#to borrow a friend’s words it is just GLORIOUS

[winedogs]

JAY AX!!!!!!!!!!!! 2024 is our year 🔥🔥🔥

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror. 

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway. 

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!” 

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and - 

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink. 

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?” 

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening. 

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head - 

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle. 

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin. 

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.” 

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept. 

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time. 

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin. 

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job. 

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again. 

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not. 

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well. 

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.” 

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?” 

“Just going over some shots.” 

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that. 

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much. 

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.” 

“Oh, yes, please!” 

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue. 

“Thanks.” 

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience. 

“So, tonight’s the night, right?” 

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.” 

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him. 

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself. 

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?” 

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye. 

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne. 

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?” 

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you. 

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company. 

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?” 

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him. 

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now. 

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him. 

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told. 

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile. 

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head. 

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.” 

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.” 

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips. 

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.” 

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you. 

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too! 

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19):  And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21):  I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26):  Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping. 

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin. 

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again. 

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!” 

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.” 

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you. 

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook. 

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.” 

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned. 

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.” 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do. 

You’ve got his love. 

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin. 

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him. 

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away. 

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.” 

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence. 

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next. 

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper. 

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat. 

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?” 

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.” 

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face. 

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.” 

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?” 

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing. 

It makes you want to make him lose control. 

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.” 

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.” 

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.” 

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself. 

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat. 

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now. 

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement. 

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?” 

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him. 

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?” 

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound. 

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.” 

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?” 

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. 

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you. 

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.” 

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in. 

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his. 

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust. 

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.” 

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own. 

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work. 

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?” 

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?” 

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.” 

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that. 

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”  

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye. 

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.” 

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.” 

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode. 

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.” 

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!” 

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss. 

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway. 

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him.  If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now. 

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion. 

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can. 

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel. 

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now. 

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier. 

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal. 

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.” 

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust. 

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back. 

“Love you so much, jagi.” 

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady. 

“I love you, too.” 

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!” 

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position. 

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. 

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump - 

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again. 

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.” 

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.” 

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again. 

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go. 

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it. 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment. 

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.” 

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.” 

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way. 

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.” 

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.” 

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.” 

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.” 

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back. 

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

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Not Made for Easy

James Potter x BSF!Reader

Summary: Years of loving and yearning unfurl the night before graduation. A dramatic love confession.

WC: 3.4k

CW: Slytherin coded reader, James grabs the reader a few times, semi public confession. No pregame we are jumping straight into the confession

The night air was crisp, carrying the distant croak of frogs and the occasional ripple of the lake where the giant squid lurked beneath moonlit waves. Hogwarts loomed behind you, a castle you had called home for seven years, now little more than stone and memory. Memories that ached, even now, to look back on.

Every moment felt borrowed.

Sirius was laughing- loud and uninhibited- drunkenly sprawled across Remus’s lap as Peter snorted into his drink. The five of you had snuck out one last time, because what were rules to Marauders except suggestions?

You stood beside James, your fingers laced with his, a drink in your other hand. His palm was warm against yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles, as if committing them to memory. As if he hadn't taken the liberty on more then one occasion to trace the subtle skin.

It was cold, the breeze tugging at your sleeves, but before you could pull away, he took your intertwined hands and slipped them into the pocket of his jacket. It pulled a smile from you, as your eyes flickered up to see his expression.

It was so serious. Hardened. As if he was ready for what laid outside the wards waiting for you all.

Even then, his nose was a rosey flush and his ear burned against the summer night’s breeze. James Potter, to you, would never be scary. Not in appearance.

It was his words that scared you.

"You know," James murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear, "This night should last forever."

You exhaled, watching the mist of your breath dissipate. "Nothing lasts forever, James."

His grip on your hand tightened inside his pocket. Still, even as you stared at his profile, he didn't turn to look at you. "We could try."

You hated the way your heart twisted at his words. The way, even now, even after all these years, James Potter could make you believe in something as ridiculous as forever.

Because that's what you two had always been. Friends, forever. Fighting, forever. Growing, forever.

Together, forever. As you promised each other when you were too young to fathom what forever could possibly mean. Two chubby small pinkies linking together the way those muggle shows had taught you.

“Remember to be humble.” You looked down and swallowed, tipping your drink to your lips, letting the burn distract you from his silent question. "I know I am not a glorious prize."

James turned to you then, and only then, as sharp as a whip, his brows furrowing. "Please do not say that-”

You shook your head, staring at the water. "I cannot use my heart as collateral, James. I can't do it. I don't want to know a heartbreak like this."

Because who could? Who could see someone so familiar, so safe, and promise something so real? Something so fragile that it's most famous for breaking?

His lips parted, something soft and wounded in his expression. It was your turn to refuse his eyes. "Then I won’t break your heart."

You laughed, but it was hollow. "Every love I have ever known has left me. People grow, James-"

"-hear my side-"

"-people leave. People flourish, and they move on."

"I have tried, trust me-"

You squirmed to take your hand from his. At first, he fought it, his expression twisting as he stammered over himself, desperate to keep you standing infront of him.

Because he knew you'd run. You always did.

Finally you managed to free your hand. You took a deep breath and turned to face him fully, not noticing the boys, who you had your back to now, had fallen quiet. “Everyone around us is picking their lives apart. Everyone around us is doing something foolish- James, tell me- and do not lie because I know you better than that- After tomorrow what will you do?"

James didn’t hesitate. He held up the hand he had been holding yours with. His other hand traced the palm as if confused by the chilling bite. The type of cold that only came when you had warmth. A warmth taken away.

Still, he puffed up his chest like a proper lion. Proud. As he always had been. "I’ll join the Order."

You closed your eyes, because of course he would. Of course he would run toward danger like he was made for it, like he had never once considered a life outside of war. He had never been born outside of war.

What a tragic poet.

"The Order, see?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "I despise your self-sacrifice. And by morning I will call you foolish, and you will call me heartless. And we will have an expiration date as everyone else does-"

James tilted his head, his voice softer now, less of a plea and more of a vow, but still strong enough to cut off your next rant. "Your heart is too big to ignore."

You turned to him, the weight of everything pressing into your ribs. His eyes were flickering between your own. You weren't sure what he was looking for but you were certain he wouldn't find it. Not now. "No, James, yours is. And you project your love onto others and don’t see what’s true-”

"Please," He whispered, a small pathetic sound that almost shattered your resolve.

You swallowed, staring down at his freed hand. You set your drink down on a near by rock and sighed.

"I will be crass. I do not love like your parents do, James, I never learned how-"

"I’ve known that for years." He gave a faint chuckle before you heard him sniff. For the first time in the night you focused on those eyes of his, and saw the gloss that surely was blurring his vision. The boys behind you had fallen silent. No more drunken cackling, no more teasing remarks from Sirius, no more knowing glances from Remus. Even Peter, who always seemed to fill the silences, said nothing.

They knew this conversation had been a long time coming.

James sniffed again, trying to hide it by running a hand through his already-mussed hair, but you saw the way his throat bobbed, how his jaw clenched just a little too tightly.

You could break him right now. With a few words, with a step away, with silence.

But he had always given you his words freely. Had always been relentless with his love, loud and warm and full of foolish, unwavering faith. A faith in who? You didn't know. But whoever it was was cruel.

And tonight, for the first time, you were afraid that faith would finally break him.

"I will destroy you," You strained, the words low, raw, carved out from something deep inside of you. "I will crush your optimism- your joy, James I'll take away what makes you you- II have been doing it for years."

His fingers twitched in his pocket, gripping nothing but the frayed edges of lost warmth. You could tell he wanted to reach for you again.

"James," You whispered, shaking your head, "Just be us again. I'll play my role. You be our hero. Marry for the love you've savored for years-”

James inhaled sharply. His shoulders squared, his expression hardened- not with anger, but with something more devastating.

"I haven't savored a single love that wasn't ours. I couldn't do it.”

You closed your eyes, refusing to meet his. Your head shaking as you looked at his feet.

"I don't want her," He whispered, voice thick with emotion as he stepped closer. Lowering his head to try and catch your eyes. "I love you. I have loved you for years and I will continue loving you because it's all I've ever known how to do.”

It would’ve been easier if he had just admitted to loving Lily Evans. It would have been easier if he had told you that you were nothing more than an old, childhood habit, something warm and familiar but ultimately temporary.

It would hurtless if you weren't in love with a comforting, easy, fool. But none of that was true when it came to loving him.

Instead, he was giving you the truth. The truth you had spent years trying to ignore, trying to smother, because if you acknowledged it- if you let it in- it would consume you. Consume you as it consumed him. Consume you as it consumed everyone around you. And you'd had to admit defeat and drop your weapons.

Admit defeat and admit to everyone that there was no one better than James Fleamont Potter. No one you loved deeper and no one who owned you like he did.

And then in the morning you'd be adults. And no one would be there to shield you from anything that would happen. Because having loved and having lost was torture. But having been loved and losing. That was a hell you could choose to walk away from now.

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. Your eyes finally meeting his. "You can't love me, James. I'm just easy."

That was the final blow, and you knew it.

But James didn’t look wounded. He didn’t back away. He just let out a breath, almost a laugh, shaking his head before finally turning to face you completely again.

"Nothing about loving you has been easy," He murmured. "Believe me."

You clenched your jaw, eyes burning, because of course he had to say something like that. Something that felt like the sun cracking through the night. Something that sounded like it promised you tomorrow.

The words hung between you, thick with meaning, heavy with the war waiting for you beyond these castle walls.

James Potter, the boy who had never known how to love quietly, the boy who wore his heart like a banner, who carried his devotion to you like a sacred, unbreakable promise- looked at you now like you were something worth fighting for. Worth every battle he had already lost.

And you knew, terrifyingly, every battle he'd lose from today.

But it was just you, the girl who had spent years pretending, who had convinced herself that her heart was not something she could afford to risk, was now standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real.

"Then why?" You pushed, voice barely above a whisper. “Why can we not have easy?”

James exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was restraining himself from reaching for you again.

"We weren’t made for easy."

It was a truth. A quiet, devastating truth.

You closed your eyes, willing your heart to be as stubborn as your mind, but the ache in your chest was too much, too loud, too impossible to ignore.

You told him now. Told him with the silence, with the way your body leaned away even though your heart wanted to collapse against him.

And then you turned. Walked away. Because that was what you had always done, wasn’t it? Left before you could be left. Hurt before you could be hurt.

But James, he wouldn't. No it wasn't something he could do. He had never- and never would- let you go so easily.

You heard him curse under his breath before his footsteps followed yours, his voice raw and unrelenting.

"You always do this!" He called after you.

You didn’t stop.

“You run, you always bloody run!"

You kept walking.

"And I have let you! I have let you run because I thought- I thought if I chased you, if I gave you another reason to hate me, you'd bolt and never come back!"

You clenched your fists. The lump in your throat burned.

"But you do come back," James continued, voice thick with something between anger and desperation. “Every time. You come back, and I wait, and I pretend that maybe this time, maybe this time will be different."

You inhaled sharply.

"But not this time," He sighed, breathless, relentless.

You had reached the edge of the lake now, the moon's reflection rippling in the water. The only sound was the wind through the trees and the distant voices of your friends who had let James take his stand.

You turned on your heel, facing him. "What do you want from me, James?"

He stopped in front of you, chest rising and falling too fast, too frantic. His hair was messier than before, his glasses slipping down his nose, his hands shaking where he clenched them at his sides.

"I want you."

You shook your head. “No-”

"I want you, and I don’t care if it isn't easy, if it’s a fight, if you keep convincing yourself this isn’t real. Because I know it is. I know you know it is. I may only be as clever as the textbooks I’ve read, but there are things you don’t learn in textbooks- things you only learn in the quiet, in the stolen hours of the night. You learn them sneaking out, running through the dark, standing shoulder to shoulder with someone who has always been there. Someone who looks at you, and you realise, everything makes sense."

"James-”

"But only when she's right there," He cut in, his voice raw with something unshakable, something real. "Only when she's calling me a git more than my actual name. Only when she's spent her entire childhood making me a better man, whether I deserved it or not."

He shook his head, stepping forward, forcing you to look at him, to see him.

"And I let her," He continued, his voice quieter now but no less certain. "Because I am a git. Because I convinced myself that what I had with you wasn’t what I’d spent the last five years searching for. Because I thought I could look at someone else and not feel the absence of you like a missing limb. But I can’t. Because a love like this- you- can’t be traded. And a woman like you wouldn’t have wasted a single day on me if you didn’t see something you wanted."

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "I didn't want anything, James-”

"Merlin, you want me!” He burst out, his voice cracking between desperation and something dangerously close to hope.

His lips twitched, just slightly, and for a moment, he almost looked like the boy you’d grown up with- cocky and golden, but stripped bare in front of you now.

"You wanted me," He corrected, his voice dipping into something softer, something terrified.

And then, barely a whisper-

"Please. Just- please say you still do. That I didn’t wait too long. That I didn’t ruin this before it ever had a chance to be ours."

You were crying as you walked past him, but this time, James didn’t let you.

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around so fast that you barely had time to catch your breath before he was speaking.

"No,” He hissed, voice raw, furious. desperate, "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to tell me that I should pick someone safer, someone easier, someone who won’t love me the way you do, and expect me to accept it.”

Your breath hitched, but James wasn’t finished. He wasn’t even close.

"You think I don’t know?" He demanded, eyes burning into yours. "You think I haven’t spent years watching you rip yourself apart, thinking you’re too much, too cruel, too difficult to love?"

Your throat tightened. "James-”

He ignored you. "Every single thing I’ve done to be better- it’s because of you. Every time I tried to grow, every time I tried to be someone worthy of this- worthy of you- it was because I saw the way you looked at yourself, and I couldn’t stand it."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you rasped, trying to pull away. But James didn’t let go.

"You think I was brave before you?" He continued, shaking his head. "I wasn’t. I was reckless. I was arrogant. I thought I was untouchable, invincible, all because I didn’t know what it meant to be afraid of losing something. And then I truly met you."

Your lip trembled.

"You made me brave," James said, softer now, voice breaking. "You made me brave."

"You were always brave," You whispered.

"No." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I was foolish. I was cocky. I was arrogant and untouchable- You made me brave.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block him out, but his grip on you only tightened.

"I'm cruel," you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

James inhaled sharply, his free hand trembling as he cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him, to see him when all you wanted was to be seen. He wanted to be your ‘alone’- you'd always been his.

"You watched the worst in me," he murmured. "You saw the worst parts of me- the bastard, the bully, the monster. And you never walked away from him."

Your lip trembled. "James-"

"You stayed," he said again, voice raw, thick with something unbreakable. "When everyone else would have left, when I would have deserved to be left, you stayed."

"I would always stay," you admitted, breathless.

“No you haven't.” James exhaled, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered, "You're always running- from yourself. From us. Just don't let it be from me.”

Your breath shuddered as James’s words settled into the space between you, as heavy as the night sky pressing down over the lake.

You were always running. Running from yourself, from what you felt, from what you knew.

But you didn’t want to run from him.

Not now.

Not ever.

Your lips parted, and the confession came so quietly, so broken, you weren’t even sure you had said it aloud.

"I’m scared."

James’s grip on you loosened just slightly- not to let you go, never to let you go- but to hold you better. His thumb brushed over the pulse at your wrist, steady, grounding.

"When have you ever needed to be scared while I’m here?" He whispered.

His forehead was still pressed to yours, his breath warm against your skin, and suddenly, the world felt smaller, quieter, safer.

You swallowed, tilting your head just slightly, your nose brushing his. You felt the moment he realized what you were going to do, the way his breath caught, the way his fingers twitched like he was holding himself back- because he would never, never take something from you that you weren’t willing to give.

So, you gave.

You lifted onto your toes, closing the space between you, your lips brushing against his in the softest, most tentative kiss you had ever known.

James inhaled sharply, like you had just knocked the wind from his lungs, like he had waited his entire life for this, and he had.

He kissed you like a promise.

Like devotion.

Like forever.

His free hand moved to cradle your face, and for the first time, James Potter wasn’t chasing. He wasn’t reaching for something just out of grasp.

He had you.

And this time- this time- you weren’t running.

Because Hogwarts could be your forever. This moment, right now, by the lake with your friends. That was the forever you wanted to remember.

Whatever came next, whatever happened when you stepped out of the castle walls tomorrow, it would be okay.

Because you'd spend the rest of forever loving James Potter.

[adventuresofalgy]

It was a perfectly beautiful early spring day, and although Algy got up a wee bit late after his amazing birthday party, which had continued well into the middle of the night, that was perhaps just as well, for there had been a widespread frost again in the night, and despite the glorious sunshine the air was cold.

Wrapping his brand new birthday spring scarf around his neck, Algy borrowed a wee blackboard and some coloured chalks from his assistant's studio, and sat down to write a thank you note to all the wonderful friends who had made his 13th birthday party so hugely enjoyable.

Algy was profoundly grateful to everyone who had sent him birthday greetings and special posts, and to all who had contributed with "likes", comments and reblogs – for without your participation, Algy's birthday party would have been just nothing at all!

Algy thinks that you are all amazing, and he is exceedingly lucky to have so many wonderful friends around the world. He sends you all his very fluffiest hugs and thanks 🤗

I thank thee, friend, for the beautiful thought That in words well chosen thou gavest to me, Deep in the life of my soul it has wrought With its own rare essence to ever imbue me, To gleam like a star over devious ways, To bloom like a flower on the drearest days­ Better such gift from thee to me Than gold of the hills or pearls of the sea. For the luster of jewels and gold may depart, And they have in them no life of the giver, But this gracious gift from thy heart to my heart Shall witness to me of thy love forever; Yea, it shall always abide with me As a part of my immortality; For a beautiful thought is a thing divine, So I thank thee, oh, friend, for this gift of thine.

[Algy is quoting the poem Gratitude by the late 19th/early 20th century Canadian writer Lucy Maud Montgomery.]

[isaiahpadams]

Hi, this is an excerpt from a novel I'm working on. It is a very rough draft of a scene based on my own experience as someone who had to learn English as a second language. Please share your thoughts and opinions, just click "keep reading" to see it.

“I learned English when I moved here, I was five years old I believe, by reading from a dictionary and listening to period dramas a family friend would watch.” He chuckled at himself "People used to laugh because, naturally, the words I knew were outdated. My teachers adored me because I had an extensive vocabulary but the others thought I was showing off.” There was an expression of something like shame on his face as he continued “That is why I find it hard to speak to you, I tried breaking the habit and adjusting, altering-" he trailed off in thought for a moment, taking in a deep shaken breath “but I cannot speak to you without weaving poetry into all I say. You make a poet of me.” Priyam laughed and it was the sweetest sound Amadeo had ever heard. “I know you are not a judgemental person, but I worry you might tire of it or think I’m speaking for the sake of speaking, when in reality I just cannot shape this love I have for you into anything other than sickening, dramatic, awkward poems. No simpler words quite fit the archaic devotion.” He paused “I am not trying to force beauty or to make myself look better, smarter, I know my words are out of place, my accent-” Amadeo kissed him, held him and tried to will his own love to translate into this one kiss. “You are not just a poet, but every poem ever written. Your voice is the only music my mind repeats over and over so that I can commit it to memory. I love you.” The hand on his own was so incredibly grounding. “I really hope you know that your voice is genuinely the most beautiful sound I have ever heard and the way you speak makes every pitiful word in existence become something glorious, this isn’t your first language, nor is it mine. We both have to translate each thought into something else, not all words or feelings carry over as well as others but you do it so beautifully, I envy it sometimes.”

They had not yet noticed that they had a similar way of speaking by then, that they shared so much of their time together that they spoke almost as one, borrowing each other’s words and voices.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Bonding Rituals

Previous =-= Next

Author's note: More of Claude in mermay. That's @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Summary: Claude hears some strange noises and investigates, what he sees is some strange bonding, and vaguely masochist ritual between a couple of Black Templars.

