#i love irreversible change and having to pick up the pieces after your life gets shattered by forces beyond your control :)

[waffliesinyoface]

its always funny to me when people mention the protagonist of PLA "going home" after their arceus-assigned-duty is complete.

don't you get it?

Jubilife City is your home now.

[beels-burger-babe]

Melodious Mourning

***Ben Platt?! Hell yes! Okay! I am so so excited about this! Thank you so much @ester-is-here for reminding me how much I love this song. I hope everyone enjoys it. You can listen to the song, if you haven't already, here. Disclaimer: In Case You Don't Live Forever and its lyrics do not belong to me. They belong to the brilliant Ben Platt*** Poly!MC Summary: It's MC's anniversary of their relationship with the Lords of the Devildom. They've planned a little something special to share with them; something that will express how much they love the brothers, while also preparing them for a tragic truth. The time had come. After a long night of celebrating your anniversary with the seven sins, it was time for you to finally show them the surprise you had prepared for them. You giggled as you dragged a tired Belphegor into the music room by his hand, the others following closely behind you. Asmodeus made a small noise of disappointment and leaned against the grand piano in the middle of the room. "You know when you said you had a surprise for us, I must admit this wasn't exactly what I had in mind, " you snorted as Satan smacked Asmo on the back of the head. Asmo yelped and held his head as he glared at Satan. "Though I'm sure that whatever this surprise it will be equally as lovely. Geez, let me finish before you ruin my hair!" Mammon came up beside you. "But what is this surprise though? Is it a diamond? Money? Jewelry? That lost treasure that we never found?" You smiled softly at the Avatar of Greed and poked his nose. "It's better than that. Or at least I hope it will be," You sat down at the piano and took some sheet music out of your bag. "I um...I wanted to sing a song for all of you," you nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "With our anniversary being today, I've been thinking a lot about us and all the time that's passed and the what the future will hold, and I-I just thought that this song would be the perfect way to express all of that."

Lucifer placed a hand on the small of your back as he looked down at you with an awe-filled, adoring expression. "I wasn't aware you could play. I would've loved to play with you sometime." You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "There will be time for that in the future. For now, it's time for your surprise," you hovered your fingers over the keys and hesitated. The song the message shared was important but would be hard for your lovers to hear. You glanced over at them. "J-Just listen, please. Okay?" Beel frowned at the serious look on your face and nodded. He could sense that there was something important about this performance, something almost dire, that clearly frightened you. "Of course." You took in a shaky breath as you began to move your finger across the keys.

"You put all your faith in my dreams. You gave me the world that I wanted. What did I do to deserve you?" Your smooth voice filled the room and wrapped around the hearts of each of the demons. They smiled gently at your words as a warmth filled their chests. In the years that they were fortunate enough to have you in their lives, they had spent every last second doing their best to keep you happy. They would give you the world if you asked for it, and you knew that. "I follow your steps with my feet. I walk on the road that you started. I need you to know that I heard you. Every word." Since coming here, the brothers have shown you a number of things. Lucifer taught you to be more confident and take pride in the things that you've achieved. Mammon taught you that it was okay to be selfish sometimes to do the things that you wanted. Together, you and Leviathan learned that the only opinion that truly matters is your own. Satan taught you that you define your own fate and meaning and that no one can say who you are except you. Asmodeus taught you to appreciate the pleasures in life, no matter how big or small. Beelzebub engrained in you that your body is a temple that you must cherish, look after, and love. And finally, Belphegore taught you that it's alright to take time for yourself. Each of them had impacted you and fundamentally changed the way that you looked at life, and you would never be able to thank them enough for that. "I've waited way too long to say. Everything you mean to me," you swallowed down the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. You had waited too long to tell them this, that much was true. By now they were irreversibly attached to you. Though you were grateful for it and loved them in return, there was something all of you had been avoiding discussing. You took in a shaky breath; you couldn't hold it off anymore. "In case I don't live forever let me tell you now," You could hear their breaths get caught in their throats. Lucifer's hand froze on your back, while Belphie quickly sat up from where he was laying on your shoulder. "MC, what are y-you saying? What are you-" Levi's voice stuttered from behind you. You couldn't bring yourself to look at them as you continued, "I love you more than you'll wrap your head around," you finally glanced over at Levi. The otaku's eyes were wide and filled with fear and concern as he scanned you for any missed injuries or signs of illness. At finding none, his eyebrows narrowed in confusion. You offered him a reassuring smile before looking back down at the keys. "In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am because of you." Satan's trembling hand gripped onto your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. "MC, my love, that is beautiful. But you can't just say something like that and not expect us to be concerned. Are you alright? Should I be getting a doctor or Barbatos or do I need to take you to a human hospital?" You paused for a moment to turn to your lovers. "I'm okay. There's nothing wrong with me, only that I'm human," you watched as they tensed in realization. "Treasure, that's not-" Mammon stepped forward, but you lifted a hand to stop him. "I've been thinking about the passing of time a lot lately, a-a-and I need to say this. Please, just let me finish?" The sound of your voice close to tears had the brothers wanting to do nothing more than wrap you up in their arms and never let you go again. But there was this desperate glint in your eyes, that none of them could deny. Belphie laid his head back down on your shoulder and buried his face into the fabric of your top. "Go ahead, angel. We're listening." You turned your head to lightly kissed his head, whispering a small thank you, before picking back up the song.

The music filled the room once more, but unlike before where it filled your lovers with joy at the thought of such a sentimental gift, a feeling of dread and unease now swirled in their stomachs. "I've carried this song in my mind. Listen it's echoing in me. But I never helped you to hear it." Your mortality was something that had weighed on your thoughts for years now. You never mentioned it for you knew that the brothers would just brush off the subject. They had lost so much already; they didn't even want to begin thinking about the day when you would no longer be with them. But with each passing year, the subject had become more and more crucial, yet you were still too much of a coward to bring such a distressing topic to light. You had hoped the song would lighten the blow, but based on the way Mammon's eyes were squeezed shut and his fists were pressed to his mouth, as though whispering a prayer, it hadn't. Tears pricked your eyes at the sight as you felt your throat tighten. "We, we've only got so much time. I'm pretty sure it would kill me if you didn't know that pieces of me were pieces of you." It was true. You carried the boys with you where ever you went, both literally through your pacts and figuratively through the pieces of their personalities that you have mirrored throughout the years. You often find yourself mimicking Lucifer's eye-brow raise when someone is acting particularly stupid. The sight of food or beautiful clothes causes your heart to thrumb with excitement, just like it does for Beel and Asmo. You have a deeper appreciation for anime and astrology from your many nights with Levi and Belphie. You're more knowledgeable and educated in literature from your countless hours in the library with Satan. You were more conscious with your money after your few attempts of trying to teach Mammon how to budget. You were one with your boys; a beautiful collage of the experiences and times that you had all spent together. You just hoped that they knew that. "I've waited way too long to say. Everything you mean to me." Asmodeus claimed your other side, as one of his hands moved up to delicately wipe a tear from your face. You noticed, with an aching heart, that his cheeks were tearstained as well. Your lip trembled as you opened your mouth to sing the chorus. "In case I don't live forever let me tell you now. I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around. In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am because of you." At this point, you weren't singing so much as you were sobbing. You could feel your hands tremble heavily as you pushed them to keep playing. The only thing keeping you from breaking down completely was the solid feeling of the brother's touch supporting you as they lent you their strength. You squeezed your eyes shut and played hard on the keys, causing the brothers to jump a little as you began to belt. "I have a hero if ever I need one!" Flashes of the countless times that they had come to your rescue flashed in your mind. Unknown to you, the brothers weren't thinking of them rescuing you at all, but rather how you had saved each and every one of them. "I just look up to you and I see one! I'm a man 'cause you taught me to be one," your voice quivered with emotion as you held the falsetto note at the end. You leaned over the keys, suppressed cries falling from your lips as your shoulders shook. Beel placed a hand over top of one of your own and met your gaze. "You don't have to finish this MC. We understand what you're trying to say and we can just end the song here and talk if you want." It was tempting. Honestly, your hands our practically useless with how much they were shaking. But this wasn't just for them anymore. Speaking the words that had been swarming your mind for too many years out loud, although painful, also freed you from a sense of guilt that you weren't even aware that you were carrying. "I-I'd like to finish it. I-If you all don't mind." Belphie's arms came to wrap around your waist and Asmo

pressed a kiss to your cheek. Lucifer's hand on your back moved in comforting circles, while Satan repeated the motion with his thumb on your shoulder. Levi moved closer to lean onto the piano for support. Mammon gave you a tearful smile as Beel lifted his hand off of yours. "Of course. Take your time, honey bun." You took several deep breaths to calm yourself before lightly playing the chords. You met the eyes of your partners and hoped that they could see the utter adoration and passion that was flooding through your veins for them. "In case you don't live forever let me tell you now," you playfully elbowed Belphie and turned your head to kiss Asmo's cheek. "I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around." As the music picked up the tempo once more, you couldn't help but grin even as tears poured down your cheeks. "In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am-" You closed your eyes, tilting your head back, as you allowed yourself to give in to the music and fully feel everything that you had been suppressing. "Woah, Woah, Woah. " As you began to sing the melody again, your eyes snapped open as you heard the brothers harmonize alongside you. Lucifer, Satan and Beel's low voices rang deep like the growl of thunder. Asmodeus and Belphie hit the higher octaves, chiming like bells ringing in the wind. Mammon and Levi sang the original notes with you, remaining strong and pure like waves against a shore. You laughed brightly as a radiant sensation of love blanketed you in warmth and soaked up any traces of fear that lingered. "In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth." You looked around at the brothers tenderly and softly played the final notes. They all smiled back at you, eyes gleaming with that same sense of passionate affection that you had felt moments earlier. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you came to a realization. No matter how much or little time you had left with each other, you would spend every moment of it at each other's side loving another unconditionally. "As long as I'm here as I am," you rested your head on top of Belphie's and smiled softly, "so are you." *** This was so sweet and sad at the same time and I just LOVED writing it! Oh my goodness, I haven't written a song fic in ages, so this was a little challenging, but I just loved it so much. Thank you @ester-is-here for this beautiful request!*** TAGLIST: @thegrimgrinningghost

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

[alisonsfics]

an actual hero

pairing: bucky barnes x reader (little bit of biker!bucky)

summary: you’ve been john walker’s girlfriend since high school. he’s the only man you’ve ever loved, but that may change when a certain serum causes him to risk your life.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: tfatws spoilers, violence, choking (in a violent, not sexual manner), concussion, passing out, john walker going on a rampage

You saw the news and you were instantly worried. There was a big fight going down with the Flag-smashers. Then you saw him.

John.

Your boyfriend since high school.

Your second half.

He was there, fighting against the Flag-smashers. You both had butted heads over the Flag-smashers issue. You agreed with their goals, but just thought they were approaching it the wrong way. John disagreed. He hated them, truly hated them.

You didn’t blame him after what happened to Lemar, but you had never seen this kind of rage in him. He was consumed by it. You assumed that Lemar’s death and the pressure to be a good Captain America were taking a toll on him.

You knew you had to stop him. The news showed him fighting with the kind of rage that made your skin crawl. You knew you had stop him before he made an irreversible mistake.

You raced down there as fast as you could. You found John instantly. He grabbed one of the Flag-smashers by the neck and held them up against the wall. His feet dangled helplessly below them. John held him up in the air with virtually no effort. He seemed strong, too strong.

“John! You have to stop this” you yelled at him, trying to deescalate the situation. He was shocked to hear your voice. He dropped his grip and turned to face you.

By now, you had gained the attention of Sam and Bucky, who were confused about the mysterious woman who had just appeared.

You hoped he would turn to see you and recognize that he had gone too far. Instead, you only saw anger in his eyes when he looked at you. The Flag-smasher ran away from John, past you. “You’re letting him get away” John said, trying to run past you.

You stepped into his path, putting your hands on his chest. “Please, John. You’re taking this too far” you begged him to stop. You didn’t see any sign of hesitance in his eyes before he shoved you into the road.

You fell to your knees on the rough pavement. You could already tell that you had cut up your hands as you tried to soften your fall. You quickly stood up, not wanting to be in the road when a car drove by.

You still had Bucky’s attention. He was still confused about how you knew John. Him and Sam both watched as you picked yourself up off the ground.

Then, you were blinded by a pair of headlights. One of the armored trucks was coming straight for you. You froze.

You felt every muscle in your body go still. You fought to get your legs to move, so you could run away. Your body stayed firm in its place.

“She’s not moving” Bucky mumbled, before running towards you. His whole body slammed into you, as he pushed you out of the street. You got the wind knocked out of you, and you landed flat on your back on the hard concrete.

Bucky came crashing down on top of you. It took you a few seconds to realize what had just happened. Your senses were on overdrive.

You looked at the unfamiliar man above you who was staring straight back at you. You knew him from the news, but you had never met him. “Are you okay?” He asked you, carefully. You were still in shock, so you nodded your head.

“You just saved my life” you said, breathlessly. He just gave you a small smile, before rolling himself off of you. He winced and got up on his feet. You felt him grab your hands as he helped you stand up.

You felt light-headed as soon as you stood up; you felt a throbbing pain in the back of your head. “Wait...my head kind of—” you started to say before you blacked out.

Bucky panicked as he watched you start to go limp. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you up. He swept his arm under your legs, picking you up bridal style.

When you opened your eyes again, you realized you were on a stretcher inside of an ambulance. You looked around, trying to take in your surroundings.

The ambulance wasn’t moving, and the back doors were open. You saw a paramedic sitting next to you; they were taking notes on a clipboard. Then, you saw Bucky on your other side. He wore a concerned expression.

“You’re awake” he said, softly as his eyes met yours. He seemed slightly less concerned. “I don’t understand. What happened?” You asked, confused.

He noticed your panicked look and took your hand in his. “Do you remember the truck in the street?” He asked you, slowly. You nodded your head, bits and pieces starting to come back to you. “When I pushed you out of the way, you hit your head on the sidewalk. You got a concussion, and then you passed out” he told you.

His thumb subconsciously started to rub back and forth on the back of your hand. Both your eyes went to your hand in his, but neither of you made an effort to move your hands away.

The paramedic turned her attention towards you. “I completed a test, and you’re fine. You have a concussion. Just make sure you get some rest and drink lots of water. You’re good to go” she told you, giving you a polite smile.

“Here let me help” Bucky said, helping you sit up on the stretcher. He kept his hands on yours as you carefully stepped out of the ambulance. “I’m Bucky, by the way” he said, smiling at you.

You felt a school-girl smile appear on your face. “I’m Y/N. Thanks for saving my life” you said, bashfully. Then, another man walked up towards the two of you. You recognized him as Sam.

“Y/N, this is Sam” Bucky said, introducing the two of you. You smiled at him and shook his hand. “Are you okay? I saw Walker push you in the way of that truck. How do you know him anyway?” Sam asked you, curiously.

You noticed he was wearing his Captain America suit. You had only ever seen him in the Falcon suit before. You wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but you knew he was a better fit for the job than John.

“I’m fine; it’s just a concussion. John is my boyfriend or was my boyfriend. Risking my life might just be a small dealbreaker” you joked, trying to lighten the situation. In reality, you wanted to punch John in the face. You had stood my his side for years, and this is how he repaid you.

They both lightly chuckled at your joke. Then, as if on cue, John came marching over. “There you are. We’re going home” he said, grabbing your arm. You struggled to pull your arm away. He had always been strong, but he was stronger now.

“Get your hands off of me” you said, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp. Within a second, Bucky had pried John’s fingers off of you. “She told you to keep your hands to yourself” Bucky said, bending his fingers backwards until he winced.

Then, he finally let go. He put his hand on your forearm. “You okay?” He asked you, softly. You just nodded your head, too scared to say a word in front of John.

“What the hell is going on here? You think you can just swoop in and steal my girl?” John asked, starting to walk towards you and Bucky. Sam quickly got between John and you.

“We fought you once, and you lost. You want to try again?” Sam taunted. John crossed his arms. “This is between me and my girlfriend” he snarled.

Bucky also shielded you from John. “I’m pretty sure that girls don’t stay with boyfriends who almost get them killed” Bucky said, keeping one hand on yours.

You felt safe behind Bucky. You had just met him, but he was very protective. You knew that he wouldn’t let John anywhere near you.

John huffed, his telltale sign that he was giving up. He walked away from the three of you. “Why did you ever stay with a guy like that? He’s kind of awful” Sam asked you. You shook your head. “He didn’t use to be like that. He used to care” you told them, watching as John walked away.

“Why is he...so strong?” You asked, barely able to find the words. It was the thing you had been struggling with since you saw him fighting that Flag-smasher. Something didn’t feel right. “They took a blood sample and found out he took the serum” Bucky told you.

You were stunned. “Like the super-soldier serum?” You asked, still in shock. They both nodded.

You scoffed to yourself. “He used to talk about much he hated super soldiers. He said real heroes didn’t need a special potion to make them strong” you said, only now seeing his hypocritical nature.

“You should get some rest. Do you need a ride?” Bucky offered. You ignored the smirk that Sam sent his way. “That would be great” you said, smiling.

Bucky hugged Sam and then walked past him. “The suit looks great, Cap” you said, as you walked past him. Bucky led you over to a motorcycle.

“Why am I not surprised?” You asked, giggling. He turned around to face you, and pretended to be offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, smirking at you. You shrugged. “You have the whole biker aesthetic: the leather jacket, the boots, the withering stare” you teased.

He chuckled as he picked the helmet up off the seat. “Here. No more concussions” he said, tightening the strap once he put it on your head. You told him the name of your apartment building. He nodded before you even told him the address.

“I grew up in Brooklyn. I know where it is” he said, getting on his bike. He patted the seat behind him and you swung your leg over the back. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his waist, and rested your head on his back.

He turned on the ignition, and it roared to life. You gave him a thumbs up to tell him you were ready. Soon, you were driving down the streets of Brooklyn.

You expected it to be fast and daring, but instead, it was peaceful. You watched the city whipping past you: the taxi cabs, the street performers, and the illuminated billboards.

He pulled up to your apartment in a matter of minutes. He helped you off the bike and took the helmet off your head. You shoved your hands in your pockets because you didn’t really know what else to do with them.

“Thank you—for everything, I mean” you said, shyly. Bucky hesitated. You could tell he wanted to say something, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

He fiddled with the straps of his leather jacket, nervously toying with them. “I know we just met, but would you like go get dinner sometime?” Bucky asked you. The smile on your face grew ten times bigger. “I’d really like that” you said, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

He was shocked, but eventually kissed you back. He lips tasted like cinnamon. You could feel him smiling as you kissed him. His fingers hooked in your belt loops and pulled you closer to him.

You both pulled away with smiles on your face. He gave you a small piece of paper with his phone number on it.

As he drove away on his motorcycle with you waving from the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but want to thank Dr. Raynor for encouraging him to let people into his life.

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Requests OPEN

[dragon-kazansky]

Say it to me | Helmut Zemo

Requested by anon.

When Bucky left to go after Zemo, you knew you had to go with him whether he wanted you to or not.

Meeting Zemo changed everything for you. He entered your life like a hurricane and those days you spent with him were the best you could have ever asked for. The pair of you were attached at the hip from the moment you gave him your name.

It was in Madripoor where be felt held your hand. While covering each others backs after being shot at, Zemo had reached for tour hand and dragged him down the side alley. His hold on you was secure, both of you trying to keep the other out of harm's way.

He only let go when Sharon showed up. Your hand felt empty.

At Sharon's place, you stayed close to him. He tried to get you to dance with him, which ended up with the pair of you laughing and mucking about. No one around you seemed to care.

He made you laugh and did something to you.

He escorted you back upstairs after you left. He even walked you to the bedroom door like a gentleman. It was there in the silence that settled through the hall where he kissed your cheek and bid you goodnight.

You found it very hard to sleep that night.

In the morning, Zemo greeted you first, offering you some tea and staying quite close. His hand brushed yours as he handed you a cup. He knew exactly what he was doing and you knew it too. The way he smiled at you set off the butterflies in your stomach.

Sam and Bucky hadn't seemed to notice anything, but you knew you couldn't hide this forever. Surely they would notice the way Zemo was flirting with you.

They had to have noticed at the docks. Zemo had a hand on you at all times. On your back, on your arm, hand in hand. He made sure to keep contact with you until you were inside the lab. Only then did he part with you. Unfortunately you were distracted by the information Nagel was giving to realise what Zemo was doing.

When the shit rang out and everything began to go up in flames, you lost sense of which way was which. It was Bucky's secure hold on you that got you out of there. You couldn't see Zemo when you got out, and you felt your heart drop.

Had he taken his chance to leave? Was that it?

No, it wasn't. While you lot were cornered, Zemo was coming to the rescue. He could see you from the top of the containers he was on. You were safe, that's all that mattered in that moment.

Well, that and the lab being destroyed.

When Zemo picked you all up in the car, he gestured for you sit up front with him. His hand was on you again, teaching for time own and squeezing it. A reassurance that you were safe beside him.

You could only admire him as he got you all out of there.

On the plane he brought you something to eat and a blanket. You took them both gratefully, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and eating what he gave you. Zemo stayed close.

When you fell asleep, he took the plate from your lap and tucked the blanket up to your chin. He brushed some of the hair from your face, admiring your peaceful expression.

He smiles.

In Riga he tells you some of the history of the area, answering any questions you have for him, and telling you about some his favourite local spots.

While Bucky goes for his walk, Zemo helps you get comfortable. He keeps you company, the pair of you end up chatting for hours. Sam looks between you both and wonders where you and Zemo stand.

Zemo's arm around you as you both chat the hours away seems to be a big indicator for where you stand. You feel yourself leaning against him. Zemo welcomes it.

Then it goes downhill from there.

Walker, the funeral, the Dora Milaje.

As soon as the latter turned up, everything split at the seams and suddenly there was a hole in you heart. The fight back at the safe-house gave Zemo the opportunity to leave. He didn't even say goodbye.

You would never know he looked at you before he left.

So yes, when Bucky went to find Zemo, you had to go to. That man had been a constant in your life and he had done something irreversible.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna

It wasn't until he had gone that you knew what was happening.

Bucky didn't say anything when you caught up to him, but he was a little confused on why you were coming with him. He hadn't really paid attention to what was happening between you and Zemo.

He was in for a bit of a shock.

When you saw the Baron at the Sokovia memorial, you pushed past Bucky and ran to him.

It was as if he knew you were coming. Zemo turned around and took you into his arms when you reached him. He held you as you as you cling to him, tears flowing and heart racing.

Oh, it felt so right to be in those arms.

"You fool."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Why did you leave like that?"

"I had to."

You pull away and look at him with tear filled eyes. He reached up and wiped away at your cheeks with his gloved thumbs. A part of you wanted to hit him for leaving you, but the rest if you had something else in mind.

You kissed him.

You didn't care that Bucky was standing behind you. You didn't care that Zemo would be taken from you. You didn't care that about anything other than him.

Zemo held you against him as the Dora Milaje turned up, kissing you with everything he had left. As soon as he let go of you, he would be taken away. He just wanted this moment to last.

"This is cruel," you whisper against his lips.

"I know."

You kiss him again.

Bucky looks off the side. He really had no idea about any of this. You should have said something... though he knows he probably would have argued with you about it.

You let go.

Zemo stared at you. He looked so... broken. He had only ever felt this lost once before.

"I love you."

He smiles, but it only makes your tears fall more.

"I love you," he whispers.

You break down as he is taken away. Your whole heart his shattering to pieces and it feels like a future you had wanted was being taken away from you.

Zemo hears your cries as he walks away. He can't bring himself to turn around.

Wait for me. I'll come for you.

He won't lose any more people.

[kingsuckjin]

Ungodly Beast 3- epilogue

✞ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader

✞ Genre: horror, fluff idk anymore

✞ Synopsis: You need to end this hell on earth.

✞ Warnings: death, gore, mention of burns, blood, talk of heaven and hell, the earth is on fire (I have to say that your child dies but it will all be okay, I promise it’s alright and it’s not as bad as you might think, just trust me.)

✞ Words: 2.3k

✞ A/N: I would put links here for the past two parts, but lately tumblr has been doing this thing where it wont let this fic show up in the tags if I put in links or tag anyone. They're on my masterlist though, I’m just very sorry for the inconvenience.

"Go my child, end this. Take all the power you need, and if you succeed I'll return the favor."

The flames around your bare feet had to be searingly hot, but they didn't hurt you, it didn't even singe or dirty the white you wore. 

The grass of the park was no more, and what lie under the flames was dry, scorched earth. The leaves had been burned from the trees, the trunks of which still smoked and trailed upwards towards the starless night sky. Glowing orange embers and ash fell all around you like some kind of twisted blizzard.

As you walked you saw the melted remnants of the playground you use to take your son to.

So this was hell on Earth.

It was just a shell of familiarity and home.

On your walk you could hear the sounds of police sirens and fire trucks, but it was much too late for them, everything was on fire.

Buildings, shops, offices, either up in flames or ash on the ground. You saw a car in flames explode, thankfully no one was in it.

There were people. People lined the streets, crying, confused, scared and burned.

An old man was laying on the street, his wife crying over him. She was so hysterical she didn't even see you approach, but when she did her jaw dropped at the sight of you, she begged you for help in another language, one you knew only bits and pieces of before and studied in your free time, but you now fully understood.

You said nothing as you looked over the man's burnt face before placing your hands over it, covering the freshly burnt skin. You closed your eyes and let your head fall slightly.

