#it’s not mentioned in this particular part but it’s a piece of this AU

[direwolfrules]

3 Mandos and a Baby AU: Hijacking Death Watch

While Ursa and Alrich are in Sundari preparing their future Mand’alor for rule Bo-Katan is on Concordia desperately trying to set up a power base to take down Pre. Her Nite Owls are easy enough to recruit, most of them sided with her in her last life too. Really her main issues amongst her girls comes from Rook Kast and her insane group of True Believers.

Bo doesn’t really blame Rook for her sheer devotion to the cause, the girl wasn’t exactly a willing volunteer when she first came to Death Watch. Tor Vizsla’s old recruitment plan was basically just kidnapping kids and torturing/brainwashing them into obedient little attack dogs (Bo’s had a lot of regrets in her life, but one of the biggest would have to be willingly joining an organization that did that to kids). Sometimes it backfires really hard, like when Arla Fett full on snapped and killed Tor’s oldest son and preferred heir, Dral Vizsla, in the middle of the training yard.

The loyalty of some holdouts is easier to get than others. The Bralor twins and their brother have nearly deified Bo after she saved their little sibling from a training accident. The screaming match she had with Pre after, where she called him all sorts of names for putting a child in a live fire test, becomes legend amongst the Kyr’tsad. As does the shiner Bo proudly bears around base after Pre calls her to his office for “discipline”.

Bo can’t challenge Pre too much, tipping her hand too soon would get her killed. If not by Pre than by his followers or even, and the thought of this makes her shudder, his Sith backers. Sideous is just frothing at the mouth for an excuse to subjugate Mandalore, Death Watch provides the perfect humanitarian reason. She has to move in secret, for her people’s sake.

Young Lieutenant Patrok Ru-Saxon of the Sundari Protectors receives a mysterious comm message. It contains no words, only an address for somewhere in the lower levels of the dome city. He’s just gotten off a rather exhausting night shift and honestly he just wants to sleep, but the message gives him one of those feelings his buir said would make him a great investigator one day. Patrok follows the message, and there at the specified location is a folder, taped to the wall. He looks inside, blanches, and calls his boss to say he got an anonymous tip and they need to evacuate the Lily Flower Walkway and to get the bomb squad on the way right now.

Patrok may never know this, but his call that day saved the lives of 38 Mando’ade, 17 of whom were children on a school trip. Now every time he gets a message from that unknown comlink he comes running. He arrests dozens of corrupt officials, foils many Death Watch plots, and earns many promotions. Bo-Katan watches from afar and delights in her good judgement.

Pre is fuming. He’s lost so many loyal soldiers these past few years it’s been ridiculous. The Saxon brothers died when their Kom’rk’s stabilizers blew during aerial combat simulations. A faulty circuit led to a cascade failure in the part, and there went two of his best commanders. Ruusaan Jatte tried to change the mixture of her jetpack’s fuel again and wound up paying for the experiment with her life. His own cousin, Malos Vizsla, was caught red handed trying to poison ration packs heading to the Draboon system’s Protectors. Rather than face arrest and interrogation, Malos ended his own life.

Bo is having the time of her life. The Saxon brothers’ habit of never running a preflight check meant they never noticed a stabilizer circuit had been tragically damaged. Ruusaan Jatte’s love of experimenting with different fuel mixes provided the perfect opportunity to test out Amis’s newest explosive discovery (Ursa had told her over a bottle of netra’gal about how Amis had discovered if you add a very common accelerant to jet pack fuel, it’ll blow up. The fact that Ursa’s eyebrows were drawn on was not mentioned, though it felt relevant). And Malos Vizsla was just a happy accident. Those tips to Ru-Saxon were really starting to pay off.

[punkshort]

Have A Good Night

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Every week like clockwork, the same devastatingly handsome man comes into the grocery store where you work to buy flowers. It's not until he asks you out when you realize the flowers aren't for his wife or girlfriend.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, flirting, alcohol and food consumption, smut (18+ MDNI), protected piv sex, size kink, shy!joel, fluff, mutual pining, cringy/embarrassing crush interactions

WC: 7.9K

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge (masterlist here)

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

It was never roses that he bought. That should have been your first clue.

Every Friday he came through your checkout lane with a beautiful flower arrangement. Sometimes it was lilies, sometimes it was daffodils, but never roses.

He hardly spared you a glance when he slid his card through the machine. Occasionally he would comment about the weather or how busy the store was, but he rarely ever made eye contact.

It wasn't unusual and it didn't offend you. Most customers had other things on their minds and they preferred to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. But this particular customer, the one with dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders and patchy beard always caught your eye. It was the best part of your week. You never had the nerve to say anything to him, but your friend Andy noticed the way you always got nervous when you saw him standing in line, how your demeanor shifted and your hands shook just a little bit.

He's not wearing a ring, Andy pointed out one day as you counted your drawer. You rolled your eyes.

That doesn't mean anything, you replied. Why else would he be buying flowers?

Then one day, as you scanned your handsome stranger's flowers, you noticed a few of the daisies were wilting.

"Do you want to pick out a different bouquet?" you had mustered up the courage to ask. The store was quiet, no one was lined up behind him. There was a big football game that night and it kept most people at home.

His eyes snapped up to yours and he froze like a deer in the headlights. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for an answer while trying to think if you said something stupid to warrant such a delayed reaction. "A few of these flowers are already dying. See?" You tilted the bouquet in his direction so he could see the flowers with the petals that were turning brown.

"Oh," he finally said, then nodded his head. "Y-yeah, thanks. D'you mind if I just-" he jutted his thumb over his shoulder.

"It's no big deal, I'll wait."

He gave you a crooked grin and disappeared back into the store. The florist department wasn't far from the registers but it was enough time for Andy to lock eyes with you from customer service and give you a look. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back around just as the hot flower guy was returning with a new selection.

"Thanks," he said again once you handed him his receipt. He didn't make a move to leave.

"Don't mention it," you replied, feeling Andy's stupid grin burning into the back of your head the longer hot flower guy stood there.

"Have you worked here long?" he asked after a brief silence that was bordering on uncomfortable. You blinked, taken aback at the random question and tried to ignore your heart fluttering excitedly in your chest.

"Um, just over four years," you replied. His beautiful dark eyes drifted over your face as he nodded and swallowed before looking back down at his flowers.

"You work most Fridays?"

You could feel your cheeks warming up and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. How can someone be embarrassed for being embarrassed? Jesus, you were such a mess.

"Yep," you said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and praying he didn't notice how flushed you were.

He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight. If you weren't so absorbed in your own uneasiness you might have noticed he was acting just as uncomfortable as you.

When he opened his mouth to say something else, a middle aged woman pushed her cart up behind him and began to unload her groceries onto the belt. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and nervously swiped his palm over his mouth.

"Have a good night," he told you abruptly, and before you had a chance to reply he was halfway to the front door.

The following week was busier and you lost track of time. Typically, as your shift dragged on, you began to anticipate his arrival but on that particular day, you were distracted. Andy ended up having to help out on another register, it was so busy.

"You wanna come out with us tonight?" Andy asked you over his shoulder. He was closing down the extra register while you were finishing up with a young mom who had her hands full wrangling her toddler away from the candy.

"Uh, yeah, sure," you agreed absentmindedly, lifting the last paper bag into the cart. You tapped a key on your register so she could slide her card through the reader and looked over at Andy. "Where are you guys going?"

"Murray's," he replied immediately, his focus still on counting the coins in the drawer. You rolled your eyes and grinned.

"Why am I not surprised?"

It was well known Andy harbored a huge crush on a bartender there and he had been trying to work up the courage for months to ask for her number.

"Thank you, have a good night," you told the young woman, handing over her receipt with a smile. When you glanced up to greet your next customer, you felt your heart skip a beat when you were met with those dark brown eyes you had grown so enamored with.

"It must be later than I thought," you said, without even thinking twice. Surprise passed over his beautiful features as you scanned his flowers and then your nerves finally caught up with you. "I-I mean, you usually come in around the same time every week," you explained hurriedly. Andy was smirking at you from behind hot flower guy's broad shoulder and you made a mental note to punch him later.

"I didn't realize you noticed," he replied after he cleared his throat.

Oh, you idiot. You could tell you made him uncomfortable with your comment and you just prayed he didn't figure out you had been lusting after him all these months with the little observation you made.

"You always pick out the best flower arrangements, it's hard not to," Andy piped up. Relief flooded your veins for the save. Maybe you should rethink that punch. "Must be one lucky girl," he added with a mischievous wink in your direction before picking up the drawer and walking towards the office, leaving just the two of you with Andy's loaded comment hanging heavy in the air.

He took his time pulling his credit card out of his wallet, wracking his brain for something to say. His cheeks dusted with pink the longer he took to formulate a sentence.

"So... Murray's, huh?" he asked, cringing inwardly at the stupid question as he swiped his card.

You blinked, confused at the change in topic until it clicked. "Oh, yeah. He drags a bunch of us out after work sometimes because he's got a thing for a girl who works there." You gave the man behind hot flower guy a smile as he unloaded his groceries on the belt.

Your handsome stranger froze, his hand still holding the receipt midair while the gears turned in his head.

"So, you two aren't-"

"Oh, sorry, excuse me," the customer behind him mumbled when he accidentally bumped into him with his cart.

"Have a good night," you told him with a sweet smile, then quickly turned away, hoping your hair would hide your embarrassment.

"I am not playing darts with her! Don't you remember last time? She almost took my eye out!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" you laughed, shoving Courtney, another co-worker of yours, in the shoulder. There were only five of you that night, Courtney being the only other girl in your group, but you were fine with that. Over the past few years you all bonded over the shared trauma of nasty customers and terrible management to the point where you were like family, and nights where you blew off steam only brought you closer together.

"Anyone need anything? I'm heading up," Andy shouted over the live band.

"Didn't you just get a water a minute ago?" you teased, knowing full well he was looking for an excuse to talk to the bartender.

"What can I say? I'm thirsty," Andy replied with a smirk before pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar.

"When the hell's he just gonna ask her out? We've been coming here for months," Courtney said, turning away from the bar to look at you. You took a sip from your mixed drink and shrugged.

"Probably for the best. You know if he makes things weird then we'll need to find a new spot to hang out."

She giggled and winced when the band began to sing Journey off-key. "God, these guys are... not it."

"I think it's the owner's way of making us drink more!" James shouted from across the table, the four of you dissolving into laughter. He had a good point because your drink was nearly empty.

"Why didn't you just have Andy get you one?" Courtney asked when you slid down from your barstool.

"If I did, there was, like, a one percent chance he would bring it back to me within the hour," you told her, nodding towards Andy setting up shop against the bar, his eyes trailing after the cute bartender.

It took several minutes but you were finally able to wedge yourself between other patrons and secure a refill of your drink, but when you turned around to walk back to your table you nearly ran right into someone's chest.

"Oh! Sorry, I - " your eyes widened when you tilted your head up to find those familiar brown eyes staring down at you. "It-it's you!" you finally said as the shock began to wear off. He gave you a lopsided grin and nodded.

"Joel," he offered, sticking his hand out. Joel. Joel. Joel. You rolled his name around in your head like a ping pong ball. It suited him.

You took his hand, his long fingers dwarfing yours. "I'm-"

Then he cut you off and said your name and once again, you struggled to keep the shock from your face. "Your nametag," he explained, letting your hand go and gesturing towards his own chest where a nametag would sit. "I remember."

"Yeah," you said breathlessly with a smile. You glanced around the room while people shoved past you to get to the bar. "What are you doing here?"

His smile faltered a bit and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't live too far. Had the night to myself so I came out with my brother. He's over there," Joel pointed to the opposite corner of the bar but it was impossible to see him through all the people.

"Oh, cool," you nodded and took a sip from your glass. His eyes drifted to your lips, getting lost in the way they puckered around the straw. "Do you guys come here a lot?"

He chuckled and dropped his chin shyly to his chest before shaking his head. "No, um," he cleared his throat and looked back up at you. "Was hopin' I would run into you, actually."

"Me?" you squeaked and your heart began to race. He nodded and grinned.

"Yeah. Wondered if maybe you'd-"

A huge, burly man who definitely had too much to drink shouldered past you, accidentally shoving you into Joel's chest. His arms immediately wrapped around your ribs to steady you and somehow you didn't spill anything on his clothes.

"God, I'm sorry," you mumbled, his scent making you dizzy. You always had a register between you. Never before had you been that close, noticing he smelled like he had just gotten out of the shower and it was instantly overwhelming.

"It's alright," he said, his arms still loosely wrapped around your midsection. "But I gotta get this out before I lose my nerve, darlin'."

Darlin'. Your brows furrowed and before you could reply, he spoke. "I wondered if you wanted to go out on a date sometime? Maybe a movie or somethin'? I know you work alotta nights but I -"

"You want to go out with me?" you asked in disbelief. He looked at you like you had two heads.

"'Course I do. Wasn't it obvious?" he could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

"No! I thought... nevermind, it doesn't matter," you told him, a smile pulling across your lips. "Yes, I would love to. God, if you only knew-" you stopped yourself by slapping your hand over your mouth and he quirked a playful eyebrow at you but he was too excited that you agreed to go out with him to ask you to finish your thought. He handed you his phone as you shakily typed in your number, hoping your trembling fingers didn't mess it up before giving it back to him.

"I'm gonna text you tomorrow, set somethin' up, yeah?" he asked and you nodded numbly, your mind reeling as you tried to process everything that was happening. He grinned and slid his phone back into his pocket. "Have a good night," he said, the familiar phrase making you smile before disappearing into the crowd.

"Um, who the hell was that?" Courtney questioned the second you arrived back at your table.

"I need a fucking shot first and then I'll tell you, holy shit," you said, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves with no success. She laughed and got you each tequila shots, then you spent the rest of the night telling her all about Joel the hot flower guy.

The next morning, you paid for your crimes. Your head throbbed and your mouth was dry as sand as you stumbled into your bathroom to scoop water from the faucet, desperately trying to quench your thirst. You weren't normally a huge drinker, but after your run-in with Joel, you were so nervous that you found yourself tossing back a few extra drinks than normal. Fortunately, you didn't work until late afternoon, so after you fumbled around your cupboards for some crackers, you fell back into bed. Your eyes widened when you saw a missed text from an unsaved number an hour ago.

Hey, it's Joel. It was great running into you last night. I was thinking we could go to dinner this week, if you're still up for it. What nights are you free?

"Shit," you muttered, running a hand anxiously through your hair. Now that you were sober, the prospect of seeing hot flower guy outside of work made you inexplicably nervous.

You must have typed out and deleted fifteen responses before going with I would love to! I'm free Sunday, Monday and Wednesday nights. Or we could do something after I get out of work, we close at nine.

Did you sound too desperate? You chewed on your fingernail as you read your sent text over and over, then shrugged and put your phone down. Too late now, anyway.

It took a while to get his response, but to be fair, you didn't reply to him for an hour.

I can make Sunday work.

Sunday? As in, tomorrow?

"Oh, fuck," you groaned, fully not expecting him to set something up so quickly. You needed time to mentally prepare, but of course you agreed, then quickly texted Courtney, begging for her help on what to wear and how to do your hair.

Yay!! We can talk about it at work tonight!

After you ironed out a time and restaurant with Joel, you popped two pain relievers and chugged some water, hoping to get rid of your hangover before work.

"Okay, so where's he taking you?" Courtney asked excitedly as you stocked cereal together.

"This Italian place on Westwood. Here, I looked it up," you said, pulling out your phone and showing her the menu. "Have you been there before? What do I wear?"

She squinted at your screen and shook her head. "I haven't been there but we can figure this out. It doesn't look that fancy, but you should probably wear a dress or skirt."

"Ooo, do you finally have yourself a date?" Andy asked from halfway down the aisle, clearly overhearing part of your conversation. "Hot flower guy is going to be so disappointed."

You laughed and pocketed your phone. "It's with hot flower guy," you said triumphantly. Andy's eyes bugged out of his head, confused, until you and Courtney explained what happened the night before when he was busy staring at the bartender.

"You should have told me last night! So I guess that means he really is single."

You paused and cocked your head to the side, realizing all of the sudden you still didn't know why he bought flowers every Friday.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," you replied, turning your attention back to the cereal. Andy and Courtney exchanged worried glances behind your back.

"I'm sure he's not stupid enough to buy flowers from you for another woman every week and then ask you out," Courtney said, glaring at Andy. He cleared his throat and nodded.

"Y-yeah, I mean, maybe they're for a grave or something."

You both turned to him and gave him an incredulous look.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he said, throwing up his hands and walking away. You bit your lip and glanced at Courtney.

"Don't worry about it. There's tons of reasons why guys would buy flowers weekly... maybe he just likes to have fresh flowers in the house. Maybe they're for his mom!"

"Yeah, good point. I bet they're for his mom," you agreed, feeling a little better as you ripped open the next cardboard box full of cereal boxes.

When you woke on Sunday morning, you were already nervous. You could have sworn your heart was slamming in your chest from the moment you opened your eyes, already overthinking your date with Joel.

You spent the afternoon texting Courtney pictures of outfits you hauled out of your closet and tossed on your bed, then decided you needed to try them on for her to get the full effect. You were sitting on your bed, wearing a light blue sundress, the last outfit you had tried on as you gathered your pictures. Your thumb quickly tapped all of the photos of you modeling your options and typed out what one looks the best? then hit send.

As you were unzipping your dress and sliding it down your legs, you heard your phone ping from your bed. You hung up the dress and pulled your sweats back on before reaching for your phone, hesitating when you saw Joel's name pop up. You felt a pit in your stomach, worried that he came to his senses and was asking to cancel, so you sat down on the bed before sliding your thumb over the screen to open his text.

You look great in everything, but I really like the pink one.

Your palms instantly broke out into a sweat and you felt lightheaded.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," you mumbled, scrolling up in your text chain before cursing and throwing yourself into your pillows to scream. In your rush to send your text, you accidentally sent the pictures to Joel instead of Courtney. You waited until you got your bearings and tried to convince yourself it wasn't really that bad, that it definitely could have been worse, before replying.

Ha, sorry. I meant to send those to a friend, but if you like the pink one, then I guess that answers my question

You stared down at your phone, anxiously waiting for his answer, which didn't take very long at all.

You could wear a paper sack and you would still look beautiful.

The grin that stretched across your face was massive. He was probably just sweet talking you and trying to make you feel better about making such a stupid mistake, but damn, it worked.

Looking forward to tonight :) you said in response, then bit your lip and flung yourself backwards on your bed. Your eyes drifted to the light pink dress hanging in your closet and you smiled.

As it turned out, the Italian restaurant was owned by Joel's brother, Tommy. You met the younger man at the host stand when you walked in the door. He had a huge grin plastered across his face and although you were an only child, you could still tell when someone was itching to tease their sibling. Tommy's eyes flickered back and forth between you and Joel, silently communicating with his brother as you introduced yourself. You managed to catch Joel shooting Tommy a warning glare before nervously resting his hand on your lower back and guiding you through the restaurant to an empty booth in the back.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" Joel asked, his dark eyes sparkling even under the dim mood lighting. You giggled and shyly looked down at your lap.

"A couple times."

Joel smiled warmly and leaned forward, his eyes trailing over the soft curves of your jaw and the way your plush lips stretched when he made you smile.

Before the food arrived, you learned a little more about him. He worked in construction, doing mostly residential but some commercial property work. He was trying to go into business for himself, which he told you was difficult but he already had years of experience and contacts in the area. He preferred to do most jobs himself or with as little help as possible because he only trusted his own work, but sometimes he did hire Tommy for a job to help his brother earn extra money.

"And in return, he lets me eat here for free," Joel finished, wiping the small smudge of red sauce from the corner of his mouth.

"That sounds like a win-win," you joked, and Joel chuckled.

"Tell me 'bout yourself. You said you been workin' at the store for four years?"

"Yeah," you nodded, pushing your empty plate to the side. "It's just meant to be temporary. I'm going to community college three days a week. Trying to get my degree so I can get a job with normal hours."

Joel hummed and leaned back in the booth. "What'dya wanna do?"

You shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. Hoping I figure that out as I go. I just know being a cashier for the rest of my life isn't for me, you know?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "I could ask 'round if you want. Maybe some place is hirin' a receptionist or somethin'?"

"Oh, it's okay," you waved him off with a smile. "I appreciate it, though."

Afterwards, he took you for ice cream. You sat together outside the ice cream stand on a bench. The temperature outside was perfect and the place was mobbed. Kids ran around playing tag while other families gathered around picnic tables, laughing and telling each other about their days while you tried not to stare at Joel licking his ice cream and fantasizing about what that would look like between your legs.

"I wouldn't've pegged you for a strawberry girl," he said, nodding towards your rapidly melting ice cream.

"It reminds me of when I was a kid. My grandma liked to take me out for ice cream when she babysat me and strawberry was her favorite."

He smiled, listening to you talk about your family, getting a brief glimpse into your life, leaving him wanting more.

You thought everything was going so well. The date went perfectly. There wasn't as much awkwardness as you originally thought there would be and Joel was very easy to talk to. So when he dropped you off at your door and you invited him inside, you were surprised and somewhat hurt when he declined after a quick glance at his watch. He only kissed your cheek before telling you have a good night and backing out of your driveway, leaving you confused and a little self-conscious.

"He's probably just a gentleman," Courtney assured you the following day, "wants to take things slow and all that."

And you agreed. Once you had time to process everything, that seemed like exactly what it was, and you began to feel better.

But then Joel took you on a second date, and then a third, and he still hadn't tried to kiss you or make a move whatsoever.

"Maybe he's just rusty," Courtney offered after the fourth date and still finding yourself being shot down. "He wouldn't keep going out with you if he didn't like you."

Once again, Courtney made sense and you agreed he just liked to take things slower than you were used to.

But on your fifth date, where he took you to a baseball game, you misjudged the size of the beers they sold and you found yourself tipsier than you expected. Joel seemed really into the game but turned his focus on you whenever you searched for it, which, as the night wore on and the alcohol buzzed in your veins, became more and more frequent. You would ask him questions about how the game was played, even though your father watched baseball your whole life, just so you could listen to him talk. You looped your arm through his when the game was over and you both shuffled out of the stadium with a whole herd of drunk fans, back out into the parking lot. You tightly held onto his bicep, the feeling of his muscles under you fingertips more intoxicating than the beer, as he escorted you to his truck.

On the drive back to your place, you could feel your confidence building. Maybe he's just shy and doesn't know how to make a move. Maybe he just needs a clearer sign. Maybe he's waiting for you to make a move.

So, when he walked you to your door and he leaned in to kiss your cheek, you turned your face at the last second and locked your lips with his.

You could feel his surprise when your lips met. He froze and stopped breathing as he tried to figure out what to do, so you decided to make things easier for him and draped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and massaging your lips over his, urging him to reciprocate.

And finally, his hands flew up to your waist and tugged you against him. His mouth began to move and he crowded you up against your door. When your back made contact with the wood and his large palms squeezed gently at your hips, you moaned into his mouth. You had been dying for this for weeks and you would be damned it you were going to let it stop too soon.

Without even asking this time, you reached behind you and fumbled with your doorknob, twisting it blindly without breaking the kiss so you could both stumble inside. He kicked the door shut behind him, tongue licking at the seam of your lips while he brought one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. You granted him access, parting your lips and tangling your tongues together as he continued to walk you backwards. He opened his eyes and glanced around the dark living room quickly before pulling away and whispering one word: bedroom?

The way he said it made your knees weak and your heart flutter excitedly in your chest. You pulled him down for one more kiss before grabbing his hand and practically dragging him down the hall. About halfway to your room, his lips latched onto the crook of your neck and you slowed down, closing your eyes and twisting around in his arms so you could kiss him again. He pinned you against the wall with a groan, his thumb and forefinger clutching your jaw, prying it open so he could devour you. You hooked one leg over his hips and he let go of your jaw so he could grab the backs of your thighs and haul you off the ground.

You tugged at his hair impatiently, then gasped when he ground himself against your core, your body jolting in his arms and knocking a canvas print off the wall.

"Shit," he muttered, barely sparing the picture a glance before peeling you off the wall and carrying you towards your bedroom with your ankles hooked together at his lower back. You giggled against his mouth then squealed when he tossed you onto your bed. His hands glided underneath your dress and up your legs, slipping his fingers around the the waistband of your panties and tugging them down, pausing once he got to your knees. He blinked a few times like he was snapping out of a stupor and glanced up at you.

"Is this okay?"

"God, yes," you said, reaching behind you to tug at your zipper. You tried to shrug off your dress but his lips found yours and you quickly got distracted. You nibbled at his bottom lip while simultaneously tugging at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up over his soft stomach and stopping at his broad shoulders. He broke away just long enough to lean back and toss the shirt over his head and he was back on top of you before you could even drink him in.

You dragged your mouth over his chin, biting and nipping as you went. He groaned as you left open mouthed kisses across his jaw, his prickly beard tickling your tongue. "My dress," you whispered against his cheek before mouthing at the skin there, "take it off."

His palms slid over your shoulders, pushing the straps of your dress down while you wiggled a bit, helping move the fabric down your body. You arched your back so he could pull your dress all the way off, his breath getting caught in this throat when your nipples brushed against his bare chest.

He couldn't resist. When your dress was discarded on the floor, he sat back between your legs to admire your naked body, completely transfixed. Too much time had passed without him saying anything and you grew self-conscious, so you slowly began to cross your arms over your chest, but he stopped you.

"No," he rasped with a shake of his head. "You're so beautiful, just wanna look at you another minute."

Your cheeks flared with heat but you dropped your hands and gazed up at him, watching his eyes flicker excitedly over your body, memorizing every curve and freckle he could find. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a twitch in his pants and you glanced down at the outline of his cock through his jeans. You bit your lip and he followed your gaze, palming his erection briefly before undoing his pants.

"Oh," you whispered to yourself when you saw his cock spring free. He wrapped his hand around his thick shaft and glanced up at you as he crawled back up the mattress on his knees. "You're big," you added, unable to look away. He blushed but didn't reply. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you, this time slower. You shuddered in anticipation when you felt the tip of his leaking cock brush against your pussy and he froze.

"Shit, wait," he grumbled, sitting back on his heels before reaching for his wallet, which was still stuffed inside his jeans. You figured out the problem and leaned over to your nightstand, fishing around in the drawer until you found a condom and held it out for him. He looked relieved when he saw the little foil square and tossed his wallet back onto the ground before ripping open the condom and rolling it on.

"Sorry. It's... been a while. Wasn't exactly prepared," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The endearing confession just made you want him even more.

"It's okay, come here," you murmured, reaching your arms out for him. He grinned and fell down onto his elbows, kissing you slow and deep. When you felt him rest his tip at your entrance, you tensed up.

"Relax," he whispered in your ear. You slid your eyes shut and snaked your arms around his shoulders, gasping sharply when he pressed forward. When he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that made you dizzy.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you whimpered when he bottomed out, your body stretching around his girth, the sting setting your nerves on fire.

He groaned against your neck and began to rock his hips steadily, making sure to not go too fast. He could tell you were still getting adjusted but it had just been so fucking long and he liked you so much, it was difficult to hold back. He could feel the sweat collecting between his shoulder blades as he focused all his energy on going slow, and when he felt your thighs relax around his waist and your back arch underneath him, he sighed with relief.

"More," you moaned, pressing your body against his, trying to get as close as possible. He growled and dipped his mouth down to capture one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, releasing it with a wet pop and reveling in the sweet noises you made for him.

He wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you how much he thought about you, how long he wanted to ask you out, how he wanted to know everything about you, how nervous you made him with just a simple glance. But he didn't say any of that. It had been so long since he had gone on a date that he wasn't even sure what women liked anymore. So he remained silent, focusing on not coming too soon while paying close attention to your cues, memorizing what you liked based on the breathy whines in his ear and the way your fingers clutched frantically at his hair. You, however, took his silence to mean he wasn't enjoying himself and you really, really didn't want that, so you pushed gently on his shoulder, drawing his attention.

"Let's switch," you murmured, and he gave you a quizzical look. "Why don't you lay back and let me do some of the work?" you explained, nipping playfully at his jaw.

When his head settled into your pillows, watching with heavy lidded eyes as you straddled him before catching his gaze and slowly sinking down, taking every inch of his cock with a low moan, he thought for sure it would be the death of him. You looked so beautiful all spread out and full of him that he had to squeeze his eyes shut so he wouldn't come just looking at you.

Then you started riding him and his eyes flew open, his chest heaving as he watched your tits bounce and your head tip back in ecstasy and he knew he was done for.

"Wait," he rasped, grabbing your waist and stilling your hips. You stopped, swollen lips parted as you panted for air and looked down at him.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothin'," he stammered, taking a few deep breaths in before chuckling. "I'm just... I need a minute, is all."

You could see the red beginning to stain his cheeks and the look of embarrassment flicker across his face, melting your heart. Leaning down, you cupped his jaw and kissed him tenderly.

"Is that why you've been so quiet?" you asked softly, leaning back so you could look into his eyes but still holding his cheek in the palm of your hand. He nodded, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been with anyone in years and I've been tryin' to take things slow with you but I think all the buildup just made it worse." You grinned and took his other hand.

"Don't be sorry. I think it's hot," you whispered, pulling his free hand down between your bodies. He splayed his hand out across your lower abdomen and you took his thumb between your fingers, pulling it down so it made direct contact with your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt the pressure and a slow smile spread across his face when he realized what you were doing.

"Yeah? Why's it hot?" he asked, drawing slow circles over your clit and watching your jaw fall open and your eyes flutter shut. Both your hands dropped to his chest, holding yourself up.

"Because," you began, then bit your lip and moaned when he picked up the pace. "Because it's l-like you c-can't control yourself. Like y-you need me so badly, you can't hold back." You knew it sounded pathetic but you didn't care. His touch was intoxicating and you needed more.

"I can't," he admitted, his eyes glued to your face, taking pride in how good he made you feel. "I can't control myself. Wanted you for so long. Been thinkin' about this for months."

You gasped and your eyes snapped open, locking onto his. "Me, too. I never thought, shit, never thought you noticed me."

"Are you kiddin' me? I noticed you the first day." Now that the truth was out there, the words wouldn't stop coming. "You were wearin' a yellow shirt and I saw these perfect fuckin' tits when you bent over. Went home that night and-"

He stopped himself, wondering if he was going too far, but you dug your fingers into his chest and urged him to continue, desperately gasping for air as his thumb applied more pressure.

"Say it," you whispered. His cock pulsed angrily inside you, begging for release.

"Went home and fucked my fist thinkin' 'bout you."

You groaned loudly and leaned back, grabbing your breasts and playing with your nipples. "Fuck, I'm close, Joel."

"Yeah? Can you ride me, baby? Wanna come with you," he begged, his voice strained. Immediately, you resumed bouncing on his cock, letting go of your tits so you could brace yourself on his chest once again.

He watched in awe as you gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, stilling for just a moment, pulsing around his length as you came, his name and curses tumbling from your lips.

He couldn't hold back any longer.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and slammed up into you, grunting louder and louder each time. And it didn't take long. You had barely recovered from your own orgasm before he groaned, his eyes trained on where you were connected, thrusting as deep as he could go while his cock throbbed inside you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his head falling back limply onto your pillow. You slumped forward and buried your face against his neck, each of you trying to regulate your breathing.

"That was..." you began, trailing off when you realized your brain was still a pile of mush.

"Better than I ever imagined," Joel finished for you, wrapping his arms around your ribs.

Regrettably, he eventually pulled out, making you both wince. You rolled over onto your back and watched as he made his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. If you had any energy left, you might have shot off a quick text to Courtney, but you were barely coherent by the time he slipped back into your bed.

You didn't even need to ask if he was staying the night. He pulled you into his arms, his chest pressed up against your back when you fell asleep, completely at ease.

It could have been the beer or the sex, but you didn't hear his phone go off in the middle of the night. You didn't feel him slip his arm out from under you so he could answer the call in your living room, and you definitely didn't hear him quickly dress and leave.

It was finally Friday and you were moments away from calling off from work. The thought of facing him again made your stomach roll and your head swim.

You hadn't heard from Joel since he left in the middle of the night after you slept together, days ago. You foolishly texted and called him multiple times, but he never answered. Eventually, you got the message.

Countless hours were spent crying, then more were spent stalking around your place angrily, and a mixture of the two happened at work when either Courtney or Andy asked you about hot flower guy.

They eventually learned not to ask.

As badly as you wanted to call off, you dragged yourself into work. Andy offered to take over the registers so you could hide in the aisles stocking shelves during the hour Joel typically showed up, and you shamefully took him up on it. But when it was close to closing time and you made your way back to the front, Andy shrugged his shoulders.

"He never came."

You had a moment where you worried that something happened to him and you considered texting him just one more time, but when you got into your car that night and opened your text chain to a long list of unanswered texts, you changed your mind.

However, the next morning you awoke to a handful of texts from Joel. At first, your heart raced in your chest, but then your anger crept up and you had half a mind to just delete them. After you had some coffee and a chance to think clearly, your curiosity won and you opened the texts.

I'm so sorry

Something came up

Can you call me back?

Please let me explain

Your fingers hovered over your screen as you debated on what to say. Then you decided to leave the messages unanswered. At least for a little while. If he left you hanging for almost a week, he could wait a few hours, right?

What you didn't expect, however, was for him to show up at the store on a Saturday. He only ever came on Friday evenings. You were cashing out a customer, zoning out a bit, grateful for the distraction. When you reached for the receipt, your eyes locked with his and your pulse began to race. He was holding a bouquet of white roses and looking at you with a guilty expression. Your fingers froze around the paper momentarily until the little old lady in front of him cleared her throat and you blinked, snapping out of it and handing her the receipt with an apologetic smile.

"Hey," he said, but you kept your gaze trained down at the scanner.

"Hi."

Your hands shook as you scanned his flowers, doing your best to get the interaction over with as quickly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Andy at customer service notice Joel in line, watching from a distance in case you needed rescuing.

"You didn't respond to my texts," he said quietly. You shrugged.

"I've been busy," was all you said, tapping the button on the register for credit.

After he paid, you handed him his receipt and forced yourself to look at him. You could see in his eyes he looked exhausted and run down and despite how upset you were, you felt bad. But you felt even worse after he pocketed the receipt and handed you the flowers.

"They're for you."

"Oh," you said, surprised, as you looked down at the roses. "T-thank you."

Joel looked over his shoulder when a young couple began to unload their groceries on the belt. You panicked, not sure what to do or say, and then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Why don't you take your break?" Andy offered, "I'll cover."

You gave him a shaky smile, both of you knowing full well you already had your break. "Yeah, okay." Glancing over at Joel, you tilted your head towards the front door and he nodded.

"I'm so sorry I left without sayin' anythin'," he began when you sat down together on a bench outside the store. "There was an emergency and I had to go."

"You could have texted me or left a note," you said sadly, looking down at the flowers clutched in your hands.

"I know, and I was gonna, but my damn phone died and I was in the hospital for days. I was outta town, couldn't leave, I even wore the same clothes the whole time," he rubbed his face and sighed. "And once we got back home, I wanted to explain in person what happened."

"We?" you questioned. He dropped his chin to his chest and nodded solemnly.

"I have a daughter," he confessed, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"W-what?" you whispered softly, "why didn't you tell me, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together, still avoiding your gaze.

"I don't know. In the past, women haven't exactly been thrilled findin' out I come with baggage and I guess I was bein' selfish." He finally looked up and you could see the pain behind his eyes. "I was tryin' to find the right way to tell you but I was so scared of losin' you."

You shook your head in disbelief. "It doesn't bother me at all that you have a daughter, Joel," you told him, "it bothers me that you lied."

He inched forward on the bench and put his hand on your knee. "I know. I'm so sorry. It was stupid. If you gimme another chance, I promise I'll never lie to you again."

Your chest tightened and you had to look away. He was so sincere, you could feel your resolve crumbling. After a moment, you dragged your eyes back up to him and you could swear he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Is she okay?"

He blinked rapidly for a moment, surprised by your question, then nodded.

"Yeah. She's okay now. She had appendicitis. She was with her mom last week. She lives an hour outside Austin and I just went right there from your place. Scared the shit outta me," he finished with a dry chuckle. Then something clicked.

"Your daughter..."

"Sarah."

"Sarah," you repeated. "The flowers you bought every week. Were they for her?"

He smiled shyly and nodded. "Yeah. She gets nervous goin' to her mom's still. The situation is a little rocky so I always get her flowers. Whether she's goin' there or comin' back. They make her smile," he said with a little shrug, and your heart melted.

"That's... that's really sweet," you said, looking down once again at the roses he bought you. He watched you closely for a moment then sat back on the bench, scratching his chin and trying to read your mind. Everything was out in the open now. He should have listened to Tommy and just told you the truth from the first date, but he couldn't remember the last time he ever felt so strongly about someone else before.

Just when he was about to leave, wanting to give you your space to think things over, you spoke again.

"So when are you free next?"

Joel exhaled in relief, then laughed. "Tomorrow?"

You bit your lip and nodded, then leaned forward and cupped his jaw, giving him a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"It's a date," you whispered before standing up. He watched you from the bench as you walked towards the front doors. At the last moment you turned around, the white roses clutched against your chest, and called out, "have a good night."

He grinned.

"Have a good night."

[pennjammin]

PONYTAIL.

JJK HALLOWEEN! gojoxreader

SUMMARY ❥ you have a huge, embarrassing crush on the star of the jockey team on campus. you thought you’d kept it low key, ‘till he approaches you at a halloween party, and shows you that the mechanical bull isn’t the only thing you can ride.

CONTENT ❥ collegestudent!gojo, smut, unprotected, slight breeding kink mention, college!au, athlete!reader, afab!reader, athlete!gojo, drug/alcohol use, spit kink, switch!gojo, switch!reader, masochism, sadism, aftercare, car sex.

song inspo: can’t get enough - j. cole

WC: [8.1K] MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Crisp fall air brings out the gooseflesh among your skin; hair that's not there trying to rise at the thrill of tonight's festivities. The sidewalks are packed to the brim of frat boys, sorority sisters, general slackers and... even an alumni or two. So many people to choose from, you think.

Everyone’s in costume; faces concealed by masks, clouds of smoke mixing with the breeze, and overstimulating noises from animatronics. The holidays were here. You should be trying to find a relationship, to cuddle you through the cold, but right now you just want to bone.

"Where do we even start?" you hear your friend ask from behind you, as your whole group walks - stumbles, more like - down the middle of a road that has been closed to through traffic.

"Whatever house has the most fine men standing outside," your other friend answers with a grin.

You agree, because you had already shot down a fair amount of Don Julio - and the heat of the drink had travelled straight to your core, a small throb arising in your cunt the more you glance around and see the variations of muscles poking out from underneath masked strangers’ costumes. You’d easily find the satisfaction to your hunger, but you’re impatient.

You hum longingly as your eyes fixate on a crowd outside of a large house, painted black. There’s fog rolling over the lawn, but that’s not what draws you in; it’s the group of men deep into a drinking game out front.

Without warning your friends, you beeline over. You wonder if any of them are as needy as you feel right now. The liquor alone could not justify the painful feeling of heat all throughout your nerves; it was mostly your hormones. Pathetic, you tell yourself, so incredibly ready to sit down on someone’s cock.

As your friends follow you down the pathway to the large house, you feel several pairs of eyes stick to you like bologna on hot asphalt. That's right; you and your girls are just pieces of meat dangling in front of a den of lions.

You're not surprised, though, because you’re in a brown leather brazier, accentuated by puffy white sleeves that hang off your shoulders, tucked into a skirt. You have a whip on your hip, and your boots are up to your fishnet-covered knees - one of which leads to the garter holding a toy gun against your thick thigh; to add, it shoots out a little pow flag when you pull the trigger.

And it's clearly mesmerizing in the way that you wear it well, walking right into the party with your liquid confidence through the roof, aware of one of your friends falling behind to entertain someone who had called out to her.

Once inside the belly of the beast, you're farther away from the center of attention; it seems that everyone on campus had read your mind about picking this particular house to step into. It made sense; the house was huge outside, but even bigger within.

The room is littered with men and women alike; most sloppily grinding on one another on the edges of the room, others filling their noses with bad things, but above all: you notice there are cheers coming from somewhere in the center.

You realize why as you part through the crowd, dusting your friends to see what the excitement is. And when you see it, you feel yourself grow both confused and aroused.

There, under a bright red spotlight, is an entire brown and white mechanical bull. Somehow, it had fit into this massive room, and there’s still plenty of room leftover for the influx of students. You're as impressed as the rest of the group, who watch as an ebony-haired man lacking a costume walks around to check the plugs on the bull, and bleakly instructs everyone to take several steps back.

Bass had been booming under your feet, competing with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, but it’s slowly fading away now; a voice travels over the remaining bustling.

Everyone seems to freeze as out from the crowd walks a tall, lean individual with powdery skin. He's wearing something similar to you: a black button-down shirt, leather pants, and brown boots, but most importantly - you feel your breath hitch when your eyes land on the delicious black Stetson that rests atop his contrasted snowy locks.

You feel mixed things blossoming in your chest: unease, desire, and… embarrassment.

You’ve been completely obsessed with the boy in the Stetson for months. Satoru, ‘Toru, and Gojo all being the names he answered to. You’d hopelessly pined over this Satoru, each time noting in your mind just how attractive you find him. He’s on the jockey team; you always see him in a tight, white riding suit with his helmet perched against his hip. You’re the soccer team captain, so you share a field for practice, and, well… Satoru doesn’t make it any easier for you to lock in while you train.

Your friends had noticed your infatuation and would giggle about him to you, saying how you looked like a cockdrunk puppy when he would kick himself on top of the horses - all of the muscles in his legs and arms moving underneath the skin you desperately wanted to crawl into.

He managed to pour gasoline directly onto your fire the first time he’d bumped into you on your way to the locker rooms.

“Careful, ponytail,” he’d said, a smug wink fluttering from his eye.

Then it happened again. And again. Each time you bumped into one another, he barely said two words to you, never seeming to truly notice you or take you in. This didn’t stop you from wearing your hair in a ponytail every single time, though.

He would likely not even recognize you now, given your costume and heavy finesse of makeup, a striking contrast to the sweat sticking your hair to your forehead and your muddy soccer jersey every time he’d seen you in the past. But you knew you recognized him, given the way your body was already responding to his presence.

"Alright now, y’all can't all be this shy," Satoru’s horrible attempt at a country accent booms into the crowd, gesturing wildly to the mechanical animal. "Anyone wanna be the guinea pig? Someone's gotta. I'm definitely not doing it."

A bit of laughter erupts but yet, the crowd remains still. You notice people trying to egg their friends on to test it out, but no one is either drunk or brave enough yet. Satoru continues to glare around the room, walking slowly as the spurs on his boots clack against the hardwood floor, as if he is genuinely a westerner interrogating everyone.

You suddenly feel a gush of pressure hit your back, and four hands send you lurching forward, causing you to accidentally step out beyond the crowd and into the center of the room with the snow-haired man. You exclaim loudly and your friends cheer, which prompts him to turn and look at the commotion.

"Well," Satoru’s velvety voice says, lowering his eyelids into a heated squint. "Seems we have a winner."

His lips disappear as they tuck in to wet themselves, and when they pop back out they are glistening under the red light. Though you cannot see his eyes under the harsh lighting, you can feel them, as well as the heat traveling up through your belly. You wonder then if he might possibly be remembering you.

No way, you tell yourself.

You attempt to turn and look at your friends, who are no doubt giggling endlessly at their little prank, but your head hardly cocks to the side when your hand is being grabbed by a larger, warm one.

You instantly look in the direction of it, your eyes traveling up your arm in disbelief, only to find Satoru is smirking at you.

"N-No, this was a mistake," you try to argue, but he is already gently coursing you towards his body, and your legs feel like jelly as you mindlessly obey like a little doll.

"Don't be afraid," he murmurs to you, hypnotizing you with his voice as he walks backwards, guiding you right to the steps that will allow you to get onto the bull. "You look like..." he pauses, cocking his head to the side and your heart drops, "you'd know how to hang on, no? You've got those strong legs."

You let out a breath. He still doesn’t recognize you. But you know he is referring to your thighs, which are on the larger side from all of the exercise you do for soccer. He's right, you do have the strength to keep yourself on the bull, but whether you want to do it in front of everyone remains to be seen.

"My friends pushed me forward," you blurt out, "I-I really… don't think I can do this."

His voice has lowered by now. It seems like he wants only you to hear him. Not that it mattered, as the crowd is still quite loud and so is the music thumping from another area of the house.

"I think you can," he responds, dipping his head forward like a proper cowboy, feeding into the twisted little costume he’s in. "My name is Satoru, but you can call me ‘Toru. What's yours, madam?"

You almost blurt that you already knew his name, but catch yourself.

"It's Y/N," you say bleakly, knowing he’s only asking to tell the crowd, not because he is interested in knowing who “ponytail” really is.

Not that he has indicated at all that he remembers you, which makes a little twinge of jealousy poke you in the heart because of the way he was looking at you. He must look at every woman like this.

"Y/N," he repeats slowly, as if memorizing the name, simultaneously gliding his piercing eyes down your body again and stopping briefly on your leg — the one with the gun strapped to it. "Give us a show, pretty girl. I think everyone is looking forward to this."

You'd reached the steps to the bull. You begin to suspect that Satoru is the “everyone” in question. You want to try and fight him more, but something about his voice, his unhindered belief in you despite being a total stranger caused you to want to prove him right.

You can do it, you can ride it and not fall off, no matter how intense the settings.

One final look at him, and you release your hand from his, realizing the two of you had been standing there holding hands this entire time. He broke away, but not before giving you another look that might as well have had fire attached to it in the way it sent searing erotica up your body. You’re disgusted at just how awfully, hopelessly, desperately in love with him you are.

