#otherwise it is all just color shape and sound without meaning. so too must the self
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Who is your boyfriend? How is one to play such a part? You who came to us, and offered the position, ought to know. We were asked, “would you like to be my boyfriend?” and I said yes. Who is “I”? How does one become Him? Such an explanation was never offered.
How are the two of us to share a psyche under these conditions? Perhaps you do not realize how high the barrier of entry truly is to your Respect. At every turn one meets a trait that “cannot be taken seriously,” often a trait of Mine! How could you possibly love someone you don’t even like? And all without even the slightest hint as to who you would Take Seriously, so that it could become Him.
You are a horrible matinée audience. Rest assured that the play is much better when the actors are not being pelted with tomatoes from the very start.
[but instead it said “I would feel more comfortable if we were just friends” and that was good enough]
#poetry#subtle misgendering as a literary device#tw misgendering#see when people in movies struggle to understand Love™️ it’s always about courtship etiquette#meanwhile it trys to devise ontological definitions for the divine poetry of the soul#the self is a performance you see. yet also inherent to each individual. that is what is meant by ‘expressing oneself’#but all art must be veiwed though the correct lense#otherwise it is all just color shape and sound without meaning. so too must the self#if you are classical music you mustn’t love someone who looks at you and expects to find punk music#they will be disappointed. and so ultimately will you#…#this is why xenogenders are so necessary for the entity’s self expression. we do technically present ourself as ‘masculine’#but xenogenders provide a way to express what we feel before our self perception can be translated into universally understood terms#personally we could only be loved if our lover understood us the same way#and found us delightful for those reasons#we didn’t mean to ramble on in the tags like this
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love poem
— summary: for years you’ve suffered for the longest time and for years they’ve hurt without understanding the true meaning behind it all. soulmates connected through the hearts, soulmates connected through the slightest touches, and when they finally meet their last soulmate, the seven gods vowed to themselves that they will love and protect you for the rest of their immortal lives
— pairing: bts x reader
— genre: fluff, angst, soulmates!au, poly!au, gods!au, god of knowledge!namjoon, god of stars!seokjin, god of music!yoongi, god of sun!hoseok, god of spring!jimin, god of ocean!taehyung, god of hearth!jungkook
— word count: 29.0K
— warnings: mentions of death, mentions of war, minor character deaths
— prompt: "It won't be easy you know...trying to love me"
— a/n: i hope you guys haven’t forgotten the dear; sweet bubbies project. sorry i’ve been so slow on these requests but here is the second installment! for you bubs @hope122598
Soft crispy crunches follow your footsteps as you walk among the snowy path, the wind seeming more restless than ever this morning. Little bits of snowflakes descend from the sky, falling and falling in an endless cycle for the snowy mountains will never come to understand what Spring looks like.
For days upon days and years upon years, you have always prayed to see what it will be like to live with warmth, in a home of hearth, in a shelter that can provide comfort and heat to your body and mind. But you know that as you walk up the path of the mountain, stairway long ruined since over many years ago, with the hood of your cloak constantly hoping to leave your head and the wind howling all around, wishing alone will only get you so far.
The morning sun brings no heat for you, icy particles kissing your cheeks from time to time and leaving you bright red from how cold it is.
But you're used to this.
It's okay.
Fog escapes your lips as you huff to catch your breath once you make it up, basket of firewood covered with a blanket safely secured in one hand, and you are met with a wooden archway that is so close to toppling over. But it remains firm as ever, as if its fragile looks is only just a façade and that it should look this way.
You walk under it, paying no mind with no fear of it collapsing, and follow the path that flows into your village. White blankets cover the wooden roofs of the abandoned homes and you hear something falling off and hitting the ground with a thud.
Another wooden platform destroyed.
Everything is silent saved for the song of the wind and the crunches of the snow under your footsteps. But you hear the distant sound of the children's voices echoing in your memories. They laugh and shout at one another, giggling about as they jump into piles of snow or slide down a hill on a wooden sled that their fathers have made them. You hear the distant chiding of their mothers who is angry they aren't bundled up for warmth, missing a hat, missing a glove or scarf. You hear the aunties and uncles speaking to one another in cheery voices as you pass along each house, empty and left alone.
They ask each other upon how their days are, whether they have wood to spare, whether their homes are warm enough for their families, whether they have any heated water to share. The young adults complain about the howling wind, grunting and grumbling as they open their doors only to quickly shut it as they tighten the strings around their hood to keep it firm upon their heads. They huff as they stuff their hands into their pockets, frowning and pouting with baskets hanging upon their arms because they had been asked to gather woods from down the mountain.
You don't see the elderlies in your memories but you know they're here, in their homes, tucked in safe and warm and telling old tales of stories upon stories whether real or folktales. The little ones will gather at their feet near the fireplace, excited and anxious about what stories they will hear today.
You see the smoke from chimneys, you see the homes in good shape, and as you stand in the middle of the village's center where festivals, celebrations, and gatherings are often met at, you turn around to take a good look at the village that used to be so lively and filled of energy.
Now gone.
Replaced with broken houses, torn roofs, shattered windows, doors left ajar and broken. The shadows of the villagers, the ghost of the children who runs around in front of you, shouting at one another, the adults laughing and conversing, the teens rebelling and pranking, and the elderlies telling stories where the big bonfire should be...dissolves away from your memories.
Left only with the distant sounds of their laughter. Echoing and echoing in your ears.
As if it is still there, their precious lives, only for you to be reminded all over again that no, you are alone. No one else survived the horrid attack that came unexpected and terrifying.
The memories are still so clear in your head, the shouting, the screams and cries for mercy, the parents begging for the lives of their children to be spared, the howling dogs that would bark nonstop, and the blood that spilled so much that fateful day. Your mother kept you safe in your own home, ran out there pretending she has no daughter while you remained under the basement, muffling your cries as you watched from the window of the slaughtering of your tribe.
You heard loud footsteps then, the crashing and trashing of things, and had shattered a window in order to pick up its shard to stab yourself near your stomach, at a place you know will not bleed out too much and will not kill you.
You laid on the floor, hiding the shard away when the man kicked the door out of its hinges with a wild dog running in. He found you there, laid as if someone had already came to stab you to your death, with you only in your harsh breathing to pretend as if you have indeed just died. But the dog came over to you, sniffing, and you knew that he knew that you were still alive. That you were only pretending.
The quickening of your rapid heartbeat tells him so and it only grows worse so he barks at the owner and you prayed so hard that the man could not understand him.
And he didn't, so he left you, believing someone had already taken care of you and demanded for the dog to follow him out. You held your breath even as they both left the scene.
And even then you remained where you were, knowing there was no other place to run to and just letting fate decide what to do with you. If someone else barges in and finds that you have only faked your death then you would accept his sword at your neck, your heart, wherever he desires.
So here you stand in the middle of a village, a tribe that was once so alive and filled of beautiful people and the warmth of a lovely fire.
Now all locked in the memories of the wind. Gone for you to never see again.
.
.
.
The God of Spring stands a few feet away from the wisteria that lays in the center of the celestial palace, watching as its colors of lilac, blush, and the skies, are only growing a bit weaker as the years pass by and by. It hasn't been in its full bloom and glow since the moment Jimin had grown it hundreds of years ago. Throughout the many years upon finding his fated ones, he's seen the tree grow taller and bigger, so very close to reaching its maximum goal if only he could find one more thing it needs.
It's gotten so magnificent one would think this is its full bloom but the God of Spring knows that there is something missing.
Many leaves have fallen, scattering about like little petals all around the tree but the wisteria remains tall and firm. Yet time is running out and he knows that it will only last a few more years before the bloom will disperse and he himself will weaken.
"Jimin." The Spring God turns at the gentle call of his name and finds the God of Ocean by his side. He watches the tree with awe and wonder, a sight he has gotten used to throughout the years of his immortality. Although Taehyung finds the tree that represent their love so very beautiful, he also understands that something is not quite right. Not yet at least. "What is on your mind, my love?"
He can easily read the God's mind without needing to voice out the question but he feels the need to listen to his soulmate's sweet voice that always calms his waters down.
Jimin shifts slightly, brows creased as he catches a small petal falling from the vines and fluttering down to the marble floor, meeting its fate with the other petals that have already fallen. A breeze passes by from the opening circle that gives sunlight and rain for the tree to grow and he breathes in the fresh air, closing his eyes for a moment. "We must hurry, Taehyung," he tells his lover.
When Jimin takes his hand into his hold, Taehyung understands exactly what his soulmate is feeling at the touch. Jimin has allowed him to read his mind with the touch alone and he knows, he knows that Jimin is beginning to feel restless. The wisteria is only now beginning to wither in a slow passing of time but it will fall to its roots if nothing is done about it.
Taehyung understands that Jimin is afraid, worried, because he knows that there is still a missing piece of their puzzle that has yet to be discovered; their missing soulmate. A soulmate whom they have no idea of, a soulmate they know they must not have met yet because otherwise the wisteria wouldn't look so weak in Jimin's eyes. They must not be an immortal, a god or a goddess, they must not live up here where they are in the realm of the Gods.
But they have searched and searched and searched for years yet no village, town, nor kingdom holds the answer they are seeking for.
"Why must they be so hidden?" The Spring God questions with a deep sigh that makes him so tired. "It was so easy finding you all."
"Fate is not always the easiest," his soulmate reminds him and he nods, sighing again as he turns from the wisteria. "Seokjin has not found a solution yet," Taehyung answers his question before it is spoken aloud while they walk away from the celestial tree. "Jungkook has been feeling very cold recently."
"It must relate to Jungkook." The God of Hearth should not be shivering and feeling the cold get to him in such strong waves. He is meant to be a fireplace, warming up all that is around him, giving fire to the mortals down below.
"But we have searched the land of the mortals," Taehyung says, knowing how long both Seokjin and Namjoon, the Stars and Knowledge Gods, have worked to try and piece everything together.
"Perhaps we are overlooking something."
"And what do you suppose that is?"
Jimin doesn't know. All he understands is that they must find their last soulmate and they must find them soon. So he continues walking on past the door that leads out the center of the palace, brows still creased. "We must return to Earth again, Taehyung. They have to be there."
"How are you sure?"
He shakes his head, not truly understand the logic behind his thoughts. "I just have this feeling." Jimin stops walking and turns to look at the Ocean God with a conflicted gaze resting in his eyes. He takes his lover's hands and press them to his heart to let him feel his heartbeat. "Will you trust me, my love?"
Taehyung smiles. "With all that I have."
.
.
.
It is freezing when you walk into a home that had once been so lovely. Everything is dark now, windows no long a thing because they had all been shattered and thrown out when the raid happened several years ago. You have no money for yourself, knowing how wrong it'd feel for you if you took your mother's money or any of the villagers.
Sure they're gone but for you they are still living inside your heart, their souls roaming around in the village, watching over you, spending their wonderful lives all around the tribe.
You miss them all, you miss everything that had once belonged to the tribe, a small little village where no one should have been able to find. Yet fate is cruel and left you alone to live in a village that is ghosted and no longer in blossom. Sometimes you wonder how you are still alive, and why. Why you? Why not your mother? Or another adult? Or another teen? Maybe a child.
No.
A child would have not been able to survive and neither an elderly.
You heave out a deep sigh that fogs up, relieved for at least the walls of your house keeping the howling wind from freezing you further. You stare down at your fingers and take off the wet gloves.
You have to sew up a new one again. After all, wet clothes in the snowy mountains can never dry warm again, not with the situation you are living in.
You wonder whether given the ability to hunt would have made things easier for you. You'd be able to get your own food, wouldn't you? Instead of living off on herbs and vegetables that are so very hard to grow and find in the endless winter you have been placed in? You don't remember the last time you've had a proper meal, you don't remember the last time you've ever bathed in warm water, or was wrapped up in soft fury blankets, or seen the fire from a lamp.
There are no animals that roams around your village, not even the falcons or eagles fly up here. You are alone. Truly, truly alone.
A tribe that is kept hidden from the other humans, isolated, kept for no one to know it exists because that is how you all live. Everything was going well, a tribe built upon your ancestors for years upon years, only to be washed down by a raid no one was prepared for. Hence you cannot leave this place to try and find your own happiness, to try and find your own Spring. You are the only one left to keep its memories and traditions alive.
Though it is hard, it has been years. You aren't sure how many years you have left. You haven't spoken to anyone in years, haven't felt the touch of anyone since the last time being from the cruel wild dog.
You want to hold someone's hand, wrap your arms around them, have their arms wrapped around you. You want to be loved and you want to love. You want warmth from another man, you want to be touched, just...touched. Whether a small sensation from the tip of a finger or have it held around you. You miss having the advantage to just wake up and greet your mother, jumping her from the back and having her scold you for surprising her every time even though you know more than anyone that she doesn't truly mind it.
You miss her so much. You miss her smile, her gentle fingers brushing your hair away, her kind gaze as she'd look upon you, the crease in her brows as she'd worry for your health when you'd catch even the slightest cold. Your mother was only growing older by the day. You can still remember her falling ill, a turn of events on you to take care of her instead.
So you did.
You bathed her, brushed her soft hair, woke up early to cook her breakfast in the morning before she woke up, sewing both yours and her coats up, went out to collect firewood and herbs, made remedies to keep her health steady, did everything that you could to be a good obedient daughter.
She always worried you wouldn't have time to yourself, urging you to go to festivals or leave the house in general, telling you to go spend some time with your friends, maybe even find someone that has interest in you because she apparently knew there were a few boys in line waiting. You'd always laugh it off and shake your head, not caring about it because you were still so young. But your mother would insist, telling you she'd want you to be with someone that will take care of you well as you were taking care of her.
But you told her that all you needed was her and no one else.
She always frowned at your stubbornness but you weren't going to care for someone who just wanted you because of your face. You want someone to love you for you, past your flaws, to understand everything about you but still loving every part of it.
Mother called you a romantic, you told her that was how father was too and she'd laugh, saying "like mother like daughter."
Indeed.
Because when the raid came in, you asked her to go hide in the basement but she told you otherwise, screaming at your stubborn self, telling you that this is her dying wish. She doesn't care whether you will wed or not, whether you can be a good wife or not, doesn't care about anything except for your safety and protection. You told her you just wanted to spend her last moments with you.
So she held you in her arms, tears endlessly falling, kissing you on the head and whispered "I am here. Always."
And then, she pushed you into the basement and locked the doors.
After hours passed since you last heard the wild dogs fading away, you finally stood up on your feet to bravely leave your basement doors, clutching onto your abdomen with hissing pain.
You found your mother's dead body lying at the entrance, door left ajar, and sobbed and sobbed endlessly because she was no longer breathing and just laid lifeless. You took her into your arms, tears rolling, begging for someone to just make it all better even though you knew more than anyone that that will never happen. You rocked her in your arms for the longest times, forgetting about your own health with blood that still slowly oozes from your body.
Her precious bracelet that your father made for her lied on the floor beside her body, snapped into one single string with beads spread out. You went on to collect it and put it in your pocket, carrying your mother up away from the entrance door and laid her on the couch.
You left her to grab the herbs and remedies to treat your wound and took your cloak half an hour later, leaving the door of your house, and is met by the sight of blood and dead bodies laid on the floor of your village. You ran around, calling, shouting, for anyone to hear you. You barged into homes, rooms, basements, one after the other, calling uselessly for anyone. You walked a few miles away, calling and calling, screaming from the top of your lunges, wondering whether anyone had been dragged away and left there alone.
But there was no one.
No lives were spared.
The children, the poor children, laid alone and in the arms of their loving parents who tried to protect them. Couples held onto each other's hands in their last moments, the grandparents laid by the fireside that no longer runs with fire.
No one was spared. All, everyone, laid on the floor of your village. All of them left dead.
The traumatizing experience spares you no mercy because in the end, it is you that has to carry the bodies of your tribe, digging holes after holes in order to bury every single one of them. You had no wink of sleep, fingers cold and numb yet still forced to work hard and carry their heavy bodies. Your mother was the last of them all, body left spent after all that work, crying and crying endlessly because you could do nothing to protect them, not even one of them, and now they all lie dead under the ground.
All except you who was only seventeen years of age.
.
.
.
"Jungkook?" The God of Music is quick to hold the youngest God whose legs can't keep him steady on his foot. He shivers in Yoongi's arms, shaking, and tears are escaping his eyes before he can try to stop it.
"H-hyung.." Jungkook shudders, breath leaving fogs although the room itself is nowhere near cold. Yoongi can understand him without needing to hear words, a touch alone letting him read his thoughts in an instant. Jungkook tells him what today is, the same day that repeats every year and makes him extra cold though he has no reason why. His heart aches, fingers going numb, and head begins to pound.
The God of Hearth should never feel this way, he has always been powerful just as his soulmates, but this day, this particular day always comes around every year and as he comes close, he feels the shivers until the morning sun appears again and January 24 is here, making him the weakest at this day.
He believes that it relates to their last soulmate, a soulmate hidden from the world and no where to be found with no information except that they are still alive. Alive yet hurt.
"It hurts," Jungkook cries. It is not his pain that he is feeling, it is not his tears that are crying. These do not belong to the God of Hearth but to someone else. "It hurts so much, hyung." Yoongi holds him safe and steady in his arms but this time Jungkook cries his real tears as he leans into the touch of his soulmate, crying because he hurts knowing their last soulmate cannot feel this comfort and warmth for themselves. He begins to beat himself up, angry and frustrated that he can understand these feelings but cannot do anything to make his soulmate feel better.
"We'll find them," the God of Music promises as he presses a kiss to the youngest's head. "We'll find them."
He lets Jungkook know that Jimin believes they must be on Earth and Jungkook begins to think so too. He lets him know that Jimin and Taehyung are preparing to leave when Hoseok raises the morning sun in the mortal realm, that Seokjin and Namjoon will follow. And Jungkook lets him know that he wishes to go to.
He has to know, he has to finally find them, wherever they are.
.
.
.
When the morning sun awakes you, you sit up heavily from the cold, cold bed, shivering and letting out a deep sigh. Yesterday may be over but the memories still lies so vividly in your mind. You drag yourself out of bed, brushing your teeth, washing your face that makes you shiver again because everything is so cold. The kitchen greets you with an empty refrigerator that makes your brows furrow because your stomach growls and you are so hungry.
You sigh again as you head back into your bedroom to grab your cloak and wrap it around yourself, taking a straw basket that you weaved years ago with the help of a loving mother's hand, and put the hood on your head as you step out of your home.
The little children greets you in your memories, the ghost of the adults waving you good morning as you walk down through the memories of their lovely smiles, a few asking you to fetch them certain herbs and chicken eggs as well. You nod at their souls, smiling faintly and saying "Of course, I will be back with them."
A small little boy tugs at the sleeve of your dress and you stop to look down at the ghost of little Mingyu. He wishes to travel down with you but you shake your head, telling him you will be back soon to play with him. He pouts but upon your words, Mingyu doesn't go against you because he loves you like his own older sister.
When you pick up your feet again after bidding him goodbye to continue walking, your face falls as you walk past the wooden archway, chest tightening for a moment and nose thickening because you miss them all. You miss little Mingyu.
But you blink away the tears before it can freeze upon the cold wind, greeting the bright sun that shines above with a tight smile and walk down the little broken stairway made of leveled down snow that leads to the foot of the mountain.
"Maybe if I pray unto the God of Sun, he'll warm the mountain up," you sigh, "or the God of Hearth."
You look down at the empty basket that hasn't been filled for over an hour while your feet numbs from walking so long. No firewood, herbs, or food. You're starving and tired and it hasn't it gotten to noon yet. The slow passing of time makes you sigh at the growling of your stomach. You just want to eat and fall into a warm bed made of soft comfortable mattress and never have to know what the cold means.
But this is your life and although years passed, you still wonder how you're living on. Will you ever find another human to talk with for the rest of your life? The town almost a mile away has a few friendly smiles but it isn't the same as your village. After all, everyone knows everyone there, and you lived by taking care of one another.
You're just so, so tired.
.
.
.
"This..."
They stare at the wooden archway that leads into a village of homes that look as if no one has been here in ages. An abandoned ghost village. Yet they follow Hoseok in as he walks forward, eyes grazing over the broken windows and roofs, a few doors left open and off its hinges, and nothing but the sound of the howling wind and their footsteps are heard.
It's strange but no matter how empty this village is, they can still feel how beautiful life had once been to these mortals. It is a village that has been abandoned for years, no signs of life whatsoever.
"Why are we here, Hoseok?" Namjoon asks as he steps over some broken wood, his brows furrowing at the eerie echoing of the dead souls who had once lived here. It is never easy passing by a place that lets them know something horrible had occurred. They can easily hold the ground and watch the memories of what had happened with their powers but it feels too much to invade such intimate memories.
"I don't know," the God of Sun admits as he continues walking carefully with slow steps, his gaze soft and sad as he looks over everything. "The Sun told me there is still life here and we've visited many places already but we've never come here."
"It's abandoned."
"But you can still feel the life," he tells Taehyung. He knows they believe that perhaps he had only sensed life because a life did used to be here but Hoseok thinks otherwise. "There is a living soul here," he speaks, looking up at the sun for a moment, "she's seen it."
There is something so strange about this village, this tribe. Hoseok cannot understand it and he knows that he can easily retrace the past lives of this village but it feels wrong for some reason. He may be a God who has the ability to know and understand everything but this...this doesn't feel right at all. Not yet at least, and he cannot pinpoint what is it that draws him to this place, a feeling he's never felt with the places they've visited before.
When Jungkook looks around, the coldness lies in his heart, a feeling he has gotten used to since years prior ever since the first January 24th had hurt him. He takes slow steps with his hyungs behind him, carefully watching him and the village and wondering what thoughts are going on in his head. "It's strange but..." his eyes fall to the snow below him, footsteps hidden under the endless snow that continues falling and falling. He feels as if there are fresh footsteps just under the snow but even then he cannot erase the blanket to see it. "There is a life here," he says in a soft whisper.
"If our soulmate is really here," Jimin's eyes fall sad as it wanders all around at the snowy mountain of an abandoned village, his chest tightening with a heart that begins to ache, "they must have been oh so alone."
"Whatever happened here," the God of Music steps up to the center of the village that seems to hold the most memories of them all, sounds of music falling so distant to his ears, something he knows only lies in the past, "there are souls that have yet to be released."
A gasp leaves someone's lips and they are quick to turn around at the foreign voice, a sight that comes with a girl dressed in a dark blue cloak that they know must not be keeping her warm. Her eyes shake with fear, a basket that had fallen to the foot of her dress, hands pressed against her chest as she trembles at the sight of them. Her face pales, mouth drying, and they can hear the mortal's heart beating oh so rapidly.
"Forgive us," Seokjin announces as soon as he can before you can go into a panic. "We did not mean to intrude, is this your home?"
Your heart relaxes for a moment at his voice but you are still filled with fear. You haven't seen anyone in your village for such a long time, not since the raid, and you fear that they must be one of them. "I..I-If you wish to kill me, please do it quickly."
Oh.
Oh no.
Tears fall from your precious eyes and it hurts Jungkook as he shudders at the same time as you. Your eyes fall to him, a little intrigued, but still so, so fearful and he knows, he knows that you must have gone through so much with a heart that beats so rapidly at just the sight of men.
But he isn't a man, he is a God, a high and powerful God that can bend the Earth to its core if he simply wishes to do so. Those eyes of yours look so painful it hurts his own heart. The God of Hearth may have felt coldness before, just as the day before always being the worst of it all, but this...this feeling is a little more strange...foreign yet familiar at the same time.
"We are not here to kill you," he says. "We are Gods."
"...Gods.."
He isn't supposed to say so to hide their identity but it just feels right.
He steps up and the others follow a few feet behind. "I am the God of Hearth and we are looking for our last soulmate. We believe it to be a mortal."
You can tell they aren't normal humans. You can tell they aren't humans at all with the glowing aura all around them and how he calms your heart to a steadier beat at his voice alone. A celestial being. A God. Seven Gods right in front of you.
"No one else lives here," you tell the God of Hearth while his eyes never seem to leave yours as he continues walking forward. You don't step back for some reason, probably because you are too afraid to just leave and run away from a God. "I am the only one who lives here."
He hums. "I see that."
"There is a village about a mile away if you wish to check there."
"Have you not considered another option, dear one?" He asks you, snow crunching under his steps as he continues forward.
You shake your head slowly. "I highly doubt someone like me can even be worthy to be considered a soulmate to the Gods."
Jungkook steps up to you but he doesn't go any further to make sure you feel safe at a good distance. He holds his hands out for you and you watch, confusion displayed in your eyes before you look up at him again with a questioning gaze. "May I?" He simply asks.
You hesitate but this is a God asking you for something so you know you will offend him if you do not do as he asks. So you hold your hand out slowly with him so patient, just watching until you are ready to touch him. He hears the beat of your heart beating rapidly again but remains patient. When you finally allow him to hold your hand, the instant your skin meets him in a delicate touch, a vision falls into his mind.
He sees everything.
He sees the life of a little girl that had been born into a beautiful village and your sweet parents naming you Y/N. The village celebrates the birth of a child just as its always done, a tradition that will never fall away for as long as they are alive. He sees the cute pigtails on your head when you had enough hair for your mother to decorate it. He sees your loving parents that will do everything just to have their little daughter grow into someone precious and kind for the world to meet.
He sees you when you cried with your mother after your father's death, a little girl just twelve years of mortal age who should have never felt such responsibilities hanging off her shoulders at such a young age. But with time and your mother beginning to grow old, you have to step up to be the good daughter and tend to her, missing your own childhood despite how many times your mother tells you to go play while she sleeps. Sometimes she will pretend to have fallen into a dream just to see whether you have listened to her.
But you never leave your mother's side, only worrying for her in case you do leave and do not hear when she coughs and needs your help.
He sees you grow older and maturing to seventeen years old. You'll roll your eyes when your mother tells you to go out and find someone for yourself, telling her that you are too young to even think of marriage and laughing it all off though he can understand that deep inside, you do wish that in the future, not now, someone will come by to love and cherish you as you will love and cherish them.
The days are spent well with you occasionally leaving your home only for errands upon finding herbs, food, and fresh new firewood for your home. Jungkook sees a little boy named Mingyu who will try to sneak away behind your back, following you close behind when you'd walk down the mountain but you'll always catch him in the act. Some days you will allow him to accompany you, some days you will ask him to return home because it is too cold for him to be out.
Your village is lively and lovely, so different from how things look now. They will greet you when you come out and bid you goodbye when you return home. Everyone knows everyone, a tribe built up on a loving family. You rarely attend festivals and celebrations, however, always too busy tending to your sick mother.
But then he sees the one memory that you hate most of all.
He hears the loud barking of wild dogs in the distant, sees how you're begging your mother to hide in the basement and crying because she's telling you otherwise. She wants you to go in instead, knowing her life isn't worth fighting for anymore but that fighting this one last time will be her last mission in life. You cried in her arms when she held you, kissing you on the head, whispering soft words before pushing you into the basement and slamming the doors shut.
He sees your memories then, watching from the small window as your heart aches and numbs at the sight of the slaughtering. He sees you breaking a window, grabbing a shard and stabbing yourself for a pretend death when one of the men barges in with a dog beside him. He feels your fear, scared for your life, afraid of the dog. But you are left alone when the owner doesn't understand the barking of the wild dog.
He sees you as you're running around, screaming and shouting, calling for any survivors but no one, not even a soul, along with your mother and little Mingyu dead on the floors of your village. You're traumatized yet you still dig up holes after holes to bury your tribe in order for them to rest peacefully and not in vain. Your fingers go numb from the hard work and the freezing cold yet you never stop, going past days with no rest in between, tears endlessly falling and freezing under the cold snowy weather.
You haven't eaten a good meal in years, just seventeen years old having to carry the last remaining memories of your tribe, having to survive all on your own with no one by your side. Just seventeen years old having to become dependent on yourself. You learned to make your own clothes instead of just sewing to patch things up. Though it doesn't go well in the beginning, you learn the skills eventually as time passes. The water is always the coldest for you to wash and bathe in, your bed on a hard wood, no pillows, no warmth to keep you safe and secure.
Yet when Jungkook opens his eyes again, you have no hatred and vengeance in your heart, no sign of wanting revenge. The only thing he feels is your fear of your future and how you will continue surviving, questions swarming in your head as to why and how you are still alive after ten years of isolation. He has never met a human so selfless and kind with just the slight light of hope still left in her despite everything. You are afraid but you try not to show it and his heart hurts.
Jungkook turns to his soulmates behind him and they step up, surrounding you. They stand in a circle, fluttering their eyes closed and telling you silently that you must do so as well. Hands are placed upon your arms, soft, delicate and warm touches, and something strange and unfamiliar occurs.
You feel warmth surging through your body, a heat so warm you aren't sure whether this is real or not anymore. But it isn't just the warmth you are feeling, it's the feeling of walking on clouds, euphoria, head spinning with fairy lights and soft, soft ecstasy. It's so much more than the festivities of your tribe that celebrates many traditions, so much more than when you'd play around with little Mingyu who loves you to no end. It is sweet and delicate, fragile yet so strong and firm, not like the promise of your village that will one day be buried under the snow.
You see so many things, a beautiful celestial palace made of heaven lights. You see stars in one room, a whole room filled of the planets and galaxies of universes all around. You see a room filled with books upon books, a room of music, the soft blue tide of the vast ocean that stretches so wide and falls into the horizon, a sun that glows so bright in the sky, a home of warmth and hearth, and Spring. You see Spring for the first time in the life of a wisteria tree. It's petals flutters to the ground though the vines still holds firm and powerful, swaying gently and dancing to the soft whisper of the wind.
You see the life of the Gods before you. Meeting one another as if destiny has placed them in each other's paths. Soft smiles, soft hellos and goodnights, soft touches and soft kisses pressed against one another. A soft, soft love that whispers in their ears each passing day. When one is away they will feel empty, already missing one's presence the second they leave the palace grounds. Together they make each other stronger than any other Gods. Everyone around them looks up to them, bowing their ways, worshipping their presence for seven soulmates is much stronger than two souls.
Yet no matter how happy they are, there is still something missing. The wisteria may look divine but it is not in its full bloom, it is not as strong as it should be. The petals that falls off the vines hangs in vain and sadness, fluttering to the floor, still wishing and needing one last puzzle that is missing.
A missing soulmate.
You feel the aching in the God of Hearth's heart, how he will shiver on some occasions, the way he hurts the most on January 24th. And you think you understand what the means. January 24th is not a day that is happy for you, a day that is filled with grief and pain, a day that is the coldest out of any other day. You think you understand because the flame of the Hearth is a light that gives warmth to the mortals. But you have not been the warmest in the years that passed by since the raid. You think...perhaps...you understand.
"Do you understand?" You open your eyes to find them staring into your soul, and they can feel that you understand but have some doubts. "You are the one, my sweet precious mortal," the God of Knowledge holds your face in his hand and you find yourself consciously leaning into the touch. The warmth is nice. You love it so much you wish to cry. "You are our last soulmate."
"Will you accept us?" The God of Ocean asks. "Will you come home to us? Allow us to give you an endless warmth that shall never disappear?"
"To live an immortal life? Become an immortal yourself?"
"To never have to know what pain and hurting feels like ever again. To never feel afraid anymore."
"Will you let us protect you from now on? Give you a home, a safe, warm home."
"And let you meet the one thing you have always been waiting for. To let you see Spring."
Spring.
They can feel the way your heart skips a beat at the sound and Jimin smiles softly. You have always wished to see what Spring looks like, when the Winter will melt away and the birds will chirp and flowers will grow, blooming to their fullest and giving off such sweet scents. You want to smell the flowers, to feel the rain kissing your body, to see a rainbow, to go barefoot and feel the grass poking through the gaps of your toes. You want to lie on the ground, run around freely without heavy coats on you, to feel a breeze that will not make you shiver and have your nose growing red.
You want to be kissed by Spring, greeted with a beautiful welcome and never have to leave its warmth. You want it, you want to meet Spring.
But they can also feel the hesitation in your heart. You do not wish to leave your village like this, you're the only one left to hold its memories after all, the only one left of your tribe. They feel hatred and anger for the ones that have made you suffer for so long, to live alone in isolation and miss the feeling of someone touching you for a whole ten years. They want to hunt those humans down, their selfishness and greed for blood making them boil to serve them justice.
"I.." you speak up timidly, a little fearful that it won't be right to do so but Yoongi places a gentle hand on your head, soothing it gently.
"It's alright, little one. You will never offend us if you ever wish to speak."
You pick up your courage to look at the village before you. "I don't want to leave my home like this."
"There are souls of your tribe that is still roaming around, little one," Namjoon informs you and your head snaps to him, eyes brimming with tears and making him sad to see them.
"You can see them?" You ask, breath shaky.
He shakes his head lightly. "We can feel them. They are here, sweet one." He takes your hand into his hold as he gently brings you to the middle of the village before turning you so that you can face the grounds. "Their souls have been left broken and shattered but they've never given up hope because of you."
"Because of me?"
The God of Knowledge hums. "You've survived for so long trying to keep this place alive." He's seen the way you pretend everyone was still here, watching their ghosts through your memories and speaking to them as if they were still alive.
"They haven't been able to rest in peace," you realize with sad eyes.
"Don't worry," Seokjin steps up as he places a hand on your shoulder and watches the memories with you, "I can send them off now for you."
"You can do that?"
He nods, humming. "All they've ever wanted was for you to live as if you are living again. And now they see hope." Through him. "They can go on now because their little Y/N can find something worth living for."
A tear falls from your eye and Namjoon squeezes your hand in a gentle manner.
"It will be alright," he tells you softly. "You can bid your goodbyes now."
All your ten years of living alone you thought that your tribe would wish for you to keep the tradition in your memories, to never let it die. You never knew that what they truly wanted, what they all wanted, was for you to live again. So a few more tears escape your eyes as your chest tightens and a hand reaches out into the open. You pretend that someone has taken your hand, your mother, with little Mingyu just beside you and the rest of the village behind them. You pretend that they are smiling down at you, softly bidding their goodbyes.
You can hear your mother whispering for you to be happy now and you can hear little Mingyu telling you to smile again.
You nod at them, closing your hand into a small fist. "Goodbye," you say and when Seokjin, the God that holds the galaxies, close his eyes, you can feel the souls leaving one by one, drifting off to the skies with little waves made at you.
They can finally rest in peace at last.
"Come here," the Sun God holds a hand out for you a few seconds later and you go to him with no hesitation, letting him take your hand. "You are hurt, my dear. Can you close your eyes?" You do as he asks and feel soft lips pressing against your forehead seconds later.
Hoseok releases his magic to transfer into your body, letting you feel a warmth rising, a warmth that makes you feel so light on your feet. It runs through your veins, healing the numbness of your fingers and toes, collecting the water from where your body stays cold, lifting the freezing feeling from you and replacing it with the warmth of the sun. Wherever there had been scars on your body, he heals as well. The scar that rests near your stomach is lifted as if it had never been there before and when he leans away, you still feel so light on your feet.
"Thank you," you say with a slight blush forming on your soft cheeks when you lift your eyes to find him so close.
Hoseok smiles, understanding through the touch that you find him attractive, an information he finds convenient because you yourself is so beautiful he can hardly believe his eyes. You have the beauty not meant for a human, a beauty that glows so delicately he doesn't believe anyone can be worthy to look upon you. "Of course, dear one," he tells you and presses another kiss to your forehead, this one being actually meant to be a kiss.
Your cheeks warm a little more at the gesture and he chuckles, loving your reactions to every little thing.
"Are you ready, my love?"
My love.
You red at the soft name from the God of Music and think that perhaps you will have to get used to such things. So you nod at him and Yoongi takes your hand. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you do so with no question.