"My child, I will let you heal him, I will let you give the people hope. But you must hurry to find him before he causes anymore irreversible destruction. Stop him, and put the rest in my hands."

You nodded in agreement and opened your eyes and moved your hands. 

On lookers had gathered around you, both the woman and the man thanked you, but you had to go.

"Don't worry, just pray." You told them. You knew they were looking at your wings folded against your back as you walked on.

As you passed Namjoon's burning church you could see him clearly in your head, on his knees on the floor between the pews on prayer as he realized who was just outside right before it went up in flames.

You didn't go inside, it was too late for him, but you knew Jungkook and your son had to be close, you could feel it. You could see their trail of death, torment and destruction.

You closed your eyes and you brought on the rain.

The crack of thunder rolled through the sky before the downpour started, and though it rained around you, you remained dry. It was all you could do in an attempt to end the suffering of the people at the hands of this fire for now. You also wanted to prevent the risk of them making things worse when you found them.

To attract them you began to sing quietly, you sang the song in the language that Jungkook had sang to your son when he was just a baby. Though the lyrics didn't translate well, it was a song about peace and silence and it was in the world's first language. Even back then, you supposed, that parents just wanted their babies happy and they wanted to do right by them. You remembered Jungkook saying when you first met him that that was something he never understood, and still seemed not to.

You couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him, you pitied him. You pitied his lack of understanding towards humanity even with all of his new emotions. He didn't get to grow from a child, he didn't have surroundings or figure to help shape him. He couldn't never be a parent because he never had a parent figure, he was never a child, Jungkook just was. He had just been Jungkook all at once since the birth of time. He only knew being cast out of heaven, he only knew lies, he only new bitterness, revenge, and power. Jungkook only knew destruction and couldn't handle when you had created something for him, given life to something that was partially made from him. Jungkook wanted to own you and your children just like he owned the souls in hell. Even if you give a person emotions who wasn't taught right from wrong or how to be there for people, or how to not be selfish, they might feel guilty. However, they've already become set in their ways seeing as it's all they've ever known. It wasn't Jungkook's fault that he was given this eternal cold life, he never asked for this.

You understood vastly more than you did before, there was no fooling you now, you saw absolutely everything but one way you saw before never changed.

You loved Jungkook. You knew he would've loved you if he could've from the start. You were his soulmate, His Lilith, his reason for not being allowed to have emotions in the first place in fear of producing the Antichrist. Nothing could stop destiny, you knew this now. No matter what god took or gave to him, nothing could've stopped this. Even now as you found Jungkook holding your son's hand as he burns someone alive, this was destiny. Just like Noah's ark, god can cast out and call forth, he can teach lessons or make people forget.

So here you were, and here he was, in the middle of this burnt street. Neither of them saw you yet, but they were doing what destiny called for.

"Jungkook." You spoke his name for the very first time, catching both their attentions. 

"Mommy!" Your elated son tried to run to you but his father stopped him as he was stuck staring at you.

"You're…" his voice was almost inaudible with the roar and crack of the fires that were too big.

You unfurled your white wings from behind your back and stretched them out.

"You're home." 

"Mommyyy! Mommy back!” Your son yelled happily with a big smile on his face as he began struggling against his father and slipped out of his grasp. Your son ran the half of a block down the street and you could now see his horns were much larger now, and his eyes were black. His father screamed for him and began to run after him, telling him not to touch you.

You knelt down and let your child run into your open arms. You wrapped them around him and let him fall limp.

"I love you, everything will be okay." You told him as you picked him up and laid his body on the sidewalk. Much like a cross or holy water, your body itself could destroy anything Unholy, you were blessed from god himself, you were an angel.

"No… no! What did you do to him?! What did you do to our son?!" Jungkook screamed at you making the fire around you only burn more angrily.

"He felt nothing, God will return him to me." You stepped closer to him. "I came for you too."

"No. You're home, bring our son back and come home!" He demanded but you were no longer easily swayed.

"This isn't my home anymore, look what you've done to it." You answered calmly.

"I made this for us, I did this for you." 

You watched as blood began to leak from his eyes and mix with the water from the rain. 

"I know, I know you did. I know that there's no length you wouldn't go to for me, even your son. You mean well, you just don't understand. Just know I would go through any length for you and our family, and that's why I'm here. We both went through great lengths, we've both been through a lot, so come to me."

"You're tricking me, you're going to kill me…" he with his narrowed eyes aimed at you.

"You're in pain, Jungkook. It doesn't have to be that way. God still has time to fix this little isolated incident." 

"And hell? What happens to hell when I'm gone?" He asked. You felt he was about ready to give in, you knew it took everything in his power right now to not come to you and hold you.

"I think that's what destiny wanted all along,  no more hell. We were meant to be together Jungkook, and it's finally time. I'm not tricking you, I could never do to you what you did to me. Let's go get our daughter and son, let's be a family let's-" 

He began to walk towards you, falling to his knees at your feet and looking up at you.

"I don't know where I'll be going, but I'll follow you anywhere" you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. "I just want you and my family, I want everything to be okay." 

You lifted your hand to his cheek as you looked down into his black eyes and brushed away the bloody tears from his cheeks only to leave red marks of your own. You had burned him with your touch, and he had flinched but didn't outwardly complain.

He stood and his face came just millimetre from yours.

"Just do it." He whispered before pressing his lips softly to yours.

You brought both of your hands up and placed them on his face and in a split second he went limp against you.

You struggled to gently lay him down on the pavement.

"I'm done. It's done. Fix it, please." You spoke out loud.

"Rest now my child. You've been through so much."

The sky began to grow brighter and brighter until it took over everything and you had to squint to see anything at all.

You were struck with the sudden urge to pee, but you were just too tired underneath your warm sheets. You groaned as you tried to go back to sleep but the feeling became almost unbearable.

You moved the blankets, sat up, and swung your legs over the bed, immediately feeling your back hurt. This action must've woken up the baby inside of you because you began to feel the heavy kicks from inside of your belly.

"I'm going, I'm going." You nagged at the unborn baby as you waddled towards the bathroom. "You better not kick me in the bladder again, girl." You warned.

When you were done you headed to the kitchen with new priorities, you smelled food. Lately just the thought of anything food related had you salivating and reaching for anything edible you could get you hands on, but that's just what being seven months pregnant did to you.

You walked through the doorway just in time to see a few pieces of scrambled egg fall onto the floor.

Your son looked down at it from the stool against the counter he stood on and so did his dad.

"Uh oh." You son said as he looked at you, holding a plate of the eggs.

"Morning darling. We're definitely not making a mess in here." Jungkook lied with a smile as you assessed the damage the boys had done to the kitchen.

"As long as you both clean it up I see no mess." You joked.

"Mommy! Breakfast!" Your son held the plate up proudly, spilling more eggs onto the floor, lucky Jungkook decided to take the plate away from the tiny little version of himself before picking him up with the other arm.

"Tell mommy good morning!" He placed the plate on the table before bringing your son over on his hip. Jungkook knew it was hard for you to bend over now a days.

Your son gave you a wet kiss on your cheek before his father knelt down with him.

"What about baby sister?" His father asked him.

The boy was careful as he gave your belly a hug and pat and told it good morning.

"Morning." Jungkook gave you a quick kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you.

"We missed you." He whispered into your ear. "You slept in late, must almost be time for her." He let you go so you could all sit at the table.

"I'm excited, but dreading having to through giving birth a second time. We missed church again because of me, didn't we?" 

"Father Namjoon understands you're too pregnant to function at the moment." He jokingly assured you. "I'm excited for her to get here already. I'll be right there with you, and little bub gets to spend time with his grandma. It's all planned out and you have nothing to worry about. Oh, by the way, I finished putting the crib up in the nursery finally." Even as he spoke about mundane things, there was a sparkle in his soft brown eyes as he looked at you, there were so wide with excitement and wonder, a trait he passed to your son. You would never get enough of him, you hadn't been able too since you met in grade school. You even found yourself missing him deeply to the point of tears during college. When you saw him again one night at a bar, the two of you just couldn't help it. You were confident that was the night you made your son together. You were once again inseparable as inseparable gets. He just stayed over every night after that night, which was good because you didn't want him to leave anyway. You were married just three months after that night at the bar. He wanted everything you wanted, he was the man you had always dreamed of, you had never loved any other person the way you did him. You had always had a connection with him, one you felt went far beyond when you met him as a little wide eyed boy asking to be friends. You knew, both of you did, that you were soulmates.You had always had been and always would be, in this life, whatever lives came before this, and in the next.

[shipskicksandgiggles]

top 5 fanworks of 2021

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2021. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

tagged by @ad1thi. thank you!

ranked by my personal favorites

1. Pattern Recognition and Remembrance - parkner // 7.3k // autistic Harley, fake dating au, getting together // T

When Peter doesn't want to deal with his ex-boyfriend, he recruits Harley to stand in as his boyfriend despite any misgiving they might have about the plan. Neither of them anticipated a dinner date and chances that are too slim to even be considered a possibility, or the potential to unveil the truth

so back around the time I wrote this, I was doing some research on autism for a project and realizing. huh. that sounds familiar. however, a lot of autistic representation felt like it was more built for children, and as an adult, I wanted to write about it from more of that perspective. I was and still am super proud of this, and I would honestly say this is easily in my favorite things i've written ever

2. Commanding Affection - irondad and winteriron, background samsteve // 30k // post tws, what if the avengers had brain cells and ca:cw never happened au, slow burn, getting together // M

After the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes is on the run. Tony Stark makes a choice to bring him home, and a promise to the future. Steve Rogers struggles with ever increasing change, but maybe a piece of his past will help.

this was six months of my life and and easily some of my best work. I technically started this in 2020 but did a lot of it in 2021, so it counts, but I love this fic. for all it's issues, this ended up being so much fun to work with. I literally had to work backwards and fix all of my plotholes on the fly. do you know how hard it is to make up a new SHIELD? anyways yeah I was crazy proud when I finished this

3. Not Every (No Good, Rotten, Very Bad) Day - parkner, samsteve // 2.5k // what if Tony hadn't found Peter as spiderman, civilian mechanic Harley, established relationships, the author's personal frustration of people not thinking Sam is Captain America // G

Harley was having a no good, rotten, very bad day.

“If one more person tells me I look like Captain America, I’m going to lose my shit.”

this was born out of frustration and an undying love for Sam Wilson. I don't even think tfatws had come out yet, but I needed to write this. this one was just fun tbh, I didn't have any other reason to write it

4. Missing Details - samrhodeytony // 1.8k // mentions of canon character death, misunderstandings, implied stevebucky and stevenatasha // T

Steve decides that it's high time for Sam to officially meet the rest of the Avengers before he joins the team, so he asks him to attend a party where they will all be in attendance. He had no idea that this wouldn't be Sam's first time meeting some of them.

I had this idea at like 3am, and couldn't rest until I wrote the whole fic. this ship is one of my favorites, and I wish I could write it more, but I haven't had much opportunity to sincee

5. An Irreversible Choice - rhodeytony // 1.1k // post civil war, song fic, friends to lovers, getting together // G

Tony's therapist tells him to find a hobby. One that isn't building enough Iron Man suits to project a legion of people. Instead, he picks up something he hasn't touched since he was a child.

this was a prompt that I was able to work into one of my favorite songs, which was exciting. every time i reread this I yell a little bit, seriously this was so much fun and so fucking cute that I died

tagging: @sarah-sandwich @official-wayward-fairchild @official-impravidus @keenerkey @thompsborn @ anyone else who wants to reflect on their 2021

[sunasrintarhoe]

Cat got your Tongue?

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro X GN!reader

Word Count: 2K

Summary: Maybe summoning a cat demon wasn’t the greatest idea… TW: Demon summoning and fluff

A/N: This is not accurate what so ever . I just really like the thought of summoning a cat demon named Kuroo. I really wanted to get a little something out before my inactivity gets too obvious lmao, feel free to request because requests are now open!! I will be putting out a list of Characters that I am willing to write for, so be looking out for that. Anyways I hope y’all enjoy!

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Every night since you had completed the ritual, or so you thought, you had been having this one weird dream. It always started out with a black haired man with bright yellow eyes looming over you with a small smirk on his face. He always said the same thing.

“You know, for someone so smart, you really don’t know how to read instructions all the way through…”

He would laugh and walk away from the side of your bed to your desk and pick up the old, dirty paper that contained the instructions to summon a Bakeneko, then scoff and you would hear the faint sound of a piece of paper being crumpled and thrown onto the floor.

The man would walk back to your bed and lean over you again whispering, “Offer me something, (Y/N). Pictures… Memories… You…”  He would lean over further almost as if to kiss you, then you would wake up. Your heart racing, your palms sweating. Sometimes with a headache, but that could have been because of the seasons changing. Your alarm would go off after about five minutes and you would be forced to get out of bed and get ready for work. 

Working at a bakery, definitely wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Especially when your boss was the one and only Miya Osamu. You two had grown up together and became best friends over your mutual love for food. Like Osamu, you dreamed of opening your own restaurant, but when you did, business was slow and hard to come by, which forced you to close down. Since, Osamu had opened Onigiri Miya a few years prior and was looking to branch out, he offered to buy your bakery, along with giving you a position as a manager. Of course you happily accepted and the next day you were sitting pretty with 15 million yen in your bank account. He had the place remodeled and within a month, your bakery was changed to Pastry Miya. 

It seemed like you were always busy. The name Miya certainly made a difference and sometimes you wondered if people ever realized that the bakery was run by the same person. Today was different though. Today was the day that Osamu wanted to release the fall exclusives and you just weren’t feeling it. Despite going to bed early, you felt like you were running on no sleep. Coffee didn’t seem to help and you seemed to be swaying on your feet. 

Sluggishly, you walked into the building and back into the staff room. As you were putting on your apron, Osamu walked in. “Yo, (N/N). I need you to- Are you okay?” He asked, concerned, to which you replied with a small smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired.” “You certainly don’t seem like a bit tired” He put the back of his hand up to your head and hummed. “ You don’t have a fever, do you feel sick?” You pushed his hand away, “Not at all, like I said I’m just tired.” You tried to walk around him, but he grabbed your wrist. “What happened?” He asked, pointing to a small bruise on your hand that you hadn’t noticed. “Oh? I have no idea, I don’t remember getting that…” You noticed the beginning of a bruise under your sleeve and pulled it up, only to be met with what seemed like a hundred more bruises. 

“Okay, what the fuck, (Y/N)? You’re not okay. You need to go home.” Just as concerned as he was, you looked up at Osamu with wide panicked eyes. “This makes sense.” “What does?” “The bruises, the tiredness, the recurring dreams about the incomplete ritual. It all makes sense.” “Ritual?” Osamu practically yelled, “What ritual?” You smiled sheepishly. “Well, you know how my cat died like six months ago?” He nodded,”Well, I’ve been really lonely and I saw this ritual at an antique that is supposed to summon a cat and I thought I should try it out…” Osamu’s jaw hit the floor. “YOU SUMMONED A DEMON?!” “yes…” He turned you around and untied your apron. “You can’t come back until you fix this.” Osamu pushed you out the door and slammed it shut.

“I guess I’ll go home then.” You mumbled to yourself and made your way to your car.

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

When you entered your apartment, the first thing that you noticed was the darkness. None of the sunlight seemed to be streaming through your light pink curtains. The next thing you noticed was the pentagram in the middle of your living room with the instructions on how to summon a cat demon in front of it. “Well shit.” you mumbled and sat down in front of the pentagram. You picked up the instructions and read through everything. “Ah, here. You must offer the demon something precious to you.” You looked around, “Something precious to me… something precious to me…” You turned to the first thing you saw. It was a picture of your cat that had passed away six months prior. “Oh, baby… How I miss you.” You placed the picture in the middle of the pentagram and sat on your knees. With a puff of smoke, the picture was gone. “What the hell?” “A cat? Really?”  A deep voice spoke from within the shadows. You quickly turned around only to be met with two long legs. Looking up, you gasped. Standing before you was the man that had been appearing in your dreams. “You!” “Me!” He mocked. “ Who are you?” The man smiled and crouched down to you. “The name’s Kuroo Tetsuro. I was partially, now fully, summoned by you.” He winked. “But I thought I was summoning a cat…” He got up and walked a few paces away. “You did.” In an instant a black cat appeared in front of you and Kuroo had disappeared. The cat sauntered its way in front of you and sat down. 

“I will be with you for as long as your cat stays precious to you, once the cat loses meaning, I will go back to my realm and take your soul with me.” The cat spoke. You froze. “FUCK! OF COURSE I’M STUPID ENOUGH TO SUMMON A DEMON AND NOT EXPECT FOR MY SOUL TO BE EATEN.” You yelled to the ceiling and Kuroo ran behind the couch, startled. 

Kuroo crept out from behind the couch when he realized the screaming was over, “I never said your soul would be eaten, I just said if your cat loses meaning to you, your soul will be dragged to the demon realm.” He blinked. “Same difference!” You snapped at him. You got up and sighed. There wasn’t anything you could do about it now, but at least you weren’t so lonely.

Kuroo had turned back into a man and wrapped his arms around your waist. “What are you doing?” You asked, trying to push him away. “You’re cold. Humans can’t stand being cold from my experience. Your cells don’t do well with the cold and start to shrivel up and die causing irreversible damage-” You tuned him out as he began rambling about the different effects of being cold. “-I just want to make sure my human is okay.” He purred.You relaxed and just let him hold you. It had been a while since someone had held you like that and you weren’t complaining. The purring made you feel like you were holding, your sweet, little cat. You felt Kuroo freeze at your lack of movement. 

“Are you okay?” “Yeah… Can we just stay like this for a bit.” Your voice sounded tight and you felt emotional. You were so touched starved and it was taking a toll on you. Kuroo just sighed and hugged you tighter. “You can’t get too attached, you’ll end up dying.” You shook your head. ”You remind me of my cat.” Kuroo chuckled. “The purring helps.” After a little bit you jolted. “Oh, frick. I’m sorry.” You bowed in apology and Kuroo just waved it off. “It happens to the best of us.” He walked away and shifted, “Besides, We’ll be together for a while.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

Once the whole fiasco with Kuroo was finished, you were able to work and life went back to normal. Well… With the exception of having a nerdy cat around. Kuroo was exceptionally great company and was very cuddly as a cat. He never allowed to be alone. Always following and watching, he didn’t allow you to be alone for more the five minutes at a time. He would make you cook almost every meal for him and make you sit down and eat with him. He slept in your bed, laid on the toilet when you showered and basically took over your entire life. This continued for six months until one day Kuroo stopped. He stopped talking to you, eating with you, sleeping with you. He completely isolated himself from you without explanation. He stayed in your guest room, only coming out to see if you were still home. It sucked.

You were fed up. The next time you saw him, you were confronting him.

____________________________________________________________________________

That was a month ago. He hasnt come out his room for an entire month. You now moped around you house and cried over your cat’s picture. Sometimes you sobbed out loud hoping that Kuroo would hear and come to your rescue, but it never happened. He had gotten you so used to affection and care that when he ripped it away from you, you were becoming depressed. 

You decided enough was enough and knocked on the guest room door. “Kuroo… Can I come in?” You asked softly in fear of rejection. The door slowly opened and you entered.

You were met with sad yellow eyes and a frown on Kuroo’s usually smug face. You reached out to him and he seemed to fly into your arms. “I thought you were begin to hate me and I thought if i isolated myself you wouldn’t hate me.” He whimpered and you breathed out a laugh. “I thought you were beginning to hate me, Kuroo. I was worried that i was getting too attached and you were trying to tell me that you didn’t to be around me anymore.” Kuroo gasped and looked into your eyes, “That’s not true, you love for your cat is still as strong as it was when you summoned me.” He buried his face into your neck. “If anything I was the one gettin attached…” He mumbled into your neck and you smiled. “So, I’m assuming that its okay for me to get attched too?” Kuroo looked up at you and smiled, “Of course…” He whispered while leaning in to kiss your lips.

____________________________________________________________________________

A few months passed and your relationship with Kuroo had grown strong. You constantly reminded yourself of your cat that had now been dead for over year and you still mourned him like it was yesterday. Kuroo never minded, he understood. Not wanton to be the cause of your death, he encouraged your grieving and gave you the proper space to do so. When you were done, he would always come back to you and comfort you until the left over feelings were gone for the most part. 

Kuroo had been the most patient and loving boyfriend you had ever had. He made you feel loved and secure, he made you feel wanted and welcomed. He told you random facts about chemistry every moring and jokes about physics every night. He always made sure that you felt more than enough and tried his best to fill the void that your hardships had left behind. All in all, Kuroo is the best boy and makes sure you know that.

[fullsunalicia]

hiii if its not a bother,,,,how about writing a wolf!au with jaemin or jeno finding their very human mate who has absolutely no idea of the supernatural world but has a tendency of finding trouble?? if its not too much can you put in a lil werewolf action hehe thank ü

lovers of the moon — LJN

every wolf is destined to find a mate someday. when jeno meets you, he feels like the luckiest man alive, but little does he know that he‘s going to lose his mind over protecting you - after all, you are the definition of the word „trouble“..

werewolf!jeno x human!reader

hey love! it‘s absolutely not a bother, thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy <3

Jeno has been dreaming of his mate since forever.

There are werewolves who are bitten, and there are those who are born with it. Whether it’s a blessing or not, Jeno was born into a family bearing the moon’s magic, and all his life, he‘s been growing up with the stories of the supernatural world. The myths, the legends, the histories. That includes the stories of the mates, the other half of a wolf’s being. He learnt about them at the tender age of twelve, barely a teenager, the age where he had first turned into an animal and was able to change back. Since then, there hasn‘t been a day where he‘s not thinking about you.

Are you a wolf, too? A witch, maybe? Or perhaps you‘re just a mere human, who‘s going to be lured into his world because of the pull a mate experiences. Plenty of mates are found in the mortal world, chained to a normal life, the lulled sense of security. Nonetheless, because of the ties they have to a wolf’s soul, they’re bound to be drawn to the supernaturaly way. Maybe you’ll find him first. It doesn‘t matter who or what you are. When Jeno meets you, he‘s going to love you forever.

His pack often teases him for being so whipped for his mate, even though he doesn‘t know them yet. It‘s just that the idea of someone being destined for you makes his heart feel so warm; The knowledge that no matter what happens, you‘ll love him. No matter what problem, you‘ll work through it. Of course there is a chance that you‘d reject him, but he‘s accepted that possibility.

As long as you‘re happy, he‘s content, aswell. He just wants to meet you. To get to know the other half of his soul. He‘s been waiting for so long.

His patience is soon to be rewarded.

❀ ❀ ❀

Jeno hates not being able to get drunk as quickly as others. What else is he downing these drinks for?

Jaemin‘s already pretty wasted. That’s no wonder, really. Convincing the boy to a round of shots is as easy as breathing, and he’s downed them all way before you can even get a headstart. Apparently, it’s the only thing that makes Jaemin human, even though Jeno begs to differ. After all, his best friend is a good person through and through, kind, selfless. Is that not humanity itself? Either way, Jaemin‘s the only one in the pack who doesn‘t take much to be intoxicated, and at the end of the night, someone has to take him to a bathroom before he throws up and tuck him into bed afterwards. Jeno would rather not do that tonight, but it looks like he‘ll have to.

„Nana,“ he sighs, reaching for his best friend. Jaemin giggles, wrapping both arms around Jeno‘s waist to hold him close. If there’s one word to describe Na Jaemin, it’s clingy. It’s his second nature to embrace others and leave kisses all over their face, because he lives for affection. In moments like these, Jaemin tends to forget himself, and his supernatural strength ends up seeping through. If he holds Jeno any tighter, he‘s definitely going to break a rib. „Nana, let‘s slow down a little, yeah? Also, watch the grip, man.“

„Aww, but I just want to hug you!“ Jaemin‘s voice is so loud, it seems to boom over the music that‘s playing in the living room. He hums in content when Jeno fixes his hair, recently dyed blue, and even beams at him. Drunk Nana is a way too happy Nana.

The party is in full swing. There‘s a lot of people Jeno recognizes, but also some he‘s never seen before. Donghyuck keeps inviting too much people, and yet he whines when he has to clean up the mess in the morning.

He’s known Jaemin all his life. Like him, Jaemin was born to be a wolf, a child of the wilderness, lover of the moon. Though he looks soft, he’s one of the strongest in the pack, if not on the same level as Jeno. They quarrel often, but never seriously, only as jokes. They love each other, they’re brothers. Every corner of his soul, his being, Jaemin knows it, learned all the flaws by heart. Habits of the other are often picked up, later to be laughed about as they catch themselves doing it. Friends for life. Packmates forever.

There’s no one in this world Jeno trusts more than Na Jaemin.

With that, Jeno helps himself to another glass of whiskey, though that task proves to be rather difficult when Jaemin clings to him like a toddler. The younger man nuzzles his face in the crook of Jeno‘s neck, weight heavy on his side, grip still as tight as chains. Jeno feels weirdly reminded of his first full moon, where he had to be contained in the basement so he wouldn‘t break free and murder some innocent person. It’s normal. Control has to be acquired, even if you’re not a turned wolf. But it still shouldn’t be so hard for him. He cringes, but it‘s not the taste of the drink sloshing against his glass.