Warnings: none? Let me know if I need to add anything!

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

He continues to swim through the water, he’d put the wretched mirror, that might be cursed back into one of his pockets. There are quite a few different pods and schools of space marines in these waters, loyalist, renegade. All of First Born, and he’s only sensed the rare Primaries Space Marine. One of the primaris marines that he’s sensed that are nearby is a good friend of his Cedric- who he’s not seen a long time, since their assignments came down and they were to be sent to different chapters. He’s… he’s fine. Just… it’s the stress from everything and getting shifted into these strange waters after being nearly killed in battle that has him all out of sorts and… seeing Lies in the Mirror.

If he was… if he was a dreadful, hated shape shifter, surely he would know? The Mechanicus would have said something? Or not. But his pod, they don’t shift, or, at least they hadn’t. The Primaris Space Marines who exhibited Oddness or Powers far faster or more strongly were taken away by the Mechanicus… never to be seen or heard of again. That’s why he never said anything about the whispers, the green, the giggles. For it would have him die while in training and his body parts used to further the goals of their handlers. Dying is something that happens, to all, but he’d rather die in glorious service, rather than found wanting and Not Being What He Should be.

Claude had been swimming about lazily, it was during one of his days off and during his free time, he was ... mostly recovered from learning about that Lie in the Mirror. That shard of a mirror that feels like it burns in his armor's pocket. But for some reason he can't discard it, try and trade it away or something. When he tries he gets a wicked headache and some voice within him warns him not to.

So he doesn't and very reluctantly has kept it. As he starts to spiral and brood about the mirror shard he hears an odd clanging noise. And voices speaking in one of the primary languages that the Black Templars speak, as well as more odd clanging noises. Curious, he swims in the direction of the noises, laughter and voices speaking. He sees a mildly scowling Cedric who has his Apothecary 'you are doing something stupid and I have to watch' face.

One of the other Black Templars that he recognizes is Ramiel. He's in an odd large stick with another back templar seated across from him precariously on the wooden stick. He sees that Ramiel was just given a large, heavy dark pan. The pair of Black Templars seem to the shit talking each other- from the way they are posturing. Then Ramiel brings up the pan, takes a swing and smacks the other Black Templar on the side of his head. The other Black Templar sways a moment, before righting himself. Claude hadn't meant to let out the worried and startled trill, as all three Black Templars turn to look to him.

"What are you two doing?" Claude asks them flummoxed.

"We are seeing who's better at taking hits to the head," Ramiel explains, "The person who loses is the one who falls off of the stick."

"That sounds like a good way to get a concussion." Claude says with a frown.

"It is!" Cedric says glaring at his fellow Black Templars, "but this is also one of the bonding rituals of the Black Templars."

Claude has some questions and statements that he'd like to ask, but he knows that a lot of his questions or words wound sound highly insulting at best, and they'd likely get offended at his line of questions. But- as he blinks, with sudden clarity and understanding. He now understands Black Templars a Lot Better and why they are Like That. They beat the shit out of each other with Heavy Pans. For Fun. He's heard the rants from Apothecary Type Space Marines about the dangers of Head wounds and concussions, and how, even with the advanced medicines, technology and healing factors, that Concussions are still quite... tricky and long-lasting injuries that could have long term consequences for the person receiving the concussion. Even years later.

He looks towards Cedric, who huffs out, "The Black Templar Apothecaries have tried to get this particular bonding ritual ended, or at least replaced with a less effective thing to beat our brothers with."

"It wouldn't be as fun or as meaningful!" Protests the eldest of the Black Templars.

Cedric's expression soured, while Ramiel almost shrunk in on himself. Claude eyed Ramiel, who'd been nearly dead upon arrival on Ancient Terra. He's mostly recovered, but is so much quieter than he remembers his brother- no, he's a cousin now, being. Then again, Ramiel's had the honor of becoming an Apprentice Chaplain, of which type he doesn't know. He's also noticed how clingy Cedric's been with Ramiel, and how anxious the latter has been around other Black Templars, other First Born Cousins as well.

He's unsurprised that Ramiel's likely had to suffer the wrath and overly critical and harsh reprisal in their Era from their First Born brothers and cousins for being themselves. He heard about the schism that happened in the Black Templars, and heard of how many of the Primaris were being slaughtered for being 'abominations' which they are not. They are good, loyal, obedient, strong, clever, Angels of the Imperium.

He wonders if any of their First Generation of Primaris Marines have had good stories with First Born or not. Except for the time they spent with the Ultramarines, who'd sent them from Mars to their chapter assignments. Then he remembers what Catius had told him of what happened to him before he'd arrived on Terra and a bitter, sour taste floods his tongue and his expression soured.

"I have heard that Catius has found some of his fellow... brothers who were on the same ship as him, back before his arrival on Terra," Claude says.

Catius had stripped his armors of colors, and from his nightmares and what he'd told him, he's going to respect the other's decision. Although, he's curious of what he's going to do next, and which colors he's going to choose. Whether it's is old ones, which he's going to reclaim, or if he's going to choose a different Chapter to paint his armor in. Claude is drawn out of his thoughts by hearing another loud clang and Ramiel starting to flail and falls off of the wooden stick. The older Black Templar roaring in delight that he'd won the bout. While Cedric swims over and checks them both to make sure they haven't done more than superficial damage. Both of them had been wearing their helmets during the 'smack each other in the temple with a heavy pan' 'ritual' and only had minor bruising.

[indomitablemegnolia]

So, on an off chance that I will be heard I leave this mark on the world. I believe that kindness, compassion are the things that can heal the world; not that I believe it could ever be a great…err good place, but it is our home. I believe people are beautiful; albeit I can’t seriously say all people.

I… live; I am alive; how…why… possibly purely out of spite. They tell me I am going to die… I have been in a plane crash; head on car collision; been beaten… attacked left bleeding; and always yet I am alive. In my life I have done 18 rounds of chemotherapy; I plant a garden, watch the butterflies and bees do their work; I see the blue of the sky, the clouds and the rain with the iridescent rainbow edge of the water refraction. The trees glorious in their stoic watch they keep of the world, the colour of the leaves… they comfort.

I have a inoperable brain tumor; I had eighteen lymph nodes and 11 Foot of intestine and colon removed. I have had seizures; gods they are like slipping off the edge of the world. Its kind of hard to see out of my left eye, but this is all old news. Three days before Christmas I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, my neurologist says it is well advanced; the medication he wants to put me on is hugely expensive; $7600 a dose. My insurance denied it; like a good self- advocate I called to make sure it was not coded wrong. It was not; the man on the phone begins to tell me how lucky a static zero like me to even get the chemotherapy, I am currently enjoying; a bit of a exaggeration of that last word. I proceeded to dress him down in return; using static zero, an occurrence that happens in a magnetic current where no matter how much current is added or subtracted it the pole still stays at zero; he obviously studied to be an electrical engineer; but alas he is stuck in a dime a dozen human squawk box on the end of the phone being directed by an A.I. program; explaining why he lacked kindness or empathy.

I know he was trying to cleverly insult me, I kind of took that as a compliment; no matter what I “gain,” or “lose" I am still here. New diagnosis new research; and gosh, it’s hard to keep optimistic. I have never gained much; I am a loser most often; lost my dogs last month, as well as three cats; lost my car it just stopped wanting to start; lost my ability to taste and swallow; lost at my one single try at love; lost my home; lost every foray, so far, at tying for disability; lost my favourite sunglasses; hell I lost a one hundred bill to a Buddhist monk. Though I have not lost my sense of humour or my unique style.

You see when you kind of borrow the idea of perfect imperfection and ichi I, ichi go; the idea of treasuring the unrepeatable nature of a moment. The term has been roughly translated as "for this time only", and "once in a lifetime". In that simple truth all were never really mine; though they were all mine for a moment. I do wish I had a friend to talk this new development with… but I don’t want to weight down another human with all of this. I am seeking out a counselor I have an appointment on the 9th, I just don’t know sometimes; the world continues to get more and more curious.

@iamhisgloriouspurpose @mousedetective @writernotwaiting @notpedeka @

[theink-stainedfolk]

Rasira

---

It had been Cheruu’s idea, as most reckless things were. Rasira should’ve known better than to trust the glint in his best friend’s eye when he said, “Come on, we’re just borrowing it for a second. It’ll be fine!”

“‘Fine’ is the word people use right before everything goes horribly wrong,” Rasira grumbled, gripping the handlebars of the stolen campus delivery bike.

Cheruu was perched on the back, arms outstretched like a circus performer. “You’re overthinking it! This is what college is about! Freedom! Stupidity! Potential concussions!”

“Two out of three of those sound terrible,” Rasira muttered, but the slight grin on his face betrayed his excitement.

The bike wobbled precariously as they sped down the steep hill near the engineering building, the wind whipping through their hair. It was late evening, the campus deserted except for a few passing students who paused to gape at the two idiots hurtling downhill at breakneck speed.

“Cheruu, we’re going too fast!” Rasira yelled over the rushing wind.

“That’s the point! Faster, Raspberry! I believe in you!”

Rasira rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. His knuckles whitened on the handlebars as they picked up even more speed. The bike’s bell jingled madly, a cheerful soundtrack to their chaos.

Then came the turn.

“Cheruu,” Rasira called, his voice tense. “The curb is��”

“I see it!”

“Do you?”

“I’m navigating with my soul!”

“Your soul is blind!”

The front wheel hit the curb with a sickening jolt, and the bike bucked like a wild horse. In a glorious display of physics and poor decision-making, both boys were flung into the air.

Rasira landed first, skidding across the grass before crashing into a flower bed. Cheruu followed shortly after, somersaulting mid-air like a ragdoll before landing upside down against a tree.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Rasira groaned, lifting his head from the bed of crushed petunias. “Ow.”

“Are you alive?” Cheruu’s voice came from somewhere above him.