Something shifts under your feet and you can feel your surrounding changing despite not actually seeing. When Yoongi tells you you can open your eyes again, you are met with a bright world just in front of you. The memories that belongs to them rushes back to you and you realize this is their home, their palace. It is so divine you can hardly believe your eyes. The castle stands so tall with a magnificent garden that surrounds its grounds.
You breathe in the wonderful scent and almost sway on your feet.
Spring. It smells like Spring.
You rush forward to walk up the steps of the castle and look back as you skip in, sounds of giggles escaping your lips and making their own hearts so warm. The sight of you so happy at the little things alone makes them smile as they walk in, following the curious little mortal who wishes to see everything. But they know that you will have time to see everything later. Right now you're tired and need to rest.
"My love." You turn at the call of Taehyung's voice and skip back to him, ears attentive. The God of Ocean gaze fondly at you as he lifts his hand to tuck your hair behind your ears. "You are tired, my sweet angel." He hears your thoughts, the embarrassment of how you must look with your damp clothes and messy hair from the strong wind of the Winter mountain and pets you on your head. "You can wash first," he says and your eyes widen a little with a little moment of confusion before he feels you understand that you are soulmates now and they can read your thoughts through just simple touches.
"Okay," you say with your sweet voice. He doesn't think he will ever get over such music to his ears.
"Come now." He takes your hand and leads you down the grand hall of the castle where you will be spending the rest of your life in.
.
.
.
The water is so different from the freezing cold back on the mountain. It is so warm and gentle you almost feel like falling asleep in the bath. It's grand, a bathtub so large and you think that perhaps the Gods share their bath times together. You blush at the thought of possibly needing to do that as well, not yet ready at the moment but knowing that in the near future you will one day bathe with them.
You giggle to yourself thinking of it and submerge your head into the water as if you should not have thought of such things. But you know that it's fine, you are soulmates after all, connecting in ways simple relationships of the mortals will never come to feel and understand. It's a nice thing you know you will love to get used to as you swoop up a few rose petals in your hand, breathing in the rose scent bath and laying your head back.
What a lovely life you know you will never get tired of.
Just hours prior you were freezing cold as you wandered the grounds of the mountain, trying to collect herbs and firewood, trying to find food. Nothing comes easy living in the mountain especially while living in isolation so some days you would have to go to sleep shivering so hard, some days you would have to suffer through fevers and other health risks, and some days you would have to starve for a few days until you can find food to eat.
Looking back on the memory not far back yet, you feel a rushing fear crawling down your spine as you think that perhaps this can all be a dream, just a wishful thinking, a daydream, and you'd wake up to the coldness of your lonely home all over again.
You've had dreams before, of living with warmth, living in Spring, and woke up only to fall sad all over again as you realize it had all been a dream. But right now this feels too real to be a dream yet at the same time, too true to be true, and you hate how you're so frightened of having to go back to your old life. Will that ever go away as time passes? Or will you wake up thinking time did passed when this had indeed all been a dream?
You let out a soft sigh as you think about the possibilities, brows furrowing with a sadness that hurts your heart.
But then you hear soft music playing, the sound of a beautiful harp as if the God of Music had just heard your thoughts and wishes to ease you from it. Your heart flutters as you look around, face brightening all over again wondering if Yoongi is thinking of you right now. He must be, right? A few butterflies untangle themselves in your tummy and begin to flutter freely.
Oh how you hope this is all a reality and not just a wishful dream.
The harp continues on and on, softly wanting to lure you to sleep but you know that you must get out first and not fall asleep in the bath.
When you open the doors to the bedroom timidly, head poking out shyly because you know they're in there, they smile at the sight of you and silently welcome you in. You have on a sheepish smile as you walk in dressed in a white bathrobe with wet hair and looking so pretty and clean.
Your skin glows with a fresh flowery scent and they almost fall breathless at the sight of your beauty right before them. They knew you were beautiful the moment they laid eyes on you but now that you're fresh and out of the bath, they can't believe you can look even more beautiful.
Jimin walks up to you and runs a towel along your head to dry your wet hair, fearing that you may catch a cold if it isn't dried right away. Sure you may be used to the cold but they still feel overprotective of you and wish for nothing to happen to you. You're their precious girl now, after all, and they will never let anything bad happen to you again. You've suffered for far too long living all alone and just trying to survive through the cruel reality of life.
When he sees the soft pink on your cheeks, Jimin smiles as he realizes you must have read his thoughts. "You are so beautiful, my love." Your heart flutters under his gaze and words and Jimin can't believe they have gotten such a precious soul to be their last piece of the puzzle. "We have to get you your own clothes but for now will you fit mine?"
You nod at his offer and suddenly feel a flutter of the wind before you lightly gasp down at yourself, a sight of the God of Spring's royal robe wrapped around your body to replace the white bathrobe. "Wow," you say in awe and they chuckle at how easily you are astonished. It's a little big on you, the robe falling to the floor and hiding your feet, sleeves a little too long and sliding off just slightly from your shoulders. But it is a sight that makes Jimin excited seeing you in his clothes.
He takes your chin in his hand for you to look up at him and presses a kiss right on the tip of your nose. "You must be hungry." Right on time your stomach growls and you lick your lips, causing him to grin.
They feed you a meal that is laid out on a tray, not allowing you to use your hands for one second and insisting to do the job instead. They spoil you with so many things that in the end, you become so full and have to push their hands away before they can feed you some more. But you let Namjoon hand you a fruit before you fall back into Jungkook's chest.
"Sleepy?" He senses your energy, watching as your eyes flutter drowsily and runs a finger down to the tip of your nose. "Sleep, my dear, you've had such a long day."
You take ahold of his hand, small fist wrapping around his forefinger after grabbing the courage to snuggle in close and the God of Hearth chuckles as they all coo. "But what if I wake up back on the mountain?" You worry and he understands that you have been thinking of it back in your alone moment in the bathtub. Jungkook knows then that it is not a good idea to leave you alone for long, not when you'll begin to question whether it is right for you to truly be happy because he knows that you deserve all of this.
A happy life, to be loved and cherished.
"I'm scared," you whimper though your eyes are drowsy and you let out a yawn soon after.
"Trust me, my love, we will be right here when you wake up."
"Promise?" You ask in a small voice.
He hums. "I promise."
"Kiss me goodnight?" They chuckle and does as you ask, placing soft kisses upon your face and head, missing the one spot that leaves your lips. But you're fine with it. Not yet, it will come with time when you are a little more comfortable.
.
.
.
You hear the morning birds chirping for the first time and that is what excites you awake.
It comes out so soft to your ears at first, you lying on your side with someone holding you from behind and Yoongi right in front of you. The bed is large enough to hold many people and you blush under their closeness before you fall distracted by the song of the birds. A light gasp leaves you when you continue to hear it, its chirping falling so gentle and sweet so you sit up and take Seokjin's arm off you to crawl off the bed.
Your light footsteps leaves you past the curtains and onto the large balcony that greets you with the kisses of the gentle breeze. You grin brilliantly as you lean onto the railing, back arching forward as you breath in the sweet smell of the warm air. Before you lies the crystal ocean that goes on and on past the horizon where the sun lies up above. It shimmers under the light of the morning sun, sparkling like gemstones and you realize that no, you haven't woken up to a freezing cold and damp blanket with the howling wind of the mountain greeting you awake.
You have no need to prepare yourself to head out into the cold, trying to find herbs and firewood, trying to find food. You have no need to worry about that anymore because this is your life now. Greeted by the lovely breeze, greeted by Spring, greeted by love.
Someone comes up behind you and you jump for a moment before feeling his arms wrap around you from behind, his familiar hands welcoming you in with a head nuzzling into your neck before simply resting right on your shoulder. "Good morning, sweet love," he greets in a low husky voice to tell you that he had just woken up. A smile curls along his lips as he reads your thoughts of how much you love his deep voice.
"You kept your promise."
"Of course," Jungkook chuckles. "This feels nice, does it not?"
You hum, leaning back closer to his hold. "It's so different. So warm."
"I feel better too," he admits and reminds you through his thoughts of how the God of Hearth also had to suffer a bit because his heart connects to you in a way more special compared to the rest. The Hearth's flame is meant for the mortals after all.
"I'm sorry," you tell him and Jungkook frowns.
"No, my love, you have no need to apologize. This was never your doing."
"But it must have been difficult hurting and not knowing why."
He turns you in his hold so that you can face him, face leaning in close with a pout. "You suffered so much more than I," he reminds you as he brushes your hair away to the side. "I knew you were suffering, we all did, but it took so long to finally find you."
"That isn't your fault. I lived in isolation in a village that should have never been found."
"I only wish we had found you sooner."
You shake your head lightly. "Nothing can be done to turn back time now."
Oh how Jungkook loves you already. You have such a kind soul, a selfless soul, with no darkness in sight despite all that had happened to you. He wonders how you were able to do this, held onto hope for so long, to spend ten years all alone in a place that kept you so cold and freezing, lacking the ability to touch another being, visited by no one but the knocking of the restless wind outside your home.
He wants to make it all better, to help you heal and grow, and to only hold onto precious happy memories from now on.
When you look back at him with a sweet gaze, he knows that you can understand him despite no words said. You can read him too and Jungkook smiles as he rest his forehead against yours, just holding you there as the two of you revel in the soft breeze that passes by. You can feel cold no longer, nothing but a soft warmth that the God of Hearth holds with him.
When the afternoon comes, you're wandering around the castle, watching through the memories of your Gods to remember what room lies where. You've ran through the magnificent garden barefoot, smelling the scent of all the flowers that were grown, touching the petals and feeling how soft it is under your touch. The grass tickles your feet, the stone paths rubbing you gently. A fountain sits at the center of the garden, hedges displayed all around sort of like a maze.
Everything is green and colorful with the robe of Jimin's dragging behind you as you become the curious little fella who runs around everywhere because everything fascinates you. You travel down to the ocean next, feeling the white sand under your bare feet and giggling as you touch and run from the water that comes and goes. Seashells are found all around the beach, little crabs running around and crawling into your palm when you let it. It does you no harm though you have heard stories of all crabs being able to pinch anyone that touches them.
Perhaps the humans really do not know much. But then again, maybe you should not have trust a tribe that only knows what Winter looks like. You laugh to yourself thinking about it and then become a little more curious as you recall the library you saw in your memories. It must belong to Namjoon, the God of Knowledge.
You stand up from the beach, letting the little crabs crawl back down onto the sand and wave them goodbye before you leave for the castle again. You run through a path with trees at two sides, reminding you that you should check out the wisteria as well after the library. You retrace your steps as you look into your memories to understand where the books are, skipping around the halls of the castle care freely with shoes now on, staring at the tall ceiling up above, the beautiful crystal glass windows in designs of each God or of plants and simple objects.
When you open the familiar looking doors from your memories, you gasp at the sight of the thousands of books placed on shelves upon shelves, leading into the room and looking like an endless hall. It looks so much more enchanting than what you had seen in the memories just as the garden and the ocean. You cannot believe there are so many books, almost every one of them you know you have never read.
"Well hello there my dear." You jump at the voice before understanding that it belongs to the God of Knowledge as he emerges from a shelf that had hidden him. He holds an open book in hand with a sweet smile resting on his face, charming dimples displayed upon his cheeks and making your heart skip a beat.
"Namjoon," you sigh as you skip up to him. "The gardens are so beautiful! Jimin created it, didn't he? And the ocean, it's so vast and magnificent I cannot believe such beauty exists in this universe. I know there are so many other places to visit but I don't know how I can look at them all before growing exhausted by running all over."
He laughs as he holds your face, fingers tracing down your temple and down your jaw. "My love you have all the time in the world to explore. You must remember to not exhaust yourself so fast."
"There's just so much to see," you beam before letting out a gasp as if you had just recalled something. "I want to read!"
He chuckles fondly. "Do you now?"
"Mn!"
"Come here." He takes your hand, not needing to voice out what books you would like to read because he can already read your mind. So he leads you down to the center of the library where lays a circle of shelves. He walks you to the middle, holding onto your waist steady as you bite against your lower lip with anticipation, already understanding even before the floor lifts into the air upwards because you have seen it in the memories.
The lift brings the two of you up to where a flooring hovers in the air, supported by fluffy white clouds that falls past your hands but will support your weight when you step onto it. You giggle as you feel the clouds on your feet before letting Namjoon sit you upon a comfortable chair shaped in a ball and made of clouds. He hands you a book taken out of thin air.
"If there is anything else you need, just call me."
You nod eagerly before leaning your back into the chair and open up to the first page of the book.
You're addicted in no time and spend hours upon hours forgetting about everything else as you dive into the world of imaginations created on pieces of paper.
"My love?" You hear him when you are on your fifth book, humming softly to indicate that you hear him but your eyes remain on the little words displayed on the pages of the book. Namjoon sighs. "Come now." You pout. "It is time for dinner, sweetheart."
"Just...one more chapter."
He knows what that sounds like and shakes his head as he walks up to you, taking the book away and having you whining after it. The God of Knowledge chuckles at how adorable you are and mark the page you are on before closing it shut. You pout again but he presses a kiss to your head and makes you blush. Namjoon loves your little reactions to simple romantic gestures. "Come now," he repeats and holds his hand out.
This time you do not protest.
.
.
.
"Go on, try them on."
You collect the dresses in hand and they watch as you head for the bathroom only to pause in your steps and turn back with a sheepish smile.
"What is it?" Hoseok asks.
"Will you dress me instead?" Heat blooms upon your face when their eyes widen and you realize what they think you mean by that and is quick to stutter through. "N-not like that! I meant will you..uh...u-use your powers? You know, like how Jimin dressed me in his robe?"
You are so adorable when you're flustered and a blushing mess because you aren't used to relationships like this. The only thing you've been exposed to in this life is a beautiful love of a village and the parents that had raised you. You've known nothing about loving a man, was never able to be given that privilege because your tribe had gone before anything could truly happen, before you could even think about trying to find another who could protect and love you. So of course you are shy when you're around them but they know more than anyone that this is alright, you're okay, and they will love and cherish you in place of the loneliness that had bloomed over the past ten years.
So when Taehyung stands before you and you shy away, he does not mind it, knowing one day you will come around to it. He caresses your face for a moment, reading your thoughts filled of embarrassment and letting you read him to let you know that this is fine, this is alright and he does not mind anything. You are soulmates after all, meant for one another and written under the stars. You have no need to shy away under their gaze, free to speak your mind, and that even if you did mean what they had initially thought, they would dress you still.
But he tells you that he understands you are not ready just yet and lets you know that this is fine, this is alright. You can take as much time as you need, as much as you want, and none of them will ever mind.
His feelings allow you to calm, blush slowly falling away and Taehyung smiles at the sight of your shoulders falling back down to your sides. He snaps his fingers and you feel the flutter of the familiar wind just as the first time it was done to you and they watch as the dress falls onto your skin. It hugs you perfectly, soft golden shimmers falling all the way to the floor with beautiful yellow petals decorated almost all around.
You are a sight they have been blessed with, a beauty too perfect for the eyes to even dare see. They find themselves so lucky to have someone like you as their last soulmate, a lovely pretty lady with such a gentle heart too pure for the world.
"You are truly beautiful, my love." You blush again at Seokjin's words who holds a fond gaze upon your face.
"Mmn," Hoseok hums, "but as much as we'd like to stay and just stare at you all day, we must leave."
Your brows crease slightly as you look up at him. "You're all leaving?"
"Hoseok and I," Seokjin tells you as he strokes your cheek to ease your little worries, "the rest will be here."
"Where are you going?" You ask.
He looks at the Gods for a brief moment before gifting you a small smile. "To give justice to the ones that were the cause to your pain and suffering."
"Oh." You shiver and he can feel your fear and the slight aching that reaches your heart.
"Do not worry, my love," Hoseok says as he walks up to your other side to take your hand and kiss the back of it. "We will take care of everything from now on, alright?"
They let you know that they do not love violence, that they would much rather deal with things with words but when time comes, some things are meant to play out with violence if needed. They tell you that they will deal with this logically and not of blind anger and you nod at their unspoken words, head leaning against Seokjin's touch and squeezing Hoseok's hand lightly to let them know that you trust them to make the right decisions.
"We will be right back," the eldest tells you and you nod.
When they disappear to transport themselves away, you're still slightly conflicted as the memories begin returning. "Come here," Yoongi encourages with soft words as he holds out a hand to you. "When was the last time you've heard music?"
Besides that time in the bathtub it has truly been far too long. So you let him whisk you away from the bedroom and into a room that you had once seen in the memories.
Yoongi's grand music room is divine. Instruments are displayed in perfect order, harps and pianos and the violins and all sorts of musical instruments, even some you have never seen before in your life. You are from the mountain after all, and your tribe hasn't really come to understand and seen much but you've seen a few common instruments in the picture books the elderlies would tell stories upon.
He takes you up a flight of stairs made of glass, spiraling up towards what looks like the ceiling but you know that he is bringing you to some place a little more special as you have seen in the memories. The stairs lead up to the roof where you walk onto the platform of the tower made of pillars that circles the floor and lets you see down the grounds of the palace and past it, a sight much more than the balcony in the bedroom.
You are so high up you feel like you might fall but with Yoongi behind you as you hold onto a pillar and look down, you know that you are safe. You can see almost everything. The ocean, the outline of the gorgeous garden surrounding the castle, how enormous the castle is, and an enchanting forest that surrounds the palace grounds.
"The more I visit these memories in real life, the more speechless I become because everything is just so...breathless!"
The God of Music chuckles as you spin around to feel the wind rush around you, flaring your dress out and making you look like a fairy. He sits on a little stool, fingers beginning to pluck the strings on the harp and you fall silent as you sit down to watch Yoongi, eyes fluttering close after a moment just to hear the sound of the beautiful music playing as the wind carries it from room to room and over the ocean and forest that surrounds the palace grounds.
It's magical, every note perfectly played and echoing out into the world for all to hear.
This is the music of the Gods.
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.
Yoongi has to go somewhere after a while so you are left alone to yourself, happily skipping down the halls again in trying to see where your feet will lead you first; the wisteria or the galaxy room that belongs to Seokjin. Both rooms you truly want to see and knowing you have plenty of time yet too excited to wait.
You walk into a grand open space before blindly taking a right without looking back into the memories to know where you are going. Sometimes being lost is the best way to discover new things, your curiosity only getting the best of you as you giggle about in the halls. But then you feel a presence and stop walking, brows furrowed slightly with confusion and curiosity, wondering whether it is one of the Gods.
Until you hear a bark and fear crawls down your back as you turn and see a sight that fears you most of all.
When they hear the scream, they are quick to transport themselves to you in an instant with Jimin wrapping his arms around you and holding your face against his chest. You shake in fear, crying into his protective hold as Jungkook steps up to the guard dog whom they have simply forgotten was still around. You're afraid of dogs after those wild ones had been the ones to track your village down and almost kill you along the rest of your tribe. So he signals for it to leave as quickly as possible, the dog a little confused he had scared someone but disappearing at his master's order.
He turns back to you when it's finally gone for you to finally relax but as they watch you shaking in Jimin's arms and refusing to look up, their heart breaks at the sight. Jimin can understand your thoughts, mind retracing back to the memories on the day it all crashed down for you. He sees you reminded of when you were down in your basement, bleeding out, faking your death as the dog walked over and sniffed at you.
You can hear the continuous barking as it tries to tell its owner that you are still alive, that you're just faking your death. It growls your way when its owner shouts at it to follow him and you can still feel its eyes on you even as it leaves.
Jimin runs his hand up and down along your back, whispering soft soothing words to help you calm, to remind you that you are alright now, that they are here and nothing can harm you ever again. You know, he understands that you know, but you're still afraid of everything being just a dream and that one day you will indeed wake up from this beautiful world. Jimin holds you tightly in his arms, brows furrowed, meeting the gaze of Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon who shares the same conflicted thoughts and anger for what you had to go through.
Their precious girl, their precious soulmate who suffered so much because of human greed and the inability to feel as they do not hesitate one tiny bit upon killing a whole tribe made of small warriors, children, women, and elderlies who never hoped to ever fight in wars.
They can only pray for Seokjin and Hoseok to hear their anger and do well upon punishing the people that had done this to you.
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.
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You asked them to leave you be so that you can remain alone for a while. Of course the Gods weren't going to allow you without complaint, trying to convince you otherwise as they worry for you and although you felt touched, you shook your head then, too tired to argue and just wanting to be left alone because you are so used to dealing with everything by yourself. So you walk around the castle again, footsteps now heavy and slow, just letting your feet carry you to wherever. It's isolating and lonely, a feeling you hadn't felt for a few days, returning with melancholy and fear.
You don't know what to do, how this will all work out, why you have even become a soulmate of seven powerful and loving Gods too sweet for their own goods. You don't deserve this, you deserve to remain where you were, back on the mountain, trying to survive on your own.
You can still feel the numbness of your fingers, your aching feet as it walks and walks, trying to find just simple things in order to live on each day. You can still hear the howling of the wind as it passes by and by, the snowflakes that falls endlessly from the ongoing Winter skies, the ghost of a village that had once been so lovely and full of life. Everything was so wrong then, to grow old as a seventeen years old mortal, crying and crying yet having the need to pick yourself up because you knew crying wasn't going to bring anyone back. You had to stand up, to pick up the shovels, to dig and bury, to wipe your tears away and suck it all up because of the humans that knew no difference between love and hate.
Still you never felt any vengeance towards them, just fear and pain because they could not understand to care or have a heart. The world is a scary placed filled with scary people and frightening things that will visit your sleep and taint your lovely dreams.
You know this is wrong, to run away and try to face your problems alone when you have soulmates, Gods who just wants to make it all better. You know it is wrong to take that away from them, to shut them out, and to put up a wall. But you are afraid to feel happy, knowing it will never last forever and that one day, even if this is all true, perhaps this will all end. You are afraid to give into the love, to let them take care of you. What if they find something within you that they do not particularly like? Would you have to change? Do you have to be perfect? They are Gods after all and you are just a lone human walking in the heavens.
Why are you here? Why have you tried to be happy when you know you cannot?
Something falls onto the foot of your dress, a flutter, a fluttering petal, then another. You look up, eyes trailing the path of the little petals that the wind has carried to your feet and there, right in front of you lies the one beautiful thing that had struck hard in the memories the Gods had given onto you.
A wisteria.
You remember how the Gods will visit this room of the celestial tree lying in the center of the palace, a circle opening roof lying on the top to give it its sunlight and rain when it needs it. Its leaves and petals fall around the foot of it, the wind carrying it to flutter a few feet away. When the Gods come, they will reach out and give it the power it needs in order to grow strong, the God of Spring being the most frequent guest since he had been the one to grow it in the first place. But you know how their love have made the tree stronger with just one simple touch. As each new soulmate is found, they will visit the tree and touch its vine, releasing their energy to the tree and helping it to grow to its max.
And you are the last one, the remaining soulmate that will make it grow into its full blossom.
A hand reaches out hesitantly, head tilted slightly to the side with wonder, and you see the way a vine begins to reach out as well. But just as you're about to let it wrap around your hand, you take your hand back to fall behind you.
Afraid.
"Why do you falter?" You hear the God of Spring from behind you, knowing it is him without needing to look back. His footsteps walk towards you but stops halfway. "I know you asked us to leave you alone but I cannot, my love. I know you are still frightened."
You do not say a thing for a while, just staring at the tree before you with thoughts running all over. He wishes he can read your mind but he will need to touch you for that and right now he isn't sure if he is welcomed to do so or not. So Jimin remains where he is, giving you a safe distance in case you absolutely do not want him around. Perhaps he should leave, let you be, but Jimin worries that the horrible thing your mind may lead you to think will only hurt you more and he does not wish to see you in any more pain.
"It won't be easy you know..." you say in a soft, soft whisper.
His brows furrow, wondering what you mean.
"...trying to love me."
Jimin cannot take it no longer so he steps up in front of you to look you straight in the eyes, his gaze serious and filled with pain. Not because you said he couldn't love you but because you think it will take so much effort just to love you. You, the sweetest most kindest and selfless soul he has ever met, someone who doesn't wish death upon the ones that made you suffer for so long, someone who only wishes the enemy could learn to love rather than getting vengeance on them. You who was only a teen when her tribe was murdered. You who was forced to grow old and pick yourself up when you were hurting the most, seeing the dead bodies of your family, carrying their bodies, burying them into the grounds of the mountain.
Jimin hurts because you do not see worth within yourself, he hurts because you cannot see yourself living a happily ever after, you who is too afraid to love and be happy because you are afraid it will backfire and your story will end with pain and suffering.
He takes your hand, pressing it against his chest to let you understand all the emotions he is feeling. He lets you understand his pain, his frustration and anger towards the ones that have made you see yourself in such darkness, and lets you understand that no, no it will not be difficult. It will be the easiest thing in the world.
"Do you know why?" He asks you. "Do you know why it will be the easiest thing in the world?" He feels that you don't so Jimin continues with tears the prick in his eyes and falls before he can blink them away. Your heart hurts at the sight and begin to cry yourself but Jimin is going to tell you. "Because I have already fallen in love from the moment I laid my eyes on you."
You fall perplexed. "But...you didn't know I was your soulmate then."
"I knew," he tells you. "I knew from the first moment you looked at me with fear. I knew since I stepped foot into your village. I loved you then, Y/N, whether you believe me or not. I loved you and I love you still. It may have only been just a few days but I love you so much."
"I do too."
The two of you look at the voice of the God of Hearth who had lean against the entrance way, picking himself up when you meet his gaze and begins to walk your way.
"I loved you before we even met," he says, "loved you from the first moment I was hurting because of the pain that connects us. My flame comes from Earth and the only way it can truly grow strong is if you are safe and warm. I have never felt stronger in my entire lifetime, I have never felt such flame burning in my heart. But even before I knew who you were, I knew I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, give you a home, give you my hearth."
"There is no ocean vast enough, no ocean deep enough to compare our love." The God of Ocean walks in from another entrance, voice deep and serious.
"There are so many chapters left for us to unfold," says the God of Knowledge. "There are so many more stories to come, for us to explore, for us to learn and understand one another."
"But as we've said before," Seokjin stands beside Jimin, "we have all the time in the universe to get to know one another."
"You do not have to love us now, you do not have to feel the same," Hoseok tells you.
"But just know," Yoongi says, "just know that we love you."
They see the tears in your eyes, how it descends, the way it escapes and trails down your precious cheeks, hanging along your chin before eventually dripping down. You sob as they hold onto you, soft touches to let you know that they are not lying, that everything is true and that they will make it better, they will make it right. If you'd let them, they will stop at nothing just to see that precious smile on your face, to hear your beautiful giggles echoing into the halls and rooms. They will love you like how a man can never love, like a God's immortal love that has no ending even as they may one day lose their immortality.
For years in your life you always wondered whether you will be blessed with another by your side or not, and wondering how it will ever happen. Even before the raid came in, a daughter who only cared for her mother through her times of sickness, never once spending time to look at another in the light of attraction and love. You've only seen your tribe as a family. It was never easy growing up alone after the raid, never easy to know that there was a possibility of you dying alone and the world will have no idea.
Yet they come in like a soft blanket, the exact thing you needed, giving you warmth and closure, providing you food and endless love. You are unsure of how you can ever be enough but they tell you that you need not to trust your own thoughts but to trust theirs instead.
Because they love you and find no faults in your flaws, no fault in you whatsoever. To them you are more than enough, more than the love of the world itself and they will never stop to help you realize that.
So when Jimin holds your face to gently brush away your remaining tears, you thank them through your thoughts. He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, whispering, "You have no need to thank us from now on. No Gods nor universe can ever stop us for wanting to love you."
Your cheeks blossom with roses at his soft words and you tell him, "I think I'm ready."
He understands.
So the Gods step back to allow you room for the wisteria who stands tall with patience no matter its slow withering. You reach out a little more confidently than before, watching as it joins you in the middle and feel it wrapping its vine around your hand and wrist. You close your eyes, letting it take your love and energy that flows from your body to heal the wisteria. It holds onto you firmly but does not ever hurt you in any way. It is gentle in his taking and you know that the wisteria will give back for the love you are providing it.
Giving you immortality for you to spend all of your life with the Gods who will never fall out of love with you.
When the wisteria unwraps itself from your hand, you know that it is done and let your hand fall back to your side. The eight of you watch as the tree glows of a thousand starlight, blooming to its max capacity with its shade of colors growing stronger than the years before it. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at the celestial tree who gives back light to not just you but your Gods who stands beside you.
You feel full and anew and smile gently when the glowing begins to fade while it remains tall with its blossoming vines.
When your head spins with dizzy and drowsiness, the Gods are right there to hold you. "You must rest now, my dear," the God of Spring whispers to you as your eyes begin to haze and fall closed.
"I'm tired," you say as darkness begins to consume your world. But they are right here beside you to let you know that you are alright. You know you are, this happens when one gives their love and energy to the wisteria, you've seen it in the memories.
"Mmn," you hear the voice again. So soft, so soothing, and your body falls to rest as you are held up into someone's arms. "Rest now, my sweet love."
.
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The birds chirp again, soft and melodic, sweetly singing you a morning lullaby. When you open your eyes and yawn awake, the God of Stars lays right before you while a hand from someone else holds onto you from behind. You look back to find the God of Knowledge who grips you a little more, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck and letting you give out a soft giggle.
Seokjin brushes your hair from your face as he watches you with a gentle gaze. "Good morning, dear one."
"Good morning," you sigh.
"Have you slept well?" You nod and he can feel your energy through the touch, relieved at the answer before kissing you on your forehead. "The others have yet to wake, it is quite early after all, and they've had a long night." You tilt your head to the side and he answers you before you can ask the question aloud. "No need to worry, sweetheart, we just had to deal with a few things in order to make this place more safer for you."
"Oh." You frown and he can already feel the guilt rushing in. "I'm so sorry."
"No, my dear," Seokjin is quick to say, "you have no need to apologize."
"I-I didn't mean for the dog to go or anyone else, I-I just-"
"You were frightened, my love, and no fear of yours will ever be taken lightly," he tells you as he take ahold of your hand. "You have no need to be sorry for something that is not yours to control. Those wild ones were at fault, it is not in your hands to choose what will frighten you and what will not."
Going through drastic measures just to make sure you are safe and protected, just to make sure you are comfortable at a place that will be your home for the rest of your life. You are touched by their actions, touched by everything they do for you and your eyes begin to tear up. Seokjin smiles softly at the sight of you, understanding what you mean through the touches and goes on to brush away your small tears.
"Come on," he whispers as he takes Taehyung's hand off him to sit up, "I know you have been curious to see my stars."
Oh.
Right, you are.
You grow excited as you gently untangle Namjoon from you and take Seokjin's hand. The two of you giggle as both Taehyung and Namjoon whine for someone to hold in their arms, finding the both of you gone so they reach for one another instead. "Let's go," the God of Stars whispers in your ears and the two of you run off hand in hand as if you are on a little adventure.
You remember the familiar walls into some place you had never actually gone before. The castle is huge after all, but it all comes to you as you look back on the memories that they had shared with you, watching and growing excited as Seokjin himself cannot wait to show you his own room that is filled with stars. You anticipate this moment most of all, knowing exactly where you will go yet also understanding that seeing it in person will be so much more incredible just as you have seen all the other rooms.
He comes to a grand set of golden doors that is designed with wreaths and vines with a star right in the center. "Ready?" He asks and you nod eagerly.
When Seokjin holds a palm between the two doors, it isn't long before it glows brightly and magically opens all on its own. You are met by a portal just on the other side and squeeze the Star God his hand to tell him that you cannot believe you are finally getting to see this. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and the two of you walk right into the portal that transports you onto a platform with the galaxy all around you.
Your heart beats rapidly at the sight of the stars, constellations amongst constellations, stars connecting one another, milky ways, and everything else you do not know the exact names to. Seokjin allows you to run towards the balcony, your body lurching forward as you hold onto the white railing and look down. The small island you are on hovers in the galaxy where the night surrounds it all as if you are floating in the universe.
The Gods only surprises you more and more no matter how much you have seen in their memories.
"This is so beautiful!" You breathe as you close your eyes for a moment to take it all in. "I cannot believe I am soulmates to not just one but seven Gods who holds so much power and have the privilege to see all of your worlds."
Seokjin smile when he walks up to you with a hand rounding your back protectively so that you do not fall from the small island. "We are the most lucky of them all to be able to share our worlds with you." He listens to the beat of your heart as it flutters and loves the way you lean back to curl up along his side. It is still a wonder how he was able to be fated with seven; six Gods and a beautiful mortal. No matter how the world may see it, the God of Stars understands more than anyone that names that have been written in the stars will never fall out of place.
He loves you so much just as he loves the six Gods and when he feels that you've heard his thoughts and feel the heat of your body rising, Seokjin lets you hide your face against his chest, a chuckle escaping him because he knows you must be blushing red. Oh how sweet their little mortal is with a gentle heart that is the most purest of them all.
.
.
.
He watches you from afar, the sight of you in a new day under the bright sun that has become his whole life. The Sun God does not know how such beauty can exist. He has seen it in through the other Gods, always feeling such blessing falling upon him from the first moments he had first met them and even now as he stands years after, he still falls hard for the beauty that befalls each of his soulmates.
And now it is your turn, once just a mortal who now has immortality given by the wisteria. He watches you with a fond gaze as you look out the balcony that leads down to the garden unlike the one in your shared room. You have no idea he is there, your beauty only stunning him further. It almost looks as if you are glowing under the Sun, whom, he knows, has also become fond of you. He has her to thank, for leading him to your mountain, for letting them finally meet you. She has been through your worst days, watched you time and time again as you grew into the person you have become, hoping to give you as much light as she can.
He has read the Sun's thoughts, how she always felt guilty for not being able to give you warmth, but Hoseok knows not to blame her and he knows you would never as well. That is how kind he knows you are, a heart made of gold, and he knows that from now on, the Sun will always watch over you and protect you from anything that will ever dare to do you harm. He smiles graciously at her before returning his gaze to look upon you again.
"My love?"
You jump slightly at his voice but immediately relax when you know that it is Hoseok. You look away from the view to bless him with a sweet smile and he finds his heart fluttering. Oh how Hoseok loves being in love.
"Hello, Hoseok."
He smiles gently when you walk up to him and lean against his soft touches when he holds your face. You are happy right now, so happy, and it makes him proud of how far you have come. "Do you sometimes miss the cold, sweet Y/N?" He asks you, knowing that your whole life you have been surrounded by the winter cold.
You giggle at his question and allows his heart to burst. "Our tribe has always wanted to meet Spring," you tell him as you let him look back on your memories. Your village always speaks of the beautiful season, how they wish that even if it will last just one day, they would take it in a heartbeat. The young children will dream about it, the young adults complaining about how tired they are of the cold, the elderlies knowing they will see it one day when they lay on their death beds.
"And you?" He asks.
"I am happy things are the way they are," you tell him and he sees how you think of your first meeting with them, how frightened you had been at first, but also how relieved you were to find out you would not die that day but to live on and on. "I am so, so happy. After all, I met Spring the moment we met."
He wants to hide the fact that he wishes to kiss you but how can the Sun God ever hide anything from his soulmate? Not especially when the two of you are touching and you both can hear each other's very thoughts. So he slides his hand away from yours, clearing his throat a little awkwardly as he looks away, not before noticing the little blush that has made it onto your cheeks. He knows you are not ready yet and knows it is not the time just yet, understanding that you need a little more time. He will be ready when you are, when you can give yourself to them, not when he wishes for it to just happen.
Because Hoseok is a gentleman. He will not force something upon you and let you know his little wishes to grow closer to you because he does not want you to think that you must do something if he so wishes. He is still a powerful God, knowing fully well how you see yourself below his level and may sometimes feel self conscious because they are so high and mighty. He doesn't want you to feel as if you are obligated to reciprocate his wishes so he lets out a sigh.
