the envelope. Somebody speaks, but you don’t catch it over Jungkook’s quiet swear.

“I...” Taehyung’s uncertainty shows, frowning at the piece of paper. Reading every word carefully at least twice. “What is this?” He looks up, giving everyone the same confused expression. Jimin’s sitting on the armrest beside him, trying his hardest to hold back the tears.

Luckily, Hoseok hasn’t lost his ability to speak. Unlike Jungkook who’s gripping your hips like a vice. “Jimin told us that you’ve been wanting to get a tattoo removed and covered. So we all chipped in to get you a laser-removal appointment.”

Taehyung’s still looking at the paper as if it might catch on fire, but he nods quietly. “You all did this? For me?”

Jimin makes an excited noise. “He means to say thank you.” He grabs his boyfriend, kissing him firmly on the cheek, mumbling a congratulations amidst the embrace. “We all want you to be happy, Tae.”

The man nods again. “Thank you, really.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Hoseok gets up first. Preventing the disaster of things getting uncomfortable and preventing Taehyung from shedding the obvious tears that brim his eyes. “Okay, let's all eat. Come on.”

Getting up, Jungkook’s hands stop you immediately. He keeps you tight, grumbling for you to stay put. You chuckle. Talking big game, sure. But his amusement has faded now that you have returned the favour. He doesn’t let go until everyone’s turned to the table.

You stand, swing in your step. Only turning around to catch Jungkook untucking his shirt to shield his very obvious erection from view.

“Really, Jeon?” you whisper with a giggle.

He clicks his tongue. “You want to tell me you’re not wet right now?”

You look straight at him as you lie: “I am not.”

Jungkook merely smirks, starting towards the table but stopping to whisper: “Good girls don’t tell lies.”

You shiver, breath hitching as you watch him sit down as if he hadn’t just said that. Getting on the upper hand on this guy is impossible, he’s just prepared to go one step further every time. But you’re not ready to give up just yet.

As much as you lied. As much as your need for him is rapidly increasing. You’re not going to let those words sink in. If anything you can prove him wrong. Good girl. What a joke. Maybe.

Everybody sits, chatting comfortably as the table-top grills warm up. An array of food sits on the large table. Chicken, beef, squid, side-dishes, Taehyung’s favourite red bean paste, and Jimin’s home-made secret-recipe dipping sauce. There’s way too much food, but nobody will complain about that.

“Hey Jungkook,” Jimin starts, “how is that whole situation with the guy from Australia going?”

Jungkook sighs. “Not too great to be fair, it’s nearly impossible to find a proper date that suits us both.” For the past two months Jungkook’s been trying to get an internship with an artist he admires. They’ve gotten in touch through instagram, and he’s been beyond excited. Talks of him going to Australia for a month keep getting more serious.

“You’re not going,” Hoseok says with a mouth full of food, “unless you’re trading with someone. I can’t man the shop alone and you know it. It’ll be bad for business.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook shrugs it off. “Anyway, he said it’ll most likely happen next summer if anything. We will see.”

Yoongi coughs, sipping water to rinse down the extensive spices. “Jimin, that sauce of yours. It gets me every time.”

“It’s good!” you and Jungkook interject in unison, causing everybody to shoot you a weird look.

“What?” you question. “Actually, give me some more.” You lean over, firmly planting your hand on Jungkook’s thigh without thinking about it. Leaning over, It lands closely enough to the top that you can feel that he’s still hard — if not harder than before.

He chokes on his food, taking a deep breath through his nose.

You sit back down, but your hand remains in position. His thigh tenses under your touch, warm, trembling as you drag your nails up like he’d done to you earlier. Whatever conversation currently plays goes straight in one ear and out the other for you. One hand busy dipping slightly charred chicken into the small bowl of red sauce, the other squeezing Jungkook’s leg.

He can’t do anything. Not without making it obvious what you’re doing. So he shifts, legs falling open and giving you access you weren’t expecting. Possibly on accident. Or in the hopes that you will actually touch him. Your heart races, but your body gets the better of you. As does your curiosity.

The second your fingers touch the head of his dick through his jeans, he jerks. Sitting up straight and snapping his legs closed.

“Jungkook?” Taehyung questions.

You shoot him an equally confused look, playing your part. “Everything okay?”

From the other end of the table Jimin looks at you with raised eyebrows. A gesture which you return with glee.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jungkook mumbles, “just bit my tongue.”

Smooth. Either everyone believes him, or they all know but unanimously decide to not speak and continue the dinner as normal. Even Jungkook seems to have decided to not reciprocate your touch this time. Both hands above the table, sitting with his legs spread as before.

You cross yours, realising that you are still turned on as you do. “So, now that everybody knows about how Hoseok is dating my brother. Can I like ask for asylum so that I won’t have to get my ears assaulted anymore?”

Jimin snorts. “You poor thing.” He raises his chopsticks, pointing at Jungkook. “I’m certain you can arrange something with him. You know. You sleep with him, Hoseok sleeps with Yoongi.” No filter. Jimin’s absolute inability to not say certain things strikes again. Your cheeks run red.

To your surprise, Jungkook doesn't react.

“Okay,” Yoongi interjects. “Can we please not talk about my little sister having sex.”

“Hey!” You point your utensils at him. “I’ve had to listen to Hoseok literally pound you into the mattress more times than I’m comfortable to admit. You guys have no decency, why should I—“

Jungkook’s fingers snaking into your waistband shuts you up. “How about we just don’t talk about people fucking at the dinner table. I mean we—“

“You’re one to speak Jeon!” Hoseok cuts in. “I’ve heard you often enough. I’m not sure what kinda shit you’re into but she should consider this her official warning if you haven’t given her one yet.”

His words don’t quite impact you. Not with the way that Jungkook starts gently rubbing circles over your exposed hipbone. His fingers still hooked tightly into your jeans, holding you from moving. The touch to your skin is barely there, but it’s enough to put him on your mind the entire time. To make sure you don’t forget the wetness between your legs that he’s causing.

Jungkook is idly engaged in the banter, and all you can think off is his fingers on your skin. What’d be like to feel them elsewhere. Deeper. Rougher.

You uncross your legs, try to relax. To get your mind off the way he tugs you just a little bit closer. Close enough to be able to hook his foot around your ankle and spread your legs wider. Why would he — His hand comes down just above your knee.

Every breath you take is a feat, you’re hyper aware of how you sit, how he touches you. This is payback. He doesn’t move his palm, it just rests there like a threat. Or a claim that you’re his.

“Y/N?” Yoongi asks

You shake awake. “Yeah?”

“I was saying,” he trails, “that once you’re done with school, we could all try to go on a holiday together.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds good. Like, far?”

Everybody starts protesting, complaining about money and fears to fly. Jimin and Taehyung both counter Hoseok’s offer to take a longer flight to a further destination. But Yoongi feels that staying inside the country defeats the purpose of a holiday.

You? You just want Jungkook to take his hand off your leg. Not slowly start trailing it up, but there’s no stopping him. Not without swatting at him, or likely trapping his hand between your thighs. The latter situation seems too dangerous.

So you let Jungkook move his hand agonisingly slow until it reaches the juncture of your thighs. Here, he stops.

Luckily you’re not the only one who still feels like they’re bursting at the seams. Jungkook’s still hard, bouncing one of his legs and shifting in his seat twice before suddenly getting up.

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but not before trailing a finger along the back of your collar. Little shit. Is he really going to rub one out in the bathroom right now?

Your mind immediately wanders to the visual. Jungkook standing over the bathroom sink, gripping it hard as the other hand slides up and down his length in fast, practiced motions.

Jimin distracts you from this though, asking you about your current study. You do your best to give him coherent answers, but your mind keeps floating back to Jungkook. Dampness between your legs growing fast.

Should you go after him? Maybe that’s what he wants. His earlier offer ringing through your mind, “I’ll find a way to silence those pretty little moans of yours.” Crossing your legs again gives you some friction. Core throbbing even though he’s barely touched you over the course of an hour.

You’re so worked up that when he finally returns you can feel the heft of his eyes on you. He doesn’t touch you, but his presence alone is enough to make you tense. The feeling of anticipation sits heavy in your stomach. It makes you jittery, in a good way. but you’re oh so impatient, fingers itching to touch him, feel him, taste him. It’s a thirst.

It distracts you fully from the dessert. When you look over to Jungkook he’s tonguing at his smiley piercing. Quickly, you avert your eyes back to your plate as if it’s gonna burst into pieces if you don’t.

True to character, you end up getting sticky caramel sauce all over the side of your hand. You lick it off, not thinking much of it but aware of how Jungkook’s watching you. No, you can’t eye-fuck him while everybody is there.

Never have you been so relieved for a dinner to end. Everyone’s getting up and helping to get the dishes in the sink. They’ll be washed later, or tomorrow. Now, you‘re going to go out to a local bar. Maybe there you and Jungkook can get some privacy — or get laid. Whichever way you want to put it. At this point you don’t care about where it happens anymore.

Jungkook lingers by the door, purposely waiting for everybody to leave the apartment under the pretence of having to lock the door. Yet the second the door just falls closed, the first thing he does is grab and entire handful of your ass and squeezes. Hard.

“Shit.” The words slip from your mouth and everyone turns back to look at you. You stare blankly ahead for a few seconds, Jungkook walking past you. He’s easily stopped by you inconspicuously grabbing the back of his shirt. “Is today the twenty-ninth?”

Yoongi looks at his phone. “Yeah, why?”

The lie is easily constructed. “I have a paper to hand in tomorrow at 10am. Fuck. I forgot to send it in early.” You cast your eyes up towards Jungkook, hoping he catches on. “Can I borrow your laptop? I promise I’ll be fast.”

“Yeah,” he answer quickly, “sure.” Jungkook gives his friends a look. “We’ll be right out, don’t wait up for us.”

The other four men are silent, and you know how fucking stupid you look. How obvious it is. But if anybody dares open their mouth about it, you’ll just admit the truth at this point.

“Okay,” Hoseok shrugs, his answer enough to make the others follow him.

Jungkook’s quick to turn towards the apartment, hands fumbling with the key. Only Jimin turns around to look at you. The blonde wiggles his eyebrows, pushing his tongue in his cheek twice coupled with a swift motion of his hand.

You flip him off, holding up your middle finger and turning back to Jungkook.

The door swings open, your stomach tightening with excitement. Hands slightly trembling from the nerves but you get no time to waste a thought on it. To even think about what’s going to happen.

He’s all over you the second the door falls closed. Barely inside. Kissing open-mouthed, hands fumbling for clothes. He untucks your shirt from your jeans, pushing your cardigan off. You struggle with the buttons on his flannel.

The kiss is filled with impatience. You want this. Now. The sounds that fall from both of you are swallowed by the lewd noises of your tongues. You give him no slack this time. Determined, you press into him, promptly tearing the last two buttons off as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

He moans as you trace his tongue piercing — louder when you bite and suck at his bottom lip. You let yourself revel in the sounds just a little, fingers finally tracing the ridges of his abs. Tweaking a nipple piercing, Jungkook lets out the most strangled whine you’ve yet heard from him and you smile into the kiss.

Suddenly you feel your jeans slack against your waist. “Off?” he asks, thumbs already hooked into your waistband. Your own fingers sliding his belt out of the loop.

“Now,” you growl into the kiss.

Your jeans and panties are at your ankles in seconds, and you  kick them to some corner of the hallway. Jungkook doesn’t linger. Doesn’t gaze up at your now fully exposed cunt from his brief position on his knees. He just grabs you by the back of your thighs and hoists you up around his waist when he stands again.

Like this, the rough material of his jeans rubs against you, making you hiss. It’s good, rough, but good. He knows, smirking into another wet, sloppy kiss. You have no mind for the way your teeth clash. Too busy trying to undo his buttons and zipper between your bodies. Like this you can feel your own wetness slip against your wrist.

“I still can’t believe,” Jungkook mumbles, suddenly hoisting you up even further, “that you,” he bites at a nipple through your shirt, “chickened out on the other nipple piercing.”

You let out a dry chuckle that dies off into a string of moans as he pushes up your shirt and starts mouthing at your chest. He pays special attention to the one nipple that’s pierced. Pressing his tongue into it, followed by a breath of cold air. You shiver, toes curling as he holds you tightly against the wall.

“Not every—everybody,” you pant as he teases your nipple with his tongue, flicking it with his piercing, “is into pain like you, Jeon.”

He lets out a short laugh, mumbling something into your breast that sounds like a version of ‘not now,’ as he sucks a bruise into your skin. You must look like a mess, you think as you slide your fingers through his hair. Marks blooming. Bare centre pressed against his abdomen as he's using all his strength to keep you up in this position.

“Jungkook,” you whine, voice pitching a little too high. “Put it in, or I’ll chop it off and show you pain.” Like this, you can’t feel his dick. But you know he’s hard. He still was when you undid his jeans. It must be painful at this point. Especially with how you’re rubbing your wetness all over his stomach.

He groans, bracing a hand against the wall. “Hold on to something.”

You grapple for his shoulder as you tighten your hand around his waist. The other hand finds one of the coat hangers on the wall beside you. “Fuck,” you realise how hard this is. How’s he keeping you up?

Within seconds, Jungkook manages to pull a condom from his back pocket. Uncanny. Prepared and ready to go. You internally praise him for it. He holds you pressed against the wall as he tears it open and slides it on. A pained moan falls as he touches himself after being hard for so long. The sound is delicious, his head falling against your shoulder.

A thin sheen of sweat already coats your bodies. Shirt plastered to your skin, Jungkook’s fringe starting to stick to his forehead. But he shows no mercy.

His hands now come down to your ass, and your arms start shaking from holding yourself up.

The first initial brush of the head of his cock against your centre has you clench up. Excitement rushing through your body. Finally, after hours, days, months, you feel him. You moan. “Jungkook please.” The position doesn’t allow you to shift. To sink down onto him on your own accord.

He knows this. Letting out controlled breaths as he finally starts letting you down. There’s no resistance because of how wet you are. Your nails dig into his shoulder, his sink deeper into the flesh of your ass. Every single twitch of your core has him shuddering, but you can’t help it. The relief that floods your body at finally feelings him is insane.

You feel like a teenager, on edge this easily. At this point, your arms really start burning, and you try to shift. “Jung—FUCK!” The coat hanger snaps, breaking off the wall and causing you to lose your hold and sink down on him, fast.

In shock, Jungkook catches you and slams you against the wall. Your head knocks back, and Jungkook lets out a harsh breath through his nose as he bottoms out. “You good?”

Laughing, you nod, causing him to smile sheepishly despite the fact that you almost literally fell on his dick. “Please just,” you shift your hips a little to search out any friction, “move. Please move.”

Jungkook obliges, pressing his entire body up against yours. Pulling out, he slides back in to the hilt with one smooth thrust and you can‘t even form a noise. Your moan dies off in your throat, eyes closing at the feeling. The angle makes you feel every single inch of him, so deep. Pressed right up against your g-spot from the get-go. You shiver, clench, making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he growls, “so wet.”

Nails digging into his shoulders, you edge him on. Clenching and shifting to get him to finally just move. And move he does. Though the position doesn’t allow for more than him rutting straight into your most sensitive spot and sending you into a frenzy.

High pitched moans and deep grunts fill the hallway, your shirt protecting you from the harsh rub of the wall. All you can feel is his cock moving snug inside of you. Minimal friction, but maximum contact, you feel him twitch every time.

It’s hot. Suffocating. Having him this close. It’s delirious, toe-curling. You’re a mess, head thrown back as he just keeps moving. His pelvic bone rubbing right into your clit when he changes angle and— oh. “Shit,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” he answers, smiling into your neck. “I—“ he pauses to curse loudly, not stopping his movements. “I’m not gonna last.”

You barely hear him, whining in the back of your throat.

“I’m serious,” he repeats, licking up the side of your neck. “I’m close.”

Can you care? You feel like you’re on the edge, but also nowhere near your end. But in the haze of pleasure you nod, finding his lips as you try to not lose the feeling. “Don’t stop.” Holding him tight, you push his flannel of his shoulder for better purchase. “Don’t,” you lick over his bottom lip, “stop.”

Jungkook moans — a loud sound — as you find purchase to meet his movements. He moans, your cunt suddenly tighter, sucking him in. It takes only two, three more thrusts before he stills and comes so hard he nearly drops you. His entire body shudders as he twitches inside your walls. Your legs slip down, supporting your own weight before you actually tumble.

“Fuck.” He hides his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavy and wet against your chest. With his dick softening inside you, your core aches for more. Dripping still, you need friction. Release. “I’m — shit — wait.” Jungkook lets you down properly, slipping out of you. “Jesus, I’m so—“

You hush him, carding your fingers through his hair as he’s too embarrassed to meet your gaze. The empty feeling between your legs ignored for now. He’s hot, and his back and shoulders are covered in scratch marks. When he finally leans back you see his half-undone hair, his flushed skin. Eyes dark, lips red and swollen. A sight to behold.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, touching his chin to make him look up at you. Thumb running over his bottom lip, you press inside to feel the tip of his tongue. Deeper, to find his piercing. He responds lazily, sucking on your digit. “Why don’t you go down on your knees.” Your voice is a drawl, laced with the arousal that’s still burning through your veins like wildfire. “Show me that tongue piercing is more than a pretty accessory. Hmm?”

His eyes darken immediately. He gives you a taste of what you might expect, swirling his tongue around your thumb. Your stomach swoops, legs still shaky. Pulling off with a pop, he chuckles at your expression. “Let's get to the bedroom. I’m not gonna be able to hold you up while I eat you out.”

So casual. “I’m not afraid of you and your golden tongue medal Jungkook. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Jungkook makes a face, tongue swiping over this inside of his cheek in a habitual motion. A cocky one. “Okay, have it your way.”

Sinking to his knees, trailing down your thighs, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. That alone is enough to unbalance you with the way he licks and nips up your inner thigh. Goosebumps, everywhere. You can’t give in. Not when he hasn’t even—“Shit.” Jungkook goes straight for the jugular, teeth not-so-gently sinking into one of your folds as his thumb slides between them to find your soaked clit. His tongue follows immediately. The pressure of his piercing sudden, and your hand flies to his hair that’s still contained by the elastic.

“Jungk—Fuck.” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as he wraps his lips around your bud. Your body isn’t prepared.

There’s sudden, hard suction — no warning, no build-up. Jungkook sucks at you in bursts, at just the right angle where the ball in his tongue presses slightly left and — “Ah, shit, shi—fuck!” Your entire body starts vibrating, your high approaching so fast you lose control of your one leg that supports you. He expected it, because his assault stops just in time to catch you from toppling over on him.

He gazes up, lips and chin shiny, eyes glazed over and heavy-lidded. “Bed?”

All you can do is nod. Your mouth dry, breath trembling, legs jelly.

The two of you kiss when he stands and you taste yourself on his tongue ever so slightly. His bedroom isn’t far, but neither of you can let go. His hands sliding under your shirt, finally lifting it off your body. Immediately, his hand find your chest, touching, squeezing, tweaking. You moan, your own hands busy with pulling him along and tugging the last bobby pin from his hair.

Jungkook’s jeans are finally discarded when you enter his bedroom. Now less rushed, you see the floral pattern on his hip. You touch it, roses curling over his skin and disappearing under his boxers only to resurface on his thigh.

You’d take your time to trace him, remember him. but right now you’re too hungry for release. You can’t remember the last time you were this needy. This turned on. High-strung. Just thinking of his mouth has you shivering and rubbing your thighs together.

“On the bed,” Jungkook mumbles against your mouth as you kiss him. “Unless all you wanna do is make out for the rest of the night.”

You chuckle, smiling as he pushes you onto the bed and presses you against the dark covers. He seems gentle now, though your aware that what’s to come is anything but. He’s proven as much.

Back arching while he kisses down your chest, you let your own fingers roam the planes of his back. His skin is soft, ink dancing at the edges of your vision as he trails down your body. Teething at a nipple, scratching over your hip bones — Jungkook has you trembling by the time he reaches the apex of your thighs again.

You whine for mercy.

He smirks knowingly, as he breathes out over your folds. Not another second wasted, yet a teasing edge to his actions, as he lickes up your sex.

Shivering, your hands tighten in the sheets. His tongue is warm, pressing against your core while he uses a firm hand to spread your thighs further apart for him. Like that, he holds you open, pausing, breathing against you. The lack of contact lasts too long, and you shift. Canting your hips up for anything.

Eyes closed, you don’t see him move. You feel the nudge of his nose first and then... Cold. “Ah.” The press of his piercing right against your clit is ice cold and firm. Your entire body tenses up, legs nearly clamping down around his head. It’s downhill from there.

Jungkook holds you open with one hand, fingers painfully firm. He's in a controlled frenzy. Hard, swift, slurping, not a part left unattended as he pulls sounds from you, you weren’t aware you could make. The way he flicks the metal against your clit sends you keening. Back arches, painfully so with curled toes and tug at his hair — he groans. The vibrations going straight into your cunt, his tongue flattening.

He almost lets you rut up into his face. Your hands tightening into his locks, hips shifting up over his mouth. Jungkook moans into you, shoulder tensing and eyes closing. Like this, you get the fast friction you want, the build-up you need, the—

“Fuck.” His hand grabs your wrist, pulling you from his hair. “If you wanted to sit on my face, you could’ve just asked.”

Your core clenches at the thought. Him under you, gripping your thighs as you use his mouth for your own pleasure. Those dark, wide eyes looking up at you. All fucked-out. “Can I?”

He chuckles. “Absolutely not. You can use me next time. Tonight you’re mine.”

His. It falls off his tongue so easily, so deeply. You are his.

He dives back in, no longer stopped by the feeling of your hands pulling at his hair. No, he knows what to do now. Swiftly he slips a finger into your sopping core. The way he curls that one finger into you is as if he’s done it before.  You’re still sensitive from when he fucked you but he doesn’t care.

He knows he’s got you when your entire body starts shaking. You can’t stop it. The combination of his finger curling in and out of you, and his tongue rapidly circling your clit — it’s too much.

You whine loudly. Entire body on fire, tingles going down to your toes. There’s no way you’re not soiling his sheets. Him using the back of your hand to swipe over your core so he can gain purchase says enough.

His lips wrap around your clit again and he does that thing. That sucking, the flicking of his piercing. Warm, wet, rapid — this beats any toy you’ve ever used.

You can feel your high approaching like a freight train. A heavy weight in your lower abdomen. It hits you before you can even warn him. White flashes beneath your eyelids as you arch off the bed, hands pulling at the sheets.

He doesn’t stop. Gentle sucking and licking until you fall limp onto his sheets.

Eyes still closed, you’re vaguely aware of what’s happening. It’s like you’re floating, a strange, fuzzy feeling. He closes your legs, and you whimper his name with furrowed brows.

“I warned you,” he chuckles, lips pressing into your shoulder. “You didn’t listen to me.”

When you open your eyes he’s beside you, leaning on one arm. His fingers trail the shape of your chest, brushing over a very sensitive nipple. A leg slung over your limp ones. The line of his body — he’s gorgeous. Yours.

“Fine,” you sigh, “I’ll admit it.” His lips twitch up into a smile before you even finish your sentence. “You’ve ruined me. Now you’re stuck with me. I’ll never want anything but you and your devilish tongue for the rest of my life.”

Jungkook’s smile widens further, holding in a laugh as he reaches over to kiss your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for sweetheart,” he whispers, tongue darting out to touch yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

When he pulls you in, you can feel him. He’s rock hard against the juncture of your hip. Feeling him again...the thought makes you shudder. But you can also feel the sensitivity linger in your core. “No,” you squeal playfully when he rocks his hips into yours. Skin still separated by his boxers. “I need time to recuperate from all that!”

“You get ten minutes.” He nips at your chin, noses the line of your jaw. “I’ll show you what it really feels like to be ruined. We can discuss the rest of your life later.”

You grim, turning to capture his lips, legs intertwining further. “Yeah, Jeon? Gonna prove to me you’re not just a one pump guy?” The little giggle in your sentence conveys your teasing.

Jungkook’s hand grips your ass hard, pulling you flush against him. “Ten minutes are over, brat.”

An unpleasant tingling in your arm is what wakes you in the still-early morning. You sigh, shifting to feel the weight that rests over your shoulder. Jungkook.

Everything comes tumbling back. Him fucking you against the hallway wall, eating you out and making you see stars, and then fucking you again — twice. You screamed his name until you cried both of those times. The dull ache between your legs is the proof of it, as is the dryness in your throat.

Right now he lies asleep with his head on your shoulder, hair splayed messily over your skin. Your legs are twisted, and when you turn you can feel that he’s sporting a very serious hard on. “Jungkook,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair.