“I’m questioning it.”

Cheruu managed to peel himself off the tree, hobbling over with a lopsided grin. His jeans were torn, his elbow bleeding, but he looked more exhilarated than pained. “That was amazing! Did you see the way I flipped? I looked like an action movie hero!”

“You looked like roadkill,” Rasira shot back, attempting to sit up. He winced, clutching his side. “I think I broke something. Possibly everything.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cheruu beamed. “You’ll heal.”

“Cheruu, I hate you.”

“Fair.”

The sound of sirens in the distance interrupted their banter. Campus security, undoubtedly summoned by some horrified onlooker.

“Okay,” Cheruu said, crouching next to Rasira with a conspiratorial grin. “Game plan. We tell them—”

“—That we’re morons,” Rasira finished.

Cheruu shrugged. “I was going to say innovators, but morons works too.”

---

Later, in the hospital, the chaos continued.

Rasira was lying in the bed with his arm in a sling, his leg propped up on pillows. Cheruu was beside him in another bed, his forehead sporting an impressive bandage. Both were covered in bruises, yet neither of them could stop laughing.

“So,” Cheruu said, wincing as he tried to sit up. “On a scale of one to ‘we need to move to another country,’ how mad do you think campus security is?”

“They’re probably still filling out the paperwork for the flowerbed incident,” Rasira replied, chuckling. “Pretty sure I ruined a memorial garden. No big deal.”

Cheruu clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. “You’re a menace to society.”

“Says the guy who told me to ‘trust his soul.’”

“Okay, fair point.” Cheruu tilted his head, pretending to think. “What if we blame this on fate? Or gravity? I think we have a strong case against gravity.”

Rasira snorted. “Gravity’s lawyer would destroy us in court.”

The nurse, who had been patiently dealing with their antics for the last hour, walked in holding two cups of water. “You two are incorrigible,” she said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile.

“Thanks! We aim to please,” Cheruu replied with a wink, earning a dramatic eye-roll from Rasira.

As the nurse left, Cheruu turned to Rasira with a mischievous grin. “So, when we get out of here… round two?”

Rasira groaned, throwing a pillow at him. “Never again.”

But the grin on his face said otherwise.

---

My ♡s: @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue @frostedlemonwriter-deactivated2

[pure-ablution]

Your funniest Oxford memory?

Tuck’s wedding. Without a doubt. I still cry and wheeze and bend double whenever I remember it.

It was when we were all still in Oxford together, before Percy moved to the city for his corporate destiny, and wore Pink Floyd t-shirts inside out, and still had the raggedy earlobe from where the little one bit him, once—before Hymir left, too, back to the Fjords, leaving us and Lestat and the little one to pick up the pieces. It’s good still, but I’ll never be 20 again and lying in the cottage garden, full of champagne and not knowing that this wouldn’t last forever, that we’d soon enough be scrabbling for a single Sunday, and writing each other letters instead of lying on each others’ beds and laughing.

It was announced so quietly, just a note in our pigeonholes. A shotgun wedding—an emergency, a scandal—between the holiest woman I’ve ever met, and my awful, lovely college brother, who lectured me from day one about Aquinas, and who is the absolute master of committing to the bit. Well, he committed a little too close to the sun, and in our weird sort of way, we couldn’t be prouder.

We all scrambled to the wedding Mass in borrowed morning suits and mantillas. What happened next was, frankly, divine comedy; there are no other words for it. A rag-tag pew at the back, Boris and Teddy and Lestat and Lord only knows whom they dragged back from the night before in Cowley, already sloshed on corner-shop cava, and the rest of us, trying to keep a straight face, though we couldn’t actually see Tuck, in all his post-ironic, three-piece suited glory, through the haze of incense and Gregorian chant. Percy was trying to steer Alajos through the aisle like a malfunctioning marionette; I was elbowing Freddie, trying (and failing) to get him to stop humming the Imperial March deliberately out of step with the choirboys.

The priest was ancient, and deaf, and kept staring directly at Amadeus (who coughed) every time he said the word ‘sacrament’. Tuck stood there, like a soldier being offered up for sainthood, trembling. His bride, our own Philomena, glorious and glowing and tragically gravid, was already three steps ahead on the road to Heaven. We’d all been college married and divorced and married again and ended up with children who weren’t our own and lost those who were, but Tuck and Philomena were the first—and, so far, the only—of us to actually, properly, in the eyes of the Lord and whatever congregation we’d manage to scrape together, tie the knot.

And then, then, the moment came.

“If any person here knows of any lawful impediment…”

Lestat snorted so hard that it echoed across to the chancel. Alajos furiously hissed don’t. Percy made a strangled sound that was either a warning or a laugh, and Tuck looked like he was going to faint, or kill one or all of us, right there in front of God and his wife-to-be and his unborn child. And then Teddy and Boris, clutching their hip flask like it was the only thing holding them upright, stumbled to their feet.

At least, they tried to. We stuffed them furiously under the pew and told the little one to shove his shoes in their mouths, and smiled like butter wouldn’t melt, like nothing was ever wrong. Tuck, to his credit, never flinched. He just stood there, ever the schoolmaster, as the sorry excuses he so reluctantly called friends descended into slapstick heresy in the very back pew of the Oratory.

They said yes, of course, and they have their second child on the way, now, and we all take turns being the world’s worst babysitters. We all cried, and Lestat kissed Freddie’s forehead absentmindedly, still holding an ice pack to his own, and we toasted them with whatever was left in our morning coats. We had the reception in the garden of the cottage; it looked like a glittery apocalyptic outpost, and we each made increasingly ridiculous speeches, balanced barefoot on an upside-down crate marked wedding stuff and mammoth tusks in permanent marker. Lestat played a medley of Claire de Lune and Mamma Mia on a harpsichord Percy stole from the music faculty, and we throttled him collectively, as the happy couple went on their honeymoon (to the Randolph, for a night, because we still had lectures in the morning, and Bunny hadn’t finished his essay yet.)

[stupidneko]

just rlly curious but what was cat's role during ghost marriage(and other events)? as in, what did she do and was she important?

in ghost marriage Cat tried to court Eliza as a last resort, it didn't work unfortunately. She did make her flustered, and tried to slap her but Cat caught her hand( with the help of some special gloves from Sam) and kissed her, after the kiss Eliza's lips where speckled with ''blood''(everyone sees it as red, like normal blood) and Cat made a comment on how red suits her blueish skin , of course Eliza got really mad and managed to slap her this time.

After everything ended(Eliza and Puffy getting together) everyone would return to their dorms but Cat made an excuse that she forgot something back at wedding's venue. She ended up being surrounded by some ghost knights that didn't take very well Cat doing with their beloved Princess, only for them to be captured by Sam's ''Friends'' as payment for borrowing the special gloves. After that Cat returned back at Ramshackle, with no one knowing what happened back there.

as for other events such as Fairy Gala , Pandora took control over Cat's body for a second, marking it as her special appearance, as she makes eye contact with the Fairy Queen and smiles at her( the Fairy Queen gets instantly Vietnam flashbacks) the Queen ended up fainting but after that everything just continues according to the story.

In Playful Land Pandora once again makes an appearance, she has a little conversation with the Fox Lad(he doesn't realize that he's speaking with someone else so he get's confused on why Cat uses the words like "other-self") ''warning'' him that the 'other her' is pretty pissed off and that all his hard work will be in vain since 'she' is here(Pandora has so much fun with the whole situation going on)

In Glorious Masquerade there would be some interaction between Cat and Rollo, as ''catching'' her in the school's library, of course this doesn't back fire at him till the actual end of the story, as Cat and him getting separated from the others because of the fire. They have one final discussion in which Rollo get's mocked by her and how foolish his plan is. And with the piece of resistance, Cat's final move - is by reminding him about his younger brother and making some not so pitiful comments about it(she found out from some old articles from the library)

as for other event's i haven't thought to much but im sure i will come up with something. these event's bring me the occasion to show the real traits of Cat's personality.

[yanderefairyangel]

I was bored so I tried to translate the Engage opening and ending a bit more faithfully. It's closer to a literal translation compared to the Eng version of the opening but I still tried to put the words in an elegant manner.

千の未来に祝福を　夢人かすむ刹那

Bless from thousand futures

dreamer bereft of a moment of peace

君は笑み護る花 立ち向かう黒鋼 戦いの熱砂

You are a smilling protective flower

A black steel that stand against elements

The hot sand of the battlefield

君は吹き渡る雪 晴れ渡る明と昏が 教えた傷癒すから

You are the snow blowing across

The clear dawn and sleeping dusk

I'll heal the wounds I taught you about

約束した　名を呼んで 駆け抜けた十二の光　覚えている？

As we promised call for my name

Do you remember the 12 light running across ?

赤の記憶燃え上がり 解き放て吼えろ 今こそ　此処へ！

The red memory burning brigtly

Unleash and howl!

It's time to let go here and now !

(Emblem-Engage！)

繋げ炎　伝えよ愛を あの旅路のように 彼の人のように

Connect the flame, Convey your love

Like this journey did

Like this person did

誓え絆　輝け夢よ この空の先まで 君と二人共に

Swear upon our bound, shine on my dream

Until we reach the end of this sky

together with you

君は新たなる愛 古の傷跡 褒め称う青さ

You are the renewed love

The ancient scars

The praised blueness

君は借り物の影 夢に観た頁にまた 光謀る兆まで

You are a borrowed shadow

Reappearing in the page of my dream

till there's a glorious omen

喪失さえ　誓い合う 微睡んだ七つの炎　覚えていて

Even loss is a pledge

Remember the seven slumbering flames

銀の縁駆け出して 舞い上がり祈れ 応えよ　此処に！

with a silver edge running away

Soar up and pray

Answer my call here and now !