"Forgive me, little one, I did not mean-"
You take his hand again to rest his palm right against your cheek and his eyes widen at the blush on your face and the understanding of what it is you are too shy to speak aloud of, feelings hidden inside, something only he and the rest can read.
You wish to kiss him as well, to feel his soft lips against yours, to understand what it is like to kiss for the first time, to kiss a God.
"My love," he worries, "you do not have to-"
"I understand, Hoseok," you've read his worries but still you are determined to do this, to let him know that it is not because he wishes to kiss you but the fact that you want this all on your own. You wish to kiss him. "Please?" You ask and he does not know how anyone can say no to those precious eyes of yours that looks up at him, reflecting that of a puppy.
He feels a slight shift in you and realizes right, you are not fond of the animal. "Forgive me." You shake your head in response to him, smiling to let him understand that you know he means well.
So the God of Sun beams softly. You are ready for him when he holds you with both hands, heart drumming hard against your chest with rosy cheeks adorning your face to let him know that you are also nervous. Nervous but excited. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours, breaths gently grazing against one another, and you close your eyes. He watches you through a hooded gaze before his eyes flutter shut the instant his lips meet yours in a gentle, gentle kiss.
Your lips are softer than what he has imagined them to be, softer and sweeter than any dreams that have invaded his mind. You sigh against his lips and he holds you a little more firm, the euphoric feeling both bursting within your bodies. Hoseok is used to this feeling as he is reminded of the countless times he has kissed his other soulmates.
But for you this is your first time, your first kiss, and the first time kissing another who was born to be yours from the beginning of time. Your head spins and when he pulls away, you are standing almost limping against his hold, feeling so breathless as you try to catch your breath.
"I should have gone easy on you," he worries but you shake your head, cheeks still caught aflame as you look up at him with glistening lips. You liked it, you tell him from your thoughts as you tiptoe up to press a little peck on his cheek. Hoseok chuckles as he feels his stomach bursting with butterflies.
But as much as he wants to swoop you up and carry you to the bedroom, his eyes catches the Sun behind you and frowns. He hasn't gotten more time to spend with you and when you hear his thoughts, you let him go gently. But he knows you are feeling a little sad knowing he has to leave right now so Hoseok gives you a small smile with a hand stroking your cheek. "I will be back in no time, alright?" He promises. Your cheeks never cools down, making him chuckle when you nod at him shyly. "Wait for me."
"Mmn."
When he disappears to transport himself elsewhere, your thoughts are in shambles as you walk back slowly to the bedroom. It takes a while with how slow you are going as you try not to think back on the kiss but how can you not?
Once you make it into the room again, the door closes behind you as you lean your back into it, eyes still widened, cheeks still red, and a finger comes up to press against your lips. You kissed him, you kissed Hoseok. Well, he kissed you but same thing. He gave you the first kiss you had once dreamt of, never knowing exactly whether you would ever receive such a delicate touch and now here you are in a palace made for your Gods, a life for you to live in forever.
"Love?"
You gasp at the sound, not realizing someone was in the bedroom but when you look up, it isn't just the God of Knowledge. Yoongi has joined him on the bed as well and you blush some more, embarrassed for the fact that they have seen you thinking back on your kiss with Hoseok.
You don't know what to do as they look at you quizzically and knowing how bad it will be if they were to stand up and come your way. Ever since you've met them you never minded being able to share thoughts with just simple touches, but now? Now you really understand how intimate this soulmate thing really is and you aren't sure whether it is a good thing at this moment.
"Are you alright?" The God of Music calls and you are quick to shake your head vehemently to rid of the thoughts.
"Y-yeah." If your face doesn't give it away then it would be the shaking of your voice. Gosh you wish you could easily hide your feelings without someone being able to read it so easily with how it is written on your face. When you look up at them, your eyes instantly falls to their lips and you don't know how you will ever survive this.
Perhaps it would be easier if Hoseok was here to explain things, perhaps then you wouldn't find yourself so pressed to the doors and shrink back timidly as Namjoon and Yoongi leave the bed to walk up to you.
"Do you have a fever?" Namjoon frowns and his hand goes to fall against your forehead before you can stop him.
Oh crap.
"Oh." His eyes dilates when the touch allows him to read your thoughts and Namjoon sees the vision of you and Hoseok kissing just moments ago. Yoongi watches the two of you in confusion, how the corner of Namjoon's lips begin to curl and the way your face refuses to cool. So he touches your face out of curiosity and chuckles when he understands.
"Why are you embarrassed, hm?" The God of Music queries. "We are lovers, after all, kissing is just a sign of declaration."
Oh how you wish someone could just bury you alive. But of course the Gods were never going to allow that, but they understand what you mean. "I-It isn't just that," you say and when your thoughts are given to them, the two of them grins.
"Ah," says the God of Knowledge, "you wish to kiss us as well."
He didn't have to say that out loud.
They chuckle amusingly before Yoongi falls a little more serious as he brush your hair to the side. "My love," he calls, "you have no need to shy away. We are lovers now, soulmates, and if there is anything that you wish to do, it is alright for you to think such thoughts. Sleep with us, bathe with us, kissing us." You wonder how he has such bravery to say such things but is reminded all over again that they've done it all, done everything together. Images of them fill your memories and it makes your heart drum louder against your chest.
"I.." you trail off, eyes falling away from his out of embarrassment, "I-I know."
"Will you look at me?" He asks of you. You hesitate, of course you do, but Yoongi remains patient as he waits for your head to lift up and finally meet his gaze again. When you do just that, he gives you his precious gummy smile. "Look at you," the Music God praises, "I am so proud of you, dear one." He leans down to press a kiss on your cheeks, lifts his head a bit to kiss you on the forehead before his lips trail down, following the line between your brows and down to the tip of your nose.
"It's alright," Namjoon coaxes as he falls at your side, peppering soft kissing upon your shoulder.
You do not mind it so they go further. Namjoon continues his ministrations while Yoongi's lips hover above yours. When you give no refusal, he captures your lips and your heart grows rapidly against your chest. Soft lips nibble upon yours with gently wet sounds as he changes the angle and your mind becomes so hazy. Your fingers cling onto his royal robe, clutching it tightly as a small whimper falls from your lips.
When Yoongi falls away, Namjoon replaces his position. Your heart swoons, tummy filled with dancing butterflies all around, with thoughts filled with just them and them alone. His lips are sweet and gentle against yours, pressing upon them in a manner that has your head spinning all over again.
The moment they both finally release you, you fall against Namjoon's chest who holds you up because you have no strength to do so. One day you will get used to this strong burst of emotions, to the soulmate bond, but right now your eyes droop as you lean against Namjoon's hold who walks to the bed to lay you down gently. "It's okay," he whispers to you when Yoongi falls to your other side. They hold you gently, arms wrapped around your body. "Sleep now, my sweet dove."
You love them and they hear it but you want to say it aloud. Yet your sleepy brain does not let you utter a sound, too tired to even open your lips to mouth it. But they know and that is all you need for now.
You can tell them tomorrow.
.
.
.
"Jin?"
"Yes, love?"
"Do you...know?"
He doesn't have to read your mind to know what you mean by that. All the Star God has to do is look at the blooming pink rose adorning your cheeks to understand it all. He chuckles at the pretty sight and nods. "Of course."
Right, of course, meaning that the other Gods know as well. You avoid his eyes for your head to point towards the floor, fingers playing with one another as you gulp, trying to pick up the courage to ask him something else. Seokjin remains patient from where he stands, watching the stars as he always does, watching over everything. You aren't even sure if it is right to bother him with this but he has told you plenty of times that you are never a bother to him. If you wish to ask him things, he only encourages you to speak up.
"Why does..why does the soulmate bond, um..." you try to find the right words. Perhaps he will understand better if he touches you but you feel you are already bothering him enough. "Why does it feel..um...overwhelming?" Is that the right word? "Is it for the reason that we are made of eight souls and not two?"
The God of Stars hum. "That is part of it, yes," he tells you. "Soulmate bonds are very powerful, my sweet, so it only grows stronger when it is declared through intimacy. When there is more than one partner, the bond is even stronger than that of two souls because this is not common amongst lovers to love more than one, especially being able to share that love equally. The world happens for a reason, many grows jealous for our love, many despise us for how strong this bond makes us. And because of how powerful it makes us, there is a little drawback to how much energy it can give."
"That's why...that's why..-" you clear your throat and he grins at how shy you can be just saying the word, "that's why, kissing..u-um...that's why it makes me so tired?"
He chuckles. "Precisely."
"Oh." You frown slightly. "I can't imagine how it will be when we—" You gasp, catching yourself almost immediately as you fold your hands over your mouth and Seokjin turns his gaze from the stars to look at you with amusement. There is no mockery in his gaze, however, just pure fondness that makes your heart skip a beat because even though he does not say it and even though you are not reading his mind, his gaze alone lets you know that he truly loves you.
You cannot believe you have been so blessed to be given these Gods as your soulmates. Everyone dreams of a love such as this, to have another watching them with pure fondness and amazement, with a pure love. For them to feel safe and protected. For them to know where home lies the second they meet eyes with their fated ones.
Your God walks on over to you with slow steps, eyes never leaving yours as you look up to him when he holds a hand up to stroke your soft cheeks. "You will be alright when that happens," he whispers.
You don't know how he can say that so casually but then again, you aren't his first time and you aren't the only soulmate he has. There are six more, six wonderful Gods who loves you just as much as they love one another.
"Will I?"
Seokjin nods, humming. "We will take care of you, my love. Will you trust us when the time comes?"
To make love. Gosh you cannot think about it without being a blushing mess so you stumble back from his touch, embarrassed to let him read your thoughts because with him being so close to you, it only makes things more dangerous for the good of your heart. It beats rapidly against your chest and you are quick to turn, knowing you cannot look at him straight in the eyes when you are like this. One day you will have to come face this bravely but one day is not here yet and you still cannot even speak right with just the word kiss.
So you awkwardly clear your throat as he watches you nod from the back. "Y-yes," you stutter, "I will trust you then. But..but, um...I-I'm already a bother so you..you should, should get back to your stars. Goodbye."
You can hear him letting out a soft chuckle when you run back into the portal to transport back to the castle.
.
.
.
"Ah, there you are."
You turn at the voice with a hand pressed onto the floor and a head looking over your shoulder to find the God of Ocean and Hearth walking into the room of the wisteria. You gift them a smile as they walk closer, wondering why they have been looking for you.
"There is a banquet tomorrow evening, will you join us to meet the other Gods and Goddesses?" Jungkook asks and your eyes widen a little at the invitation.
"A banquet?" You echo.
He hums. "Everyone knows we have found our last soulmate and are very intrigued on why we have been keeping you hidden in the palace."
"There have been a few banquets prior to your arrival here but we know you hadn't felt too comfortable leaving the grounds just yet," Taehyung says. "And besides, we wanted you to get used to this life first and get used to us. Gods can be quite invading and we were too protective of you to just let you go while you had yet to know of everything."
You giggle softly at the God of Ocean's words. "You were afraid of me wanting to live elsewhere and not here with you?" You interpret and they pout cutely when you caught them. You shake your head lightly as you grin. "That will never happen. You are the ones who saved me after all. Soulmates or nor, I would have stayed with you."
"Well that's relieving," Jungkook chuckles as he scratch the back of his head. "So will you join us? We have no need to go if you are not comfortable, we can just stay here if you'd like."
You shake your head again. "I would love to go."
Their faces brightens with soft smiles before the God of Ocean takes a hand out to offer to you. "Supper is served," he says. You reach out to take his hand but stop in midair as you realize what that means, suddenly retracing sheepishly because right now you cannot afford any of them to hear your thoughts just yet. It is all over the place and you absolutely cannot let Taehyung hear this. His smile falters when he puts his hand back at his side at your rejection and you are quick to jump onto your feet.
"I-I did not mean it in that way, I promise!" You declare. "I just...um..-"
"I understand," he tells you otherwise with a small smile that does not hide his moment of hurt. "It's okay, little one. Come on, the rest are waiting."
As you follow them from behind, your hands tug at your dress uncomfortably, suddenly feeling bad for letting him misunderstand you in this way. Taehyung thinks you've rejected him and when Jungkook shoots you a small smile just the same, you know you've messed up. After all, they know you've kissed three of their hyungs and maybe, perhaps, very likely, they were hoping you were ready to kiss them as well.
But now you've only made things worse because you wouldn't allow them to read your thoughts that is filled with everything about them, just them. You can't just reach for his hand to make him feel better because then he will be able to read your thoughts and right now you cannot let him do so. Not yet.
Oh how you wish you were braver.
Dinner goes smoothly...you think. But it is when you are left alone to your thoughts in the bath do you not feel so great again.
It isn't right for you to be so silent when they have declared their love to you plentifully. You know you've told Namjoon and Yoongi but that was all in your head. You haven't said it aloud and the rest of them haven't heard it said to them yet. So perhaps that is why Taehyung and Jungkook had been a little more hurt by your rejection, believing you love only two of the Gods and not everyone.
But that is so untrue yet you aren't sure how to do it, if you are brave enough to do it. But then again, you ask yourself why aren't you brave enough? They have declared their love for you, showed you how much they care, always looking out for you and doing what is best to keep you safe and warm. What is it that you have to be frightened of? They love you and you love them and you know that soulmates written under the stars shall never break apart even through death.
So why are you not brave enough? Why must you keep silent and hurt them further? Making them believe you love some of them more than the rest?
It is untrue and you have to let them know, you have to let them understand. But as much as you want to hide with the fact that they can easily read your thoughts to understand it all, even though you know that will be so much easier, you also know that it will be best to say it aloud first, to declare it aloud before you let them see into your heart. You have to tell them first before you let your heart tell them the details of it.
When you step out of the bath and wrap yourself in a white robe, your eyes fall at the evening robe that hangs on a hook and the long mirror that lets you see yourself. You watch those eyes looking back at you, fingers falling upon your wet hair, tracing the outline of your face, your brows, your eyes, nose and lips.
And it makes you wonder why they love you.
They are Gods, such powerful Gods, possibly the most powerful Gods to ever exist all due to the soulmate bonds that keeps them connected. Your hand strokes your soft cheeks, lips staying pressed together with brows that creases just a bit. You are loved by seven Gods and here you are, now an immortal yourself, still trying to get the courage to speak your heart aloud.
It should not be this hard, right?
Maybe if you hadn't been forced to grow up so alone then perhaps things could have gone a lot easier. But as Seokjin had said before, the world happens for a reason. Your tribe being attacked, you being left to live alone for ten years, saved by these precious seven souls, and now loved by them all all because you are you. A kind, sweet soul who cares so much about the world.
Perhaps you indeed deserve such a love, perhaps you indeed deserved to live on.
Their love lets you reflect on everything and the longer you look at yourself, you begin to see tears brimming along your waterline as your heart cries for how much they have given you. They've showed you that you deserve anything and everything and now you must pick up the courage to let them know that you appreciate everything and has fallen so hard. You know it must not be easy for them either but they've always been so strong for you, keeping you safe, loving you when you had yet to accept the new life and know that you deserve such wonderful things.
They've done so much for you and you know you cannot let them think that one is more than the other. You have to let them know.
"Y/N?" You turn at the call of Jimin's concerning voice and gasp at the sudden intrusion.
Oh.
They've heard you crying and now here they are again, always trying to make sure that you are alright. Knowing this, more tears well up and falls away before you can stop them, making your heart ache a little more. Their brows knit together, eyes filled with worry at the sight and they try rushing to you but you step back with hands held up to stop them. "W-wait!" You cannot allow them to touch you.
Not yet. Not just yet.
Questions fall upon their faces and you close your eyes, letting a few tears fall freely, taking in a deep breath before releasing it shakily. When you open your eyes again, your lips curl into a soft, soft smile that confuses them even more. They think that perhaps you are trying to let them go, a pain shooting at their hearts, but when you open your mouth to speak, the tightness in their chest releases.
"I love you," you say. "I love you all so much and I just wanted to thank you," you wipe a tear away though more falls and you sniff, "for loving me while I was still at a loss and couldn't understand why." The lump in your throat tries to hinder you from speaking but you swallow it to push through. "I love you for all that you've done, being patient with me, keeping me safe, always thinking of me and doing all that is best for me. I am still so, so shy, and I'm not sure if I will ever find the courage to say these things out aloud again but just know, just know that as you are holding me and reading my thoughts, know that I will always be wishing to say everything out aloud.
"I'm sorry for not being able to say this before. I'm so, so sorry if I ever caused any misinformation to let you to believe I was rejecting you by not allowing you to touch me. Truth is I was just afraid to let my heart speak before I could do it myself. Because I know that the heart understands the inner conflicted feelings before I myself can say anything out loud. And I was scared because I didn't know whether I truly deserve this or not, whether I truly deserve your love. But I understand. I understand that soulmates that have been written in the stars shall never fall, I understand that, that our love is meant to be. I'm so sorry I've just realized it. I'm sorry."
"Oh, love." Jimin wipes his own tears away as they come to surround you. "My sweet one, you have no need to apologize."
"You've just been so patient and, and I..-"
"We know," Yoongi promises. "We know so hush, it's okay. You're alright now."
Jungkook cradles your head as Taehyung brushes your tears away. Seokjin holds your face and you feel a rush of the wind at your sides, drying your hair and replacing your bathrobe with the evening gown.
"We are so proud of you," Namjoon vows. "It is never easy to speak your feelings aloud but it's okay now. We understand, dear one, we know."
"I love you," you declare again, sniffling, and they smile, smile so softly.
"Oh, love. We love you so, so much. We love you more than the universe itself."
.
.
.
When they hear the familiar footsteps of the last soulmate to meet them by the entrance door of the castle, their heads turn your way for the world to slow down and fall away, nothing else falling into their line of vision except you as you walk down gracefully with a sheepish smile their way.
The dress you have on is a soft color in golden champagne, flowing freely down to the floor as it drags when you walk, decorated with shimmering golden vines that curls all around the dress. Soft pink roses connect together at the waist of your dress and falls atop your shoulder where the lace cape drags down your back. You also have on a beautiful crown designed in pink florals and golden butterflies, matching all that you are wearing. They do not know how you can impress them even further and show that your beauty comes different with certain occasions; when you wake up, the moment after you bathe, the night before you head to sleep, your casual dresses when you walk around the castle, and now here for a banquet.
You are ethereal, more beautiful than anyone they have seen before and their hearts beats rapidly just knowing that you are theirs.
Everything about you is beautiful and they already know for sure how some of the Goddesses will grow jealous of this beauty of yours once they set eyes on you, and how the other Gods may try to catch your attention. They shake their heads at the images, mentally scoffing and rolling their eyes because you are theirs, you belong to them just as they belong to you.
"Wow," your eyes dilate at the sight of them and a little soft pink reaches your cheeks before you avert your gaze to the floor shyly. "You are handsome," you tell them and their hearts swoon.
"And you are more beautiful than Spring itself," Jimin says as he holds your chin for you to look up. You smile sheepishly at him and he chuckles, taking your hand into his. "Are you ready?"
When you arrive at the banquet, you stick to their sides, never releasing your hands that holds onto Jimin's arm because everything becomes unfamiliar and it is not the same garden you are used to back at the palace.
This one is large and gorgeous but it can never compare to the one the God of Spring has made on his own. Pretty flowers round the stoned paths in roses, pansies, lilies, and many more. The lampposts that station around the garden are wrapped in green vines that curls all the way to the tip, and pretty fairy lights shine everyone's paths. You look around like a curious little kitten, blinking surprised at all that surrounds you. The realm of the immortals is definitely more beautiful than Earth can ever be.
Ah, but then again, you've only been in one place and that would be your mountain and the snowy grounds that surrounds it. Yet you are sure Earth is still less beautiful.
Beside you, Jimin laughs softly as he's read your thoughts and you are reminded all over again that soulmates are given such ability, making you giggle yourself.
"So this must be your last soulmate." You shrink into Jimin's hold as you are met by a Goddess who smiles so beautifully your way. She is gorgeous and you find yourself shying away at her stare. "Oh she is so cute," the Goddess practically squeal when she coos, making your cheeks catch aflame and allowing your Gods to chuckle.
"She is, isn't she?" Hoseok beams proudly as he pets your head.
"Tell me, how in the world did you all manage to find yourselves another beauty?"
Catching the sight of the familiar seven Gods, more comes on by upon hearing the Goddess going on about you, curiosity filling their minds and you shrink further back at the sudden attention. Many comments upon your pure, gentle soul who looks too cute and beautiful for anything and it makes you even more flustered by everyone. Eventually (and thankfully) the crowd falls away when your Gods ask them to give you space and not horde around you. They do not say it allowed but you can feel their protective selves becoming more visible and you giggle, allowing Taehyung to playfully pinch your nose because he is not particularly fond of you calling them cute when they feel such way.
You are theirs after all, and no one should continue looking at you for much longer than a few minutes. You should be only for their eyes to see especially when you look particularly beautiful tonight. Perhaps you like this side to them, and when they hear your thoughts, it is your turn to huff and shy away all over again, making them laugh aloud.
After moments of walking around to personally meet a few Gods and Goddesses along your soulmates' sides, you are left alone to freely explore on your own. The curious side to you walks around to make little conversations with a few immortals on your own though you are still a little shy when it comes to talking to strangers.
You walk around the maze garden that falls a bit deserted while everyone mingles around the large center. You follow the fireflies that blinks like little flashlights, feet bouncing lightly as it trails away from the brightness of the garden banquet. Your dress trails behind you as you stray away from the center, running from right to left with just the fireflies as your source of light, getting yourself lost in the maze. But you know that you will be alright. After all, if your Gods need you, they can easily find you with no difficulties.
"Hello there."
Your breath hitches, jumping at the sudden sound because you hadn't expected anyone else to stray from the garden and walk in the maze. When you turn to the source of the voice, it is the sight of a God you think you have seen before while reading some of Namjoon's books. It must be the God of the Underworld, Hades. He watches you with a sly smile that falls lopsided against his lips, body leaned against a hedge before standing straight to approach you with light steps.
"I have never seen you before," he says, voice deep as a brow raises before snapping his fingers as if he's just realized something. "You must be their last soulmate then. Y/N."
It is a bit surprising even the God of the Underworld knows of you but you decide to pay it no mind, only nodding as you hope your voice does not come out too cowardly. "Yes, I am."
It doesn't work because Hades chuckles knowingly. "You have no need to fear me," he tells you but it isn't really him you become so frightful of. No, your eyes only dilates as your breath is caught up in your throat when you watch in horror at the sight of the animal that walks up from behind him. Hades' brows furrow as he falls at a loss at your trembling figure and the way your body turns from him, hands clasped around your lips while your eyes shut tight.
Cerberus. Three headed dog.
You are too frightened to scream. One because you do not wish to disturb the peacefulness of the evening banquet and two because you can't. Tears brim along your eyes while you try to hide the whimper that begins to fall from your lips behind your hands. But it doesn't really help. Hades can hear it muffled out of you.
He has no idea what you are frightened of. Surely he isn't that scary, is he? "Is something the matter?"
"P...please get it...g-get it..a..away."
A laugh falls from him as he realizes what is happening. "You're afraid of dogs? I knew mortals were quite weak but I had no idea they were this weak."
Someone wraps their arms around you, pulling you in close to their chest and you don't have to look up to know who it must be just by their scent and the touch alone. "Leave, Hades," the God of Stars command in a grave voice as Jungkook silently tells you that all will be alright, that they are here now and you have nothing to be afraid of anymore. But you can still feel the presence of the dog and it only reminds you of the cruel memories that has terrorized you plenty of times. Jungkook understands, of course he does, because no matter how connected you are with the Gods, the God of Hearth shares something a little deeper as his hearth comes from Earth.
So a hand comes behind your head as the other remains on your back, his touches whispering soft gentle words to soothe your pain and comfort you through the memories.
"This is a banquet, is it not?" You hear Hades saying and through the feeling of Jungkook's protective and caring self, anger burns his body so immensely you are surprised this is him. You're used to your Gods being so kind and gentle, never have you actually ever witnessed their angry sides.
"I will not repeat myself, Hades." You do not have to touch Namjoon to understand his anger as well. They are all angry as you hear growls from the back of their throats all hinted towards Hades who does not fall back even when asked to. The pride within him restricts him from doing as he is told even though the God of the Underworld knows he cannot go up against the seven Gods who are the most powerful especially when together. Your Gods are fuming with wrath, not fond of anyone threatening their soulmate's safety which in this case would be you and you can hear the thoughts of Jungkook as he holds you, knowing he will burn the whole garden down if it means Hades will leave.
But their anger towards the God of the Underworld elicits growling from his loyal dog who does not like anyone trying to go up against his Lord and it makes you whimper, body shrinking more towards Jungkook who hears your thoughts.
You don't care about Hades or anything anymore, you just wish to go home. So he lets out a sigh though he is still riled with anger and turns to the God of Knowledge. "Let's go, Namjoon."
You feel their eyes turning to you at those words before sighs leave their own lips and you are brought back not a moment too soon.
"We're home now, little one. You're alright now."
But you don't leave Jungkook's arms, still so, so afraid because the horrible memories of that Winter day will not go away despite Cerberus now nowhere to be seen. His eyes fall with pain and worry as he holds you, meeting the Gods with an understanding gaze and just letting you cry it all out. Your heart hurts, body still trembling, and when you feel you cannot hold your body up for much longer, Jungkook picks you up to walk on over to the bed and have you sitting right on his lap.
"Shh, it's okay, my love, it's okay." He continues whispering soft words to your ears, rocking your body gently against him while pressing soft kisses upon your head. The others come to surround you, hands holding yours, pressing kisses upon your shoulders while you sob and sob.
"You're okay, you're alright. Everything will be alright. We're right here. We'll always be here."
"..Scary..." You whimper.
"I know, I know. We'll make it all okay again, alright? You have no need to be afraid anymore."
"We'll always be here. We'll protect you from all that threatens to harm you."
"You're our precious mate and we will never let anything happen to you again."
"We'll make it better."
.
.
.
You awake at the feeling of gentle fingertips running along your face, stroking it with soft touches, and small incoherent whispers beside you. They fall into a comfortable silence when they feel your mind drifting out of unconsciousness. Once your eyes finally releases from the haze, you see both the God of Ocean and Spring looking down at you as they prop themselves up against their elbows.
"Good morning," Taehyung greets with a gentle smile.
"We are here, love," Jimin says when your mind is reminded of the nightmare you had before, blurring your vision and feeling so thankful that they are here right now. The God of Spring leans down to press a soft kiss to your head and almost instantly you feel your tense body relaxing once more, mind now clear of anything that would harm you.
"Thank you," you whisper, voice still trying to adjust to the waking world. He nods at you and you feel another kiss placed upon your temple. Taehyung brushes away the tear that fell when you blinked and kiss the fingertip that held onto the salty water droplet.
"Feeling better?" You nod and he smiles, relieved. Your brows knit just slightly when you realize no one else is in bed because you do not feel anymore presence to fill up the empty spaces. Usually when you have woken, all of your Gods would still be around before breakfast is served and they'll run off to their own duties. The God of Ocean hears your thoughts and returns to stroking your soft cheek. "You slept in this morning, my love. It is almost noon," he explains. "We have agreed on two of us staying here until you awake so that you would not have to be greeted by the emptiness of the room."
"Oh," you frown. "I'm sorry."
Jimin shakes his head. "No need, my little flower, you had a rough night after all. Now come," he helps you sit up as Taehyung uses his powers to wheel a tray of food forward, "you must be hungry."
There are plates of fresh toast and sweet biscuits along with two eggs, a cup of milk, and a bowl of sliced fruits set onto the tray that is placed onto your lap. Your two Gods do not allow you to use your energy as they feed you on their own, letting you bite slowly and taking your sweet time. It comes to no surprise that the food is delicious because everything you you've had will always be the best. This is the house of Gods after all, and they will have nothing fall below standard.
When you grow full, they let you run off to the bathroom to get ready for the new day though help you with brushing your hair. You sit in between them on the bed as Taehyung runs a brush through your soft hair and face Jimin who plays with the soft delicate touches of your fingers. You see his subtle smile when the God of Spring stares at them, his thoughts echoing to you with nothing kept a secret. It is odd to him how small you are, hands a tinier size than his despite how small his is compared to the rest of the Gods and especially the one behind you who has the largest of them all.
Everyone's hands engulfs his and yours and he is proud to be able to engulf your own. You giggle as his thoughts passes onto you and Jimin looks up, grinning sweetly. "Little rose, I have heard the mortals spreading myths of how the size of how hands reflects the size of our hearts but I say that is preposterous."
Taehyung laughs. "I say the myth is fair."
"Fair?" Jimin scoffs. "That's only because your hands are ginormous."
"And so is my heart," he hums.
"Maybe so but look at us," the God of Spring clasp your hands together and holds it up for the God of Ocean to see, "our hands may be small but our hearts are much bigger than it."
"Hmm...perhaps you're right."
"Perhaps?" Jimin echoes, scoffing again and this time with huff. "My heart is big and you know it."
Taehyung shakes with a choral of laughter before he releases the brush to sit it on the soft mattress and reaches for Jimin's hands that had fallen out of yours. "Love, you know I was only playing." With you in between, the God of Ocean pulls Jimin forward just slightly so that when he leans in, his lips can meet Jimin's cheek.
"You missed." The God of Spring still feigns to be upset so Taehyung chuckles at his lover, leaning in again to capture Jimin's lips.
Your heart skips a beat and perhaps they hear it, perhaps they feel it because their kiss does not last long and now their heads are turned your way. You grow petals pink after being caught and the two of them looks at one another with a sly grin curling at their lips before they return the attention on you again. You swallow, heart beating hard against your chest as your eyes fall away shakily because you know they can hear your thoughts.
"Hmm..does the little one want a kiss too?"
You shrink at the question, feeling your face heating up even more because they know, they can hear your thoughts yet Jimin asks that.
"I want to hear you, little one," the God explains. "After all, you said it yourself, did you not? Your heart understands what you want before you can try to say anything out loud."
Taehyung hums. "And that whatever is said in your heart, you want to say them all out loud but you are far too shy."
"Can we hear it, love?" He holds your chin and lifts it easily, lips curled upward to a side as he looks down at you and your heart only burns some more. His thumb delicately traces along your lips as Taehyung's fingers gathers your hair to put it a side so that your neck is exposed for him to softly graze against. Jimin leans in at your distracted mind filled of both him and the Ocean God, forehead resting against yours with his nose just centimeters away from yours, breath hitting you as he speaks. "Hm, love? Can you do us this little favor?" He smells like soft petals and peaches perfectly combined. "I want to hear your sweet voice."
You hesitate but you can never take your eyes off him no matter how bold Jimin's gaze is, feeling the need to just give him all that he wants. He grins knowingly at your thoughts, feeling his ego boosted and your eyes fall away shyly again. He pouts and you almost want to giggle at how desperate he is for your attention so you give it to him again, cheeks still flushed. "I..." You gulp, brows furrowed and not knowing whether you are brave enough but their touches encourages you on, telling you to go on, that they'll take care of you. So you let out a soft sigh. "Jimin.."
He's excited. "Hm?"
You look away for a brief moment before meeting his eyes again. "Can you..can you kiss me?"
Jimin's heart flutters as he grins brilliantly. Oh, what a sweet little soul, he thinks. "With pleasure."
When he captures your lips, it is so soft and delicate. Jimin's hand wraps around your waist as he pulls you in towards him closer as if you are not close enough, lips dancing with yours as he effortlessly takes the lead. Taehyung's fingers circles your neck and down your exposed collarbones and you are sent to heaven, an eternal bliss, a mind that is filled of them and just them. Jimin kisses you like you are a precious gem, like you are so fragile and he cannot bear to break you.
When his lips pull away, another hand comes to your face to turn you and your lips are captured by another, barely given any time to take a breather. "Mm...so sweet," Taehyung whispers against your lips and you feel Jimin's hands flicking your hair down back behind your neck again. He peppers kisses to your neck and you make a little sound into Taehyung's lips. It all feels so sweet and blissful but the familiar overwhelming feeling returns and your head spins.
When the God of Ocean leans away, he chuckles at the way your strength had left you and holds you up to have your body resting against his chest instead of falling back onto the mattress. "Dizzy?" Jimin observes after leaving your neck, his fingers coming up to brush your hair behind your ears. You nod weakly. "Don't worry love, the more these moments happen, the dizziness will no longer return and you'll come to embrace this overwhelming feeling."
"That's not fair, you already tired her out before I could get a chance." When another voice comes in, the three of you look up to find the God of Hearth near the doors as he tsks lightly, arms crossed against his chest while he pouts cutely.
Taehyung laughs. "You are to blame for not taking up the chance to remain here with our little love."
Jungkook huffs. "I had business down on Earth."
"You went to Earth?" Your brows raise, mouth forming into a little 'o.'
He nods as he walks forward to reach the bed. "I go there pretty often. The Earth needs my hearth after all, but I am usually disguised as a mortal."
"Where do you usually go?"
He sits in front of you while you're still using Taehyung for support and he takes a hand, smiling as he greets it with a kiss on the back. "The north and southern poles or anyplace near it." He pauses for a second before speaking again. "You know, I have not found any other hidden tribes who resides on mountains."
"We had a sister tribe," you tell him and he sees through your memories of the stories the elders would go on and go about back when you lived on the mountain. "I assume they were possibly raided as well and no one survived. Perhaps the snow buried their homes."
"Mortals can be quite cruel," Jimin sighs.
"But it's okay," Taehyung says as he plays with your hair, "Hoseok and Seokjin has condemned the murderers."
"Right."
"How are you feeling, my love?" Jungkook asks as he looks at you with some concern. He isn't just asking about the aftermath of the soulmate bond but of the night before as well, wanting to know if you really are alright again. They're still so protective of you, hating any pain and affliction to fall upon you and would do anything just to relieve you from them. You are reminded of that moment at the garden and your eyes fall to the hands that holds your own. "What is it?"
"You are all so sweet and kind," you say, squeezing his hand as you turn to look at Jimin and Taehyung before returning your gaze to the one before you, "and after last night, I know I would never want to get on your angry sides. It was scary."
They chuckle, knowing you mean well and Jungkook holds your palm up to press a kiss there. "You will never have to fear of our wrath pointing your way," the God of Hearth vows. "How can we ever get upset with you? You are our lovely little flower."
"The seven of us alone does not fight very often," Jimin says. "After all, we are soulmates, we're all soulmates, so we understand each other more than anything and anyone. There is no reason to hold secrets, no reason for misunderstandings to ignite."
You are reminded of that moment back at the wisteria, refusing to let Taehyung hold you and allowing him to look and feel hurt. The God takes your hands from Jungkook and presses a gentle kiss to your head after hearing your thoughts. "Moments like that can happen, though," he tells you and lets you see the memories of that time he and Yoongi almost went to bed upset and hurt. They of course resolved the problem in the end before anything could get worse. "As long as we communicate, love, there is no need for anyone to lose their temper."
"Okay."
He hum. "Okay?"
You nod as you look up at him with a loving gaze before it falls and you're looking back at Jungkook. The dizziness has gone away and your mind isn't so hazy in blindness anymore. You'll get used to this, you know you will. After all, kissing them is rewarding and quite lovely so you'd be glad to getting used to the strong soulmate bond. The God of Spring and Ocean chuckles knowingly at your thoughts, leaving Jungkook in question when you look down with a blooming blush because he isn't touching you.
The God of Hearth doesn't go on to touch you though, because he feels you will tell him if you want or place your own hands on his skin. The moment lasts a few long seconds more before you're letting out a sigh and deciding to be brave about it. You want to kiss the youngest one of the Gods so you will and you can feel Jimin and Taehyung both waiting with anticipation and excitement.