The crowd had been falling more quiet as you approached the chopping block, it felt like. But now, it's returned to cheers and whooping as you get on your tip-toes and sling one leg over the side of the bull, your skirt bunching up around your hips.

You spot your friends, who have acquired more drinks; colorful green and purple ones. They lift their cups when they notice your eye contact, and make kissy-faces as encouragement. Or perhaps they’re making fun of your obvious puppy-like expression every time you so much as look at Satoru.

"Alright everyone," he announces suddenly, clapping his hands before walking around to the front of the bull and patting its headless neck. "Y/N has bravely stepped up to the plate tonight. Since you’re all too pussy.” Laughter from the crowd. “Let's see how long she can last."

He turns and looks up at you, dropping an eyelid down into a familiar wink and clicking his tongue.

An irritating piece of man, he is. He doesn’t have to be so damn gorgeous, easily distracting you as you grip onto the reigns around the bull's nonexistent neck, all the confidence draining smooth out of your mind.

You don't have time to think about it much more because of the sheer level of noise that erupts from the room; the crowd has erupted into whoops and whistles, music’s blasting around you. A good old fashioned hype party song, that has prompted the crowd to lose their mind.

The red light makes it hard to see much of anything beyond the first row of people, which is helpful for your nerves, but it also means that since Satoru is standing the closest to you and the bull, he is the only thing you can clearly see, as he presses the button to trigger the ride.

You gasp as it begins vibrating, something you had not expected to happen. The bull jerks to the side, before the rear end perks up, knocking you plain forward and winding you. Your breasts bounce upward and the crowd oo’s.

Satoru smugly continues to operate the bull, keeping it slow as he courses it to knock forward and back, forward and back. You sit back up, trying to defeat gravity, your grip still strong on the reigns. But little do you know that you’ve been out of control since you stepped on the floor. Satoru’s taking his precious time sinking his claws into you.

Your thighs dig into the side of the bull and Satoru spins you, jerking up the rear again; the force knocks your skirt up.

You gasp, wanting to let go of the rope to adjust it, but you know you’re going to fall off if you do. You've made a vow that you cannot fall in front of Satoru, no matter how far he pushes you to your limit. Besides, you figure, having your ass our in front of him wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

The crowd cheers, realizing Satoru is operating the machine solely for their gaze, and not necessarily to challenge you.

But you have yet to put that puzzle piece together.

You continue innocently focusing on staying up, but make the mistake of looking at Satoru again. He's looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes, his top teeth poking out as he tugs on his bottom lip with them.

"Doin' so good," he mouths, pushing at the the controls again.

You groan a bit, the vibration of the bull suddenly feeling even more intense, though it's likely just a combination of your imagination and the tequila.

Your head falls back as the bull begins to move in a galloping motion. More cheers erupt, and a darkening gaze is shot from Satoru that you can't see with your head tilted.

The vibrations shouldn't feel this good, you think. You start to feel embarrassed at the thought of getting wetter on top of this bull, in front of all these people, but you can't help it; your eyes flutter closed as you try to focus beyond the pleasure.

Satoru is drinking up the sight like a glass of water in the middle of the night. He can see his effect working more and more on you, your thigh muscles flexing harder as you dig them deeper into the side of the bull. You must not think anyone notices, but he can. A sick fuck he was to currently be jealous of a literal robot.

You suddenly spring your eyelids apart and cry to Satoru that you have to stop. You can't handle the ecstasy creeping up on you, your embarrassment outweighing your desire to prove yourself a strong bullrider. If he keeps operating like this, you’ll cum all over the back of the bull.

Satoru looks hesitant but he ultimately stops the ride, and you take a deep breath when the vibrations come to a halt. The bull steadies and you loosen your thigh muscles.

Despite feeling like a failure, the crowd cheers anyway; you were up there for what felt like a lifetime, but realistically it hadn't been long, and you were expecting people to clown on you for not lasting. It's not like you couldn't stay up; it was more like you couldn't hold your pathetic desire to bone the cowboy at bay.

Satoru comes around and helps you down, the same routine as before with his hand in yours, only this time you're putting some weight on him as you feel yourself struggling to stand with your legs apart.

"You did so good, pretty girl," he coos, not even phased by your body weight. "Rode so well. Thighs a bit sore now I bet, hm?"

You feel your stomach knotting up at his word choice. "A bit," you answer grimly. "The vibrating didn't help."

"Really," he drawls, not even attempting to make it sound like a question. "How so?"

You begin to suspect he knows exactly how. His hands have found your elbows, his arms wrapped around you to keep you steady, and you find yourselves in a darker corner of the room with a convenient lack of a crowd. You blink and the bull seems a great distance away. No one is looking for you, either.

"Doesn't matter," you huff, looking at the floor. "It's embarrassing to say."

"Say it," Satoru purrs, taking your hands in his before placing them both right over his chest pecs. "Tell me what it did to you, hm? Maybe I can help, ponytail.”

You gasp then, your eyes immediately shooting up to meet his face. You almost fall over at the idea that he knows who you are, that he’s recognized you. This means that now he absolutely cannot fix what the bull had done to your poor cunt, although... with the way he's eating you alive with his pupils alone, your morality wants to fly right out of the window and beg him to fix it.

"Made me so horny," you breathe, immediately smacking yourself in the mouth at the coercion of your confession. “Th-That is not what I meant to say.”

Satoru's chest shakes against your palms as he laughs, "Adorable. Got all hot and bothered from a bull ride? Should’ve known that’s all it would take.”

Your face heats immediately. "I've been drinking," you admit with a slur, sinking farther away from sobriety. "Normally it-it’s not that easy.”

You laugh, trying to mask it as a joke, but Satoru's face is dangerously still.

“It is,” he murmured, “you always have the same little expression on your face at practice, just from seeing me.”

You want to be embarrassed that he’d caught you. But right now, your darkest, perverted fantasies are coming alive right before you; and you’d be a fool not to feed into them.

"Because..." you breathe out, feeling your back hit a wall, unsure how you ended up here. "Why do you always look so good?"

"Been thinking the same thing," he mewls, leaning over you with his hands still holding yours to his body. He lets them go then, and puts his own flat against the wall on either side of you. "Got up there and rode the bull like a champ - you can imagine what it did to me."

"What could a perfect stranger have done?” you whisper, knowing, begging, wanting the answer to be something raunchy and wet in your ear.

Instead, in a flash, his rock-solid pelvis is digging into your stomach, and he twists his hips to allow you to feel the even more solid length under his leather pants.

"We’re not strangers, ponytail," Satoru hums in your ear, just like you’d wanted; warm breath traveling through your hair and down your neck. “Always see you eyein’ me on the field. Goin’ outta ya way to knock into me afterwards. Been at this for months.”

You can't help the little whine that escapes your mouth. Your cunt had been pulsing all night, but now you can almost hear it. It's screaming at you to slide your hands down his body, to reach the waist band of the leather on his pants and then dare to explore further—

His gasp takes you out of your clouded fantasy, as you realize it's not a fantasy at all. Your hand is resting cutely over his bulge. You had been acting on your twisted, unwarranted desires from weeks ago all along.

"Ngh, knew I chose the right costume," he murmurs in your ear. "Knew it’d finally get your attention, get you to wanna ride me.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. You’d been caught, being so obviously needy. You wish you can say you’re embarrassed, but when your hand doesn’t immediately move away from his dick, you know you’re fucked.

You feel yourself shuddering, your hands moving from his waist, over his ribs, passing to his shoulders; your palms sliding over thick, unidentified shapes and running down the curves in his arms. You couldn’t stop, you needed to know what all of him felt like.

“You didn’t have to be a cowboy to get me to ride you,” you whisper, “but if you care about saving horses that much-“

"Hah- shut up," he grunts. "'Fore I take you against this wall. Shouldn’t - hngh - be doing this here.”

“Isn’t this your frat house?” you question. “Take me,” you pause when his gaze darkens, “take me to your r-room.”

He groans, a velvety sound that raises the imaginary hair back up on your neck.

“Not mine, but I’ve got an idea.” He backs away from you, and the cold sensation of his body heat leaving yours makes your heart thump in pain. “C’mon, pretty.”

So he takes your hand again, and again you let him lead you around like a little pony. You don’t see your friends anymore, but you imagine the groupchat is blowing up. They no doubt saw you disappear into the shadows with Satoru.

You manage to escape to the outside without so much as a second glance from anyone, as you’ve started a riot for a turn on the mechanical bull. The memory of riding it seems so distant now.

“So tell me,” Satoru begins suddenly, pulling you hard against him, and you stumble before he puts a hand on your waist to steady you. “Just how long did you intend to keep watching me? Makin’ me all nervous before you made your move?”

You are stunned by his bold line of questioning, but he knows full well how tipsy you are, and that you’re going to answer as honestly as you can.

“I made a move the first time I ran into you,” you squeaked. “Thought you’d take it from there, but guess your balls aren’t big enough.”

This makes him grunt a bit. “If I would have made the first move, you’d still be limping. I don’t like all the small talk.”

“I see,” you purr, “otherwise you wouldn’t be leading me to this field, would ya, ‘Toru?”

“Not a field,” he corrects. “I’m parked back here. What do y’think I am, a serial killer? Wouldn’t just fuck you in the wilderness. ‘Less you asked.”

It had a nice ring to it, but you aren’t quite wasted enough to not care about being seen out in the open like that.

You reach his car and, pretending to be a gentleman, he opens the door for you, and while you sink in, he goes to the trunk. You begin to feel your heart race; you hardly know this man, actually, and maybe you’re stupid for thinking with your cunt instead of your head. Letting him lead you out back, all alone to his car.

Your nerves ease when he joins you in the back seat, nothing more than a bottle of liquor in his hand.

“Think we need to loosen up some more,” he says sternly, unscrewing the cap. “Not that I need alcohol to take care of you, ponytail, but it’ll definitely make things interesting.”

You nod in agreement, knowing you can certainly use more liquid courage. You wait for him to pass you the bottle, but instead you feel chilly fingers connect to your chin, and his thumb courses your face towards his.

“Open those lips f’me,” he murmurs lowly, tilting your chin up towards his face and bringing the liquor bottle closer to yours.

Your eyes widen in realization of what he’s about to do, but the throb between your legs has resurfaced full force at the ghost of a grip he has on your chin.

Hot liquor is sliding down your throat before you even register that you’ve parted your lips. You gasp and close your mouth into a bubble, trying to breathe through your nose as the liquor starts to go down harshly.

Satoru’s watching you intensely, “Don’t swallow it all,” he instructs quickly, to which you find yourself glaring at him.

The interior of your cheeks is going numb, and he’s telling you not to swallow.

What he does next, though, makes your skeleton jump out of your skin and back in again.

He opens his mouth; his long, fat tongue sticking out as far as it will go with a delicate curve in it. He points to his open mouth, while looking at you through his eyelashes.

You feel your face go numb. Your cunt was pounding now, secretion wetting your inner thighs and covering your pussy. You spread your legs a bit, trying to use Satoru’s backseat as something to grind down onto.

You begin doing so as you sit up straight a bit and lean forward, before pushing your cheeks out to spit a steady mix of liquor and your saliva right onto Satoru’s glistening tongue. He hisses immediately, before gripping you by the neck; taking you by surprise when your air flow becomes restricted. Your face is jerked to his as he swallows the liquor you just spit into his mouth, nipping your bottom lip.

“Tastes s’good,” he rasps, “Know you’ll taste even better.”

“But—“ you want to ride him already.

Wanna get him deep in your belly, use your hips to wring more of those deep moans from the depths of his throat. You don’t know if you can wait for that.

“But what?” Satoru challenges, applying pressure to your massive thighs with his palms. “Y’should know by now you can trust me. Didn’t I take care of you on the bull?”

He slides his finger up your stomach and to the cups of your brazier, tucking the tip of the digit inside and tugging the material down, a nipple begging to be exposed.

“Had it vibrating as hard as it could,” he continues, cocking his head to the side, careful not to let his Stetson slide off. “Still can’t get you riding it like that outta my head. Fuck.” He hisses again and—

Crack!

His hand comes down hard on your thigh, pulling a pathetic cry out of you. You look up at him through your lashes; he’s so beautiful with the way the moonlight casts a glow along his jaw, his wet lips, and the brim of his Stetson.

“Quit looking at me like that,” he says, creeping closer to you.

“Make me,” you mouth brattily, and so he does.

Keeping his hands both occupied on your thigh and your throat, he finally crashes his desperate lips against yours, creating harsh reverberations through your teeth. He starts the kiss off hard and unsure, but once you’re kissing him back, the kisses get sloppy, ferocious, desperate.

You let out a whimper against his lips, and in the split second your mouth is open his tongue has made its way inside. The muscle clashes with yours, drenching your mouth in his saliva as he takes your tongue for his own.

Meanwhile, his hand has left your throat. It’s back on the trim of your brazier, and without warning, his fingers gives it a harsh tug and your breasts are out.

He doesn’t break away from the kiss but he does glance down and start palming the meat of your chest, pinching one nipple between his index and thumb.

Not much noise is made besides your shared frustrated grunts as he breaks away from your sloppy kiss, leaving his drool all over your mouth and chin as he dips his charming head down to latch onto your nipple.

He pulls one of your legs up onto his lap, as he nestles himself next to the other one, now between your legs, and you’re forced to lean back against the window and press your hand against the back of the passenger seat for balance.

Satoru is not showing your breasts any mercy. His hand glides across the skin on your leg, before he takes his fingers in a walking motion up your thigh and then quickly grabs your tits into each hand, gathering large loads of spit and hacking them onto your chest, the glorious sound of the fluid hitting your skin making you wetter and wetter and—

He takes a big hand and pop! smacks your achingly solid nipple, dragging a loud, embarrassing cry from you.

“S-Satoru—“ you moan, undecided if you want to tell him that it’s too much.

“Hmm?” he questions, the word coming out muffled as he now has a mouth full of breast again, his tongue swirling greedily over your areolas and sending signals to your tingling nerves.

“S’alot,” you stutter, “feels t-too good.”

“Don’t care,” he shrugs, pulling away from your chest and bringing his face back up to yours, “not finished with you. Not even close.”

You whine as he cracks a smack on your tit one more time for good measure. Now he’s pulling your legs, causing you to lose balance and fall onto your back.

The back seat is spacious, but you think there’s no way he’s going to be able to bend his body to do whatever he thinks he’s about to do.

He doesn’t seem to be thinking like you, though, because his hands hike up your skirt and he hisses at the sight of your panties, not even hesitating.

“S’cute, look at the little cherry,” he grins seductively, poking the fat of your pussy with a sharp finger.

He’s referring to the pattern on the front of your tiny white thong, but you’re hardly paying attention because your mind is still ringing at his sudden contact with your cunt.

Rip!

His hands are tearing apart your poor little fishnets, paving a way for him to get your panties off. He succeeds, struggling a bit to get them past your boots; folding your knees up to your face as he does so, commenting on your flexibility.

“Hah- I love athletic girls,” he says aloud. “So flexible. Gonna have your ankles by your ears, ponytail.”

You squirm underneath him at his threat, but he’s already pinning your legs up, your boots grazing across the ceiling of his car as he stares down at your glinting pussy - dripping all over his expensive white leather.

If the alcohol wasn’t currently hitting you like a train - your brain mushing and swirling from being slapped and pushed around - you’d be trying to force your legs closed to hide from him.

“Such a fucking pretty pussy,” he grits out, leaning forward and shooting a collection of spit out of his mouth right onto it. Your eyes roll, the warmth of his body fluid landing right over your clit, making the bottom half of your body twitch. Satoru grins.

“Don’t even need my spit, y’so wet; I just love the way it looks on you,” he murmurs, keeping his hands firm on the underside of your thighs, “‘M gonna mark you with all my fluids, pretty.”

“Shut up,” you cry out, “if you’re still talkin’ it means your face isn’t stuffed with pussy.”

“Mm, ponytail gets fiesty,” Satoru looks at you from between your thighs and bites his lip, “there’s no fun in rushing right into these things, you know.”

He turns his head to the side, still wearing his Stetson - it’s somehow managing to hang on through all of the filth - and he plants a soft little kiss to your inner knee. Then another to the other leg. He rinses and repeats this process until he’s far up your thighs, and you can feel his breath dancing over your dripping hole.

“F-fuck,” you scream out, getting more frustrated, “‘m gonna shove your face if you don’t stop.”

“Try,” he challenges, but his eyes say that if you do, you’ll be teased for even longer.

"Wh-Why are you doing this to me?" you pant, ramming your knee into his rib playfully.

"Cause truthfully," he says lowly, "I liked the little game we had going. Building up the tension. Hate to see it end..." he drags his finger down the side of your thigh, making you shiver. "And hmm, you are such a pretty girl, begging like this. Imagine if your teammates knew that their beast of a captain was in the backseat of a car, begging to have her pussy eaten? Imagine!”

His breath tickles your cunt as he cracks a mean laugh, his head tilted down so that you can’t see his expression under his hat.

You swallow in embarrassment. You always go for a little teasing, but this is extreme. Before you know it, your hand has popped out before you, and your fingers splay out over the cowhide of his Stetson as you push - hard - and push until his arrogant little mouth is against your pussy.

He’s shut up instantly, groaning softly against your skin as his tongue darts out on instinct, lapping up your juices.

“That’s right,” you whisper with ache in your voice, “shut up and eat that shit.”

Your head lolls back against the window panel in Satoru’s car. He’s not even bothering to argue with you now, lost in his own heaven of your delicious nectar. If you could see past his hat you’d be able to watch as his face becomes wet and shiny, as your secretion dribbles down his chin in a heavenly mix of saliva. His tongue drags down between your folds, making you squirm, but it’s nothing compared to when he shoves his tongue right into your wanton hole.

The cry you let out vibrates against the interior of the car. Satoru’s hand has come up underneath your thigh, pulling your leg to rest across his back as he’s slid down into a crouch on the floor. His hand cracks down on your leg in the same spot as before, this time digging his fingernails down into the flesh after the slap.

You hiss, but ultimately feel even more turned on as he drags his tongue back through your juices, finding your clit, narrowing it out as he flicks it back and forth, back and forth, the same way he had been rocking you on that damned bull.

“S-Such a fucking mess,” he moans against your skin, trying to catch all of your secretion but it’s impossible with the way he keeps eating you - you’re flooding the seat, your inner thighs, and his smug little pale face. “Tastes so good. Can’t imagine how good you taste after a long game, fuck.”

You furrow your eyebrows embarrassingly at the the thought of what he was implying - your cunt all sweaty after soccer and he’d prefer that over this? You want to shudder in disgust but, picturing yourself hiked up on the wall with your soccer shorts discarded, a leg over his shoulder as Satoru ate you alive like this - works you up more than you figure you can even get at this point.

“S-Satoru,” you whimper, feeling the pool of heat twist up your insides as the familiar feeling of ejaculation creeps up on you.

You reach and grab his hat, digging your fingers into the leather, your legs clenching against his cheeks as you try to control the shaking that you know is to overcome you the second you orgasm.

“I know that sound,” Satoru purrs against your clit, “cum for me baby. Cum all over my tongue, like y’been wanting to for months.”

That’s all it takes. And god, Satoru does not show mercy as the wave starts at your clit and pushes all the way through your body, down to your curling toes in your boots and up to your nipples, which are still dancing free over the rim of your brazier.

The shakes come quickly, intensely, harsher than you’ve ever felt them before, as Satoru’s tongue rides out your high for you, not stopping until you’re just slightly twitching.

“Beautiful,” he hums, parting his mouth from you and sitting up in the backseat. “Satoru one, Y/N zero.”

You frown at his use of scoring, knowing it’s just to get under your skin.

“I’ll even out the score, fuck you,” you hiss.

“Please do, ponytail,” Satoru grins.

You find yourself pulling your legs back quickly, your thighs still a little weak and shaky as you sit up on your knees. You quickly unzip your boots and toss them somewhere in the front. Then, you grab Satoru by his ungodly black button-down and drag him to the middle of the seat.

He’s looking up at you in a mix of awe and smug, but you’re trying to pretend you don’t feel his eyes on you so that you may maintain your confidence.

You throw your right leg over his waist. Now, you’re straddling him, bare cunt over warm leather, dragging all of your juice and cream over his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind.

You fumble between your legs to unbutton his pants and then unzip them. He assists you when he raises his hips for a second, allowing you to get his pants down just enough that his bulge is pressing against you through his boxers.

He’s looking up at you with slanted eyelids, his pupils blown to black with the rim of ice-blue hardly visible. He’s clearly so tipsy, just off of the little bit you’d spit into his mouth, meanwhile your body is hot and your vision is getting blurry, nothing on your mind except getting his cock inside of you.

But oh, he deserves the teasing he’d given you. You use your hand to palm him, but simultaneously drag your hips over his lap, your sensitive cunt twitching as you do so.

His head falls back, his Adam’s apple thumping gloriously in his throat. His eyes flutter closed but only briefly.

“Fuck- shit,” he groans. “‘M sorry ‘bout the teasing, ‘kay? Want you to take advantage of me already. F-fuck, please-“

His begging is so delicious. If he thinks this is going to decrease the teasing you’re bestowing upon him, he has another thing coming.

Probably you.

“Oh?” you hum, giggling. “What’s that? Satoru begging now? How the tables have turned…”

He groans again, “S-Sick, innit? The way I want to be balls deep in that wet ass cunt. Don’t wanna wait anymore. You’ve kept me dangling for so long. Please-“

He whines. He actually whines, followed by a low whimper as he pokes out his bottom lip and lifts his head to look at you again.

A smart move on his part because you are absolutely hypnotized by his eyes, and before you know it, your hand is passing the elastic band on his black boxers. You find your hand running over bare skin - what a slut, he’d shaved. You gasp as you continue to slide your hand down to try and grab his tip - but it’s not there. It’s so far deep into his pants because he’s simply that large.

You scoot back on his lap a bit and finally whip his cock out, and it bounces a bit at its own sheer heft. There’s a pretty curve in it and thick veins swirling the sides, leading to a fat pink tip.

You realize you’ve been staring, but also slowly stroking it, admiring the fuck out of this perfect cock that you knew you would be thinking about for weeks.

“Like what you - hah - s-see?” he coos, closing one eye and glancing down at your hand sliding delicately over his length with his other.

“Mhmm,” you reply, “just imagining how good it’s gonna hurt. Your cock gonna make me cry, ‘Toru?”

“F-Fuck yeah,” he shudders, “gonna have you screaming, pretty. Loud as you want - no one can hear. Need you to milk this cock.”

“S-Shut up,” you groan, only because his words were driving you mad - and you would not last even another sixty seconds without his length penetrating your poor insides.

But, you suddenly remember the whip on your waist. Albeit made out of a cheap, rope-like material, the gears in your head start twisting like the delinquent that you are.

You catch Satoru’s wondering eye as he silently asks you why you aren’t bouncing on his cock yet - but you manage to ignore the expression as you thwip out the long black prop and quickly get it around Satoru’s neck before he can so much as gasp in surprise.

His eyes widen when he realizes you’ve made a leash out of your whip, tightening it at the base of his throat and coiling it around your wrist, bringing his face closer to you.

He’s so stunned that he remains silent, but his plump lips are parted in surprise, which you take as an opportunity to bite into the bottom one - harshly.

You suck on it as you lift your hips and your free hand finds the base of his cock - then you slide it between your folds very purposefully and agonizingly slow.

“Holy fuck,” Satoru whimpers against your mouth. “Y’doing me so dirty, Y/N, fucking ruining me. God…” he adds, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

You gasp at the confession, and then at the feeling of his tip pushing into your dripping hole, as you drag your hips down to sink yourself onto him.

His eyes immediately roll back, and you let go of his lip, keeping your grip on the whip as your pussy adjusts to his size - feeling the drumming pulse coming from his veins tap your walls erotically.

You try not to clench, but as you suspected, it hurts so good - you’re trying not to focus on the pain. But he’s just so thick, so filling.

You whimper and in the same moment, feel a coil of fingers wrapping into your hair, curling it around his knuckles to keep you from moving your head.

“Ride this shit,” he growls, his eyes suddenly back open and completely aware. “Put those sexy ass hips to use.”

He grips one with his free hand for emphasis, tightening his grip on your hair, suddenly making you wish you’d opted for the ponytail tonight. You cry out at the mixes of searing pain and pleasure, as you’ve managed to take all of his cock inside of you - his tip kissing your cervix painfully. You decide now you can try to move, so you use your toes to push yourself back up, finding your pace.

“It’s too big,” you complain, albeit very fakely; your grip on the whip turning your knuckles white as it’s the only thing you can do to distract yourself.

Your other hand digs into his shoulder, and he hisses.

“Nuh-uh,” he coos, “you can take it, pretty. Deep breaths, know you can be a good cockwarmer f’me.”

Your breaths are coming out in short little pants. Slowly you’re adjusting to his size, and with you slicking up his cock it’s easy to start gliding sinfully up and down, up and down-

Satoru leans forward against your restraint and greedily takes your mouth onto his. He squeezes your hip harshly to get you to moan, then shoves his tongue hungrily inside your mouth. While his tongue works on harassing yours, his cock works on bruising your uterus. You’re bouncing quicker now, but he’s meeting you halfway with animalistic thrusts of his own.

Aside from heavy breathing, the squelching sound of your wet walls against his dick accompany the clapping of your ass against his groin. You start rotating your hips, bringing one forward before the other, creating a wave-like motion as you ride your slutty little half-horse into oblivion.

His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes shut tight, his mouth only hanging onto yours by his teeth as he continues to whine into the air. You yourself have gone up a few octaves, your moans competing with his, making the atmosphere even more erotic.

“Oh, fuck,” Satoru moans, “s’tight. S’good. Such a perfect fucking pussy, fits right over me. This shit was designed just f’me. Fuck, wh-why you fuckin’ me like this?” He shudders under you, releasing your lip from his teeth and opening his eyes. “Y’must want my fuckin’ babies, all in your stomach.”

Your eyes roll back as you repeat a very sultry, “All in my stomach.”

So cockdrunk off him, if he wants to fill you to the brim you’ll let him. You’ll let him have his way with you however he wants, at this moment, if it meant he’d keep fucking up into you this good - if it meant you could have his cock more than just tonight. You’d never wanted to obey and be so good for someone before now.

“You are being so good,” Satoru purrs, which makes you realize you said the last sentence aloud. “My pretty ponytail. Taking me so well. I know it hurts, baby, but you got it. You can have all of my cock - anytime you want. I-I’m…” he had been speaking clearly, but a particular thrust had made him lose his footing, bringing back his tipsy voice, “I-I’m yours to use. To ruin.”

Your eyebrows furrow, you gasp at the velvety statement. You know he’s just drunk, you are too, but you’re so incredibly fucked. Despite his words, he’ll probably never even look at you again after this, and it pains you deeply. You can’t think about that now though, because heat is rising in your stomach.

“God, Satoru,” you mumble, “keep fucking talking. Keep talking so I can cum all over you. Please, please, f-fuck.”

“Ngh, need you to cum,” Satoru says. “Wanna feel the way you pulse when you cum. Bet you can squirt f’me too, huh? Know you’ve got it, so wet like that.”

You shake your head, your hand loosening the grip on the whip; you just don’t have the strength anymore.

You lean back, arching against him, and he takes the opportunity to pop your breast right into his mouth, gripping onto your nipple with his teeth before he sucks like a starving man.

“P-Please, God… mmph,” you drag out, eyes rolling as you can barely bring yourself to make noise with the overwhelming amount of pleasure you’re experiencing.

But you’re taken by surprise when his hand is suddenly coming away from your hair, and his arms wrap around you in a tight bear hug. Your hand has no choice but to fall from the whip as your own arms wrap behind his neck to steady yourself - and just as you think you’re about to regain balance, Satoru starts mercilessly slamming his hips up into your ass.

“SHIT!” you scream out, the loudest you have since being in the car.

Flap, flap, flap - as he absolutely destroys the inner workings of your slick pussy - determined to bruise your cervix and leave it swollen and aching for him.

“You. Are. Gonna. Cum. For. Me,” he grits, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.

You feel tears brimming your eyes; it’s just so good, hurts so bad, you can’t get enough.

You find yourself seeing and saying nothing but his name over and over for the few seconds right before your orgasm, and then your poor body is spasming on top of Satoru’s as he fucks you through your high - your insides clenching and twitching, and then a gush! as your body has decided that an inner orgasm isn’t enough. Satoru was right - you’re squirting all over him, his pants, and the backseat.

His eyes bug out as his eyebrows furrow, taking in the sight of the magnificent pool you’ve left on him.

“So fucking hot,” he moans, “can feel that shit pulsing on me. F-Fuck. My turn—“

This brings him over the edge right along with you. You’ve gone limp against him, leaning your entire torso on his as he maintains his hug on you and squirts his thick ropes of hot cum all into your uterus.

You cannot see anything except white stars in your vision as you’ve lost yourself in recovering from your orgasms, and he’s not bothering to slide himself out of you just yet.

“S-So addicting,” he sighs, leaning his head against your shoulder, his hat finally falling off behind him, revealing the fact that his hair is stuck to his sweat-covered forehead.

His cock is twitching inside of you, but you can’t think about that now. You’re trying to regain your sight as well as the ability to breathe.

You lay there against each other, still filled up. His grip has loosened on you, but his hands are delicately petting the skin between your shoulder blades, his arms not letting you go.

You’re now just trying to catch your breaths, bodies pressed together in a lustful bliss as you come down off of your highs, soberness creeping up on you.

“Was better than my fantasies,” Satoru says softly, his hands still gently roaming the skin on your back.

“Mine too,” you giggle in response, the pants slowly becoming normal breaths again.

Satoru gently tugs on your hair to bring your face back level with his, and looks up at you, as innocent as can be.

“Y’know what this means, right?” he questions, squirming a bit underneath you just to remind you that his cock remains inside of you. “You’re never gonna be able to get rid of me. M’gonna need access to this pussy, at least once a week. If not more…” he tapers off before adding, “Only, of course, if you’re up for it.”

“Absolutely!” you squeak out a little too fast, to which Satoru gives you a charming crooked smile and leans forward to peck you on the lips.

“Well then,” he hums, “don’t think we can go back in the party with our cum all over us. Can I offer you a ride home, ponytail?”

You blink down at him. His gentlemanly nature from the party has returned, truly taking you aback, because of the way he was just muttering filth a moment ago.

You took him up on his offer though, legs shaking as you crawled to the front and got your skirt and boots back on. He’d had to exit the car and get back in, his long legs prohibiting him from just crawling to the front.

You can tell he’s sober now, he better have been, otherwise he wasn’t driving you anywhere. But you knew he was when his hand gently rested on the thigh he had abused the entire time, rubbing soft circles to soothe the red handprints he’d left.

You sigh, knowing you’re completely fucked. Hooking up with him was a step in the right direction, but who was to say he’d ever want to be anything more than this? Lots of things to think about, but right now, you just relaxed under his touch as he drove you back to your dorm.

And when you saw him again, it would be at your scrimmage a week later. You’d already filled your girls in on everything, down to the nasty details they’d begged to hear. That’s why they shoved you off the bleachers the minute it appeared that Satoru’s team was done practicing.

Satoru arrived in the hallway right on cue, and you hit him with your customary bump of the shoulder.

“There you are, ponytail,” he mutters, glancing around before gently pulling you into a maintenance closet. “Thought you’d bailed on me.” He presses a fat kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. “Been thinking about you all week, need to take some stress out on that pretty pussy.”

You squeak quietly, running your fingers through his hair, missing the way he looked in his Stetson but being able to appreciate his practice attire just the same. His hands find the band of your jersey shorts and begin tugging them down.

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” you coo quietly, your back hitting the wall. “How d’you wanna do this?”

“Well, I certainly enjoyed you on top last time,” he purrs, “but - hah - sometimes, even the cowboys need a break from riding.”

I. AM. SO. FERAL FOR JOCKEY/COWBOY GOJO WTFFF

And he’s such a gentleman STOPP <33

ok this was the most fun thing ive ever written. that’s all bye.

~ pennjammin

[buckymorelikefuckme]

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

[okiedokrie]

Meet Me In Amsterdam

Summary: "Minghao finds himself under a mentorship program from one of the most brilliant artist in the contemporary circle, where he meets Y/N and bond with their journey through art, overcoming traumas, and hopeless romanticism of the life and love around them. But all things come to an end at some point, the mentorship program ends, and they both go back to their lives. But they do meet again to finish what they started; 'if there is a next time, meet me in Amsterdam.'"

Characters/Pairing: Artist!Minghao x Artist!Fem!Reader

Genre: smut, some angst, fluff

AU/Trope Info: Non-idol AU!, idiots to lovers

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: Religious themes, implication of past sexual assault, homophobia mention, some cursing, food mentions, smut warnings under the cut

Rating: 18+

A/N: this is for the @svthub 2024 world tour collab! Thanks to @whipped-for-kpop-fics and @hobeemin for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: oral (f receiving), sex in a church, unprotected sex, implied creampie

The air in Minghao's studio is dizzying. A broken exhaust and paint fumes don't really mix, and his open windows could only do so much. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Touching grass may solve his problem, but he doesn't feel like dealing with the morning dew on the grass.

He quickly closed his windows before packing all his belongings in his commuting bag, opting to rush to a recent exhibit that opened. Minghao knew very little about the artist, but a change of scenery might help quell his throbbing headache. 

Minghao took this opportunity to space out during the commute to the gallery, popping on his headphones and trying to ignore the touchy couples in the train car with him. He wonders what it'll feel like to find his person like them; Minghao only craves the warmth of another's arms.

He wonders what it'll feel like to fall for someone, to be comfortable with vulnerability and the trusting bond between two lovers. Ever the hopeless romantic, he'd love to love and be loved.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the intercom buzzed to life, announcing the arrival at Minghao’s stop. Adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, he pushed his way through the busy crowd to head out of the station. The walk to the gallery was calm and relatively quiet. This part of the city mostly had walking paths rather than roads, so it was really only bustling with people and the occasional bicycle. 

Arriving at the gallery, the pieces were gorgeous, as expected. This artist was well known in the contemporary circle, so it's no surprise that the gallery is almost busier than the outside. Minghao felt drawn to one piece in particular, the warm tones, swirling and melting into one another, blending into a flame-like flow; it was stationary yet moving.

He hears a chuckle behind him, only to see an older man, about mid-forties, smiling at him. “I see you enjoy this piece; you have great taste. What's your name, boy?” 

Minghao is a little flustered, but he introduces himself nonetheless. The man before him introduced himself as the artist and noticed Minghao's paint-stained hands before asking if he was an artist himself. Minghao confirmed the older man’s speculations, offering to show some of his work as photos on his phone. The older man was impressed by Minghao’s talent and potential, and he then mentioned that he had an apprenticeship program open, but it was in Amsterdam. 

Minghao agreed a little too enthusiastically, seeing as this man quite literally defined an era of art in a way nobody else has.

It was only a few weeks after that interaction, but Minghao found himself on a flight to Amsterdam.

Taking in the city's air, Minghao feels a sense of dread washing over him, and the hustle and bustle of a new city scares him a bit. Being alone in a foreign land wasn't why his nerves were all over the place; no, it was the fact that he felt this opportunity wasn't meant to be his.

Sure, his mentor got the opportunity to see his work before he accepted the offer, but still, he feels this mentorship program would've been more suited to someone more fitting.

Nonetheless, Minghao is here now. And he swears he'll make the most of the time he spends here.

Taking one of the many old trains out of the airport, the rumbling train rails helped ground him a little; the sound was new and familiar at the same time. He thought back to his small studio back home, wondering how well it'd hold up in the year he'd be gone.

Minghao is snapped out of his daydreams when the train arrives at his station. He lugs his luggage to what will be his living quarters for the rest of his time here. Wiping his palms over his sweats, he finally takes the time to haul his bags over the stairs to the small apartment that was provided to him. His mentor mentioned that he has a roommate, another artist in the program, so he doesn't let his stuff get too comfortable in the main room.

Instead, he randomly picks one of the rooms, hoping his roommate doesn't mind. If they did, it's not as if he's opposed to switching. 

He hums a simple melody while setting his bags to the side, still catching up to the jetlag and too tired to put anything away. He inspects the room, noting that it is a little dusty. He has to settle his sheets and wipe everything down before he can get too comfortable.

He thinks that heading out for brunch is a good idea, guessing that his roommate would most likely want to get situated in peace. He gets his wallet and phone and heads out to find somewhere to eat.

The streets weren't too busy. It was midday and the middle of the week, and most likely, people were still at their jobs. Still, they were full of people to the point that Minghao felt the pressure of needing to always be on the move. He constantly tried to go with the flow of the crowds while trying to find an establishment he could eat at, preferably something to quell his growing homesickness.

He stumbles across what seems to be a small business with very familiar-looking signs. Bingo! It's a Chinese restaurant! He thanks whatever force managed to lead him here before he enters the restaurant. The distinct smell of the classic spice mix calms his nerves, and his posture relaxes significantly. 

The man at the counter doesn't look up from his paper, pointing at a booth near the back where Minghao could set his stuff before ordering. The curt behavior of the man doesn't phase him; in fact, it comforts him. He sets his bag down before standing at the counter, reading over the signs that were both in Mandarin and English. He starts ordering his food in Mandarin, finally getting the man at the counter to notice him. He nods in understanding, taking his order diligently before yelling his order at the cook at the back.

He pays, nods at the man again, and gets situated at his table. Getting comfortable with the smell of the food cooking and the chatter of the people around him. He fiddles with his phone a little, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram to see what his friends are up to. Mingyu got another modeling gig, Jungkook with his new single, and Dokyeom got to play Orpheus in Hadestown. 

Soon enough, he doesn't realize how much time has passed, only noticing that his food was ready when the waitress hurriedly slides his food onto the table and takes his table number. Mumbling thanks, which he believes she ignores, Minghao starts to eat his food.

This is so good, actually; I need to post this to my story.

Minghao took a picture of his food. The digital camera shutter almost distracted him from the sound of someone bumping into the table next to him. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” A feminine voice said, frantically apologizing to the patron at said table, holding her hip. She desperately tried to wipe up anything that was spilled, apologizing profusely. Minghao got up from his table and offered to help her, wiping up the mess with her like the gentleman he was. Once the table was free from any spills, she apologized again to the person at the table and Minghao for troubling him.

“It’s fine; accidents happen all the time. Just be more mindful next time.” He says calmly, returning to his booth before a smaller hand grabs his arm. 

“Uh, I can't find a place to sit. Would you mind sharing a table with me?” she asked shyly but politely. Minghao shakes his head no. Offering her a polite smile as they walk back to their now shared table, she leaves her items in his care before going to order her food.

Minghao finally gets to enjoy the food he ordered. The decadent aroma was mouth-watering, and most importantly, it reminded him of home. It helps warm him up, literally and figuratively. He chews slowly, savoring the flavors of his food as usual. He'd always been a slow eater, slow enough for the lady he shares a table with to get her food and finish eating with him.

They both get up from their table with a curt nod of acknowledgment. Thinking this would be the last time they'd ever interact, Minghao didn't bother introducing himself. And neither does she. 

Yet, Minghao can't seem to shake the feeling of disappointment once he leaves her.

Minghao finally arrives at his apartment, ready to settle down after a long day of exploring the city and taking photos of places that inspire him. He closes the door, running a hand through his hair to look around the living room. 

He nearly dropped his camera when he saw the girl from the restaurant staring back at him, and he almost dropped the tray of paints from the shock.

“What are you doing here?!” She asked, surprised and on alert. Minghao could only guess what emotions she was going through at that moment. A random man she met once is suddenly in her apartment. Oh dear.

Minghao starts to feel panic settle into him, too. Both of them look like deer in headlights, trying to make sense of the situation. 

“Oh- uh- fuck, I live here!” Minghao says frantically, holding both his hands up in a show of innocence, showing his copy of the keys to their apartment.

Her posture immediately relaxed a little, “Oh uh, so, you're my roommate? I'm Y/n, by the way.” She says, still a little weary of him. He doesn't blame her; he did come in unannounced.

“It's nice to meet you again, I mean. I'm Minghao. Let's try to get along for this mentorship program, yeah?” He says, scratching the back of his head. “I'm gonna go head to bed; I'm exhausted from all the traveling, so uh, yeah.”

Minghao hoped his exit wasn't too awkward. Maybe it was, but he was too tired to deal with the intricacies of small talk. He changed his sheets quickly, throwing the old sheets into the wash before doing his nightly routine. He crashed into his new, cool sheets and drifted off into dreamland. 

It was the next morning, and the warmth of the sunlight was seeping in through the cracks between the curtains. He blinks away the sleep from his eyes, rubbing his face into his palms. He sits up and shakes his head to fight off the rest of his fatigue. He was always a morning person, but the jetlag is making it a bit too difficult for him to uphold that. 

His morning routine was simple: shower, get dressed, make-up and hair, breakfast, and out. He rarely breaks from this simple pattern, which consistently makes life easier for him. So it came as a surprise to him that he didn't have to make breakfast this time since his roommate kindly left a portion for him. 

He thinks this is such a nice gesture to leave for the guy who scared her half to death yesterday. Maybe this was a sort of peace offering to make getting along easier? Either way, he won't complain—it's just another thing to make his life a little easier.

His roommate is nowhere to be seen, most likely already on his way to the studio to meet their mentor. So Minghao also leaves the apartment, making sure to lock the door on his way out. He pops his headphones on, listening to his favorite commute playlist with a lightness in his step, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

The train ride to the studio was calm; the morning train was much less busy than the afternoon one he took when he arrived, so he got the opportunity to sit down and enjoy the book he recently got. It was a story about two soulmates finding each other in the middle of a city that was new to both of them; he thinks that maybe he's starting to lean into the hopeless romantic stereotype that his friends would always compare him to, which, he could never beat the allegations. 

His mind drifts to his art, and he describes how the romanticization of life became a heavy inspiration for his work. Minghao loves the strokes of color on the canvas as much as he loves life, and his passion for existence weaves itself between the fibers of his canvas.

After being snapped out of his daydreams by the conductor, he feels a sense of deja vu; he finds himself in his head constantly these days. He is always such a dreamer.

The doors of the train open with a mechanical hiss, old rails squeaking under the friction. He thinks the train still needs to go through the desperately needed maintenance. Same train, same. He thought to himself, stuffing his book back into his back with a huff.

Minghao takes in the scenery around him; this part of the city is much less busy than where his apartment was, so he could finally appreciate the city's beauty without the pressure of constantly having to be on the move.

His mentor's building comes into view. It is an older building; the exterior has long since been weathered, but history still makes it gorgeous. He noticed that buildings, most of them having yet to be touched since they were first built, added a charm to an otherwise monotonous city.

He pushes in the door, noting that his only option for getting to the studio is a set of ancient, creaky wooden steps. Minghao is lightheaded from looking at the flight of stairs, so he doesn't bother counting how many floors he has to climb just to get to his mentor. 

I have to climb this every day. I don't need to bother with leg day here. He thought to himself, already making the long trek up the stairs. 

It wasn’t that long—about 5 minutes of walking time—but it felt like an eternity to him. Walking was no issue; walking upstairs? Torture. The first treadmill was a step design, so it may not be an exaggeration. 

Minghao finally reaches the top of the stairwell, pausing to catch his breath in an attempt to look presentable to his mentor and possibly his roommate. He stands by the door for a while, mentally preparing himself for the first day of the program. He arrives earlier than the agreed-upon time, so he's not in a rush to make his presence known.

He takes his water bottle out of his bag, puts cool water in it, and helps his poor self finally calm down from his mini workout. He curses whoever designed this stairwell. A five-story building should have an elevator, and arguing that it doesn't need one feels like a hate crime.

He stops himself before arguing with fictitious architects, who are probably long gone, about how old the building looks. Anyway, he finally has a hand on the doorknob to the studio; taking a deep breath one last time, he twists the knob and pushes the door open, the old wood creaking in protest from the force of him opening it. He cringes internally, the squeak passing straight through his skull, making him want to grind his teeth in annoyance.

Still, he doesn’t show his disdain for this geriatric building on his face since his mentor and roommate both whip their heads around to see him at the doorway. Suddenly, having two sets of eyes on you doesn't help the nerves. 

He offers a polite smile, successfully fighting his grimace with a more pleasant expression. Both his mentor and roommate smile back. He noticed his mentor was a lot more relaxed than when he first met him, which makes sense. He is where he's most comfortable—in his very own studio.

Minghao feels the same about his tiny studio back home. He steps further into the bright studio, closing the door behind him. The studio's top floor and many large windows bring loads of natural light, making it feel more comfortable and inviting. Couple that with the fact that it's in a relatively quiet part of the city, and he feels as if his mentor really put thought into every detail of his permanent studio.

Minghao wonders when he will be able to get the studio of his dreams in his art career, but for now, he admires the studio. His mentor greets him and urges him to explore and get acquainted with the space. Since he'll be spending most of his time here in Amsterdam. Minghao nods, dropping his bag on the cubbies near the door and carefully walking around the studio, avoiding the items and canvases scattered around the floor. His mentor seemed to have an organized chaos mindset, seemingly not bothered by the mess or the health hazard tripping on any of these might cause.

He finds it amusing how much of his mentor he finds out about just from looking around his workspace. He has a husband, married young, it seems. He has twin girls, who he can only assume are grown now. He used to have a dog, a poodle named ‘Cloud’ despite being a black poodle. He made prints of older paintings before sending them off to an auction for fundraisers. He remembers those fundraisers very fondly, it seems. 

Minghao also finds the bathroom and takes note of its location for future use; he’s definitely going to use that. He joins his mentor and roommate by the window, then takes the time to drink their morning coffee and watch the birds. His mentor offers him coffee, but Minghao asks if he has tea. His mentor confirms that he does and points toward his pantry, which is just a wooden cubby that he appropriated to be a pantry after he got tired of getting his snacks off the floor, sighting back pains.