(Emblem-Etanity)

勇め友よ　目覚めの刻は 鏡合わせのように 双翼のように

Courage my friend, the time of awakening is at hand

Matching like in a mirror

Clapping like a pair of wings

夜明け辿り　治めし願い 違えぬ紅玉を 君と双り永遠に

The dawn trace its arrival, as you wish for its reign

An umistakable ruby

With you for eternity

最後まで君の力となろう あの日のように隣に立つ日を 君が望むのなら

I will be your strengh until the very end

Until the day we stand together like that day

If this is what you wish

約束した　名を呼んで 駆け抜けた十二の光　覚えている？

As we promised, call for my name

Do you remember the 12 light running across ?

赤の記憶燃え上がり 解き放て吼えろ 再び　此処へ！

The red memory burning brigtly

Unleash and howl!

And again here we are !

(Emblem-Engage！)

繋げ炎　伝えよ愛を この旅路のように 此の紋章のように

Connect the flame, Convey your love

Like this journey did

Like this Emblem did

誓え絆　輝け夢よ 星空の先まで 君と二人共に 紡がれし記憶は 絆炎の紋章士

Swear upon our bound, shine on my dream

Until the end of the starry sky

Together with you

The Emblem of Flame spunning our memories

Commentary.

*The songs seems to be sang from Marth's pov and the ending seems to be an answer song to this one. The narrator is speaking to Alear/the player. The first verse refers to the Royals/their kingdom : the flower refering to Alfred/Firene, the black steel to Diamant/Brodia, the hot sand to Timerra/Solm, the snow to Ivy/Elusia. The 12 light refers to the Emblem, the part refering to the dawn/dusk and red memory are foreshadowing Alear's real identity. Both the first and final chorus are refering to the moment where Alear will become the Emblem of Connection (never gonna call them the Fire emblem). The second part of the song is dedicated to the story of the Fell Xenologue, still speaking to Alear, while refering to Nel's love for Altlear, her feelings for Alear and their Divine heritage. It also seems to be refering to the gradual evolution of Nel's feelings towards Alear : someone with the appearance of her love (the renewed love and borrowed shadown) her own suffering (the ancient scars) and how she came to view Alear as their own person (going from the praised blueness refering to Altlear and the umistakable ruby refering to Alear). The wings are refering to the 4 Winds whose JPN name is "4 Wings" . In the last part, Ryo read the word moushou as "Emblem" in the japanese version. Just like for the English version, the japanese version uses the "incantation" chant in the verse ie Celica "protective", Micaiah "heal", Lyn "blow across/sweep across"

[childoftheyellowsun]

"I desperately needed a language that my parents will not speak or understand.  I did not speak English nor could read it properly.

If I had written something about what I was going through, in Marathi, the only language that we all knew, there was a danger that my parents could have read it. 

I was sixteen, was just out of high school and was severely heartbroken. I needed a language to be my secret code.

Aai, my mother was born in a small village of Vasai, north of Mumbai, in a poor family with four other siblings.

A catholic hamlet that included two modest houses, which had a few non catholic tenants. As soon as she had finished her matriculation exam, she had started working to contribute her share of money to the family.

Aai used to write short stories. She had a beautiful notebook. One evening, her father, in a fit of anger threw her notebook into the well in the backyard and warned her that writing is the indulgence for rich people and she should not waste her time doing it. Instead, she could find one more evening job to add to her income.

That well had a turtle in it.

Aai knew that the turtle ate her notebook. She never wrote a word again. It seems to me now, that my whole life is an act of revenge for the injustice done to her notebook. When I was born, she tells me now, she had decided, remembering the notebook disappearing below the water, that she will make me a writer. 

How does one make a writer? You can make an engineer, an architect, a husband or a banker. Not a writer.

The writer needs to be.

She was a rebel. She had proper male friends, another oddity for the family. She never went out with her sisters to shop or gossip. She did two jobs. She used to pay for her tea when she went out with her friends. She liked buying a film ticket and watching a new film alone in the theatre. That year when Hindi film ‘Bobby’ released, she decided to part with her traditional Maharashtrian dress and declared that she will only wear short skirts. She will never marry. She will continue to be a typist.

She would borrow books from library and she would live alone in Vasai.  She did not wait for permissions of her father and brothers. Dimple Kapadia now was her inspiration. When you do not have an army, or money your costume is where your rebel starts.

She immediately bought two skirts and blouses and made her statement.  She got herself another better paying job as steno typist in distant suburb of Borivali, for which she needed to catch the early morning train. She became the busy one, the most earning one.

But the idea of the short skirt did not go well. The result? Within a year, she was married into a household in Pune, where she was expected to be a housewife.

She would not step out and do any job, follow all rituals of the household and of course will forever wear a saree. 

A free-spirited girl inside her died as soon as I was born to her. It was her who decided that I will be a writer. Not me.

To my junior college I used to carry my inferiority complex, and a small notebook in which I noted the things that I felt.  I could never leave the notebook back home.

If she had found it, she would be glad that I was writing but she would not get the strangeness of it. The strangeness of my heart. 

A violin played for no one.  For us, in our mother tongue, the writing had to be lyrical. It had to be inspiring. It had to be glorious. It would have been great if it was socially useful. 

Or it had to be something that we munch with one hand while sipping the tea with the other. My notebook had nothing like it. I had no space to hide it.

The day when I told Aai, the root of my difference from the world around me, she became silent. Then she said, it is nature and we should learn to accept it. Nature will not leave anything unnatural around us.

So, what you feel is your oddity is simply the nature. The side of nature that we do not know of. Like some trees we do not know that they exist.

The fruits that grow in the unknown part of the world that we have not tasted yet. I will make sure to learn more about it. But meanwhile, are they going to give you grace marks in exam because of your whatever uniqueness? Is someone going to pay your bills because you are lonely? So, stop complaining. The world is a harsh place not only for you. So, you are not different, you are just like all of us, trying to make sense of things around us.  Now come, the dinner is ready.

All of this, she of course spoke in my mother tongue, Marathi.  The language I desperately wanted to run away from, to express my feelings. She was using it to express her wisdom.

That moment made me realize that I must write down what I feel, what I went through, on paper. In my mother tongue. Writing is not an indulgence for rich, as my maternal grandfather had threatened my mother.

It is quite the opposite. If I do not write, I have no other way to clear the tightness in my chest.  It does not matter if no one reads it. It does not matter if someone reads it and hates me.

If I do not tell my story, who will?"

(Written by Sachin Kundalkar.)

[charlotteswebbbbb]

What's the vibe? #63

Cannes wrapped up > next interesting festivals in August are Locarno and Venice (where I think we're getting a new Luca Guadanino film).

The Euros start next week. First England game is on the 17th June and they're up against Serbia.

French Open still going strong til the 9th - a women quarter final to check out is Coco Gauff v Ons Jabeur today, right now.

Isamaya x FaceGym collab and cosmetic surgery tourism:

Isamaya Ffrench has releases a gua shua metal accessory in collaboration with FaceGym. This non invasive cosmetic "procedure" if you can call it that, is an example of 1, the rise in this traditional, culture based way of approaching health and 2, related to the want for non invasive techniques.

The former - relating to maybe "decolonial" ways of living - "how did my grandma do this and is it related to today? does it work first of all?" You could also see this strand of thought going into storytelling, unfamiliar territory for some but I think that if Hollywood is obsessed with IP that already exists, that newness is risky for them. Independent wise, the base is built, the curiosity set up in adventurous watchers who love Letterboxd, so could work in that context. (Maybe this is West specific, the rest of the world is obviously going to delve into national myths.)

One of the biggest reasons in the big Korean soft power exploding alongside the fact that the music, food and general culture is big is beauty tourism. Korean skincare exploding has people looking at their "cutting edge" treatments to improve themselves on holiday. A little botox at 1, colour matching at 2.30, great dinner at 5.

Curating and individualism:

This is a funny read - as with many things about culture I never find people go deep enough about anything. I find that when people discuss trend cycles or something they've been in it for a while but now it's just...culture. It's the pouring of 300 bottles of liquor to create the glorious cocktail. They lack - I find it uninteresting

"are we killing culture?" isn't even a real idea or question. Culture will shift, mutate, regroup. I even think because of almost a year of activism, some tactics will be borrowed - it might be of the same speed/faster/underground or aggressively IRL because that's where you find

At the end of the piece, there's this link which was attached to the phrase "find our way back to reality".

IDK - even this doesn't move me - it's very stiff in terms of what to do. Like what do you enjoy? What's your perspective on things? There's consumption but people like enjoyment....which is why they consume? The most interesting writings or stuff is like maybe visiting Cafe Oto. You can observe from outside, hear the muffled sounds, enjoy a chat with a friend, go inside, experience something weird, different, go back out, write down observations, go back in and maybe read a little on stage to the audience and see how they feel about it.

I think now we've gotten near to peak curation, a lot of hidden gems are found and easily accessed - which is great for people, sometimes not great for creators, or businesses that are suddenly overwhelmed unnecessarily.

from above: "Structurally, the Internet is not getting better anytime soon; I have not hidden my pessimism about its future. But human creativity persists, even in hostile conditions. Figures like Gee, Reilly, and Shuherk make me hopeful that fun, interesting niches of activity can still survive online. There’s another word that we might apply to such people: “connoisseurs,” in the art-historical sense of passionate observers who shape a discipline through their judgments. We’ve always had connoisseurs, from the radio d.j. to the bookstore clerk, subtly but vitally informing the culture that the rest of us choose to consume. As Shuherk put it, “The person in the nineties working at Blockbuster—we’re the same person.”

I do think that the backlash to a lot of this in the next few years (or months) is just extreme gatekeeping especially for spaces for more marginalised people. Everyone wants to go to the cool thing but tourism decreases the legitimacy.

We're also in extreme tough economic times - see Black Keys, J-Lo cancelling US tour dates, Melt Festival in Germany stopping after 27 years due to changing festival landscape, (Maybe even Jamie XX doing a 10 night residency at Venue MOT). These examples to say anything smaller than the super established runs at a risk. It's hard to create culture when you can't pay rent but also hard to keep going if your audience extract the uniqueness from your creation.

from above: "An exasperated Dominic Cook, a former director at the Royal Court theatre, last month went so far as to call for renationalising the arts. His point, provocatively framed, was that the current system is broken. The model that worked when he started out in the late 1980s — when generous state funding and box office receipts combined to more or less cover costs — now requires hefty supplemental doses of private funding. "

We deeply need funding bodies to keep culture flowing - whether some new Medicis want to step in or "ethical" funding bodies or the government, we'll be happy nonetheless.