He groans, lips brushing your skin as he wakes. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers sending warmth up your spine. When he finally opens his eyes he blinks hard, once, twice, to look up at you with a wide, almost innocent gaze. Your heart skips as he looks up at you so softly. There’s a gleam in those big brown eyes as the sunlight catches them, almost making you forget all the sinful things he did to you.

“Morning,” he croaks.

“My arm.”

“Oh, shit,” he laughs, moving from his position. To your surprise, he ignores his obvious arousal even when it’s unceremoniously pressed against your leg. “Com’ere.” As much as yours, Jungkook’s voice is rough, tainted by your previous activities that went well into the depth of the night.

You let him pull you against him so that your cheek rests on his chest, his fingers carding through your hair. He kisses the top of your head, a warm gesture. Neither of you speak for a good while, almost drifting back to sleep as you bask in the gentle morning. There’s no more tension or heaviness between you. As much as the ‘what now’ question lingers on your tongue, you swallow it. Because you know.

Through the night both of your desires had become clear. Far beyond the point of lust. Jungkook growling that you’re his as his hips drive you into the mattress, and again when he kisses you tenderly after. You asking him if he’s yours, and receiving an affirmative nod as your mouth sank down on him.

No. You don’t need to have that conversation right now.

You reach out for his hand, brushing the euphoria tattoo on his middle finger. “Now I know why you got this tattooed here.”

Jungkook lets out a breath sound, humming into your hair. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget.” This less-sweet answer is paired with his other hand slipping down between your bare legs to brush your sensitive folds. “How ab—“

“Jungkook?!” Hoseok’s voice startles you both. Eyes widening with fear, hand clasping over your mouth.

“What?!” Jungkook calls back, hand coming back to your hip.

“Me and Yoongi are going out to get breakfast, do you want anything?” Your brother is here? Did they hear you?

Jungkook groans. “Where are you going?”

Your hand remains clasped over your mouth, but Jungkook doesn’t seem anything other than annoyed with his friend.

“The bakery,” Hoseok answers. “The one down south.”

“Just the usual then, and an americano.”

There’s a brief silence on the other side of the door, until... “Y/N? You want anything?”

Your face turns red, too shocked to really answer.

“She’ll have what I’m having,” Jungkook calls back with a smile.

“Hey!” You playfully shove at his chest. “I want a latte!” you call towards Hoseok.

“Sure,” Hoseok laughs. “Oh, by the way. One of you is paying for that coat hanger. And Y/N, your panties are cute but I’m not picking them off my floor.”

If you weren’t embarrassed to begin with, you sure are now. Neither of you went back to clean the mess you made in the hallway. Meaning that now only Hoseok saw, but your brother did too and—

There’s a scream “JEON JUNGKOOK! YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!!” your brother wails, Jungkook’s entire body tightens up in response. He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

There’s a long silence, the sound of Hoseok muttering in the distance. You look up at the man beside you, confused. Jungkook’s face is drained of all colour. He known.

You’re about to open your mouth when Hoseok returns.

The door opens, and his voice carries in louder than before. “Jeon, if that nasty ass condom isn‘t gone by the time we get back, you owe me both halves of the rent. Capiche?”

Jungkook gulps. “Yeah.”

Hoseok slams the door shut, getting the message across. The both of you hold your breath until you hear the front door fall closed. Then you erupt into laughter, hands caressing bodies as tears appear in the corners of your eyes.

Jungkook shakes his head. “We have about half an hour,” he whispers, turning you so that you’re lying on top of him.

“I think we can clean up a hallway in less than that Jungkook.”

“Good,” he smirks, sliding your thighs apart so that his hard cock presses between your folds. Bare, no barriers. “Because I want you to ride me.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought, but don't send me any graphic or vulgar asks please. 

Special thanks to: @ayxxha @dee-ehn @spicykoreantatertots​ @taekooksfxck​ @sevenwho​ @sunshineangelhobi​ @hobisbeautifulass​ @thinksshesawolf​ @franklytae​ @softlyjiminie​ @out-of-jams​ @mygsii​ @joonsrack​ @namjooniebjonesuniverse​ (i'm sorry if I forgot someone)

@minjoonalist @ironicarmy @kookiesspacebuns @dammit-jjk @jesuislalune @setton00 @hplsmoon @lexi-the-fandom-master-love @thefiresfromheaven @nctssidehoe @tenshikoo @miladavidson @catsandstrawberries @cvbachacbitch @x-guccipeaches-x @yeontanie21 @feel-the-sunset @jimilogy @si1verrose @bishuthot @shane-knight @carolsummerlove @doki-do-ki @topanga27 @vanitypoko @kookoo-kachoo​ 

[therenlover]

Brutal (A Demon!Daniel Bruhl x Starlet!Reader Ficlet)

(So, this is the first little ficlet in my Sour series, which can be found HERE! I hope you enjoy it! Also, enjoy blurry Checo, because he’s who @creme-bruhlee and I imagine as demon!Daniel)

“And I'm so tired that I might / Quit my job, start a new life / And they'd all be so disappointed / 'Cause who am I if not exploited?”

Synopsis: A crime of passion accidentally summons a handsome demon who offers to make your deepest desires come true... for a price, of course. 

Rating; M (16+)

Warnings: Vague Allusions to Past Dubcon/Noncon, Explicit Language, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Murder, Making A Deal With A Demon, Maybe A Tiny Bit Of Monsterfucking???? If You Squint??? Not Really Though

Word Count: 1500~

-------

“What is it that you desire?”

The man- no, creature- before you was shrouded in the darkest corner of your dressing room, perched languidly upon the chaise lounge that had been oh so kindly included in the rider of your contract by whatever filthy fucker decided they wanted to have you this time. He didn’t matter now, though. No, not now that his brains were splattered against the carpet. The only thing that mattered anymore was the creature in the corner. 

Even in the darkness, you could see its razor-sharp teeth glinting in the low light. 

Trembling with unused adrenaline, you smiled back at it, hands still covered in blood. “I’m not answering that until you answer a few questions of my own,” 

Surprisingly, the thing seemed to lean further back into its plush seat as it nodded, long pointed tail undulating slowly, like a python preparing to strike. “Very well. It makes no difference to me how long you draw out our little deal,” slowly, the thing chuckled, “Besides, for you, pretty one, I’d wait all the time in the world,” 

You groaned at his exaggerated wink. 

Still, it was too late to turn back now. With the blood on your hands for the death of the man at your feet, both physically and metaphorically, there was nowhere to go but forward. Maybe making a deal with the devil wasn’t your original plan, but it sure as hell was better than prison. With a sigh, you sat down heavily into your high-backed makeup chair. 

“So I’m assuming you’re a demon?”

The creature in the corner made some sort of deep, proud noise in its chest as its two, shadowy hands came up to stroke its curved horns, much like a goat’s, with a certain puff-chested reverence. Even while beholding it in that darkness, its features shrouded in black, there was an allure to the strange monster, a strange, sick draw. You were helpless to whatever had appeared before you and all its powers. Somehow, though, you had seemed to intrigue it despite your comparative weakness. 

“I go by many names, but demon is one of them,” it purred, red eyes glinting with something more than bloodlust, “I prefer others,”

“What should I call you then?”

“Whatever you please,”

You scoffed. “You said you had many names, why can’t you tell me even one?”

It huffed a long sigh, and if you didn’t know better, you would’ve said that you saw smoke erupt from where its nostrils should be. 

That being said, it didn’t seem like the thing was frustrated. If anything, the creature seemed amused. From its words, you could only assume it had been hundreds of years since it had last entertained itself on the human realm. You could only hope your rage was entertaining enough to keep any of its less desirable emotions at bay. 

“Names have power, Schatz. I can’t just go around telling everybody who I am,” it’s accent felt thicker as it leaned back, “but I suppose, if you and I were to make a deal, that I could allow you to name me something. Or I could choose one for you,”

“What if I didn’t make deal with you?” you challenged the creature with a smirk. 

It hummed low in its chest as it pondered your question. “Now that would be no fun,” 

“For me or for you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Time was getting short now, with the clock on the wall ticking down the minutes until someone would arrive at your dressing room door to lead you out towards the set where the rest of the cast and crew were waiting. If they found you with the body it was over. Things with the demon needed to be resolved, and they needed to be resolved fast. 

Thankfully, it didn’t toy with you any more than you expected it to. 

“For both of us,” it replied, tail flicking almost excitedly, “I can’t touch you if we don’t make a deal, for better or for worse, and even then your soul wouldn’t be mine to toy with until the deal was complete. That being said, you’re in a pretty sticky situation. I think you need me just about as much as I need you, so I’ll ask again; What do you desire?”

You swallowed thickly. 

On one hand, you couldn’t imagine things would end up very pleasantly for you once the dark shadow who had staked its claim on that awful chaise lounge finally did have a chance to get its clawed hands on your soul. On the other hand, though, you had nothing left to lose. Fame, especially so young, always came at a price. You would wager to guess that even if your soul hadn’t been claimed by a demon, that it had already been stolen away by the producers and directors that pulled the strings of your life like you were some obedient little puppet dancing for an audience who wanted to devour you whole. 

In the end, an eternity in Hell with whatever was grinning at you like the Cheshire cat from the shadows might even be preferable to the horrors you’d already seen. 

Slowly, you answered its question. 

“I want to make every single person who ever took advantage of me suffer the same pain they put me through,” 

The creature’s face split into a toothy smile. 

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” 

Moving like smoke on water, it stood from its place on the chaise lounge, morphing in shape and size as it approached and held out it’s newly human-shaped hand to you. In his new form, at least, you assumed it was a he, the creature was handsome, all dark eyes and slick hair. He looked young, and somehow, even with his new, thin lips and human teeth, he retained his signature smile. You took his hand and shook it without hesitation.

Even with your heart beating almost out of your chest, you had to admit that, with a demon at your side, you felt more empowered than you ever had before. 

He noticed. 

“I am known to my kin as Asmodeus,” he cooed, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he drew near to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to mind, “You, though, my sweetest pet, may call me Daniel,” 

Daniel. 

Somehow, even after you had seen the faintest traces of his beastly form, you had to admit that the name suited him. Maybe not as well as Asmodeus, but it worked well enough. You looked up at him through lidded eyes. “I’m-”

Before you could answer, he pressed a finger to your rouged lips. 

“I know everything about you sweetling, no need for introductions. There is one last thing we need to do to seal the deal, though,” 

A pit formed in your stomach as you gulped, caught in Daniel’s entrancing gaze. You had to assume there was some sort of magic to it, a spell that kept you trapped for all long as he could stare down into your eyes. Still, it would do you no good to fight it. Besides, the pangs that were making their way through your whole being weren’t fear. 

Oh no, they were something much worse. 

“What do we need to do?” You asked, wetting your lips with your tongue. 

Daniel replied with a sly smile and a soft chuckle. “I need you to kiss me, of course,” 

Who were you to disagree with the expert?

With all the strength and bravery you could muster, you surged up and met Daniel’s lips with your own, melting into the kiss as he quickly took over, skilled tongue darting into your mouth to claim it as his own. He bit hard on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind, not when your hands were busy exploring up under his shirt and finding purchase on the firm muscles that waited below. 

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly keeping his hands to himself either.

Sooner than you would have liked, though, Daniel was pulling his lips away from yours. It was just a fraction of an inch, your swollen mouths still connected by a string of saliva tinted a dark red with your blood, but you were already keening from the loss of him the second you caught your breath. The sound pleased him. 

“What are we to do first, sweetling?” he purred, letting his nails run gently against the soft skin of your waist, “I’m at your command,” His breath was hot against your fact, and he smelled like gun smoke. 

It drove you wild. 

You snuck a look at the clock before turning back to him, eyes aflame. “In about ten minutes we’ll need to have the mess in here cleaned up with any evidence gone, but before we do that, I want you- no, I need you to fuck me. Can you make that happen?”

Daniel beamed. 

“Oh, sweet girl, anything is possible with me at your side,” As he whipped you around to push you against the chaise lounge, licking his lips, he couldn’t help but add, “I believe this is the beginning of a very beneficial partnership,” 

And against all odds, as you hooked a leg up around his waist and pulled him in for another searing kiss, you had to agree.

--------

a/n: WOW WOW WOW THAT WAS GARBAGE BUT I LOVED IT. I finished season 5 of Lucifer yesterday, so I was in the mood for some demonic shit. I hope it was at least semi-enjoyable despite being straight up shitty writing lol. 

Taglist: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @be-cautious-around-bri 

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Wait ~ E.O.

A/n: let’s be real this is a Drabble, and after how much I’ve struggled to write requests the rest will probably be as well so I can finally get them out to you guys.

Request: “1 from prompt list... Enoch x non-binary maybe?...” by anon

Prompt: #1 (here): “I should go” / “Or you should stay a little longer.”

MASTERLIST

Hearing the music confused Y/n just a little bit. It was definitely piano, but it shouldn’t have been playing. It was clear, far different than the old recordings they had around that scratched and slipped and popped. It couldn’t have been Miss Peregrine either, because she had taken the others out on a picnic. Y/n knew that because they were sick in bed, and Miss P had given them a head’s up on her way out so Y/n wouldn’t be startled if they got up and moved around to see an empty house.

The thing was, Y/n was torn about whether they were happy to hear the music or not. On one hand, they had the WORST headache. On the other... their favorite music had always been made by pianos and violins - The two most beautiful instruments in their mind. Most importantly, the music was being played beautifully.

Half in irritation and half due to curiosity, Y/n plodded down the steps of the very special house for very special people like Y/n, which was uncharacteristically empty today. They wandered around, trying to narrow their eyes enough to block out the sun while still being able to see.

Following the music brought them to a small parlor room. They’d just moved since the attack on the old time loop and with the chaos of so many people and adjusting to a new place, Y/n hadn’t had much time to explore. Their quirk was that they had a sort of psychic link to all living creatures. Not in the form of mind reading, but of feeling emotions. Emotions that, unfortunately, demanded to be felt rather violently. Emotions that fell of people in waves of bright colors. With the many new people they were boarding with until they found their own place to make a new loop, Y/n had been overwhelmed and very sick. It was probably why Miss Peregrine has set up the picnic to begin with.

It was also why they loved music so much. They could listen to and feel music without it messing them up. It was a beautiful experience.

That was all beside the point though.

The small parlor was new to Y/n. It didn’t have much in it. In fact, the most noticiable things were a bunch of seats forming a semi circle around a large, blank wall, which is probably where the others sat to watch Horace’s dreams. The other thing in the room was a gorgeous grand piano. Sitting on the bench playing it, to Y/n’s shock, was Enoch.

Upon hearing the door open, Enoch jumped away from the piano like it had burned him, spinning around and tripping over himself to get away from the thing. Y/n covered their mouth to hide a laugh they knew Enoch would find offensive.

“You- you’re here,” he stuttered. For someone who was usually gloomy and withdrawn and sulky, Enoch was suddenly very read faced, waves of magenta rolling off of him and pooling on the floor like mist. The bits higher up twirled into the air and spun around, like rays of sun. Compared to his dark grey outfit, pale skin, and black hair, the colorful emotion was almost laughable in its brilliance.

“I am,” Y/n agreed. “I’ve Uh, been sick.”

Enoch oriented himself, and his color changed. Like food coloring falling into water, a rich purple and sickly green twisted and spun, spreading out from the middle and consuming all the magenta from before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ve been... there are a lot of people here. I’ve sort of been a recluse. Not talked much. Miss Peregrine said you’d all be gone.”

“I don’t think it occurred to her I’d be getting out of bed. Lots of people like you said. Very overwhelming, especially with how pretty the scenery outside is as well. I mean, emotions are one thing but living in a world that’s like some sort of painting? All those vibrant colors all the time? World’s worst headache.” Y/n suddenly rushed to end the ramble, embarrassed. They looked down at their hands and took reassurance that they could not see colors curling off of their fingers. Alone, at least, they had solace from the colors.

Enoch shuffled. “Well I’m sorry I bothered you. I just, uh, it’s peaceful. Easy way to blow off some steam, or make some noise that isn’t annoying. Never did like quiet. If you’re trying to get a break from emotions I’m sure you don’t want to see mine.” He scowled, the green taking over the purple now. It was the color green that spoke of disgust. Y/n immediately looked at their feet.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I-“ they swallowed. In all honesty, they had a bit of a crush on Enoch. It had started ages ago when being around Enoch had been a relief. His emotions were usually duller colors, because he was broody and sarcastic. Y/n wished him happiness, but if he was going to be grumpy then Y/n was going to enjoy it. The thing was, enjoying Enoch’s company had lead Y/n to taking part in it a lot. It wasn’t until Jake came around and ruined everything that Y/n withdrew, turned away by the sudden surging vibrant red of angry annoyance that spurted off of Enoch like fireworks. Since then, it had been one thing after another until Y/n was left feeling like Enoch got rather annoyed whenever Y/n was around anymore.

They figured he’d realized he liked not having them around and tried to keep their distance. Every time they showed up, Enoch got glummer than usual and his colors became like mop water. Not just dull, but muddy, and often mixing with hate and disgust. It made Y/n sick to see. If he was being honest, it was that more than anything that made him feel terrible.

“Why would you ever need to be sorry for anything?” Enoch asked quietly, seeming genuinely curious about that. “I’m the one that’s upset you.”

“I upset you first.” It was too honest, and Y/n felt their body tense. “Er, interrupting your piano playing. Which I didn’t know you did by the way.”

For the first time in a very long time, Enoch offered a smile. It was small, and he seemed shy about it, but it was there, and it stuck. “You never upset me, Y/n. I don’t think you could if you tried.”

At that, Y/n got angry. “Well don’t go lying to me now just because you pity me.” That seemed to startle Enoch. “Mind You Enoch O’Connor, I can see your emotions, remember? I can’t see all that hate and disgust that flares up everytime I’m around. I’m not blind and I’m not an idiot - don’t treat me one and just let me apologize already!”

For a long time, Enoch was stunned. Then he slowly realized, and his face morphed into a mix of emotions Y/n had gotten used to seeing. Irritation. Disgust. Frustration. Anger. Regret. There were new ones too. Ones that didn’t make sense. Amusement. The light bubblegum that usually signaled someone making sassy comments in their head. The color of attitude. Enoch finally shook his head, watching Y/n’s eyes flick around him but never looking directly at him. He had long since learned that it was them looking at the colors. With all the emotions in him right now, he was sure that the confusion on their face was the result of attempting to dicipher any of it.

“Remember that you can see feelings, but you don’t know why they’re there.” Y/n finally looked at Enoch, wary. “The hate and disgust wasn’t directed at you, Y/n. I-“ he purses his lips for a second. “When Jake came around, I was really annoyed with him. After his stupid grandfather I didn’t want another one coming around and hurting my friends by leaving again. And I knew he would. And then he did! He came back but that’s not the point.” He sighed, seeming to be taking a second to remind himself of something. “I let that get to me too much. I... remember how you’d flinch away from me every time Jake was around and my emotions would flare up. I felt terrible. One day you just disappeared, and then so much was happening and I‘d gone and pushed you away and now we might not ever be friends again.” He shrugged. Though not usually one to express himself, he’d always been loose lipped around Y/n. More so now after all they’d been through. Jake had taught him to talk, if nothing else, and Enoch could appreciate that at the very least.

Y/n looked at their feet. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. That you felt so pressured to be calm around me, to repressed your emotions. And that I... mixed things up, rather than just talking to you. I know it’s not fair to read into your emotions with the hints I get when you never get a look into mine when it comes to you.” Suddenly they were both on high alert. The way Y/n had said that had been so far from talking about normal feelings like Enoch had been talking about. They had used a tone that was so distinctively... something more.

“What?” Enoch asked softly.

“I- I-“ Y/n began to back up, and Enoch didn’t have to see their emotional colors to know they were panicking. “I better go.”

Enoch surged forward, catching their arm. “No, wait.” He bit his lip as Y/n refused to look at him, before reaching over and catching their chin, tugging them around to look at him again. He offered a soft smile. That same one from before, but hopeful now. “I think you could- or, you should at least, stay. Just a little longer.”

Y/n looked up at him with that same nervous hope. “Why?”

Enoch stepped closer, and Y/n felt something in his chest grow warm at the sunset orange slowly curling around and drowning all the other colors. Orange, which was sometimes admiration or idolization, but was most often proof of a crush. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

And Y/n knew he was right.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 5

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed​

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Five: Madman

“Hello my little fairies,”

“Jurian, please-” Lucian groaned, his arms folding over his chest as he leaned back with a groan. They’d only been waiting a few minutes before their fae hearing had picked up on Jurian’s footfalls and accompanying whistle.

“Sorry fox-boy, but you’re the idiot who got yourself and princess over here stuck on your first day.”

Lucien said nothing, just glared at his friend with a look that could’ve killed. Jurian paused in his approach, taking a moment to survey the cage. Then he cocked his head.

“You didn’t do this on purpose right?”

“Jurian-”

“Okay, okay,” Jurian grinned, holding his hands up in defence. Throughout this exchange Elain had remained perched on the fallen tree, doing her best to ignore the boy’s bickering.

With a comedic deliberance, Jurian reached over and began to hoist the cage upwards. The contraption must’ve been heavier than it appeared given the audible grunt that came out of the semi-mortal man. Lucien sprang to his feet and held out his hand to help Elain up before snapping it back to his side. She ignored that. She ignored the sinking feeling in her gut too, and bent low and shuffled under the lip of the cage to freedom, Lucien close behind.

“You owe me one,” Jurian huffed as he let the cage fall, the wood groaning in protest.

“We should’ve discouraged the councils from putting these up,” Lucien glared at the Ashwood cage, and Elain could now see how the wood was black like the forests caged in the Nolan residence. Involuntarily, she shivered.

“Councils would think you a mad-men if you began suggesting they forgo protecting themselves against fae.” Jurian eyed his friend, his hands digging into his pockets.

“It’s not safe, not when allies who are fae come to visit. What kind of message does that send?”

“Lucien, you can’t demand the whole human world put down their swords just because your mate is in town.”

Both Elain and Lucien stiffened at the word, the acknowledgment of the bond they both had so insistently ignored for two, whole years. It was like the floor falling out from under them, and the friendly bantering they’d just shared lost its innocence and gained a heavy significance. Nothing could be simple between them it seemed.

Nesta would’ve gone mad Elain realised, to know that Elain had been trapped with Lucien who she was convinced was an uncontrollable beast. But Lucien had done nothing to make her uncomfortable, quite the opposite in fact.

“Huckleberry Hall?” Elain spoke into the silence, as Lucien and Jurian continued to glare at one another. Lucien with danger in his eye, Jurian with amusement.

“Maybe you should go back to the house,” Lucien said after a moment, kicking a stone near his foot.

“What? Why?”

“It’s dangerous out here,” Lucien gestured vaguely to the Ashwood cage. “You can just come with us to Huckleberry on the day, you don’t need to know the way just yet.”

“You’re the one that got us trapped,” Elain bit out. There was more emotion in her voice than she’d heard in a long time. Lucien, it seemed, had this tendency of making her break out of the fog that had descended on her mind following the Cauldron. Making her laugh. Making her angry. “I’m an emissary just like you, why shouldn’t I know the way?”

“No I…I didn’t mean it like that,” Lucien sighed, his brows furrowing as his shoulders hunched. But what other reason was there? Could Elain truly never escape the preconceptions the world had of her – lesser, inconsequential, useless.

“No, I get it. Don’t worry,” Elain could hardly control her anger at this point, folding her arms over her chest as though it could barricade her emotions in. Around Lucien everything was intensified, electric – it was making her feel sick.

“Elain…” Lucien said softly, and if she were not mistaken, from the corner of her eye she could see him extend a hand towards her - reaching out for her.

“Come on princess, I’ll take you home,” Jurian spoke as though he were reminding them of his presence, and Elain saw as Lucien’s hand retracted back to his side. “I have a new contract with the Darlington’s which I wouldn’t mind you looking over.” Jurian came over and Elain looked him over as though for the first time. Scruffy brown hair, a beard that could do with a trim. Brown eyes like Elain’s, and like Elain’s, they were somewhat glazed over, as though he were not truly there.

Elain just nodded at him, her back still somewhat turned to Lucien. But before Jurian could lead Elain back to the Manor, her mate spoke again.

“You keep her safe,” he said, and Elain couldn’t help but peek at him. He’d spoken with such steel in his voice, and his eyes were blazing with raw power as he glared at Jurian. It set something inside Elain alight.

“The house is 15 minutes away, please, have a little faith,” Jurian rolled his eyes.

“Pigs will fly before I put faith in you Jurian.” The man just rolled his eyes and turned back to the dirt path which they had all just come from. Elain turned to go, peeking over her shoulder one last time as she did so.

Lucien seemed to linger for a moment, an internal battle raging inside of him, before his expression darkened and he turned his back, walking away without a second glance.