Minghao calmly prepares his tea, passively listening to the conversation between his mentor and roommate. They seem to get along well. Maybe his mentor has some fondness for her because she reminds him of his daughters. He could only guess, though.

Minghao finishes making his tea and finally joins them by the window. “Are you guys birdwatching?” he asks, joining in the conversation. 

“Yes! Mr. Jones was talking about how his youngest loved visiting his studio just to view the birds.” His roommate answers, his mentor confirming it. Though he does mention that she doesn’t visit as often—after all, she has a family of her own now—when she visits, she brings his grandchildren with her, which makes the old man happy. 

He adopted his twin girls pretty early in life, seeing them as inspiration for most of his work. The way his mentor talks about his family and life with so much pride makes Minghao think about his future. He wonders if he’ll ever be as proud of his life as his mentor is, but considering he’ll be learning everything this man can offer, he’s pretty confident about that, at least.

After finishing their morning drinks, his mentor started his first assignment for them, one of many he’d assign throughout the program. His mentor was a patient and calm man. His instruction and tips for injecting emotion into your piece were very cohesive; it was almost like he got it down to a science. His enthusiasm and passion for his work were truly remarkable, and getting to witness it and learn from him felt surreal. 

Minghao feels proud of having the opportunity to have him as a mentor. At the end of the day, instead of feeling exhausted, he's excited to learn more from him tomorrow. 

You and Minghao are heading home together after a long day with your mentor, walking silently through the streets; you think that maybe he just doesn't like you, seeing how he practically jumps at every accidental graze of your hands with each other.

You don't really blame him either; your first impression wasn't exactly the greatest, seeing as someone cussed you out in the middle of a Chinese restaurant. That impression was a strong one, but unfortunately, not a good one.

Minghao and you shuffle into the same train car, getting pressed together as a consequence of rush hour. You try not to think about what your roommate, who is basically still a stranger to you, feels like. He's warm, and you can definitely feel that he is in shape. You definitely try not to think about how tall he is or how handsome he is.

He's so polite, too, and very gentlemanly. He's always conscious of his movement and language around you, protecting you from being squeezed in this tiny train car without him even noticing. It was basically second nature to him.

Oh, you're never going to survive with this man for a year; you're definitely not going to stay sane with him living with you. Your mind starts reeling, cursing whatever deity thought it was funny to send over a walking wet dream of a roommate to your sex-deprived self. 

You'd hope Minghao doesn't notice how you fought for your life, trying to have decent thoughts. You felt extremely guilty for thinking of him as such, he's just minding his business, and you're acting like some horny teenager. You hope you don't offend him with how much you flinch in every interaction with him. 

The last thing you'd want is for him to think he was the problem.

Luckily for you, Minghao always seemed to be in his head most of the time, mindlessly picking at the stitching of his shirt and spacing out, it seems. At least you don't have to worry about him secretly being a mind-reader. The chances are low, but they're never zero. 

You also take this as an opportunity to start spacing out, looking out the window to watch the buildings and trees pass by quickly, enjoying the golden glow of the setting sun over the city. This scene makes you feel bittersweet, as if another day has passed. 

You wanted nothing more than to crash in your bed and sleep until the next morning, but for now, in the middle of this train car, you had to be vigilant of your surroundings. Not just because you're a newbie to this place but because you absolutely cannot get so distracted that you start to lean into your roommate like some deranged weirdo subconsciously. 

The train conductor announcing your stop seemed to snap both you and Minghao out of your daydreams. “Could I hold onto you? I don't wanna get swept up in this crowd,” you asked politely, unable to meet his eyes.

“Uh, sure, hold on.” He said, adjusting his messenger bag so it doesn't block your reach of his arm.

Minghao navigates the flowing crowd with a form of familiarity. It surprised you how well he managed to adjust to the movement of such a busy city. Then again, he could have already come from a much busier city than Amsterdam. Still, you need to learn more about him to make assumptions.

Minghao weaves the two of you through the crowds and out of the station, successfully reaching fresh air once you make it to a calmer sidewalk that was already near your apartment. You wanted to ask him so many questions. You realistically had a little over a year to do so, yet you know how quickly a year actually goes by, so you wanted to work quickly, but not too quickly, that you scare the poor man away.

Arriving at your apartment, Minghao fishes his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door, opens it, and gestures for you to enter first. You say a small ‘thank you’ before entering, taking your shoes off at the entrance and hanging up your coat.

Minghao follows you after you hear the door click behind you. The shuffling of his items as they are hung indicates that he is settling down for the day.

“Hey, Minghao?” You start, wanting to lead a conversation to eliminate the awkwardness between you and your roommate; he hums, fully turning his body to you as if to signal that he is listening. “I just wanted to know what you thought of Mr. Jones. You know, not as a mentor, but as a person.” You asked, thinking it was a safe place to start getting to know him.

He thinks about it momentarily, “I can't say right now; I've only ever known him as a leading force in the contemporary circle, but other than that? Not much. Judging from his relationship with his daughters, he seems like a good father and good husband, as he still spoke about his husband fondly and was pleasant to be around. But other than that, I don't know.” He shrugged, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don't know,” You answer truthfully, “I like him a lot; he reminds me of my dad somewhat, you know, except maybe less of a religious nut.” You joke, gauging to see Minghao's reaction to it; luckily for you, Minghao finds it funny. Offering a restrained pfft- at your quip.

“Yeah, I get that; my dad was the same too. But I like him a lot less than Mr. Jones.” He said through laughter, running his hands through his hair. “I'll go take a shower; see you around, Y/n.” 

And with that, he disappears into his en-suite. 

You celebrate the tiny progress you made with your roommate, and you get to exchange words with him that aren't just common pleasantries. This motivates you to fan the spark of this new friendship, and maybe more, if you play your cards right.

It's too early to say you liked him, but he is objectively very attractive. So you can't really blame yourself for ogling at him. Respectfully, of course.

You also prepare for your night routine, opting to go through your entire skincare routine for the first time in forever after showering. You put on your best pajamas and tuck yourself into bed, dreaming of the day your hot roommate sees you how you want him to.

Kidding, not really.

Minghao has yet to learn what he's doing.

He'd been staring blankly at his canvas for what seemed like a solid 20 minutes, these inner thoughts fighting for dominance and splattering their metaphorical blood all over the pristine canvas.

He wanted to paint something so badly, but alas, getting struck with a severe art block on the second day of his mentorship felt like a sick joke from fate. His mentor watches over their shoulders, monitoring their progress. He seemed to notice Minghao's growing frustration from being stuck, “I think you should take a break, son. You should enjoy some tea by the window and clear your mind to make room for new ideas.” he said gently with a hand on Minghao’s shoulder.

Minghao agrees with him, finally setting his brush down to make his tea as usual before getting comfortable on one of the chairs by the window. He watches the trees sway in the wind, the birds playing on a random rooftop, and the clouds drifting slowly. All of these help calm his racing mind, which is preoccupied with so many things to think about that he doesn't have room to think about new ideas.

Minghao has a nasty habit of overthinking and holding onto ideas that no longer serve him a purpose. He thinks back to the first time he did this, the day he decided to become an artist. He's always known that he wanted to be an artist. He was eight at the time, telling his parents about his dreams for the future. 

Unfortunately, they disapproved of such plans. The first thought Minghao ever held onto was, “You need to aspire to get a real job, not just some useless skill that will leave you with no money.”

The second thought Minghao held onto happened at around the age of 17, just before graduating high school. He decided not to go to college, seeing that he still held out hope that he could become a great artist one day. He wanted to prioritize honing his skills, and his parents, once again, didn't approve of that.

That was the first time he ever felt fear from his parents. Before, he was only met with stern lecturing and maybe being grounded, but he never saw his dad that angry before or ever since. Since that day, Minghao has held onto the following: “If you're going to choose to throw your life away, then so be it. Just don't come crawling back here when you end up on the streets!”

Minghao doesn't want to recall the last thought he held onto; the memory is still fresh and feels like a weapon being used against him. He wished it didn't turn out that way, but it did. And there's nothing he could do to change the facts.

Minghao savors the flavors of his tea before finally trying his best to get rid of all those thoughts he holds onto. He's far away from his parents, far away from the people who could hurt him, and far away from the past.

He finally stops overthinking as soon as he sets his cup down, wiping off his palms on his pants before joining his roommate and mentor again. His head was finally free of any troubles he might've had. But he knows he's never truly free, only temporarily setting it aside to focus on his current goals.

He feels a sense of pride while he is painting this time. Strokes of vibrant color dance across the weaving of the canvas, and his brush glides smoothly and freely across it, finding a path of its own, making its mark like it was always meant to do.

In a way, it was freeing to paint without the pressure of making it look ‘good’, Minghao only had to focus on laying a color down the way it wanted to lay, and this show of emotion sparked a flame of determination in Minghao that he thought he lost so long ago.

Minghao finally sees the colors for what they are again, and in a way, he starts falling in love with creating again. His joy is evident on his face, and the controlled strokes slowly turn into free ones with every passing moment. 

He looks away from his canvas once to look at you, and he smiles the biggest smile you've ever seen on him. And you realize his smile is contagious, absolutely stunning in a way you've never felt before.

That smile was detrimental to your poor little heart, your small crush on him only worsening. You think it's a bit unfair that the universe had to dangle such a gorgeous specimen in front of you. You didn't even have an idea if he was single or not. He could have a wife and kids back home and you'd be none the wiser.

Still, you enjoy his company while you can. After all, it's not like you applied for this mentorship just to mingle. You were here to learn under a great artist, and to gain the experiences necessary to advance your career and skill.

Having a hot roommate is a nice touch, though.

“Hey Minghao?” You ask from the living room, looking up from your book to look at him in your tiny kitchen. 

“Yeah?” He replied, not looking up from the stove. It was the weekend, and Minghao offered to make dinner as you’ve been making breakfast for the past few days.

“Are you in a relationship? If you don’t mind me asking.” You asked, the question has been bugging you for a while now, ever since you realized your tiny crush. You’d feel incredibly guilty if he was in a relationship and you tried shooting your shot with him.

“No. But why do you ask?” He said simply, focusing more of his attention to not burning the food. Stir-frying the noodles with familiarity.

“Nothing, I just thought about it.” You paused, “We’re friends, right?” You finished with a question, thinking that maybe your line of questioning might be too much for someone who doesn’t even consider you more than a roommate.

“Of course. I like your company, I don’t have a reason to try and alienate you.” He said, now with more focus on you as he turned the fire of the stove down. Plating your food in one of the plates your apartment came with.

“Cool. We’re cool.” You said a little awkwardly, thinking that maybe your questioning was a bit too on the nose. Even if he wasn’t a mind-reader, he’ll surely be able to tell that you’re interested in him just from your weird line of questioning in recent days. Surely Minghao isn’t dense.

Minghao called you over to your dining room table, saying that dinner was already served. You rise from your comfortable position on the couch, making your way over to the tiny table in the space between the living room and kitchen.

“I hope you like the food, it's something I always used to make in college. It was one of the few luxuries I could afford, but it’s still very delicious,” he said, serving you a portion before taking some for himself.

“Thank you for making dinner. This looks amazing, I’m honored to try it.” You said, taking in the sight of the food that Minghao made with care. Minghao feels a sense of pride from your praise, sure, he’s not the best cook, but he’s definitely proud of the progress he made in recent years. 

Cooking was one of the first skills Minghao had to learn when he got kicked out of his parents’ place. Having focused all his energy on studying before, he only really had the time to learn how to take care of himself once he was on his own.

Watching you eat his food enthusiastically made Minghao unexpectedly happy. Sharing something he was proud of is often how he tries to get close to people, the little piece of vulnerability made him feel closer to them, like offering a piece of himself to them.

To you, this may have felt like a simple dinner, a meal between two friends in the comfort of their own home. But to Minghao, this was him accepting you into his space. Finally being comfortable enough to associate you to a dish he holds almost sacred.

The days easily turned into weeks, weeks into months, and before you knew it, it's already six months into your mentorship program. The days began to blur into each other, the most interesting thing that happened in the six months was your budding relationship with your roommate, whom you found out to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you are.

Your weekdays were spent at the studio, diligently working under your mentor and improving your art. While your weekdays were spent unwinding and spending time with your new friend. Minghao's taste in movies doesn't differ much from yours, opting to watch romantic movies with happy endings. 

It was during one of these movie nights that Minghao asked you a question, “Do you believe in true love? ‘The one’, so to speak. Someone that is a perfect fit for you as you are to them.”

You think about this question for a bit, “Yeah, I do. It's a little silly to ask for perfection, but if someone is perfect to you, I think that's pretty plausible. Though, I do think true love is more of a choice than just aimlessly searching for them, you know?” You answered carefully, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

“I see,” Minghao started, “do you have an idea what your ‘one’ might be like?” He asked, this time a little more determined to get a more pointed answer from you.

“Not necessarily, but I already have a feeling that I know them already.” You said, relaxing and leaning back onto the couch, “Or, at least I hope I do. And I hope they see me like that too.” You sighed, wishful thinking taking over you again.

Over time, your little crush on Minghao had grown into a genuine romantic interest, especially since learning that he was single a few weeks ago, you started to see him in a different light. Almost as if the confirmation of his availability gave your subconscious the green light to start thirsting over him like a horny teenager.

It also didn’t help that he got comfortable enough to walk around the house shirtless, or worse, with just a towel loosely around his hips, sitting low as he’s fresh out of the shower. This put you in a loop, almost all thoughts being occupied by him in a sick and twisted way.

Some days, you convince yourself that Minghao does this on purpose, trying to kill you in the reflection of the light from his sweet, wet abs.

“Y/n?” He said, breathless. With a whiny tone in his naturally airy voice. 

“Hao? You’re back from your run?” You ask from the kitchen. Trying not to think about how delicious his voice sounded.

“Yeah, I picked up some bread on the way back. Thought it’s go well with the soup you’re making.” He replied as he placed a paper bag of fresh bread on the counter. You turn away from the stove to check out the selection he brought back.

“Hm, you got good taste. I didn’t expect any less.” You say with a proud smile, Minghao’s chest fills with a sense of pride as well. It was always validating to hear from someone else that they trusted your judgment.

The two of you had the day off today, your mentor visiting his daughters somewhere on the other side of the country. Giving the two of you free reign to settle chores that you haven’t been keeping up with.

Minghao offers to help you set the table, but you tell him to take a shower first. Letting that sweat dry on him might make him sick. Or worse, sticky.

He laughs that off, “Oh please, I think you’d want that.” He said suggestively. 

That was a new development too. Minghao is getting bolder with his jokes. His jokes were always tasteful, never trying to push your boundaries. But sometimes you wish he did, just so you’d have the excuse to tell him how much you wanted him.

But for now, with Minghao not showing any interest in acting upon his suggestive jokes, you swallow down the urge to jump his bones. For now, at least.

Your mentor returned from his family visit the next day, with an assignment for both of you. 

Sitting in the studio as usual, your mentor explains what your assignment entails, and how it’ll most likely span the rest of your time here in Amsterdam. He took it upon himself to assign it as a final project for the two of you, finishing this would finish their apprenticeship.

“A local cathedral reached out to me looking for my services. They wanted a mural painted for the interior because it started to look a little too clean after renovations. I think this would be a good opportunity for the two of you to show me what you’ve learned. I give you half a year to finish it, and then, you’ll be done with your mentorship.” He said, voice wispy like a proud father recalling the time when his children were just small, not looking at them, all grown up, he can’t help but tear up.

You and Minghao look at each other, unable to fathom this amazing opportunity that has presented itself to you. You and Minghao eagerly accept the offer, excitedly heading out to check out the said church so you two can plan out what to do for the mural.

The people attending the church are already briefed on the situation, happily showing you around their shiny new church, happy to find new artists to commission for this project. You and Minghao take photos of the interior, wanting to plan around the implements and fixtures, to give everything a cohesive look.

You and Minghao do this for hours walking around the city to look for inspiration along the way, taking in all the sights you didn’t have the chance to take in before. The city was filled with inspiration, ideas flowed out the both of you like a river, and it was so easy to find passion for this project. With a giant canvas and free reign to paint whatever, you and Minghao felt like kids at a candy store.

But suddenly, the sky started to grumble, clouds darkening in a tell-tale way. You hadn’t anticipated the rain, so you both scramble to find shelter as the rain starts to pour. Taking shelter under the awning of an abandoned shop, you both watch as the rain pools and puddles around you. You turn to Minghao, he was a little damp but relatively dry, water dripping from his hair, soaking into his clothes. His mouth was slightly parted from panting, the unexpected run knocked the wind out of both of you.

 At that moment, Minghao looked delectable.

“Hao?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He only smiles at your question, leaning down to softly press his lips to yours. He had an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, pressing his body to yours. You can feel the warmth of his skin radiating under his clothes, warming you up from the chill of the rain. 

You felt a little light-headed, not just from the lack of air, but because you didn’t expect a random blurt of your desire would lead to Minghao kissing you breathlessly. Not that you’re complaining, not at all, in fact, this made you want him more, softly moaning against his lips before pulling away, remembering that you’re in public. 

“Oh, wow, um.” You start, heads still spinning from the dizzying kiss Minghao had pulled you into. 

He just laughed his signature laugh, joy coursing through his veins. How could he not be happy? An amazing opportunity to advance his career, getting to spend the day in the city with someone he cares deeply for, and getting to kiss her in the rain? Oh, he’s weak in the knees.

This day was perfect, you were perfect. Minghao couldn’t ask for anything more.

You and Minghao started the mural for the cathedral, buzzing with excitement for your first big project, as well as your budding romantic relationship with him. The two of you work on opposite ends of the mural, working to meet each other halfway, and taking the time to get the details down before moving on to the next section. 

In a way, this was reminiscent of how you and Minghao are taking the steps to make this relationship work. Though unlikely that you’d meet like this, you still did, and you’d like to believe it was fate. Both of you agreed not to put a label on it just yet, just enjoying each other's company, and exploring the possibilities of this new romance.

You sneak glances at him every so often, his face scrunched in concentration, focusing on perfecting the sections of the mural he assigned himself to. And sometimes, when he looks back at you, his face instantly relaxes and glows. You love how expressive his face is, almost as if you could tell what he was thinking about at any point. It comforts you how open he is, knowing that he looks at you with genuine affection and adoration. It's fun, it's freeing to feel this way about someone who feels just as strongly.

The two of you worked on the mural until lunch when the two of you decided to take a short break, “Maybe I’ll take this opportunity to take you out on a proper date.” He said cheekily, offering his arm for you to hold.

“Oh, that’d be great. We keep passing by this one restaurant that I’ve been dying to try.” It was an open-concept place, clean and modern but it didn't give off “steak dinner” vibes, it just seemed like a nice sit-down place to have lunch or brunch, if you’re of the local housewife type.

Asking the waitress at the front for a table for two, the two of you were promptly seated at a table facing the street, offering the both of you the menu. Apparently, the menu changes seasonally, this time they offered a variety of vegan dishes, which intrigued you. You never realized vegetables could be cooked in so many different ways.

Your food was served, and the conversation between you and Minghao flowed like free orange juice refills. You both enjoy your lunch, more than you usually do, you don’t know if the food was actually good, or if the company just made it better, but either way, you don’t think you could enjoy a meal without Minghao anymore.

He’s just so charming, kind, and funny. So, so funny. The tables around you started to look at you two funny for all the giggles coming from your table specifically. The restaurant being open-air doesn’t even help to dampen the sounds of your joy, even the hustle and bustle of the street fade to the background with him. It’s just you, and Minghao, and the delicious veggies the two of you decided to have for lunch.

Lunch was over before you realized it. Minghao flags down the waitress, asking for the bill and paying for it himself, much to your protests. Yet, those fall on deaf ears as he winks at you. Offering his arm for you to take again before walking back to the cathedral to continue working on your mural.

The two of you continue to act like love-struck fools, much to the church staff’s chagrin, but it's not like either of you cared, you enjoy his company, and you, his. You haven’t brought up the kiss from before, but you wanted to, mainly to ask him for another one. 

Minghao really wasn’t the type for much skinship, but it’s not as if he’s opposed to it. If you asked, he’d comply. He’s willing to do many things for you, or with you. Minghao thinks it’s too early to call it love, definitely, but it’s really really close to it.

He adores you to no end, no words could describe how much you became an important part of his life in just a few short months. And getting to work with you on this? He almost couldn’t believe it.

Growing up, he always thought love like this only happened in movies or books. But he’s living it right now. He’s living in Europe, doing what he loves the most, and finding an unexpected light in his life. Maybe life does have things worth worrying about. 

Still, ever present in Minghao’s thoughts, is the sinking feeling of anxiety. It’s ugly, rearing its head whenever it can. The last time he felt this strongly about something, it nearly broke him. Minghap always felt too hard, nothing is ever ‘just’ happy or ‘just’ sad for him. His loyalty and devotion is both a blessing and a curse. 

And yet, he still believes in love.

He’s a hopeless romantic, even if it’s scary, even if it’ll hurt, he still holds onto hope that he could get away with it. Making a religion of your lips, worshiping the false god that is your adoration for each other.

It’s ironic to think like that in the middle of a cathedral he thinks, yet, he’s not guilty, not after what the church has done to him, to his once level-headed father.

It was another day of working on the mural, this time, you and Minghao worked until the late hours of the night, until all the church staff bid both of you goodnight, leaving you two to work in the dim light of the chandelier.

“Hey, have I ever told you that this is the first time I went inside a church since I was seventeen?” Minghao started, concentrating on his section of the mural, painting the rosy cheeks of a cherub.

“Huh? No, you haven’t. Why did you stop going to church? If you don’t mind me asking.” You said, a little startled from being broken out of your concentration.

“It’s simple really, my values didn’t align with the church anymore. And, I may have been  in love with a man at the time.” He joked, chuckling at the end of his sentence as if he was reminiscing about something humorous. 

You nod, “You know, I haven’t been in a church for about as long.” you say, setting your brush down to continue speaking, taking a short break to avoid cramping your hand. “I didn’t like how I was basically brainwashed all my life to devote my time and soul to the church, I didn’t feel a connection to religion anymore, not after what my group told me after what that priest did to me.”

Minghao’s expression softened, shoulders dropping with his grip on the brush relaxing. “That’s terrible, I’m sorry that happened to you.” He said, also resting his brush. He walked towards you, offering a hand to help you get off the floor. You take his hand, muttering thanks, and you follow him to the back of the church, in the pews nearest to the altar.

“You know, sometimes I feel as if some unknown force led us to meet each other.” Minghao started, “Think about it, how is it that we’re the only two people in the mentorship program, and how have we managed to fit together so perfectly? I think,” Minghao pauses to lick his lips, “if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have felt this way about them.” 

“I know that confession was a little misplaced, especially after what you just told me. But I just wanted to give you context for my offer,” He said, taking your hand, the warmth of his palm radiating to yours, warming it up, “I want to give your power back to you, I like you a lot, too much really. Ever since that first day, you made me breakfast. And I’d do anything to take that pain away from you.”

“Minghao…” You said, “I like you a lot too. I’m flattered by your confession, and so moved by your offer. But I can’t seem to figure out what your offer is supposed to mean.” 

“You were attacked at a church, violently, as if your body wasn’t yours for a time. I want to override those memories with ours, make it your choice. To have an outlet for your anger.”

You openly gape at him, not believing his offer. He wanted to…?

“Minghao, I want you.” 

It felt cathartic to say that, especially in a place you’d never think to say that. It was satisfying as if a weight had been lifted from you, the burden of memory weighing on your chest being removed, like the first time you could breathe freely again.

Mingahao gently cups your cheek, stroking the flushed skin with the pad of his thumb, slowly turning your head to face him, his lips hovering over yours, “I want you too.” He said before locking lips with you. 

Your hands immediately find their place at the back of his neck, fingers threading to the soft ends of his hair, pressing him closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. Your skin felt hot, like desire was just boiling under your skin, blooming on the surface as a flush of red. Minghao crowds you, kissing you with want, with need. He kissed you, letting his hands do what his lips wanted to, his faith turning into despair. The tragedy of not having a taste of your skin yet, swirls in his gut, manifesting in desperation. He kissed you with urgency, as if this was the only chance to have you like this, his greed taking over his thoughts as it filled his mind with images of you in the most depraved positions, your usually clean image tainted with evidence of his lust.

After all, Minghao is just a man, a man who now finds religion in your lips.

He reluctantly parts from you, surprising you with his strength but lifting you suddenly, walking the short way to the altar. His plans dawn on you as soon as you feel the cool marble under you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you lock your lips with his again, moaning pathetically and the feeling of his palms snaking their way under your shirt, squeezing and kneading the flesh, taking handfuls of it as he needed it.

He parts from your lips with a whine, panting for air like just running a marathon. He only parts from you for a second, only for his mouth to connect with your jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses on it. Goosebumps litter your skin, his simple touch leaves you shivering in a way you didn’t think was possible. Your legs part and Minghao takes his place between them, now sucking and biting marks into your skin, maroon blooms all over your collarbones, as you pull him impossibly close, bodies flush together perfectly as if it was always meant to be.

You paw at his jacket, wanting to feel him without the barriers of fabric between the two of you. He frantically shrugged his jacket off, and pulled his shirt over his head without being prompted, using his weight to press you down into the marble altar. Takes his time to unbutton your shirt, kissing the skin with every button he undoes.

Warmth ripples under your skin like drops hitting the surface of a still body, each kiss sending a spark of heat directly to your core. Simple, but powerful. The way Minghao delicately worships your skin made a sense of serenity wash over you like a wave, crashing over your restless state.

Minghao rises to meet your lips, again, swallowing the sound of your moans, nipping at your lips. His hard cock presses into your core through his pants, layers of fabric between the places where you needed each other the most. Desperation turns into slight relief from the pressure of your bodies pressing together. 

He takes his time to strip you of your effects, taking time to peel it off of you with care. This is the first time he's seen you in such a compromising position, yet you don't feel pressured or nervous at all. The way he looks at you, it's as if you hung the stars in the sky one by one, just for you to take them in your eyes, a galaxy of secrets waiting to be uncovered; and you're willing to let him explore.

Minghao falls to his knees, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs. He presses kisses on your kneecap, slowly inching his way to your core, lips brushing against your skin, making you shiver. You watch as his head of hair reaches the apex of your thighs, placing a kiss on your pelvis, right above where you need him.

He looks up at you briefly, eyes locking with yours as if asking for permission to just dive right in. You nod, giving him the silent permission to do so. He smiles, his eyes fluttering shut as his mouth connects with your core, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit.

Your back arches from the marble, hands frantically searching for his head, threading your fingers through his hair to get a grip on anything. The way the wet muscle that was his tongue guided the swirl of hot desire in your stomach made you dizzy, his eyes shut tightly, and small whimpers left his lips, making you feel the vibrations.

He ate you like a starved man, “Oh, fuck, please-! Keep going!” The frantic pace of his mouth and tongue got more desperate with your praise, your encouragement made him press his face closer to your core, his jose bumping your clit, making him breathe in deep, taking in your scent.

His eyes flutter open at the smell, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a pathetic, high-pitched whine leaves his lips. His tongue pressed against the spongey spot in your walls, immediately this sends a shiver down your spine, your moans turning into desperate whines, grinding on his mouth.

And Minghao just stops to take it, exaggerating his moans to help you over the edge.

A knot starts to form in your core, only a mixture of pleas of his name leaves your lips as you topple over the edge, reaching your high. Your orgasm was blinding, a hot, white pleasure ripped through you, your body shaking from the impact of such a powerful climax.

Minghao groans as he savors the flavor of your release, drinking it like a sacred Ambrosia. He delicately licks at your folds, careful not to bump into your sensitive clit.

After being satisfied with cleaning you up, Minghao starts to unbuckle his belt, his pants hanging low on his hips. He finally takes his cock out of his boxer briefs, the tip is red and bulbous, angry and leaking. His mouth parts with a moan, licking his plump lips, finally getting the friction he so desperately wanted.

He gets on top of you, his warmth radiating off of him in waves. He brings a hand up to brush your hair away from your face, soaking up every detail, committing the look in your eyes to memory. He looks at you with adoration, eyes clouded with lust yet still shines with the respect he has for you as a person.

In his eyes you were perfect, especially with that fucked-out look on your face, panting and shaking under him.

He kisses you again, this time with less desperation. You could taste yourself on his lips, highlighting your desire for more. He finally guides his cock to your entrance, the tip of it bumping into your clit, a gasp falling from your lips.

You look up at Minghao, a halo of many colors forming around his head, the cross-shaped stained glass behind him glowing brightly in the full moonlight. If it wasn't for the depraved things he's done to you, you'd think that he looked angelic.

Finally, he slowly pushed his cock into you, a shaky breath leaving his lips, taking every ounce of self-control to not start frantically thrusting into you, letting you take the time to adjust to his size. Minghao was bigger than you thought he'd be, the sheer size of his cock stretching you deliciously. 

He pressed your foreheads together, your breathing synchronized. You open your hand on his chest, pressing your palm over his heart, you can feel the steady beating of it, and you can feel him breathe with you. The silence only amplified the feeling of being connected, a kind of vulnerability that you’ve never felt with anyone else before.

You savor his warmth, his closeness to you, before asking him to move. He nods wordlessly, not trusting his voice at the moment. He was buried to the hilt, but he slowly started to pull back until only his head stayed inside you, only to push back in, a wet, lewd squelch of your juices mixing with his echo and rung in your ears.

He started to pick up his pace, intertwining your hands together to gain leverage. “Fuck, you feel so good babe, so warm. So perfect for me.” He said lowly, mind emptying all thoughts except for the feeling of you around him. He can't get enough of you, your image infecting his mind, making a home in every crevice. 

Both of you were very vocal about how good it felt, pleasure rising to a pressure that made both of you light-headed, your grip on his hand tightening with every pointed thrust to the spot where you needed him the most.

His lips meet your neck again, more maroon marks blooming over your skin, marking you with evidence of him. He separated from the skin with a wet pop, his nose brushing against your cheek, his hair tickling the skin, “Please, I need you to cum around my cock. Don't make me beg for it, please, oh- please-” he whimpered in your ear, breathless from the force he was using. 

He turns to kiss you again, both of you swallowing each other's whines and moans as your desperation grows stronger. 

Soon, the coil in your stomach starts to tighten again, you can't hear much over the ringing in your ears, but you do hear the wet slapping of skin together, and the ragged breathing coming from the man above you. You barely registered your own orgasm, you felt like you weren't in your body, like your soul was floating in the space where you felt neither pain nor pleasure. 

Tears ran down your face, your body shaking like a leaf. Minghao watched as your juices squirted out of you, coating his cock and legs with your release. This violently sends him into his own orgasm, barely catching himself with the altar as the force of it knocks the wind out of him, his knees shaking, barely able to hold his weight up.

He almost collapsed into you with how much his body couldn't handle the sensations, his hips never ceasing even with both of your oversensitivity.

He finally stops, both of you winded from the intensity of your sex. He kisses you with finality that night, right at the altar with the light of the cross over you.

It's been months since you and Minghao started the mural, and also started hooking up. The first time you slept with him was certainly not the last. You were sure you desecrated every inch of this sacred space, as well as every corner of your shared apartment. 

But, all good things come to an end. 

Today was the day you finally added the finishing touches to the mural, marking the end of your program, and the end of your time in Amsterdam. 

Your mentor was pleased with how it turned out, he was proud of how far the both of you have gotten in your skills. And decided to throw a party in his studio to celebrate the completion of your final project. 

You and Minghao skirt around the idea of what will happen next after the program ends, enjoying the company of your mentor and the few friends you've made in Amsterdam. 

It was after the party that things finally started to feel grim, each item you packed into your suitcase felt like heavy weights or a nail in the coffin of your relationship with Minghao.

You couldn't fathom going back to reality, back to your lonely apartment without the anticipation of waking up and making breakfast for him. 

You realized too late that you loved him.

“What happens to us now?” His question surprised you, you didn't think he was thinking about this as hard as you were. 

“Well, we go back to where we came from. Go on with our lives, I guess.” You reply, too cowardly to admit what you truly felt, as it'll only hurt more.

“That's it?” He asked incredulously, “You don't want to even try to make this work?” His tone wasn't one of anger or disappointment, Minghao had always been an expressive person, but this was something worse. Hurt.

“Minghao I-” You start, but he cuts you off,

“Well, you know what? Okay. It's okay- just… if there's ever a next time. Meet me in Amsterdam. Please, at least, try for me?”

You nod, your breathing becoming shaky as tears begin to well in your eyes. You hug him tightly, almost as if it'll be the last time you ever see him.

But no, there will be a next time. No matter how long it'll take.

You let the tears fall when the plane finally took off. 

It's been several years since your time in Amsterdam, your experience there marked you in more ways than one. 

Your art career found success after the mural you worked on with him received critical acclaim. Opening galleries and exhibits all around the world, people enjoy the art you made greatly. 

You find yourself in the place where it all started, Amsterdam. 

“So, there really is a next time, huh?” You said, your voice was calmer than you expected it to be, especially with being overcome with such intense emotions.

Minghao smiles at you, wordlessly coming in to hug you.

“I'm not letting you go, not this time.”

[7squidgy7]

✧.*100 follower celebration type thing*.✧

So, to celebrate 100 followers on tumblr, I decided to draw some fanart for people. This community is so sweet. Every one of these artists has inspired me in some way.

I'm really sorry for those I haven't made art for. I may make a part 2 one day for those I missed. Who knows.

This was a really nice way to try out different art styles while mixing them with my own.

Apologies for all the link later on. Want to explain the creative process a bit for those interested cause I put way too much effort into it to not mention.

Close ups below cut:

@donutfloats

Your arts so cute and soft, I love it. You have a great way of just expressing love through your art.

I was inspired by 2 of your pieces for this, the main one being the 3rd image for this post. The lambs dress is so pretty, I just knew I wanted to draw it flowy and dancing, and the second image I used is this post for the rendering style.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@aniimoni

I really like your artstyle. The monochrome colours are delightful, as with the way you do lineart. while making this, I was thinking this is the perfect style to meld with mine.

I was inspired a lot by the axe and hammer drawings in this post. As a hammer lover, I decided to combine the 2 together.

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@teruuu

Something about your style is mischevios. Your rendering and lineart are just wonderful as well. You have a very distinctive style that matches mine quite well, i think.

I feel compulsion of the flesh Lamb and Narinder would give each other kisses on the hand but take a bite at the same time. They freaky like that. Based my rendering around this post and the previous draw you character here, I did. These are fun designs to draw.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@poopylumpkins

I really like your vampire au something about it really spoke to me as a afab non-binary.

Lamb deserves to wear their own clothes and something about narinder helping with their makeup convinces me he'll help out.

if you're curious, i colour picked the background and shading from this post

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@olrinarts

This was a really fun style to draw. Something about how you draw these 2 is delightful. Love yuri narinder's eyes in particular.

Rock god yuri. What more can I say these are really good designs. Showed them to my friend, and they loved them.

Decided to have them dueting, while Narinder can't sing lamb can always pick up that role.

Used this post for the background and shading colours, and this is a kinda basis for the pose.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@redcrowncafe

Really love you fic and art. I like to see the fic brought to reality through all the comics and art, which has a very pleasing look to the eye.

I have never struggled so much with an art style, fun challenge, but very different to my own.

Wanted to draw their Halloween costumes from this post. Lambert would definitely get too into the vampire costume and bite Nari at some point probably.

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@joffyworld

Just wanna say thank you so much for the reblogs and kind words. It gives me a lot of confidence in my work and is a genuine brightness in my day.

I wasn't sure what to draw you, so I thought I'd just show you a pic of my new one who waits figurine, that arrived recently. Its a little weird, I think an earlier design but cool none the less.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.73)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You are everything to Yoongi, the yoke in his egg, the daffodils on the sidewalk, the sunshine in the morning. Everything. He just had to remember it. 

Tags: Nightmares, angst, hurt/comfort, mention of food issues but they're only talked about in terms of the m/c getting better.

W/c: 10.0k

A/n: the irony of this chapter is that it's going to come out during the wedding of the two people who live in the house that inspired bily, the last time i was there there where sprouts growing in every windowsill and a fluffy throw on every couch so <3 everything will be alright wont it? the house is filled with love in this universe as well as the bily one <3

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

Downstairs, you and Hobi are shrouded in a particular kind of fuzzy warmth. The kind that only comes from knowing you do not have to be in control anymore. That there is no hidden consequence waiting for you. no shoe to drop. no monster under your bed.

The downstairs is shrouded in that kind of quiet and comfort that comes with warm evenings and supple hands that have nothing to do but loving and set about diligently at that task. Like cold breezes in summer, icing and chocolate, and sunshine on raspberries warming their sugar.

But the upstairs nest room is not so peaceful.

Tae’s post-coitus talks are legendary at this point, as Yoongi sits on the edge of the nest, not looking at her because to look at Tae is to encourage more truth to fall from her lips. He busies himself with tucking jungkook in. Sprawled asleep. And tries not to listen to the truth that Yoongi neither wants nor believes he needs.

Right now his brain is fuzzy and prone to believing her.

There are small things all around the nest, pieces of the pack and remnants and evidence of the time the three of them spent here hours ago taking Jungkook apart and putting him back together again. Fucking then sleeping then waking up to fuck again. The arousal burns low at present, sated for now.

A discarded shirt of Jungkook’s sits tangled in a pair of handcuffs because he’d gotten too squirmy for Tae's liking, a silk scarf of Tae’s because he’d gotten mouthy too. A notepad and a bit of paper. Lines scrawled out because Tae’s post-knot clarity always gives her a few good poems, a few good lines.

Yoongi doesn't have to read them to know they're about you. Almost everything Tae writes has You and Jimin in it. The others are there too every now and then- but if Tae had to say it Yoongi knows you and Jimin are her muses.

It takes Tae a few months to digest her feelings into something palatable. Yoongi didn’t need to ask what time period it was written about as he read over her shoulder, pressing kisses to her lips between the lines. Trying not to be a distraction but wanting to be a distraction worthy of Tae’s attention.

This poem that he'd watched her scrawl out, pen to her lips between stanzas. It has the first few months of your relationship all over it.

I know I over-feed the cat, but I can’t help it. If you could eat the love I have for you what would it taste like? Would it be mangoes- Sticky, yellow, sweet. Eat Till the threads of it get stuck Between your teeth. Would it leave you full and sleepy- like bread and pasta? Rigatoni, Penne, pastina stars The candy toothache of my heart Swells thick and gummy. Eat up. I must admit I grow addicted to the brown sugar of your being. Would my love stain the edge of your smile? Like strawberries? Blueberries? Black? I must admit I am afraid of food metaphors When it comes to you. Because just like with food, I fear if I don’t give you enough You’ll go starving, Out of some sense Of beauty and responsibility. Could you love me enough, Would you love me enough if I’m good? Salt, fat, acid, heat. What is owed at our table- A full meal or half? Desert or just a snack? Just tea please, I’m not hungry. I already ate. I know I overfeed the cat, but I can’t help it- I can’t help it at all. If you would eat the love I have for you, Would you still want to be so skinny? Love is warm bellies and not hollow throats. Love cares not for second portions, Only 8 courses Love is a bowl of soup It warms from the inside out. I know I overfeed the cat.

Noodle purrs nearby, the subject of the conversation earlier today that no doubt inspired Tae. Heaped between a pillow and a rolled-up blanket looking overstuffed- like one of your stuffed animals that litter the nest up here and the one downstairs. Jin had gotten a little overzealous on the jellycat website during christmas time.

He's gotten rather chubby, his middle more round than just fluffy. His pudgy tomcat face is charming, eyes blinking slowly as he watches Yoongi toil with his emotions.

"We should put him on a diet" You'd lamented, still feeding him treats, in the kitchen this afternoon. Yellow light slipped through the windows and lunch plates piled high in the sink. A carton of coffee-caramel ice cream and mango sorbet gathering condensation nearby. On your knees before his bowl. Because if you all got after-lunch ice cream treats then he should get some too.

"Don't you dare, he's perfect this way." Tae had replied, scandalized, and made the point of giving Noodle an extra scoop of food and you an extra spoonful of sweet frozen milk.

Yoongi knows that your comment had stayed on Tae's mind just like he knows that it's not just Noodle you were talking about. How many times has he seen you pull down the edge of your shirt over the past few weeks? Or reach for Hobi's baggier sweatshirts? Or sho them all out the door when you shower intent on doing it alone.

The pack loves group showers, there will probably be one on the way tonight from the sound of it. Yoongi doesn't doubt that the pack will leave you messy and sated. A little too sleepy too. Someone will have to help.

His fingers drum quietly on the bed. Nervous. Waiting. A little annoyed- but Yoongi's not sure where it comes from.

A loud slap from downstairs punctuates the quiet. Yoongi just barely flinches. And Yoongi wonders if you'd let them see you naked tonight or if you'd been too nervous for it. Or if Seokjin and Namjoon will make everything, your anxieties and your fears and your feelings of inadequacy, feel small.

They'll make you feel small too. Omegaspace is all but a guarantee tonight.

But he's not allowed downstairs to double-check that you're alright. (He is, he's just not sure you even want him downstairs- which is another thing entirely. Would his presence make you more nervous? More likely to go into appeasement mode because you think that's what he wants?)

Tae has a habit of reminding him when he's being a shithead.

Now Yoongi wishes for Tae’s attention to be elsewhere. On a poem. On Jungkook. On anything. Yoongi has gotten very good at lying to himself over the past few weeks. But somewhere across the lines I’m still angry at her, turned into I should still be angry. He’s not quite sure when that changed. But he knows he's holding onto his anger, that it's growing slippery, but that he's not ready for it to go away.

Yoongi will do anything to keep you, to make you stay. And that’s part of the problem. He's scared of his own capacity for forgiveness. What you might take if he gives you another chance. He's scared that you'll go and take all of him with you.

He's scared- sure, but he's not really angry anymore.

He's just tired- tired of feeling so much, tired of feeling things so intensely. Tired of worrying, of keeping you at arm’s length and wondering if I let you back in now have you learned not to do this again? Or will you just say you’ll change?

Yoongi will always love you- will always be your mate. But he doesn’t want to be sitting and waiting all the time wondering if you’re thinking about leaving again.

You’ve already tried to do that twice; the third time would be the charm.

Jungkook slumbers belly down in the nest, his soft huffs of breath coming frequently and at a steady pace. He’s quite a vision with his rippling back muscles and splayed thighs. With Hickeys on his skin from Yoongi's own mouth where the skin goes soft and dark. Knees apart to limit the soreness he must be feeling from the knot. Covered at the waist but only just so with a thin sheet. The tops of his thighs shiny with cooling slick. Yoongi’s eyes hover on Jungkook as he looks back.

Tae's voice keeps it hush, mindful of Jungkook's sleep schedule but not of the fragileness of Yoongi's heart.

"If you worry you suffer twice. Her leaving and you not forgiving her- isn't the result the same?"

Jungkook's sleeping form will offer him no savior from Tae’s words, he’d say the same thing- they all would. "Do you really want the distance she's been trying to give you Yoongi? Because I really don't think you do"

You've been fucking miserable these last few weeks. Is what she doesn't say but wants too. Yoongi knows it. Can taste the unfinished business on the air in the form of Tae's wilting rose and cinnamon scent. The heady horny edge to it wareing away.

It’s quiet downstairs but it hadn’t always been; between your pleas and Hobi’s growls and then your cries that had made Yoongi gnash his teeth. Sobbing echos that made Yoongi flinch. Distant cries of “m’ sorry m-" and Jin’s joining croon of “good pup, come to daddy, I’ve got you my sweet little thing, I’ve got you.”

But it’s quieting down now. Yoongi can only just hear a little bit of the hushed voices when he strains his ears. He can’t hear you at all when Tae’s talking.

Jungkook stays asleep, completely lost to the world, He needed two cocks to settle, Jungkook always sleeps for a long time after scenes, even simple cute ones like this. You’re the same. Yoongi knows you’re the same. That you usually doze after cumming, so sleepy- like your body gives up under the force of too much pleasure. And that even awake you’re pliant and drowsy. (He loves it when you get that way).

You’ll never have to worry about insomnia the way that Tae and Yoongi do. If it ever gets too bad, the pack will only ever fuck you to bed.

Which is why Yoongi’s restless, why he can’t sleep. Because you’re downstairs and not upstairs with him. He can pretend that's not why he's awake, but the truth remains. Eviscerated by Tae's pouting lips.

He heard you crying earlier. Coupled with Hobi’s yelps and Namjoon’s low croon. It was hard- harder than Yoongi expected, to resist the urge to go down to you. Grating, the mental equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to tune out the sounds of his mate in distress.

It's not distress, he knows that- logically Yoongi knows that the pack would never do anything you didn't consent to.

And still…

"That's not it Tae, that's not it at all." Yoongi denies, but the lie is blatant even to his own lips.

Yoongi is harder to settle than Jungkook. Tae knows this. Folded against the nest, her silky lavender dress pulled back on after fucking Jungkook, small breasts pillowing, hickeys dotting the top of them both faded and not. Some of them are from Jungkook- fresh and pink- but a few might be from you a few days prior.

She snorts, "isn't it? You're both just doing what you think will give you the least amount of pain- instead of actually confronting each other about this. Do you know what I think hyung?”

Just about every packmate has a newfound obsession with Tae’s chest. The tender swelling sensitivity just there. Tae hasn’t gone up a cup size in a few months, she’s a B at best- but the pack still praises her for it. Still takes every opportunity to make her blush and show her their appreciation.

But still- sometimes Yoongi catches her in the mornings, putting on her lingerie that she wears under her clothes almost every days-tugging at the gaping in the front. She bought stuff a cup size up at the beginning- so did Namjoon and Jin and Jimin, endless pretty sets from for love and lemons and Victoria’s Secret that sit unworn.