"Kook...?"
"Hm?"
"May I?" You ask. His brows furrow with confusion and he's about to reach up to touch you but you hold your palm up to stop him, causing him to blink but place his hand back onto his lap, respecting your wishes.
"Go on," he tells you though is unsure of what you mean.
You take a deep breath again, hearing the two Gods beside you silently cheering you on as you step up to your knees and watching Jungkook with an intense gaze. He waits, anticipating what will happen, when you place your hands on his shoulders and lean in to press a quick peck right on his lips.
His eyes widen at the sudden and unexpected kiss that was honestly way too quick to him to truly enjoy. So he chuckles at the way your cheeks roses even more because you are so shy and he's proud of you taking that courage to take the first step on telling him what you want without him needing to touch you. He hears your thoughts now, ones that whispers soft i love you's to him and Jungkook's eyes crinkle as he shows you that boyish smile. He puts his hands on both sides of your waist and pull you onto his lap, lips pecking right upon your own.
You're beet red and he laughs, pressing another quick kiss before he leans in again for it to last longer. His kisses are playful and sweet and it makes you chuckle out sweet giggles that echoes into the large room, sounding like music to their ears as it mixes with the smacking sounds of kisses and your Gods' soft laughs.
Your morning that day is filled with the soft ringing of laughter echoing into the room with the wind carrying it out the open windows that leads to the balcony.
.
.
.
The garden is even more beautiful than the one you had seen at the banquet, walking down a lone path under the starry night skies. You cannot sleep that night but your thoughts are filled with only pleasant thoughts. The purple blossoms that follows the path you walk on is divine, a type of flower you know must not exist on Earth with how ethereal it looks. It glows only at night, light sparkles glittering and falling out into the skies from the center of its petals. You close your eyes, welcoming the night breeze as it passes along your side, thankful for the fact that one of your soulmate is the God of Spring.
The stars above shines brightly, creating a blooming milky way that is entirely different from the view on Earth. How did you fall so lucky to be written under the stars with wonderful Gods whose hearts are made of gold? You are so lucky to be blessed with loving Gods who will not hesitate to do anything for you.
"It isn't fair, you know." You jump a little at the sound and turn to find the God of Stars standing a few feet away as he leans against a pillar with a slight frown.
"Jin," you sigh, greeting him with a smile before pouting at the sight of his furrowed brows. "What isn't fair?"
"I am the oldest," he says, making you even more confused. "Do you not believe that I should have been the first one, or one of the firsts, to claim your lips?"
Oh.
He sulks at the fact that you have kissed all the Gods saved for him, an underlying insecurity falling upon him though he hides it behind a pout and a playful tone. But you can understand your God of Stars without him needing to explain or you needing to touch him. Seokjin is a patient God, one who will never rush anything if you are not ready just as the rest, but you know that it must confuse him to come to know that you have already shared lips with the others.
"I'm sorry," you say sincerely as you come to walk towards him. Seokjin stands straight from the pillar and takes a small step back at your approach. You stop, frowning.
"No, my love," he tells you with a small smile that is all too painful. "You do not have to force yourself if you do not wish for it."
"Oh Seokjin," your heart falls for him. He worries for you, not wanting anything to be forced no matter how much he wants it because he is a gentleman. Seokjin is afraid, you can see it in his sad smile, and if these past months has taught you anything, it'd be that you have come to understand them a little better without having to feel. "I promise you I am not feeling forced to do anything," you say as you start walking again and falling silently relieved when he does not move this time. "I'm sorry, I hadn't meant for this to happen when I kissed them."
"No," he sighs, "I know you did not. You have no need to apologize, I just-"
You take his hand once you come close enough and let your face sweetly nuzzle against his palm. You let him know that you want this, you truly do, and that you aren't afraid of it anymore. Perhaps another step further is still further in the future but right now, as you're taking things step by step, you want this, you want to share kisses with them. With all of them.
"I want this," you say it aloud as you gaze up at him with a sincere gaze.
He falls silent for a moment, just watching you as if he is mesmerized, as if he is entranced, and it only makes your heart flutter because you can hear his thoughts. "Really?" He asks though he can feel you. You respond with a small nod. "Hm," he hums softly, thinking. You want to laugh at how he's deciding to play hard to get with this and roll your eyes.
"Do you want it?"
"Do I?"
"I'll give it to you."
"Will you?"
It is even more hilarious when the two of you can understand the confirmed feelings by the touches so you chuckle and he follows along to the amusement, echoing your gentle laugh. "But just know," you hold up a finger, "I am no expert just because I have kissed the six of you already."
He hums. "I know."
But he makes no move and it leaves you standing flustered. "You..y-you can't," you stutter, "you cannot expect me to make the first move?"
Seokjin shrugs. "You did it with Jungkook."
"But that was just a little-"
"No excuses, my dear." he tells you, pouting. "Do you not believe that you owe me a little something? Hm?"
You mirror his pout and let out a small sigh. "Alright," you decide and take a deep breath. You don't know how you will ever get used to this when just one little peck gets you so flustered but because Seokjin is still a bit upset, you know you cannot refuse his request. You have to do this for him. So you place your hands on his shoulders, mimicking the action you had done with Jungkook and close your eyes shut with feet tip toeing up because he is tall, and press a kiss right on his lips before letting out a little crying sound as your head buries against his chest out of embarrassment.
The God of Stars laughs. "It's not funny," you chide with a pout and can still feel the lingering sensation of his lips.
"My sweet galaxy, do you really believe that I will accept a little peck as a kiss?" You huff and leave his arms with flushed cheeks, your pout deepening. He grins at the way your eyes refuses to meet his, knowing the exact reasons why. But he understands so he lets out a sigh. "Alright, I'll let this one slide since I love you and you're my shy little star."
He backs you up against the pillar, taking your face into a hand and squishing your cheeks. You don't know how he can act in such a way that makes your heart skip a beat but also be so playful about it. So you let out a soft whine, cheeks puffed out with your lips turned into a duck because of the way he holds your face. "Seokjin~"
He laughs that cute laugh that only makes things worse for your heart and you huff again. "Alright, alright," he says, calming down. At least he's feeling better so you know you aren't exactly upset with him. Seokjin smirks at the thought though there is an underlying soft fondness in his gaze as he feels thankful for you, only reminded of how much he loves you. Seokjin pulls your face forward and leans in, pressing a soft kiss but leaving too fast just like you had done.
You're about to say something when he leans in again, this time slower and more sensual. The grip upon your face releases and is replaced by both hands that holds you in a gentle manner as he presses you up further against the pillar. Your heart skips a beat, beating rapidly against your chest at how skillful and sweet he is. Your mind retraces back to those memories that belongs to him, knowing the God of Stars has the most experience in such field. He's had experience even before meeting his soulmates but who can blame him? His face alone will make anyone drop to the floor and it makes you a bit at a loss on how you should feel. He's yours now, so you won't have to worry about anyone else, right?
"Focus on me, sweet one," the God of Stars whispers against your lips to let you take a little breather for just a split second before he's capturing your lips and heart again. "I'm yours, my dear," he vows and nibbles along your lower lip. "I'm yours."
Your thoughts are filled with nothing but him while your heart continues to race on and on into the starry night.
.
.
.
The God of Sun watches you from the doorway while you sit in a comfortable armchair near the center of the room with a piece of clothing on your lap, thread and needle in a hand as you sew through something white and fuzzy onto the golden fabric. He smiles at the sight of peace and serene, knowing how you like to keep yourself busy and use some time to do things you like.
Most days you will read in Namjoon's library, or walk around tending to the garden, or becoming friendly with their elements; the wisteria, the sun, the stars, and the fishes in the ocean. Today you are in your own element, sewing something that looks like something they have gotten for you. You like to redesign a few things if you can, giving your own touches along their spoiled gifts because it makes you feel closer to them. He smiles at the sight, loving all that belongs to you. Your heart and thoughts are the most gentle out of everything.
Thunder rolls outside, causing your head to perk up and look on over towards the opening balcony where the windows instantly falls closed on their own upon the sound of rain beginning to fall from the clouds. It has been cloudy this whole day so it wasn't a surprise to Hoseok that it's beginning to rain but you look a little surprised, eyes probably too focused inside to notice the weather.
But you don't mind the rain because anything aside from the constant winter you had been used to back on the mountain is beautiful. Sunny days are gorgeous, rainy days are pretty.
A gasp that falls from your lips leaves him to quickly revert his attention back on you and he sees the way you whine as you hold up your forefinger, whimpering. Hoseok is by your side in an instant as he surprises you by picking you up and moving you towards the sofa where he sits you on his lap, a hand coming up to hold your pricked finger and hold it to his lips. One kiss alone is enough to heal the pain and take the blood away.
"Hoseok.."
"Did you not tell me once that a seamstress must never fall distracted?" He reminds you as he brings his lips to greet you on the temple.
"It was the thunder's fault," you pout and he erupts with a laugh before another voice walks in.
"You cannot blame mother nature for your moment of recklessness," Taehyung says.
At the sight of the rest of your Gods arriving, your heart flutters with excitement and Hoseok chuckles knowingly. "I have a question," you say clapping your hands together.
Jungkook takes the seat you had sat in before, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Jimin sitting on the sofa directly from you and Hoseok, while Namjoon sits across Jungkook and Yoongi comes on to settle himself beside you and Hoseok. "What is it?" The God of Knowledge prompts.
"Does it ever snow here?"
Jungkook raises a brow. "That sounds like you want for it to happen."
You shrug lightly as your eyes fall back on the work in your lap, returning to pick up your needle to begin threading through again. "I was just thinking," you say with a soft smile, "I don't think the snow will bring back bad memories anymore. After all, I was born on a snowy day and grew up with it my whole life. I just want to be reminded of the good times back on that mountain, be reminded of everyone there."
They watch you with a soft gaze, fondness falling upon them as they smile because of how much you've grown. Yoongi brushes your hair to the side, a hand stroking your cheek in a gentle manner. "We're so proud of you, little one."
You look up, beaming.
"Well, anything can happen," Jimin tells you. "We'll just have to wait for December to come."
"I came here around January," you remember, confused. "Shouldn't it have snowed then?"
Hoseok props his chin up against your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck. "You wanted to meet Spring, remember? So we had to make it happen, because our sweet soulmate could not take the cold anymore and we didn't want you to continue suffering." Your heart blossoms with a thousand heartbeats that escalates, fingers pausing on the needle as you look up at Hoseok. He hears your thought and squeezes your side. "When it comes to you, love, we will do all the impossible just to make you smile."
You fall silent for a moment and can feel the tears beginning to brim as you look through his thoughts. "You were going to make it Spring all year round?"
"Of course."
You have heard that Summer can grow very overheated, the sun becoming overwhelming from time to time that no mortal likes to leave the house just as Winter can get quite cold. But it's already been months, somewhere around July, and the heat has yet to come. This place is paradise because of them, being able to control the weather in however way they'd like, being able to make it Spring all year round just for you. Because you wanted to meet Spring. Because you liked Spring.
Your lips quiver as you drop your needle and turn to wrap your arms around the God of Sun. "Thank you," you whisper when the rest almost has a heart attack at your tears. It's soft, so much softer than the storm that falls outside. It doesn't scare you so you're fine, knowing the plants need their water from the clouds. And you know that no matter how quiet you may be, they hear you, they always hear you.
"Oh love," Hoseok sighs contently as the Gods come to surround the two of you.
They love you so much and everyday when you think you're already at the end, you end up falling deeper and deeper in love. Perhaps as the years passes on and on, the love will grow even more than it is at this moment. You are so blessed to have them in your life, to be saved by them, your soulmates. No other love will ever come to compare with theirs. "I'm so happy," you sniffle.
Yoongi sends you a gentle smile when you look up again to look at them all. His hands reaches out to cup your face, fingers brushing away the tears that have fallen. "We are too, my sweet muse." Namjoon hums softly in agreement while Jimin takes your little work to set it aside on the coffee table inside the circle of furniture so that the needle doesn't accidentally hurt you again.
"You may look pretty when you cry, my love, but we prefer your beautiful face when you smile instead," Taehyung says.
"Sorry," you giggle.
He beams, sighing. "There it is."
Seokjin takes a hand of yours. "We can make Winter return if you'd like. It will definitely not grow as cold as it was on the mountain, however, because we would never want you to freeze and see you in pain."
"Thank you." You squeeze his hand.
"I have another good news." You look on over at Jungkook with anticipation, head tilted just slightly to the side as you blink, wondering what he wants to say. He takes a second, pulling something out from his pocket then shows you his fist before opening it right in front of you. Your breath hitches at the sight, eyes widening and tearing up all over again when you catch sight of the nostalgic memory hidden on the object he holds out to you alone.
"My mother's bracelet..." you breathe when a tear falls and another comes. You had lost it one day traveling through the snow and because the strings were too frail to even hold together after you tried fixing it, it snapped and slipped right out of your wrist when you weren't paying attention. You tried to look for it when you realized it was no longer there but it had been impossible to do so under all that snow. "How..?"
"I saw it in your memories," the God of Hearth says as he smiles and gently goes to brush your tears, "so I retraced the steps back when I returned to the mountain. I know how much it means to you." The bracelet is in a much better condition, strings now strong and firm along with the colors of the beads looking as bright and new as it had been firstly given to your mother. You have no words, too touched that saying thank you again sounds too worthless to say so. But he hears you. He understands. The God of Hearth takes the bracelet to roll it onto your wrist with a smile.
While the rain continues falling and falling, dropping against the windowsill constantly, your heart is warmed with delight and love that you have no words that can perfectly describe how you feel. But that's okay because as long as your Gods are here, touching you, they can understand all that cannot be described with words. "I love you," you tell them instead, sniffling.
Namjoon chuckles. "No more tears, okay?"
You nod, wiping away the remaining tears on your own before showing them the smile that they love so much.
"That's right," Jimin muses, "you are the most beautiful when you smile."
#btsboulangerie#btsguild#heartsforbts#bts polyamory#bts poly#poly bts#bts ot7 x reader#bts greek god!au#bts soulmate#bts greek gods#greek gods!bts#bts soulmate au#bts soulmate!au#bts poly!au#bts poly au#poly!bts#poly bts au#poly!bts x reader#bts poly relationship#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#bts fluff#bts angst#bts fanfic
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“Did you know,” said Caleb, setting down his quill, “that when gravity is dispersed, fire behaves differently?”
Essek glanced up from his reading.
“What?”
The two of them were seated in the library of the Xhorhouse, together for the first time since the peace talks. In the intervening months after the war’s end, Rosohna had been busy, the Mighty Nein away, and it was only yesterday that Jester had suddenly sung into Essek’s mind to tell him that they were back.
(He was reluctant to admit how quickly he’d perked up at the sound of her intrusive, yet undeniable cheer. He was even more embarrassed by how close he came to instantly teleporting to their tower.)
“It behaves oddly,” Caleb said, jolting him into the present. “It is strangely shaped, and its movement is different.”
“Really?” Essek set his book aside, as if that had ever been the object of his focus. “Could you elaborate?”
“I mean...ach, how best to describe this?” Caleb sat back and scratched his chin. “It spread from my fingertips quite slowly, and it expanded more than I thought it would. I tell you this, my friend, I nearly singed Caduceus’s fur, and he was more than fifty feet away from the impact.”
“Fascinating.” Academic interest rose to Essek’s rescue. “Was Caduceus alright? And how far—” he felt himself reach for a notebook, “—would you say the radius extended? You cast a Fireball, yes?”
“Yes,” Caleb sighed, “and the more accurate question, is where didn’t it go? It filled nearly every inch of the anti-gravity sphere. It only dispersed once it reached the edges.”
“Did it hurt anybody? You all came back safe...?”
“Fjord’s eyebrows have looked better,” he chuckled, “but thank you for your concern. We did, in the end.”
Essek finished scribbling into the margin of his notes. “I feel like I must apologize. I did not warn—I did not even anticipate that this could happen.”
“It was not as hot in the backlash,” Caleb titled his head, mid-memory. “Otherwise, it might have been a bit worse.”
“Worse,” Essek sighed. “Then my apology is needed.”
Caleb chuckled, and the candles of his study flickered as if caught in a spell. “No need. You said yourself, no? You did not know.”
“But I should have guessed,” Essek said. “I have spent enough days reversing gravity around my furniture to have tested fire. If only I could see...though I wish not to impose...”
Caleb’s eyes glittered, and Essek knew he understood.
They both stood up, pushed their chairs in, though Essek assumed that would not last very long. For safety’s sake, Caleb tided up the desk a little, then waved his hand to extinguish all the candles in the room.
“Your books, though—” Essek began.
“We have magic,” Caleb quipped. “Are you not the greatest Dunamantic prodigy of your time? Surely you will not make me clean up by yourself.”
Essek snorted. “I am not so rude a guest. But before I proceed, I must ask if you are certain.”
Caleb hesitated, but only just. His gaze softened.
“It will be only a small one. I am.”
“Very well, then. Here we go.” Without looking away, Essek reached into his pouch, found a vial of silver powder, and tossed a glittering handful to the sky.
They watched it rise in an arc.
And then, it did not fall. Instead it hung, suspended in the darkness as gravity stopped. It even shimmered, aglow with humming magic.
Essek reached up a hand and brushed his hair away from his face. The sleeves of his robe billowed, drifting with a current as if beneath waves.
An inkwell floated up behind him. He could sense the faint movement of every page in the library beginning to lift up, gently turn, but all he could look at was Caleb, before him.
The other man’s eyes crinkled up at the corners. His hair swayed like autumn boughs in a breeze.
His lip quirked up, and Essek coughed. “Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, “shall I do it, or—”
“I can.” He grinned, and Essek did not look embarrassed when he added, “You should probably keep concentration, no?”
“Produce Flame is not a concentration spell, Widogast.”
Caleb chuckled in agreement. “Yes, but let me contribute something to this experiment.”
He cupped his hands out in front of him, halfway between his chest, halfway between Essek’s. He exhaled, voice breathing pure magic, and then a tiny glow bloomed in his palm.
It was blue, to Essek’s surprise. Bluish-purple, and shaped like a little dome.
“Goodness,” he breathed. “That’s...beautiful.”
Caleb floated a little bit closer, fingers still curled protectively around the fire. “Isn’t it? How strangely lovely, no?”
“I would not have guessed it could be like this,” Essek admitted. “I assume...I am guessing that the lack of gravity is affecting the heat, which is why it is so circular. As for the color, though...you are not doing this, are you?”
Caleb chuckled again. “Tamper with science? Have some faith.”
Essek rolled his eyes. In the darkness of the library, with only their bluish fire and the silver-powder stars, he decided he’d risk a smile too.
“In you? Certainly, I will try.”
Caleb held the flame up to open air. It glowed, light and shadow between his fingers.
“Your spell lasts an hour, yes?”
“Hm? Ah, yes, it does. Why?”
Caleb grinned, a simple gesture. “This is very different from the Fireball all that time ago. In fact, it is quite different from any fire I have seen in my life. It is...fire has always been complicated, you see. It is destruction and devastation, but also heat and life. This is the first time...this is the first time I have ever seen fire be nothing but...gentle. And soothing, and calm.”
He carried the fire to Essek’s hand. Not touching, but just close enough to be warm.
“I am glad,” Caleb murmured, “to be sharing this with you. To be able to share it if only an hour longer.”
The stars danced between their heads.
"Yes,” Essek said.
— — —
inspired by a lovely work of art from @odd-alchemist, particularly the quote at the bottom :3
✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN
#critical role#critrole#critfic#shadowgast#fic#fanfiction#fanfic#GOD THIS IS#SHADOWGAST RENAISSANCE YALL#AND EVERYONE GO CHECK OUT ODD-ALCHEMIST'S WORK I CANT LINK IT BECAUSE TUMBLR SUCKS BUT DAMN#jay writes#caleb widogast#essek thelyss#cr2#long post#text#<33333333
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Jihyun Kim "V" x Reader/MC
AU Fantasy, written for the Mystic Dance Event, hosted by the lovely @little-butterfly-writes. Roles provided, "Princess x Court Painter".
"I'll meet you in the forest, let's let this wild thing grow."
- Forest, Fancy Hagood
Jihyun was chosen from a neighboring kingdom to paint the royal family.
It was an honor, to be selected as the court artist; for his art to hang on the palace walls alongside portraits of previous kings and queens.
There are countless tales told throughout the kingdoms; stories of the ruthless king who commanded the armies, of the regal queen who could turn men into stone with a simple look.
And of the stoic crowned princess, who possessed the ethereal beauty of the fae, and the same coldness too.
He’s painted that captivating beauty on canvas more than once; has traced the dip of your collarbone, the fullness of your lips, the almond shape of your eyes with his paintbrush so many times he can do it from memory alone.
You are always seated on that golden throne when he does, decorated in sapphires and dressed in layers of silk and lace – always watching him with a sort of fascination as he paints, a sparkling wonder in your gaze.
You sit on that throne now, your head held high, waves of black hair falling down your back, and a crown of rowan berries on your brow. Your dress is golden, accentuating the sun-touched colors of your skin and the darkness of your eyes as they roam over the ballroom to the people dancing and celebrating the return of autumn.
There is a sort of hypnotic magic about you and he sees it perfectly then, how you truly could have been fairy in a past life; sparkling wings on your back, adorned in colors of orange and red and yellow as you sat on a throne of marigolds and ruled over the autumn court.
Perhaps you may have even allowed yourself to dance amongst your folk, lost in the addicting taste of pomegranates as you moved freely to the wild music.
But that is not who you are now. Not who are you expected to be.
You do not partake in the autumn celebration with your people, you are not allowed to laugh and dance in the way he knows you desire to. In the way you have so freely danced and laughed by his side in hidden corridors.
Your only purpose is to serve your kingdom, and outside of your clandestine meetings with him, you play your role flawlessly. No one would dare suggest otherwise.
If only they knew the restlessness that lingers in your heart. The same kind and wild heart you have given to him– a secret belonging to you both alone.
The music ends and you clap gently in your lap, almost unconsciously, as most of your mannerisms are – but your eyes are dazed, he knows your thoughts are elsewhere.
He has been hounded by daydreams of you as well, wishes he could stand in front of that throne and take your hand as an equal; to lead you to the ballroom floor and hold you in his arms as you sway together, just as you have done many times before in the dark.
The orchestra begins to play a new piece, something slow and soft that echoes through the ballroom; the chandeliers shimmer from the high ceiling as partners retake their place and begin a new dance.
Carefully, as to not draw attention to yourself, you stand, hands gripping the skirts of your dress as you curtsey to the king and queen, who briefly nod in your direction in permission to take your leave. He follows you with his eyes as you walk down the steps of the podium and to the large entryway, but something catches his attention – a golden satin ribbon, left behind on the seat of your throne.
You have played this game before, he knows what the token means; and when he looks up, in a single moment that freezes time, you look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He nods in understanding, and there’s a sparkle in your eye as you close the doors behind you.
He wants to run after you, to spin you around in his arms and declare his fidelity to you in front of the world. But you are a princess…and he is only the court painter – the consequences should anyone discover you two together, of the things you have done under secrecy, would end in tragedy.
So he waits, and when the kingsmen turn to assist their majesties to the ballroom floor, Jihyun slips through the entryway and weaves down dark corridors and forgotten doors.
He is lost in a haze to get to you, has waited eagerly for weeks to spend time with you, and not the person you pretend to be for everyone else. He wants your silly laughter and teasing smiles, your fondness for flowers and furry forest creatures.
In an unlit corner of an unused passageway, there is a door that blends into the stone of the walls, it is not easily seen in the dark, but Jihyun knows exactly where it is and how to twist the lock to the room that has become his haven.
He steps through the low archway and closes the door behind him, feels a sort of relief when he turns to find you watching him.
It is indescribable, how painfully beautiful you are illuminated by the candlelight – woven in golden and waiting for him.
He bows, deeply. “Princess.”
And then, the respectable haze you have found yourselves in for weeks vanishes.
In an instant, you wrench yourself forward into him, tackling him into something fierce. He grasps you, cradling you safely in his arms as you wiggle in your happiness.
“Jihyun,” you whisper against his chest, nose buried in the hilt of his tailcoat. “I was afraid you would not come.”
He pushes you back, enough to look into your eyes and trace the outline of your cheekbone with his thumb. “Of course I came. I cannot deny you a single thing, nor do I wish to.”
“I did not think I would have the time to slip by their attention tonight, I am eternally grateful their minds are elsewhere.”
“Do you need to get back?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist; already dreading having to part.
“Not yet, not so soon.” You reach for him, stand on the tip of your toes and brush your lips against his in the softest of kisses. “I have missed you terribly.”
“As have I, darling,” he whispers against your mouth. “I have to stop myself constantly from reaching for you in the hallways.”
An impish smile graces your lips, sly and conniving. He imagines this must be how the fae tempt humans into their world.
“You are certainly free to touch me now, in whatever way you desire.”
He catches up quickly, as he tightens the hold on your waist and brings his lips to yours – warm breath and honey taste – soft and slow, memorizing every part of this moment.
He rubs small circles on your back just above your waist, feeling the silky material of your dress as you put your arms around his neck, bringing him in as close as you possibly can. And when you pull back to catch your breath, you smile at him slyly, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, bottom lip between your teeth.
“Pray tell, you wicked thing. What enchantment have you placed on me?”
A soft laugh, no more than an exhale, ghosts across the side of his neck, raising goosebumps across his skin. You stand so close he can smell the sweetness of the roses pressed onto your skin, the floral scent instantly hauling him back to an afternoon in the court gardens, where you hid behind large rose bushes and he pressed you against the grass and kissed you until sundown.
“It was the pomegranate seeds I fed to you in the garden” you whisper, playfully. “It was faerie food, meant to entrap you to my side for the rest of your days.”
“You could have simply asked me,” he replies. “My answer would have been yes.”
Your eyes go soft, but sparkle suddenly in the way they do when you decide to be cheeky. “But that would be a waste of a perfectly ripe pomegranate, do you not agree?”
He bites at the pout of your lip in reprimand, feeling satisfied with the redness there when he pulls back. “Do you truly have a response for everything?”
“I thought you liked my mouth,” you say, just a fraction shy and very much teasing as your hands wonder down his chest.
“I do, it’s perfectly sweet.” His hand firmly cradles your chin and he leans in until your breath is upon his lips. “Do not divert, my dove. Will you share with me what has been on your mind tonight? You have been on a cloud all evening.”
Your eyes open in surprise, but smile softly at him as he holds your face between his hands. His thumb traces your berry lips and your eyes flutter shut in resignation.
“I have tried, for a very long time, to find dignity in my role.” He notes the softness of your voice, mixed in with the bitter resentment he’s only caught glimpses of before. When your eyes flutter open, there is sadness. “I have found nothing, and I am tired of it all. I do not know who I am beyond what I’m told to be, and I do not care for it any longer. I wish to please only you.”
Your eyes are suddenly and incredibly soft as they hold onto his, your fingertips tracing his hipbones, moving up his abdomen. He brushes a gentle stroke of his lip against yours, flashing loving eyes as if to say what neither of you has found the courage to admit yet.
“You have shone light upon my dreams, Jihyun. But there is no room for you in my life, and you deserve to be with someone that will not be a threat to your own.”
He is hardly ever angry; he finds he does not care much for such emotions. But in this moment, he feels an inexplicable sadness and fear that you will disappear before he has the chance to tell you how truly his life belongs to you.
“Should you wish to end things with me, I will retreat immediately without a word and pretend nothing has happened. But do not make decisions for me. I wish to be with you, in whatever manner possible. If these meetings are all that I will ever have, then I will have this over nothing.”
Light laughter erupts from your throat and you quickly slip one hand from his chest to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears spring from your eyes at last, a blend of humor and grief.
“I wish I could kiss you and make you king.”
He gently takes hold of your soft hands, engulfing them in his calloused ones. He notices the pleasant shiver that runs up your spine at the intimate gesture.
“I do not want to be king, I just want to be with you,” he admits.
You are quiet for a long time, contemplative. He brushes tendrils of your hair off your shoulder, feels your collarbones beneath his fingertips.
“We are in love, aren’t we?” You whisper, and there’s a sort of hesitancy there, as if you have only just realized what this could mean for both of you – the inevitable heartbreak that is destined.
From the very moment your worlds collided – he knew he would fall in love with you. And as he has come to know you – eyes alive like wildflowers and smiles that carry sunshine – he dreams of nothing more than to meet his fate by your side.
“I love you, with everything that I possess.”
“Then run away with me,” you plead, putting yourself nose to nose with him, his blue wisps of hair against your forehead. “Let’s go to another land. Somewhere far away where we can be close to an ocean and have a garden of roses.”
“Your father will send kingsmen after us,” he warns quietly, stoic beneath your hands, hesitant to reciprocate. “He will not be merciful.”
You shake your head fiercely, speak one last offer of clarity. “My father cares not for what may happen to me, he never has. He has two more children he can crown.”
“If you are sure about this, I believe King Han may grant us sanctuary should we reach his borders. I have known him since we were children, and Jumin can be ruthless, but he is fair. Though I must warn you, once we reach his castle, your title will be stripped.”
“I do not want to be a princess, I just want you,” you whisper and lean into him, press a breeze of a kiss to the corner of his mouth, another against his jawline. “Promise you will meet me at midnight, out in the forest.”
The sweetness of you has long burned away his fear, and in its place a mellow kind of anticipation has taken hold. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips.
“As you wish,” he mumbles against your palm and you giggle joyfully before you throw your arms around his neck.
And for everything he believes in, your face is as precious as all the jewels and gemstones of any kingdom; it is the smile you grace him with upon his yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that confirm he has found the world’s greatest fortune.
#I was so hesitant to post this#but fuck it#here it is#enjoy#jihyun kim#jihyun kim x reader#mystic messenger#v mysme#v route#v mysme fanfic#v mysme x reader#v mystic messenger#Jihyun Kim fanfic#Jihyun Kim mysme#Jihyun Kim mystic messenger#period/fantasy au#the mystic dance#mint palace ball
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The Obey Me Brothers and Undatables vs An Insect/Arachnid Loving MC
I find it amazing how many people find it disturbing that I just love some insects and arachnids (not more than birds but still, insects can be both cute and cool even when they manage to terrify me so I can't help but love them lmao).
It's so cool how insects are actually the most dominant species in the world even before humanity existed and will most likely still be even after humanity ceases to exist, of course some of them actualy spread disease and such but it's not all of them and the mosquitoes that do spread it are females and they are just sucking your blood to feed their babies and the males like flowers over your blood, I actually don't like all spiders but I love tarantulas with all my heart although I can't say the same for wasps, they are evil but they can be so cool I have so many mixed feelings and cockroaches can be so adorable specially the forest/wild ones, have you ever seen them eat fruits??? They are so cute! And don't even get me started on how a d o r a b l e beetles are-
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Lucifer vs Ladybug
Taking strolls in the Castle's garden when you are accompaning Lucifer in his work are very common.
Just taking a fresh breath of the Devildom's air in between breaks with you by his side powers him up like crazy.
Now that being said, he doesn't really appreciate losing your attention to a little, colorful, bug crawling on one of the flowers in said garden.
"Lucifer, look! It's a ladybug! It's so different from the human world!"
That is true, ladybugs in hell were brighter in color and had a toxin in their bodies that- Oh wait
"Don't touch it!" Lucifer grabbed your hand in realization "haven't you learned anything about bright colors in nature? The toxin in their bodies can melt your skin off!"
He really didn't expect your eyes to get even more shiny.
"Ladybugs in Devildom are both bright and dangerous??!! I'm so jealous!"
With that, he became both exasperated and more in love with you.
Does this have a relation to the fact that you love him and his brothers even thought they are demons?
He is definetelly giving you a brooch in the shape of a ladybug later
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Mammon vs Cockroach
If you think this man didn't scream like a plate being scratched with a fork when he saw a cockroach in your bedroom, you are wrong.
I mean, okay, he was on the floor and the thing just decided to crawl up to his head out of nowhere.
He jumped over the table so fast it probably has beaten a world record.
"Aw! It's a baby cockroach!"
It's true, it was very small compared to adult ones, but Mammon didn't care.
"STOP FAWNIN' OVER THOSE CREATURES FOR ONCE AND KILL IT ALREADY!!"
And of course instead of killing it you just raise your eyebrown at him while scooping the thing up with a paper.
And of course you needed to bring it really close to him just to watch him squirm before you decide throw it out of your bedroom's window.
He definetelly will ask you to wash your hands before comforting him even if you didn't even touch the cockroach directly.
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Leviathan vs Dragonfly
You cannot tell me dragonflies in Devildom are actually very few and actually have the size of a small dragon.
It all happened on the day you and Levi got lost in the forest searching for a raven that stole his just purchased phone charm of a game that he was currently addicted to.
Both of you were looking for a way out when you heard an extremelly loud buzzing noise from somewhere in the woods.
Of course both of you followed the sound because first, you just know that must be one big ass insect since it sounded almost like a helicopter and you had to see it, and second, Levi suddenly forgot all about the charm (and being lost) and started rambling about how 'it couldn't be! Is it really-!'
And that is how you guys found his new Henry.
A giant, navy blue, shiny dragonfly, that was currently eating the Raven you and Levi were searching for.
Let's just say Levi got his charm back and both of you got a free ride to the House of Lamentation.
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Satan vs Spiders
Where there are old books, there are spider webs, and where there are spider webs, there's at least a 50% chance there are spiders in there.
So you can say Satan was quite familiar with the eight legged creatures, although he never really paid them much attention.
That is until he found they were of your interest.
You will never see someone start to give spider names, treat them with courtesy and have small talks with them faster than with this man.
Getting a book from the House of Lamentation's library and there's a web in the way along with a resident spider? "Excuse me, I will have to disturb you a little, I hope you don't mind a bit of damage to your home"
He is reading and suddenly sees a spider dangling down from a web string right besides him? He is definetelly letting it land on his hand just so that he can show it to you.
One day he even choses to read a book in his berdoom that a tiny spider was standing on. The sight of the tiny thing crawling around the pages as he reads it and explains some things out loud is so precious to see.
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Asmodeus vs Scorpions
Of course, what would suit the Lust Demon better than his own patron?
That is until you teach him that there are more than just one type of scorpion, and there is one type that has really big claws and a thinner tail that are usually pretty big in size.
Why would learning that be a bad thing, you ask? Instead of stinging its food, it actually grabs it like a crab.
So yes, the day Asmo held one and didn't use his charms, it pinched him.
Needless to say, it was chaotic.
Leaving the fact he is never approaching those kinds of scorpions ever again, he coos a lot at you while you coo at the small scorpions.
If you tell him the fact that they are his patron just makes you love him more, he will be so happy he will be squealing for the next 5 minutes.
He has definetelly taken a few dozens, of pictures for you while holding one or more scorpions.
His followers in the devilgram were surprised at how even while holding that thing, Asmo still looked amazing.
Scorpions definetelly became sensation in Devildom after that.
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Beelzebub vs Flies
Again, nothing better than his own patron.
If he didn't have to swat them off his food that is.
He has definetelly eaten some accidently.
"Look! I managed to make it crawl up to my finger without scaring it!" you say.
"That is cool. But you should probably wash your hand." He replies.
He's right, wash your hands if you ever grab onto flies.
He finds it really cute that you like insects, and it makes him tingly on the inside when he remembers that his symbolic creature is an insect itself.
Don't hold back on asking him to change into his demon form more often, he is very happy to do it.
He starts paying more attention to insects and flies in general after he finds out how much you love them.
How big their are, their color, where he saw them, what were they doing, if they tasted good.
And then he proceeds to tell you all about it.
He is very cute.