I mean this also doesn't mean that cool things aren't happening in industries such as film. For example something like not/nowhere or other cinemas are giving people the chance to learn new skills and showcase work.

4 the dating data heads:

androgyny dressing:

[italoniponic]

I saw your post about some characters nobody had requested for the event yet. If it's possible, could I request and imagine with Malleus (he was one or the three you mentioned, right?), Azul, and Leona for something? I thought you said 3 characters was the limit, I apologize if I read that wrong. 🙇‍♀️

Can I request what those three would do if their crush / Y/N accidentally confessed somehow (like letting it slip that they liked them) and instead of facing the consequences of their actions, Y/N just freakin' bolts. Nobody has ever seen them move that fast before.

Thank you in advance, and I apologize if this doesn't make sense or I did it wrong.

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: ANON I LOVE YOU

The first request featuring Malleus at last! lmao Okay so, since I made something similar with Ace, Cater and Kalim but because there’s other characters this time, I made a twist (yeah, that’s the joke). If you don’t mind, I wrote this in a more funny way. At least it have a complete ending lol

And Diasomnia stans, pls ask me more for Malleus and Silver, I beg you! 

Thanks for the request <3 |

Malleus Draconia, Azul Ashengrotto, Leona Kingscholar x g!n reader who runs really fast / headcanons / fluff & comedy / use of “you” pronouns

Cherry's Harvesting event 🍒 Masterlist

My Baby Runs Like the Wind

“People may not understand why I love you, but...!,” you interrupted yourself halfway through, missing the point you wanted to get to. You simply wanted to assure Malleus that someone in the world really liked him, but your deepest feelings just revealed themselves unexpectedly;

Malleus stopped for a moment and stared deeply at you. In any other situation, he might have let that jumble of words go through his head without noticing anything special. But, it seemed that in this very specific momento he understood what you meant. Malleus’ eyes shone bright, he could feel his own heart beating fast;

Nothing that you could repair for a long time because you jumped up and ran out of there like lightning. Malleus was startled by your speed. He was always amazed at how fast humans could run even though they weren't as skilled as fairies and you seemed to almost disappear into thin air;

But... why did you run away?! Malleus shook his head, pulling himself together. Usually people would run away from him without saying anything or after being rude so they wouldn't suffer the consequences, but you said something good and genuine. You declared your love for him!;

You may have even thought that simply running from your problems was the best of solutions, but when little green lights surrounded you and suddenly, Malleus transported himself in front of you, you realized how wrong you were. You were in the middle of the hallway and the only way out was the side courtyard. Not understanding that you were still in auto-escape mode, Malleus reached out to you to lead you there;

You didn't know what to do. Your head was spinning, confused by the attitudes of your good friend Tsunotaro. Maybe he wanted to reject you more formally? Or perhaps did he not understand what you said and was apprehensive about your escape? You didn't want him to think that way. You weren't running away from him... well, you were, but for another reason;

One way or another, you walked together through the garden and silence was everywhere. Little birds used to avoid Malleus, fearing his draconic aura. In contrast, more crows approached you although they remained courteous in respecting your silence through the way;

You were so restless that Malleus didn't know what to do to help you. He remembered a book that Lilia borrowed for him a few weeks ago, an unusual literature in their land called “teenage romance”. You seemed to be in a very similar situation of misunderstanding between your true feelings;

“Child of Man, do you love me?,” Malleus asked you directly. It took you by surprise and you stared into his glorious jade eyes, expectant for an answer. Your heart started to beat harder and you almost wanted to run from there again;

But you remained and, unable to answer with words, you took Malleus's hand and squeezed it tightly. You nodded, plucking up the courage to face whatever his response to your feelings was. You felt like a knight facing a dragon. However, as admirable as your courage was, there was nothing to worry about;

“Oh, precious joy!,” surprising you again, Malleus gave you a huge smile. You were able to perfectly see his immaculate fangs. “My heart rejoices to hear this. You know why, dear? For I love you as well.” It was like waking up from a nightmare of uncertainties to the reality of sweet life. You were so happy with his response that you threw yourself on top of Malleus to hug him and you both fell off the bench. His good laugh ended up scaring the crows away.

“Loving you is insane, honestly,” you blurted out unintentionally after listening to Azul talk about his favorite coin collection for fifteen minutes. It was accidental, with no prior intention, completely unprepared. The favorite kind of information that Azul would like to receive. But this one caught even him by surprise;

For a long time, there was no noise other than the movement of the fish in the aquarium of Octavinelle's communal room. The little ladder of coins that Azul was making fell but he didn't take his eyes off you. He felt like he heard you wrong. Yeah, maybe that's it. But your face was flustered and this was an indicative counter;

So, for better or worse, you just bolted from there. You ran away so fast you almost ran over the Leech twins in the process. Floyd even joked about changing your name to “Black Marlin” — a fast fish he had bet on racing once in the Coral Sea. But when they turned around to Azul, his coins were already collected from the table and he went after you;

Azul would have asked Jade or Floyd to help ambush you because they were a little faster but, if you had said what he thought you said, he didn't want to involve the Twins unnecessarily in this situation. Things are hard enough without them laughing and teasing him;

Unluckily for Azul, you were on a good day and your run was fast. So fast that he couldn’t get close to you even without the lack of obstacles outside Octavinelle’s main building. He saw you beam out of the dorm and cursed under his breath. If you arrived in the halls of Night Raven College, it would take a lifetime to find you. As if he would give up so easily…;

Meanwhile, on your side of the ship’s bow, you arrived at the Hall of Mirrors and took a moment to catch your breath. You weren't sure if Azul was actually following you but there was a lot of adrenaline running through your veins at the moment;

You couldn't believe what had happened. You confessed yourself to Azul like that! Don’t you think about your own well-being? What if Azul didn't like you the same way? Now he could use that little slip for his own benefit. Well, the real truth was that you wouldn't want to know if Azul was going to reject you and you hoped he just hadn't heard anything;

“Ah, there you are... if you really loved me, you wouldn't make me run so much,” Azul's voice sounded in the hall and you took a fright, especially since he almost collapsed on the floor from exhaustion. You were about to run away again but the worry made you put your feet in place like an anchor;

You went over to Azul, who was leaning against the wall to rest, and when you made mention of touching him, he held up your hand. If you two were at sea, this action would be much more effective with his tentacles, but his grip was strong enough to hold you there without necessarily hurting you. He just didn't want you to run away again;

Nicely, he convinced you to repeat what you said before and without much else to run to, you could only finish confessing your love properly to him. When you finished and looked at Azul in the eyes, he looked weak again, his face was on fire and his heart beating just thinking how much you love him with such devotion and affection;

He almost cried. Almost. He wouldn’t weaken so much in front of you at that moment. Azul took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses, and said, “I suppose I should also confess something. I love you, too.” This statement alone was able to make you jump in Azul and hug him with all your might. Not that he complains much when he thinks about it.

“You are sometimes lucky that I love you, idiot...,” you were about to try to strangle Leona when you noticed what you said. It was already a very complicated situation. You were forced by Crewel to hunt down Leona and demand to him to do a homework he should have turned in yesterday but apparently didn't, culminating in you finding him sleeping in the Botanical Garden;

Trying to wake up a lion here, vain attempts to drag him out there, you were at the limit of your patience. And, by the way, from your own guard because that phrase escaped more naturally than you would like. Because nothing couldn’t get worse, that actually made Leona wake up. He was semi-sleeping these last fifteen minutes but hearing that you love him gave that special snap;

You exchanged a look for a moment, one more surprised than the other. You only noticed at that moment that you were practically on top of him. And like a prey that has noticed the awakening of its predator, you ran out of there as fast as you could. Leona remembered the antelopes of his land, running like the wind;

He only needed a moment to pull himself together and stretch out, not considering that running after you would be a problem. So... you loved him, huh? How cute, he chuckled to himself. But it was so meaningful and good to hear, something that Leona would hardly admit out loud to you. And to think that you have reached this stage;

Meanwhile, you still ran like a wild beast through the fields of Night Raven College, not knowing exactly where you were going. You were worried about what to do from there. How could you face Leona again? Would he let it pass like it was nothing? No one would know?;

You stopped suddenly, thinking better of it. Was that the conclusion you wanted? Well, that might be better than a rejection, but it would be just as sad. You sighed, tired. It was quite a race and you were sure Leona didn't move a muscle to follow you;

Bam! That's when you felt a little bump in your head and there was Leona behind you, yawning as if finding out your position from your trail had been nothing. He had that sassy look in his eyes, relaxed, really treating the situation like it was nothing. So handsome and gallant that you felt like you could fight him and kiss him at the same time;

This thought knotted your stomach and made your blood run faster. You turned around, ready to do the same thing when Leona held you by the collar of your shirt, preventing your escape in any direction. Now that you were face to face, it was time to talk seriously;

“Herbivore, do you love me?,” Leona asked. Despite his stance, you didn't find anything that represented hostility in that question. Which, again, was good and bad at the same time. Worse for your heart was finding out that Leona didn't care about you at all. But since you were there — and you couldn't even get away anyway — you had to admit it;

You hadn't realized because you were looking down but Leona's expression changed many times as he listened to you declare your heart to him. It was such touching words and to think that you almost ran away from him because of shame and fear only made him feel stranger, like he never felt before;

“I'm in love with you too... either that or you give me a lot of headache for no apparent reason,” Leona confessed. You were surprised but, out of habit, you gave him a light punch on the shoulder. Not that he cared. Behind you, the sun was coming down magnificently and you almost wanted to run again. Not to escape but to announce to the four winds that Leona Kingscholar loved you too.

| Special Notes:  Lilia gave Malleus a bunch of shojo manga, that’s the only truth I know. |

[jasontoddiefor]

a story I will never write: in which Anakin Skywalker asks Obi-Wan to kill him (and he does)

So the plot of ROTS goes down more or less the same, but there’s no battle on Mustafar, and in the ensuing years, Darth Vader, the Emperor's attack dog, causes terror throughout the Empire. And he's angry and hurting, and it was all never supposed to be like this, they were all meant to be together and if Obi-Wan had just listened.