Because they don’t fit- might not ever fit. Unless Tae does something drastic like surgery. Yoongi's surprised she hasn't asked for it yet.

Yoongi sighs, frustrated, “What Tae, what do you want to say?”

Tae flips over on her tummy, hair a little messy, grinning looking a bit like Noodle as she strokes gently down Yoongi’s jaw. He’s not wearing a shirt he just tugged on pajama pants so the scratch of her long nails down his skin makes goosebumps erupt all over his bare arms.

“I think punishing yourself isn’t a way to rewrite history. Punishing yourself isn’t going to make what happened go away. At this point- I think you’re keeping yourself away from her to prove a point- but the points already been proven.”

“That’s not it,” Yoongi says again. Like repeating it will make it true. Tae raises an eyebrow at him, swishing her legs, her white painted toenails flashing in the half-darkness.

“Don’t you want to make her see that it was a bad decision, isn’t that what you’re doing? Punishing her for going and punishing yourself for not being there when she made the choice to go?”

As if on cue Yoongi can hear it from the ground floor, the sound of your babbling giggles- you in omegaspace surely, a softly crooned “Good puppy, give him another treat, he’s earned it.” From Jin. Yoongi knows you’re cute and sweet and sensitive in your headspace downstairs, the idea of seeing you- touching you- without the burden of all this- is so tempting Yoongi’s hands hurt.

Yoongi’s hands tighten around Jungkook's elbow, his anchor, preventing him from going downstairs. When Yoongi turns back to look at Tae, her eyebrows are pulled together and she’s looking down at Jungkookie. He has a single hand tangled in the hem of her nightdress, fist closed, chubby and cute.

“What are you thinking?” Yoongi is always in the habit of asking that. It’s worth asking- so that you don’t have to wonder.

“You remind me of myself before I came out. Denying yourself love just because you want to be right- doesn’t make you right, it just makes you less loved.” Her eyes flick from Jungkook up to Yoongi.

Yoongi's hands are cold, the goosebumps on his arms are still there.

Yoongi is not human without your love. How many afternoons has Tae seen him staring off into space? How many more meals will Yoongi push around the food on his plate? How many mornings will his hair go unbrushed because Yoongi simply doesn't have the energy to brush it? Tae and the others make up for it a good deal, but at the end of the day, none of them are the person who Yoongi bonded his soul too.

Tae knows what sadness looks like, what depression looks like and she's learned a lot from you. She won't let this be more than a little blip in Yoongi's year.

Your love is one of the things that makes Yoongi feel human. Without you to love, and feeling like he shouldn't, Yoongi's a little unmoored, a little without purpose.

Tae detangles Jungkook’s fist from her dress gently, replacing his grip with a nearby item- another one of her dresses that the omega had so diligently woven into the outer rim of the nest. He curls around it protectively, purring gently. She covers him with a different thicker blanket to simulate her warmth. Then she sits up on her knees and starts to shuffle to the edge of the nest.

“Come on,”

“But Jungkook-”

“He’ll be fine for a second hyung.”

Tae hasn’t yet conditioned herself out of using that phrase, hyung. And Yoongi might remind her if it didn’t sound so sweet coming from her mouth. More of a pet name than anything else. Yoongi doesn’t mind. She can still call him hyung if she wants. They’ve had conversations about it before.

Tae stops, and turns back. The language thing- is one of her current fixations at the moment. “It’s not- just because that slips out doesn’t mean I’m not still a girl."

“I know baby. I’d never think that unless you told me- not that you’ve got to- not that-“

“No, I know. Thank you hyung.” Tae's teeth worry away at her lower lip.

“You can use Oppa too you know. If that feels nicer, or you can go back and forth and use both.”

“I know, I don’t know why I don’t like it as much, hyung makes me feel like you’ll always look after me.” Yoongi grabs Tae’s hands, tangled in the sheets, silken, pink.

“You know I always will.”

Tae uses that hand to her advantage. Pulling him up and out of the nest. Tae leads him down the dark stairs, her quiet giggles softening Yoongi’s anxiety, but when he gets down there, you're there.

You're small in Namjoon's lap, resting your cheek against the hollow of his throat. The pack alpha's shirt is completely unbuttoned now and you’ve hidden your face in his honey skin, rubbing your face all in it, cheeks pink and slowly purring. Guarding your eyes from the big light in the kitchen- where Jimin is getting Hobi a glass of water. Pants pulled on just barely, still hanging low. The scar on his shoulder pink and catching the light- just barely healing. Big on the back side and small on the front.

Yoongi just barely hears namjoons low and sweet growls, his sweet nothings. The way he cradles you gently but so fiercely to his chest Yoongi knows it's all instinct.

"I'm never gonna let anything happen to you- never again- I've got you pup, I've got you. "

The shirt you wear is big and dark, he knows already that it's his- probably pilfered from downstairs to comfort you. Yoongi's not really sure why that makes his throat close up. Even around all of them, even after all of that. It's still his scent you ask for. The one that cloaks you and covers you in the wake of this.

It hurts a little bit more than it should that Namjoon freezes when he sees Yoongi standing on the steps. Freezes, arms tightening just a little around you as you continue to nuzzle into the pack alpha's throat, Dozing and lost in the haze of aftercare.

His arms relax when Namjoon sees it's just the two of them, and tae floats over, dress swishing. "Oh alpha- did you make her all small and soft for me?"

Namjoons teeth look extra sharp as he beholds tae, as she strokes down his throat. To have another alpha touch him there should feel threatening, but Namjoon just feels satisfied. "Of course I did babygirl."

Hobi is more awake than you but so much further down in puppy space than Yoongi expected. The collar jingles faintly against his throat where he rolls his tongue lolling out. Belly up on the carpet and clearly enjoying Jin’s nails scrapping and petting and scratching over his tummy. Never too tired for more belly rubs, especially with a full stomach full of good pup treats (they're just dog bone-shaped chocolate chip cookies, a special all-organic kind that Jin buys from Etsy explicitly for this).

He’s shy- Hobi hasn’t had the time to indulge in puppy space in months, but now he tucks his face under Jin’s shirt and squirms. Happy to be on the receiving end of the pack Omega’s undivided attention. “Good puppy- what a good boy-“ Jin croons, eyes glassy and dark, biting his lip as he watches Hobi squirm and his tongue lol. Panting animatedly.

He’s needed this too- the sound of his praises fall so easy and natural from his pouted lips. And Hobi stills, ears pink when he looks to Yoongi and Tae in the doorway. Lucid for a breath. Tae’s arms are looped around Yoongi’s hips. Keeping him from slinking off, keeping him from feeling like he’s not wanted.

The pack alpha pears at them over the back of the couch. His arms slowly relax around you, nostrils flaring at the scents coming from both of them but mostly Yoongi. Namjoon looks, and glares, but he can smell it. How upset he really is, the undercurrent to his scent. Yoongi smells like chocolate and worry.

He tips his chin down, a clear command to come here.

“Yoongi wanted to make sure she was alright.” Tae supplies, Yoongi tries to deny it but Namjoon already knows. Namjoon’s grumble growl is warm and inviting as Tae guides Yoongi to sit. Your arms are loose around Namjoon’s neck. He’s quiet, but his eyes are shiny with alpha space, measuring every one of their movements like the pack alpha might measure threats. Guarding the pup in his arms very diligently.

“She’s tired, fell right off.” jimin says, coming over to stand above the four of you and watch as tae guides yoongi's hand out, to touch your back, to pet up and down gently. Jimin runs his hand over your wet cheek, picking a hair out from between your lips.

“Poor little pup” and Yoongi feels breathless but Namjoon and Tae make room for him to sit close. yoongi doesn't need to be guided to sit close to you, almost sideways in something like a hug. You sag just a little more into him, like you’re relaxed by Yoongi’s presence alone. Letting out soft huffs of breath against Namjoon's chest, tiny purrs start up anew, louder, deeper. Your spine curls at an uncomfortable angle like you can decide between Namjoon's chest and Yoongi's hands.

And then Tae takes both of your wrists, detangling them from Namjoon’s neck, the same moment that Namjoon starts to lift your hips.

Yoongi can’t even say anything, can’t even protest as they put you in his lap. You suction to his front like a starfish sinking deeper into dreamland and going more boneless by the breath. Yoongi starts to say something- nothing more than hollow protests.

But it feels so good to have you hear, settled over his lap. So good his breath hitches.

Your hands tangle in the front of his shirt, holding on tight- like you think he might go even in your sleep. Yoongi knows you feel that he’s here- although you might not remember it tomorrow. Maybe that's for the better.

he hesitates for a second, and then pulls you flush against him, hard.

Tae settles behind him and namjoon behind you. His big hands forcing the collar of his shirt to the side so the pack alpha can lean around you and nuzzle into the hollow of his throat. He barely has enough energy in him to open his mouth.

How lucky you and him are to have 6 people to watch over you like this. To make sure that you wake up safe, that you get everything you need before you drift off. Yoongi doesn’t have to do it on his own anymore. He hasn’t had to in months but that still doesn’t lose its novelty. Yoongi wonders if he’ll ever take it for granted.

Yoongi breathes deep and even.

“Thanks, Tae.”

“Of course, honey. Remember for next time- alpha knows best.” Yoongi’s cheek rests against the top of your head, and your breath tickles his neck.

“I know we’ve got to go upstairs, but can we stay like this for a second?”   “Of course, honey.” Her fingers stroke through his hair, and Yoongi closes his eyes and tucks his face into the top of your head. One cuddle can't hurt. He can go back to being angry with you in the morning.

“You’ll stay like that until Alpha says you can get up.”

Tae’s giggle is sweet, Yoongi’s eyes are already closed, “Joonie-“

He can hear Namjoon's bashfulness in his voice, the kind of shyness that warms yoongi up from the inside out and reminds him that they're all still learning. “Sorry, I’m still- it’s still-”

“I know alpha.”

I know I know I know.

~-~

(Yoongi, a few days later)

(In the end, forgiveness is not something that is inevitable)

Yoongi doesn’t know that it’s a dream while it’s happening.

One moment he is entirely unaware, resting, asleep, at peace. And the next the nightmare climbs up the edge of his vision. Clinging to the darkness- dissolving like mist only in reverse. Like smoke sucked through a straw. Like burning- carving from the outside in, hungry and without purpose. Burning burning burning.

One moment nothing and the next there is so much red.

The first thing Yoongi knows is that he can smell something burning, he looks up and he’s in the living room of your house, no furniture yet. The inside is so white but not perfect- he can vaguely place the memory.

This is the way the house looked just after they finished re-plastering; Yoongi files the memory and finds its from months and months ago- during another spring. The floors are all fucked from the mess that the plasterers had left. White splotches here and there. Everything covered in ghostly white sheets, a drop cloth under Yoongi's knees that slowly bleeds red.

It's about a month before the pack came home maybe. The last month it was ever you and Yoongi and not You and Yoongi and everyone else.

Yoongi watches as the Flames lick at the white walls. There is something in his hands but he can't look down yet. Something- his brain doesn't want to look at it- it's easier to look at the flames. The fire is yellow and slow to hunger. Creeping almost lazily, like it has nothing but time to burn. He can do little more than watch, not too scared, just confused, as all of the hours and minutes of his hard work are eaten up by heat.

The fire comes from everywhere and nowhere- leaking silently up the walls, turning the plaster slowly from gold to brown, then black before it crumbles away into ashes. Slowly chewing away at the walls, and the windows. The doorknob rattles and somewhere close by Noodle yowls and scratches at something.

The next thing Yoongi knows is that you’re very very still. You’re not moving at all. Not even a little bit- those pupish twitches of your fingers or the wiggle of your nose when you scent his displeasure. Nothing. None of it.

Yoongi is holding you, you are so small, so fragile in his arms. Lighter than you are in reality as he shakes you and tries to get you to wake up. You smile in your sleep a lot, but you aren’t smiling now. The mating mark is blackened against your throat, a thin trail of black and red that rims your lips, bleeding down the corner of your mouth. Inky dark one second, bright crimson the next as a bit of blood drips down the side of your face. 

There is so much blood. It's wet and it's cold despite the fire.

He calls your name, and you don't answer. Yoongi's own voice sounds muffled, Warbled. He keeps talking. Unsure what he's saying. He shouts and screams. But his voice never gets louder, you never wake up. He yells as loud as he can and you still don’t wake up.

It comes all at once, just like the fire.

There is blood on your throat too, so much it can't just be from your mouth. Bright and ruby, slipping down your collar bones and the hallow of your chest. Welling out from somewhere- somewhere that Yoongi can't see. Where are you hurt? Where is it coming from? Yoongi can't find the cause of the bleeding.

There is blood on your arms- trailing to the hallow of your elbow, between your legs, soaking through the white of his shirt, heavy and sticky and warm. Yoongi feels like he's suffocating. Yoongi searches for the source of the bleeding, fingers ruddy, soaking into his palms and his knuckles. Frantic as he tugs the hem of your shirt soaked through. The shorts at your hips- all red.

There is so much of it, so much of it that it pools around the two of you on the floor, slow and lazily, almost taunting Yoongi- just like the flames. Yoongi can do little more but watch you bleed out and hold you through it. Hold you as you die. Watch the red swallow you until there's nothing left of you. Just blood-soaked clothing. His breath hitches, suddenly painful in his lungs and his voice comes all at once. So loud it hurts him.  

“Namjoon- please- someone help me- someone-”

Yoongi wakes in the nest completely alone. Jerking up so fast that it makes him dizzy. He's too warm. Hot and balmy. Sweat soaks the front of his shirt.

He pushes himself up in the empty nest on shaking hands. Blinking, looking around at the folded blankets, the pillows at the rim of the nook, the absence of any other living soul here.

(that's not entirely true, Noodle is perched on a nearby pillow purring loudly. That's as much comfort as he can possibly offer as he's sworn to hate his arch-nemesis for eternity. Even though Yoongi sort of gives the best chin rubs- although Noodle would never confess it and will take the secret to his grave).

The high ceilings are dark and hollow, the whole room drenched in that half twilight of closed drapes. Empty even though Yoongi looks- searching for his packmates, searching for anything to make his chest feel not so tight.

Noodle purrs loudly and blinks slow.

The Christmas lights have been turned off- probably to help him sleep. The light streaming through the cracks in the curtains is dissonant. But the room is quiet and cluttered- Hobi’s monstera looks freshly misted in the corner, and humidity clings to the windows and skylight up high.

Yoongi pulls himself up and heaves out a shaky breath. Chest tight. You- he needs to find you. Find you and make sure- make sure you're not- Yoongi lets out a shaky breath. A dream, that's all it was. Just a dream. But part of him can't believe it. What if it wasn't?

It’s still hard to tell. The panic won’t leave his lungs. At the front of his nose is the scent of burning things- and that is very very real.

It looks like the omega’s piled the blankets around him, a smaller ring of fluffy blankets to keep the last slumbering packmate safe from outside eyes. But with so many blankets- Yoongi has overheated. He's sweaty and sticky and gross feeling. He should probably shower before he goes downstairs, probably, but-

He needs to make sure you're alright, right now- before he falls apart. Noodle mewls lightly and pulls himself over to Yoongi, pushing up against his trembling fingers, licking at them until Yoongi scratches his chin.

It takes him a second, staring down at his sweat-soaked shirt- to distinguish that it is not blood, blinking and mistaking the light behind his eyes for red.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything and doesn’t call out for anyone. Can’t do anything but detangle himself from the mess of blankets and Noodle and follow the smell of burning things down down down the stairs. Feeling like a ghost with a bad taste in his mouth. A vague pressure behind his eyes and a numbness in his arms and hands from lying on them for so long. His blood circulates slowly and sluggishly.

You are standing on a kitchen stool when he skitters to a stop on bare feet at the bottom of the stairs.

Yoongi has to blink a few times to make sure he's not dreaming, that the walls are the same light pink color they always were. Not brick red but not creamy plaster white- off color like the flush at your cheeks.

The sweater you wear is Hobi's- extra big especially at the wrists, pulling down all the way to your elbow as you reach up to stop the beeping from the smoke alarm with a wave of a newspaper. Nose wrinkled at the smell of smoke. You don't have the crusties at your eyes and your skin is glossy. Seokjin probably did your skincare routine for you as the pack omega is prone to do with so much extra time for fussing these days.

There is no one else in the house but you. The top layer of the air in the kitchen is cloudy with smoke. Yoongi watches you and scrubs a hand over his face. You do not turn and look at Yoongi in the doorway, although you know it’s him just because you can sense when your mate comes close, either scenting him on the air or through the dull pulse of the mating park.

Your sense of smell has been getting a little bit better recently. Yoongi knows better than to chalk it up to your weight gain but your health checkup earlier this week had been a lot more promising than the one before. Yoongi had gone to the appointment with you, and you’d perked up almost immediately when you realized he wasn’t going to give you the distant silent treatment again, all but skipping into the exam room.

He’d even let you hold his hand while they took your blood. He’s never had the heart to leave you scared. Never. Not even when he's angry at you.

Your hormones are leveling out, although there are no signs of you going into heat yet. Another 3 months of no change and you've promised Namjoon to at least talk about hormone therapies.

Tae had reassured you that it wasn't so bad with a kiss on your forehead and a hand at your hip. Covering the place where you, like Tae, might one day receive the weekly injections by Namjoon's hands.

It’s daunting. The idea of sitting through the same kind of treatment that Tae gets; the clink of the glass bottles on the counter, the pearly sound of glass hitting tile. The cold swipe of a swab and the press of a needle.

Namjoon’s always gentle.

You'd be inclined to just leave it alone- but your doctor had been very insistent, something about possible fertility issues if you want to have pups one day.  It’s hard to get pregnant outside of a heat, nearly impossible. This isn't an issue that can be just pushed under the rug if pups are something you want to have with the pack someday.

Namjoon and Tae had perked up a little when the idea of pups had been broached. But Yoongi had remained at the fringes of the room- silent. Yoongi thinks about your scent changing the same way Tae's did- how it went from cinnamon and pepper to cinnamon and roses.

He'd never tell her because Yoongi would never want to make Tae feel self-conscious about her own much-needed changes, but he doesn't like the idea of your scent changing the same way.

Deep down Yoongi wonders if you’d want to have pups if it wasn’t what the pack wanted. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle it, a little bundle of you and him and the whole big fucking world with all its wicked people. Yoongi knows peace now but still doesn't trust it. Wouldn't trust it especially if it was just him and you and a little life- so unprotected and vulnerable.

Yoongi doesn’t like feeling this way; vulnerable.

He breathes in a deep breath of your scent, warm and sweet and slightly smooth, not frazzled or scared sour (the way he first knew your scent to be, back before he even knew that you smelled like cake and not rain). You smell completely unaffected, unworried, and unharmed. You don't smell at all like you would have in Yoongi's dream. You don't smell like you're dying.

So why is his heart still beating out of his chest?

He crosses the kitchen in a few shakey strides, just as you start to speak. “Hobi made pancakes but Jin and him started making out and they like totally forgot about them! So they’re out getting breakfast sandwiches, I didn’t wanna wake you so I just got you-”

Your voice cuts off abruptly as Yoongi lines his face up with your spine and plants his nose there, breathing in your scent once, then again shaky. Nuzzling into your lower back. Arms around your waist, gripping your hips.

You make a little noise, questioning, looking down at him with a mixture of shock and concern. and you should be shocked and concerned- it's been nearly a month since your mate hugged you- let alone clutched you to his chest like this. It’s roughly the same sound that Noodle makes when you wake him up with pets.

He holds around your waist as you stand on the ladder, three feet up. His hands tangle with the fabric at your hips. he blinks looking down and away, at the floor.

“Yoongi!? What’s wrong?”

Dimly, he's aware that he’s supposed to be angry at you. He flushes, the blood hot and pink at his cheeks. You’re not supposed to be speaking really- at least not about things that matter and to be fair- Yoongi cannot speak right now. Burying his face in your back until the feeling of your blood on his hands is a distant memory. Feeling the warmth of your skin until the idea of you cold and still no longer bothers him.

Not a memory- a dream. Not a memory. He has to remind himself a second time. Remind himself enough that by the time he doesn't belive it the space to answer your question comes and goes.

Your eyebrows lower and you set a hand on his head, threading routinely into his hair- long, shaggy and dark. And he pushes further into your skin and into your touch the same way plants press into sunlight.

Yoongi is so tired of being angry, he's so tired of being scared. Your hand touches his cheek and his eyes flutter. Lips parting. Namjoon cuddled him just last night- but Yoongi will always be touch starved just for you.

Your breath hitches, "Oh Yoongi."

his arms tighten around you, like he's worried you're going to slip through his arms like smoke. "Bad dream?" You ask, it's a state that you are only too familiar with as he hums non-committal. you turn around halfway so that you can put your hands on his shoulders and touch him. Yoongi almost wants to keen at the contact, almost wants to tell you he likes it too much- which would be embarrassing. He nods against your back.

He missed this, missed this A lot. He missed you. Yoongi's eyes are itchy.

This is the first time he’s held you since you almost left, besides that moment in the car when you were both so angry and so broken it hardly mattered. Yoongi swallows, and he still can’t speak when he tries. Hiding his face in your spine, your hip when you turn, back hugging you because even on a ladder he is still mostly taller than you. Shaking faintly, still shaking off the fucking dream.

His voice is croaky, not all there when his voice box finally cooperates. “Can you get off?"

You get down from the stepstool instantly. His hands tangle in the side of your shirt to steady you. Unwilling to go more than a few inches from you. You're always so wobbly in the mornings before you've eaten and Yoongi is ever mindful.

The sweater you wear has a small doodled bunch of flowers on the front, a botanical print. Yoongi thinks he remembers if vaguely- from a trip Hobi and Namjoon took to the botanical garden a few years ago. It's got holes in the arms like Hobi has snagged it one too many times on rose bushes. Yoongi threads his fingers through them and holds on.

You stare up at him from the floor like you’re waiting for his instruction. Eyes wide and glassy and pretty and alive.

Yoongi stills, breath hitching- at the sight of a bit of red on your lips.

It's off to the side, on your bottom lip almost hidden by where your smile sits. Yoongi's face crumples a little at the sight of it.

Yoongi reaches up with shaking hands to touch it, wiping it away. You follow his hand. He looks down at the smudge on his finger. The little bit of red.

“Oh! That was from Tae she-" You break off when he pulls you back to him, crushing you to his chest. And you surely can’t know what’s going wrong or what Yoongi’s just dreamed but you let him man handle you regardless.

He's sort of glad that no one else is home, that it's just you and him here for a few moments. The quiet of the house is all encompassing- beyond the sound of wind sneaking under the windowsills and the pitter-patter of the drizzle outside. Noodle meows dolefully from the stairs, coming to see why Yoongi had abandoned him so abruptly (the nerve of him.)

Yoongi rests his full weight on you, crushing you to his chest. You push his hair back away from his face, and Yoongi keeps his eyes closed like that will keep the feeling here for longer. Like he's worried if he opens his eyes the nightmare will be here again.

Your hands, his face, small fingers that push at the wetness that he doesn’t name dripping under his eyes. His breath comes out in short little gasps.

There is rain outside, pattering against the window. It’s been raining a lot over the last few days. Soaking the soil in the pre-spring cold. It won't be long now and everything will be green again. Hobi will plant the window boxes, and you'll be able to put the ferns out. You and Tae will start wearing your matching dresses all the time and it will become Yoongi's job to cut the watermelon because he's the only one in the house trusted besides Jin with the big knives. He'll cut up orange slices and peaches and strawberries too. Everything for his loves and their hungry mouths and hungry hearts.

Soon but not yet. Spring and summer are just around the corner but they're not here yet and yoongi is painfully aware of that.

You don’t ask him why he’s crying; you don’t look him in the eyes when he opens them, just continue your careful petting through his hair, eyes flickering up, then down and away. The twist of your lips is guilty.

You are not bleeding; you are alive and Yoongi cannot stand it. The weight of memories he didn’t live weighs on him, still memories. He breathes out a shaky breath. And double-checks his fingers are absent of blood after he rubs over your throat. Checking.

You pull at him, hands on his shoulders. “Come on-“

You pull him through the quiet halls, and into the room at the very back of the house. Noodle follows too with a jingle of his purple bell collar.

The windows here are cracked to let in the chilly spring air- pushing out the last mustyness of winder and bringing with it the smell of rain. The nesting nook is dark and cozy-tempting; but full of stuffed animals and extra nesting pillows that you scoop out of the interior and put on the floor with such care. Lining them up against the outside of the nook. All to make room for him.

Yoongi holds onto the hem of your sweater, rubbing a fist against his eye. Like a clingy child. But he has to let you go when you turn. he can feel the pout on his face and you reach up to smooth it out. You only pause for a second, briefly, “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Yoongi shakes his head, still wordless, unable to make his mouth cooperate. You don’t say anything, you don’t do anything but pull him into the warm dark quiet of the nesting nook.

Yoongi hasn’t spent so much time with you in here, but it’s surprisingly well-ventilated, the woven fabric sides of it dark but breathable. There’s not a lot of room but you make it work. Scooting back and pulling him down and down and down.

You pull him to rest against your chest, between your legs. Your hips splayed to let him curl up and nuzzle into you- in something like a full-body hug. Yoongi is too tired and too shaky to protest. He can’t even say he doesn’t want to but you check anyway- your movements slow as you get him situated.

Your heartbeat thuds quick against his fingertips. Yoongi wants to tell you that you don’t need to be scared, you don’t need to be afraid of overstepping. But can’t make his mouth cooperate.

His arms loosely circle around your waist, and then harder to crush you against him. At this position, you have full reign to run your fingers through his hair, over his shoulders, and down and up again. He knows he smells sweaty and probably rancid. But he nuzzles into your skin at the low neckline of the sweater. He puts his ear against your heart. Thud thud thud. Slowing down and evening out. You're right here and just under him, safe, and his eyelids are so heavy.

“Is this better? Do you need to go back to sleep?” Yoongi nods and doesn’t need to say another word.

Sleep rises up frightfully quick to meet him. He's not at all convinced that he hasn't dreamed it all. Finding you, coming here, and curling up. A dream within a dream. A good one in exchange for the nightmare earlier.

But this time he doesn’t dream at all, and even if he does, it’s only the sound of your heartbeat- thud thud thud. His own heartbeat thins out, and the tenseness in his shoulders relaxes.

Yoongi wakes up because a tomato has just fallen on his face.

You’re trying to be quiet, but Hoseok understandably laughs from where he’s holding out a half-unwrapped breakfast sandwich into the nesting nook for you to take a bite. Yoongi can vaguely place the words just whispered over his head. 'You guys eat without us, I don't want to wake him' 'Okay, but have a bite first- you know they're better when they're warm' 

Your laughter shakes against his cheek, your jaw clicks as you chew, and when he picks himself up, the tomato slides down his face, syrup slow. Until it flops against your throat. You and Hobi devolve into louder giggles and Yoongi can't stop the laugh that comes from his chest too.

The ruse is up, and you're all laughing. “Oh my god Hobi you promised to be quiet,”

Hoseok's one knee depresses the side of the nesting nook as he leans. Grinning down at Yoongi. Long fingers splayed around his ribs, making Yoongi shiver. The alpha pulls at his hips, and Yoongi feels a bit like a chew toy but in the best way, to be between the two of you laughing. “Come on Yoon- we’ve got you one too-“

Yoongi lets you both puppet him into the other room. Stumbling between the two of you. Until Hobi ducks low and nuzzles, and Yoongi just resorts to watching the two of you.

The way your hand goes from holding Yoongi's to touching Hobi's palm, then back to his like a bumblebee darting between flowers. A small smile works its way onto Yoongi's face. Even more when you pinch Hobi's ass and Hobi acts appropriately scandalized. Only you could get in on his and Jungkook's near-perpetual ass-touching competition.

(Yoongi's smile grows wider without him even realizing it).

There is a spread on the dining room, three heavy brown paper bags not just of breakfast sandwiches wrapped in checkered paper but biscuits in syrupy gravy, french toast sticks with honey yellow syrup, and a whole tray of tater tots that Jin pops into his mouth with a satisfying crunch. Half of the pack is still in their pajamas; it can't be later than 11.

Namjoon and Jimin are noticeably absent from the table- at work. But Hobi, Jin, and Tae are setting up the plates. Jungkook's already showered from his morning run- his hair all locky and tangled.

Tae looks a vision in a pair of flared yoga pants and Yoongi just blinks at her thighs, not realizing he’s staring until Hobi pinches his thigh for it. You laugh too and pull out the chair next to him with a squeak while Hobi hands out sandwiches and Jungkook cuts them into perfect triangles.

Yoongi blinks down at his plate, and he’s got a quarter of everyone’s sandwich on his, easily more than he can eat but still- You trade, cutting thirds and halves to try them all. Yoongi stares at them and feels fresh wetness on his lash line. Tae notices him staring, and she’s got sesame seeds stuck in what's left of her lipstick when she smiles.

“We didn’t know what you liked- so we got you two.”

And oh, Yoongi can’t breathe. The love in his chest bullies away the oxygen. How lucky he is to have people that get him two sandwiches instead of one, how lucky he is to have a house full of laughter and warm bellies and-

Hobi gets him a cup of coffee, Jin nurses his, thick-rimmed glasses and warm cheeks chubby as he looks across the table at Yoongi like he knows. He leans across the table to tangle their hands while he flips through his phone. Leaving the beta to his overfull heart.

“Tae- your nail appointment isn’t until 1- would you like Jinnie to curl your hair for you?”

“Can we try a new style this time? Space buns?” Tae asks so so sweetly- already wearing lipgloss even though she must have barely left the house. The smile never falters, just spreads wider when he stares at the glossy pink.

Jin hums, happy, "Of course."

"I love you guys" Yoongi whines. looking at Jin because he can't look at you. Telling everyone- because he can't tell just you. And really it's the truth. Jin blinks and looks up at him. A smile spreading on his chubby cheeks.

"Aw- someone's sappy." Hobi teases. "For the record, love you too"

"for the record; He just woke up" You peck the back of Yoongi's neck and shivers erupt all over his body. you lean behind him to swat at Hobi's shoulder. "Give him a break." The sound of chairs scraping hides Yoongi's whine and his blush.

"For the record, Love you too bun,"

Tae snorts, eyebrows knitting together as Jungkook sits on her lap instead of the chair right next to him. "Weird, but I like it" she pauses, "for the record."

Yoongi rolls his eyes, "oh my god stop-"

"For the record; Hobi started it."

"You guys call me bunny and bun all the time- I should be able to use it too!" Jungkook smirks, pausing for dramatic effect. "for the record."

Yoongi groans and you giggle. "Okay I'm done," Yoongi's smiling anyway

You sit, a little clumsy, and your coffee spills a little onto the dark wood table. Jin wipes it up with a tut, eyes still on the schedule. “There’s nothing else much for today just Tae’s appointment. Anyone else want to do anything?”

“Wanna cook together tonight?” You ask, Yoongi pulls your chair over to rest against his properly, he can still pull you over with little effort but it’s getting harder each day.

It’s a good sort of hard. You have half of a sandwich on your plate a quarter of Tae’s and another small corner in your hand half gone already. Yoongi should start working out with Jungkook- so that he’s as strong as you need him to be.

You look at him, and then down at your nearly pressing thighs, “wanted you to be closer to me.” He says, and then cringes, Hobi laughs at him and hits his plate with a metal clink. You just hum and turn back to your breakfast. Yoongi can see the smile in the curve of your cheek, can see it in full when he turns your face to wipe away the sesame seeds stuck to your mouth too.

"Yeah, what do you want to make Jin?"

You talk it through. You and Yoongi and Jin- easily launching into what you'll make, what you'll bake and barter for another night of full bellies and a full house of love. and although it involves a trip to a grocery store, it's easily set into motion.

Hobi asks you if you’ll walk with him to work today, he has to go in a few minutes and it’s not that far of a walk. 10 minutes. Half a mile.

But you say you’ll go only if Yoongi does too and he’s agreeing before he even realizes it. But as far as mornings go, walking Hobi to work and getting to walk home with you isn’t the worst way things could go. Not by far. Neither is the way that you tug his jacked tighter against his throat in the doorway of the flower shop. The roses in the windowsill all yellow.

“I’m really not all that cold.”

“Still, I always want you to be warm”

"I like taking walks after breakfast," you say after another few minutes of walking. Light. Calm. The cold air encourages more pink from your cheeks. The sun streaming through the leafless branches now that the storm has pulled off.

"We can do it tomorrow if you want." Whatever you want.

Maybe you’ll even hold hands (you will, Yoongi will reach for your hand first, and you’ll walk in quiet that isn’t so quiet all turn to you pointing to someone’s porch and the flowers they’ve already put out in their pots. Bright pansies, splotches of color among the springtime drudgery, and the million shades of grey and taupe.

“Do you think we can plant flowers soon?” Yoongi will say maybe, but Hobi will bring a flat of pansies home before either of you can text and ask.

But that will be later. For now, Yoongi just looks at you next to him on the dining room table, thumb rubbing up and down your thigh, forgetting to chew as he looks at you. Forgetting to take a bite of the sandwich slowly falling apart in his hands. The cheese and the egg sliding out. Both yellow, both yummy, both needed. 

Yoongi looks at you until Tae reaches over to pinch his thigh and he jumps. The egg in his sandwich slips out, hitting his plate with a slap.

Yoongi smiles, (really, the love is spreading like wildfire, slipping in through the windows like beams of sunlight, moving easily and unabated, like light through air).

“Eat your breakfast hyung- it’s getting cold.” She chirps.

Yoongi gladly complies, hungrier than he's been in years.

(In the end, forgiveness is not something that is inevitable. Forgiveness is something that you want to give, you have to want it with that person and they have to want it too. You have to give.

Yoongi will give and give and give.)

~-~

It happens on one of those evenings:

The nesting room is silent with the sound of sleeping packmates. The long curtains piled on the floor and two sets of bunny slippers sit unattended by the nest entrance because Jungkookie’s toes get cold sometimes and you like to match. His blue and yours pink. The Christmas lights up above are dimmed to a soft moonlit glow, lighting the bodies of your sleeping pack; gentle and heaped like sweet pavlova.

The door at the top of the stairs is open. There’s nothing to keep out tonight; no darkness or bad dreams. Nothing to fight off besides the vague feeling of childlike adventure that you gladly welcome inside. Not the sound of Noodle zooming around downstairs or the creeks of the house that’s almost finished.

Almost, it’s getting there. Yoongi has been working hard.

You and Hobi turn restless tonight. The only ones truly awake. Not with unease or with nightmares- too real and long gone. It’s not the memories of people with silver hair and dishonest smiles that keep you awake. Those villains are for dragons vanquished or papers in ashes that will never rise again to taunt you with their secrets.

There is no tower that you’re trapped in, at least not physically. Even mentally too. Any mental foes or sickness left in the confines of your head can wait until a later date.

Maybe it’s because of the full moon, the pearl bubble of your soul that matches and turns and keeps you awake, restless beneath the pink light. Maybe it’s because you both napped earlier with Yoongi in the nesting pod.

You’ve been doing that a lot more frequently over the last few days, taking little moments with Yoongi; spending breakfast in bed, cooking together most nights, sitting next to him always. Even small dates. Not even fancy ones but silly little outings that make you feel younger than you are.

Trips to his old coffee shop where he met Jin. His and Hobi's old record store, and Hobi's flower shop. Sometimes you leave separately and meet there to make it feel more like a date date. And Yoongi pretends he's surprised by the color of lipstick that Tae chose and you admire the ruffle of his tousled hair (he fussed with it for a few minutes in his car).

You'd never had a chance to date properly the first time.

It makes your relationship feel newer than it is. It makes you feel like you're making an effort instead of just having fun with your mate. It makes you feel like the drips of yellow paint on your sleeve- that had gotten there during the little sip and paint that you did last Thursday.

You'd gotten so giggly on cheap wine that you had to call Namjoon to pick you both up. You’d gotten handsy in the backseat and filled the car with the scent of arousal strong enough that Namjoon’s knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel. Barely a brain cell to scrape together to concentrate on driving.

Or the next day when you’d gotten dolled up just to go to different bakeries and sample cakes, eating them in the car with the windows rolled all the way down and the heat blasting. “This ones so good, have a bite.”

The two of you might be foodies actually, you might have found a shared hobby with it- testing pastries and food. You like the little things like fancy chocolates and fancy teas. It’s going to be your thing- the sweets. You can tell.

But for now, Yoongi sleeps peacefully not far from you as you look over at Hobi, eyes open in the darkness, face upturned, chest rising and falling just a bit too quick for him to be totally asleep. The windows are open and the night air is cool. You can press as close to the others as you want and you won't get too hot. You'd taken full advantage of this hours ago, snug tight under Namjoon's arm. His soft snore a special sort of lullaby.

You haven’t felt this calm in years. It doesn't make you choke up because you've felt this way before and you're getting used to it. The springtime air smells like rain, like the ocean already although you know it sits miles and miles away.

It might be another false spring- but the pack takes what it can get.

The nest is still quiet when you turn to Hobi and find his eyes open and bright in the darkness. Namjoon’s phone on the shelf reads 5:04 am. It's early enough to go back to bed but instead, you scoot over to Hobi when you see he’s awake, gently setting yourself first over Namjoon’s chest and then sliding down his other side to get to him.

Quieting Hobi’s sleepy giggles with an equally sleepy kiss pressed unhurried to his lips. His hands come up loosely to circle your waist, tired, sleepy. Your lips stay pressed for a breath too long. And Hobi shivers at the feeling of your warm skin pressed to his cold cheek.  

It’s still dark outside, not even the faintest breath of the sunrise cresting the trees. You lie there on your stomach, looking at him and stroking a hand down his cheek in the darkness. You just watch him until he turns at you. A bright mischievousness in his eyes. A bad idea or a very good one depending on how you look at it- cresting his mind.

“You know if we leave right now, we can probably get to the beach before sunrise.”

Bad ideas are made better when chased with dreams, it’s only been a month since everything went down, and maybe two since this got normal between the two of you. The kissing, the looks, the touching. That’s different, but it's still just you and Hobi.

He's still your best friend.

The softness runs a little deeper now. He'll always understand you a little better, a little more than the others. Although you'll give them a few years to try and catch up. Hoseok's love is a little softer, like a sunrise instead of a sunset. With no bursts of color just dark blue one minute and light blue the next, baby blue to blush tones to that weird yellow green of the sunlight.

You smile into the next kiss, eyes opening wider now, and you know you won't easily go back to sleep. “Yeah? Want to go?”

His kiss already tastes like saltwater. “Yeah, come on.”

Getting out of the nest without rousing your packmates proves to be too much of a challenge. (And really you think Yoongi would have a heart attack if you tried to leave without at least telling him where you've gone. He might have forgiven you, but you know better than to poke at his wounds.)

Namjoon groans while Yoongi blinks away the darkness behind his eyes, a big hand closing around your wrists, stopping you when Hobi’s already off the bed. “Pups? Where are you-”

“Just to the beach Joonie,” Hobi ducks to press a kiss to Namjoon’s forehead the same moment you kiss Yoongi’s lips, puckering in sleep and making a soft sweet noise. Your mate smells so good- rolling waves of sweet chocolate- so good that it has you not wanting to leave at all. You linger, kissing Yoongi again when the temptation becomes too much.

He opens his eyes and grins at you. "Want company?"

“You don't have to, we’ll be careful! Promise.”

"Where you going?"

He blinks back his sleepiness but no sooner have you explained what you're doing than are Yoongi's arms going around your waist to pull you in. Sitting up too at the same time. Careful to keep his voice low to not wake the others.

“Let me come with,” Hobi is already grinning, hair sticking up in the back after he pulls a sweatshirt over his head. Namjoon shimmies to the end of the nest apparently coming too- only to knock into Seokjin because Namjoon is always sort of clumsy in the mornings and he always gets a bit tangled in the blankets you roll up to construct the edge of the nest.

Jin’s plush lips pout, eyes squinting in the darkness, “Guys? What’s-”

Then Jin trips over Jimin's legs and the alpha shoots up straight, jostling both Tae and Jungkook (folded under either arm) and everyone is awake and sharing plans.

You tug on warmer clothes because Jin fusses; fuzzy socks, and thick cable knit sweaters. Jin doesn’t bother to put his contacts in, black-rimmed glasses balancing on his nose. A thick scarf that he won’t really need teasing at his rosy cheeks.

together you guide a soft and sleepy Jk down the stairs. Scrubbing at his eyes all puppy cute while you’re morning zoomy. Barely pausing to kick off your bunny slippers. Jimin gets down to tie Tae’s laces so she doesn’t have to bend over so early in the morning.

By the time you get down to the ground floor of the house, the light is already turning the sky a lighter shade of blue. And Hoseok is pushing everyone out the door, sometimes physically, with cries of “Quick! Before we miss it!”

For once, you don’t take two cars. This time you pile all in Hobi’s red car (thankfully gotten back from the police with all but minimal scratches and a hefty fine that Namjoon had reluctantly paid). You sit on each other's laps, ducking your head whenever you see oncoming cars in case they might be cops. (You haven't learned your lesson quite yet, but there is time- you don't have to grow up quite yet).

Tae sits on Jimin’s lap. Hands wrapped around her middle, talking softly over the color of her nails (yellow with chrome, making them look almost buttery). Jungkook sits on Namjoon's lap (the alpha tucks his face into Jungkook’s hair, a little long, a little shaggy, intent on going back to sleep.) And you sit in the middle seat on Yoongi's (playing with your mate's hands, turning them over and over again in yours, until he squeezes them lacing them through.)

The pack omega gets princess treatment on account of having the longest legs. Feet Crossed daintily on the dashboard where it not for his thick slides. Hobi drives and fucks with the playlist. But he doesn't need one. Leaves it alone for once in favor of listening.

Yoongi laughs and you ask him why he is. "Don't take this the wrong way but your ass is so boney, my leg is going numb."

"See! I told you you should come with me to pilates!"

"I'm no princess-"

"No- that's me." Jin snorts from the front seat.

"Joonie that tickles."

It’s only a 15-minute drive on the windy backroads, not so unsafe. Not so necessary that you’ll think about taking two cars and separating your little bundle of love into two places. Headlights crest the hills of shrub roses and shrub oak trees, leggy and just beginning to leaf out.

How is it nearly spring already? When did winter pass? Yoongi’s arms never release your waist, he keeps you like that, close and safe until you skitter into the parking lot.

Jin leaves his red scarf in the car. It sits there in the backseat, a heap of red thread whining over and over again, giving warmth that’s no longer needed. A string of fate organized and neat.

The parking lot at the beach is empty at this time of year and at this time of day. There is no snow piled up in heaps, only remnants in the forms of shallow silver pools and puddles that you traipse through with little regard to the state of your socks. The ocean air is warm, unseasonably so. You’re a mess of tangled limbs and pajamas. Laughs and- “oh my god I have to pee-”

Yoongi loses one of his slides on the way out and Jungkook steals it from the pavement. Running off with it and leaving him to hobble on one foot, only to bring it back after a second. And you let Yoongi place his hand on your shoulder for balance while he slides his sock back into it. Worried about getting his socks wet. His hair ruffled and eyes crusty but the sun-

The sun is bright and hot against your cheeks, wind whipping picking up your hair as it crests the horizon. You run out to the edge of the ocean, your legs fighting to keep up with Jungkook who's faster than you now that he's fully awake.

Water soaks pajama hems and you tread a little too close to the shore. It's low tide and the sea is far out. Sea spoils dot the wet sand, joining the reflection of the sky up above and the stars winking out one by one as the sky lightens slow.

You’re the first one to lift your hands, to shout and run as fast as you can (which isn’t very fast at all, so it’s a good thing they give you a head start) but the others follow without much preamble. Giggling and rushing to get to the sea in time.

It’s warm- the wind coming off the sea is warm and damp and lovely. Spring is here, happiness is here- and it might never be going away again. Not if you can help it and not if you hold onto it. You have seven other people to help you hold on tight and never let go.

No matter how hard it gets- you’ll hold onto it. You promise. (Promise me okay?)

Jungkook catches up to you first in the warm sunny sand. He picks you up and twirls you round and round. Shaking you a little, the same way that Noodle might shake a toy. You giggle, high and melodic.

You only see it for a second, spinning round and round- but the rest of them Seokjin, Namjoon, Hoseok, Tae, Jimin, Yoongi- they all stop where they’re running and watch. You’re dizzy when Jungkook stops, his grin pressed to your shoulder, arms hard under your shoulders. Clinging to him still- not putting you down because you’re dizzy and he’s still lifting you up.

“Jungkook- oh my god put me down- I’m heavy Koo- ” You’re a little panicked, a little startled, but laughing all the while.

“Not really. I can still carry you.” He tosses you up and catches you- shrieking even though you don’t really leave his hands. Clinging to him, scared of the weightlessness before he sets you down where you teeter, unsteady, dizzy but still laughing.

Your hands stay around his shoulders, on your tippy toes, and he raises his eyebrow at you.

The others catch up and Jimin leans down to squeeze around your middle. Salt air tickles your forehead.“You’re like hardly a work out-“

Yoongi’s teeth worry away at his lower lip, “guys-“

Jimin shows you it’s not a big deal by heaving you up and over his shoulder. leaving you shrieking again.

“Minnie no!”

"Minnie yes"

Jungkook and Jimin take off and Hobi and Yoongi chase them down, you feel a bit like a chew toy but in the best way, in the way that makes your stomach light and crinkly from the giggles and laughter. You end up with your knees in the sand and Jungkook against your stomach. Hobi behind you, hands fighting Jungkook's. wrestling over you until none of you have anymore energy for it. All of you are covered in sand but you're laughing so hard you taste salt.

You end up sitting there, at the edge of the storm line, where the sand goes hard and crusty at your feet but light and fluffy by your hands. You watch the rest of the sunrise like that. The good part. The best part when the colors bleed across the blue horizon line all yellow and gold.