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Belphegor vs Butterflies
It's not that he attracts butterflies, no. But he actually likes them, finds them cool even.
Did you know some butterflies disguise as another type butterfly because that type is actually not very tasty to eat so the animals stay away from them?
And how many of them have patterns on their wings that look a lot like Owls and again, it makes animals stay away from them?
And the whole symbolism of life, death and rebirth around them? And the fact that the larvae eating everything around them reminds him a lot of Beel?
Belphie definetelly likes butterflies and you cannot tell me otherwise.
So when he finds out you love insects? Oh he is definetelly taking you to the best butterfly watching spot either in the Devildom or the Human World.
It's specially cute when he falls asleep and one lands on his face.
He definetelly had a minor heart attack when he woke up to the sight its wings but he will never admit it.
Also definetelly grabs it and puts it on you instead.
It's counterproductive as you end up looking too cute for him to handle.
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Solomon vs Beetles
I mean beetle fights.
You thought you liked insects, just wait until you see this man cheering on a beetle like an excited kid.
Also finds it hilarious when one just yeets the other away.
And because now you are there to feed more into his love for beetles, one day he casts a spell on two of them to make them big enough to ride and just showed up outside your window like:
"No time to explain, get in the beetle"
Because of safety measures, no, you guys didn't have a giant beetle fight.
But you did ride them around the Devildom forest at 2am.
You thought it would be an insane ride with lots of adventures
But you guys just ended up star gazing while laying on them.
He forgot to turn them back to their original size and they scared a few of the residents of Devildom.
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Simeon vs Mantis
Warning: it's a big goreish
When you introduced the praying mantis specifically to Simeon, he was immediatelly in awe.
And then you proceeded to show him how they can have many shapes and forms, be it as leafs, tree branches, and others.
And he was so intrigued!
But then you gave him the more, specific details.
Like how they can feast on their prey while they are still alive.
And how it actually can attack small birds such as humming birds, eating their brain tissue through their eyes.
And how the females practice a cannibalism ritual, feasting on their partners after mating.
That's when his writer self came to light.
What I mean is, he was now both horrified and extremelly inspired.
Simeon can be scary sometimes.
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Diavolo vs Ants
If you can find ants in every nook and crany around the world, you cannot tell me you can't find them in hell.
If they are able to travel the sea just by being taken along with baggage on accident, they have definetelly come to hell the same way, specially black crazy ants.
So honestly, I wouldn't find it surprising that Diavolo would have at least one big colony of ants he takes care of.
But he didn't have it until you pointed out why ants were awesome to him.
"They don't eat the leafs, they are farmers and what they eat is the other tiny creatures that decompose the leafs" "they can go to extreme lenghts to find their food and they have a real good teamwork, often they don't eat right away but instead bring the food back to the colony to feed the young" "Some ants that live in tropical weather that rains a lot, such as the amazon, can swim! And they do it together in big, ant, nests!"
Needless to say, he was intrigued.
Such tiny creatures are able to eat other insects much bigger than them? And they love sweets?
They actually like their homes clean and throw their trash into the very corner of their enclosure? Their bite can actually hurt a lot even to creatures gigantic copared to their size such as humans??
He had his own personal colony the very next day.
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Barbatos vs Bees
This man definetelly has his own share of appreciation for bees even before you told him you like insects.
They are very good helpers in the garden, their honey can be used on a extremelly big variety of both food and health products along with their wax, and honestly, they're just so fuzzy and cute.
If you want to get a rare laugh or chuckle out of him, make bee movie references.
He will just stop in his tracks and cover his mouth as he tries not to laugh.
You could almost make him spit his drink if you do it while he is drinking something.
And you can't tell me this man can't make bee related puns with a straight face. It's unbeeliveable
Aight, imma head out
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(This was basically an insect/arachnid appreciation post and I have no regrets)
#Obey Me#Obey Me!#Obey Me! Shall We Date?#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios#Obey Me Lucifer#Obey Me Mammon#Obey Me Leviathan#Obey Me Satan#Obey Me Asmodeus#Obey Me Beelzebub#Obey Me Belphegor#Obey Me Solomon#Obey Me Simeon#Obey Me Diavolo#Obey Me Barbatos
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My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷♀️💖💖💖
Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!
this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that
tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)
---
“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.
“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”
“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”
“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”
Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.
Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”
“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”
“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”
“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting.
“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”
Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition.
The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”
“Nope.”
“Cool.”
Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.
---
“I want this one, please, Ves.”
“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something.
“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.
“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”
“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus.
“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.
“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold.
“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.
“Hmm.”
“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”
“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”
---
“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”
“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”
“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”
“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”
“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in.
“Are you fucking with me right now?”
“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”
“Holy shit.”
“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”
“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”
---
“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”
“Oh, uh- thanks!”
“Yup.”
And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-
“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”
“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”
“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”
“Y-Yes?”
“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”
“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”
Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”
“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”
Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”
“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”
“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”
“Not… not really.”
“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”
“Versace!?”
Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.
---
“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.
“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket.
“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?”
“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy.
“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-
Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.
Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier.
“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”
“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”
“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”
“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”
“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”
“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”
Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him.
Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.
“Oh, wow.”
“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”
“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”
“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”
“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”
“They’re not exactly subtle.”
“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”
Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”
“Wow.”
“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”
“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?”
“No.”
“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”
“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.
---
“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.
“Nice,” he says.
Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”
“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.
“Uh… I- Thank you?”
“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”
“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”
“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”
The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before.
Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes.
“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”
“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”
“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare.
“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”
“Sorry, Pierre!”
“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”
“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks.
“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.
“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”
“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”
“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”
---
Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.
Okay, focus.
He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice.
Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”
He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.
“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”
“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.
“Are you, really?”
“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”
“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”
“I’m fine,” Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”
“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”
“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”
“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked.
“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”
“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs.
“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”
“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”
Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound.
“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”
“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly.
Vesemir makes a phone call.
---
2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen
---
“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”
“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”
“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping.
“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”
“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”
“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”
“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”
“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark.
Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”
“Geralt!”
Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead.
“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”
“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”
“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”
“Do you… do you not want me he-”
Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it?
He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”
“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”
#geraskier#bouncey's buddies#prompt fill#geraskier fic#geraskier ficlet#geraskier fluff#getting together#boyband au#geraskier boyband au#the witcher five and their hit song 'please lambert stop farting on the bus'#ellie has the braincell#thirsty jaskier#thirsty geralt#soft geralt#protective geralt#clumsy jaskier#soft boys content#bouncey's endless au collection#bouncey's endless getting together fics
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MALEC WEEK - POWER COUPLE
Alec ran, no – sprinted – through the narrow alley.
Please be okay, he prayed to himself. Please be okay.
He slashed every demon in sight, arrows flying of their volition. Alec has fought before – but never like this.
He had never fought with no regard for the consequences. He had no fear and was absolutely terrified at the same time.
His feet came to a sudden halt. Jace was standing in the alley.
“What am I afraid of?” Alec demanded.
“What?” the blonde man blinked.
“What am I afraid of?” Alec asked again, this time his voice steady.
Jace’s eyes frowned in concentration and then he looked at Alec. “Losing Magnus. You’re always worried about-”
Alec drove his seraph blade through the other man’s black t-shirt and liquid poured out like a disgusting ichor fountain.
“Sure,” Alec told the shapeshifter. “But Jace would have gone with spiders first.”
He continued to run down the path – destroying three more shapeshifters. Izzy. Maia.
One dumb demon had even taken the shape of his father who was long dead. Demons didn’t care much for research he supposed.
Shapeshifters never really appeared in hoards. But someone had messed up. Some warlock had dabbled with powers he couldn’t comprehend. Silas.
And now New York was overrun with shapeshifting demons.
They had to destroy every single one or the consequences would be severe. Jace had split them up into teams to take care of the problem.
Alec had been gearing up to assist Clary when he had gotten the message.
Please be okay, he prayed again as he ran faster. Please be okay.
He took care of another one – Julian – when he ran into a face was that familiar than most.
This face he knew.
This face he would never forget.
This face he could find among a hundred demons.
Alec wanted to leap forward and embrace the man. But Magnus was more cautious.
“What’s our wifi password?”
“Magnus, it’s me-”
“What’s our wifi password?” Magnus snapped.
���We don’t have one,” Alec rolled his eyes. “We steal the neighbor’s because he once called your fedora tacky.”
Magnus leaped now and put his arms around Alec.
“The kids,” he breathed into his neck.
“We’ll find them,” Alec promised, pulling back. “We’re gonna find them.”
“I tracked them here,” Magnus showed Rafael’s tiny shoe.
“Me too,” Alec showed Max’s little truck.
“So, they must be her-”
They heard someone running towards them and turned around immediately. Alec’s bow ready and Magnus’s hands glowing.
“Jeez, it’s me!” Izzy put up her hands.
“Prove it,” Magnus said. They are not going to take chances today.
“Alec, your brown sweater didn’t get lost in the laundry,” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Magnus portalled it to a dumpster. Or hell. Either way, good riddance.”
“You did what?” Alec whirled on Magnus.
“Not the time!” Magnus hissed at them and then glared at Isabelle. “You could have just said the name of his childhood crush.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you want to know about that,” Isabelle giggled.”
“Wait. What do you mean?” Magnus asked. “Who is-”
“Not the time!” Alec hissed. “Izzy, go east. Magnus and I will follow the tracker.”
Izzy gave a single nod and vanished.
Before Magnus could discover about Alec’s childhood crush and probably have an aneurism, a sound pierced through the air.
A sound of laughter. An annoying, annoying laughter. Max had the most awful taste in dolls. But he was good at naming them though.
“Miss Ducklington!” they both said and ran towards the sound.
They reached the end of the alley when they saw them. An audible breath of relief left Magnus and Alec literally felt his stomach unclench.
Max and Rafe were on the floor sitting next to each other. There were surrounded by a bunch of demons. But they didn’t seem to be afraid.
Max was curiously looking at each one talking to them about his toys. Rafe had a protective arm around his brother, but otherwise looked bored.
They know. They know their daddy and bapa would come for them.
“I’m going to burn him to the ground,” Magnus muttered under his breath.
Alec held him back. “No.”
“I know he is a warlock,” Magnus said in frustration. “But he hurt innocent people. He hurt kids. He tried to hurt our chil-”
“We need him alive,” Alec explained patiently. “We need to question why he raised the shapeshifters. We must find out if there is someone behind this.”
Magnus gave him a begrudging nod. “But secure the kids first.”
Alec gave a firm nod. There was no doubt about that.
“Silas!” Magnus yelled.
The kids both stood up at the sound and the dozen demons hissed. Max blew a raspberry at one of them.
“Let the kids go,” Alec commanded.
“No,” the warlock shook his head, his scaled skin glistening in darkness. “I want the elder scrolls first.”
“What is it with our people and ancient books!” Magnus put his hands up in the air. “Just google stuff like everyone else.”
“I know you have it, Magnus,” Silas hissed. “Give me the sacred texts. I need it.”
“For what?” Alec asked carefully.
“None of your business,” the warlock snapped.
“Alright,” Magnus said. “Give us the kids and I’ll think about it.”
“You give me the scrolls fir-”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” Magnus voice cut through, sharper than any blade the iron sisters could make. “Give me my children.”
The shapeshifters moved closer in a circle, surrounding the kids.
Max’s blue eyes turned wider, but they seemed more curious than scared. Rafe’s hand still gripped his brother – his hand firm and sure.
They know. They know we will protect them.
Alec stepped forward.
“You won’t hurt me, shadowhunter,” the warlock laughed. “You need me for your interrogation.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass before taking you into custody,” Alec pointed out. “Let the kids go, Silas.”
“I don’t think so,” the warlock grinned.
Alec looked at Magnus. He felt it before he saw it.
He could feel Magnus’ magic around him – everywhere. It was desperate to break free.
“I won’t ask again,” Alec said.
Silas moved closer towards Rafael and Alec nodded.
It felt like being crashed by a wave.
Even for Alec, who had only ever found Magnus’ magic to be warm and welcoming.
Silas was on the floor, squirming and panting. The shapeshifters screeched in pain. Some even got obliterated on spot.
Not for the first time, Alec was thankful for never getting on Magnus’ bad side.
He bolted towards the kids. Magnus’ magic was surrounding them like a hurricane, a blue hurricane of fire and water and wind. He grabbed one in each arm. Max only yelled ‘wheeeee’ in glee.
“Magnus!” he yelled.
His warlock opened a portal with one arm and Alec moved closer.
“Jace!” he yelled this time.
A blonde man stared at him through the portal.
“It’s me!” he said, but Alec knew already. It was his Jace. “You think Magnus’ bread pudding is disgusting.”
“I heard that!” Magnus yelled amidst all the chaos.
“Grab the kids!” Alec yelled.
“Do you need backup?” Jace asked, as the kids ran towards him.
But the portal already closed.
“How,” the Silas choked on Magnus’ magic. “How did you-”
“Never underestimate my husband,” Alec pointed out proudly.
“Or mine!” Magnus chimed in, taking control over his magic.
On cue, Alec left four arrows fly killing off three different shapeshifters.
There were only a couple standing. And Silas of course.
“Just come with us,” Alec sighed.
“Yes, we have a dinner reservation at seven, you selfish jerk!” Magnus called, taking care of another shapeshifter.
“Never,” the warlock tried to get on his feet but was pushed to the floor by Magnus’ magic again. “I will never comply. I will never surrender. Not to you, shadowhunter.”
“How about me?” Magnus batted his eyes.
“Nephilim bootlicker,” the warlock spat. “I hope you die before him. I hope whatever demon gave you life will be the one to take it away. Or I will do it myse-”
Alec fingers curled around the man’s red hair and pulled him up. Silas left out a sharp hiss of pain.
It hurt.
Good.
“Threaten my husband again and I will rip off your arm,” Alec whispered a promise. “And beat you to death with it.”
“Darling, you are ruining my appetite,” Magnus chided. “Besides, my father has much more impo-”
Magnus groaned and his magic slipped.
He is draining, the thought occurred to Alec. His magic is draining.
Warlocks, many Nephilim didn’t realize or bothered to learn, did not have an infinite source of power. They had to rest. Rehabilitate. Renew.
And Magnus had used a gigantic amount of power tonight.
The tracking. The portals. The fighting.
And whatever crazy magic blizzard storm thing he had unleased earlier. He probably didn’t have to go this hard. But he had anyway.
But it wasn’t just a show of magic. It was a message.
The entire alley was surrounded in demon ichor and filth.
It was a message to anyone who tried to hurt his family.
There was one shapeshifter still left standing – right in front of Magnus, who was kneeling on the floor.
Silas laughed. It was an ugly, ugly sound.
“You’re all out of tricks, Bane,” he crowed and then said something in a demonic language to the shapeshifter. “Kill him!”
Alec could have pulled out his bow and shot the demon – and Silas. Two for one.
But he didn’t.
This was a show of power.
This was a message.
Alec threw a seraph blade towards the demon and Magnus, who was kneeling gripped the hilt without looking.
“You can’t use a seraph blade,” the warlock sneered. “You’re just a warlock.”
“I’m not just anything,” Magnus stood up and the seraph blade light up in red, the color of blood.
The color of hell.
“I’m a Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus grinned and drove the seraph blade through the last shape shifter.
The warlock’s mouth opened in awe – and fear. And then disgust.
“You abomination!” he yelled. “You are a disgrace to all warl-”
Alec kneed him right in the face and Silas passed out. “He talks too much.”
“A side effect of immortality,” Magnus shrugged.
Alec looked around them.
It was a disaster alright. But it was worth it.
Because the message was clear.
You don’t mess with the Lightwood-Banes.
#I do like a good fight scene kjdhsfjlsd#malec week#malec#dont mess with the lightwood banes#dani writes stuff
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skinny love
pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader
summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?
author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.
also available on ao3.
disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.
His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.
Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.
He hated hospitals.
Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.
They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.
Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.
"Tetsu, have you been eating?"
He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.
Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.
(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.
She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.
He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.
"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."
"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.
"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.
Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.
He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.
"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."
Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.
"When was the last time you went out?"
"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.
"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"
"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.
Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."
(Name).
Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.
"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."
That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.
Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.
"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.
Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."
"Then why do you still bother?"
Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."
Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."
"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.
"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."
Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.
Six months.
That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.
The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.
And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.
He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.
(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.
Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.
He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!
He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.
The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.
(Name) wouldn't wake up.
(Name) wouldn't wake up.
(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.
"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.
Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."
"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.
Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"
"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."
His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?
"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.
Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"
Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.
Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."
Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"
The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."
Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"
"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.
"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.
"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"
Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.
Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"
"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.
Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"
That was the final straw.
Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.
A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.
Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.
The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.
"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.
They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.
(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.
The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.
"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.
Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.
Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.
"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."
Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.
"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.
Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."
They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.
A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.
The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.
Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.
"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."
Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.
He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."
The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."
Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!
"Have you eaten?"
He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.
She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.
"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.
"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."
Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.
He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?
"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.
Six months.
Six excruciating months.
He's endured and suffered that long.
But still, she wouldn't wake up.
Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.
Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?
No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.
He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).
He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.
Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.
What good would it be for him to be here?
He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.
What was he even doing here?
"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.
Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.
At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.
"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."
Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.
A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.
The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.
Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.
His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.
He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.
"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.
It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.
He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.
"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.
He almost wanted to laugh.
These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.
"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.
He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.
When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.
"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."
There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."
His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.
The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.
While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.
"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."
Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.
With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.
"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."
"How long has he been visiting her?"
"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."
"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"
"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."
"Seriously?"
"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."
"And she might never wake up."
"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."
It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.
But to say that she was never going to wake up?
No.
He didn't like to think about it.
She was going to wake up.
He knew it.
But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.
Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.
His grip tightened.
Kenma was right, he was selfish.
He was so selfish.
Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.
Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.
I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad
All I wanna do, is grow old with you
I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches
Build you a fire if the furnace breaks
Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you
He loved her.
Cliché as it is, he did.
Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.
From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.
So hopelessly in love with (Name).
Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.
I'll miss you
Kiss you
Give you my coat when you are cold
Need you
Feed you
Even let ya hold the remote control
Six months without her was absolute torture.
She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it
Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.
It was meaningless.
If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink
Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink
I could be the man who grows old with you
I wanna grow old with you
The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.
Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."
It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.
If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.
Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."
He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."
Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."
His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.
Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.
So much it hurt.
Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.
His heart skipped a beat.
He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.
#kuroo tetsurou x reader#reader insert#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsurou angst#kuroo x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader#hq#hq x reader#hq fanfic#haikyuu!! fanfic#haikyuu!! angst#hq angst#nekoma#kozume kenma
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The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 2
Part One | Part Two
Marko x Reader
Word Count: 2,524
Summary: A requested continuation of this idea. Reader runs into Marko a few weeks later and is convinced to go on a late night rendezvous.
There were few moments in life as sweet as when you had just finished a shift.
You got along with your co-workers and the owners were good to you. The job itself wasn’t too bad outside of the occasional snotty customer. But after being on your feet, your body was grateful to go home and just sit.
“Be careful, huh? They still haven’t found that guy,” your boss cautioned as she locked up behind the both of you.
That gave you pause.
Two weeks ago, the cops had come in on official business. Yet another missing person’s case in Santa Carla except this time, the last any one had seen of the victim was outside the restaurant. There were no leads which had the workers spooked, especially since it happened nearby.
Some insisted that he had been in an accident, that he would turn up sooner or later. Others maintained that he must be a criminal himself—why else would’ve he been out so late?
And a third group of co-workers were bold enough to come out and say he was probably long dead, the victim of a killer. You agreed with them.
Whatever the case, everyone was more cautious when leaving after the late shift.
Most of your shifts were still in the day but after seeing that beautiful boy on a random nightshift you’d taken on a whim and started signing up for more in hopes of seeing him again. He hadn’t come back yet.
You reassured her as you zipped up your jacket. “Thank you, auntie. I promise to be careful.”
Passing a critical eye over you, she started chiding you about dressing smarter—what kind of fool wore a nylon jacket in these temperatures. You took it without complaint, knowing the nagging was how she showed that she cared.
Her husband, the other owner, was already waiting in their car and the last thing she told you as she got in was, “There’s eight in that bag. Share with everyone at home.”
You held the bag containing a pile of smooth, fluffy buns reverently against your chest.
It wasn’t often that she brought food from home to give to employees but when she did, it was always delicious. The bao was a big favorite of yours.
“Thank you. I will,” you said with a dip of your head.
They drove off and you head down to your own car. Alone on the sidewalk, you juggled everything in your arms to fish out your keys, taking great care not to squish the bao. It was a particularly quiet that night which put you on guard, your eyes darting around trying to peer into the darkness.
Every shadow was suspicious, the corners of buildings a potential hiding spot for a psycho laying in wait. There was also an alleyway you had to pass by that made you extra wary. You darted past it, careful to keep it in your line of limited vision.
Santa Carla was a shifty town, especially after dark, and you’d rather be paranoid instead of caught off guard.
The jingle of your car keys was almost obvious disrupter in the otherwise silent street as you unlocked the car. Your textbooks were demoted to the floor of the passenger seat, the bag of bao riding shot gun in the actual seat.
For a spilt second, you thought about buckling it in but quickly dismissed it; the seat belt could crush them.
You slammed the door shut when you felt it. A cold shudder on the back of your neck. The kind of anxious realization that you were being watched.
Your head swiveled this way and that, trying to find the source of your unease but the darkness too much of a handicap. It was times like this when you were reminded just how badly lit the street was.
There were no detectible sounds either. You strained to pick up the slightest movement and only heard the rush of adrenaline in your ears.
Desperate to keep your wits about you, you took a deep breath and walked as calmly as you could to the driver’s side. You gripped the car keys tightly, in case you needed to stab someone, ignoring the tremors in your hands. Nothing happened, yet the feeling of being watched remained and you hoped that it’d be okay once you got in the car.
You reached for the handle and thought you were safe when it intensified. There was no warning before a cold hand rested on your hip, the chill cutting through your jacket.
You screamed with everything in you and whirled around, arm poised to gouge out the creep’s eyes.
The other person effortlessly batted your attack away and you recognized belatedly that those distinct curls were familiar. The fight drained out of you with one big gasp of air. “You.”
He smiled excitedly, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of you. He spun your keys, the key ring looped around his finger. You didn’t remember them leaving your hold.
“Nice jab,” he complimented.
“Yeah,” you stammered, hand over your pounding heart. It was eerie how he snuck up on you like that, even when you were on full guard.
“You didn’t hesitate.” The spinning stopped and he offered you the keys. He leaned in close stopping just shy of invading your personal space. “You have a fighter’s instinct.”
“Only when people sneak up on me.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about that.”
His voice was perfectly sincere but your intuition didn’t trust him. It told you that he had liked scaring you.
The customer was just how you remembered him from the one time you took his order. Patched jacket and leather chaps and a cherubic face. The flawless face was a harsh reminder that you hadn’t been able to land a single scratch on him.
“We didn’t introduce ourselves last time,” you frowned. “What’s your name?”
He bit his thumb, the paleness of it standing in stark contrast with the dark leather of his fingerless glove even in the dim light. “Marko.” Hmm. It suited him, you decided. “And you’re Y/N.
You stood up a little straighter, uneasy. You were sure that you hadn’t said your name last time—you never introduced yourself to customers.
Once again, he stole the words out of your mouth. “It was on the name tag.”
Oh. You’d forgotten about the raised rectangular underneath your jacket. The name tag. “Sorry. I’m still a little spooked from what just happened.”
“Never took you for a screamer,” he teased. Heat exploded in your face and the night hid how he focused on the small bird shaped pin on the lapel of your jacket.
He was more mischievous and you wished for the ease of conversation from his other visit. Was this truer to his actual personality? Normally, you’d wouldn’t have minded either way but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness of this encounter.
Your goal was to leave as soon as possible. Either he didn’t pick up on that, or he did and just didn’t care because next thing you knew, he was inviting you to hang out at a park a couple of blocks away. And he didn’t mean tomorrow or next week, he meant right then.
Your resistance was instinctive and the excuse that you needed to go home and get some sleep was both a truth and a lie.
He crowded you against the car, finally crossing into your personal space. You made the mistake of glancing into his eyes and found you couldn’t turn away. The longer you looked, the more you swore that a predatory yellow glowed from his irises.
Human eyes didn’t even come in that color! You were going crazy.
“I think you should come.” His soft tone didn’t match the determined posture. “You’ll have fun.”
You struggled internally but he started to sound reasonable. Forget the fact that this was something you knew better than to do. You really wanted to keep talking with him and an inner voice reminded you that you had been waiting for him to return…This was your chance.
“Okay,” you smiled. The previous reservations evaporated from your mind and all you could think about was the excitement.
The two of you drove to the park, him on his motorcycle and you in your car. All of the benches empty and ready for the taking. There a few by the basketball courts and there were tons of streetlights in that direction so you went there.
Sitting down, you were finally able to see him clearly. The park used white bulbs in their lights which was an upgrade from the orange ones lining the streets.
“Here.” You handed him one of the buns that you brought with from the car. “It’s char siu bao.”
He lit up. “Whoa! I didn’t know you guys sold this. Is it a secret menu item?”
You laughed, spitting out mashed-up bits of food. Still chuckling, you made sure to swallow and then answered. “Nope, there’s not a secret menu. Not one that I know about any way. Sometimes the owners bring in food to share with us and they made bao this time.”
The first bite had him moaning obscenely. The rest of it was scarfed down quickly and he patted his stomach appreciatively, his cut-off tank riding up to expose more of his skin.
“Damn. That was orgasm by BBQ pork bun. Your angel for giving me some.”
For the second time that night, heat spread across your face and you kept your eyes trained away. His boldness was flattering. How could you have been scared of him earlier? It seemed ridiculous right then.
“So,” he continued, “I couldn’t help but notice the eyesore hanging from your rear-view mirror.”
“It’s not an eyesore. It took me a whole week to make that.”
That impressed him. “Really. You make a lot of things yourself?”
It launched a whole conversation about your latest creative projects. What kind of materials you liked to work with, where you got your supplies, and if you would show them to him sometime.
Marko talked about his as well. He mostly dabbled in clothing projects, like his jacket, and painting although he worked with shells and wood a lot, too. If the extraordinary patch work on the jacket was any indicator, he was seriously talented.
Sensing an opportunity, you proposed that you would show him your stuff, only if he showed you his.
“You’ll have to be specific what of mine you want to see,” he said with a wink.
“The projects, Marko. I mean the projects,” you sassed. It was becoming easier to respond to his quips.
He gestured further down where some patches of spray paint were visible on the concrete ground. “I can show you some now, if you want.”
Your brows shot up. He did say he did all kinds of painting, but he spray painted too? Curious, you didn’t wait for him as you went to go take a peek.
People tagged all over Santa Carla these days, normally on buildings or signs. Never had you seen it left up in a public park and on the ground, no less. A lot of residents complained about what they saw as trashy graffiti, but you thought that was a conservative view. Some it was actually quite good, the talent of the artists undeniable.
The five slabs of park sidewalk examples of good pieces. There were styles that differed from bubbly word font to intricate cartoon characters and it was apparent that many people had worked on this.
You examined them critically, trying to find which was Marko’s based on your limited knowledge.
The bubbly font was too soft for him. The animated turtle with a bandana and nun-chucks, certainly a comic book figure, didn’t seem like him either. Then you spotted a stylized skull with a bird placed in each eye socket, an aggressively written ‘anarchy’ running down the side length of it.
The pin was a reminder on your chest and you knew that it was his.
“Aww, how’d you guess?”
“A little birdy told me,” you said, softly touching the image. What really stood out was the high-level shading he incorporated. The cheeks appeared wicked sharp and the eye sockets had realistic depth to them. You couldn’t believe he managed those techniques with simply spray paint.
Marko crouched in front of you, watching you intently. Your scent and admiration irresistible to him.
Neither of you spoke as he leaned ever closer. Unlike earlier, the quiet wasn’t scary and you felt anticipation. Right at the moment he his lips would’ve touched yours, there was a big rustle in the bushes to your left.
Both of you froze. You in alarm and Marko in annoyance.
Next thing you knew, another blonde rolled out from the foliage and bowled Marko over. The curly haired boy was quick to shove the other off of him and you were sure what was happening.
Until the new comer with his fluffed hair patted Marko affectionately on the shoulder, the chain attached to his black coat clinking. That was a familiar touch. “Marko!”
“Get your fat ass off me, Paul” he grumbled.
Paul dusted himself off and peered behind at his butt “I knew these pants looked good on me.”
Marko wasn’t having it. “Yeah, yeah. Why are you here?”
“You abandoned me, bud. I was gunna see if you wanted to feed but looks like you’re already occupied.” He turned his brilliant smile towards you and all you managed was wave awkwardly.
“This is Y/N,” Marko explained. “We were just talking.”
“Sure,” Paul said dragging out the r and flagrantly winking. Yikes, he would’ve gotten a show if he had waited a second more to reveal himself.
“Well now that you barged in, I suppose we should meet back up with the other two.”
Paul nodded and ran off into the darkness without any further explanation.
You stood up as well trying to salvage your dignity. Despite moving in for a kiss minutes ago, Marko didn’t try again. He walked backwards in the same direction Paul had left in, wearing his signature smirk.
“I’ll stop by for take-out soon. Surprise me with something yummy.” With one last cheeky wave, he jogged away.
At the moment he disappeared, it was as if a fog had cleared. All of your alarms came rushing back. You must be crazy for having agreed to come to the park!
Who in their right mind went somewhere with a stranger in the dead of night with a killer on the lose?
Were you that weak for a pretty face that all it took was them asking you nicely? Yes, your time with him hadn’t been horrible, actually, you enjoyed it, but something still wasn’t right.
You trudged to your car, kicking yourself. If he came to the restaurant like he claimed, you’d have to put your foot down more. Stupid decisions got people killed in Santa Carla and you were determined not to be another missing person.
Even for a face like Marko’s.
_______________
Bao is so so good! I can’t tell if I have a good handle on writing Marko yet. Yes, the missing person is the one he offed last time and yes, he did use mind powers on the reader here.
Thanks for reading :)
#the lost boys#the lost boys x reader#the lost boys marko#marko the lost boys#the lost boys imagines
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show me you're shameless
the one where i upload the 2nd chapter 5 months after the first :)) so sorry skskss. anyways... CLUB FIC CHAPTER 2, BABYYY. And it’s getting smutty! Works fine on its own, but reading chapter 1 first does add that *extra spice*
Rating: E
Words: 5.8k
Read here or on Ao3
Besides the obvious bruising and swelling caused by Manson’s punch, Jake is unharmed and allowed to leave the hospital right after his debrief. Officer Wilson nicely offers to give him a ride home and after the day he’s had, which Jake gladly accepts - the faster he gets home, the faster he gets to see Amy. By the time he steps out of the car, onto the sidewalk framing Amy’s apartment building, and tells Wilson thanks for the ride, it’s closing in on two am. The streets of Brooklyn are as desert as the city that never sleeps can be, rather unusually quiet, but Jake can’t think about anything else but the painkillers he’s about to pop, the girlfriend he gets to kiss, and last but not least the soft bed that’ll promise him a good night’s sleep.
Or so he thinks.
The second he steps a foot into the apartment, using the spare key Amy gave him a few weeks ago which he proudly accepted, making him feel that more committed to their blossoming relationship, Jake immediately notices that something is not quite how it usually is. And if there’s something he loves about Amy and her place it’s how routine is everywhere to be found - from the tiny key-hook by the front door that holds Amy’s keys to how he knows the painkillers are stashed in the little pink plastic basket on the right top shelf of the bathroom sink cabinet. Tonight the atmosphere feels out of routine, almost making Jake feel like a stranger in an apartment that’s somewhat his own (they’re not quite there yet but they’re mostly at her place so).
It’s not just because the only elements lighting up the blacked-out apartment are candles (quite many of them) which in itself is very weird because no way Amy Santiago would go to bed with a candle, let alone tens of them, lit. The scene screams fire hazard. Jake himself has a hard time putting a finger on it, but somehow the entire energy seems different. It’s as if, somehow, the air is charged with a certain electricity, and, for a second, Jake wonders if he’s accidentally let himself into the wrong apartment - but that’s not possible, right? No way Amy’s key works for other front doors.
His keys make a by now familiar clinking sound as he places them on the key-hook, on top of Amy’s. A routine amidst the estranged feeling of this situation. Although he’d hoped and would’ve loved it if Amy had stayed up and waited for him, he knows his girlfriend’s schedule is highly prioritized (even over him, he learned very early on) and so he ignores her absence. What he can’t ignore is that Amy would’ve gone to bed with multiple candles still burning. Her silver three-arm candelabra on the dinner table, her rose-scented block candle on the coffee table, multiple smaller ones in the windows and around the couch/tv-area…
“Ames?” he calls out, loud enough to catch her attention if she’s awake but low enough to not wake her if she’s asleep.
Silence.
He quickly shrugs off the absence of her reception, and, as per a routine he likes to think of as “domestic”, a new feeling and aspect being with Amy has introduced him to, he kicks off his shoes. Instead of leaving them to clutter up the room, like he would if it were his own apartment, he neatly aligns them with hers on her little shoe rack. His coat goes on on a coat stand instead of a random chair. It’s small gestures like these that make him feel more in sync with his girlfriend. This also leads him to go around the room to blow out the candles. He knows Amy will appreciate him doing it, but he’s just barely put out one candelabra-light when his beliefs are contradicted.
Someone clears their throat and it has Jake freeze in his spot by the dinner table, much like a deer caught in headlights - a Jake caught in candlelights, one could say. All he can see is a silhouette standing in the hallway. Only just barely lit by the candles’ tiny flames, casting the otherwise dark room in a yellow and orange glow, it’s hard to see anything clearly. Still, there’s no doubt in Jake’s mind: It’s Amy.
From the way her silhouette almost looks naked, her curves on full display, he can tell she’s still wearing the infamous red skintight dress. Her now messy dark locks frame her face - her beautiful , amazing face - and scatter onto her bare shoulders which are only covered by the sleek dress straps. She looks flushed, luminous, and Jake can’t help but wonder whether it’s the candlelight or the sudden heat he’s sensing. Did it actually just get really hot in here or just him?
“You don’t like my candles?”
The sound of Amy’s voice is something Jake is very familiar with by now. Her presence has become something his senses immediately tap into, yet when she speaks, red, perfect lips shaping the words with precision, Jake feels his heart skip a beat as if it’s the first time seeing her. His jaw drops to the floor and he surely looks like an idiot, stuck in the same spot with no audible reaction. It surely doesn’t help when his girlfriend walks up to him in a way that has her look like a goddess on a runway. Slow, sleek, and surely she steps up to him as if she isn’t wearing uncomfortably tall stilettos. If Jake hadn’t previously listened to her complain about how awful these heels were then he’d beg her to wear them forever.
“I- uh- yes? No? I don’t know?”
A cocky chuckle gushes from her lips. It’s obvious that she has him right where she wants him, physically and mentally, and from the burning look in her eyes, he can tell she has a plan for them to follow tonight whilst she, hopefully, wears that dress (at least for some of it).
“I thought I’d try to make the most of the night...” Her eyes switch to the clock on her wall. Five past two. Her brown irises slot back together with his. “What we’ve got left at least.”
He’s so entranced by her sultry gaze, mystery and mischief glowing in her eyes, that, until he suddenly feels her hands on his hips, he fails to notice how far across the room she’s made it. Now her warm breath is bedewing his neck, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt and Jake’s never been good at chess but this feels a lot like checkmate.
He doesn’t say anything. Quite honestly unable to do anything else, he utters just the sound of his breath hitching in his throat, but Amy’s happy; it’s enough to reveal his true sentiments when she gracefully pops the first button with her sleek fingers. She pauses and holds his gaze.
“I’m really glad we ran into each other tonight.”