He rages and rages and rages until, like all fires, he slowly starts to diminish.

He's tired and exhausted and nothing really matters. He sees his "Master" on the throne and Sidious’s not even really interested in the Empire he built on Vader's pain and regret. He just wants to rule, the power, but not the responsibility that comes with it.

(Padmé would have been a great Empress. Obi-Wan would have ruled a glorious Empire.)

And maybe, one day, Vader just snaps. He's had enough of Sidious, enough of fighting for a hollow cause. So he runs, flees, chases after a connection that is barely there, Obi-Wan having shut him out. Still, there’s enough of their bond alive enough that Vader can track it with his mind a calmer than it has been in years.

And track it he does to Tatooine.

He finds Obi-Wan in the dunes and thinks I've come to end this, I've come to be ended, take this life from me, Master, so that my death is yours as my life should have been. Vader has no intention to leave this planet again. He will be buried with his mother if Obi-Wan is still kind enough, still Jedi enough, to do so.

And when Obi-Wan does spot him, he reacts with panic, with fear. And it isn't so much the anger or anything Vader expected because Obi-Wan doesn't hesitate to ignite his lightsaber, taking a protective stance as behind him hides a child with sunkissed skin, hair so light it seems golden and curious blue eyes that once belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

("It seems, in your anger, you killed her" rings as another lie.)

And suddenly Vader can't. Whatever kept him together, kept him standing upright for even this supposedly last duel just crashes.

"I'm sorry," he wants to say, probably says out loud because that child has to be his and of course Obi-Wan kept watched, raised him, protected him from the monster Anakin had become, the threat that Sidious is still.

And Obi-Wan, in turn, doesn't really know what to do because he didn't expect that. This confusion carries on for weeks as Vader doesn't leave, but sticks around in the shadows, never quite saying a word after the first "What is his name?" to which the child responded with "I'm Luke, who're you?"

Weeks of silence, of Vader- Anakin- him simply lingering. "I want to fix this," is the next thing he says, Luke half-asleep across his lap, unaware of who the stranger is, only knowing that he should not reach out with his mind because his own childish one is too fragile, too kind and gentle for the horrors lingering in Anakin's.

"There is no fixing this," Obi-Wan will reply, tired and exhausted because he buried his Master, his friends, his family, and somewhere, in an attempt to deal with his grief and keep himself going so Luke wouldn't be alone, he buried his apprentice too.

Anakin Skywalker had died and Vader had risen from his ashes and now his fragile peace breaks and crashes as Vader is swallowed up by Anakin once more.

"I will kill him," Anakin, eyes still gold like an insult, vows. "I will kill Sidious."

"And what will you do then?" Obi-Wan might reply. "You can't dismantle an Empire you helped built. You will end up just the same."

And Anakin Skywalker has been dead for years already, and he has nothing left to give to his Master or his child, nothing but his borrowed time. "So kill me," Anakin says after. "The galaxy hates and fears Darth Vader. And you will come and end my reign of terror, and there will be peace once more."

Which is the worst thing he could ever demand of Obi-Wan, who, even standing among the slain bodies of his family, vowed that he would not kill Anakin.

But what choice is there left, really? Remain on Tatooine, playing house for an innocent child that had deserved so much better until Sidious found them?

Anakin takes his leave against Luke's protests (and no, he doesn't know, doesn't quite understand it yet as he's too young, but he knows there's a connection and he knows Obi-Wan is happy when Anakin is around and that's enough for any child. They just want their parents to be happy.)

And so Anakin leaves, and Vader returns, more ruthless, more brutal than before, reminding the Empire why they feared him so much in the first place. And Sidious praises his dear apprentice right until he finds himself choking because Vader did as all Sith before him: he betrayed his Master.

Feeling hollow, Vader takes his throne, sends a message out to collect the Jedi traitor who stole his child.

Everything from here on his carefully planned. He rules and reigns, destroys and makes everyone hate him.

(Just not Obi-Wan. His Master can't hate him, loves him too much, still kisses away his tears.)

Obi-Wan and Luke live in the palace, continue their lessons on balance and hope and care and love until the Senate nearly breaks, until Vader has ruined everything and the time for change has come.

Perhaps, in the silence of their bedroom, the very same they'd always slept in because of course Sidious would claim their temple, their home, for his palace, Obi-Wan says once more I can't kill you. And they spent the rest of the night trying to make each other forget.

When, finally, the dawn breaks, the theatre continues. They'd planned it out entirely, know their steps by heart. Obi-Wan takes Anakin's lightsaber because Luke deserves better than to inherit a blade that has caused so much pain, that will kill his father. They make a show out of a duel that Luke will not see, locked away in his room, already having said his goodbyes, not knowing it will be for forever.

(This, perhaps, is the only thing he will ever lay at Obi-Wan’s feet in accusation: Not the fact that he murdered Anakin, but that the two of them denied Luke the chance to cling to his father a moment longer.)

And, in the end, there Anakin lies, eyes once more blue, Obi-Wan's kneeling form obscuring his last words and last smile from all onlookers as the tyrannical Emperor dies in his lover's arm.

The Empire celebrates, once more believing in a better future, caring for the Jedi they'd judged before as High General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Regent of His Majesty, stands next to a throne much too large for little Luke Skywalker, who inherits a peace his father once destroyed and rebuilt again.

There is no redemption for Darth Vader.

The Empire remembers a monster as it slowly returns to something kinder, fairer. But somewhere in the palace halls that become a Temple again, welcoming its children home, when the day turns into night, Luke listens to Obi-Wan tell him stories of Anakin, fondly remembers the months his father lived with them and they'd been happy

(And maybe, once he’s old enough to no longer need Obi-Wan to rule for him, teaching his own students and heirs, is tired of the crown on his head, he wonders what it might have been like in a different life.)

[ravendruid]

Be In My Eyes - Chapter 11

You can read the previous chapters here or on AO3. Summary: Vox Machina go out to drink and Keyleth and Vax get to know each other a bit more. Disclaimer: the legal drinking age in this AU is 18, and all characters are 18 or over.

Glorious was indeed an apt name for the bar. It was located in a nondescript small street not too far from campus where the dark brick buildings blended so well collectively during the night that Keyleth couldn’t distinguish between them. The only way she could tell of the bar’s existence was the faint purple aura that emanated from the wooden door, along with the sign hanging above it: a golden unicorn over a dark background and Glorious written above it, in equally gold, beautifully calligraphed lettering.  

Keyleth and Vax had walked side by side, trailing the group who already knew their way to the establishment even with their eyes closed. She couldn’t stop blushing from how handsome he looked. There wasn’t much difference in his clothes, Vax was still wearing all black and his leather jacket, and part of his hair was tied in a bun as the rest fell to his shoulders. But something about seeing him out in the dark of night made him look more mysterious and sexier. Keyleth, on the other hand, had tried to put a little more effort into her look, she was wearing a white mid-thigh skirt and a red long-sleeve top with a curved neckline, and she had traded her canvas sneakers for a pair of black high heels that she borrowed from Vex, which made her even taller than Vax. Pike had helped her do her hair – two braids that pulled from the front, along the sides of her head and tied into a tall ponytail that cascaded past her shoulders – and Vex had helped with the make-up, a light red and orange toned eyeshadow, dark eyeliner and mascara and a soft pink lipgloss. Keyleth definitely felt pretty – prettier than she had ever felt – and seeing the boys’ reactions when the girls left their bedroom was absolutely worth it.

Keyleth wasn’t sure what she expected when Vex opened the wooden door – she had never been to a bar before, which was already making her nervous – but a beaded curtain in different shades of purple, pink, and golden was not it. Her friends disappeared through the curtain into the purple glow and the thankfully not-so-loud music inside, and as Grog stepped in behind Pike, Keyleth took a deep breath, readying herself for what was about to come.

“Wait,” Vax held her wrist softly, pulling her closer to him. His eyes searched for hers, and she saw her anxiety mirrored in them. “You say the word, we go, got it?” His voice trembled in a whisper. Keyleth swallowed and nodded.

“Let’s just–” She sighed. “Let’s just give it a try. For them?”

“Yeah, let’s try to have fun.” They both nodded in agreement, and Keyleth stepped in.

The first thing Keyleth noticed was that the bar looked much bigger inside than the outside appeared to be and that the purple aura they had seen from underneath the door came from the faint purple glow of lights spread around the area. The room was filled with old wooden tables and booths whose black leather seats were worn yet not ripped, and each table had a bowl with what seemed to be floating purple candles and rose petals. The walls were adorned with various curtains and fabrics in diverse shades of purple, lilac, soft pinks, and golden accents. On the opposite side of the entrance was a wall displaying dozens of bottles behind a long wooden counter where a very handsome man in his mid-twenties with long, thick, coarse black hair tied into a ponytail stood, greeting everyone and serving drinks. Even his attire appeared to fit perfectly with the purple and gold theme of the bar. To Keyleth’s right was a set of doors – one marked as restrooms, and the other had an employees-only sign affixed to it – and to her left was a wooden staircase with deep purple carpet and golden trim, that led to a second floor, much to her surprise.

Her friends were already gathered around a booth in the farthest corner, so Keyleth looked back at Vax and nodded in their direction. Thankfully, the bar area didn’t have many people yet, but he still followed her like a shadow, with the tips of his fingers just briefly touching her back in reassurance as she traversed the tables. Keyleth sat on the bench between Pike, on her right, and Vax, on her left. Grog, the bulkiest of the group, had stolen a chair from another table and sat at the top with a grin, so thankfully, they weren’t too crowded in the booth. Keyleth couldn’t help but notice that Vax was pressed to her side, yet his touch was relaxing and comforting, even though she knew he must have been as anxious as she was. 