Namjoon holds out a hand for Jin to get down, a bit more dignified than your sprawling mess of pups. And the pack omega leans sideways against Yoongi’s shoulder. Complaining squeakily about the state of his knees.

You settle against the sand. The eight of you curled close to keep out the last bit of cold. Eyes burning as you watch the sunrise and can't tear your eyes away. Until the sky turns that unmatched shade of blue, the kind that is never quite replicated by nature. Not in roses or daisies or in the color of people’s eyes. Everything blue blue blue.

Your sweatshirt is one of Yoongi's, the same color. Tae’s nails are that purple-blue too as she holds Jimin’s hand in the sand. The same color as the tiny piece of sea glass that Hobi pulls from between his legs because he somehow always finds sea glass. The best at finding lost things.

His hand slides around your middle, pulling you to rest firmly against the hollow of his chest. And his other raises to show you the little fleck of sea glass. Balanced on his index finger.

"It's a lucky find," you say. Hoseok hums behind you. Agreeing. Warm.

Later, you look over at him in the bagel shop (because if you’re going to have an early morning outing then it might as well come with breakfast and coffee.) You sit together with Hobi, Waiting for your sandwiches and your lattes.

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jin sit at one table and bicker over the merits of avocado toast. While Tae, Jimin, and Jungkook take over the other playing some game that involves flicking a quarter over each of their sides and playing footsie under the table too.

Although Namjoon and Jimin will get frustrated and tug all of the red and white metal tables together before long- No one has the mind for it yet. All of you are still sleepy and pupish and young in a way that you haven't been, haven't felt in such a long time.

Growing up can wait for a day more, growing up can always always wait.

(You haven't thought about it at all today- what Geumjae did to you. You haven’t thought about the hurts in your past at all today and you won’t, the day will pass and it won’t weigh on you, you won’t even notice. That’s the way healing goes- you hardly notice)

(Later there will be food and you won’t think about eating it at all. Hoseok will make your sandwich up just the way you like it and you won't even have to ask for it. You'll eat the same way you love, messy like children but with so much hope in it.)

At the bagel shop, You’ll reach over and wipe your thumb across his lips to get some cream cheese off and it will be the first breakfast of many you’ll spend with him. How lovely is it- to get to spend mornings with the people you love? How lovely it is to lose track of the days and hours and kisses. To not count first kisses anymore and only count more.

You and Hobi are quiet where you sit at the metal tables, it’s not an uncomfortable silence, unbroken by ego or arrogance or anything of the sort. He looks over and smiles at you.

And because he asks, “What are you thinking about?” You give him an honest answer.

“Being at the beach like that,” Your hands play with the piece of blue sea glass he got you, your pockets are full of them because you spent a few minutes once the sun was up walking until the others called you back. Hand in hand, stopping only to pick up more.

“With the sunrise and the sunlight all around us, It kinda felt like the world was giving me a really big hug, do you think that’s stupid?”

(Neither you nor Hobi is thinking about what was done to you. Not even a little bit, not even at all. I hope you never think about it either. I hope you get to have days where you don't remember. Where you forget what it was like to need to be strong. May the prey animal part of you that lingers in your body and remembers be turned soft and docile with age. May you forget what it's like to be hunted and afraid. I hope you forget him. The man who hurt you. I hope you forget what he looks like and the sound of his voice. I hope you forget it all.)

“I don’t think that’s stupid at all.”

He pulls his chair over to your side of the table and puts his chair right next to yours so that your thighs can touch. Even though it’s a public place and even though it’s probably not appropriate. He pecks your shoulder and squeezes around your waist extra tight, grinning. It’s an awkward sideways hug but he pulls you as close as he can until it forces a giggle from your stomach. His palms press flat against your stomach and his thumb rubs up and down. Slowly.  

“In case you want one more, what’s another hug after all?”

~-~

Notes:

It's a sweet sort of irony, that this chapter is going to be posted when the people who live in the bily house are getting married <3 like what are the odds of that.

i think that this chapter is the real like- spot between the chapter chapters of bily and the epilogue! i think you can kind of feel it in the way that the chapter ends.

it's so like me to accidentally talk about tae's boobs for a few paragraphs i can't help it her tiddies are just so special to me. like 10/10, i saw a picture of dita von tess and just so you know...in my mind after tae gets a boob job- which she will- this is just me forshadowing it- thats the kinda tiddies she gets <3 cute lemon shaped ones!

the line about tae liking hyung more than oppa to use for the other members of the pack- is just kinda edgeing on an idea i've had for a while about my own gender thoughts- and thats that you can take what you like and what you don't like from each gender and make it what you want regardless of how you identify.

it's easy to forget that yoongi is also traumatized too you know? he needs so much hugs in this,

it always hits me how stylistically different i write the characters in bily- like this chapter i feel like i really got to develop yoongi's internal voice like- he's a very even cut of internal monologue, action, and sensation. different than the m/c who tends to be sensation first and then action, and jimin who is all bland sensation, and tae who has a very very strong internal monologue.

In many ways this chapter feels so like- stylistically light- like i think this entire series i've been trying to capture the feelings of found family- and you know-= this one gets alot of it right.

[glassartpeasants]

One Piece Asylum AU idea

things are subject to change but here is a little short

~~~~

Characters include: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kidd, and Killer

GN!Reader for the moment

Warnings: drug use, mentioned death, murder/manslaughter, hallucinations, mental illness's, abuse, medical malpractice, slight gore, depression, made at work, kinda spoilers for Law's and Sanji's backgrounds, i tried my best to incorporate some things from each backstory into this so-,I AM NOT A MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONAL SO I DO NOT KNOW IF THESE COULD BE ACCURATE

~~~~

“Patient's name is Monkey D. Luffy. He was brought here by his grandfather after he failed to thrive following the death of his older brother.” Handing you the clipboard, the head psychiatrist looks at you before continuing. “He’s convinced himself he’s a pirate and trying to become ‘King of the Pirates’ with his ‘nakama.’ We believe it’s a coping mechanism and trauma response to witnessing his brother's murder.”

Looking through the pages, you read the test and charts. Upon seeing a particular line, you raise a brow. “Believes he’s made of rubber?”

“Ah, yes. It’s part of the world he’s built in his head. He thinks that things will bounce off him and that he can’t get hurt if he falls from heights. It’s caused multiple bruises and broken bones. One includes the broken femur he just recovered from. He’s a high fall risk due to these delusions.”

“That’s so sad. Creating a whole world just to escape the grief. I can’t imagine the pain of watching a loved one die in such a horrific manner.”

“Surprisingly, this pirate world is common in this hospital. Don’t know if it’s Luffy’s influence or if it’s a common escape method that hasn’t been fully researched yet. But it is a very regular delusion in here.”

“There’s more…pirates?”

“Yes. Three crews, to be exact. At least for now. Luffy’s charmed his way into a few other patients' minds and convinced them to ‘join his crew.’”

“Really? Who are they?”

“There's a lot. Are you sure you want to hear them? It can get pretty disturbing and slightly gut-wrenching. New World Asylum isn’t known for the mild cases.”

A sense of unease fills the pit of your stomach, but the curiosity is too much to endure. “I’m sure.” Nodding, the head psychiatrist leads you to a big hallway. The doors are thick metal with name plates on each surface. As you approached the dark, eerie hallway, it felt like a horror movie.

The head psychiatrist hands you a pen and a small notepad. “Take notes, rookie. If you want to survive, I suggest writing down as many notes as possible.”

“After Luffy, we have Rorona Zoro. Brought here by police after a welfare check discovered he was living with the decaying body of his lover after he accidentally killed them.”

“What? Why is he here instead of prison?” You question, looking at the psychiatrist with furrowed brows.

“It was an accident. He used to collect swords and practice swordsmanship, which had him collecting a total of 3 swords. One of them accidentally killed his lover when they sneaked up behind him when he was drunk, spooking him. He killed them instantly, thankfully, slicing them in half. In his despair, he kept the body with him for two weeks. His boss was the one to call the cops to check up on them since he hadn’t left the apartment or contacted anyone in the said two weeks.”

“That's so sad, but…that still doesn’t explain why he isn’t in prison?”

“After the death, he continued to speak to them like they were alive, and when the cops tried to separate him from the body, he flipped his shit. It turned into a standoff that lasted about four hours before they finally managed to take him down. Often gets aggressive and has violent outbursts when he has moments of ‘clarity’ and ‘can’t find them.’”

“Oh…”

“He’s part of Luffy’s ‘Straw Hat Pirates.’ From our observed behaviors, he seems to be the second in command. He now claims to be striving to be the best swordsman for his deceased lover.” Writing down the minor notes that you could, you continue to follow.

“Next up, Vinsmoke Sanji. After suffering years of abuse that he refuses to speak about, he attacked them ruthlessly. The only one surviving of the massacre was his older sister, who he deems ‘free of retribution.’ They counted him unfit to stand trial and sent him here. According to Luffy, he’s the cook for his crew. As far as we know, he’s never stepped foot in the facilities kitchen.”

Remaining speechless, you follow and try to calm down how your mind seems to run at a million miles per minute. How many people did this place have that believed they were pirates? Was this all Luffy’s doing? Influencing people into believing his world?

“Trafalgar Water D. Law. A raging wildfire took out his entire town overnight when he slept as a child. He has it in his mind that the government did it to hide the fact they were experimenting on them. A man adopted him only to witness his murder after his adoptive father got into an argument with a family member.” Your heart burned as you listen to the recounting of his story. Losing your whole world overnight twice sounded like hell.

“The next thirteen years seemed to go by quickly and relatively calmly. He’d gotten his medical degree to be a surgeon. He was known far and wide as a great doctor. It wasn’t until people began to find out that he'd been secretly experimenting on people. Trying to find a cure for an unknown disease that he claims killed his family.”

“The one that he blamed on the government?” You raised your brow, trying to comprehend what could possibly be going on in the man’s mind.

“Yes. It also came to light that his partner, who was constantly sick, was being poisoned by him. He always fed them a small amount of some drug, so they were too weak to do anything other than depend on him. Just so they couldn’t leave him. And just like almost everyone else, they concluded that he's not in the right mind to stand trial and sent him here.”

Walking past Law’s door, a sense of despair hits you, making goosebumps rise on your skin. You could hear him talking to himself, but what he’s saying was unintelligible. “He talks to his deceased sister a lot. Blames himself for not waking up his family in time to save them from the fire or warn them about the ‘sickness’ they had. When talking to him, don't be spooked if he starts asking you about your upcoming ‘surgery.’ He’s restrained in a jacket like Zoro."

"He’s another victim of Luffy’s influence, as he also now believes he’s part of a pirate group. But this one, he’s the captain of. He calls them the Heart Pirates. Another thing he discusses frequently is Corazon. We have yet to figure out who or what that is.”

“I’ll…keep that in mind.” The pen scribbled relentlessly on the paper, seeming never to stop as words repeatedly filled the small, lined paper.

“Good. Next up is Eustass Kidd.” Moving forward, next to the head psychiatrist, you are shown a door made of even thicker metal than the others along the hallway. There were even twice the number of locks on the door compared to the ones you've seen.

“Why are there so many locks?”

“He’s the most aggressive and hostile. It’s gotten to the point of him being unable to leave his cell and being chained to the back wall-”

“Let me out of here, you stupid-” A scream of pain came from behind the heavy metal door, causing you to rush up and slide open the slot in the door to check up on the man behind it.

“Sir?! Are you okay?!” As you opened the small opening, you were met with orange orbs staring right at you. Firey red hair could be seen from what little light was in the room. For a moment, the air seemed cold, quiet, and uncomfortable.

CLANK

Not a second passed before the man in chains jumped to his feet and rushed at you; the chains holding him back and the door separating you two did little to quell the scream that left your throat as you fell back on your butt. 

“He never learns.” The head psychiatrist sighs before you see her push a button on a small remote in her hand, leading to another scream of agony in the room.

“W-What are you?” Wide-eyed, you look at her.

“Shock therapy. It’s part of his treatments.”

“But hasn’t that been proven to be ineffective?” A stone stare was all you got, and it made you want to shrink and crawl into a hole to hide. Why would she use a technique that has proven ineffective? As punishment? There had to be some sort of explanation. There is no way they would use such primitive methods in this modern day. Unnerved, you slowly stand up, your eyes never leaving her hand.

“Moving on.” Quickly rushing forward, she moves to the final door. Not sparing you or the chained man a second glance.

Looking at the tiny slit in the door, you exhale a silent, “I’m sorry…” Swallowing down your saliva, you move to her side once more. What once was a calm introduction now felt wrong. The coldness of her actions shows a dark side that makes you want to run far, far away. What could he have done to get here and be treated like some sort of animal?

“What did he do that caused such treatment?”

“He was in a rock band, but there was an accident at a bar where he must have taken some substances that caused a manic episode. Whether it was knowingly or unknowingly is not charted. However, the episode caused some harsh hallucinations, which resulted in him running into oncoming traffic and getting hit by a car. The aftermath was multiple surgeries and the amputation of his left arm. Once he was awake and saw the damage, he freaked.”

“Freaked? Did they not explain to him what happened?”

“They tried, but from forced brain scans and multiple behavior therapists later, it was revealed that the accident had knocked some screws loose. Putting him in an eternal warped state of mind. A constant state of psychosis in a better term. No amount of medication has helped him. He’s a lost cause. No doubt he’ll be here for the rest of his life.” Frowning, you follow her to the next and last room in the hallway.

“Last but not least, Killer.”

“Killer?” You look at her in confusion. What kind of name is that? Is she pranking you?

“Yes. He was and still is Eustass Kidd’s best friend and the only person who can calm him down when he’s on a violent rampage after somehow escaping his room.”

“How did he get here then? Was he also in the accident?”

“No. He came a month after Eustass was sent to us. After Eustass’s spiral, he spiraled into his own depression after losing his best friend, and he turned to some drugs to soothe the pain. And just like his friend, he caused irreversible damage to himself after going on a drug stupor after his lover broke it off with him cause he was ‘too depressing to be around.’”

“What did he do?...”

Sparing you only a second glance, the head psychiatrist looked to be holding back a chuckle. “He used a sewing needle to stitch his mouth into a smile before going back to his ex’s house and trying to beg for them to take him back, saying he ‘fixed himself. ‘The cops took one look at him and sent him here.” An icky feeling rose in your gut at her reaction. How could she find something so horrific to be funny?

“That's horrible…it’s so disturbing how fragile the human mind is.”

“It is. Oh, something I forgot to mention is that Luffy’s influence hit them, too. Eustass took his words as a challenge and made his own pirate group, including Killer, called the ‘Kidd Pirates.’”

“How original?”

Stopping suddenly, the lady turns to you. “Now that you know them. It’s time for you to get ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“Ready to meet your new patients, Dr. (Y/N). I’m sure you’ll love it here at New World Asylum.”

[marvelmusing]

Personal Shopper

from The Darkling Wears Prada AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader

Summary: In preparation for your honeymoon, you and Aleksander go shopping. Per usual, he has high standards.

Warnings: brief mentions of sex and nudity

My Masterlist

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Disgust curls at the corner of Aleksander’s lips, his nostrils flaring as he surveys the luminous rainbow of swim shorts hanging in front of you. For someone whose wardrobe consists of black and white, the options on display feel like an insulting form of colour exposure therapy.

“You could have told me there were no viable options for me here,” he says.

“If you just ignore the brightly coloured ones-”

“A blind person would struggle to ignore those.”

“There’s a navy blue?”

“When have you ever seen me wear navy blue?”

“Almost every man likes navy blue.”

“No, almost every man wears navy blue because he doesn’t understand the concept of dressing himself and thinks he can’t go wrong with blue.”

The manager of the store hovers at a respectable distance - ready to assist but not too overbearing. A group of younger employees have gathered discretely in a corner, talking quietly amongst themselves while shooting furtive glances in your direction.

“What about dark grey?” you suggest, selecting a pair from the rack and offering them for him to examine.

Aleksander takes a long look at them, and sighs.

“Go on,” you say expectantly.

He raises a brow at you, his expression innocent.

“What?”

“From the look on your face, there’s clearly something wrong with them.”

He pauses, regarding you somewhat sheepishly. Glancing down, he looks at his shoes, then back up at the shorts.

“The drawstrings are white.”

“Aleksander-”

“It looks inexpensive!” he defends. You laugh, shaking your head at him.

He watches you glance down at the shorts, eyes fixating on the drawstrings before you sigh and discard them back on the rack.

“Now you’ve said that, I won’t be able to unsee it.”

Aleksander breathes out a soft laugh, curling his arms around your waist to pull you back against his chest as you browse the other items of clothing nearby. He lowers his head down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmurs,

“I’m sorry for being so particular.”

A smile spreads over your lips, as you place your hands on his forearms, keeping him close while you lean back into his body.

“No, you’re not.”

He smiles.

“No, I’m not.”

“The worst part is, you always look good, meaning your fussiness is well-founded.”

He tilts his head at you, lips parted in faux shock.

“Fussiness?”

“Don’t sound so astounded. If I tried to tell anyone at work that you aren’t fussy, I’d be laughed out of the building.”

His eyes wander over the items of clothing in the store, a certain area in particular catching his attention.

“I can think of one instance where I’m not fussy,” he remarks. He feels your head turn, looking in the direction of his gaze.

“If you’re talking about my lingerie, I’d have to disagree.”

He stills, looking down at you in concern.

“Have I ever made you feel uncomf-”

“No, Sasha. Never. It’s just that I can usually tell from your reaction what pieces you like more than others. I could probably guess what your favourite set of mine is.” He nods slightly, encouraging you to state your guess. “The black silk set - the one lined with white lace.”

He tilts his head, humming quietly in contemplation.

“I would consider that one of my favourites. But it isn’t my favourite.”

“What is your favourite then?”

His cheeks flush.

“It isn’t even a matching set,” he admits. “The cream cotton bra, with little purple and blue flowers. And the blue cotton panties with white polka dots.”

A small sound of surprise catches in the back of your throat.

At the beginning of your relationship, you had been shy about showing him the less than perfect parts of you. When you’re at work, everything is perfect - just how Aleksander likes it.

He had caught you by surprise, the first time he saw his favourite ensemble, kissing you in the makeshift office created for him during a photoshoot. As always, you had melted in his arms, kissing him back eagerly. Until he reached for the button at the waistband of your trousers. He stopped the moment he felt you stiffen.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

He sees the hesitation on your face and removes his hands from you.

“I didn’t think you’d want this today,” you admit, fidgeting nervously with your hands. “I thought you’d be too busy with the shoot.”

His expression softens, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your cheek. He lets his knuckles linger there.

“What do you mean?”

He feels your cheeks heat beneath his hand, then you say in a near whisper,

“I’m not wearing my nice underwear. They’re just plain cotton, nothing special.”

To this day, Aleksander disagrees wholeheartedly.

“Really?” you state, turning your head to look at him. “That’s your favourite?”

He nods, shrugging slightly.

“I don’t know what it is, it just feels so domestic, seeing you in them.”

He feels your body grow warm in his arms.

After years of seeing you with only perfect makeup and meticulously picked outfits, the sight of you barefaced, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a zip hoodie is one of his favourite daydreams.

Aleksander kisses your cheek.

“You look beautiful in anything - and nothing.”

“Sasha!” you scold him quietly, glancing around to check that no one is close enough to hear him.

He presses his face into the side of yours, lips brushing delicately against your cheekbone as his nose digs into your temple.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

He can feel the blood rushing to your face as you smile.

“I love you too.”

Aleksander smiles softly.

“Which ones do you like best?”

“You want me to pick?”

He breathes out a soft laugh at your widened eyes.

“Marriage is about compromise. They are for our honeymoon after all.”

With mischief curling at your lips, your fingers dance over the bright yellow swim shorts.

“Milaya,” he says warningly. “Don’t be cruel.”

You laugh quietly.

“What about these?”

A subtle summery shade of sky blue, embossed with a small grey logo near the hem of the right leg. Aleksander will admit, they are a nice colour, despite being different from his preferred palette. Not to mention that they will pair well with a few of the shirts already in his wardrobe - though he doubts he will be wearing a shirt at all given the expected heat.

Nevertheless, he feigns a sigh as he takes the swim shorts from you.

“Anything for you, milaya.”

He can’t help but smile when he sees you roll your eyes.

When the two of you finally climb into the back of Aleksander’s car, you’re kissing him senseless. From the moment he mentioned your underwear, you’ve been flustered, taking every opportunity to have your hands on him. Now that you’re alone, you cannot suppress your need.

He can feel your lip gloss smearing over his mouth, sticky and sweet. Aleksander cups your jaw, holding you in place as he works on devouring you.

He feels you frown when your phone buzzes, interrupting your moment. When you make no movement to reach for the device, Aleksander tears his lips from yours momentarily as he peers at the screen.

“What is it?” you ask breathlessly.

Being Aleksander’s assistant means you like to stay well informed on what the press is saying about him. The notification is from your news app.

News Alert: Aleksander Morozov sighted with fiancée.

He smiles.

“Nothing.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird @kksbookstuff

[kiame-sama]

You discussed humanfuckers in the monster au recently and listed several characters who would be among the humanfucker ranks but I was surprised not to see Rook and Rollo on that list. I would have thought they'd be on that list as I can totally see them reading human erotica and 'appreciating' pornographic art of humans , maybe not on Trottr but perhaps published romance/erotica novels and classical style art pieces, perhaps even antique ones from when humans were still around. Also if Malleus is an honorary humanfucker for his interest in THE (his) human rather than just humans overall, wouldn't that mean most of the cast could be considered honorary humanfuckers too, if not right now then soon?

First part here:

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, mention of adult content, by selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are of age to view content.

~~~~~~~~

Because Rollo and Rook are on their way into it quickly due to sparked interest, but they weren't obsessed over Humans before meeting The Human. Those listed prior were obsessed long before meeting a Human in the flesh.

Rollo, up until he actually meets The Last Human, sees it as demeaning the species as a whole to write such hedonistic trash. He wishes to emulate the Righteous Judge in any way he can and the Judge cherished Humans above everything, even his own life. Rollo sees it like someone is depicting his deities- who he devotes his life to work in the name of- as common whores. He could tell you everything on the written history of Humans and the Humans of Fleur City because he has devoted his own time to learning about Humans. He respects and honors the legacy of Humans in Twisted Wonderland.

His attitude switch towards suggestice works involving Humans is as abrupt and jarring as a flash of lightning when he finally meets the Human of Night Raven and suddenly he sees the appeal. He thought the depictions of Humans were beautiful whenever he saw them, but his more carnal interests only really hit him when he met one. Now he gets it. He will never admit to such vile thoughts, but he has far more than he would like.

Rollo is going to be in future chapters, don't worry.

~•§•~

Rook is awakening into that role and idea. He really only saw Humans from a history standpoint, an end note to file away under mythical tales and long gone creatures. Sure, Human things exist all around him, but he likes to observe beauty in the moment. Why weep over what is long lost when there are beauties to observe here and now?

The Human of Night Raven is certainly now a beauty he can behold and marvel at. He is understanding the appeal and he is becoming more interested in learning all he can about these Humans. He is frustrated there is so little agreed upon when it comes to Humans. Human remains are so contested they can't even classify Humans in any official species. The popular theory is they are closest to pigs, hence the belief Humans shouldn't eat pork often. He thinks that's stupid, where are the pig ears and tails? The Boar variants of Minotaurs were very well known.

He is just falling down the rabbit hole, don't you worry. We will get to Rook's interest soon enough.

~•§•~

Malleus is honorary compared to the others for a few reasons, first; he won't turn up his nose to such works- published works, he still is not fond of technology- but when he reads them, it is his Human he thinks of. Not all Humans or the idea of Humans. That one Human in particular that is part of his Hoard and belongs to him, that one right there. He mentally overwrites all details of the Human love interest in the piece with the details of his Human and replaces himself as the monster suitor. He often imagines his Human as a Dragon as well and the romance the two of you could share as Dragons.

Second; Humans and the truth of them are still as illusory to Malleus as the surface of the moon would be to a cow. According to Lilia, they all looked different and had varying skin tones and hair styles, even eye colors, some even had completely different instincts from others. His entire view of Humans as a whole is based on the idea that no Human is the same or even comparable.

[daughter-lilith]

❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 2 | Read Part 1 here.

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+ (In future Parts)

CW (For whole story): Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 6.66k😈

*Reminder, this is part 2.

Halsin’s gaze roamed over your face, your hair, and you unconsciously hugged your robe a bit tighter. You weren’t typically a shy person, but something about his visual inspection made your cheeks flush and you had to fight the urge not to swipe a piece of hair behind your ears. Instead, you held his gaze, as best as you could anyway.

“Your hair is styled differently,” he proceeded, “and the top of your ears no longer have their tips. And yet… you are as beautiful now as you were then. Clearly, nature still works its wonders, even in this foreign place.”

You nearly gasped at his words as a wave of flutters tickled your belly. And his smile only further enhanced the prickling goosebumps racing across your skin. Speechless, a torrent of silence stretched between you and the man with the pointed ears. In mere moments, the air felt thick with tension, unspoken words, confusion, questions, and so much more. You were starting to get lost in his intense eyes again, the way he looked at you with such fondness. And you knew at that moment your heart was correct. He wouldn’t hurt you. He was safe. But there was still so much you didn’t know.

As if detecting your thoughts, he cleared his throat and expanded his chest a little, like he was bracing himself. “I get ahead of myself. Now, as I promised you, I will explain all. Shall we sit?”

You glanced at the counter next to you where tall chairs lined up together, and shook your head. Your legs would’ve been a shaking mess if you were forced to remain in a seated position, anxiously awaiting his words. Somehow you felt steadier on two feet, with one hip leaning slightly against the side of the island.

“Standing is fine.”

Halsin nodded. “Very well.”

He took two, calm strides forward, closer to the other side of the countertop, directly across from you. He closed his eyes, his large chest rising and falling. A gold emblem of a leaf on his chest gleamed beneath the warm light, but when he opened his eyes again, he had your complete attention.

“The place I mentioned earlier, Faerûn, where I hail from, is a realm far from here. It can only be accessed by opening a very particular and powerful portal. It is how I arrived in this world myself, through the Astral Plane, and then here I—"

You lifted a hand, stopping him. “Sorry- portal? Astral Plane? Next thing you’ll say is you’ve once seen dragons breathe down fire from the sky, or you have pointed ears because you’re an—

“An elf,” he interjected, smiling. “Both of which you mention are true. Though I’ve been told I’m rather large for one.” A gentle chuckle sounded from his throat, it would’ve been comforting were your face not contorted in complete bafflement.

“You’re an elf?” You half laughed, incredulous. But at your reaction, the trace of humor that marked his face waned.

“Yes,” he simply responded, calm. “The Oak Father warned me that there would be many changes in this world. Your world. I now presume the mention of portals and dragons will be among the many number of differences for all I have to say.”

You exhaled, absentmindedly shaking your head. The longer you looked at him, the more you could tell he meant what he was saying, or at least he believed it enough. Too wrapped up in your thoughts, you couldn’t even conjure up the question of who the hell the Oak Father was. And you got the sense that Halsin, in whatever tale he was about to unravel, was just scratching the surface.

“You’re being serious.” You weren’t really asking, more so stating.

“I am.”

“You’re an elf? How is that even…” you trailed off, speechless. How was that what? Possible? How was anything he was saying possible? As a writer, you were a believer in ‘anything is possible’ but when that anything was a six-and-a-half foot, maybe more, henched elf…

“Are there no elves in this world?” One of his brows was slightly raised.

“No. No elves, no dragons. Just an overpopulated amount of humans.”

“Ah, I see,” he said. “That would explain the change in your ears, though I suppose you could’ve become any race on any plane.”

You gasped, blinking rapidly. He was starting to lose you, speaking to you like he knew you, like there was some other version of you.

Halsin must’ve sensed the havoc firing in your brain because he stepped forward, and you heard the sound of the chair scraping the floor as he bumped into it. You raised a hand to halt him, even though the entire island still separated you.

Without actually saying it, he was basically calling you an elf. There was a sudden twitch along the rim of your right ear at the mere thought. There was more to this tale, just hear him through. Closing your eyes for a few seconds, you breathed deeply and silently vowed that you wouldn’t interrupt again, or at least you would try not to. You opened your eyes. “Alright then… continue.”

He nodded, releasing a heavy breath of his own. He took a moment to analyze you before proceeding. “Faerûn is where I met you. You and your companions had saved me from the cruel shackles of a brutish goblin camp.” His mouth twisted in disgust, before smoothing out again. “Then you helped to save my grove, a druid’s sanctuary under my govern- from slaughter and being cut off from the world. I knew then… that you would become most important to me.” A warm smile melted into his cheeks and that fondness in his gaze returned. Yes, you were indeed safe with him.

“So I joined you,” he carried on, “on a journey of high adventure where you and your companions welcomed me with open arms. You became my friends, and soon after, my family.”

He went on to explain the depths of your adventures together and how you faced all sorts of formidable foes and challenges. He spoke of the times you cleansed curses, cut down hags, slayed devils, ended a vampire lord, and destroyed would-be gods. It was all so much, and yet the way Halsin delivered this tale, how he articulated each word so careful and precise in his language, was exceptionally poetic. He connected words in ways you wouldn’t think of, as though he came from a time long past.

And even though he was telling you tales of the sort of things you’d usually read about or see in movies, which made it even more unbelievable, you were extremely immersed. He made it easy to follow along to imagine the landscapes, the campsites, and your companions. No, your friends, apparently.

An interesting group from the way he described them. There were some strange words you caught here and there like githyanki or tiefling, but also very familiar ones like vampire and wizard. He described one who had red skin and two horns, one cut halfway- she was among your first closest friends, he said. After forming your group, before you met him, she had been the one you connected with swiftly, more of an open book than the other women. But in time, they too became like your sisters.

And the vampire was another close friend of yours, a sincere bond that blossomed from such a fragile heart. You once shared a brief romantic relationship with this white-haired elf, but came to realize your bond thrived better in the waters of friendship. You wished you could’ve seen all Halsin was describing, what he was imagining from his faraway look while he recounted this intriguing world. You knew that your own mental images weren’t doing it justice.

“…and our bond only grew stronger, rooted in the depths of the earth.” The more Halsin spoke, the more the leaves decorating his shoulders lowered as he relaxed. Sometimes he spoke faster than he seemed to intend, eager to share all he could with you. “And in battle, you were magnificent as always, the way the crackle of lightning simmered over your fingers, or how your longsword was blazed in fire, smiting your foes with no mercy. I knew to never stray on your bad side.” Halsin chuckled at this, a deep rumble from his throat.

You wished you could return the sentiment, but you could only half smile in return, a dull ache in your gut. It all sounded too incredible, fascinating really. But to your disappointment, none of it meant anything to you. You found yourself genuinely wanting to connect with his story, the world he painted for you.

And the way he spoke about you, there was something so incredibly deep there, raw, pure, powerful. You could feel that he cared for you in ways that went far beyond just friends or casual lovers. He cared for you possibly more than anyone you’ve ever known, or at least cared for whoever this version of you was. Someone fierce, powerful, a leader…and could wield magic?

“You’ve talked about magic a lot,” your voice filled the room, taking the chance to speak while Halsin paused his story, “that all of your—our- friends had it, because of access to the Weave?” You narrowed your brows, glancing at Halsin for some silent reassurance. When he nodded, you continued. “And some were closer to magic than others or accessed it in different ways… so are you telling me that you have this magic even now?”

Halsin grinned. “I do. And I presume that is but another change in your world.”

You hummed. “There is magic, in a way… rituals, spells, but definitely not how you’ve described it. It all sounds like the sorts of things I read and write about.”

Halsin stood straighter, his chest expanding as that proud grin still painted his face. “May I demonstrate?”

Your stomach flipped. “Demonstrate? Right- right here?”

“If you wish?” Halsin raised one hand, letting it hover off to the side as he stared at you, silently waiting for your permission.

You looked up at him, shifting between both of his eyes before settling on his waiting hand. There was no way this was about to happen. Magic? Fresh nerves stormed in your belly, but it was mostly fueled by a wave of excitement, just the tiniest hint of fear lingered in its depths. You had no idea what to expect; maybe a magic trick? Some sort of illusion? You swallowed, meeting his eyes again. With a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay, go ahead.”

Halsin, still smiling, turned his attention to his hand. You watched him close his eyes, almost lost in the wave of peace that washed over him, finding it easier to inspect his features without his eyes trained on you. He truly was a beautiful man. You watched his lips that seemed to mumble a bit, and random twitches in his eyes like he was searching behind closed lids. He looked at peace, and damn if peace didn’t look wonderful on him.

The scars across his brows did nothing to diminish his appearance, and you couldn’t help but imagine what caused such a wound. Halsin hadn’t mentioned that in his story, at least not yet. You clenched your teeth a bit, suddenly feeling upset that something would dare harm this man in such a way. He was still a stranger, and it even surprised you to feel this strange sense of…protection over him? Whatever caused the scar, you just knew Halsin didn’t deserve it.

Your expression softened, and you felt like you could stare at him forever, fixing his image in your mind. But forever was short-lived as something else caught your eye. From the palm of Halsin’s hand, a tendril of soft, golden light flowed upward, accompanied by two more. You gasped, frozen, completely entranced at the sight before you. You half noticed Halsin open his eyes, but you couldn’t take yours away from the cloudy mist of golden light that streamed and danced in slow, intertwining patterns. The room suddenly felt warmer, comforting, like it was suddenly the safest place on the planet.

“Magic,” you heard Halsin murmur, and you finally looked at him once more, nearly gasping again.

The light reflected against his eyes, causing a warm glow as he stared at you carefully, gauging your reaction. The golden-yellow light danced across his face, shadowing and lighting certain features as it moved. You weren’t sure what to focus on- Halsin, or the orb of energy he seemed to conjure just from his hand. As though sensing your thoughts again, Halsin made it easier to choose. He extended his hand over the counter, directly to you. The tendrils of light slithered away from his hand, reaching for you, lazily flowing towards your hand.

Surprisingly, you didn’t flinch but remained so still, the only thing racing was your heart as a tickle fluttered over your hand on first contact. You watched the golden glow travel up your hand, passing over your cheek and simultaneously spreading across your chest. It was warm, like a soft blanket of protection. It was a strange energy that seemed to be attracted to you, both exploring and revering you as it encompassed you entirely. You released a sudden gasp, overwhelmed by the tingles that crept up your spine and expanded across your chest. A near-weightlessness feeling washed over you. Another sigh as the magic finally dissipated, leaving you with a deep sense of peace as a gift. A gift of…magic.

“Magic thrives where it belongs.” The sound of Halsin’s deep timbre shook you out of your sudden stupor. “It always knows its way home.”

Breathing a bit harder now, you placed both hands firmly on the counter, losing the stillness from before. Your robe loosened slightly but still managed to cover yourself mostly. “That was…amazing.”

Halsin’s smile was just as warm as the magic he recently conjured. “As are you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you were immediately lost in the beautiful warmth of Halsin’s gaze. His hands were also leaning on the counter, with the one he used for his spectacle being placed closer to you.

A million and one thoughts danced in your brain: affection, wonder, intrigue, confusion. The impossible becoming possible before your very eyes. An invisible thread formed between the two of you; a bond that ached to reel you into each other, a magnetic force awakening after finally finding the right field to pull itself into.

Halsin muttered your name, so sweetly from his lips, his head tilting slightly. A chill swarmed up your back at his voice. You decided then that you liked the way he said your name, almost breathy. He sounded so close. You would’ve sworn he whispered it into your ear except you were very much staring at him across the kitchen island.

“Halsin?” you managed to mutter, sensing the faint shakiness in your breath.

“Yes?” He was intensely focused on you, eager for whatever you were about to request. If you could read his mind, you’d assume he was ready to march around the counter to get closer to you the second you allowed it.

“What happened with… us? Why did you come here?” You nearly regretted it the moment you asked as his face fell and his shoulders slumped. But you had to know.

He hadn’t finished all he had to say, and you still had too many questions. From everything he said, it sounded like you had an amazing life together, all things considered, so what went wrong? Why was this man -elf- standing in the middle of your kitchen, in the middle of the night, from a land far, far from home?

Halsin’s hand slipped back, and he glanced away, frowning. Your stomach felt uneasy at his change in tone, in demeanor. But you patiently waited.

Still looking away from you, Halsin breathed deeply. “After we defeated the Absolute, and helped repair the city, we all went our own ways, for the most part.” He spoke so softly, quiet. “You and I returned to what once was Reithwin, where we lifted the curse. We built a wonderful life together. We spent two decades there, in blissful peace, occasionally leaving to visit our friends, sometimes taking us away from home a few months at a time, with your encouragement. Other times they’d come to us, staying for days or weeks at a time. It was a fulfilling life.” He finally met your eyes again, smiling gently but it did not quite reach his eyes.

“We were so happy,” he expressed, a faint lightness in his tone. “There were many moments I feared I would wake, and you would have moved on, ending the dream…. But you were always there, wrapped around me as the rising sun illuminated our room. And you never failed to reassure me how happy you were, with our life, with me.”

There was a sadness laced in Halsin’s calm voice and each moment a flicker of dread occupied his eyes as he stared at you while he spoke. You rubbed your lips together, trying but failing to suppress your fleet of nerves. Tonight had to be a record for how often your heart rate rose and calmed.

“One day,” he exhaled a deep breath, trembling. “We received urgent word from Lae’zel, calling for us all to meet her in the Astral Plane. She and her people were finally so close to defeating Vlaakith once and for all but needed the help of old friends to ensure victory. I was a bit hesitant to take on another such venture after a time of peace… but she was our family. To deny her our aid was out of the question.”

The gravity in his voice expressed to you how serious this choice was. You still had no recognition of who Lae’zel was, only from the brief stories he told. But here on Earth, you did have friends of your own who you would go to hell and back for, and they’d do the same for you. So you admired Halsin’s decision to aid this Lae’zel.

“So we prepared as best we could,” Halsin continued, “calling upon old allies who would be able to lend a hand and once again fight alongside the Saviors of Baldur’s Gate.” He made a gesture with his hands like he was about to introduce someone to a stage. “And before we knew it, we were back in the Astral Plane. It was chaos, magic against magic, dragons against dragons.”

He closed his eyes, his nose scrunched up in disgust as though reliving the memory all over again. It made your heart quicken the more he uncovered about this battle in a space where time did not exist. He told you that Vlaakith may very well have been a god, or was exceptionally close to godhood than ever before.

Halsin exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “We’ve faced formidable foes, as I mentioned, and she earned her place among them.” He looked away again, half turning his body. “We were waning. Vlaakith had great losses, but we were tiring ourselves just the same. Every blade, every cut, every flicker of magic was followed by a strange exhaustion. Perhaps the Astral Plane had unpredictable effects. It seemed to make us stronger but for a limited time and when that effect wore off…”

“She started winning,” you muttered. Not so much to him, but to yourself. You could almost picture it: fighting in a space of endless time, amongst stars, floating rock, and deceased titan-like gods. You emerged from your inner thoughts as Halsin began to speak again.

“But we have been broken before, and we never gave in to defeat. So we fought, and fought, using all the strength our bodies would allow, all the magic our energy could conjure…And we had done it. We defeated the tyrant, together, as we’ve always done, this time Lae’zel delivered the final strike. But—”

A rough breath left Halsin’s mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, fist clenching. You absentmindedly moved towards the side of the island, not completely coming to Halsin’s side, but noticeably closer than before.

Your heart was hammering, anxious for him to continue. But you had no words at the moment, only allowing Halsin to gather himself until he was ready to proceed. A few seconds, then more, and he opened his eyes, obliviously staring at the now empty space you occupied moments before.

“But Vlaakith still drew breath,” he gritted his teeth, a sudden ire dripping from his tone.

It almost frightened you, to sense the simmering rage that crept up his throat. This man who had been so calm, so gentle towards you, and still was, now seemingly fighting back an old vengeance. It was like the room suddenly felt heavier, brought down by a foreign anger that had nowhere to go.

You already missed the occasional smiles that graced his face a short time ago, the warmth of nature in his eyes as he gazed at you. Another breath left the large man’s lips, his broad chest rising and settling into a gentle rhythm. When he spoke again, there was still a taste of an underlying anger in his voice, more hidden now that he was no longer clenching his teeth.

“Vlaakith would not let death capture her without another,” he said, still not meeting your eyes. “With her last strength, she aimed a fatal blow at Lae’zel only to miss…” He finally turned to look at you, sorrow dragging down his face. “She missed because you leapt in front of her instead.”

Even under the dim lighting, you could’ve sworn the color left his tanned face. Your stomach tightened and a sudden wave of nausea lingered in the depths of your belly. You suddenly felt panicked, shocked, and tired all at once; like you were experiencing someone else’s emotions, someone else’s pain. You rested your elbows on the counter, leaning your weight onto it.

“So Vlaakith,” you swallowed, taking a breath. “Killed her instead? Killed…me?”

“Yes,” Halsin answered quickly, as if desperate to move past that truth. He started shaking his head, overcome by emotions. “It all happened too quickly. I couldn’t get to you fast enough. And by the time you fell in my arms, the Astral Plane was already beginning to claim you. You looked at me and…you said, in the most angelic voice I know…in every life.”

A wave of dread washed over you, sneaking into your pores and threatening to drown out your soul. You weren’t remembering anything, you weren’t visualizing this fatal moment and yet it felt like your lungs had the air violently sucked out of it. You clenched your teeth, trying to calm yourself and also feign that you were okay, not wanting to watch Halsin’s face contort to anymore worry. Grasping the edge of the counter, you were acutely aware of Halsin still speaking.

“So I spent the next 11 years without you, until one night, a dream. You came to me.” Halsin’s words pulled your attention back to him, your ears honing in on this new information. “It was unlike any other I’ve had of you before. It was…urgent. Real. You were repeatedly telling me to find you, your voice blending in and out of earshot. And just before I woke, your voice came beside my ear, I could feel your breath tickle my skin, you said but one word…‘Earth’.”

“I…I said that?” you stammered a bit, throat dry, trying to quell the strange reactions undertaking your body.

Halsin nodded, terse. “You did. I did not understand it at the time, for the only earth I knew was the grass and dirt beneath my feet.” He bowed, placing a fist across his chest. “But with the wisdom of Silvanus, and the aid of the greatest wizard I’ve ever met, I learned that Earth was a place. A world. Your new world.” Halsin turned, taking a step along the counter, then another, towards you. But he stopped when he caught your expression, and you silently thanked him for it.

You sensed he wanted to be comforting, to tell you this news as gently as possible, but it was becoming all too overwhelming again. You almost wanted to ask if he could conjure up some more magic so you could get enveloped in its sweet, soothing embrace again. So it could untwist the knots in your stomach and calm the rate of your heart with its golden light.

Halsin lowered his head, sullen, occasionally shifting his eyes from you to the empty space at your side. “It took another year to figure out how to open the right portal and the right amount of magic it demanded.” His voice was softer, lower, like he was losing confidence the more he continued to speak. “I was warned that it may be difficult to return or that you may not remember me. But I had to try… so Gale, Shadowheart, and myself, with the guidance of Silvanus, Mystra, and Selûne at our backs, entered the astral plane once again. There, a portal for me already awaited…”

He stared at you, softly searching your eyes, daring another tentative step closer. “And then I came here, to you… to the greatest love my heart has ever known.”

“Halsin…” you breathed, but he raised his hands, halting you.

“This may not be Faerûn, and elven blood may no longer flow through your veins. But your face, your eyes, your very soul is just the same. I can feel it.”

Another fleet of nerves sliced through you, your heart pumping fiercely in your ears, the beat of your pulse so intense within your wrists. Halsin was almost standing directly before you now, the heat radiating off his large frame reached for you, as eager as the golden tendrils of magic.

But he stopped before closing the distance entirely, not crossing the small threshold of space still between you. You avoided his gaze, but could still feel him watching you, and could hear the quick pacing of his breath, like he was trying his damnedest to calm himself.

Your name left his lips, a gentle plea to guide your attention back to him. An involuntary flutter decorated your cheeks when he said your name that way, the gentleness of it, fueled with decades of love. But even that was not enough to quell your pounding heart. You were stuck trying to understand everything Halsin was telling you, this man, this elf. This elf who was apparently 350 years old when you embarked on this wild adventure together, with friends who weren’t all human, and who could do great and magical things. You could do great and magical things. It was all so incredible, but also, it was too much…

Halsin’s deep timbre filled your ears, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice. “What are you thinking, my heart?”

“Please,” you muttered, startled by his tender words of affection. “You shouldn’t say that…” You dared a look at him, noting the strict narrowing in his brows and confusion in his expression.

So he said your name again, as a question this time, fear accompanying his voice. You sighed, suddenly feeling more overwhelmed with each passing second. His presence was so much, the closeness, his warmth, his words of affection for a love once lost. A love he believed to be you. So, you took two steps back, needing to reclaim the distance between you two, needing to find room to breathe and to think.

Your throat felt dry and you promptly found yourself reaching for a nearby water bottle, hastily swallowing as much of the water as you could. Breathing rapidly, you put the bottle aside and steadied yourself with both hands on the counter.

“Halsin, I…I don’t know…”

He remained still, careful not to further overwhelm you by standing too close. “You are having trouble believing me?”

You half-laughed, bringing your hands to your head, and dug your fingers into your hair. “Quite the opposite. In fact, this would be so much easier if I didn’t believe you.” You started pulling at your scalp, just a little before releasing your grip.

You started moving around the island but remained mindful not to get too close to Halsin, a million thoughts racing in your head. “If I didn’t believe you then I could just assume you were crazy, and that I was crazy for letting you in my house and I’d just ask you to leave and probably call the cops. It would be one hell of a story to tell my friends but—” You stopped pacing, finding the courage to look at him again. His expression was a mixture of emotions, but the worry in his eyes overtook them all.

“I believe you, Halsin.”

He smiled, warm, the expression so beautiful on his face. And it nearly broke your heart.

“I believe that you come from a place of what people here would deem impossible, and you had these amazing friends, and a life with…” you closed your eyes, breathing deeply. “But I’m not her, Halsin…”

You opened your eyes to find his smile falling, the sight nearly ripping you in two. You ignored the incessant nerves that ravaged your stomach, the loud beat of your heart that just could not rest. “I believe that you cared for that part of me... but that isn’t who I am, Halsin. I have no memory of anything you speak of. I have an entire life here.”

Halsin said nothing, silence seizing him. You rushed on, question after question, whatever thought you could pull out of your head from the sea of endless thoughts. “What am I supposed to do with this, Halsin? What was your plan after finding me?”

You waved your arms aimlessly, unable to control the issues spilling out of your mouth. “Am I supposed to go to your world, now? Do you stay in mine? Do you just sleep on my couch and we talk about it in the morning?”

“Perhaps, if you wish to wait for the morning sun, I—"

“No, Halsin. I don’t wish for that.  I—I don’t know what to do. But I do know this…”

You regarded him, taking a moment to gather yourself. He stood patiently, so quiet, and yet his eyes said so much. A budding fear was digging its claws into this large elf, right before your eyes. “I’m afraid, Halsin.”

He frowned, taking a step back and you quickly moved forward, throwing your hands up. “No, no!” you exclaimed, halting him. “Not afraid of you, I know I’m safe with you. I just…I think I’m afraid of all of this. I don’t know how to handle it. Maybe I need time or maybe I need…ugh.” You groaned in frustration, unable to find the words, unable to process.

Halsin lowered his head, a deep breath, then another. A twang of guilt poked against your chest, though you knew you had nothing to feel guilty for. He seemed like he was an incredible man. He was gorgeous, calm, a fantastic talker, and above all he managed to make you feel entirely safe despite his foreboding stature.

“I’m so, so sorry you lost her, Halsin,” you were half-whispering, careful with your words. “I have no doubt you were so loved. I can tell you are an amazing man and maybe if you and I met in other circumstances, and we were from the same world… who knows…” You tried to sound as comforting as possible but even you felt a twinge of sadness at your words.

And in that moment, you realized you wanted to be that person that Halsin crossed realms for. To be that person who was so deeply loved, and to feel the same in return. But you found it nearly impossible to mentally handle this. It was all so wonderful, phenomenal, unbelievable, and yet you believed it all, down to the very last word. And it terrified you that it was possible.

“I’m just a normal gal, who loves to write and watch movies, play games, and take walks. I’m not that remarkable, powerful sorceress who wielded a sword as skillful as a fighter. I’m not who you loved. I’m just me.” A long breath left your lips, and your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, defeated.

“I understand,” Halsin said, finally gracing you with his voice again. You needed to hear it right now, more than ever. You needed to know he would be okay. “Forgive me…in my haste to find you, to see you again, I failed to consider what that may mean for you.”

You smiled, meekly. “No, you longed to find your love again. If I was in your place, I would’ve rushed at the chance myself. I wish I could’ve given you the reaction you imagined.” Your head slumped, suddenly feeling heavy, and a sea of guilt swam harshly within you.

Halsin sighed, calm. “No, don’t say that. This was a lot to process, a lot to bear.” He walked towards you slowly, watching your expression closely so as to make sure not to overstep. When you didn’t protest or step backward, he proceeded. “And if it means anything, even if you’re just a normal gal, I know in my heart you are extraordinary.”

A burning sensation simmered in your eyes, and you swallowed, trying not to let your emotions completely consume you. Already too overwhelmed by what to even feel. Tilting your head upward, the closer Halsin came, tears almost threatened to spill when you got a deeper look into his eyes. Maybe you just needed time, time to figure out what this meant for you, what it meant for both of you. But how much time that was, you couldn’t predict. But Halsin’s warmth was hovering near you again as his eyes looked all over your face, smiling sadly.

“Thank you,” he murmured., deep “Thank you for opening the door, for allowing me into your home, for letting me gaze upon your beautiful eyes after a decade of only seeing them in my dreams.”

Your lips parted, but no words sounded from them. Only a gasp of uncertainty. An exhale of emotions you couldn’t define. He was leaving, and the thought made your stomach lurch. But what else were he to do? You had no idea yourself, torn between telling him to give you time and just accepting that you weren’t who he sought.

“I will return to Faerûn.” He shut his eyes, breathing deeply, then reopened them. “But it will bring me great peace to leave knowing that you are safe, that I was blessed with such a chance to be in your presence again, whether you recall the memories or not.”

You almost muttered another ‘I’m sorry’ but decided against it. You sensed Halsin wouldn’t want that, he wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for having done nothing wrong.

You took in his face, the small scar on his bottom lip, the red tattoo, the tiny strands of hair above his head that didn’t seem long enough to reach his bun. Halsin stepped closer, almost completely blocking the view behind him. You watched his eyes bore into yours; scanning your face, your cheeks, your lips, like he was reaffirming his image of you.

“I would only request one thing before I leave you,” he spoke deeply, a heaviness in his tone. Then he met your eyes again. “I would very much like to hug you, if you allow it.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head ‘yes’ despite the blood rushing through your veins. “Sure.”

You inhaled quickly and quietly, turning to face him as he moved towards you, never breaking eye contact. In one full stride, you were consumed by his warm, inviting, woodsy aroma with a touch of sweet sandalwood. And as his large arms curled around your frame, you could’ve guessed there was the faintest hint of…vanilla?

Your heart skipped as you turned your face to the side, tentatively resting your cheek against his firm chest. You heard him release a heavy sigh, feeling the strength of his chest as air filled and left his lungs. Halsin’s heart thumped rapidly against your ears, outpacing your own. You frowned slightly, spreading your arms further around his waist, as best as you could reach, and squeezed gently. Halsin responded to this, his thick muscles tightening around you, pulling you closer until you were almost cocooned in his protective and endearing embrace.

Halsin’s warmth was so consuming, steadily relaxing the rushing blood in your veins. His heart also seemed to calm, though still at a higher rate than what you presumed to be normal. Without thinking, you let your eyes close, feeling the bottom of his chin rest gently near your head.

You began imagining sitting around a warm campfire, under a star-lit sky. You were enjoying the company of faces you couldn’t make out, positive that you wouldn’t get their image right anyway. But you could almost feel the bond, the stories to tell for decades shared between you all. And beside you, a comforting presence. You saw yourself smiling, resting your head on a familiar shoulder as Halsin hummed a soft tune, his vibrations sending enticing chills down your spine. You smiled, both in this imagination, and while you stood wrapped up in Halsin’s arms.

You felt Halsin’s lower half move away from you a little, already missing the warmth he provided, but his arms remained securely around you. The sound of a distant rumble in his throat, almost something of a groan hit your ears, but you couldn’t be too sure if he was just taking another breath. Whatever it was, it made a spark tickle in your abdomen, and you had to clench your teeth to try and quell the sudden pleasurable feeling.

You weren’t sure how much longer you spent in each other’s embrace, or who made the first move to end this moment of peace. But you were both pulling away from one another, still connected by your hands holding each other’s forearms. You paused, staring up at the pools of genuine care in his mesmerizing eyes.

“Will you be okay?” you inquired, when what you really wanted to ask was ‘maybe you can stay?’ But a lingering fear wouldn’t allow you to, despite it gradually waning by the second.

“As long as you are, then yes.” He rubbed his thumb along your forearm, still hanging onto you. “Finding you at all is more than I could’ve ever dreamed of. And I will spend the rest of time being thankful, until my flesh finally yields to nature.”

Your lips parted, eyes darting between his. He left you speechless again, the sincerity in his words, the strength in his tone despite the sadness that made its home there. He stared deeply at you, perhaps waiting for you to completely sever the connection for he lacked the strength to do so himself. You glanced at his lips, how soft they looked, pressed together uneasily as Halsin watched you.

A flutter dashed inside your stomach, your speeding heart anticipating your next move as your gaze lingered on his lips. You exhaled softly, glancing at the scar on his chin, your finger itching to trace it but not wanting to let go of Halsin’s arms. Your gaze rested on his tattoo, where it passed down his cheek. So you leaned upward, pressing some of your weight on your toes. Halsin lowered a bit, assisting you, and slightly tilted his head, exposing more of his tattoo.

And when your soft lips pressed against his warm skin, a fierce electric spark jolted you backward. Your knees buckled and you nearly fell were it not for strong hands already catching you.

Part three!

[yoonmeowzz]

nct 127 ! being domestic

contents: nct 127 members x gn!reader, fluff, slice of life, established relationship, non idol au, use of pet names (babe, darling)

warnings: mentions of food (taeil and taeyong)

a/n: i've been thinking A LOT about johnny and mark and this kind of stuff so... yeah

⠀ ⠀⠀

johnny

even if people don't believe him, he's 6ft tall, so obviously he can reach every high place in the house. he enjoys seeing you trying to get things from the highest shelves but when you decide to give up and look for him, without saying a word he gets up and helps you getting what you wanted. he then feels his chest filled with this warm feeling he can’t explain, he just loves to help you, be there for you when you need him. he usually stays in the kitchen while you’re cooking, even if you told him to rest, just to get things for you.

“johnny…” he looked up from his phone and immediately went to take the bowl you needed.

“there you go, babe”

⠀ ⠀⠀

taeyong

taeyong appreciates every second he spends with you but late night talking is definitely his favorite thing to do with you. some days, he takes some snacks and drinks sneakily from the kitchen before going back to his room, where you are waiting for him with a smile. however, most of the time it’s just you and him hugging each other or simply lying next to each other while you talk about whatever crosses your mind.

“did you know that there was a greek stuttering orator? he’d practice hard every day to be able to speak in public without stuttering.”

“stop, y/n, i’m gonna get emotional”

⠀ ⠀⠀

yuta

on lazy days when neither of you have enough energy to do anything, he asks you to spend the day in bed. you accept without a doubt. y’all just cuddle for a while, maybe he takes a little nap while you’re on your phone. but his favorite part is lying down on your tummy and having your hands playing with his hair. he LOVES the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp, gently twisting each hair strand. eventually he falls asleep to your slow breathing as the only background noise and once he wakes up he’s all clingy and lovely.

“did i already told you how much i love you?”

“you did, yuta, and i love you too. so much”

“i love you more, darling”

⠀ ⠀⠀

doyoung

activities with doyoung are always aesthetically pleasant, so cute coffee dates at home with homemade coffee are something usual now. he takes his time making your coffee look great so you can take pictures to remember this sweet moments with him when you’re away. after having your cups ready y’all just cuddle on the couch covered in cozy blankets and watch a movie or talk about nothing in particular.

“you said you wanted to try caramel macchiato so i tried to make it. if it tastes bad i can give you my cup”

“thank you so much, doyoung”

⠀ ⠀⠀

jaehyun

this man’s music taste is immaculate. you usually spend your lazy time together listening to music together while cuddling on his bed. you’re lying on top of him, your head resting on his chest as you listen to his calm heartbeat and flash by cigarettes after sex at the background. with his hands stroking your back slowly up and down you start dozing off, his arms secured around you.

“sleep tight, y/n” you hear him whisper over the music before finally falling asleep.

⠀ ⠀⠀

jungwoo

he’s kinda a clean freak so you try to keep things neat. however, he doesn’t mind if you leave the living room or bathroom messy cause he prefers cleaning together on weekends since he has lots of fun spending time with you, no matter what y’all are doing. if you’re tiding your shared bedroom he’s going to try on every piece of clothing he finds. sooner or later, your cleaning session becomes a fashion runway.

“check this hoodie, y/n!! do i look good?”

“you look amazing!!”

⠀ ⠀⠀

mark

messy hair mark, wearing his glasses and pajamas should be illegal cause he’s going to be the death of me. when he’s not busy he likes to spend his mornings with you, especially playing the guitar for you. you’re both sitting on his bed, he just plays some accords until you decide what song you want him to play. it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know that particular song, he’d learn it for you. and when he starts singing ever so softly… i’m combusting

“i just wanna live in this moment forever…”

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haechan

when he’s free from work he spends his time playing video games. but there’s something about playing mario kart with you that feels different. it may sound stupid, but competing with you or making silly bets like “the loser has to give the winner a kiss” is something really intimate and special for him. he usually is very competitive, but this time he doesn’t mind losing, having you by his side is already a win.

“if you win the tournament i’ll do everything you ask me for a week”

“and if i lose?” you raised an eyebrow.

“you have to love me forever”

⠀ ⠀⠀

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ~ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐨𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

previously titled Talk Dirty

word count: 1.7k

genres/tropes: romance, dealer!chris, sturniolo au, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

teaser: here

summary: Christopher Sturniolo has built an unshakeable empire in Los Angeles, California. He manages "business transactions" and "cargo export and intake" along with his two brothers, Matthew and Nicolas. One night the three gentlemen attend a high-end nightclub in the more affluent district and are met with a nervous bottle-girl working her first shift. Christopher strikes up conversation in the way only confident men can until an accident causes her to spill a drink on him. In a panic, she drags him to the bathroom to clean him up, and, quite amused, he lets her. Thus, their strange friendship begins.

warnings: drug usage, alcohol consumption, guns mentioned and used (non-sexual context), smut, mature themes and topics

notes from bambi: this is a multi-part series, and updates will be sporadic. lmk if you're interested in this one <3

Cassandra's POV:

The year I almost died held more excitement, danger, and tenacity than any one person deserves to encounter. Definitely more than I knew to prepare myself for…I wonder sometimes, as I look back on the events of these last few months, if the choice to go back and change anything is one I would make. 

But then, if I did, I would never have met Christopher Sturniolo, and I can confidently say he is worth every moment I spent at gunpoint.

My life as a bottle girl seems so far away now, though at the time, I couldn’t imagine anything more glamorous. Every darkened hour of my shift filled with music and soft neon, running trays of drinks beneath beautiful people on shining poles, weaving past tables covered with swaths of chips and cards and surrounded by only the most elite clientele Orange County, California so graciously offered.

It stands to mention that at the time I felt I had no talent, no prospects, and no education, and therefore would only get so far in life. Until Christopher, I sold myself short in every aspect of my life.

The hour of 2 a.m. always buzzed–the air itself breathed to the rhythm of some unknown heartbeat, all exemplified by the lively hum of the building of vices I called “work”. At 2:07 a.m. three gentlemen in dark suits accompanied by a small entourage were ushered into Private Room 9 and as I only just clocked in, I took them onto my books for the evening.

Pressing my hand on the opaque glass, I pushed the thin, floor-to-ceiling door inward and braced myself for whatever I might encounter. Working in the pleasure business left no room for shock or awe, and though I knew better than to comment on anything I may see, my face hadn’t quite picked up that particular skill.

The entourage caught my attention first. A dark-haired and strikingly beautiful young woman sat primly on a cushion near the darkest corner of the room, running her elegant fingernail along the edge of her empty glass. To one side of her sat a scantily-clad, gorgeously built man with a side shave, his curls tamed into a neat row down the back of his neck, and to the other side, one of the men in suits. I realized then that every man in a three-piece that sat before me also wore the same facial structure–I was looking at identical triplets. 

“You look so pretty!” the man with the side shave said to me, reaching over to lay an arm behind the girl.

“Thank you, sir, I try,” I responded, hoping to keep the conversation light and fast to disguise my glaring inexperience. I was rewarded with a simple chuckle–nice job. “How can I serve you tonight?”

One of the triplets spoke up. His voice had a gravelly quality that I made sure to note internally. “Pinot noir for the room, please.” He carried on with his individual order as I kept meticulous, if not shaky, written record in my notepad. 

“For you sir?” I directed this to another suited man, this one sporting a deep red tone to his hair. 

“Champagne, thank you.”

“Are we celebrating?”

The last triplet, who had up to this point remained silent, cracked a smile in the soft lighting. “You could say that.”

“And you, sir?”

He lounged in the plush couch beneath him as if completely at ease, which rendered me baffled–though perhaps this scene didn’t phase him as it did me. The first shift at a new job has a funny way of making you forget everything you’ve ever known.

“What do you recommend?” This one’s voice flowed like honey, smooth, slow, warm. 

I paused, thoughts trampling over themselves in an effort to tumble most ungraciously from my tongue. “...That depends, sir. What taste are you looking for?”

He waved his hand. “Christopher. Call me Christopher. You’re an employee, not a servant.”

The room chuckled along with him and returned to their own conversations. 

“Alright…Christopher,” I said, tasting the name for a moment before releasing it. “We have an excellent collection of reds, if you’d like a variety…Though I have to suggest the Oak Knoll Merlot, she has a bit of a plum taste without being too sweet,” I suggested. I clenched my fists slowly in the hope none of them would notice they’d previously been shaking–I really hoped I’d just told him the right shit, because if not, this night was about to go downhill very quickly.

Christopher nodded. “That one, then. Thank you.”

I dipped my head and turned to leave. 

“Miss,” his voice hummed, “What was your name?”

I looked back at Christopher and his loosened black tie, laid in such sharp contrast to his white button-down. “Cassandra.”

He smiled again. “Pleasure, Miss Cassie.”

I ducked out of the room as blush bloomed across my cheeks.

My heart thundered down to the main floor and all the way to the bar. With trembling hands I poured the wine, and unsure wrists did their best to support the tray of drinks. Weaving back through the crowd, I managed to keep from any mishaps, but only barely. One misstep and hundreds of dollars would splash all over patrons, staff, and the freshly cleaned floor–and off of my already-measly check. Finally off the social level, I ascended the underlit staircase and made my way toward the private rooms. The music pounded through the walls, our DJ losing himself in the height of his set, and the floor seemed to breathe in time with the sultry bass. Room 1, 3…5, there’s 7, 9, here we go…

I leaned against the door with my hip and entered the room once more. A faint, sweet smell touched my nose, and it twitched of its own accord.

“She’s back,” said Side Shave. “Hey, girl.”

“Hi,” I offered weakly, trying my hardest to focus on the drinks in hand. “Champagne…for you,” I said as I placed the tall flute in front of what I hoped was the right triplet. He smiled, revealing a small gap in his teeth. Dark red hair, gapped teeth…that’s one of them. Now how to tell the other two apart? 

“For you…” I murmured to the one with the gravelly voice, and he nodded his thanks. “The Pinoit for the room,” as I placed it on the low center table, “And the merlot for you, Mr. Christopher.”

At that moment, the glass door shattered into a thousand pieces, and I yelped, jumping in shock as the wine went flying all over Christopher.

Christopher's POV:

A man fell unconscious on the floor as bits of glass tinkled down around him. The culprit responsible for the door, I assumed. Looking around, I took note of the lack of injury, at least injury of the physical. Poor Cassandra stood frozen in shock, hands trembling, face drawn, taught with fear. “Matthew. Nicolas,” I said, “Please call security and have this man removed.” My brothers nodded and, after carefully stepping over the slovenly, drunken man on the floor, disappeared down the hall. “Ms. Thompson, take our lovely server to the bathroom please-” Tara stood to lead her out, but Cassandra suddenly leapt into action. 

“Your shirt, I am so sorry sir, let’s get you cleaned up, I–oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry, I–” As she rambled, Cassandra took a firm and unyielding hold on my wrist, dragged me up from the couch, and before I could say a word, she tugged me around Tara and Larray, out through the door frame, past the arriving security guards, and down the darkened hallway. I blinked rapidly for a moment as my body ceased to become my own, held captive by the strange woman who led me toward…the bathroom? 

Sure enough, she ducked into the Women’s room, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit in apprehension. “What exactly are we doing in the restroom?”

Her breathing had become labored as she gulped oxygen around her stuttered apologies. “Your shirt, sir, it’s going to stain, we’ve got to–here I’ll just…”

My jaw went ever so slightly slack at the sight before me. Cassandra, who only moments before had been a simple picture of nightclub elegance, now furiously loosened my soaking tie, unbuttoned my dripping shirt, slipped them off my body, and threw them into the sink, running the water as cold as she could manage, scrubbing away at the red-stained fabric. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to–You have to know that was an accident, oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry–”

In her manic cleansing, she failed to notice my hand until it rested on her shoulder, at which point she jumped, and my lip twitched. “My apologies. I don’t think you’re of any use to anyone if you deprive your body of air and keel over dead on the tile.”

She stood stock still, panting from the exertion of the past few minutes, her eyes locked onto mine.

“I know this wasn’t your fault. It wounds me that you think I’d be so unfair,” I said with what I hoped was a comforting smile. “After all we’ve been through together, you really think I’d take something so accidental and make it so personal?” I prayed she understood the sarcasm.

Cassandra cracked a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared, though I would have none of it. “I saw that smile. There’s no going back now, I’m afraid.”

She looked to the floor and took a moment to breathe, or so I assumed. When she turned her gaze to me again, I saw a pooling of tears at the base of her eyes. 

Change the subject, you idiot. “Where did you learn the cold water trick for wine stains?” I asked, hoping to give her time to recover.

Cassandra went back to scrubbing relentlessly at my now-sopping wet shirt. “I know that cold water is best for blood stains, so I assumed it would work for wine as well,” she said quietly, the soft hiss of the water almost beating her out for volume. I snorted. “Do you deal often with blood-stained clothing?” Her gaze snapped to mine, and, realizing my mistake, Of course she does, you dolt, she’s a woman, I tried to recover myself. “Or do you take every man to the bathroom and strip him naked?” And now you’ve accused her of prostitution. Zero for three, Christopher.

pt two: here

request to be on the taglist here

thanks for reading!

- bambi <3

[smehur]

Some Harry/Draco Fic Recs

There is so much great fic in this fandom, I'm struggling to keep track of everything I read and like. I already mentioned some of my early favorites here, but I have since found several more.

In no particular order:

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi

In which Harry did not go to Hogwarts, but is instead found by a group of seventh year students led by Hermione, and recruited for the war at the ripe age of 17.

I'm not usually a fan of AUs, but this charmed me within the first few paragraphs with irresistible characterization. Harry is a little different than how I imagine him, but the premise allows for it. And the Harry/Draco romance is possibly the sweetest, softest I've seen so far. 10/10 would read again.

In Pieces by dysonrules

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.

When I got this rec myself, I wasn't sure I would like it, because, well, the summary spells it out, doesn't it? But I ended up loving it. It's incredibly sweet and tender and sad and hot. I couldn't put it down.

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone. Somewhere along the way, Draco realizes he's been thinking in lines, when he should have been thinking in circles.

This story moved me like few others. It's a masterpiece of 'show, don't tell' in that elusive way I have never been able to tap in my own writing. It speaks in images, and the images capture incredibly specific, perfectly chosen details that paint years and decades of slowly fading hope. Just the thing for one who considers their own aging and mortality increasingly often.

Take You Home by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

From the author of one of my early favorites (Right Hand Red), a hugely enjoyable read that makes love to a post-war Draco (and his long hair in a man-bun that he fastens with his wand). I gulped this down in one sitting.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

I am in love with this premise. It works so well? While I wished for a bit more shipping and a bit less collateral, I still enjoyed this story immensely and went on to read almost everything the author wrote for the pairing.

An Issue of Consequence by Faith Wood

Draco has woken up in an alternate universe. Or he has woken up utterly insane. Nothing else can possibly explain why Harry Potter suddenly seems to think he's Draco's boyfriend.

The light-hearted summary belies the gravity of the plot of yet another favorite tale from the pen of my favorite author. The POV immersion is so deep that I absolutely did not see the resolution of the mystery until it was revealed, and then I was just as shocked as Draco. Fabulous stuff.

A Doll's Tale by Faith Wood

Harry/Draco, as observed by Draco's childhood doll. Please note, this doll is very self-absorbed.

This... broke me a little, lol. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing (too) heavy, angsty or dark about this story. It's as innocent as they get? But it just clicked so well with the idea I've been brewing in my own (yet to be published) writings, of Draco as this... sensitive boy hiding under the guise of confidence and cruelty. And the plot-twist, Merlin. Was it obvious? Maybe, but not to me! It struck me like a (fluffy toy) train and days later, I'm still recovering. I want to take this fic and hug it when I go to sleep.

Actually, I'm in a bit of a pickle, as my instinct is to list pretty much every single thing written by Faith Wood that I've read so far. But that would be silly, so I'll list only one more, as a treat.

Beholden by Faith Wood

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

I already mentioned this one in that inaugural post I linked at the very top, but: 1) it's now completed and can be safely binged on; and 2) the only thing I said about it back then is that it deals with chronic pain, which was particularly relevant at the time because I was at the peak of sciatica and could relate to poor Harry all too well. But that's just one of the many merits of this incredible story. Now that I'm feeling better, I'd praise it first and foremost for the patient exploration of the characters' inner worlds and the gradual, methodical and inexorable buildup of their feelings and convictions that eventually leads to falling in love. A masterpiece of slow burn. I plan not only to read this again, but to study it in the hopes of improving my own craft.

Tagging the authors I found on here: @dysonrules @faith2wood @corvuscrowned @lqtraintracks and also my friend @kuraiummei who helped me find some of these gems.

Thank you for enriching my life. ❤️

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Hello!

I have come to add my subpar ideas to the Death-Seeking Creator (which I will shorten to DSC for my own sanity) AU! Ignore them if you'd like!

Someone else mentioned the adrenaline junkie aspect, but what about other stuff that they've (maybe) evolved into, given their godhood likely having effects on their organic parts?

For example, what if dying is now the only way they can sleep?

I can see Teyvat or maybe even their own biology trying to keep them safe by altering them to need less sleep, as well as making them more alert and heightening their senses.

This, however, has gone a bit too far - they can't sleep anymore due to all the deaths they've suffered, body so keyed into survival mode that they can't physically find it in themselves to rest no matter how hard they try, and drugging them doesn't work anymore after Kaeya's sleep potion escapade.

The longer they're alive, the more and more unstable they become due to the restlessness, leading them to seek their next 'nap' even more desperately.

After like three weeks without a death, they just scream 'I can't take it anymore!' and self-delete with a sharp rock or whatever, only to then pop up somewhere else bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, having just experienced the equivalent of a full night of rest.

Or what if it's that they don't experience hunger instead, after who knows how many poisonings and attempts to eat being interrupted by the sudden appearance of an executioner?

Decadent, exquisite, utterly perfect meals are being laid out at their table once they've been 'accepted', only to touch absolutely none of it since they just can't feel hungry when they've been awake too long.

Yet as soon as they revive, they're practically starving, shoveling whatever slop is around into their face with the mindless urge to sate the bottomless pit in their stomach, half-mad with the returned urge.

This has led to them occasionally just showing up in the middle of the wilds post-mortis and joining a pack of friendly animals in eating a dead thing, much to the horror of the local populace and probably their 'acolytes'.

Bonus points if they offer said horrified onlookers a piece, like, 'want some? You can kill me after if you finish it all :)' just because they viscerally enjoy traumatizing their shitass betrayers.

But that's just my dogwater take. I can't make you do anything with it. Feel free to salvage parts of it and make something infinitely more useful.

Omg you devious devil I absolutely love all of this!!! Gold star for you!

While I haven't really thought about that particular aspect of DSC, I definitely can see some of this happening! Plus you are right to suggest that them being a god would mean they have no use for sleep or eating. Though I would believe that it's mainly their survival instincts, something they choose to ignore or even override once fully submerged into death seeking, that is to blame for this. Once they've been accepted they just refuse to do so because they want it to lead to another death (which wouldn't happen since they lost the need for it once isekaied).

Also that image you described of the creator eating a dead animal with a pack of animals is absolutely amazing. While it doesn't fit DSC too much I absolutely can see that for more of a wild animal creator au, one where they aren't being hunted but because of the fear of potentially being hunted they decided to become one with nature. Eventually ending up evolving into something more beastlike and even losing the ability to talk since it's not needed. Oho imagine the look of awe the characters would have seeing their creator becoming intuned with Teyvat.

[coupsie-daisies]

Power Over Me - Part 1 | Jeong Yunho & Kim Hongjoong

Pairing(s): Werewolf!Jeong Yunho x Witch!OC x Werewolf!Kim Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong x Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho x Song Mingi

Genre: Smut (18+ ONLY), Urban Fantasy, College AU, Enemies to Lovers, Childhood Sweethearts, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: The sheer existence of Yunho's best friend, the person he imprinted on nearly a decade prior, near his pack sets Hongjoong on edge, and things go to absolute shit when everyone finds out why. Yet another thing that Blue has to fix, just like they always do.

Word Count: 25k

Warnings: Cussing, everyone in the pack is poly, unprotected sex, choking (technically nonsexual), excessive talk of scents, mentions of Knotting, mild infidelity, Yunho has a tragic backstory, angst (especially at the end of this chapter), voyeurism, I know I missed something so please let me know!!

Power Over Me Playlist

Power Over Me Pinterest Board

A/N: This is my piece for the Clownracha summer 2024 fic exchange. It's written for my beloved @ferrethyun, I hope you love it babe!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @brownieracha // @decaffedthoughts

Masterlist This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any platform is prohibited

Magic was, in its best state, a finicky thing. It relies entirely on a competent user to carry out its task, needing to be guided and shaped lest it break free and wreak havoc. Under a skilled, watchful eye, however, magic was a cure for just about anything. Magic is as old as the universe itself, and as time passes, the training of magic users and beings infused with its essence became essential to the growth of the world.

Those with the ability to manipulate magic were abundant in the world. It became common for them to rise to power or notability in many roles. Witches were in high demand as medics, teachers, mentors for those who knew less about the way the world worked. The water spirits and those that lived in the water worlds were vital to the growth of trade and travel. The Fae were consulted for matters beyond what the eye could see, and creatures of the night were revered for their power. As time went on, as the world grew and magic flourished along with it, the two became very intricately intertwined. So, naturally, the University of United Magic grew too.

The University started small, a coven of witches cooped up in a house where their elders taught others the trade, the tricks, and the sacred secrets of the past. Eventually, though, the University matured into a whole sprawling campus akin to any large college. All sorts of magic were taught within the looming buildings, and the lush nature that surrounded everything was healthier than anything touched by man's bare hands before.