Already very much confused and barely able to grasp what reality he’s in at this point, Jake offers her little statement a frown. Ran into each other? They literally went to the club together, what does she mean-
“Most guys I run into at that club are usually barely mediocre...”
Oh… OH. It all suddenly clicks. That’s what she’s doing.
“... but you...” she interrupts herself by biting into her newly applied lipstick, showing off just how white her teeth are, as she moves on to pop the next button in line. “... you look like someone worth spending a night with.”
The colorful lights, the loud bass, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol, their moment of weakness in the scummy bathroom; the sensation of being back in the club comes rushing back. All of this, along with it the thought of Amy Santiago being his scandalous one-night stand, flicks a switch within him. Being with her every day is indeed a much better deal, one he’d never want to change, but this fictional role of the one-night stand he’s been put in? Definitely works for him too. Now he just needs to get up to speed and make up for time wasted on being utterly obvious. Luckily Amy Santiago can turn him on easily as a faucet.
“Yeah? You do this a lot, eh-?” He attempts, dabbling and getting comfortable in his newfound role.
“Cassidy.”
“Oh yeah, cool cool cool. Cassidy.”
After this infamous fumbling, figuring things out, he shifts back into gear. His voice descends into a darker tone, as well as his eyes - and don’t even get him started on his train of thoughts. His hands, up until now stuck by his sides, gently latch onto her waist instead and the soft feel of her dress, silk, he guesses, helps him adopt the exact right mindset for this game.
“So, Cassidy ,” he emphasizes the name as to get familiar with its taste, immediately learning that it savors of something poisonous and addicting. “You do this a lot? Take home guys without even knowing their name or telling them yours?”
Meanwhile, Amy’s already popped another button, revealing a good chunk of his chest, and has to tear her eyes away from it to meet his villainous gaze. There is no fighting it, and she willingly dives right into him as one would in a pool. Although instead of a clear blue mass of water, her’s is a dive right into a sinful twilight that’s slowly but surely consuming them both.
“Well,” she abandons the last two buttons untouched and sneaks her left hand down to the front of his pants to be met what she’s been patiently waiting for all night. A bulge, still quite modest but without a doubt present and growing. After all, they’re just getting started. “All you needed to do was ask for it. Like I’m going to do now: what’s your name?”
She grins, her eyes as well as her lips, and it takes every muscle in Jake’s body to think of a name, stay in the role, all while he’s not to give in to the hand that’s unmistakably cupping him through his pants.
“I bet you’re used to asking for what you want.” He’s kind of proud of that line, he must admit. “... And I’m Andrew.”
“Good to know, Andrew. And yeah…” she tightens her grip on him just a tad more, “it’s the easiest way to get what I want.”
“And what exactly do you want?”
Just like hers had moments ago, Jake’s hands slowly travel south and back, getting two handfuls of her ass and the fabric that’s enhancing its perfect shape. He feels her breath sink into the skin of his neck and lower face, slowly and bit by bit becoming a part of him.
“Whatever you’re willing to give,” she kisses the side of his neck, feeling the dampness her breath has left behind. Turns out he tastes even better than usual, a mixture of him, cigarettes, and alcohol so having her lips let go already seems unnecessary.
“And what if what I’m willing to give isn’t enough?”
He shamelessly squeezes her ass, thanking God for this goddess of a woman he gets to call his, and he’d be lying if he said her sucking on his neck and the feeling of her full behind didn’t have him almost fully hard already.
“Then I’m not shy of a little... begging,” she physically punctuates her sentence by letting her teeth sink into the skin right below his jaw, and it immediately sends her man of the night into another dimension where he can’t hold back and play nice any longer. Luckily, she doesn’t want him to.
In the bat of an eye, he’s got her face cupped in his hands and their lips colliding with a hunger that makes it seem as if they’ve never kissed before this very moment. The kiss is clumsy, hungry as if they’ve been starving for days, and once in a while they can hear their teeth clacking, colliding.
“You’re so gorgeous, Am- Cassidy,” he’s quick to correct himself. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you at that club. Was wondering how a fucking goddess like you was hanging out in a shit-hole like that.”
He feels her hands cling onto his neck. In response, he has to let go of her face. Instead, his hands wander back down to his hips. Although rather than both slipping backward like earlier, one sneaks its way down and forward to get a grip on the hem of her dress.
“And wearing this dress? How could I not notice you and instantly dream of fucking you in it.”
This rewards him a tiny moan, airy and soft right into his ear where her lips happen to be nibbling on his earlobe, and Jake knows he’s giving her exactly what they both want.
“Touch me,” she breathes almost inaudibly and although he hears her he can’t help but push some buttons.
“What are you saying, baby?” He smirks, slowly forcing the dress-hem up the warm skin of her thighs. “Say it again - louder.”
“Touch me, please .”
With two fingers hooked around the red fabric he drags it up to stop right by her pubic bone. “Only because you’re so good at asking for it. I might have you beg a bit later.”
She barely answers, only utters a little uhuh . The same two fingers slowly slip beyond the fabric and slide across the already damp gusset. It’s with a small victory smile that Jake carefully starts rubbing the area, immediately earning himself a small whimper. It falls from her lips as if it’s been waiting to do so for a long time now, and her head drops to rest on his shoulder.
“What did you say?” he cranes his neck in an attempt to get a glimpse of her face, but it’s mostly hidden in his neck. “Does that feel good?”
He doesn’t hear her but feels her nod against him, and so he adds a little more pressure with his fingers, digging into her through the fabric of what feels like lacy panties.
“I have barely touched you and you’re already this wet. Do you want more? Is this okay?” His tone doesn’t change by Amy can tell it’s Jake asking, not Andrew.
“Y-yes,” she whimpers, wishing he’d put more energy into touching her.
For a second Amy believes he can read her mind because as soon as the green light has officially been re-approved, her partner’s fingers force aside the gusset and gather some of her wetness to help embed themselves inside of her. He feels her shuffle on the spot in an attempt to stay on her feet and squirm a bit around him when his middle finger penetrates her, all to be summed up by a soft moan into his neck.
“God, you’re soaked, baby. Do you know how good that feels? Do you feel good?” he slowly starts moving his fingers inside of her, in a pattern he knows she enjoys, and he has to use his free hand to stabilize her as he challenges her with a quicker pace.
“S-so good. More, please.”
Her wish is his command, and he immediately meets it by switching up the pace to which he can hear and feel her react right away.
“This is so hot,” he breathes into the top of her head, her hair already mussed and messy from their fooling around. “You look amazing, you feel amazing. Kinda just wanna keep you in this dress. It looks fantastic on you.”
Busy whimpering and grinding along to the pace of his fingers, Amy has no time to reply and instead gives in to his upper hand. There’s something so exciting, so hot, not only about the roleplay but also the spontaneity of things, the way they haven’t even made their way out of the dining/living room. If Jak- Andrew wants to, he can have her right then and there. She wouldn’t mind one bit…
Caught up in a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts, trapped in the vessel that is her quivering body, it comes as a surprise when suddenly Jake nudges her in the direction of the dining table. Making sure to stay away from the still lit candelabra, Jake backs her up against the wooden surface.
“Sit,” he prompts and helps her over the edge of the table, safely seating her on it and as a consequence, his fingers slip out of her. They’re glistening with her juices and when he runs his hand across her thigh, her skin is smeared with her own lust. Then he nudges her legs further apart for him to fit in-between. The tight dress has by now suffered a lot of moving, already pushed up above her hips and creased into a bunch around her lower belly, which, once he’s ripped off her panties, leaves him with open access to where they both want him to bee.
“Wanna taste you,” he huffs into the kiss he’s pulled her into, leaving them both breathing hard and yearning for air when he retreats to sink to his knees. He’s left at the perfect height. “I’m gonna make you forget about all the guys before me.”
And he sure keeps his promise.
He dives right into the sacred space between her legs, tongue first, drawing circles around and with her clit, while his hands are forged onto her shivering thighs, making sure they stay wide open and spread for him. Her heaves and tiny breaths escape her with shorter and shorter intervals, promising them both a climax, which his tongue follows, focusing on all the right spots. He continuously eats her out like he’s been starved and deprived for God knows how long, and she’s his main course.
“I-I’m almost there.”
She dares to let go of the table, just one hand, and plants it in his messy locks, which are already sweaty and wild from his rummaging between her legs. The tugging throws him into a higher gear that demands extra help from his fingers, still wet from earlier, which makes entering her easy. The second they sink into her, from the higher pitch of her moans, Jake can tell he acted wisely. She shakes, not only the thighs beneath her hands but her entire body, and he fights to keep up the pace that seems to be succeeding in bringing her closer to the edge. A few more pumps, licks and kisses to her inner thigh a couple of times before his tongue reunites with her clit for the final licks that have her climaxing with a loud moan, right there on the dinner table and his mouth. He pecks her heat a few more times as she comes down, then her inner thighs where he spreads her climax on her skin before standing up to see her leaned back onto the elbow that wasn’t tugging on his hair. The dress looks miserable crumpled up around her waist but something about it, paired with her closed eyes and messy makeup, leaves him with what he believes is the perfect picture. Her breathing is more or less just heaves and he lets her catch some air before he leans in to kiss her, open-mouthed as to allow her a taste of herself.
“Good?”
“So good,” she smiles right into the kiss, given a taste herself, eyes still closed as she focuses her energy on assembling herself for what is yet to come.
“Wanna see what you’re hiding in here,” she breathes but Jake barely hears it as all he can currently fixate on is her hand cupping the bulge in his pants, and her nimble fingers working the button and zipper open. Who said attending multiple meticulous and detail-oriented bomb-defusing classes would never come in handy?
“Wanna suck you off. I’ve been wanting to all night, even in that disgusting bathroom we met in. Could’ve sucked you off while you looked at yourself in that disgusting mirror.”
Though it’s pureoy fiction (at least for now - who knows?) Jake feels lightheaded just hearing her thoughts break free and let out into the open. Despite the fact he could never ask her to kneel on the club bathroom’s disgusting floor that, so filthy it stuck to your shoes when walking on it, just the thought of it does ignite something within him. One second they’re still making out, Amy on the table with Jake standing in between her legs, the next she’s got his pants unbuttoned and unzipped thus proceeding to push herself off the table, consequently pulling both his pants and boxers down at once (which kinda impresses Jake - he’s not gonna lie) as she gets descends to her knees.
Cassidy, Amy, whoever she is in this moment, doesn’t waste time. Jake admires the adulterated hunger in her eyes as she wraps her fingers around his hard, pre-cum leaking cock to give it a few assisting pumps before leaning in to kiss the head. Her gaze diverts from his hard-on to his eyes, up at him through thick and black mascara-coated lashes, as she gives the very tip a tiny, almost experimental, lick. Just the sight and feel of her tongue on him, her saliva mixing with his pre-cum is enough to send him to heaven, but he sure doesn’t complain when the innocent lap is succeeded by a full-on licking motion that goes around his full girth.
“Gosh, you’re killing me.”
He reaches for her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as if to praise her for her actions. “You like this, huh? Hunting down your preys, taking them home… only for you to become the prey.”
Nothing is answered, at least not verbally. Instead, she slowly goes down on the length, lips stretched to the max around him and batting her eyelids as her gagging reflex is challenged. His hand leaves her cheek and instead travels to the back of her head where it can get a good grip on her hair. Here it settles on following her movement as she bobs her head, swallowing him again and again. The grip on her doesn’t have a real purpose, he doesn’t try to control or force anything with it. All it really does is provide him with another pleasing aspect of feeling her movements, giving him some sense of staying grounded when the thrill becomes too much and he starts losing himself to the thrill of her actions.
“Fuck, you look so good on your knees like this, and…” He’s interrupted by his own growl, escaping him the second he feels a very soft scratching of her teeth against his pulsing member. It takes him a few seconds to recollect himself. She’s sucking him off like a champion, one hand by the base, the other on his thigh, steady rhythm and small hums in between. Hums that he’ll remember till the day he dies. “Your lips stretched around my cock like this? Like they were made for it, fuck. I’m not gonna last though - not if you keep eating me up like this.”
Her lips offer him a few more pumps, slowing down to a halt and leaving her in his mouth for a few seconds before she lets him slip out of her mouth, leaving a thin thread of a mix of saliva and pre-cum to hang on for dear life between her lips and his cock. She can taste him and he can see his discharge on her lips glowing in the candlelight. Her knees are pink and raw when she stands back up, hair messier than ever, and dress crumpled, bunched up around her waist. She’s amazing, Jake thinks, in awe of how he landed someone as perfect as her - in every way imaginable. Tonight is just one of many aspects, and every day with her is truly the best day ever
“C’mere,” he pulls her in by the waist, too caught up to let her go for even a second, and without even thinking twice his right hand cups her heat, feeling the wetness seep through her lips and trimmed bush. Just what he’d hoped for. “You’re gonna start dripping on the floor if we keep going like this.”
“Would you like that?” she breathes onto the shell of his ear, grinding into his hand, and sending shivers down his spine.
“Yeah, I would… But I’d rather put how absolutely soaked you are to good use.” He slips his middle finger in between her folds, gathering wetness, feeling her squirm. “I’d much rather fuck you right into this wall…” he backs her into the nearest wall that’s clear of shelves and pictures frames, a low-risk area per se, “... while you’re wearing this stupidly hot dress.”
She’s sucking bruises into his neck, not allowing him to see her face, but the second her back hits the wall she’s back to kissing her way up to his lips. Here she tugs on his plump, still bruised bottom lip before dropping her head backward, letting it lull against the wall. Her eyes are darker than ever, brown irises borderline black, as she stares right into his. “Do it then.”
“Do what?” he challenges. He wants to hear her say it. Every word, every syllable.
“Fuck me. Up against this wall. Wearing this red dress.” She pulls down the skirt, just to cover her ass and give him the full dress-experience rather than it just being fabric bundled up around her waist. “ Please .”
It sure is impossible to not act when she bats her eyes at him, spilling filthy words, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Before he’s even fully aware, his animalistic instinct takes over and has him holding up her leg with one hand, the other giving his cock a few pumps prior to guiding the tip through her folds.
“Cond-”
She’s quick to interrupt. She knows it’s his character asking, since, in reality, they both know they’re clean and she’s on the pill - though she appreciates the effort of staying in character and the fact that Andres is a reasonable man.
“Fuck me. Raw.”
“You’re something else, Cassidy,” he chuckles, and having already gathered enough wetness on him he pushes into her, slowly and torturously, feeling her heat take him in and hearing her moan shatter the silence.
“Yes,” she hisses at the stretch, her uplifted leg leaving her more open and the piercing sensation somewhat smoother.
He starts slow, rocking into her with ease.
“You look so hot. Can’t believe you’re letting me take you right here up against a wall. Fucking filthy.”
He eventually picks up her other leg as he picks up speed and by the time he’s fully slamming into her with a powerful pace that has her legs shaking, he’s fully holding her off the floor and fucking her into the beige wall behind her. She moans with every thrust, every collision between her body and the wall, thumps, as she holds onto his shoulders for dear life, thighs burning from clinging onto his hips. The angle at which he penetrates her is just perfect, hitting and stimulating all the right zones, and, even comparing to the loads of amazing sex they’ve had, this, without a doubt , goes in the top three. The wall is cold against her back, creating a sizzling contrast to the heat forming between their rubbing fronts. His shoulders and arms are flexing under her weight, and now there’s no denying that Jake Peralta the hottest guy she’s even been with.
“R-right there, ah, yes,” she hisses, head pressed back into the wall, the friction messing up her hair.
“This feel good, huh?”
“So good- fuck , harder, please.”
“You feel so good around me, you know that? All wet, all tight… Just like your dress. Fucking gorgeous.”
He picks up the pace, putting great effort that has him sweating through his nice shirt, never fully removed, as he works her up, almost as if he hopes to leave an outline of her on the wall. Her moans pick up the pace, turning into small squeals that can barely come to an end before a new one takes over, and Jake can tell she’s closing in on a climax. So is he.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, J-Jake.”
It flies out of her, beyond her control. It’s hard to stay in character when your groin is one fire like (almost) never before, but she was the one to start the roleplay and he’s going to keep her in it. You have to finish what you started.
“Who’s Jake?” the trust going in with his name is extra hard and earns him a loud whimper, topping all other sounds so far, as if to apologize for her mess-up. “Is he some other guy who you’ve taken home and gotten fucked by?”
“S-sorry, bad habit,” she leans in to kiss him in hopes of making him forget or at least let go.
“Do I fuck you better than he did? Huh?”
She doesn’t say anything but keeps moaning, her pitch gradually becoming higher.
“Tell me,” he momentarily lets go of a leg, feeling her ankles hook together behind his back, to cup her cheek and force her to look right into his eyes. “Have you been fucked like this before?”
“N-no,” she stutters in-between his cocks collision with what he knows is her good spot.
“Couldn’t hear you,” he growls, provoked, and dying to hear the statement in its entirety fall from her sinfully pink lips now that he’s gnawed off the red lipstick. Almost synchronously to his demand, he picks up the pace, heading for the last stretch, which he knows might not be the smartest when he wants her to speak. But Amy Santiago loves a good challenge. To his surprise, the always so consistent woman completely fails, moans turning into small screams as she chases her peak, and Jake can only forgive her inability to answer him right away. It doesn’t refrain him from insisting a few moments later though.
“What did you say, baby?”
Every word is punctuated with a thrust, thrusts that go deeper than before, and Amy on her part is a wreck barely clinging onto him and the wall behind her.
“I-I said…” melts into a groan when he, once again, strikes just the right spot. “I said that I’ve never been fucked like this before.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Jake grins rather proudly even though, in reality, he’s competing with himself. Beads of sweat trickle down from under his wavy bangs who by now are very much soaked, plastered to his forehead like a wet (but also kinda cute, if you ask Amy) mop. In every which way possible, there’s something very special and satisfying about a chuffing, puffed-up, sweaty Jake holding her like he currently is, taking on this commanding role of Andrew, and Amy is sure: she won’t mind revisiting this act some other time.
“Be a good girl: suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.”
His hand that was once on her cheek presents itself, and Amy doesn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed about how quickly, without any second thought, she opens her mouth for them. Obeying is part of her DNA and dutiful as Amy Santiago is she immediately welcomes his index and middle finger into her mouth, sucking on them with a great commitment that Jake undoubtedly appreciates.
“Good girl,” he praises, their eyes’ locked in their perhaps most intense staring contest ever. Amy makes sure to take his fingers all the way in, lips reaching his knuckles, and Jake almost forgets his agenda.
Keyword: almost.
After slowing down the pace of his thrusts and retracting his fingers, to Amy’s great chagrin, the hand drops to between her legs, and his fingers are added to the mix, the chasing of her climax, and oh it definitely works. Amy’s whining reaches a brand new level, hitting a high note he’s never heard before, and he can feel her tense around his cock and fingers. She’s almost there, and even though Amy, in the red strappy dress, taking him so well, is a piece of art that he’d like to hang on a wall forever, he knows she needs release. And so does he.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that. Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s very distracting yet I can’t look away.”
High-pitched moans and whimpers are all he gets in return. His fingers slip out of her heat, now even wetter than after being sucked on, but don’t go far and redirect to give her clit the final attention.
“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” He chuckles, leaning in just far enough to peck her lips, and if they hadn’t only been dating for a couple of months, the best couple of months ever , he would be pretty sure of the fact that he’s very much in love with Amy Santiago, Cassidy, Dora and every other version of his incredible girlfriend.
“T-then don’t.”
So he doesn’t, her word is her command after all, and a couple of strokes and thrusts later, nibbling on her clavicle with just a bit more teeth than intended but too blown away to be able to control it, she lets out a cry as she comes apart around him. Limbs going limp, just barely managing to cling onto his body and avoiding a fall to the floor, Amy reaches and crashes completely, hitting a climax for the record books. Jake follows right behind, coming into her, riding it out with her aftershock, and then the room goes silent as if nothing had happened. Only their heavy breathing is to be heard.
“Shit,” she pants.
“The good kind?” he chuckles pulling out of her, but still carrying her.
“The very good kind, Andrew . Maybe the best one yet.”
They share a small laugh as she pushes his sweaty hair back, admiring the admiration in his eyes that seconds ago were darker than the pitch-black night sky outside her window. How fast they can switch will never cease to amaze her.
“Kinda sucks I let another man beat that record.”
“Well…” she leans in, offering him a consolatory kiss that he gladly accepts, before she pulls back, just an inch, to whispers against his lips. “The night is young. Andrew had his turn, now Jake Peralta can show me his worth.”
“Holy shit- Amy Santiago, you’re going to be the death of me.”
It’s safe to say that Jake wins back the record and Amy eventually ends up washing her dress. Twice. On the warmest setting possible.
#this is just a pile of filth im so so sorry#very much rated E#peraltiago#smut#jake x amy#jake and amy#b99#brooklyn nine nine#Brooklyn nine-nine#oneshot
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193 for... maybe nanahiko? Really just do whatever ship you feel like :D
193. "Are you crazy? The kid is upstairs!" | VestigesTorino [Yes. OT8. The orgies are fantastic, and Torino is Holder bait, 8th and 9th exempt.] | WC: 2,222 of an OFA!VampireCoven!AU except op has taken liberties with worldbuilding.
TW: Blood-drinking. Outrageous flirting. Mildly spicy!
//
“Vampires,” Sorahiko echoes blankly.
He looks from left to right, trying to spot the differences between himself and the six adult men and one adult woman sitting at this round table. Most atypical appearances can be attributed to the strange and wondrous natures of Quirks, so Sorahiko could excuse the fourteen red eyes (every iris the identical shade) as a matter of Quirk heritage. However, none of the Shigarakis resemble the other.
They still might be pulling his leg.
The leader of the household (presumably) leans his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers. “Torino-san,” he says in a gentle voice, “we greatly appreciate your timely rescue of our youngest. And believe me when I say I would have preferred you stay ignorant of my coven’s true nature.”
“But the boy wants to be a professional hero,” one of the men interrupts. His arms are crossed, and his hair sticks up in rakish angles. An X-shaped scar has been carved over the bridge of his nose, just missing the eyes.
He sounds dismissive of the kid’s dream.
Fair. When Sorahiko had stepped onto the moonlit scene, the kid was frantically scrabbling at a thick-skinned villain’s hand, trying to save his bag from being rummaged. The villain had planted a knee in the kid’s stomach in an attempt to menace him into silence.
Sorahiko pounced on the villain, called in the location to pick up the too-heavy bastard, and escorted the boy home. He fielded questions about heroics and U.A. High for half an hour before they finally reached the Shigaraki compound.
And now he is here, trapped in a gigantic dining room, being told about vampires.
“We agreed to let him try,” says the singular woman sharply.
“If you three hadn’t filled his head about saving the world,” a man with a spiky ponytail shoots back, “then we wouldn’t have this problem. And you too, Yoichi.”
“Nevertheless,” the leader says. His red eyes gleam in the low light, and Sorahiko feels his skin prickling at the attention.
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Ah, who hasn’t heard of the toughest teacher of U.A.?” another man asks, sly and teasing. His voice is soft like the leader’s, but perceptibly younger. His coloring is similar to the woman’s, but he’s lean where she’s muscular. “Yoichi believes we should give you a head’s up. Toshinori is a good child, but even he will slip from time to time, and that will draw undue attention to himself.”
Sorahiko considers these seven faces. Slowly, he says, “You think he’ll be accepted into U.A.”
“Three of us are active pro-heroes, and we’ve been training him when we can,” the woman informs him. “I’d say he’s got a headstart compared to all of your first years.”
“My students have always been terrible. That’s what schooling is for.”
She flashes a smile at him, toothy and amused; his throat works through a sudden dry spell. Belatedly, Sorahiko realizes that every adult in this kitchen is eyeing him with intense interest. Even the ones that haven’t spoken yet.
Yoichi speaks again. “He’s smart, and he’ll be strong. U.A. will accept him. I ask you for your discretion and help, Gran Torino.”
He could refuse, but Sorahiko assumes they’ll simply kill him. Being blackmailed is a low possibility; Sorahiko doesn’t have much to be blackmailed about. And pro-heroes disappear all the time. No one really knows why. Principal Shi might demand an investigation on Gran Torino’s behalf (and possibly at the behest of Recovery Girl, who grudgingly acknowledges Torino’s efforts to raise the survival rate of U.A.’s graduates), but otherwise…
Still. Vampires. Another subset of humanity, among the Quirked and Quirkless. It’s weird enough to be true.
“Is this a verbal agreement?” Sorahiko asks.
A bark of laughter from the square-jawed man in the leather jacket, who leans forward and grins like a shark at Sorahiko. The light glints off the yellow lenses of his goggles, and the play of light and shadow highlights the muscle definition of the man’s shirtless chest. In a rich, low voice, he says, “We’ve got something better. A contract.”
“Using what?” Sorahiko bites back. “Paper and ink?”
“Skin and teeth, teach’.”
“Daigoro’s correct,” says Yoichi mildly, snatching Sorahiko’s attention away. “Torino-san, allow me to introduce my coven. I am Shigaraki Yoichi, second of my line. In the order of which my coven grew: Kenzo, Sanjuro, Hikage, Daigoro, En, Nana, and you’ve met our Toshinori.” As he speaks, he points to each person in turn.
He wonders when the kid got folded into this group. The kid’s affection for his home had been sincere, and he greeted the adults (well, Hikage had only come out of the forested grounds at Daigoro’s call) with merry cheer.
Is Toshinori even a vampire? U.A. conducts its business in the daytime.
Sorahiko nods in acknowledgement and doesn’t offer his full name in return. Instead, he says, “If I accept this contract, will you tell me whatever I want to know? About anything I ask?”
“Even vampires aren’t omniscient,” Yoichi answers.
Rolling his eyes, Sorahiko clarifies, “If the kid’s going to develop vampirism over the course of high school, then I need to know things. Like whether or not he’ll go feral over spilled blood. Or if sunlight’s going to be an issue.”
Yoichi’s smile is kind, and surprisingly not patronizing. “What we can tell, we will. The contract will have a mutual hold on us all.”
“What could break it?”
“A different coven, not that you should seek one out,” says Nana. “Trust us, we’re as nice as you get in the supernatural world.”
Sorahiko does not have many options. He hates the idea of agreeing to this without a safety net or a contingency plan. How can this woman ask him to trust them immediately? He’d have to be a gullible idiot, or a fool in lust, or...
He exhales. Sighing in resignation, Sorahiko tips his head to Yoichi and says, wry, “I accept the contract. Don’t kill me if your kid comes crying home about how mean I am.”
Yoichi shrugs, casual as anything. “Toshinori’s quite brave for his age, and stubborn, too. You’ll have your hands full training him.” He then stands from his chair; in measured, unhesitating steps, Yoichi approaches where Sorahiko sits at the opposite side of the round table. What he orders, Sorahiko complies with. “Take your cape off, Torino-san. Your gloves as well.”
“You may have to unzip the top half of your suit,” advises Hikage. “You won’t want the signatures to overlap.”
“Signatures,” Sorahiko repeats, pausing.
One glove’s already off. The flight suit’s sleeves extend up to his wrists, and they don’t have a lot of give. Similarly, the collar is skin-tight and provides ample coverage.
Daigoro playfully snaps his teeth at Sorahiko, once, twice. He says, “Paper and ink, skin and teeth. You forget already?”
The man barely flinches at the snarl directed his way. Seven pairs of eyes are honing in on the exposed flesh; Sorahiko shoves his self-conscious thoughts away. He focuses on the sheer outrage of being asked to strip by strangers, hissing, “Are you crazy? The kid is upstairs!”
“I’ll make sure he stays in his room,” Nana volunteers. She winks at Sorahiko. “We’ll be quick, Torino-san. You just have to keep quiet.”
“You—!”
She slips from her chair and darts off, exiting the dining room and ascending the stairs, floating off the floor. Sorahiko glares after her but snaps to attention as Yoichi stops by his chair, hip resting against the table, red eyes expectant.
Grudgingly, Sorahiko works off the second glove. As he does, Yoichi continues to lecture.
“The signatures can be made in two ways. A lighter bite will result in less pain, but will fade sooner. And I’d like for this arrangement to stand for several years, Torino-san. A lighter bite necessitates more renewals. Possibly, seven bites every two weeks.”
“And a stronger bite?”
“Seven every month.”
He scowls at the thought. The only silver lining he can see is that his suit will cover the marks, which will save him from his colleagues’ gossiping tongues. “Monthly, then. Are you drinking my blood? I don’t think I’ve got enough to cover seven appetites.”
Yoichi offers him a gentle smile. “A mouthful will suffice.”
Sorahiko works his jaw, and then he reaches backwards for the hidden zipper. It’s incongruously loud in the dining room; Sorahiko feels his face burning as he hurriedly rips his arms free of the sausage casing sleeves, letting the slackening front of the suit crumple to his lap. He hears an appreciative whistle.
“Daigoro, he can give you a run for your money,” Sanjuro jokes.
“He’s softer,” Daigoro deems, and Sorahiko bristles. “Must be the suit, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he snaps. “And proper hydration, asshole.”
“I’m not complaining!”
“At ease,” says Yoichi, calm, and that’s when Nana makes her reappearance. She swings back into the dining room, expression confident and content, until she spies Sorahiko’s half-naked appearance.
“Are we going in order?” she questions Yoichi, even as her eyes are trained on Sorahiko’s.
“That’s how it works, Nana,” Kenzo answers for their leader. “How’s Toshinori?”
“Watching his martial arts dramas. We’re good for like, fifty minutes.”
“You said you’ll be quick,” Sorahiko rasps, and his hands are clenching into fists, anticipatory and anxious. This is all so incredibly weird. “You all need more than five minutes to bite me?”
Yoichi laughs. It’s a bright sound, attractive and human and not at all like something that should be coming out of a self-proclaimed bloodsucker. When Yoichi moves, pushing off the table, Sorahiko nervelessly allows himself to be pinned to the back of his chair. One hand cards through his hair and lightly tugs; the other hand settles at his shoulder and presses it down.
His throat is exposed. Though Yoichi bends close, Sorahiko knows it isn’t the jugular he’s aiming for.
“Torino-san will need a moment to recuperate,” Yoichi whispers, and Sorahiko shivers, swallows past the apprehension, and spends half a second regretting his decision to let this happen. Yoichi adds, “We will not harm you, and you will not harm us. Your help, in exchange for ours. Let it be so.”
Teeth sink into the join of Sorahiko’s neck and shoulder, sharp and surprisingly hot. Sorahiko chokes out a garbled sound and jerks in his seat, until Yoichi’s bite goes deeper, deeper, and then Sorahiko gasps. Adrenaline bursts to life in his system; his Quirk sputters a reflexive Jet through his boots, but Yoichi’s slender frame hides an unseen strength.
He holds Sorahiko down.
He draws blood from the wound. Sorahiko barely feels the drain, fixated he is on the pressure exerted against him. Every single one of them is going to have the capacity to do this. If Yoichi, whose frame is most similar to En’s, can keep Sorahiko from bolting—Sorahiko arches his back, an involuntary moan escaping him.
It feels good. It feels really, really good.
Yoichi hums against his skin, pleased as punch, and his teeth retract. Sorahiko feels the tongue lap over the mark, heavy with spit. As Yoichi rears back, Yoichi rolls his neck lazily, licking his lips like a cat full from its meal.
“The saliva is a coagulant,” he explains idly, watching Sorahiko slump back against the chair, lungs still stuttering. A faint sweat has broken across his forehead, and Sorahiko distantly suspects that he’s going to need all the time he can get before the kid grows bored of his dramas.
“Oh, he already looks wrecked,” En observes. His awed tone elicits a laugh and encouraging clap to his shoulder from Daigoro, the latter of which requires En to brace against.
“You think he’ll last seven bites?”
“To be fair,” Hikage says, “that is a common erogenous zone. We’ll focus on less stimulating areas.”
Sorahiko, somewhat nettled at the implication that he won’t last (and what the hell does that mean? That he’ll back out? Start begging for mercy?) all seven signatures, musters his strength and shoves himself upright. He scoffs exaggeratedly, masking a shaky exhale with it. He challenges the coven, “Do your fucking worst.”
Yoichi blinks. Behind him, Kenzo is leaving his seat and stalking towards Sorahiko’s, red eyes gleaming. Before Kenzo can dive at Sorahiko and probably tear an artery out, Yoichi holds him back with one placating hand.
“Do not,” Yoichi warns. “We’re not trying to induce a thrall, do you all hear me?”
“Yoichi,” says Sanjuro, “if the man gets off, he gets off.”
A sigh leaves Yoichi. “Be that as it may. Please try not to leave him resentful for the months ahead.” He pats Kenzo’s collarbone; Kenzo catches the thin-boned hand and raises it to his lips.
“Understood, Yoichi,” Kenzo murmurs into the knuckles. He lets go, and Yoichi moves aside, now more fond than exasperated. A safety net, maybe.
In any case, Sorahiko gazes up at number two, who studies him back.
“The shoulder?” suggests Sorahiko, half-heartedly offering the right one up to sacrifice.
Kenzo inclines his head. “Just above the bicep will work,” and he goes on to prove his point, keeping Sorahiko locked in position, unable to do anything but wriggle and fail to contain strangled moans.
This is going to be a long hour.
#bnha#vestigestorino#torino sorahiko#gran torino#shigaraki yoichi#second ofa user#third ofa user#shinomori hikage#banjo daigoro#sixth ofa user#shimura nana#shih.txt#asks#anon#vampire ofa coven au#i have not figured out the lore yet#but afo should be in here#he's thee progenitor after all
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synopsis: Michael seems to be gone for the night and all you want is a relaxing date alone with your hot tub. Unfortunately, things don’t exactly go according to plan. 3k words about a very mean blowjob.
warnings: very dubious consent, mentions of abuse, reader gets bullied but not terribly so, gender neutral reader in part one, but part two will have AFAB reader
Smoke on the Water | Part One | Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW
The day has been mercifully quiet.
No harsh hands in your hair to jar you from sleep, no prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you hurried past barely-ajar doors on your way up and down your hallways, no faint creaking of purposeful, unseen footsteps to disturb the stillness of your house. Michael had simply been gone, and the silence in his stead was thunderous.
Your car was gone, too, along with one of your carving knives from its block, and that had marked an abrupt end to the mystery.
Before your wandering thoughts were allowed to drift to the horrors that will headline tomorrow’s local paper you had been quick to put the ordeal out of mind. A task which proved as easy and thoughtless as folding your clothes, or sweeping the floor, or any other menial, routine chore. All that had mattered was that Michael was otherwise occupied—and you were safe to spend the day indulging in an imitation of normalcy.
You stand now beneath your flickering yellow porch-light, the towel around your chest pulled up against the chilly breeze. Your backyard is unrecognizable at night; a mass of looming black figures, which only hours ago had been trees, sprawl up and up to staggering heights against a deep grey sky, their spindly fingers outstretched toward a pale moon; a world without color. The branches encroach over your ghost-white picket-fence, and whenever you fill your lungs with air you can smell the damp, dark wood beyond, wafting sweetly through the wind. A stark freshness at the edges of the cold.
You linger beneath the porch light for a moment. With a weary breath that curls past your lips as steam, you picture a world where Michael does not return in the next hour to discover you out for a late-night soak. A world where you sink heedlessly into the bubbles and tilt your head back until you meet warm wood, and are allowed to just sit for a while, studying the silver stars hanging overhead, listening to the chirping and croaking and humming from beyond the fence, immersed in a symphony of night—indulging your imitation of normalcy.
You cross your fingers as though it will change anything. You feel like a child again blowing out your birthday candles or wishing with all your might upon a star. Please—please. Just this once.
Winding your numbed fingers tighter around your towel, you step away from the porch-light.