„I hate strong alcohol, too.“

Jeno looks up - and freezes. Something inside him snaps, reties itself to your existence, like Jeno hasn‘t been living until this point and he‘s finally found his reason to do so. It‘s you. His precious, beautiful mate. The wolf in him is practically roaring at him to toss Jaemin aside and smother you with a hug like his packmate is doing to him.

The moon knows what she did when she connected him to you. You’re perfect.

Jeno‘s barely able to hold himself back. When he breathes in deeply, he‘s overwhelmed with your scent; Flowers, the stench of perfume. Your natural fragrance. He starts trembling in Jaemin‘s hold. Suddenly, it‘s not a hug, but rather his friend holding him back in the realization that his mate is standing in their shared kitchen, smiling so beautifully you‘re going to knock the air out of Jeno‘s lungs.

„Oh, he doesn‘t hate it,“ Jaemin helps him out. A painful pinch to his waist tries to pull Jeno back to reality, but he‘s still reeling over the fact that you‘re actually here. That an angel stepped into his house and you‘re actually talking to him. „He doesn‘t like it when I cling to him, but that‘s what friends are for, right? I just want some affection.“

You giggle, and both of the boys are in awe at the sound. You‘re so cute. „I get that,“ you admit and set down your cup. The way you carry yourself, pupils slightly widening - you‘re a little buzzed. Jeno thinks he‘s going to be drunk of you, too. „Is a group hug appropiate? I could use some affection too.“

„Get over here, then,“ Jeno says. He didn‘t mean to sound so assertive, and Jaemin, sweet Jaemin who never glares, gives him the evil side eye. Jeno just can‘t help himself. He craves you closer - he wants to pull you away from the party and tell you about the many years he spent waiting for you.

But you‘re only human. That means you don‘t know anything about his world. He‘d have to guide you into hit before he makes you his.

Despite him talking so rudely, you approach both boys with a grin. But you stumble, tripping over the high heels you’re wearing as you fall right into Jeno’s chest. “Whoops,” you murmur. When you wrap your arms around both of them, he almost sighs in relief. Arms move to hold you close, shielding you from the world forever. You fit inside them perfectly, like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. The stench of sparkling wine is clinging to your clothes. „I needed that,“ you mumble into Jeno’s chest.

The elders talk about magic. The universe’s way of shoving you towards your mate, two magnets who are pulled to each other. Irreversible, eternal. Once a match is made by the moon, it is never able to be broken or severed. No matter how, the life of a mate and their wolf is connected forever the second they meet. That’s why the need to be with them is so strong, so powerful.

Jeno knows all that, but he wasn’t aware the pull was that powerful. All it took was look into your eyes, and Jeno was a goner. In your eyes, he finds galaxies, untold stories, promises. Every fold of your soul, any thought you’ve ever created but is left unspoken, everything shows itself the second you meet his gaze. You smile again. His knees buckle.

“Alright, Jen,” Jaemin says, pulling him out his trance. As if he was drowning in you, and now he’s brought ashore. “I think we’re going to lay off of the alcohol for the rest of the evening, yeah? You just stay here and I’ll get you some water... Be back in a second.”

Only when Jaemin leaves you two behind, you lean back. Jeno’s able to look into your eyes now, and your pupils are dilated from the alcohol you’ve had. “Better now?” you ask.

For a second, he’s dumbfounded. Then, he quickly comes to his sense. “Uh, yeah, thanks,” he mumbles, hands still on your lower back. He’s just waiting for you to push him away, because he’s physically unable to do it himself.

But you don’t. Your arms are firmly curled around his neck, and you’re giggling in his hold. Maybe it’s the pull working its’ magic right now, but Jeno’s willing to thank anything and anyone for what’s happening right now.

You’re even better than his dreams. Finally, you have found his way into your life.

“Maybe I should stop drinking.” Your voice tugs at his heartstrings. Yawning, you lay your head on his chest, seemingly unbothered that you both just met. “I didn’t even want to go all out. But my day just sucked...alcohol’s really good in moments like these. Do you drink a lot?”

“No.” Jeno rests his cheek against your head. You’re warm, able to heat him up way better than any drink he’s had until now. He wonders what you’ve been up to. What you’d like to become someday. If he can help you. None of that comes out of his mouth, instead he asks you: “What happened today for you to drink so much? If it’s alright that I’m asking.”

“Failed a test,” you mumble, lips brushing past the column of his neck. Jeno almost groans in relief. If this continues you, he’ll very well just turn into a wolf infront of you because he isn’t able to hold himself back right now. His self-control sucks anyways. You testing it doesn’t help a lot. “Ex bothered me.”

“Want me to beat them up?”

You giggle. Fingers move to mess with his hair, and he closes his eyes when you curl the strands around your appendage. “No, it’s not worth you getting hurt because of it.” Now, you step back. Your hands hold his for a few seconds before you completely let go. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cling you. I’m (y/n). I promise I’m more polite sober.”

“It’s okay. I’m Jeno,” he introduces himself. “May I have your number, (y/n)? The next time your ex bothers you, I’ll chase him away.”

❀ ❀ ❀

You’re a double-texter. Jeno enjoys that a lot.

It’s easy to talk to you. You share the same humor, despite his friends claiming that he’s not funny at all. Many memes are sent back and forth, but the conversation never consists solely of your jokes. From time to time, you tell him about yourself and show your interest in him. Your dreams, your hopes, your interests. In turn, Jeno tells you all about his friends. What he wants to become someday. He also makes sure that you know he’s always there for you.

That’s how Jeno ends up picking you up in the middle of the night to grab some food from McDonald’s and get your mind off things.

Your hand feels so small in his. Curled towards him in the passenger seat, you trace the veins on the back of his hand with your fingertips, lost in your thoughts. He wants to know what’s going on inside your pretty head. But he doesn’t overstep his boundaries, and lets you take your own time to explain what’s bothering you.

Growing up with Jaemin had taught him patience. Jeno knows when to wait, and how to go about it. As a werewolf, that’s the most important thing to learn. It helps with control, to hold back the fury of turning, the magic of a full-moon. This should be a piece of cake.

Atleast it feels like it when you curl into his arm like a cat would. He hears your heart pounding, loud and clear. Impossible for a human, but a constant thing for him. Your pulse is his favorite melody. Jeno hums while he drives into the parking lot as you rest your cheek on his arm and sigh.

Sometimes, Jeno thinks you don’t feel the pull. When you get lost in your thoughts and forget about the world around you, Jeno is never the one to bring you back. You just snap out of it and calm him down with a smile, and it makes feel him unsure. Whether he’s allowed to do it. If you feel comfortable. If you didn’t, it’d explain the pull failing to draw you in. But then you pull stunts like this, and he has to restrain the wolf inside himself from jumping you and kissing you until your lips are swollen.

He turns the key, killing the engine as darkness starts to loom over you both. You haven’t moved. Tightly holding his hand in your own two, Jeno watches as you bury your face in his arm.

His free hand moves on instinct to tousle your hair. As always, your hair is soft, and he can smell the synthetic scent of peach and vanilla. Weirdly, he likes that scent just as much as your own fragrance. It’s a part of you he’s learnt to adore.

How can he not? Perfection starts and ends with you. All your flaws, your calloused edges. All they do is pull him further in as he falls deeper and deeper into love with you.

As the boys wouls call it - he’s got it bad.

“Hi there,” Jeno mumbles into your ear. Your heartbeat jumps, before calming down again. He likes knowing what kind of effect he has on you. It’s reassurrance, and compliment at the same time. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm.” You sigh again. Whatever’s laying heavy on your heart, the wolf boy wishes you’d let him lift it off. Before he can further investigate, though, you let go of him and climb over to sit on his lap. He almost chokes on the very air he’s breathing as you wrap your arms around his body and rest your head on his chest, right above his heart. It’s your turn to listen to his embarrassingly quick pulse.

Jeno cradles your body. You’re vulnerable, his little porcelain doll. Often, he forgets that you’re a mere human, alive, easily breakable. If he could, he’d hide you from the world and never show you again, so no one would be able to inflict harm upon you. But that’s irrational. So he just holds you in his arms, and hopes it’s enough to protect you for now.

The moon had taught him everything he needed to know. What it had failed to mention is how wonderful it feels to have you close to him.

The feeling of a warm body finding comfort in his arms. Trust. Honesty. All of that is given to him by you without effort, and it makes his heart swell with pride. For weeks now, he’s trying to figure out a way to let you know about his feelings. Or explain how he’s able to turn into a four-legged creature at will, and sometimes it happens because he’s enraged. Now that he’s found you, he’s so scared of scaring you of. Rejection comes easy, especially to a human. You’re not bound to the laws of the moon and the spirits. The second you sensed distress, you’d be able to flee.

And that is the biggest fear imaginable to him. Jeno bows his head, buries his face in the crook of his neck. Atleast now, when you’re still unknown about his true creature and his feelings, you still let him hold you close. You run your fingers through his hair and pull him against you tightly.

If only you knew how safe he feels in your arms. How he fights with himself because he wants to tell you how his heart beats for you, how much he treasures you. But he can’t.

“I’m sorry I’m wasting your time,” you mumble.

Jeno pulls back, hands cupping your face. The fireworks you set off inside him when you lay yours over his and close your eyes are indescribable, but he doesn’t want to be distracted by you right now. Not when you’re talking nonsense. “What the hell are you on about?” he mumbles, pulling you closer. Your heart thrums in its’ cage, accelerates, the sound ringing in his ears like bells. Jeno wonders what is going in that brilliant mind. So he inquires: “Why would you think that? No time is wasted when it’s spent with you. I came because I genuinely wanted to be here. Why would you apologize?”

“I ... just feel like a waste of time. I haven’t been feeling well, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you.” You shift in his arms, light as a feather, let yourself be tucked under his chin. When he was younger, he had often sat on his mother’s lap for hours like that. There is no comparable feeling to that sense of security a hug like that provided. It was no wonder that he often tended to fall asleep like that, despite the noisy ambiance that would sometimes be present as he restes on his mom’s lap. “I like you. I don’t want to ruin ... what we have.”

Jeno feels like bursting from happiness. Without hesitation and nothing to hold him back now, he turns his head and presses kisses all over your face, everywhere he can reach. Luckily, you giggle at that, excited over him being so affectionate. After the party, you had always been afraid of doing something wrong because Jaemin had claimed he didn’t like clinginess. Now he proves you wrong, wiping any sign of worry as he kisses you for the first time ever.

Some describe it as fireworks. Dizziness, the giddy feeling of lips against yours - all of these impressions pale to the experience of kissing your soulmate for the first time. The one who had been yours long before time had existed, and histories were told. Written in the stars, waiting to happen, that was the bond that connected Jeno and you. Now, it came true.

The very thing Jeno wished for his entire life.

Kissing someone is very addicting. He’d been kissed once or twice in his life, sometimes even because of a dare. But this, this couldn’t compare. To put it into cheesy words, Jeno feels like he’s on top of the world. You move your lips against his in the same fervor, and you taste like love and heaven in one. The only reason he lets himself be pushed away is because you’re gasping for breath, and the view makes it all worth it.

Cherry-red cheeks. A happy smile matching the one he’s sporting right now. Jeno knows about romance, but he didn’t expect to be such a sucker for it. “I like you, too,” he finally admits, confirming what the moon had established aeons before. The words you were waiting so patiently to hear. “I like you so, so much. And that is why you should never think you’re a waste of time. If you’d like, (y/n), I’ll give you all the time I have. The only waste of my time is not being with you.”

You don’t answer. Now feeling a thousand times better, you pull Jeno close again, kissing him over and over until you’ve both long forgotten where you are and why you’re here in the first place.

Wherever you are is where he wants to be always.

❀ ❀ ❀

The full moon is not Lee Jeno’s best friend.

At the start of your relationship, he’d often make up excuses as to why he couldn’t meet you at that specific day. Thank the lord you understand and don’t ask about it any further, but with every lie Jeno tells you, his guilt weighs heavier on his guts and consequently on his packmates, as they share house and mind with him.

It’s not like he’s a pup who can’t control himself. But his imagination runs wild often. Whenever you’re the reason his pulse spikes, his emotions overwhelming his senses, he asks himself if he could handle the consequences of what could happen. Does he trust himself that much? Is he ready to risk you just to feel content at your side?

There are rumors of powerful alphas who lose control involuntary. Maybe it’s the alcohol involved, or someone upsets them. But human mates are dangerous to wolves who are let loose. It’s not good for a werewolf to suppress his supernatural side for long.

The second the conscience leaves them and makes way for bloodlust, it’s already too late.

Jeno cannot allow that, ever. If something ever happened to you, he wouldn’t know how to handle it. Turn and kill the person responsible? Lose his mind and hurt you, like the alphas who acted to quick and hurt, wounded, killed their mates? They’re only rumors, but even rumors have a reason to be spread. Like wildfires, they make themselves known, and they haunt Jeno every second he spends with you.

Soft skin. Frail bones. That’s all you are. Precious, so easy to break. It’s not a secret that Jeno struggles with the effects of the full moon every now and then. If he cannot even assure the security of his own will, how is he going to protect you?

Lies are poison to any relationship. It’s what Jaemin keeps telling him every day and night, the second he stands up and shortly before returning to bed. They’re packmates - whenever they travel in wolf form, they have to share their heads. Whatever is hidden, becomes exposed through that bond. A blessing sometimes, but especially pesky when Jeno is busy trying to drown out his conscience.

He needs to tell you. Sooner or later. If he doesn’t do it now, he’s going to regret it forever.

His precious little mate - how is Jeno going to look you in the eyes and that he’s the most dangerous thing to ever happen to humankind?

❀ ❀ ❀

Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.

Jaemin’s voice blares through his head as Jeno changes back and grabs the clothes he laid ready before leaving. The boys like running in the woods outside of the city, but it’s bothersome to return home again after basically running around naked. Their outfit isn’t really protected from the magic that is involved with turning.

Jeno wishes his best friend would stop. He’s already in a struggle against himself, he doesn’t need anyone to meddle to feel bad. It’s already messing with Jeno’s mind. What’s even worse is that you’re so unassuming. Selfless and loving, you give your heart to Jeno without expecting anything in return.

It’s the full moon.

Claws extend themselves on instinct, no matter how much Jeno begs them to stay in place. It’s a battle for the reins inside himself - Jeno against the wolf, and Jeno’s losing. He wishes you were here. At the same time, he’s glad you’re nowhere near him or the pack.

As long as you’re not here, you’re safe. Safe is good. Safe calms him down. There’s no need to worry, except maybe about himself. Jaemin grabs his hands opens them, revealing to Jeno that he had been burying his claws in his palm without noticing.

“Dude,” Jaemin says while shaking his head. The blueberry hair whips with every move. “Don’t you realize that you’re just making it harder by keeping it to yourself? You’re the one inflicting all the stress and strain on your control. If you’d just tell her, you wouldn’t have to worry about ruining everything and losing her.”

“And how are you so sure?” Jeno lets himself be pulled to the kitchen table. He watches as Jaemin turns away from him to get a wet rag, shoulders squared, back tense. Jaemin is a happy-go-lucky type of guy. For his mood to be so soured because of Jeno, it must really bother him.

Jaemin sits alongside Jeno. Carefully, as if Jeno would break under his touch, he starts cleaning the bloody palms, even though the wounds have already healed up. Jaemin has always been worrying about him. No matter how small the wound was, he was the first one to sit Jeno down and take care of it. As a child, he even used to cry when Jeno got hurt, because he felt bad that he failed to protect the other.

When really, Jaemin had always been there for him.

No one else lets Jeno vent without expecting anything in return. There are not many who can say they’ve held Jeno in his arms because he shared his sorrow and fears with them, and only Jaemin prides himself with knowing Jeno best. If there really are platonic soulmates, he’d like to think Jaemin was his.

That’s why when the boys meet eyes, Jeno already believes him, without the other even saying anything. Jaemin grips his hands tightly, fingers interwoven like when they were younger. “Because she loves you,” Jaemin explains, soft smile on his lips. “And I’m so glad you found someone who’s going to love you endlessly for the rest of their life. Trust me. When she looks at you, it’s like she’s looking at the stars. Full of yearning and adoration. Everyone wants to be looked at like that.”

Jeno moves to rest his head on his best friend’s shoulder. It’s not often Jeno is so openly affectionate with him, but it’s the only way he can express his gratitude. Fingers cars through Jeno’s hair as Jaemin holds him close and squeezes him tightly. Friends by blood, brothers in soul.

Always and forever.

“I’ll tell her,” Jeno promises. “As soon as I see her again.”

Though that proves to be rather difficult when Jeno finds out how clumsy you are, and he keeps worrying about you walking into trouble. For example now, as you stumble right into the crowd full of vampires. He thinks he’s going to pass out.

Technically speaking, wolves aren’t allowed here. The only reason Jeno is let in is because they adore Jaemin. Everyone adores Jaemin. As long as Jeno stays out of trouble, everything should be fine. Sadly, you steer him right into it.

He should’ve seen it coming. The glass dropping to the ground makes him flinch, and he reaches to pick the broken glass up for you. If he wasn’t nervous before, he is now.

Blood drips down the shards you just cut yourself. “Oh my god,” he whispers, panic flooding his mind. He has to get you the hell out of here. Moving to pull you up, Jeno fails to stop a vampire from grabbing your hand.

This is Jeno’s daily reminder to never let you take him to a party again.

“Get the hell off of her,” he hisses at the stranger, and with a rather harsh tug, you’re at his side again. The dude growls, and on instinct, Jeno bares his canines at him. That is the single most stupid thing he could’ve done, and he hopes you haven’t seen it. He’s not gonna be able to explain it with all the alcohol that entered his system already. So he pulls you closer and hopes your sight is obscured from where he’s hidden you.

“What, is that your bitch?” The vampire snickers over his dog joke. Below you, Jeno starts fuming. Seconds later, the bloodsucker is on the ground clutching his broken nose as his own blood gushes out of it, and you shriek and cradle Jeno’s hand in your own. He doesn’t let you fuss over him, opting to pull you out of the mess this situation has turned into and heading straight out of the house.

He’s very lucky the vampires don’t come after him. Hopefully, they understood that the dude was in the fault for trying to turn his girlfriend into a midnight snack. Outside in an empty alley, you jut your lip out in a pout and try to stop the tears forming in your eyes. Jeno kisses you, hoping to calm you down, but you lean away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault,” you whimper. The anguish in your voice makes his heart hurt. Why are you taking the blame? You didn’t know you were in the presence of vampires. You’re just human. Precious cargo. He needs to protect you.

And to tell you the truth.

But for now, he tugs you closer and leans his head on youre. “No baby, that was mine,” he sighs into your hair and breathes in deeply. Your scent always makes him calm down, satisfying the wolf inside of him. “Lets get you something to eat so you can sober up.”

Unbeknownst to him, you ponder over what you saw inside the club. If your eyes were betraying to you. You blame it on the alcohol, but something inside you keeps coming back to it.

All you say is “okay”.

❀ ❀ ❀

“If you keep hurting yourself like that,” Jeno grits his teeth, “I’m going to die from worry. And it’s going to be all your fault.”

Your boyfriend treats your hand as careful as possible. When Jeno is concentrated, he looks really cute, almost innocent. Entranced by the task at hand. You adore the way his features soften up as he takes in the information infront of him. Despite him threatening you with his early death, he is easily calmed down by you combing your hair with his fingers, tugging at the strands as he hums. “It’s not my fault I’m clumsy,” you defend yourself. “I got it from my mom. It’s a (l/n) women thing.”

“Let me have a talk with your mom, then.”

“Sure. Want me to introduce you as my boyfriend officially?”

The tips of Jeno’s ears turn red, and you giggle. He always plays the big bad wolf, but truth be told, he’s just as easy to fluster as you are. Within seconds, you’re seated on his lap, hand properly bandaged, while his own disappear onto your shirt and rest on your lower back. “Cold!” you hiss at him, but Jeno only smirks.

You live for moments like these. Being with him, feeling comfortable. The best kind of feeling is Jeno being affectionate, naturally. Because he wants to be. Normally, he’s on the receiving end of the clinginess. So when he switches positions like this, it makes butterflies erupt in your belly and your heart jump in your chest.

“I’d love to meet your parents,” he mumbles. Jeno’s voice is void of mockery, instead showing you how serious he is about this. Since day one, he has always treated you like a constant. Permanent in his life. You were both in for it forever. You’re glad you found something like that to love you. “I have to thank them for giving the world such a precious daughter. But I’d also like to talk about them how much you trip over invisible stuff, or get into trouble with some sorority girls that you let trample all over you and then I have to put them in their place...”

“Hey!” You pinch his cheeks. Jeno grins. “I’m not that bad.”

“You are the number one source of stress in my life right now, but I forgive you. You are the biggest source of happiness in my life aswell.”

If you were physically able to melt, you’d do it right now. Jeno accepts the many kisses you leave on his lips, grin evident on them when you gush about him. He likes being praised. He gives it back tenfold, too. After kissing him properly, you lean back and say: “You could meet them this friday, if you want.”

Jeno tenses below you.

You bite the inside of your cheek. That’s not how you thought he’d react. “Only if you want... Sorry, I thought...”

“Of course I want to, angel. I love you.” Jeno presses his lips against your cheeks. Your heart flutters. “But I have to study this weekend. I have so much homework to catch up on. Maybe next week?”

Sure. Next week.

❀ ❀ ❀

You’ve never been to Jeno’s house.

Many nights are spent with him sleeping over at yours, disappearing under the blankets as he holds you close to his strong body and leaves love marks all over. You know he lives with his friends, and they tend to be really chaotic. Jaemin for example is a familiar face, and you’ve briefly seen Mark and Renjun. Other than them, you don’t know much about the boys your boyfriend lives with, and you don’t mind sleeping over at your appartment instead of his. It’s normal to crave privacy, especially when you’re in a relationship and want the other person all to yourself.

But sometimes, you get a little sad when you sense the things he’s hiding. The stutters, directing the conversation elsewhere - telltale signs you know by heart. You know he doesn’t distrust you; you feel it in your heart, see it in his eyes when he locks gazes and tells you everything you ever ask for. Of course it’s normal to take time with some things, before you share them with others. You really just wish you could tell him it’s okay. That you understand.

Jeno would be too busy to go out, like he told you. So, like the good girlfriend you are, you got him some comfort food and are ready to cuddle the hell out of him.

That’s a good thing, right? Then why is it that Jaemin looks so panicked when he opens the door and recognizes you?

“(y/n),” he sputters out. “I, uhh, thought Jeno already told you? He’s pretty busy, all holed up in his room.. All the work, you know...”

“I know!” you say, and hope that your smile doesn’t look as unsure as it feels like. Did they not want you here? You thought you knew Jeno’s heart, but maybe that was just you calming yourself down. “I thought I could bring him some food and help. Is it alright if I come in?”

Something rumbles loudly. It sounds like furniture breaking, and Jaemin’s eyes widen. “What was that?” you ask, shocked. Out of instinct, you move to come in, but Jaemin steps in your way, firm hands holding you back. It crashes upstairs, and you raise your head. Not like you could see through the ceiling. What the hell is going on?

“(y/n), this is a really, really bad time,” he hisses. His gaze goes back and forth from the stairs to you, as if he’s pondering over something. “I need you to leave right now. I promise Jeno will explain soon-“

“How about now?” you shoot back, slipping past the boy and making your way upstairs before Jaemin can stop you. It’s a good thing you’re sneaky. Following the noise, you flee from Jaemin and the pleads he makes for you to come back down, that Jeno’s going to kill him...

You throw open the door to the source of all the noise.

The myths; you’ve heard about them. The man who fell in love with the moon, crying wolf as he turns in the shine of its’ light. All the fantasy stories your mother told you to lull you to sleep. The books, movies, shows. They’re all fiction. What’s going on in front of you is everything but. What you see is only confirmation of what you thought of in the club.

Jeno looks you straight in the eyes, but he doesn’t look like him. Wide, yellow eyes, sharpened fangs. He’s literally chained to the wall, pulling at them and struggling to get free. Jaemin stumbles inside, letting out an “uh, oh” at the sight that’s unfolding infront of you.

“What the hell is going on?” you whisper.

Your boyfriend tugs at the chains keeping him trapped in the corner of his room. All the crashing you heard was because Jeno threw over his nightstand and is currently working on ripping out the heater that was restricting him from leaving.

Are you dreaming?

“(y/n), I really, really need you to go.” Jaemin grabs your arms, urging you to leave, probably hoping you won’t actually run and never come again. He’s interrupted by a loud snarl, the sound of Jeno breaking free - the metal manacles around his wrists fall to the ground as he pushes Jaemin away and swoops you into his arms.

“Do not touch her!”

Jaemin looks at Jeno as if he‘s trying to calm down a wild animal. Maybe he is. Jeno’s claws are ripping at your shirt as he presses you against his chest, hiding you behind him; protecting you. You can feel the elongated nails at your waist, but never once do they cut you. His grip is tight, but not hurtful. “Jeno,” Jaemin carefully speaks. “Let go of her. You’re going to hurt her.”

“Stay away,” Jeno threatens. His voice is dripping of malice, so unused to the Jeno you love. Trembling in your hold, he shields you from his best friend’s sight. Does he think Jaemin is going to jump you? “Stay away from my mate.”

Mate.

The word seems familiar. Fitting. You look Jeno in the eyes, but his own are fixed on the other boy - wolf? - waiting for him to move away. It all starts making sense. The uneasiness of talking about his friends, avoiding you at full moons.

His mate.