“You don’t look like your sister, not really?”

“Which one?” Jurian was walking behind Elain, and with every step Elain felt his eyes boring into the back of her head.

“Which one?” Jurian was walking behind Elain, and with every step Elain felt his eyes boring into the back of her head.

“Both. Feyre’s all Nigh Court ink and the other one’s all hellcat.”

“I’ll be sure to let them know of your opinion.”

“You’re like me,” Jurian surprised her by saying. Elain flushed.

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh really? I think we’re quite similar. In fact, I think we might be just the same.”

“I really don’t think so,” Elain marched forward, swatting at the bushes as the arched over the path.

“You don’t sometimes feel a little…crazy?” Either she was going mad or Jurian’s voice was dangerously close to the back of her neck.

“No…” she breathed, not much longer now, the house should come into sight in between the trees any second.

“Do you still have visions?”

“No,” Elain said quickly, too quickly, “They stopped after the Cauldron was reforged.”

“How can you be so sure?” She definitely just felt Jurian’s breath on the tip of her left ear. “Your sister still maintained her powers, before giving them up for Feyre…silly girl.” Elain came to a halt and spun around.

“Be careful with how you speak about my sisters.” Raw fury lined her voice. She’d had enough, and all the tension of the last two days appeared to have peaked.

But, she hated that he had got this reaction out of her, hated that glint in his eye which revealed just how delighted he was.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Jurian said after a moment, his voice was painfully, uncomfortably soft.

“I’m here to look over your work with the councils-”

“No,” Jurian said simply, “What are you really doing here?”

Elain paused, her eyes boring into the madman’s, refusing to look away. Inside of her, she felt something spark into life, and for the first time, she didn’t blow it out – she kindled it, holding it in her hands and encouraging it to grow.

“Are you really do arrogant – so pompous – to believe I have an ulterior motive in my stay.” The words came out hot and fast, and Elain felt something inside her finally breaking. “You clearly believe I do, in fact, it’s clear you think you know said ulterior motive. So why don’t we ask you, Jurian, why am I here? If you’re so convinced of my disloyalty.”

If Jurian was phased by Elain’s extremely uncommon outburst, he didn’t show it. He just continued to peer down at her with cold, calculating eyes.

“Forgive me, Lady Archeron, if I do not believe in the honesty of the Night Court.”

“Your beliefs are not my problem.” The anger was easy now, too easy. It was no longer buried deep within her, in some unreachable pocket, it was bubbling under her skin, aching for release.

“They are when it appears the Night Court has sent perhaps the least suitable person for a job we didn’t even need. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see your position is unnecessary. You’re not needed…so why are you here?”

Jurian insulted her so casually, with so little remorse, that Elain wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him correctly. He couldn’t speak to her like that, right? No one, no one, spoke to her like that. No one insulted her to her face, no one told her she was not needed – especially not after the Cauldron. No one would’ve dared insult her in the Night Court, not with Feyre as her sister and Rhysand her brother-in-law. And Elain had thought…she’d thought no one would insult her here, not with Lucien around. But Lucien couldn’t be with her all the time, and everyone else, well they owed her nothing.

“How has talking to the councils worked for you?”

Jurian seemed to still. At least she’d caught him off guard.

“…pardon?”

“Because I don’t think I need to look at the contracts to know that your progress has been futile.” Jurian seemed to stop breathing, his eyes turning dark and dangerous. Elain wondered for a moment if Lucien had realised the only danger he’d left her with, was Jurian.

“Careful how you speak,” the madman’s voice was low, deadly.

“Have you ever wondered why? Why you’ve made no progress with the humans? Hasn’t it crossed your mind that a half-crazed man who used to be a finger and an eye in a ring, and a queen who metamorphosises into a bird come daylight, might not be the best approach to a land of mortals?”

Jurian stayed silent, and whether encouraged by bravery or stupidity, Elain didn’t stop.

“Humans are simple people, really. But everything they’ve been taught over the centuries has told them that fae are dangerous and not to be trusted. The humans are probably looking at the two of you thinking if they open themselves up to the world of fae, then they’re going to end up the same. Lucien he…well…I can’t imagine he knows much about humans either. What you need is someone who understands these people, who knows the right thing to say so they believe the fae mean no harm.”

“And let me guess, this person is you?” Jurian goaded with a condescending smirk that had no humour.

“Say what you want, Jurian, but I’m the most human one here.”

Jurian assessed her, his eyes clouding over with thought.

“Yes…human…you’d like that wouldn’t you.” It was Elain’s turn to be startled.

“Pardon?”

“Is that not why you’re here? To play dress up with your old life, to pretend that nothing’s changed, that you didn’t change.”

“No-” Elain practically hissed.

“I saw you the day Nolan’s boy rejected you. Brutal, but at least he’s honest, I’ll give him that. You were a wreck that day, princess, I bet you don’t even remember that I was there. But I was, and I saw that fire in your eye…I guess in that way you are like your sisters.”

“I…” Elain hated that her thoughts had turned sour, and her tongue had frozen. Now, she was drowning in memories of that day. That horrible, cleaving day.

“The look in your eye was of a woman who wasn’t going to give up on what she wants, not now, not ever.”

“I am a female,” Never had Elain referred to herself as such, but in the face of Jurian’s vitriol she had never felt such an urge to defend her fae-ness, “And you know nothing of what I want.”

“Then please, enlighten me,” Jurian was close now, too close, and Elain cursed herself for how her speech faltered, for how the words ran out. What did she want?

“Is it him?” Jurian pushed and Elain felt her whole body flush. Jurian just rolled his neck. “Only took you two years-”

“I didn’t-”

“I don’t care,” Jurian glared out at the forest, “You’re crueller than I thought, Lady Elain, to keep Lucien only till you want him. Do you like that? Keeping males on leashes till you get over your petty trauma-”

Elain slapped him.

Granted, the minute her hand collided with his cheek she was already cradling his face and apologising profusely. But still, Elain had slapped him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, oh Gods, I didn’t mean to, I just – I just – oh gods I-” Jurian was rubbing at his cheek, but the fog seemed to have cleared from his eye. Elain couldn’t stop apologising, down right mortified in her actions, particularly in the ease in which she’d raised her hand and struck a man. This wasn’t her; she didn’t defend herself like this. Too much time around Mor, that had to be it.

“Please don’t apologise, and you didn’t hit me that hard, I’ve had lovers do worse,” Jurian grinned cheekily. Elain just scrunched up her nose, a furious blush spreading across her cheeks.

“I wish I could say you didn’t deserve it,” Elain muttered as she watched the skin of Jurian’s cheek prickle into a dull rose. Horror washed through her for saying such a thing, but Jurian just shrugged and ruffled his scruffy hair.

“I refuse to lie,” he said, eventually.

“I’m sure that works brilliantly for you in the world of politics,” Elain couldn’t take her eyes away from the blushing skin of Jurian’s cheek. “Let me say this once, Jurian. Just so we know where we stand with each other,” she began, somewhat awkwardly as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. “You know nothing of me. You know nothing of my wants, and you certainly, certainly, know nothing of my pain...”

It seemed that Jurian had nothing to say to that, and Elain couldn’t stand the look in his eye, so she turned to the endless forest.

“If you spent five minutes in my mind…”

“What?” Jurian ground out, and Elain looked at him sharply.

“Those 50 years would look like child’s play.”

Jurian’s eyes darkened, and he seemed to look over her as though for first time. Drinking her in. Elain thought he would’ve been offended but, he just looked thoughtful, as though he’d been propositioned with a new puzzle.

“Till you prove me otherwise,” he finally began, moving around Elain and walking forward along the path, “I cannot believe that some part of you, no matter how small, is only back here to try and go back to your old life. That’s just what I’ll believe.”

Elain said nothing, she just fell into step behind the madman. What was supposed to have been a short trip to Huckleberry had turned into strangely casual bantering with Lucien and a confrontation with Jurian in which she had physically assaulted him. If today was any indication, perhaps Vassa would give her another strange encounter come nightfall. All she had to do till then, was look over the contracts. That would be simple enough.

“Elain,” Jurian spoke up, not bothering to even turn around.

“Yes?”

“Please prove me otherwise.”

***

Lucien was pretty sure he was scaring the humans. He’d walked into Huckleberry Hall with flames practically sizzling from his fingers and had given a small gaggle of human women a nasty fright as he spun the corner.

He was now waiting on the updated maps from the humans’ best cartographer. Lucien didn’t like waiting. He didn’t like staying still. He needed the world to keep moving and he needed it to keep dragging him along, because when he stopped like this, he became far too aware of exactly how things were.

Things had been going fine with Elain. No, not fine – great. For the first time, ever, Lucien was pretty sure he’d caught a glimpse of Elain. Not Elain when she was stuffed in Night Court black or silent whilst her sisters spoke for her, but just, Elain.

She’d laughed at his joke. Cauldron fry him – she’d actually giggled at something he’d said. Lucien hadn’t even had time to consider how that was their first time alone together, just the two of them. If the world were kind to him, maybe one day that would be their story – the first time they talked because they’d quite literally been trapped together.

But the world wasn’t kind to him.

What had gone wrong? All of a sudden Jurian was there and things were bad again. Lucien had done what he always does, he’d said something stupid, and he’d watched as Elain, quite literally, retracted into herself.

And now he was alone at Huckleberry Hall, and all the excitement he’d had merely hours ago, at the prospect of being with Elain and making some progress, had evaporated. Groaning, Lucien ran his hands down his face.

“Lucien?” A sweet, bubbly voice called out from behind him, and it took the male a moment before he could place the voice. Turning around, he forced an easy, courtier’s smile onto his face.

“Delilah,” Lucien smiled, greeting the woman with a slight bow of his head. “How are you?”

“I’m well, how are you?” Delilah was the daughter of Lord Darlington, the human who appeared to be in charge of the armies, Lord Nolan supplying the arms for his escapades. Lucien didn’t understand how human courting worked, in the fae lands when he liked a female they’d usually be in his bed before sundown, but from what he’d heard of the human crowds, Delilah had been described as the ‘diamond of the season’ – whatever the hell that meant.

Lucien supposed that meant a lot of men were scrabbling for her hand, and he supposed she fit the human model for attractive. Her hair was of palest blonde, and she had a dainty body with bones that reminded Lucien of a bird. She wore pretty frocks with high necklines, and seemed to have abnormally, cosmetic rouge cheeks and lips. She was sweet, but in the face of-

“Are you sure you’re well?” Her voice was high and sugary, “You look ready to explode.” Lucien huffed what he hoped was an amused laugh.

“It’s been a hectic night and day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Delilah chewed her bottom lip. “Any reason in particular? Any way in which I can help?” Lucien shook his head.

“No…we’ve just had a new arrival from Prythian, a high fae like me whose here to assist with negotiations.” Lucien tried to keep his voice neutral, but he was sure that somehow Delilah knew he was talking about his mate. Surely she heard his heart, racing in his chest.

“Oh, how exiting!” Delilah’s eyes seemed to brighten with a seemingly innocent interest.

“Really?” Lucien had cocked his head and raised his brow, “I thought you humans would hate having a new fae in town.”

But Lucien knew Delilah wouldn’t mind. When Lucien had first arrived at the mortal lands things had been, strange. At least he was already well practiced in having strangers stare at him, but there was something unblazoned about the humans. The men always looked to be sizing him up, their eyes calculating exactly what it would take to take him down. The women…well. Women of an older generation were mortified by him – which was a first.

But the younger women, they hadn’t had so many years in believing the fae as wicked. The girls were curious, and Lucien was very handsome. He always had been, and it seemed that here, his scar and metal eye only added to the exotic ambiguity of his presence. Over the two years the women had become braver. They might come stand near him in gaggles, first they didn’t talk they only observed, then they were having loud conversations of when they would be taking strolls in the garden, unattended by their chaperones.

Lucien was amused. For one reason. The idea that Elain had once been like these human women had sent his mind whirring. Would she have been taken by him if they’d met before the Cauldron. It would’ve been so easy to see her when she was still human, he could’ve been the one to deliver Feyre’s letters, he could’ve crossed the border and knocked on her door and-

It was a fun dream. But that’s all it was, a dream.

“Maybe my father would hate a new fae but, I’m sure us ladies wouldn’t mind,” Delilah let out a giggle that reminded Lucien of too many sugars in his tea.

“Well, she’ll be attending the meeting on Friday, so plenty of opportunity for greetings then.”

“She?” Delilah seemed to falter slightly, her iridescent hair catching in the sun in a way that made Lucien’s eyes hurt.

“Yes,” Lucien sighed, he really hated to tell people of her, in some way he supposed it was his way of keeping her safe, especially when at the most important moment of his life he couldn’t shut up. But Elain was not his property, and not his secret to keep. “Lady Elain of the Night Court.” He confirmed, unable to keep the awe out of his voice as he spoke.

“Archeron?” Delilah’s voice, impossibly, rose in pitch.

“Yes…” Lucien wondered if he’d made a mistake given Delilah’s wide, calculating eyes.

“We…we never thought we’d see her again,” Delilah said, as though it were some kind of explanation.

“I…” Lucien’s brow furrowed, “I’m sure she feels the same.”

“Gods…will you be at the Nolan’s tonight,” Delilah went on, and yet her eyes still remained troubled as she looked at him.

“Me? No…no I don’t attend those kinds of things.” Lucien straightened himself up, folding his hands behind his back.

“It’ll be a lot of fun,” she smiled sweetly at him, and for a moment Lucien wondered why she was asking him. She’d extended the offer a few times two years ago, but soon it became well known that the Fae Male from the other side of the wall would have nothing to do with the Nolan family beyond basic respect.

“I’m sure it will, but, I have other duties I must attend to.” Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. Who even cared.

“Of course,” Delilah bowed slightly, and Lucien was somewhat grateful that the young woman seemed to be taking her leave.

“But know,” she surprised him by taking a step closer, “You’re more than welcome should you…change your mind.”

And then she was gone with a curtsey and a flick of ice-white hair. Lucien watched as she disappeared down the golden hallway, her pale skirts dragging across the marble floor, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

[penaltbox]

confessions under the mistletoe - roman ahcan

here’s a repost of an old fic 😊but it’s the right time of year for it. let me know what your favorite part was! feedback is appreciated!

__________

The holiday party is in full swing as you walk up to Alex, saying your goodbye to Roman. He’d been the reason you were there in the first place and you knew you’d find him later. For now, you wanted to go see the cute boy he was teammates with. 

“Hey you,” you smile, intentionally putting your hand on his arm so he notices you. 

He looks over and smirks a little, leaning in for a hug, “hey, pretty. I like that sweater.”

He reaches one hand out, tugging gently on the side of the ugliest sweater you could find at the thrift store. You laugh a little, taking a sip of the drink you’d grabbed as soon as you got to the bar. You easily fall into a conversation with Alex, letting the flirty comments roll out easily. 

You didn’t necessarily want anything with him, but he was cute and obviously a big deal as far as the team was concerned. Other girls watched as you easily held his attention and maybe it was more that than actually talking to him that you liked. 

You glance in the direction Roman had gone and catch his eye quickly, always seeming to find each other. He lifts his beer bottle up in your direction, a silent ask of how you’re doing. You smile at him and nod. He always made sure you were safe and you were sure your brother was behind that. 

Eric and Roman had grown up the best of friends and even though they drove you nuts, you were lost when they left for college. Eric stayed in Minnesota for school, but you didn’t want to follow your brother to college, so you picked a different school. 

After one visit to Madison you were sold and Eric made Roman swear he’d look out for you. Roman agreed, always used to having you around and now that you were grown up, he figured it wouldn’t be an issue. 

You had to push your feelings for Roman to the side, knowing Eric would never let that fly. And you were convinced Roman always saw you as a little sister anyways so you tried to focus on other people that would maybe reciprocate feelings. It didn’t always work though considering you hung out with Roman so often. 

Alex is still talking, off on a subject you have no interest in, but you pretend to be engaged with him. He looks ridiculous in the elf sweater and earmuffs he has on, which you have to focus on not laughing at. You tip your drink back but realize it’s empty at this point. 

You frown and interrupt Alex at a semi-low point in his rambling, saying you needed to go grab a new drink. He nods, letting you go with barely a glance. You carefully make your way to the bar, swerving around all the bodies that packed the building. 

You come up behind Tarek, tapping his shoulder to hopefully slide up to the bar and order. He glances back and smiles at you when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey!” He says, happily giving you as much of a hug as he can in the busy area. 

“Tarek, hi!” You say, just as happy to see the sweet boy, “I just need to get in and order a drink.”

He shakes his head, leaning in, “what are you drinking? I’ll buy this one for you.”

You blush a little, but tell him your choice and he quickly flags down a bartender to get it. He turns towards you, handing the drink over. If there was anyone that had caught your attention when Roman had first introduced you to the team it had been Tarek, but he was kind of accounted for so you never pushed your luck. 

He glances over your shoulder and points, “weren’t you talking to Alex before?”

You frown and turn a little, looking to where he was pointing. You find Alex with his arm around some girl’s waist, leaning in close to talk to her. You’re not upset, but you’re not surprised either. Alex was always getting attention from someone and you couldn’t seem to keep a guy’s attention yet at school. 

You shrug and turn back to Tarek, “go figure. The kid’s popular. I should go find Roman.”

“He was right over there with Max and Dom last I saw,” he motions to your right. 

“Thank you for the drink, Tarek. You’re the best!” You say, giving him another quick hug before sliding back into the crowd to find your favorite boy. 

You finally catch sight of Dom’s ridiculous costume and know Roman won’t be far from him. Much to your happiness you see Roman right next to him and head over quickly, knowing he was your safe spot in all the chaos. 

He’s looking around the room, tip toeing to see over people like he’s looking for someone. You laugh when you realize it’s probably you, so you save him some strain. 

“Ro!” You call out, his head whipping in your direction. You give him a little smile and he relaxes instantly. 

He holds his arm out, letting you slip under it easily and wind your arm around his back as you lean into his side. He leans down and kisses your head, making your cheeks flush. Thankfully they were already red from the amount of people in the room, but you’re sure they somehow got darker. 

“You scared me! I thought you left or something. Last I looked you were with Alex and then you very much were not anymore,” he laughs, looking down at you. 

He must not like the look on your face, a frown turning his lips. You notice and shake your head, not wanting him to worry at all. 

“I’m fine, Ro. I swear I am. I don’t want anything with Alex anyways, but I’m not surprised he was talking to a girl as soon as I walked away from him.”

Roman sighs, “You’re too good for him anyways. I wouldn’t let you try and date him.”

“I know, but I can’t keep a guy’s attention. They always find someone else,” you admit, your filter starting to disappear with drink #2. 

Roman shakes his head a little and squeezes you closer. Max comes back over to your area then and gives you both a look. 

“Hi,” he says, giving you a knowing smile. You can’t help but turn and press your face into Roman’s side, knowing he saw through it all. 

It had been the second week of school when Max had approached you and said he could tell you liked Roman. You were floored that he saw it so easily, but he explained that having sisters gave him that power of knowing better. He never mentioned anything to Roman, but he always gave you a look that told you he knew. 

Roman laughs as you hide against him, not knowing any wiser as to why. He probably figured you found Max cute or something and you weren’t about to tell him the real reason why. 

So you spend the night like that, hanging out with Roman, Max, and Dom like you had all year so far. They were your people at this point and you liked it that way. Eventually things begin to slow down as it gets later and you feel yourself getting tired. 

You look up at Roman and pout a little, waiting for him to notice. He glances down and does a double take when he catches it, smiling immediately. 

“What’s that look for?” He asks as his grip tightens for a second on your hip. 

“I’m tired, Ro,” you say, trying not to sound too whiny. 

He nods and checks the time, his eyes going wide, “yeah, let’s go. I’ll take you back to your place.”

He holds his hand out and you get a brave streak suddenly as you lace your fingers with his. He squeezes your hand and leads the way out of the bar, making you feel a little more confident that he let you do that. 

He pulls out his phone and orders an Uber, not even considering walking back to your side of campus. It’s chilly out and you shiver immediately from the cold wind. Roman pockets his phone and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. 

You sigh and press your face into his chest, mumbling a ‘thank you’ against his shirt. He rubs your back, trying to keep you as warm as he can while you wait. You try not to think about it too much as you sit there with him. You seemed to fit so easily in his arms and you tucked right into his chest, his chin leaning down on your head. You were just comfortable with each other. 

The Uber shows faster than you expected and Roman holds the door open so you can get in first. You try not to pout about the fact you don’t get to be pressed against him anymore. The ride back is mostly silent and now there’s no reason to have any physical contact, but you let your hand slide across the seat towards him. Maybe you could find a reason. 

You think he doesn’t notice but then his hand slides over yours, giving another tiny squeeze. You keep looking out the window, but you can’t help the smile that’s on your face. It feels like a win to you. 

The street lights fly by as you get closer and closer to your dorm room. You know Roman will make sure you get in safe and say good night before going back to his place. But you don’t want just that tonight, and maybe it’s the haze of the alcohol, but you’re convinced he should stay longer than normal this time. 

You hardly wait until you’re inside the dorm hall to start talking, but Roman is still holding your hand and your buzz isn’t wearing off. So you sigh loudly and when he looks at you it all comes rushing out.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t my brother’s best friend. I wish I was just allowed to like you and I could hold your hand all the time and you didn’t have to leave right away when you bring me back here. I chase after guys like Tarek and Alex but I don’t want either of them,”

“You’re so good to me and it’s not fair because Eric would kill me if he knew I liked you after all these years. And you’re probably so sick of having to watch over me every weekend because you never can just cut loose and have fun with the boys or flirt with girls.”

You have to stop and take a deep breath as Roman leans back against the wall next to your door. He’s got a one sided smile on his face that you aren’t quite familiar with but you can’t help thinking it looks absolutely adorable. 

“Are you done?” He asks softly, still holding your hand as his thumb rubs over your knuckles. 

You sigh and nod, looking down at where you’re standing between his legs. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so close to him but you also don’t plan to be stepping away unless he makes you. 

“Eric would kill us if anything happened,” he starts off and you think you know where he’s going, “but I’m kind of sick of caring about that. You don’t hold me back at all, you know that right? I like having you around. I don’t want other girls hanging around me.”

You look up at him quickly, trying to connect what he was saying. You must have quite the look on your face because a laugh quickly falls from his lips. He looks over at your door and points up at the fake mistletoe your roommate had hung up. 

“Is that thing legit? Do you follow that rule?” Roman asks, his eyebrows raised as he waits for your answer. 

You blush when you realize what he’s asking and nod, “I mean my roommate and her boyfriend use it as an excuse. I guess I’ve never been in the situation to use it?”

“Come here then,” he mumbles, leaning in slowly. You meet him halfway, your knees practically going out when he kisses you. 

When he finally pulls back you both try and fight off smiles, but you lose quickly. You laugh a little and lean into his chest, hugging his waist. He kisses the side of your head and holds you tight. 

“You’re gonna cause me so much trouble, aren’t you?” He laughs, looking down at you. 

You glance up at him and nod, “yeah, probably. I hope that’s okay.”

“At least trouble is so cute. I think I can figure things out for her.”

You stand up and reach over, unlocking your door after you untangle from Roman. You look over at him and take a deep breath before you ask him the question you kept mulling over in your head.

“Stay tonight?” 

He smiles and nods, kissing your cheek as he pushes you both into your room quickly. 

[veliseraptor]

Xue Yang babysits Jin Ling! Alternatively Jiang Cheng babysits Rusong

Extracurricular

[READ ON AO3]

Thank you for officially asking for this one and giving me the excuse to write it because lord knows I wanted to but who knows how long it would’ve taken me to get around to it on my own! And of course thanks to @ameliarating for the swift beta.

content warnings: mild actual violence, some semi-graphic threats of violence, general implied child endangerment (but no actual harm to said child)

--

Jin Ling was having a very bad day.

He’d already gotten in one fight with Jin Chan and his friends that he’d lost, and he was lonely and bored. His xiao-shushu was too busy to spend any time with him, even though he’d said he would. His shenshen had tried to cheer him up but he’d ended up yelling at her and now he felt bad about it.

At least there was Little Fairy.

Or at least, there had been Little Fairy, until she’d run off barking, and he’d spent the last forever wandering around calling for her and feeling increasingly like he was going to cry, which knowing his luck would be when Jin Chan would show up again to laugh and sneer like he was so much better than Jin Ling when he was nothing but a stupid idiot.

“Little Fairy!” he called again, and then turned a corner and saw her sitting in front of Xiao-shushu’s chambers with an unfamiliar man who was sprawled on the stairs and scratching her ears. Little Fairy got up and trotted over to him, tongue lolling out of her mouth and tail wagging, and the man looked up and over toward Jin Ling.