Grass squishes cool and damp beneath your bare toes as you approach the ghoulish-grey outline of your hot tub. It gives way to smooth wood as you hop briskly up onto the first step, then the second step, then the third, and then—
—you are hurtling towards the wood.
Your hands come down hard on the lip of the hot tub, breaking your fall. You gasp as stinging pain tears through your shin.
A grimace wasps your features as you crouch against the topmost step and clutch your leg, shifting your toes in the clammy puddle beneath your feet. The stairs leading to your hot tub are wet.
They are wet, and you had nothing to do with it.
Your heart hangs in your chest. Your eyes dart to the bubbles and froth. The surface is dark and churning. You crouch like a sprinter waiting for the start-gun as the shadows come gruellingly into focus, ready to be on your feet, legs and arms tensed to pump wildly, to race back toward the porch-light. You see…
...you see, nothing. It is just a hot tub. Empty. Harmless. He’s not there.
You let loose your breath in a little hiss of air, teeth clenched at your own carelessness. There must be a leak somewhere; a leak that you’ll be handling later.
The throbbing in your skinned shin grows more insistent when you let your hand fall tenderly away, rising from your crouched position on the step. The water will sting; but that you can handle. You have discovered in the past half-year just how much you can handle. You begin to clamber into the water.
It is by utter chance that your attention strays off to the side of the steps, eyes falling to the dark lawn below. You see something there, you realize; some shadowy lump bunched up against the wooden base of the tub. Your brow furrows with a squint and a frown—the light doesn’t reach down there.
Grunting as you go, you crouch to your knees on the step, reaching towards the shadowy mass. Your outstretched fingers graze something rubbery. You grab it and raise it to the dim light.
It’s Michael’s boot.
You drop it as though you’ve been horribly burned. It falls to the grass, closer to a second nondescript lump—this one peeking out from just behind the bend of the tub, obscured in an almost purposeful way. Your shock is plastered on your face in a gape-mouthed look.
Oh, it’s not just his boot; it is his coveralls, too.
You feel like you’re in freefall, hurtling toward the earth. The world moves as though slowed. Your thoughts are robotic; now, you are turning your head slowly, very slowly, back toward the pitch-black water.
You look again.
It takes a moment to come into focus; but there, among the shadows, pressed flat against the far corner, unnaturally still, you see what you had missed before; a shape.
He lurks purposefully beneath the shade of the reaching tree branches where the water is darkest, submerged up to his nose like a crocodile. You cannot see his eyes; but you can feel their dark, wolfish hunger anyway. Michael has been watching you this entire time.
The Shape moves like a shadow. Panic explodes in your abdomen.
He lurches forward in fluid ambush and a cry erupts past your lips. You lose your footing on the wet steps and land hard on your back in the damp grass and the breath is gone from your lungs.
Water sloshes above you. Michael reaches the lip of the hot tub, breaching all at once through the shadows, no longer just a shape. The pallor of his bare skin is ghostly in the dim light.
He plants his palms on the edge. Fluidly, he hoists his powerful body out of the water, the tendons in his arms and hands jumping starkly out. He rises to his full height; his pale eyes are utterly fastened on you.
Your heart is a hammer in your ribs and all the moisture is gone from your mouth. You lie frozen on the cold, muddy lawn, and wilt beneath his stare.
Danger rolls thickly off of him, as tangible as the water dripping down his coiled muscles, plinking to his feet. Steam billows from his heat-rouged skin as if from smokestacks to swirl high above him in the bitter-cold air. The Shape is towering.
He watches you, unperturbed by his own nakedness, staring down at you for seconds that feel like an eternity. You don’t move—you don’t dare. Your thoughts are small and quiet. Michael's body is beautiful and horrible.
The Shape steps out of the water.
You scramble to your hands and knees and flee.
…
As your face breaches the seething water again you gasp hard, sputtering, desperate to fill your lungs with air. Chlorine sears your eyes and nose and as you cough and cough and cough the water out you nearly gag. When your bare bottom brushes against Michael’s body, against his blazing pelvis, you bleat; he is enjoying this.
He had not wanted a chase, only his prize—and so he caught you quickly. You didn’t even make it to your porch before his burning hands were around your throat.
The hand in your hair pulls the skin of your scalp unbearably taut, holding you fast. Your hacking trails off and you are left to grunt and grimace at the horrid pressure. Your heart drums in your chest, droplets plinking off your nose to splash against the frothing surface inches below. Michael’s face is hidden to you at this angle. You can’t tell if it is lust or murder or both burning in his predatory eyes. Part of you wants to know. Another part of you very, very much does not.
Reason screams through your desperate thoughts that Michael is only toying—reason reminds you that he needs you.
But panic, heedless of reason, screams louder. You are horrified by the dangerous body capturing you. You are terrified of drowning again. You are petrified that you will lose your life this time. The thoughts in your head accelerate dizzyingly—you need them to slow down so you can breathe again.
Another brutal tug, and you just barely manage to stifle your scream. Now he is dragging you through the water, yanking you closer to his body, jostling you like a doll. Your shin knocks against the floor. Your lips curl back in pain—desperately, you clutch at his thick wrist to relieve the tension—it doesn’t work. Michael’s fingers are steadfast; his strength is grotesque.
He brings you to face him. Your eyes snap shut in terror; you don’t want to look.
Michael breathes. His breaths burn your face like steam, shockingly humid, as hot as the water lapping at your ribs. Perspiration surfaces on your cheeks and clings to your brow, and the heat of it all is penetrative in a way that saps your energy and turns your struggles all the more gruelling. Moments tick punishingly by until you cannot bear it anymore.
With a whine that sounds feeble and frail even to your own ears, you open your eyes.
The Shape is studying you. You shudder at his eye contact, feeling your blood run cold. He is sitting now, but the water barely rises to his chest. His legs are spread apart, and you are planted firmly between them, captured on either side by his powerful thighs. When your ribcage expands with breath your skin grazes his own. The contact burns, unbearable.
His glare is piercing. Steadfast eyes peer at you from beneath dampened curls, flashing with an undeniable hunger. But there is something else there, something that does not fit him well, something you realize with the suddenness of a car crash—
—Michael’s slow blinks teem with drowsiness.
The darkness of his narrow expression is not so stifling. You can see it on him plain as day; Michael is tired. Lulled, perhaps, by the gentle pull of the hot water.
Your heart does not pound any slower at that—Michael’s tiredness means nothing. You are not stupid enough to believe that he will not hurt you because of it.
He watches you for another minute, utterly still.
Another harsh tug snaps your attention from his face and wrenches a bleat from your throat. You cringe back from his touch but get nowhere. He is shoving you this time, bringing you down to your knees, jostling you with effortless strength. Your shin throbs horribly. The fastness of it all is impossible to keep up with—now, you are kneeling on the floor between his dripping thighs.
Michael’s erection bobs inches from your face. Water trickles off the swollen head. Droplets plink steadily down onto your cheek; you whine.
Never does his ruthless stare stray from you, eye-contact as brutal as the hand wound through your hair; Michael is effortlessly dangerous. You know what is coming. You know that you are powerless to stop it.
His hand shoves your head closer to his waiting cock. The tip pokes and prods at your lips and the skin is throbbing, and you gasp, but open for him without hesitation. The taste of chlorine is gagging. The swollen head invades your mouth all at once. It sits heavy and pounding against your tongue which widens and clamors at the shock of his heat. You can do nothing but pant around him through your nose and brace for the moment he is ramming his girth down your throat, in and out, in and out; fucking your face as mercilessly and as heedlessly as all your other holes.
From above, Michael stares. Holding you in place, breathing…
...but doing nothing more.
You study him for a moment longer, your breath short and quick, and think you understand.
Michael’s lethargy is clear as day. He is going to use your face, oh yes, he is—he just doesn’t feel like doing any of the work. He is telling you, plainly and simply, to suck.
You don’t think—you only wrap your lips tight around him. And suck at the cock bulging in your mouth like your life depends on it.
A full minute passes before Michael begins to slide your face further over his dick, as if you are a sleeve. Your whines come shrilly. Panic swells in your belly as his burning girth grazes the soft palate at the back of your throat, crowding your uvula. You don’t stop sucking, powerless now to stifle your gagging noises.
The hand in your hair doesn’t let up. It shoves on the back of your head, bringing your face closer and closer toward his pelvis as he slides himself in further, further. Michael’s slow pace is torturous. You know he intends to sheathe himself fully within your throat.
Now, his cock prods insistently at the fleshy wall lining the back of your mouth—you take a deep breath in through your nose, exhaling sharply, frantic to open up for him before he grows impatient, before he tires of waiting, before he rams himself the rest of the way inside.
Michael sears into your throat. Your gagging grows wet and desperate.
He keeps going. Keeps going. Eyes still fixated on you, watching. Tears bubble at the edges of your vision. The horrid hand in your hair forces you to take more and more.
You give a choking hack as your lips are crushed against the burning skin of his hips—and you have taken all of him.
Michael’s girth bulges in your esophagus, hotter than the water lapping at your naked body. He holds you steadily there—still watching. Not moving; just breathing.
You fight with tooth and claw against the urge to convulse around the cock in your throat. A blurry haze of chlorine and tears sting your eyes. You do not want to look up at Michael; you don’t. But you have nowhere else to look. His groin is millimeters from your face. As you meet his dark expression, your own is desperate and pleading.
Behind the coldness, Michael’s face remains utterly impassive.
You can guess easily enough why he doesn’t move himself in and out of you—it is because your throat is gripping his girth just fine, doing all the work. He doesn’t have to lift a finger.
He moves suddenly to plant his free hand behind him on the lip of the hot tub. You flinch at the movement but his grip is relentless. You watch with frightened eyes as he begins to lower himself to the seat, lower and lower, closer to the froth. The gravity of the situation hits you all at once.
Michael is done standing. Now, he’d rather use his toy—your mouth—while soaking in the hot water.
Panic grips you again and it is more horrible than before. You will your body to be still, to not fight back, because it is utterly useless. Because Michael’s hand remains impossibly tight in your hair to keep your face squashed flat against his searing groin—but also because if you struggle, you are only going to take in water faster.
Bubbles swirl around your cheeks and sting your nostrils as your face hits the surface. You squeeze your eyes shut tight. A thought occurs to you from out of the black—if the neighbors were to peer over your picket-fence, if they were to glimpse Michael lurking in the water, they would see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Just a man in a hot tub. Michael could continue to kill you slowly on his cock beneath the bubbles, and nobody would ever wise up to your predicament.
Michael settles into the seat above you. To keep water from gushing down your open throat your lips grip his cock tighter, until he throbs furiously against your soft palate, until you can feel him pounding deep within your throat. Until your entire mouth is hammering with his pulse.
Seconds without air are like hours. You know that if Michael’s judgement lapses in favor of his pleasure even for a moment, you will die choking between his legs.
Your hands have been clutching at his forearm in a white-knuckled grip—but now, you reach to grope at the flesh of his muscular thighs instead. You do it even though you dread touching him; you do it because your hands need a part of him to hold, as desperately as your lungs need air. Clinging to Michael’s body is a reflex, a compulsion. Fucked up and backwards—but a compulsion nonetheless.
The compulsion is Michael’s fault. And you know down to your marrow that he has made you this way on purpose.
You do not often think about those first horrible weeks of him but still the memories are there, buried in your psyche, too deep to be unrooted. Memories of a time when Michael was not yet your addiction, but only your torturer—and within days, hours, minutes, you didn’t know exactly when, but sometimes soon, very soon—he would become your murderer, too.
He had stripped your bed down to the mattress. He dragged you kicking and screaming every night into the shower to douse you beneath freezing water. He forced you to lie naked and shivering at his side through the bitter chill of those October nights, until you trembled at the coldness boring into your bones, turning your lips and fingertips corpse-grey. The Shape had given you a simple choice; to freeze to death, or seek out the terrible heat of your monster.
Night after night, you found yourself shuffling across the threadbare mattress, tears streaming down your raw face, outstretched fingers trembling with shock and cold and fear, to cling until morning to your monster’s dreadful body, to drink in his life-giving warmth.
For a while, the fear of touching Michael nearly killed you outright; and then time had made the twisted intimacy a mindless task. A necessary task, you reasoned with yourself. A requisite for survival. Then, at some point—a point you can’t exactly place—Michael’s body came to exist in your mind as equal parts a dreadful instrument of your hurt, and as your sole, sickening comfort.
Michael tolerated your embrace for just long enough to get you hooked on him like a meth addict; and now, when you are allowed to touch his body, it is never like that.
But the way you touch him now is not like that.
His pelvis tightens at your frantic, groping touch, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth; and you know that you have only his sadistic arousal to thank that he will let you keep your hands right where they are.
Another five seconds pass. Your chest has caught fire. The water burns your scrunched-up face no different from the cock searing your throat and all of it is impossibly hot. I need to breathe, comes the thought, and it is fact. You don’t understand what Michael wants; you don’t understand what he is waiting for. You know better than to assume he’s waiting for anything at all. Will he let you breathe if he comes? Will this even be enough to make him come? You’re not putting up a fight, not just yet, if only to conserve dwindling oxygen—but you are about to not have a choice. The splitting pressure in your chest feels near to bursting and tearing you in two. You need to breathe. If Michael doesn’t let you up he’s going to kill you. You need to breathe.
Your struggling is feeble at first. An insistent tugging on his knees, a jerking of your head against his hand.
The fingers on your scalp only tighten their adamant grip. You know it will be his only response. Michael’s mind is made—you’re not coming up.
Now you are desperate. You toss your head from side to side in utter recklessness. You need his hand out of your hair. You need his cock out of your throat. You need to breathe. When your nails dig into his thighs, nothing. When you rake your fingers down his flesh, still nothing, and now you are convulsing, spasming around his dick, sputtering for oxygen that isn’t there, choking, fading—
Brutally, with force that has you reeling, he wrenches your head to the surface.
You sputter and hack violently. Heaving for air. Your thoughts are soup. The world is black and exploding with stars.
The stars clear—you emerge from the dark cloud of unknowing. And you see Michael’s stare.
Murderous.
You taste the faint copper on your tongue. Blood, but not your own—Michael’s. It dawns on you what you’ve just done.
Your eyes go impossibly round. Your world is spinning, faster and faster.
You bit him.
#Michael Myers#michael myers x reader#slashers#halloween#fanfiction#horror#writing#darkfic#tw: dubcon#tw: noncon#tw: abuse
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These Birds You Cannot Cage
A piece for FebuWhump 2021, day 3: Imprisonment. 3549 Words. Can also be read here on ao3! Rated T! Tags for violence, broken bones, vomiting, and Nilfgaard being the fuckin’ worst.
Sodden burns and Yennefer runs. Staggers, really, though it’s hard to tell the difference in her state. She can hear nothing but white noise like a distant blaze roaring. Occasionally her vision blacks out and when she comes to she’s somewhere completely different and has not stopped moving. She can’t. She tries to reach inside herself to draw from her well of power, but—
For the first time since learning of its existence, of putting a name to the fire inside her, her chaos is depleted. It’s worse than worn out, it’s so empty a part of her begins to assume it’s gone forever. If she had time to feel an emotion— dread, rage, fear, hopelessness— she might. But all she has is her body pushing her forward, strength and speed she didn’t know she could muster after this level of exertion, towards something shaped vaguely like freedom. Safety.
Honestly, she wasn’t really sure what freedom was anymore. Once, it had been a young man who watched her grow into herself, made her feel like anything was possible. Another time, it had been an academy that promised it could help her craft her chaos. Later, it had been proximity to wealth, riches, royalty. After that, it had been her, alone, making her own rules on her own terms.
And then, of course, freedom had come to her in the form of a world-weary witcher, amber eyes, and the unspoken promise to never tie one another down. Never clip the other’s wings.
Freedom was meant to be choice.
Freedom, Yennefer thought, was a beautiful, wretched lie.
When she finally stumbles, she crashes on the ground in an unceremonious heap. Her head swims and when she tries to rise up, push on, she finds her arms shake too fiercely and betray her. The white noise in her ears begins to fade and as she tries to focus on the ground in front of her she sees them. Boots, surrounding her. Shadows, looming.
They stand stock still. Someone is yelling, “Now is your chance, you idiots—” and then “She’s empty. Poor little mage used up her powers… but she’s still useful to us. Grab her, now.”
Freedom may have been a lie but actual imprisonment… that was something else entirely. Yennefer pushes herself away, bumping into what’s either a tree or somebody's legs, and hears laughter dribble out from the guards. She nearly wretches in disgust.
Next is the feeling of hands (she thinks it’s dozens, must be, but it may only be four,) gruff and far too tight. They wrench her off the ground and her vision is too blurred to make out any of their faces.
And just when she tries to steady her head and meet her captors face on, her vision swims again and consciousness slips away.
x
Yennefer wakes and immediately wretches what little she has in her stomach into a bucket next to her.
She’s cuffed in dimitrium, and everything feels so wrong. The floor is grimy, and as soon as she has a moment to breathe she heaves, pulls against her binds like she has even a chance of escaping.
“Thank fuck.”
Of all the voices she had to hear right now—
Yennefer lifts her head, tosses some hair out of her face to see better and there, directly across from her, is the continent’s most irritating bard. She groans.
“Mmmmm, yeah, not my choice of company either, but thank you for that,” he says. She gives him a stare. He looks… messy. Hair grown out a bit, stubble on his face, dark circles under his eyes. His shirt, which may have once been a cream color but was now a rather unfortunate motley of filth, is opened low enough to see a few dark bruises peeking out. There's a long scar on his neck, healed, but concerning nonetheless.
“But you were… really out there for a while. You alright? Relatively, I mean.”
Yennefer rolls her eyes.
“I’m in a prison cell. Actually, I’m in a prison cell with you, which is worse. There not much relatively to it.”
“Listen Yennefer, I don’t like you either but so long as we’re here together we might as well not be at each other’s throats. I love a good drama as much as the next bard but I don’t have the energy to fight both you and them.”
He’s not bouncing his leg as he so often does, and she wonders if there are bruises there too. Wonders how deep they run.
“Fine,” she says. “Only so long as we’re stuck. How long have you been here?”
Without the use of his hands, Jaskier’s taken to using his head to gesticulate. It looks absolutely nonsensical. “Oh,” he says after a few moments, “Three of four months?” Yennefer’s eyes bulge. “What month is it now?”
She tells him, and his head tips back in laughter. “Oh, okay, lovely. More like 6, then. Ah, how time flies when you’re being held against your will!”
Yennefer frowns. “And he hasn’t… come for you?”
Jaskier’s expression darkens, and he shakes his head. “Can you do that mind thing?” He whispers. She shakes her head.
“Not with dimitrium on me.”
Jaskier sighs. “I’m not saying anything about him, not out loud, not in here. Though, they said their mage will be seeing me next, so I don’t know how long that will matter for.”
Yennefer frowns, and thinks. They should be able to communicate this quietly without the guard's understanding. They’re not nearby, at least, and there are none likely smart enough to realize what they’re doing if they’re smart about it. “The mountain?”
“What? I— Oh, I see: Yes.” He catches on quickly.
“And then the two of you…?”
He shakes his head. “Just me.”
“Just you?” He'd left the mountain alone?
He hums in agreement. “And nothing since.” That'd been over a year ago now, and he hadn't seen Geralt in all that time?
“Idiot,” she mutters. “He tore his whole life to shreds.”
Jaskier shrugs, and looks… truly downtrodden, for the first time. She could see the months of wear against him. “I’m far from his whole life. That’s more of your specialty.”
Yennefer snorts. “Not really. And not by choice, apparently.”
“Would you be?” He asks and seems genuinely curious. There’s no bite to it. Like he really wants to hear her opinion. “If you had the choice?”
It’s an honest question, and she realizes she’s never stopped to think about an honest answer to it without being clouded by anger. She doesn’t like what this bard is doing to her already— what right did he have to make her feel important?
“Maybe if he’d given it,” Yennefer says after a second. She doesn’t like that it took even that long to consider it. “Taking away my choice takes away any goodwill we had, though.”
Jaskier nods. “Makes sense,” he says. “Can’t imagine an eagle likes its wings being clipped.” He sits back against the wall and closes his eyes. It strikes her that he doesn’t sound pleased. Of anyone, shouldn’t he be happy for her misfortune in love with the witcher? His witcher?
Well. Their witcher, she supposed. She hated the implications.
There’s silence. There’s silence, with Jaskier. As if things didn’t already feel dismal and strange enough. It was like a stream suddenly going silent. It was supposed to make noise. She stares at the scar on his neck and wonders.
It feels like the walls are going to fall down around her as she lets the reality sink in. There’s likely no getting out of this, she’s just here, they’re both just here, and unless someone on the outside does something, they’re likely to be there until her chaos eats her alive, or one of them is otherwise killed.
She wants to hear the steady stream of his voice. She wonders where his lute is. She tries to picture something to take her out of the place she’s stuck, the four walls that may end up as her casket.
“You’re not going to… sing something? Or whatever it is you do?” What had stopped the bird from singing? (Was that a worse fate than clipped wings, or the same?)
Jaskier opens his eyes to look at her and it feels like he’s seeing something she doesn’t even see in herself. It’s uncomfortable. He closes his eyes again.
“I haven’t sung,” he says softly, “in nearly 6 months.”
They’re there for weeks.
“Do you have any way to get out of here?” Jaskier asks late one evening when they both can’t sleep.
“Maybe, but only if I got these cuffs off me,” she admits. “Even then, it’d be a gamble. And if you’re still cuffed as well, I’m not sure I could do both. My chaos is… broken.”
There are a few beats of quiet. She wonders if he’s somehow fallen asleep. Then,
“I asked if you had a way out of here, Yennefer.”
Ah. She can hear his soft smile. Shit. That wasn’t what he’d meant? Was that not— did she really just assume him into her escape plans? Of all people?
“I assumed you meant—”
“Listen,” he says, “assume away. But when it comes time… don’t let me slow you down.”
She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she doesn’t.
She doesn’t sleep, that night.
“Do you hate him?” he asks another night.
“Yes,” she says, and everything aches. “Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
She nods. “And you?”
He nods back. “Only sometimes.”
The days slip and fall together.
This is what it feels like to be in a cage:
Her bones feel like lead, her mind feels like lead. The dimitrium weighs down something inside her, too, and it’s even more difficult to stomach the gruel they serve day in and day out. The cell is dark and cavernous, large enough to fit fifteen more prisoners at least, but it seems to be reserved for the two of them. Small sounds echo for ages and threaten to drive her mad.
(It feels like a door locked from the outside, a handle too high to reach.)
This is what it feels like to have a cage inside of you:
Yennefer had a scream inside her, ripping at her insides, desperate to get out. Her chaos, budding slowly, had never felt so oppressive and unnatural before. She knows if she goes too long with these cuffs on her, it’ll explode outward, and she knows Nilfgaard is willing to play that game of chance.
(It feels like knowing you’ve already ruined everything.)
This is what it feels like to be in a cage with Jaskier:
The bard was quieter than normal, but when he talked it was a mile a minute— when they let themselves argue or hiss at each other, whenever they would banter or bitch. She could lose herself in his stupid, often unfairly funny, labyrinthian trains of thought. She often did. She suspected that was what he meant to happen. He still doesn’t sing.
(It feels like being handed a key.)
The guards are cruel. When they pull Jaskier away, he goes softly, sometimes throwing a quip at them but more often allowing it without a word. She tries to pull attention away, tries to make an ordeal of it, but they barely look at her, even when she screams bloody murder. And every time, he comes back bloody and bruised, sometimes with a bone broken, and every time he fights it in near silence. She complains about the meaningless drama of the powerful people in her circles to pass the time, and occasionally he smiles through his pain, or gives a laugh behind quiet sobs.
When they pull Yennefer away… it’s not nearly as often as they haul away the bard, but every time, he snaps at their heels like a dog. Now there was a bard she recognized, running his mouth and saying everything he ought not to. Once, a guard twists her sending her falling to the ground, and feels a bone in her hand snap. She expects Jaskier to make a fuss, but he’s quiet.
“I’ll kill you myself,” he says softly to the guard, and somehow she feels it’s a promise he’d do anything make good on.
x
“Yennefer,” Jaskier says one morning, low and careful. “Would you be able to do it today?”
She closes her eyes, concentrates. She can feel her chaos locked within her, scratching at her, desperate and hungry. But how much she has to burn, there’s no way of knowing. It’s something, though. She looks up at the bard, his gaze on her steadily.
“I could try.”
He nods. “You’re going to think I’m mad, but— I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?”
They stare at each other. Somewhere, a door slams.
“Of course not, obviously not, have you met me? But it’s an idea, which means it’s got a better chance at working than all of our other nonexistent, well crafted and reliable ideas.”
Yennefer rolls her eyes, but she finds she’s… smiling again; he has a talent for that. When she glances back at him he’s got a small grin as well, but he’s biting it back. She wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it.
“Will you at least tell me what it is?”
“Nope! Actually, no; need to preserve the surprise, keep everything feeling authentic. Crucial to a major performance. Possibly my most major to date, considering the stakes."
“Fine. But if things go wrong, I’ll carve you open with a rusty nail and replace your liver with a salamander.”
“You know, I could also just take this back!” he says, “I could undo the idea! Idea gone, I like my liver where it is, it’s very hard to operate with a liver on the outside of one’s body, thank you.”
Their smiles are almost real now even in this false reality of a cell. She can really say anything to him, right now, and he won’t look at her like damaged goods. Then again, once they’re out, he could very well attempt to discard her. She’d beat him to the punch.
It hurt to think about. Wasn’t she above this, by now? Above her own heart?
She looks at the bard, disheveled, smiling, and with something that looks like excitement in his eyes, and sighs.
“Best of luck,” she says, and she doesn’t know who she’s talking to anymore.
x
The lone guard comes later than usual, and Jaskier is so full of anxious energy she thinks he might burst. He’s been making low humming noises all day, like he’s warming up for a performance— a bit dramatic, she thinks, but she’s not going to fault him his coping mechanisms while they were restrained in a Nilfgaardian prison. If they made it out, however, she made no promises.
(The thought of an After, where she saw this stupid, bumbling bard, spoke to him willingly and without malice for his general incompetence, disgusted her. She wanted it so, so badly.)
The regular soft thudding of boots down the corridor made both their heads snap up to the door. Jaskier took a breath in and closed his eyes.
“You ready for your pièce de résistance?” Yennefer jokes, straightening her back and lifting her chin. No sense in letting them see her any less dignified than she already was.
Jaskier doesn’t meet her eyes and reply until the boots are just outside the door. “I am,” he says, and it’s so deadly serious Yennefer reels for a moment.
The door opens, and the guard that comes in is the same that usually comes to drag them off; today the oaf saunters in and makes sure to wipe some grime of undetermined origin off the sole of his shoe and onto her already ruined dress. She rolls her eyes.
“Oh, gods,” she mutters sarcastically, “what will I do now with a stained dress.”
He bends forward to grip her chin, and she finds herself less than an inch away from his face— it looks like hatred. Warm breath from his nose hits her face and she can hear Jaskier’s chains rattling as he strains forward, wanting to rip the two apart.
“Better play nice, doll,” he says softly, a voice like cheaply cut gravel, “or I’ll make it so you can’t play at all.”
His breath smells like—she makes a face.
“If you let me out of these cuffs,” she says, sweetly as she can manage, giving a flutter of her lashes, “I could help you with your… dental hygiene?”
She expects the slap. What she does not expect, is Jaskier’s reaction.
“This is so fucking boring.”
Yennefer frowns and the guard frowns deeper before turning.
“Excuse me?”
If she hadn’t known to expect something from him today, she would have missed the quiet fire in his eyes. He sits back against the wall, looking otherwise nonchalant.
“You do this every other day! I want some real fucking entertainment.”
The guard snarls and turns back to Yennefer, reaching to undo her cuffs from the wall.
“Well, fine then. If you won’t provide any, I will.”
Oh, fuck. She knew exactly what this was.
“When a humble bard, graced a ride along…”
His voice is rough with disuse and lower than she’s used to hearing it. For a moment, she thinks it sounds like a million birds flying, like a key in a door, like the most beautiful sound in the world.
“CAN IT, bard. You know what happened last time you sung.”
“With Geralt of Rivia!” he shouts more than sings, “Along came this song!” His voice echoes throughout the complex, hitting them from a million directions. The guard yanks Yennefer to her feet and looks deeply, deeply angry.
“From when the White Wolf fought, a silver tongued devil—” The guard takes a few strides to loom over the bard, a wild look in his eyes, pulling Yennefer with him. The echoing was overwhelming already, Jaskier projecting with full force. The guard bent to get his face close to Jaskier’s. He’d been right— she thought he was mad, even now as she realized his move.
“His army of elves—”
“You’re done with, you fucking—”
“With his HOOVES—” Jaskier sang, and threw his foot up, hitting the guard squarely between the legs. He dropped the keyring to their cuffs and fell to the ground with a groan. “—did they revel,” Jaskier cackles as he lets the words flow out.
Yennefer seizes on the opportunity, twisting to grab up the keys even with her hands behind her. She takes delight in stomping on the same spot Jaskier had a moment before, watching the guard roll over in agony. The bard keeps singing, even louder now, and the guard’s cries are dwarfed easily.
She fiddles with the keys until finally, she unlocks herself. Her chaos ripples out, and already she hears footsteps thundering toward them. It feels like she’s grown wings, like her chest has opened, and she realizes after a moment she’s screaming in relief, arms thrown wide, head tipped back. She shakes it off, lets her power crackle through her. By now, Jaskier had gotten to the chorus.
“O’ Valley of Plenty, oh— RUN!” he shouts, and she smiles so wide she feels her lips crack. She reaches out a hand and prays she can still focus herself after all this time.
Jaskier’s cuffs explode.
She grabs at him, and throws out a portal just as the footsteps clattering to their door get close, and she turns to see a dozen guards and a mage— not Fringilla, thank the gods— rushing toward them. She’s still got something left, so with Jaskier still singing by her side, she caves in the ceiling above them and lets the bard pull them into the portal.
x
On the other side, it’s approaching evening. She can see a mountain, in the corner of her eye. The bard, looking frantic, takes up most of her field of vision. Breathing is difficult at best, and she feels him adjust her against a tree. She coughs, and breath returns to her slowly. He kneels beside her, and lays his head against her shoulder. It’s the first kind touch she’s felt in weeks; the first for him in over half a year. Yennefer leans her head against his and soon he's wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Maybe, she thinks deliriously, freedom could just be a warm embrace at just the right moment.
“Not bad,” she says when her chest moves more easily, “for being out of practice nearly 7 months.”
He laughs. It’s wonderful.
“Not bad for someone with ‘broken’ chaos.” He leans back to look at her, and then at their surroundings. “I…” he frowns. “I know where we are.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t.”
“It’s. Ah. We’re in Kaedwen. Near Ard Carraigh. It’s near Kaer Morhen,” he gives by way of explanation.
“Of course,” she groans.
“Let's... let's get to an inn, I'll find us a room. Rooms? We’ll figure out payment later, but you need rest. If you’re willing to extend the peace treaty a little further, that is?”
She looks at him and chooses to believe it's chaos that puts her heart in a viselike grip and squeezes, not something in his eyes.
“I can go a little further,” Yennefer says, and lets her eyes fall closed as a breeze kisses her cheek.
#Yennskier#Jaskier#Yennefer#Yenskier#There's no confessions of love or anything but there are. Emotions. Happening#Fuck Nilfgaard 4 real tho#Violence#Vomiting#Whump#(loosely)#From the Inkwell#witcher fanfiction#ButterBard's FebuWhump#FebuWhumpDay3
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Distraction - Commander Wolffe
I love this man so I have no apologies for how long this is
He could hear your laughter, echoing through the hallways of the ship. Joyful, happy. It was quiet in his spot near the entrance to the bridge, but Commander Wolffe could clearly make out that it originated from you.
No matter how much he scrambled to keep his focus on the General, he couldn’t stop hearing the sound.
And it irked him. Not many things could affect the Commander of the 104th in any way. He wasn’t known to be emotional or distracted, he was known to be a good Commander.
And a good Commander would be attentive and focused on the task ahead. But he wasn’t, he couldn’t be, because his mind was drawn to the beautiful sound of your laugh without choice.
It made him angry. Furious, really - a burning feeling inside of his chest.
You shouldn’t have this kind of effect on him. You barely even knew him.
You’d only boarded the ship mere weeks ago, after successfully facing your trials and being knighted by the Jedi order. And since then… you irritated him. The proud Commander of the Wolfpack, reduced to a bundle of irritation and confusion.
Because he did his best to not just be civil towards you but to be nice. He’d tried his best to make you feel welcome among the pack of brothers.
And you’d made it very clear that you disliked him. The one time he tried to befriend someone and it backfired, tremendously.
Of course, you were too polite to outright say that you disliked him. Instead, in a weird Jedi way, you just avoided him as much as you could. To a point, where Wolffe considered it ridiculous.
As soon as no one else was around? It’s like you didn’t know how to speak. For a while, he could've barely even told anyone who asked what color your eyes were because it felt like you never directly looked at him.
All he could think about was the fact that you irritated him. And it took him a lot of self-control not to huff, right there, when he realized that he was still supposed to be paying attention to Plo.
The general looked at him expectantly, and all Wolffe could do was silently curse your existence. He really shouldn’t be that bad at making friends. You’d accepted Sinker and Comet on your first day!
“Commander?”, Plo Koon mused, hands folded before him.
Heat crept into Wolffe’s cheeks. Thank the maker for his bucket.
"You should go and get some rest.", your former Master declared calmly.
“Of course, as you say, Sir.”
He couldn’t have been more thankful to be relieved of his duty. One short nod goodbye later, he was free to rest.
His mind was practically screaming at him not to but Wolffe didn't hesitate to follow the echo of your voice. It was on the way to the 'racks anyway, he convinced himself lamely. But to be completely honest he would have gone there anyway.
His curiosity betrayed him. He needed to know who made you laugh like that and figure out what he did wrong.
The moment he spotted your face, his stomach flipped. There you were, standing in the corridor with your lightsaber clipped to your belt, beaming. And you were so beautiful, all of his anger vanished into thin air, making him freeze in his place. Your eyes sparkled as you said something he couldn’t make out, using your hands to bring your point across.
He wanted nothing more than for you to accept him and talk to him that way.
The other voice in his head, one shaped by battle and conditioning, always piped up in moments like those. It reminded him of the harsh reality.
You were not talking to him and you would probably never even think of him as a friend. Just a Commander.
And even in the case that you did any of that… a good Commander would never let it get that far. The rules were specific when it came to Jedi/Clone friendships… and relationships.
Comet and Sinker were with you. Not surprising in any way. You liked them, a thought that almost involuntarily made him want to snarl. They were supposed to be on patrol, and you were supposed to go meet with Master Plo.
But you were often found forgetting your duties for a few minutes, chatting about, or messing around in the mess hall. Comet seemed especially interested in your home planet and the way you were raised by the Jedi, and Sinker loved to tell you stories about adventures they’d had before you joined them.
And you were just as eager to listen as you were to tell your own stories.
That was exactly what drew the soldiers to you.
Never in your time in the war did you make a clone feel expendable. Ever.
There was something about your kindness and genuine interest that melted away the hard shells of battle-hardened men. Maybe even those of the Commander, just a little bit.
You liked them as people.
Well, most of them. Not Wolffe, that he was sure about.
Comet spotted the Commander first. But instead of standing at attention right away, he turned to you and muttered something too quiet for Wolffe to hear.
It got a reaction out of you. Your mouth fell open in surprise, gaping at the Clone in front of you. You hadn't seen Wolffe yet.
Your eyes went wide, your body tensing as you playfully swatted at Comet’s arm.
It made the burning in his chest worse, so Wolffe had no choice but to intervene.