Jaemin steps closer. Jeno growls and pushes you further behind him, making you squeak. The sound snaps Jeno out of his anger and he quickly turns around, citrine eyes turning back into the brown you love and adore. More teddybear than wolf. “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “Oh my god, I’m never going to forgive myself if I hurt you, did I cut you? Do you-“

“Jeno,” you interrupt him. “Shut up.”

His mouth snaps shut. Jaemin, in utter disbelief, lets his own drop open.

Jeno watches as you hold his hands to your face, and you’re glad the claws retract when you smile at him. No matter what, Jeno always thinks about you first. That’s why you fell in love with him. His caring nature towards you, the sense of being protected. Even now, he managed to forget his fury because he was so afraid of inflicting harm upon you. “I’m alright,” you finally say. Calmness washes over Jeno, and Jaemin breathes out in relief, stepping out of the room to give you two some privacy. “Oh my god,” your boyfriend repeats again, and then he finally leans down to embrace you and hide his face in your neck.

Maybe you’re insane. Any normal person would’ve left the second they sensed something was wrong with their significant other. But you’re not normal. You’re Jeno’s mate. You love him.

“You should’ve told me,” you whisper in his ear. He leaves kisses all over your throat, now finally at ease. Because you’re here, maybe? You’d like for that to be true.

“Sure. That would’ve ended pretty good. ‘Hey babe, I’m a supernatural being who loses control every once in a while. Totally normal.’”

“I’ve always wanted my own Jacob Black,” you reply to that. Jeno groans, but you only break out into laughter and pull him closer. You should feel scared, but instead it feels like you’re in the safest place on earth. “Seriously, Jeno. I love you. No matter who you are. Even though it was kinda scary to see you like this... But now I finally know why I miss you all the time. It was meant to be.”

“I’m glad you think that way,” Jeno mumbles, lips chasing yours. His kisses are soft, careful. Loving. If there’s one thing you can always be sure of, it’s Jeno’s love. “Because now is the perfect opportunity to get those manacles off of me so I can take you on the date you deserve. Without hiding anything.”

“You promise? Maybe I need another kiss to be absolutely sure you’re serious.”

There’s nothing else Jeno loves more than doing just that.

[leviathanswingman]

love is a losing game, chapter 6: overruled pride

Lucifer was standing in front of the mirror, smoothing over every last wrinkle in his clothes. Today, he had made a conscious attempt at altering his appearance. Rather reluctantly, he had opted for a skintight, wine red turtleneck instead of one of his stiff dress shirt.

It was the easiest solution to his problem, considering the sigil that was becoming ever more noticeable by the minute sat right in the middle of his neck. His other options would have been to either us concealer, which seemed like too much of a hassle, or wear bandages around his neck the entire day. And that, he was not willing to put up with.

Additionally, it would be far too obvious that something was up if all of a sudden, Lucifer started to wear medical grade bandages when out in the open when nothing was supposed to be wrong with him. Most certainly, that was not a fashion statement he would ever make with a clear mind. Perhaps Mammon would be foolish enough to think a simple bandage would be enough to cover up the physical representation of one of the bigger failures of his life, but Lucifer was smarter than that.

The bright orange pill bottle was sitting on his dresser, staring Lucifer down mockingly as if to say: See? This is what you get for letting loose, this is what you get for stepping out of your comfort zone. Lucifer refused the sudden urge to grab it and throw it against the wall, taking satisfaction in the way the plastic container chipped into pieces and the suppressants spilled all over the floor. Before he could follow his silent threat with actions, there was a sudden sharp knock on his door. Just so the unexpected guest could have even the slightest of chances of walking in on Lucifer having a stare down with a pill bottle with his own damn name on it, he crammed it into the upper drawer of his dresser and slammed it shut.

„Yes, come in,“ he said loud enough for the guest to hear as soon as he was done.

The door opened and Barbatos entered the room with fierce yet quiet steps, the heels of his shoes clacking softly on the marbled floor. „Thank you, Lucifer.“

Although Lucifer hadn't expected to meet Barbatos today, he found himself fundamentally unsurprised. Sooner or later he would have expected him to come see him anyway. Admittedly, he would have preferred to have a face to face with Barbatos rather later than sooner, but there was nothing for him to do about that now. All he could do was get this approaching awkward conversation over with.

Without waiting for Barbatos to to state his business, Lucifer dropped all pretence as he faced Diavolo's trusted butler. „I assume my doctor has contacted you about the medication?“ he asked, though in all honesty it was more of a statement than an inquiry.

In certain cases it was policy for doctors to relay any changes in medication to the patient's superior. This whole system had been set in place to reduce certain accidents happening due to some medication's side effects and the effect they could possibly have on other demons. Suppressants belonged right in that category since - how many other magic infused medications - they were known to sometimes trigger bad reactions in other demons. All in all, Lucifer had known what to expect.

Barbatos nodded his head. „She has.“

„Am I right in assuming that you were already aware of it?“

„You are correct in that assumption, indeed.“

Lucifer sighed as he walked over to his dresser and took the pill bottle out of the drawer, putting it down on the desk in front of Barbatos without saying anything.

Barbatos picked up the pill bottle and inspected it closer. His lips moved in silence as he scanned the list of ingredients, mouthing the words without saying them as he was reading. After he was done he handed the pill bottle over to Lucifer again. „I do not think these are going to cause any irreversible problems. You have started taking them already, I presume.“

Lucifer took the pill bottle and turned it over in his hand. „ Yes, I already took one,“ he replied and screwed the lid open. He took out another one of the tiny little pills and swallowed it dry. „As you can see I am indeed taking them. There is no need to watch me like a hawk.“

Barbatos mustered Lucifer with that all-knowing yet unreadable gaze of his. „I don't doubt that. Still, that leaves one quandary.“ Taking one step closer towards Lucifer, Barbatos considered his colleague and friend for a second. „When will you tell Lord Diavolo?“

This was the exact question Lucifer had dreaded the most. Even after hours of staring at the ceiling as he was lying on his bed, Lucifer had not managed to come up with an answer to that one question he knew would inevitably come up. After all, he had no intentions whatsoever of telling Diavolo about what had happened that night.

Having to pass Diavolo in the hallway and feeling the tense energy between them was bad enough. It was uncomfortable, but Lucifer could handle it. However having to confess to Diavolo, his superior, one of his oldest friends, that he had formed a mating bond with him during a one night stand, of all things, was right out of the question.

Lucifer knew his feelings were out of place, so he refused to verbalize them. If he did, that would make them undeniably real.

Barbatos noted the silence and interpreted it accordingly. He wished he could show Lucifer all of the possible futures he had seen based on him confessing his truth. Alas, he could not do that.

Also, wouldn't that take the fun out of all of this?

Barbatos highly disliked seeing both of his friends, Diavolo and Lucifer, in such turmoil caused by both of their stubbornness, yet he also knew it was not his place to intrude. They had to figure it out themselves. All he could do was push their limits bit by bit and rely on the fact that even though both of them were quite difficult in their own ways, fated lovers generally found themselves one way or another.

He took note of Lucifer's attire and smiled a little. For someone like him, who recognized most changes in patterns as ways of distraction, no matter if to deflect or strengthen truths, it was quite clear Lucifer was attempting to hide a certain fact that he didn't feel quite comfortable with. So, Barbatos concluded, the change in fashion was definitely related to Lucifer's newborn bond to Lord Diavolo.

„Your sigil?“

As predicted, Lucifer pulled down the collar of his turtleneck and right there, at the base of Lucifer's neck, now exposed, was the sigil, that undeniable proof of their bond, made up of broad strokes and timid lines, still infantile in its newborn nature.

„It is quite breathtaking,“ Barbatos mentioned and Lucifer quickly pulled the collar up again.

„A nuisance is what it is. It shouldn't even be there in the first place,“ Lucifer spat out, the conflicted tone to his voice far too apparent.

„I am certain Doctor Naamah has explained to you that you are not allowed to take these medications for longer than a month, yes? So I would be enlightened to hear your plan of action.“

Although talking about his on-sided mating bond was about the last thing Lucifer wanted to do, he found a certain calamity in knowing the one person to bring it up was Barbatos. Although the demon loved to push Lucifer's boundaries in his own certain way, Lucifer could be sure that Barbatos would keep quiet about it unless he absolutely had to talk about it.

„I will use this month to figure out what to do about this. As you probably have figured out already, I would rather not tell Diavolo. We need him to focus on his duties. Knowing that he is the reason for my,“ Lucifer cleared his throat and averted his gaze for a moment. „Ailment, as one would call it, would prove to be counter productive. I shall find a way to get rid of all of this before it turns into a problem for him,“ Lucifer stated ever so profusely.

Barbatos struggled with the urge to interfere and simply resigned himself to nod with an unreadable expression on his face. Diavolo is not the only demon we should be worried about, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue instead.

He could tell Lucifer was ready to carry this burden all by himself, especially because he had gotten affirmation from Doctor Naamah that in the end, he was going to be the sole demon negatively impacted by the sigil.

Even though Barbatos felt the unmistakable need to interfere, he was too aware of the fact that in the end, there was no demon except for him who was aware of how important it was to hold back when it was needed, even if the people most affected by it were two of his closest friends.

“I am going to be frank with you, Lucifer,” Barbatos started. “Although you are akin to a brother for me, I struggle to believe in your words. I am not calling you a liar, I am attempting to tell you that you are trying to deceive yourself. What would be the worst outcome if you told Lord Diavolo about what had happened? I believe you are aware of the fact that he is quite enamoured with you.”

Lucifer turned the pill bottle over and over in his hand, focusing on the way his name on the label disappeared and reappeared as he turned the bottle over and over before finally setting it down on his mahogany desk again.

“The worst outcome is him knowing that in the end, I have failed my duties. As you know, I promised him my loyalty when he showed mercy and saved Lilith. I have promised to be his loyal right-hand man ever since. Now, I find myself conflicted in-between my duties and my desires.”

When have I become so daring that I thought I could deserve Diavolo's benevolence, although I am not much more than his devoted servant?

When had Lucifer become weak enough, unable to resist lingering glances and warm touches? He was supposed to be above all that. He was supposed to be able to restrain himself and act as Diavolo's diligent right-hand man, immune to all the allures the world had to offer, but apparently, when it was about Diavolo Lucifer had no choice but to give in. He found himself a slave to Diavolo's advances, no matter how much they would hurt them in the end. There was no saying no to those mesmerizing golden eyes.

Barbatos cleared his throat and snapped Lucifer out of his thoughts by doing so. “Duties and desires do not necessarily have to end up in conflict, Lucifer. As much as I am Lord Diavolo's servant I am also your friend. I refuse to see neither of you in pain, no matter how hard you refuse to see the truth.”

A slight pained smile ghosted over Lucifer's face. “I appreciate the concern, but not even your words won't redirect my thoughts. Diavolo's actions have shown me the truth within his intentions without much needed words. This is the way it happened to be, and I refuse to complain about it. I am neither a victim nor a survivor, I have been dismissed after having revealed too much when I should have kept quiet instead. Diavolo did nothing wrong. I was the one who allowed things to go too far.”

Barbatos looked at Lucifer with the slightest bit of pity in his eyes. There was nothing left for him to do here.

He gestured towards the pill bottle one last time. “As your friend, I am asking you to stick to the one month period, Lucifer. The both of us are quite aware of the consequences that shall ensue if you do not intend on sticking to the time frame.”

Lucifer mustered Barbatos one last time. Although he had no intentions of telling Diavolo what had happened, Lucifer also had no intentions of lying to Barbatos. After all, through the years the butler had become a strange, yet good friend.

He shook hands with Barbatos. “Thank you for your concern,” he said with a firm tone of voice. But I simply cannot explain to Diavolo what has occurred that night. He does not deserve the burden of having to carry another's unrequited love when he is destined for means bigger than the both of us . For his good, I shall stay quiet and still. My silence on this specific topic is the one thing that shall never disgrace him.

So Lucifer bid farewell to Barbatos and stayed quiet and still until he heard the door fall shut.

After all, he was a soldier who had sworn to dedicate his life to this war. As long as he ended up serving his purpose, he would be alright in the end. Even if “alright” meant an undeniable death. Whether it would be caused by war or love, he couldn't tell, but Lucifer knew that either way, he had the chance to die in an honourable way.

In the end, all he wanted was to fulfil his duty and allow his brothers to live a life far better than his own. It didn't matter if Lucifer got wounded in the process. He was their oldest brother and no matter what, he would gift them the ability to live a life more carefree than his.

He was Lucifer the Morning Star, the oldest brother of seven who could not allow himself to take what he wanted, because for once, his pride was overruled by his sense of loyalty. If he had to remain quiet and suffer in deafening silence for his brothers, his friends and Diavolo, then he would happily do so.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10

[cle1024]

drunk in love | hjs

member: han jisung 

genre: angst 

summary: jisung is a lightweight; no matter what kind of alcohol he ingests, he somehow manages to become completely obliterated in minutes. as his best friend, you tend to take on the duty of taking care of him during his inebriated moments, even if it hurts you in the process.  friends to lovers!au, college!au 

warnings: swearing, alcoholism, brief mention of drug use 

a/n: credit to @str9ykids​ for the gif <3 this is kind of friends to lovers, kind of complicated

Han Jisung was a great guy; he was talented, creative, intelligent, passionate, charismatic, entertaining. There was a genuine care held within his eyes that most orbs missed, even in moments of honesty and loyalty, an underlying message whenever he spoke with someone about their hardships. He always seemed to understand and sympathise with people who ranted to him as a form of therapy, always willing to listen to whatever was on their mind regardless of how minute the issue. The only downfall you’d found in your time knowing him was his inability to know his limits. There had been numerous occasions of overworking himself, as well as breakdowns after trying to bottle up all his problems and emotions until he cracked under the immense pressure. Of course you were always there to pick up the pieces, that’s what friends do, and he was always there to thank you in the long run. Though, there was one particular limit of Jisung’s that even he was conscious of: his inability to hold any form of alcohol. Despite being strong in both mental and physical ways, the boy was an undeniable lightweight. Every morning after a night of drinking he’d wake with a splitting headache, downing a glass of water and painkillers you’d left for him, but he never changed his ways. At first, you’d brushed it off as a bad habit, perhaps an early and worrying sign of alcohol addiction. Over time you’d started to wonder if there was an underlying reason he allowed himself to become absolutely obliterated, his mind seemingly detached from his body as he stumbled around whatever party or club he’d found himself in. 

Even if he was mentally strong, he had his moments of weakness―it’s human nature, after all. Those moments where his walls crumbled and he shed tears of stress, anger, raw and unrelenting sadness. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of secrets lied beneath his emotional shield, only reaching the surface in those rare moments of giving out under immense pressure. As much as you wanted to pry, Jisung was just too damn good at keeping secrets. Everything was brushed off with a laugh and joke about how you’re going soft on him, but he was always thankful for your concern nonetheless. Nothing ever erased your concern; Jisung continued his destructive drinking habits and secretive behaviour. Even when you saw the occasional slip-ups and heard the drunken babbles of “I wish I could tell you the truth” before he knocked out, Jisung was far too good at lying about his feelings to have you take it as anything other than a bad day. So, you moved on from the questions about his emotions and just took on the duty of taking care of him when he was wasted beyond belief. Things would be easier that way, wouldn’t they? You’d put him to bed, stay the night, leave water and painkillers before leaving his dorm. Then you’d see him in one of your classes looking like he crawled from the depths of Hell and tell him all the embarrassing things he did in his drunken state. That’s how things were supposed to go, but some slip-ups just can’t go unacknowledged. 

Jisung didn’t think he had a drinking problem, but he also didn’t know how to deal with his problems. Drinking until he was numb and venturing another realm always seemed like a good choice until he made more mistakes in his drunken and gave himself new reasons to abuse his liver. Some mistakes were worse than others; deciding to wear a white shirt when he knew he couldn’t keep a steady hand after drinking, listening to the encouragement of his friends―almost as drunk―and attempting to jump from one side of someone’s pool to the other, as well as other injury-inducing actions. Though one of his worst mistakes was one that came about during a sober mindset. It wasn’t a decision, necessarily, so does it really count as a mistake? Regardless, Jisung found himself tangled up in emotions he shouldn’t be feeling. He shouldn’t want to kiss you, his best friend―that’s all you were, after all, a friend. Yet the urge withstood his relentless berating, his drunken kisses with other people who’d never given him a name to call them by, its persistence drove him to the brink of desperation. Knowing that you would never feel the same way ― or, rather, assuming you would never reciprocate such feelings ― pushed him over the edge, and he found himself tumbling down a dark hole of irreversible mistakes, fabricated feelings and verbal mishaps. Though, in the end, it didn’t matter what Jisung did to forget about his feelings or have them blossom for someone else, it was something he could never get out of his head. He drank to forget but he always remembered, and now he was falling far beyond return. 

“Hey, baby,” you rolled your eyes at your friend’s words. That was another habit Jisung had, aside from excessive drinking, he often said things he didn’t mean. He played with words, took their meaning and stripped them down to platonic nouns and adjectives. It bothered you to no end, mainly because you could never figure out when he was being serious and when he was teasing, it all blended into one neutral speech. You hummed in response, eyes remaining focused on the bright screen of the laptop in front of you. A huff escaped Jisung’s lips, slightly unimpressed with your lack of interest, “good to see you too,” he deadpanned. There was always something about you that drew Jisung in. Perhaps your appearance, personality, thought patterns, interests, passion―it was evidently more than one thing. Your presence was a soothing hug in the midst of a ferocious storm, easing worries with a simple smile or comment about the weather, a habit he’d always found endearing. Now that he thought about it, he can’t remember the first time he noticed it. Frankly, he couldn’t even remember the first time he noticed you, but he was always grateful his brown orbs caught sight of you and not someone else. You were the kind of friend anyone would yearn for, loyal, understanding, helpful, appreciative. There was a lot he could praise you for, but there simply isn’t enough time within the average human lifespan. There were many other things Jisung couldn’t remember about you: when did you become his sober caretaker on drunken nights, his closest friend, his favourite design major, his first true love? Many things had happened in Jisung’s life that had simply slipped his memory, he liked to blame it on his over-drinking habit and found it to be bothersome, but nothing ever changed. He still chugged such liquids like the sun wouldn’t rise above the horizon the following day; he knew that one day it wouldn’t. Though, he also knew that one day the alcohol excuse would stop working. At some point he’d have to face the damage he’d done, internally and externally, and the mistakes he’d made under the ‘influence’ of alcohol. Someday it would all come crashing down and he hadn’t a clue how to deal with it. He shook off the depressing thought, it was something he could worry about in time, when that day inevitably comes. That day is not today. 

“Plans for tonight?” He questioned eagerly, leaning on his crossed arms as you tapped your keyboard in thought. Your nose scrunched slightly as you pondered the question, a soft smile appearing on Jisung’s pink lips as you did so. 

“Study, but I’m assuming that’s going to change to taking care of your drunk ass?” An amused smile graced your features as Jisung narrowed his eyes in your direction. 

“I mean, yeah, but what’s wrong with that?” the boy sounded thoroughly insulted, “best friends take care of each other!” 

“Yes, but I wasn’t aware they also vomit on each other’s carpet. You’re so lucky I got that out or your ass would be grass, Han,” he held up his hands in surrender with wide eyes. Of course you weren’t holding a grudge against him―not anymore, at least―but you always got a kick out of bringing up one of Jisung’s most embarrassing moments, “where are you headed?” 

“Hyunjin’s, his frat is throwing a party at nine,” as per usual. You had nothing against Hyunjin or the frat he was in, in fact you found both to be tolerable and quite welcoming in comparison to cinematic portrayals, but the parties they threw were another story. Loud, rowdy, chaotic, illegal. You weren’t sure how no one had called with noise complaints, or how no one had been carted off to a holding cell for doing cocaine off someone’s ass, but there were some questions you didn’t really want answers to. Another reason you hated their parties specifically was the alcohol. There was so much of it, a never ending fountain of mind-numbing concoctions to go around, and of course that meant dealing with a very, very, wasted Han Jisung. 

You huffed slightly, “just don’t drink too much. For once.” 

“I won’t, I promise!” Jisung slaps a hand against the table in excitement before picking up his backpack and bidding goodbye, rushing off to his next class. That was another thing that irritated you about Jisung, he was a damn liar. 

The bass thumped throughout the house, strobe lights blinding you and energetic partygoers blocking your path. Jisung was amongst them you assumed―you arrived at the party two hours after it started, purely because you were dreading the crowded environment. In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood for a party tonight, but you were here for Jisung’s sake. You found yourself in the midst of drunken parties for said reason quite often. Jisung was a drunken mess, borderline alcoholic, and most of his friends lacked the sobriety or responsibility to take care of him in such a state. Thus, you took on the role of Jisung’s ‘caretaker’, as Seungmin once put it. Your thoughts were broken by a drunk Jisung stumbling in your direction, eyes rolling slightly at the sight. Here we go. 

“Y/N!” He cheered, dragging out the last letter of your name before hiccuping slightly. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be shut down by Jisung’s hand around your wrist and voice in your ear, “come on! Let’s dance!” 

He attempted to tug on your wrist, weakened by the alcohol in his body. You saw Changbin approaching from the corner of your eye, the male smiling sympathetically and gesturing to Jisung, “he’s already so far gone, party only started an hour ago.” 

“Go figure.” 

Changbin chuckled lightly, “yeah, he seemed to want to get his mind off something,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “he should probably be getting home. I’ve had a few, will you be alright to get him home?” 

You nodded stiffly. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but a feeling in your gut warned you something was going to happen if you did. Something bad―but perhaps that was just the stench of alcohol churning your stomach. 

When did Jisung become so damn heavy? Perhaps it was when he stopped using his legs to help you drag him into your apartment. You would’ve taken him back to his apartment―you should have taken him back to his apartment―but his roommate wasn’t exactly the most empathetic when the boy was absolutely obliterated, or painfully hungover. Besides, his apartment block had so many stairs. A breath of relief passed your lips as you dropped Jisung on your bed, moving his legs so his full body was laid out comfortably. 

“Sleep on your side, I’ll go get you a bucket,” you advised as Jisung hummed groggily and shifted his position. Your footsteps were gentle along the dark floorboards as you crept towards the cupboard, scavenging for the blue bucket you often used when mopping the floors. After placing the bucket next to the bed, you shuffled towards the kitchen to retrieve a cold glass of water and a headache tablet―Jisung always managed to give himself a sore head before he even reached the hangover stage, you’d give him another in the morning for the inevitable and monstrous hangover. Jisung breathed gently with half-lidded eyes, brown orbs following you as you pulled the blankets up to his chin. The warmth flooded his exhausted body, ensuring his warmth throughout the note. As you shifted the blanket to cover him fully, the words just came spilling out. His voice was soft, almost a murmur when he spoke. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

Your body went frigid at the words. Of course he meant it in a platonic sense, he must have meant it in a platonic sense, but he’d never said those three words before―not to you, nor to one of his ex-partners, as far as you knew. Han Jisung wasn’t the type to throw such a word around so flippantly. His brown eyes stared into yours, causing you to shift your gaze intentionally, “y-yeah, love you too, ‘Sung.” 

The boy shook his head dramatically, “no, no, no. I love you as more than a friend,” he exclaimed with an emphasis on the ‘more’. A heavy silence fell in the air as you stayed silent. All words escaped you in that moment; what could you say? Was it untruthful, drunken slurs or a genuine confession? Jisung’s borderline whisper sliced through the silence, “I know you don’t feel the same.” 

Pushing the hair off his forehead, you offered a small smile, “we can talk about this when you’re sober. Goodnight, Jisung.” 

With those words, you flicked the lamp off and exited the room, gently shutting the door behind you. Jisung shifted his legs in search of comfort, eyes lowering as he mulled over your words. Even in his drunken state he could feel his heart tear at the realisation that you didn’t, and would likely never, reciprocate his romantic feelings. By the time morning had come, both of you had decided to pretend the words were never spoken. 

Saying that things between you and Jisung had been… off after that night was the epitome of an understatement. For two people who were almost attached at the hip, considered one another family and had an unfathomable amount of loyalty and trust within one another, awkward glances and avoidance were weird. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been made between the two of you ― smile if you have to, then fucking leg it. Don’t talk to one another, don’t make an effort to see one another, and certainly don’t talk about the drunken words that spewed from Jisung’s mouth. To distract yourself from the absence in your life, and heart, you threw yourself into your studies, though that only seemed to be a temporary fix as you swiftly burnt out. The two of you had a mutual friend, Somi, who you’d confided in after it was clear things with Jisung could never go back to normal. She’d helped as much as she could, took you out of your familiar bedroom to cozy cafes and blooming parks in the middle of town you’d somehow never seen. When she suggested a night out, another frat party of a friend’s-friend, a part of you cried in resistance. Everytime you’d gone to a college you ended up hauling Jisung’s wasted ass into a car and sobering him up before he slept, what were you to do now? You didn’t want to see him either, and it seemed to be inevitable considering how Jisung spent his nights―perhaps he would spend that upcoming night at the party, drinking to forget the friction between him and his best friend. You certainly were. 