“Hey,” he said. “Your dog?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling said loudly. “She is my dog. What were you doing with her?”

The man laughed, stretching out his legs. “Thought that was obvious. What’d it look like? You’ve got eyes, don’t you?”

Jin Ling’s face got hot. “Of course I do,” he said hotly. “Why are you sitting there, anyway? Don’t you know whose chambers those are?”

The man glanced slowly toward the door and then back at Jin Ling. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

“So-” Jin Ling stumbled a little. “So you shouldn’t just sit there like that.”

“Would it be better if I was sitting differently?”

Jin Ling felt his face crumpling into a scowl. “Go sit somewhere else!”

“No.”

Jin Ling stared at him, hands clenching into fists. “Don’t you know who I am?” he said. “You have to listen to me.”

The man cocked his head to the side. “Yeah? Who says?”

Jin Ling opened his mouth and closed it. “I’m going to find my xiao-shushu,” he said. “You’re going to be sorry you talked to me like this-”

“Doubt it,” the man said. “But sure. I need to talk to him about something anyway.”

“About what?”

“None of your business, brat.”

Jin Ling puffed up, indignation swelling in his chest, and said loudly, “who do you think you are? I’m-”

“Lianfang-zun’s idiot nephew,” the man said, and stretched, sitting up slowly. “I know. I’ve seen you and your dog around. What’re you so mad about, anyway? It’s not like I’m killing anyone.” His smile looked a little strange, though Jin Ling wasn’t quite sure why. “Just sitting here.”

Jin Ling gaped. Absurdly, his eyes were starting to sting. He reached down to grab Little Fairy’s ruff. “Get out!” he said. “Or I’ll have Little Fairy bite you.”

He didn’t look bothered by the threat. His smile just got bigger. “If your dog bites me I’ll bite her back,” he said. “And I’ve got sharper teeth.”

“No you don’t,” Jin Ling said.

The man pulled a knife from somewhere - he didn’t see where - and waved it at him. “Yeah, I do.”

Jin Ling’s eyes widened and his hand clenched tighter in Little Fairy’s fur. A moment later the knife vanished again and the man bounced to his feet with a laugh. “Ha,” he said. “Freaked you out, huh? Don’t worry, a-Ling, I like dogs.”

His face got hot again. “Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “Don’t you have any respect for your superiors?”

“Not really.” The man stretched and walked slowly over to him. Jin Ling glared up at him.

“Who are you, anyway,” he said.

The man cocked his head to the side again and then gave the most perfunctory bow Jin Ling had ever received. “Xue Chengmei, Jin-xiao-gongzi. I do some work for your xiao-shushu.”

Jin Ling narrowed his eyes. “What kind of work?”

“It’s a secret,” Xue Chengmei said. “Maybe he’ll tell you if you ask him but I don’t think I should. Sorry.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“Makes sense,” Xue Chengmei said. “Lianfang-zun mostly just keeps me in the basement and I only come out a night, like a wutou gui.”

Jin Ling stared at him, baffled. All he could think to say was, “you still have a head.”

“Looks like it, doesn’t it,” Xue Chengmei said affably. Jin Ling just stared harder, and he laughed. “The look on your face,” he said. “What, does no one ever tell jokes around you? I know Lianfang-zun’s sense of humor is shit but…”

Jin Ling scowled again. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Why not?”

For a moment Jin Ling didn’t have an answer. Finally he said, “He’s the Chief Cultivator. What are you?”

Xue Chengmei grinned at him. “His pet, mostly,” he said, and Jin Ling tensed because he sounded angry, for just a second, or at least like he was going to be angry even though he was still smiling. Then it was gone, though, and he was cocking his head at Jin Ling again.

“What does that mean,” Jin Ling asked, stubbornly.

“What’re you doing, anyway?” Xue Chengmei asked, which wasn’t an answer. “Don’t you have other things to do than telling people off just for sitting?”

Jin Ling set his jaw and scowled off to the side. “None of your business.”

Xue Chengmei laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Sucks being ignored, doesn’t it.” He pulled a candy out of his robes and unwrapped it, popping it in his mouth. When he noticed Jin Ling looking he said, “do you want one?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling said after a moment.

“Too bad.” Jin Ling gaped at him, and he laughed again. “My candy is mine, little brat. I’m not gonna share.”

“Then why did you offer?” Xue Chengmei shrugged, and Jin Ling scowled at him. “You’re mean.”

“Yeah,” Xue Chengmei said, grinning at him. “I’m very mean. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, Jin-xiao-gongzi.”

Jin Ling frowned. “Are you threatening me?”

“I would never,” Xue Chengmei said. “Your xiao-shushu would gut me if I even thought about it. Or, well, have someone else do it, probably.”

Jin Ling scowled, insulted on Xiao-shushu’s behalf. “He’d do it himself.”

Xue Chengmei let out another laugh. “Sure,” he said. “Sure.” He paused and shifted, fidgeting, then crunched the candy loudly between his teeth and said, “hey, so, are you doing anything?”

Jin Ling hesitated. He didn’t want to say that he wasn’t, but he was also - very bored and very lonely and Xue Chengmei might be weird but he was talking to Jin Ling, and not like he was a baby, either. “No,” he said finally. “Not right now. Why?”

Xue Chengmei grinned at him. “Want to go into Lanling?”

Jin Ling stared at him again. “Leave Jinlintai? Alone?”

“Not alone,” Xue Chengmei said. “With me. And your dog, I guess,” he added, with a glance at Little Fairy, who seemed to have settled down again.

Jin Ling shifted, a little uncertain. “Xiao-shushu says I’m too young.”

Xue Chengmei scoffed. “When I was your age I’d already killed my first man,” he said. Jin Ling frowned, uncertain whether or not he was joking, but he’d already moved on. “Come on. In the future you’ll probably have to go around with a whole delegation of lackeys trailing after you. That’s no fun.”

Jin Ling furrowed his brows. “It’s not?”

“Nope,” Xue Chengmei said. “You can’t get away with anything.”

“What are you trying to get away with?”

Xue Chengmei leaned a little toward him. “Murder,” he said, conspiratorially, and when Jin Ling reared back, eyes widening, he laughed. “Kidding, kidding,” he said. “I wouldn’t kill anyone here, I’d get in so much trouble.”

Jin Ling frowned at him. “You’re weird,” he said.

“Weird and mean,” Xue Chengmei said. “Been called worse. Well? Do you want to go or not? Because I’m sick of waiting around for a-Yao to stop kissing ass and get back to the real work.”

Jin Ling frowned again. “You should call him Lianfang-zun,” he said.

“Right,” Xue Chengmei said. “I’m sick of waiting around for Lianfang-zun to stop kissing ass.”

Jin Ling could feel his face getting hot. “That’s a bad word.”

“That’s nothing,” Xue Chengmei said. “I have language that’d drop your delicate noble ears off. Want to hear it?”

“No!” Jin Ling said, even if the answer was sort of ‘yes.’

“Suit yourself,” Xue Chengmei said. “Have fun, Jin-xiao-gongzi. I’m out.” He turned away, pulling another candy out of his robes and unwrapping it.

“Wait,” Jin Ling blurted out. Xue Chengmei paused.

“What, little brat,” he said.

“Don’t call me that,” Jin Ling snapped. “And - and take me with you. You have to, since I said so.”

Xue Chengmei glanced back at him. There was something strange in the way he looked at Jin Ling, not like the way other people did before they started pretending to be nice, but something else that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Then he smiled again, sweetly.

“All right, Jin-xiao-gongzi,” he said. “It’d be an honor to escort you to Lanling.” He bowed again, and something about it felt a little funny, and Jin Ling frowned, suspecting he was being made fun of again. “Don’t tell your xiao-shushu, though, all right? He might get mad about it.”

Jin Ling wavered. “I don’t want him to be mad,” he said, uncertain again.

“Ha,” Xue Chengmei said. “What’s he going to do to you, anyway? It’s me who’d really hear it.”

“But if you know Xiao-shushu won’t like it…”

Xue Chengmei grinned. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done something even knowing people wouldn’t like it. Or if you haven’t, you should. Only way you’ll get anything out of life is if you take it, a-Ling. No one’s going to give it to you.”

“People give me things,” Jin Ling said.

“Sure,” Xue Chengmei said. “Cause they want something from you. Gifts have always got strings attached. Take it from me. The only things that’re really yours is the stuff you grab for yourself.”

Jin Ling frowned. That didn’t sound right, but he didn’t know how to argue with it, and Xue Chengmei sounded so sure of himself, so maybe it was true.

“Oh,” he said finally. “Okay.”

“So,” Xue Chengmei said. “Are you coming or not?”

Jin Ling had been to Lanling before, but it’d always been with Xiao-shushu or Shenshen or Jiujiu and at least one or two guards. It seemed bigger and louder when he was just walking with Xue Chengmei.

And people were ruder, too. They ignored Jin Ling completely, at least up until someone bumped into him.

“Hey!” Jin Ling said, indignant. Little Fairy next to him puffed up and growled. The man’s lip curled.

“Get out of my way and control your dog,” he said, and then seemed to notice what Jin Ling was wearing and his eyes widened. Jin Ling drew himself up and opened his mouth.

Xue Chengmei tapped him on the head and said, “hey. Pick a number between one and ten.”

Jin Ling turned to look up at him. “What?”

“Just do it,” he said.

“I beg your pardon,” the man stammered. “Gongzi, I didn’t realize - I’ll be going-”

“No,” Xue Chengmei said, and he moved fast, grabbing the man’s arm and glancing back over his shoulder at Jin Ling. He was smiling, but Jin Ling’s neck was prickling again. “I’m not done with you yet. A-Ling, come on. Pick a number.”

“Um,” Jin Ling said. “Four?”

“Great,” Xue Chengmei said, and Jin Ling didn’t exactly see what he did except that the man who’d bumped into him started screaming and clutching his left hand and there was a lot of blood going everywhere. And there was something on the ground, and was that a finger-

“All right,” Xue Chengmei said, “now I’m done. Hey, a-Ling, come this way, I know a place you can get dragon’s beard candy.”

Jin Ling opened his mouth again, then closed it and followed Xue Chengmei, who was already moving on. He glanced back at the man once, feeling a little sick, and quickly looked back forward.

“What,” he said in a small voice, then stopped and tried again. “Did you just…”

“Just looking after you, a-Ling,” he said cheerfully.

“Don’t call me that,” Jin Ling said again. “And - and - you hurt him.”

“Yeah,” Xue Chengmei said. “And?”

Jin Ling didn’t actually know what to say to that. Finally he managed, “and that’s bad.”

“Why?”

Jin Ling didn’t have an answer to that, either. “It just is,” he said. Xue Chengmei snorted.

“Says who?” he said. “He’s just some random guy. Not important. I can do whatever to him and it doesn’t matter. You even more, since you’re a high and mighty lord, even if you’re a baby right now.”

Jin Ling’s face got hot. “I’m not a baby!”

Xue Chengmei grinned at him. “Little bit,” he said. “It’s okay, you’ll grow into it.”

Jin Ling glared at him. “You’re terrible,” he said. “I don’t like you.”

“Keep talking like that and I won’t get you any dragon’s beard candy,” Xue Chengmei said, smile getting wider and sharper. “I’ll just eat mine in front of you. You’re lucky I like you, you know. You know what I’d usually do to someone who talked to me like that?”

Jin Ling had the feeling, suddenly, that he didn’t want to know. “What?”

“I’d dig out their eyes with my thumbs and throw them to the crows,” Xue Chengmei said cheerfully. Jin Ling stopped, his stomach lurching and his eyes widening.

“That’s horrible.”

Xue Chengmei laughed. “I’m joking, a-Ling,” he said. “You’ll believe anything, won’t you?”

Jin Ling had the odd feeling that he was not joking, that he had really meant it, and maybe had done it before, but he tried to ignore it. If he worked for his xiao-shushu he had to be all right. Weird, maybe, like Mo Xuanyu, but all right. Which meant he couldn’t be serious about it, and he’d probably imagined what had happened back there, or it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

“So do you want the candy or not,” Xue Chengmei said.

Jin Ling nodded, slowly.

“Good answer,” Xue Chengmei said. “Now come on. Don’t get lost, I won’t come looking for you.”

Jin Ling hurried after him. It sounded almost like the kind of thing his jiujiu would say, but he suspected that Xue Chengmei might actually mean it.

The dragon’s beard candy was sticky and sweet and delicious. Jin Ling watched Xue Chengmei devour the substantial quantity he’d bought, fascinated and a little jealous, even if he felt a little sick himself just watching.

He never got that many sweets at once. Never.

After they got the candy Jin Ling sort of thought they’d go back to Jinlintai, but they didn’t - just kept wandering around the city. Keeping up with Xue Chengmei wasn’t easy. He didn’t walk slowly, and he moved through the crowds of people like they were barely even there, and sometimes he’d stop unexpectedly at one stall or another or duck into a store without saying anything.

“Do you have to walk so fast?” Jin Ling complained, and Xue Chengmei grinned at him.

“If you can’t keep pace you shouldn’t’ve come with me.”

“You said I could,” Jin Ling shot back.

“Yeah,” Xue Chengmei said. “Didn’t say I’d go easy on you, though, did I?

Jin Ling scowled at him. Xue Chengmei laughed, which made Jin Ling scowl harder. “Don’t laugh at me,” he said. Xue Chengmei cocked his head to the side.

“Does saying that to people usually make them stop laughing at you?”

Jin Ling glowered at Xue Chengmei and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“That’s what I thought,” Xue Chengmei said. “You just sound pathetic when you say that. And people know they’ve gotten under your skin, too, so they know where to hit you when they go for you the next time.”

Jin Ling’s eyes prickled. “I’m not pathetic.”

“Sound like it,” Xue Chengmei said. He took a bite out of an apple Jin Ling hadn’t seen him pay for. “Look. Want some free advice?”

Jin Ling was not sure he did, but he was too curious not to nod.

“I get the idea you don’t have any friends,” Xue Chengmei said. Jin Ling flinched and hunched his shoulders.

“Shut up,” he said. Xue Chengmei laughed.

“Am I wrong? I’m not, I know I’m not. Anyway, people laugh at you all the time, right? Tease you? Fuck around with you?”

Jin Ling said nothing, but he hunched his shoulders further and thought how did you know anyway.

“Yeah,” Xue Chengmei said. “Thought so. They look at you and see you’re weak and an easy target.”

“I’m not weak,” Jin Ling said indignantly.

“Uh huh,” Xue Chengmei said. “You want them to stop, you need to make sure they stop seeing you as prey.”

Jin Ling squinted sullenly in his direction, angry about prey and weak and easy target. “What does that mean?”

Xue Chengmei paused and looked in his direction. He was still smiling but there was a sort of glint in his eye that made Jin Ling suddenly wish he weren’t alone with him. “It means,” he said, “you have to show them you’re serious.”

Jin Ling drew himself up. “Serious how,” he said, because he wasn’t some kind of scared baby and it wasn’t like Xue Chengmei was doing anything.

Xue Chengmei paused again, seeming to be thinking, and then he laughed, a little oddly, and reached into his robes. “Here,” he said, pulling something out and pressing it into Jin Ling’s hand.

It was a sheathed knife. The one he’d seen earlier, with the merchant. He pulled it out carefully; it wasn’t big but it was definitely sharp and Jin Ling stared at it, wide-eyed.

“Next time someone makes fun of you, take that and carve up their face,” Xue Chengmei said casually. “They’ll think twice about doing it again, and so will other people.”

Jin Ling raised his eyes slowly to Xue Chengmei’s face, his mouth dropping open. Xue Chengmei grinned.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Don’t tell Lianfang-zun I gave that to you, though. He’ll just take it away.”

Then he just - started walking again. Jin Ling looked at his back, down at the knife, then scampered after him, his head spinning. Involuntarily, Jin Ling imagined Jin Chan with his face all cut to ribbons. His stomach lurched and he felt dizzy, like he might fall over.

He hurried to catch up. “You don’t mean it,” he said.

Xue Chengmei glanced at him. “I don’t?”

Jin Ling shook his head. “No. No way.”

Xue Chengmei laughed again, a little oddly. It seemed like he laughed a lot. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he said. “It’s your knife now. Up to you what you want to do with it.”

Jin Ling realized they were starting to head back toward Jinlintai. He felt a little like he should throw the knife away, or make Xue Chengmei take it back, but doing that felt like it’d make him look weak or pathetic and so he tucked it away instead.

“We’re going back now?” he said. Xue Chengmei hummed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Think so. I want to get back before your xiao-shushu sends out an army of disciples to track you down. That’d just get messy, probably.”

“Messy?” Jin Ling said. Xue Chengmei smiled at him, but it looked sort of like when Little Fairy bared her teeth.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “He won’t do it yet. He won’t want your jiujiu upset if he can avoid it.”

Jin Ling didn’t want his jiujiu upset either. He was beginning to feel a little guilty.

It served him right, he told himself. And it wasn’t like anything bad had happened, anyway. Not really.

Though he found he was a little glad they were going home.

Xiao-shushu was waiting at the side gate. His eyes locked on Xue Chengmei, then moved quickly sideways to Jin Ling.

“A-Ling,” he said. His eyes flicked over Jin Ling from head to toe and he seemed relieved, but he still asked anxiously, “are you all right?”

“Yes?” Jin Ling said, not quite a question. He glanced at Xue Chengmei, who smirked at Xiao-shushu, then unwrapped yet another candy and put it in his mouth, pushing it to one cheek with his tongue.

“Of course he is, Lianfang-zun,” he said. “I’d never let any harm come to Jin-xiao-gongzi. Don’t you trust me?”

Xiao-shushu’s face spasmed. “You,” he said. Then he glanced at Jin Ling, and Jin Ling knew what it looked like when people were thinking about saying something and then decided not to because he was there. “We’ll speak about this later,” he said tightly.

“Come on,” Xue Chengmei said. “He had fun. Didn’t you, a-Ling?”

Jin Ling hesitated. He looked at Xiao-shushu and then back at Xue Chengmei. He could still taste the dragon’s beard candy. He could still see the blood and hear that man yelling.

“He looked so bored,” Xue Chengmei said. “Doesn’t the kid have friends? And I was bored, too, since you were too busy to make our appointment. I just figured he could use some company.”

Xiao-shushu’s eyes narrowed. “And you nominated yourself, I take it?”

Xue Chengmei shrugged, and grinned. “Why not?”

It was weird, Jin Ling thought. How little respect Xue Chengmei was showing, and yet Xiao-shushu wasn’t saying anything about it. He felt like maybe he should. But he was also kind of mad at his Xiao-shushu right now. He lifted his chin and said, “I did have fun. I like Chengmei-qianbei.”

Xue Chengmei laughed, loudly, and shot a gleeful grin at Jin Ling. “Aw, thanks,” he said. “I like you too, Jin-xiao-gongzi.”

Xiao-shushu let out another weird hissing sound. “Go,” he said. “We are going to talk about this. Later.”

Xue Chengmei laughed. “Lianfang-zun,” he said. “Don’t get so worked up. You don’t want to give yourself a qi deviation like Chifeng-zun, do you?”

Xiao-shushu’s nostrils pinched. Then he smiled again. “No,” he said, and he didn’t sound mad anymore but Jin Ling still shifted a little anxiously. “I wouldn’t want that.” He turned toward Jin Ling. “A-Ling, come with me.”

Jin Ling hung back for a moment, but slowly walked over, Little Fairy padding behind him, shoulders hunched. Xiao-shushu smiled at him. “Let’s walk together, all right? I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you sooner.”

Jin Ling scowled sullenly at him, then glanced at Xue Chengmei again. “It was fine,” he said stubbornly. “I got to go do fun things anyway.”

For just a moment he thought Xiao-shushu’s expression tightened, but then he just looked over toward Xue Chengmei and Jin Ling couldn’t really see it anymore. “Go,” he said again. “Wait for me in my office. And don’t touch anything.”

Xue Chengmei grinned again, and bowed. “Yes, Lianfang-zun,” he said. “Whatever you say, Lianfang-zun.”

He turned and walked off. For a few moments Xiao-shushu just stared after him, and then he turned back to Jin Ling.

“A-Ling,” he said. Jin Ling stared stubbornly at the ground, and he added gently, “I’m not mad. I was worried. I didn’t know where you were.”

“I didn’t go far.”

“I didn’t know that,” Xiao-shushu said, and he was gentle, not like Jiujiu, but that just made him feel guilty. “And Xue Chengmei…” he trailed off. “Did he say anything strange to you?”

Jin Ling hesitated. “He said he does things for you but it’s a secret. What does he do?”

Xiao-shushu shook his head and laughed. “Nothing exciting. He likes to feel more important than he really is.”

Jin Ling thought of the man in the market and what he’d said about feeding eyes to crows and wondered if he should say something about that. “He’s weird,” he said.

“Yes,” Xiao-shushu said with a smile. “Chengmei is very strange. Did he say anything else you have questions about? He’s very...talkative, sometimes, and has a very vivid imagination. Sometimes he says things just to shock people.”

Jin Ling nodded slowly. “So...he doesn’t mean them?”

“Of course not,” Xiao-shushu said soothingly. “But he’s not good company for you, a-Ling. If you see him again you shouldn’t talk to him, and you certainly shouldn’t go into the city with him. It’s not safe for you there, besides.”

Jin Ling scuffed his feet, looking down again. “I’m not a baby,” he said.

“I know,” Xiao-shushu said. “But you are still young, and there are many people who would want to hurt you. You have to be careful.” He paused. “I am sorry. I know I said I’d spend today with you, but I got caught up in an emergency that I had to deal with immediately.”

Chengmei-qianbei said you were just kissing ass, Jin Ling thought, but he wasn’t going to say it. Xiao-shushu might not beat him for it but he wouldn’t be happy. So he just didn’t say anything.

“Can I make it up to you now?” Xiao-shushu asked. “I’ve cleared my evening. I know you missed your lessons this morning, but you can go over the material with me, and then we can do something fun together. What do you think?”

Jin Ling’s stomach still felt funny. He scowled down at the ground.

“A-Ling,” Xiao-shushu said gently.

“What if I want to talk to him again,” Jin Ling said, though he wasn’t certain he did. Xiao-shushu stopped and turned toward him, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t,” he said, and his voice was suddenly a great deal more serious. Jin Ling stared mulishly back at him for a few seconds, and finally looked down and sighed.

“Yes, Xiao-shushu,” he said, and Xiao-shushu smiled again, and squeezed his shoulders.

“I only want what’s best for you, a-Ling,” he said. “You know that.”

“Just sometimes…”

“I know,” Xiao-shushu said. “It’s hard. And people here aren’t always kind to you. They’re envious, but it doesn’t matter what they say, a-Ling. You are every bit as good as them. You always will be. It isn’t your fault that some people are too foolish to recognize it yet.” He paused. “You know what? I think it’s time you had a bow to start practicing with. I’m sure you’ll be a great archer when you are grown, just like your father.”

Jin Ling’s lip wobbled. He nodded, and then flung himself at Xiao-shushu to hug him.

“Thank you, Xiao-shushu,” he said.

“Of course, a-Ling,” he said. “Of course. Now come.”

He reached to take Jin Ling’s hand, and Jin Ling took it and followed, feeling a bit lighter. But what he thought of, suddenly, was Xue Chengmei saying gifts have always got strings attached. The only things that’re really yours is the stuff you take for yourself.

He shoved that out of his mind. What did he know, anyway?

Next time someone makes fun of you, take that and carve up their face. They’ll think twice about doing it again.

Jin Ling checked surreptitiously in his sleeve. The little knife was still there. He tried to imagine using it on Jin Chan or one of his cronies, and felt sick, quickly dropping his hand back to his side.

He probably hadn’t been serious, anyway.

Probably.

[jazziwritesthings]

We Were - Derek Hale

Inspired by We Were by Keith Urban

Lyrics in Bold

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Word Count: 2082

Warnings: Cancer, Death, maybe swears

A/N: I’m Sorry.

*******

We were just a couple years short of the age By my name on a fake ID And still 'bout a hundred away from the day Your daddy said you could run with me We were a couple of line steppers Who just couldn't wait to step over the line

Derek met you when you were both 17. You tried so hard to try to get him to trust you. He wasn’t about to let himself get invested in someone again. Not after Paige. It had only been a few years and Derek was still broken about it, but that was something that would never leave him. He knew he couldn’t make that mistake again. No, he wouldn’t, or so he thought. After almost a year you had worn him down and got him to open up a bit. He liked being around you. You made him feel like a normal teenager. Then the fire happened. You got a call from an unknown number, it was Derek at the sheriff station. He asked if you could pick him up. You borrowed your dad’s car and definitely went over the speed limit trying to reach him as fast as possible. You ran into the sheriff's station and saw him just sitting on a bench. You walked over and stood in front of him. Without warning he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his head into your stomach. You could feel his shaking and eventually you heard his sobs. You just stood there playing with his hair telling him you loved him, all while trying to keep the sound of your sobbing controlled.