Among the growing student body was one of the brightest witches on the continent, the child of two of the oldest, largest bloodlines in the history of magic. Of course, they had no intention of letting that go to their head. The rest of the student body, however, seemed to keep it fresh in their mind. People were never surprised when they came out top of their class yet again, or when they won another certificate or award of excellence. They simply understood magic in a way that other people couldn't begin to comprehend, forming it into something never before seen and harnessing it with the same level of care taken when handling a wild animal. It came more naturally to them than anything else.

Which, perhaps, was why they so rarely left their room beside for their classes, too busy experimenting with their newest brews or enchantment combinations. They were always seeking ways to grow their practice, if for no reason other than fucking around and finding out. Still, to say that they had privacy was a bit of a stretch. Not only were people regularly seeking their assistance with issues that basic magic couldn't begin to touch, but more often than not there was one particular werewolf stretched out on their bed, watching them work with a quiet, satisfied adoration.

"Must you stare at me when I'm working?" Blue deadpanned, looking over their shoulder for a moment before turning back to the swirling, shimmering liquid trapped in the beaker on their desk.

"I'm not staring! I'm just...watching. Like a normal person." Yunho answered casually. He sat up, long legs folding on the bed. He was, in fact, staring. But it was hard to blame him what with the way that he enjoyed magic. As a turned werewolf with no magical heritage, there wasn't much magic that he could practice himself. He had really only applied to the University to learn to brew his own remedies for his condition -- his rut suppressants and potions for the pain and whatnot. Not to mention that a degree in Magical Literature could come in handy in the future. But, most of all, Blue had applied to the University, and if there was one thing that had never changed about Jeong Yunho it was his dedication to following Blue around like a lost puppy. He'd been doing it since they were just little kids.

"Right, definitely normal. Can you pass me that bottle there? The lavender concentrate?" And like the obedient dog that he was, Yunho jumped up to pass the dropper bottle over to them. He stayed there, watching as they carefully dripped three perfect beads of the liquid into the mixture. It hissed, and bubbled, and turned a vicious shade of red before settling. It let off a subtle aroma of wood smoke and something sort of sweet. Blue seemed satisfied with this, wafting the steam towards them before carefully pouring it into a bottle and stoppering it. 

"What's that one for?" Yunho asked, picking up the bottle and turning it back and forth in his hands. Blue grabbed one of the sticker labels that was laying on their desk and scrawled a name onto it.

"It's a fuel substitute for fire demons. For Juyeon from our History of Enchantments class last semester. He's been having trouble with his current fuel, so this should help him until he can get it sorted out." They got up, taking the bottle from Yunho, labeling it, and tucking it into their bag.

They were always doing things like this, working tirelessly to help others in new and creative ways and expecting nothing in return. Yunho admired that. They said it was their duty to the world, to do what they could for those who couldn't. They'd been studying magic since they were little, learning under their grandmother and picking up tricks from covens all over the world. Blue's grandmother was one of the most powerful witches in the entire country, and most importantly, she was a wonderful woman. Yunho remembered that very well from their childhood, from the day he'd met her and Blue so many years prior.

The day Yunho met Blue was a blur in his mind. He'd lost a lot of blood, and the therapists said that trauma could make his memories disjointed on top of it. But he remembered the fresh linens hanging outside, the way that the breeze carried the scent, and how it was so strong in that moment.

He wasn't sure how the old woman had found him, or how she'd been strong enough to get him back to her cottage all by herself. He didn't remember how long the walk had been from the forest to the front door, but surely it had been a lot of work. But he did remember how she'd laid him carefully on a blanket on the workbench, the way that the pain had seared through him, and how he'd cried. It wasn't the violent, heavy sort of crying - he didn't have the energy for that - but it had felt like it to him. Every heaved breath ripped through his body like the claws that had put him in this state in the first place.

Grandmother recognized his condition easily as she worked her magic to heal him, stitching his wounds back together with her gentle chanting. This room, Yunho remembered, looked very much like what he'd imagined a witch's home to look like. There were dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and sigils painted on the door frame, and the shelves and cupboards that lined the walls were full of jars and bottles of things he didn't know about, all labeled and neatly organized.

And then there was Blue. They were so small and unassuming as they stood against the wall, far enough out of the way that their grandmother could work but not so far that they couldn't examine what was being done to him. Yunho remembered their eyes; wide, and curious, but so very calm in the face of all the blood and pain.

Grandmother hurried around the room, speaking as she gathered her ingredients -- maybe to herself, or maybe to her grandchild who was certainly listening intently. She measured everything carefully into a bowl, beginning to grind everything together and chanting something over it, a language Yunho didn't recognize. He was cold, but it was so late in the summer, and that would have worried him if he wasn't so preoccupied by how sleepy he was getting. His eyes were growing heavier by the second, and every breath was beginning to feel like an uphill battle. Was he shivering? His mom had his jacket in case the night got cold on the way home, he wondered why she didn't put it on him before he left. Or maybe she'd just brought it with her...wherever she was now.

"Stay with us, now. Just a little longer." Grandmother soothed, her voice gentle and worn like the leather bracelets that Yunho admired when he went into town. He liked those, and he liked her voice too. "Bluebell, now."

Bluebell. The word repeated in his mind as he watched the child across the room jump into action. It sounded so pretty the way it rang in his ears.

"Bluebell," He repeated, he wasn't sure why, and it was so quiet that he could barely hear it. Then they looked at him with those eyes again. Maybe that was their name, it would be very well suited to them, he decided, so pretty. They were very pretty too. But not like flowers, he thought, like the rocks along the edge of the stream. Different, not so delicate and fragile as the flowers, special, something that he wanted to hold onto.

They passed something to their grandmother, a small jar of ground ingredients that she sprinkled into the discolored mush in her bowl. Then she mixed some more, asking for more jars and adding them to her odd mixture before moving closer to him.

"This might hurt," Bluebell said quietly. "You can hold my hand if you want to."

They offered their little hand to them, and Yunho took it in his. They must have been near the same age, but he was already big for his age. His parents said he'd be taller than his dad if he kept growing like this. He thought he'd like that a lot, being tall was very important to him at eight years old. He reached for their hand, holding it in his weakly on the table.

Blue watched on, caring eyes scanning his face for discomfort when Grandmother began applying the poultice to his wounds. He was weak, and tired, but even so he hissed at the burn and tried to squirm himself away, but he couldn't make it very far in his condition anyway. Grandmother shushed him, but not in the mean way that most adults shushed him, it sounded more like a comfort.

"Will he be okay?" Blue asked. Yunho's eyes were squeezed shut, and he gripped their hand a little tighter when they tried to pull it away. They didn't try to move again afterwards.

"He'll be alright. I'll wrap his wounds up and we'll let him rest for a while. I imagine he must be very tired now." Grandmother said. Yunho heard her begin to move around, cleaning up the messes she'd made. A hand stroked his hair, now damp with sweat and maybe a little bit of blood. "We'll get him cleaned up and fed when he wakes up. But for now, I think we best leave him alone."

"I don't want to leave him alone. Can I stay until it's time to eat?" Blue asked. It wouldn't really matter anymore, Yunho was already fast asleep on the bench, his hand relaxing in theirs. But their grandmother nodded anyway, a smile on her face. She was sure that Yunho would recover just fine with Bluebell at his side.

"You're, like, a really good person," Yunho said, settling back onto his friend's bed. Blue rolled their eyes. This was something that Yunho felt the need to tell them often. And, sure, it was nice being praised, but Blue didn't do this sort of thing for the praise or the gratitude. If anything, they did it because they felt obligated to. See, very few witches understood the intricacies of magic the way that they could. That meant that it was their responsibility to help how they could, to teach what they discovered, the things that they learned. Which was also part of why they always had tutoring slots open -- not that they really wanted to be teaching people who were most interested in cheating off their work. But Blue did it all, most importantly in their opinion, because they loved magic.

"Can you stop with that?" They said, pulling out a notebook that they'd filled with their goals for the week and scratching off a bullet point. "You praise me too much."

Yunho shrugged.

"I'm serious, though! You know that. I know a lot of people who wouldn't try half as hard as you do even if they were getting something out of it."

Blue was about to argue back when a knock sounded at their door. It was a sound that they sometimes dreaded, but this time they were relieved to have someone intervene and cut Yunho's rants short. They jumped up from their chair, stepping over Yunho's bookbag on the floor and opening the bedroom door.

"Hyung," Yunho said, surprise evident in his voice as he perked up from the other side of the room.

"What brings you here?" Blue asked, stepping aside to let the older man inside. Seonghwa looked breathtaking as he always did, maybe a side effect of being an Incubus, or maybe just sheer luck. He brushed his hand through his dark, wavy hair, looking between Yunho and Blue.

There weren't many things that weren't shared in Yunho's pack, very few secrets existed between the boys, so Blue knew it must be fairly severe for Seonghwa to be hesitating in front of the werewolf.

"Do you need to talk to me in private?" Blue asked. They didn't notice the way that Yunho started to sulk before the other man even got a chance to answer. He wasn't obsessed with Blue. They were, however, attached at the hip and had been for so long that most people found it unnatural being around only one of them or the other outside of classes. Everyone knew they were a package deal. If you wanted Blue, you could count on having to deal with Yunho. So Seonghwa shook his head.

"No, it's fine." He answered, making himself comfortable in the plush armchair pushed into the corner of Blue's dorm. The witch nodded, sitting back down at their desk. "I really hate to do this, I know you're always busy, but I think I might need your help Y/N."

They flipped to a new page in their notebook, already writing Seongwha's name at the top before looking back to him.

"What can I do for you?" They asked. To anyone else, it might have seemed clinical, but the upward tilt at the corner of their lips spoke volumes to their friends.

"I need a...I need something to help me not need to...feed so often." He explained, a pretty flush creeping up his neck as his dark eyes flickered to Yunho. Yunho choked on a flustered cough, dropping his gaze to his hands which were suddenly busying themselves with one of the plushies on Blue's bed. Blue, however, wasn't bothered in the least.

"And has the need been getting stronger lately?" They asked, jotting down a quick note on the page. "Or has this always been a problem for you? Not being able to have enough sex to satiate your hunger?"

It was clear that their lack of discomfort around the topic helped Seonghwa relax, an easy smile starting to creep onto his face.

"It's not been a problem before, not since I was a lot younger. But I'm reaching the peak maturity of a sex demon, it's about time for my hunger to peak, isn't it?" He pointed out. Blue nodded. "It wouldn't be a problem, but I'm too busy to be meeting the need. I just wanted to...improve my quality of life, I guess."

Blue gave another understanding hum, not that they had any experience with an Incubus' need for sex first hand, but they'd read about it plenty. Of course they had. Besides, they'd known Seonghwa since he'd met Yunho back when the two started at the University.

"Have you tried heat suppressants? That's what the nurses recommend, right?" It wasn't exactly the same, but it was supposed to have a similar effect.

"Yeah, I tried, but it didn't help. Just made me feel weird. Hongjoong said they made me smell weird." His nose crinkled at the idea of smelling bad. Blue laughed.

"So Hongjoong doesn't mind you trying to dial your sex drive back? I figured he'd be jumping at the opportunity to sleep with you more." They half scoffed. Hongjoong was a werewolf like Yunho, the leader of the pack. He'd first met Seonghwa during his rut and practically drove the rest of the pack members out of the dorm for a few days.

It made sense, really, for a hungry sex demon to be drawn to someone who couldn't be satiated. A match made in heaven, especially since they bonded not long after. As much as Blue didn't get along with Hongjoong, they made a good couple.

"With his extra class this semester he doesn't have time to keep up with me either." Seonghwa admitted. The two of them had an oddly competitive relationship, Blue chalked that up to Hongjoong being the overly intense, proud bastard that he was.

"Right, so heat suppressants are a no go, have you tried lust potions?" A dumb question considering he wouldn't be here if he hadn't already jumped through all the hoops already, but they had to ask anyway. Seonghwa nodded. "Alright, I'll try to figure something out. Just give me a bit of time. Yunho, library trip?"

The library was a place that both Blue and Yunho frequented, generally together, and generally tucked into the same study room they were in now. It was easier for them to work together behind locked doors where they couldn't be bothered or bother anyone else. There was a precarious stack of books sitting to Blue's left, and a handful more flipped open and spread out on the table. Their notebook was laid in front of them while Yunho slumped back in his chair, spinning his pen around his long fingers.

"So, what's the problem again?" He asked. Blue sighed, rubbing the bridge of their nose before turning back to the books.

"Incubi need sex to live. It feeds them, keeps their souls burning and tied to their bodies. Seonghwa is trying to find a way to obtain the energy he needs without actually having to have sex." They said, drumming their pen against the paper with a dull tap, tap, tap.

"Right. And that's difficult why exactly?"

"Well, if the heat suppressants didn't work, it means that he doesn't need to suppress the need to feed. He needs a supplement. Kinda like....a vitamin." They sat up straighter, pulling one of the books closer to them and flipping through a few pages. "But I'm not sure how to make a supplement for sex. Or if it's even possible."

Yunho took one of the books off the stack, a thick, heavy one on all sorts of advanced potions that he hadn't even begun to study yet. He traced a finger down the index page.

"If anyone can figure it out, it's you. What about a modified aphrodisiac potion?"

"Aphrodisiacs are known to stimulate Incubi hunger. It'll make it worse." They dismissed the idea.

"What if you, like, reversed the effects or something? Like you did for that one project last year."

Blue shook their head again. This did this often, posed a problem to Yunho and let him throw darts. He always missed, never really coming up with a helpful solution, but it did push Blue to think outside of the box, seeking ideas that they couldn't find on their own. And as far as Yunho was concerned, helping them by being incompetent about magic was still helping them and it still did wonders for his ego.

"There's ingredients that wouldn't work properly together. It could cause a lot of problems. I don't think I should be taking that risk unless we really can't figure out something better suited." They picked up a different book, beginning to flip through it.

"I was thinking maybe there's some sort of preexisting magic that we could...I don't know, harness, I guess? Concentrate and manipulate and use as ingredients. It might be difficult, but I don't think that simple ingredients are gonna cut it."

Blue slumped back in their chair, bringing the book closer to their face and scrunching up their nose as they tried to think. It was a habit that they'd had since they were just little, their entire face growing tight when they worked on something hard. It made Yunho want to reach out and smooth away the wrinkles, tell them to relax, remind them that they were downright brilliant and would get there if they just gave themselves time.

"Okay, what kind of magic do you think could help? I don't imagine nature magic could be of much use." He said, doodling on the cover of his own notebook.

"Maybe some sort of love or illusion magic. If I can concentrate that, pour it into a mix sort of like the fuel potion I made, it could act as a substitute for the type of energy they get from sex. Maybe a siren might be able to help? But I don't think there's a way to make that physical." They looked around, scanning the titles of the books they'd been tossing around carelessly. "Have you seen my book on-"

"Sirens and merpeople?" Yunho carefully shifted the books on the table until he could hand them the volume they were looking for. Blue thanked him in a barely there voice, flipping to a chapter about Siren magic. It had always fascinated them, it didn't work the way that most illusion magic did. It was like a spell cast by the Siren's bodies themselves. Nobody had been able to harness it, which led to a whole revolution some hundreds of years ago after a handful of revolts by Sirens in unjust magical study environments, a very nasty thing with lots of losses on both sides, though the Sirens had won their rights and their respect from it. So, all things considered, Blue really didn't expect to be the magical researcher to figure that one out, at least not at such a young age.

"Maybe a Cupid?" Yunho asked. It was an offhanded comment as he picked at a callous on his hand, but the lack of a response caught his attention. He watched with wide eyes as Blue's grin grew.

"Yunho, you might just be a genius." They said. "I'll need to talk to some people, see if they might be willing to transfer a couple samples to me. I haven't worked hands on with Cupid magic before, it's real unpredictable stuff. Hence all the stories and whatnot. They get their names from a truly tragic story, but you know all that already."

"Maybe Mingi can help. He should be back from visiting home soon." Yunho was still beaming from the praise, chest warm.

Yunho's relationship with Mingi was...complicated. They weren't boyfriends, not technically, and it was hard to say if either of them were properly in love with each other, but there was an unrivaled sort of affection there. They were happy when they were together, and they brought out the best in each other. So they were together often, not to mention they shared a room at the pack dorm. Most of the relationships between the pack were like that, hard to define and transcending the typical rules of friendship. They were based on the innate feeling that came from being together. Blue admired that, or maybe they craved that. It was sort of like how they were with Yunho after all the years together.

"Perfect. You'll let me know as soon as he's back, right?" Blue questioned, still flipping through their books. After all, it never hurt to have a backup plan, and a backup backup plan. So on and so forth, they were nothing if not prepared. Yunho just nodded quietly as if it were a dumb question to ask him.

As they continued reading up on all sorts of different magic that may or may not be an effective sex substitute, Blue found their will to stay awake dwindling. Their eyes were heavy, and a glance at the time told them that it was significantly later than they'd realized. It was a few more hours of groggy studying before their head dipped onto their arm, cheek squished against their forearm and eyes shut tight.

Yunho looked up from the essay he was working on about some book published about sixty years before he was born, a fond smile growing on his lips. This was another constant, almost as regular as their library study sessions. Blue was comfortable around Yunho in a way that they weren't with nearly anyone else. They let their guard down enough to find peace with him, to fall into rest even when they weren't trying to. Yunho never said anything about it, lord knows they needed the sleep.

So the two of them stayed put for a while longer, Yunho working on his project and Blue drooling just a little onto their arm. After another hour or so of them not stirring even a little bit, Yunho began to worry about them waking up stiff. So he packed up his things, and cleaned up as many of the books around them as he could without disturbing Blue's nap. Finally, once almost everything was put away, he shook them awake lightly. It took a couple of tries to get them to fully blink their eyes open, squinting up against the fluorescent lights.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." He teased, reaching to brush their hair back into place while they rubbed their eyes. It damn near made his heart ache seeing them like this. It always reminded him of when they were little kids and he'd stop by their house to pick them up on the walk to school. "Do you wanna go back to yours or stay at my place for the night?"

With Mingi gone, there was nobody sharing his room back at the Pack's dorm so, like he generally did, he invited Blue to stay the night. It was closer anyway.

"We can go back to my dorm. Don't wanna bother the pack."

They both knew what that really meant; They didn't want to see Hongjoong in the morning. Despite Blue having a close relationship with everyone in the back, and Hongjoong being in charge, the two of them could never seem to get along. Blue had really tried at first, it was important for Yunho to have a pack and they'd never want to stand in the way of that. Still, no matter how much Yunho played the buffer, the two just couldn't be around each other. So he didn't argue, just stood up and shrugged.

"I'll go put these books on the return cart. Meet you out there, okay?" He easily scooped up the stack of books from the table, piled concerningly high, and managed to nudge the door open.

Blue moved slowly, their body weighed down with grogginess and their brain refusing to focus. Their mind was fogged over with sleep and the fading warmth that hung around with it. But soon enough all of their things were neatly organized in their bag and they found Yunho waiting right where he said he would.

The walk back to Blue's apartment was short, but it was taking longer with them dragging their feet. Yunho silently arranged his backpack to sit against the front of him, crouching down to pick Blue up on his back. Normally they argued, but they never said no to a piggy back ride. This time they didn't even speak as they climbed onto his back and let him take their weight.

Winter was just around the corner, and the late fall air bit at their cheeks and their fingertips. Blue hated the cold, but luckily Yunho played personal space heater, more than happy to hold them close and warm their cold hands in his own.

When they got back, it was late enough into the night that all of Blue's own roommates were asleep besides Yeji, but her nocturnal nature always kept her up more often than she would have liked. But even she was tucked into her room for the night when the door code chimed them in. It was easy for the two to move in unison, taking their shoes off and making for Blue's bedroom. Yunho continued inside, finding clothes in the dresser drawer devoted to him while Blue detoured to the bathroom.

Nights like this were easy, space shared in comfortable silence as they both got ready to sleep. They worked around each other like a well oiled machine, Blue washing their face while Yunho brushed his teeth next to them, taking turns getting changed. Impromptu sleepovers were almost over-practiced. So as Yunho climbed into Blue's bed, taking his side by the wall and waiting for them to finish up, he didn't feel anything less than at home surrounded by the scent of them. Blackberry and vanilla and warm musk cutting the sweetness surrounded him, as it should be in his mind. It was his favorite scent, a vast ocean of Blue that he set himself afloat in, washed away in the calm waves.

When Blue finally came back, they were wrapped in one of Yunho's shirts, face glowy from being freshly washed and eyelids growing heavy with sleep again. They climbed into the bed next to him, and even in his half asleep state, Yunho welcomed them into his arms. He nuzzled his nose against their hair once they'd gotten comfortable. Blue's presence calmed him down from even the worst moods. They smelled like home, and Blue was the closest thing to home that Yunho had anyways.

"Go to sleep," They mumbled, almost as if they could sense the way his mind was sinking dangerously into memories of the past. Thinking about his childhood had a habit of keeping Yunho awake at night more often than he cared to admit, but Blue could read him like a book. They saw through him when he'd act like he got enough sleep, or when he'd wake up beside them and insist it wasn't because of a nightmare.

"I will. You first," He said. And generally they would argue, they always did with their endlessly caring nature, but they couldn't find the energy to argue this time. They closed their eyes, relaxing next to him.

Yunho laid there for a while, idly stroking Blue's arm until he was sure they'd fallen asleep next to him. Then he was alone with his thoughts, a dangerous pastime. When he was alone with his thoughts, the guilt started to set in all over again. There was a familiar feeling of missing what could have been so badly that it ached settling into his bones, and for a moment it was like he couldn't breathe at all with how heavy it sat on his chest.

The first time that Blue slept beside Yunho was nearly a year after they first met. It was late evening, and he'd been laying in his room at their grandmother's house since morning. He'd gotten much more used to the moons, but sometimes it still brought out a side of him that he was afraid of, a side of him that reminded him on the night he'd lost everything. His home, his family, his humanity.

That was the thought that made him curl in on himself, tears running down his face. He was old enough now that it felt embarrassing to cry like this, so desperately. Nevertheless, the sobs shook his body and his tears stained the pillow under his head. His entire body was still aching from the transformation even after he took the tonic he'd been given.

He'd known Blue was there when he came, but he was too ashamed to face them, too exhausted. He felt like a monster all over again, he shouldn't be trusted to be near anyone, let alone someone who wouldn't hurt a fly. He shivered in the bed then, the only light shining in was from the waning moon through the window, casting the room in an eerie, silvery glow that sent a shock of terror through Yunho's body.

He heard the door creak open, and he buried himself even deeper beneath the worn blanket. He could smell them, the familiar scent signaling the identity of his visitor. He wasn't used to that still, how intense all of his senses were now. It had given him migraines for several months until he adjusted to it. Grandmother said that they'd fade with time. He hadn't had anyone else to ask, so he'd just had to grit his teeth and trust her.

"Yun?" Blue whispered, closing the door behind them and tiptoeing closer to his bedside. "I brought your medicine. You should take it if you're awake."

They sat at the end of the bed, tentatively reaching out to touch his leg, checking to see if he was awake. He jumped nearly out of the bed at the touch. His eyes were so big and round and filled with a terror that made Blue pout.

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry." They held out the vial like a peace offering. Yunho took it with shaky hands.

"You should go," He said, fumbling with the cork in the vial. Blue reached out, touching his hand gently to move it aside and opening the vial for him. He drank the liquid, wincing at the bitterness coating his throat. "It's not safe with me."

Blue furrowed their brow, taking the vial from him and setting it on the table by the bed.

"My grandmother wouldn't let you stay here if you were dangerous," They said, voice entirely matter-of-fact. "Besides, you're just a kid. You can't be so dangerous."

"I'm a werewolf," He argued.

"Yeah, but you're a boy too. And your transformation won't happen again for a month. So I don't think you're very dangerous as just a boy." They poked at his arm as if testing to see if he was stronger than they thought. He was, but they didn't mention anything about that. "You should sleep, you know. You need a lot of rest to recover, that's what my grandmother says."

They were so young, not yet ten, but they spoke like they knew so much more about the world than he did. He nodded. And maybe he knew back then that he'd follow them wherever they led him.

"Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?" They asked. Yunho hesitated. He didn't want to be alone, but more than that, he wasn't sure if he trusted himself. Blue must have seen the dilemma he was having written across his face, because they shooed him over on the bed and laid down beside him. "Close your eyes."

He did as they said, closing his eyes and breathing them in. They reached out, stroking his hair out of his face like his mother used to, like their grandmother did too.

"I'll stay, you don't have to worry. Just sleep now."

It was such a confident statement, and his mind and heart were yearning to believe it. So he closed his eyes, and Blue fell asleep before he did. Even so, he didn't run away. How could he?

Several more days of tireless research and experiment followed their long night at the library, and several more requests from classmates were filled by Blue in between classes, and homework, and little dates with Yunho at their favorite cafes and the arcade that he frequented with the boys. Finally, Mingi came back from his time away, and Blue was kicking their brain back into high gear.

Yunho was still in class when Blue made it to the pack's dorm, and Blue triple checked the schedule in their phone to make sure that Mingi would be home. They knocked on the door and waited for someone to open it. However, several moments passed by with nobody acknowledging their presence. So they knocked again, louder and longer this time. They'd barely managed to pull their hand away from the door when it swung open. On the other side was Hongjoong, quite possibly the only person in the entire world that simply couldn't stand Blue by presence alone.

"Yunho isn't home yet," He said, moving to let the door close in their face, but Blue pressed their palm against the wood.

"I'm not here for Yunho."

A flicker of confusion, and maybe frustration, washed across Hongjoong's pixieish features as he silently questioned what could have brought them there besides Yunho. Hongjoong wasn't a bad person, at least anyone who knew him well believed that to be true, but he was viciously protective. Much to his chagrin, Blue liked to joke that he was an under-trained guard dog, and he supposed it made some kind of sense. He didn't like feeling like his emotions were out of control, which meant he didn't like having new people in his space. Usually the pack kept their friends and flings out of the dorm, not entirely to keep them away from Hongjoong, but they wouldn't say it was entirely unrelated. But Yunho and Blue had been together for so long that separating them was an act of cruelty, even for Hongjoong.

"Why are you here, then?"

"Is Mingi here? I had a few questions about Cupids, and Yunho said he got home last night." Blue took a step closer in hopes that Hongjoong would move enough to let them in. Unfortunately, he was just as stubborn as they were. He didn't budge, leaving them intimidatingly and uncomfortably close to each other. Despite Hongjoong's relatively small stature, the aura about him was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine. Blue crossed their arms over their chest.

"He just got back, he should have time to relax. He hasn't been home in a while. Besides, don't you spend all of your time with your nose in a book? Can't you get your information from that? Since when do you ask for help?" He scoffed, lips turning up into a sinister smirk. The one he always got when he felt challenged. Blue had been dealing with Hongjoong's inexplicable prejudice for long enough to know that he was all bark and no bite.

"What better way to learn than from the source? But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that. I've never even seen you pick up a book." They pressed even closer, and the way their scent wrapped around him and the warmth of their skin radiated against him was enough to knock Hongjoong back a couple of steps, leaving room for Blue to step past him.

Hongjoong made a sound in his throat, one that couldn't quite be considered a growl, though it still made the hairs on Blue's arms raise. They kicked off their shoes and made themselves at home like they always did. Hongjoong tried not to snap. It wasn't even entirely Blue's fault, the moon was coming around, and he always got unreasonable this time of the cycle. Especially when someone he didn't want around was invading his home.

"Whatever. He's in his room, go bother him instead of me." He returned to the sitting area, flopping into the plush armchair with his phone.

"Whatever you say, Alpha," Blue said, not giving him a chance to bite back before heading for Yunho and Mingi's room.

Getting the pack all together in one dorm had been an ordeal that Hongjoong and Seonghwa had fought through tooth and nail during Blue and Yunho's second year at the University. They'd petitioned the board, claiming that having the pack be separated was detrimental to their health and, in turn, their ability to attend their classes and be upstanding students. It wasn't untrue in the least, being apart from the pack was hard on them all, especially those from pack-oriented species, and the school would have been stupid to fight them and risk stepping on a law or two in the process.

So, the boys had been moved into one of the largest dorms on campus, a four bedroom accommodation with two full bathrooms and a decent kitchen. The living room was a little cramped, but none of them ever minded. As such, all the boys were stacked two to a room, but that tended to work in their favor anyway.

Blue knocked on the door, waiting for the deep cadence of Mingi's voice to invite them in before turning the handle. The Cupid was sitting on his bed, wrapped in a cozy looking hoodie with his platinum hair falling unstyled in his face. When he saw Blue, a grin split his face. The two of them were fairly close given the relationships they'd both built with Yunho.

"Hey Mingi," They greeted, sitting down on Yunho's bed opposite him. "I hope I'm not interrupting you. Yunnie said he'd make sure you made time for me, but I don't wanna bug you."

Mingi shook his head, fingers fidgeting with the charm hanging on his phone case, a gift from Blue for his birthday - imbued with an anti-anxiety charm.

"You're not bothering me, don't worry. I'm not sure what you needed me for, though."

"I'm trying to work on something for a friend, but I'm coming up short. I was thinking that maybe if you teach me about Cupid magic I might be able to figure it out." They explained, flashing a sickeningly sweet smile at him, the one that made people melt to their will.

"Me?" Mingi was surprised, but Blue nodded adamantly.

"Yes, you. You're one of the only people I know that's patient enough to stand me. Plus, you're my favorite Cupid. But don't tell Channie, he'd be so sad." They laughed, fishing in their bag for a notebook and a pen. "So, can you tell me how it works?"

The next half an hour was Mingi trying and sort of failing to explain how Cupids harnessed their magic to guide people to each other. It was an essence, he explained, showing them the shimmering magic that he could produce. It played sort of like a pheromone but in spell form, a magical component of attraction that emulated the feeling of falling in love with someone. Even just being in the presence of Mingi as he let the pink haze sparkle between his palms was making Blue's mind feel a little bit strange. 

Blue reached out, feeling the way the air around the magic pulsed and plucked the magic from Mingi's hand, willing it into their own palm. That was another thing that Blue picked up easily, the manipulation of unfamiliar magic. It was, if they were to be completely transparent, the only reason that they excelled so heavily in their classes. Magic seemed to obey them in a way that it didn't for most people. They swirled the mist around their fingers before drawing a bottle from their bag to cast it into. They watched the way it moved, calm and slow like a miniature galaxy wrapped up in glass.

"You're the best, Mingi. I might be back if I need more help figuring it out. Is that okay?" They asked as they stood up. Mingi got up with them, stretching his arms over his head.

"Please, when have I ever said no to you? You can come over whenever." He said, a shy, sincere smile rising on his face. See, Yunho had a soft spot for Blue, and Ming had a soft spot for Yunho, so what the three of them shared was particularly special. Blue was grateful for it, the knowledge that they could trust Mingi the same way that they did Yunho, and that Mingi would always take care of him if Blue wasn't able to. They smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand before heading for the door with the Cupid hot on their heels.

"I should go. Lots of work to do. But I'll let you know how this goes? We can grab coffee or something?" They said, situating their bag back on their shoulder and sliding their shoes on at the door. They spared a smile and a wave over to where Yeosang and wooyoung were cuddled up in their makeshift movie night nest. "And don't forget about game night at my place on Friday. Everyone's invited, Yunho's idea. Let me know who all is coming."

And with that Blue was back on their way, leaving the building with a bounce in their step as they headed home to pour themselves into Seonghwa's supplement.

It was another two days before Yunho saw Blue, far too long as far as he was concerned. Which was why he turned up at their door, being greeted at the door by one of their roommates on the way out. She smiled and let him in before closing the door behind herself. Their other two roommates were playing some video game in the sitting room, bickering aimlessly about something as they tended to be when he came in. They paused long enough to say hi and tell him that Blue was still cooped up in their room. 

"Can you bring them something to eat? I don't think they've been out since last night." One of them added. He was sweet, a guardian angel with visuals more like a pixie, and he had a habit of keeping his watchful eye on his friends.

"Thanks, Woong." Yunho sighed, grateful that he’d already planned ahead. He knew well that Blue had a habit of locking into whatever project they were working on and completely forgetting their own basic needs.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, knowing they wouldn't answer, expecting it to be one of their roommates checking up on them. He let himself in, and even upon realizing that it was Yunho, Blue didn't look up from the elaborate spread of materials set up on the desk.

"Yunnie, sorry I didn't answer your messages. Been busy," They said, finally sparing a glance and a tired smile over their shoulder. They looked downright exhausted, but that spark in their eye was burning brighter than ever.

"You're almost done now?" He asked, recognizing the look. They were pushing through the last leg now, more determined than they were when they started. He held out the container of food he'd packed from home for them, and they took it. Immediately they set it to the side, returning to stirring the miniature cauldron sitting on their desk.

"I think so. Just a few more minutes, then I can add in the final ingredients and then....I think it'll be all done after that." They smiled, that wholeheartedly proud one that made Yunho feel like his chest was being lit on fire. "Do you wanna try it for me? I wanna make sure I didn't add too much of the Cupid magic concentrate."

The average person may have shied away from being used as a glorified magical lab rat, but Blue was nothing if not diligent, and Yunho had tried so many potions and spells for them that he knew he could trust them with his well-being. Barring the time that they accidentally made his skin start turning blue, but that was apparently some sort of magical allergy. So he nodded and moved to sit down out of their way.

"Do you think it'll still work if I'm not a sex demon? Shouldn't you ask Soyeon or someone to help you out?" He asked. They held up a hand for him to pause, sprinkling a dark powder into the mixture and chanting a few words over it. Once they were done, they spun in their chair to face him.

"It should be enough to see if its intended effects are strong enough. And then I can ask Seonghwa to help me tweak it from there. But I just wanna get it to him as soon as I can. He really seems to be struggling with this."

Yunho scrunched up his nose. From the amount of nights he'd had to sleep with headphones on, it didn't sound like Seonghwa was suffering exactly, but he didn't feel the need to divulge that. Blue turned back to the potion, pouring a small bit of it into a tiny cup and offering it to him.

"Drink. It might still be a little warm, and it probably tastes like ass, but that's what this is for." They explained, offering up a piece of candy along with the potion. He hesitated, looking down at the cup full of deep maroon liquid. He swirled it around the cup before caving under his best friend's heavy gaze. He took a breath, then threw the potion back in one swift move, swallowing it as quickly as he could and trying desperately not to gag at the taste that coated the inside of his mouth. The candy followed quickly after, easing the horror he'd experienced.

"And what exactly is this supposed to do?" He asked, even as he felt a creeping warmth running through him.

"Make you feel like you've just had an orgasm, basically. That afterglow, you know? Sexual satisfaction. That's the feeling that Seonghwa feeds off of." They said it so nonchalantly that Yunho nearly choked. He was no virgin, but he wasn't even sure that he could put a finger on that feeling that Blue was describing. "I would try it for myself, but sometimes I sort of...wish my magic into working on myself. But I haven't managed to do that with anyone else. Not yet."

Yunho was trying to listen, but he was too distracted by the heat radiating through him, the relaxation tugging at his muscles. He shivered, humming out a pleased little sigh. His head felt a little heavy, and his body almost ached with the feeling of relief.

"Yeah, I think it's working." He said. Blue looked over, jotting down a quick note about the way that his face had flushed in their notebook, and Yunho couldn't tell the dull shock of vulnerability apart from the faded shivers of pleasure that thrummed through him. There was something about being so openly observed in that state that he couldn't exactly explain, so he was grateful that they didn't ask.

"Good. We can deliver this tomorrow. Don't think I feel up to the Pack right now," They admitted. Yunho had closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He definitely understood that. Despite their sometimes excitable roommates, Blue's dorm was much calmer than his own. Maybe that was a small part of why he escaped to their room so often. Second, always, to spending time with Blue.

"Sure, whatever you want babe." He agreed, opening his eyes to look at them. Blue nearly startled at how dark his gaze was, weighing heavy on them. "How long is this thing supposed to last?"

"A few more minutes. Shouldn't be longer than 30?" They didn't sound sure about that, and Yunho shook his head in disbelief.

"Why do I let you do your little experiments on me, again?"

Blue opened the container of food, finally beginning to eat and setting Yunho's mind at ease.

"Because you love me so much that you'd do anything for me. Duh."

Right. Duh.

Days at the Pack House were always full of chaos. Even the most normal days like this one had a lot going on. To be expected when you had a dorm full of young men of supernatural descent. It was almost time for the moon, which meant that Yunho's anxiety was peaked, and that time of the month was when Blue spent the most time at the dorms. Which, coincidentally, was when Hongjoong spent the most time out of the dorm. Surely unrelated, Yunho insisted, but Blue knew better. And, quite frankly, they were silently grateful for his absence. One moody werewolf was more than enough for them.

But Hongjoong being out when he was at his most vulnerable, or at least at his most volatile, usually meant that Seonghwa went with him to keep him out of trouble. So Blue became something of a dorm mother, helping to keep everything tidy and keep everyone fed.

 It was a good thing for them too, they figured, kept them from diving too deep into their work when they should be taking care of themselves. Surrounding themselves with people who took care of them in return instead of other students who just treated them as some sort of magical ATM was - unsurprisingly - good for their mental health. They sighed, stirring the fried rice they were prepping for everyone's lunches.

Meal prepping wasn't on the metaphorical list of responsibilities for them, but it was a comfort that they found. And Seonghwa let them since it meant everyone was being pampered. So they carefully packed the pork they'd cooked earlier into containers while waiting for the rice to finish up. Meanwhile, San had coaxed Wooyoung and Jongho into playing a game with him in the living room, the entire dorm filled with sounds from the screen and the shouting between the three. Yeosang was curled up in his favorite chair, supposedly working for a project coming due in one of his classes, but his eyes hadn't left the other boys in ages. Blue smiled fondly.

Being with the pack felt like coming home. They'd never had much family. Their parents were always busy, away saving lives and solving problems as part of various magic councils, and their grandmother was generally busy with work, though they spent much of their time working together. So, for a long time, it had really just been Blue and Yunho. Having so many other people treat them like they were part of something laid a blanket of belonging around Blue's shoulders, one they wouldn't trade for the world.

As Blue looked around the living room, the only boys unaccounted for were Mingi and Yunho, likely cooped up together in their room like they generally were when Yunho wasn't feeling his best. Blue remembered how jealous they'd been when Mingi first came stumbling into their lives, watching their other half be swooped up in a whirlwind of someone else. But now they were just grateful. Mingi was all too familiar with anxiety, so it was easy for him to help Yunho when Blue was busy.

Yunho was, in fact, curled up against Mingi's frame, their long limbs tangled together. The low, thrumming ache in his bones was really starting to settle in now with less than two days to the full moon, and his moods were becoming unstable which, as always, led to the usually bright natured boy turning into a recluse in fear of hurting one of his pack mates. They never deserved his attitude, and they were always patient with him, but he'd hurt Wooyoung's feelings one too many times to feel comfortable spending time with them in this state.

Mingi ran his fingers through the other boy's hair, picking up easily on the tension that was building in his body.

"Stop thinking so much," Mingi mumbled. Yunho tucked his head under Mingi's chin with a quiet, puppy-like whine, breathing in the familiar strawberries and cream scent that rolled off of him. It was almost sickeningly sweet, all Cupids tended to be, but he didn't mind it in the least. It blended well with the cologne that he wore, turning the sharp edges smooth on Yunho's senses. He toyed with the hem of Mingi's shirt, seeking something to do with his hands.

A knock came at the door, and Mingi granted them entrance with a soft but gruff 'what?'. Yunho buried his face deeper into his chest, pressing himself somehow even closer. But then Blue was there, leaning over the both of them to stroke Yunho's cheek.

"Wanted to check on your guys. I made extra food in case you're hungry." They said, voice soft like silk in the calm air, nearly lulling Yunho into a trance. This was maybe his favorite place to be. "We're gonna watch a movie while everyone eats so maybe Wooyo will settle down. Jongho is antagonizing him again."

Yunho shook his head. The young banshee's shrieks were already too loud in his ears with plenty of space and a closed door between them. He didn't really feel like facing them head on. Neither Blue nor Mingi argued. Blue leaned down, pressing a kiss to the crown of Yunho's head.

"Alright, well, I'll bring some food anyway. Just in case."

They left, and Yunho felt his chest ache as if it were going to cave in at the distance between them. He always got like this, helplessly clingy with Blue - and sort of with Mingi too, but never like he was with Blue. But they'd been there for him since early on, more than anyone else in his life, and it was as if his entire being knew that there was nobody he could trust the way he trusted Blue.

"They worry about you, you know." Mingi said, pulling away enough to look down at Yunho. The werewolf didn't answer, but his brows pulled together as he thought. He didn't like the idea of making them worry, but he knew that much was out of his control. He'd tried his best to act normal, but it was hard when everything was too loud and every touch made his skin crawl, and his bones felt like they were shattering in his body on some nights. But Blue didn't need to worry about him, he told them that time and time again, but they never listened.

"They shouldn't. They know it's going to happen every month," He grumbled, voice still hardly audible in the room.

"But that's never stopped us. I mean, if you're suffering, it makes sense that they want to fix it. Fixing things is what they do. And you're the person that matters the most to them in the world."

The words weighed on his mind. Of course he knew that the two of them were close, and he wouldn't hesitate to say that they were the most important person in the world to him, a part of his own personal pack as far as he was concerned, but it hadn't fully occurred to him that maybe they felt the same way about him.

"What are you thinking about?" Mingi asked. Yunho didn't get a chance to answer because Blue came back then with two plates of food for them, setting them both carefully on Mingi's desk which was pushed up against the wall between their beds.

"Get some rest. I'll check in one more time when I get ready to go home." They reached down, brushing Yunho's hair from his forehead to press another chaste kiss there, and any thought in his mind was immediately silenced. And just like that they were gone, and the sliver of light from the hallway disappeared, and that ache was back again, and every thought in his mind was so loud that it felt like his head would burst.

"I don't know what I'd do without them." He answered after another few moments of quiet. "It hurts so bad when they're not here with me. I don't want to feel that way."

"Then don't be without them."

Mingi leaned down, pressing a short kiss to Yunho's head, right over where Blue had left theirs, before letting him curl up again, holding him close to his chest.

It was several hours later when Seonghwa dragged Hongjoong home for some rest. He was exhausted, and irritable more than anything. His mood swings were worse than Yunho's, and he had a tendency to hyperfocus even more than usual before the full moon, like his mind could only handle one thought at a time. When they got back, he couldn't even bother saying hi to the rest of his pack - and Blue - who were sprawled out around the living room. The scent of a freshly cooked meal still lingered in the dorm, and the noise from the television was enough to give him a headache, so he headed straight for their room with Seonghwa hot on his heels.

Blue didn't give it a second thought until the end of the movie. It was getting late enough that they should leave soon, or crash on the couch which was always an open invitation in the dorm. But, before that, they headed for Seonghwa's room. They knocked on the door lightly, trying not to bother Hongjoong too much while he rested. When the door opened, it seemed they hadn't succeeded, because Hongjoong stood on the other side, his hair tousled as if he'd been asleep, but his eyes were heavy enough that Blue knew he wasn't getting any rest. If he had just a little more patience for them, they'd have been happy to help him remedy that. There were about a million concoctions to help him sleep.

"Really?" He snapped, a growl rumbling in his chest.

"Calm down, Alpha, I'm just here to give this to Seonghwa. I'll be out of your hair in no time." They said, Despite their teasing words, they were gentle with their tone, much like they were trying to soothe a feral puppy.

"I asked them to come, you can let them in." Seonghwa said. Hongjoong's dark gaze stayed on Blue before he was sulking back off to his desk, the several tabs open on his laptop stealing his attention again. Blue closed the door behind them, letting the darkness engulf the room again, aside from the color shifting LED lights casting slow, colorful stretches of light around the room.

"Here," Blue handed him the bottle. "Drink about a shot once a day and we'll see how it works for you. Just text me about any side effects or anything unusual. Or if it doesn't help anything at all. Then we can work on it a little more until it's just right."

Seonghwa smiled, setting the jar of liquid down.

"You're an absolute lifesaver, you know that? There's nobody like you." He told them. Blue laughed, shrugging off the compliment.

"I just do what I can do. But I have class in the morning, and I think your little wolf might be getting sick of me. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Without another word, Blue saw themselves out of the boys' room, closing the door behind them and stopping by to say goodbye to Yunho and Mingi one more time. They were relieved to see the dishes wiped clean of food. They kissed Yunho's cheek, then Mingi's, and said goodnight.

The next day was going on like any other, about a billion notes spread in front of them on their desk as the professor droned on about the magical compounds that formed celestial magic, and the complex history of divination amongst the human world using them. It would have been fascinating if Professor Lim wasn't such a jumbled teacher. But Blue took notes anyway, copying down everything they wrote onto a separate copy for Yunho who was missing class for the next couple of days until he was feeling well again. The full moon was only one sleep away, and the University was always more than accommodating for those with disabilities, magical or otherwise.

It was in the middle of the last class of the day, a more laid back one thankfully, that Blue's phone started buzzing on their desk. They picked it up quickly, silencing the call. Nobody paid it any mind, but being the definition of a picture perfect student that they were, Blue was mortified. They declined the call from Wooyoung, sending a text that they were in class and would call back later. They were granted another couple of minutes of peace before their phone began to buzz again. They huffed, putting down their pen and declining another call from Wooyoung. The third time, they had half a mind to block him, but a glance at their phone stopped them in their tracks.

It was Hongjoong's number this time, their screen lit up with 'whiny wolf' written across it. They froze, mind coming up with about a hundred terrible options for what could be happening. Hongjoong didn't just call to chit-chat with people, least of all with them. Maybe to ask about some stubborn bit of magic he was dealing with, but he was much too proud to ask them for help with that. It had to be Yunho, he had a habit of getting terribly sick before his transformations, too overwhelmed with his pain and anxiety until he'd worked his body up into a tizzy.

They shoved their phone in their pocket, messily gathering their notes and slipping them into their bag. They stood up, chair scraping against the floor, but they didn't care about that as they took the lecture hall steps as fast as they could. Everyone was working on their respective assignments, so it wasn't too much of an interruption as they explained that there was a family emergency to their professor and booked it into the hall.

They pulled their phone out, the device frantically vibrating in their palm all over again. They swiped to accept the call, pressing it to their ear as they walked fast enough that they were almost running.

"Hongjoong, what the hell is going on? I was in class, what happened?" They hissed, though it was hardly angry. Their mind was too full of worst case scenarios to make room for the usual reactions that they saved for him.

"Get over here now. I don't know what you did, but you're dead, do you hear me?" He growled. Blue was somehow left with more questions than answers as the line went dead. But even so, they knew how protective he was over his pack, they remembered the way he'd ripped into one of the older students for trying to take advantage of Yeosang's sweet disposition to use his magic.

So they picked up their pace, running across campus to the pack dorm, then taking the stairs in hopes that it would counter the elevator wait time. By the time they made it to the door they were breathless, chest aching as their heart pounded against the ribcage. They banged on the door, and a moment later Jongho opened it for them.

"Seonghwa-hyung. He's not doing great. Hongjoong-hyung has been flying off the handle all day," He said, closing the door behind them while they kicked their shoes off and immediately started down the hall. Of all the outcomes they'd imagined, they'd never even begun to consider something being wrong with Seonghwa. Maybe they should have grabbed their medical kit on the way, they thought, but they'd been far too frantic to think ahead.

They knocked on the door, barely finishing before it was tanked open. Hongjoong grabbed their wrist, dragging them inside and slamming the door shut behind them.

"What the fuck did you do him?" He asked, backing Blue into the door. They clenched their fists. They knew that fighting him wasn't the answer when he was like this, especially with his transformation coming. He wouldn't hesitate to hurt them. They nudged past him as gently as they could, walking over to the bed where Seonghwa was laying down, skin shining with a light sheen of sweat. They reached out, brushing his dark hair back to lay a hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong with him? He has a fever, what else?" They asked, pulling out their notebook to jot down his condition. "When did all of this start?"

"He hasn't been able to eat, he could barely stand up. He's...he's weak and exhausted." Hongjoong was pacing now as Blue held their hands above the Incubus' head, muttering a soothing spell under their breath and letting the magic seep into him. "It was after he took that fucking potion or whatever it is that you brought. The suppressant or whatever the hell."

"The supplement? Do you know how much he took?" They stood up, brushing their hands off on their thighs and turning to where the jar was sitting on the bedside. It looked like he'd taken what they'd instructed, a problem with the magic then.

"What you told him to. You're gonna fucking kill him." Hongjoong snapped, baring his teeth while his eyes flickered dangerously. "I told him not to trust your shady magic, but he swore up and down that everyone trusted you, that Yunho tried all your shit and he came out fine."

He scoffed, and Blue crossed their arms.

"I know that you're worried about him, but I need you to work with me here. If you want him to get better any time soon, then you need to calm down. Breathe." Their voice was calm, imbued with a light magical air to try and bring him down. They had enough experience with trying to talk down a wild animal.

"Don't tell me to calm down until your mate is dying and you can't do anything about it. You don't get to do that." He said, voice strained and eyes wild when he looked at them. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath, his fists unclenching at his sides and his frantic pacing coming to a halt.

"Has he had anything to drink?" Hongjoong nodded. "And he's not eaten anything, right? When's the last time the two of you had sex?"

Hongjoong growled then, a real one. He took a few menacing steps towards Blue, but they still didn't back down, tilting their chin up.

"I wouldn't ask for my own fun. I need to know. How long's it been?"

"A couple of days."

"He needs to feed. As soon as possible. Has he been responsive today?" They asked, turning back to Seonghwa. His face was scrunched up like he was in pain, quiet sounds of discomfort coming from his lips, albeit weak and barely there. If it weren't for that, they might not even know that he was conscious at all. "Hwa, baby, can you open your eyes for me?"

He blinked a few times, eyes burning red like they did when his Incubus spirit was taking over. Blue stroked his cheek, tilting his head to get a peek at his teeth where his fangs were beginning to form. Another sign that he was slipping into demon form involuntarily, losing his grip on his own being.

"I know this is awful, but just stay with us for a bit, okay? Gonna make you feel better, I promise. Hongjoongie is here too, he's not gonna let anything happen to you." They cooed sweetly, still emitting that barely noticeable soothing spell.

"I don't know what will happen if he doesn't feed," Blue said, looking over their shoulder at Hongjoong. "I haven't treated an Incubus this far gone before."

Before they could process what was happening, Hongjoong had pinned them to the wall, one hand pressed to their throat and the other arm laid against their shoulders. His gaze was burning through them, something barely contained flickering behind his irises, and Blue immediately felt their stomach drop.

"If he dies, you die next. I don't give a single shit what Yunho has to say about it. You won't step foot near my pack ever again." He growled. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you from the moment I met you."

Blue refused to flinch away, refused to close their eyes, refused to let the odd mixture of emotions burning inside of them set them ablaze. So they stared him down, slowly inhaling through their nose and ignoring the way that Hongjoong's grip around their throat was beginning to make them feel lightheaded.

"If he dies, it's going to be because you're too pissed to help him." They said, trying to sound calm even when their voice came out tight. "You're fighting the wrong battle right now, Hongjoong. Focus."

There was a beat, then another, and Blue swore that their vision was beginning to tunnel before Hongjoong let go. Then his entire body weight pulled away from them, and they collapsed to the floor. The room was spinning as sucked in a deep, ragged breath and immediately lost it again as they coughed. Their fingers curled against the carpet, trying to regain the sense of confidence that they'd had before this.

It was true, if Seonghwa died, it was all their fault. Hell, if Seonghwa died they could have their magic stripped away all together. If Seonghwa died, their entire life was over. The Pack would never forgive them, not even Yunho, and Blue wouldn't forgive themselves either. They needed to stop panicking, they needed to think. Surely Seonghwa feeding would help, but if it didn't help enough, then what the hell came next? Could a professional fix whatever it was that they'd broken? Should they try to call someone for help?

While Blue curled into themselves on the floor, Hongjoong moved to Seonghwa's side, every ounce of aggressive body language melting into something delicate and careful. He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to Seonghwa's lips before pushing his hands up under Seonghwa's shirt, dragging it up his torso and then guiding him up enough to take it off.

"Joong," Seonghwa whined, and Hongjoong shushed him with another kiss, his tongue dipping into his lover's mouth and tracing against the sharp points of his fangs.

"It's okay, I'm here. We're gonna fix it." Hongjoong promised, moving down to make quick work of Seonghwa's sweatpants, tugging them down and leaving him in his boxers. His hand ghosted up, tracing over the outline of Seonghwa's cock. "See? Gonna take care of you."

Hongjoong sat back, stripping his upper half and silently cursing the fact that he was still turned on in a situation like that when every part of his being should be taken over by worry. But then Seonghwa was reaching out, grabbing for him weakly, his long fingers curling around Hongjoong's wrist and pulling his hand to run down Seonghwa's toned stomach. Hongjoong huffed out a noise, palming his mate's desperate cock over the absolutely useless cotton of his underwear.

"Gotta let me get my pants off, pet. Just hang on, not gonna leave." Hongjoong promised. He shuffled around, pushing the bottom half of his clothes off in a series of swift movements and kicking them aside.

It was the sound of his jeans thudding to the ground that pulled Blue out of the panic in their mind. With wide, shaken eyes they looked up to see the expanse of Hongjoong's bare back, the dip of his waist down to the curve of his completely naked ass, all on display in front of them. They scrambled back, bracing themselves against the wall and dragging themselves up to their feet. The scene in front of them had them breathless all over again, and a terrible blend of disgust and anxiety and searing arousal began pulsing through them.