There was a part of you that understood why Jisung allowed himself to be thrown into a night of nonsensical drunken thoughts and gravitationally difficulties. At this point, you weren’t certain how long you had been within the frat house, each pulse of the bass and change in coloured lighting seemed to blur together in an almost nauseating succession. In all honesty, you weren’t even certain if Somi was still on the dance floor or if she had, as did you, found a stray wall to lean against as she recomposed herself and figured out how to stand without wobbling. You hadn’t seen Jisung, but you had seen Changbin, so you assumed the younger was there too―the two had some sort of tradition of getting shitfaced together, probably because they shared the same stress over music production and assignments put aside for far too long. There was a ruckus sounding in the room you stood in ― it wasn’t the main room, where everyone danced far too close for comfort and shared sweat, but it was a mainly empty space near the stairs that gave you a clear view of the partygoers. It sounded as if a drunken scuffle had started on the second floor, probably inebriated douchebags with low anger tolerance and a great sense of entitlement―the kind of people who have the immediate instinct to jump on a foldable table after two drinks. Though as you turned your head, you were met with the sight of people who you knew were far from that―though, they had their moments. Changbin and Jisung, stood near the head of the stairs, in the midst of an apprehensive affray of glares and seething words. They looked tense, yet Changbin still stumbled back when Jisung gave him a harsh shove, and then another, and another. You weren’t in the right sober frame of mind to stick to acknowledge the unspoken deal to not interact with Jisung. Instead, you were tipsy and figured Jisung was too far gone ― you’d never known him to be angry or violent, maybe he truly had been drowning himself in booze to forget his words to you. Maybe that’s why they were arguing, Changbin wanted him to stop drinking. Pushing yourself from the wall with a newly gained sense of sobriety, you made your way to the second floor to intervene before things could blow out of proportion. 

“Knock it off, ‘Sung,” you'd spoken, standing in front of Changbin and gently pushing Jisung away. 

“It’s no use, Y/N, he’ll never change,” Changbin snided. Jisung scoffed. 

“Changbin, stop.” 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. How far has your advice gotten me, Changbin? Look how fucked up everything got!” What was going on? Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Jisung’s dark eyes, glossed over with either tears or a drunken haze, trailed from Changbin to you, a bitter smile on his face. “And you, I don’t need you to constantly hover around. God, you act like my mother or something, it’s suffocating!” Words couldn’t pass your lips as you struggled to wrap your head around the situation at hand, “you know- you know how often I drink without you babying me? In fact, tonight was going perfectly fine until this fuckwit,” he gestured at Changbin angrily, the older scowling, “came along. It’s not the alcohol you need to keep me away from, it’s you!” 

It felt as if everything paused in that moment. The music no longer vibrated in your chest,  you couldn’t hear the cars moving around outside as people joined and left the party. All you could hear was Jisung’s words echoing in your ears, and all you could see was every time you had taken him home from a party, every painkiller and glass of water you set out for him. You had wasted so much time on a boy who couldn’t give a shit about you, and for what? Were you even friends? There was a lot you wanted to say, but what was the point? He wouldn’t listen, he’d continue to yell at you for trying to tell him otherwise, trying to talk him into something he’s not. As tears glossed your eyes, you turned away from Jisung and rapidly made your way down the stairs. The two males remained in their spots, the regret settling in Jisung’s chest as the gap between the two of you extended. An even heavier weight tugged on his already cracked heart―as if it had dropped from his chest to his stomach. It was a stupid plan, one he hadn’t thought through in the slightest, and a small part of him hoped that would play in his favour. Everything he spat was a damn lie, everything he pretended to feel was a fabrication. Everything was an excuse to stop himself from being in love with his best friend―you knew him better than anyone else, you knew what he was like when he was drunk and yet it still worked. That overwhelming sensation that came over him when tears glazed your eyes, one that made him want to give up the stupid plan, tell you “hey, it was a stupid dare! I’m sober!” But he couldn’t put this stupidity on anyone else. He won’t have to see you again after causing you so much pain, right? Please God, let him be right. 

It was often in the inebriated moments of his life that Jisung worried about whether he was being too candid with what he was saying, consequently saying the wrong thing. And yet, in the most sober mindset in a while, he’d managed to find the perfect words to do exactly that. He couldn’t quelm the guilt in his chest―what a stupid fucking plan. 

Somehow, much to his horror, Jisung had managed to tangle himself in an even more intricate web of lies, starting as soon as he caved on his plan of ‘hating you’. Rather than allowing the distance to grow, watch you fizzle into an imperceptible face in the crowd as his heart finally unravelled from around you, his slim body had stood in front of your dorm to pretend he couldn’t remember anything. You believed him with hesitance, as far as he knew, and Jisung spent another night drinking his guilt away. The following week, Jisung started to embrace his unravelling life―it felt as if Yeah Right by Joji was constantly playing as he lived deceptively. His plans to get over you had gone from spouting absolute bull shit in your face to spouting absolute bull shit to someone else; namely, Gaeun. Truthfully, he knew nothing about her beyond her partying habits ― he met her at one of many parties, let her dance all over him as she stared at some other guy who was clearly uninterested, and agreed to have the title of her boyfriend. He had told himself it was under the guise of getting over you, pretending she was the true recipient of the immense love that bloomed for your taking. Though, he still wasn’t sure if he believed that. He didn’t like Gaeun―not in the way a boyfriend would, at least―but it was better than being alone. Jisung was getting sick of being alone, and, for once in his life, no drink could quelm the dissatisfaction of being quite distressingly destitute. 

When Jisung had told you of his relationship with Gaeun, you were taken aback. He talked about her with an admiration that you were almost unfamiliar with, one you would never expect to hear from Jisung. Especially considering he’d never mentioned her before, yet seemed to be so desperately infatuated. She shone like the sun, as far as he was concerned, the best thing since sliced bread. You knew of Gaeun―she was nice, that was it. There was an essence of certainty in your soul that she was a lovely person, but something about her and Jisung was just… off. It was a match that would seemingly make sense on paper ― two fun-loving, regular partygoers in a spontaneous and exuberant relationship ― but it was so wrong in person. It wasn’t something you’d been exposed to up close, just in passing and at the occasional get-together Somi had convinced you to attend on a mopey Friday night. There was that part of you that entirely denied the relationship altogether―it was a lie, just like everything else had been telling you recently, right? First he tells you he loves you, then he hates you, then he’s in a relationship with some unmentioned girl he’s been pining after for months? It was off. But people act bizarre when they’re drunk, don’t they? You weren’t so sure anymore. 

It wasn’t the break up that surprised you, it was Jisung’s reaction. He’d stumbled over to your place, alcohol wafting off his breath as he slurred something along the lines of “she’s left me, she’s joined them” before making his way into the living room. As far as you could coax from him, between the begs for him to stop drinking and dumping empty bottles in your lounge room, Gaeun had approached Jisung with a revenge plot. When all was said and done, when she had finally got what she wanted, she blurted the plan to Jisung with a promise that it was ‘nothing personal’. Gaeun never truly liked him, sure he was cute, but she just wanted someone to pay attention to her. Someone to fill that void her ex-boyfriend―that guy she always stared at while with Jisung, the one who never seemed interested―had left, before he fell victim to her plot and came back to her. Then everything would be back to normal, right? Jisung didn’t care about that, he was doing the same in a way. They were in ‘love’ for the wrong reasons, and he was almost certain Gaeun knew that when Jisung agreed to date her―he didn’t have to say it, but the way he radiated around you was almost obnoxiously clear. Maybe that’s why she chose him, she knew he wouldn’t take it personal. Jisung didn’t care about her reasoning, honestly, that wasn’t what had him downing alcohol to conceal his stress and sorrows. Instead, it was the crushing feeling he felt from the universe, the one that screamed “now you have to tell the truth” that was haunting him. It left him shit faced on your couch, vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. Somehow, despite everything he had done, Jisung knew the worst was yet to come. 

“She never loved me, did she?” he chuckled bitterly from his spot on the couch. Uncertain of how to respond, you stared at him pitifully. His soft brown eyes, glistening under the reflection of the flickering lamp rose to meet your own, “do you love me, Y/N?” 

“W-what?” 

Jisung stumbled to his feet. He had thought this was the right thing to do, to tell the truth, but instead it just made him feel even worse about deceiving you for so damn long, “have you ever loved me?” 

“Of course I do, Ji. You’re my best friend.” 

“I-I mean as more than that,” a thick silence clouded the air, “please,” he uttered in a broken voice. A sigh was caught in your throat as your lungs constricted; you felt a sense of déjà vu, everything was happening again―everything was going to end up as shitty as last time. 

“Jisung, you’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight.” 

Gosh, Jisung had never spoken with such anguish in his life, “when you’re drunk you think honestly.” 

“No you don’t!” you burst, startling the boy as a cluster of tears covered your eyes, “the last time you were drunk you told me to stay away from you, that I suffocated you. So what the fuck is it, Jisung?” The considerable silence hung heavily in the air, laying against your chest in a way that had you almost struggling to breathe, gasping for breath as you attempted to hold onto some grip of reality. You sniffled gently, “I can’t keep running in circles with you. I can’t keep doing this.” 

The two of you had argued before, you’d been friends for a notable period after all, but it had never left you this way. Neither of you had ever been stunned into silence by the stinging reality of the other’s words, nor had you pleaded for the other’s understanding with a sense of almost embarrassing desperation. But your minor squabbles and bickering never had earth-shattering revelations; there were never any consequences until now. That was the difference. 

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, don’t you?” he blubbered, almost pleading that you confirm his beliefs. 

“No,” it came out softly, uttered with hesitance, “I don’t.” 

There was more you needed to say, more about the unrelenting love you had held for such a long time, but you no longer knew how to word it. It felt as if none of it even mattered anymore, as if you waited until you were an adult to fix a toy you had broken as a child―what was the point? 

“I love you, Jisung,” there was something in his eyes that changed, almost lit up at the revelation that you truly did feel the same. Yet, at the same time, it seemed as if something shifted in his head. It felt as if he knew there was no salvaging this relationship, he had tugged you beyond the brink of extinction. You struggled to keep looking in his eyes―that look, that bright and almost hopeful look, god it killed you, “but I can’t be with you if you can’t let yourself feel the same.” 

If Han Jisung was still pursuing the plan to push you away, he had succeeded. No, he certainly wasn’t over you―truthfully, he never thought he could be―but you had faded significantly. You were a slightly blurred face in some of his best memories, the hesitant suppression of a smile if eyes ever met. You were no longer the one he was in love with, his best friend, the person to take care of him when he was drunk―and Changbin still refused to uphold that position. Instead, you were a has-been. Once, you were his best friend. Once, you were constantly left to take care of him in his inebriated state. Once―no, still―you were the one he fell tempestuously in love with. Now, you faded from him as if you were a reverse polaroid picture. That defectless, perfect image of you by his side with a smile of genuine happiness, radiating with the potential to bloom into something even more beautiful. Even so, the contingency withered. It crumbled at his fingertips, slipping from his grasps as he continued to spiral deeper into his feelings. 

When he thought of love prior to his experience, Jisung believed it was something almost indescribable―that belief he continues to maintain―and the heartbreak that often followed was just as puzzling. Questions of what went wrong, what should have been said sooner, why did it end up this way―he didn’t question it one bit. He knew the answers, they lied in his questionable and remorseful actions, the ones he regretted as soon as he formulated a plan to execute them. He was confident he could minimise it to less words than necessary, exclude the pivotal details and self-judgement of every time he overtly fucked up―he knew exactly what went wrong. By the time he felt compelled to re-offer the truth, he had so inexplicably failed to acknowledge the consequences. 

As he brought the glass bottle to his lips, the male graciously allowed the alcohol to burn his throat, as if it would override his emotional pain he felt from the aftermath of his bitter-tasting decisions. Han Jisung was just too late. 

[softjeon]

Rewind | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Yoongi x Robot!Jungkook • Genre: Fluff, Angst | Rating: Mature | Robot!AU • Words: 5,4k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol

written with @cassiavioletblue​

↳  “Tadah!” They shouted in unison, with Tae raising his hands to wave some little birthday flags while Namjoon and Hoseok clapped their hands and began to sing again, “Happy Birthday to you…”  This was a joke. This had to be a joke and they made that man deliver an empty box. There was no way they had gotten him a Bot.

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“Happy birthday!” Namjoon shouted and Hoseok chimed in as they began to sing, squeezing themselves through the door, because Yoongi seemed adamant not to move and let them in. Great. So they remembered,even though he had tried to be as normal as possible. Yoongi tried to cover up his displeasure with a strained smile. 

“Come in. One more won’t make a difference.” He mumbled at Taehyung who had followed, bopping his head to their awful singing and greeted Yoongi with a hug. Covering one of his ears with the palm of his hand, Yoongi watched how Namjoon was swinging a wine bottle in one hand and in the other a card with his name on it. He wondered if the bottle would survive this night in one piece. Dancing around him there was Hoseok who was gyrating his hips racily in a way that had Yoongi feeling dizzy from just looking at it. 

With a heavy sigh Yoongi closed the door and followed his best friends. It was better to just give in now because he knew that they wouldn’t let it go. Not when it was his 30th birthday. Which he hated - and they knew.

“We know you hate your birthday.” Namjoon began, saying exactly what was on his mind. “That’s why we didn’t plan anything big but you don’t turn thirty every year so we’re here now and you gotta deal with it.” Hoseok chimed in with a bright smile and then proceeded to push Yoongi down onto the couch by his shoulders. “You can’t take away the right of your best friends to celebrate you. At least a little bit.” 

“You always do so much for us, Yoongs…,” Namjoon continued as he opened the wine to pour some of the dark red beverage into the glasses that Taehyung had grabbed from the kitchen. None of the glasses matched. 

Hoseok nodded eagerly, giving the card over to Yoongi, wishing him a ‘Happy Birthday’ again and then dancing, before Yoongi could roast him with his look. 

Pulling Taehyung onto his lap, Hoseok urged Yoongi on to open the card while he very well knew how much he hated to be in the spotlight like this. He would rather open the card in private. But he also knew that they wouldn’t let him. For being his best friends who allegedly ‘loved him just as he was’ they were surprisingly cold hearted when it came to his refusal to celebrate his birthdays. Hopefully he could just ignore their gift like last year where he just hadn’t used the voucher (it was one of those things were people only paid after the voucher had been used so it wasn’t like he had let their money gone to waste) but this time he wouldn’t be so lucky.

When he opened the card there was no voucher inside, it didn’t even look like a normal ‘Happy birthday card’. There was just one sentence on it in big black letters. Which said “Open the door”. 

He looked up into the grinning faces of his friends who were apparently really amused by his confusion. Without wasting any time Yoongi turned to open the door expecting a prank with a clown jumping at him or something similarly freaky. But there was a man standing outside of the door and Yoongi wondered if he had just arrived or if he had been standing there since his friends had knocked on his door, waiting just around the corner until Yoongi would open his door again. There was a massive box right behind him and Yoongi had to look up to even try and see the upper end of it.

“Min Yoongi?” The tired looking man said bringing his attention back to him. He held out a touch pen for him and then a pad, “Please sign here.” 

Confused Yoongi took the pen from him, signing where he pointed his finger at. There was the smell of cold smoke coming from the man’s clothes and Yoongi wrinkled his nose. Now he was definitely curious where the box was coming from. The postman revealed the mystery right after storing the pad back in his bag when he turned around to get the box off his cart. There was a little note in black ink on the outside of the otherwise cream-colored box, like a stamp, telling him where the package was coming from:

 “Thank you for ordering with Bots Internationals.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widened, stumbling back out of reflex which was pretty fortunate or else the man would had run over his foot with his cart. 

“We hope you’ll enjoy your new...eh,” The man coughed and looked down at his papers, searching for the right number again, “R0901JK - oh wow,” He raised an eyebrow at Yoongi his face changing as he looked interested and lively for a moment, “You got money, huh. Don’t tell the company but this is hot shit! Anyways...” He cleared his throat and dumped the box casually in the hallway, going back to his regular mail man self, “We hope R0901JK will soon be a indissoluble part of your life.” It sounded like he had said those words a million times already, pattering them out like he was reading from a script he couldn’t wait to finish. At the end he saluted awkwardly, taking the cart with him and leaving the life-size box in front of Yoongi. It was decorated with a stupidly big, blue bow right on its top.

Yoongi turned and walked inside, to ask his friends what the fuck they’d been thinking but he got interrupted before he could even open his mouth. They were all standing in the hallway so they could peek through the open door at him, so impatient to see his reaction that they couldn’t wait for him to get back into his flat.

“Tadah!” They shouted in unison, with Tae raising his hands to wave some little birthday flags while Namjoon and Hoseok clapped their hands and began to sing again. “Happy Birthday to you…”  

This was a joke. This had to be a joke and they made that man deliver an empty box. There was no way they had gotten him a Bot.

“Unpack it! Unpack it,” The boys began chanting,while Hoseok was doing a little celebratory dance. When Yoongi kept standing in the hallway in disbelief, looking like he didn’t want to move at all they took matters into their own hands and brought the package further into the living room where they carefully laid down the life-size box and stepped back again, waiting for Yoongi to finally make a move. Hoseok pulled Taehyung in by his waist and smiled. “We tried to tell the company as much details about your preferences as we knew to make him perfect for you.” He winked at Yoongi playfully. “We want to see him, too. So, open it!”

“Though you shouldn’t start him, yet,” Taehyung quickly chimed in, cheeks blushing for a moment as he addressed Yoongi. “It’s better if you let him imprint on you when you’re alone. I’ve heard of that one guy who had his mom around when he opened his package and he went to the bathroom for a second while his mum walked in on the bot, trying to clean there or whatever. They had to bring it back to the company because it was basically useless for him as the imprint is irreversible and his mum didn’t have the same taste in girls as he did.” They laughed and snickered and Yoongi still felt like he was in the wrong movie. He lived alone. He always lived alone. And he wasn’t good with robots. He had been freaking out when Namjoon had brought over his cleaning bot once, a thing the size of a trash can (and also similar looks). He’s had to leave the apartment while the thing did the cleaning because it made his skin crawl to see that moving tin box make decisions and pick up things.

So having a live sized, human looking bot that the producers claimed could emulate human emotions? Out of the question!

Yoongi stared at the box a while longer and then, despite better knowledge kneeled down in front of it. He looked at it with the same feeling in his gut when he was about to watch a horror film that he knew would creep him out - but he still had to watch it. Carefully, very carefully he took the blue bow off the top and opened the seal at the side and then… he opened the lid to peak inside.

“Whoah, damn,” Namjoon came closer when he saw the first glimpse of the robot. “He is perfect!” Jimin jumped in excitement. 

“I told you it’s the best idea to order from where I got Tae.” Hoseok said proudly, kissing his lover on his cheek as he blushed in response. “They make the best ones!”

Namjoon nodded and when Yoongi didn’t open the lid any further, he pulled at it, pushing away some of the styropor to free the young man (robot) for everyone to see. “It definitely is worth the money. Do you like him, Yoongi?,” He chuckled and looked up. There was no response from his friend, his eyes fixated on the robot. “Yoongi?”

Jimin furrowed his brows and leaned towards Taehyung. “I told you he likes blondes. Didn’t you scan him right?” The younger shook his head and roamed around in his system to find ‘Yoongi’s idol type’ File that he had stored there as they all had come up with a present, before blurting it out all the information they had gathered. “Curly hair, cute button nose, well-build body and lean muscles, sweet personality, something that makes him want to protect and yet curl up against him and big brown ey-”

“Stop that! Where did you even get those informations? Did you check all my former boyfriends for similarities? Did you dig through the web to find my profile of that dating site I used in my twenties to read my preferences?” He was irritated and also a little bit shocked. Because however they had done their research they had absolutely checked all the boxes that made him weak. The robot in the box was absolutely gorgeous and exactly his type.

Taehyung nodded, “All of the above, yes and I analyzed your habits at gatherings, your flirting techniques and who you walk hom…”

Hoseok pushed a hand on his boyfriend’s mouth, keeping him from giving away even more information. Yoongi didn’t look like he was loving the jokes right now. “So…..Yoongi,” Jimin interrupted the awkward silence and stares between them, “Do you like him? You’ll keep him, right?” 

He was really, really tempted to just close the box and ship the robot right back where it came from - but another part of him was just as tempted to wake the robot up to see if it was really like the advertisements said: that the robot would love you, just the way another human would and that you wouldn’t even be able to tell the differences. He got dizzy from all the mixed feelings inside of him. 

“Why? Isn’t there a .. trial period? What if I don’t like him? I mean he might look nice but what if he’s just going on my nerves? There’s a reason I don’t have a roommate or a pet.”

“Namjoon! He’s doing it again!” Jimin whined when Yoongi was coming up with excuses (something all of them were used to, especially when it came down to his own happiness and enjoyment), pursing his lips and making the other’s laugh with it.

“And there’s a reason you don’t have a boyfriend!” Namjoon joked. “Anyways, of course this isn’t all.” Namjoon got up from where they sat, knowing that Yoongi felt a little too overwhelmed right now with all these eyes on him. “We also ordered a table at your favorite pub and I am in need of some good beer, aren’t you?” He pulled his friend up and grabbed Jimin’s hand to get both to move along. “Are you coming or?” Namjoon looked over his shoulder, laughing when Seokjin and Hoseok immediately chimed in with another rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to you’, while Taehyung was bopping his head to their singing. But as soon as Namjoon had them all out on the hallway, waiting for Yoongi to lock his door, he came closer again.

“Look at him later if you want. But please, just try it once, okay? And if all fails, I still got the receipt.” Namjoon nudged his friend’s side. “We want you to be happy, Yoongi. You deserve that.” Smiling at him, he quickly caught up with the others, keeping them from breaking the elevators button in their excitement and giving Yoongi a few seconds to catch his own breath. 

Although Yoongi enjoyed staying home more often then going out right now he was thankful for the distraction. He needed to make a decision on his own, without a few pairs of eyes on him who where analyzing every move he was making. Namjoon was right though, it couldn’t hurt to try it just once, could it? If he didn’t like it he would just shut the robot off and he could wait in his box, totally unconscious until someone from the company picked him up. There was absolutely nothing that could go wrong.

... ╘[◉-◉]╕ ...

It didn’t take long for his friends to get blackout drunk. 

Drinks were spilled as they cheered for Yoongi’s birthday, filling cups after cups with new alcoholic beverages that no one was even sure what it was anymore. The music got louder and the pub filled with more and more people that wanted to celebrate the weekend. As a robot, Taehyung didn’t need any drinks but he was acting just as silly as his boyfriend who had just started to climb on the table next to them, getting cheered on by a group of girls that were acting as if he was a stripper and Hoseok obviously loved it. Taehyung happily clapped along.

“Please, let me, please,” Jimin’s whiny voice made Yoongi tore his gaze away from them, regretting the choice the minute he saw the younger halfway in Namjoon’s lap and under the table. Namjoon had his head leaned against the wall, eyes closed and brows furrowed as he drunkenly tried to keep Jimin from diving under the table and do god-knows what to him in public. And where Jin was? No one really knew. 

“I think we should get them home soon,” Taehyung yelled over the loud music towards Yoongi, giggling in amusement. 

Yoongi gave him an exasperated look. “Yes. We absolutely should.” Together they tried to get them together into one place as a group which was as easy as collecting flees or herding stubborn sheep. It took them about half an hour until everyone had their jackets, the bills were paid and telephone numbers were collected (one of the girls that had cheered on Hoseok refused to let him leave without giving him her number. She must be pretty drunk herself or else she might have noticed Taehyung’s look). Yoongi envied her a little. He wasn’t half as drunk as he had liked and in a state that might be even worse than before: he was drunk enough for his self-control to soften but not drunk enough to forget about the bot that was waiting for him at home. So basically he couldn’t wait to look at him again. Still he wouldn’t turn him on. Not really… would he?

Taehyung was a massive help to get the other’s home safely and Yoongi carefully eyed him from the side. Taehyung was a bot too - but another kind. He was old, not Taehyung per se, but his model. He was still tightly bound to a million laws which sometimes resulted in Hoseok coming home to Taehyung sitting on the floor with a glitch where he couldn’t move because there were two tasks he wanted to do but where interfering with each other.  At first Yoongi hadn’t liked him either but had started to trust him after a while. Tae couldn’t hurt them even if he wanted to. He couldn’t hack into anything they didn’t let him, he couldn’t get all ‘world dominance’ on them - in short he was like a wind up doll or a vacuum cleaner with feelings. He was safe.

The newer generations of bots were different though. He had seen the fairs where companies sold their newest models, advertising their dreamy bodies and inhuman intelligence. Yoongi just found them creepy. He waited for the first bot to go rogue and kill someone or delete half of humanities digital records or whatever else those machine brains were up to. Nonetheless they intrigued him. Just like you could be intrigued by drugs or alcohol even though you knew they were dangerous and bad for you and that you should stay away.

When he closed the door behind him, with the last of his guests safely in a taxi on their way home he lasted for about five minutes before he was sitting in front of his package again. He feared what was inside of there. But he also desperately wanted to switch it on and see what it could do, how it would talk or react. He also wondered with a queasy feeling in his stomach (and he wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or nerves) if what the companies newest ads promised were true: That their new series could feel just the way humans did and could make their own decisions based on them. 

Carefully, Yoongi reached where he knew the switch was and pushed it. He quickly leaned back and waited for the robots eyes to snap open but nothing of that happened. Instead his chest heaved as the young man took a deep breath (or simulated to do), before his eyes slowly opened. They instantly focused on Yoongi's and a warm smile was found on the robots lips, nose scrunching up cutely as he sat up and looked at his new owner. 