"Sinker, Comet. Aren't you supposed to be on patrol?", He asked, a little more sharply than intended.
Both Clones immediately stood at attention, greeting their Commander as he stepped closer. You hadn't recovered from your shock yet, as Comet and Sinker both snickered at you, Sinker bumping his elbow against your arm with a chuckle. You were absolutely speechless.
“Of course, Commander. On our way.”
You closed your mouth as you watched them leave, but the feeling of shock was replaced with something worse. Far worse. You could feel your cheeks burning. And it was spreading all the way to your ears. You only realized Comet's trap when it was too late and the Commander was already standing way too close for you to think straight.
"I know you mean well but my men really should take their patrols more seriously."
You nodded quickly, but you couldn't bring yourself to look up at him.
“Uh… of course. I shouldn’t have-”, you stammered, nervously.
Wolffe noticed the way you intently stared at your feet, hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You refused to look at him, inching away from him just slightly, otherwise completely silent.
Every single time he tried to talk to you this happened.
But he couldn't help but wonder if he'd been too harsh. Maybe you were scared of him?
"Y/n? Is everything alright?"
No eye contact.
"Did I say something wrong?"
At that, you just had to correct him. It was out of an instinct really that your head snapped up.
"No, of course not. It's- Nothing really. Just Comet messing around. It's nothing you did-", you managed to stutter out.
Then you realized that you'd revealed your face, cursing yourself silently and lowering your eyes to a piece of armor on the Commander's shoulder. You just couldn’t let the Commander think that he’d done something wrong.
Wolffe was... confused, at first. The nervous trembling of your voice, the fidgeting. At first, he thought he intimidated you, but then he spotted the pink tint of your skin, rosier than usual, almost red in places.
It reached from your beautiful eyes down to the point where your jaw connected to your neck and spread downward.
For a second he needed to compose himself, to keep his hand from wanting to trail across the sensitive skin of your neck. You were... blushing. Right in front of him. You couldn't even look him in the eye. And before he could put two and two together, you hurriedly clasped your hands together behind your back.
"Uh- I should hurry to speak to Plo. It's probably important- uh very... goodbye."
And then he watched you move quickly, steps taking you out of his view.
What the kriffing hell had Comet said to you?
-------------------------------
Comet turned from his place in the mess and stood up to leave when he found the Commander behind him with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
It irked him. He couldn't tell why you had reacted that way because he didn't know what Comet had said. Had he been inappropriate towards you?
There you went again, irritating the Commander to a point where he confronted his brother after dinner.
"Commander.", he greeted with a sly grin and a facade of seriousness.
"What did you say to Y/N?"
"I have no idea what you mean."
Wolffe knew his men better than to take Comet’s usual sarcasm seriously.
"You do not want to test me, I assure you, soldier."
Sinker looked between the two of them nervously. When Wolffe pulled out the “soldier” card, he was usually not in a mood to be joked with. A lesson tested and learned by Boost, many times.
Comet grinned. "Oh, it's nothin’, Commander. I just told our lovely Jedi how entertainin’ it is for the pack to watch your interactions with her.”
Boost snickered quietly, everyone’s eyes now drawn to the face of their Commander.
It hadn’t registered yet.
“And why’s that?”, he inquired, jaw set tightly.
Wolffe thought for sure that his brothers had taken to mocking him because you liked all of them but not him. But somehow, that theory didn’t seem to make much sense. Not with the way you had acted beforehand.
He was not prepared for the truth.
“I mean- hell, I’ve never seen a woman blush like that just ‘cause you’re talkin’ to her.”
“Yeah, her shoes must be real interesting with the way she just seems to inspect them very closely every time you try to address her.”, Wildfire added, grinning.
They all watched him closely, wondering. How much more would it take? But he hadn’t fully grasped it yet. Should they put him out of his misery?
“Don’t let me get started on when you first took off your bucket with her in the room. The climate on the ship must be really bothering her with the way she lost her voice like that.”, Comet snickered, winking at Wildfire.
Wolffe thought back to the same moment, seeing you freeze and afterward excuse yourself from the room. He’d thought that his eye had scared you.
“Yeah, right? Couldn’t possibly be somethin’ else, right Commander? Our lovely Jedi couldn’t be… embarrassed, right?”
Afterward, Wolffe was a bit mad at himself that it took Boost’s final comment for the realization to hit. But at that moment? He was shocked. And it made his men whoop and holler. You liked him. You were nervous around him.
How did he not see that? He’d been so preoccupied thinking about you that he missed the obvious signs.
You. The kindest person he’d ever met, liked him?
It felt undeserved, but it made the Commander happy anyway. Because he was one in a couple million. Slightly defective, even, with only one eye. And he sure wasn’t the one with the most charm or whatever. But you liked him. Out of all of his brothers. Him. Only him.
“Hey, so I was thinking we should hold the wedding in Mando’a. Traditional, you get me?”, Comet grinned.
It drew a sigh from Wolffe’s lips. Maybe he should confront you about it, but before that, he definitely had to deal with his pack.
#star wars imagine#star wars x reader#commander wolffe x reader#commander wolffe imagine#clone wars#clone wars imagine#clone wars reader#wolfpack#louistrying
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Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 12
Chapter title: Beliefs
Word count: about 4100 words
Author’s Note: How did I write over four thousand words?? Mostly I’m just grateful this chapter got out in time, but still. Wow.
First | Previous | Next
...
Over the next few days, Team Sonic dedicated their time to helping their counterparts recover from the exhausting ordeal of the past couple weeks. Tails worked to replace some of Omega’s burnt-out wiring (from his attack on G.U.N.), while Knuckles and Sonic...well, they wanted to take care of Rouge and Shadow, but it was very difficult when both Mobians kept insisting that they were “fine really, don’t worry about us so much” despite looking like they could collapse at any second.
The general stress level on the island was only raised upon a second call from the president, since she requested that a few of them come see her to discuss what should be done with G.U.N. at her office. Shadow and Rouge obviously weren’t going. Neither of them were ready to deal with the president, let alone the press (even if the latter continued to insist otherwise). The sheer idea of being in the same city as G.U.N. had especially shaken Shadow, even if he refused to say so.
Sonic had seen how he cringed at the mere idea.
Since Knuckles absolutely refused to leave his island, it was decided that Sonic, Tails, and Omega would travel together to see the president and hear what she had to say. She seemed pretty trustworthy, and if any of her staff wasn’t...they’d be able to handle themselves just fine.
While Tails helped haul Omega into the back seat of the Tornado (an impressive feat considering that he’d used to struggle with lifting Sonic in his early years) and prepared for takeoff, the hedgehog in question was zipping all around the island, trying to make sure everything would be okay while he was away and unable to defend his friends.
“You guys are sure you’re gonna be alright?” he asked for what was probably the fifth time, after Shadow had needed to physically stop him from starting a mini-whirlwind.
“Yes, Blue, we’ll be fine. Now go! You don’t want to keep the president waiting!” Rouge insisted, pushing the worried hero towards the Tornado.
He twisted around, trying to make eye contact with both of them. “You’re really, really-”
“Sonic.” Shadow said calmly. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”
The hero could practically feel his body untense, finally willing to jump onto the top wing of the biplane and prepare for takeoff. Before Tails fired up the engine, he took one last look at his friends.
Knuckles had walked up beside Rouge and looked like he wanted to put his arm around her waist without being awkward...which just made him look awkward anyway. The bat took the initiative herself, leaning against him comfortably. Her eyes were back to teal again, since she and Shadow had both taken out their contacts pretty quickly.
Rouge had taken off her leather jacket by now, and Sonic could see it lying on the altar next to Omega’s generator- Angel Island was pretty warm, after all. Shadow was still wearing his hoodie, though he’d taken off the glasses. Omega had tried them on once out of curiosity and nearly broken them in the process...so the hybrid simply hadn’t bothered with it after that. His quills were still in a ponytail, which Sonic wasn’t complaining about in the slightest. (It was a good look on him, that was all!)
He switched on his earpiece and settled into his ‘flight’ position once again. “You guys read me?”
“Loud and clear, hon.” Rouge said. “Now go!”
The Tornado’s engine kicked up a roar as the plane wheeled down the clearing and began to lift off the ground. Knuckles and Shadow both waved, while Rouge opted for a mock-salute, which Sonic returned cheerfully as the plane pulled up above the altar.
He crouched low on the top wing as Tails pulled into a turn, angling the plane so that their course was set for Central City yet again. The fox switched on the turbo engine, too, but it would still take them about an hour and a half to reach the city at this rate.
To pass the time, Tails and Omega started talking almost immediately about how they needed to take some time in the workshop to fix up the latter’s various dents and scratches. Both of them seemed pretty excited about this- the former because he’d get to return to his workshop, the latter for style reasons, and both because they’d get to spend time together. Somewhere along the way, Omega insisted loudly that Tails “must return me to my original color as soon as it is possible to do so.”, clearly less than happy about his current paint job.
Sonic sighed as the conversation turned to advanced technical terminology, feeling a little bored. It was a little funny for him to say so, considering that he was blasting through the sky on a biplane going at speeds rivaling advanced jets...but here he was. Bored.
He tapped his feet, trying to look for shapes in the clouds or enjoy the feeling of the wind on his face, anything to avoid checking how long they’d been up in the air….
Too late.
The hero sighed loudly upon discovering that it had only been ten minutes since takeoff. How could something that was usually so cool be so...just...not?
Sonic quickly decided that he had to call up Angel Island right now so that he could find somebody to talk to. As the earpiece patched through to the other end, he heard a sudden “Ngh-” followed by a loud sigh.
“Hey, everything okay there?” he asked, resulting in a startlingly high shriek from the other end.
“Sonic! Don’t do that!” Shadow hissed at him. “Give me a little warning next time!”
“There’s, like, actually no way for me to do that without talking.” Sonic shot back cheerfully, feeling more upbeat already.
“Ugh.” the hybrid groaned, before some sort of thud came through the mike.
“Seriously, though, you okay?”
Shadow sighed. “I’ve spent the past four minutes walking through a tangled, vine-filled forest in any direction that is away from the altar. It could be worse, but it could be better too.”
Sonic frowned, worried. “And why were you walking away from the altar? Are Rouge and Knuckles with you?”
“No.” the hybrid muttered. “They’re kind of busy making out. At the altar. Which is why I’m not there, obviously.”
“Aw, man...they probably just missed each other a lot.”
Shadow sighed. “I know they did, and I’m not judging them. But they deserve some privacy, and I really deserve to not have to watch that.”
Sonic grinned. “Hah! That’s fair. So whatcha doing now?”
“Lying on the ground next to a lake and watching some Flickies on a tree. You?”
“Sitting on the plane. And bored. Or, at least I was. Bored, I mean.” Sonic amended quickly.
The hybrid snickered. “I’d hope you’re still sitting on the plane.”
His smile only grew. Talking with Shadow was always fun- he didn’t know why he hadn’t called sooner!
“Soooo...you feelin’ any better after those power naps of yours?” he asked curiously.
“Actually, yes. Mostly it helps to not be looking over my shoulder all the time.” Shadow sighed again. “It’s…” he trailed off, clearly embarrassed.
“Hey, you can tell me!” Sonic said encouragingly.
“It's difficult to adjust. I...still catch myself looking over my shoulder only to see it’s a fly buzzing, not a plane, or something like that. I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
Sonic wished he was back at the island already so that he could give Shadow all the comfort he deserved. “There won’t be any planes there, Shadow. I mean it. And none of that ‘shouldn’t’ talk, either, ‘kay? It’s alright to be a little stressed, just remember everything’s gonna turn out fine.”
“That means a lot...thank you. Again.”
Sonic could feel a grin spreading across his whole face. “No problem! Now, what I really need to tell ya about is……”
He spent the rest of the flight chatting with the hybrid, catching him up on all the jokes, memes and random news he’d missed over the past couple of weeks. Shadow was eager to listen, and Sonic was so glad to finally be able to tell him everything that he swore he’d never take his friend’s presence for granted again.
Eventually, though, he was pulled back to reality in the middle of a particularly passionate explanation of why exactly it was so cool that the Tomatopotamus 2 movie’s release date was finally out when Tails tapped on his shoulder. “Uh, Sonic? We’re here now.”
“What?” The hero glanced down, only to discover that yes, Central City was in fact right beneath them. “No way, that was like twenty minutes!”
Omega shook his head. “Correction: it has been an hour and twenty minutes.” He sounded smug for some reason, and Sonic glowered at the robot irritably.
“I guess I gotta go for now, sorry.” he sighed into the earpiece.
“Good luck to all three of you.” Shadow said. “I’ll be listening in, and I’ll go break up Knuckles and Rouge now.”
“Good luck to you.” Sonic snickered. He could practically hear Shadow roll his eyes at that one.
They coasted to a stop on the back lawn of the president’s home, the hedgehog pointedly ignoring Tails and Omega’s conversation about the theory of relativity, or something along those lines. Even though he didn’t know what exactly they were talking about, he could guess, and he didn’t approve. At all.
Sonic hopped off the wing of the plane before it had even finished landing the moment he spotted someone on the grass, waving hello as the president herself walked over to greet them. He rushed over to her, taking her hand and shaking it happily.
He and the president had spoken a few times before- being a hero meant he ended up talking with quite a few famous people, but she was one of his favorites. She was relatively young compared to most of the others who had held that title, but she handled herself with the confidence and strength she deserved (and needed) for this station.
“Hey there! How’s the job?” he asked with an understanding grin, knowing all too well how it felt to be responsible for large groups of people at a time.
She dropped his hand (and the remaining air of formality) in favor of running copper fingers tiredly through her hair, letting out a long sigh. “These last few days have been tough, but I know it’s probably not as much stress as you guys have been dealing with. Still sorry about that, by the way.”
Sonic looked up at her, still sympathetic. “It’s not your fault. I bet you’ve probably got a lot on your plate too- dealing with this fallout ain’t gonna be easy.”
“I know, but it’s what I have to do. For your friends, and for everyone.” she said, squaring her shoulders determinedly.
Tails rushed over not long after, having parked and shut down the plane by now. “Hi, Ms. President! How are you?”
“Hello, Tails,” she said. Impressively, she was one of the few adults who refused to talk down to the young fox, instead treating him like the mature person he was. (This definitely earned her a few extra points in Sonic’s book.) “I’m perfectly alright...I hope you all aren’t doing too badly.”
The president had the thoughtfulness to at least look a little awkward at that, clearly embarrassed by the fact that some of the United Federation’s most famed heroes were now essentially unable to live in the country without being in serious danger.
Omega greeted her as well as he made his way over, clearly alright with being at least somewhat decent to the woman who had helped shut down G.U.N.
“Would you like to come inside?” she asked politely. “I promise, there’s nothing inside but some Secret Service...and hopefully cake, if I requested it early enough.” she added with a warmer smile.
“What are we here for?” the robot asked bluntly, unprepared to trust as easily as the two Mobians were.
“Right!” she said, taking his question in stride. “I’m working on a new set of rules with the congressional branch that deal with some of the problems within G.U.N. so that they don’t crop up in the future, as well as trying to figure out what to do with them in general- so I wanted your opinion on both of those subjects! As long as that’s alright with you?”
Shadow spoke up in Sonic’s ear. “Rouge is interested and so am I.”
“Totally!” Sonic chirped, following her inside. Omega agreed with Rouge and Shadow (somewhat reluctantly), having tapped into the hero’s communications as they were landing.
Halfway up the stairs to the president’s office, the first lady came rushing in the opposite direction, apologizing all the while for getting in their way. “Hi, Sonic! Hi Tails! Hello, Omega! So nice to see you! Sorry, the cat’s gotten loose again…” she sighed, sagging against the railing briefly.
“We really need to get him a tracking collar, don’t we?” The president shook her head, her soft Afro bouncing as she pinched the bridge of her nose briefly. “Good luck finding him, anyway.”
“Have fun in your meeting!” the first lady chirped, winking overdramatically at her wife for emphasis before rushing off in search of their cat.
Tails grinned up at the president. “I know how you feel...sometimes I want to get a tracker chip for Sonic when he stays out too long on a run.”
“Hey!” the hero protested, but nobody seemed to be terribly worried about his pride. He could hear Knuckles, Shadow and Rouge laughing in his ear, too, and he pouted, wishing more than anything that he could offer a snappy comeback- but he couldn’t give away the fact that he had an earpiece in.
The president invited them into her office and began to lay out her plans for how to improve the country. The legislative body was working with her on some sort of complete shutdown and restructuring of G.U.N.- it seemed like there were going to be new leaders, new hiring processes, review systems, a different set of priorities…and that was just the start.
It was a lot, but Sonic was glad that she’d at least given them the opportunity to hear about these plans. Shadow and Rouge got to provide their input as well, which was great, but only through Omega, not Sonic. They would’ve trusted the president with that information, for sure, but the two members of the Secret Service behind her desk?
No way.
Especially not when Rouge recognized one of them from G.U.N.’s special training programs. They might not be close enough with the organization for it to really mean anything, but the group definitely didn’t want to take chances.
Partway through the meeting (not long after the cake arrived), the main phone on the president’s desk rang, startling everyone out of their conversation. She picked it up with a calm “Hello?”, but her eyes quickly widened as the person on the other end began to speak.
“Thank you.” she said quickly, before putting the phone down. Her eyes met Sonic’s, and he felt his stomach drop. The hero suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten just yet…
“Three representatives of G.U.N. are at the front gate.” the president said quietly.
The hero heard a gasp in his ear. He wasn’t sure who had done so, but the sound made his surprise morph quickly into defensiveness. “Omega. Tails. Do you guys want to meet with them?” he asked coolly, his face losing most of its expression.
“I would...like to do so.” the robot said.
Tails met Sonic’s gaze. “Yeah, same here.”
They moved to the main conference room, and the three heroes stood at one end of a long table, waiting for the members of G.U.N. to appear. It didn’t take long before they were buzzed in, and Sonic could feel himself shifting into a more confrontational stance, prepared to fight if necessary.
The commander was the first one to enter the room. His presence immediately raised everyone’s tension levels- at the very least, he seemed to be aware of it. He almost looked...a little embarrassed?
The silence on the other end of the communicator was near-deafening.
He was followed almost immediately by an agent that Sonic didn’t recognize, a wolf who seemed more than a little bit awkward and apologetic. She sat down to his left, sneaking glances at each of the three heroes in the room.
After that, a skinny, pale sort of guy entered the room, looking incredibly full of himself. Sonic wasn’t usually one to get bad first impressions of people, but this person irritated him almost immediately. Omega obviously recognized him- and not in a good way- as he began to make several loud clicking noises not unlike those of guns loading. On purpose, of course.
The commander sat down last (still seeming less than comfortable), cleared his throat, and looked up at the other three. “Before I speak, is there anything you would like to say?”
Sonic, Tails and Omega regarded him in stony silence.
He shuffled some of the papers in front of him and sighed quietly. “I would like to begin by apologizing for the distress I and the organization I serve have caused to you and your friends. All of you. I wish...no, I should have handled this in a different manner- requested a meeting, spoken with you first, done something to ensure that my intentions did not appear malicious. But instead…
“...instead I have distanced myself from three of the most skilled people ever to serve under my command, as well as further tarnished G.U.N.’s already ruined reputation. I…” The commander sighed here. This speech was already taking a lot out of him, Sonic could tell.
“I fear that my father’s views have heavily influenced my own, to say the absolute least, especially regarding my job and what needed to be done to serve this organization. ‘Shoot first and ask questions later’ was a favorite motto of his, and one that I accepted for a long, long time...my family has discussed with me lately (and quite gently, perhaps more so than I deserve) about how that ideology is problematic, to say the least.
“I liked to think I was not a bad person. That I was being more open-minded. But now I see that I was foolish to believe as much. I chose to try and salvage G.U.N., to cover up the mistakes as others have done before me because it was ‘for the good of the country’, because ‘other people wouldn’t understand what needs to be done’, and more. My guilty conscience wishes I would blame my father for my mistakes, but at some point, one must take responsibility for one’s own failures.
“Particularly…” and here he looked directly at the three of them, though he almost seemed to be searching for someone else instead, “...having alienated the last person on this planet who truly can comprehend the life I have led.”
Sonic realized with a start that he was talking about Shadow.
“All I can say now is that as of tomorrow, I am resigning as commander of G.U.N. I clearly have not succeeded in improving this organization at all, so I believe a new, younger face...someone without prior biases or contacts...would be better for us now.”
The hero heard gasps in both his ears- one from Rouge and Shadow, the other from the wiry man in front of him. Said human immediately started stammering at the commander, asking him why in the world he thought this was a good idea. The older man in turn merely waved him off with a stern word or two, forcing the other human to sink back into his seat with an obviously displeased expression.
The lavender wolf, the president, Omega, and Tails, on the other hand, all seemed to approve of the commander’s decision, as did Sonic. The hero felt nothing but relief now, hoping that finally, the big things could start to change for the better.
They spoke a little longer, the tensions mostly eased now (with the exception of the skinny guy, of course, who Rouge irritably identified as the less-than-respectful PR officer that the team had spoken to way back in the beginning). The conversation wasn’t very important, just polite nonsense about how change should be made soon and all that.
Things weren’t comfortable by any means, and they shouldn’t have been, but...Sonic felt a little lighter at the thought that someone important in G.U.N. at least accepted what was going on.
As the three heroes left, the commander asked them for one favor. “Could you please tell Shadow and Rouge that I apologize for the way G.U.N. has behaved? The way in which I have commanded this organization is wrong...I can see that now.”
Sonic offered him a quick flash of a grin, realizing that the commander truly didn’t know about his earpiece, nor Omega’s connection. “Hey, being able to apologize says a lot, too. I’ll be sure to let them know, don’t worry.”
“Thank you, and safe travels.”
“You too, alright?” he replied politely, before hopping onto the Tornado with a wave.
The flight back seemed to take forever (really, this time), partly because Sonic was dying to get back and partly because his friends seemed too busy talking seriously to chat. He tried his best to bask in the feeling of hope, but it was difficult to focus when his excitement was rising with each passing second.
As soon as they landed, he jumped off and ran over to his friends. “It’s gonna be alright now, guys!” he said, grinning at them. “You’re gonna go home soon!”
Rouge gave him a big smile back, before rushing over to Omega to celebrate. “Did you hear that, Omega? We’ll be home in a couple of weeks, max! Shadow-”
She trailed off, watching him carefully. The hybrid was staring down at the ground, his hands trembling slightly. “It’s...done? Then what now? What should we do?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and failing miserably. Sonic’s ears drooped a little as he heard the shake in his friend’s voice.
“Now you get to rest. You’ve earned it, you know that? I know it’s tough to just...go back and chill after everything, but you gotta know when to let other people carry on the work ya started, alright?” Sonic said carefully, stepping closer and closer to Shadow. His hands hovered slightly over his friend’s arms, unwilling to touch the hybrid unless he was alright with it first.
Suddenly, Shadow leaned into Sonic’s chest, his eyes shut tightly, clearly fighting back some sort of emotion. The hero held his friend tightly, sinking to his knees in an attempt to comfort Shadow better. Rouge and Omega rushed over, holding him tight as well. “Hey…” the bat said gently, “Shadow, we’re all going to be okay, I promise. We can stop now.”
“How do we know? What if something happens and it all goes wrong-”
Sonic stopped him right there. “We can set up whatever you need to feel comfortable, but trust me, we’ll all make sure nothing goes wrong. I’ll hold the president to her word, and so will everyone else here.”
“But...nobody’s ever really been able to stop G.U.N. before...not even me.” Shadow said quietly.
“There are more people on your side now, Shadow.” Omega replied, looking down at him. “You are not alone in this fight- so many others want this too.”
“I’ll have to wait and see before I can believe that.” he muttered, sighing.
Tails and Knuckles walked over too, the former offering him a hopeful smile and the latter clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You guys can stay here a while longer, I guess, until everything’s sorted out.” the echidna said, trying his best to help.
“Yeah!” Sonic cheered. “We’ll make sure this all gets fixed up properly, alright?”
Shadow smiled faintly at him. “I’ll hold you to that, Sonic.”
The hero couldn’t help but grin back, all his hope for his friend bursting through. And when Shadow’s smile grew just that little bit more real, he was determined to do absolutely whatever it took to make the hybrid smile properly again and again, without any fear holding him back.
He knew, without a doubt, that Shadow was more than deserving of all the happiness in the world.
#shadow the hedgehog#rouge the bat#e 123 omega#sonic the hedgehog#miles tails prower#knuckles the echidna#whoa that's a lot of people#scars you can't see#sycs#sol's fanfiction#i almost thought i wouldn't be able to get this out in time...#life has decided to throw lots of work at me so the last chapter might be a couple of days late#we'll see#also a few clarifications:#the commander is beginning to realize that his father taught him about the world in a very very biased way#and feels pretty bad about it#i didn't know how to end this since it was the chapter with the least planning behind it#so hopefully it turned out alright#and finally#i tried to make it clear that the president is Black but in a respectful way#if i failed to do that then please please please let me know and i will change it#also hopefully shadow wasn't too ooc at the end there#:S#hope you enjoyed the update and have a wonderful day!
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06 - Mech
Ah, aren’t Synths wonderful? Modular, and you can make them do gender and sexuality in whatever way you please.
Length: 2200 words
Rating: M (no sex actually happens, but genitalia are discussed a lot)
Summary: A woman and her robo-derg go shopping for some parts to spice up their bedroom activities.
Minors DNI, please. It’s rated M for a reason.
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Lauren and her Synth, Haskell, stood at the entrance to the robotics store. It wasn’t an official outlet for his manufacturer, so they would technically be voiding his warranty, something that might have concerned them if he had still had one. As it was, however, the reason they simply stood there was less robotic and far more human.
[I told you for weeks, I’m only going in after you,] Haskell said, his primary lights a mirthful yellow against his blue and light grey plating, [watching your face go through so many emotions is well worth the delay.]
The human gently shoved him, her face hot with a blush. “Shut up, I’m getting to it.”
[Would it help if you pretended we were here to look at different parts?] The synthetic dragon took a couple steps forward, peering at the shelves. [I wonder if they’ve got a simulation link set up for a naga lower half. Oh, don’t worry, Lauren, it’s well outside of our price range, I’d only be demoing in VR. You won’t have to worry about my tail wrapping you up in your sleep any more than it already does.]
This did not in any way help Lauren’s blush, but she did stomp forward and stubbornly cross the threshold into the store. Haskell’s visor displayed blue carets for his eyes as he followed her inside. On a side thread, he bragged to other synths in their IRC chat room how positively adorable his owner looked after some well-placed teasing, and he received some encouragement, and a link to an image of a synth with a hand at the end of her tail giving him three thumbs up.
“Hey, you two!” one of the employees, a two-tailed fox, called, “good to see you again. Haskell, how’s that projector module treating you?”
“Oh, hey Shay!” Lauren replied, her nervousness instantly abated. “It’s been real useful. Now we don’t have to settle for my desktop’s monitor to watch stuff together.”
[Or my visor.]
“That was ONE TIME. Anyway, thanks for the recommendation, and... half un-thanks for telling Haskell that it’s so port-neutral.” The human jabbed a thumb towards Haskell. “Nothing quite like walking back from the bathroom to see this guy on the bed, zero legs, with a My Little Pony AMV projecting out the bottom of his torso onto the opposite wall.”
Shay looked on the verge of laughter. The blue and grey Synth scrossed his arms and turned his head up and away, while his visor displayed a gentle U shape on each side. [My taste is far beyond you organics’ comprehension. Time will vindicate me.]
“A blast and a half, I’m sure. Anyway, what brings you two back in? Looking for hardware or software?”
“Oh. Uh, hardware,” Lauren said.
[In more ways than one,] Haskell added, to a returning and deepening blush on his owner’s face.
The fox furrowed her brow, then a look of comprehension crossed her face. “Ohhh... well! Let me go grab Conny, and she’ll show you to that rather special workshop.” She strode over to a door behind the counter, stuck her head in, and shouted, “Ay Conny! Got a customer for the fun stuff! Come and get ‘em!”
A few seconds later, a synth head popped out from behind the door, pale red around a dark visor featuring a slit-pupil eye display. “The fun stuff? Oh, must be the human lady and the blue bot. Come around and follow me.”
Haskell and Lauren shared a look at the prospect of walking behind the registers, but after a moment, Haskell shrugged and followed the other Synth through the employees door, with Lauren behind him, mindful of his tail. [She pinged me over short-wave, said it’s standard enough for this sort of thing,] he explained.
Conny turned out to be not only a pale red, but an entire slightly-desaturated rainbow from head to foot. Her tail had fewer segments than Haskell’s, but was the same length, so he assumed it was some storage model. When she turned from the hallway into a side room, something rattled in her tail, and he mentally congratulated himself on the guess. The human and Synth also stepped inside, and were immediately surprised at what they saw.
It was clearly a Synth workshop, with a sturdy table, a selection of mechanical and electronic tools on one wall, and a number of wires for fast data transfer. But what was unusual to the pair was a solid half of a wall featuring artificial penises and vaginas. Haskell quickly switched his primary lights to a reddish pink to fit the room, same as he saw Conny do. Many of the genitals were clearly modeled after other species; Haskell quickly identified pairs resembling those of dolphins, wolves, nagas, and several kinds of dragon. But some were purely fantastical, or even designed to look congruous on a Synth. On the opposite wall hung various erotic chestplates, although those weren’t nearly as varied in their design. Haskell’s attention did linger on a pair that featured a port on each breast where the nipple would be on a human or anthro, and the thought spurred him to link a photo to the IRC, followed by “consider: boobs that can grab you back.” To his surprise, one of the other denizens shared that she had a model like that, and joked that she’d share photos for five bucks.
[So! My name is Delilah Conagher, but you can call me Conny,] the rainbow Synth said, [and this is where we keep the lewd. Now, you don’t have to answer this, but this is gonna be for you two? Or has...] A request for information appeared in Haskell’s comms; he let her see his name and pronouns. [Or has Haskell come with his owner, but plans to use this stuff on someone else?]
[Oh, I sure hope this is for us. Otherwise, I’m gonna be pretty let down after all that flirting we’ve done to each other.]
[Faaaaan-tastic. Now, what’re we kitting you out with?] Conny’s eyes curved up and a few twinkling stars blinked in her visor, a common sign that a Synth thought they were about to be very funny. [Are you getting a dongle, port, or rack?]
Haskell laughed, but Lauren, though smiling, looked mildly perplexed. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Haskell laughed louder. Conny, however, just shook her head, though her lights fading to yellow as she did so signaled her amusement. [I could guess, but the guess with the highest accuracy is only 72%. If Haskell was using she/her, that drops all the way down to 43%.]
Now it was Haskell’s turn to be confused. His visor showed eyes looking up and away with one brow slightly down, as he remarked, [43 sounds low for four... well, five options with rack only. Surprisingly even distribution.] Lauren turned to him with a clear question on her tongue, so the Synth answered it for her, counting off on his fingers. [Dick or pussy, each with and without tits. Plus a fifth for just the tits. I’m still on the default “pan” from when we installed the sexuality software, so I happen to have saved plenty of examples to show you if you don’t believe me. Not all Synths, even. Only most.]
The human shook her head. “N- um... maybe later. But, Conny, we’re getting him a... a penis.”
Without audio, Conny sent Haskell a message saying, “Assuming only one between the legs or one set on the chest is sensible, but inaccurate. A good mechanic can do wonders.” Aloud, she addressed Lauren. [Wonderful, those are fun! And all of the designs here are made to be pleasurable to the giver and receiver - trust me on this - so there’s no bad answers, although there may be some better ones for each Synth. So, anything you’re looking for for your first one?]
“First one?”
[We’re modular,] both Synths said at once.
“Oh, right. Uh... well, I think I’ll pass on the... fleshy-looking ones. I think they’d clash with his body, and feel too different than- uh, nevermind.” As Lauren’s voice trailed off, Haskell put on a rather smug and pleased look.
Not missing a beat, Conny grabbed a small selection of more robotic-looking schlongs from the wall and set them out. [Now, this one here’s a great one, both as a first time and in general. It’s not the simplest, but it’s got a vibrate function that’s insulated from the rest of the body.] She then picked up one that looked more obviously draconic, but still with a robotic aesthetic: silvery top, glossy black underside. [And this one is far and away my favorite, both in shape and novelty. Bit on the higher end for price, though, I’ll be honest with you. Doesn’t stop it from being popular with my return customers, though.]
Lauren tentatively reached out, and Conny handed the penis to her, letting her turn it over in her hand. “I mean, it’s certainly nice, but what gives it that price?”
In reply, the rainbow Synth popped one hand off, took the dildo back, and slotted it in. After a few seconds to recognize and prepare the device, the glossy black underside revealed itself to be an RGB light, slowly fading through a few colors. Haskell stared at it. Lauren, on the other hand, had a different reaction. “No. Absolutely not. I know you, Haskell, and there’s no way I’m giving you even half a reason to try to fuck me to Caramelldansen.”
[It’d be funny, though.]
“Not happening.” She pointed to one of the others. “That one looks nice, though. Haskell, how do you feel about that one?”
The blue and grey Synth nodded. [I think I’d look rather good with that on me. If you think you’d feel good with it in you, we should give it a shot.]
Conny looked between the two of them, then nodded at Haskell. [Then just hop up on the table and I’ll get you set up. Oh, that reminds me: I can also modify your lower chassis - a couple hundred, same as other port additions - to get you a proper crotch mount or two. Assuming you’re pretty standard, the best I can do is essentially a workaround where I plug it in the rear, behind your tail, and give you some fittings to secure it around your legs and/or waist.]
“It’s not necessary, though, right?”
Haskell laid down and soon felt the weight of his tail vanish, followed by a system notification that a module had been detached. The Synth mechanic kept talking. [No, but without it, Haskell will probably need or at least want your help to get the penis on and off.]
[Sounds worth it to me,] Haskell said.
“It’s not your $200.”
[Sure it is. You did tell me I could have my own account for stuff on the side. Remember, because I was ask- whining for- hold on. I was ask- whining for video games.] He gave Lauren a flat stare. [Really?]
Lauren held her hands up. “In my defense, I had forgotten I’d done that before I promised to stop touching your admin controls without telling you. But yeah, that’s fine then. Get yourself some penis compatibility.”
[Great! Alright, doc, fix me up!] Haskell said, then slipped himself into Safe Mode.
-----
[Oh, that looks fantastic,] the Synth said, admiring his new dick, [thanks for matching it to my colors.]
[I’d be a pretty poor mechanic if I couldn’t,] Conny replied, [but thanks. Now, go ahead and disable sensitivity in the device settings, or at least drop it as low as possible.]
[Huh? Doesn’t that go against the point?]
[Some modules can be equipped in public. This is not one of them. And trust me, you don’t want that thing anywhere near the default levels when you remove it, at least not until you’re used to the sensation.]
Lauren glanced down the hallway. “Yyyyeah, let’s not traumatize whoever’s in the store and potentially find out which of us is legally liable for you going streaking.”
Haskell nodded, and after a couple seconds, pulled the penis out of its socket, then fit a grey plate over the port, hiding it.
[And this should go without saying, but there are no returns on this sort of thing. If something goes wrong, you might get a partial refund if you send us the diagnostics, but once that dick is out of the store, we don’t want it back in here.]
Lauren took the cock and gave it a curious squeeze before placing it in the bag Conny had provided. “Fair enough. And will Shay ring us up out there, or...?”
[Yep! Alright, you two, have fun out there.]
As the two left the store after paying, Haskell linked a photo of the purchase he had taken earlier to his IRC friends. Some congratulated him on a well-chosen mod, a couple of them asked him to DM photos of it equipped, and one person floated the idea of attaching two of them to that pair of breasts with ports.
All in all, a productive day, and a precursor to a hopefully unforgettable night.
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