We were gonna make it, weren't we, baby? Had it all laid out in our mind By the time we knew time was runnin' out We done run out of time

He had to leave Beacon Hills. He had no choice, he was a minor and now Laura was his guardian, and she couldn’t stay here. You understood why but you didn’t want to be separated from your best friend. The day they left was one of the toughest days of your life. You and Derek had spent the night in your room. Your dad wasn’t around much since your mom passed, so it was always just you and him. That night was the night when you both admitted you loved each other, more than just friends. That was the night you gave him everything and he gave everything to you. The next morning was rough. The car was already packed and Laura was just waiting for Derek. You stood in front of the garage with your hands on his chest and his on your waist with your foreheads touching. “I love you so much. Promise you won’t forget me?” He let out a slight laugh/sigh and pressed one last kiss to your lips, “ I promise.”

And we were leather jackets hangin' onto a Harley Two heartbeats in the moonlight

The first year he was gone he had tried to keep in contact with you. It wasn’t easy, he didn’t have a phone and could only reach you by pay phone. Laura said it wasn’t a good idea to keep that kind of stuff because it meant that hunters could track them easier. Derek would never tell you that part. As far as you knew, he was normal. His whole family was normal and the fire was an accident. Eventually it got hard for him to keep contacting you. Every time he heard your voice or you told him things that were happening around Beacon Hills he became so homesick and it reminded him too much of his family. It hurt too much for him to continue. He didn’t mean for it to happen how it did. He just quit calling and writing and before he knew it, six years had gone by. Laura had told him she had some business to attend to and that she would be back in a few weeks. When she didn’t call Derek at all the first week he started to worry. He finally went through Laura’s things and found where she had gone and why. She had gone home. He packed what little they had and raced back to Beacon Hills.

He arrived and it seemed like nothing had changed. Everything looked the same and honestly he felt homesick all over again. He didn’t know where to go so he went to the only place he knew he could. Walking up the front steps of his childhood home brought up a lot of pleasant memories. Most of them were his mom sitting on those stairs giving some of the best advice she could offer. He looked around the porch and noticed there were bouquets everywhere. Some were very dead and others looked semi-fresh. He’d been there about a day when he heard someone pull up in a car. He secretly watched out of the upstairs window. As soon as she got out of the car Derek knew who it was immediately. He could smell her all the way up the stairs and she still smelled the same. He got brave and quietly went down the stairs. He watched as she turned and walked back to her car. He walked out onto the porch, “ Y/n?” You froze at the sound of your name. In all the years you were coming here no one had even stepped foot on the property. You turned around and were surprised to see a man standing there staring at you, “ I’m sorry. Do I know you?” He walked off the porch and when the sunlight lit up his features she took a step back, “ Derek?” He looked at you with a huge smile on his face, “Yeah.” You looked at him for only a moment before your mind was made up. You walked over to him and grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss. The butterflies and the fire were still there. You had had other boyfriends before, but none of them ever measured up to Derek. No matter how hard you tried nobody could compare to him. It wasn’t that long before he disappeared on you again. You shouldn’t have been surprised but you were, and it still hurt just as much as the first time.

At least there's a little bit of sweet in the bitter Though a part of me is always gonna miss her I am who I am, I just miss who I was when we were

You had always remembered your time with Derek fondly. He was your first, for just about everything. You had tried to get into contact with him through the teenagers he had here. They periodically checked up on you and you assumed they reported back to him. Eventually they stopped coming around. So when you got sick, there was no way to tell Derek. Your doctors told you it wasn't a great chance. The surgery could work or it could make it worse, you may not even make it out. You had done what felt like hundreds of rounds of chemo and nothing was working to get the tumor to shrink. It was in a place that was very hard to operate. It was in your brain. There was a chance that if they were able to get it that the cancer wouldn’t return. You knew the risk of surgery was dying, but if you didn’t try you were going to die anyway. Before you went in for surgery you wrote a letter and mailed it to the McCall house, addressed to Derek.

Friends say, "Oh well, let that ship sail" "You gotta let go of her" "Just wasn't meant to be" But somewhere down deep I still believe That we were

When Derek finally returned to Beacon Hills he went to Scott’s house first. The boy had said he had something important for Derek. Derek knocked and waited before Scott opened the door. “Hey man! We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for like a year!” Derek nodded, “ Yeah I was busy, what do you have for me?” Scott picked an envelope off the coffee table and handed it to him. He read the return address and when he saw your name he froze a bit. “Okay.” He left Scott’s house without another word. He walked to your old house and saw that there was a different family living there. He decided to just walk while he read.

Dear Derek,

Hey. You know I was never any good at this sort of thing, but I figured this would get to you eventually. I want you to know that you are my best friend. I can tell you that I would not have survived my teenage years if it wasn’t for you. I know I wouldn’t have made it through the time after my mom died without you. I need you to know that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Even though you did ignore me for most of our 20s. You need to know that no matter what I love you. Always. I don’t care how many bad things happen, you are and forever will be my person. I couldn’t have lived this life without you. So thank you.

Derek quit walking and chose to sit down on the sidewalk. This felt like a goodbye.

I know I know. I’m getting all sappy and you hate that sorta stuff. Deal with it. What I’m about to say is going to make you angry. I kept a secret from you. I got sick. I know we all thought it wasn’t a genetic thing and that I would be okay, but I’m not. I’m sick and I’m going to die. I’ve had so many rounds of chemo that I can’t even tell you how many. So many failed attempts at remission. The tumor is in my brain. I’m opting to have a surgery to try and remove it. If the surgery works then I should be cancer free. If the surgery doesn’t work, well that would mean I would die. So either way I’m pretty screwed, the chances of survival with the surgery are about 5%. So either way I guess. I don’t want you to be angry. I know you're not mad at me, you’re going to be so angry at yourself for leaving me but Derek it’s what had to happen. I’m glad you haven’t seen me lately. I don’t feel or even look like myself. Remember me how I was that night. You know the one. So I guess this is a goodbye. I never thought we would have to do this. I’m sorry Derek. Please keep living for me. I love you. Y/n

By the time he finished reading he felt completely numb. You were gone. He would never hear your voice again. He would never kiss you or hold you again. He stood up and ran. He ended up at a spot that you and him had been so many times. He walked over and his gut was right. Where there had been one stone for so many years, there were now two. He walked over and sat down in front of it. He ran his hand over the words, Y/n L/n The light of everyone’s life. The date was from over a year before. You had been gone a year and he didn’t even know it. The love of his life was gone and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. He all of a sudden couldn’t breathe. He was a mess of tears and sobs. He put his head in his hands. If he would’ve known he could’ve done something. He could’ve gotten you turned. As soon as that thought crossed his mind he got angry. He couldn’t have saved you. If you had known about him and the supernatural, you wouldn’t have wanted the bite. You wouldn’t want it because it would’ve changed everything. He was pacing now. His anger and grief got the best of him as he let out a very loud roar. He knew all of Beacon Hills probably heard it, but at the moment he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was gone and never coming back. He looked down at the head stone before kissing his fingers and placing them gently on the top, “ I love you too.”

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Ways Comes Ch 11

Killian hissed as he rolled onto his back, feeling as though he’d just been hit by a freight train. Mary Margaret was here, his mind informed him as he blinked slowly and tried to right himself. Mary Margaret was here and she used magic. How was that possible?

Wait. His heart stopped. Did she say daughter? Pushing himself up off the ground faster than was advisable, Killian got to his feet just as Mary Margaret removed one of the crystals keeping Emma in her cage.

“Stop!” Liam shouted, his hands flying up to freeze the room.

Nothing happened. Mary Margaret opened her arms, a wide, watery smile on her face as she stepped forward to embrace Emma. Killian couldn’t see Emma’s face, but he saw the half step she took away from the older woman, saw how tense her shoulders were. Before Killian could move forward, before Mary Margaret’s arms closed around Emma, and before Liam could try to blow something up this time, Emma shimmered away.

“No!” Mary Margaret cried, her hands clawing at the air where Emma once stood. “No, no, no! I am not letting this happen again.” Setting her eyes on them, their hazel color burning with determination, she barked, “Scrying crystals—now!”

“I’ll try to follow her,” Tink—how long had Tink been there, standing in the corner?—said before orbing out of the attic.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Liam asked what Killian was thinking. Their bodies were bruised, their attic trashed, Mary Margaret was rummaging through their storage like a mad-woman, and their white-lighter had just gone to find Emma with no explanation as to why. Catching Will’s eyes behind Liam’s back, Killian found his younger brother just as at a loss as he.

And of course, because things weren’t getting hectic enough around here, Nolan ran through the door. “Is she here?” He asked, wildly out of breath, as if he’d just ran a marathon. He looked at his wife who was still busy ransacking their home, and then to them. “Is she?”

Running a hand down his face, Liam growled, “I’ll ask this once more—what the bloody hell is going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” Mary Margaret snapped. “But first where are your scrying crystals. We need to act fast before she gets too far.”

Liam threw his hands up in the air and turned to pace. Killian looked at Will, who shrugged, obviously at a loss.

Shaking his head, Killian opened the chest full of their maps and crystals, “It’s all over here, love.”

Mary Margaret lunged for him. She just barely missed knocking into him as she knelt beside the chest and pulled out a map of the city and the first crystal she could get her hands on.

Looking up at Nolan, Killian found himself asking, “Did you know your wife was a witch, then?”

David swallowed. His breaths were still shallow and there was a fine sheen of sweet on his skin. Still, his eyes were clear and sharp as they bore into Killian’s. He nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Will asked.

“I gave up magic a long time ago,” Mary Margaret muttered, her eyes still steadfast on the map before her.

Will rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“David,” Liam snapped, his voice hard and firm. Killian had to stop himself from flinching. “What is going on?”

Shaking his head, the detective huffed out a laugh, “A lot.”

“Dammit,” Mary Margaret swore. She stood up and threw the scrying items back into the chest. “I can’t find her.”

“It’s okay, Snow,” David quickly pulled his wife into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Tink’s on her trail right now .We won’t lose her again.” David sighed, then looked back towards the brothers. “There’s a lot we have to tell you. So,” he looked around and frowned, “is there anywhere we can sit?”

After moving their party down to the first floor, with Will scurrying off into the kitchen under the pretense of making tea, Killian and Liam found themselves sitting across from the Nolan’s in awkward silence. “Alright, we’re all comfortable now.” Liam leaned forward, staring David straight in the eye, “Start talking.”

David winced and looked at Mary Margaret. They were silent for a moment, as if having a private conversation that only they could hear, and then Mary Margaret spoke up, “I used to be a witch.” She blinked, then broke her gaze with David and turned it onto them. “I mean, I guess I still am, but I used to be a practicing one, when I was younger. Before I met David.”

Will returned carrying a tray of mugs. When he handed one to Mary Margaret she nodded her thanks and took a sip. “I was like you boys. I brewed potions, wrote spells,” she paused to wet her lips, “I vanquished demons. And then one day,” she took in a deep, shaky breath, “I killed an Innocent.”

“It was an accident,” David immediately defended, tucking Mary Margaret away under his arm. “The guy, he knew what he was doing. He knew that trap was there and still he—”

Mary Margaret placed a hand on David’s knee, silencing him. “I was trying to hunt down the Seer.”

“The Seer?” Will asked, his brows furrowed. “We haven’t heard of her—she’s not in the book, right?”

Both Liam and Killian shook their heads.

“No, no, she wouldn’t be. She’s too smart for that. The Seer’s been around for a long time—longer than almost any other demon—and she gets others to do her dirty work for her.”

Killian frowned, “So the human, was he one of her pawns?”

Mary Margaret shivered and closed her eyes, “No, worse. He was her lover.”

“Wait,” Will asked, his brows soaring up to meet his hair line. “What?”

“His name was Daniel,” Mary Margaret shook her head, as if she herself was at a loss. “And they were in love.”

“But demons can’t love,” Killian stated. He knew they couldn’t. Everyone said so. The book, Tink—hell, even some demons themselves had said it.

Mary Margaret nodded, “That’s what I thought too, but,” she covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath, “I guess there’s an exception to every rule.”

 l Emma l 

 Run, run, run, run, Emma’s mind kept chanting; a steady beat in the back of her head. But run where? She couldn’t go back to the Underworld. By now the Source must have known she’d been compromised and failure was unacceptable. She couldn’t go to her apartment—demons were surely crawling all over the place by now. She thought about go back to the manor, back to Killian, but knew that was out of the question too. His eyes . . . god, they had looked so hollow during their conversation. Her heart couldn’t stand the thought of going back to him and having to watch his heart break in real time.

And then there was also that woman. She was so small and gentle looking, with her jet black hair and kind, round face. There had been something familiar about her, something that had made Emma yearn for a home and a family that she knew never existed.

But then the woman had called Emma her daughter, had walked towards her with open arms as if she were about to embrace her, and Emma couldn’t stand it.

It was bullshit. It had to be. Her parents had abandoned her as a baby. So either that woman was lying or was a worse monster than the Source himself.

Shimmering to a stop, Emma found herself outside in a park and fell into a nearby bench. She needed a game plan. She couldn’t just keep shimmering away for the rest of her life. So she’d failed at killing the Charmed Ones—a so had a hundred other demons! She could—she could always go back and try again. Try a more direct approach this time, like shimmering into their rooms at night and cutting their throats. Or she could poison their food. Or maybe she could lock them in their house and burn it to the ground!

Or, or, but no, she realized with a strange sense of sobriety. Of course, Emma could do all those things, but she found that she really didn’t want to. She didn’t want to kill Killian or his brothers. She didn’t want to keep hurting people, to or lying. She definitely didn’t want to be the Source’s bodyguard anymore. Regardless of whether or not he’d even take her back.

So where did that leave her?

And why did she feel so crappy all of a sudden? Her muscles ached as if she was fighting off a cold, but that wasn’t possible. One of the perks of all the powers the Source had given her was that she never got sick. Wrapping her arms around herself, realizing belatedly that she was shivering, Emma tried to remember the last time she’d felt this way.

“You were eight,” a voice answered from the darkness.

Emma was on her feet, looking into the dark of the park where the lights didn’t reach. “Who’s there?” She barked, ready to defend herself. There was a pounding in her head now. It was in the back of her skull and growing louder and fiercer with every second.

Out from the shadows walked Tink, her pale skin glowing ethereally against the night. “You were eight years old the last time you felt like this,” she said again. “It was the last day of spring, the last time I could sense your presence. And the last time you could feel your humanity.”

“What?” Emma sucked in a sharp breath as the pounding in her head shifting the front of her skull. It felt like someone was trying to pry her open with an ice pick.

“That will pass, soon enough,” Tink said calmly. “Once your body purges the last of its demonic energy.”

Clutching her head now, Emma shook her head. “No—no, you’re doing this. You stupid white-lighter!” It had to be her. Emma had no idea how the semi-dead woman could be causing her pain, but that had to be it. “You’ll regret this!” Pulling on that fire that she always relied on, Emma felt her magic burn its way up to the surface, ready to do her bidding.

Instead of a golden-red fire, though, what erupted from Emma’s body was a blinding white light. Car alarms blared, the park lights sparked and then died, and the force of it propelled Emma back, slamming her body against the park bench.

Emma gasped, and the light disappeared, leaving her and the white-lighter in near darkness with only the light of the moon to illuminate their surroundings.

Chest heaving, Emma looked around wildly, trying to figure out what happened. “What—what the hell was that?”

Tink took a step closer, then another, and another after that. “That,” she said slowly, her green eyes never leaving Emma, “was your power. Your real power.”

Shaking her head, Emma tried to shimmer away but found that she couldn’t. Her body felt heavy, in fact, as if a new weight as holding her down. “No, that’s not—”

“Emma,” Tink took a seat beside her but thankfully didn’t reach out, “I want to help you. Will you let me?”

Mouth agape, Emma found herself nodding in acceptance.

 l Killian l

 All five of them—Mary Margaret, the Charmed Ones, even David—were up in the attic, each with a map in front of them and a crystal in their hands. All of them were searching with the intent to find Emma. Although really, only four of them had a chance. What, exactly, David was playing at Killian wasn’t entirely sure. He supposed the man wanted to be helpful even in a situation where he could never be.

“Maybe Tink found her,” Will said, his neck still craned to keep eye on his map. “Maybe they’re on their way back right now.”

Liam hummed dismissively. Killian had to wonder if the eldest Jones brother was even really trying. He’d listened silently to Mary Margaret’s story, his face stony and unreadable, but Killian had a feeling the man was unimpressed by it all.

Perhaps if they could just find Emma, then all of this would get properly sorted. If not for his sake, then at least for David and Mary Margaret’s. Killian looked up to watch the couple. He saw the way David’s jaw ticked with stress, how Mary Margret’s crystal shook in her hands. Firestarter or not, Emma was their child. After everything they’d been through, they deserved to find each other again.

Perhaps they’d even find their happy ending.

“Killian,” Will cracked his neck, “could you toss me a bottle of water.”

Nodding, Killian reached for a bottle from the box of supplies they’d gathered before hunkering up in the attic. As soon as his fingers curled around the plastic, he gasped and his eyes shuttered closed.

A demon stepped out of a wall of fire, locking eyes on the figures in the room. He had short brown hair and a mean glint to his eyes. His focus narrowed on Mary Margaret and with a throw of his arm, he sent an energy ball straight into her chest. Her body flew across the room, and when she hit the ground her eyes were open and lifeless. Then, before Liam could even raise his hands, the demon sent a ball of fire straight at David, killing him instantly.

Eyes snapping open, Killian yelled, “Incoming!” just as a pillar of fire appeared before them.

From the fire stepped out the male demon Killian had seen in his vision. The demon’s mouth curled into a Cheshire smile and he locked his gaze onto Mary Margaret. Know what was to come next, Killian lunged across the room and tackled the dark haired woman to the ground. Killian heard a crash behind them and then splinters of wood falling onto his back.

“Will!” He shouted, keeping both himself and Mary Margaret close to the ground, “Get Nolan out of here!”

The sound of Will’s orb was a relief to Killian’s ears. “Stay here,” he told Mary Margaret before standing to help his brother.

Liam blew the demon up again and again, but it wasn’t working, merely slowing him down. The demon’s smile widened, showing off his shockingly white teeth, as he laughed. “Oh,” he said, “This is gonna be fun.”

Will orbed back in, ready to help, but the movement caught the demon’s eye and quick as an asp, sent a wave of black and orange particles towards the youngest Jones brother. The swarm surrounded him, attacking his clothes and skin like a plague of locusts.

“Will!” Both Liam and Killian yelled. Liam tried to freeze the swarm but nothing happened. Killian grabbed an Athame from the floor and threw it at the demon, but that only made his laughter grow.

Will’s screams grew louder and louder, and Killian didn’t know what to do; how to help. Liam threw open the Book of Shadows, desperately trying to find something that could save Will.

The sound of another orb caught Killian’s attention. Spinning around, his heart jumped into his throat, hoping that Tink would know what to do. “Tink—”

But it wasn’t just Tink standing behind him. It was Tink and Emma. And Emma’s eyes were set on the demon across the room.

Eyes ablaze, Emma’s lip curled back as she yelled, “Baelfire!”

“Emma!” The demon—Baelfire—smiled, “so glad you could make it! Help me finish off these other two won’t ya? Dad will be ecstatic!”

“Go to hell!” Emma body began to glow, and for the first time since his arrival, Baelfire looked unsure. Extending out her arm and aiming her hand right at the demon, Emma shot a beam of pure white light straight into his chest. Baelfire’s chest rippled, his brows furrowed, and then he exploded into nothing.

“Will!” Liam ran over to their youngest brother, Killian not far behind. The swarm of particles was gone, but his brother’s skin was shredded and bleeding fiercely.

“Tink!” Killian yelled, and she was by his side in an instant. Placing her hands against Will’s face, they began to glow as her magic healed him. When Killian saw that his little brother’s chest still rose and fell, he let himself fall back onto his rear. “Thank god.”

“You have a lot of nerve coming back here,” Liam growled, his blue eyes locking onto Emma. He stood up, stalking towards her.

Mary Margaret was up and at her daughter’s side, “Now hold on—”

“See what you’ve done? You almost got Will killed,” he was in Emma’s face now, but she wasn’t back down. Emma stared right back at Liam with her chin held high. “I don’t care whose daughter you are, if I ever see you again I’ll—”

“Oh, will you knock it off?” Tink, having finished with Will, stood up and gave Liam’s arm a good shove, forcing him to back away from Emma. “She just saved Will—she saved all of you. Just like you saved her.”

“What?” Killian ran a hand down his face. There was a lot happening and he wasn’t sure he was following it all. “What are you talking about Tink.”

“Haven’t you lot figured it out yet?” She looked between Liam and Killian, her eyes wide and incredulous. “Emma’s the savior!”

Killian’s eyes snapped to Emma. The words short circuited his brain, and the only thought he was left with was this; bloody hell.  

[hellitwasyoufirstsergeant]

Hi everyone! I’m not really sure why I’m posting this here, I suppose because I’m not ready for people I know ‘irl’ to see this, and this is the only account I have anywhere where none of my irl friends follow it. As to why I’m posting this at all, I’m not so sure either. I suppose largely for myself, in the hope that it will exorcise some demons, and partly for other people, because eating disorders just are not discussed enough and perhaps by posting this I can show someone else that they’re not alone. 

There may be mistakes in this and it may not all be 100% coherent, I found it hard to write and I didn’t wish to read it back over.

WARNING: The following post contains discussions of eating disorders and mental health issues. Please do not read if this is a trigger for you, and please not not read if you’re only here to pass judgement 

Looking back now, it’s so easy to realise why I felt the way I did, and to see my descent into mental illness. At the time, it was confusing as hell. I wasn’t diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder and clinical depression until I was 17, although I had been suffering from both for six years already, I just didn’t realise it, because I just didn’t know they existed. I didn’t know there were medical conditions to describe how I felt, perhaps if I did I wouldn’t have felt so alone and so alienated. It wasn’t until last year that I realised I’d suffered from an eating disorder. Before that, I didn’t know that binge eating was an eating disorder. 

The words ‘eating disorder’ to me conjured up images of skeletal bodies, of people making themselves sick. I wish that preteen and teen me knew that I was suffering from an actual condition, that other people suffered from too. 

I don’t recall specifically the first time I binged on food, but over autumn (fall) of 2011 it became a regular occurrence, a habit. It was my way of coping with the changes in my life - starting a new school, my mum being diagnosed with a clinical illness and an increasingly fractured relationship with my dad - and my feelings of loneliness. I was also self conscious about my body, I was in a more advanced stage of puberty than most of my peers and I was aware of the fact that I was a little overweight. Bingeing became an outlet for feelings that I couldn’t understand, and therefore that I couldn’t process. 

It was a process that I repeated regularly for six years. It was like a paradox, the more I looked at myself in the mirror and hated what I saw, the more I binged, the very thing that made me carry on putting on weight. I was overweight, I still am today, but I wish that I could have seen myself the way others saw me - slightly chubby but not the ugly monster I thought myself at the time. I ate my feelings away, it was the only coping mechanism I knew. Even when in some ways my life improved - when I was 14 I finally fell in with a group of friends who were kind and who made me feel accepted - my mental state continued to decline and I continued to eat to cope. I was also feeling confused about my sexuality, something that increased my sense of alienation and otherness. It was often the only thing that got me through the day, the only thing that made life bearable to me. 

I never confided the way I felt or my problem with food to anyone during this period. My mum knew that I had issues with food, twice she found hidden stashes in my bedroom. She has been a good parent to me, but I so wish she’d handled it differently. She made me feel ashamed, something that made me more determined to hide my problem and therefore to not confront it. I think perhaps that she would’ve been a lot more understanding had she known the feelings behind the problem, but I didn’t know how to go about telling her. 

I can’t remember how old I was exactly when I shoplifted food for the first time, I think around 14. The £10 a week pocket money was no longer enough to fund my problem, even though I always chose the cheapest food so that I could buy as much as possible. I shoplifted semi regularly from the local supermarkets for around 18 months, I still don’t know how I was never caught. 

In September 2016, I started sixth form college. It was a fresh start that I so badly needed, my five years at secondary school having been so unhappy. It was hard to begin with, only my oldest friend went to the same college as me and old feelings of loneliness resurfaced. A part of me had hoped that the change of school would allow me to leave my bingeing habit behind, but it wasn’t to be. Even when I settled in and began making friends, I continued bingeing. 