“Good evening sir,“ The young man cocked his head aside, hands holding onto the edge of the box, “Thank you for purchasing R0901JK. My name is Jungkook. Please register your name so we can proceed the imprint.“

“Holy shit!” Yoongi froze at the other’s welcome. He looked human. He looked absolutely, startlingly human! There was no delay in his facial expression or monotone in his voice. If his words wouldn’t give him away - or the box that he was still sitting in for that matter - one could totally think that he was alive!

“I registered your name as <holy shit> is that, right?” Jungkook asked, smiling at the other as if he hadn’t just cursed at him. “Do you want to help me out of this box? It’s quite uncomfortable.” He laughed softly, never leaving Yoongi’s gaze, waiting for the other to initiate their first skin on skin contact.

“No! Goddamnit, no! My name is Yoongi. I’m... I’m just Yoongi and I... I can’t believe they got me a bot. You are a bot! A real one! What on earth am I going to do with you? Put you in the corner of the room so you can stare at me? How is one supposed to live comfortably with one of you guys around?” He was drunk rambling, spilling all of his worries out in front of the newly awakened bot who seemed a tad bit confused, especially because Yoongi didn’t make a move to help him out of the box as Jungkook had asked, therefore denying him the critically needed skin on skin contact that would make him imprint on Yoongi. 

Because despite the rumours it wasn’t the first look that had the newest model imprint on their humans it was the first touch of their registered owner.

Jungkook blinked at Yoongi, tangled at his sudden outburst and the many questions he was asking – because he was programmed the other way. He should be asking questions right now, to get a feel for his partner. 

“I am your boyfriend,” Jungkook simply answered Yoongi’s first question, before he went on and gave him one for every question he had. “I’d like to look at you and live with you. And as far as I can tell it’s just one bot around, which is me, your boyfriend.” Jungkook reached out his hands for Yoongi to take. “Can you help me now?”

“No you are not.” He wasn’t sure of many things at the moment but this one was clear. “I won’t be loving or fucking an electrical box.” He furrowed his brows at Jungkook who was still seated. “You are kind of useless though if you can’t even get up without help. Aren’t you supposed to ‘improve your lucky owner’s everyday life’? At least that’s what the advertisements say. Lots of People smiling and looking at each other fondly and being so happy it physically hurts to look at them. You’re not at all how I pictured you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered back and forth between his hands and Yoongi, who just spat comment after comment at him. He was more than confused and nowhere in his mind could he find a program that would help him, when his owner refused him and told him off – without being even imprinted on him. Jungkook gulped, opening his mouth to say something when Yoongi hit him hard with the last comment. Tears dwelled in his eyes as the flood of programmed emotions broke through him and confused him even more. Jungkook was programmed to feel, even more so as the one’s ordering him had asked for someone who was soft and connected with his emotions.

“I am deeply sorry I am not how you wanted me to look like.” He didn’t want to say it, but he was supposed to. The owner’s happiness what was he was programmed for. “You can return me with your favored changes within two weeks. What is there you want to change?” He carefully met Yoongi’s gaze, “My eyes?”

Yoongi stopped mid-rant when he realized that the other was crying. “Is that.. are you leaking?” Surely those couldn’t be tears running down the other’s face. “Are you broken already? Can’t get out of a box and then leaking… cooling fluid? You’re not going to blow up on me are you? I’ll call the company right now if you don’t cut that shit!”

Jungkook just stared blankly at the human, deeply confused what he was doing wrong. Why none of his programs seemed to work, why this human was so adamant on hating on him. “Did you just buy me to get out your anger?” Jungkook still had his hands out, as if he was waiting for Yoongi to pull him up any second. 

“I didn’t buy you! I’d never buy something like that. You’re a gift and... why am I even justifying myself to you. You’re basically a computer in a pretty vessel. Like a calculator on legs. I bet you could tell me all the numbers of pi without even thinking, right?” Jungkook looked frozen with his arm outstretched like that so Yoongi coldly swapped it away while unknowingly activating the imprint. “Don’t sit like that. It’s creepy!”

Jungkook flinched hard at the sudden contact of his skin on his, his program reacted immediately, processing the imprint and making sure that the man who stood in front of him was the only one he’d ever love. Until he would be turned off forever. It was like a warmth that spread through him. Every fiber of his body was working for him now, living to be with Yoongi. Nothing else mattered. Only that he hadn’t thought that it would happen like this. 

Jungkook felt like he was falling into a darkness, feeling utterly helpless, while trying to find a solution to the problem that seemed to be his boyfriend. His own heart was aching and Jungkook grimaced at the pain. He had never felt before and every ounce of new feeling was overwhelming him. Especially now that the first experience he gotten was: anger, frustration and hate. 

The robot immediately reacted to Yoongi’s order and got up and sat onto his knees, while he was still trying to figure out what he had done wrong. 

Yoongi blinked. He was utterly overwhelmed with the situation. Outside of the box the robot looked even more like a young man. Not even his clothes gave away that he was a fabricated being. He was wearing distressed jeans and a white, plain T-shirt that was just fitting enough to show off his how well his body was built. Literally built - company made. Yoongi got dizzy from what he saw which stood so much in contrast to what he thought he knew about robots. He didn’t like them. He would never like them! And yet, with the boy - robot - covering in front of him like he was scared and his tear stained face a sudden wave of empathy hit him completely unprepared. He got a little closer, careful, in case that thing had another malfunction before asking warily. “That leak.. is it dangerous? Like... is it some kind of acid that’ll burn my skin or can I just wipe it off?”

Jungkook shook his head softly, but quickly wiped over his own face, trying to take a deep breath to calm the storm of feelings. “I…I’m just a bit overwhelmed. I am sorry,” Jungkook spoke quietly, “It’s simply tears: water, mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin, immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, potassium and nothing more. It won’t burn you just as much as your own tears wouldn’t.”

Yoongi’s intoxicated mind couldn’t keep up with half of the ‘ingredients’ that Jungkook was listing off but he got that it were actually supposed to be tears. 

“So you’re crying... because of me?” He knelt down properly this time, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the robots face. He held his face for a little too long because he simply got lost in the younger’s eyes. He stared in awe at the velvety depth that held so many emotions in them it felt like they might burst from it. He coughed awkwardly as he had finished drying his tears and let go of him. “They did mess up your eyes though. They might look human on first glance but not if you look closely. They are too beautiful. No one has that many stars in his eyes.” 

In reality they could totally pass as human eyes. Amazingly pretty - but human looking.

Jungkook startled, eyes wide as he kept on staring at Yoongi, when he touched him so softly and he was leaning into his touch on instinct. “I thought we would meet differently. I am really sorry I am not what you were looking for.” The robot grimaced painfully again, gasping when his heart felt like it was squeezed hard making it harder for him to breath. Jungkook tried a faint smile, reaching for Yoongi’s hand and he wrapped his delicate fingers around his wrist to pull it away from his face. Instead he brought it down, holding Yoongi’s hands in his. 

“I’d like to think then they put stars in my eyes for you. Maybe that’s what your friends wanted you to have as a gift.”

“You... you’re awfully cheesy do you know that?” Yoongi reacted defensively, trying to get up and getting dizzy so he landed back on his knees. He really should get to back, sleep this off and then think about being a robot owner when he had a clear head. “I... I think I should get to sleep now. What do I do with you? Do you sleep? Do I just switch you off? Do you need electricity or food or... motor oil not to die?” He regretted not having read the manual before waking up Jungkook.

Jungkook reached out for Yoongi, holding him when he noticed the smell on him that he had no time to register yet. “Are you drunk?” He asked with a sigh, before he got up and wiped over his cheeks one last time. Jungkook easily pulled Yoongi up by his arms and hoisted him up in his arms, before scanning the room he was in quickly, so he knew which was his bedroom. “I sleep yes. I can do that next to you if you want. I can keep a warm body temperature and hold you?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring Yoongi’s sudden screaming and the way he was struggling in his hold. “But I also could just stay outside. Just, please don’t switch me off. It’s…it’s not a nice feeling.”

“Let me down! Let me down! Don’t crush me! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to threaten you, I won’t switch you off, don’t kill me, don’t...” Yoongi’s screaming died down when he finally registered that despite his struggling Jungkook hadn’t tightened his grip or tried to crush him in his robotic arms. He was just holding him, in a somewhat bridal style way and suddenly Yoongi felt pretty silly. “Are you... are you carrying me to bed? Is this some kind of honeymoon-wedding-night scenario to you?” He sighed deeply. This was definitely too much for him. “Yes I’m drunk but honestly I’m not sure if I’d be able to handle this sober. We’ll see how it’ll go tomorrow after breakfast. Do you eat breakfast? Do I need to have anything there to keep maintenance of you? Can you even eat?” He tried to not move too much because it made him shudder to think about how much strength was hiding in those arms. Robots were a lot stronger than humans to be of use in any kind of scenario (like carrying a couch alone for the sake of their owner’s back). “Please don’t get into bed with me. That’ll be totally creepy. I’m not even sure if I can sleep with you being in the room.”

“Don’t worry about me needing food.” Jungkook shook his head, though it hurt him to see Yoongi so scared of him. He quickly retreated again, lowering his gaze. “I…I’ll just go into the living room and wait there.” He wasn’t sure what to do now. Usually he was programmed to either hug or kiss in those moments, but Yoongi’s body language was screaming at him not to be touched again. “Good Night, Yoongi.”

“Wait!” Now that he thought of it, letting Jungkook roam in his apartment didn’t feel him any better either. There were knives in the kitchen and electricity basically everywhere and what if the robot just walked out the door and onto the street causing a car accident. “Stay in my bedroom, please.” He locked the door behind them even though he felt a little tingle of nerves at the thought of being locked in with Jungkook. Then he remembered something that he had heard about in some documentary. “Hey, isn’t there an emergency code to put you on standby in case you go crazy or something? What is your’s?”

Jungkook took a step back, not sure why Yoongi locked them in now. He could have just told him to stay and he would. “Black piano,” The robot answered truthfully and telling Yoongi his emergency code that was different for every individual and usually had something to do with their owner. A word or phrase they don’t use often anymore, so it didn’t happen to be an accidental standby. 

Yoongi frowned. He could play the piano actually, hadn’t done this ever since he was a child and he wondered if the robot somehow knew. What had his friends put into Jungkook despite his dating type? “So if I say those words you’ll freeze? Or is there something else I need to do?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, “No, just those words but please don’t.” He whined quietly with his back against the wall. “An emergency lockdown is not good for me. If…if you really want me to be out then please just turn me off then. But I promise I won’t bother you. I just stay right here.” Jungkook pointed at the corner of the room.

Yoongi looked at him without a word, wondering how a machine, a thing made of gears and high quality plastic could look so scared. “You really think that you’re feeling, don’t you?” He murmured under his breath, amazed and appalled at the same time. He would figure out how to properly react to that tomorrow. Right now all he wanted to do was sleep. 

“Good night, Jungkook.” He threw the blanket over himself, figuring that if the robot needed something to stay warm he would get it himself. What a mess of a birthday!

A/N: Another story! This will be only a short story, about four chapters! What do you think? Will Yoongi learn to let Jungkook in? Or will he send him back ;) 

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[eltigreus]

what’s changed?

when I was younger (not that I now am old or anything), I used to tweet, livejournal, post, share, reblog (with vivacious commentary), and unabashedly expose my self and my expressions in whatever manner I could think of on a daily basis, wherever possible. multiple times a day, in fact. the epitome of screaming into the void - simply for the sake of assuring myself that I am alive and I have thoughts/feelings. but now...

I find myself: habitually/obsessively running my thoughts and opinions through judgement filters before even allowing myself to consider them; reactively scrutinizing the art and expressions of others for no good reason other than to be contradictory; scavenging the depths of my mind for good content and throwing out practically every seed I pull up before it even has a chance to be germinated; refusing to share anything of myself that feels underdeveloped or inadequate for this social platform or that; and (at times, desperately) looking for any minuscule moment of every day life interesting enough to capture on video that I could share with friends, family, followers, and anyone else that might help to contribute to the proliferation of vast opportunity for creation in the realm of entertainment for myself and my cohorts.

“What happened?”

how did that bombastically outspoken, overly-enthusiastic, naïvely ostentatious young artist end up this way?

a while ago, I spoke to a friend who told me,

“You’re all dusty? You used to be so much... shinier?”

to which I immediately shrunk in reaction. “life happened,” I thought to myself.

but, whose life is it? whose life are you leading? whose life are you aspiring towards? is it one of your own creation and desire or is it the one you were indoctrinated to believe is the only “true” option for success in your profession? the one with flagrantly rapid [commercial] success, un-stifled money flow, influential notoriety, and - of course - lots and lots of beautiful [men] of all shapes and sizes at the tips of your fingers awaiting your beck and call?

the reality of this enviable latter life is one only a privileged few get to lead in the business of entertainment; and it is apparent that a vast majority of those few don’t look like me, nor would they refer to themselves as “movement artists” - nor do they seem to register aloud their own contributions (or lack thereof) to the privilege of living this reality; that’s another tangent emotional pi.

“You’re all dusty?”

I’ve had the dirt kicked up on me quite a few times before that day when I met my friend. I had felt myself becoming much more dull in the months that preceded this meeting, but never was able to admit to myself what was happening until someone else was awake enough (and loved me enough) to point it out to me.

“You used to be so much... shiner? You can’t keep giving and giving your light away to other people. You have to replenish and recharge yourself if you want to have anything at all to give to someone else.”

these were some of the things my very conscious friend had said to me that day. he was/is right.

I love to give and I love to avoid myself. but, clearly, this wasn’t always the case. frequently, I attributed this development to the consistent loneliness I was experiencing (even before the quarantine). upon further reflection, I think it would actually be more accurate to say “this re-development” of myself. I think, perhaps, the reason that bombastic young artist was so unapologetically expressive was because he had the time to be so; he had the time to be bored enough to indulge in his own organically-sprouted curiosities and decided to respond to his findings aloud - to himself, to anyone who might hear in passing, to whomever.

the reality was that the make-up of his audience was of no importance; the importance was the act of sharing, the purity of expression - of earnestly recounting experience and emotion. not being concerned with how to indulge in dialogue but inherently knowing that the conversation must be started in order for one to begin to learn.

so how can I expect myself to be so suddenly inspired now when I never give myself enough time to relax and be bored?

quite probably possibly, the production mindset has skewed my view of [my] value. though the efficiency skills I now posses are very useful in a creative process when time is not on our side, the incessant need to constantly produce something in order to feel sufficient - to feel purposeful or worthwhile in any manner - can take irreversible tolls on the body and psyche.

“You’ve got to save some light for yourself.”

I have given my light to choreographers, directors, producers, employers, educators, entrepreneurs, puppet masters, and clowns all with varying degrees of mutual benefit as collaborators and acquaintances. you can tell the ones who are ready to reciprocate your efforts of light-giving from a mile off and - hopefully - you make the effort to ensure that you are able to stick around and continue trading frequencies/creative opportunities. but, why is it that one would choose to stick around when one’s intuition screams at them that their currently-involved endeavor is a one-way highway and all signs along the road offer (clearly threatening) admonitions of fines, tickets, and legal action against those that pick up... hitchhikers?

though you inherently know better, for some reason, you still hope the ones who are there to take what they need and then thank u, next themselves out of your realm of existence will somehow (miraculously) see you as something... special? some thing “worth” taking the time to get to know and grow with. unique enough to take a chance on for a fantastical project that is bound to be the next multi-million dollar franchise which will set you up to do whatever it is celebrities do when they’re not being famous... for the rest of your life? it sounds as ridiculous as it is.

it’s hilarious (and unsurprising), but my professional life and personal life have very closely mirrored parallels. to consider myself a “hitchhiker” in regards to my past methods of approach at forming relationships (romantic and otherwise) with humans is, unfortunately, fairly accurate. the co-dependent nature of matrimony which had been instilled in me since I was a young one has very undesirable affects when put into practice as an “independent adult.”

but how could you expect anything different when your focus is divided between your profession, your partner, your bills, your friends, your dog, your chores ... this list goes on and on. when do you turn your undivided attention inward to reflect on what it is you need/want? I’ve found that even when I am involuntarily alone, I tend to refuse avoid every opportunity for relaxation and self-consideration. (un)fortunately (for me), the Pandemic currently circulating our Mother Earth has removed virtually all possibilities for external distractions. (a moment of singularity is much more easily served surrounded by accessible bars, intoxicants, and unimaginably beautiful people, after all - no?)

before I run off my rails, I think I must pull this train of thought into the station. this lengthy rumination of my past experiences is not meant to serve as a “warning” for those interested in undertaking an artist’s life. I write this, first and foremost, to employ what I’ve criticized myself for not doing throughout this piece: I write this as an act of screaming into the void once again.

I write this to assure myself of my own ability to communicate emotions/thoughts and experiences, and to remind myself of how much I love to do so. I write this also to offer another perspective to others who may feel jaded or deceived along the current portion of their artistic journey. I write this as an act of defiance against my own insecurities.

I write this in the hopes of encouraging whomever might stumble upon it to give yourself a break and assess/pursue what it is that will bring you true fulfillment in this life.

I write this... because I wanted to? because I wanted to. because I wanted to express myself without being bogged down by the waterfall of irrelevance that my mind produces when it feels unsafe or exposed. because I am an expressive human who must allow room for expression when the motivation is pure.

because I’m trying to cure myself from this long-time build up of artistic epididymal hypertension.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[nemo1230]

A thing or two about vulnerability

Richie had lived many years, 41, to be precise, and he hadn't known a thing about vulnerability. Such thing was a complete stranger to him.

But now, lying in a bed together with the love of his life, he let his thoughts wander. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking over to Eddie, who was still asleep. And finally some things made sense to him. It wasn't that he hadn't felt like this before per se, after all he had pinned after Eddie for the better half of his teenage years, but right now, the feeling wasn't tainted with repression and internalized hate. It was free and transparent.

Vulnerability in its essence is one of the greatest dangers and weapons of humanity. In vulnerability there's always a sense of duality, and while being vulnerable you agree to both sides, whether deliberately or not.

It can be peace and misery, a curse and it's cure, all at once. You place your heart and soul in the palms of another person, giving the person the liberty to do whatever they want with them, even breaking them. You just trust them enough that they won't. A trust like that is something that can either crush you in pieces or mend you.

A trust like that is strength, despite what many might believe, Richie realized. It's bulletproof, wholly and irreversibly indestructible down to the very core; it protects you, because it allows you to find a home in another person. A home that's beyond material values is a small salvation of its own; it's safety and security, it's pure, unadulterated love that vividly pierces trough you, providing you with strength unlike any other.

That is, if the love is mutual of course. To misplace trust like that can cause such heartache that can shake the very ground you stand on, to make it crumble beneath you, taking you with it. It's a huge risk, but Richie has always been a risk taker, and oh, how easy it was to take this one. After around 8 years spent pinning and 27 not remembering, that is of course.

To love and to be loved like that was something that Richie never consider to be possible for him, yet here it was, right in front of him, in a form of this small, hyperactive hypochondriac 41 year-old who calls him an idiot on daily basis. With him, he finally felt at home, with him all the misplaced pieces suddenly fell into place.

Richie looked at Eddie, eyes running over every feature of his, watched how the sunlight from the window created a soft glow and delicate shadows on his face and it finally hit him; the fact that he could just do this now. He could love Eddie, as a man, and as a human, with nothing stopping him.

Eddie sighed and shifted in his sleep, turning his face to the side, his hair falling on his face. Richie reached over and pushed the escaping lock of hair behind his ear, then gently run his knuckles over his cheek.

Eddie was snoring not so quietly and a little drool was coming out of his mouth and he hadn't taken a shower yesterday because he had had a quite tiring day at work, and oh dear god and all heavens above, he looked so stunning Richie could cry.

He had picked up the habit of just simply watching Eddie. He liked watching him do simple, mundane things, like reading a book or cooking, or anything really. While there was a certain thrill of doing new things with Eddie of course, there now was newfound enjoyment in simplicity. Maybe he was really getting old, but he found that just being with Eddie was enough. Or maybe it was the fact that he had come so close to losing Eddie, that now he really was relishing that he was alive, breathing.

"Fucking creep." Eddie's voice echoed trough Richie's thoughts, making him snap out of it. He looked down and noticed Eddie's vivid, sparkling eyes looking at him.

"Well, good morning to you too, spaghetti-man, " Richie said, a smile already forming on his face.

Even just woken up, sleep mussed Eddie was able to direct a death glare Richie's way. ''I swear to god, if you don’t stop calling me that, dude.''

Richie raised one eyebrow. "And how is calling me dude any better? As if we're two straight dudes, complaining about our wives, watching sports, ya know, living our best heterosexual lives. If you need to be reminded, we fucked yesterday. That's not very 'dude' of us.''

Eddie signed, sat up in the bed and run his hand trough his hair. Then he turned to Richie, who was watching him with a grin on his face. ''You know what, you're right, I just realized that I am, in fact, a heterosexual man, sorry, dude,'' he said, making sure to emphasize the word 'dude', ''I gotta go back to my wife, I don't think she'll be very happy if she finds out that I have once again stayed the night at some attractive mans house.''

Richie snorted and sat up too. "Hmm, and how often exactly do you stay at the houses of these attractive men?" He slowly put his hand over Eddie's chest, gently running his hand over the big scar that now decorated Eddies front and back. Eddie was still quite insecure about it, so Richie never stopped reminding him how beautiful he was and that a scar like that could never change that.

Goosebumps rose on Eddie's skin and he shivered.  He put his hand over Richie's and laced their fingers. "Every night." He whispered, then leaned forward and softly kissed Richie, to which Richie was quick to respond. Kissing Eddie was something that he never got tired of.

When Eddie pulled back slightly, Richie spoke again, changing his voice to sound more like a professional doctor. ''Well, Mr. Kaspbrak, I sure do have some new for you. I have to diagnose you with Richie Tozier-sexuality. This includes being incredibly attracted to dudes with dad bods and terrible personal hygiene. '' He announced, matter-of-factly, counting the things he listed on his fingers for emphasis.  

Eddie pulled back a bit more, just enough to fix Richie with a pointed look. ''Is there any cure to this horrible disease? '' His voice was serious, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

''Yeah, I recommend getting under the covers with me immediately, that should help you quite alright. '' Richie declared, while pointing at the blankets on their bed.

Eddie raised one eyebrow and tilted his head. ''Are you always this flirty with your patients? ''

''Yeah, actually. I am flirty with every single one of my patients, which include, hmm let me check, '' He then pretended to check an invisible list of patients that he apparently has, and then continued, ''Eddie Kaspbrak. Yeah, that would be all. ''

Eddie smirked, leaning forward, and slowly running his thumb over Richie's lower lip. ''How very unprofessional of you, doctor. ''

Richie had no idea how they always could go from stupid jokes like that, to heavy flirting like this. But he wasn't about to complain, rather the opposite.

Richie already felt his cheeks reddening. ''Will I get punished for it? '' He whispered, pressing so close to Eddie that they were breathing the same air.

''Oh, most certainly. '' Came the reply, which Richie felt more on his lips rather then heard.  Then Eddie pulled back, Richie chasing after him, and while still having that suggestive smirk, calmly said, ''Go do the dishes, babe. ''

Richie gasped and scrunched up his face in disappointment. ''Bro, really?!''

Eddie only snorted and tilted his head. ''And who's being a straight dude now, huh?'' He laughed, so open and happy, that Richie couldn't help but to swoon at, after all this time all he still could think was - 'cute cute cute'.

''Well, shit you caught me, all the internalized homophobia that I've felt my whole life has been fake and I actually do like boobs!''

Eddie signed, laid back down on his back and sprayed out his hands. He looked at Richie, pressing his lips in a thin line and then smiling sadly. ''I fucking hate this. It's fucking bullshit. That we had to go through that. ''

Richie joined him, snuggling up close to Eddie, laying his head on his chest. ''Yeah. It sucked ass, but I am happy now though. You make me so happy, Eds.'' He took Eddies hand and started playing with his fingers. A stupid joke about sucking ass was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. He has used humor to hide his true feelings for his whole life, but being with Eddie made him realize that maybe, sometimes it was good to just feel.

Being this close to another person was still a challenge to him. Living a life mostly all by himself, never letting anyone close left it's impact after all. He had built walls upon walls, but with Eddie there beside him, he could feel them slowly crumbling.

''You make me so happy too, Rich.'' He kissed the top of Richie's head, took a deep breath and whispered, ''I love you.''

Richie tried his best to still his beating heart and blushing cheeks. This wasn’t the first time they’ve told these words to each other, but every time they still made Richie's breath get stuck in his throat, and his heart skip a beat. ''I love you too, Eds, I love you too. ''

Then Richie looked up, into Eddie's eyes and saw that he too was still affected by words like that. He smiled, open and bright, and Eddie smiled back, just the same, his eyes full of fondness and unmistakable, undeniable love.

And Eddie looking at him like that made him realize that perhaps being in love really was an endless free fall. You trip over the edge at that's it, no ground to reach, just you falling deeper and deeper and deeper. And he never wanted to stop.

Now he could say that he knew a thing or two about vulnerability, and honestly, it's a pretty fucking good feeling.

[blueberryraindrops]

Blueberry’s Ultimate T-Rated TUA Masterlist

KEY

Fics are organised alphabetically (articles e.g. ‘the’ will not count)

Download links are EPUB files only

authors can feel free to send me a msg if they want their fics’ download link taken down

Regular updates can be expected as long as I remain in the fandom

Last Update: 14/10/2020

Other Masterlists: All Fics; G-Rated; M-Rated; E-Rated

FANFICTION

☁︎ another cog in the murder machine by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

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Five finally gets the breakdown he deserves

☁︎ Blood like Lemonade by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

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Hunting high and low to seek revenge, Brand new moral code, got made reluctant renegade. Leaving empty souls when he avenged, Evil spirits flowed he drank the blood like lemonade.