“Alright, first round’s on me,” Grog announced, getting up. 

“I would like a Margarita, please, Grog,” Vex asked.

“You know what I want, buddies.” Pike chuckled in her seat, winking at Vex.

“Right, a beer. I gotchu, Pikey.” Grog had taken out his phone and was avidly typing on it.

“I’ll take the usual, please.” Scanlan shuffled in his seat, avoiding eye contact with Pike, who sat right in front of him.

“A cospomolitan for Scanlan,” Grog smirked.

“It’s cosmopolitan, Grog,” Pike corrected with a chuckle, much to Scanlan’s embarrassment.

“I’ll take a Long Island Iced Tea, please,” Percy asked.

“Percy, we are here to get wasted, not to drink tea!” Grog complained.

“It is alcohol, Grog. I promise.” 

Grog looked at Pike and Vex, and when they nodded in confirmation, he shrugged and typed on his phone.

“How about you two?” He looked at Vax and Keyleth, who had been watching the entire thing like a game of tennis.

“I–I’ll take a soda,” Keyleth said.

“They don’t have sodas here, Keyleth.” Keyleth could tell from the deadpan look Grog gave her that he was obviously lying.

“O–oh?” 

“Grog, get Keyleth the same as me,” Vex said in a sultry tone. “Trust me, darling. You’ll love it.” She winked, and Keyleth’s face flushed.

“Alright, and you?” Grog turned to Vax eagerly.

“Sex on the beach, please,” Vax replied nonchalantly. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Grog asked, confused, looking around at everyone else chuckling in their seats.

“You heard me, big guy.” Vax smiled and winked at Grog. Keyleth joined the laughter as Grog, rarely embarrassed by anything, nodded with a blush spreading on his cheeks and turned away to the bar.

“I think you broke him, Vax.” Pike joked, and Vax chuckled in reply. 

Keyleth would not have considered Grog particularly dextrous, so she was surprised when he returned to the table a few minutes later, holding one tray of drinks in each hand, his tongue out in concentration. However, Keyleth was also scared because, as he set down both trays, she noticed the second tray was full of fourteen shot glasses, a salt shaker, and a plate with lime slices. 

“O-oh no,” Keyleth blushed as Vax handed her two shot glasses and her drink. 

“What?” Vex smirked at her from across the table. “Scared of a little Tequila shot?”

Keyleth widened her eyes at her and fumbled with her hands in her lap nervously.

“I can take one of yours,” Vax said, glaring at his sister, who raised an eyebrow at him. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m just not used to drinking much.” Keyleth took a sip of her drink, and the hairs of her arms rose at the same time that cold spread down her spine. Her throat felt warm and cold at the same time, and the bitterness of the drink made her shiver. “Oh, this is strong,” Keyleth cleared her throat, and Vex laughed.

“Oh, darling. We’re gonna have so much fun tonight,” Vex winked at Keyleth again, who tried to hide further back in her seat.

“Alright, you guys know the drill,” Pike called to their attention, grabbing a lime slice and setting it on one of her shot glasses. Keyleth observed as, one by one, her friends licked the back of their hands and poured salt over it, and then grabbed a slice of lime. She looked to her side, only to see Vax smiling at her as he licked the back of his hand with a shrug. 

“You don’t have to do it,” He reassured her, pouring salt where he had licked. 

“Yes, she does. Shut up, brother,” Vex complained. “You’ll be fine, Keyleth. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Vex offered a kind, honest smile, which made her feel better, so Keyleth copied her friends once Vax was done with the shaker, licking the back of her hand and pouring salt over it. 

“Vox Machina,” Grog shouted, raising his shot glass in the middle of the table, followed by everyone else. “Fuck. Shit. Up.” He screamed so loud that Keyleth looked around to see if anyone had heard them – a few people were looking at the group in amusement – and he brought the glass to his lips and drank the clear liquid at once, bringing the lime slice to his mouth right away to suck on it. 

“It’s easier if you don’t think about it,” Vax said in a whisper next to her, and Keyleth noticed his glass was still full. “Ready?” She nodded. Vax clinked his glass with hers, keeping eye contact, and, with a reassuring smile, he downed his drink at the same time she downed hers. 

Keyleth recognized the same flavor as the one in the tall glass Vex had ordered for her as the warmth spread down her throat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Vax was still looking at her, offering her a lime slice, which she took gladly and sucked the citric juices. That was a mistake. Keyleth shouldn’t have taken his offering. She thought the juices would somehow lessen the effect of the alcohol on her throat, but it did the opposite.

“Are you okay?” Pike asked, on the other side of her, as Keyleth coughed again.

“Yes,” She lied. She couldn’t tell if the short girl believed her because Vex was already up, pushing Percy to his feet with one hand and grabbing Scanlan with the other, who, in turn, was clutching Pike. 

“Let’s dance,” Vex shouted, grabbing her drinks and heading to the stairs. Pike, Grog, and Scanlan followed her immediately, both drinks in hand, but Percy stayed behind, sitting back on the bench in front of Keyleth and Vax. 

“I’m sorry, Vex-” Percy tried to apologize,

“I know my sister, Percival,” Vax took a sip of his drink. “You can go join them if you want. Keyleth and I will save the table.” 

Percy looked at Keyleth, who smiled reassuringly at him, and asked, “Will you be alright?”

“Yes, I will.” She blushed. She knew she would be as long as she was not left alone. 

“Just text me if you need anything, okay?” Percy grabbed her hand from the other side of the table, and Keyleth nodded. Percy followed the group up the stairs with one last glance at Vax, leaving his second shot glass behind on the table.

“Do you want to try my drink?” Vax asked, and Keyleth glanced at it nervously. “It’s sweet and fruity,” he added. She shrugged and leaned to take a sip. He was right, the alcohol was less noticeable, and it had a nice fruity taste.

“I like yours better,” Keyleth said, leaning back.

“Everyone loves sex on the beach,” Vax joked, wiggling his eyebrows at her, but Keyleth stared at him deadpan. “I-it’s the name-” Vax stuttered, obviously nervous, but she started laughing.

“I know. I was just teasing you.” She admitted, holding her stomach. Vax relaxed next to her, his body physically sagging against hers. 

“Here,” he slid his glass to her and took hers, taking a sip with a wince. “I fucking hate margaritas, but they are a cheap and easy way to get drunk.”

“Really?” Keyleth sipped on the fruity drink, much happier now. “Do you and Vex go out a lot?”

“We used to. There was a time when we would go out almost every week, and I hated every single time.”

“You’re a good brother,” Keyleth didn’t even have to ask why he went with Vex if he hated it so much. She knew Vax would do anything for his sister, even if it meant he would be miserable.

“Do you have siblings?” he asked, playing with the lime on the rim of his glass.

Keyleth tensed at the question and looked down at her lap. “Nope, only child.”

“Gods, you’re so lucky,” Vax bumped his shoulder against hers, and when she looked at him, he rolled his eyes, which made her chuckle. 

“Although my neighbor, Lia, has a son. He’s four, and he’s the sweetest boy ever. I’ve basically helped her raise him because his good-for-nothing father left her when he found out she was pregnant.”

“Hmm,” For some reason, Keyleth knew the unpleasant hum was not due to the drink Vax was sipping on. “I love douchebag fathers.” 

“Yeah, he was an ass. So I babysat that boy every day after school for four years. He’s like a little brother to me.” Keyleth’s heart clenched, thinking about the little boy’s green eyes filled with tears when she had to explain she was going away to college and wouldn’t be able to play with him after school every day anymore. He had cried all night cuddled with Keyleth, insisting he wanted to stay with her until she left but compromising with staying for the weekend.

“You okay?” Vax asked, clearly feeling her discomfort.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about him.”

“Tell me more about him,” He asked, bumping his shoulder to hers with a smile. 

Keyleth’s face opened in a smile as she told Vax about the little boy she had grown to love as her brother. They talked until the only liquid in their glasses was the water that melted from the ice cubes. Keyleth told Vax about the adventures they had together, how he was such a great helper in the garden, the cakes and desserts they baked every weekend, and how he was growing to be a fine gentleman who always offered to open the door for her, even when he could barely reach the handles.

Eventually, after almost an hour, Vex’ahlia came looking for them, outraged to see their shot glasses still standing full in front of them and taking the one Percy had left behind.

“You guys don’t have to stay here all night. There is enough room upstairs. Join us. And drink your shots!” She scolded them before she returned to the group. 

“I did promise I would have a drink with you,” Keyleth shrugged.

“You don’t have to,” Vax offered with a smile, but she was already licking the back of her hand. The second shot wasn’t as bad, maybe because she already knew what to expect, and it felt like it didn’t burn as much. 

“Let’s go dance, I guess?” 

Keyleth wasn’t sure if it had been the second shot or the fact that she had been sitting for a while, but as soon as she stood up, everything around her started spinning, and she felt like she was falling, straight into Vax’s arms, who had quickly realized what was happening.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Everything is spinning,” Keyleth closed her eyes and let her head fall onto his chest. Vax tightened the grip on her, holding her upright.

“You got up too fast after drinking. Just take a moment.”

“I think I’m okay now,” Keyleth pulled away after a minute, no longer feeling the room spinning around her. “Let’s go dance.” She said with a bashful smile, holding Vax’s arm tightly and pulling him towards the stairs. 

Keyleth felt a different kind of warmth inside, a low buzz in her navel that made her want to stay close to Vax. His arms felt stronger than before when he held her, his chest was more comfortable than the other times she had leaned into it, and his scent was even more intoxicating. Keyleth was not an experienced drinker, so she assumed that whatever those feelings were, they were due to the alcohol and that everything would return to normal the next day. She wasn’t worried about the chill that traveled down her spine when Vax placed one hand on the small of her back as they climbed up the stairs – Keyleth had felt that before with him – what worried her was the warmth she felt in her lower abdomen and the new tingling sensation between her thighs.