New friends at college told me of their mental health issues, and I finally felt understood - there were other people who felt the way I did, other people who wanted to die. These feelings may not be normal, but I’m not alone anymore. Despite feeling accepted properly for the first time in my life, I continued to eat. Perhaps it was the stress of A levels (my fellow Brits know how fucking hard these are), or my mum’s decline in health, or my increasingly worsening relationship with my dad. 

In May/June time of 2017, my oldest friend, Imogen, who was one of a few friends now aware of my poor mental state, told me that I should go to the doctor. After a little persuading, I agreed. She came with me, but the appointment achieved nothing. I tried a few more GPs at my local surgery and eventually found one who made me feel listened to, and who was kind and sympathetic. I don’t recall the exact time I was diagnosed (to be honest this period in my life is a bit of a blur), but after some months I was finally diagnosed with GAD and clinical depression. I still continued to stay silent about my problem with food. 

Ironically, it was actually the further decline of my mental state that allowed me to break my old habit. My mental health had declined fairly slowly over the past few years, but the decline accelerated over autumn and winter of 2017. I don’t know if there was a trigger behind that, I guess mental health doesn’t need a reason. I didn’t know how to deal with the way I felt, I lashed out and fell out with Imogen, which hit me hard. We didn’t talk at all for three months. Before this period, I had often thought that things would be so much easier if I was dead, but my thoughts had never progressed beyond that. Now, it became more active. I actually wanted to die. I stopped looking when I crossed the road, I stopped looking after my physical health at all. Fears about hurting my mum were the only thing stopping me from taking it further. But, I finally stopped binge eating, so disinterested in life that even the that no longer made me feel better. 

My mental state didn’t take a turn for the better, but I grew used to these new feelings and started to process them properly. I got better at pushing them out, but I did eventually decide to tell my parents about my diagnoses. My mum was very supportive, she still is, my dad not so (although I probably should’ve expected that). I made up with Imogen, my behaviour started to normalise. I felt so free from my old bingeing habit, it had only been a few months but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

In February 2018, my mum told me that she’d be moving to Yorkshire. She’d been forced by her job to take early retirement due to ill health, she was only 50 at the time, and wanted to live somewhere cheaper so she could save on living costs and pay off her mortgage. I was scared, and considered for a time moving in with my grandparents so that I could stay in a place where I knew people, but eventually decided that I’d move with my mum. Still, despite the biggest change ever to happen in my life, I managed to avoid a return to my binge eating habit. I’m still not sure how. Perhaps now that the habit was broken it no longer had the hold over me that it once did. 

And then, around March 2018, my dad gave me £500. To this day I still have no idea why, I guess guilt. But it was so much more money than I’d ever had. The temptation not to spend any of it on food was too great. I decided to treat myself, I’d spend £100 on food and put the rest in my savings. 

By the time I finished college at the beginning of June, the entire £500 was gone, at least £450 of it spent on food. I still remember the binge I had the day after me and mum moved out of our old home and in with my grandparents, who we lived with for seven weeks before going to Yorkshire. My mental state declined still further, and I wasted most of those weeks in bed, not having the energy to do anything. I kicked myself later for not using it to spend time with the friends I was leaving behind. 

After we moved to Yorkshire in August, I spent two of the worst months of my life. My old feelings of loneliness resurfaced, not helped by the fact that one of my closest friends just stopped talking to me. I seemed to alternate between binge eating, my binges even bigger than they ever had been, and hardly eating at all. 

But, eventually, I managed to settle in. I got a job, I made new friends. I didn’t make a conscious decision to stop binge eating again, it just happened. I wasn’t lonely anymore, but my mental state didn’t seem to get any better. But, I had healthier ways of coping and I didn’t need to binge as an outlet for my feelings anymore. In September 2019, I started uni, and I finally felt like my life had a purpose. 

Now, I have more and better friends than I ever had. I’m glad I made the move to Yorkshire, where I live now is much nicer where I grew up and if I hadn’t made the move there are so many amazing people I wouldn’t have met. Most of my friends are aware of my mental health issues, although I rarely discuss them in detail. 

However, only one of my friends is aware of my eating disorder. I didn’t realise until last year that binge eating was classified as an eating disorder. I’m not quite sure why, but this discovery prompted me to finally confide in my oldest friend, Imogen. She was very supportive and understanding, and I know my other friends would be, but it’s still something where I look back and I’m like ‘woah that actually happened’. Putting it out of my mind as much as possible has been my way of coping with the fact that it did happen. I have been slightly more open online that I have irl about the fact that I had an eating disorder, but this is the first time I have discussed it this in depth with anyone. 

I’m going to say now what I wish preteen and teen me had known: you are not alone. Whether you’re suffering from an eating disorder, from mental health issues, or from something else, you are not alone. I can’t say truthfully that I have never regretted confiding in someone, but the majority of the time it has helped me, even in a small way. Please talk to someone if you have an eating disorder, be it a friend, a family member, a GP, a teacher, even me. It is nothing to be ashamed of. 

I stopped binge eating as a regular habit at the start of winter 2018. Although I relapsed a couple times last year, it’s been twelve months and counting since my last binge. 

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Trigger warning: gaslighting, cheating, possible COCSA

I am seeking: support and validation

In about the 7th grade I was struggling with feeling like my friends loved me and didn’t think I was an annoying burden on them and I fucked up big time in that current relationship. I had already felt like an outsider in my own friend group and my own closer inner circle right before school was ending. And to not beat around the bush I had cheated on my at the time partner and hated myself for it. I also can’t talk to the person who I cheated on them with anymore because I feel gross and tainted from the experience, looking back I didn’t want to do it either. I kept feeling pressured to keep going and I just couldn’t say no but I also couldn’t say yes to them. when I finally came out about that night I lost everything. I had a semi-close friend and partner of one of my inner circle friends gaslight me for the entire summer. Or at least, I think they gaslit me, every time I use that word I feel like a fraud. I can feel my own brain invalidate me and I can’t stop it and it kills me inside. I had lost contact to all those friends, even my inner circle childhood friends for months, hating myself every minute and making amends to my partner (which we had fully come together and patched everything up for months after the incident) while still having that one person chatting in my ear bringing up the incident time after time but I kept reaching out because I was just so lonely and desperate. And the one time I reached out to the others and they welcomed me back they swooped in and kicked me out and made me vulnerable again to their abuse. I felt like an irredeemable villain for that, I still flinch mentally when people bring up cheating even on the internet in passing posts because I feel that guilt rise in my gut and I hear their words over again. I know I fucked up and I can’t escape it but I was also just a kid, I knew it was wrong I know I knew it was wrong but it kills me that they chose to make my private fuck up their personal play ground to abuse me mentally. I reconnected with my close circle again too, when school started back up, they asked me why I hadn’t come back, they told me about how they missed me and missed hanging out with me. I felt sick at that moment, I wish I had gone back, I wish I had never done that in the first place but I know I can’t change that. I lost touch with the other people, I lost touch with most of my old friends once I started Highschool. I don’t regret leaving them for the people I have now, I’m kinda coming to terms that I didn’t like them all too much in the first place. I have newer, better friends now and they’ve helped push me to ask for support from a therapist which ive gotten. I don’t think I can tell my therapist about the cheating or the abuse though, I don’t think I could handle their reaction. I imagine them shaming me even if I know that’s not what would happen. I think that I imagine it like that because of the experience I had that summer. I wish I knew how to escape these memories.

Cheating doesn't magically turn someone into a bad person. One action does not define your entire life, especially when you didn't want it to happen. You are not an irredeemable villain. My partner had an affair 2 years ago. And yes, it sucked a lot and was traumatic for me. I still don't think he's a bad person. He's a good person who made a bad choice. And after making that bad choice, he worked hard to make better choices in the future. That says more about his character than the affair.

I would never wish abuse on him, because he doesn't deserve it. Even if he wasn't remorseful about it, he still wouldn't deserve abuse. And you don't deserve the way you were treated by your friends after what happened, either. Nobody deserves to be treated like that no matter what they did.

I'm glad you have newer, better friends, and I do think that getting support from a therapist could be helpful. It can be hard to find a therapist who might be able to help, but you should be able to book a free consultation phone call with a therapist and that is a good chance to ask about whether they're comfortable discussing cheating and setting their own personal moral judgments to provide support to someone. You deserve compassion and support for the horrific way your "friends" abused you, and for being in a situation where you felt you couldn't say no (and being left with guilt over it).

- Mod Allison

[bonemarroww]

Something Else - Trans!(O) Amajiki Tamaki x (A) F!Reader

Summary: “You’ll get there someday!” Mirio always says. “You’ll do bette next time.” Tamaki doesn’t want to get there someday. And if every Alpha always does, well, maybe he’s something else then.

Warnings : None.

Feedback is welcome !

(I do not own the picture)

AO3

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

—————————— Chapter 5

Tamaki couldn’t keep his nerves. He had to talk to her; he just had to. There was no way around it. Yet, as he was sitting against his mate on his bed, with the faint sound of his parents talking downstairs and the warmth of her thigh against his, he felt as if he was confessing all over again.

“Tamaki, love, is something wrong?” She worried. “Am I too close? Do you want me to step back a little? Or I can carry you to your nest if you want me to...” She fretted.

He shook his head to all of these, actually swallowing his nervousness to take her hand in his, hoping she wouldn’t move back. While he usually spent their time at his home in his nest –he was still working on letting her near it–, that time, he had wanted to cuddle with her.  

Knowing what he wanted to talk to her about; it seemed fitting.

“There’s... s-something we should t-talk about... as... as mates.” He gave her a timid smile, not wanting to make her worried.

When she nodded, cuddling a bit into his shoulder and her scent just a bit stronger than was usual, he knew he had her attention.

“I’ve b-been researching and... and I talked to a doctor , and I’m... I’m thinking on t-taking that hormonal transition t-treatment.”

By the way her eyes widened slightly for a second, he knew she understood what he referred to.  

In the past few years, a hormonal treatment had been made more accessible for people like him, who experienced a conflict between their identity and assigned role. It was effective enough, a bit expensive, but something Tamaki knew he’d be able to afford once he became a Pro-Hero.  

Like all semi-experimental treatments, it was far from perfect, and had several serious drawbacks that had brought it the ire of a part of the community. The major one was, for a transitioning Omega, an artificially triggered heat the patient wouldn’t be able to suppress. It lasted from five days to two weeks, varying from a person to another, and was said to be insufferable for any patient who wasn’t lucky enough to have a stable mate to take care of them during that time.

Similarly, for the two first years post-treatment, the Omegas had to embrace their heats, violent as they were, or the body could stay stuck with uneven hormones.  

This was precisely why Tamaki was nervous to have this conversation with the Alpha; by deciding to go through the transition, he was asking her for assurance of her commitment. When the time for his heats would come, he would desperately need her, and if she wasn’t ready to make these promises yet –or worse, if she decided she no longer wanted to remain his mate–, Tamaki knew he would have to wait before taking the treatment. Either until she was ready, or until he found another mate.  

Her hand shot to squeeze his.

“Tamaki, if you’re certain you want this, for your own benefit and not for mine... Then I will be there for you every step of the way.”

The shy boy breathed a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding.  

“Are you sure you are ready for its consequences, though?”

Tamaki frowned, not sure what his mate meant by that. Her cheeks looked a bit warm under his gaze, and she looked away with a sheepish smile.

“I mean, you do know you’ll have very... intense heats for a while, and we haven’t exactly been intimate like that yet.” She clarified.

A furious blush ravaged Tamaki’s face when he realized what consequences she was talking about.

They had been together for almost a year now, and he had gone a long way from blushing at the faintest hand holding to the occasional make out session. His mate had never protested at the lack of activity, nor had she tried to initiate anything more than what they currently had.  

Of course, in the privacy of his own room, late at night when thoughts of her kept him too flustered to sleep, he had indulged in some fantasies; and he was secretly working up the courage to act on them. Still, she had a point.

“I-I guess we could wait a little...” He quietly conceded, a bit embarrassed not to have thought about this detail sooner.

With an amused purr, his mate came to nuzzle his shoulder.

“We’ll get there.” She kissed his neck softly, prompting his cheek to flare up. “Don’t worry.”

.

Tamaki woke up to the smell of his own sweat. He groaned in discomfort, trying to sit up from his nest. A slight draft of air felt fresh against his heated skin, and he sighed in relief. He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead, and a familiar heat pool low in his belly.  

The spot next to his was empty, but he could smell from the still powerful scent that his mate had only been gone for a few minutes. His gut churned all the same, and his own scent grew sour. He needed his Alpha. Where was she?

A second later, the door opened as in in a hurry, almost banging against his wall in the process.

“Tamaki, are you okay?” His mate barged in the room; nostrils still flared as she had been alerted by his scent.

The Omega felt torn between guilt and need as she came closer to him. Anyone could see in the bags under her eyes how tired she was. Her hair was messy and dirty, as she hadn’t taken the time for more than a quick shower in days, worried he would need her when she was gone.

A few months after his graduation, they had taken the decision to start his transition. Being a new hero, and with Fat Gum’s comprehension and approval of his situation, it just felt like a good enough moment to start it; before a busy life of Hero work would make him delay.  

So far, the medically induced heat had been brutal. The mix of hormones in his body had made him sick, lightheaded and feverish, for more than a week, and it didn’t seem to stop yet. Whenever he was feeling better, his body was taken over by raw need, an irrepressible craving for his Alpha’s touch.

He had initially assured his mate she could still go on with her studies and come for him later in the afternoon –he was, after all, a Pro Hero now, and he certainly could endure a bit of sickness. He had quickly been disillusioned as his first day of artificial heat had him begging for her presence.

She had, since then, essentially moved in his house to care for him all day (and night) long; bringing him food his parents made them, cuddling him in his nest (which he had allowed her to step into for the first time a few months before), bringing him medication for the side effects, and satiating his other needs all the while praising him for how brave he was being. Her third year wouldn’t be easy, but she assured him she had the teacher’s approval, and could always count on her classmates to take notes for her.

“I... I missed you...” He bashfully admitted, making himself a bit smaller under the covers.

Though they had often seen each other naked this past week, not really bothering to put on clothes between their frequent lovemaking sessions, Tamaki couldn’t say he was used to it just yet.

Her scent became stronger as she walked up to his nest, stripping her pants and bra to join him under the blankets. The Omega winced when she embraced him and kissed his neck, all too conscious of how sweaty and sticky he probably was.

“Missed you too.” She purred next to him, making herself comfortable against his chest.

The shy boy felt his heart clench at how tired she looked. He had kept her up all night, feeling insatiably needy. He hated how right now, having her pressed against him was making him a little bit horny again.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, closing his eyes. “I’m s-so needy ... I hope you’re not... mad...”

Tamaki felt her stir against him, as she withdrew her head from his chest to look at him tenderly.

“Mad? No. I’m so happy.” She purred lazily. “Every day looks a bit less like sickness and more like a regular heat. Your smell is getting sweeter, it’s intoxicating. You’re so beautiful...”

The shy elf swallowed thickly. It was hard to concentrate when his mate was making him feel better so easily with her words.

“If you had known exactly what would happen... How- how tired it would make you, and how d-desperate I am... Would you still have gone through it with me?” He timidly asked.

Feeling his growing need for her touch in the way his scent wafted through the air, her hand found his chest, caressing it in slow, languid movements.

"Would you still have chosen to go through the treatment, knowing how uncomfortable you would get?" She countered his question with one of hers.

Tamaki huffed when her hand trailed slightly lower, though not quite where he needed her the most. It was fine, he decided. He could endure some frustration if that meant his mate could rest a little.

"I-I think so... Yes."  

Her lips found his in a lazy kiss. When she parted from him, and he breathed strongly, she sighed as she made herself comfortable against him.

"Then I would have still been here with you. I love you, and I have no regrets."

When her purrs faded into soft snores, Tamaki gingerly hooked his arm around her. Now was his turn to watch over her.

[nat-20s]

PROMPT! the first time the s1 archive gang hangs out outside of work (any variation of the group, doesn’t have to be All of them)

This is only the Archive Assistant sqaud, bc I’m sorry Jon, but no bosses allowed. Also it’s VERY silly and soft bc sometimes u just wanna write nice things u know

(also also fuck I lovecompletely missed that this said “first time” they hang out but uhh. I hope u like it anyway.)

Tim Stoker like to think that, sometimes, not to toot his own horn, but he can be something of a genius. When a cousin’s cousin had offered to let him use their cozy little cabin for a night or two in exchange for help with moving, he had been struck with what could only be humbly described as “inspiration of the most divine nature”. For, as nice as a Friday evening away from it all by himself sounds, it’s so much nicer for a Friday evening away from it all to serve as Archival Assistants Bonding Time™. Or well, more like Tim and Sasha, Who Are Already Best Friends Forever, Figure Out What Martin’s Deal Is, Because For A Guy So Chatty, He Sure Is Mysterious Time™, but that’s not nearly as catchy. Truly, his plan was brilliant, bringing two compatriots and an excessive amount of food and drink to a spot away from the prying eyes of the world and bosses, and feast in the openness and silliness that comes from having a great fucking time.

His plan, and his genius, were tragically derailed. While he knew on their drive up that the air was rapidly getting cooler, Tim couldn’t have even pretended to predict that an hour into their stay would bring a freak blizzard that means they’re snowed in for the next three days, which was 3 times longer than he had accounted on spending with his coworkers/friends. There was more than enough food to last them, and almost enough alcohol, but as Sasha so kindly put it:

“First you make us reenact the first scene of every bad teen slasher movie, now there’s a fucking white out. If we lose power, I’m telling you, there is absolutely going to be a murder.”

“Pfft, no way. The guy who owns this place is one of those weird ass prepper types, there’s a back up generator for the back up generator. And even if we did lose power, we’re all much more the “huddle for warmth under a shared blanket in front of the roaring fire” types than the “get panicked and stab someone in darkness” types, right? Back me up here, Marto.”

Martin, who at three shots in is both hilarious and mean, directs his response to Sasha. “in the event of a black-out I vote we kill Tim. I can take him down and you can finish the job.”

Sasha tips her cup at him, saying, “I like the way you think,” at the same time that Tim yells out, “Hey! Why am I the one dying?!”

Sasha tells him, “Duh. This whole thing was your idea, which makes you the Dr. Black* of this situation. Any good mansion murder mystery dictates the the host dies first. Then, in a moment of entirely unplanned synchronization, her and Martin start chanting, “Host dies first! Host dies first!”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck both of y’all, it’s not my fault that you’re both thoroughbred city slickers that can’t handle being in a cabin with plumbing and running water and electricity. Didn’t either of you go camping as kids?”

Sasha replies “No I’m far too pretty for that,” while Martin bursts out laughing. It takes about 20 seconds for him to settle down. Wiping away a tear, he elaborates, “Sorry, sorry, just. Can not imagine my mother on a camping trip.  I mean, sure, she probably hoped at one point or another that I’d be lost in the woods as a child, or maybe even now, but I think that’s a bit different.”

Tim leans over the kitchen counter, placing his chin in his hands as he says, “Oh shit, Martin lore. Spill the deets.”

Sasha, who’s loyalties tend to sway towards whatever’s most interesting in the moment, piles on with, “You called her your mother, not your mum. That’s means she’s pretty much a right bastard, or a member of the aristocracy, which is just another term for right bastard but you got to grow up as a rich kid. Am I right?”

It’s clear the the two of them have made a grave mistake. All joviality flees Martin’s expression, and he shrinks down both his physical presence and his voice to something that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, um, well, I definitely didn’t grow up as a rich kid. And, it terms of the ‘right bastard’ thing, she’s not- er. That’s to say, she’s- she’s sick and. She’s doing the best she can, given, given everything.”

Martin pointedly looks at his hands while Tim and Sasha panickedly look at each other. They go to either side of him, and when he doesn’t flinch away, they each place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tim immediately feels the itch to fill the heavy quiet, and he happens to know he has quite the talent for blazing on ahead after these kinds of moments. It’s how he’s survived basically party for the past decade. “Ooookay, I’m gonna go ahead and say that all depressing familial reveals shall be held off until at least the second night of being trapped. While Sasha may have irritatingly few skeletons in her closet in that regard-”

“I have Tory grandparents?”

“We all have Tory grandparents Sash, that’s absolutely nothing. As I was saying, while Sash’s family is boring and semi functional, you and me are gonna do some fuckin’ commiserating on our journey from work friends to friend friends. However, I’m going to have to be 40% drunker, go through a decently strong hangover, and then once again get hair of the dog drunk before I can even start to consider heading down that path. And in that spirit, I think it’s time to start up the drinking games. Truth or dare might end up a bit too heavy for our needs, but Never Have I Ever should suit us just fine. I know I’m gonna regret saying this considering Sasha is 100% going to target my ass, but I think we should establish that whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug the rest of the box wine.”

Sasha pipes up with, “Ugh, no, not drinking games, that’s such twenty-something bullshit. I expected better from you.”

“Hey, Martin is a twenty-something, so that still works fine actually-”

“Tim!”

“What?”

Martin’s directing wide, bordering on frantic, eyes at him, and Tim is almost certainly missing something, though he can’t for the life of him figure it out. Sasha’s head is bobbing slightly between the two of them, and shes apparently able to parse what Tim has not. “Oh! Martin, uh, I already know that you’re 2, and it’s cool.”

“Did..did Tim tell you or?”

Tim scoffs out an “I wouldn’t!” even though there’s a distinct possibility that, entirely on accident, he would, and Sasha makes a reassuring coo. “No, no, babe, nothing like that. It’s just that, uh, the Magnus Institute is kind of notorious for not doing any background checks pretty much ever, so when I get a new coworker, I..do it myself.”

Martin’s face blanches, and his eyes somehow get even wider. “Oh god, please don’t tell Jon or Elias, I know I don’t have the credentials, but I really need-”

“Woah, woah, I’m not gonna do that. First of all, archival assistant squad, we ride together we die together in a snowed in god forsaken log cabin, secondly, it’d be hypocritical as fuck if I got up your ass about qualifications. Not a single one of us is qualified for our jobs, not even Jon. Maybe especially not Jon. It’s like, raise your hand if you have a degree in library sciences. No one? Okay, cool, that’s not weird at all for an archive. Actually, maybe bring that up next time he gives you shit. He’ll be all like ‘bluh bluh, you didn’t document this spooky bullshit well enough, it’s not up to the High Standards here at Spooky Bullshit Emporium’ and you can be like ‘whatever buddy, you’re an English major, what do you fuckin’ know?’. It’ll be devastating. He’ll be devastated.”

Martin laughs in the manner of someone who knows that they shouldn’t be, and his shoulders relax into  a lower position. “Why would you want me to devastate him? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are, which is why we all collectively need to get back at Jon for acting like such a prick. He’s always been a bit temperamental, but I honestly don’t get what his deal is, especially with you. I mean, c’mon, you’re great, being mean to you is like kicking a puppy.”

“Thanks? I think?”

Tim pipes up with, “Oooo, since drinking games are apparently too childish for Sasha, what if instead we play ‘What’s Jon’s Deal Anyway, Featuring, Seriously, Why Target Martin, The Baby of The Archives’-”

“-That feels a bit reductive of who I am and I also I think I’m technically older than Jon?-”

“-Whoever comes up with the best explanation, and by best obviously I mean most entertaining, gets an all expense paid trip from the other two to one of the charity shops I know we all frequent.”

Sasha snorts, “Wow, a whole twenty quid, who could resist such temptation. But also, I’m in, I think I have a winner and I have a violent need to out-cardigan Jon.”

Martin’s relaxation is gone again, which Tim thinks need to be fixed through aggressively passing a glass of wine towards him. He takes it without protest, takes a long drink, and says, “This seems more like 3 am conversation than a 9 pm one.”

Sasha gives an encouraging nudge, prompting another drink, and replies, “Yeah, well, I am not gonna make it to 3 am. I’ve got about an hour until the Alcohol Sleepiness sets in, and I know Tim will be right behind me.”

“Sashaaaaaa, you’re ruining my reputation as a young-at-heart, party-all-night kind of guy.”

“Babe, you’ve complained about your bones aching often enough that you’ve never had that reputation.”

“Surrounded by mean drunks, that’s what I am. I should be pitied.”

Martin shoots a glance towards Sasha, then replies, “You’d be more pitiable if this entire thing wasn’t, you know, entirely your own fault.”

Sasha nods sagely, “It’s true. If you were pitiable then maybe you wouldn’t have to die first.”

“You know what? I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room, how about we divert some of that towards complaining about our bosses, as coworkers who are hanging out and having a good time and not bullying me are supposed to do.”

Sasha giggles slightly as she leans down and presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Aw, sorry, Tim. I promise to double cross Martin when if becomes killing time.”

Tim melts a little, even as he’s replying, “Wait, when?” Martin takes another sip and says, “Whatever. I could take you both.”