Five's sordid past comes to light in, quite possibly, the most unpleasant way

☁︎ Details [Series] by VeteranKlaus { T }

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The last time Klaus saw his siblings was at Allison and Patrick's wedding. A lot had changed since then; including the not-so-accidental, irreversible loss of his sight.

There's no time to tell them that, though. Not with the return of their long-presumed-dead brother and the impending apocalypse. Plus, it doesn't matter. He's got Ben as a good seeing-eye ghost.

☁︎ do androids dream of electric sheep? by the_crownless_queen { T }

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Number Four is crying, and Grace was made to care for those children.

In which Grace was created to protect the children of the Academy. Even, as it turns out, from their father.

☁︎ don't waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx { T }

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He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that? “I think I broke it,” Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.

Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.

☁︎ Fighting (Pre)Determinism by chibi_tantei { T / WIP }

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They go back in time, determined to rewrite their own family history. Only problem is, only one of them looks the proper age to get near their younger selves.

Or, six months after Five stormed out, determined to time travel, he returns home. His siblings are happy to have him back, but he's acting differently...

(Or, Five goes undercover as himself. Twice the siblings should make saving the world easier, right? Yet somehow, he's only now realizing how many issues his family has to fix.)

☁︎ Five and Dave's Life Changing (Life Saving) Field Trip by neuronary { T }

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The little boy, who Dave could now see was not as little as he’d first thought, shoved a tin mug at him. “Drink this.”

Dave drank. It tasted sickly sweet and slightly citrus-y. “Who are you?”

“Five.” The boy’s scowl deepened at Dave’s confusion. “Klaus’ brother.”

Or, Five saves Dave's life to stop Klaus from moping. From Dave's perspective, a very grouchy, sleep-deprived twelve-year-old kidnaps him and he finds it much more entertaining than he should.

☁︎ haven't you heard of meditation? by rosesareredvioletsareblue { T }

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"Klaus, you have a piece of glass sticking out of your neck!"

Klaus felt for the glass, wincing as he found it.

"Oh yeah. Fun." It took all of Five's willpower not to throttle him.

☁︎ Hidden Variables Theory, The by siriuspiggyback { T }

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Something has disturbed the space-time continuum, and it's up to Five to figure out what it is.

With a bit of luck, and a lot of alcohol, he might even manage to do it before he snaps and murders his siblings.

☁︎ haven't you heard of meditation? by rosesareredvioletsareblue { T }

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"Klaus, you have a piece of glass sticking out of your neck!"

Klaus felt for the glass, wincing as he found it.

"Oh yeah. Fun." It took all of Five's willpower not to throttle him.

☁︎ Hidden Variables Theory, The by siriuspiggyback { T }

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Something has disturbed the space-time continuum, and it's up to Five to figure out what it is.

With a bit of luck, and a lot of alcohol, he might even manage to do it before he snaps and murders his siblings.

☁︎ i'm gonna be here til i'm nothing (but bones in the ground) by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid { T }

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Someone definitely just punched him in the chest, right? That’s the reason for that feeling? Or that last batch of pills had something seriously off-label mixed into them. Because there’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He squeezes his eyes shut until dots burst behind his eyelids, but when he opens them, the hallucination doesn’t go away.

“… Five?”

☁︎ if the sky comes falling down by synchronicities { T }

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The equations are still wrong.

In 2002, Number Seven wonders why her siblings are acting odd.

(Or, the post-finale “Vanya doesn’t remember the time travel” fic)

☁︎ If You're Different And You Know It (you're not alone) by M3zzaTh3M3z { T }

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Five was different. He’d always known. Different from most people, what with his freakish birth, powers and unconventional upbringing, all that old news. And different from his siblings. He was smarter. His powers were stronger. And he’d never picked a name. All that was old news too. But there was something else that separated him from the rest, something he didn’t know how to put a finger on, how to categorize, analyse, understand. Five didn’t like not understanding. It was probably Klaus that made him first notice something was off.

☁︎ Is the sadness everlasting? (love, I think it is) by ArmedWithMyComputer { T }

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A look into what Klaus' newly discovered ability could mean for the siblings.

Diego could feel his whole body trembling as he faced the ghosts, only able to take shallow breaths as he struggled to process the true horror of what he was seeing.

And then they started howling.

The sound pierced though his stupor and forced him to his knees instantly. It was like nothing Diego had ever experienced before, and he was consumed with the intensity and overwhelmed by a deep chilling fear. It felt as though his mind had been taken over and all he could hear was the shrieks of grief, more intense than any emotion he had ever felt.

☁︎ It Does(n't) Matter by MYSTERYstew { T }

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It’s a familiar feeling, being lifted up by Luther and tossed around like he weighs nothing (to Luther he certainly does), it was a favorite move of Luther’s as a child. Nostalgia is not what Five feels, he’s too busy flailing as Luther throws him over the railing.

or, Five fails a jump

☁︎ Just One Minute by willowhisperer { T }

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Five holds up his end of the deal, soaked in blood. The Handler decides to toy with him a little while longer.

Maybe it's revenge, maybe she's riding the high of her shiny new position as head of the Commission.

Really, she just wants to win, once and for all.

☁︎ Lessons 'verse [Series] by Soulykins { T }

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Five was maybe four years old when he figured out that he was pretty much ride or die for his siblings. He was also four when he figured out that in the Umbrella Academy, you could never let Reginald Hargreeves figure out what you loved lest he use it against you. There was safety in aloof indifference, more than could be found anywhere else under their roof.

Five times Five Hargreeves protected his siblings the best ways he could, and the one time he failed.

☁︎ Lethe by shoelaces { T / WIP }

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Le·the | A river in Hades whose waters cause drinkers to forget their past.

Or: Five loses his memories instead of Vanya, and it falls to his siblings to raise a superpowered teenager in the 1960s, all whilst preserving their own new lives and preventing yet another apocalypse.

☁︎ Like an abyss by fridayyy { T }

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For the second time, Five has to (gets to?) grow up.

☁︎ Like Oxygen by sevansa { T }

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Klaus's powers may be a bit more extensive than just seeing the dead, he's not sure what to do about that.

OR

The one where Klaus's power is not ghosts, but souls and that makes a hell of a difference.

☁︎ Mellow Rays of a Departing Sun [Series] by Emotionally_Detached (Yeah_Toast) { T }

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He makes it. He time travels and makes it through another apocalypse. He makes it, but his siblings don't.

His siblings don't make it, except he's in his own childhood and they're still here, alive and thirteen and he can fix things.

He will fix things

☁︎ most dangerous place in the world, the [Series] by Princess_Sarcastia { T }

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"Grace is the third model in a series created by and for Sir Reginald.  She has access to the knowledge obtained by her predecessors in their time assisting Sir Reginald in his many endeavors.

All three of them were primarily designed as protectors.  Do no harm, just as Mr. Asimov said!

But Grace is slightly different."

[priority one: protect the children]

☁︎ New Life, A by BirdInTheCave { T }

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Allison had convinced Ray to come back to 2019 with her and her family and after a month of being cooped up in the house with the other Hargreeves plus their own unconventional guests, Ray suggests they spend some time alone. He's still struggling to fully comprehend the new world he's stepped into but he's determined that with Allison at his side he can get used to anything. Allison can't find a reason to say no. She should have said no.

Luckily for her, Five will always be there for his family, now that he's back.

☁︎ Not with me by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) { T }

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They never asked if any of that blood was his. Five is bleeding, and he is also giving up.

AU to 2X07, with hurt Five because after all that boy has been through...

☁︎ Number Five | And The Things that Make Him Tick [Series] by Kraeyola { T }

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It's only been two weeks for him.

AKA: Five succumbs to two weeks worth of badly cared for (physical and emotional) injuries, and ends up extremely feverish.

☁︎ On My Terms by CivilBores { T }

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“I did what you asked,” he tells her. “Now, the briefcase.”

Her eyebrows raise in mock-surprise, red lips curling up her face in a sadistic smile.

“You didn’t think that was all, did you?” she asks.

AU: The Handler gives Five a slightly different deal.

☁︎ Partners, Parents, or None of the Above by DarkFairytale { T }

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Kenny's mom assuming that Diego and Klaus were A) a couple and B) Number Five’s parents was both bemusing and amusing at the time. But that was because it was the only time it had ever happened. Now though? Now they just can't understand why these misunderstandings keep happening.

☁︎ rude awakening by Soulykins { T / WIP }

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When Five wakes up, he just knows someone is in the room with him. Of course, even he didn't except to come face to face with the Handler who he'd thought to be very very dead. And he especially didn't expect her to break into his room and watch him sleep while waiting for him to wake up.

It's very fortunate that Diego and Klaus show up to wake him up and take offense to some random lady in the same room as their very uncomfortable, very thirteen-year-old brother.

☁︎ Screaming in the Face of Communication by papayaromantic { T }

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It's not that he doesn't want to pay attention to Five, just that he seriously can't hear what the boy is saying past the wailing of the torn apart woman in front of him.

☁︎ shaking like I shook before by Anonymous { T }

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Five tries to deal with it alone, until he learns that he doesn’t have to.

☁︎ skirts and sweaters by slightlyworriedhuman { T }

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"I don't want to be a ‘cute little schoolboy’ anymore, alright?” Five snapped. For some reason, the thought of himself as a schoolboy was enough to make his skin prickle. Was it the implication that he was younger than the rest of them, less mature despite his life?

...Yeah, it was definitely that. Absolutely.Five wants a change in wardrobe. His siblings are more than happy to help.

☁︎ small changes by calypso42 { T }

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“I need to ask you something.” He set down the large stack of books he was carrying beside him. Klaus glanced at a few of the titles - Consciousness in the Brain - Memory & the Role of the Hippocampus - Soul vs. Matter: A Comprehensive Look at the Origins of Sentience - and grimaced.

“Are you… having an existential crisis, or something? Because I am possibly the worst person you could go to for that.”

...

When Five goes to Klaus to ask him something about his powers, Klaus doesn’t think much of it. At least, until he realizes that what he thought was simple curiosity was actually deeper than that, leading to a revelation about Five himself.

☁︎ take shelter by aloneintherain { T }

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AU where the apocalypse doesn’t follow the Hargreeves to the 1960s. Without the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over their heads, the siblings can take the time to be a family again.

Until they find out that the Handler has been blackmailing Five.

☁︎ this is a bad town (for such a pretty face) by luciimariiellii { T }

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Five’s gone. (How the Hargreeves cope, and how they reunite.)

☁︎ to unexplain the unforgivable by darkviverna { T }

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Ability to see the dead and having a temporal assassin for a brother don’t mix well.

☁︎ Too Much Too Little by 1spideyson { T }

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Five says nothing on the ride back, just gently presses the tips of thin fingers to his eyes and temples like his head is a new instrument he’s learning to play. Like he’s searching for the right notes.

Diego tries not to cast too many worried glances the boy’s way, but when Five crawls into Diego’s bed, shaking and grey, he can’t stop himself from speaking up.

A look at Five and Diego's relationship through a h/c lens.

☁︎ Too Old To Be So Young by KaseyBeth { T }

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Five winced loudly, pushing his head off the floor to see bright red smeared across his chest and stomach; crimson soaked into his shorts, running down his leg. His head fell back against the ground dizzyingly, and he groaned as someone touched the wound, biting his bottom lip as he tried to stay conscious. The end of life, of everything, was in three days; they didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have time for this. A bullet wound, a stupid bullet wound and all that stupid concern and worry, was just going to slow them down. There wasn’t time for mistakes, or hiccups, or rest and recovery. It was the end of the fucking world.

☁︎ traumaversary by WeWalkADifferentPath { T }

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It follows him like an unscratched itch. Under his skin, over his body, around his energy, like a mosquito that won’t leave him the fuck alone.

April 1st. April 1st. April 1st.

(A character study of Five, with some inevitable family feels, in honour of March 24th).

☁︎ Unexpected Future, An by aseies { T / WIP }

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“I’m sure you’re looking forward to finding a way back to your own time as soon as possible,” Nedzu said. “I want you to know that U.A. will do everything in its power to help you achieve that goal. Time travel is a complicated equation to solve, but I’m sure if we put our heads together we’ll come up with something!”

Five raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re just going to do that out of the goodness of your heart? I’m not even old enough for high school yet.”

“Well, we’re all heroes for a reason, no? What good are we if we can’t help a single child in need?” Nedzu pointed out with a pleasantly neutral smile as he sipped his tea.

OR: Instead of time traveling into the apocalypse, thirteen-year-old Five Hargreeves teleports in the middle of the USJ fight.

He gets a couple of new dads out of it.

☁︎ walls kept tumbling down, the by Ingu { T }

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It started small.

There was a nagging ache in his chest, phantom pain from where the bullets had pierced his flesh, in the overwritten timeline that never will be.

(the one where rewinding time doesn't miraculously resolve mortal gunshot wounds)

☁︎ We All Deserve Second Chances (but don't repeat your mistakes) by justarandomword, wolvesandnovas { T }

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Time-travelling gave Ben a second chance at life. He's not about to let Reginald Hargreeves ruin that for him and Klaus.

(a.k.a. Reginald takes Klaus' dog tags and the aftermath.)

☁︎ we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [Series] by noodlerdoodler { T / Partially WIP }

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Five couldn’t move, standing by and watching complacently, as his younger brother grabbed him roughly by the front of his sweater. It was like he was watching a play he wasn't apart of, yet that was definitely his small body being tossed over the balcony. No doubt, Luther thought that he would just jump out of the way. He'd always jumped out of the way, sometimes without even meaning to, but now visions of a world on fire flashed through his head as his body plummeted towards the ground. Seemingly, he was tumbling through the air in slow motion and absentmindedly, Five wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes. All he saw was the desolate world he’d left behind weeks ago.

When Five hit the ground, it was with a sickening cracking noise.

“Oh my god, Luther, what have you done?”

☁︎ with two arms by karcheri { T }

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What it comes down to, really, is that Five had been too eager for results. Once it became clear to him that there was a connection between his powers and his energy level the obvious course of action, as he saw it, was to test this information. The hypothesis was this: higher energy levels = stronger powers and the easiest way to get more energy is to eat more. Pretty simple stuff. Too simple.

or Five times that Five starves himself and one time that he gets called out on it.

☁︎ you from yesterday by questors (sieges) { T }

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The difference between who his siblings once were and who they are now.

[alternativewinxcontinuity]

What are you planning to do with the Winx earning Enchantix in your rewrite? Will the Omega arc be included?

The fine details are subject to change until the season is finished being written but I can give you a vaguer outline of what's happening, the Enchantix are pretty entwined with the plot but for the most part, there are similarities from the canon. The one I've changed the most is Bloom, who is actually earning her Enchatix rather than 'Main Character privileging' her way to a half assed form.

Season three (The very abridged edition) spoilers below (the plot points mentioned are the ones that affect the Winx and their Enchantix

Enchantix Master list:AishaGuest FairiesStellaMusa + Guest FairyFloraTecnaBloomWinx's B-teamFinal Word

Life or death situations and discussions there of:

Aisha gets her Enchantix is a similar way to canon, but the context is changed by the fact that when she set out to rescue her aunt, she set out to rescue her aunt and the other survivors, there was no intention of finding the Coral Sceptre to restore her eyes.

The chance to heal herself is a there and dismissed moment, part of a larger “I'm doing what I have to for my people, I'll worry about myself later” moment. It's a more quiet sacrifice, and one that can easily be passed by, but it felt more true to the girl that climbed Darkar's fortress by herself and tried to punch a magical force field down.

It's also less... I don't know if forced or contrived would suit better, but the fact that in the show she went specifically for the thing that she had to give up only to get what she was after all along... it doesn't sit quite right in my head sometimes?

-

Nova got her Enchantix when she agreed to stay behind despite the obvious danger to herself, but I didn't say so explicitly in the text.

Next to get her Enchantix is actually the first to get her Enchantix, special guest star 'princess' Varanda of Callisto. (She'll be joining the team on Solaria for a bit.) Her earning is left at a vague 'I made the right choice to stay on Callisto instead of attending Alfea, some shit went down, now I'm Enchantix.' (off screen back in season 1)

-

Stella is up next, and her Enchantix is a little more than canon, but also some of the same focus. With the ritual interrupted, Solaria is suffering an instability, and while some people are doing what they can, it hasn't been enough because Valtor was using the instability to make a play for the Second Sun of Solaria. To do that he needed to weaken it to the point where it was itself becoming unstable.

So someone has to fix it, and as the Heir of the Sun, that someone is king Radius, freshly freed from Cassandra's grasp. Stella steps in with a screw that, because more than her duty to her people, is her love for her family and she's not going to let her father die, even if it kills her. She makes the potential sacrifice so her father won't have to. Unlike the show in which Stella 'ran out of magic' and desperate-act! threw herself in front of her father, this is a deliberate choice she considered to be the best option. (This is also where Stella picks up her extra Transformation (Cosmix/Astralix) which will come into play later.)

At About this time, the Winx split their party further as they realise that Valtor is trying to collect powerful artefacts and spells and go to warn various people.

-

Musa travels home to Melody to speak with the royal family, expecting more resistance, only to find princess Galatea recognises her from the concert several weeks prior. Having been at the concert and having seen Musa in action, the princess is prepared to give Musa the benefit of the doubt and the duo set of to ensure the Magical McGuffin of Melody is secured. When they arrive they find suspicious activity and discover Valtor inside. Both Galatea and Musa give their all, Galatea thinking of her people, and Musa thinking of her friends and all those she'd seen suffering as a result of Valtor's return, both know they cannot back down, and both decide their lives are nothing compared to what they're trying to protect. (It is one of only a few very rare instances of multiple fairies earning their Enchantix at the same time.)

Since the girls are still on break, it didn't make sense to send them back to Alfea just for the Enchantix, and given that Galatea was prepared to die to protect a legacy (the Alfea Library), that pays off this time. Musa refusing to back down in the face of danger though is very her, so I just adapted that to the new location.

-

Flora on the other hand has called Helia, whom she recalls mentioning during a double group hang out knows princess Krystal. Helia is with Saladin when the call arrives, so he understands that Flora's not messing around, and agrees to make introductions. With Helia by her side, Flora is able to convince princess Krystal that things are dire, and she in turn tells her parents. Then while the adults are taking care of things, Krystal and Flora perform a convergence type spell to vibe with the planet and locate any trouble that might be Valtor. They locate the Trix by an Ancient Tree known as the Black Willow, this is bad but it will take time for a task force to get mobilised, so Flora and Krystal head out to scout the situation. On the way they meet up with Miele who has noticed the plants feeling troubled and gone to investigate. Flora tries to play the big sister card, but Miele gets her way, so the trio go on. Obviously they end up fighting with the Trix and Miele goes into the water which has Temporal properties. And Miele can't swim. The Trix realise they won't be getting what they're after and take off.

Flora's Earning is more personal than combative, her sacrifice isn't some greater good, it's her sister. Her sister will drown if she does nothing, but if she jumps in the water it will cause a reversal of time in her, stripping her of everything she has become and she still might not make it to Miele which Krystal reminds her of before Flora can dive in.

But it's her sister so of course she's going to try, Flora shoves Krystal away and dives after Miele.

In canon Flora went to save her sister and then... chose to stay behind and drown? Maybe? It felt a little unclear what she thought she was doing, but it seemed a little dumb and completely avoidable, so I'm making the stakes a little more clear cut and relevant to Flora's character arc. Alt Con Flora's sacrifice is the willingness to give up everything she has become, every piece of character growth, every memory she's made in order to save her sister. Unlike the other Winx, Flora's sacrifice is about one single person, no added bonus of saving the world. (“Besides, if I can't save one of my most important people, if I'm not willing to even try, what the hell good am I as a Fairy?!”)

Flora's Enchantix happens, mystical Tree shenanigans ensue and everything is fine, Flora finishes at Lynphea and heads back to Andros to regroup.

-

While on Andros a few b-plots happen and the Winx get a call from the Magix guard who questioned them after the big wave, just to touch base and see if they had any more information on the situation. Through her, the Winx realise the Museum of Magix might be a target and split the party once more to go see about some security measures.

Tecna stays on Andros with Musa and Flora, while Aisha goes with Stella and Bloom to Magix. Aisha's just been told about the engagement and is pissed because the middle of a crisis is neither the time nor the place and it's not okay - even if it was the time or place - for them to engage her without asking, so she wants some breathing space.

The reason the girls split is because Tecna has been working with some other folks to see if they can fix the problem with the Tidal Gate (the forced connection to Omega) which has been warping the energies of the area and making combating the bad guys way harder than it needs to be.

You can probably guess what happens now.

-

Tecna leads a team out to the Tidal Gate to close it, the way the Gate was forced open from Omega damaged the Gate. Omega doesn't have an Ocean Gate, it is completely cut off from the system, and more, Omega devours magical energy not native to it, which is basically everything. The Trix show up as the team begins to close the portal to screw things up.

They manage to take out most of the team, leaving Tecna to try to finish closing the portal by herself or release the half completed spell. They ran the numbers, they hypothesised the risks, logic tells her to stop and try again under better circumstances, but Tecna feels the energy flow.

She knows that the numbers and calculations of risk were wrong, if she stops now, if the portal isn't closed, the damage to the Tidal Gate caused by the backlash of this attempt will ensure the forced connection becomes irreversible. The natural protections around Omega that make it the perfect prison also protect the rest of the Magical Dimension from the world's effects, and the portal has none of them. The Tidal Gate will effectively become a black hole.

Logic tells her one thing, her instincts tell her another. Tecna trusts herself and calculates the best way to close the portal alone, able to see that the Trix aren't going to let up. She realises she'll have to close it all the way back along the path, back to the other end on Omega. Tecna sends a goodbye message to her friends over the comm bracelets and dives into the portal, fully expecting to come out the other side dead.

In a way Tecna's Enchantix is the closest to canon, and again there's more of a deliberate choice even though there's no choice at all. The only issues I really had with the canon version was that it called into question the die hard rules the canon set for Enchantix, and it took so long for the gate to act up that it was obviously contrived, the girls have had enough time in canon to go back to school and do several other side quests things. It felt like it only happened so Tecna could get her Enchantix, "the Enchantix is the cause the portal is the result" rather than "the portal is the cause and the Enchantix is the result".

In the Alt Con the whole season takes not very long at all, it's very much an on going issue, very much a crisis. So the biggest change here was just trying to make it more natural.

Since Tecna left a message, the Winx know exactly what she's doing, understand why she's doing. They also know this means she'll be popping out on Omega (potentially dead) and they decide “bugger that for a joke, let's go get our girl”, and make plans to take The Sparx to Omega to find Tecna.

(Seriously everyone but Timmy giving her up for dead/lost when they knew where the portal lead and how to get there was DUMB!!! and done only so Timmy could score shipping points I s2g.)

-

The Team on Magix were joined by Ophir and they discovered the Museum had already been robbed, and Bloom is getting 'proximity sick' because Valtor is still on planet, Aisha discovers Ophir is Nabu (her surprise fiancé) who explains “parents will parent” and they get over it and decide to try dating once the crisis is over.

Shortly after Tecna's message, Bloom gets the very strong sense that something is wrong with Daphne.

Bloom tells the others to go get Tecna while she goes to check on Daphne, the Winx try to argue but Bloom reminds them that Tecna will need all possible help if she's going to stand any kind of chance of surviving (if she's managed to survive the portal).

(Bonds of friendship mentions re:finding a single fairy on a hell planet is why they don't call recovery experts who may already be busy with the Valtor Crisis, and no one is crazy enough to willingly go to Omega. Also Stella's new Space Form is the only thing that's going to get them back out of Omega.)

Bloom puts in a call to Alfea on her way to Roccaluce, and finds Griselda and Faragonda are there trying to organise help for Andros and a way to find and stop Valtor. Bloom tells them what she's been sensing, and they promise to meet her at Lake Roccaluce.

Bloom Arrives first to find Valtor has summoned some kind of freaky ass shrine and has Daphne somehow pinned to it. Valtor seems confused by Bloom's presence, but determined to finish what he's doing, so Bloom tries to free Daphne who's in intense pain.

Daphne explains that Valtor is trying to pull Daphne back into the corporeal world, that he's using a device that will keep her alive if he succeeds in returning her... but he'll also try to take the Vault of Domino which Daphne has in a subspace pocket, and worse, he'll have the Crystal of Power Kiko had accidentally stolen form Relix. There's some back and forth and light, almost combat, and Daphne says that Valtor is way more insane than last time they met, and Valtor reveals that if Bloom wants to free Daphne, she'll have to destroy the device holding the spectral fairy, which would kill her super dead, like no more ghost dead.

If Daphne dies the vault will be locked, lost forever, out of Valtor's hands. But Daphne will be Dead.

If Daphne is restored to life, the vault can be forced open and its contents taken. But Daphne will be Alive.

Daphne and Bloom have a heart to heart and Bloom sees not just her big sister who loves her more than anything, she sees Crown Princess Daphne, Leader of the Nymphs of Magix.

Faragonda and Griselda arrive just in time to shield Bloom as the young fairy destroys the device.