Hongjoong maneuvered Seonghwa's legs around his waist once the two of them were fully naked, spitting lewdly into his palm and stroking Seonghwa's length. He was already leaking onto his stomach, arching against the bed and whimpering at the slightest touch. Just from jacking him off, Hongjoong was feeling like he'd combust. The heat in the room had to be rising a good few degrees between them.

"Please," Seonghwa keened, the loudest sound he'd managed to make in hours. "Need you to fuck me, need you inside."

"I know pet, it's okay. I will, I promise." Hongjoong swore, leaning down to kiss Seonghwa slowly one more time before sitting back on his heels. He looked over his shoulder to where Blue was pressed so tightly to the wall that they may as well have been trying to fuse with the paint. Hongjoong, however, looked entirely relaxed, not at all bothered by the show he was putting on. "Either make yourself useful for once in your life or get the fuck out. You don't deserve to watch."

Hongjoong's words sank into Blue's mind, blowing the fog and the panicked thoughts out of the way, and they scrambled for the door. They shut it behind them, the sound resonating through the dorm as they pressed their back to it. They closed their eyes, chest heaving as they chased their breath. They hadn't just seen Hongjoong about to fuck Seonghwa, they hadn't gotten horny over it, and they certainly hadn't almost killed Seonghwa with some rogue magic. None of this was real. They'd go home, they'd go back to bed, and when they woke up, this would all have been some freaky nightmare.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Yunho asked, the door to his room open just enough to reveal him standing there in just his favorite sweatpants, the material slung low on his hips. Not an unusual sight, but hardly one that Blue could handle seeing right then and there. They stared at him, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing as they searched for some sort of excuse for their presence.

"I was...I was just leaving. I should go," They said, heading for the door without another word. They were shoving their feet back into their shoes when Yunho caught up, large hand circling their wrist.

"Hey, are you okay? You look about one wrong move away from a panic attack." He observed. And damn him for being so sweet, and for having those perfect big brown eyes that made them melt. They bit back the fear, and the upset, and the confusion, and plastered a smile on their face.

"No, I'm fine, I'm good. I was just checking on Seonghwa. He didn't feel well. But he's...fine." They managed, albeit unconvincingly. They pulled their hand free. "I'm sorry, Yunnie, but I do gotta go. Sorry, I'll talk to you later? After the moon?"

They didn't give him a chance to answer, letting themselves out and practically leaping down the stairs. The burn of cool fresh air in their lungs couldn't come quickly enough, the sensation sending a chill down their spine and shocking the rest of their reactions out of them. They were still trying to process what had happened inside. Their hands were shaking; Adrenaline, they decided. Their head was hurting too. But one thing was clear to them, they still had to come up with a backup plan in case whatever the fuck they'd just witnessed the beginning of wasn't enough.

Once they were settled back in their dorm, locked behind closed doors and wrapped in their most comforting hoodie, they dropped a text in the dorm group chat to announce that they were working on an important project and couldn't be disturbed for the foreseeable future. If their friends had any questions or concerns, they didn't say anything. But no matter how long they sat there, or how long they stared at their blank sheet of paper, no real solution came into their mind. The tapping of their pen on the desk was steadily driving them crazy, but it was all they could manage to do. The sound rang through their head, echoing over the image of Hongjoong's naked form burned in their mind, and the way he sounded when he talked to Seonghwa. The memory of it was burning hotter than whatever hell they were going to for witnessing it.

They stood up, giving the room a couple of paces back and forth before collapsing onto their bed, palms pressed to their eyes as if it would erase the memory of this entire shitty day.

"Get your shit together," They nearly shouted at themselves, taking a long, deep breath and huffing it back out. They were in for a very long, very difficult night.

Nobody saw Blue for several more days. They were living off the stash of snacks under their bed and the bottled waters that they'd shoved to the back of their closet for events like this. Well, not exactly like this. Most of the time they wouldn't be so worried about the entire world crashing down around them. They'd denied every offer Yunho had made of bringing them takeout, or any requests by their roommates to go out to grab late night snacks with them. They were hardly even sleeping now, too focused on trying to dig their way out of this hole.

Seonghwa had texted, apologizing for the concern as if it was somehow his fault and not theirs. He assured them that other than a heightened hunger, they were doing fine, no signs of starvation or long term effects from the magic. Blue didn't call that fine, especially when he'd sought them out to do just the opposite. They'd been studying until the words blurred together, seeking some sort of reason that this had happened.

It was late into the night, nearly a full week after the incident, and Blue was half asleep, slumped over their notes and ideas, eyes falling shut when their bedroom door opened. They gasped, scrambling to stand up on sleepy legs. But it was just Yunho, the worry on his face bringing a new wave of guilt and exhaustion. They'd not avoided him for this long since they were young, they never went more than a day or two without talking.

"What are you doing here? It's late." They sighed, body nearly giving out as they collapsed back into their desk chair.

"You're avoiding me." Yunho walked closer, pressing a hand to their cheek to check that they weren't feverish. "You look like shit, when's the last time you slept?"

He moved around their room, clearing out some of the snack wrappers and the pile of empty water bottles - or at least trying to limit the mess to one little corner until he had time to properly clean up.

"I don't know. What time is it now?" They asked. Yunho didn't answer that, he knew they didn't really want to know in the first place.

"You need to rest. We can talk about this in the morning. But it's never good news when you coop yourself up in here for this long." He tried not to let out a sigh. At least they'd been eating, that was one less thing for him to fuss over.

"You're not my dad, Yun. I'm fine." They said, but despite their protests they were already standing up, eyelids heavy as they stretched their arms above their head and twisted their back. A series of semi-concerning popping noises followed each move, and Yunho side eyed them. "I'm barely even tired. And I'm sure you came here for something better than telling me to go to bed."

"That's exactly what I came here for. Not the first time." Yunho pulled the blankets on their bed back, nodding for them to get comfortable. They meant it when they said they were barely tired, at least they really thought so. But their spot looked so appealing in the moment, and their entire body was begging to betray them. "Sleep, Bluebell. I mean it."

Blue knew he was serious, he always was when he called them that. No room for teasing or whining.

"Whatever you say," They grumbled, not quite managing to throw in the sarcastic tone they intended. They wiggled their whole body under the blankets, not even managing to stay awake long enough to feel Yunho tuck them in and kiss their cheek.

The second time that Yunho caught Blue's eye, they were outside, a small basket sitting at their side as they picked flowers from the edge of the woods. He peeked his head out of the door to the cabin. He'd been cooped up in his room for ages - which was really just a week or so, but when you're eight or nine that's an eternity - and he'd been itching to catch a glimpse of the other little kid running around.

"Hey," He called. Blue jumped, looking back at him with wide eyes. They gave him a tight lipped smile before turning back to their basket. Yunho didn't like that response very much, so he made his way across the lawn to where they were knelt in the grass. "Your name is Bluebell, right?"

The question made Blue laugh, a pretty giggle rang out like birdsong to match the pretty smile that took up their face. They shook their head.

"No, that's not my name." They said, "Bluebell is a flower."

"But lots of people are named after flowers," Yunho pointed out, his lips downturned into a confused little pout. Blue tipped their head, their little eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed tight. Then they nodded.

"I guess you could name someone Bluebell. What's your name?"

"My name is Yunho."

Their friendship blossomed easily after that, but no matter how many times Blue argued about the name, it stuck around. To Yunho, calling them something unique was his way of showing them that they were special, a little inside joke to remind both of them that even if a nickname was something anyone could use, nobody would have the bond that they did. It stayed that way forever, them being his Blue, and even when it caught on with other people, the nickname reminded them of that little boy that they spent all their time protecting. The one who grew up all alone with the wood nymphs and the moon, the one who would walk them to and from school day after day every year. The boy that stayed by their side even when he was sick of them wanting to study magic instead of playing games with him. Blue knew all the way back then that they had no intention of living without him.

Yunho barely slept that night, he was too worried about making sure that they were okay. Blue always took care of him, and he figured he had to repay them for that every now and then. He took time to tidy up their room, or sometimes wash a load or two of their laundry. The sun was already peeking over the horizon when he crawled into bed with them, pulling them tight to his side and falling asleep to the sound of their gentle snoring.

It was afternoon when Blue woke up to Yunho stretching beside them. They groaned, rubbing at their eyes and curling deeper into the blankets. They were still so tired, but their stomach was starting to ache with hunger, and they probably needed to use the restroom, but both of those things meant getting out from the warm embrace of their bed. Yunho reached down, stroking their cheek gently, and they blinked up at him.

When he looked at them like that, it felt like the entire world stopped spinning, leaving them a little off-kilter. It was the softest gaze, the one that he always saved just for them. He smiled, pinching their cheek before moving his hand entirely.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. How do you feel?" He asked. They didn't answer, just curling closer to him so they could rest their head on his chest. He didn't push it, sliding an arm around them and letting them soak up his body heat.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me," They said after a while. He shook his head.

"You don't ever have to apologize for that. I'm always gonna take care of you. I promise you that."

They looked up, their faces a little too close, and their hearts both beating in time, just a little too fast now. Blue nipped at their bottom lip, fingers twisting and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. The moment was stretching out, becoming a little too intimate. They pulled themselves away.

"But you have enough on your plate. You shouldn't have to worry about me too."

"I'm going to worry about you. Stop thinking about it." He said, hand coming back to stroke their face again. Blue frowned. "You're my number one priority, so stop trying to argue with me. If you're gonna be reckless, someone has to take care of you, and it's gonna be me. No fighting me about it, yeah? You'll just make it more difficult."

The words carried a sense of finality about them, and even though they wanted to argue, part of Blue was aching to be taken care of just like this. So they nodded, and laid their head back down. It was quiet for a long time, several minutes dragging out until it felt like a century of peace passed between the two of them. And finally, after a long while, Yunho spoke up.

"What had you working so hard that you wouldn't answer my calls?"

Blue didn't answer right away, thinking back to the fight with Hongjoong, to the sight of Seonghwa laying there, pale and weak. To the sight of the two of them naked, the way that Hongjoong spoke and moved with such gentle certainty, the way it had awoken something downright forbidden in them.

"Seonghwa was sick. My supplement didn't work, it made things harder. I'm trying to fix it." They answered quietly. Yunho sighed. He could hear the guilt in their words, the way they put all of the blame on their shoulders.

"It's not your fault. You wouldn't have given it to him if you thought you'd hurt him." He reminded them, nudging Blue so that he could sit up and face them. They pushed themselves to sit up, but they didn't look back.

"I know. But it hurt him anyway, and it didn't even solve his problem in the first place. He came here for a solution, and he came here because he trusted me. I don't even know if he'd accept my help again. Or if he should. But I feel like I have to try, I have to do something. It was...awful. I've never had anything backfire like that before, this is supposed to be easy for me. I could have killed him, Yunho."

"Blue,"

"And I know that I'm probably being reckless. I mean, I never actually thought that much about it before. I didn't think my magic would ever hurt someone. I didn't even know that I was capable of that, and I can barely even stomach doing magic anymore. It feels awful."

"Blue."

"Like, I always try so hard to make sure that everything I'm doing is safe and ethical, and I do all of this research, but I'd never even considered that by doing unregulated research and testing, by allowing innocent people to use my magic, that I could be killing people. I mean, I haven't. But I could"

"Bluebell. Look at me." Yunho snapped. Blue looked up, eyes brimming with tears. Yunho made a soft, wounded sound. He shook his head, dragging them into a hug and rocking them both back and forth. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's okay, I promise. He's okay, and so are you. Just breathe. You're not gonna figure anything out when you're panicking like this. Relax."

Blue closed their eyes, pushing down the wave of tears that were trying to fall, inhaling Yunho's scent, that faint, woody smell of mint, and pine, and fresh morning air. They were so tired, tired of being angry with themselves, and tired of pushing their limits, of trying to meet everyone's expectations. 

"Yunho, I'm so tired," They said, and their voice gave away exactly what they meant. He held them tighter as if hugging them could squeeze all of the negative feelings wrapped up in them back out.

"I'm here. You can rest with me, I've got you now." He promised them. He stroked their hair, tracing their cheek. His touch was gentle, always so careful like they'd shatter into a million pieces if he wasn't. And, for once, Blue really felt like they just might. They leaned into his palm, soaking up his warmth and the calloused touch of his skin.

"What would I do without you?"

"We don't have to worry about that," Yunho laughed. "I'm not going anywhere. You've helped me through my hard times, so it's my turn, right?"

"Can we go to the Noodle Shop?" Blue asked after another long bout of silence. Yunho nodded, mostly just delighted that they'd suggested eating without his prompting. "Let me clean up a little."

Blue stood up, stretching the tension out of their shoulders and heading for the bathroom. They stared in the mirror there, examining their reflection. It was hard to see the differences from how they usually looked, the bags under their eyes and the crease between their brows that hadn't left for a day or more. But they knew regardless that this wasn't how they wanted people to see them. Sure, they'd allowed themselves a moment of relaxation, but that didn't mean they were going to let everyone see behind the curtain.

A quick shower later, they were digging through their closet, pulling on their favorite pair of jeans and one of Yunho's old hoodies. The whole time, he was waiting patiently, the picture of reliability, and for a moment Blue wondered who they had pleased in a past life to deserve someone like him.

Yunho had been a werewolf for years now. They were both grown into teenagers, and somehow the feeling of self loathing that came with every transition never faded away. It had been two days since his last transformation, and he should have gone back to Blue's house by now. He should have checked in, he knew that they'd come looking for him otherwise, but he couldn't find it in him to leave his den.

Waking up after the moon left him with an ache in his bones and a heavy feeling of confusion that he couldn't manage to shake off. What was worse was the blood staining his hands this time around. It wasn't his, he'd checked everywhere. It was staining his clothes too, and he'd scrubbed himself as clean as he could before changing into a clean set. He'd never had this problem before, half the time he wasn't even sure that he left the den. But now he'd hurt something, maybe someone, and the idea of facing anyone after that, after knowing that he wasn't fully in control, that he'd always be a threat, he couldn't stomach that.

It was evening when Blue came out to find him. It was dangerous for them to be that deep in the woods alone, especially so late, but that didn't stop them from seeking Yunho out.

"Yunho," They called from outside, not willing to encroach on his space. He flinched at the sound of their voice, and even though everything in him wanted to hide away more, to dig himself in deeper and not look them in the eye, he couldn't leave them out there all by themselves as the sun went down.

"You shouldn't be out here," He said, running a hand through his hair. His skin felt different now, like it was stained so deep that scrubbing off the evidence wasn't enough, but maybe that was in his head. Blue took his words as an invitation to duck into the small opening of his home. It was clear to them immediately even in the dim lighting of his lanterns, that he hadn't slept well the past two nights.

"You shouldn't either. You didn't come home, I thought something happened to you." They reached out, grabbing his wrist and tugging him this way and that, diligently checking to make sure that he wasn't injured anywhere.

"I'm fine. You should go back." He said, pulling his arm back and shrinking into himself. Blue narrowed their eyes at him.

"Not without you. What's going on with you?" They asked him, their voice harsh and making it unbearably clear that they were hurt. The way they looked at him, however, betrayed the undercurrent of concern that ran through them.

"Nothing."

"Don't you lie to me, Jeong Yunho. I know you better than you know yourself." They snapped, and Yunho looked at them with big brown eyes that were all too quick to fill with tears. Immediately the harshness that Blue had shown was gone as they rushed closer, reaching up with gentle hands to cradle his face. "Hey, hey, you're okay. What's the matter? Don't cry."

"I'm a monster. You aren't safe with me, nobody is. I'm dangerous." He sobbed, tears streaming in torrents down his face. Blue had no idea what to do, they'd never seen Yunho break down like this. Not the day he came home to them, or when he'd confirmed that his parents were gone, or even after his first full transformation. For as long as they could remember, he'd been their rock, their ray of sunshine. He was supposed to be all bright smiles and contagious laughter. It was devastating to see him fall apart in their hands.

"Don't say that. You're no monster." They said, using the sleeve of their hoodie to gently dab away his tears. "Look at me. You're perfect. You'd never hurt a fly, let alone a person. You're a good person."

"There was blood. I did something, and I don't even know what it was. I couldn't have stopped it." His entire body was shaking with his sobs now, his hands clutching desperately at the hem of Blue's hoodie like he was scared that his confession would drive them away from him.

"You don't know what happened, Yunho, that wasn't you. Maybe you were defending yourself. You wouldn't do anything like that if you were in control. That doesn't make you a monster." They promised, pulling him in until his frame melted against theirs, face tucked into the crook of their neck.

Yunho had never felt like this before, so vulnerable and broken yet so wholeheartedly safe. It was like having Blue with him was enough to dull the pain, the insecurity. They would do anything to keep him from believing the worst about himself.

"I'm scared," He whispered. They shushed him gently, stroking their fingers through his hair and trying to avoid the knots from his lack of a shower since the moon.

"I know. But you're not alone. I promise."

The living room of the Pack dorm was always crowded on study night with Blue. It was one of the only ways that they could get some of the members to actually sit down and face doing their work instead of complaining about not understanding. It wasn't that they didn't get it, but Blue found that they had a tendency to psych themselves out. Thankfully, the pack had discovered that they had a way with poking and prodding at the boys until they were right where they should be, until everything made sense. And, best of all, they managed to make sure everyone came out of things feeling confident.

This one was a special study session, partially because midterm exams were coming up, and Seonghwa had managed to coax Hongjoong out of his room, though he wasn't exactly a part of anything. He had his headphones clamped firmly over his ears and his laptop propped on the arm of the chair he was in, working on some music project from the looks of it, but he wasn't hesitating to send burning glares towards Blue every now and then.

Blue was sitting on the floor in front of the couch where Yunho and Jongho were working on a project together, something about the history of demonic bonds and trades with the human race, Blue wasn't entirely sure. Across the coffee table from them, Yeosang was typing away at his computer, and Seonghwa was sitting behind him, taking notes from his Fae Literature textbook. He was doing significantly better than the last time that they'd been over, and he didn't seem upset about the issue with their work in the least. That alone helped to ease their worries.

"Blue," Wooyoung whined, head dropping on Blue's shoulder. They reached up and tousled his dark waves. He was sitting on their right, San on their left. Only Mingi was missing since he was off working on a group project.

"Yes, Wooyoungie?" They asked, leaning over to look at the sheet of problems he was working through. They gently pushed his head back towards his work. "Finish two more before you take a break. I know you can do these two."

They doodled a little star by each of the problems they pointed out before giving Wooyoung a little kiss on the cheek. Yunho smiled, watching for a moment before turning his attention back to Jongho. It was comforting how easily the two parts of his family fit together.

It was then that Hongjoong took his headphones off and got up to grab a snack from the kitchen cupboard. He would have much rather stayed cooped up in his room until Blue left or fell asleep. But he guessed this past few weeks had been getting to him, and trying to leave Seonghwa unattended in their presence was too much to ask of himself.

There was a sort of reliance that his pack had on him. It was his job to lead them, to sort out their issues and make them feel safe and at home. He'd been the one to bring them all together. Yunho had been his first pack member, and Hongjoong had never felt quite as comfortable as he had once he'd found him. Unlike Yunho, Hongjoong had been born to a wolf pack. He knew what it felt like to belong, but once he was old enough to go on his own, he'd lost that bond. Yunho helped him bring it back.

He hadn't expected to pick up the others, the non-wolves, but he knew what that bond was supposed to feel like and he'd be damned if anyone took them from him. It was his nature that drew him to his pack, they all fit together like pieces of a puzzle, creating something so natural that it almost felt like magic. They belonged together. So he couldn't entirely understand the connection that all of them had with Blue. And sure, he guessed that it made sense to an extent, the relationship that Yunho had with them went far beyond friendship, even if the younger wolf wasn't fully aware of that, and maybe it could be natural for Yunho's packmates to feel some type of bond with his chosen one too, but for Hongjoong it just felt wrong; The feeling he got around Blue was too hot, too sharp, too all-consuming, and he couldn't decipher it. It felt like the world was punishing him for something that he couldn't begin to figure out.

He watched the way that San asked Blue about his homework, and the way that they diligently explained the concepts to him and emphasized them with a reassuring pat on his shoulder. They were so patient, even with Wooyoung clinging to their side, pouting and whining about how he'd never be able to understand Applied Magic in Mathematics (which Hongjoong couldn't really fault him for, that shit made no sense. How could there be an entire course on the rules of exceptions?) Every time that Blue was in his dorm, surrounded by his pack, it was like they belonged there, and no part of him was willing to accept that.

"Joong," Seonghwa called, and Hongjoong looked up from the bag of chips he was opening. "What have you been working on?"

See, the thing about Seonghwa was that Hongjoong could hardly ever say no to him. He insisted it was something to do with the demon's magic. Seonghwa, however, insisted that his magic didn't work that way and Hongjoong was just down horrendously bad. The pack tended to agree. He tensed for a moment now that everyone was turning their attention to him. He tried to calm down, to let the familiarity of his home and his pack distract him from all the frustration he was harboring.

He walked back over and slotted himself in between Seonghwa and Yeosang, offering to share his snack. Blue flashed him a look, eyes wide. They hadn't seen each other since the incident, and when Hongjoong met their eye, there was something unfamiliar in them, something that put Blue on edge. They shifted in their seat, looking between him and Hwa. Hongjoong didn't relish in their discomfort, but he wouldn't say that he wasn't at least a little pleased to see that he still held some power. Was it so wrong to want an intruder in his home to feel threatened?

"Have you been working on your songs all day, hyung?" Wooyoung asked, putting down his pencil and disregarding the work he'd been doing. Hongjoong nodded, and Seonghwa half sighed, reaching a hand up to rub the back of Hongjoong's neck. He wasn't usually a fan of affection like this in front of others, but with how tight his shoulders were getting, he let himself melt into it a little more than usual.

"You shouldn't work so hard." Seonghwa scolded him, but Hongjoong only grumbled in response and rolled his eyes. He'd sat through this lecture enough times.

Hongjoong had come to the University to study multicultural music and magic tech, so he often spent his time writing and producing music for use in various areas of magic. Honestly, Blue found it sort of inspiring. 

"Can we hear it?" Yunho asked. Everyone knew that Hongjoong was protective over his magic, working on it tirelessly and insisting that nothing was ever good enough. Though his grades in all of his classes implied otherwise.

"It's not done yet," He answered, reaching for a few chips. "Maybe once it's finished."

"You never think your songs are finished," Jongho pointed out, looking up from his laptop. Hongjoong glared at the Hellhound, but he just laughed and went back to his work.

"Can we at least hear a demo?" Yunho asked. For a moment Hongjoong regretted even letting them know he was working on something at all. They always got like this, so nosy and supportive that it was mildly suffocating. But he couldn't really be mad that people cared about him, that was more than a lot of people in the world. He was lucky to have them, he knew that. He stretched to grab his laptop, opening up a file with his demos in it and started one up.

It was good, everyone knew it would be. They were honored to be one of the only people outside of the pack to get to hear Hongjoong's songs like this, and hear how they grew from beginning to end. They could feel the magic weaved into each track, the careful use of incantations in the lyrics and the power each instrument held in the overarching sound. It amazed them, and they had yet to dislike a single track.

"It's really good. Is that the one you're still working on?" Wooyoung asked, a grin lighting up his face. Hongjoong nodded, closing his laptop and setting it aside.

"I really like it. It sounds a lot like your older stuff, I think. Better than the last one." San added.

A couple of the boys laughed, and Blue nearly snorted. Everyone had listened to San complain for ages about having to hear Hongjoong's last track a hundred and one times. His own fault for asking to help with it. Now even hearing the title of the song made him throw a hissy fit.

"The last one was good!" Hongjoong argued, a growl reverberating in his chest.

"I loved the last one." Blue shrugged. Hongjoong's eyes were on them as they continued. "I will forever and always be a Desire supremacist. I'm San's worst nightmare."

San immediately started whining, but Hongjoong just stood up. He was honestly a little shaken at being addressed so casually, so gently by Blue. He didn't really think of them as friends, but they were still so kind to him and, in truth, it sort of pissed him off.

"I'm going to work in my room." He said, gathering his things to leave. His chest was aching with how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. With the door closed behind him, firmly separating him and the rest of the world, he pressed his palm over his chest.

He knew that he was the asshole in this situation, and part of him really did want to feel bad because, somehow, the worst part of everything was that there was nothing wrong with Blue. They were a good person, maybe too good, and they took amazing care of Yunho, of his entire pack, and he hated that. They'd never been mean to him, at least no more than he deserved, but being around them aggravated him in ways that he couldn't begin to explain.

He thought back to the day he'd been taking care of Seonghwa, the way that his mate had been fading so fast he couldn't even think properly. He didn't know that Wooyoung had called Blue before he did, but he remembered the way that his hands shook when he finally called them, the way his wolf was screaming to take over. He hadn't felt that out of control in a long time, just so goddamn helpless. He needed to protect Seonghwa, his pack was one of the only things that had ever really mattered to him, and his pride had been ripped to shreds when the only thing that he could think to do was call someone else. To call Blue of all fucking people. But they'd come, of course they had. They'd come running the second he called because that's what they did. In some fucked up way, Hongjoong was very much aware that he and Blue weren't so different after all.

"You're being an idiot." Hongjoong snapped, whirling around to look at Seonghwa. Honestly, he knew this conversation was coming and that only made him more sick of it. It was later the same day when Seonghwa mentioned wanting to work with Blue on his supplement again. He wasn't generally one to turn on Seonghwa, but there was one thing that he couldn't tolerate and it was watching his mate put his safety on the line.

Seonghwa didn't even flinch at his outburst. Honestly, he'd seen it coming. He knew Hongjoong, knew his body language. The Incubus frowned, crossing his arms across his chest. He straightened up in his spot, sitting at the edge of their shared bed.

"I appreciate your input, but it isn't up for debate." He responded. Hongjoong growled, beginning to pace the room again. Seonghwa hated seeing him stressed out like this.

"You could have died. You said yourself that you'd never been that close to losing yourself before." Hongjoong said. His voice was sharp around the edges as he thought back to that day again. Honestly, he hadn't stopped thinking about it. It haunted him, watching Seonghwa barely able to speak. If he'd waited just a little longer to call for help, he might have lost him altogether, lost an entire piece of his soul. Fuck, he'd had to call for help in the first place and that was all Blue's fault. His job was to take care of Seonghwa, of all of them, and he had never had a problem doing so before then, so clearly the issue wasn't him. It couldn't be.

"But I didn't. You can't blame them because I had an adverse reaction to some magic. It's like an allergy, how could they have known?" Seonghwa tried to reason. "I want to solve this problem, and nobody has been able to help me. If they might be able to, then I want them to try."

"Why them? You could ask anyone."

"Because I trust them."

"I don't."

"But Yunho does. Everyone else does."

"Then maybe they're all idiots, too. Maybe you're all being stupid." Hongjoong was losing this fight, he knew that. He generally lost fights with Seonghwa. Unlike the demon, he was quick to anger and slow to cool down. Seonghwa didn't answer that, he didn't need to. Hongjoong took a moment to breathe. "I don't understand what you all love about them so much. I don't get it. The entire pack is obsessed with them, and Yunho trusts them with his life. More than he trusts anyone, even Mingi."

"They've been there for him longer than you have. You have to accept that we'll never really know what the two of them have been through. And you have to accept that he's imprinted on them, you can't change that. We should just be grateful that they take such good care of him."

Seonghwa stood up, tentatively stepping towards his mate as if he were a cornered animal. Hongjoong was quiet, defeated. He let Seonghwa take his hand, the warmth reminding him of who he was talking to. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

"I am grateful. That's not it."

"Then what is it? They're good for everyone. That's all you've ever cared about with other people. Everyone gets along with them, and they're always willing to help."

Hongjoong wished beyond all wishing that any of these things made it easier for him. Not all wishes come true, though, and he was being made very aware of that.

"I don't know. Can we just forget it? If anything happens to you again, though, you're not doing this anymore. I'm not going to let them experiment with some bullshit magic until they do something that they can't fix."

Seonghwa nodded, less of an agreement and more of a show of surrender for the time being. The conversation was less than productive now, so surely it could wait for a better time. He knew well that there was no use in talking to Hongjoong when he was feeling threatened.

The fight was inevitable, and it had tensions high in the dorm even if nobody else knew what was happening. Yunho had taken to spending even more of his time outside of classes at Blue's place, and Wooyoung was spending more time with his other friends than usual. The only member particularly willing to withstand Hongjoong's terrible attitude was Jongho, but the Hellhound was built to withstand much worse than a moody werewolf.

However, after a few days of bickering and brooding, Hongjoong decided that the best way to handle things was confronting his problem head on. He knocked on Blue's front door, waiting impatiently for them to answer. When they didn't show their face quickly enough, he banged on it louder. When they did whip the door open, they looked exhausted, and Hongjoong had to will himself not to ask them if they were okay. He clenched his jaw, and Blue rolled their eyes.

"What is it now? I'm busy." But they were nicer than Hongjoong in the long run, everyone knew that. As they retreated back into their dorm, they left the door open for him to follow if he so desired. He didn't exactly, desire that is, but he followed them anyway. He closed the door behind him, growing somehow more frustrated that they were hardly paying attention to him at all.

"I came to talk to you about your little project with Seonghwa." He said.

They stopped, turning back to look at him. They looked significantly more worried now, which eased his mind more than he wanted it to. At least they cared enough to worry about him, that reassured him, but not enough to lay down his arms.

"Is he doing okay?"

"I want you to stay away from him. From all of my pack." Hongjoong said, crossing his arms over his chest. The wait that his body sank into such a confident gait pissed Blue off, maybe even more than his words themselves.

"And who exactly do you think you are to tell me who I can and cannot spend my time with?" They asked, eyes narrowing in his direction.

"I'm the head of their pack." He answered as if it were obvious. Blue stepped towards them in two long strides.

"And as the leader of their pack, it's your job to take care of them. Not control them."

"I am taking care of them."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you're taking care of your own fragile ego. You're afraid that if anyone else is nice to them they'll realize how shitty you've been. And you just couldn't live with yourself then. I don't know how they put up with this bullshit. Go tell them to stay away from me, but I don't have to listen to a damn word you say." Blue snapped, their rage and frustration radiating off of them, a stifling wave of heat.

"You watch your fucking mouth." Hongjoong growled. Before he even finished speaking, he had Blue against the wall again, just like they'd been before. His face was dangerously close now, teeth bared and fangs sharpening before Blue's eyes. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. They're my pack, that has nothing to do with you."

"You're just mad because I had him first." Blue said, voice shockingly smooth despite the wincing pain in their back from the collision with the wall. Hongjoong faltered, his snarl dropped for a second to give way to complete shock at their statement, then his eyes were blazing even hotter with unspoken emotion, things he'd never even considered before this.

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," He warned. He pressed closer, too close. He could feel Blue's body heat radiating off of them, making the tiny bit of space between them feel like it was scorching. He didn't flinch, neither did they.

"If you think your empty threats and your stupid attitude scare me, you'd better think again. I stopped being afraid of you a long time ago, Kim Hongjoong."

If it weren't for the slightly soured notes of their scent, and the way that Hongjoong could feel their pulse under his touch, he probably would have believed them. They were good at this, the acting bit, the pretending that they weren't being consumed by this the way that he was. Hongjoong didn't like that. He wanted to hear what they really thought, wanted them to give in, to cave under the pressure.

"Get off of me."

"Stay away from my pack."

"What are you gonna do if I don't? Kill me? Lock them in a fucking cage? Or just come here to push me around and threaten me some more?" They spat back. Hongjoong flinched, his weight slowly easing off of them. But they didn't move, and the tiny bit of space between them didn't grow any wider. They just looked at each other, angry and burning and so alive.

Neither of them knew exactly who kissed the other first, but Hongjoong wouldn't be surprised if it was him. But it didn't matter with the way that Blue's hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, opening their mouth to let him in as he crowded them against the wall. The hands that had been pinning them in place slid down to their waist, dragging them into him until their fronts were pushed flush against each other.

He pulled away only when his lungs began to burn, firmly tipping their chin up to nose along their neck. He dragged his fangs over the soft, clear skin there, down to the crook of their neck. He breathed them in. Blackberry, vanilla, sweet honeyed musk. Familiar and infuriating and fucking intoxicating. He growled. His hands slid under their shirt, forcing it out of his way to feel along the expanse of warm skin under his palms.

"Hongjoong," They breathed out, the sound clipped off by a throaty moan when he bit harshly against their shoulder, just the tiniest pinpricks through their skin. His tongue dragged over the spot, soothing it. That would certainly leave a mark. Hearing his name like that, a prayer on his lips, it was a drug he needed more of.

"Bedroom." He pulled them away from the wall and spun them towards the bedrooms. They led the way, opening their bedroom door and pushing him inside. They were kissing again before the door was fully closed, only ever pulling apart enough to tug their clothes off, discarding their shirts one and then the other until they could explore the fully bared territory of each others upper bodies.

Hongjoong pushed them onto the bed, maybe harder than necessary, but they didn't complain even with their gasp and stunted cry of surprise when their back bounced against the mattress. He lingered over them, tugging their pants off with a couple of harsh pulls, leaving them so close to naked beneath him.

There was a sick sense of pride that felt like ice spreading in his chest - foreign, and sharp, and almost unwelcome - as he looked down at them. He got them like this first. He was in control. Not Blue, not Yunho, or Seonghwa, or anyone else in his fucking life. Just him. He was coming out on top. He had conquered.

He slotted himself between their thighs, kissing them again. Each kiss was hungrier than the last, not as calculated as he would have been under different circumstances. Their teeth clashed, and they nipped at the skin of each other's lips, the mix of tongue, and spit, and huffed out whines should have been borderline disgusting, but neither of them could get enough of it. Hongjoong sat back, and Blue propped themselves on an elbow to chase him until he was out of reach.

His hands slid up their front, finding their nipples and circling his thumbs around them. He started slow before he progressed to toying with them harshly with both hands, tugging and twisting hard enough the Blue's hand flew to one of his wrists. He knocked their hand away, leaning down to soothe the sting with his tongue. He suckled one nipple, then the other, teasing his fangs against it and reveling in the way they whined for him.

"Hongjoong, please." They gasped, nails digging into the flesh of his forearms, leaving pretty little crescent moons against his skin.

"Please, what?" He asked, lips quirking into a smirk that sent another wave of arousal through Blue's body. They huffed, and Hongjoong sat up, shifting so his hips were pressed flush against theirs. He was hard, painfully so, and the friction between the two of them was more of a tease than it was any sort of relief.

"Fuck me," Blue said, but they weren't begging, not really demanding either. Still, Hongjoong was too worked up to argue. The anger was bleeding into arousal and leaving his mind foggy and locked in on nothing but feeling Blue wrapped around him, on watching them fall apart just for him.

Blue reached into the drawer beside them, pulling out a bottle of lube and tossing it to them with a challenging glint in their eye. Hongjoong stared back, not wanting to give in to anything they offered him, but that urge was hardly enough to stop him.

So he shucked off his bottom layers, leaving him completely naked and all too comfortable with being exposed in front of Blue. They weren't complaining, their eyes following the planes of his toned stomach, the muscle of his thighs, all leading them to the pretty cock sitting between his legs.

While Hongjoong popped the cap of the lube and coated his length with it, Blue wiggled out of their underwear so the two of them were back on even ground. Hongjoong settled on the bed on his knees, tugging at Blue's hip hard enough to half force them to flip onto their front. He slapped their ass, the sound resonating in the room.

"Ass up," He ordered. They listened without hesitation, lifting themselves up onto their knees to present themselves for him, back arched so prettily beneath him. He smoothed one of his hands along their back, the other spreading them open to watch the way their hole clenched around nothing at the lightest touch. He spanked them again, and again, and a few more times after that until they were practically panting into their pillows, leaking arousal like a bitch in heat.

He didn't give them any proper warning, just the feeling of his cock lining up with their hole before he started to bully his way inside of them. He wasn't terribly big, but he was usually a kind lover anyway. If it hadn't been Blue, he would have stretched them open, maybe gone down on them for a while if he was feeling patient, but he was burning much too hot with need to care about that. He needed this, needed to fuck them into the mattress until they couldn't walk, or talk, or think about anything or anyone but him. Him and his dick splitting them open.

Underneath the heavy roll of his hips, Blue whined, feeling him fill them up inch by inch. The stretch ached a little, stinging as he finally laid his hips flush with their ass. Their fingers dug into the comforter on their bed, trying to ground themselves as he immediately pulled back, not giving them a chance to adjust to the feeling.

"Fucking look at you, sucking me in so good," He hissed, hands kneading their ass, spreading them open to watch the way they swallowed his dick, how they opened up just for him. The thought had him going absolutely insane. All he could think about was how warm they felt around him, how he could smell them so much stronger like this. "So tight, s'like you're choking my dick."

His words were strained as he fought to keep up the brutal pace he'd started. Blue buried their face in the bed, muffling the moans and cries that he was dragging out of them with every drag of his dick against their sweet spot. Hongjoong, however, was having none of that. He curled his fingers into their hair, tugging at it hard enough to have them pushing themselves up on their hands, back arching harder and neck curving back. Without something to stop it, the incoherent string of curses and moans filled the air of their room, and Hongjoong soaked it all up.

His hand slid out of their hair, around to wrap around their throat. He wasn't choking them, just reminding them that he could, holding them and pulling them closer to him until their fingertips were barely brushing the bed. He leaned down, his chest pressing into their back and his nose brushing against their jaw. He inhaled, their scents mixing in the room and being weighed down by the musk of sex. He was scenting them, letting himself sink into their skin, claiming them even just for a while. He growled, nipping at the skin of the neck and earning another sharp yelp.

"Needed me so bad, didn't you? Wanted me to fill you up so bad that you just couldn't act right." He hissed, letting their body collapse against the bed again. "That's okay, I can fuck the attitude out of you."

They pressed back into each thrust, fucking themselves onto him even with their thighs starting to shake from the exertion.

"So deep, Joong, please." They buried their face against their arms, too lost in the feeling of their building orgasm to feel any sort of way about what either one of them were saying.

"I know, gonna fuck you so good. Make you all mine. You're just gonna come crawling back for more, aren't you? Gonna beg me to fuck you dumb again." Hongjoong could feel his own control slipping, his grasp on whatever sanity he'd come into this with was gone. He couldn't think, could only listen to the way they chanted his name and the way it sent shockwaves through him.

"Gonna cum," They warned him, but he could already tell with the way they were squeezing him. He gripped their hips tighter, squeezing until his fingerprints were bruised into their soft skin, fucking them until they were nearly crying. He poured his entire soul into fucking them so good that maybe he wouldn't be able to stay angry with them, so hard that maybe they'd realize that this wasn't a fucking game. His knot was swelling, and he probably should have thought about that first as he willed himself to hang in a little longer even when he was so goddamn close.

Blue's high shook their body, making their knees go weak under them as they clung to their pillow like a lifeline. One of their hands flew back to find Hongjoong's over their hip, fingers bumping and linking together as they used him to ground them through it. Every thrust pulled and stretched them in a way that made their vision blur.

Then Hongjoong was pulling out, stroking himself to completion and shooting against their thighs. His orgasm seemed to last forever, so intense and yet not enough. The urge to have them stuck on his cock was strong enough to feel like the earth was tilting on its axis. He swallowed it down, looking at Blue as they relaxed against their bed.

Hongjoong stood up, trying to figure out what sort of fucked up blend of pity and pride was spinning through him. Blue looked tired, or maybe just disinterested in the situation, but that idea made his chest hurt, so he avoided it. He didn't want to think about them at all, or the fact that he'd just had sex with them when that was the last thing he had planned on doing, the last thing he should have done. Especially when he'd just said he never wanted to see them again.

"You can leave now." Blue said, finally pushing themselves to stand up. His cum was still dripping down their legs, and he was trying so hard to stay sane with that visual right in front of him. But they were acting like it was nothing, like they weren't still naked, and marked up, and covered in him. As if their legs weren't visibly shaking under their body weight when Hongjoong could see every sign of what had happened between them. "And you can take your demands with you. If I help Seonghwa is up to him, you can take that up with him at home. As for the rest of them, they have a right to choose who they want to spend their time with. I won't take that away from them, you shouldn't either."

They grabbed something from the laundry, wiping themselves clean before tossing it back. Hongjoong followed their lead, pulling his clothes back on in a hurry. By the time he was slipping into his jeans, they were fully clothed and heading for the bathroom.

"Oh, and Hongjoong?" He looked up at them, noting the cold look in their eye. "Don't come back. You have no business with me."

They closed the door, leaving Hongjoong in their room, the air heavy with the two of them, and his heart sinking so low into his stomach that he felt like he was gonna throw up. What the hell had he just done?

Once Blue cleaned themselves up and made sure that any traces of Hongjoong's presence were gone, they weren't actually sure what to do with themselves. They had never really considered doing something like that with Hongjoong, maybe because he hated their guts. But it was good, they'd be lying if they said they wouldn't be thinking about it in their own time. But now they weren't sure they could show their face at the pack dorm again, or anywhere that Hongjoong might be, actually. Maybe he'd gotten his way and they'd never see any of his pack ever again, because maybe it would be better if they just didn't leave their room. Ever. For any reason.

They didn't realize how long they'd spent pondering their impulsive decisions until Yunho was knocking on their bedroom door. they'd forgotten they'd promised him a movie night to celebrate the end of exams. They froze for a moment until he knocked again.

They stood up, smoothing their hair once more and trying to calm themselves down. Yunho was good at noticing when something was going on in their head, and they really weren't sure how talking to him about this situation would go. Not until they determined what the hell it meant and if it was going to happen again, if it changed anything whatsoever about their confusing ass feelings that they were trying to choke down. They huffed out a broken laugh.

"Blue, lemme in! I can hear you, you know." Yunho whined from outside the door. They finally twisted open the door handle, letting him and the takeout he'd brought into the room. But YUnho didn't move, just looked at them for a concerningly long moment with a slowly growing look of confusion. Blue wondered for a second if maybe he'd developed some sort of mind reading ability because he was certainly searching their eyes for something. Finally he stepped into their room, setting the bag of food on their desk and looking around with narrowed eyes.

"What is going on with you?" Blue asked, trying not to act suspicious. They started opening the bag of food to unpack everything.

Yunho could tell something was off, Blue could see it in the tension in his shoulders, and the way he didn't immediately throw himself onto their bed, in the way that he seemed to be avoiding looking at them now when he'd been practically burning holes into them a moment prior.

"Where is he?" Yunho asked. And when he looked at Blue, it was with an expression they hadn't ever seen on him before. His eyes were dark and weighed heavily as he moved closer. They took a step back for every move forward he made, trying to maintain the distance between them, but his legs were longer, and he was clearly not looking to let them escape. "Did he leave? Did he fucking touch you?"

"Yun, what...what are you on about?" They asked, but it was clear enough when Yunho grabbed at their shoulders, holding them still so he could examine them. One of his hands came up to tilt their head up and to the side, revealing a previously overlooked mark left by none other than his own pack leader. Yunho's breath caught in his throat, and he let out a growl that made Blue shiver.

He tugged at the neckline of their shirt, pulling it out of way to show off a few other love bites on their skin, down to the tiny puncture marks Hongjoong had left behind.

"That bastard," Yunho spat out, letting go of Blue and heading back for the door. They watched him with wide eyes as he put his shoes on, and they rushed to do the same before Yunho's quick stride could take him out of reach, their meal left abandoned on the desk and the door to Blue's dorm slamming shut behind them.

"Hey, what the hell is going on with you?" They asked, grabbing at Yunho's hand just before he reached the stairs. Their touch stopped him in his tracks, and when he looked at them he softened just a little, letting them catch a glimpse of their beloved Yunho before he was hidden behind the walls again. For a moment, their best friend felt so terribly out of reach, even with their fingers intertwined, with the warmth of him seeping into their skin.

"He touched you. He fucked you, didn't he?" Yunho asked. "I'll kill him."

They weren't used to seeing him like this. Yunho was slow to anger, and even when he was upset, it was never like this.

"I can smell him all over you, all over your fucking room. He's dead."

When Yunho pulled his hand away, it was still so gentle as if he were afraid of hurting them. He took off back towards his pack's dorm and, half terrified of what would happen if they didn't, Blue followed behind him.

Back at the dorm, things were quiet for once. The boys were minding their own business, San and Wooyoung curled up on the couch with Yeosang playing a game quietly in front of them. Mingi was tucked away in his room, Jongho too, and Seonghwa was tidying the kitchen after the dinner they'd all had. Hongjoong, however, hadn't left his room since he got home and scrubbed himself clean in the shower, trying to wash the feeling, and the scent, and the guilt of everything he'd done from his skin.

The calm was shattered by the door slamming open, probably hard enough to dent the wall, and certainly loud enough to alert the entire floor of Yunho's anger.

"Hongjoong," He screamed.

The name hung heavy in the air. It wasn't common for Yunho to call his hyungs by name, and never so loud, and deep, and weighted.

Seonghwa was the first person to respond, rounding into the living room. He checked on the others first, a side glance to make sure the three boys weren't overly startled. All of them were just looking on with wide eyes and tensed muscles in case they needed to leap into action.

"What's going on?" Seonghwa asked delicately, looking between Yunho and Blue, who had only just managed to catch up and was breathless and clearly distressed.

"Where is he? Hongjoong, get out here!" Yunho shouted again, taking a step to pass Seonghwa, who reached out to grab his arm. "I know what you did, you bastard. Come on,"

Mingi came out first, looking visibly shaken. If anyone knew Yunho anywhere near as well as Blue did, it was Mingi, and he was certainly not familiar with this side of the wolf either. Jongho's door opened a second later, and he looked more bothered by the noise than anything else.

"Hey, what's up?" Mingi asked, taking a couple cautious steps towards the trio with Jongho following behind.

"I need to talk to Hongjoong. Now." It was the first proper answer that Yunho had given since they got there, and Seonghwa finally stepped away to grab his mate.

"Okay, he'll be out in a second. Just take a breath, okay?" Mingi reached out to massage Yunho's shoulder. Having Mingi at his side calmed him down a little bit, much to Blue's relief, but it was clear that he wasn't over his emotions just yet. "Can you tell us what this is about?"

"Don't worry about it." Yunho said, eyes still trained on the hallway and frame practically blocking Blue from the room. Mingi stepped past him to get to the witch instead.

"What's gotten into him? I've never seen him like this before."

Blue picked at the old, frayed hoodie that they were wearing, one of Yunho's, and maybe Mingi's before that, but it had been in their closet so long they couldn't remember. They wished desperately that it was doing more to make them feel safe at that moment. They shook their head.

"I did something stupid. Really really stupid, and Yunho is pissed. I don't know....I don't..." They sniffled, fighting back tears.

Mingi's expression shifted into one of understanding as Hongjoong finally stepped into the hallway with Seonghwa behind him. As soon as Hongjoong joined the room, any calm that had washed over Yunho was gone again.

"You," He jabbed a finger in the air towards the leader, taking a few steps towards him only for Hongjoong to stand his ground, chin tipped up defiantly. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Calm down." Hongjoong answered. He looked past Yunho's looming form to where Blue was still standing with Mingi, the Cupid's arm around their shoulder as if to steady them from the shock of what was happening in front of them.

"Don't tell me what to do, you have no right to do that. And don't even think about looking at them, I think you've seen more than enough." He growled, baring his teeth. His fangs were on full display, and his eyes were flickering amber when Hongjoong looked back at him.

"I think we can have this conversation in private."

"Why? Because you don't want everyone to know that you took them from me? Because you know that you're a fucking dick for touching them? You don't have a right to act like I'm the one in the wrong here."

A wave of understanding washed over the room, and everyone looked over at Blue. They shrunk closer to Mingi's side, and he shook his head at his pack mates.

"Nobody said you're in the wrong, now let's take a deep breath and we can talk about this." Hongjoong said. Blue hadn't seen him like this either, his entire being radiating pure dominance, and they could see the other members shrinking away from him. But not Yunho, he puffed his chest out, baring his wolf proudly and without hesitation. Pack leader or not, no level of respect of rank difference could have stopped him from pursuing this battle. The only other member of the pack who moved was Jongho, the de facto protector with his eyes red and his energy darkening enough to dim the lights in the room.

Blue was shaking, and they wanted to run away from the situation entirely, but instead they were rooted in place so firmly that they weren't sure they'd be able to leave even if things turned bloody.

"You knew all along, I know you did, but you couldn't keep your hands to yourself," Yunho growled, poking a finger into the center of Hongjoong's chest. The smaller man huffed out at the feeling, taking a step back from the sheer pressure, but refusing to cave in. "My mate? What, you just had to assert your dominance? Put me in my place? What the hell did I ever do to you?"

"It's not like that," Hongjoong shook his head, and when he looked over at Blue, he looked genuinely remorseful. Blue looked at their feet, the gears turning in their head. Mate. Of course they knew what it meant, but hadn't occurred to them that Yunho may have cross-species imprinted, that he'd imprinted at all.

Their whole lives it had been just the two of them, and then Mingi, then the others. If anything, they'd assumed he'd imprinted on Mingi and they'd all live happily ever after, but now...now every memory of their lives looked a little different in their memory. Their stomach twisted in knots, wave after wave of nausea hitting them.

"Oh, of course it's not." Yunho snapped. His arm wound back to land a punch, but before he could swing, a firm hand gripped his elbow with inhuman strength that had the wolf groaning in pain.

"Don't." Jongho warned, steady and calm amongst everything going on. His aura of darkness had turned a smokey grey, materializing into shadow around him. Yunho's eyes softened when he noticed how hard the Hellhound was fighting, the internal battle of which side to take in his own pack. Then he looked at the others, his entire pack putting distance between themselves and the two wolves clashing in the middle of the dorm, between themselves and him. Wooyoung looked startled, and San looked so wounded that Yunho worried he might have actually hurt him.

And Blue, his beautiful Blue, so close to tears and huddled up in Mingi's arms. His heart shattered, his mind spinning. He didn't know if he was angry, or scared, or just blinded by jealousy, but whatever it was that he was dealing with had him feeling weighed down and wholly out of place.

"You can be mad at me if you want to, but that won't change anything. Did you even talk to them before dragging them here? Do they know what's happening?" Hongjoong asked, trying not to let his emotions come through in his voice, but his own anger and bitterness were evident.

Of course he knew that was the problem, he was the villain in the story, but he wasn't ready to back down and admit that. Losing to Yunho was one thing, but it was another entirely to lose to him in front of their entire pack. He wasn't going down without a fight, and he wasn't ready to acknowledge that all of the hurt and anger and frustration were desperately outweighed by guilt and concern. He'd really never meant to hurt Blue, or Yunho, or anyone.

"Did you bond with them? Did you tell anyone? Or did you think that wanting them was enough to make them yours? Because God knows they'll give you whatever the fuck you want. Do you really think I'm scummy enough to do anything they didn't want me to?" Hongjoong pushed on, stalking closer to Yunho, who finally took a step back.

His words hung heavy, and he could feel everyone's eyes on him, the disapproval. He regretted it the second that he said it, but it was too late for him to take them back now.

"Hongjoong," A voice said, soft but firm enough to cut the tension. "Don't say things you'll regret. I think you both need some time to cool down, we can handle this later."

Seonghwa stepped forward, placing himself between the two of them. The room was burning hot, and everyone looked about one second away from snapping or bursting into tears.

"They're my mate. You know how sacred that is. I never would have done this to you," Yunho said after a moment, taking another few slow steps back from the wolf in front of him. "Stay away from us, or you'll regret it. I thought I meant something to you, but clearly you've only ever cared about yourself and your stupid ego."

Those were the last words Yunho ever intended to say to Hongjoong. He turned, taking Blue's hand gently, trying not to scare them more than he already had. As he pulled them out of the dorm, Blue looked back, eyes glossy with tears and dark with desperation as they silently begged Hongjoong to look at them. They were wading through the shame too, through the pain of watching the pack separating because of them. He didn't look up, not a single glance, just watched the floor as the door shut.

The quiet in the room was deafening with Yunho gone. Hongjoong could feel tears pricking his eyes, could feel the building desperation to break down, the weight of it trying to drag him to the ground. He had done a lot of terrible things in his life, he knew damn well that his hands weren't clean, but he'd never imagined that he would carry the weight of destroying his own pack. He had never been so impulsive, and reckless, and cruel, and selfish. And now it was time for him to face the consequences of his actions.

"Hyung," It was Mingi who finally spoke. And Hongjoong prayed that his usual kind, patient words would follow. "Blue? What were you thinking?"

Hongjoong felt the words run right through him. He couldn't breathe, lips parting in a silent gasp as he tried to steady himself. It was true, though, everyone knew from the moment they met him that Yunho had imprinted on Blue, that he just needed the time to realize it, and Hongjoong had taken that from him. Why? Because he was bitter? Because he was self-destructing? Surely he could have destroyed himself in a quicker, less devastating way than this.

"I don't know," He answered.

"You shouldn't have fought with him. You know how he feels about them, and he hadn't even figured it out yet." San said. His voice was gentler, but his words were still a slap in the face.

Nobody else had anything to say as they left, and maybe the silence hurt more. Then it was just him and Seonghwa, and Hongjoong couldn't keep his composure anymore. He sank to the ground at his lover's feet, head in his hands and sobs quaking his body. Seonghwa stepped closer, and laid a hesitant hand to the crown of his head.

"What have I done?" Hongjoong asked, looking up at his lover. Seonghwa just shook his head, lips pursed into a line and silent disappointment painted on his face. Seonghwa gave his head one last stroke before leaving him alone.

The dorm had never felt this quiet or cold to Hongjoong before, he'd never felt so uncomfortable in the home he'd made. He closed his eyes, tipping his face to the sky and sending out a prayer to whatever or whomever it was that was waiting for him at the end of this cruel life. Please, he begged, please let this be over, let him fix this, and - at the end of the line - let him suffer for what he'd done. He deserved that much.