How the hell are you supposed to resist a set up like that? With an over the top wink and cheesy grin, Tim says, “I bet you could, big guy.”

He’s expecting a slightly flustered reaction, maybe a higher pitched voice and a blush, if he’s lucky. He gets all of those things, but it’s Sasha saying, “Oh my god.” Martin only gives him a raised eyebrow and level stare, and Tim makes a mental note to reevaluate his dedication to only considering Martin in a strictly platonic fashion. Sasha continues talking, cutting through the..tension? with, “Okay, now I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room. Tim, tell the studio audience what you think is up with Jon.”

Tim blinks, hard, gives a shake of his head, and says, “Oh, obviously the Jon we know is dead. His ‘promotion’ to Head Archivist was actually Elias killing him off and replacing him with a robot that has the command If: see Martin Then: be dick. Don’t worry Marto, now that Sasha is aware of the issue, she’ll surely be able to reprogram him.”

Sasha hums a bit, then says, “I buy it. I think my explanation’s better, but Elias does seem the “kill a dude and replace him” type. Like if I was gonna suspect any particular person of murder he’s in the top five.”

“Seriously? Elias? Somehow has middle manager vibes even though he’s the head honcho Elias? Mr. ‘I probably wore boat shoes and khaki shorts for the entirety of university’ Bouchard? Voted most likely to put a thin layer of mayo in between two pieces of white bread and claim it’s a sandwich Elias? The area man that’s almost certainly gone on record as saying that golf and networking are his favorite hobbies Elias? He’s far too boring to have committed a murder.”

Tim’s looking at Martin with shock and delight, and he knows Sasha is wearing the exact same expression. “More of this. Please describe more of the things that Elias is.”

“I mean, sure? Uhh, guy that would pay $80 for a dime bag because you told him it’s a premium strain. Person that ironically says things like “kids these days” and “the youths” and you know he’s talking about people well into their 30s. Genuinely believes that if you can afford a cell phone then you shouldn’t be complaining about being  poor, because apparently a one time purchase of around a hundred bucks is the same as trying to pay monthly rent. Tells people to haul themselves up by their bootstraps. Thinks he got to where he was ‘without anybody’s handouts’ even though he’s had a trust fund since he was 15. Writes weekly editorials to the local newspaper complaining about the liberalization of media, and they’re like ‘sir, please stop submitting to us, we’re just trying to talk about Lisa’s gardening club’ because they can’t professionally tell him to fuck off. Thinks salt and pepper are the only spices one could ever possibly need, everything else is simply excessive. Somehow gay and homophobic. Like, yes, he’s taken a male lover, but he’s also seconds away from calling you a slur at any one time. Actually, no, that’s too interesting, and I refuse to believe he’s had a lover. Legally, he cannot have a lover, I’ve decided, so just gay and homophobic, both in theory alone. Has said that Boris Johnson is “a bit much, but really not so bad, and much better than any of the alternatives, really.” All of the cousins in his family banded together and officially got him banned from any sort of major holiday dinners. Basically every shitty boss you’ve ever had, especially if you’ve worked retail, rolled into one.”

Tim lets out a low whistle. “Damn, all right. Get fucked Elias.”

Sasha emphatically agrees, “Get fucked Elias.”

They all clink their glasses together, and then there’s a beat of silence before Martin says, “I’m pretty sure robots can’t get eye bags.”

Tim and Sasha let out a “huh” and “hmm?” respectively, so Martin elaborates. “You posited that Jon had been replaced with a robot. Pretty sure robots aren’t able to look that tired.”

Tim snaps. “Drat, you’ve pointed out the one flaw in my impeccable logic. So what d’you think is up with him? I know you don’t have the Before The Archives comparison, but I think you could provide a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Two months ago, I might have had some choice words, but first off, you all genuinely got on, so it didn’t really make sense for him to be awful all the time, and secondly ever since the, um, worm thing, he’s actually been pretty nice? I haven’t heard any snide comments, and whenever I mess something up he’s a lot more, um, gentle about explaining what wrong. He actually complimented my work the other day so. I guess I think Jon’s deal was that he was stressed out and I was very nervous and not very good at my job and he picked up on that?”

“So you think he’s like a horse.”

“Explain.”

“He sensed your fear and he became skittish and irritable in kind.”

“Horses can sense fear?”

“Horses can sense everything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Right?”

“Guys, we’ve gone on like four different tangents in one conversation. Martin, I’m very glad to hear that Jon’s changed his behavior towards, because it means I don’t have to yell at him on your behalf, you’re getting to see the person that me and Tim both know who is actually pretty cool, and also mostly because it feeds perfectly into my winning theory.”

“What, you’ve got something better than Martin’s ‘accurate but boring’ reasoning or my ‘super cool but now that I think about it for .5 seconds actually kind of a bummer robot’ knowledge?”

Sasha’s incredibly self-assured when she says, “I sure fuckin’ do. Jon’s secretly been in love with Martin the whole time, and he’s been previously overcompensating by acting like he hates him.” which makes Tim choke on air and Martin emphatically reply, “Fuck off, he is not.”

“No, no, hear me out, I have, I have receipts, as the kids say. First point of evidence: Martin’s stupid hot, and there’s no way that Jon is straight, so obviously he’s not gonna be impervious to that.”

“What?”

“Oh come off it Martin, it’s just a fact. Like, me personally? I don’t even do the whole romance thing, but the first time I ever saw you I blacked out slightly and thought ‘Now there’s a man I could raise some ferrets with.’.”

“I, um, I, well. Is that...supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

“What? No, I’ve just always wanted ferrets, and asking someone to raise pets with you is like the height of romance, I’m pretty sure. Back me up here Tim.”

“On the ferret thing or the Martin hot thing?”

“Either? Both.”

“Aight. Yes, asking someone to raise ferrets with you is basically a marriage proposal if that someone is Sasha, and I hate to break it to you Martin, but you’re incredibly good-looking. We’re all incredibly good-looking, to the point where I think the only qualification for the archives staff is being a straight up hottie. OH! We should name the group chat “straight up hottie squad”. Anyway, yep, point for Sasha.”

“Not a point for Sasha, even if I believe you about about my, em, physical attractiveness,-”

“-Don’t have to put belief in a fact, Marto-”

“-that doesn’t mean anything. By that logic, he’s equally as likely to be in love with either of you, and my money would be on Sasha if it was anyone, because you’re clearly his favorite.”

“Ah, but that’s exactly why it isn’t me, but thank you for the transition into my second point which is: Jon is the kind of person that sees anything that might make him vulnerable and starts aggressively defending himself against it, and what’s more vulnerable than a crush? He’s not crushing on Tim, because Tim’s fucking great, but sometimes he’s also the walking, talking embodiment of sensory overload, and while I myself I love that, Jon clearly gets a bit overwhelmed by it at times. He’s not into me, because he knows better than that, and overall I’m pretty non-threatening to his whole thing, so of course he’s going to be the most relaxed around me. You, on the other hand, are single, hot, kind to animals and people alike, and make a great cup of tea. Incredibly crush worthy, thus incredibly threatening, thus Jon acting like That.”

“Hmm, this still seems like something that comes from watching one too many corny rom coms, and that’ s coming from someone who loves corny rom coms.”

“I also love corny rom coms, but that’s completely beside the point. Because, okay, sure, if Jon had just been a weird asshole to you, I wouldn’t be like ‘oh, yeah, that’s a classic case of covering for something’ but you’re right about him being nicer since the worm thing. So nice, in fact, I shall be bringing in Timothy as my star witness that’s going to blow this whole case wide open. Martin, you may not have heard how Jon has started to talk about you, but me and Tim sure have.”

“God, yeah. Like if we thought he wouldn’t shut up about you before-

“-which he wouldn’t-”

“it’s gotten way worse now.”

“I think the whole life threatening worm woman flipped a switch for him and now he’s all fuckin. ‘Oh, Martin should stay in the archives, let me give him the place that I sleep.”

“Oh, Martin, I don’t think he should go out on too many research trips anymore, I’d much prefer for him to be ~nice and close~”

“Oh, Martin, good lord, did you know that his tea is quite good? I’m think it might actually be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Martin, his work’s rather improved, don’t you think? It’s really quite impressive, especially considering all the stress he’s had to endure.”

“Oh, Martin, I just want him to take me into his big, strong arms and whisk me away from all of this.”

“He did not fucking say that last one.”

Sasha throws her arms up in the air. “He may as well have!”

Nodding sagely, Tim replies, “This whole thing holds water. I vote Sasha gets the shopping trip. Martin?”

Martin stares at his drink as if it has any ability to give him any sort of answers, then lets out a sigh with his entire body. “You know what? It’s probably nicer than whatever the fuck is the truth, so sure, why not? Let’s get Sasha her cardigans.”

Sasha lets out a whoop. “Hell yeah! Can’t wait for spree, assuming all three of us get out of this cabin alive.”

“Okay, nope, clearly Sasha needs another distraction. Got any suggestions, Martin?”

“Uh, wasn’t a karaoke machine part of the sales pitch for this place?”

“Martey babey, yes! I wouldn’t have thought you’d spring for that sort of thing!”

“If this were a public bar or something where I’d have to listen to drunk strangers and they’d have to listen to me, then no, I’d rather have my brain pulled through my nose a la mummification. But with only you guys and fourish drinks in? I’m down to clown.”

“Sash, you with us?”

“Dunno, what songs are there?”

Tim shrugs, and heads to the storage closet that contains all the various entertainment equipment. It takes a bit of searching, and a bit more digging, but he’s able to unearth the ancient portable karaoke machine. He also grabs some of the jigsaws, mostly on the thought that sometimes a bitch just wants to hang out with their friends and do a puzzle. Also because in light of the fact that they’re stuck inside with no sort of access to the outside world for two days longer than planned, there’s pretty much no way that they’re not going to reach a point where they all say fuck it let’s do a puzzle.

Plugging in the machine, it takes a solid several minutes to boot up, which is the perfect length of time to take it upon himself to take one for the team and chug the box wine himself, with Sasha and Martin chanting in the background. When he finishes, they cheer, and then Martin immediately shoves a glass of water for him to down as well, muttering something about how he wants him to be alive in the morning. Tim can tell he’s well inebriated by now, because the simple thoughtful gesture is enough to make him a little bit misty-eyed, and Sasha can attest to alcohol turning him into the world’s biggest sap. In order to avoid prevent himself from becoming the kind of person who says “I love you” in a gradually more sloppy repeat, he starts flipping through the discography of the now running machine. “Alright y’all, it looks like we got 80s songs or...80s songs. Ooo, they have the Grease 2 soundtrack.”

That gets him a well deserved “No!” from both parties, with Sasha adding on, “Not even if it was Grease 1. I’m putting an embargo on musical theater in general.”

“Oh come on, some musicals are better than other. Right, Marto?”

“I’m with Sasha on this one.”

“Boo. But fine, what do you want?”

Martin and Sasha glance at each other, and Tim’s amazed at how well the bonding night-turned-long-weekend has gone so far, considering they seem to have already mastered the art of silent communication. Martin speaks first, with, “They got Dolly Parton?”

The process of scrolling through individual letters to type is achingly slow, but luckily all he needs to get through is “DO” before she shows up. “They do.”

Sasha says, “Do they got 9 to 5, by Dolly Parton?”

Tim’s eyes light up with realization as he says, “They do,” and in a moment of spontaneous understanding, all three of them know that they’re not simply going to sing 9 to 5. No, they’re going to do a  full blown music video for the benefit for nobody but themselves, because why the fuck not.

The next hour is spent in a very silly fashion. They figure out how to use the cabin’s layout to their advantage, assign various parts of the song to each person, and practice their inexpert choreography a few times with the song tinnily blasting from Sasha’s phone. The final result is hardly of professional quality, but it is of making them all giggle quality. It starts off in a relay like manner, each of them in a different area to coordinate with “Tumble of out bed and stumble to the kitchen” (Sasha on the couch), “Pour myself a cup of ambition”, (Tim at the coffemaker), and “Yawn and stretch and try to come to life” (Martin at the fridge), with them finally crowding around the karaoke machine together to scream sing the chorus. Despite their practice, they quickly go off key, and while they might end up with low points for accuracy, they get full marks on enthusiasm.

When the song ends, it takes them a few minutes to settle down into something less giddy. As they do, Sasha, out of breath, says, “Fuck me, I’m sleepy now. What the hell?”

Tim hums in affirmation. “Goddammit, I’m tired too. Let me guess, Martin, you’re young enough that you could go all night?”

“No? I’ve never pulled an all-nighter in my life. Actually, I know that it was supposed to be in case the power went out, but huddling together under a blanket in front of a fire sounds really nice? I mean, um, if you guys were down.”

Sasha leans her head against Martin’s shoulder and takes on the expression of a deeply content cat. “Mmm, I call Martin, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely not, I also want to leech Martin’s warmth. You good with being in the middle?”

Martin’s practically beaming, but his voice manages to almost fake being put upon. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice I could make.”

With Sasha already half asleep, Martin brings her over to the couch, while Tim gets them all set up. He manages to find the kind of big, fluffy blanket that all cabins should contain and wraps it around their shoulders. Luckily for them, the fireplace is gas lit and can be put on a timer. He sets it for 30 minutes, even though all three of them are going to be long passed out before them. Sasha is already softly snoring away, and Martin’s head keeps drifting down and snapping back up. Tim curls up against Martin’s other side, and even though all three of them are going to wake up with aching backs and worse heads, he thinks he really just might be a genius after all.

*Why is Mr. Boddy’s name Dr. Black in the UK. I hate that. Why would you not have the dumb joke of  naming the victim “boddy”. Hey brits explain your crimes.

[mymelodyheart]

A Passage In Time ~Halloween Short Story~

  A Passage in Time

 Claire parked into an empty slot at the foothills of Craigh na Dun, the street and open fields packed with cars of stone circles, and Celtic feast days enthusiasts. Jenny, her college friend, mentioned there was a possibility they'd be able to observe a group of local druids dancing to the feast of Samhain. If the ritual hadn't started yet, it could be the highlight of her trip to Inverness.

Bonfires blazed everywhere, their glow lending the atmosphere an air of mystery and something akin to otherwordly. Old fashion looking lanterns hung on wooden posts, and white canopies strung with fairy lights gave the hills a magical atmosphere at this time of night. The sound of bodhran drum beating in the distance and the rush of wind rustling through the trees sent a chill down her spine. There was an unusual, low vibratory hum in her ears, causing a nervous stir in her stomach. It reminded her of a time when she'd gone ghost hunting with Jenny in St Sepulchre's Cemetery in Oxford, frightened out of her wits and very jumpy.

She was so on edge she nearly screamed when the pocket of her coat buzzed.  Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!  She quickly unbuckled her seat belt and fumbled for her phone, hoping it was Jenny. Her friend always came a little earlier than Claire and was usually impatiently and grumpily waiting for her in the wings.

"Claire! I'm so sorry I'm no' gonnae make it. I think I have food poisoning and my tummy isnae right, but I asked my brother to meet ye next to the biggest stone at Craigh na Dun. He's got ginger curls, and he's tall, and his name is Jamie. I ken ye didnae want to be alone. I hope ye dinnae mind my brother coming instead." Jenny's and her definition of tall differed. Whereas tall in Claire's books was above six foot, anyone that towered over her petite friend was considered massive to Jenny.

"Oh, Jen!" Claire wailed, hitting her steering wheel with the palm of her hand. Without her friend, she really didn't want to do this now, but it had taken her over an hour to drive up here. 

"So sorry hen. Please don't bail on my brother. He's going to be there soon. Ohhhh, God ...going to be sick ...bye."

Claire stared at her phone, and her stomach turned. Maybe, like Jen, she was coming down with food poisoning too. The way her insides was churning, it really was beginning to seem that way. "Fucking great," she mumbled miserably to herself. "I didn't even fix my hair, and I don't even have a smidgen of makeup. I just hope her brother is not that cute." 

She peered at the mirror and fluffed her chocolate curls. Her face was nice enough, she supposed, looking at her thoughtful amber eyes, full lips and arched eyebrows. As she found more faults in her face, she sighed wishing she had lipstick in her purse, but nought could be done and how she looked will have to do. 

She took deep cleansing breaths, mustered all the social courage she had, and stepped out of her car. The wind suddenly picked up and caressed her cheeks with cold breeze fingers. She was glad she wore sensible clothes, grateful for the warmth of the turtle-neck cable knit jumper, fitted jeans, hiking boots and down jacket.

Looking up towards the hill, she realised she wasn't far off and could see the tips of the stone circles and people milling about dressed in traditional garb and period costumes. She skipped over some shallow pools and trudged up the incline, pulling down her knitted hat to cover her ears. The hill was fairly steep, so she took a few stops to catch her breath as it wouldn't be a nice look to greet Jenny's brother panting like forge bellows. He would probably get the wrong idea if that ever happened.  Ugh!

She looked towards the top of the hill as she rested and realised she didn't have far to go and the standing stones looked, even more, impressive from where she stood. Her eyes landed on the biggest of them all, and her heart skipped a beat. Something had moved from behind the stone and disappeared through the cluster of trees! She held her breath and peered hard, to make sure she wasn't mistaken. Yes! There it is ...a tall shadow!

Claire's heart started to pound so hard, she thought it might burst out of her ribcage.  Was that a ghost?  The ritual hadn't begun yet, and she was already spooked out of her wits. But she immediately felt silly when the shadow stepped out from behind the tree and motioned to her. He was waving and smiling. It took a few heartbeats for her to register that he was tall, had ginger curls and was dressed in eighteenth-century Highland garb.  Ah, that must be Jamie!

She shyly waved back at the man, who grinned at her as if she was an old friend. When he beckoned to her again, her blood rushed between her ears, and she felt dampness under her arms.  What's the matter, Beauchamp? Watching too many horror films lately?   She swallowed down her nervousness, and she stared harder. He seemed friendly and didn't look surprised to see her. Actually, he looked eager to meet her. She scolded herself for letting her imagination run wild and continued her ascent, almost laughing out loud at her childish reaction.

When she finally reached the top, she looked around. There were quite a lot of people waiting for the Samhain ritual to start, but there were no signs of Jenny's brother. The balefires lit the standing stones in wavering lights, sending shadows scurrying across the grounds and making the whole setting looked like it jumped out of the Old World. She quickly scanned her surroundings, trying to imagine what it might look like under sunlight so as not to dwell too much on her nervousness.

Making her way around the stones, she weaved in and out of throngs of revellers while straining her eyes to look for a tall ginger-haired man. The drum continued to beat, and the cameras clicked nearby, the clash of old and new unsettling Claire further. In the middle of the circle, dressed in a druid costume, stood a gorgeous girl, her red hair wild and loose. She spoke to the crowd about extraordinary people that had a rare ability to hear the stones, seeking its passageway that led to another time.

Claire didn't stop and continued to walk, determined to find Jenny's brother as she listened to the druid girl's chanting. The people huddled closer as they listened to the solemn incantation, either seeking warmth from neighbouring bodies or straining to hear. Claire examined the faces, searching for someone that could be her friend's brother, but her skin crawled when she realised there was no tall red-head.  Who was the man in the shadow, then?

"We call upon the Old Ones known before the measure of time, some named and yet forgotten! Who would bless us with their energies of love and care! Harmonious to our nature, n' the energies of cosmic creation to cast this circle! We create and bind this Sacred Space with Sacred Love and Sacred Trust! To protect those we love and cherish within and without. N' to focus through our will in this space out of time, between worlds for the making of Majick! The Circle is now cast! So mote it be!"

The wind suddenly stilled, and Claire could tell the crowd also felt the sudden change in the air.

"We Summon You and Call you Forth! O' Ancient Ones, of Thought and Sound! Rising, moving in concentration, this seasons night in clear still air, vibrations felt, clear, resounding, in the sound of drums pounding, of Life's Breath and Heartfelt Love! Come be with us this Seasons Night. Join us in our Holy Rite, O' Ancient Ones of Power."

Suddenly, the lantern in the druid girl's hand flickered and puffed out, and the crowd drew in a sharp intake of breaths. 

"What was that?" somebody shouted out.

The druid girl holding the lantern shushed everyone patiently. "It's only the spirit of the ancient ones communicating with us. Dinnae be afraid. Playing with light is their way to make his or her presence known. Please remain calm. This spirit is benevolent. I have a good sense about these things."

Even though a part of her thought it was all for show, Claire couldn't help but feel the shift in the air, as a shiver crawled up her back, making every hair on her body rise.

A cold hand brushed her own, and she let out a blood-curdling scream. Even though she didn't want to look, her body had a mind of its own and turned around. She opened her eyes and swallowed hard, and was relieved and surprised to see a handsome ruddy face with intense blue eyes and ginger curls smiling down at her.

"I beg yer pardon, mistress. It was no' my intention to frighten ye. I only wanted to introduce myself' and see what all the fuss was about."

"J-Jamie?"

He bowed down, one arm swooping elegantly in a semi-circle. "James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, at yer service. Please call me James."

She stifled a giggle knowing it was part of an act for the Samhain festivity.

The red-head girl in the circle glared at Claire. "Lass, yer screams will no' make the spirits want to speak. If ye're too frightened, go somewhere else, if ye please."

Heat crept up Claire's face as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm so sorry I got carried away. I'll go now." She turned away from the circle and made her way down the hill.

"Wait, mistress, please! Dinnae let that druid priestess ruin yer evening," he said, grabbing her wrist and still speaking in his Old World accent. "There are other pleasing things to see than listen to her chant." 

Claire stopped on her tracks and smiled shyly, swiping a loose curl away from her face. "I bet there are. It was beginning to get too spooky for me. Maybe you could show me around?" she suggested.

James laughed out loud, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously as he offered her his arm. "Weel, mistress, ye are in luck. It is but my good fortune ye are in need of a person to accompany ye, for I am in need of a fair lass on my arm. Come, let us leave this over-crowded place, and I will give ye a personal and less embellished, account of Craigh na Dun ."

Claire blushed profusely as she wound her arm into his. She was grateful for the darkness of the night, concealing her scarlet face. Although his eighteenth-century Highland accent was spot on, she wished he would cut out the play-acting. He had a languid air about him that put her at ease, and the magical Victorian vibe got her in a romantic mood. Under her tentative hand, his Highland garb felt unusually coarse, and a little cold but his arm was firm and strong underneath the wool fabric of his tartan.

As they made their way down the hill, James turned his face to her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Ye never mentioned what I should call ye, and I think mistress will grow bothersome."

Odd that Jenny never mentioned my name to her brother. 

Claire stifled a girlish giggle. "Sorry. I'm not so good at socialising. I tend to forget to do polite things like introducing myself and refraining from screaming in people's faces. My name's Claire ...Claire Beauchamp."

James chuckled, the sound coming from him throaty and deep. "Ach, ye screaming was entirely my blunder. I shouldnae have snuck up on a lass in a dark of the night. It was highly improper of me. I like the name Claire by the way ... it's Sorcha in Gaelic. Both roll off the tongue easily."

The way he said her name made her shiver in pleasure, like speaking her first name was an act of foreplay. It sounded beautiful coming from his mouth, like a poet from the olden times reciting an ode. As awkward as Claire felt she was, Jamie didn't notice and seemed to enjoy her company immensely. She could swear from the bottom of her heart, he blushed like a boy. 

"Ye have an unusual way of speaking," James added, as they navigated the rocky hill. "But I like the sound of yer voice. But I must admit yer clothes are quite unusual too. I think I'm going to call ye, Sassenach."

"Oh!" she breathed. "What does that mean?"

"It simply means ye are an outlander, a stranger from a faraway place if ye will."

"Oh, that's alright then. As long as it doesn't mean anything bad."

"It's not bad at all, Sassenach, not bad at all."

James helped her down from a steep drop and led her towards a tent. There was a blazing bonfire, and an antique-looking lantern hanging from the post outside. Taking in her surroundings, she realised they were further away from the rest of the shelters and the crowd.

Once inside, she noticed the tent didn't look anything like she had seen before, but it looked strong and kept them warm from the outside elements. The floor was covered in the same material as the tent, and there were a couple of comfortable, high backed chairs covered in sheepskin and a small dark stained wood as the table. The oil lamp hung from above, illuminating the space in a soft glow. In the far end was a simple cot, covered in sheepskin as well, the sight of it making her blush.

He guided her towards the chair, pulling it in an invitation. Once she was seated, he took the chair facing her. "Ye must be parched and hungry. I'm begging yer pardon for presuming as I couldnae help but hear the grumble in yer belly."

Claire nodded and smiled. "In fact, I am, and there's no need to apologise. I haven't eaten all day, and if I'm entirely honest, I could eat a scabby dog."