Bloom's canon Enchantix gain was dumb, the idea that it had to be a person from one's own home-world was dumb, especially when Tecna saved hers by proxy of saving the universe. It was done to show what a special princess Bloom was, it wasn't even a “the Dragon Fire Privileges” thing, it was an "MC privilege" thing. Let's Be Honest.

Alt Con Bloom manages to earn her Enchantix fully, in the most horrific way of all the Winx, because Bloom's sacrifice was Daphne. The chance to get her back, to save her, to hold her, the chance to ever learn anything from her again.

It mirrors her interactions in Stella's Enchantix, where Bloom had to let Stella sacrifice herself to save solaria, but in that instance all Bloom had to do was stand aside and do nothing (except hold back bad guys), and she never truly believed that Stella wouldn't come back.

In Bloom's Enchantix she takes an active role with hard line consequences she has no reason to doubt. There are two horrible options before her, one of which could have turned out good maybe if they were implausibly lucky, but Bloom has to weigh the options and do whatever has the best outcome for the most people, even if it sucks for her. (It's what Daphne wanted, but that doesn't make it easier.)

-

Diaspro and Mirta won't be getting their Enchantix this season. Diaspro is going to be facing a “die or be used to hurt your people again” situation and “would rather die thanks”, and Mirta... I would like for her to have a similar scene to episode 311, where she tried to shield Lucy (only it was an illusion) because I feel like she got robbed in canon when that didn't earn her an Enchantix (because on noes, fake!Lucy! so it doesn't count).

-

The thing I think is the most different between the Alt Con and the Canon Enchantix is that the Alt Con isn't something you can luck into. Canon felt very “I reacted and luckily my Enchantix”, where as I'm trying to add an insinuation in the Alt Con that the sacrifice needed to earn the Enchantix is... not necessarily deliberate, but definitely a choice. Fairies, by nature of who and what they are often making sacrifices and give of themselves for others, typically as a reflex ie. jump in front of someone with a shield to try and catch a spell. Not every selfless act of sacrifice earns an Enchantix or there would be far more of them. Enchantix is earned when the stakes are high and a fairy has to face how far they would go, deliberately make the choice.

One other note: Fairy Dust and Miniaturisation, once earned can be used from any form, it's just trickier.

[inviouswriting]

Parthenophilia

My mind is on my pairing this week so, forgive me for all I am writing is of them, piecing together their love story and all the other wonderful stuff in between. 

This is smut.

 Word count - 5,268 

This will also be on my Ao3.

 Parthenophilia I’ll write my/your character taking the others virginity.

The day started out simple between Kiya and Aymeric. He invited her over for the evening, and Kiya accepted his invitation. She feels a bit more nervous this time, as she is also staying the night with him again. Her nerves coming from the next step she wants to take with him.

Kiya is brought out of her thoughts when she is in her inn room, looking herself over, Jandelaine pauses with his scissors over her. He was helping her try different looks, painting different things on her face to make her look appealing for the evening. He knows her well, and settles for having her hair down sleek black with faint blue to them. A trending color to Kiya. On her left cheek is a painted dark blue heart, and lips a light blue. 

“My dear, it almost feels like you are about to go for your wedding night. I know Aymeric will love anything you wear, and how you look. You already are ravishing.” He compliments her, and finishes her style off getting an appreciative nod and hum out of her.  He takes his payment from her and smiles as he walks away.

Kiya wears something a little more for the night, the black tights and a beautiful fitting dress that hugged her curve. She looks herself over in the mirror and when the time is to meet Aymeric she heads out. 

Kiya thought long and hard over her relationship with Aymeric, and the previous night he had snuck her into The Vault’s Quire to swear his life to her, and she had promised hers on the place where they had lost and gained so much. She recalls saving his life, and it gives her more conviction for her plan for the evening.

When she arrived to Aymeric’s house, he was just arriving, he takes a look at his beloved and feels like he is staring at an angel. So much he drops his keys to his home, and for the first time that night, she sees him blush from ear to ear.

“Kiya, my dearest. You look radiant.” Aymeric breathes out, he hasn’t seen her dress up since the first time she came to dinner with him. Kiya fidgets with the ends of her hair.

“You like it then?” She asks, playing coy and innocent. Aymeric reaches down to pick up the keys, and looks at her through half-lidded eyes, a smolder in those ice blues.

“I love it. Please come inside.” He opens the door and allows her in. Kiya feels at home in his place, she spends a lot of her off time at Aymeric’s place. She notes he is staring hard at her watching her saunter about to his living room den. Aymeric follows almost entranced by her walk.

“Is there a special occasion to your manner of dress?” He wonders, he is still in his regalia clothes. He sets about removing the armor disappearing brief to his room to change into something more fitting. A white button down, and black pants. 

“Kind of a special occasion, but you will find out soon.” She smiles up at him, he leans in to give her a kiss. She eagerly kisses him back, almost a little more passion into her side. Aymeric pulls back to look at her eyes, seeing them vibrant green, but he feels like he is on fire from her stare. He tugs at the collar of his shirt. 

“Wine? My love?” He offers, remembering they’re about to have dinner together. Kiya smiles and nods, she also pulls him to her, lips next to an ear.

“Yes, and do you think after we eat, we can be sure that we’re alone for the evening?” She asks him, and Aymeric snaps his head to see if he heard her right. The blush on her face confirms something, her demeanor different and sure of herself. 

“Are we? Yes I can be sure of that.” He feels his skin heat up at catching on after she nods. 

“Yes, Aymeric. I want to take another step in our relationship.” She feels shy in saying it, but keeps herself from backing down from her nerves.

“I want to be with you.”

“Then it will be mine pleasure to be a perfect lover.” He takes one of her hands and kisses the back of her hand. He leads her to the dining room to eat, knowing things should be ready. All through the evening he would keep his eyes on her, his eyes straying and roaming over her body. He finds himself watching her lips as she bites on her bottom every so often. 

After Aymeric helped his manservant clean up, he had instructed him to take the rest of the night off, in addition to taking his cranky cat along, so there were no interruptions for this night.

Kiya resigned herself to Aymeric’s room, changing out of the elegant dress and into one of Aymeric’s other button down shirts. Finding the complicated dress too intimidating for the night. Aymeric finds her and smiles from the door frame. He prefers this side of her. Simple but herself. A touch of elegance in her mannerisms. Her lion like tail wriggles in the air and a feline ear twitches towards him once she hears him clear his throat.

“You changed clothes I see.” He approaches the side of the bed, and settles down next to her. Aymeric tugs her close to him, and presses kisses to her face and shoulder. Kiya smiles from the kisses and nods.

“This feels more comfortable.” She murmurs to him, Aymeric nods and tilts Kiya’s head towards his. He presses a half kiss to her lips, testing to see if she wants this. When she kisses him again in full, gripping his shirt he has his answer. 

Tilting Kiya’s head back, he lays her down into the center of his bed and begins deepening the kiss. Kiya tilts her head back and parts her lips into the kiss to let his tongue delve into her mouth. Kiya releases a moan into the kiss, and feels Aymeric’s hands wrap around her. 

Aymeric wants to hear that sound again, he pulls back from the kiss and presses light kisses across her lips. 

“May I touch you?” Aymeric lifts his head to one of her ears and nibbles on the very end of it. Kiya lets another soft moan escape her, her legs closing together.

“Yes, you may touch me.” She even guides his hands to her waist. Aymeric presses his hands on her abdomen and rubs them on her body passing along her breasts till they were at her shoulders. He kisses her again while his hands travel down the front of her and over her chest. 

Kiya’s breathing hitches when his hands squeeze her breasts. Feeling his hands on her was different than she thought. He had never once accidentally groped her in all their courting. Not a single slip up, or unwanted touch. She looks at his face, and he has an almost sense of wonder in his eyes watching her face for further signs. 

She nods her head, and he begins to open the front of the shirt she is wearing. His lips trailing kisses across milky flesh as it is exposed to him. He pauses at the valley between her breasts and looks up at her. 

“How far am I allowed to go?” He checks with her, knowing that their first time with penetration is still in question. He wants her comfortable, but he also wants to please her. Aymeric nuzzles his face against a breast, feeling allowed to touch her so intimately. Kiya thinks it over, and smiles at him.

“We can go as far as we can go full.” She informs him, and he nods understanding. Aymeric continues to tug open her shirt and sits up on his knees as he undoes the last button then carefully slides the fabric off her front. Kiya’s arms cover her breasts shy from his stare. Aymeric leans down to hover over her, hands on either side of her head.

“Come on my love, let me see you.” His hands ghost down her arms. Kiya’s face burns with embarrassment as she slowly uncovers her chest. Her tail flicks to the side as she sees Aymeric’s expression soften. 

“You are beautiful.” He leans down to kiss her again, firm, his lips nibbling her bottom lip. His hands move from her arms to cup her breasts in his hands. The soft flesh under his hands makes him shiver as this is the first time, he’s touched a woman. He has kissed someone in his youth, but never had he done things like this. He didn’t want to be responsible for more “bastards” in Ishgard or burden a woman with an irreversible choice.

Kiya lets a moan out when Aymeric’s fingers circle a nipple and gently tweaks one. He is seated back and watches her face contort in pleasure. The pads of his thumbs roll the hardening buds underneath them.

 Aymeric leans down again and kisses her neck, trailing kisses down to where the fingers of his right hand tweak a nipple. His tongue runs over the end, drawing Kiya off his bed when he squeezes it. Another moan comes from her lips, and he does it again to hear her.

Kiya squirms under his touch, and her hands find his hair, slipping into the raven locks. Aymeric looks up at her as he closes his mouth on her left breast. She feels hot breath and a wet tongue swirl around the nipple then his teeth gently tug with his lips before pulling off with a wet pop sound. Aymeric repeats this to the other one while his fingers go back to teasing the neglected one.

Aymeric pulls his mouth off and nuzzles his face to her chest. Looking at her with heated blue eyes, she can feel the effect this has on Aymeric with how he is poking into her leg. 

Kiya tests him a little, and nods to his questioning eyes about continuing lower. Her breathing quickens a little as her heart thuds hard in her chest. Aymeric kisses her chest again before trailing his tongue down the underside following a path along to her navel. 

When he reaches her cotton tights, he hooks his fingers into the hem and lifts them enough for air to hit her waist. His answer is with her hands urging him down. Kiya lifts her hips for him, and Aymeric tugs the tights and smallclothes down together pass her thighs stopping at her knees.

Aymeric holds her stare, and smiles when he looks down. The first thing he notes is how she is hairless along her slit. Her tail twitches nervously, as Aymeric places curious fingers along her thighs to coax them apart.

If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Aymeric sees Kiya take a breath of air and holds it as his finger’s parts her folds. She is hot here, and his face matches hers with the flush, as he glances to his lover’s face. Kiya has her face covered, giving him free reign to spread her folds further apart. 

Aymeric touches a finger along from above the hood of her clit down to where he feels her thighs slick from arousal. Kiya lets a gasp out feeling his fingers prod her curiously. She also feels him take off the rest of her bottom clothing dropping them over the edge of his bed.

Kiya feels Aymeric tug her hips towards him and raise her legs over his shoulders. He circles his arms around her legs to keep them open for what he was about to do to her. He didn’t want a knee in his face. 

Carefully he parts her folds and places a kiss onto her clit. The reaction was what he expected her legs closing on him, but this makes him push his mouth closer to her core. Placing more kisses along her folds. Light flicks of his tongue till it pressed against the entrance of her cunt.

 The hands in his hair tug for him to go back up to her clit. Him finding she likes that played with. He indulges her, and drags his tongue from entrance to clit, circling the nub with the tip of his tongue before engulfing it with his mouth to suck.

“A-Aymeric!” Kiya moans out his name, feeling his tongue work on her. Her tail thrashes wild when he sucks on the nub of flesh, drawing further moans from her and tugging in his hair.

Aymeric pulls his mouth off and kisses the nub again. He looks up at her as his tongue runs through her folds down, and she watches him run his tongue along the slit, making her face glow hotter when she feels his tongue lave at her entrance.

“Is this okay for me to do?” He checks his permissions again, making sure he can put his tongue inside, his fingers as well. 

“Yes, please!” Kiya pleads him to continue, and almost loses her mind when she feels and sees him push his tongue inside. His eyes half-lid and he pushes his tongue as far as it can go swirling it. He hears her cry his name again and buck her hips towards his mouth. He eagerly gives her what she wants and uses one of his hands to keep her folds apart with his fingers. 

Aymeric is rewarded with her thighs twitching and her hips rising to his mouth when it is on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Kiya tugs a bit too hard on his hair, and Aymeric seizes her hands rubbing the backs of her hands with his fingers.

“Kiya, My love. If you keep yanking. I’ll go bald.” He looks up at her from her thighs and presses kisses to her thigh. 

“I’m sorry, Aymeric. It just feels too good.” Kiya looks away sheepish, Aymeric gets an idea, and disentangles himself from her legs, and lays on his back. His head on the bed itself and not pillows. Kiya looks at him curious.

“Come. Like this.” He tugs her and she follows his lead, she blushes when she is straddling his head and face. Her thighs coaxed apart.

“Now sit, please.” Aymeric leans his head up and places a kiss to her folds. He rearranged them due to the strain on his groin too much to lay down comfortably anymore.

“But, this is embarrassing!” She feels another kiss, and the idea of sitting on his face with way. She is mortified from the way his eyes regard her.

“Kiya, please. I want to do this.” Aymeric’s hands go to her hips and rub circles on them. Kiya feels her face burning, and when she was about to lift her hips, he pulls her down, his tongue already delving between her slit to resume his earlier teasing. What he gets is a loud cry of pleasure as his tongue reaches deeper than earlier.

Kiya rocks her hips wanting that tongue inside her more, moans torn from her lips, and she feels Aymeric’s hands guide her hips to a rhythm he sets. His tongue is still clumsy as he learns what she likes, and his fingers itch to do more than just hold her hips down. With his right hand, he lets go when her hips keep the rhythm of his tongue and lips.

Aymeric brings his hand closer to her slit and raises her hips enough for him to lick his fingers. Once he was satisfied with how slick they are, he presses his first finger at the ring of her opening. He feels her tense up, but his tongue is there along with the digit lavishing it with swirls of his tongue.

Carefully Aymeric presses the finger inside her, the reaction he gets is something he won’t forget with her low moan, but the searing heat and wetness that surrounds his finger. She is wet and as his finger pushes further in, he feels softness all around it. How he wishes it was another part of him pressing in for the first time.

Kiya whines under her breath feeling his finger wiggle in, and another slowly being added. With him still kissing her clit and delving his tongue inside with his fingers. Kiya notes his fingers reach deeper than her own, and never in any of her dreams would she have thought of the sight below her. Piercing blue eyes staring hot at her from between her legs, lips and chin with spit and her own wetness covering his mouth. She blushes at that thought, and now his fingers wiggling in her.

Kiya was about to say something when his fingers touch something towards her belly, this makes her push her hips down onto his hand. Aymeric lets a moan of his own come out seeing how flustered she is, and the look of lust clouds her green eyes.  

“Do that again please!” Kiya pleads, she wants to feel his fingers on that spot again. Aymeric barely brushes it and she moans out, pushing her hips down again.  Aymeric repeats this movement with his fingers till she is practically bouncing off his hand and mouth. His lips going to work every time she grinds her hips down.

“Aymeric please! Please!” Kiya pleads as her hips roll down to his fingers, he has added another one into her, that have her crying for him.

“Aymeric! I feel! Amazing!” Words he wants to hear, he continues to pleasure her, and spends running his tongue along her clit in fast circles, listening to his love reach an orgasm. Her walls tighten on his fingers, and his tongue feels her core twitch in response to how she feels. Even a gush of fluid escapes her and he greedily laps it up after finding how sweet it is.

Kiya lifts her hips and lets Aymeric out from between her legs. She feels her legs go jelly and lays down next to Aymeric. He grins at her, seeing he has reduced her to soft moans and panting.

Aymeric sits up and grips himself through his pants, finding himself harder than he has been even in his time alone. Having the woman he loves over him and him pleasing every ilm of her. He desires to be inside her, he wants to take her and reduce her to a mess. First he must let her get use to him nude now. He worries if once she sees him she’ll be too intimidated to go through with sex itself.

Aymeric was gifted in being very well endowed, length reaching up towards his belly, but the thickness easily three of his fingers. Kiya notes the pained expression on Aymeric’s face, and sees him gripping at the bulge in his pants. A flush on his face at seeing her notice.

“Tis fine love. We can stop here if you desire. If it is too much.” Kiya regains herself and smiles.

“I want to continue. Would you let me… return the pleasure you gave me?” She asks, and Aymeric smiles down to her.

“I want you to see me first then decide that. I admit, I am a bit large…” He half warns, and Kiya nods.

Kiya coaxes him to lie down where she was, and it is her turn to explore him. Her hands work at the buttons on his shirt, tugging it open. She places her own kisses on his face and lips. She wrinkles her nose a little at her own taste but accepts it when he seeks a full kiss from her.

When Kiya has his shirt opened her eyes roam first. Taking in his broad torso, his shoulders and upper torso muscular from his sword and bow training. Her eyes linger over a small faded vertical slit in his abdomen. Her fingers are careful when they brush over this spot.

The scar he got that almost cost him his life. All because he believed her cause and upsetted the faith of everyone in Ishgard for a better future. Kiya leans down and presses a very gentle and endearing kiss to the scar. Aymeric rests a hand on top of her head, and smiles at her for taking such care of something that happened many moons ago.

“Does it still hurt?” She asks, looking at his face. He shakes his head.

“It doesn’t hurt, except for in memory. My love, I am here. I am with you.” Aymeric cups her face in his hands, and presses his thumbs on her cheeks. When she still has that look in her eyes. He tugs on her cheeks earning a sputtering noise from his beloved.

“Hey!” Kiya gets back into the mood of things, and for him pinching her face, her hands get daring and reach down to squeeze the bulge. Kiya draws a loud groan from Aymeric, it backfires on her, seeing how sexy he looks lost in pleasure.

Sky blue eyes peer at her through dark eyelashes, his mouth parted as he pants from her squeeze on him. She even feels his erection twitch in her hand. She palms him, her eyes widen at what he meant by him being large. Her fingers trace over him through the fabric, every touch she places has him letting moans out and pushing his hips up to her hand wanting her to touch him more.

“Kiya, my love. Please if you would… my pants… They’re getting uncomfortable with you doing that.” Aymeric manages out, his own hands go to her waist, fingers slipping down to touch her folds.

Kiya nods her head, and tugs at his pants till he lifts his hips to let her pull them down with his smallclothes.

Aymeric grabs Kiya’s hands and holds them, keeping her gaze on his face.

“Remember love, we can stop if it is too much for you. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” Aymeric reassures her, leaving her an out if she gets scared or doesn’t want to do it. Kiya leans over and kisses his forehead the way he does to her.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I really want to go completely with you. I want you, and I love you.” She reassures her choice.

“I love you too, I want you too, I have wanted you for the longest time. I just worry it will be too… big.” He casts his gaze to the side, it is his turn to be bashful. An endearing sight and one that melts her heart.

“Aymeric, are you sure it is me that isn’t ready, or you?” She asks him, giving him the chance to stop if he wasn’t sure if she can handle him yet.

Aymeric looks at her, and questions his own thoughts. It is both their first time together like this. He doesn’t know and neither does she if he’ll fit if they don’t try. He smiles and nods his head.

“Mayhap nerves on mine end too.” Kiya smiles down at him more, she is reminded this is a first for him as much as it is for her. Reassurance goes both ways. Kiya leans in and kisses him fully, and receives the kiss back. Aymeric lets go of her hands, and she seeks them lower on him till her fingertips brush very soft skin, but hard and throbbing.

Kiya feels Aymeric twitch under her palm, her fingers tracing over the hot flesh and down along the shaft. Kiya chances a glance to his face, and Aymeric’s eyes are closed in bliss and his mouth parted as he sighs content. She watches his face, as her fingers circle around the tip, smearing precum as her fingers travel over the slit at the top.

“Ah… Kiya… that feels really good. Keep going.” Aymeric says and moans out when he feels her hand close at the tip and stroke down. One of his hands goes down to guide her hand in how to touch him. Having her use her thumb to sweep over the tip then back down.

Kiya is entranced by Aymeric’s blissful face, how the blush across his face widens from catching her stare, his perfect lips parted and moan after moan escapes. Kiya stills her hand, and Aymeric gives her a questioning look feeling her stop. Kiya only flashes a devilish smile, as she scoots down his legs.

“I did say I want you.” Kiya lowers her head to his penis, she is almost intimidated with the size. She marvels at how large he is and glances up at his face, he is watching her. Kiya smiles at him and kisses the side of it while giving Aymeric a hot stare. Aymeric does everything in his power not to cum right there. Even as she kisses her way up to the tip and sweeps her tongue over the head. He sees her tail wriggling behind her in amusement seeing the way he stares at her.

Aymeric was about to say something till she takes him into her mouth. He loses his control and moans out her name. His turn to place his hands in her hair. Fingers running through the silky black hair as she tries to fit him into her mouth. She resigns to just taking the tip in, she will work on the rest of him in time.

Kiya relaxes her jaw as she fits a bit more into her mouth, finding herself enjoying the feel of him in her mouth. She hears his moans and feels him tug her hair gently. Kiya strokes what is not in her mouth, and every so often pulls her mouth off to lave her tongue along the sides while giving Aymeric sultry stares.

Aymeric feels a familiar sensation in his stomach, and longs to spill himself but he taps the side of her jaw to get her attention from sucking on him.

“As much as I would love to in your mouth. I would rather… have you underneath me more.” He voices his want, and Kiya listens to him. She pulls her mouth off and rubs her jaw from it stretching to fit the large appendage.

Aymeric tugs her by her arms to come up to him, and she does, leaning down to give him a kiss, only to be flipped onto her back. Aymeric parts her legs and starts to fit between them. His doing this creates a little anxiety in Kiya from the reality of what they’re doing sinks in. Aymeric raises her hips to fit on his lap, his knees supporting her rear.

Kiya looks up at him as he catches her stare, he lets her hips rest against his, she feels his penis rest against her slit.

“Aymeric… be gentle.” Kiya requests, and he gives her a soft stare.

“I wouldn’t even dream of hurting you with me. Are you ready? Need to rest a bit more before I try?” He offers, rubbing her hips and up her torso to her breasts giving them a teasing squeeze.

“I am ready love. Please. Go ahead.” She gives him consent to continue, and watches as Aymeric reaches between them to part her folds. His other hand to guide himself into her. Kiya feels the push, and watches Aymeric’s eyes close again in that blissful expression.

Kiya feels a little bit of a rock from his hips then another push in, the movement of his hips sends him deep into her, more than what she was ready for. A cry torn from her lips, and Aymeric’s attention snaps to her face, he worries he hurt her. But instead he is greeted to her most blissful expression he has seen yet.

Aymeric focuses on the soft heat encircled around him, his head spinning from the sensation of faint tightness with heat and wet.  Kiya on the other hand is focused on how full she feels, the way he throbs inside her, and the thickness with how he seems to feel right.

“I’m fine, please move! I want you to move!” Kiya feels frustrated in the stillness, her body aches for him to move. Aymeric chuckles a little and leans in to press his forehead to hers staring into her eyes.

“Forgive me then. I am a bit content to move, you feel absolutely divine. Pray… let me savor the moment.” He presses a kiss to her nose, then down to her lips. He rocks his hips into hers slow and sensual. The draw back makes her feel anxious for the push in, and when she feels it she moans into the kiss.

Aymeric’s pace consists of that slow and sensual move, letting them get use to each other. His hands take up hers and presses fleeting kisses all over her hands and arms down to her shoulders till he presses at her lips.

Kiya feels his slow thrusts and feels her body just on fire for him, her hands go into his hair where he presses his head to her hands. Aymeric raises up and presses a hand to her belly as he thrusts in, the result of that he sees and feels. Kiya lets a cry sound out in his room, loud and with his name at the end.

Aymeric has no idea what he did, but he sees a wild look in Kiya’s eyes. She wraps her legs at his waist to urge him on, and pleads with her eyes. Aymeric grants her wants by picking up his pace. Moving faster, rolling his hips down with hers.

“Please, Aymeric, more… I want you! I love you!” She cries her passion out as he hits a spot inside her, accompanied with his rhythm. He takes one of her hands to hold it as he loves her. Overwhelmed with the sensations of his beloved thrashing on his bed so much some of his bedding is tossed or kicked off.

“I love you too, my dearest, Halone you are so beautiful like this. Praise… endure me a little longer. Endure me.” He hears her moans become a chant and song almost to his ears. The dizzying sensations of her heat and tightening in some moments, his guess she is close.

Kiya feels wandering fingers toy with her clit rubbing it while he thrusts into her. The combined pressure and teasing with him buried deep. She shudders and shakes as she peaks in orgasm again. Aymeric’s name sounding off her tongue, and causes him to fill her full. He moans out and rides his own passion out feeling his beloved’s walls clamp on him in a delicious way.

Aymeric collapses on top of her, and buries his face into her neck panting. He kisses her neck till there is a mark left. One she can’t hide so well, and smirks when she blushes.

“That was something amazing. Can we do it again?” Kiya looks at Aymeric hopeful, her emerald gaze smoldering more than his icy blues. Aymeric sees the look on her face. For a rare moment a deep thrum comes from her chest in a real purr. She blushes from it but continues.

“How can I refuse when you are so enchanting. Of course.” He purrs into her ear and starts working on rousing her body again.