He laughed out loud, and she noticed his eyes crinkling at the sides. His whole face lit up when he smiled, as though it was naturally part of his expression. "Ah, a lass after my own heart. I think I might have just the thing to soothe those hunger pangs." He looked at her with mischief in his eyes, and she bowed her head to hide the blush. "I hope ye like the Highland's fare. Not many travellers in this part of Scotland favour what we have to offer."

Claire grinned. "Don't worry. I can eat anything. Actually, this is not my first time here, and I do like the local food. They're so wholesome and delicious. When you've travelled to places like Egypt and the Middle Americas like me, you become accustomed to trying something new."

James's eyes widened. "Egypt and the Middle Americas? Ye've been to the New World! Ye must be a great adventurer. Unfortunately, I am not as seasoned-travelled as ye. I've been to France as a young lad, to study Latin, Greek and Philosophy."

"Oh! I've only been briefly in Paris. I've lived a semi-nomadic life with my uncle, you see, but I've settled down now in Oxford to study medicine."

James looked impressed. "Women in yer part of the world are very fortunate to be allowed to study, and from what I know, medicine is only meant for the sharpest mind. Here in Scotland, women stay at home and cook and care for the bairns."

She was about to admonish him for that remark, but she stopped. She reminded herself it was all part of the act, so she changed the subject. "Maybe, one day you'll visit Oxford, and I can show you my parents' hometown," she suggested, crossing her fingers under the table.

"Perhaps one day. As I said, I dinnae travel much, and this small sphere of the world comprises the extent of my life. I dinnae meet strangers often, so my manners might be slightly lacking. In fact, I believe I've forgotten all about the food I offered. Excuse my behaviour, it is a rarity I am in a company of a bonnie lass." He held her gaze and leaned in, propping his elbows on the table.

She tried not to gawk at the way his tartan hugged his body in just the right way. He was much too handsome and dashing to be flirting with her. 

He shook his head as if he had to clear it. Perhaps his thoughts were drifting, and he was seeing her in a different light. When he stared into Claire's eyes, he made her feel desirable and alluring for the very first time in her life. And the way he leaned towards her and stared at her lips, caused butterflies to flutter in her belly.

She'd never met anyone who carried themselves like him. She was starting to think his chivalrous and courteous manner wasn't an act. She believed deep down, he was a very charming man with unusual humour. Even though she knew he was acting to suit the mood with his period costume and accent, she was beginning to find it endearing and adorable.

Suddenly he stood up. "Pardon me, Sassenach. I will arrange something for us to eat. I shan't be long."

She nodded and smiled up at him, as she made a mental note, to ask Jenny more about her handsome brother. He was unusual, that's true but in a delightful kind of way. He was at ease with himself and had such an open and inviting manner, unlike most of the men she met, jaded and carrying a lot of hangups.

A few minutes later, a woman in an old fashioned white apron over a dark grey dress and a bonnet came through the opening followed by James. She had a grandmotherly air about her, kind and cuddly. "G' evening, mistress," she greeted, curtsying low and smiling broadly. "A fine All Hallows' Eve to ye. I will be bringing some food in no time, but for the meantime, I brought a flask of whisky to warm up yer cockles."

James took the flask and a couple of pewter from the elderly woman's hands. "Thank ye, Mistress Fitzgibbons. Very kind of ye."

The woman curtsied, and once again, they were alone.

"I hope ye like whisky, Sassenach. It will warm yer belly until the food comes," he said, pouring a whisky in each of the vessels.

"I like anything alcoholic when its this cold. Thank Christ for whisky in this part of the world." She took the pewter of whisky he handed her and took a whiff. It was very unlike any whisky she'd seen and smelled, but it was peaty, just how she liked it.

James sat back down. "I must admit I am overly delighted ye have decided to come with me instead of watching the rituals of Samhain. I've seen it loads of times and having ye as a company is indeed a refreshing change. After we've eaten, perhaps we can take a walk under the moonlight, and by then the people in Craigh na Dun would be long gone. Mistress Fitzgibbons will surely feed us well with rich food and ale, so our energy does not wane. If that's alright with ye ..."

Claire's breath hitched. She was surprised he wanted to spend more time with her. When she realised she hadn't answered him, she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. I'm... I'm just shocked. I hardly know you, but it seems you are determined to spend time with me. It's just that these things don't normally happen to me. I'd love to, of course, to take a walk under the moonlight."

James frowned. "Well, I must admit I was unusually forward, but I thought we had a connection. It's like I've known ye for many lifetimes, and I would like to understand more about this connection. But permitting me to treat ye to an All Hallows' walk around Craigh na Dun is not the main object of my attention. I guess I should be forthright about that, now, so ye can make an educated choice to leave or stay."

Oh sweet Mother of God, is he trying to seduce me?   She was not the type of person to jump into bed with anyone after the first meeting, no matter how handsome her date was. But the warmth of the tent, the sparkle reflected in James's eyes and the promise of adventure tugged at her heart. So she decided to do a little play-acting herself. "I hope you don't have any dishonourable intentions, kind sir. Perhaps it's high time I remind you that I am a lady."

His cheeks turned bright scarlet. "Oh, Sassenach, no. Ye have mistaken my intentions. I wasnae talking about…" he cleared his throat, tugging at his scarf, "about…" he leaned forward and whispered, "physical amusement."

This time it was her turn to be embarrassed. "Oh, dear, I'm reading this all wrong, aren't I?

He took a deep breath, obviously unhappy about giving her the idea she was a one night stand. He leaned forward, again, this time, he reached out for her hand, and she didn't pull away when she felt the warmth of his grasp. His muscles were strong underneath the skin, firm and calloused from manual work. She liked the fact that he had a worker's hands and a gentleman's manner.

"It isnae my intention to treat ye like anything other than a fine lady, Sassenach." He took a deep breath and brushed her hand with the tips of his fingers, making her heart do multiple cartwheels. Maybe she was affected because she'd never had a man look at her the way James was doing now. "My intention tonight is not to win yer very sumptuous person but to have a long conversation with ye under the moonlight. In hopes, by the end of the evening, ye will not wish to return to whence ye came from, and will, in the future, come back to me." 

Claire's logical, modern head was screaming warnings. Get a grip, Beauchamp, he's just acting like this for the night. In the morning, he will be himself again, and what if you don't like that person? 

She didn't have an answer and was thankful for the return of Mistress Fitzgibbons, balancing a huge tray filled with food in both hands. When the feast was laid out on the table, Claire's mouth watered as her stomach grumbled loudly enough to make the elderly woman grin.

James thanked Mistress Fitzgibbons before she turned around to go. His eyes were dancing playfully as the woman left them and sighed, "Ach to be young and in love…"

James grinned. "Let us eat, drink and be merry and not worry about later. Yer decision about agreeing to accompany an undeserving stranger can wait until after the victuals."

They had a pleasant meal of clootie dumpling, apple frushie, cranachan, scones, and almond cake, barely talking, only to compliment the fare. Instead of tea or coffee to wash down the sweet treats, they were served with warm ale. It was unusual, but it did not taste bad at all, probably too hungry to care.

When she groaned her pleasure, sampling all the food, he winked at her. "See, we are already making memories and connections."

She nodded her head playfully as she stuffed an almond cake into her mouth. Everything was so good, and nothing tasted pre-packaged or stale. It all had the homemade taste of ingredients measured by eye and mixed by hand.

By the end of the feast, they sat back in their seats, sated and glowing from the warmth in the tent. Claire sighed and downed the last of her ale from a beaker. "Okay, I guess I'll have to accompany you for a little bit longer if only to walk off everything I just ate."

He chuckled, his eyes lighting up boyishly. Damn! "I'm looking forward to it, Sassenach and I'm delighted ye accepted my invitation."

Claire had no fight left in her. James was so sweet, his blue eyes always playful, and his conversation light but entertaining. She wanted to spend the evening with him, even if it meant the play-acting was set aside, and the man of her dreams evaporated into thin air by tomorrow morning.

"Shall we go, Sassenach?" he asked quietly, interrupting her reverie and offering her his arm. 

She nodded and stood up, slipping her hand under the warmth of his arm. 

By the time they'd left the tent, the wind was calm, and the air didn't feel as cold. Claire put it down to the food, ale and whisky she'd consumed and her company. She noticed there weren't as many people compared to earlier, but the few that were left were scattered around campfires. They walked past a group of men in their Highland costumes, complete with dirks and swords. One was stood in the middle, preparing to tell a tale of the waterhorse of Loch Garve. Men and women gathered around, looking for the perfect spot. When Jamie gestured if she wanted to listen, she nodded.

They sat further away from the campfire as James took off his plaid and laid it on the ground for her to sit on. With the boulder behind them, they leaned back and sat side by side, his thigh touching hers.

Claire turned to Jamie. "There are few things I love more than waiting for a play or a story to begin," she whispered.

James' arched an eyebrow. "Is that so? Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm not quite sure. Look at everyone ...they are excited but quiet, hopeful but a little uncertain. It introduces a particular mood and air, you know? Like we're all preparing for an experience or adventure if you will. There's nothing else like it. Instead of reading a book, we get to be in it, but not so much a part of it we are not ourselves. We are away from risks and threats. We are safe but affected, and changed. The storytelling is part of that, but really, the mood a storyteller set is the most important part."

He stared at her intently, his body so intuned with hers, she forgot their surrounding. "Ah, Sassenach, ye are a poet. That is precisely accurate. That is how I feel right now, and every time I sit down to listen to stories of the old. And All Hallows' is particularly ripe for atmosphere, do ye not agree? The wind, the fire…"

"The feeling of someone watching you and ghosts just around the corner?" Claire added, getting caught up.

James chuckled. "Ach, Sassenach, what is a ghost really? I am no' frightened of spirits, and do ye want to know why?"

Claire had been terrified of evil spirits and ghosts ever since she watched The Exorcist. So she nodded, wanting to know how anyone could not be afraid of the possibility of a haunting.

"Weel, I am flesh and blood. I am my eyes, my smile and the work I do." He motioned to himself. "But I am also spirit, that immaterial element no one else can claim, and I am anything but frightening. All my ghost would be is me, without the shell. That which makes me me, but less substantially in the world, am I right?"

Claire smiled as she the digested his words, "Well, yes, but you are a wonderful soul. Not every person is. As a woman, I've met my fair share of men with truly terrible spirits. If they die, I wouldn't want them lurking about."

Jame's eyes twinkled. "You are very shrewd, Sassenach. My ma and pa are going to love ye. Maybe if ye are inclined, I'll introduce ye to them after our walk ... that's if my spirit has no' scared ye off, that is…" He waggled his brows and made a funny face.

She slapped his arm and laughed, but her laughter died when she caught him looking at her. For the first time, Claire really looked into Jamie's eyes instead of avoiding it shyly. The smile in them remained, even when his face took on a more serious look. They stared at each other, locked in an intense moment, before turning their attention back to the storyteller.  How could that one stare make me feel like I'm spiralling out of control and into love? Love? Where the hell did that come from? 

"Claire?"

Her heart started to beat as he inched closer and put an arm around her shoulder. "Yes?" she squeaked, unable to look, afraid she would not be able to resist him. But when a finger touched her chin, she was forced to look once more into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Do ye mind if I kiss ye? Because if I don't, I think I'll die, and I'll regret it for the rest of eternity."

Her heart and mind had been playing tug-of-war for the last couple of minutes, but the way he asked and stared at her lips became her undoing. "No, I don't mind at all," she whispered. "But do you think ..."

His lips swooped down upon hers, smothering her words with the sweetest kiss and extracting a soft moan from her mouth. One firm hand gripped her waist and the other moulded to the back of her head, pulling her gently against him. 

She hadn't expected to be kissed today nor to fall in love in the brief time they'd spent together. But his mouth was warm, soft, intoxicating, and all-consuming. She lost track of time and place as everything suddenly seemed to spin out of focus and control, only aware of the movement of his lips and his hands sliding up and down her back.

When they broke their kiss, she stared at him for the longest time, and it was as if she was looking through him for a moment like he was a malfunctioning hologram.

"James?" She gripped his arms in panic, but he felt solid enough, though ice cold.

"I'm here, Sassenach," he whispered.

Why does his voice sound distant?  She turned her head to take in her surroundings, and a chill shook her body. Everything looked odd, like a double-exposed photograph. On the misty surface was a more modern, brighter, lighter version of the hillside, and underneath sat the darker, dirtier, more romantic version of this place.

Suddenly, she felt nauseating fear, her eyes focusing and unfocusing like she was losing grip of reality. The twin pictures swam together in a confusing pattern before her eyes. She turned to James, and it was like she was looking at a ghost of the man she loved.

"James, please don't leave me!" She reached out to him at the same time he reached out to her, but she only grasped air.

"Sassenach!" he called out, his voice was the barest of a whisper, and then just like that, he was gone.

Her surrounding was one big whirlwind around her, images rushing and a loud buzzing sound echoing in her ears. Unable to cope anymore, her eyes closed and she fell to the ground.

..........

"Lass, are ye alright?" Claire felt a gentle hand on her cheek, and she sat up, abruptly.

"James!" She gasped, hoping for a sign of him. She was confused at the sight of unfamiliar faces peering down at her.

The red-headed girl looked worried. "Did ye come with a friend, lass? I thought I saw ye alone. Ye screamed and passed out, but everything is fine now, hen. There was a spirit, a benevolent one, but I think he's gone. I'm afraid ye might have scared him off. Do ye feel like ye can stand?"

Claire ran a hand at the back of her head, deeply confused. She stared around her and was shocked to find a few people encircling her. She shook her head vigorously, probably in an attempt to shake off the cobwebs in her brain. "Where's James?"

People around her muttered and murmured to each other, and the words "fainted," "hit her head," "concussion" reached her ears.

She was about to stand and tell them her head was fine when the pocket of her jacket vibrated. She pulled out her phone and was surprised to see it caked with mud. She swiped the screen to read the message from Jenny.

OMG. I'm so sorry, Claire. Jamie called and said he's on his way. He fell asleep and forgot the time. He said he'd be there soon. Please don't be mad at me. So sorry!

What the hell?   Could Jamie and James be the same person?  She didn't think so. It had to be coincident.

Claire leaned against the boulder to get a foothold and stood as the red-headed girl helped her up. "Do ye feel better now?"

She muttered she was fine and gave the girl a weak smile hoping, they would leave her alone. 

"If ye need anything, just ask for Geillis. That's my name. I'll be over there in the third tent selling some t-shirts," the girl offered, her face still looking worried.

"Thank you," Claire whispered hoarsely. "I'm alright now. I must have passed out because I haven't eaten anything all day. I'll go and get something to eat and drink."

To her relief, Geillis nodded and walked away, followed by the rest of the crowd. Claire stayed where she was, totally confounded by the recent event.  James had to be real, or I am going nuts. It had to have happened because I could still feel his lips against mine.

"James, where are you?" she whispered to the cold air, wiping away the tears that now streamed down her face.

She was about to go when a hand touched her elbow. "Excuse me miss, Are ye Claire Beauchamp?"

Her heart hammered against her ribs at the sound of the familiar voice. Slowly she turned around. "James?" she whispered.

The modern version of James grinned and extended a hand. Gone was his Highland garb and in its place were a sweatshirt under a leather jacket and jeans. "It's Jamie, everyone calls me Jamie," he greeted. "And I'm so sorry, I'm late. I fell asleep and had the strangest dream. But never mind that. Are ye hungry? Shall we go for something to eat? I havenae had anything to eat all day."

Her mouth opened, closed and opened again, unable to string words to form a sentence. When she finally was able to speak again, all she could do was give Jamie her best smile and take his offered hand. "Nice to meet you, Jamie. Ummm ...have we met before? You look someone I know."

He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. "Ah, I was gonnae asked the same thing. Ye look very familiar. How about we talk about it over a glass of ale?" 

Before she could answer, he offered his arms, and he looked delighted when she took it. "Sounds like a grand idea," she said, her heart beating a million miles per hour and she wondered if he could hear it. "Do you know by any chance where we can eat some clootie pudding?"

He laughed out loud. "I know just the place, Sassenach. I know just the place."

And he led her to the same spot where James had taken her, but this time, the tent was much bigger, filled with people drinking and eating. Taking her hand in his, he guided her inside. She was about to point an empty table when he leaned down to her ears and whispered, "By the way, Happy Halloween to ye, Sasssenach. I have a feeling this is going to be the best Halloween ever."

She smiled and off they went to celebrate her first Samhain festivity.

[sleightofsight]

 angst  :-)

warning: possibly major character death, blood/injury mention, general whump warnings. light gore warning. 

word count: 1.6k

characters: 

berith ryan kensley. (oc, belongs to me (alt account for berith &co is @divergent-demons) )

marvin collins-delvaux. 

erin attwell. (belongs to @lilsprout-exe.) 

alphie hallbjörn-seeker.(aka they of many names.) (belongs to @sibling-ursidae)

 jackson collins-delvaux. (belongs to @miishae) 

nebula (haha redacted last name go brrr). (belongs to @oasisofgalaxies.) 

mentions of egos.

  ——⍟——««»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——

Our star adversary of the night clicks his tongue impatiently as he tosses a knife into the air with a casual flick of his wrist, his softened wool coat lying open and spread against the seat of his chair. The coat framed a white button up shirt, short-sleeve with a formerly worn black suit jacket below it. Admittedly, he’d only taken it off after sneaking into an apartment complex full of people who could take him one with one hand tied behind their back.

Taking two of their occupants with him was hard enough without detection, but well-placed portals helped Berith out well enough.

Not to mention the chosen time of half past three am, of his caper. 

The stress was enough to make him sweat, even with the planning he’d taken,  and it did. No one likes wet clothing.

Two teenagers glare at him from the center of the surprisingly well furnished hideout, wrapped down into softened velvet armchairs with twin clear sprays of water. The substance had wrapped around their wrists and tied them down to the armrests, traveling upwards to fasten to teens to one another with their forearms back to back.

There was no reasonable answer for the bruises and inch-long cuts they’d both suffered, with about three each.

Information has a price.

No bonds for their heads or mouths yet, as neither of them had really mouthed off all that much. 

Save for the one with strawberry-pink hair cursing at him using...candies? Whatever being called a ‘rotten peppermint patty’ and ‘plastic-mold gummy bear’ meant, Berith didn’t quite care for it. 

Along with the other one, the one with messy brown hair knotted into a braid...they were merely glaring at him, but every so often, they seemed to....-vibrate?- in their seat. 

Certainly a trick of the eyes. 

Right? 

“When will your father arrive?” 

His first words to the pair were ones of calculated weight, measured out for the moments of silence before, and yet thrown out with all the grace of plastic-wrapped rubbish. 

The brighter boy manages an extremely non-threatening scowl before turning away, but the other one- Alphie, his research had garnered, they/them and rather...ordinary- spoke up, almost certainly vibrating in their seat this time around. 

“Why’d you take us? Where’s da? Where’s dad?” 

With an over-pronounced sigh falling from the man’s lips, Berith stands up from his own ornately decorated armchair, catching the hilt of the emerald-inlaid blade with one final flick of his fingers. There’s barely a space of ten feet between the chairs, but each step he takes makes it feel as though it was an eternity, widening the distance as the silver of his weapon glints from a diamond-decorated chandelier light. 

“I couldn’t give a single damn caring about your father’s husband. I want your father, the one who goes by the name of Marvin Delvaux, here. We have a matter to settle, and he seems to ...spurn my beckoning. Seeing as you two are the closest ones to him, exempting the space girl, and the husband, you were the best ones for the job.” 

He could see Alphie visibly tense, and another few steps were taken forwards as the strawberry-blond boy speaks. Erin Attwell, taken in by this family, as Alphie had.

“They wouldn’t come here, they’re not pissbabies like you. Marvin and Jackie are better than you could h-” 

Pissbaby? 

Berith blinks in semi-shock at the teen’s statement before rolling his eyes, flicking his wrist and binding a bolt of water across his mouth, cutting him off mid sentence. 

“You don’t know the magician like I have. The fool would do anything for his loved ones.” 

With his back towards the wall, and body facing the teens, his blade was inches away from Alphie’s neck, ready to draw blood if need be to get this damned man out of hiding, after all these years- 

So he’s able to see the way their lips blossom into full smiles within moments, shoulders straightening as their eyes both fix on a point behind him- 

Ah. 

Probably should’ve done something to take care of the parents, rather than leave them be- 

“Berith!” 

Shit. 

Seafoam green cracks a vertical line in the wall before widening into the familiar circular portal of the magician wielding it, slicing open as fire swims off of the man emerging from it. 

Formerly blue eyes roll with dark blue flames, a color rarely seen at Marvin’s hand, before he levitates over to the demon, gripping his white dress collar and lifting him about an inch off the ground. 

Only raising the two-inch shorter man to Marvin’s level. 

Behind the two, from the portal, a baseball-cap wearing entity with wild purple hair leaps down, accompanied by a supersuit clad hero in red and black. 

Nebula and Jackie, both hellbent on making one man pay. 

Neb grips the hilt of a baseball bat, eyes dancing darkly as a single nod from the hero at her side leads her to the tied down teens, followed soon after by Jackie himself. 

Those bonds would take some time to work through. 

While they led on, Marvin’s fingers tighten around Berith’s collar, burning the fabric under his mere touch, as he yanks the man up higher, pure rage and adrenaline dancing through his red-hot blood. 

“Marvin, old friend.” 

Even in this scenario, Berith gives the magician a winning smile, toes barely brushing the ground, as his knife was only gripped tighter between the fingers of his right hand. 

“Don’t you dare call me that ever again. Not after what you did.” 

Marvin’s fingers tighten, burning Berith’s upper torso and shoulders, along with either side of his neck- but it didn’t garner an emotion other than a mere flutter of pain from the man. 

Emotions run high and fast between the two of them, as Marvin lowers Berith to the ground, only to grab at his wrists and form a fiery linking chain- but he wasn’t fast enough. 

Sometimes, the numbing power of adrenaline, in certain parts of the body, was a disadvantage. 

What he didn’t notice was the knife slipping into his rib cage. 

What he did notice, however, was the sudden stabbing pain searing it’s way through his chest, causing a scream to tear from the magician’s lungs; multiplied by two. 

Multiplied by twists. 

The second wound leaves the silvery blade slick with blood, the winning smile formerly displayed on the demon’s face extending more into a sick grin. Dislodging the weapon, scarlet shines against the delicate carver, the amount of blood dripping from the wound becoming wildly disproportionate for a blade injury of that size. 

“Gotcha.” 

Blood magic. 

A subset of water magic. 

One Berith’s training had let him learn, and handle well. 

And one that caused the magician to drop to the ground, sucking in a rattled breath as his hands rise to the feline shaped mask crowning his features, ripping it off in a search for air. 

His hands fall to the ground, trying to raise themselves to the wounds to heal. 

The leather dress shoes before him click against the ground for a moment before a wave of whitewater rises up; 

and Berith Kensley is gone. 

“Jackie-” 

Vermilion shades flash before Marvin’s eyes as he nearly slips in his own blood, feeling the coppery liquid soak into his clothing as it formed a decent-sized puddle below him. 

Neb and Jackie had managed to loosen the bonds just enough for them to slip out, but upon Berith’s disappearance, they slid away, splashing against the ground. 

Just in time for Jackie to glance up, and see his husband lying in a pool of his own blood, breathing raggedly. 

“MARVIN!” 

He doesn’t wait for the others. He doesn’t wait for anything, or anyone. Not right now. Jackie’s footsteps thump across the wooden flooring, falling to his knees- damning the bruises, sure to form.  

The trio can hear his shattered cry, and they glance up, almost confused- before their eyes widen. 

By the time Jackie’s reached his body, Marvin’s magic is flickering across his chest, trying to stitch the first wound up. Flickers of spring green essence manage to staunch the flow somewhat, but deep carmine bursts fight back, bringing forth the damage once more. 

Seems as though someone left some of his magic in Marvin, as a residual. 

As insurance. 

“Hey, love.” 

Marvin manages a grin, glancing up at the man, despite the white fabric turned cerise-red all over the front of his chest, and the strong scent of copper throughout the area. 

“Don’t you ‘hey, love.’ me. You keep your eyes open right now, Delvaux.” 

Tears roll down the hero’s cheeks as he grips the scarlet smeared fabric within his fists, holding the man’s mask in the other as he’s pulled Marvin into his lap. 

Blood dribbles out of the wounds steadily as Marvin’s magic intensifies in color and speed, flying back and forth, and yet it’s barely doing anything, capping off the blood flow. 

Marvin’s breath rattles within his chest as he manages to speak again, the blood loss getting to him. Spots dance before his vision as he struggles to stay awake, the magician seeing blob-like spots of his family’s faces. 

“Guess I should’ve...figured out a way to talk this out over coffee, then.” 

His chest rises and falls unsteadily before falling stock still for a beat, lips pausing between breaths to release a breath of air, eyes slipping shut.